Friend
Disclaimer: Never own any of them Gundam characters, except for my OCs (the parents, the sibling and the crazy teammates).
Sorry for the reposting. My fault for not taking ample time to spellcheck before uploading. Please forgive me for the inconvenience caused.
This is partially inspired by all the fanfics of Heine which I have read, especially CuteAiboAibo's. Since I only worked with what ever I found on Wikipedia and other random sources, there might be minor inaccuracies that I might have overlooked, so if you found any, please inform me. And a big thanks to CuteAiboAibo for some help and permission.
Heine Westenfluss. Who was he? At times, Athrun will find himself musing about his friend—who he'd barely known for more than a day, but had felt like an old friend, whose death affected him just as much as Rusty's, as Miguel's, as Nicol's. Right now, the blunette ace pilot had stood in front of a marble head stone, a bouquet of bright orange daisies in his hand.
~.~.~.~
"Hey, that's some awesome performance, dude!"
The orange-haired boy had barely shake off his dancing shoes when a friendly, albeit hard, slap landed on his back, nearly sending him tumbling down the backstage stairs.
"Are you trying to kill me, Miguel?"
"Sorry, Heine!"
While his voice barely had an apologetic hint in it, the smug grin on the sandy-blonde's face told much more. Seeing that his glare only made his childhood friend's grin wider, Heine returned the smug grin with an equally wide Cheshire grin. Without warning, Miguel suddenly found himself in a headlock, then there was an airy breeze, and he was now staring at the stage lights on the ceiling, a headache blooming on the back of his head.
"Come back here!"
Miguel quickly scrambled onto his feet in pursue of Heine, who just laughed and ran off.
The mourners have all gathered before the minister, who was giving a speech in remembrance of the deceased. Athrun noticed the somber old couple at the front of the crowd, flanked by a man in his early 30s and another lady. The stern-looking middle-age man (older than his father, Athrun thought) with orange hair, his younger brunette wife, who had a pair of familiar, bright green eyes—Heine's parents, no doubt; the other should be Heine's older brother and his fiancée, which, from some of the gossiping crowd he'd heard, is the stepbrother from the father's deceased ex-wife. It seems that Heine had a lot of friends outside the military as well, as Athrun saw a group of civilian teens and youths, some dressed like rock stars and R&B rappers, right next to the group in standard ZAFT uniforms (green, red, few in black, even white).
~.~.~.~.~
The wooden door to the backyard barely made a creak as bare feet in sports socks tip-toed into the kitchen, dancing shoes in one hand, guitar case in the other. A quick glance told him that the coast is clear, and the 14-year-old made a mad dash for the stairs, sock-sliding halfway across the marble floor.
"Welcome home, Heinrich Heine Westenfluss."
With graceful ease, the boy halted his steps, stood up straight and greeted the tall figure at the top of the stairs.
"Good evening, father."
Both father and son greeted each other with wide smiles, but one could feel the underlying tension flaring between the two.
"I assume that it has been a great afternoon?"
The cold cobalt gaze that could bore through stone didn't even make the boy flinch.
"I can assure you of that, father. It certainly has more benefits than listening to some old jackass babble about outmoded business strategies all day long."
For a moment, the smile on Sir Westenfluss' face seemed to waver, his lips slightly twitched with anger, but he kept his cool, and instead spoke.
"If you are referring to shouting in an alley with a bunch of ruffians as a productive afternoon, I doubt there'll be any benefits from such activities."
The young teen only smiled more sweetly.
"That, depends on what we perceive as benefits and productive, father."
With that, the boy just walked past his father calmly, but once he reached his room, he made sure to slam the door hard.
It had begun to drizzle, Athrun thought, though the tiny droplets will do no harm to his jacket. Umbrellas, mostly in black or dark blue, sprouted over the crowd like mushrooms in spring. Old Sir Westenfluss had an umbrella over his wife, while their older son shared his with his fiancée. It was then that Athrun noticed the older brother placed a toy airplane on the marble slab of the headstone. From his distance, Athrun couldn't see the tears at the brim of the man's cobalt eyes.
~.~.~.~.~.~
"Big brother?"
The bespectacled young man of 17 looked up from his physics text book. Tugging at his pant leg was his young stepbrother, no older than 6.
"What's the matter, Heinrich?"
The boy looked like he was on the brink of tears, as he gingerly put the broken toy airplane on his brother's lap. The teen looked at the toy plane then back at his baby brother, who he thought had the look of a kicked puppy right now. Gently smiling, the teen ruffled the little boy's hair.
"It's alright, kiddie. I'll have it flying as brand new once I'm done, kay?"
The bright smile was worth more than any treasure or money in the world. He was about to get up to his workstation, a tug at his sleeve caught his attention.
"Can I stay and watch you repair it?'
There isn't a need for any words, as a nod and a smile said it all. And for Frederich, Heinrich's smile is all it takes to brighten his boring days.
By now, the ceremony was over. Even Sir Westenfluss and his family had left. However, three ZAFT soldiers remained, as Athrun suddenly noticed, whose presences were never felt by all of the other guests, up until now. A middle-aged commander in his white uniform, and two Red Coats—one had a FAITH badge pinned on his lapel. The trio nodded to acknowledge his presence, as they proceed towards the headstone. In the background, Athrun observed them as the FAITH agent knelt before the headstone, emptying a flask of vodka on the ground. The trio had remained in silence, probably in prayers. Athrun decided that he shouldn't interrupt or disturb them, and made his way off the cemetery.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
"Ladies, quit chatting! More ass-kicking!"
Commander Victor Hawkins roared through his intercom to the four Redcoats of his squad; three whom are currently comparing their Playstation scores. Sure, on most missions, including ground raids, specifically ambushes, he is 100% confident that they'll know how to take care of themselves, and their enemies. But this is the finale, where a small mistake can be fatal. This is the mother of all battles that will probably decide the outcome of the war, where all the aces from Orb, the Three-Ship Alliance and EA will be out in the frenzy. The ultimate battle; which, unknown to him now, will be recalled in the future as the Second Battle of Jachin Due. They, plus a few other squads, including the Klueze Squad (currently led by Squad Captain Yzak Jule—pilot of Duel Gundam), now made up the platoon that will be the frontline assault and defense.
"Hostile signals detected!" The intercom officer yelled.
"Three o'clock!"
The signals were immediately picked up by the four Red elites.
"Hn. A school of small fries and a big fat tuna." Came wingman Li's deadpan voice.
"Don't be cocky, Lung. Small fries can turn into piranhas." Westenfluss, the team captain, admonished.
"Simple. We'll just pick off the fries and let Heine have the tuna, agree?" Patterson's sing-song voice didn't quite match her feral grin and trigger-happy fingers.
"Gee, you're such a gracious girl, Sam." While his captain grumbled, and his second-in-command cackled like a witch, Hirose's black GINN scooted forward and gave his captain's orange GuAIZ-R a brief shoulder pat.
"No worry. I believe Aniki can handle." The Japanese ace gave his captain a reassuring smile (a rare occurence), which was returned with a wink and thumbs-up.
The middle-aged commander shook his head in amusement, as he went back to his screen. From his view, Commander Hawkins could see the battle unfold. Duel Gundam, leading a fleet of his own, had taken off to the middle of the battle—spearheading the assault forces. GINNs, and a few units of CGUEs, were deployed, to back up defense, as well as acting as tactical support for the frontline warships. To his right, Commander Hawkins spotted his team of elites: Westenfluss' orange GuAIZ-R, flanked by Li's grey customized GINN on his right; Patterson's dark blue CGUE, with Hirose's black GINN bringing up the rear. The four swept past his ship, falling into formation as they headed out for a squad of incoming hostile Strike Daggers, led by a Gunbarrel Strike.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let's give them a warm welcoming."
Commander Hawkins thought he could see the anticipating smile on his elite team's faces; killing intent focused, like sharks during a feeding frenzy. After all, this is the quartet which he'd personally took his time and dedication to train them into cunning, ruthless killers on the battlefield; the quartet, whom, through all their training and battle experience, forged an unbreakable familial bond with each other. While they may not be as legendary as the Klueze Squad or the Desert Tiger and his platoon, Commander Hawkins was sure; they will certainly lived up to their reputation—to pick every bone clean.
"So, who is this Heine Westenfluss?"
A wistful smile curled at his lips, as Athrun savored the warm cup of tea at a local cafe; orange pekoe tea, Heine's favorite drink next to vodka.
"Heine is an old friend of mine, a very good friend. It's quite a long story, despite only knowing each other for a short while…"
Notes:
Aniki- Big Brother in Japanese.
Finally got it out of my brain. Just wish it wasn't confusing to the eyes. For all who've read this piece, I sincerely thank you for your effort :)