Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine. sigh One can only wish…
AN: Well! After much revision and rewriting and consulting and… well, after lots 'o' stuff, here it is! The first part of what was originally the "epilogue" to The Lost Girl. It's really more of a filler story (hint, hint) so I can get things where they need to be…
That being said, if you haven't read The Lost Girl, well, I don't care, but you might be a little confused. ;)
So you're not completely lost, about 3 weeks have passed since the end of Lost Girl.
Fall Away
Part 1
Life wasn't bad. We had moved bases two weeks ago – since the OZ party had found the complex in Tokyo once, they could find it again. We were now situated at one of Quatre's factions' hangars out in the desert, in the middle of nowhere; hopefully they couldn't track us here. The pilots – well, at least all of them except Duo – were running regular missions now, usually a couple of times a week and spending their off time repairing or upgrading their Gundams. Duo had a new Deathscythe model under construction and was working dutifully each day to complete it so he could begin running missions again.
Life wasn't bad.
It just wasn't great, either.
I didn't feel like I quite fit in and what was more, I felt like I was a burden, and a fault. If I had had my memories, I could have gotten the mainframe done on a new Gundam for Duo in less time than it had taken Wufei to overhaul Shenlong's flame-thrower system.
At least, that's what I had overheard Trowa tell Quatre.
The smaller blonde had, of course, violently defended me at the time. He'd said it wasn't my fault that I couldn't remember, and that they had gotten along before me so my present lack of abilities shouldn't be seen as such a big loss.
I didn't agree. I knew it was my fault Duo had no Gundam in the first place, and more so my fault that he didn't have my help in constructing a new one. I spent my days down in the bay, watching intently as he worked through schematics and systems, slowly building up the frame and armor for his new suit.
Things had been coming back to me, spontaneously. Popping up out of nowhere: random circuit configurations and servo links. Sometimes I suddenly knew what he was doing. Other times I had to pester Duo every two minutes because the simple power readout he'd let me work with wasn't linking up right. It was unnerving, and despite Duo's good nature, I was beginning to feel worthless most of the time.
It was also a bit scary, still, having random knowledge pop up in my head. It was mostly linked to what I was working on, but sometimes memories - real memories, people, places, sounds, smells - would come back, and it was like I would blank out for a moment. Twice I had blinked back into the real world to find Duo peering worriedly down at me, waving his hand in front of my face.
memories are just where you laid them
drag the waters 'till the depths give up their dead
But I was never going to get it all back, and I knew that. Duo knew that, and so did the other four pilots.
I was sick of it. I was sick of being this burden - they had let me stay before only because I was so good with their suits; Quatre assured me daily that I was now a part of the group and that I was their friend, that they all wanted me to stay.
what did you expect to find?
Quatre seemed to want me to stay. I didn't think Heero wanted me to stay. I didn't really think Wufei did either. Trowa seemed relatively impassive.
was there something you left behind?
And Duo was scaring me.
He was still the hyperactive, talkative and cheerily annoying boy that he had been from the first time I could remember him, but there was something else. Some kind of sadness, some kind of almost... hatred that I could see in his blue eyes when he glanced at me sometimes.
But I knew what that was for, too.
I couldn't remember *us*. If there had been much of an us. I had to admit, I was pretty darn attracted to the boy. But it was strange. It just didn't seem right - any time one of us would even joke, even laughingly mention the word "love" or something like it in passing, a wall slammed down between us.
I could tell it hurt him, and somewhere, deep inside, it hurt me too.
I was still living with him, in a small suite in the new safehouse adjacent to the hangar, like I had been when this whole thing had begun. He'd said that he didn't want me to be alone, that he was worried about me.
I'd catch him looking at me with a strange look in his eyes, just sitting there watching me read, or attempt to cook, or something. It was unnerving - we'd talked, but we hadn't really *talked*. Both of us were dancing around something, and sooner or later it was going to come back and blow up in our faces. I just knew it.
And he was having nightmares. I could tell – I could hear him screaming from his room next to mine sometimes. He couldn't have been sleeping much; he was constantly tired – he went through two pots of coffee himself on a regular morning. I'd wake up in the middle of the night to find him still awake; it would be 3:30, 4:30 in the morning and he'd be sitting there, staring at the blank TV screen.
He didn't know I knew. I wouldn't say anything when I found him awake – I'd just sneak back to my room and wish there was something I could do. I couldn't bear to leave him out there alone and hurting, but I didn't know how to fix it. I was afraid I was only going to make it worse, and so I said nothing. And that was hurting me almost as much as those nightmares had to be hurting him.
And in the morning he'd bounce in, kidding me and poking fun all over again. But I could see it somewhere in his gaze – there was something there. So much pain.
I *wanted* to be able to do something. But I couldn't think of a way to fix this. And at this rate, we weren't going to last much longer.
* * *
"Hey, sleepyhead, time to get up and get to work on my new Deathscythe. I can't believe you're still asleep. Don't you have priorities?" Duo poked his head into Alison's dark room, making sure to let the light from the hall flood in and illuminate the bed.
The lump on the bed groaned and rolled over, her green eyes blinking in the brightness.
"I never thought anyone could sleep so much before I met you, have I told you that?" he joked, grinning. She eyed him warily.
"Only every couple of days. What time is it?" she asked. He stole a quick glance at his watch.
"Five-thirty."
"You're insane!" she cried and pulled the covers back over her head.
He bounced into the room, being sure to do so loudly. He bounded over and then onto the bed, careful not to squish her as he did so. He peeled back the covers to see her looking at him with wide, surprised eyes.
"What the –"
"Get up!" he whined.
"Okay!"
She slid quickly out from underneath him; he could see her face beginning to turn red as she dashed out of the room. He heard the bathroom door close loudly seconds later.
He sighed. It just wasn't the same. He couldn't do this anymore.
He loved her. He had tried to tell her, in any way he knew how, but she wouldn't listen. Well – that wasn't true, he supposed. He hadn't really told her in every way. He hadn't tried telling her in words.
But he wasn't good at words like *that*, and she wasn't either. It seemed ironic, really, that the two biggest loudmouths around (he being the bigger of the two, of course) couldn't tell each other something as simple as three little words. But any time any of them would even mention something close to a word of commitment, of real caring, something slammed down and neither of them could say anything more. She just ran away, and most of the time, he ran away too. The closest he had come to telling her was in the hospital room just after she'd woken up. But even then…
He suddenly hadn't been able to do it. And he still couldn't.
Would she even understand it anymore?
don't you remember anything i said when i said
don't fall away, and leave me to myself
Would she even mean it, if she said it now?
He missed her – he missed her a lot, and he knew that she was never really coming back. There were moments – flashes when her eyes were suddenly the eyes of the girl he'd known before. But then those eyes would disappear, and there would be confusion and fear in them again. They were hidden well, but he knew all about hiding things like that. They were still there.
don't fall away and leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands again
And all he had was this love, this thing he had before, and it was dying, bleeding to death in his hands. The nightmares were only making it worse.
He shook his head; he didn't even want to *think* about those.
But the fact remained.
She didn't remember. But he did.
And he couldn't do a thing about it.
love lies bleeding…
