REFERENCE NOTES:

This story is set after all three anime seasons of Full Metal Panic, the light novels "Dancing Very Merry Christmas," "Continuing On My Own," and "Burning One Man Force." I suspect it takes up somewhere in the middle of "Get Together And Make My Day," but as there's no English translation yet available past "Continuing" you'll just have to take my word for this. If you haven't read the novels at boku-tachi. net, I highly recommend you do so. It will make some of the references to past events much easier to understand, and I'm afraid spoilers are unavoidable. Any information regarding events past "Continuing" has been picked up from one or two of the Full Metal Panic discussion boards, where hints and teasers regarding the actual contents of as-yet untranslated novels are examined under the microscope of otaku obsession and poked with the pointy stick of wild speculation.

Disclaimer of the standardized kind: I SO do not own or make money off of FMP, its universe or its characters. So, no suing, please.


Chapter One: Waiting for Something

Kaname Chidori sat up suddenly in bed, gasping for breath. Yards of white sheets had been twisted about her while she struggled with unseen terrors in her nightmare, and she kicked ferociously free of them to place her feet on the cool, smooth surface of the terracotta tile floor. She brushed aside the heavy veil of mosquito netting that draped the antique four-poster bed gracing her new suite of rooms, and stumbled slowly to the tall French doors, flanked by wide windows, set in the far wall of her bedroom, which all looked out across the shellstone-paved expanse of patio. She paused for a moment, forehead pressed against the thick, wavy glass panes of the doors, before throwing the latch open and stepping out onto the terrace, where her hair and nightgown were instantly whipped around her by the wind sweeping in across the ocean.

The morning sun was peeking over the mountains behind the villa, casting pale pink light down the stucco walls of neighboring buildings, touching the far side of the bay, and making the distant waves sparkle gold. Underneath the cliffs the villa was built upon, she could see the wide, white beach cast in charcoal shadow. It would be hours before the sun dried it out. Even her terrace was still in shadow. The wind was chilly, and smelled of salt and wet clay roof tiles. It cut viciously at her cheeks and her bare shoulders, lashing her arms with whips of her own long, black hair. She folded her arms across her chest, shivering in the wind. Thunderclouds of gray and blue were racing past overhead, taking the early morning rain with them as they swept across the tiny Caribbean island and back out to sea.

This was Kaname's new morning ritual. Three months ago, she would lie abed, listening to her infernally cheerful alarm clock telling her to get up. She would take a long, leisurely, hot shower. She would eat breakfast, check that she had all her books and homework, lock her apartment behind her, and head to school. She had even started waiting for him to join her on the street between their apartments, instead of making him catch up with her at the train station or school.

Now she woke early, often in a cold sweat. She feared her dreams. Most of the time, she watched helplessly as Leonard placed Belial's foot on the chest of the doomed Arbalest, and stomped the cockpit flat, hydraulic fluid spraying viscously across the asphalt, and coiled fibers of memory plastic muscles snapping loose from their titanium bones like silly snakes from a can. Sometimes, she just heard him say, "Don't do it...I will bring you back…" and she would wake with tears soaking her pillow.

She had made a new habit of standing on the balcony and watching the sunlight march towards her, fingers gripping tightly to the carved railing of the terrace, eyes on the sea, face expressionless. After a while, she would go back inside, and take a quick shower in the extravagant bathroom, done floor-to-ceiling in gray-veined white marble, stocked with piles of fluffy white towels and cleaned daily by a silent maid. She would ring for breakfast to be brought up, dress herself, eat, and then be escorted to the laboratory, where she spent the rest of her day in indentured servitude to Amalgam's Research and Development Department, a servitude clad with the genteel veneer of unnecessary luxury. She had everything any girl could want at her fingertips. All she had to do was ask – clothes, jewelry, food, books, music, the attention of a handsome and polished young man – but Kaname wasn't any girl, and the young man's refined exterior hid a manipulative, cold, and calculating heart. She longed for freedom, not things.

Kaname wrenched her eyes from the hypnotic glitter of sunlight on the waves to glare at one of the few things preventing her from climbing over the balcony rail and taking her chances with the Venom units patrolling the island. She really did have everything - including her very own Arastol. The beastly thing was hunched in the back corner of her terrace, a deadly deterrent to any rescue attempt by Mithril – should anyone be left of that organization at this point – as well as her sole attempt at escape two weeks after being brought here.


She had been standing on the balcony railing, balancing in the night breeze, and calculating the jump to the narrow cliff below the terrace, thinking about what Sousuke had said about the dark of the new moon, when something had seized her by the ankles. She'd screamed and pitched forward, only to be caught by a ruthless fist in her hair. A second scream, this time of pain and fury, and floodlights had flared, frantic footsteps had pattered through stairwells, and Leonard - followed by half a dozen human guards - had burst through the bedroom's patio doors with an inscrutable look on his face.

The Arastol had not even turned its head to look at its creator – it simply grated out, in that emotionless mechanical voice,

"Action five-three-point-two. Complete. Release on your command."

Kaname had stood there fuming, waiting for Leonard to tell it to let her go, but moments passed and he simply stood there, silent.

"Well?" she'd finally demanded, temper getting the better of her fear. She was afraid that her escape attempt would negate Leonard's promise to let Sousuke live.

"It's waiting for you, Miss Kaname. It will answer to your commands, not mine." She'd turned her head a bit, hair still trapped in the Arastol's gauntlet. There. That was an expression of cool amusement on his face, she was sure of it.

"That's stupid," she'd snapped. "What's going to stop me from telling it to let me go, or better yet, carry me down the cliffside?" She'd paused, and then turned to the Arastol. "Let go already, you piece of junk!" she'd shouted, and then caught her balance as it swiftly released the death-grip on her hair and ankle, ungracefully dropping to a crouch on the balcony rail.

"This activity is going to become very tiresome should you decide to repeat it on a regular basis, Miss Kaname," Leonard had sighed, and before she could slap his hands away, he had caught her about the waist and lifted her gently down to the ground. "The Arastol will follow your orders in any regard to protecting you. However, it will not throw itself off a cliff, drown itself in the ocean, or assist you in escaping. You should really expect more from me," he'd added, meeting her glare with a calm face. "I went to a lot of trouble to convince you that Tokyo had nothing left to offer you."

That was all it had taken to bring hot, angry tears to her eyes. Before they spilled down her cheeks and exposed her weakness for everyone to see, she'd muttered, "Let go. Let go, and get out of here. I was just… I just want to go to bed." She'd shoved him away roughly, and stomped past him to stand at the doors into the bedroom. "Out!" she'd repeated, angrily, pointing.

The security team had marched past her, silent, single-file. Leonard had paused on the threshold, his back to her, the sweep of his ash blond hair spilling in perfect waves down the back of the black coat he always wore. She idly wondered how much time he spent brushing it-

"I don't wish you to consider me an enemy, Miss Kaname. I meant every word when I said I'd fallen for you. How could I not? You are truly unique. I would hate to lose you. Of course, you are welcome to attempt an escape at any point, as I am confident that you could not possibly succeed." Here he paused, and tucked his hands casually into his pockets.

"However," he continued, his voice holding a note of steely resolve, "if I should find that you are injured…or have perished… in the process of escaping, or by your own hand, you will not be the only one to suffer. I'm sure we understand each other."

Kaname's breath caught in her throat in horror. She did, indeed, understand what he meant. She could try escaping, but if she died in the attempt – a slip and fall from the cliff, an errant shot by a guard, an over-enthusiastic Venom pilot crushing her in his hand…not to mention, Leonard somehow knew that she had been momentarily torn between a leap to freedom and a leap into oblivion. It had been a difference of a few feet…but any such move on her part would be matched by retribution on his part, and she did not doubt his sincerity, or his ability to make good on the threat. He gave her regular updates on Kyouko's health, her sister Ayame's grades in school, and her father's work in the U.N., since she was not allowed to contact any of them herself. She knew she could loose any of them at any moment, and it terrified her. Of course, news on the one person who meant the most to her…was completely unavailable.

With those words, Leonard had guaranteed her cooperation. She could easily gamble with her own life, but not with the lives of her loved ones. He knew it. She knew it. He had bowed his head respectfully towards her, and left her rooms, black coat floating behind him like a cape.

That had left the Arastol on her balcony, servos humming quietly as it waited with inhuman patience for its next order. She had eyed it warily from her doorway, wondering what would happen if she were to kick it in the shin. She knew from experience on the Pacific Chrysalis last December that the autonomous A.I. functions were limited in scope, and while it could be trusted to carry out simple orders on it own, complex directives were beyond its capacity.

"Fine, fine. My commands," she had muttered under her breath, not expecting the miniaturized A.S. to straighten and say,

"Your instructions?"

She blinked in surprise, then recovered herself and growled, "Just wait wherever it was that you were hiding before you grabbed my hair!"

"Clarification required," it rumbled, in that deep, synthesized voice.

"Take up your previous post," she had temporized, realizing that she would have to take the time to find out what its programmed objectives consisted of, if she didn't want to spend hours trying out various commands to get what she wanted.

"Roger," it replied, turning, and disappearing into the shadows of the terrace's far corner, where the eaves of the tiled roof hung down before sweeping up into a vault over the main building. It hunched up under the vastly oversized green trench coat that had been draped around it, and she could hear the hum of electronics fade as it powered down for standby mode. A shiver crawled up her spine as she was suddenly reminded of the sound Fei Hung's neck had made, snapping in the relentless grip of Leonard's Arastol. And Leonard wanted this thing sitting outside her bedroom all day?


She had become as accustomed to its presence as possible during the past weeks, but it still creeped her out when it would suddenly move in the corner in response to the perceived threat of an occasional small plane far overhead, a patrolling A.S. on the beach, or a wheeling, raucous flock of seagulls. She had learned quickly not to feed them on her balcony. There were still stains in the corner.

Kaname turned on her heel and walked back into the villa, leaving the doors wide open so that the cold ocean wind would help sweep the stuffy air of her suite clean. She knew the maids kept everything spotless, but she couldn't help but feel that her presence alone shed the dust of self-doubt and apathy on everything she touched. Surely the rain-laden winds could sweep it clean while she showered.

A short time later, she was wrapped in a thick bathrobe and was toweling her hair dry, as she picked up the phone in her sitting room and asked the housekeeper to send up breakfast. She dressed as she waited, pulling a t-shirt over her head and twirling her damp hair into a twist that she deftly pinned in place on top of her head before she pulled on jeans and sneakers. She laid a sweater over the back of a chair in the sitting room to take with her to the lab, which was kept uncomfortably cold in favor of the massive amounts of computer equipment. She answered the gentle knock at her door with a kind smile for the maid, but it slid off her face almost immediately when she saw who was holding her breakfast tray.

"Leonard," she said flatly, standing in the doorway with her hand still on the handle.

"I was on my way to speak with you anyway, so I offered to bring your plate up," he said with a smile, as if they did this everyday. "If you don't mind stepping aside…" he trailed off pointedly, nodding at the sitting room. She slowly moved out of his way, holding the door open stiffly as he swept past her and set the tray on the small table beside her reading chair.

He busied himself with the tea things, a small cultural change that she had grown to appreciate over that past couple of months. She thought wistfully of Tessa as Leonard deftly poured English tea from a delicate teapot into an equally delicate cup, dropped a sugar cube into it, and then pointed at the tiny milk pitcher with a questioning look on his face. She gave him a blank look at first, suddenly remembering what Tessa had said about the dangers of extended Whispered resonance, and the way the milk had clouded the tea as she had explained that at some point, it was impossible to separate one mind from another. She shook her head, accepted the teacup from him, and tried not to cringe as his fingers gently brushed hers in passing. He set her plate on the side table and smiled benignly at her.

"The kitchen staff must like you," he said softly from his seat on the sofa across from her. "I was told there weren't any left." That aggravating smile was still hovering around his lips. He pointed at the unsuspecting scone on the plate in front of her, which had been accompanied by bacon, eggs, half a grapefruit, and a bowl of rice. The kitchen's previous attempts at a real Japanese breakfast of miso soup, rice, natto, pickled radish, and rolled omelet had been somewhat disastrous. For now, rice was enough.

"I, unlike some people, can be nice without wanting something in return," she muttered bitterly into her teacup. She sipped slowly, closing her eyes against the hurt look on Leonard's face. His occasional acts of kindness did not entitle him to forgiveness of his other sins, she sternly told herself. It doesn't matter if he's offended. He's a bad person. It's the truth. I will not sugarcoat it!

"There is a new project that I want you to spend some time on," he said, as if nothing had occurred to upset him. "We have had several groups working on it and have made little progress, and I have…other duties. I think it's time to see what you can do with it." He stood. "Finish your breakfast. You will be brought to the new lab this morning." She nodded silently, absorbed in staring at the bottom of her cup through the deep golden brown of the tea, watching as it slopped up the sides as she twirled it gently in her hands. "Please give this your full attention, Miss Kaname," he added, as he walked towards the door. She didn't look up, just nodded again. She heard the door shut quietly, and fought down the violent urge to hurl the cup at the door. It would only amuse him. And it was one of her favorite cups.

Half an hour later, hair dry and up in a ponytail, her sweater pulled on over her shirt, she was past a retinal scan and being led down a hallway in the restricted area of the labs, which was awfully silly since the whole operation screamed 'secretive!' and she was sure there wasn't a single truly innocent soul past the first guard desk. They were deep inside the cliff, and the walls were of poured concrete at least a meter thick. This facility was definitely designed for defense. Everything was a depressing shade of battleship gray, and the flooring had an unpleasant rubbery feel. It squeaked under the soles of her sneakers.

She was brought up short in front of a pair of double doors. The black-clad guard escorting her peered down his nose at her as if about to confer some kind of honor, then swiped his security card through a reader and stepped aside as the doors whisked open. She stepped through, and spotted Leonard and several scientists in white lab coats standing to the side of a long table full of computers. At the far end was a massive something draped in a white cloth. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she wandered towards Leonard, knowing he would be eager to explain. He acknowledged her with a nod of his head, and continued answering whatever it was that one of the scientists had asked about.

"…if that is the case, then we need to consider dismantling all but the core, and try injecting new material. Procurement shouldn't be too hard after a week or two." His glance flicked to Kaname and then away, and she felt a fleeting stab of apprehension. "Regardless, this is an opportunity that cannot be missed. I expect you to allow Miss Kaname free rein, and provide her with whatever technical support she needs."

Leonard turned to Kaname, and with a graceful flourish, indicated the cloth-covered item at the end of the table. The rest of the room was empty, expectant. "Here it is. I don't doubt that you will recognize it." He gestured for the other scientists to remove the shroud. "I am hoping it will recognize you," he smiled. The fabric fluttered as it was yanked from one side, and Kaname gasped in shock as she stumbled backwards.

It was a scene right out her nightmares – the half-crushed, battered remains of Sousuke's ARX-7 Arbalest lay in a pathetic heap on the floor of Amalgam's research bay. She could hear, far off, someone screaming. It took her a moment to realize that the person screaming was her.


A/N: First fanfic, so have at it! Seriously. That being said, I am trying to get this story out of my system before Gatou-sama makes it impossible for this to be even remotely canon. However, I'm dying to see what "really" happens, so I'm torn: Hurry up! No, uh...wait...give me a few weeks...! Next chapter: We see Sousuke gear up to resume the search for Kaname. Go, Sousuke!

Updated on 9/13 - Nothing major, just fixed a few typos, clarified a few details. Still working on Ch. 2 & 3. I am determined to work in the new info from the latest issue of the FMP story...but there's only so far I can go before I'm going to have to divert from canon…(sigh). Hope to see Ch. 2 this weekend. Thanks for reading!

Updated on 12/14 – Just a tiny bit of editing, plus the "Notes" paragraph.