That's Childish, So Childish…
Chapter One: Another Night, With Open Eyes…
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Disclaimer: Um, if I owned anything here, I wouldn't have this under "Fanfiction" but "Original". Just a thought. Title/chapter words will all be from Petshop Boys songs.
Warnings: Potential sarcasm. Yeah, right. Some characters get abused. If anything bad happens, though, it'll be lost in a page- or scene-break, so don't worry. Maybe blood and gore, but hey, "Braveheart" probably showed more than me…
Pairings: Undetermined of yet, and won't matter until the end anyway. Let me know what you want—or I'll go by my own whims (not sure you guys'll like that, tho…).
Synopsis: Say that in falsifying reports about blowing up the reconstructed Wing Gundam, Zechs was betrayed. Say that Romefeller was playing some hidden experiments and wanted a guinea-pig. Put them together and you've a 7-year-old Zechs who's miffed—and decides to make life interesting for (eventually) 5 familiar Gundam pilots. Changes the original story, doesn't it?
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"Colonel…"
He stiffened at that voice. The mere fact that it was here again and accosting him by the lounge's coffeepot meant the owner was on his tail—not just standing behind him—and he had to be wary. Yet Zechs found it hard not to bristle as well at Acht's tone—there was just something about the man and his voice that threatened to make even /his/ long hair stand on end like an upset cat's.
//I wonder what it is /now/. Why is it that suddenly Romefeller thinks I need a babysitter?// But he knew. Why else would they hound him when Treize trusted him impeccably? //They know too much about me. They don't trust me as far as they could throw the Tallgeese… and they know all about Sanc.//
Slowly turning to face the short Inspector, he kept his face expressionless. Not just mere habit, that—he couldn't afford less than his best poker-face right now.
//Ironic, that Treize knows as much and trusts me, yet they don't… Unless they don't trust him any more than they do me.// Beneath his mask, his eyes narrowed slightly at the smirking Inspector. That couldn't be a good sign… //Oh damn… Forget Treize, Merquise—looks like you're going to fall into the fire before he does!//
"Yes…?" Zechs made it sound bored. That took effort, though, because he had a very BAD feeling about this. //For one thing… how'd he find me here, anyway? Only—//
"A Mister Tedon Smith told us something about falsified forms and fireworks shows… and a visit to this South American base." That smirk became a twisted predator grin of triumph.
Zechs could feel his heart sink to a location somewhere two floors beneath where they were standing. //Yes, that's one of the few… So he barked on me… Whatever did I do to /him/? This won't be good—the question is, however, just how /bad/ this is…// "And that leaves us where, Inspector?" he inquired blandly, his well-practiced control standing strong despite the increasing fear Acht's expression was stirring up.
He could have sworn Acht was disappointed by his reaction—in fact, the man seemed crestfallen, like a kid expecting the lion to roar and finding that the lion was snoring rather loudly, though he still appeared determined to have some fun at Zechs's expense. //Sorry, Inspector, but begging for forgiveness or making excuses just aren't part of my repertoire… Try Duke Dermail. Go poke a stick at him… or better yet, Lady Une. She'd probably find a nice and simple way to kill you without anyone being able to trace her back to it…//
As he watched with external impassivity (and an internal grimace), Acht frowned and held forth a folder derisively. "It leaves us at your arrest, Colonel, and the impounding of both the Gundam that /should/ have been blown up as well as the Tallgeese."
And the vile man smirked smugly.
Zechs glowered through his mask, seething—though of course Acht couldn't tell. Taking the Gundam was one thing, quite expected, though the fools would obviously waste it or waste time struggling to study it when his men already knew all there was to be learned from that masterpiece of mobile suit engineering. Arresting him fit the norm—and probably a court marshal would follow, perhaps topped off by the usual execution that ruthless organizations such as Romefeller loved to employ. Taking the /Tallgeese/ was a blow at his pride, however. They could just as easily leave it for another to use, not that many others would be /able/ to and live, but few believed that fact—the majority of the military thought the old suit redundant and thus useless… or weak. Alex and Muller had been prime examples of the popular opinions out there.
//They're doing it only to hurt me. But I'll be damned if I give you that satisfaction… at least openly. Damn… My beautiful Tallgeese… I hope Noin steals it from you bastards and teaches you just what exactly it /is/ capable of.//
Oh? Acht seemed to be waiting rather impatiently for a reply.
Glumly, Zechs acknowledged to himself that he was caught. He had gambled—and lost, though the odds had been in his favor… Perhaps for now escape just /might/ be possible, but he'd bet Acht's cronies—who were undoubtedly nearby—had orders to shoot him on sight if he left the room without the man. And later… well, that would depend on just how competent Romefeller would turn out to be. Probably almost overly-competent, considering Zechs's record, history, and reputation. So, in the end, he'd end up dead. Well, that was all fine and dandy—he hadn't expected to live past the freeing of Sanc anyway. It was disappointing, though. So much for his hopes of dying in battle… with /some/ kind of honor, even if it wasn't a kind his father would have approved of.
//But death is death—it probably hurts as much. One Alliance killed my family—the next one merely finishes the job, I suppose…//
So Zechs reached for his gun.
Hearing the Inspector's breath catch in sudden terror, he couldn't help a faint smile of his own. "You needn't worry. If I wanted to shoot you, you wouldn't have /seen/ my hand move…."
Acht growled at that, trying to regain his composure. "Your so-exalted reflexes," he commented sarcastically.
Zechs ignored that, and quietly unbuckled the holster, setting it and the gun aside on a nearby counter with deliberate slowness—almost mocking the man with his lazy attitude of surrendering.
"So when is my trial?" On the bright side, trying him anywhere would be very embarrassing for both Oz /and/ Romefeller, considering he /was/ their best weapon. Their own men would be upset by it—and wonder if they might end up in the same position as their Lightening Count for an equally small reason.
"There isn't one," Acht crowed, eyes wickedly gleeful. "It's just straight to prison—/our/ choice of prison—for you. A lot of good your reflexes will do you there—unless they keep you from becoming the underling of some other prisoner already there!"
Zechs froze, ice filling his veins. Bad? This qualified as a worst-case scenario! Odds were Acht was merely spouting what he'd been told, but Zechs had been around both Oz and Romefeller long enough to know they knew better than to keep him alive long. The longer he lived, the more likely he'd escape, and the more likely he was to escape, the more likely he—who had devoted his life to /one/ revenge—was to take up a /new/ target for his fury… like his former captors. They couldn't afford it. They weren't idiots. Well, not most of the ones with actual power, anyway. Or at least not completely /suicidal/ idiots—which they'd have to be to merely imprison him. He wondered just what his last months would be like… It was starting to look like they had something planned for him already, and it wouldn't be pretty… or fun.
The ice was only briefly in residence, however, before a reasonable fiery rage melted it away. //All over keeping a damn useful mobile suit?!? I /know/ I'm useful, and I /know/ there's nobody else who can stand against the Gundams! I know I can win, fairly, if they'd let me! If they have a problem against fighting fair, couldn't they have just sent a damn memo? Instead of this… this…//
Acht was audibly struggling not to laugh behind him, motive enough for anyone to get upset. So the former Tallgeese pilot whirled on him with his usual eye-blurring speed, taking a single step to close the distance—putting them almost chest-to-chest, where he could look down his significant height at his tormenter.
Acht couldn't help his reaction—he was a coward at heart, facing Oz's equivalent of a Gundam pilot whose /expression/ may not have looked miffed, but who was definitely radiating a simmering sort of anger that nobody wise would want to be the target of. Acht gulped, color running from his face like bad laundry in a wringing cycle.
At this range, masks would NOT hide Zechs's eyes, and they were about as furious as an Antarctic ice storm. That last comment of Acht's was sinking past the upheavals the lack of trial had created, and only fueled the fury like raw gasoline. The ice of his eyes mirrored his voice as he pointed out, "Even /you/ can be lucky now and then, Inspector Acht… I wouldn't depend on it, though, if I were you. As I've proven just now… luck tends to run out."
Wisely, Acht didn't reply. He was too busy shivering and gaping.
Zechs eyed the man firmly, not bothering to hide his anger, yet knowing it wasn't worth taking out on Acht. He would remember, though—he wouldn't forget neither who betrayed him, nor the sadistic creature taking so much pleasure in delivering the news. //He's a fool… People very often /do/ take out the news on the messenger. And he'll get what he deserves, even if it /isn't/ by my hand…//
Smiling slightly despite his anger, Zechs stepped around the man, going to the door. //May as well get it over with… To whom goes the honor of slapping on the cuffs, hmm?//
"Wait…"
//What does he want /now/?// The Colonel's steps halted at that confused tone, and stifled the urge to sigh. //Can't the man get a hobby? Like standing in the middle of the runway at take-off, or insulting Treize in front of Lady Une, or baiting Gundams? I. Do. Not. Like. You. Acht. Why won't you leave me alone? Haven't you had enough?//
Turning only enough to peer over his shoulder through the eyeholes of his mask, Zechs was startled to see the Inspector looking confused and… perhaps a touch sheepish? Definitely a touch less arrogant than a moment ago. Rattled might be the best way to describe him.
"You're /that/ angry, yet you…" Acht couldn't finish it—but it seemed a bit of sense had been scared into him. The Inspector was wondering why Zechs hadn't killed him out of fury.
//Um… Hmm, what to tell him… "I have this thing called 'self-control'?" "Because you aren't worth the physical energy I'd have to expend in breaking your neck?" "An old aversion to killing idiots who'll likely kill themselves?" Or "You're pretty close to doomed without me, so why stop you from cutting your own throat?" No, wait, there's better.//
"I get more satisfaction simply knowing that the Gundams are likely to avenge things more adequately than I can," he answered with a slow, sad smirk. //Sure, seems like a petty enough triumph for you now, Acht… But you'll face them, and you'll definitely lose. And after you, so will Romefeller… I know that, and it's enough.// "Why should I kill you when you can kill yourself easily enough without my help?"
That got a nice rise out of the Inspector—his face started to flush from red to an unhealthy purple.
//I've had enough of you, Inspector. Prison's starting to look more appealing.// Zechs didn't wait for the man to explode, but continued to the door, tabbing it open and taking one stride out.
Two guards—Acht's cronies, who while they didn't like the man much more than Zechs did, could only curry favor though the loathsome man and so stayed loyal… for now. They waited a bit to either side of the door, obviously waiting for him.
//So be it. In the custody of Acht's muscle-men.// Well, they /were/ topping his own height, and could have passed for boxing title champs in both looks and overall toughness. He /could/ have taken them… but for what? And do what after? The base was probably crawling with Acht's men. And there probably would be plenty of opportunities to die later, too, so no point rushing it now. Not until he'd selected the method of his preference…
Icy-blue eyes flicked from one man to the other, assessing, without the silvery mask moving the slightest, then Zechs calmly and coolly removed his saber, turning to the one on his left and offering it. "If you would…"
The blocky soldier eyed Zechs like he thought the Colonel might bite, then slowly accepted the weapon, frowning warily.
The man on the right was eyeing Acht through the doorway and seemed puzzled as to why the Inspector looked ready to give the last Mount St. Helens' eruption a run for its money. //Not paying attention… Really, is this some way of reducing the overpopulation problem on Earth? Because it's becoming pitiful…// Zechs wondered glumly.
Holding his wrists forth to the distracted man, he sighed. "Yes, I /did/ leave his head on his shoulders," he admitted wryly, startling the burly soldier and drawing an embarrassed flush to the man's face. "Shall we?"
The large fellow grunted, and began snapping on the forearm cuffs. They weren't made to allow much movement, and had a tendency to feel like they turned your elbows inside out, even though they kept your hands in front of you. //Humph… So much for getting standard treatment. /Or/ escape. Someone behind all this definitely did their research…//
Zechs looked down at the bluish metal, seeing his reflection distorted, head dipped forward in silent defeat. A long sigh slid through his frame. //It's over. The career, the man, the life… But I accomplished my goals. Sanc's free, and Relena will take good care of it. Noin will probably help her—and guard her—and do a better job of it than I can.//
"I've been waiting for /years/ for this," came Acht's growl behind him.
//Huh?//
*Crack.*
Blackness dropped over Zechs's vision, and vaguely he felt himself pitch forward to his knees, swaying. Distantly, a blinding pain spread from the back of his head…
//Did he just shoot me? I almost hope he did…//
Then the darkness blanketed everything.
Zechs didn't feel himself hit the ground.
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To be continued…
"Another night
With open eyes
Too late to sleep
Too soon to rise
You're short of breath
Is it a heart attack?
Hot and feverish you face the fact…" -----"Can You Forgive Her?" by Petshop Boys
Chapter One: Another Night, With Open Eyes…
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Disclaimer: Um, if I owned anything here, I wouldn't have this under "Fanfiction" but "Original". Just a thought. Title/chapter words will all be from Petshop Boys songs.
Warnings: Potential sarcasm. Yeah, right. Some characters get abused. If anything bad happens, though, it'll be lost in a page- or scene-break, so don't worry. Maybe blood and gore, but hey, "Braveheart" probably showed more than me…
Pairings: Undetermined of yet, and won't matter until the end anyway. Let me know what you want—or I'll go by my own whims (not sure you guys'll like that, tho…).
Synopsis: Say that in falsifying reports about blowing up the reconstructed Wing Gundam, Zechs was betrayed. Say that Romefeller was playing some hidden experiments and wanted a guinea-pig. Put them together and you've a 7-year-old Zechs who's miffed—and decides to make life interesting for (eventually) 5 familiar Gundam pilots. Changes the original story, doesn't it?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Colonel…"
He stiffened at that voice. The mere fact that it was here again and accosting him by the lounge's coffeepot meant the owner was on his tail—not just standing behind him—and he had to be wary. Yet Zechs found it hard not to bristle as well at Acht's tone—there was just something about the man and his voice that threatened to make even /his/ long hair stand on end like an upset cat's.
//I wonder what it is /now/. Why is it that suddenly Romefeller thinks I need a babysitter?// But he knew. Why else would they hound him when Treize trusted him impeccably? //They know too much about me. They don't trust me as far as they could throw the Tallgeese… and they know all about Sanc.//
Slowly turning to face the short Inspector, he kept his face expressionless. Not just mere habit, that—he couldn't afford less than his best poker-face right now.
//Ironic, that Treize knows as much and trusts me, yet they don't… Unless they don't trust him any more than they do me.// Beneath his mask, his eyes narrowed slightly at the smirking Inspector. That couldn't be a good sign… //Oh damn… Forget Treize, Merquise—looks like you're going to fall into the fire before he does!//
"Yes…?" Zechs made it sound bored. That took effort, though, because he had a very BAD feeling about this. //For one thing… how'd he find me here, anyway? Only—//
"A Mister Tedon Smith told us something about falsified forms and fireworks shows… and a visit to this South American base." That smirk became a twisted predator grin of triumph.
Zechs could feel his heart sink to a location somewhere two floors beneath where they were standing. //Yes, that's one of the few… So he barked on me… Whatever did I do to /him/? This won't be good—the question is, however, just how /bad/ this is…// "And that leaves us where, Inspector?" he inquired blandly, his well-practiced control standing strong despite the increasing fear Acht's expression was stirring up.
He could have sworn Acht was disappointed by his reaction—in fact, the man seemed crestfallen, like a kid expecting the lion to roar and finding that the lion was snoring rather loudly, though he still appeared determined to have some fun at Zechs's expense. //Sorry, Inspector, but begging for forgiveness or making excuses just aren't part of my repertoire… Try Duke Dermail. Go poke a stick at him… or better yet, Lady Une. She'd probably find a nice and simple way to kill you without anyone being able to trace her back to it…//
As he watched with external impassivity (and an internal grimace), Acht frowned and held forth a folder derisively. "It leaves us at your arrest, Colonel, and the impounding of both the Gundam that /should/ have been blown up as well as the Tallgeese."
And the vile man smirked smugly.
Zechs glowered through his mask, seething—though of course Acht couldn't tell. Taking the Gundam was one thing, quite expected, though the fools would obviously waste it or waste time struggling to study it when his men already knew all there was to be learned from that masterpiece of mobile suit engineering. Arresting him fit the norm—and probably a court marshal would follow, perhaps topped off by the usual execution that ruthless organizations such as Romefeller loved to employ. Taking the /Tallgeese/ was a blow at his pride, however. They could just as easily leave it for another to use, not that many others would be /able/ to and live, but few believed that fact—the majority of the military thought the old suit redundant and thus useless… or weak. Alex and Muller had been prime examples of the popular opinions out there.
//They're doing it only to hurt me. But I'll be damned if I give you that satisfaction… at least openly. Damn… My beautiful Tallgeese… I hope Noin steals it from you bastards and teaches you just what exactly it /is/ capable of.//
Oh? Acht seemed to be waiting rather impatiently for a reply.
Glumly, Zechs acknowledged to himself that he was caught. He had gambled—and lost, though the odds had been in his favor… Perhaps for now escape just /might/ be possible, but he'd bet Acht's cronies—who were undoubtedly nearby—had orders to shoot him on sight if he left the room without the man. And later… well, that would depend on just how competent Romefeller would turn out to be. Probably almost overly-competent, considering Zechs's record, history, and reputation. So, in the end, he'd end up dead. Well, that was all fine and dandy—he hadn't expected to live past the freeing of Sanc anyway. It was disappointing, though. So much for his hopes of dying in battle… with /some/ kind of honor, even if it wasn't a kind his father would have approved of.
//But death is death—it probably hurts as much. One Alliance killed my family—the next one merely finishes the job, I suppose…//
So Zechs reached for his gun.
Hearing the Inspector's breath catch in sudden terror, he couldn't help a faint smile of his own. "You needn't worry. If I wanted to shoot you, you wouldn't have /seen/ my hand move…."
Acht growled at that, trying to regain his composure. "Your so-exalted reflexes," he commented sarcastically.
Zechs ignored that, and quietly unbuckled the holster, setting it and the gun aside on a nearby counter with deliberate slowness—almost mocking the man with his lazy attitude of surrendering.
"So when is my trial?" On the bright side, trying him anywhere would be very embarrassing for both Oz /and/ Romefeller, considering he /was/ their best weapon. Their own men would be upset by it—and wonder if they might end up in the same position as their Lightening Count for an equally small reason.
"There isn't one," Acht crowed, eyes wickedly gleeful. "It's just straight to prison—/our/ choice of prison—for you. A lot of good your reflexes will do you there—unless they keep you from becoming the underling of some other prisoner already there!"
Zechs froze, ice filling his veins. Bad? This qualified as a worst-case scenario! Odds were Acht was merely spouting what he'd been told, but Zechs had been around both Oz and Romefeller long enough to know they knew better than to keep him alive long. The longer he lived, the more likely he'd escape, and the more likely he was to escape, the more likely he—who had devoted his life to /one/ revenge—was to take up a /new/ target for his fury… like his former captors. They couldn't afford it. They weren't idiots. Well, not most of the ones with actual power, anyway. Or at least not completely /suicidal/ idiots—which they'd have to be to merely imprison him. He wondered just what his last months would be like… It was starting to look like they had something planned for him already, and it wouldn't be pretty… or fun.
The ice was only briefly in residence, however, before a reasonable fiery rage melted it away. //All over keeping a damn useful mobile suit?!? I /know/ I'm useful, and I /know/ there's nobody else who can stand against the Gundams! I know I can win, fairly, if they'd let me! If they have a problem against fighting fair, couldn't they have just sent a damn memo? Instead of this… this…//
Acht was audibly struggling not to laugh behind him, motive enough for anyone to get upset. So the former Tallgeese pilot whirled on him with his usual eye-blurring speed, taking a single step to close the distance—putting them almost chest-to-chest, where he could look down his significant height at his tormenter.
Acht couldn't help his reaction—he was a coward at heart, facing Oz's equivalent of a Gundam pilot whose /expression/ may not have looked miffed, but who was definitely radiating a simmering sort of anger that nobody wise would want to be the target of. Acht gulped, color running from his face like bad laundry in a wringing cycle.
At this range, masks would NOT hide Zechs's eyes, and they were about as furious as an Antarctic ice storm. That last comment of Acht's was sinking past the upheavals the lack of trial had created, and only fueled the fury like raw gasoline. The ice of his eyes mirrored his voice as he pointed out, "Even /you/ can be lucky now and then, Inspector Acht… I wouldn't depend on it, though, if I were you. As I've proven just now… luck tends to run out."
Wisely, Acht didn't reply. He was too busy shivering and gaping.
Zechs eyed the man firmly, not bothering to hide his anger, yet knowing it wasn't worth taking out on Acht. He would remember, though—he wouldn't forget neither who betrayed him, nor the sadistic creature taking so much pleasure in delivering the news. //He's a fool… People very often /do/ take out the news on the messenger. And he'll get what he deserves, even if it /isn't/ by my hand…//
Smiling slightly despite his anger, Zechs stepped around the man, going to the door. //May as well get it over with… To whom goes the honor of slapping on the cuffs, hmm?//
"Wait…"
//What does he want /now/?// The Colonel's steps halted at that confused tone, and stifled the urge to sigh. //Can't the man get a hobby? Like standing in the middle of the runway at take-off, or insulting Treize in front of Lady Une, or baiting Gundams? I. Do. Not. Like. You. Acht. Why won't you leave me alone? Haven't you had enough?//
Turning only enough to peer over his shoulder through the eyeholes of his mask, Zechs was startled to see the Inspector looking confused and… perhaps a touch sheepish? Definitely a touch less arrogant than a moment ago. Rattled might be the best way to describe him.
"You're /that/ angry, yet you…" Acht couldn't finish it—but it seemed a bit of sense had been scared into him. The Inspector was wondering why Zechs hadn't killed him out of fury.
//Um… Hmm, what to tell him… "I have this thing called 'self-control'?" "Because you aren't worth the physical energy I'd have to expend in breaking your neck?" "An old aversion to killing idiots who'll likely kill themselves?" Or "You're pretty close to doomed without me, so why stop you from cutting your own throat?" No, wait, there's better.//
"I get more satisfaction simply knowing that the Gundams are likely to avenge things more adequately than I can," he answered with a slow, sad smirk. //Sure, seems like a petty enough triumph for you now, Acht… But you'll face them, and you'll definitely lose. And after you, so will Romefeller… I know that, and it's enough.// "Why should I kill you when you can kill yourself easily enough without my help?"
That got a nice rise out of the Inspector—his face started to flush from red to an unhealthy purple.
//I've had enough of you, Inspector. Prison's starting to look more appealing.// Zechs didn't wait for the man to explode, but continued to the door, tabbing it open and taking one stride out.
Two guards—Acht's cronies, who while they didn't like the man much more than Zechs did, could only curry favor though the loathsome man and so stayed loyal… for now. They waited a bit to either side of the door, obviously waiting for him.
//So be it. In the custody of Acht's muscle-men.// Well, they /were/ topping his own height, and could have passed for boxing title champs in both looks and overall toughness. He /could/ have taken them… but for what? And do what after? The base was probably crawling with Acht's men. And there probably would be plenty of opportunities to die later, too, so no point rushing it now. Not until he'd selected the method of his preference…
Icy-blue eyes flicked from one man to the other, assessing, without the silvery mask moving the slightest, then Zechs calmly and coolly removed his saber, turning to the one on his left and offering it. "If you would…"
The blocky soldier eyed Zechs like he thought the Colonel might bite, then slowly accepted the weapon, frowning warily.
The man on the right was eyeing Acht through the doorway and seemed puzzled as to why the Inspector looked ready to give the last Mount St. Helens' eruption a run for its money. //Not paying attention… Really, is this some way of reducing the overpopulation problem on Earth? Because it's becoming pitiful…// Zechs wondered glumly.
Holding his wrists forth to the distracted man, he sighed. "Yes, I /did/ leave his head on his shoulders," he admitted wryly, startling the burly soldier and drawing an embarrassed flush to the man's face. "Shall we?"
The large fellow grunted, and began snapping on the forearm cuffs. They weren't made to allow much movement, and had a tendency to feel like they turned your elbows inside out, even though they kept your hands in front of you. //Humph… So much for getting standard treatment. /Or/ escape. Someone behind all this definitely did their research…//
Zechs looked down at the bluish metal, seeing his reflection distorted, head dipped forward in silent defeat. A long sigh slid through his frame. //It's over. The career, the man, the life… But I accomplished my goals. Sanc's free, and Relena will take good care of it. Noin will probably help her—and guard her—and do a better job of it than I can.//
"I've been waiting for /years/ for this," came Acht's growl behind him.
//Huh?//
*Crack.*
Blackness dropped over Zechs's vision, and vaguely he felt himself pitch forward to his knees, swaying. Distantly, a blinding pain spread from the back of his head…
//Did he just shoot me? I almost hope he did…//
Then the darkness blanketed everything.
Zechs didn't feel himself hit the ground.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
To be continued…
"Another night
With open eyes
Too late to sleep
Too soon to rise
You're short of breath
Is it a heart attack?
Hot and feverish you face the fact…" -----"Can You Forgive Her?" by Petshop Boys