Authoress Notes: School approaches...tomorrow. Augh. lP
Notes: This is off some fan-base manga that I read that Lockon had indeed been found, only by the Union or something like that. So yes, he's still alive.
Claim: I own Izumi, who is much like my sister Lorrie!
Disclaim: If I did own Gundam, I'm pretty sure that Lockon and Feldt would be really really happy. :D
Strings
001
Beep...beep...beep...
That annoying sound continued as he began to surface into the realm of consciousness, and he had to wonder where it was coming from and why no one had silenced it yet. It was shrill and grated on his ears as he let out a soft, hoarse groan of protest against the constant noise.
It was electronic, never wavering in pace or sound as he opened his eyes. Or at least, the one that would cooperate, seeing as the other, he noted bitterly, was just a hole beyond the black eyepatch that had concealed it from sight.
He didn't blame Tieria for the accident that had cost him said eye, but he had found that it made piloting his beloved gundam Dynames difficult. After all, both eyes were better than just one in long range shooting. He had managed well enough until that man had shown up once more, fueling the rage that had never left since his family's demise.
That man was the sole reason why he didn't have his parents or his little sister anymore. He was the reason that Neil had joined Celestial Being. He was the reason why Neil still existed. He had gone against the wishes of his friends and gone out to help with the battle, even though the pain of his eye had still been rather fresh.
He could recall Sumeragi's worried expression on the video feed of his Gundam before he had plunged himself into the fray, screaming a mixture of profanities and promises of destruction to the man who had cost him everything he had ever held dear.
No, that wasn't quite right. He hadn't lost everyone dear to him. His family may have been gone, but he had found solace in his friends. Setsuna was like a little brother, and he had enjoyed teasing the Middle-Eastern boy to no end. Allelujah and Tieria as well, he supposed. Feldt was important to him too, and he remembered his vow to himself that he would never let her cry again.
But he hadn't been able to keep that promise, he told himself somberly as his hand came up to brush against thick white bandages that hid his eye from sight, and the bandages around his neck. He had gone and gotten himself almost killed. Almost, because he was still alive.
But they must think that he had perished. It made his heart heavy, and he dismissed the depressing thoughts for now as he glanced around at his surroundings. He was in a hospital of some kind, thin curtains swaying in the warm breeze that swept in via the open window.
Golden light spilt from the open window onto the tiled floor of the room, and he gazed intently at the white vase of flowers on the window sill. It was clear that he was down on Earth, because the sunlight was too real to be from the colonies.
He couldn't recall anything beyond the feeling of falling in space, the pain having knocked him out for quite some time until now. The shrill beeping brought him back to the present, and he looked up to find it belonging to a pacemaker, which made his eyebrows crease. He didn't need a pacemaker.
It was then that he realized it wasn't connected to him, no annoying electrodes stuck to his chest with adhesive. The pacemaker was facing him at an awkward angle that allowed him to watch the steady up and down pace of the green lines, though the wires stretched towards the occupant of the other bed in the room.
A life-support machine stood on metal legs beside the pacemaker, the heavy rasp of the machine doing the breathing for the older man who, to be honest, looked like it was a worthless endeavor, his spirit already gone.
He looked away, wanting to get out of this room as he threw the blankets off his legs and rose gingerly, muscles throbbing in protest. Everything still ached, and the pain in his side reminded him roughly that he still wasn't fully healed. But anything was better than being stuck in this room that was beginning to smell like death.
And so, ignoring the sting of his wounds, Neil exited the room, figuring that they would just have to come and find him if he wasn't allowed to leave this room. A sign above his head boasted the direction of the observatory room meant for patients, and so he headed in that direction, craving a change of scenery.
The smell of antiseptic and tile-wax made his stomach churn, and he grimaced as he limped awkwardly down the long hallway that stretched before him like an endless pathway that didn't seem to be getting any shorter. That illusion being all in his mind, he turned in the direction of the room, finding the doors wide open and the scenery beyond it inviting.
Chairs of a rustic brown color were positioned around, a large bookcase stuffed to the brim with volumes of varying sizes and thickness against a warm creme colored wall decorated with tiny prints of marine life. A coffee table was laden down with magazines, and he could clearly hear the buzz of a TV somewhere within the room.
The north wall was made entirely of glass that glanced out into a perfectly made garden that swayed with the breeze that didn't quite reach this room. Neil's gaze swept about the room, and landed upon the only other occupant of the room.
Dark chestnut hair fell to the waist of the girl sitting in the wheelchair, her arms wrapped in white bandages, as were her legs. In her lap was a book, the title unreadable. As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up and blinked before smiling.