Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and all characters therein belong to their respective owner(s).
I
She was not happy to be trapped in the desert.
If her partner felt the same, he did not show any sign of it.
Fortunately, she was accustomed to his lack of perspective and general indifference, and set about making repairs as efficiently as possible. The uprising was a brief, though violent one, in a region where problems had surfaced before. They sent one of their best teams in to silence the rebellion. In the years after the war, the Preventers force was a necessity to keeping things steady long enough for the new-born world nation to stand on its own. But recently, some higher-ups had begun to question their means and motives.
"They employ former Gundam pilots. Who can trust the safe-keeping of our tender order to former terrorists?" And with the wise and influential, a lot of lesser people came along in whispered agreement.
But politics was a fickle woman, and if she turned her favor away from those whom she formerly adored, well, one felt simply fortunate that she had not cut his throat.
Things proceeded as usual, and the mission was executed fairly smoothly, until one meccha broke down. It was beyond repair. Reluctantly, they set off with one mobile suit to two pilots, but when this one showed signs of weakening, Sally stopped them and refused to go any further.
They had enough water to last them through a week and were still within walking distance of the nearest town, though they had no means by which to communicate with the outside world. It was better now than later, and Sally wasn't taking any chances. She was too level-headed for that.
First things first. Beneath the shade of the mobile suit, she stretched out a large white sheet over the steaming sand, and laid out her tools. Then she went to work removing the afflicted parts, separating them carefully and inspecting the damage.
She turned a hot, irregular shaped object, ignoring her blackening hands.
"The oil joints must have received some critical damage from the close-range missiles." She placed the object down and tugged her sleeves. "This is going to take some doing," she admitted.
Her partner, leaning beneath the shade of his meccha a short distance from her, looked cross. "How much doing?"
Sally sighed. "About a week's worth."
He prodded her with slanted eyes. "I still say we make for the nearest modernized city. If we keep good time, we'll be there in a day and a half."
She straightened, trying to support her point with good posture. "And I say it's too much of a gamble." When he started to sigh in exasperation, she got up, "I'm your senior officer, Wufei. A risk to both our lives is simply unacceptable."
"And meanwhile we're stranded in the middle of nowhere, is what you're saying."
Sally shook her head. "It can't be helped."
Wufei dropped his arms and pushed off the machine. He grasped for a foothold and started climbing.
"Where are you going?" she asked, startled.
"To find the blueprints," he curtly replied.
She wrestled futilely for a whole day and on into the next. About noon, when the sun beamed vengefully onto her neck and back, she slumped into the shade and lay down, rubbing her eyes mercilessly.
She sat up then and blinked. Where had that man got to?
When he had first come to her, he was no more than a child, arrogant and desperate all at the same time. She recognized his need to make things right and respected it. She often felt the same impulses herself, though hers were balanced with a sensibleness that was beyond Wufei's comprehension. He was drastic and passionate. She was careful and clever. It annoyed him terribly, it was clear to her, that she was a stone idol of the perfect man. What she tried to get him to see was that he didn't need to be perfect. He only needed to be himself and learn how to channel it.
He hadn't changed much in the five years they'd been partners. Even his physical composition remained relatively unaltered. His sleek black hair met in a tiny coy at the base of his neck, and his quick, narrow eyes gave him the constant appearance of agitated alertness. He was not so large in frame, though he was strong in his slenderness. He appreciated upside down smiles as frowns and made use of them.
"Wufei?" she called, her voice a little thin.
She waited for his response, but when it failed to come, she called a gain, tensely, "Wufei?"
Still no answer.
She scrambled up, scattering a little sand onto her sheet in her haste, and turned round the large machine.
She found a trampling of muddled footprints all round, but one fresh set seemed to lead away from the machine. Sally swallowed her panic down bitterly. She followed the trail.
It was difficult, walking in sand, even with shoes on, and she found she was continually fighting against her own sinking feet. She kicked at the dust in frustration. All around her the sand spread out in orange smugness at its own egocentricity. The dunes were stagnant waves in the dry sea of a million years. She felt almost seasick, following the undulation of the sand-hills, until she mounted the crest of one and met an anomaly. Disturbing the endless repetition of orange and sterile blue, she saw Wufei standing, his back to her, facing the endless expanse.
He was distracted.
She slid down the dune, skidding up brownish clouds as she went, but didn't say anything. She approached carefully, unwilling to startle him.
He was looking at something on the ground, with an intensity that made her nervous. He must have sensed her by now but made no acknowledgement of her presence.
At his feet a black smudge fingered in the sand, approaching steadily.
A sixth sense took over. All thought ceased. She screamed, "Look out!" drawing her shotgun and blasting the thing a mere yard from her partner's feet.
His eyes widened significantly, and he turned his head too look at her, rather pale.
"What – what were you doing?" she half-yelled.
He looked at her steadily, eyes still dilated in a way that startled her beyond herself.
She leapt toward him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him gently. "Wufei, what is wrong with you?" she cried, and though she felt badly for yelling, her fear removed all power of her control.
It was at her touch that he came back to himself. He tossed her off as easily as though she were a breeze. "Nothing," he said, furrowing his brows in deliberate irritation. "What in the hell's gotten into you, woman?"
She stared at him incredulously. "That thing could have killed you," she declared, and when his look did not evaporate, she persisted, "A scorpion – scorpions are deadly!"
He scowled, rising his voice to match hers. "I know! I'm not a fool!"
She leaned away from him, mouth slack. Her breath escaped in little puffs, her adrenaline receding. She shook her head.
Whisking away is difficult in feet upon feet of sand, but she managed it gracefully enough, and retraced her steps slowly up the sand-hill. She was burning. She did not have to turn to know that he continued to scowl into her trembling back.
Without moisture to dilute them, the stars unveiled themselves one by one in royal diadems.
Sally sat cross-legged on the ground, fiddling with a piece of yarn. Wufei, who had returned earlier without a word, dragged a can of oil over the sand and began making preparations for a fire.
"Hey," he said, disturbing the weaving of her thoughts.
She looked up.
"Will you toss me your lighter?"
She put her fingers into one of her jacket pockets and tossed him the desired object. She resumed entertaining herself with her string. She hand not gotten much work done, and was nursing her sour mood with a game from her girlhood. She tied the string into a circle, entwining her fingers in alternating patters and threaded the thing together to create elaborate webs resembling objects.
A fire rose up hesitantly, and Wufei fed it splinters from an emergency starter log. He lifted a burlap bag and clanged around inside, lifting a brass cooking pot. This was self-heating, so he would not actually set it on the fire. The latter was really for warmth more than food.
The slender man ripped open a package of compressed Raman and dropped it into the pot.
"How much do you want?" he asked roughly.
"I'm not hungry," she replied shortly.
He glared at her briefly before taking a large canteen and emptying a quarter of it into the brass pot. He ignited the little flame beneath it and stirred it with a tin-handled spoon.
He looked at her again. "What are you doing?" he said, his annoyance rising the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.
"Nothing," she retorted. "Playing a game."
He made a face. "Well, I hope you're more motivated tomorrow morning. We couldn't get to civilization even if we wanted to, now that you've mutilated the insides of our machine."
She pressed her hands into her lap indignantly. "Excuse me?" They eyed each other challengingly. "It certainly wouldn't hurt to have you help a little more!"
He let out a breath that sounded like a sniff. "I could if you weren't hovering over your precious parts day and night. I can't get near them without you badgering me."
"Is it my fault that you start snapping things before you're sure if they're necessary?"
"If you weren't so stiff and by-the-book, maybe we could have improvised and be much farther than we are now."
"Improvising may cost us our lives!" she cried.
"It was the only thing that kept me alive during the wars. If a Gundam pilot worried about keeping to the rules, he would be dead within his first mission."
"Well, this isn't war any more," Sally persisted. "The sooner you get that into your head the better!"
"Oh? And do you think this is peace? Is this, this – strained tension, this fragile web flanked by uneasiness – is this your precious peace?"
"You know," she spat bitterly, "You're right."
He narrowed cool eyes at her.
"This isn't peace, is it? We've been playing the politicians long enough, you and me. When we get out of here," here she paused, and lowered her voice, "if we get out of here – I'll be sure to turn in my partner resignation first thing."
She tossed her yarn onto the sand and clambered up the side of the mobile suit. She nearly fell into the close cockpit, closing the entrance behind her, and curled up in the pilot seat, feeling oddly mournful.
Outside, slightly muffled, she heard Wufei let out a frustrated cry.