Eight parts to the whole thing; three chapters with two POVs in each, and an epilogue, also with two POVs. I'll be posting them in chronological order, which means Point 1, Counterpoint 1; Point 2, Counterpoint 2; etc. However they can be read in that order, or in groups -- the story will probably make the same amount of sense if you read ONLY the Parts, or ONLY the Counterpoints. ^^ Warning that the Counterpoints are pretty heavy on the shounen ai, but I don't think most of you mind...
If you understand the title, then you're better off than I am. ^_^ Li-san handed it over to me: "percussion" is the medical term for contact or touch; "sedimentary" means multi-layered. Hence, we have a cool-sounding title that actually bears meaning on the fic...
WARNINGS:
This takes place in the same universe/timeline as the series itself;
it's NOT an AU, which means that certain things WILL happen (poor Ernest)
and certain things will not (poor Ernest, again). However, heaven only
knows how many facts I have just plain WRONG due to not actually being
fluent in Japanese, and heaven only knows how many of these things are
my own explanation/interpretation of things that haven't been told to us
yet. Also, it's long. ^^ The grand total of this thing is 47 pages
in Word, 11-pt font. So... it's pretty big. ^__^ And the entire first
chapter is only 7 of those pages, so the latter chapters will start getting
long...
SEDIMENTARY PERCUSSION
CHAPTER 1: Point
by Kay Willow
"I'm not going to beat around the bush here, Gareas," the Instructor said unhappily. Gareas knew he'd seen this man before, but the name and number that marked his identity didn't come to him. He couldn't have been very important. It didn't bode well that he seemed so nervous.
"You know that Sarne Mollan's EX has been failing him lately, and they're still conducting tests so we don't KNOW that he's being retired from the Pilots just yet."
Gareas nodded impatiently. Of course he knew. He was...
"You're currently Top in the Academy, of course, so if he DOES fail the tests you're the natural choice for his successor."
He nodded again, wary now. Something was very strange about this...
"But... There are those who question the wisdom of making you a Pilot."
It didn't sink in for a long moment. Gareas stood, frozen, attempting to register this new information, this simple sentence which had the potential to destroy his every hope and dream.
Then he came back to himself and exploded. "WHAT?!" he demanded. "WHY?! It's not my ability or performance, because I AM the top in every class and course--"
"Oh, yes, of course, there's no doubt about that," the Instructor hurried to reassure him, looking wary.
"I've NEVER let you down in battle, I KNOW when to act on my own intuition and when to follow orders, I've saved COUNTLESS lives in emergency situations, so whether you like it or not you CAN'T have a problem with my attitude--"
"Of course not!" exclaimed the Instructor, who was actually one of the many people who lived in constant fear of Gareas' "attitude", and who was at that very moment bitterly regretting that he'd been the one to pull the short straw when the Instructors were choosing the unfortunate soul who had to break the news to their star Candidate.
Garu, who was on the verge of physical violence, shouted, "I am the MODEL of what you want in a Pilot!"
"But you're an insomniac," the Instructor said timidly, cringing as though expecting the boy to hit him.
All the wind left Gareas' sails. He sagged suddenly, wearing the expression of someone who'd been kicked in the stomach. "I... My insomnia?" he repeated. "THAT'S what's holding me back?"
With no small amount of relief, the Instructor straightened himself into a more dignified position. "It changes things, you understand," he said, in control once more. "If you can't sleep well, then your health and stamina will suffer the price."
"But I'm FINE--" the Candidate protested.
"Not forever. Right now you're still sixteen, and your body will deal with anything you throw at it. But it won't be long -- two years at most -- before that youthful resilience begins to decrease, and all your sleepless nights will catch up with you." The Instructor began warming to his topic. Gareas wished that he wouldn't get demoted for punching him. "Weariness might slow your movements and reaction times, could cloud your judgment and critical thinking, and then to inflict your unbalanced state on an Ingrid...?"
Rage and fury warred with depression and unhappiness in Gareas' head; he could only barely see the Instructor. They weren't going to let him pilot. His future had vanished before his eyes. They weren't going to let him pilot. What was there left for him? Fighting Victim had been the only dream he'd had.
He almost missed it when the Instructor continued, "Make no mistake -- you've earned the title. But we can't take any risks with our Goddesses. Unless you can find some sort of cure..."
"A cure?" Gareas seized on the words like a lifeline. Perhaps they were.
"Maybe you can ask the doctors in Med Bay," the Instructor volunteered, apparently feeling generous now that Gareas was humbled.
On the other hand, Gareas conceded later, it may have been pure cruelty on the Instructor's part, in revenge for his earlier fear.
In Med Bay, he'd been told that the only universally-effective treatments for insomnia were medications: pills and drugs. Gareas didn't need them to tell him that these "treatments" were out of the question. They were delaying tactics at best, and prolonged use would not only be dangerous but would also alter the biorhythms and brain patterns that were so crucial in the partnership between Pilot and Ingrid.
They'd offered alternate solutions -- hypnosis, meditation, trances; all techniques that had been developed in earlier days of human history, but which had been refined and mastered and eventually perfected after EX training attained prominence. But most of the same problems carried over: they would affect his body's natural flow, and they were short-term only, and with extended exposure they became less and less likely to have a significant impact.
"Really," one of the highly decorative nurses had told him consolingly, "insomnia therapy is only supposed to be for a brief period of time. No Pilot has ever had it before, and usually it goes away on its own... Maybe if you exhaust yourself before going to bed, you'll sleep better!"
"What am I supposed to do, jog laps around GOA?" Garu snarled to himself as he trudged disconsolately to his room.
Ernest was waiting for him. The shorter boy stepped forward, visibly uncertain of his welcome, but the fact that he was there at all was a victory for Gareas; Ernest had been raised to be reclusive and repressed on top of his naturally quiet and unassuming personality, and the combination had proved to be extremely difficult for Garu to overcome. Even now that he was sure Ernest had opened up to him, he still had the sneaking suspicion that Ernest didn't really think that he was one of Garu's best friends.
"Hey," he said, trying to sound in better spirits than he was. "What're you doing here?"
Brushing back a loose strand of blond hair shyly, Ernest said, "I could feel... that you were unhappy."
Sometimes Garu forgot the only setback to being friends with a telepathist -- you always had to be real careful how emotional you were, no matter how far away your empathic friend was, because powerful emotions can cross massive distances.
The other boy added, "You were broadcasting strong enough to knock me off my feet. First anger that struck me like a physical blow, then sadness that jabbed straight into my skull..." He smiled, looking a bit less lost now that Garu was snickering at his words. "You're always so violent, Garu."
"You're the one who opened up to it," he returned casually. "Maybe I'm violent, but you like it. Masochist."
Ernest grinned back. "Sadist."
Feeling absurdly pleased with himself, Garu shoved his way into his room and tried to recapture his earlier sulk. Ernest hovered in the doorway, then shook himself and trailed in after him.
"They're not going to let me become a Pilot," Gareas told him, and with those simple words he felt the frustration return in full force.
Ernest stared at him. "Why not?" he demanded. "You're the best we've got, Garu! There's nobody who could out-perform you--"
"I know, I know!" Garu fought the urge to tear out his hair and made a deliberate attempt to tamp down the strength of his negative emotions, reminding himself that Ernest didn't deserve to suffer for it. "And THEY know it, too!"
"Then... then why...?"
"Because I'm an insomniac." He spat that last out viciously, feeling as if the very word was offending him; he saw Ernest flinch from the sound and regretted it.
"You have trouble sleeping?" Ernest said slowly.
"Isn't that what I just said?" Garu retorted, throwing himself on his bed and burying his face in his arms.
Ernest, looking thoughtful, moved over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. "I never thought... Why?"
Gareas turned his head. "I don't know. I just... can't relax. Can't not THINK. It's not very conducive to drifting off, you know?"
He saw it coming as though his EX were foresight. He clapped his hands over his ears and groaned just moments before Ernest teased, "Well, you have to think SOME time."
"Okay, okay, if you've got that out of your system, can we get back to the fact that I have a PROBLEM here?"
Ernest smiled at him, something in his eyes that Garu didn't bother trying to interpret -- he'd already recognized a number of facets of Ernest that he would simply never understand. "So you need to find a solution, huh? How about using EX to help--"
"No, no. We've already covered all that in Med Bay. It's no good," he grumbled. "I can't risk anything that would change my bond with my Ingrid."
"But if you'd--"
"Ernest, come on, here!" Garu growled, slamming a fist into his pillow with enough raw force to split the side. "I need a SOLUTION, not a rehashing of false starts!"
Eyeing the ruined pillow nervously, Ernest bowed to the inevitable and moved on. "Then maybe exercise is the way to go. If you wear yourself down in the weight room, there's a good chance that you'll fall right to sleep the moment your head hits the..." A more meaningful glance at the pillow. "...mattress."
The pillow got shoved to the floor. "I've got extras," he said under his breath.
"Does this happen that often?" Ernest teased in a similar undertone.
"BUT," said Gareas in his loudest voice, "do you really think this'll work?" He flipped over on his back and glanced up at his friend, who continued to watch him with faint amusement. "I mean, I work out every day. What's an extra hour gonna do?"
"A lot, if you do it right," was his response.
He thought it over, then nodded shortly. "All right. If you really think it'll do some good, I'll try it." Garu grinned wolfishly at the other boy. "But you'll have to tolerate my whining if it doesn't work."
"I accept that responsibility," Ernest said, laughing.
To be continued in the Counterpoint. ^^ Megami Kouhosei and our leading pair belong to Yukiru Sugisaki, she who brings meaning to my existence; the situation and anything mangled in the writing thereof belongs to me, because I suck. ^^
Kay Willow
AIM: Savinsilk
Email: kay_willow@hotmail.com