Letters

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine. I can dream though.

Prologue

Kentaro left his men behind at the door to his quarters and entered the room, needing some time to himself. After setting aside his flight helmet, he laid back on his bunk, hands behind his head, staring into space. Things had come to a head faster than he ever expected and he knew it would all end, one way or another, tomorrow. Through his flight suit, he could feel the abnormally high temperatures caused by the Van Allen Belts' descent towards the Earth. He sighed and abruptly pushed himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. All the sacrifices, the years of work and he'd still not been able to prevent this from happening. But he'd be damned if he'd let it succeed.

Restlessly, he paced to the window, deep in thought. As he gazed out at the red sky, he acknowledged the thought that had been nagging him for the last two days. This was going to be his last mission. He acknowledged that and accepted it in the same heartbeat. But as he turned from the window, his eyes fell on his flight helmet, and the two pictures tucked into it's lining. One of a small family of three: man, wife and a little boy. The other of five young people, four boys and a girl, and a bespectacled man watching over them. He gave a rueful smile. The bad part about accepting the end of things was you also had to acknowledge what you had done and what you had failed to do. Rare was the man who died with no regrets, and Kentaro Washio was about as far from that man as anyone could be.

He took the photographs and laid them on the desk, letting memories go through his mind. Joy, sorrow, pride and more were represented here. His gaze focused on the child in the first picture, then slid to it's older counterpart in the second. So much he'd have loved to tell his son. He looked at the other figures in the picture. So much he'd have loved to tell all of them. He focused on the man with the glasses and his friend's voice rang through his mind, 'You stubborn idiot, tell him. You could at least write it down for him to read when the time is right.'

Kentaro chuckled wryly as he sat down and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. Kozaburo would never let him hear the end of it if he knew that he was about to take his advice. But his friend was currently locked in a room with a bunch of political idiots. A room he'd locked himself, unable to be opened until the team and Kentaro either stopped the Plan or they were all dead anyways. 'Damn fool is as crazy as I am.' The five were God only knew where, four of them searching for the fifth, and all of them for a way to end this current threat. He knew he'd be out there again himself soon, but for now, he was going to write down what he wanted to tell each of the people in his life. He wasn't going to have another chance.

He looked at the picture of the group again. A grinning ten year old was sitting on a heavy set boy's shoulders, having just slammed a volley ball over a net to the blue clad teen on the other side. Kentaro smiled, remembering the Sicilian curses that had poured out of his mouth when he'd missed the shot. Another boy and a girl, both in red, sat on the sidelines, laughing at some shared joke as they watched the game. Nambu sat behind them, smiling as he watched them play. 'You'd never suspect that they wear wings and face death on a regular basis, would you?' "No you wouldn't, my friend," Kentaro quietly answered the long ago question. He'd been the one to take that picture, right before his friend had seen him and joined him, asking that question. And, come to think of it, he'd answered the same way then as he just did now.

The Red Impulse leader sat staring blankly at the pad in front of him for several minutes. So much to say and no clue where to begin. Glancing back at the pictures, his eyes focused on the girl sitting next to his son. "Might as well start with the easiest one first.' He sorted his thoughts and began to write.

Several hours later, he labeled and sealed the last envelope. Leaning back in his chair, he sighed and passed a hand over his eyes. It had been a long time since he'd been that open with what he was feeling and it was more exhausting than he remembered. He could only hope that they would understand, and maybe in time, forgive him.

Rising from his chair, he picked up the envelopes and went to the door, going out to join his men. He handed the envelopes to Masake, who looked at him and asked, "Kentaro?" Oniishi made a questioning gesture.

Quietly, Kentaro made a request of them, "If the worst happens tomorrow, give those to Nambu and his team, nine months from now. The one to the team, give to my son. Look after them for me."

Both men nodded, and Masake replied, "Rodger that sir. We will." Oniishi signed his agreement.

Kentaro smiled at both of them. "We've been together a long time and I couldn't have asked for better friends. In case I don't get to say it again, take care of yourselves."

This said, Kentaro let his normal cool expression slide back into place. "Gentlemen, its time to plan out how we're going to back the team up on this one. The floor is open for suggestions..."

The next day, the Van Allen belts were pushed back into their rightful position by a rocket piloted by the Red Impulse leader. In the process, eight peoples' lives had a familiar figure ripped from them, never to be quite the same again.

Nine months later, the two remaining members of the Red Impulse squadron took the letters from their place in Kentaro's old office. Donning civilian clothes, they left to carry out their friend and leader's final request of them.

(This was inspired by a remark during an RPG with Dan. Nambu told Jun that he'd received a letter from Red Impulse as how to not ruin a good thing. From that line came this story. Thanks for the inspiration Danny.)