Incomplete Transmission: Inception

.....I went to fix the chapter, and somehow accidently deleted the story. This story used to have 23 reviews, but they're all gone now. ;___; Goddamn. So this story looks new, but it's not... So if you don't know what this new version is about, read the 'required notes' below.

Story notes: I apologize for this chapter taking so long. Real life invaded..a lot u_u I got sick, my best friend moved away, and I got more homework than I bargained for. Thankfully, I do have special writing time each week, so I will be able to start a routine schedule soon. Thank god. Though I won't set specific deadlines anymore -- they tend to make my brain go 'boom' and ignore them. o_O

There were people who did help with this part, so I am going to thank them for it because I wouldn't have finished without them.:) The first being the anonymous reviewer who pointed out my error in the preview of this part which went against canon -- you definately saved the day there. I also want to thank P-chan, for beta-ing parts of this fic and being all around helpful. Kira was helpful on the part of Valentine -- I'd forgotten certain motivations for Val, which Kira reminded me of. Dan was a big help as well, doing things such putting up with my insecurities and assuring me this fanfic was actually (*gasp*) something that a reader would like.. This all helped a lot, and I am extremely grateful to everyone.

Required notes and disclaimer:

...For people who don't know what I'm talking about, this was originally a fanfiction with three chapters. It was unfinished. I decided to completely rewrite it and update it with better and new content, because while I liked the old version, I felt it could be better. Maybe new people are reading this, if so, I hope you like the story. And anyone who liked the old version, I hope you like the new one. :)


Characters belong to OSC, but story belongs to me. Please don't take story. Please don't sue, OSC, as this is a tribute. ;.; Thanks.

This story begins with the end.

A man's life is over. He regrets almost nothing about this, in fact, he wishes for his death. There is nothing left for him to do, nothing for him to achieve. He eagerly awaits the moment that his breath will stop; waits in anticipation of that moment where everything goes dark and cold. He is old and tired, wants nothing more of the world, and has nothing left to motivate him to live.

...Or so he tells himself. He is a being who has lived a complicated life. He thrives on complexity; he is uninterested by anything less. So it is somehow fitting for such a creature to have a simple ending. He hopes for this. It's only a matter of passing quietly in the night; it's only a matter of leaving nothing unfinished, but not hurrying for anything to get done.

But unfortunately, through recent actions that are entirely his own, he now has a regret. One. Singular. It sounds so small, but it poisons his life. Everything he does is affected by it; it is now a complication that is not easily fixed.

He now is unable to go quietly.

This one regret opens to others. Each new regret gives him meaning, each new regret makes death less appealing. He has made self-realizations too late to start a new life, and too early to not care about them. He has realized many things he never knew, he has found out the motivations for many things in his life. He...understands.

But he is too soulworn to make anything of this understanding.

This man, this dying soul, this Peter Wiggin, has come about this comprehension. It has taken months. He doesn't know whether it was curiosity or intuition that led him to look into the old battle school logs; all he knows is that when he stumbled upon the monitor tapes, he had to look. It was an aimless search at first. He was unsure of what he wanted, or even why he was looking at them. He was led on false starts at first -- looking first at certain names from curiosity (such as Suriyawong, his second Strategos; or the Caliph, his sometimes political foe and sometimes ally; eventually even looking at people such as Petra Arakanian in an effort to ease his curiousity). But despite these attempts, the search leads to neither a satisfaction of the curiosity nor an explanation of why he is looking.

...

But.

He, upon a whim, looks for his own name. He hesitates for a moment before heading off on this search: he isn't sure he wants to dig up such a harsh past.

But he does it anyway.

This could be considered a grave mistake or a wonderful decision, depending on your point of view.

It's one thing to have memories of your childhood. It's quite another thing to force yourself to view pieces of these memories on a monitor tape: something which not only enables you to see and hear but FEEL what you are watching.He should have stopped there. He should have left it behind, and done nothing more.

But he had to view pieces of his brother and sister's tapes as well.

This man was never a monster. Never. He did bad things in his childhood, but despite popular belief, he had remorse. Some would say he deserved punishment anyway, a harsher one than living the life of Peter Wiggin. With this... they got their wish.

And now, because of it, he is incontent to die without finishing one more thing. His regrets have now found a way to be solved, he can finally simplify once more.

This? Is that one last thing.

I am that man, and while I lay no claim to wishing for forgiveness of remorse, I know I deserve my story to be told. I confess I have other aims, other goals in doing this, but there is no point revealing those at the moment. I can waste no more time on the buildup: I am forced to skip to the main event.

Ender. Andrew. I know you spoke of the Hive Queen. Now I ask that you speak of me. The monster of your past. The childhood tormentor; the uniter of the human race. The one who threatened, the one who made peace.

Your brother.

Peter Wiggin.

She's come to expect certain things about her life now.

Like every other being that exists, there are things that make up her life. Things that are important to her, things that specify _who she is_. She's come to rely on them , even though she swears she is independant from them. Her identity as Desmosthenes; her gentle nature. Her ability to see hidden things in those around her; even her past. These things and so much more.

One of the important things that her life is built around is more special than the rest. It motivates most of what she does, it gives the most meaning to her life.

The existance of her brother, Andrew Wiggin.

To some outsiders, it is somewhat strange to be so twined with your own blood. But those outsiders misinterpret the relationship; they do not understand, and therefore are ignored. Valentine and Andrew are consanguineous, their lifes are interwoven. When one hurts, the other hurts as well. Andrew tends to hurt more often, coming from a past full of almost unspeakable horrors and full of metaphysical wounds because of it.

Valentine has spent a good chunk of her life trying to heal Andrew's wounds.

She thought she'd been succeeding. Andrew had been a lot better lately; while he almost never mentioned his past, he'd seemed...happier? More adjusted, at least. Valentine had thought that maybe he'd left it all behind him, and that she didn't have to worry so much anymore.

Worst of all, she thought that she herself had come to grips with what they had both left behind.

This was obviously a mirage, and this had all been shattered when the message had came.

Now, she didn't know what to do.

It wouldn't turn out well. If Andrew found out, if he heard Peter's message, he would fall silent once more. That was how he got in his darkest times. Silent, withdrawl, incomplete. He would be missing, and Valentine wasn't sure if she'd be able to save him this time. Not from this.

Peter _seemed_ well intentioned. Peter claimed to want nothing but to fix things between him and his siblings, to fix pasts gone wrong. But what Valentine remembered was...

This was Peter.

That was a good enough reason alone to ignore his message.

Peter had no idea what he'd done here. In asking for this speaking, he'd stepped onto a territory forbidden to him; he'd asked for something he couldn't receive from Andrew.

She knew that part of her hesitation obviously came from the horrors she herself had faced at Peter's hands. Things that were unspeakable of. But she also knew that greater than that was her wish for Andrew to finally have permanent peace. Her brother had not only faced Peter, but faced so much more than one small child should have to face. With this, if she let him hear it, he would have to face everything all over again.

She didn't want that to happen.

She didn't want to face it.

There was only one solution she could see. A simple one, which would have effects Andrew wouldn't see, and therefore would do nothing to him. Valentine would delete the message. Erase it. Never reply. Let Peter think that it had been lost, let him think it had been ignored. Let him think anything, as long as Andrew never knew of it. It would leave Valentine with guilt, and would leave Peter restless. But wasn't that a price worth paying for Andrew? Shouldn't someone suffer for _him_?

Because, in the end, he'd suffered enough.

But while Valentine was so determined to do this, she overlooked the fact that her older brother was stubborn. Old age had made him even more stubborn, and he would not let this go easily...

Humans are powerful beasts; they can motivate others to do great things; they can motivate others to feel pain, to feel anger, to feel love, to feel this and so much more.

But with any type of power, it is accompanied by abuse of power. The power can be used to strike another being down emotionally; to stagger them down with such a blow they may never recover. To rip their theoretical heart out and break it.

I abused this power, once. Is what I am attempting now another abuse of this power, or simply using it for good ends? Are my motives selfish, or meant to heal deep wounds that I myself created in those I should have left innocent?

Three weeks have passed since I sent my message, and I am forced to contemplate more than I wish.

But then, what else is one to do in response to silence than contemplate? To wonder why there is no response; to try to figure out what reaction was provoked that did not create the desired effect.

However, I should have known to expect nothing but what I got. You abuse someone a little, they are kicked but stay standing. You abuse someone some more, and they lose faith in you. You keep doing it, and they close their ears to you for good.

Are your ears closed for good? Are you to misunderstand my actions even now? If you are not to do this for me, Andrew, do it for yourself. For Valentine. That's what it boils down to, isn't it? The horrible, pathetic brother must be punished; but the two wonderful siblings must be led to knowledge.

...Heh. I don't mean to sound bitter. It seems that being forced to wait is a habit I've long since outgrown.

Do not misunderstand. You are not listening to the tormentor you once knew. Many things have happened to me. I'm not the same Peter Wiggin that skinned a squirrel and left it to die. I'm not the same Peter Wiggin that did unspeakable things to his sister Valentine, and abused his brother Andrew daily. I am not that same Peter Wiggin, and so I am willing to accept the fact I did horrible things to the both of you, and what I realize is this:

You need a close on that chapter in your life, as much as I need it. I don't ask for forgiveness, because neither of you are capable of giving it to me. Few people are, and those who have done so are now dead or as good as dead. Both are the same thing.

Open your ears, open your eyes, and listen. Use that mind of yours to see the truth behind my words, the way you did for the Hive Queen!

Talk to me. Hear me out. I'll even make you a deal -- if you find me to be as horrible as before... you can write your perception. Trash my name. Let people know who your Peter Wiggin is.

It's all in your hands now.

Peter out.

Chapter two soon!! I hope you liked this part!! :) :)