Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Seed. (though like every other fanatic on the face of this Earth, I wish I did.)

P.R. (Pointless Ramblings): Honest, you all can skip this part if you want to, it is, very pointless, if I do say so myself. While this is my first time posting something, I've actually been writing fanfics for a long time now. And I have no idea why I'm posting something pro-Frey, but yeah…

And yes, I do realize that this isn't the most popular pairing but they're really easy to write, at least for me. If you want to flame, go ahead, but please be civil.

&-&-&

The cherry-haired girl was huddled in one corner, wedged somewhat awkwardly between his supervisor's desk and the larger-than-average wastebasket that Captain Rau Le Klueze had kept in his office ever since day one. Her arms were squeezed tightly around her bare knees, as if that alone could make her disappear. She gave a slight whimper when she saw him, perhaps of fear; but Yzak pointedly ignored her and snapped a quick salute in the direction of his masked commander.

"…Captain Klueze, you…sent for me." The sentence was originally a statement, but the sudden rise in cadence at the endmade it a question.

"Yes, I did." Klueze nodded cordially in return, "Have a seat, Yzak." He waved a hand at the startling array of armchairs lined up along one wall, "I'm afraid there is still one little thing I have to take care of before we go into details regarding your next assignment--"

On cue, a rather flustered private (Yzak could tell that he was a private because most privates had the habit of turning their collars the other way) tripped into the room, he instinctively grabbed the nearest chair for support. "…My—my deepest apologies, Captain, but I was—I was…err, um, eating and…"

"Never mind that. It is just as well that you have come." Klueze's lips, much more accustomed to the position of a sneer, managed a small half-smile. "You are armed—as I requested?"

"Well…" the boy flushed and looked down at his shoes, "I don't exactly have my gun on me at the moment…but I do have a knife. Will that do, sir?"

"It will do nicely." The captain confirmed, "Now, I must ask you to escort Miss Allster outside, stay in the corridor, and do not, under no circumstances, do not let her out of your sight, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, I understand, sir." The private bobbed his head eagerly, the girl's shoulders stiffened visibly, Yzak was suddenly annoyed by both of them for no apparent reason. The other boy led her out of the room and he turned his attention back on Klueze.

After a decent interval silence, Klueze leaned forward on his elbows, "I don't want you to think of this assignment as just guarding a hostage. In fact, I know it will be hard for you, but for the time being, think of her as your guest. She, well, rather, her father, George Allster was a prominent figure in the Earth's Alliance before his ship was blown up. Her name is Frey. The archives don't say much about her, the researchers have been digging for three days thus far, so I'll expect reports on a weekly basis."

This seemed to Yzak an absurd mission, one designed to kill time, at best, so why was he being assigned? His time was better spent making sorties. Still, he wasn't about to argue, it was too simple, and he did want to kill some time.

"Yzak, this assignment may be simple enough on the surface, but it may be otherwise once you get through the dirt." Klueze answered his unspoken query without looking at him, "And you will be interested to hear of her adventures aboard the 'legged ship.' I'll be counting on you, Yzak."

The 'legged ship' meant the Archangel, the Archangel meant STRIKE, and STRIKE meant…Yzak got up slowly and snapped another departing salute, "I understand, sir." This assignment wasn't going to be that boring after all.

&-&-&

Judging by what he knew of the nameless private, which was preciously short of nothing, Yzak had almost expected this to happen. The other boy looked unconscious and the girl was nowhere in sight. The private's knife was also nowhere to be seen. "Where the hell did she go?" he demanded between gritted teeth. "Tell me, damn it!"

"She—she went…" the private's head jerked painfully in the direction of the control quarters, "…that way…please, Yzak-san, sir, don't hurt her too much…she's beautiful…so beautiful…"

Yzak could certainly guess what had happened next, kicking the other swiftly in the stomach; he stepped over the limp form in disgust. He didn't give a damn as to whether the girl was good-looking, she was a hostage, and that was all that he needed to know; at least, for the moment.

Yzak was one of the more higher-classed officers of the ship, and therefore had free access to the control quarters, so naturally he knew it well. It was constructed like a maze, mostly full of dead ends, except for every seventh right turn.

He found her easily enough, trembling at the end of the ninth turn. She turned with unexpected agility at his presence, "You…no—don't come!" the command was coated thickly with hysteria. The girl held the knife out, as if it was a magical talisman of some sort, "I…I—I said don't come! I-I-I have this!"

Yzak could not resist the sarcasm that crept into his voice; he folded his arms and stared at her in undisguised revulsion. "That is called a knife." He said , feeling his color rise, "It is a weapon of close combat, unless you know how to use it, it will be no use to you. Give it to me."

"No!" she shook her head wildly, "You'll…"

"Fine." Yzak snapped, his paper-thin patience already stretched past its limit, "Find your own way out of the damned thing then. If you starve here, it's not my problem." He turned to go, "Or, other people will find you here. They'll kill you." Sugarcoating things really wasn't his strong point.

He felt a sharp tug at his arm, the knife had dropped a few feet away and now she was clinging to him. "No…no…all right…" her words came in nervous hiccups, "I'll…"

Yzak shrugged her off roughly, "Let go of me," he bent and picked up the knife, "Just for the record, I do know how to use a knife." He twirled the weapon aimlessly between his fingers, "Keep that in mind. Let's go."

His first report was already forming:

Captain Klueze, sir, to be quite frank, she's an absolute pain in the ass, spoiled to the last degree, and, she is directionally challenged, nonsensically inept with a knife, and perhaps also her sanity is very muchquestionable…

&-&-&

The silver-haired boy said very little, yet actions spoke louder than words, and one didn't need to be a genius to figure out that he hated his newest duty. Frey was positive that it was not her he hated, personally, but more accurately, the world that she represented. The world of Naturals.

Whatever the case, she could agree wholeheartedly that the emotions were mutual, however, regardless of how she felt, he was the closest thing to a friend she had on the ship. Eavesdropping outside the door a few hours earlier had told her virtually nothing, except the guy was expected to give weekly reports, and that he was supposed to keep her in check.

Well, if Frey had anything to say about that, it should've been the other way around. But now, as she looked around the makeshift cafeteria, she saw strange eyes, hostile glances, everything needed to tell her that she was an unwelcome hostage aboard this ship. She certainly wasn't in any position to think that.

"Would you just move?" he came up beside her, balancing his dinner tray precariously on his fingertips. "People think you're strange enough as it is."

She almost threw her soup on him; after all, it was still hot enough to do sufficient damage. However, in her hesitation, he had already stalked off to a corner table, and it was probably better to keep a low profile anyway.

As Frey discreetly slid into the seat next to him, he did not look up. Andthat was whenshe realized that she stilldid not know his name, "Hey, err…" her voice was too high, it seemed, and it squeaked, "What's your name?"

He reached for his cup of water, still refusing to meet her gaze, "Yzak Joule."