tendebantque manus (ripae ulterioris amore)

Notes: Beta-ed by inscribbled on LJ. Title means 'and they were holding out their hands (with a love for the further shore)', and is from Virgil's Aenid, Book VI. The last line is also an allusion to Book VI.

They find Neil Dylandy in a stasis pod, located within an Innovator base on Io. It's already nearly two years after the war, but they're still finding things like this; remnants.

It's Allelujah who finds the door off the medical bay, while Marie is still inspecting the supplies (top of the line, including both blood-replacement packets and hydraulic fluid in much the same format; Allelujah thinks artificial human, then thinks of Tieria, although he knows that it's not quite the same). With the forged key-card, imprinted with Ribbon's genetic data, the door opens easily. Even after being abandoned for at least those two post-war years, the base is still fully functional; a testament to the remarkable amounts of money and energy that must have been poured into the Innovators. Even with the backing of Wang Liu Mei, Celestial Being had never had such resources.

The room beyond is cold; not freezing, but the heat sensors in his flight suit register the change. It's long and fairly narrow, with peculiar oblong shapes attached to the walls either side of the door at regular intervals, creating a walkway down the middle. The lights come on automatically as he moves fully into the room, allowing him to see what the shapes are - stasis pods. Dozens of them, all top-of-the-line, all functioning. The glass view-screens are all opaque, so he moves briskly through the chamber to check the sides of the pods: red for standby, green for in-use. Only four, the ones nearest the entrance, are green.

He stands - carefully, because for some reason the artificial gravity on the base is the only thing that seems to have been affected by the years of neglect, fluctuating around eight newtons - by the side of the first right-hand pod and considers his next course of action. If he remembers correctly, there should be a button somewhere on this model to switch the glass top between opaque and transparent - there! The blackness fades away, and if he leans over he can see the occupant's face -

...

- It's Louise Halevy.

Except it's not, of course, because Louise Halevy is finishing off an engineering degree on Earth. A genetic double? They've even got the hairstyle right, with that fringe, although the rest of the hair is longer - Allelujah's seen pictures of her at seventeen, and it's about the right length. Say they're clones - how fast do they mature, anyway? This facility is only ten years old at most. He takes a deep breath and moves onto the one opposite.

Brown hair to a little below the shoulders, face perhaps too sharp to be quite classically handsome, but when the original was alive, he used it well: Alejandro Corner, the manipulative, arrogant bastard. Allelujah squints down at the body with the stirrings of what might be Hallelujah in the back of his head; no words, just gnashing his teeth and rolling his eyes.

The idea chills him a little: they know that, thanks to GN particles and their quantum brainwaves, Hallelujah is returning, though gradually. He hasn't taken over the body yet - hell, he's barely even started to think in words - but they both know that it's only a matter of time.

What will they do, when it happens? What if he attacks Marie; will Allelujah be able to stop him? He doesn't know the answers to these questions, but he suspects that he won't like them.

With one last disapproving squint at the Corner-clone, he briskly moves on to the adjacent pod. Now, who have we here? The first impression that Allelujah has is red, then -

And Hallelujah screams. He winces - the sound is harsh, and he can't block it out because it's coming from inside his own head - and has to close his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he sees what Hallelujah is fussing about: Ali Al-Saachez, clean-shaven but his hair still long and unkempt, rests in stasis with a disturbingly peaceful look on his face.

The bastard. Allelujah has to remind himself that it must only be a clone: he was there when they burned Al-Saachez's body, and he knows that Marina Ismail has the ashes. Still, this near-perfect replica of the man who killed Lockon Stratos makes a strange, bitter taste well up in his throat. It's not pleasant. Hallelujah is laughing, now, he thinks.

He closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath in through his nose and forces his hands to unclench. What good will getting angry at a clone - that might not even have Al-Saachez's memories - do him?

Just the last one, now. With his luck, it's probably Ribbons or something. He presses the button on the side with little ceremony, and waits the second it takes for the glass to lighten. Ah, brown hair again, past the shoulders; not Ribbons, then. Did any of the Innovators or their allies have brown hair? That Katagiri man, but his was straight -

Then he catches up to what he's actually seeing, and it knocks the breath out of him.

Lockon Stratos.

For a moment, he feels dizzy - then his instincts kick in, and he feels ridiculous. He's a trained Super Solider: he can cope with this without swooning like the heroine of some cheap romance novel.

Still. Lockon Stratos. The steady rise-and-fall of his comrade's chest is almost hypnotising as it sinks in: Lockon Stratos - Neil - is alive (he immediately knows it's Neil, although he couldn't say why).

Of course, then he remembers - it's not Lockon Stratos. It's only a clone. It probably won't even have Lockon's memories, if the Innovators were responsible for it. A cold prickling sensation sweeps over him, and his shoulders tense. It's best not to raise his hopes.

He straightens up - when did he lean over the pod like that? He doesn't remember - and switches on his suit's communication device.

"Marie." He doesn't need to say any more than that: their brainwaves do the rest. Within moments, Marie has arrived in the room. She knows it's not urgent, so she takes a moment to look in each pod. Allelujah can feel her reactions, although she doesn't make a sound and he doesn't turn around to look at her. At last she reaches the pod by Allelujah, and this time he can see her eyes widen. She doesn't say Lockon Stratos; instead she asks:

"The older brother?" Allelujah nods.

"Neil," he says, and the name tastes strange; foreign sensation on his tongue and palate. Soma just breathes, eyes flicking back and forth over the pod, calculating odds. She's always the one who does that: she and Soma trust each other a lot more than he trusts Hallelujah, so there isn't the same fear of Soma growing stronger and taking over the body. Probably, he thinks dryly, because Soma isn't a sociopath (Hallelujah growls in his head, and he has enough confidence to roll his eyes, knowing that Hallelujah can feel it; they both know that he's crazy, and that the anger is a show).

(Hallelujah used to say that if Allelujah had created Hallelujah, who was crazy, then what did that make Allelujah? But he doesn't like to think about that).

"We could release him," she says. From stasis is understood, and implicit within that statement is If you want to (if it's safe). And implicit within that is If it's safe (if it's really him).

They could leave him here. Clones of any kind are prone to mental instability, and they have no idea what he's been programmed with. Of course, then someone else could come and open it: someone with less experience, or more - Allelujah doesn't know which would be worse.

If they don't open the pod - if they don't wake him up - they'll never know.

Allelujah is not one for taking risks. Part of being a Super Soldier is that he doesn't need to: he can calculate odds and let his training tell him what he needs to do and how he needs to do it. When he doesn't want to do what his training tells him to, Hallelujah takes over; a failsafe, he supposes, to ensure the success of the mission.

They could launch the pod into space. They could cut the electrics to turn off life support. They could open the top just enough to slip in poison or a blade. After all, the risk of him having been programmed by the Innovators is too great to disregard.

Allelujah is not a reckless man.

"Where's the hatch release for this thing?" he says.

There are procedures to be followed when removing someone from stasis, Allelujah knows. First, consider what type of stasis it is: different types will allow or prevent aging, cause different levels of consciousness and generally impact on the person's mental state. How long they've been in is also important, particularly as applied to the previous two conditions: long periods of time with complete unconsciousness, especially when paired with aging, have been known to drive people to suicide more than any other type. Of course, long periods with near-lucidity but without the ability to do anything have been known to lead to insanity.

As far as Allelujah can tell, Lockon - the clone - is older in appearance than the original, and his resemblance to Lyle (he'll have to think of them like that now, since 'Lockon Stratos' obviously won't do, and he doesn't dwell too deeply on the fact that he automatically gives Neil the title) is uncanny. Most twins, he has heard, stop being identical at around twenty; Lyle, he knows, is now thirty. He isn't sure how to measure clone-age.

Most importantly, there are the memories.

They still aren't sure how the Innovators got hold of Neil's DNA sequence; for the time being, they're just chalking it up to 'the Innovators had ways' and leaving it at that. The real problem is whether or not they managed to get their hands on his brain.

'Brain' might be the wrong term - it implies something physical. What Allelujah now knows about Veda is that firstly, all the Meisters are linked to it; have been ever since they first stepped into their respective Gundams and used GN particles (it's always GN particles). It's not a strong link, and it's mainly one way - Meister to Veda, with Veda monitoring the Meister's brain at all times.

Secondly, every twenty-four hours, the content of the brain is downloaded into Veda for storage; this is apparently so that Veda can compare the different versions to see patterns, and thus detect problems rapidly. Somehow (Allelujah just nodded when the information was given to him; sometimes it's just not worth the hour-long explanation), this 'downloading' includes not only the various chemical levels, but also memories.

In these days of AIs and quantum brainwaves, Allelujah supposes that he shouldn't be surprised at this particular ability of Veda's - yet, for some reason, he is.

It is true, of course, that all personal data on the Meisters was erased from Veda. This is where the third part comes in: backups. Specifically, backups automatically copied to stick; Veda is connected to all computers. Celestial Being has been trying to find the computer which the backups were copied to for years without success; the large pile of (heavily encrypted) sticks next to a computer terminal in what appears to have been a study-office suggests that the Innovators may have beaten them to it. They'll know when they finish here and take their findings back to the Ptolemaios: for various reasons, they daren't connect to Veda here just yet.

What this all means is that, essentially, the clone might have Lockon's memories. This depends on a number of factors, of course - mainly whether the Innovators ever had Lockon's memories in the first place, and whether they bothered to download them into the new body. Even for a Super Soldier, there are too many unknown variables and not enough information to calculate probabilities.

Marie is keeping watch on the stasis pod as it 'defrosts' (a colloquialism for whatever it is that stasis pods do for a period of time before they can be opened); it should be ready within the next three hours. They'll find the answers to their questions then.

In the meantime, Allelujah drinks his poor-quality tea - black with three sugars, because he doesn't trust the milk but can't take it plain - and waits.

In the films, people come gracefully out of stasis, like waking up from a good night's sleep. That's not how it actually works, of course: Allelujah has to hold down Lockon's limbs so that he doesn't injure himself as his brain function returns to normal, although there's nothing he can do about the pained sounds that Lockon occasionally makes. At least he's quiet; he doesn't think he could manage if he starts screaming.

It takes half an hour for him to stop convulsing, but it's not over yet: Lockon still isn't conscious, so they can't tell whether his memories have been restored, tampered with, replaced or just removed altogether. Together, they lift him onto a hospital bed - one with straps, just in case - to let him sleep off the worst of the stasis sickness. They hook him up to monitoring machines, too, along with IVs: even after resting, he'll still be impaired for a few days.

For the nine hours that he sleeps, neither Allelujah nor Marie leave the hospital area; there's a small kitchen and bathroom for necessities, and the chairs are uncomfortable but bearable (for maybe-Lockon, anything is bearable). He doesn't ask why Marie stays too, when she only knew the first Lockon Stratos as another mobile suit on the battlefield; he thinks he may know when in the last hour she grasps his hand gently, their chairs set together. They don't need to look at each other; she touches his mind gently, careful not to disturb Hallelujah, and soothes him with her brainwaves. They intermingle, and Allelujah feels at peace for the first time since setting foot on the station. Friendship, he thinks, and Marie thinks Yes. This is the kind of love which doesn't need to be sexual, doesn't even need to be physical; such is the nature of quantum brainwaves that they will always be with each other simply because they are.

At last, the change in the tone and rhythm of the monitors' beeping tells them that he's waking up. They pull their chairs up closer to the bed; too close would crowd him, and standing would make them loom. Marie watches the monitors while Allelujah watches maybe-Lockon. Their hands aren't touching anymore, and he can't feel her body heat through his suit, but she keeps a light pressure at the back of his mind, comforting while he watches maybe-Lockon's eyes open. They look glassy, and the pupils won't focus: Allelujah has to fight down the wave of panic at that. It's normal, it's expected. He mutters something soothing as the monitors pick up signs of distress - and there's a brain wave spike.

There's a small pause, then -

"Allelujah?"

So he has some memories, then; at least he recognises Allelujah's voice. Allelujah swallows briefly, and says:

"Yes." He stops, unsure. Luckily, Marie steps in.

"I'm Marie Parfacy," she says. "What do you remember? Don't strain your eyes trying to focus," she adds, "you've been in stasis, and your eyesight won't adjust for at least a day yet."

There is silence for a long moment; long enough that Allelujah starts to wonder -

"Al-Saachez," says Lockon. "I need to kill Ali Al-Saachez." And Allelujah doesn't know whether to be thankful or not.

"He's dead," he says. "He - he's been dead a while, now."

There's another pause, but this time only a couple of seconds. A small convulsion - all the muscles in Allelujah's legs tighten, although it's expected after seven years in stasis; recovery time is long. Then Lockon asks:

"How long have I been in stasis for?" He frowns harder. "Why was I in stasis?"

Allelujah breathes once, breathes out, and steels himself for a long explanation.

They get past Lockon's battle with Al-Saachez, the destruction of the Ptolemaios, Christina and Lichty's deaths, the four-year break, Lyle's recruitment, Sumeragi and have just finished explaining Aeolia Schenberg's Master Plan And What Ribbons Did Next when Allelujah and Marie decide that Lockon needs to rest. He protests, but only for maybe half a minute before the sedative which Marie has just told the machine to add to his IV takes effect. Allelujah sends a small wave of admiration to her, and she grins. Practically-minded, she says.

They still haven't gotten to the cloning explanation yet.

He goes to the ex-mess hall for a while to get away: if he stays in the medical bay, he knows he'll just end up staring at Lockon's face. Because it is Lockon (apparently, says Hallelujah), back from the dead (cloned, actually).

Allelujah gets a cup of coffee and fervently wishes for Hallelujah to shut up. Can't you go somewhere else for a while? he asks. You're supposed to be dormant. Then he realises what he's just said, and his hand tightens on the flask of tea. You're supposed to be dormant, he repeats.

Yeah, well, says Hallellujah, only so much you can repress me when you're fucking surrounded by GN particles.

Well. Allelujah takes several breaths.

You shouldn't worry so much, Hallelujah tells him. I'm only here to make sure you complete your missions. If you're a good boy, I'm not needed, right?

You're a sociopath, Allelujah points out, as calmly as he can.

Hallelujah laughs. So what are you, then? Then, serious - I'm you, moron. I'm here to do what you can't and all that shit, but your mind came up with me in the first place to protect you. You've read the books and papers and crap; you ought to know this. I can't do anything that would break your mind toobadly.

Allelujah takes several more deep breaths. That's not very reassuring, he sends, then thinks - I'm bantering with an untrustworthy madman. Clearly his life has come to a sad pass.

More cackling from Hallelujah. You'll get used to it. Again.

And then he retreats back into the recesses of their mind, leaving Allelujah to stare gloomily into his coffee cup.

Over the next week, Lockon's condition improves rapidly, although he still twitches occasionally: on only the second day he manages to sit up and converse with Allelujah and Marie for a while, bringing him up to date on the developments since - the death of his original body, as Allelujah supposes it should be called. Every time Lyle is mentioned, his face noticeably tightens; when Ali's death is related, there's something in Lockon's eyes that Allelujah isn't quite sure how to label.

It puzzles him, that Lockon should react so. He knows that the twins weren't close, but Lockon's restraint is palpable, like he wants to ask about him but - won't? can't? Allelujah doesn't know what's holding him back.

By the fourth day he can walk unaided, and on the fifth is allowed out of the medical bay under supervision; he doesn't know this ship yet, and they don't want him unwittingly wandering into a depressurised area. On the eighth, he requests to be left alone for a little while in what used to be hydroponics (slowly being repaired by Marie, who has a way with plants), and they don't object.

When the door has closed with a hydraulic wheeze, Marie gives Allelujah a significant look. With brain waves (one word - Ptolemaios), he knows what she means. Now is the time to tell them.

He doesn't know why that makes his heart feel heavy.

So off they go to the main deck, where there are communication devices. Marie inputs the coordinates, and Allelujah thinks over what he's going to say.

His mind is still blank by the time the screen blinks on to show Sumeragi, her smile small but her eyes bright. She looks much better than when he last saw her; it's probably the reduced alcohol consumption. He's happy to see her too, but he still doesn't know what to say.

"Allelujah," she says, "long time no see."

There is a slight pause.

"Clones," Allelujah blurts out at last, then immediately colours. Sumeragi just stares at him, twisting her mouth in a way that means she's amused.

"There are clones on this station," he explains, and she looks considerably less amused.

"Details." Crisp, but not unkind. He takes a breath.

"We discovered four clones being held in stasis. They are -" His throat feels dry "- they are sequenced from Louise Halevy, Alejandro Corner, Ali Al-Saachez and -" which name to use? "- Neil Dylandy." Just to avoid confusion.

For a moment, Sumeragi doesn't look like she's breathing; then she exhales forcefully and says, still businesslike, "Do they - are you aware of any programming?" Suddenly, she gives him a fierce scowl: "Don't you go waking any of them up, Allelujah Haptism!"

"...Too late," mumbles Allelujah, and Sumeragi takes several breaths (in through the nose and out through the mouth). "Only one!" he adds desperately.

She sighs. "Lockon, then."

For a moment he wonders - How did she know? - and then he realises that it's pretty obvious, actually.

"Though I suppose I can't blame you," she continues, "since I'm sure that the other Meisters would have done exactly the same." He'd expected anger; instead, she just looks resignedly tolerant. Two years off the booze and with less stress have really changed her; he can see the woman who used to call him to her quarters to have him go down on her, soft and wet and laughing when she came.

"Tell me," she says, "is it him?" He knows what she's asking.

"Yes," he replies truthfully. "VEDA, the brain back-ups -"

"I know," she cuts him off. "I know how it works. I suppose there's no point asking if you're sure?"

"I'm sure," he says in the firmest tone he can manage.

A nod.

"Good. I'll hand you over to Setsuna." Again, he wants to ask how she knows, but again the answer's obvious. She knows them better than she lets on.

A quick shuffle on the other end, and Setsuna's serious face comes into view. He's what, twenty-one now? Abruptly, Allelujah is struck by the thought that he looks like a man. He is a man; a strange thought after nearly seven years of seeing him as 'the boy'.

"Allelujah," says Setsuna. "What is Neil's mental state?" As blunt as ever, and Allelujah has to suppress a smile. He notices, of course, the use of 'Neil'. He swallows. It's only natural, only practical, he tells himself: Lyle is Lockon Stratos now. It still makes him feel a bit queasy, though.

"He's...doing as well as can be expected," he says neutrally. Setsuna's gaze grows a little more fixed; he's not getting out of this one. "He's not tried to kill himself, or anything like that," he tries again. More staring.

"I think he feels guilty," he offers at last, and Setsuna's face changes to a look of consideration.

"For dying." Allelujah nods.

Setsuna pauses a second, then says:

"That's ridiculous." This time, Allelujah actually laughs.

"Yeah, it is, but you try convincing him." His smile fades. "I'm just not sure how to get through to him, you know? He's quiet, now. Whenever we mention Lyle, he looks sad, and the records show that he keeps looking up the details of Al-Saachez's death whenever he has access to a computer. The medical file, the news reports...He won't let it go."

"He's lost his drive," says Setsuna. "He used to live for revenge. Without Al-Saachez, he has nothing to fight against."

Allelujah realises that, as usual, Setsuna is right. He breathes in, and out.

"What do you think we should do?" he asks. He'd rather sort this out on his own, but Setsuna was closer to Lockon; that, combined with his peculiar talent for reading and understanding people, made him far better-qualified.

"Listen to him," says Setsuna immediately. "There is nothing else that can be done."

Allelujah closes his eyes briefly, and nods.

They talk about other things, then - the discoveries on the station, how the repairs are coming along, how things are on the Ptolemaios - when it suddenly occurs to Allelujah to ask:

"What about Lyle?" Setsuna tilts his head slightly to the side.

"I will tell him," he says. "Unless you have objections...?"

"No, no objections." Not reasonable ones, anyway.

The conversation ends fairly quickly after that, with Allelujah feeling sick again. He knows that the brothers had a strained relationship, particularly on Lyle's side. He'd had that thing about being compared to his brother, and now Neil is back, ready once again to assume the favoured position...Or at least, that was probably how Lyle would see it.

But Lyle isn't his problem right now; Neil is. He checks his watch: it's been an hour and ten minutes since they left Neil in hydroponics. He nods at Marie, although he doesn't need to, and sets off at a brisk pace.

He finds Neil as he left him, perched on the edge of a trough. Allelujah sits down beside him. It's not very comfortable, but Lockon doesn't seem to mind.

Lockon doesn't turn to look at him. The silence feels heavy, but Allelujah is resolved to follow Setsuna's advice and listen; he'll wait for Lockon to speak first.

After about five minutes (but it feels longer), he does:

"How's Lyle doing?"

Allelujah considers how to answer this for a moment.

"Fine," he says at last. It's true, as far as he knows; Lyle and Setsuna remain as Gundam Meisters aboard the Ptolemaios, along with the rest of the crew. He's not close to Lyle, not like he was - is? - with the original Lockon, but he seems to be coping with his grief. He has faith that Setsuna will 'look after' him, and tells Lockon so.

Lockon laughs.

"Ah, Setsuna's all grown up, then." He sounds a little sad, Allelujah thinks.

"Mm, he's matured. Socially, I mean - I don't think his ideals have changed, but his interactions with people have become - gentler, perhaps? I'm not sure how to describe it, but he's more approachable now. Open, I guess."

Another long pause.

"I didn't mean for him to get involved in this."

So they're back to Lyle, now. Lockon continues:

"I went out for revenge so that he wouldn't have to. I wanted to keep him safe." Guilt. Allelujah objects at once:

"But Lyle never wanted revenge in the first place. He didn't care." He doesn't add that Lyle probably didn't need his older brother's protection anyway; he suspects that this is a sibling thing.

"He did." Neil's voice is firm. "I know he did, he must have. And now it's my fault." Allelujah still isn't convinced, wants to tell Neil that he couldn't have helped dying, but he doesn't want to upset Lockon over this, so he changes tack:

"Tieria changed because of you."

Lockon's head jerks up, startled.

"Me?" he asks. "You sure?"

"Yes. I - wasn't there for those four years over which the change took place, but from Setsuna's account and my own experience, I would say that you were the one to spark the metamorphosis."

"Hmm." Lockon wants to argue again, he can tell, but the next thing he says is: "What do you mean about your own experiences?"

Allelujah chews his lip for a moment. How to express this? It's silly, really, this feeling, but -

"I know we were never close," he admits, feeling a little foolish over his next words: "but you were - I believe that you made an impression on me."

Lockon exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. He's still looking at the plants, but Allelujah doesn't feel ignored.

"I mean," he presses on, "you were like some kind of older brother-figure to us, and I - hadn't had a family for some time." Breath. "None of us had." (He conveniently leaves out the occasional, decidedly non-familial fantasy that he may have had about Lockon fucking him hard and rough. Now is not the time).

"...An older brother, huh," says Lockon after a moment, and Allelujah permits himself a small, grim smile in his mind. And back to Lyle we come.

"If you're so worried about him, you'll be reassured soon enough." Now Lockon looks at him, questioning. He explains: "In a week or so, we'll be rendezvous-ing with the Ptolemaios. You'll see him then."

"He hates me," says Lockon, bluntly and without preamble. "He told me so, the last time we met. I've failed him, do you understand? I've failed in my duty to protect him."

Allelujah thinks back to the conversation he had with Setsuna, and says:

"No, he doesn't and no, you haven't." Firm. "He's conflicted; he both admires and resents you. Like I said, you'll see him on the ship. Talk to him then."

Lockon sets his mouth in a thin line, but Allelujah thinks that his posture is maybe a little less stiff, so it doesn't worry him so much.

Two days later, they talk about Hallelujah.

Allelujah never told the other Meisters about his...affliction (Hallelujah hates that term), and on hindsight that may have been somewhat reckless; it was 'pertinent information regarding a soldier's mental health', to use a phrase he saw once or twice in official documentation. So now, he wants to make up for it. The problem is how to lead into it; if he just starts off with 'So, I have a split personality', the conversation may go downhill very rapidly.

With this in mind, he searches out the now-released Lockon in the mess hall and sits down beside him. Lockon doesn't turn to face him, but the air is companionable nonetheless. He opens his mouth to speak.

"So, I have a split personality," he begins. Predictably, Lockon turns to stare at him.

That's either the air conditioning on its last legs, or Hallelujah laughing. Allelujah takes a breath, reasseses the situation and his supposed intellect, and considers how to proceed from here.

"That probably wasn't the best way to start off," he admits. He doesn't know where his subtlety went, really. Luckily, Lockon just grins.

"Nah, maybe not," he says genially. "But at least it's out in the open, right?"

"...Right," says Allelujah, a little subdued but pleased that Lockon hasn't freaked out. This may change, of course, when he explains what Hallelujah actually is (this provokes a small snort from the personality in question. It sounds somewhat offended, but right now he can't be bothered to ask; Hallelujah is always more trouble that he's worth).

To delay the inevitable 'yes-I-have-a-psychopath-in-my-mind' and 'no-he-probably-won't-kill-you', he explains briefly about the Super Soldier Institute, glossing over the more unpleasant parts (though he thinks Lockon might have picked up on that anyway - something in his face). He manages to keep it up for a good five minutes or so, until he pauses for breath and Lockon neatly jumps in with the dreaded question:

"So, this 'Hallelujah' - what's he like?" He's pushed his chair away from the table and angled his whole body to face Allelujah, with his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands in a slouch which forces him to look up at Allelujah's face. It gives his face a devious cast, though Allelujah's sure it's unintentional.

How to describe Hallelujah?

"He's..." Allelujah fumbles. "He's...not a nice person." No shit. "He doesn't care about hurting people so long as he achieves his goals."

"Ah, so he's the strong and stoic type, then?" Lockon nods wisely.

The idea of Hallelujah being anything resembling 'stoic' actually makes Allelujah laugh a little. He gets himself under control, because he doesn't want Lockon to be offended, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"No, not stoic at all! I'm the quiet one; he's loud and violent." He pauses for a moment to screw up his courage before admitting: "Actually, he's kind of a dick."

And at that, Lockon throws his head back and laughs. A second later, Allelujah softly joins in. It's not the sort of thing he'd usually say, but here, with Lockon, it feels right. More than that - it feels liberating.

Hallelujah is probably sulking. Allelujah doesn't care.

When Lockon first woke up, Allelujah and Marie arranged to sleep in shifts. Now, however many days later, they're still doing it. Lockon's sleep cycle has become regular surprisingly quickly, so they can have Allelujah awake during Lockon's 'day', and Marie working during his 'night' (Marie having decided to leave him to Allelujah). There are a few hours of overlap either way, with one of them groggily shovelling down cereal as the other finishes their dinner. They don't talk much, but they draw strength from being in each other's company.

When it was just the two of them, most of Allelujah's free time was spent with Marie. Now he has the option to either talk to Lockon, or go off on his own. He does spend time with Lockon, but quite often he finds Lockon giving off a strong air of 'leave me alone'. So, he does; he retreats back to his rather uncomfortable haunt of the mess hall, tea in hand, resting his chin in his palm and staring into space. The plastic chairs are wickedly uncomfortable, but that doesn't deter his brain.

It's here, a few days after they talked about Hallelujah, that Allelujah suddenly gets the feeling that something is terribly wrong with Lockon.

It's a strange feeling, rather like nausea but involving the brain rather than the stomach. His sight blurs for several seconds, and he loses his sense of up and down. When he gets his vision back, his mouth is dry and his tongue tastes sour, and he'd swear he can smell Lockon, just a little. In this environment, formerly home to Innovators, his brainwaves are in overdrive.

In retrospect, the leaping-out-of-chair-and-over-tables manoeuvre that Allelujah promptly executes in order to get to him would probably have looked quite cool, if anyone had been there to witness it. As it is, he hurtles out of the door, sprints down the corridor to Lockon's quarters and throws himself down beside Lockon without fanfare. Lockon is shaking badly, and his back arches in convulsions. It feels like all the breath has been knocked out of Allelujah's lungs.

Quickly, he drags him away from the furniture and manoeuvres him so his head is in Allelujah's lap; this is what the books recommend. Ideally, there would be more people to pin down his arms and legs, but he doesn't want to wake Marie, so he'll have to handle it himself. Damn stasis sickness - he'd thought they'd got past the fit stage, but apparently not. Lockon's right leg thumps down hard on the floor, and Allelujah wishes he'd had this fit somewhere softer.

Quite often, the books say, stasis-sickness patients scream during their fits. Lockon doesn't; instead he opens his mouth and makes soft wheezing noises as if he'd like to. Allelujah just keeps cradling his head and waits for it to end.

At last the shakes and spasms subside, and Lockon relaxes into him. It's nice that he's comfortable, because Allelujah certainly isn't. At some point, any minute now, Lockon is going to have to get his head out of Allelujah's lap and it's going to be awkward. It shouldn't be, because they're both grown men, but somehow he knows that it will be.

Lockon is crying.

It takes Allelujah a minute to realise this, being caught up in imagining the potential embarrassment, but when he does he stops calculating how fast he can flee the room, and instead wonders what he's supposed to do now. He can hardly tell Lockon to pull himself together, but in this fragile state, a hug might well result in blood on the walls. He compromises by putting a hand on Lockon's head, very lightly.

Lockon nestles closer, pushing his face into Allelujah's stomach. Allelujah is hyper-aware of Lockon's uncovered forearms and the hidden curve of his neck. If he shifts his hand a little, they will be skin-to-skin. The thought is strangely arresting.

The curve of Lockon's skull in his hand feels delicate. He twines his fingers in chestnut hair, and holds on.

On the fourteenth night, Hallelujah comes to Lockon. He's strong enough to do that, now - take over the body even as Allelujah twists and curses and fights. They find him sat on his bed, staring at nothing.

To his credit, Lockon immediately recognises that something's off: they catch him squinting at their face, as if trying to see something there. It's only when Hallelujah talks, though, that he figures it out:

"Oi," says Hallelujah, and they see the connection being made.

"Hallelujah, right?" He says it casually, but the tenseness in his shoulders is noted and catalogued.

"Yeah, good of you to notice," says Hallelujah. As with everything he says, it comes out mocking, with that faint, unsettling tinge of psychopathy. Lockon's hackles rise slightly, but he waits for Hallelujah to get on with it. Good; Allelujah doesn't think that a brawl would be the best way to solve this.

"So, Allelujah wants you to fuck him," says Hallelujah, in a perfectly conversational fashion, and Lockon's face goes blank.

Allelujah thinks, succinctly: Shit.

"Why should I believe you?" asks Lockon. He's still trying to appear nonchalant, but his eyes flicker just a little too much.

Hallelujah's face stretches into a grin.

"Because I am him, idiot. I know exactly what he wants." He pauses for effect, then - "And I'm gonna give him it."

At that point, Lockon gives up all pretence at being unconcerned. He goes for the knife that they know is hidden under his pillow, but being barely a week out of stasis slows him down and Hallelujah is faster, grabbing his wrist and twisting the arm up against his back, flipping him over onto his stomach in the process, with a knee in his back and Hallelujah's weight on it just in case.

There goes the 'no-brawling' hope.

It's not brawling, Hallelujah informs him: it's not a fight if it's so one-sided. I'm just restraining him.

Allelujah remains doubtful, especially when Lockon does his level best to throw Hallelujah off - not that he blames him. But Hallelujah just laughs, loud and triumphant, and grabs the back of Lockon's neck, straddling his waist. Even though he's still got one arm free, and technically his legs, Lockon stops fighting at this, although his body still thrums with tension.

"Of course, because this is me, it's me sticking my cock in you, rather than the other way 'round," says Hallelujah. He sounds - confident, smug. Lockon makes a hoarse noise, as if he's in pain, and Hallelujah laughs again. "Like that? Don't worry, I know what you want."

Distantly, Allelujah is aware that Hallelujah is about to rape his teammate - ex-teammate. But if Lockon doesn't want it (and he can't), then why isn't he doing anything? Waiting for the right moment to strike? The knife's still under the pillow...Hallelujah snorts in his head.

Trust me, he wants it. I'm crazy, not stupid. It is, perhaps, the most self-aware thing that Hallelujah has ever said. Allelujah still doesn't believe him, though.

A mental sigh, almost ticklish in sensation. Watch him, and you'll understand.

Hallelujah leans forward to talk into Lockon's ear. He smells like cheap shampoo and antibacterial soap, and the faint tang of sweat underneath it all. They can hear the way his heartbeat picks up when Hallelujah breathes softly on his ear.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" asks Hallelujah, and they feel the convulsive swallow. "I know you do. I think I'll make you beg for it, though - you'd like that, wouldn't you? Begging for my cock in you." At that, Lockon's body abruptly jerks. His breath is coming rough and fast. Another jerk, and Allelujah realises what he's doing; if he was in control of the body, he'd probably be blushing. But Hallelujah is wearing the face now, and he just licks Lockon's ear to make him gasp.

Told you so, he sends smugly.

Allelujah tries to wrest control back, focusing on his hands. If he can just move one finger -

You know you're not strong enough, so why do you bother? It's a rhetorical question. Hallelujah's right, of course - he can keep control of the body for as long as he likes. But Allelujah can make it uncomfortable for him if he tries.

Stop fucking distracting me, snaps Hallelujah. D'you want to end up with a knife between your ribs? His fingers tighten on Lockon's neck. If I let go, he'll do it.

I thought you said he wanted it? Allelujah says, quietly.

You aren't usually this fucking stupid, are you? That's not really an answer, but Hallelujah has let go of Lockon briefly to pull the green shirt over his head, trapping Lockon's arms in the material. Sure enough, he struggles - but when Hallelujah replaces his hand at his neck, he quiets again.

His other hand reaches around to undo Lockon's trousers; not taking them off, just unzipping them to slide a hand inside and grip his cock through his underwear. Lockon makes another hoarse noise, and presses his hips forward into the bed. Hallelujah laughs, then removes his hand to undo his own trousers. Allelujah is abruptly aware that he's hard, and feels vulnerable. He does want to have sex with Lockon, and Lockon wants sex from someone, but this isn't what he imagined when he knelt in the shower, shoving his own fingers up his arse and imagining a cock instead.

Stop being such a whiny little cocksucker, snaps Hallelujah. This isn't about you.

That stuns Allelujah into silence for while, and he watches as Hallelujah goes back to fondling Lockon, leaning forward to bite at his neck and shoulder. There'll be bruises tomorrow, strawberry-red and grape-purple. Allelujah wants some of his own. Lockon keeps gasping and humping the bed, with only a brief pause to get his trousers and underwear all the way off - this time, he's rather more cooperative. Hallelujah strips off his shirt, but keeps his own trousers; wariness, or another part of the dominance game? Maybe both.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" asks Hallelujah, and Lockon moans and shoves his hips up. "Say it," Hallelujah orders him, and without any apparent shame, Lockon does:

"I want you to fuck me." His voice is throaty, but it doesn't crack.

"What, not even going to ask me nicely?" His tone is sneering, but he ruts against Lockon too fiercely to be considered cold.

"Please - please, fuck me." Hallelujah hisses, and his other hand leaves Lockon's neck to grope his arse. This time, Lockon doesn't try to fight.

Please tell me that there's lube somewhere around here, thinks Allelujah, and gets a mental shove for his trouble.

If there is lube, Hallelujah doesn't care to go looking for it. Instead, holding one of Lockon's hips, he pulls back and uses the other hand to deliver a sharp slap across his buttocks. Lockon gasps and shivers. Another blow, and he cries out. It sounds pained, but they can see his cock jump between his legs. Several more slaps, and Lockon is all but fucking the bedcovers.

"Please," says Lockon again, and he sounds helpless now. Allelujah can feel Hallelujah's arousal against his own mind, throbbing like a pulse; he likes hearing Lockon beg. He briefly runs a hand over Lockon's now-red arse, then leans in, takes an arse-cheek in each hand to spread them, and ilicks/i.

Lockon makes a noise like he's dying. Hallelujah licks again, pressing his tongue at the edge of his arsehole to make him whimper. Then he works his tongue into the hole, just a little, and Lockon gives a ragged moan. Hallelujah's face twists into a smirk - though he doesn't stop tongue-fucking Lockon's arse.

"Come on," gasps Lockon, turning his head to look at Hallelujah. "Fuck me, damnit!"

It's seeing Lockon's face that does it for Allelujah. Up until this point, he's just been wishing for Lockon to do those things to him - hold him down, hit him, make him beg for it - but something about the flush in his cheeks and across his nose, his bite-red lips, his open, panting mouth makes it immediate.

Later, he will ask Lockon to do all this to him, if he keeps his courage. Right now, this is what Lockon needs.

"You like it when it hurts, right?" says Hallelujah, and Lockon gasps,

"Yes!"

Hallelujah laughs again, loud and joyful, just on the edge of mania. Then he takes Lockon's hip in one hand and his cock in the other, presses the tip to Lockon's arsehole for a moment (Lockon tries to push his hips back, eager, but Hallelujah has too firm a hold), and then thrusts in with one smooth stroke.

Allelujah's vision loses colour for a moment. He knows that Hallelujah must be thrusting in and out, but all he knows is sensation; it prickles all up his arms and down his legs and burns in his groin, and his cock hurts because it feels so good. He's struck by the thought that it's very hot inside Lockon's body.

After a moment, he regains his mind enough to remember that this is about Lockon's pleasure and release. The prostate? he suggests to Hallelujah, and gets a growl in reply: Busy. Luckily, Lockon seems to be doing fine without his interference; he's ceased being able to form coherent sentences, instead gasping 'Harder!' and 'Please!' at regular intervals.

Then he says:

"Sorry." Allelujah thinks he's misheard - it's hard to focus through the haze of pleasure - but:

"Sorry, please, I'm sorry," babbles Lockon, and Allelujah can see damp spots on the pillow that he keeps burying his face in. He sees the edge of a cheekbone, flushed not only with exertion. "Please, I'm sorry, I - ah!" And then Lockon comes, hot and tight around him, and Allelujah and Hallelujah come too, Allelujah's vision swimming at the edges, blood roaring in his ears.

Back in control of his body, he slumps on top of Lockon. He's wrung out both mentally and physically, but he has the presence of mind to say:

"I forgive you." Face to face, he sees Lockon smile, eyelids drooping. "Sleep," he says, and Lockon does so within half a minute; he sees the exact moment when his breathing evens out, deep and soft, making him feel tired, and he knows that he should really go back to his own bed in his own quarters, but he's so comfortable and this bed is just big enough for two -

Shut the fuck up and sleep, says Hallelujah, and Allelujah takes his advice.

The next morning, Allelujah gives a blowjob for the first time.

The smell and texture is completely different from what he's used to, and he's terrified that he'll do something stupid with his teeth, but Lockon makes those hoarse noises and tangles fingers in his hair and comes in his mouth, so he figures he can't be that bad.

They don't talk about what happen the night before: Lockon grumbles that his arse is sore and it's all Hallelujah's fault, and Allelujah blushes because what can he say? And then they take a shower together (Allelujah would have used his own, but Lockon insisted), and Allelujah receives a blowjob for the first time. It's amazing. If this is what Sumeragi felt whenever he went down on her, he understands why she asked so often.

Allelujah knows that he should probably be more worried about this, about Lockon. Sex is good, but he knows better than to believe that all of Lockon's issues are fixed just like that. But right now, the tension and weariness are gone from Lockon's face and posture, and there's a different sort of gleam in his eye.

In three days time, they'll dock with the Ptolemaios. Allelujah will meet the crew again for the first time in two years; Lockon will meet them for the first time in seven. The only thing that worries him is Lyle; he hasn't contacted Setsuna to ask how he's taking it, and doesn't know him well enough to guess. But now that Lockon has shaken at least some of his guilt from his shoulders, Allelujah has slightly more faith that whatever happens, he'll be able to handle it.

The Ptolemaios II eases its way into the hangar, turning and twisting to accommodate its peculiar shape. When Allelujah looks to the side, Lockon's eyes are fixed on it. He can't read what he's thinking.

The ship lands, and is automatically secured by the docking facilities. They have to wait a moment before the doors can be opened - something to do with equalising pressure. Allelujah holds his breath.

Very gently, Lockon's hand brushes his. It might be an accident, except that he doesn't move away; the backs of their hands press tightly together. Allelujah smiles, and manoeuvres his hand to lightly touch his fingers to Lockon's.

(The main hatch of the Ptolemaios opens with a pneumatic hiss, and they step aboard like spirits on their journey home).

FINIS