The hours of light over, the warm glow of simulated lanterns filled most of the seats in the steakhouse. The few at the bar had already had their fill of gawking at their colony's most famous residents and returned to their respective Sapporo, Heineken and Old No. 7. The rustic Texas charm had long since worn off after being greeted by 'Hoshi', an over-enthusiastic server sporting a charcoal caterpillar across his upper lip, trying in vain to speak Japanese while maintaining a painful southern drawl. It was not the establishment Domon had anticipated.

The steak, however, was as close to Kobe as it could get.

None of that seemed to matter to Rain, as plate after plate piled high with meat and vegetables was brought to their table, to be returned to the kitchens mere minutes later, spotless. The pair at table 7 had, together, ordered and eaten almost an entire cow between them. The young Dr. Kasshu had an unexpectedly ravenous appetite for someone of her build, a thought Hoshi had mused vocally. After receiving the sharp impact of a plate across his forehead, he kept his caterpillar still. The two had been seated for almost two hours, making small talk in between slabs of meat, but now that the utensils had stopped flying there was finally time to get more than a sentence in.

Instead, the pair sat in silence.

Well, here we are.

Rain let out a sigh, which Domon seemed to interpret as a sign of contented fullness.

He always does this, gets all romantic and then… drops the ball. He's always going to be like this, I guess. Although… She let a smile form, pleasantly surprised at what her mind had dragged back into the light. There was that time in Neo Hong-Kong, with the rest of them. All of us running around like kids, even Nastscha got in on the fun, avoiding the boys while searching for Domon's trademark ribbon headband. In the end, losing wasn't so bad… Things aren't all fun and games, of course. Not anymore.

Hoshi took it upon himself to strike up a slow jazz piece on a piano in the corner. He was no slouch on the keyboard, she had to admit. More memories, taking her mind off of the bitterness accompanying the previous one. It reminded her of the music that fateful night, before Chibodee had to go and ruin it with his dreadful drunken karaoke…

That night, when he shocked everyone and actually… She clasped her fingers around a hard, smooth something on her left hand. Feeling that brought her back down to earth. Eight years, and still it felt like they were nothing but partners sometimes. Twice now that thought had crossed her mind today.

When is this all going to be over? When can we finally-

"Something on your mind, Rain?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing really…" Liar.

"Come on, Rain, we've been sitting here for so long not saying anything, you've gotta be thinking something." Another brilliant gem from Captain Obvious himself.

"No, it's nothing, Domon, really. Just…" She couldn't meet his eyes. "Just some old memories, nothing more."

"No, I think there's more. There's always something more."

Is he getting an attitude with me? Honestly, with all I have to put up with… Her indignation began to bubble forth, but strong fingers on her hands sent waves of calm over her. She turned to look him in the eye, and was caught by his piercing gaze.

"Rain, I've been thinking…" A dangerous thing to do, Domon. "I've been thinking about what we're going through, and-" He glanced downward at his empty plate, searching for the right words. Nothing eloquent seemed to come, so Domon decided simple was better. Rain jumped as he brought his head up again, eyes burning with the passion she had come to know well during their years together. A passion that she had thought had gone out long ago.

"-And I'm sorry." What!?

"I'm sorry for doing this to you. I should have said no, should have just walked away after the Coalition pulled their little stunt…" He released her hands, resting his forehead on his palms. "But instead I threw myself right back in. I knowingly brought you back in with me and you stayed, through all of it, and I never once thought about how you were feeling!" His right hand found itself in a fist, slammed against the table. His heretofore obfuscated inner demons boiled to the surface fast and hard, as the aged oak planks beneath his fist visibly splintered. Rain reached out her hand, in hopes of calming him.

"Domon, it's okay-"

"No Rain, it's wrong. It's so wrong and I've been running from it, just like I ran from the truth about Kyoji, about Master Asia, about all of it!" Dark crystal glistened in the low light. No, those are tears! He hasn't been upset like this in- "It's like I haven't learned anything. I just… I just didn't know what else to do." The King of Hearts put on his best brave face, but with the shimmering in his eyes, he wasn't fooling anyone. "Fighting was my life, I don't know how to do anything else."

There it was.

Manon knelt beside her husband, Gentle Chapman. "That's right, take a good look. This could happen to all of you someday." His last moments went by in a blitz through fog, only becoming lucid during his final breaths. A Fighter to the very end, long of life but still cut short by the rigors of battle. After all these years, her words began to ring true. Domon was a fighter, destined to play out his final days just like Chapman, unless he recognized that.

Unless he takes his fate into his own hands, Domon will end up just like Chapman. He knows that. Now, as he looks at me and sees what he's sacrificing, what I'm sacrificing for him… Oh Domon.

Rain took hold of her husband's fist with one hand, and cupped his chin with the other. Her face was calm, but firm, the same look she gave him many times through their ordeal in the last Gundam Fight, to give him encouragement whether he wanted it or not. "You are a Fighter. That's what you are, what you'll always be if you so choose. You fight, and you fight, and you continue fighting, until everything you want is within your grasp. You already know what you want, and you've made your choice as far as that is concerned. And I'll be beside you as long as you make that choice." She brought him forward into a kiss, staining her top with steak sauce and her makeup with a single tear.

"And don't worry about what might have been. We still have plenty of time for a family, once this is all over." Her reassuring smile seemed to stem the flow of her husband's manly tears. "It will be over, Domon. We'll get through this Fight just like we did before, and we'll have each other the whole way."

Domon managed a smile of his own. Just barely. "Yeah, the whole way." Short and sweet, all that was needed.

You're wrong, Domon. You have learned. You recognize your faults, and that makes you angry. But knowing who you are is the first step. You know what's wrong and you want to make it right, to make up for it. That's why, after all is said and done, I'll always love you.

But I still want kids when this is over.

The piano had stopped.

Apart from a few remaining staff, the two had the place to themselves. The air, much like the wagon-wheel chandelier two tables over, hung still from the sudden shock of silence. Exactly when the other patrons sitting at the bar had left, neither of them knew, nor cared.

"We should be heading back." Domon ham-fistedly broke the silence. At least he's acting normal. Good, that means at least something I said stuck. "The rest of the crew is probably panicking without you."

As if on cue, Rain's magical compact started ringing. Where she got that wonderful little gadget from, Domon never asked, and likely there wasn't another one like it anywhere. Contained within its pink shell was a myriad of technological marvels from a hard-light energy shield to a GPS tracking system, and a phone as well, apparently. She didn't need to open it up, but rather placed her finger on one of her golden earrings.

"So that's what those are for!" Domon's face lit up in a moment of stunned clarity.

"What, you mean you haven't noticed? You think I wear these everywhere just to be fashionable?"

"Huh? No, no of course not. I mean, yes they're fashionable, I just…" Domon's blush was obvious from a mile away. "You should, probably get that, you know?"

She smiled, content with yet another minor victory. "Go ahead, Saji." She twisted awkwardly in her seat, trying to pull away from the object attached to her earlobe. "You don't need to shout, Saji, I'm right here. Hold on…" Out came the compact. Once on the table, it served as a speakerphone, saving Rain a few more years of decent hearing.

"Sorry, Doctor Kasshu. It's just the Coalition crew. They're…" Saji, their secondary technician, sounded beyond aggravated, and by the sound of things in the background, he had good reason. The predominant shriek of grinding metal and English expletives was worrying.

"Idiot! Watch where you're driving that thing!" As opposed to the cumbersome English language, 'idiot' in Japanese is quite an effective phonetic expression. "Those shells could blow up if you keep handling them like that! What are we paying you for?!" Definitely worrying. "Sorry, Doctor Kasshu. We need you back. Now. These Coalition serfs are making my dog look like an honor student, and believe me, you've never seen a more stupid dog in your life."

"Right, we're on our way." Rain forcefully snapped the compact shut, inwardly seething at the ineptitude of the crew that had been forced upon them. Another concession made to the Coalition, on top of being forbidden to behave like a married couple. Now they were made to trust convicts and the criminally uneducated with their Gundam. Just one more thing to deal with… "I guess you're right, Domon. We're going."

Bill paid, significantly lower than it should have been out of the hospitality of the owner, the two set off into the dim blue artificial night.

Hangar 2, built into the side of the Shikoku District of Neo-Japan, was strictly off-limits to non-military personnel. The commotion coming from inside, however, seemed to pique more interest than the armed guards could dissuade. Locals gathered around the main road gate, hoping for a peek inside at the new Gundam, or just to see what was causing all the noise. More than once the hangar door sounded off with a resounding crash, as power loaders laden with munitions clumsily backed into the corrugated superstructure. Cries of frustration could barely be heard over the din, in voices that some recognized as belonging to Dr. Rain Kasshu and the King of Hearts. Minute by minute, the noise grew louder, until a second detachment of security was dispatched to ensure the safety of the crowd, and the secrecy of their nation's operations. Three hours remained until Coalition forces were to retrieve the God Gundam's capsule, and the crowd was only just beginning to disperse. Rifles waved, APCs ground to a halt, power loaders crashed, and it seemed to the people of the Shikoku District that Rain Kasshu was winning a war using nothing but projected volume.

"No, NO! E-caps first, then Vulcan! Take it all out, quickly! We don't have much time!" The sheer ineptitude of the Coalition lend-lease crew was astounding. After a global pardon of many convicted felons and otherwise designated criminals, the unemployment rate on Earth skyrocketed. To ensure employment for its new jobseeking populace, the Coalition surmised that colonial Gundam Fight crews could be temporarily augmented by this new influx of semi-skilled labor. It was the first of many poor decisions on the part of the Coalition, some of which had yet to rear their ugly heads.

The God Gundam's drop capsule had room for two weeks' worth of consumables, from food and ammunition to spare parts and reaction control fuel. However, space was at a premium, and every cubic centimeter counted. When the loading process was being handled by men who could barely count to ten on their fingers and toes, this was certainly a point of contention between said crew, and the foremen who actually knew what they were doing. Rain was doing her best to keep her frustration in check, but cracks were beginning to form in her usual positive, supporting demeanor.

"Will someone please check on the Gundam? Is it ready to move yet?" Another gong sounded throughout the hangar. "And please get that goddamned oaf off the power loader!" The façade was shattered. All hell had broken loose.

Said oaf lazily meandered over to the lift jack serving as an impromptu control tower, intent on venting some frustration of his own. Built like an ox, not all that unlike their good friend Argo Gulskii, he flung the loader's roll cage up, impacting the base of the lift. His massive bulk squeezed out of the loader's harness and leaned out the side, looking upwards at his effeminate overlord.

"Ey, keep it down, 'aight? We're workin 'ere! Calm yo ti-"

"I will not calm my…" Rain flushed with indignation. "I'm not even going to dignify that comment by finishing it. Don't you even speak to me like that." Thankfully Domon was out of earshot, rising up into God Gundam's cockpit to perhaps assist in some way. "We need to get everything finished before the lockout, and you're not exactly helping things by crashing into the door with cannon shells in your hands."

"Babe, I 'aint getting paid enough ta pay attention to all these rules an' shit. None of us are, so I'm sorry, but ya get what ya pay for." At least the troglodyte had a descent understanding of the English language. The dialect was unmistakably American, possibly fitting the Jersey dockworker stereotype, but with a little less class. The bulk stuck out his thumb at the much-abused hangar door. "And if you don' like it, I'm walkin."

"That's fine, we could probably get this done faster without you getting in the way, anyway!" Oh no, big mistake…

"Fine babe, fine by me." The bulk stepped down from the loader, placed his grimy fingers in his ape mouth, and gave a shrill whistle. "Aight, boys, the bitch wants ta handle things herself. Colony bastards can kiss my ass, I've already got my payday." The convict crew began towards the door, just as the God Gundam began to rise.

"WHAT did you just say?" Loudspeakers shrieked with feedback as the Gundam screamed at the peons below. The oxlike bulk was unimpressed.

"Yeah, I called her a bitch. What, you got a problem with that, poker face?" The bulk stood defiantly at the hangar doors, as the rest of the convict crew filtered out unmolested. "You so much as take a step in my direction, an' I make sure the Coalition hears ev'ry word a dis. Good luck savin' the galaxy or some shit without their approval. I'm out, see ya, poker face." With that, the bulk made its way outside into the artificial night, flanked by ne'er-do-wells and thugs, to descend upon the local drinking establishments. More than half of the crew would end up arrested and returned to Earth by morning.

Domon seethed at the lowlife that had just insulted his wife. Shaking with rage, he was forced to stand impotently to the side as the chain gang simply walked off the job. Pursuing them wouldn't be worth it, considering that the thug was standing on more than simply an empty threat. No amount of restored honor would be worth risking a disqualification. The remaining Neo-Japan crew stood in shock. Two hours remained on the final day, and their manpower simply wasn't enough. With no crew to run the power loaders, no muscle to shove crates, the team was simply dead in the water. Rain's face fell into her hands, her fingers coursing through her hair in a panic. Now what? We can't do this alone, but they're even worse than being alone! Domon in the Gundam can handle the big things, but there's only so much room in the capsule without Gundam hands getting in the way-

Yelps of surprise from outside got everyone's attention. The unmistakable baritone whirr of servo motors cut through the noise, punctuated by kinetic buffer plates impacting the manufactured earth below. There was a Gundam outside. This was made evidently clear by the shouts of, "Oh shit, Gundams!" which could be made out amidst the new sounds of panic. Gundams? More than one? Who's out there?

"Well, looks like we picked a great time to stop by, Neo-Japan." Another unmistakable American voice, this one with orders of magnitude more class than the last one.

The hangar doors ground open, pried apart by the powerful arms of the Gundam Maxter, now bedecked in full cowboy livery, complete with an absurd facsimile of a hat on its head. Massive revolver cylinders replaced the boxing gloves the Maxter was famous for, though no doubt could be had that these would also serve as devastating pugilistic weapons. Emblazoned on its chest was a garish yellow star, the shining symbol of Neo-America. Behind the new Maxter were two other familiar shapes, one elegant and dignified, the other a single-minded engine of hulking destruction. "Well don't just stand there, say hello! It's been a while since we last got the whole gang together. Neo-China excluded of course."

"Indeed. Greetings Domon Kasshu, Madame Rain." The familiar white and blue chevalier, Gundam Rose, took a firm step forward into the space previously occupied by a hangar door. The stark contrast between the clean, sweeping design of Neo-France's previous Gundam and the loud, hard edges of Neo America were made evidently clear as new and old stood side by side.

"Sai Saici wishes to convey his apologies for his absence, although he had little choice in the matter. Regulations and the like."

"Yeah, the Earth still doesn't respect the authority of the Shuffle Alliance, after all we've done for them" Chibodee chimed in. "Well, except for you, Neo-Japan. They seem to listen to you. At least, more than the rest of us." Undoubtedly referring to the Overwatch Incident, of which Domon still refused to speak. Chibodee took every chance he got to needle him about it, though. Needling would have to wait, as the God Gundam raised an arm in a befuddled shrug.

"Chibodee, George, what are you doing here? Is that Argo back there?" The familiar phrase, adapted for the situation and minus one, carried all the nostalgic camaraderie it was known for. The Bolt Gundam finally stepped forward into the light, even more massive than the last time Domon had seen it. At all critical servo joints was a solid protective cap, like a hexagonal bolt head, as well as a pair of Frankenstein-esque bolts protruding from where the Graviton Hammers were formerly stored. Four polished armor caps adorned the plate skirt at its waist, and nestled into a protective cradle on its back was a massive sphere, inset with thruster blocks; undoubtedly the newest version of the Graviton Hammer.

Chibodee opened his mouth faster than Argo. "Isn't it obvious, Neo-Japan? We're here to help. Neo-China gave us a tip that the Earth crews were nothin' but trouble, so we decided to head over and make sure you don't get disqualified. And from the looks of things…"

The pause was just long enough for an interruption. "You could use all the help you can get. And these worthless convicts make us career criminals look bad." The husky baritone voice of Argo Gulskii resonated in the night air with an otherworldly presence. Or it might have been the Bolt Gundam's speakers were turned up just a tad too loud. "But standing around here isn't doing much good. Inside, quickly. The inspection ships are on their way, and I don't think I can afford to be 'inspected' this time."

Hangar 2 was designed to house the God and Rising Gundams in a fully operational state. With the drop pod occupying most of the space normally dedicated to the Rising Gundam, fitting in another mobile suit would be a tall order at best, much less the enormous Bolt Gundam. Three extra Gundams was right out. As though the hangar knew what was about to happen, the metal superstructure groaned in dismay. Rain rushed to the structure's aid.

"Wait, you guys, that's not going to work!" Scraping sounds issued forth from the doors as metal met ceramic composite. "You're not all going to fit! We don't have time to build a new hanger for all of you, so you're just going to have to get out and lift with your own hands." Weariness was definitely taking hold of her.

"Ah crap, sorry Rain. I told you guys we wouldn't fit!" Maxter stepped out and assumed a neutral stance, as the cockpit hatch opened, its pilot emerging in an ultramarine Trace suit. "Well, looks like we're doing things the hard way. George, I think you can sit this one out, we got this, right Argo?"

"It was your idea to bring out our Gundams, Chibodee Crockett. And are you implying that a knight is above getting his hands dirty? That I am somehow unfit to assist with the strength of my own two hands?" George replied in an uncharacteristically sarcastic tone. Marie Louise was certainly rubbing off on him. Rose took up a position beside Maxter, kneeling with its hand across its chest to serve as a platform. By this time Chibodee had already scaled the angular surfaces of his Gundam and stood at the threshold of the mangled door.

"All I'm saying, Neo-France, is that I'm not the one that lost a fight with a grapefruit."

Rain didn't even try to stifle her snickers of amusement. Quickly, all five of them burst into raucous laughter at poor George's expense. The tension of the past two hours broke just as suddenly as it had started, and for the first time that night Rain was sure that things would go as smoothly as they needed. Chibodee and George took up the reins of the power loaders, though Rain didn't bother to warn Chibodee of the conditions its previous bulk of an operator had left it in. His squeamish response ensured that George was not alone in being heckled that night. Argo hefted entire pallets of supplies with his none-too-insignificant might, and Domon used the Gundam to finish off swaths of crates and boxes that would normally be stacked individually. Their contents would not all survive the loading process, but the job would get done in just enough time to have a few spare moments to catch up on old times. And how the times had changed…