Apologies for being quite slow in updating - I know where this is going and I will finish it, no matter how long it takes. For now, I hope you enjoy this new (and long) chapter! Please review, I love to hear your feedback! Thanks for reading as always.
Hikaru awoke with a groan, thoroughly tangled in the sheets and blankets after a rather fitful night of sleep. Angry streams of light assaulted him from the window, and it took a fair amount of maneuvering before he could free himself from the bedding's persistent grip. He took trudging steps toward the window to close the blinds some, to the relief of his bloodshot eyes. Once the room was sufficiently dim, he glanced at the bedside table, noted the empty glass of whiskey, and groaned again.
Retracing his steps from the night before, Hikaru found his clothes in a rumpled pile on the floor. Frowning at the sight, he left them for the time being and made his way to the bathroom, raking his hand through his unmanageable hair with a mix of shame and dread. You're an idiot, he chastised himself.
Stripping off his boxers and t-shirt, Hikaru made his way into the shower stall and dialed up some scalding water, hoping the punishing steam and heat would wash away the angst creeping over him. In his mind, he tried to summon what he might say to Misa, that is if she ever spoke to him again. Jets of hot water ran in rivulets off his cut, muscular frame, but he still didn't feel clean.
Misa, I'm sorry! I panicked when I saw Minmay on that stage, even though I know it wasn't real. I was trying to impress her when she got captured and it's my fault she's missing! It was a stupid mistake! I don't have feelings for her, not anymore!
He shook his head, letting the spray from the showerhead trickle down his face. Misa doesn't want to hear about how I botched a date with Minmay, not after what happened on the island, not with what's between us. And what about that guy walking her home? Damn, he swooped in fast. Who the hell is he?
Angry again at the memory of Ethan walking Misa home, the pair of them laughing, her voice melodious in spite of the embarrassment she'd suffered at Hikaru's hands, he shut off the shower abruptly and stormed his way out of the stall, grasping for a clean towel.
After a shave, a brush of his teeth, and a tousle of his wet hair with his hands, he heard his mobile phone buzzing insistently.
Misa!? His heart leapt at the thought of her on the other end.
Rushing to the phone, he noticed it was a secure call, encrypted with the SDF-01 bridge signature. In his haste to answer, he nearly dropped the handset on the carpet below him, suddenly clumsy and his palms increasingly sweaty. Finally, he hit "accept" and began to speak in earnest.
"Mi-" was all he could get out, before a gruff, accented voice rang in his ears from the other end of the line.
"Ichijou, this is Admiral Global calling."
Global?! Hikaru's mind raced, dumbfounded as to why the commandant of the entire UN Spacy fleet was making a call from the bridge, when communications officers existed in scores to do such a thing for the Admiral.
"Sir!" was all Hikaru was able to blurt out in response.
"There is to be a private funeral for Major Focker held today at 1000 hours and as his next of kin of sorts, it is my duty as an Admiral to inform you accordingly and to invite you to the service," Global intoned, the Admiral's voice as firm and formal as a martinet.
"Yes, sir," replied Hikaru. Though the voice on the other end of the mobile phone was disembodied, he stood at attention in spite of the distance between his quarters and the bridge. The Admiral just had that effect on most officers, Hikaru included.
The Admiral's voice softened a touch. "Ichijou, I know Focker was the closest thing you had to family here on this ship or anywhere in the galaxy for that matter, and I know this is a difficult time for you. But UN Spacy needs you to be strong, which is the same message I will be giving to the Captains La Salle and Hayase."
"Understood, Admiral," Hikaru replied resolutely.
"Shammy will send you the necessary details by secure email. I hope I don't have to remind you to wear your dress uniform, but you all of you pilots seem to have your heads in the stars these days," the Admiral concluded gruffly.
"Roger that, sir," intoned Hikaru.
The line went dead and Hikaru sank to the foot of his bed, holding the phone in his hand lifelessly. With a deep sigh, he made his way over to the closet and pushed a few hangers out of the way until he eyed his dress uniform. It hung stiff and firm and crisp and severe and he could barely stomach the sight of it.
Misa hung up from the Admiral and bolted to her closet, grabbing her dress uniform by the hanger, throwing what grooming supplies she had handy into a tote bag, and was out the door in two minutes flat – not before snagging a bottle of whatever alcohol she could find in the small kitchen cabinet she used for spirits.
She fled down the corridor, skipping the elevator for the stairs at the end of the hall. Sprinting up three flights, she burst into the hallway and narrowed her gaze on the second door on the right. Misa took a breath and placed a fingertip on a small circular panel mounted on the wall near the door. It unlocked and swung open with a metallic hiss.
"HAYASE MISA," announced a disembodied robotic voice to no one in particular.
Tossing her gear on the couch, she scurried into the bedroom and found Claudia on the foot of the bed, a sleeping pill in her palm and a glass of water in her hand.
"Claudia…." Misa whispered, her voice a breathy plea. She approached carefully, not wanting to spook the shell of a woman in front of her.
Claudia could only nod in response as hot, silent tears rolled down her stately ebon cheekbones. Misa sat next to her sister-in-arms on the edge of the bed, gently reaching for her hands and what they held. Prying the pill and glass from Claudia's tight grasp, she deposited both on the bedside table and returned to her grieving friend.
"I'm not here to tell you what to do or not do, or what to take or not take." Misa began in earnest. "But I don't think this is something you're going to want to forget," she said in the most soothing and serene voice she could muster.
We don't always agree, Claudia, Misa mused, but I would have wanted to be coherent for Riber's funeral… if he'd had one. Or Hikaru's. She gulped anxiously, willing herself to focus on Claudia and not the pair of men that haunted both her waking and sleeping hours.
Claudia buried her head in her hands and let out a sob, her stoic outer shield on the precipice of collapse. Misa reached out and enveloped her friend, her arms snaking around Claudia's slim shoulders and drawing her in close, until Claudia's head rested on Misa's shoulder.
Claudia wept silently into her friend's collarbone, her tears darkening the fabric of Misa's garment. In her haste to get to Claudia's side, Misa suddenly realized she was barefoot, wearing her fuzzy purple bathrobe and a pair of plaid pajama shorts.
When the tears had slowed, Misa laid Claudia down on the bed gently for a moment, a brief repose. She returned a few minutes later with a steaming hand towel and a rocks glass filled to the brim with a concoction that Misa could only wince at – Malibu rum and iced tea. The pineapple-flavored spirit was the first thing she'd grabbed from her rather sad excuse for a liquor cabinet and Claudia didn't have soda on hand – so iced tea it was.
Helping Claudia upright again, Misa draped the warm towel around her friend's neck and handed over the cocktail.
"Oh?" Claudia asked, one eyebrow cocked.
"I said you'd want to remember this, not that you had to be stone-cold sober for it," Misa retorted gently, trying to lighten the mood a hair.
Claudia smiled and let out a rare chuckle, taking a large swig of the beverage.
"You know, this isn't half bad," she admitted before taking another deep pull.
Misa left again for a minute and returned with a glass of her own. She raised the glass to Claudia and took an equally large gulp.
"C'mon, let's get ready to say goodbye to that stubborn flyboy of mine," Claudia said with a mix of mirth and longing in her voice.
Inside the sterile multipurpose room that had been staged like an auditorium for the occasion, Admiral Global paced the floor, pipe between his fingers. He toyed with it absentmindedly. Muttering under his breath to himself, he came to a halt when he spotted the pair of them
Claudia was on Misa's arm as they approached the imposing, yet fatherly man they called boss and leader. They were early, arriving nearly an hour before the service, but after draining their drinks and donning dress uniforms, they had nowhere else to go but to their destination. Misa in particular thought it might help for Claudia to arrive before too many people were there, to make a quiet entrance.
Global gave them both a nod and a grunt and without another word, extended his arm to Claudia. She released her grasp from the crook of Misa's elbow and allowed Global to lead her toward the wings of the stage, impromptu curtains hanging from the ceiling. Global's aim was to shield Claudia from the grieving masses and the onslaught of emotions and questions she would certainly face – a small, if temporary mercy.
Misa had understood immediately – sad as she was to see her friend go, she knew that the Admiral had Claudia's best interest in mind. With a quick adjustment of her smart uniform hat and a sweep of her russet hair, she sighed and made her way to the vestibule outside the massively empty auditorium.
A nameless officer in dress blues had taken a post at the door, a stack of programs in his hand. Misa accepted one as she walked out of the room, out a set of glass double-doors, and found herself on the observation deck, the Macross air blowing at a comfortably engineered breeze as the artificial sun shone down on the bustling city.
She couldn't bear to look at the program, not yet, and instead let her mind wander. Pulling her slim mobile phone from her breast pocket, she frowned at what she didn't see – not a single missed call, voicemail, or text from the man who'd abandoned her not twelve hours ago – the man she dared to love, despite the fact that he might never return her feelings.
She didn't hear him approach until a tap glanced her shoulder, sending a shiver from the base of her heel to her neck.
"Misa," a familiar voice began.
She turned around, heart in her throat, her pulse racing, and was stunned to see a pair of golden-brown eyes shining back at her when she'd been expecting, wanting, hoping for that devastating lapis lazuli.
"Ethan!" Misa exclaimed, her surprise genuine, trying to make her voice bright.
"I thought I might see you here," he said kindly, running his fingers through his gorgeous sandy hair. "I know Major Focker was a friend of yours, and I'm so sorry for your loss. I treated him once on reserve duty – a few broken ribs and one hell of a concussion. He seemed like quite the guy," Ethan mused.
Misa smiled weakly. "Roy was one of a kind, that's for sure. It's been rough for everyone, Claudia especially. What they had together was so . . . intense, and real. But on some level, I know how she's feeling. . ." She said sadly, the familiar pit forming in her stomach – it always happened when she thought of the fiancé she'd never had the chance to bury or say goodbye to.
Ethan of course knew about Riber, it was no secret on the base. He'd heard the usual epithets whispered behind Misa's back when she came around the hospital—"ice queen" and "frigid bitch" and worse, but he'd never thought to hold the devastating loss of her fiancé against her, no matter what walls she put up to guard herself from the outside world.
Her eyes began to fill, tears threatening to escape her sad jade eyes, her emotions in a swell after the crushing night before and now Roy's funeral and Ethan's unflagging tenderness through it all. He took his hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze, and she allowed herself to be drawn in closer to him in a moment of vulnerability.
With impeccable manners, Ethan drew a handkerchief from his dress uniform jacket and handed it to her, letting Misa dab at her eyes demurely for a few moments as she regained composure once more. She was shocked when he suddenly pulled her in for another of his enveloping hugs, but she allowed herself the contact for a brief moment.
Ethan had barely wrapped his arms around the slim Captain when a terse male voice interrupted.
"Captain Hayase," he called insistently, the tone clipped and sour.
Misa fidgeted in Ethan's arms at the sound of it and he released her instantly, both turning to face the intrusion.
Her face went white at the sight of him. Shit, he's pissed. His eyebrows were furrowed in a mix of hurt and anger, and while he was clean-shaven and incredibly handsome in his dress uniform, his eyes were bloodshot and his jaw was rigid.
"Hikaru," she said in a quiet but steady voice, testing the air between them.
He ignored her and the olive branch she began to offer, and turned to Ethan, thrusting his hand out to the annoyingly handsome man in front of him. Hikaru was stung with jealousy, shattered at the thought of this stranger comforting his beautiful, vulnerable Misa, the only woman he had ever felt something real for. Get the fuck away from her, his brilliant blue eyes daggered at the man.
"First Lieutenant Ichijou Hikaru, Acting Skull Leader," he spoke with brash confidence and a frisson of unrestrained rage. "And you are?" he asked accusatorily.
Ethan didn't miss a beat. "Doctor Ethan Vincent, Chief Oncologist at Memorial Hospital and Medical Reserve Officer on the SDF-01," he replied, gesturing to his own smart dress uniform.
He took the cocky pilot's hand and shook back, a smirk playing at the corners of Ethan's mouth. Oh, so you're the jerk that left Misa high and dry last night—what a genius move, dumbass, he thought to himself. Hikaru gripped Ethan's hand hard, an unspoken threat implicit in the greeting.
Misa was incensed, her viridian eyes hardening with each passing second. First he abandons me, then he doesn't apologize, and now he's in a pissing contest with Ethan instead of trying to talk to me? I thought you were better than this, Hikaru. And Ethan, shame on you for engaging in this utter nonsense.
Neither man picked up on her fury, both of them too busy sizing the other up. But she broke their unspoken competition with an exasperated sigh.
"Well I don't know about you two, but I have a solemn memorial for a dear friend and war hero to attend. I'll leave you both to—" she gestured, open hand waiving at the electric space between them "whatever this is."
She turned on her heel and left them both in her wake, fighting tears back as she pushed herself forward, forward, forward.