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Gundam Wing is property of Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asahi. Sainan no Kekka and all original characters and plot copyright 2000 by Quicksilver and Gerald Tarrant. Please ask permission before reposting.
SAINAN NO KEKKA
--Gundam Wing, Rhythm Emotion Yeah, you don't feel the fear you fear." -Fuel, Easy His arm was slung across her, and even though it was going into summer, the cold air of the plane more then made up for the date. She pressed herself into His side, relieved for His warmth, listening to His breath with relief. As long as He was breathing, it meant that He was alive. She still had nightmares, about the falling Earth, choosing to save it rather then Him. About Him being betrayed by someone He trusted, and her not being able to do anything about it. These friends of His, the ones who had known Him when he had been a student, made her nervous. Shinobu had depths to him that made her fingers ache for her gun, to protect herself and Him- she didn't trust the Japanese boy. He reminded her of Heero Yuy, for some reason. And Heero had not been a person to put trust in, no matter what He may have said. The other girl, the blond American.... raised more ambivalent feelings. There was innocence there, and she could tell that He knew that, but that He was, for some reason, distancing Himself. That made her nervous, for the girl raised no internal alarm, but if He knew something she didn't... Well, she would trust him. Right now He was the only thing she could trust. The Zero System hadn't lied about that. The Zero System couldn't lie. It spoke the truth, no matter how painful. "You okay, Hil?" He asked, pressing her a little more tightly against Him. He hadn't let her out of his sight since the other had arrived, and she was grateful. Perhaps since she knew that something -someone- was going to betray him, she could protect both him and the world. Their world. She loved the Earth, after all. She may have been a colonist, but there was an instinctive desire for the open skies and vast lands of their home world. Most colonists felt it, no matter how loath they may have been to admit it. "I'll be fine," she whispered, huddling in closer, but keeping feverish eyes fastened on the other two teens that sat across from them in the deep chairs. Helena looked at them, nibbling on her lip. "I've never been to Asia," she said. "My family doesn't consider it important. Our financial interests are heavily invested in United America and the European Union." Her voice had the strain of someone trying to make conversation, and fill the uneasy silence that loomed like a dark specter. He looked slightly surprised. "That surprises me. I would have though that your father would have sunk some money into Japan. Their economy is booming." His fingers unconsciously stroked Hilde's short purple hair, and she relaxed into His touch. They were safe, together. "He has some... political arrangements with the Inomoyamas. That's their area, and if you want to stay on their good side, you don't invest there unless you're Asian. They're very much into nationalism, which always struck me as sort of ridiculous." "National pride is nothing to be sneered at," Sally said, coming in from the cockpit. "Having a sense of identity is important." She leaned against the back of His chair, and Hilde shivered at Sally's proximity, nervous. She remembered how the surgeon had healed her aboard the Libra a year and a half ago, but now she held little trust in anyone except Him. She couldn't even trust herself... after all, she had chosen the Earth over Him in the Zero system, and the Zero spoke the truth. Sally noticed her unease, and cast her a gentle smile, taking a seat next to Helena instead. "Being part of a nation is very important to some people, and keeping those nations pure... well, many people would sacrifice a lot to do that." He snorted his contempt, and His hand stilled. "Those people are fools. No matter how you look at it, the world has changed. The one thing the Gundams succeeded in doing was uniting the population against the common enemy, and no matter how much wishing they do, you can't rewind the clock. The World Nation is the way of the future." "Is it?" Sally said softly. "I wonder. A month ago, I would have agreed with you, but Une is barely keeping the Preventers together. She's fighting a war of many fronts, and history tells us that fighting on too many fronts usually leads to disaster. And if the Preventers fall, the World Nation loses its teeth." "I thought they weren't related?" Shinobu asked. "The Preventers do most of the dirty work for the World Nation. Right now Une is at odds with the politicians, which doesn't bode good for anyone, except the anarchists. Unless she's able to pull things together soon..." Sally trailed off, leaving them to draw their own conclusions. Hilde pretended to hide her face in His shirt, as she watched Helena find her voice. It was sweet and musical, yet full of confidence. It reminded her of how she used to speak. Back when she had been innocent. "Anarchists? What do anarchists have to do with us getting the Gundams?" she wanted to know. Hilde could have cared less about the potential collapse of the World Nation. One government was much like any other as far as she was concerned. It was the people who mattered. Sally answered quickly, a frown on her face. "They're not actually directly involved, as far as our intelligence services can tell. But they're taking advantage of the chaos the news about the pilots' identities caused. Anarchists, nationalists, the remnants of Oz and White Fang- everyone. We tried to pretend that the war just ended with a spectacular battle by putting a cork on things, but the crack in our facade is starting to show. We need to settle things, really settle them this time. And make it a solution everyone can live with." She glanced over at Shinobu, obviously trying to find the words to say something. His heartbeat was steady and reassuring, but she could feel him tense, and saw his free hand (his right- he had unconsciously maneuvered her to his left side so that he was able to keep his weapon arm free when they had original taken their seats) inch towards the top of his boot, where he kept one of his guns. His instincts where warning him of potential trouble, and Hilde found herself shifting away so she wouldn't block Him as she reached for the knife in her left front pocket. Her blue-gray eyes looked around, wondering where the tense atmosphere had come from. Helena was perfectly unaware, but she thought she could see Sally breathing more heavily, and there was a light in Shinobu's eyes she didn't like. One wrong move, and someone would end up dead. Sally finally spoke. "Shinobu... I have to ask you something," she said, her voice level, betraying no emotion whatsoever. No one was fooled, and even Helena went rigid. Shinobu's dark eyes narrowed as he looked at the Preventer General in an assessing fashion before nodding slightly. "Hai?" "You're a smart man, so I won't lie to you. It's S.O.P. to run background checks on people involved in sensitive matters. We ran one on you, and the fact is, according to records, you don't exist." Helena inhaled deeply and moving away from him slightly, but Shinobu merely smiled. "I was expecting that to be a matter of discussion," he stated quietly. "Would you care to explain? I ran some tests on the blood samples you were required to provide the school, and you carry a few very interesting antibodies and genetic mutations that suggest your origin." Hilde watched the unfolding scene carefully, maintaining her calm. "It's easier for me to explain in Japanese. Duo, translate for Helena, ne?" he asked, and He nodded warily. Shinobu raked a hand through his black hair, and he switched to Japanese. "None of us can chose the circumstances of our birth, and I think I was born to the wrong family. "I'm very sorry for lying to you, Duo, Helena, but I'm not from Japan. At least not directly. I'm a colonist." He laughed lightly. "Should've known. And if you're a colonist, that means L1, what with a Japanese background." "It's not that that's the problem. Matsuura Shinobu is an assumed name. I was born Seki Takeru." "SHIT!" He exclaimed, falling into English. "Black Diamond!" His gun was out suddenly, trained on the boy who had been His friend. Hilde had reacted as well. Her knife was in her hand, but she refrained from going for Shinobu's throat. There was more to this story, she knew, and He would regret it if they were hasty. He had a temper, and relied on her to be the rational one. So she would be rational. "Wait," she said, speaking for the first time in hours. The effect was remarkable. It was like dousing everyone in cold water. They had almost forgotten her presence, and the sudden insertion into the volatile situation had prevented bloodshed, restoring balance. "Were you sent? As an assassin? Or did you come on your own, for some other purpose?" She spoke slowly, considering her words. Shinobu's eyes widened. "No! I'm not- I wasn't involved in the Cartel! I was trying to escape!" He looked down at his hands, and Hilde could almost taste the pain in his next words. "I was trying to break free." "So you used Black Diamond to locate Heero?" He asked, still suspicious. Shinobu nodded, his features lacking blood. "My grandfather didn't have to do too much work. Heero Yuy has made a name for himself as an assassin." Helena shivered, looking out of place. The rest of them knew the world, but she was an innocent. Discussing assassins wasn't something she was used to. Hilde almost felt pity for her. Almost. She just didn't have the time to worry about trivial things anymore. He nodded, as though He had been expecting it. "Not a surprise. He was always good at that, and it pays well." "I'm surprised," Sally said. "I would have thought he'd show a little more.... moral fiber." He laughed, a deep and bitter laugh that seemed to come from his gut. "You don't understand us, Sally. You may be a soldier, but we were Gundam pilots. Heero needed to have a clear objective, and after the war... well, what was there left for him? He was discarded, useless. Obsolete. When the war ended, we became relics. And the world saw the pilots as assassins and killers, and he believed them." "He could have joined the Preventers- I could have easily found him a place on my staff. And Relena hasn't stopped looking for him since she met him!" Hilde remembered Relena, the blonde Queen who passionately spoke for peace. Once she had considered her great; now Hilde knew her to be a fool. The Zero had pointed that out, after all. Peace was a dream, a futile dream. It was Helena, surprisingly, who argued Sally's point. "He doesn't know who he is. And that's hard. Being told what to do is easier then finding yourself." "Then where are we going?" He demanded. "This shuttle isn't space ready." "China," Sally and Shinobu said at the same time. "Why China?" Sally looked at Shinobu. "Because he's going after Wufei. There's a contract on Wufei's head, and Heero has taken it." "WHAT?!" He exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He stared at them both in disbelief. "You've got to be wrong. Shit! There's a mistake somewhere." Sally shook her head sadly. "I can't figure out why, but my information comes from reliable sources." "So does mine," Shinobu agreed. "My grandfather was the one who hired him." "Really. That bastard... when I get my hands on him..." Sally looked like she was ready to strangle someone. The Japanese boy just looked weary. "You're not the only authority who'd love to catch him. Problem is that there's no EVIDENCE against him. People aren't crazy enough to go against the most powerful man in the Breaks." He was shaking His head, pacing the cabin like a caged leopard. "That's wrong! You don't get it! Wufei and Heero were pilots! They -we- fought together! Heero couldn't just decide to kill him- maybe he's going to warn him! That has to be it!" He was being irrational, and Hilde knew it. "If Heero accepted the mission, he will complete it," she pointed out softly. He froze, going rigid. The gun he had been holding in His hand clattered to the floor as He crumpled up into a little ball, hugging His knees to his chest. "Damn it," He whispered. "Why now?" Hilde forgot that there were others in the cabin. His pain conveyed itself to her so well that she felt as though she had developed empathy, the New Type ability. She hurt with Him. She had been weak for the few days, fearing what the Zero had warned her of, rather then confronting it and using her newfound knowledge. Well, she wasn't going to be weak any longer- Duo needed her. She crouched down beside him, wrapping her arms around his warm body. "Shhhhhh," she said into his ear, "it's going to be all right, my love," she promised, in an uncanny role reversal. He leaned into her, though no tears fell from his eyes. "I'm so tired, Hil," Duo whispered. "When is it going to end?" "I don't know. But no matter what, I'll be by your side," she promised. "Then everything will be ok," Duo answered, giving her a heartfelt smile. She nodded in agreement, despite the fact that everywhere she turned, she always thought she caught a glint of silver out of the corner of her eye. And that silver looked terrible familiar, like the blade of the knife Duo held in trust for his best friend. In the day it haunts me, It slowly tears me apart." --L'Arc~en~Ciel, Spirit Dreams Inside The bed was way too large for his liking, the sheets were too damn soft, the mattress was too un-lumpy, and the light reflecting off the single chandelier that cast a soft, luminous glow on the room was starting to hurt his eyes. It was, Darkflight decided, throwing another pillow to the floor, a bad deal all around. The older man had introduced himself as General Brown after ushering him and Wufei off the landing pad into the outbuilding. Wing was waiting for them in there, a closed expression on his face. He had refused to look at the blond girl, who kept giving him expressive glances when she thought his eyes were directed her way. Darkflight had watched them for most of the time they were in there, looking from one to the other. They had some connection…he was sure of that. He was also sure that he'd seen the girl somewhere before. The general had given them the sparse basic facts: all three of them were wanted men. He threw a look at Darkflight which signified that he wasn't exactly sure what Darkflight was wanted for, but since he was traveling with the two former pilots, he was probably dangerous. Darkflight wasn't sure how to take that. We've prepared rooms for you, the general said. General Une has been notified of your arrival When she gives us further instructions we'll notify you. Do you have any questions? Darkflight had hundreds of questions, but he remained silent, standing in the back of the room, letting Wufei and Wing do the talking. The Chinese boy fired off a rapid string of questions and Wing added several of his own, all which consisted of terms which flew right over Darkflight's head. Probably concerning military and politics, he thought glumly. Things which he knew nothing about. There seemed to be a lot of those lately. It seemed very long ago when he and Wing had been just assassins. He remembered when he used to be the expert, when he was considered important in the scheme of things. Coming here had made him feel tiny, inadequate. Wufei and Wing were the central players in this game, and he was merely a pawn, called on when needed, not understanding anything that went on behind the scenes. Basically, he was worthless. But I made the right choice, he told himself, smoothing the rumpled covers and climbing back into the bed and surveying the pile of extra pillows and throws on the floor. He stared at the far wall, gripping the blanket tightly with both hands. Where Wing goes, I go. I'm not going to leave him. Deep down, he knew that Wing didn't need him. That Wing had in fact never needed him, and he had just blinded himself to the fact. When it had been just the two of them it had been so easy to pretend that he was the one in charge, that he was the experienced one. He'd always known, somehow, that Wing was much more than he seemed. Much more. He curled up under the blankets, smoothing the sheets which still felt too soft and clean to be wrapped around the body of someone like him. General Brown had taken them into the main base by military car, and Darkflight hadn't been able to do anything but gape. Wufei had looked grim and Wing had stared at his hands the whole time. He supposed they were both used to all military installations, but Darkflight had grown up in the Breaks. It had been the only home he had ever known, with its collapsing houses and seedy bars, the human and animal excrement piled on street corners and worse fates lying in wait in the rotting shadows. The Preventers base was white. He had never seen so much white in his life, white, gleaming, clean, sparkling buildings. It was a sunny day, and the light reflecting off the glass windowpanes was almost like light bouncing off diamonds. The grass was cut, the streets were clean. It was like something out of a dream. When the general had shown them to their rooms, he hadn't been able to do anything but stare. You have the wrong room, he wanted to say. I don't belong here. Brown had taken Wing away for some more questioning and then told them to stay in their rooms until they were told otherwise. They'd let him keep his weapons, though General Brown had warned them all never to use them on base except in emergency, and left him in the room, promising to bring him some toiletries. He'd started by stripping off his clothes and taking a long, hot bath in the tub. It was the second time he could remember taking a real bath, and spent the better part of the first minute trying to remember how to work the tap. The label on the soap bottle said something about a Lavender scent. He'd spent several minutes struggling to read the text, trying to decipher the directions, then gave up and just poured half the bottle into the tub. The clock had read 1846 hours when he had finally stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around him, and the second thing he had done was to test out the bed. It was entirely too decorative for him, and he had remedied that problem by throwing most of the pillows that were lined at the head of the bed onto the floor, along with an extra blanket or two. Removing the towel and throwing it carelessly on a chair by the door, he'd made his way absently to the drawers to look for clothes. Not surprisingly, there weren't any. The general had promised to get them some inconspicuous civilian clothing as soon as possible, but for now all he had were his dirty clothes which he'd been wearing for two weeks, and damned if he was going to put them on again after that bath. There was a full-length mirror to the side of the chest of drawers and he had stepped to the side, glanced at his reflection in it. They hadn't had mirrors in the Breaks, and the only glimpses he'd ever caught of himself were in shards of broken glass or the occasional cracked mirror in one of the bar bathrooms. The first thing that struck him was how thin he looked. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair stuck out in all places, still wet. He quickly smoothed it down. Scars crisscrossed his chest, with the largest one slanting diagonally across from armpit to shoulder blade, faintly pink and raised in the soft light. His ribs stuck out from his sides under the muscle and the hollows under his cheekbones were dark, shadowed. "I look a mess," he said to the mirror. He'd decided to go back to bed. The sun was just beginning to go down outside and he rolled over, looking out the window at the waning sunlight, slanting purple and gold and brazen red through the thin curtain. Back home, he and Wing would be just waking up, perhaps to take another contract, perhaps getting ready to hit the streets for a long night for one reason or another. The nights were always long. The aching feeling hit him again, as it always did when he thought about the Breaks. He didn't miss it, not in the true sense of the word, but it ached. It hurt, to think that he might never go back. That he might never see it again. As far as he knew, he'd been born there. He'd grown up there, that much he knew. Had learned his trade there. His friends had died there, and he had expected to die there as well. It was a separate world, and he hated it and loved it at the same time, missed it with an aching hatred. He wasn't wanted here. He could see that. He should have gone home, like Wing said. Just gone home. But if he had gone home, it wouldn't have been the same either. Darkflight drew his legs to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thump slow and steadily against his thighs, closing his eyes and letting the tears fall to the pillow silently. He was tired but he couldn't sleep. The bed was just too soft, the sheets too clean. Climbing out of the bed, he dragged a blanket out of the pile of pillows, spread it out on the floor, and lay down, wrapping himself up in it. He awoke to the sound of a light knocking on the door. Instincts instantly alert, his eyes darted around the room, which was fully dark now, with the light of the moon shining faintly through the window. For a second he panicked, not recognizing his surroundings, then relaxed as he remembered. The knocking stopped, started again. He rolled out of the blanket and began to climb to his feet, realized with a start that he was still naked, and wrapped the blanket around his waist. Opened the door. "Yes?" It was an Asian woman, dressed in a Preventers uniform, with some sort of insignia on her shoulderboards. Rank, Darkflight supposed. She looked dubiously at him, eyes going to the towel, then to his unkempt hair, then back to his face. She opened her mouth, said something in English. Darkflght blinked. "What?" She didn't look surprised, simply said in Japanese, "General Une would like to see you in her office." He blinked at her. "Me?" "Yes, you." She sounded tired. "Can you be ready in five minutes? I'm to take you there." 'I don't have any-" he began, but she shoved a bundle at him and stepped to the side. "I'll be waiting here. Come out when you're ready." Clearly a dismissal. He gaped at her for a second, about to tell her that no one ever spoke like that to him, but then remembered that this was a military base and the wrong move could get him in more trouble than he could ever hope to get out of. So he simply nodded and closed the door, switching on the light. The package contained clothes, a shaving kit, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb, and a pair of shoes. He put on the blue shirt, shrugging his arms into the crisp, pressed sleeves and then awkwardly buttoned the buttons. Shoved his legs through the black pants and tucked the shirt in, slid into the shoes. Looking into the small mirror in the bathroom, he slicked his hair down with water as best as he could, running a comb through it. He had only used a comb a few times, and it took him several tries to get his hair where he wanted it to go. Stepped back into the bedroom and looked a little hesitantly into the mirror. The boy in the neat looking clothes wasn't him. He reached out and touched his reflection. The material of the clothing felt scratchy against his skin and he looked longingly at his old, worn clothes, lying discarded on the chair. Another rapping on the door. "Ready? I don't have all day, you know." "I bet they don't treat Wing like this, he muttered as he threw the door open. The woman was there, her hands on her hips. She blinked as he closed the door behind him, eyeing him with a different look her eyes. "Well," she said at last. "At least you clean up nicely. Let's go." He'd expected the office to be only a short distance away, but they walked up a short flight of stairs and exited the building. Darkflight followed the woman closely, careful not to let her see him gaping at everything around him. The cool night air smelled even smelled clean, so different from the urine, alcohol, and smoke filled air of the Breaks. They rounded a corner, drawing nearer to a building that more resembled a tower than a military headquarters. The general's office was obviously inside. He tried to read the sign as they passed it, but the words were too big and in English. The woman said something to him in English over her shoulder, opening the large glass door to the bottom floor of the tower, and Darkflight promptly tripped over the threshold. The woman clucked her tongue at him. "I don't speak English," he said, feeling stupid. "Oh." She looked at him, then began walking again. "Follow me closely. This is a heavily secured area, and if you're caught wandering in the wrong place, it could mean bad things for you and me." He nodded, keeping on her heels as they entered the elevator. The doors opened on what seemed to be a deserted floor. There was a guard station at the front, but the light was dimmed and the post itself was empty. The woman passed the post, turning into a wide corridor, stopping at an intimidating-looking door. She knocked. "Come in," the voice said, muffled through the wood. She turned the handle and Darkflight followed her. The office was well-lit, and before he could glance around, a hand presented itself under his gaze. He followed it up to the face of a woman, her hair neatly pulled behind her, lips parted in a friendly smile. "You must be Darkflight." She spoke Japanese. "I'll go take care of that paperwork, ma'am," came the other woman's voice from behind him. "Yes. Thank you, Major Li." The door closed behind her, and for the first time, it dawned on Darkflight that the young woman standing before him was the famous General Une. "But you don't look old enough to be a general!" he burst out before he could stop himself. For a moment, there was silence and he had the sinking feeling in his stomach that he had offended her, but she burst out laughing. He watched her laugh, watched as she wiped her eyes and stuck out her hand again with a grin. He took it gingerly. "I must say," Une said, "that's the first real laugh I've had in weeks." "Err…ma'am?" "Never mind." She waved a hand behind her. "Let's go into my office. We'll have a little more privacy there." For the first time he saw the glass wall that divided the office from the room. Une opened the glass door, motioned him through, then shut it behind her. Crossing behind her desk, she slid into the chair with a sigh, motioning to him to sit as well. He chose one of the two chairs in front of the desk, glancing around. The room was very sparsely furnished. There were no pictures on the walls, no decorations, just the desk and the three chairs. An enormous window made up one wall of the room, looking over the base. "Impressive, isn't it?" she murmured, and he jerked his gaze back to her. Une had her hands folded in front of her, an expression of concentration on her face. "I know you must wonder why you're here." He nodded. Une took a deep breath, let it out. "The fact of the matter is this. I've already talked to Wufei and Heero, and Heero's story is the one that interests me the most. He didn't mention much about what he's been doing these past two years, but your name came up quite a few times." She paused, as if to give him room to say something, but he sat and stared at the stained wood of the desk. The collar of the shirt was chafing his neck. "So I decided that I would call you in and hear your side of the story as well. I know this might be awkward for you…you probably never wanted to get pulled into this in the first place, is that right?" Darkflight nodded. His palms were sweaty and he felt incredibly nervous. The walls seemed to be closing in on him and he focused his attention on staring at one of the glass paperweights that seemed to litter the desk at random. Une seemed to notice his discomfort. Getting up from her chair, she crossed to a small table in the corner, pouring something into a mug and handing it to him. "Drink this. Relax." Smiling at him again as he took a sip, discovering that it was very strong coffee. "These are strange surroundings, I know, and you aren't used to them. I'm sorry…we need to protect all of you, and this is the only way we can be certain that we are doing that." "Why me?" he found himself saying, gripping the mug with shaking hands. "I'm not…" "A pilot?" the general finished for him. "No, you're not, but you're a liability. You're close friends with one of the pilots, and if the World Nation got ahold of you, who knows what they'd do to force us to release Heero to you?" Her gaze was penetrating. "Do you understand? You're just as important as the pilots are to us. I'm sorry, but there's no other way." "I don't want to be," he mumbled. "I know." Une's tone softened a little. "I admire your effort in standing by your friend, in a time like this. It's always difficult to do." He didn't respond. "Can you….tell me when you first met Heero?" Darkflight finished the rest of the coffee, felt the liquid settle his stomach somewhat. "We met in the Breaks," he said a little hesitantly. "I was…looking for new members for my assassin group." He glanced up at her quickly, but she didn't seem to be fazed at the mention of that, so he continued. "We'd heard about someone called Zero who was taking contracts solo, so we decided to see if we couldn't hire him." "Did he come willingly?" Darkflight snorted. "Hell, no. He put up a fight. It took us about a month to convince him that was wanted him to work with us, then he decided to join. And he was good….we became…friends, you could call it, I guess. Though you really don't have friends in a place like that. He changed his name to Wing soon after that. That's what I've always called him." "He told me that you two worked alone," Une said. He nodded. "We did. A little after that we split from the group and formed our own. It was a good enough life, I guess. There were…lots of things to keep us busy." He didn't say what things and she didn't ask. He wondered if Wing had told her. "And did Heero ever mention anything about the Gundams? The war?" "He said…he said stuff, sometimes. About the war, but he said that it wasn't anything. Sometimes he talked in his sleep. Something about Zero. I always thought he was talking about stuff he did before he came with me." "Since he used to call himself Zero. I see." Une looked throughful. "Anything else?" "No. We never really talked about it…the past of the people you work with in the Breaks is an off-limits topic, really. Something you don't talk about. And I never asked." "I see," she said. "Heero told me that he had made himself forget." Darkflight shrugged. "I guess so. He always said that there were things he couldn't remember, but it was better that way. The…substances we took helped, I suppose. It wasn't anything I worried about." Une's mouth compressed into a thin line when he said "substances," but she didn't comment. "Tell me about when he discovered who he really was." Darkflight was silent for a few moments, then launched into the telling of the newspaper episode, when the news of the Gundams had first broke, then Wing's breakdown in Beijing, and finally the attack on Wufei. "I didn't believe him at first. I thought he was joking. I thought he was making excuses for not being good enough for taking the target…" He looked down at his hands in his lap. "During the fight after Wufei pulled off his mask he kept saying Heero. I thought he was calling for something. It was only when Wing…" "I see," she said again, crisply, folding and refolding her hands. "What kind of…assassin…was Heero?" "He's one of the very best. We both are…but there's just something about him. His technique, I guess." Une nodded. "Comes from the training all Gundam pilots get. That's why Wufei was a match for you. Impressive, after two years of inactivity." She fixed him with a penetrating stare. "Now I want to know about you." He stared right back, the nervousness gone. "What about me?" "Who you are. What your real name is. Where you're originally from. I need to know everything about you. You're in the same boat as Heero is." "More than you know," he said bitterly. "I don't know any of the information you want." Une narrowed her eyes. "Explain." "There's nothing to explain!" he burst out, bringing the mug down on the wooden desk with a crack. His nervousness had given way to anger, anger at Une for asking him things he didn't' know, anger at Wing for getting him involved. Anger at the world in general. "Hell, I don't even know why I told you all of that…you might be here to arrest me. I'm a criminal, you know. Wing might be the almighty Gundam pilot, savior of the world, but I'm just a common criminal." Staring, challenging her. "What's in it for me?" "There's nothing in it for you," Une said sharply, her voice a whip crack through the room. "Absolutely nothing. If you want, I'll order a shuttle and you can go right back to the Breaks, where you came from. Do you want that?" He gaped at her. "Heero needs your help. I need your help. And I will get it, whether you give it willingly or not. Hundreds of people have already died because of those two boys whom you've been traveling with for the past few days, and I won't let anymore of them die!" "That's their problem," Darkflight said. "Their problem, not mine. I'm only an assassin." "You don't care what happens to Heero?" He looked at her, and suddenly she didn't look like a general anymore, just like the young woman he'd seen when he first walked in. She was hardly older than he was, really. "You know, General," he said, "for a woman who has so much power, you're remarkably stupid." She simply raised an eyebrow. "And how do you see that?" "You're talking to me about ideals and honor. And you know, I don't really care. I'm a criminal. I'm an assassin. I was born in the Breaks, I grew up there. I have my own code of honor, and it doesn't involve any of the complicated plot twists of yours. Sometimes I think that Wing was right, and that I should have stayed in the Breaks, but I'm here now, and don't think that you can manipulate me and Wing into doing what you want. We're stronger than that." He was out of his chair, arms crossed over his chest, feeling naked without his gun. Une sighed. "Darkflight, sit down." He blinked, then sat. He felt drained. "I'm not trying to manipulate you," she said. "It might feel like it, but I'm not. I'm sorry if I'm intruding, but I need any and all information you can tell me, because it's crucial to our case. We're fighting a war, Darkflight, but it's not a war with weapons. It's a legal war. And if we lose this case, you'll see Wufei and Heero and the other pilots taken from you. Going to prison, maybe. Perhaps executed. The public hates them that much. Do you want that for them?" He stared. "Ex…executed?" He'd known of people being executed, before, in the rare cases when L1 government authorities managed to catch them. Some of them had been his friends. Some had been acquaintances. Some he hadn't known at all, but it was always horrible. Horrible not because they were innocent. Most of them had more deaths on their records than he had, but it was the fact that they were brothers. Sisters. Family. Une nodded. "Executed. You've known people who have been executed, haven't you?" When he nodded, feeling sick, she looked like she had expected as much. "It's up to you to decide, then. The World Nation thinks the pilots are criminals because of what they did during the war. Are they?" He opened his mouth, but she made a cutting motion with her hand. "I'll leave it to you to think it over. Just remember, you're important to Heero. No matter what falling out you two might have had." She looked satisfied when he gave a start at her words. "And no, he didn't tell me, but I can put two and two together. You two need to figure out if you want to stay friends, because if you don't, then there's no way you can take the next step." "General-" he said. She got up before he could say anything more. Pressed a button on the intercom on her desk. "Major Li? I'm finished here." "Major Li's coming back to get you," Une said. "Think about what I said. And if you decide you want to join us…I'll be waiting." She flashed him a smile. "Good night, Darkflight." The wooden door closed behind her and he stood there in the office, staring out the window at the brilliant lights of the base and of Geneva beyond. Thought of Wing, wherever he was. Sleeping? Staring out the window at the same city, and the same moon? You're important to Heero. "Am I?" he said softly, pressing one hand to the glass. "I'd like to know the answer too." Dance the ghost with me." --The Sisters of Mercy, Lucretia My Reflection "Mother?" he called, but she had gone, though he could see her face smiling out of the flames that suddenly engulfed him. It was very warm. "Mother," he said, reaching out a hand to her, but there was no one there. The flames crackled in his ears and he felt very cold. "Mother," he said again, and he awoke. The room was freezing and he stumbled out of bed, turned on the electricity to the fireplace, watched as the pilot light caught fire and the way the flames licked at the logs. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Why was that? They'd told him that if he didn't wear a shirt he'd catch cold and get sick, but it all seemed very hazy and far away. It didn't matter, anyway, if he never came out again. If anyone could come and find him again. None of it mattered. He was hungry. He remembered enough of the layout of the old mansion to remember where the kitchen was, the smaller pantry beside the large kitchens used when guests were to be entertained. Down three flights of long stairways, across winding passages and wide French doors. Treize. Treize Khushrenada. Treize had died, he remembered suddenly, mouth poised in mid-chew, hand clasped around the shiny skin of an apple. Treize had died…many years ago. He shrugged and went back to chewing, observing the elegant paintings on the ceiling of the dining room. It was just him, sitting at the end of one long polished mahogany table. The walls were bare of paintings. He had sold them, after Treize died. Dead? Who had died? He frowned. "You should have come back with me, Noin," he said to the far wall. "You'd like it here. There's lots of trees…we could have bought some horses. You liked to ride horses." There were footsteps in the hallway and he froze, the glass of water halfway to his mouth. "Who's there?" he said loudly. His father had told him a story about one of his grandfather's brothers who was murdered at his dinner table by an assassin. Apparently the man who hired him was one of the Peacecraft servants, out to steal a small fortune. It hadn't worked, of course, his father had consoled him. For weeks afterwards, he had slept with all the lights on. He had only been eight years old. "Master Zechs?" He turned abruptly at the sound of the voice emerging out of a darkened hallway. The old man was stooped, a large moustache covering his upper lip and drooping a little past his chin, but his eyes were bright. "Master Zechs? You're awake." He blinked uncertainly. "Who are you?" "You don't remember me?" the old man said. "I was here when you were just a small boy…when Master Treize brought you in. I took care of you until you left for the Academy." "I don't understand," he said. His head whirled and the room spun. He grasped the table for support. Suddenly, he doubled over, sharp pains like knives in his chest. "Master Zechs!" the old man rushed over to him, moving far faster than he thought a man of that age could ever move. "You need fresh bandages." "Bandages?" he said. Narrowing his eyes at the man. To think of it, his arm hurt too, and he reached up to his face to touch several freshly healed cuts on his forehead. "What happened? Where's Treize? He said he'd be…he said he'd be back. He was going…" The old man was looking at him with a look something akin to pity. "Master Treize is…not here right now," he said finally. "Let me bring you to your room and get something for your bandages." He let himself be taken by the elbow, led out of the room like a small child. Back up the flights of stairs and the familiar turns and found himself back in the bedroom. The fire was burning brightly now and it was pleasantly warm. He felt himself getting sleepy. "I'll be back," the old man said, and vanished out the doorway. He sat on the bed, smoothing the velvet bedspread under his fingers, glancing at the dancing flames. Dancing…hypnotizing. There was a shadow in the flames and then his father appeared out of the fire, stepping to the floor. "Hello, Milliard," he said. "Hello Father," he said, surprised at his own response. "How long have you been there?" He felt suddenly dizzy and blinked, found himself sprawled on his back on the bed, the old man tending to his chest with some kind of cool ointment that lessened the throbbing. "Lie back, Master Zechs," the man said. Clucking his tongue. "Dear God…what did they do to you?" "They?" he pushed himself up on one elbow. "Wait….who? Who's they?" "Lie still," said the man, his voice soothing, but he couldn't lie still, had to get up and find the ones who- "Drink this." Obediently, he drank, and opened his mouth to ask the old man what had happened to him, but the man had vanished and snow was falling all around him, except he was still warm, as if the fire had not stopped burning through the blizzard. He looked down at himself, found that he was naked but felt no particular shame. A raw, red freshly healed wound glared angrily from his chest, straight from his collarbone almost to his navel. He touched it and bit back a yelp as it stung. "Please lie still, Master Zechs," the voice said and he sank into the warm snow, looking up at the dark sky, wondering how he could still see when there was no light. "Father?" he said, and his father materialized out of the snow, staring at him with solemn, broken eyes. "I don't understand," he said, but his father simply nodded to him and began fading back into the darkness. "Wait!" he shouted, reaching out his hand, jerking it back in surprise as he brushed the edge of a fur-lined cloak, blinking at the confused eyes that looked back at him, realizing that he stood in the front entryway of the newly rebuilt Cinq Palace, the chandeliers blazing overhead, dressed in the garments of Cinq royalty. "What do you want, Milliard?" Relena snapped. "Relena? Wait, where's - I mean - " "If you don't want me going out, I'm sorry," she said, drawing herself up to her full height, tilting her head back and staring him straight in the eye. "We've had this conversation a million times. I can date anyone I want. I'm not your kid sister anymore. You can't tell me what to do, and Friedrich is a perfectly respectable gentleman." "He's not good for you," he said, somehow feeling that he had spoken those words before, with a horrible sense of déjà vu. A servant - chauffeur? - emerged from a side corridor to the right, looking at them uncertainly. "Lady Relena, if you're ready-?" "Go away, Milliard," she said, sweeping past him. "I don't need you." "Relena!" he shouted, suddenly angry. "I'm not-" "See you later," she called, and the door closed behind her. "There's nothing you can do," the voice said from behind him. "No matter if the choice is wrong or right…you cannot change fate." He whirled, coming face to face with his father, who was glancing at something behind him with a serious expression. "But-" He glanced around. The hallway, the corridors were still there, but something had changed. The air was slightly musty, the lights dimmer, the silence still with a legacy of twenty generations. "Father," he said again, and then he looked past and saw the child, standing there, wide blue eyes uncertain, long blond hair falling in cascading waves down his back. "Father," the little boy said. "That's you," the sweet voice whispered in his ear. "Adorable, weren't you?" "Relena," he said without surprise. "What are you doing here?" For a moment the palace shifted back towards the restored version he had seen first, then flickered back to the palace he had known as a child. Elongated into his room at Treize's mansion, narrowed and shrank into his room at the Academy, and then he felt himself floating. Relena's hand remained on his shoulder, its pressure strangely comforting. "Why are you here?" he asked again. "A better question, Oniisama, would be…why are you here?" "I'm here because…" he said, then paused. "I don't know. I don't know where here is." For a moment it looked like she would cry, and then she shrugged, put her other hand on his shoulder and turned him gently towards her, brought her forehead to his and kissed him. He closed his eyes. "It doesn't matter now," she said, and when he opened them again she was holding a pair of scissors. "Relena?" "You see that?" she said pointing into the distance, and he followed her finger he saw a thin silver line, curving in towards his vision and then out of sight back into the darkness. "What is that?" She stretched out her hand, pointing the scissors at the thread, which seemed suddenly to draw closer. Smiling up at him. "Dorothy really should be the one to do this…but since she's not here, I'll have to do her job for her, I suppose." He reached out and grabbed her wrist before he was aware of what he was doing. "Dorothy?" he said urgently. "Dorothy. Where…what…" "Oniisama," Relena said. "You're hurting me." "I'm sorry," he said, not letting go of her hand. "But I can't let you go. I can't let you cut that thread. I need…I need…" "Noin always said," Relena murmured, never taking her eyes from his, "that you were like Treize. That the only one who could destroy you…was yourself." Noin. "Relena?" he said, releasing her wrist in a daze and as she reach out to snip the delicate silver thread he realized that he couldn't move to stop her, and as the scissors closed with a final sounding snap- He jolted up in bed. The fire was out in the fireplace and he felt cold again. Blinking, looking around the room that was at once familiar and foreign. The digital clock read 5:37 AM. Just before dawn. He felt his forehead and withdrew his hand quickly, found it stained with beads of sweat. Looked down at himself, realized he was naked above the waist, with a semi-fresh bandage wrapped around his chest The old man. Dimitrios. He remembered when he had first been brought to Treize's mansion as a boy, feverish and ill, six years old, an orphan, with no family and no home. The old man had taken care of him then. He looked around the room, recognized the bedroom he'd had for three years before he had gone to the Academy, when he had lived as Treize's ward, under his care. "Have I been dreaming?" he said. And then faces flashed across his eyes. Une. Sally. Gustavson. Etille. Dorothy. Noin. Noin. He felt the breath hitch in his chest and then he fell back against the pillows, feeling suddenly, horribly, overwhelmingly empty, and when the tears came, for the first time in twenty-one years, he didn't try to stop them. The wound on his chest throbbed painfully but he didn't care, turning his head to the side and muffling his sobs in his pillow, still hearing Noin's last words in his ears, watching her charge headlong into the other mobile suit, watching the explosion play over and over again in his mind like the slow motion tape of a replay. Over. And over. Dorothy, she'd said. Her last words. Move, Dorothy. Dorothy had hated her. Why? He screamed at her, ghost speaking to ghost, reaching out vainly to grasp a shred of her presence, searching and unable to find. Why, Noin? Why? The explosion was the last thing he remembered. Memories…dim memories of voices. Etille's voice. Bright lights and murmured whispers. Silence. "Master Zechs?" "Leave," he mumbled into the pillow. "I see your fever has broken," came Dimitrios' voice, muffled slightly through the crack in the door. "I made you some breakfast." "Dimitrios," he said. Speaking to the wall now. "How did I get here?" "A man who called himself Etille came to the door yesterday, bearing you on a stretcher. He said that this was the last address of permanent residence on your record, and of course I took you in." "Did he say what happened to me?" If Dimitrios was puzzled, he didn't show it. "No, Master Zechs. He merely indicated that you were ill, warned me that you might be delirious for some time, and gave me medical instructions. Apparently you had been to the military hospital in Geneva." "Geneva." The word rolled off his tongue like a bitter curse. "I hope to never see that God forsaken place again." A silence, in which he heard Dimitrios enter, place what sounded like a breakfast tray on his bedside table. He caught a whiff of toast and coffee. Noin had liked toast and coffee too. "Are you feeling better, Master Zechs?" "No," he said hollowly. "Leave me alone. Take your damn breakfast with you. Let me die here." "I believe that's impossible," Dimitrios said. "Perhaps if Treize told me to, I could. But Treize is not here, and the last orders he left to me were to take care of you. So I will continue to do so." "You bastard," he mumbled, but there was no malice. "What do you want?" "I need to take your temperature and give you your medication. And change your bandage." His fingers went automatically to the wound, remembering the jagged, vertical gash he'd seen in his fever-delirium. Shrapnel wound. "Why?" he whispered to the wall. "Noin died and I survived…it was supposed to be the other way around. It was….Treize told me that…" "I am deeply sorry for your loss, Master Zechs." And the tone of the old man's voice told him that he was, indeed, sorry. "Dimitrios?" "Yes, Master Zechs?" "Did I talk…in my sleep? While I was still feverish?" He did turn over then, careful not to strain his chest, to look over at the old man, the noble, aged features exactly the same as he remembered him from more than ten years ago. "Yes," Dimitrios said. "And what did I say?" "I believe," Dimitrios said quietly, "You were calling for your father." He closed his eyes quickly and then opened them, seeing Dorothy's face, her eyes accusing him of some misdeed. Saw the explosion again. "You killed Noin," he said to the ceiling. "Pardon?" He had forgotten Dimitrios was still there. Sat up quickly, wincing at the sudden onslaught of pain, but waved Dimitrios off as the man reached out to help him. "You need to take your medicine," the old man said. "Dimitrios?" "Yes, Master Zechs?" A pause. "Where is my Epyon?" |
Sainan no Kekka Tragedy's Consequence
By: Gerald Tarrant and Quicksilver
The longest canon-based GW fic on the net. The pilots must deal with their identities being exposed to an unforgiving world, as the rest of the cast struggles with life, death, war and peace. Complete GW cast.
Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Sci-Fi - Heero Y., Sally P. - Chapters: 49 - Words: 575,500 - Reviews: 161 - Favs: 138 - Follows: 17 - Updated: 10/1/2008 - Published: 3/8/2001 - Status: Complete - id: 224296
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Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten
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