Several things happened shortly after the broadcast. Within twenty-four hours, the ESUN military had issued a statement detailing the internal investigation tipped off by Duo's oration, an investigation in which it seemed legitimate personnel had begun trying to weed out the conspirators. They made no mention of standing down from their occupation of the colonies, citing a need to keep the peace in this time of turmoil. Duo had offered no comment to these reports, instead choosing to spend his time in the hangar building his mobile suit. Relena herself had begun entertaining written interviews from a number of high-publicity sources, the correspondence expertly proxied by Heero. A number of these transmissions requested interviews from Maxwell, but he did not comply.

Within forty-eight hours the first organized assault on the rogue military forces took place on L-2, which yielded zero casualties but resulted in the imprisonment of thirty-five colony citizens. Further, not long after the dust had settled Relena received a request for comment and her reply had been published in no fewer than six major news rags.

As far as the Peacemillion was concerned, things remained largely the same as they had prior to the transmission. Heero found himself more occupied than ever with the maintenance of Relena's channels of communication, and Relena spent most of her waking hours responding to media and political questions. Quatre continued troubling with Hilde, who had stabilized but remained utterly unresponsive and without much promise for improvement. Wufei and Sally combed tirelessly through files and paperwork left over from Heero's initial briefing. Trowa bounced between parties where his help could be used most effectively. And Duo's focus on the mobile suit build had redoubled in the wake of the colonial uprisings, even more so since Howard had finally relented and agreed to order the remaining parts needed for the suit's completion.

The major change had been in Duo's demeanor. If before the broadcast he'd been cold and detached, he seemed now more as his old self, though a significantly dimmer glow radiated about him. More determination and purpose marked his moods than sheer blind happiness, and when Trowa or Heero came to him to offer their help he most often accepted, set them a task, and said no more. The quiet in the hangar—Duo's quietness altogether—no longer felt heavy, but now seemed as comfortable as a group of individual workers toiling toward a single unified goal.

The first shipment of gundanium arrived on the fourth day after broadcast. The second shipment arrived the sixth day after. The third and final delivery arrived on the tenth day after. It was at this point that Maxwell requested the most assistance, and his drive to complete the machine seemed to peak. He cared about nothing else.

Duo was eating in silence and solitude well after hours when Howard approached and took a seat beside him. Duo remembered the last time they'd been seated like this, in times before the trial, before the world had collapsed into war, before Duo had alienated Howard away. Their talk that night had been strained but healthful, and Duo had left feeling heartened. It had been the last conversation the two had shared in private, and Duo had preferred it that way. There was too much on his mind for insightful conversation now.

For a while Howard seemed content to let Duo sit in the quiet and eat, but then he produced the familiar, leather-bound journal that Quatre had given to Duo. He set it on the table, pushed it toward Duo, and then folded his hands on the bare table.

"I hope you'll forgive me for reading it," Howard said heavily.

Duo shrugged mid-bite, hoping that the food would act as a good enough deterrent from speaking.

"I didn't know you could write."

Duo smirked despite himself. "Just because I didn't finish school doesn't make me illiterate."

Howard reclined in the chair and folded his arms behind his head. "That didn't come out quite right," he corrected. "I meant that I didn't realize you were so prolific."

Duo laughed sardonically. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm being serious," Howard insisted, and he grabbed the journal and flipped it open to read aloud at a random page. "Fear is an intimate part of who we are as human beings, and often it is one of the most personal and genuine feelings we know, something that cannot be shared with others in the same way as happiness or grief or other, simpler emotions."

Duo felt his face growing hot, and he took another greedy bite at his dinner to suppress it. He offered no rebuttal as Howard read. He had nothing to say. The nights he'd scribbled those thoughts in his journal had been brief moments of lucidity lost among endless stretches of post-traumatic mania, gasping breaths while drowning. He'd never intended for them to be read. He never even revisited them himself. He certainly did not want to be judged against them.

"At risk of sounding like a creepy old man-"

"You are a creepy old man..."

"This stuff is really beautiful. It's sad as hell, don't get me wrong, and I feel like there's stuff in here that you never wanted anyone to read, but I'm glad I did."

"Don't flatter me."

"You wrote about me."

A pang of guilt hit Duo immediately, and he nearly choked on his dinner. He didn't know what to say. That entry had been written in the heat of anger, just after Hilde had been...

Howard read. "Howard would tell me it doesn't. He'd tell me that it makes me a victim. Or an innocent bystander. I'm a person affected by tragedy."

Duo did not look up. He felt like a dog having its nose rubbed in shit. He felt ashamed. "I didn't mean..."

But Howard silenced him with a word, when he gently placed the journal back down upon the table, its pages closed. "We were really interested in what you'd written in that book, you know. All of us wondered for a long time. Quatre told us he'd given it to you and asked you to jot down the things you remembered, but he also said that he'd never seen any writing in it. That bothered him. We were so curious. You carried it around with you for weeks wherever you went, but as far as we knew there was nothing in it. You were like a little kid with a security blanket. Never thought you'd part with the thing, not with how close you were keeping it. But then you gave it to Relena after your speech-I never got the chance to tell you how brilliant that was, by the way..."

"Don't mention it."

"The fact that you did that...The fact that you said those words in that way with no preparation. It's mind boggling. And then you gave this up to Relena without a second thought. I don't know what you were thinking at that time, but we all believed you wanted us to read it. It was like you were finally ready to let go."

Duo's appetite had all but gone, and the food in his stomach sat there like a rock. He still didn't know what to say. Every word that had passed his lips to this point had felt necessary, as pleasantries and kindnesses paid to an old friend. There'd been no thought there. The automacity with which he and Howard spoke alarmed him slightly. He wondered how many conversations of old had gone just this way.

"I think you should do an interview," Howard continued bluntly. "Relena told us at dinner that you've had fifteen requests. You ought to do one."

"I'm not a politician."

"Hell no you're not, and that's what makes you so damned good." Howard paused for a moment and regarded Duo thoughtfully. "You think I'm mad about what you wrote?"

Duo nodded just slightly.

Howard laughed. "See? Now you're the one being ridiculous. Nothing you wrote in here is wrong. A little crazy, maybe, but not wrong. I definitely don't agree with it; I don't think you should kill yourself. I don't even think you should entertain that thought, a brilliant kid like you! At any rate, the only thing this book made me think was that you've got words that need to be said to people."

"I've got no right to talk to people."

"You've got more right than most, especially when it comes to this. You're a normal guy, a guy who got in over his head and wound up in a horrible situation. You're relatable. What's better? People liked what you had to say. People listened."

Duo shrugged. "Not that they had much of a choice there. They listened because we hijacked the airways." He paused and drew a deep breath. "Look, I appreciate that you're trying to comfort me, or whatever it is you're trying to do here, but all I want to do is finish this build and..."

"And leave?" Howard finished for him in a small voice. Duo looked away. "Don't think we don't know what you're planning, kid. You don't just build a mobile suit for the looks; you build it so you can take it out and kill people with it. I know you're leaving. It's only been a matter of time since you woke up from stasis."

"And you don't care?"

"Don't think that for a second. I already told you once that I don't agree with a lot of the things you're doing. But I'm not your father. I don't have to agree with you, and you don't have to change your mind just because I don't. But look: People like you. Not just us aboard this ship, either. If people didn't like you and didn't agree with what you were saying, they wouldn't be starting to fight back, would they?"

Duo shrugged.

With a sigh, Howard said, "Fine, then. I'll make you a deal. You do an interview and I'll help you finish your build, no questions asked. Hell, I'll get Heero and Quatre and the boys in there to help you, too. We'll have the suit done in two weeks if we keep a solid pace."

Duo shot Howard a glance from the corner of his eye and found no hint of sabotage there. In fact, Howard was not looking Duo's way at all. The old man's eyes focused on the wall opposite and indicated no real emotion whatsoever.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch," Howard replied plainly. "I mean; you might have to take a picture to publish alongside your responses. But otherwise?" Howard cocked his head to one side. "Can't think of a thing. You'll be published, no doubt. It'll draw attention to you."

This was not altogether a bad thing, Duo thought. The more attention drawn to him was less attention given to innocent colonists. The more targets he painted on his back, the fewer were painted on others. With this in mind, Duo nodded curtly and pulled the notebook toward him, tucking it neatly aside his tray. "I'll do it. But I won't have you backing out of the build."

"A man's word is his bond," Howard said.

"And I won't have you doing anything fishy with it, either," Duo warned. "We go by the blueprints; my instructions are final."

Howard stood. "You're the expert, not me. I'll let the others know, and I'll ask Relena to get the files prepared for you to respond."

As Howard made to leave, Duo caught him by the wrist and looked up at him. "What publication are we talking here?"

Howard threw his hands up noncommittally. "New Colonial Times? Earth Nation Journal? We're shooting big here, you know, influential. I'll have Relena comb through them to find the least inflammatory."

"No," Duo rebutted. "Don't bother her, just send them all. I'll do it myself." And then he let go Howard's wrist and the old man began toward the door. Duo added in afterthought, "Can you have my blues cleaned and pressed? If I've got to take a photo, I ought to look decent for it."

"I don't have to remind you that you of your status with the service right now," Howard replied from the door.

"I know," Duo said thoughtfully. "But the whole point of this circus is to undermine the insurgents, isn't it? Makes sense for me to wear the uniform, as I'm one of the few men who wears it with integrity. After all, we don't want the people completely mistrusting them, we just need them to engage a healthy amount of skepticism."

"I'll see to it then," Howard said, and then Howard left.

ф

True to his word, the next morning Howard had recruited all of Quatre, Trowa, Wufei, Heero, and Milliardo to assist in the remaining portions of Duo's build even before Duo sat down to compose his responses. He instructed them each specifically before retiring to his room, where he spent the remainder of the morning cherry picking questions and constructing as thoughtful of answers as he was able.

After dinner that evening Heero assisted him with the photography, though Heero seemed more than a little upset at the fact that he'd been chosen to help. But despite his poor mood, they managed to snap a respectable photograph within an hour. Heero excused himself to send out the files, and Duo returned to the hangar.

Two days later Heero reported that the documents had been published in three magazines and rattled off sales numbers that, to Duo, held no real meaning. But it meant something to him that the others seemed impressed, and as they worked that morning Heero read to them the questions and responses that Duo had provided, and it seemed to Duo that Heero was genuinely enjoying himself.

"Oh, here's a good one," Heero said, reclining with his laptop. "Question: What experience do you have that would qualify you to lead civilians into war? Answer: Look me up."

Everyone but Duo laughed at the response, and Quatre asked, "Why did you even respond to that one?"

Duo shrugged. "I responded to all of them," he said, and then to emphasize his point he pounded his fist hard against the gundanium plating he'd been fitting to the mobile suit's leg bearings. "Seems dumb to waste my time answering questions that any journalist with half a brain could answer on their own."

"This is good," Heero said. Duo could hear the smirk in his voice. "You get to the point here. Not a lot of fluff, but you're not so serious that you come off as..."

"He doesn't come off as arrogant," Howard finished. "Didn't figure he would, either. Just an ordinary guy, our Duo Maxwell."

"Shut up and work," Duo ordered, and he pounded on the plate again. This time it snapped into position, and he bolted it down. "We've got a hell of a lot of work ahead of us and I want to get done in a hurry."

With a great heaving sigh, Heero closed the laptop and joined them at work once more.

At dinner that evening, Duo was all the talk. Every television in the galley had been tuned to a different channel-what few could be received in deep space-and Relena had laid out four separate hard-copy publications with Duo's image plastered on the front. She even complimented him on the quality of the photograph, which Duo did not remember taking.

It was a strange-looking photo shot from an angle he didn't recall Heero standing at. The lens had been front and low, peering up at him from chest high, and in the image Duo himself was staring away from the focus, a thoughtful and altogether wistful look in his eyes. The photo had been snapped while Duo had been in the midst of adjusting his tie—it looked as though it had been taken before he had even been properly dressed—and the resulting image had him looking chic and professional and entirely too political for his taste. But the photograph had power.

Duo didn't join in the conversation. He didn't watch the news nor read its captions to see how well his responses were being received. He did catch a glimpse of the coverage of another colonial assault on military personnel, but he dared not focus on it long enough to see its aftermath. As far as he was concerned, the true war would not begin until he'd entered the battlefield. Everything prior to that point was merely a scuffle.

He worked through the night on the mobile suit, breaking for a few hours' nap at four in the morning. Then he worked through the next day, and the next night, stopping only when the need for sleep overcame him. Help was always present in one form or another, and while the others were certainly not as heavily invested in the project as Duo was, they worked diligently and tirelessly all the while they were there, and the mobile suit came together quickly.

Duo had designed the thing with quick assembly in mind. In the drafting phases he'd assumed the project would be a solo build and that he would not have an extra pair of hands, let alone six pairs. The mechanics were not complicated; it was just enough to get the thing moving. Smaller tweaks, weight adjustments, and recalibrations could wait until it was operational. By week's end, the full body had been assembled and the only missing parts were the remaining few gundanium plates. Elsewise, all there was left was to program the controls, install an operating system, and paint the panels.

The discussion over the operating system had not been fun. As usual, Duo decided that Heero would be the best man to prepare the software, but Heero remained hesitant. Duo requested a copy of the old-fashioned zero system that he could tweak later on. Heero insisted that such a system was dangerous, particularly given Duo's recent experiences, and that a simpler operating system might be better. But Duo did not back down and eventually Heero relented, with the stipulation that a secondary system be installed in case the first got to be too much to handle. Duo found this arrangement agreeable, and Heero began the code.

It did not take long for Heero to generate a functional enough system that Duo could assign controls to the cockpit. This task was not difficult, and even now the once extremely time consuming task took relatively little time. By now, Duo had designed control schemes for dozens of suits with all manner of cockpit systems, from pedals to joysticks to traditional throttles, and this suit in particular he'd designed with ease of control in mind. As Howard had predicted, the suit was nearly complete by the end of the second week, and Duo began preparing to leave.

He worked covertly to gather supplies to last at least a week, time he figured would be spent idling in deep space putting final touches on the mobile suit and preparing himself to engage the enemy. As he worked he knew, somehow, that the majority of his efforts would be focused on exacting change within himself rather than with the suit. If he was to lead a group of untrained civilians against an organized military force, he would have to be in peak condition. As it stood, Duo knew he wasn't ready, not physically or mentally. At least he didn't feel ready.

The day came suddenly when Duo realized that there was no more to be done on the Peacemillion, and though he'd been long preparing for that moment it still caught him by surprise. He reckoned the suit was eighty-five percent complete, fully paneled, and painted with Heero and Wufei's help, and whenever he looked upon the thing, even in its state of near-completion, he felt a swell of pride in his chest that overwhelmed the constriction of anxiety in his gut. And when he sat at the controls to program and tweak the cockpit felt as much like home as the Deathscythe's cockpit ever had. Perhaps this one felt even more at home: He'd taken the time to adjust his plans and build in extra room for living accommodations. Though he'd still have to sleep and sit in the pilot's seat, he'd fashioned a small compartment behind the seat to hold food and drink and all of the other necessary items he'd need for life in deep space. And all of these things he'd already loaded.

There was nothing left to do but go.

The evening of his departure, Duo took dinner in the galley and made an effort to sit with the others, engaging in their conversations and acting as close as he could to normal. If anyone thought this strange, they said nothing, but Duo couldn't help but wonder as he watched Trowa and Quatre arguing the semantics of space-ready foods whether or not they were remaining aloof because they didn't want to scare him away. He didn't go back to the hangar after dinner, either, instead returning to his bunk to lay and contemplate one last time if his present course of action was for the best.

After a time, the ship grew quiet, and when Duo glanced at the clock it read 2147: Late enough to make his move. He grabbed his prepared duffel, retrieved the leather-bound journal from his desk, and made for the door. Two stops left.

With great trepidation Duo entered the medical bay. He'd not cast eyes on Hilde for almost a month, and though his opinion of her state had certainly changed she seemed eternally static. She'd not moved since last he'd saw her, and her deathly pale skin retained the same translucent and cold look as it had when she'd been put in the chamber. She did not move, and Duo was left to stare with only the beeps of the monitors and his quiet breathing to keep him company.

He thought of saying something to her, but could not think of appropriate words. He wanted her to make her choice: Live and get out of the stasis chamber, or die and be done with the suffering. But Duo knew those thoughts were selfish. She wasn't suffering any more. At the worst she would be dreaming, a nightmare, perhaps, but she could feel no pain and would be utterly oblivious to her plight. He knew. He'd been there not long ago.

Tenderly, Duo touched the top of the chamber. It was as much a goodbye as he could muster.

One stop left.

A lump in his throat, Duo made his way back down the hall toward the dormitories. He stood outside of Heero's door for a long time thinking of all the irate things Heero would say to him, not least of all because Duo would almost certainly be waking him from sleep. But Duo gained courage enough to knock, and an uncomfortable time later Heero opened the door with a look of disgust.

But when Heero looked Duo up and down once or twice, his expression softened. "You're leaving, then."

Duo nodded. "Can I come in for a minute?"

Heero gave a thoughtful glance back into the room, toward the bed, but he motioned for Duo to enter all the same before disappearing inside. Duo followed and dropped into the same plush chair he'd always occupied when visiting Heero's quarters, the same chair where he'd spent countless hours listening to Heero code just after waking from stasis. It was comfortable, not only physically but emotionally. It was a home base.

Duo watched as Heero fussed about the bed, pulling the sheets up as gently as he could to shield Relena's quite naked body. She stirred a bit as he did so, but at his gentle whisper she calmed again and fell back into restful sleep. When Heero glanced over, Duo made certain to keep his expression neutral.

"She's been restless," Heero said in hushed tones as he rolled his computer chair over, and he sat facing Duo with his arms resting across his knees. "Barely sleeps at all, and if I leave for a minute she..." he shrugged and combed his fingers through his hair. The pause was awkward. Heero was searching. "She acts all tough when she's awake, but when it's just the two of us it's like she thinks there'll be another assassination attempt. She doesn't want me out of her sight. She's terrified."

Duo listened to Heero talk, uncaring how much time it took for Heero to articulate his thoughts. They had been this way for a while, Duo and Heero, always needing to vent or talk or bounce ideas off of another, always without another person to go to.

"But you're leaving," Heero said with a great long sigh, curling comfortably—tiredly—into the chair. "So what can I help you with?"

"No one else knows I'm going," Duo said, matching Heero's quiet. "Which is to say, I'm pretty sure everyone knows that I've been planning to leave, but no one ever knew when."

"Everyone's been hoping you were full of shit," Heero said. "Howard especially has been saying that you were all bark, that you weren't really going to go in the end..."

Duo shook his head. "Time's come, at any rate. I'm going to take the suit and exit hangar two as soon as I leave here. I just wanted to stop in and let someone know that I was going."

Heero stared at Duo with a piercing expression that made Duo shift in his seat. That uncompromising look reminded Duo too keenly of the One Year War, of the Heero Yuy that used to be. It was an expression of estimation, an attempt at understanding that could never be mistaken for confusion. "Why me?" Heero asked at length, propping his chin on his fist.

Duo shrugged. "Comfort, I suppose. I knew you wouldn't care," he said, and then added awkwardly, "I just hope I didn't catch you in a compromising position," he glanced at the bed, then back at Heero, who by this time was playing at the pink, tender scar around his own wound in a way that reminded Duo entirely too much of himself.

But Heero waved away Duo's concern casually. "Nothing compromising has happened in here for an hour or so," he said. "And if you had, I just wouldn't have answered the door."

Again the silence fell, and Heero cast his scrutinizing eyes on Duo's face.

"I have a few messages I need you to relay, if you could," Duo said when the silence grew uncomfortable.

"Better not be a death note," Heero warned.

"No. But... I guess I feel guilty that I'm not saying goodbye to Howard. He's been good to me, to both of us, and I don't want his generosity to go without recognition."

"I'll make sure he knows."

"And..." Duo paused, the lump welling in his throat again. He'd contemplated saying this for a while, but had never decided the right way to articulate himself. "If Hilde wakes up... Tell her to go."

At this, Heero's brow furrowed and he leaned back in his chair with mild surprise. The scrutinizing gaze had finally shifted to elementary confusion. "Why? You were barely together..."

Duo shook his head and turned his eyes to the floor, slightly ashamed of himself. "Because I'm the reason she wound up in this mess. All I do is make her life terrible. She's better off without me." When he looked back up, Heero's expression had gone back to normal. "And if she doesn't wake up...If it looks like she's ready to go..."

The brow furrowed again. Duo felt self-conscious.

"Let her go."

"I don't know if it would be cruel to ask you why," Heero replied.

Again, Duo shook his head. "Because sometimes I wish you all had just let me go."

"You're being melodramatic again," Heero said flatly.

"Don't keep her alive artificially because you think I'm coming back," Duo insisted, a hint of anger welling up now. It seemed the emotion had come out in his voice, as Heero's posture stiffened just slightly. "I might not come back."

Before Heero had the chance to respond to this, Duo had stood and grabbed his pack, slung it over his shoulder. He was making his way to the door when he heard Heero stand up behind him.

"I'll do what you want," Heero said, just loud enough to be commanding, "but I need you to do something in exchange."

Duo looked back.

"I'll send a transmission once a week. Hell, I'll even send you news updates if you want. But you've got to respond. At least then I'll know for sure if you're dead."

Duo nodded, and then he left.