AN: This is a chapter that I loved and hated to write. I needed to address a bunch of technical mumbo-jumbo that's going to be relevant in a few chapters, so here it is. Anew is only minimally in this chapter, but then again she was only minimally in the series until episode 18. I plan on writing a few chapters that deal with various points in the time-skip to address the relationship between her and Lyle (because really it was OMG! we have three episodes to make this as tragic as possible!) because it could use some development. I'm not done laying my Lyle/Rev foundation yet. Bear with me. I'm glad that everyone *kind-of* likes Gallagher, or that you're at least intrigued. I actually like him a lot. for some reason when I write him he's always wearing a suit in my head. Strange.
Thank-you to StormyMonday! I tried to address what I meant by that quote in this chapter. I knew it was a little ambiguous when I wrote it, but I wanted to keep it that way for the interaction between Graham and Gallagher.I like Marie and Soma as well, ironically, I think I like Soma more. Not sure why. To PaperxTrain:Ahhh kk, that makes sense. Yeah, I want to give her a contrast between the craziness that she feels when she hasn't slept, and the generally pretty normal person that she is when she's well-rested. We'll see how she feels about CB in the next few chapters...hehehe. To Anne Fatalism Dilettante: Yay! I'm glad you *like* Gallagher. I've based him on a mix of Rau Le Creuset (Gundam Seed) and Dilandau (Escaflowne). I just pity whomever he was before the A-Laws got their hands on him. As for how I write quickly...I just have free time here and there.
Note: I may have reworked the bounds of canon a little in this chapter. I re-watched episode 15 of season 1, and realized that after Allelujah goes unconscious for the second time they don't pay any attention to him for a good ten minutes (as is usual...poor Alle. Even I've neglected him). I made up my own version of what he'd been up to in those ten minutes of the show (so a couple hours in Gundam time). Also, after reading messengercat's 'Ash Like Snow', I pretty much have adopted her fic as Lyle's unofficial history. You should read it. It's beautiful. And snarky.
I listened to "Who Knew" by pink for Rev's dream, then I had my phone on shuffle for everything else. There are probably mistakes, so please let me know and I'll correct them (I have editor-glaze on my eyes today after writing a 5,000 word paper).
Grounded System
"Everybody takes, and everybody steals, everybody cries when something feels."
Reverie lay in a recovery unit, almost comatose for the last sixteen hours. Ptolemy had docked three hours ago and she still hadn't woken, even after Shia'd had a chance to consult with the other doctors at Lagrange Three. The monitors surrounding her let off a steady rhythm to let them know she was alive, but she hadn't moved much at all. She was too stubborn to let them know herself, it seemed.
Lyle would know. He'd been there since Cherudim had docked, and he was livid. He and Tieria had argued for easily an hour once they'd happened to run into each other in the infirmary, and Lyle didn't think he'd torn a strip off someone that badly since he'd been working in the stock market. Trading had been a passion while his infatuation with it lasted, and he'd been unforgiving if portfolios slid or prime opportunities were missed.
This was different, though.
This dealt with a person.
"We aren't as yet sure what caused her issues. She can disclose any information that's discovered as she sees fit."
Damn that emotionless bastard. He made it sound like she'd be up and flirting around in no time, when in reality they had no idea when she'd wake up. If she'd wake up. She'd been in a non-sedative induced coma since Ptolemy had left Trans-Am, and every passing minute made Lyle want to wring Tieria's purple-clad neck even more. If Reverie didn't wake up he would.
If Reverie didn't wake up he'd be stuck alone again.
It was more than that though. She was his friend, and she was also now his confidante about Katharon. Even aside from those two things, he cared. He was scared of that idea. He cared about her.
That's right.
Lyle Dylandy actually gave a damn about someone.
Wouldn't his brother be proud.
The thought made him laugh under his breath, almost sardonically. When was the last time that had happened? He didn't know, and he didn't want to try to remember. The obvious first choice was Amy, of course. That was different from this, though. Amy was his smart, mischievous, loving, and trusting little sister. This was different. When was the last time he'd cared about someone who was still alive? Someone who'd cared for him? He'd felt something close to caring here and there over the years with this relationship or that, but the women always seemed to have the innate knowledge that if something were to happen he wouldn't be particularly bothered. They were right.
He and Reverie weren't in a relationship though, they were friends. Was he allowed to sit nervously in the infirmary for a friend? He didn't look nervous to anyone who walked by, he knew that much. On the surface he was sitting disinterestedly in the visitor's chair, looking over Cherudim's service reports and idly spinning a cigarette in one hand. Underneath the surface though, he was a mess. He'd read the same sentence four times and he still had no idea what it said.
"Goddammit, Rev." he muttered.
What he'd give to smoke the little cylinder. He'd been doing so well, ignoring the pack of Colts that sat in his room. They weren't his typical smokes, but he'd take what he could get while with Katharon. 'Anything to slowly kill my lungs' he'd joked to Klaus. Right now his lungs were dying for punishment.
What was stopping him?
Ptolemy's systems were for the most part offline while the ship was serviced, so there wouldn't be an alarm. He was pretty much alone, and Reverie would be shielded from it in the recovery unit, so he had no chance of interfering with her treatment. Tieria would be mad, though.
The thought made him happy.
He pulled his lighter from his uniform jacket pocket. His brother's lighter. He kept it there out of habit more than anything else, and right now he was thrilled with his life decision to do so. The smoke felt better than it should have as it burned his lungs. He wasn't quite sure when he'd picked up the habit. Sometime in university, if he remembered right. No one seemed to care when a stressed student lay on the hood of their car in the middle of the night and blew smoke to the wind.
The habit was thoroughly frowned upon by most people, but he didn't mind. If anything he liked it. The barrier of threatening carcinogens kept people away, or made them stare at him as though he were lighting himself on fire. Maybe he had been, he didn't know. No matter why they stayed away, it worked remarkably well. Even in Ireland where people were notably approachable.
That was why he'd been so surprised to wake up one morning and find the silver lighter on his nightstand. The carefully engraved cursive made sure that there was no question as to whose it was. N. D. There was no way he'd mistake it as belonging to this girl or that. No, those initials were far too familiar…and he stayed away from women who smoked. He wasn't sure why.
"Um…sorry. I didn't know you were here."
Feldt poked her head around the corner. He wasn't sure how long she'd been there, but he wasn't worried. "Feldt. What brings you here?" he asked, hoping against all hell that he didn't still look like he was gonna kill someone.
"I…" she looked down, then sighed. "I wanted to check on Ms. Traum." She said. He wasn't sure why she was worried about admitting it. Then again, she always seemed to be apologizing for everything. He let it go. "Has her condition changed?" she asked, stepping idly in the doorway.
He exhaled, letting the stream of grey-blue smoke linger. "I'm not sure, I've just been reading some reports." He lied.
"Oh." She said, thinking. "Cherudim's outputs were 3% lower, right? It's strange." She concluded.
"Yeah. I have no explanation for it. Who knows, Ian's probably figuring it out right now." He said, trying to expand on his lie. If she'd held a gun to his head he wouldn't have been able to tell her Cherudim's outputs. That was a strangely scary image, Feldt with a gun.
She studied him from the doorway. "I lied. Its output was normal." Dammit. Observant little Feldt setting up a lie to trap him in. He had it coming. "You're worried about her." She stated.
He sighed. "Is it that obvious?"
"No." She took the other visitor seat and watched as the brunette's monitors paced away. She didn't say anything after that and he wasn't sure if he was relieved or unnerved. He decided he was relieved. He was too wound up to be unnerved. He took another drag and slowly exhaled.
"Feldt?"
"Hm?" she barely looked away from the comatose woman.
"I'm sorry." He didn't have to say for what.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the pink-haired teen turning to study him again with her not-so-teenage expression. She was too serious to be her age. She looked back at the recovery unit. "I know you're not him." She said, almost apologetically.
He watched the smoke rise from the end of the cigarette. "I know."
"Good."
Neither of them said a word after that, sitting in comfortable silence until Feldt slipped away for a calibration on the bridge. Lyle's smoke ran out much to his dismay, but he didn't want to get up to get another one. Instead he stretched, propped his feet up, and fell into a feather-light nap.
If he woke up and Reverie was still comatose, Tieria would be joining her.
"So this is the system, then?"
The half-completed system that Tieria was staring at was intriguing but annoying at once. He was checking on the progress of the system that Reverie would be testing, and he had to say that he was surprised with how much they'd gotten done in the few weeks since he'd asked it to be designed.
"Well, this isn't the system." Ian said. "Linda and I had been working on a system that would allow all the Meisters to stay connected to the changing tactical forecasts, but we couldn't find a forecaster who could deal with the mental strain. Allelujah tested it out, but there was no way to justify using a super soldier as an information correspondent. Besides, no one else can pilot Arios…not with the kind of G's it pulls."
Tieria raised an eyebrow. He'd been practicing his human gestures. "I'm not sure I follow what you're saying."
Ian sighed. "Well, rather than relying on the Meisters to adapt to new scenarios on the fly, we wanted to have a forecaster that would use the system to create tailored plans for each Meister as new situations arose, minute by minute."
"To minimize the inaccuracy of the forecasts." Tieria concluded.
"Exactly. As it stands now though, there's no way we could have Reverie test the system, so we're adapting it to the specifications you requested. We'll be mounting it to Ptolemy, between the GN Drives before we leave."
Tieria looked at the system. It was centered in what had once been a passenger shuttle aboard Ptolemaios I. They'd removed all the seating and general security, and it was now separated into two sections by a piece of reinforced glass. On one side was a set of monitoring systems and keyboards, six screens spread across the length of the miniature room. On the other side of the glass was what looked like a seat taken from a Gundam cockpit. It had been modified, though. There were cables and wires exposed everywhere, some leading to the terminals on the other side of the glass and others disappearing into the walls. "How long will it take to be finished?"
"We aren't entirely sure." Anew, the woman that they'd been recently introduced to, stepped forward. She'd been calibrating one of the systems that sat on the observer's side of the glass. "The system itself will be ready for testing within the next few weeks if all goes according to schedule. Finding someone to be the operator will be an issue."
"Reverie Traum will be operating it." Tieria said matter-of-factly. He hadn't yet decided what he thought of Anew Returner. Her qualifications were outstanding and she seemed non-confrontational enough, but he would wait until they were in a battle situation to pass judgement.
"Yes, she'll be the 'living terminal', for lack of a better word." Anew said, motioning to the emptier side of the shuttle, the one with the chair. "but someone will have to relay her information and monitor her biometrics."
"Ah. So the system will require two people to operate." That was inconvenient, but workable.
Anew nodded. "From the recordings and medical data that you've given me, it's obvious that Reverie Traum will not be able to both maximize on her abilities and relay information. This is the best solution."
"I see." He said. "Thank-you."
She nodded and returned to the modified shuttle and Tieria mulled over the information. A second person. Who did they have available? There was Marie Parfacy, who seemed like the most likely candidate. If that wasn't an option, then there was also Saji Crossroad, who had proven himself useless for anything else. Other than that there was no one. Maybe a Haro if they had no other choice. Actually, a Haro would be preferable to Saji Crossroad, Tieria decided. A Haro was rational, Saji was not.
With his decision of Marie or a Haro, Tieria left to find Shia Mazarenco. He had several new questions about what had happened during Trans-Am. Something like that shouldn't have been possible, and it intrigued him.
It had also completely ruined his test results.
Somehow he wasn't particularly bothered.
"Karen, you have to be strong, for Deiter."
Her mother was dressed in black, and her little brother was sitting like a statue on a pew, oblivious to the assortment of people who moved through the room. There were tears in his eyes and somehow he didn't look like a seven-year-old to her, he looked like one of the firemen her father had worked with who'd watched his best friend burn. He looked like the entire sad history of the world was in his eyes…like he could stare for a thousand miles.
She couldn't be strong.
Her father was dead. Her best friend was dead. Her hero was dead.
She choked on her sobs and nodded to her mother. "Alright."
"Now go to the washroom, get a hold of yourself. You can cry after, when Deiter isn't around." She said. If Karen wasn't fourteen and crumbling inside, she probably would have realized that her mother was telling her to do something impossible. She was used to it though. Smile, laugh, pretend everything is alright. The sky is blue and the trees are green and her father is dead, but everything's alright. It was the German way, after all.
It took all of her strength to not tear out of the sanctuary and run to the bathroom, but somehow she managed a steady pace as she shuddered with poorly controlled sobs. She nodded sadly to those who approached her. 'Yes, I know, it's terrible.' 'Thank-you so much for being here.' 'Yes, he was a wonderful man.'
She didn't even want to feel herself say the words. Finally the washroom loomed and she darted into it, locking the door and sinking down against it. She wanted to scream and break things, to find the person who had started the fire and watch them burn, but she knew she couldn't. The fire wasn't anyone's fault, at least that's what they'd told her. Bad wiring. Old insulation. Who was it that wired the building? Who was it that neglected to replace the insulation? How would they feel if they knew that their laziness had destroyed something so precious?
They wouldn't care.
They'd be just like the dozens upon dozens of people milling about in the church right now. 'Oh, it's so sad.' 'Those poor children.' 'How long until this is over?' She couldn't hear them thinking those thoughts, but they were all over their faces. She wanted to scream at them all and run to her father and demand to know why people could be so fake.
But her father was gone.
The one person who could comfort her was represented in a closed casket. An empty casket. There was nothing left of him, after-all. The chemical fire had seen to that.
She couldn't do this. There was no way she could do this.
She pulled open the centuries-old window and slipped out of it, not caring that her dress got caught and ripped, or that her shoes were scuffed. Her father wouldn't care. He'd understand. She hit the ground and stood for a moment.
What was she doing?
Running.
She ran. She didn't know where she was running, but she knew why. If she ran fast enough or far enough maybe she'd get back to five days ago, when she'd said goodbye to him as he left for the shift.
As he left forever.
Her lungs burned and her eyes were blurry with tears and her heart was pounding but all she could hear were his last words, with the last kiss he'd placed on top of her head.
"I love you too, Karen."
Shia felt like he was looking at an upset purple Barbie doll. He wasn't sure why, but whenever Tieria Erde was around he couldn't get the insane comparison out of his head. An upset, bespectacled, purple Barbie doll. He cleaned his own glasses furiously, more out of a nervous habit than anything else.
"Well, she wasn't accessing Trans-Am. She didn't bring it on herself, and her whole body wasn't lit up like a holiday light show." He said, settling his glasses back on his face. He'd missed a smudge. Damn it all, he'd have to clean them again.
"I know that. Just the piece of metal in her brain. That doesn't explain how that metal was able to access Trans-Am, though."
He was right. Theoretically, only the metal from a Celestial Being GN drive could have that effect.
"I wasn't really sure how she accessed Trans-Am myself, until I looked at the video footage of the Taklamakan incident. We've spent all of our time assuming that the piece in her brain was a by-product of the Throne Zwei tearing apart the ship she was forecasting from." He pointed out.
"Yes, and?" Tieria was indignant as ever.
Shia sighed.
"It wasn't."
Tieria raised an eyebrow. "…and?"
"Oh, right!" Shia said, slipping his glasses off and scrubbing them again with his pocket-cloth. "It was a castoff piece from Kyrios."
"What!?" Apparently that impressed him. Finally something got a rise out of the Barbie. "Wasn't Allelujah unconscious when Kyrios was restrained?"
Shia shook his head. "If you go through the footage from the event, you'll see that the other Mr. Haptism made quick work out of a set of Tierans before Kyrios was brought under control again. In the time he was free, Mr. H. Haptism tore into the bridge of the warship that our little firecracker was on. The piece of metal from Kyrios was broken off when the ship targeted its GN Drive, and we can only assume that's when it made its way into Ms. Traum's pretty head. Immediately after, Mr. Haptism lost consciousness again and was brought under control until the Throne models appeared." He said, relaying the pride of his last two hours of labour.
Tieria was silent and processing for what seemed like forever. Shia wanted to know if he'd managed to appease the man, or if he'd have to waste more of his time explaining his findings.
"That still doesn't explain her Pseudo-particle poisoning." He reasoned.
Shia wagged a finger. "Actually, it does."
"How?"
"After our Gundams were rescued by the Throne models, the Throne Drei released a blanket of highly-concentrated pseudo-particles. They found the injury in Ms. Traum's head and attached themselves to it, as they did with all the injuries on the battlefield that day." He breathed after the lengthy explanation. "Kyrios' GN Metal plus Throne Drei's pseudo particles gives you one very interesting little forecaster." He concluded.
"Where does that leave us with her Trans-Am abilities?" the purple-haired Meister asked.
"That's hard to say. We gathered an insane amount of data when it happened due to the test that was being run, but we'll have to do more. We don't know what her abilities are when the metal shard reacts to Trans-Am, and we still don't know what her normal range of abilities are with regards to the pseudo GN Drives. We also don't know what kind of effect it has on her physically, other than putting her in a coma."
"I see." Tieria mused again. Shia hated these conversations with burning passion. Tieria was always lost in his own mind, taking vast amounts of information and giving none in return.
"What theories do you have about the fact that this has only happened once, when Ptolemy accessed Trans Am?"
Shia shrugged. It should have been easy enough for Tieria to deduce for himself, but he'd play along. "I'd have to say intensity. It took three Gundams accessing Trans-Am to get the reaction."
"Well enough." He said. "You've been of incredible use. Take this drive and examine the progress reports on the biometric monitoring of the system we're building for her."
Shia took the drive that Tieria handed him and turned it over, examining it. "I will."
"Good."
With that, the Barbie walked away.
Beep, beep, beep.
Reverie was still unconscious. Lyle had lightly napped for an hour and he wasn't entirely surprised that she hadn't so much as moved.
"You're too stubborn for your own good, Rev." he muttered. He weighed the pros and cons of going to get his pack of smokes, but a strange noise caught his attention. It was strange and mangled. It happened again, and he realized it was Reverie.
Was she choking?
He stood and looked down at her through the Plexi-glass of the recovery unit. She wasn't choking, she was crying. He glanced at the monitors before pushing the release for the recovery unit. She'd be fine, her treatment was finished. What was he doing? Did he even know? He didn't and he didn't think about it. He sat on the edge of the stiff mattress.
"Wake up, Rev." he said, watching for a response. She wasn't sobbing or crying uncontrollably, just lightly shuddering with her tears.
He shook her shoulders lightly. "Rev, it's a dream."
She stirred, then opened her eyes. They were confused and unfocused for a moment before she turned her head the slightest amount and looked at him. "Lyle?"
Relief. He could feel it almost crash over him, she was fine. She recognized him, and she was awake. He nodded. "You alright?" he asked, trying to keep a casual tone.
Her mouth twitched and a flash of something strange passed over her face. She shook her head, just a slight indication of what was going on inside. He realized that his hands were still on her shoulders and he pulled back to stand, but she stopped him, grasping his uniform jacket. "No."
He relaxed, sinking into the stiff mattress again. He didn't know what to say, or even if he had to say anything. Her lower lip trembled. "I'm not." She stifled a sob and her slender, strong shoulders shook.
"I'm not alright at all!" She pulled herself against his chest, gripping his shirt and burying her face in his shoulder. Somehow, the shock that he expected to come didn't and he wrapped his arms tentatively around her, then held her strongly against him. She was so small, curled up against him like this. It seemed like she fit perfectly against him as she struggled to hold in her tears.
He didn't want her to. "It's alright, Rev." He wanted her to let go. He didn't know why, but he didn't care why. "Let it out."
He felt her stifle another sob, then stop, and then he felt her let go. He rested his chin on her head and held tight, as though he could keep her grounded somehow. Her trembling hand grasped his jacket collar desperately as her sad cries turned to anger, then back to shaking sadness.
She pulled back and stared up at him, confusion clearly swimming in her eyes. "Why are you doing this for me?"
He didn't know. He didn't have an answer at all. His eternally strong but deceptively delicate friend was clinging to him for comfort and he knew that it would be wrong - no - almost inhumane to turn a friend away at a moment like this. He'd stayed up nights with memories of his family before, alone, confused, and shaken. He knew how deep those memories could cut. "because I know."
She didn't respond, but her gaze remained steadfastly on his. Her confused expression gave way to something he couldn't quite pinpoint. He pushed the hair out of her eyes. She swallowed, hands still buried in the collar of his uniform jacket.
Before either of them knew what was happening, their lips met. It wasn't a kiss that either had shared before. It wasn't one written about in stories, or anything so poetic. It wasn't one in the heat of the night with a lover. It was one of understanding.
I know.
He was an island, she was lost, and he'd keep her grounded as long as he could.
What Tieria had just heard answered an infinite amount of theoretical questions. For example, it explained why Reverie showed a particular fondness towards Arios' GN Drive. Kyrios' GN drive had been broken down and used for parts among the various Gundam's drives, but the majority of the components had been used for Arios.
It also explained why she loved the GN drives in general, and why she could influence the pseudo-drives to such an extent. The GN Drives that Celestial Being possessed were far superior to the ones that the A-Laws had.
He had a sudden new thought.
Did that mean that Reverie was superior to the masked man from the banquet, the A-Laws telepath?
The one who was working with Regene?
That was an interesting question.
Feldt hadn't found anything of use on the man, other than a standard record of service with the A-Laws. Tieria hadn't expected her to. If they were playing with that kind of experimentation, it was likely that the man had originally been a prisoner of war. Someone who didn't exist according to the A-Laws.
He pulled out his information drive and activated it, flipping through files until he found the one pertaining to the man.
Name: Gallagher, Ailin
Age: Twenty-Nine
Height: 186cm, 6'1"
Weight: 150.1lbs
Rank: Captain
Occupation: Pilot, Advanced Marksman
The file went on to detail when he'd entered the military, where he'd lived, and the training courses that he'd taken. Tieria doubted that any of it was real. The picture though, that was real. Just chestnut-brown, unruly, short hair that fell over a deep jade-green half-face mask. The smile that fell under it was best described as sinister. There was no explanation for the mask, just as there was no explanation for why he'd been gifted with a license to do whatever he wanted. The file completely ignored his mental capabilities.
Tieria's eyes narrowed as he read it. This was the A-Laws substitute for Reverie Traum. A substitute that could only compare to the original if the steel in his brain was from a Celestial Being GN Drive. Tieria had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't.
He wanted more information on this person, this unnerving source of worry.
He'd find it.
Somehow.
Of that he was certain.