By Famira Damaris
Disclaimer: I own nothing, much less any rights to any anime
series including Mobile Suit: Gundam Wing. Sure wish I did
though. Man, I could actually buy stuff....wow. Not those weakling
things anymore, actual stuff! Can you imagine that? But I do own
this plot...
Author's Note: This is the third (I'm the only one that couldn't
figure that one out e_e). Brackets stand for thoughts,
\'s stand for remembering feelings or bits of conversations, {'s stand
for electronic stuff like P.A systems. Also, this fiction
attempts to show how no one is perfect, and show that the relationship
between Quatre and Trowa/Nanashi isn't spontaneous, that Trowa might have
some dark thoughts regarding it. I personally think this is where my story
regarding Trowa/Nanashi starts to get unrealistic. Thanks for reading!
^_^
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Alpha Target
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It was born to me of things
that are not of this land,
of kingdoms and kingdoms lost
that I had and I lost,
of all things living
that I have seen die
of all that was mine
and went from me.
- Gabriela Mistral "Land of Absence"
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Chapter 3 – Ghost of the Nobles
AC 199, January 13
Pavilion District, Erich
Hacienda Inn
I turned over in the bed, opening my eyes. Grey light was filtering in through the slats of the blinds, casting bars of shadow into the room. I stared at across the yawning expanse of the king's bed, suddenly aware of how utterly alone I was. I rolled over on my back, staring at the darkened ceiling. [Quatre…]
At this early time in the morning, my thoughts and feelings were running rampart, as my guard was lowered. As I sat in the lonely bed, I realized that I was heavily regretting that I had never slept with Quatre. I had never considered bedding with another man before; I, unlike Duo who proudly nurtured a reputation as both a ladies and man's man, had doubts over such things. It had been positively embarrassing at times, to feel my body heat up whenever Quatre was nearby. A tight control and confusion with the unfamiliar emotion feelings had been the only thing that had prevented me from taking the poor Arabian by force, whether he liked it or not. But was that what I really wanted? Or was it something else?
[Would I have admitted my feelings to him if I had more time?] Probably. Or maybe not. I wasn't sure half the time how I felt about anything anymore. Confusion over my past, my name, my family; now over my own identity. [Quatre is-was- so open to me. All those secrets told, those hidden desires and wishes. How did he know that I wouldn't tell anyone? He put so much faith in me]
A terrible thought came to me. I was very sure now that I loved Quatre, but what if it was only a physical attraction? I thought Quatre's kind personality was what attracted me in the first place, but I could easily be wrong. I was too corrupt for Quatre, I knew that. My silence and few words had fooled him certainly into trusting *me* - it could be no other way when I *could* be wanting selfishly for his body and soul to be *mine*.
I sat up, throwing the sheets down at my knees. [No, leave him out of your sick little fantasies. Pull yourself together, fool!] I felt a shiver crawl up my spine, and I chided my lack of control angrily. I turned my concentration on thinking of my information regarding Duval. It helped draw my mind from taking another disturbing turn, bringing my awareness back to reality. Duval still needed to be killed. Much better to not think too much about my feelings toward Quatre…
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AC 199 January 13
Erich, Yuki-Wong
"You're gonna have to sign here before you can enter," the stick man lifted his nose to stare down its length haughtily at me. He certainly reminded one of a stick, angles everywhere, with not an ounce of flesh on his frame. He held out a glimmering data board, pointing with an electronic pen, "Put your name, and the registration numbers of all weapons on your person."
I took the pen and quickly filled
out the form, handing the data board back to the man. He took it, and looked
it over, and nodded.
"You're gonna have to leave your weapons at
the door. No weapons allowed in a Wong," he held out his hand, "Sorry."
It was quite clear he wasn't sorry at all. I handed over my gun silently,
"You'll get it back at the door."
He waved me in. I wasn't particularly worried about being unarmed – I was fairly decent at hand-to-hand combat, but I also didn't expect to see the man I was hunting for. I was here primarily to talk to this Mayumi. From what I knew of the Wongs, these establishments were a mixture of a prostitute house and a bar; I didn't expect much from a place like this. I stepped into Yuki-Wong without a pause.
The first thing I noticed was the smell; the heavy air was laced with a strange mixture of musk and a sickly sweet, "sticky" type of scent. I could make a guess as to what *that* was. The smell no doubt was drifting from the second floor, where all the real "activity" probably took place. The interior of the Wong was nothing special, just an octagon with a bar in the middle, protected by a Plexiglas shielding that reached all the way to the ceiling, with holes at the bar so drinks could be served. Booths and chairs were scattered about, several people in the shadows lounging about. In the back past the bar, stairs winded up to the second floor, as several shadows scurried about taking requests and leading a person up the stairs every now and then.
I headed for the stairs, keeping my eyes straight ahead. [Disgusting] I was paid no attention, as I was wearing non-descript clothing and was nowhere near as flashy in my demeanor as some of the other people in the room. As I passed the others, I started to listen into their conversations with half an ear. Most of what they were saying was unimportant, but several phrases started to make sense.
I suddenly became aware of someone tugging at my sleeve. I turned, and was confronted with a girl who could hardly be over twelve years of age. Her limp umber hair was tied back into buns and held in place with a rough cotton black handkerchief, the rest of her clothes in muted blacks and browns of the same material. Almost as if the clothing was swallowing her up.
"What is it?" I asked quietly. The girl made some motions with her hands, pointed at the stairs, then at me. She looked up at me expectantly, her little face still full of life, but exhausted. A man bawled something at her, and she waved the order away.
"You want to know what I want?" I said, realizing that this girl was mute. She nodded. I glanced up the stairs, then at her, "I want to see someone called Mayumi."
She nodded emphatically, and pointed up stairs, then gestured again. Apparently I was going to have to pay to see this prostitute. I handed over an amount that I thought would be reasonable, my face carefully blank. [It's a good thing Quatre isn't…here…to see this] Deep in the back of my mind, an image of me dragging Quatre into one of these rooms suddenly popped from my imagination. I pushed the disturbing image away, disgusted at myself again.
The girl tugged at my sleeve, leading me up the stairs into a cream-colored corridor. There were some water stains from the ceiling, but other than that, the hallway was surprisingly clean. The girl directed me to one of the last doors, glancing over her shoulder every now and then to make sure I was following. I took my time, taking in my surroundings; interesting that with all the efforts to ensure that the upper level was clean and prim, there were heavy ugly locks on the doors. No doubt to ensure that the "happy" residents stayed where they were.
She made gestures again, reaching under the door mat and producing a key. It probably didn't much matter if I saw its hiding place or not, since the inhabitants inside the rooms would have no way to reach outside. I took the key, opening the door as the girl slipped away silently.
I kept my face expressionless. The room was little more than a cell, only housing a sinking and stained bed. The only other furniture was a closed closet. Someone was sitting on the bed, her back turned. The person was hunched over, but I could see a shock of short-cut red hair. Mayumi, no doubt. The smell that I had noticed was especially strong in here, as it had been in the corridor outside. I closed the door behind me. The barred window was thrown open, and the sounds of dogs barking and a woman's voice were drifting in. I stood where I was, waiting for Mayumi to acknowledge my presence.
It was a while before Mayumi heaved a sigh, and stood up, facing me. It would be a lie to say I wasn't startled; the "silkie" was no more a woman than I was. Some of my surprise must have registered on my face, because the boy shook his head, the thick fire-red hair brushing the tops of his violet eyes.
"Yes, 'Mayumi' is male," he said, having the same expression on his face as the girl outside had, "My real name's Paul, not that you'd care. You probably don't give a damn."
He regarded me warily, as if he was expecting me to pounce at him. I did nothing, only let my eyes sweep across the room once more. Paul noticed my gaze stop questioningly on the closet, and he spoke up, obviously obligated to answer any questions I would have as a "customer".
"Those are for some of the…rougher…customers. All the Wongs carry these sorts of 'toys' for personal enjoyment of the patrons."
I returned to looking back at him. Why would this Duval man be associated with this boy, who could hardly be over sixteen, was beyond me. No point trying to hedge and be subtle about why I was here.
"Do you know a man with the name of Duval?" I asked. Paul flashed me a confused look, and sat down on the bed again, obviously deciding that I wasn't going to get right to "business".
He toyed with the end of the loose shirt he was wearing, "Yeah. Man with silver hair, sort of your average middle-aged guy, it would be hard to forget Mr. Duval. He used to come by my room all the time…"
"What did he do here?"
"Nothing. That's the thing," Paul shrugged, "I guess he just wanted someone to talk to. I'd just sit and we'd have a conversation. Here! Of all places!" He shook his head, "Real nice guy, but I don't know *what* he was thinking."
Strange. I'd have thought the man who killed Quatre would have been a heinous beast.
"I'm only here to find out about this man. Tell me everything that he said."
The sixteen year old grunted, and folded long arms over his knees, drawing them up to his chin. He flicked a violet-eyed glance at me, still filled with suspicions.
"He started coming in a few days before the New Year. I have no idea why'd he'd come to a Wong just to talk, but after he found out about *me*, he'd request for 'Mayumi' every time he happened to be in Erich." Paul turned his head, staring sullenly out the barred window, "I was from Earth, y'know. I had an arranged marriage with this girl from an L2 Colony, and I was traveling to space for the first time just to *meet* her. When I stopped at this Colony for the shuttle to be refueled, there was an ambush, and I was taken here and forced to be a little 'silkie' for this trash…that was a year ago." Paul glanced down at his hands glumly, "I don't know what happened to my fiancée, Rebecca. Last I heard from her family, she had gotten a job as some sort of nurse at L2. I guess Mr. Duval somehow heard of it or something. He probably felt sorry."
"How so?" I asked.
"Just by paying the money and coming over and *not* doing anything. It's hell here, every day for the past year. None of us have a say in anything, and every night…" he trailed off, looking down at his wrists, "There's no way to escape once you're indentured to a Wong. I've heard that even the maids here are only able to leave on errands accompanied by one of the bouncers. I haven't been outside for months. Every day I'm practically raped by total strangers. I'm not like some of the girls here who actually *like* this sort of thing. So it's a relief when someone comes in and gives you a few hours of peace, even if they only want you to talk."
"Mr. Duval used to come in around the hours that the customers usually start asking for us. He'd come almost every day; sometimes I'd get the impression that he was hiding out here. He always seemed sort of sad when he was over," Paul gestured at the metal folding chair in the corner with a pale hand, "You might as well sit down; there's a lot he told me."
I did as he suggested, easing myself into the seat silently. I felt no reaction to his story, instead only a vague impatience.
Paul continued, "His full name is Ahrens Feldenheimer, but he'd always sign in as 'Duval'. I think that was his wife's last name – he had a wife, y'know, who'd been killed several years ago…I think it was AC 195, but I'm not really sure. He told me he had been following the murderer since that year, and was finally at a position to avenge his wife – " he stopped, suddenly aware that he was babbling. I motioned for him to continue, "…He said his wife used to work as a technician at some military base on Earth – that's where she was killed. Remember the Gundams?"
I nodded.
"One of them was responsible for her death. Mr. Duval witnessed the building she was in get destroyed," Paul released his bare knees, and stood up, still speaking bitterly, "For all that they did, the Gundams were responsible for more death than OZ was. So many innocent people died at the military bases that the Gundams attacked."
"…Mr. Duval eventually found out who piloted the Gundam. I'm not sure where he went now, but I think I might have an idea. All I know for certain is that he is still definitely in Erich. I'm also pretty sure that Hiroshi probably knows."
"Hiroshi?"
Paul gave a sour smile, "The little mute girl. I know that 'Hiroshi's a boy's Japanese name, but that's how it works here. She's not even Japanese, neither am I – I don't even know if she has a real name," the red-haired boy grunted in disgust, "I'm given a female name simply 'cause I'm male, and vice versa. It's supposed to be humiliating and traditional here. They're all big on tradition these days."
[Don't we all want to latch onto something to steady ourselves in this era?] "What else did Feldenheimer say to you?"
Paul started to reply, but was cut off by a sharp rap on the door. He stood up, glancing at the clock on the wall.
"You'd better go. Someone probably paid more money than you did to see me, so you can't stay any longer. Just come back some other day, and I'll tell you whatever I can," he stood up and ushered me toward the door, as someone on the other side gave an impatient knock, "He's coming, so you can *wait*!" He snarled.
He stopped before the door, and flashed me a tired grin, "Look, thanks for today."
"Why are you thanking me? I didn't do anything."
"You ate up some time for me. It's heaven when I don't have to 'cater' to one person right after another," he pecked a chaste, polite kiss on my cheek, and bowed, "Thanks again."
I gave him a stiff nod, and opened the door. Out in the hallway was the girl known at Hiroshi, accompanied by a short middle-aged woman. Behind me, Paul settled himself into a sitting position on the bed, grimacing. I headed out of the Wong, my thoughts whirling.
For some reason, something about what Ahrens Feldenheimer was doing seemed awfully familiar. I tried to attach a name and a history to this man, but I found I couldn't. It was far easier to picture him without a past and feelings, for it baffled me as to how any one in their right mind would spend several years trailing after Quatre. [It won't matter if he had a reason for killing Quatre] I strolled down the slippery streets, my hands in my pockets. My search so far had turned up more than I had expected; this Feldenheimer had not done much to cover his tracks.
[Perhaps he didn't have a need to cover his tracks?] As it was, I still didn't know where in the city he was hiding out. It was a miracle that he hadn't done what I had done and switched his location…but then again, the Pavilion district would probably be the last searched. He probably thought he could slip away then. [These are all only what-ifs] Nothing other then that. I glanced at my watch. Almost four o'clock. Silly to try to drill the other people here about Feldenheimer when there was a gold mine of information right here.
I'd just have to come back to Yuki-Wong
some time later.
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Erich, Hacienda Inn
I folded my hands behind my head, staring up again. Erich's state should have bothered me, but strangely, I was taking it in a stride. It wasn't that it didn't get through my head, rather more that I ceased to care. I closed my eyes, memories returning unbidden.
\People describe you as tranquil and rational. Sometimes I don't understand how you're able to keep your cool on the battlefield\
\Thank you for putting up with me, Trowa\
\You're thinking about what happened with the ZERO system, aren't you?\
\Well, yes, but…\
\It's best if you don't think about it. You did what you thought was right. And I did what I had to\
\Why aren't you angry at me? I tried to kill you that day!\
…but I *was* angry that day, Quatre. Maybe I had a tighter control than you did then.
\If everyone kept their feelings hidden, what do you think would happen?\
\…I don't know…I never thought about it, Quatre…\
\…You've changed a lot since I first met you…\
For better or for worse?
I tried to imagine Quatre sitting in the same room, failed. I tried to recall his face, but I couldn't summon up a clear image. I blinked slowly, watching the fan slowly rotating in its place on the ceiling. It swirled around and around, traveling yet going nowhere at all, just pushing the stale air in circles. [What was that saying? "You can't picture those you care about"? Something like that…I never thought it was true. Another thing I'm wrong about apparently] Nanashi, who was supposed to think everything out.
I knew I was drifting off into sleep, tried to think of my mission, to no avail. As my awareness started to blur away, the memories started to take shape into images, sometimes concerning Quatre, sometimes not, on the battlefield and in the safe-zone.
\Did you ever think that maybe, just *maybe*, the people that are the most expressive are also the ones that hurt inside the most?\
Never even considered it, Duo.
To be continued...
>>>>>
Whew! I actually typed this chapter in a day (would have been
less, except I was getting kicked off the computer every now and then by
my sister, Wyna [check out her Raven Wings and a Pair of Blood-Red Eyes
FF7 fanfic - it's good. e_e]) And no, Trowa/Nanashi is not going
to be a shounen-ai couple with anyone other than the deceased Quatre (bought
the farm, kicked the bucket, went Upstairs). I noticed I don't really write
cliff-hangers...should I? Any feedback is welcome (feel free to e-mail
it or just put it on the review menu thingie). Well, I'm sidetracking here,
so I'll try to get to the point. The next chapter also starts with a flash
back thingie (a dream though, but I can't think of any good way I can put
it in any other part of the story but the beginning of the chapters). Looks
like Alpha Target's progressing faster than I thought (must be the
reviews. It makes my knee-high ego inflate a little), and I might actually
get a chance to work on the whole Target series (gotta think of a series
name -_- tho). Thanks for reviewing my humble little fanfiction, and enjoy
reading the rest of the writing. I pretty much start putting up chapters
if I get a bunch of reviews, then and only then (but I can't
put a chapter up every time I get a review, I'm too slow of a writer for
that). Sort of like fuel, I guess. Things that slow down the writing process
include school (yick), video games (love 'em, but very distracting), and
my sister, Wyna Hiros (constantly kicking me off the computer so she can
use it - the curse of a twin ~_~).
[10/29/01] Once again, reformating. Also, I've been to three anime cons, so I'm happy. ^.^ I recently cosplayed as Chang Wufei at Ani-Magic 2001: my costume sucked, but it was really fun cosplaying. ;_; I'm trying to get a better costume, but it's hard coming up with a Gundam Wing cosplay group from around the area. -_- Wyna Hiros can't decide between cosplaying as Duo or Kamui's Mother. >_
- Famira Damaris