Sorry it's been so long. I finally got FFVII for my PS2 so I've been playing that like crazy, 12 hours a day for a week straight, almost. It is SOOOO much better than the computer version. (Pretty sad, huh?) Well, I've almost beaten the game, so there. Anyway, my TV got taken away from me for a stupid "family" baseball game *tear* so I ended up working on my fic.
I saw the Final Fantasy movie today. If you haven't seen it and are interested, I assure you it's worthy of the Final Fantasy name (though I kinda missed the chocobos). If you've heard different, give them a good mouthing off because that person obviously doesn't understand Final Fantasy. (I'll kick Mr. Movie's &(#*%^! @$$.) It didn't end like all the games do, which was 1. a relief, and 2. a little sad. The song at the end is so great, too. I had to go down to the mall afterwards and buy the soundtrack! The plot's good, though pretty linear, a little reminiscent of FF7 and 8 combined. But it's different in as many ways (I mean, there are only so many things you can change in a save-the-world adventure story). I wish there had been more characters and a few side stories, but you can't make a movie as long as a game. Well made, I thought, though not as moving as Crouching Tiger or Gladiator or something. Much much much much much much better than Tomb Raider. In fact, I have a fic idea for it.
Oh well, enough blabbing.
AC 208: The Search for Truth (Part VIII)
"Losing Faith"
Une stood on her balcony, taking in the fresh late-summer air and sipping an iced tea thoughtfully. She hadn't been needed out on the front lines for some time now, since the Phantom Runners had been bearing the brunt of the force. The numbers brought back by her officers were astoundingly optimistic, though Beliv's new plaything of his, Red (as she had personally deemed the mobile suit), was tearing hell out of the normal troops. The Phantom Runners lost relatively few in their encounters, which probably had something to do with their training with Mariemaia's Fortuna. Damn, she wished she knew from where these gundams kept appearing! Fortuna hadn't been actively detected since they had escaped from Erik's clutches, which lead Une to wonder if perhaps the girl had finally changed her tactics. They were certainly more aggressive than usual, and with no complaint from Earth or the colonies.
Just after Marie's disappearance, the Colony Alliance had made a huge push toward Earth. Some of the tendrils of territory were extending far too close to the planet for comfort. The Phantom Runners were pushing the main lines back, but those little pseudopods of activity and resistance were not only a nuisance but posed a hazard as well. The regular army was doing the best it could, but there were too many of the enemy and too few of the defenders.
Une shivered at a sudden chilly night breeze and drew her robe tighter. Soon it would be back to work. She'd enjoyed the much-needed break, though her house seemed so empty. She hadn't been to it much since Treize had died, opting for a place that wouldn't hold so many remembrances of him, a place not so large and that didn't echo with his voice and reflect his face in every mirror. His presence here now felt comforting, though, and she'd no sooner leave the arms of his phantom in this house than wipe her memory of him. Treize was the kind of person you just couldn't forget, and now it felt as if he was near, drawing away her pain as he had done so selflessly before.
She lived on the border to the Sanc Kingdom. Exactly halfway between her home and the border, under a grove of shade trees rested two empty graves. One had long ago been dismembered, destroyed when she'd learned that the person it was meant for was not dead. The other should have held the body of her beloved, but as it had been incinerated in the explosion that was not possible. She put fresh roses by the headstone every day when she was here, and in the twilight under the full moon she could dimly see the white stone.
With a crunch, she chewed on a small ice cube that had slipped in with the last gulp and set the glass down on the rail. There were lights in the distance in the direction of the Peacecraft castle. What a fool and an idealist Wind was, to tempt fate like that. She knew the end to the nation wasn't far, but shelters to the wrongfully persecuted always tended to spring up when they were needed and die violent deaths once their usefulness had worn thin. She hoped that unlike his father, he'd survive that destruction.
Distracted by a sudden revelation, she turned and knocked her empty glass. Two ideas clicked together like missing pieces of a puzzle: She thought of the "Phantom Runners" in context with her earlier phrasing of his presence in her house. The glass, unnoticed, shattered on the pavement twenty feet below.
As the Lady remembered words spoken in sleep about unfinished business, the shards sparkled in the filtered moonlight in a beauty that its original shape had not had.
"Treize, what didn't you tell me?" she whispered.
~~@[~*,~]@~~
Relena walked into the downstairs den to find her husband with his head in his arms, weeping. Alarmed, she ran to his side and draped an arm around him gently when he fell gratefully against her hip. Heero had been working night and day for months now to try and heal their daughter's broken memories, with no success whatsoever. Akiko just hadn't been the same since she'd been home. She was moody and often thin-skinned, and sought no comfort unless one or the other parent literally forced it on her.
Relena looked up to see a fresh message on his computer screen. She leaned forward as much as she could without disturbing her weeping husband, raising no objection. It was a message from the Tokyo laboratory, no doubt. Akiko and Heero had both been less than enthusiastic about tests— mostly blood drawings and injections— but being only a child, the girl did not understand the necessity or relevance of it. Her intellect had not been injured (perhaps even improved upon), but her personality was so radically different. On the other side, Heero feared needles just as much but was just as clearly ready to make that sacrifice for his beloved daughter. Slowly, Akiko gained courage and reason, and the bond between father and daughter that Heero had been so happy to boast about began to reclaim itself.
The message from Vincent was clear: no current therapy was capable of rebuilding the shattered neurons that had connected bits of information into memories. There was no way for father and child to remember anything other than what was recalled naturally, although their memory forming was in no way damaged. Relena felt her stomach clench.
"What's going on?" Akiko's face, ringed by a slightly boyish crop of dark straight hair (so like her fathers) peered around the door, half-curious and half-indifferent. She was still thin, painfully so in the eyes of concerned parents, though her father wasn't much better. The only difference is that he chose to ignore his problems until he was forced to acknowledge them.
Heero looked up, his expression heartbreakingly tragic, and held out his arms. "Come here, sweetheart." When she looked uneasy, he added, "please . . ."
Reluctantly but obviously a little stricken by Heero's pain— a pain that Akiko no doubt felt deeper than her mother could understand— she approached and allowed her father to embrace her. Silently, they communicated and she sniffled a little before bursting into a fit like Heero had suffered. Relena held them both, offering what comfort she could. She couldn't help but feel a little jealous of what they shared, being able to speak in a form sophisticated beyond words. She also knew, though, that having someone capable of understanding the deep anguish that even true love couldn't repair had been Heero's pride and joy. As long as he didn't take all the credit for their daughter, Relena supposed she could live with that.
"It's not unfixable," the girl muttered against her father's chest, trying to be brave. That was a little more like the Akiko they'd all known. "We just have to keep trying, even if we're scared."
Heero's tired face broke out in a genuine grin, and Relena felt more startled than she would have expected to. It had been so long since she'd seen that smile, one he reserved only for his family. "That is very true, aijou. Thank you for having faith."
Akiko reached clumsily for her mother's hand. "I don't know much," she murmured sleepily, tears dry, "but I know that I love you, even if I don't always seem to. I'm sorry I'm so different, and I wish I could just remember—"
Relena squeezed the questing hand in affirmation. "And we love you too, whoever you are. Don't you ever forget that."
Heero sighed and leaned his head against his wife's hip. Their worries were still there, hovering in the distance, but right here all the troubles of the world seemed so infinitely far away.
~~@[~*,~]@~~
Phailin awakened sometime around noon local time and arose with more than a slight backache. "Oh, of all earthy things," she muttered to herself, wondering if she'd slept wrong or something.
"All right, Phailin?" Jen asked. "Oh, your back . . .?" The young woman came up from behind and jabbed her fingers in a few select spots.
Phailin wilted with relief. It was Chang custom, she concluded. How else could Jen and Wufei both do the same thing practically on reflex? "How did you learn to do that?" she asked curiously, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"It's clan tradition. We learn it from our parents; acupressure, herbal remedies of all kinds . . ." she trailed off looking thoughtful. "I think that's one of the things we retained from our Chinese cultural history that the rest of the nation didn't. But, old ways are old ways and old ways can't really survive all that well in large numbers. The majority takes up the large percentage, if that makes sense."
"And keeping the old ways to your clan meant keeping all of them," Phailin concluded. It was finally making sense. Sacrifice yourself for victory even if you had a lot to live for . . .
Chatalerm came in from outside, his face covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He'd been training or working or something, she guessed. "Phailin, the village has sent you some issues on which your advice is needed."
"I'll see to them promptly," she told him, raising an eyebrow in question. They'd concluded that the best way for Phailin to stay involved in her leadership was for the clan to send her things through her computer. That way, it might appear as if she was not close enough to handle them in person. She got the sense that this was a little urgent. She gave the couple a quick nod and hurried back to her bedroom.
It was only one thing; one very urgent thing. It read: "Lady, there has been much activity out in the forest to our west. Normally we would not be opposed to hunters, as there is plentiful game and we have no endangered species in this area, but by law no foreigner can possess a hunting license. We have not contacted them yet, but there seem to be a significant number of them in several groups. I would advise we take action quickly, or who knows what damage our forest will take."
Phailin swore silently. They were close, foreigners, and there were a lot of them. The note sounded innocent, but she knew better. They'd found the bounty hunters.
Keep watch, but don't provoke them to do anything. In all likelihood they will not bother you [well if that wasn't bullshit . . .] if you pretend not to notice. They're most likely merely joyriding. If they do become too intrusive, you can ask them to leave. It is our land legally, remember. Don't try and fight unless you have to defend yourselves. If you really feel it necessary you can call in my palace guards to enforce the law— I'll see to it that they know you have my permission. That should sound fairly uninvolved and distant, she thought, without losing too much in the way of purpose.
Something fell with a loud crash on the opposite side of the room. Phailin whirled in her chair, throwing knives sliding out of their hidden wrist sheathes. It was only her mother's cat, which had knocked over her picture frame. Phailin picked it up and yelped as the shattered glass cut one of her fingers. It was the photograph of her wedding, which she kept at her bedside whenever she felt lonely.
Chatalerm burst into the room, carrying his daggers. "You all right?" he asked, then noticed her standing there.
"I'm fine. It was just the cat," she explained, motioning to the glass on the floor and the frame in her hand. "A false alarm."
She looked back down at the picture again, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut. Wufei had been gone months, and still no word from him. She hoped with all her heart that this wasn't an omen.
~~@[~*,~]@~~
Fortuna sat in weary silence, trying desperately not to break. The months wore onward with so many reminders of the others. The ghost of Epyon haunted her conscience, though it really hadn't been her fault. She had been in charge. Inimicus . . . her sister . . . she'd always been cold, calculating and selfish. She should never have been allowed out, but everyone had thought that maybe she'd mature after seeing the horrors of war. No, don't trust Fortuna who knew her best . . . the one who had been in charge.
Nulles was a completely different story. They had been nothing but acquaintances even through all their similarities until she had thought it useful to have him with the team. He was powerful in a way that was graceful and elegant, intelligent in a way that was alluring. They had quickly become infatuated with each other . . . until the war erupted upon them, unprepared. Something happened to him out there that she couldn't explain or understand.
And then he died. His body had been destroyed, but his mind had been there. She lost him for good. She'd lost any chance of redeeming him. What Laiva had said, that there was a time for grieving to end, could hardly be believed. Every time she struck at a soldier she felt the grieving become deeper.
Mariemaia scanned through news channels in her cockpit, pretending to be unaware of Fortuna's suffering, but when the frustrated outcry was evident, she raised her eyes from the monitor. "You're not the only one who has a lover dead, you know," she said, face blank. "We've got a job to do now, and we can't let that interfere. I've got a feeling you'll see him again, you know."
Oh, she would. She would if it was the last thing she ever did. She wasn't going to lose him again.
"All we know is that these extraterrestrials haven't yet been sighted on a battlefield," the newscaster said, fighting to control a grin. "They haven't been seen since the colony where they returned the pilots' children. Some photographs of the mysterious gundam, which Heero Yuy reportedly called Fortuna, have been released today— We'll display those. I tell you what, Linda, I've never seen anything quite so intimidating."
"I'd almost call it a she, as it was obviously built to look female," the other replied with a good-natured laugh. "And her pilot's none other than Mariemaia Khushrenada. The end to this war seems closer already!"
Why does everyone have so much faith in me? Marie wondered. I don't necessarily feel that way. I've lost everything that used to make me feel human.
"But if you had, you wouldn't feel this despair," said a distressingly familiar voice.
Marie's head snapped up, but though she tried she couldn't give him the poisonous glare she wanted to. "Yeah, and I guess you would know, wouldn't you?" she bit off sarcastically. She couldn't shove him away, dammit. "I thought you'd finally left me alone!"
He refused to look at her, those ice-blue eyes of his focused somewhere else. "What am I supposed to say to that?" he asked quietly, his voice strangely choked. "I've been denied so many things for so long. You've no idea. Marie . . ."
Her name from those ghostly lips sent a chill down her spine. It sounded so sorrowful, and— no, he was just acting, always acting!
"I've had what seems like eternities to reflect, to ponder, to access myself. There is only one thing I regret out of all of it. One thing . . . and I want to tell you before you make the mistake that I don't want to see you make. I was such a coward then, just as I'm a coward now. I don't have the courage to say what I need to say because I'm afraid that it will hurt you. Oh god, Marie. You've no idea. You've no idea . . ."
His voice broke off, and she had to look away lest she betray wrongful feelings of pity. This was so wrong, so wrong that it could almost be explained. If only . . .
Unable to testify more, he vanished just as suddenly as he had come.
::Treize,:: said Fortuna quietly. ::A man I have always known full of courage wilts at the hands of parental confession. He wasn't ready . . . but I suppose no one really is.::
"Just shut up," Marie told her, clutching one of her armrests tightly. Her nails dug into the squishy fabric, like flesh . . . "How would you know about being a parent, anyway?"
::I would like to have a family one day,:: she replied softly.
Marie shook her head. "This is so wrong! What the hell happened to my life to end up this way?" She turned sideways and reclined in the seat, which conformed to the new position instantly to make her comfortable, hugging her knees and trying desperately not to let Fortuna see her confused, upset tears though the gundam no doubt felt them mentally.
The cushion drew her in a little deeper, the warmth enveloping her body in Fortuna's own kind of comfort. ::You were born, love, that's what happened. It's what happens to all of us.::
~~@[~*,~]@~~
Vincent stared at the computer screen. He was in Tokyo now, helping Heero with their memory troubles. He'd been probably the best choice, too. He had been wondering about his own missing connections. Heero had mentioned once that a lot of children were kidnapped during the war and after, but he wasn't that old! Something strange was going on, and it isn't nice to keep secrets from people.
He'd been working himself to the bone lately, feeling no desire to eat or sleep or bathe or anything else. He stared at the screen blankly, not really seeing so much as sensing. And now he couldn't decide what had been real— or who might have been involved. Beliv had acquired the same information as Dr. J, so who else could have gotten it?
"Whoa, step back a minute," he said suddenly, shaking his head. We have Beliv's ship's codes. Being a computer expert had the advantage of knowing how to hack. Vincent had always been a good little boy and obeyed the law, but there was nothing illegal about hacking into the enemy's computers. He quickly wrote himself up a fake ID and connected to his ships using a satellite system Une had given him permission to use so he couldn't be traced. He had just recently been able to apply the codes, and now felt excited to use them.
He hissed excitedly when he got in, and entered the browser. He was using a tech's code right now, but he could just as easily use one of the scientists— as long as they weren't already logged in. He checked and found one that wasn't being used and whose user was not so obviously in no position to be on. There they were before him . . . every record that the ship had kept on the children.
"Neon," he muttered. "Xenon . . . I should have known! Basic chemistry! Damn!" Of course they would have used non-interfering gasses to break the neuronic connections. It was so simple he just hadn't thought about it. Put a few atoms where you want the connection to be erased. Let it warm to body temperature and the gas would expand the tissue and prevent the electricity conduction necessary from going through. No living tissue was damaged, but the effects were extremely hard to undo. He'd have to either lower the core temperature of their heads for an extended period of time (which would kill them) or he'd have to come up with some way to flush the noble gas atoms out of there. There were only a few compounds that contained Neon and Xenon, and to his knowledge they were extremely toxic to living tissue. Although Tovah might know different . . .
He logged out of Beliv's system and sent a signal to Tovah's computer. The Specials pilot had been through some special training and was qualified to work in any world-government lab. His face blinked onto the screen. "I'm here."
"Hey man, how've you been?" He was his oldest friend . . . he had to help.
"Busy," was the reply. "You?"
"I'm working on a special project for Mr. Yuy and Ms. Darlian, down here in Tokyo."
"Jesus, it must be four in the morning there! You need to get some rest. What the hell are you doing calling me?"
"I need some information," Vincent told him. "You think you can help?"
"If I can," Tovah said, glancing down. "Can you make it quick? I've got a report to file."
"I need to know if there are any noble gas-bondable compounds that aren't toxic or radioactive. And if so, how can I get it?"
The Hispanic's eyes widened considerably. "That information's government-classified, man! I can't tell you that!"
Vincent's fist clenched. "Come on, man? I'm your best friend, right? I need it for Akiko and Heero and—" he broke off, holding his voice down. "My sanity's at stake here."
The look on his friend's face told him more than he would have ever heard. He begged one more sentence and Tovah broke. "All right," he hissed. "You can cry on my shoulder next time I see you. But I never told you, you never called, got it?"
"Perfectly understood." Vincent grabbed a piece of paper and something to write with.
"There's one we found just a couple of months ago that's a carbon-hydrogen-oxygen-sodium compound that's fairly good at attracting noble gasses. It works best with helium, but it'll work down through Xenon. We named it Leighdrium, and it's not poisonous and not radioactive more than what's about natural. It's real expensive to acquire— and I don't care if you have the money I can't give it to you. You can make it in a lab, but you need extremely pure ingredients, a vacuum, specific extreme temperatures, and a good atomic microscope to make sure the molecules formed correctly. It should look like a four-layered ring with one extension into the center and above it, so it's not totally flat. It smells kind of like lemon or lime, and has a very, very faint blue color. I can't really tell you much more, just be careful." Tovah gave him some specific temperatures and quantities, and almost forgot to hang up before he jumped up to file his report, which was about to be late.
~~@[~*,~]@~~
::Are you there?::
::I am always here.::
::You weren't.::
::Times such as that are past us now. I was not and now I am. What more is there?::
::I have been wondering that myself. I wonder . . . are you really existing when you deny the very essence of what it is to live?::
::I don't understand the relevance of the question.::
::Relevance is not a factor right now. Don't avoid posing answers. Give me a reason, please.::
::Reasons can have many hidden obligations. That is the reason.::
::I don't understand. You're turning your words in on themselves. I'm lost.::
::Exactly.::
::What?::
::You won't understand until you can see why I mean what I mean.::
::You're insane. God, why do you hurt me so?::
::You plea to someone who isn't there.::
::So do many people. For most, just believing in something can help them cope. Hope is powerful. I guess I don't see why you ever lost it. Everything is so beautiful here . . . even if tinged with sadness. Why destroy that hope? You were always so happy with me, and now it's as if you can't stand me.::
::That is the way things change. It's irreversible.::
::Why? Why can't the universe just work how it should? Why does harmony and peace have to be so hard? I miss the peace I felt around you. I miss the assurance and protection we gave each other, the confidence that things would be fine. We will win this war of subversal forces. Please tell me we can . . . work again. Why is everything so damn messed up?::
::You know why.::
::I don't.::
::Then ask again.::
::I'll ask what you want me to ask, though I know I won't get answers. That I still try frankly amazes me. What happened with him? It seems like you're complete opposites now. I miss who you were. I miss the times we shared.::
::Life is unfortunate that way. One day we are happy, then something happens, be it a twist of destiny, and we can never recover. You know well what I mean to say by that.::
::Destiny cannot be twisted or manipulated. It is set, and I don't see why you can't understand that. Life cannot feel good to me unless I know I can still see you in the distance. You're getting so far away, and I can't bear these disasters so utterly alone! Lifebonds cannot be undone, and I know you feel it the same as I. What we held is nothing short of incredible, and I still feel it within us. I know you are burying it. Why?::
::Because I must. Please, let me rest in peace. Let me be free.::
::You will never be free, and you know it. We were meant for each other. We are the first . . . there is only one true way for others to follow. You know that.::
::But what is attraction without ground? I cannot just surrender to the night. I cannot surrender to emotion, so I cannot surrender to the fates.::
::I am fate.::
::Or so you claim.::
::Fate does not claim. She knows.::
::I—::
::And I'm not asking you to surrender. I'm asking you . . . to have faith that the world will still be here tomorrow, that it's really here now. I want you to understand that what we perceive must be real, always. Dreams are real when they are dreamt; Reality feels so like a dream that it must be. It is one concept, different realities. We can't know what is truly real— maybe there is no "real"— so we must blindly put our feet where we've been told. We must listen . . . and must trust. I cannot get along without trust, and I know you only feel comfortable because you still trust me and my blind faith that the universe is real. Why do you deny that cannot be changed? You asked me that yourself once.::
::I cannot answer.::
::You're afraid.::
::I don't feel fear. Nor do I feel anything for you or any other!::
::You're lying.::
::I cannot allow myself. It's too risky. I could do something stupid and get myself hurt.::
::That doesn't mean it's not there. You cannot deny emotion so completely. You would cease to exist. That's how our home was demolished. I have a hard time fathoming that you'd have forgotten that.::
::Painful memories mean nothing to me.::
::But if you don't give, to put it eloquently, a rat's ass, why do you not want to die? The only thing that can spawn that kind of desire is fear of leaving something behind . . . or perhaps before you. You're a mass of complexes and conflicts.::
::And you spout philosophy too much. Too little saving this universe has let your mind range too freely.::
::And your freedom has done worse than that.::
::Leave me alone.::
::I refuse. I'm going to tell you this whether you like it or not. You can't escape, and I know if you aren't listening, so listen well: When I lost your body, I wanted to lose mine. I didn't have a reason to live when I lost you. But when I lost your mind . . . that was worse. I could feel it so close, yet I could not touch it. Now I am here, and I am begging. Please understand that you are not forgotten or lost!::
::I understand more than you are willing to admit.::
-------
Heero listened to the conversation, staring out into the night. It sounds so familiar, so like the discussions Relena and I used to have.
Soon, they gave up the bickering and Nulles returned to himself, feeling more than a little riled up, Heero detected. "Come on, admit it," he told the gundam, giving him a little mental nudge in the ribs.
::What?:: was the exasperated reply.
"You still love her."
::Of course I do. That is what makes this position so difficult. You of all people should understand.::
"I might have used to claim to," he admitted. "But you'll find out that station is very difficult to maintain for long. All beings surrender to emotion eventually. It's only natural."
::Then why is it so complicated, and why do I resist?::
Heero gave that some thought. Akiko's face sprung into his mind, and he knew. "Because none of us really want to grow up, and it's all part of the process, friend."
~~@[~*,~]@~~
Over the gently rolling hills, the sun was setting on the Sanc Kingdom. Milliardo stood at his bedroom window, hands clasped behind his back. A bird chirped merrily in the dead tree outside, the only sign of life at this twilight hour. "I think the day is almost over," he told his wife.
Noin touched his shoulder in sympathy. Milliardo had been distant recently, grieving his dying nation. It was no surprise, no shock, nothing she wouldn't have expected. The sentence "It's almost over," must have taken a lot out of him, because he swayed a little under the weight of her hand. "I know," she told him gently. "And it was a good day. All days must end, and there will be others. We might not see them, but that's the way the world is. This is a beautiful place, my love, but most beautiful things have a limited life span. You know trying to prolong it will only make it harder for a new sun to rise the next time."
He turned from the window and looked at her, putting one warm, slightly rough palm against her cheek almost delicately. Noin leaned into it, breathing in a bit of his scent, relishing the touch she felt so little of these days. He'd been so busy . . . she hated to say it but she'd be happy when it was over with. They could get on, settle down, and raise their family in peace, not under fire as they were in the Peacecraft Kingdom.
"I want you to set up some place you can run to if we go out violently," he told her, the serious concern in his voice drawing her back into the real world. "I'm worried that you might not escape safely, and I don't know what I'd do without you."
And to lose your unborn child would be more painful than you are willing to admit. Say it. She smiled faintly to reassure him. "Quatre has already helped me set a place up in a natural shelter a few miles from here. It's deep underground so it should provide plenty of defenses. I've had a team of our most trusted people securing it, staffing it and preparing it for anything that might happen. You haven't even noticed, have you?"
"No," he told her, digging his fingertips into the muscles of her neck to help relieve her tension. "I didn't realize you still had enough energy to do that. You've been in bed an awful lot."
"Quatre's been invaluable," she admitted. "He's absolutely exhausted, but when he's got a job he likes he'll dedicate himself to it until death. I hope he's not ruining his health, poor man. That would be terrible to suffer from the rest of his life. He's almost a decade younger than us."
"He's gone through a lot," Milliardo replied. "I don't really think I've thanked him yet, either. He deserves a lot of it. He's been relaying all kinds of messages for all of us pilots. He says Heero's finally got some optimistic news on their little memory-wipe thing, he told me."
"That's fortunate. I've been a little sad about that since I heard. Heero, Relena, they've been through so much as of late."
Something occurred to Milliardo and he stopped her. "Who have you got staffed at the shelter? I haven't noticed anyone I trust missing, and I've been working with most of them pretty regularly."
"The Maganacs," she told him, trying to hide a grin at his wide-eyed expression.
"I wasn't even aware they were here!" he said. "How long have they been here?"
"Just since Quatre called them and asked if they'd help us with the bunker."
"Have they brought their mobile suits? We might need fighters."
"Mobile suits and all," she assured him. " They've been pestering to help us ever since they'd heard of the attempted assassination. They're such selfless men. You can't help but trust them."
"Very true," he said. "It's handy, having them around. That name sends shivers down any fighter's back. That was a good choice. I'm going to have to remember to thank them too before they leave."
"Maybe you should start keeping a list," she teased.
~~@[~*,~]@~~
It was dark and gray that day, raining. It was windy.
Chicago's always windy.
She had just gotten off the train, but she didn't have a map and more importantly she didn't have a destination. Hefting a travel bag full of money, she wandered around downtown just trying to run away.
"You look lost," someone said behind her, and she turned. He was dressed all in black, sitting on the steps of an old church, his long braided hair soaked, but he seemed to not mind in the slightest. He gave her a gentile, kind smile.
"I really don't have anywhere to go," she replied, noting the preacher outfit. If he was looking to convert . . .
"Why don't you come inside?" he asked, holding out his hand. "It's warm and dry and there's soup on the stove."
"No thanks. I don't think I should accept charity from an organization that I think is horribly deceived into believing in God." She turned.
He was too quick for her, though. Lightly, he leapt from his perch to bar her way. "I'll tell you a secret," he whispered, leaning close. His breath smelled slightly of peppermint. "These clothes . . . I only wear them so they think I still believe. I just like the building and the people. I'll tell you what, why don't you come in for a while, and maybe you'll let me offer you a nice place to sleep tonight."
The temptation of shelter was too much of a cross to bear, and she accepted.
She didn't know that the church didn't have beds, though!
Hey, his guestroom was good enough, right? It wasn't like he forced her to share a bed!
"And look at us now," Sophie murmured, her soft voice filled with contentment. She cuddled their son, over a year and a half old now, and watched him sleep.
"I didn't realize I'd fall for you," Duo replied just as quietly, putting his arms around them both. Before he realized it, his eyelids were drooping and they all were off into a blissful dreaming sleep.
~~@[~*,~]@~~
It had been a week since the revelation, since the inspiration, since the information. Vincent tore off his vacuum mask and held the vial of the incredibly precious solution in front of his face. He hadn't slept at all . . .but he didn't really want to. This was it. Leighdrium, the most precious substance he'd ever known. It was heavy, but undiluted. Tovah had warned him not to take too large a dose, but just a small amount should have been enough.
He looked at his arm, studying the artificial limb that gripped the tube so delicately, treating it like the precious thing it was. It was a work of art . . . he'd saved up ungodly amounts of money to purchase it and it had come in very useful. But now that I think about it, how did I lose my arm in the first place? I've always made up stories, but maybe I won't have to anymore. Who were my parents? Who raised me, and to what purpose? Who am I?
He stared at the glass vial, filled with a few milliliters of a clear, thick liquid. There was no guarantee this compound would work, or that it wouldn't poison him. Though, to tell the truth, it wasn't like he had that much to live for anyway. With the green and red lights of the control panel flashing against his olive skin, he swallowed it.
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If I could ask a really big favor, guys? If you're not feeling too fic'd-out, could you read the prologue to my story "Tears of Magic (Ruby Red)?" It's an Anime/original (under the category Anime/Anime) and I think I'm going to make it my next big project if I can get enough readers. If you've read the manga series "Inu-Yasha" you might really like it. I'm drawing my own manga for it (too bad I can't post graphics) so the chapters will be shorter then they are in this fic. *Makes puppy eyes* Please?
Yikes, what is Vincent doing to himself? You're going to have to read the next chapter to find out if it works. I'll be off at Camp next Sunday for 8 days so I won't have any computer at all. Maybe I'll get the next chapter out before I go, but I doubt it. So what's Beliv got to say about the Sanc Kingdom? Does Quatre really think their lives are in so much danger to need the Manganacs around? All this and more in the next chapter of AC 208: The Search for Truth: (Part IX): "The Death of Optimism."