Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam. I'm too broke paying for school to pay for the boys. sigh

AN: Sorry this is coming out so slow! The plot's worked out but the actual writing is just taking a while…

Walking the Dividing Line

Part 2

I didn't even know what time it was. I wasn't sure how long I had been in here, tied to this bed, but my best guess was that it had been at least a day. There were no windows in this room, save the plastic-covered portal in the door. It was dim in here – the only light came from that window, spilling across the floor and not quite reaching my bed. It was like a permanent state of twilight, without the setting sun.

Heero hadn't come back – no one had come in since Trowa and Heero had left. I'd heard voices outside the door intermittently; usually Trowa and Quatre, but once it had been Duo. His voice had been soft, though, unlike I had ever heard it before. I wasn't sure what to make of it, so I tried to ignore the cold feeling in my stomach that appeared whenever I thought of Duo. It was just easier not to think about it.

"Alison? Are you awake?"

I opened my eyes as Quatre's soft voice broke the silence in the room. I hadn't even heard him come in. Damn. I must be really out of it.

"Hey. I brought you something to eat," he said quietly, stealing a glance at the door. "Please don't tell them. I'm not supposed to do this. But," he said, looking at me with those clear green eyes, the irises reflecting and magnifying the dim light, "I trust you."

He reached over and untied my left hand.

Finally.

I snapped my arm up as he loosened the restraint, striking him in the chin and knocking him backwards. Before he'd picked himself up off the floor I'd already untied my other hand and was working on my feet. I pulled back on the bed as he approached the bed, a terrified look in his eyes.

"… *Alison*?" he whispered fiercely, shock evident in his tone.

I stole a glance at the ventilation duct in the ceiling that I'd been staring at for the past couple of hours. I knew I could open it from in here, but I had to deal with Quatre first. I couldn't have him warning the other pilots right away – I needed time to get out of here.

I flipped off the bed, over his head and landed on my feet behind him. He spun to face, me, his terror etched on his delicate features. He opened his mouth to say something, but before his voice could escape I'd slammed an elbow down on his collarbone. He crumbled to the floor without a sound, unconscious.

I smiled satisfactorily. But –

I blinked. His eyes. His eyes had been so…

I shook my head and flipped onto the bed, standing on the mattress and quickly prying the cover open. I pulled myself up into the duct and yanked the cover up behind me, setting it back in place.

I had to get through the system to the outside. I hadn't studied this duct system at all, but I knew the basic layout of the base and followed my instincts, crawling through the metal ducts as silently as possible, all the time keeping my vision focused before me, my thoughts focused on nothing but getting out of here.

If I stayed, my enemies were going to kill me. It was as simple as that.

I reached the end of the duct and peered through the metal grating. Between the slats I saw black velvet dotted by points of light. The night sky. I'd made it out.

I quickly slid the cover off and slipped out, replacing it behind me without a sound. I stood upright, my feet sinking a bit into the desert sand, and looked up at the sky.

"I'm out," I whispered into the chill night air. I was free – free of my enemies, free of this prison, I had to get back to –

But… these weren't my enemies. These were my *friends* -

I shook my head to clear it, took a deep breath of fresh air. And I began running. I realized that I should have thought to search Quatre for a gun, but a moment later I realized that he, of all the pilots, was the most likely to not carry a gun all the time. The action would most likely not have borne fruit, so I brushed the thought aside as I continued on. There was a town nearby, a settlement full of Winner Family supporters. They knew the pilots, but they didn't know me. I could probably stay the night there before moving on; I didn't dare risk spending more than a day near here, lest the pilots find me out. No, it would be too easy for them to find me here, given any reasonable amount of time.

So I just wouldn't give them that. My side ached and my head was pounding, but I kept going, aware that I had to put as much distance between me and that base as quickly as possible.

I entered the small town and slowed to a walk, sticking to side streets and keeping an eye out for anyone who might want to apprehend me, take me back to the base. I came across no one, however, and finally found a hotel that I could stay in for the night. The pilots had apparently not taken my wallet when they'd bound me – lucky for me. I went up to my room and unlocked the door, scanning the dark room from the doorway, checking for anything out of the ordinary.

It seemed as if my senses were heightened – I scanned the darkness, all the shadows seemingly clear even in the pale light that flooded in from the hall. The room was silent, and nothing moved. Good. Satisfied, I stepped through the doorway and flipped on the lights, closing the door quickly behind me. I crossed the floor and pulled the shade down on the window, effectively sealing myself away from the rest of the world.

I went into the small bathroom adjoining the main room, flipping on the lights. I looked up at the mirror, and was momentarily stopped by what I saw. Slightly matted curly hair fell haphazardly around my face, marred on the left side by a bruise extending from my upper cheek over my eye. My neck was bruised a bit as well, and from the way my shoulder was aching I was sure it wasn't unmarked either. I'd better determine the extent of my injuries, I reasoned, and pulled up my shirt just enough to find that the entire right side of my torso all along my ribcage was also marked by sickening-looking reddish blotches.

So there was probably some internal bleeding. Not too bad, my mind ticked off, considering I could still move. I would just have to avoid physical violence for the next week or so. If that was possible. Although my best chance of that, I reasoned, was to get out of here and avoid all contact with the pilots.

I could do that. I turned on the water, washing my hands and face. I glanced back up at the mirror, caught a flash of my green eyes –

Green eyes. Quatre's eyes, staring at me in the darkness, so wrought with pain and betrayal and confusion that I couldn't stand it –

Trowa's eyes, carefully calculating and calm, telling me to watch my step as he looked at me silently from beneath his bangs.

Dark brown eyes. Wufei's eyes, staring me down with nothing but hatred, gaze flaring at me as he whirled around for another kick –

Blue eyes. Heero's blue eyes, cold as ice – colder than that – staring at me, catching the light and killing me with their intensity alone.

Duo's eyes –

I grabbed the edge of the sink for support. What was going on? What was I doing – what was I doing *here*?

The pilots. The pilots were my enemies, I had to get away, they had done this to me, it was my objective to –

To what? What objective? The pilots were my *friends*, they were my allies, I had been tricked by OZ –

OZ.

But OZ had held me captive, nearly killed Duo and tortured him God knew how while I had been sent back, desperate to find him while Heero –

Heero had tried to kill me. Those who tried to kill me were my enemies. I could've sworn I'd even heard him say something to that effect himself, on numerous occasions.

The pilots had tried to kill me. The pilots were my enemies.

I tore my gaze away from the mirror and opened the drawer beneath the sink. There was a pack of complementary razor blades there – I pulled one out and left the bathroom, yanking out my wallet as I did so. I ripped out any ID cards I found, throwing the wallet down and sitting on the bed, unwrapping the razor blade.

I wasn't her anymore. I scraped the blade over the ID pictures, scratched out the name that appeared beneath them. There was no Alison. She didn't exist anymore, because I didn't know who I was.

I wasn't her, and I wasn't anybody. I wasn't anybody anymore. I was an instrument. That was all.

I tossed the ruined cards down, hearing them flutter to the ground and strike the carpet one at a time. I considered the razor blade a moment, its smooth surface glinting brightly even in the dirty lamplight, its edge good as new even after scratching her face out of existence.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, and fixed my gaze on the locked door.

I missed Duo.