Gundam Wing is property of Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asahi. Sainan no Kekka and all original characters and plot copyright 2000 by Quicksilver and Gerald Tarrant. Please ask permission before reposting.


SHIN KIDOU SENKI GUNDAM WING

SAINAN NO KEKKA
Stille Nacht: Une
[Silent Night], traditional German Carol

Stille Nacht! Heil'ge Nacht!
Lange schon uns bedacht,
Als der Herr vom Grimme befreit
In der Väter urgrauer Zeit
Aller Welt Schonung verhieß!
Silent Night! Holy Night!
Long ago, minding our plight
God the world from misery freed,
In the dark age of our fathers decreed:
All the world redeemed.


I don't like Christmas.

I used to- I used to love the holiday season. When I was little, I always wanted to extend those priceless winter weeks as long as possible. I loved the soft white snow, the way carols seemed to hang in the air for an extra magical moment, the taste of nutmeg in the cookies that my mother would only make once a year. I remember trying to steal the batter, only to have her playfully smack my childish fingers away with a wooden spoon. "Annalore," she would say, "you have to wait."

Those are my precious memories. I have so few of my mother- usually she was working. My father? I never knew my father, though I knew his name. How could I not? He was a wealthy (and extremely married) General in the Federation, one who would not acknowledge my existence. Needless to say, this made me more then a little bitter to the wealthy, the privileged. It's strange now to think that I have risen to become one of the most powerful women in the world. Me, a bastard child whose mother couldn't even given her father's last name.

Still, my illegitimacy never stopped me from doing anything I wanted. If anything, it was a cause for motivation. I was determined that I would show him that I was just as worthwhile as his children born on the right side of the sheets. I had been born in 174 AC- surely that was a year that shouldn't have been contaminated with archaic morals.

Geraldine Karr- my mother- was a rather exceptional woman. Beautiful, confident, intelligent- she had it all. Except breeding, and most people would have been able to accept the gifts they had been born with and made the most of them. She, however, did something incredibly stupid.

She fell in love with a married man.

I was the product of that union; she came away from it with myself, a hefty check and a threat of what would happen to her if she ever came out of the woodwork to haunt him. She accepted it, as she accepted everything life had dealt her. She never really spent time with me, though. That's why those Christmases making cookies together were so special. Sometimes I wonder how she could have borne having a child around who was a constant reminder of her foolishness. I couldn't have- I have a tendency to destroy those things that remind me of the mistakes I make.

I wish, occasionally, that I had her more accepting attitude towards life. It might have made my life easier. But how can you tell? Without my rather assertive personality, I may not have survived. My mother died when I was around twelve. I was shuffled into the state system, and if I was ordinary, I may have been lost there.

But I was not ordinary.

I had, as some would call it, ambition.

What is ambition, exactly? A desire to better yourself? A drive to prove your worth? A need for something, like power, or money, or fame? However you define it exactly, I had it. I wanted many things. Power for myself. Revenge against my father, who had never acknowledged me. Respect from my peers.

And I swore I wouldn't make that same mistake that my mother had- I had her gifts, and there was no way I would let love get in my way. I kept that promise, too- until I met Treize.

But he came later. I worked hard for scholarships, and managed to graduate high school at fourteen. Instead of applying for conventional college, I applied to be admitted to Federation army. I didn't have money for college, anyway, and I figured another route to power would be through the military.

In the back of my mind was the fact that my father was military, and perhaps I could make he recognize that I, Annalore Karr, was better then any of my well-born siblings. None of them seemed to know how to do anything productive. I may have been a bastard, but a was a capable bastard. And perhaps, if I was lucky, I would show him that ignoring me had been a mistake. He would be the first person to learn that turning their back on me was a bad idea, if I had my way.

After three months in basic training, my commanding officer sponsored me into the Specials, and the rest, as they say, is history. I finished my studies early, in two years rather then the usual three, managing to do so by testing out of most of the routine classes, and doubling up on the classes that weren't. I studied long and hard, made no friends, and earned words of praise from my instructors. I may not have been as gifted as Noin and Zechs, but I was no academic failure.

I was young and naive. I didn't realize that grades wouldn't be enough to get me where I want to go. You had to have patronage, the very thing my father had denied me.

I was incredibly frustrated when I was transferred to an out-of-the-way weapons depot as a specialist. A dead-end track, with little hope for promotion. I did everything I could to get transferred to a facility that was larger, to a place where I could make a name for myself, but it simply was not possibly. They were other people as ambitious as I, others as determined, and while not all of them had my intelligence, most of them had backing from politicians of rich family members. Power stays in families for a reason: it is something to be jealously horded, and not shared.

I had no clue what to do. I considered resigning my commission, but that would have been admitting defeat, conceding the battle before it had even really begun. If I had been more astute, I would have made friends among those who had backing, among those who would one day inherit the titles and riches from their parents. I could not become one of them, but I could be the one behind the scenes, pulling the strings.

But I was proud, and I wanted to do it myself. I was pulling my hair, going through my options. None seemed palatable, and I was almost ready to give up. Six months later, Treize came into my life, and he changed everything without a thought.

I met Treize when I was seventeen. He was on tour of the facility, which was housing the prototype of what would eventually become the Taurus line. I was not assigned to work with them; rather, I was working on redesigning a beam cannon. Most of my suggestions were shot down as being financially inefficient, but I believed in the old saying, "You get what you pay for."

I had heard the rumors of Treize's impending arrival, as did all the junior officers, but that meant nothing to me. I assumed he was like all the other well-born brats I dealt with- lacking talent, arrogant, and assured that his birth placed him far and above us mere mortals. I didn't think we would even cross paths, anyway.

Little did I know Treize.

He wasn't content to inspect the carefully prepared facilities. Against the protests of the superior officers, he wandered around, examining anything that caught his fancy.

I had been, as usual, arguing with one of my supervisors over their cost-cutting. "You can't use substandard parts! You need microchips made of titanium alloy!"

Greschler, my supervisor, was fed up with me by that point. "Why waste money on the chips? If we construct a good armor, the chips'll be safe."

I was on the verge of reaching out and strangling him, wishing there was some way I could pound it through his thick head that there was little point in protecting a system that was made of a bunch of junk. It would be worth it in the long run.

"I must agree with the lady," a voice said, deep and amused.

We spun around, and I met Treize Khushrenada for the first time. I think I fell in love with him then. He wasted no time in getting me transferred to his service, ignoring the gossip that resulted. He liked intelligent people.

Treize renamed me, speaking in his native French. Une, meaning one, as I would be his number one confident, the one he would trust to fulfill his dreams. Annalore Karr had been a nobody- Colonel Une would be his right hand. Annalore Karr had been the average- Colonel Une would be anything but.

I became a hard woman for him, a woman people feared. I became "Colonel Bitch", and I was the one who did the dirty work. I was the one who accepted that some things could not be done neatly, so I did them so they didn't lie heavy on his conscience. I killed Darlian. I arranged for the assassination of the top brass, manipulated 01 into doing my killing for me. I was the one who put the bullet in General Septum and threw him out of the plane.

I did it all.

But I did it for him. Would I have done it if t would only benefit myself? That I do not know. But I know one thing: my father was on board the plane that Heero Yuy destroyed. I know I should have felt something- after all, I had been pursuing him -and his downfall-for so long that it was almost anticlimactic.

Wasn't revenge supposed to be satisfying? All I felt was empty.

Treize knew. I'm not sure how, because he never told me.

It was two days after that that Treize summoned me to his office. He was sitting behind his desk, sipping a cup of tea -rosehip, by the scent- with papers scattered in front of him. "Lady?"

"Do you need something, Treize-sama?" I asked.

He shook his head, and I was struck, once again, by how very beautiful he was. Each of his features was the culmination of years of breeding, and I was amazed, as always, that the mind behind it was even more stunning. "No, my lady. But you're entitled to leave, and I think you should take it."

I frowned at him, puzzled. "I have no-"

His bright blue eyes pierced me. "I mean family leave," he said softly.

I blinked, stunned. "I have no family," I said harshly.

"Don't you? My lady, I think some time to reflect would not be amiss."

Usually I would have obeyed him almost instinctively, but this was something too personal for even him to touch. "Reflect on what? The death of a man I never even met? I think not. He was nothing to me."

He had sighed then. "Sometimes, my lady, things aren't so easy."

Treize knew me better then I knew myself. He died on Christmas Eve.

A year ago.

Everyone else is celebrating the holidays, with the anniversary of the end of the war to make the time even more festive, and all I had was memories of my beloved. I insisted that I needed to work tonight, no matter how much Sally and Relena tried to persuade me to take the night off and join in either the Preventers' celebration, or go to the Cinq Ball. I even had an invitation from Quatre Winner to attend his party on L4, but I can't.

Christmas means nothing but pain.

I heard carolers tonight as I walked back towards my office after stopping in deli to pick up a sandwich. They were singing in bright tones of hope and fulfillment, but all I knew was that there was no one waiting for me. Treize was a visionary. The world needed him now, not a burnt-out woman who was forever chasing after a ghost.

Only one song reached me this year. It's a song I've always felt close to. It's probably the most famous German carol, if not the most famous of all carols. Stille Nacht. It's been translated into many languages. I have pleasant memories of it.

The Christmas before he died -the one five months before the Gundams made their descent, marking the true beginning of the war- we were on the trip to Berlin from Paris, taking the rail system. I was rather melancholy, for Germany was the last place I wanted to be for the holidays. It would remind me too much of my mother.

"I thought you would be happy to be home for the holidays, my Lady," he said.

I smiled reluctantly at him. "Too many memories of what should have been," I said softly. I pressed my hand against the window, feeling the chill of winter through my white gloves.

"Don't worry about the should-haves.... worry about the can-be's," he said softly.

"That's even more frightening," I told him. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be in control."

He chuckled slightly, and I turned my attention away from the barren landscape and towards his handsome profile. We both knew I was in love with him, but I did my best not to make it an issue; if I did, I would have been sent away, and that was something I couldn't have stood. I needed Treize, and I understood, finally, how my mother could have been such a fool for love.

"We're never in control, though we do our best to pretend otherwise," he said. "Some of us just happen to be better at it then others."

A laughed caught in my throat. The very idea that Treize wasn't in control of his life was so comedic that I almost abandoned my hard façade and broke out into gales of laughter. Had it just been us two, I might have, but there were other people in the shuttle, and because of them, I maintained my Colonel Une façade.

He picked up my hand and squeezed gently. "Christmas holds memories for all of us, my lady. Not all of them are pleasant." His eyes grew vague and fixed on something I couldn't see, a memory from the past. "Most of the time my family was so busy with the holidays and their political machinations that I didn't notice.

"The one thing I liked about it was Midnight Mass- the entire Khushrenada clan would go together. We went to Notre Dame, of course, but that wasn't what I enjoyed. The last part of the service was. They would turn out all the lights and pass out candles. Then we'd sing a few hymns, different ones each year, except we'd always finish with Silent Night. It was the prettiest thing I can remember."

I smiled at him. There was something I could do for him. I ignored the other passengers, forgot my reputation, and began to sing. "Stille Nacht! Heil'ge Nacht! Alles schläft; einsam wacht…" My voice is pleasant, though not stellar, but that night it seemed sweeter than it ever had before, or since. A Christmas miracle, perhaps. It was my gift to Treize.

To my surprise, Treize joined me on the second verse, picking up the song in French, his own native tongue while I continued in German. "Belle nuit, sante nuit Dans les champs, les bergers ..." It made for an odd, but strangely pleasurable harmony, and my voice gained a depth and strength it had lacked before. By the time the third verse came around, everyone in our cabin joined in, singing in their own tongue.. I can remember at least seven other languages, perhaps more. Some things are universal, and music is one of them. It was so beautiful, and I wish I could have held that moment forever, trapped in amber.

I was the only one who knew all six verses, though.

Did you know that Treize could sing? Most people don't, but he had the most glorious voice- a voice like dark chocolate, enveloping all who heard. It conveyed his passion and pride, his conviction and faith. I miss it so much, especially now. Was it only two years ago that I laughed with Treize as he gave me a rose, warning me that it had thorns?

The world needs a new messiah. I'm not her.

So Merry Christmas. If there's a messiah out there, somewhere, I hope they come forward soon. I'm doing the best I can, but General Une is really just Annalore Karr playing at a game she doesn't understand. The real messiah, Treize, lies scattered among the stars he had always found so entrancing, while I remain behind, wishing that this night wasn't so silent.


Notes:

~Stille Nacht is one of the most popular Christmas songs ever. It's said that over 300 versions exist. Joseph Mohr wrote the original lyrics for the song in German, iStille Nacht, and Franz X. Gruber composed the melody.

~Stille Nacht is one of my favorite carols (aside from Greensleeves and Carol of the Bells). There's many stories about it, and it's assumed legendary status.

Look to: http://silentnight.web.za/ for more information, stories, and many translations.

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