Wanders: Il Caduto Dimenticato
By Eve
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Gundam Wing. It's depressing
enough to say that phrase. ::sniff:: I want my Hee-chan!
SHORT AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the chapter where a lot
of things are going to pick up. I realized back with Ascension
I mentioned some people that confused a lot of you. Their
initial purpose shall be revealed within the next chapters and
I'll give you a heads up, this book is going to be long.
I mean long... I sincerely hoped though that things will be cleared up
as the story picks up. I also want to let you know that again,
like I have been saying, it's going to get darker. I will start to
dive into the minds of each character and pull out their deepest
fears. So I'll stop talking now and hope for the best. Thanks!
**
Part Three: The Good, The Bad, & the Just Plain Ugly
**
The rivers of life will stain with blood, when
warriors are resurrected from the past.
**
Dear Trowa,
By the time you get this, I'll be gone. It's been years since
I've actually come back to that place in my mind where all
my memories of the past are stored. I fear it, yeas, but only
because of its power. Those memories are the key to my
soul, to my very being. Obviously I haven't been completely
honest with you, but then again neither of us have been with
each other. But I do feel that I should let you know...
There was a time in the world, where people only cared about
survival. You could lie, cheat, and kill, as long as you secured
your place in the changing times. People were afraid that they
would be lost in the pages in history. The changing times were
a symbol of anxiety. And so to make the story simpler, people
began to go crazy and destroy anything and everything that was
a symbol of the past. It all started with the Peacecraft Regime.
Relena's grandfather was a wise ruler, keeping everyone happy
and within in the limits. He was very wise and got the job done.
But his son would have none of that. Despite what you've heard
Relena's father was a radical and defiance was the only thing he
carried in his blood. He married outside his class; a move
considered offensive to most at that time.
Margaret was beautiful and the Irish queen would have been a
valuable asset to him if he hadn't killed her off as soon as she
gave birth to their second child. And again, to make a long story
short, the ever-famous Peacecraft dynasty fell by the hands of the
Alliance. I don't know all the details, that's something that I've
stayed clear around Relena.
But anyhow, the Alliance not the one that you are familiar with was
still not out of the clear. Because of the battle between the Peacecrafts
and its members, a lot of holes were left. One of the reasons why Oz
got as far as it did was because its skillful use of what was left untaken
care of by the previous two.
The name still gives me chills, even when I think about it. Not only
that, it's the one name that will only extract emotions such as grief
and anger from anyone. It's the one name that will be forever engraved
in the minds of people... the Society.
It was a strange concept at first. People would ask what their purpose
was and there would be no direct response to the any of those questions.
And on their part it was a great strategy, developing interest and then
waiting for that exact moment to snatch everyone in sight. It worked
because I wouldn't be sitting here writing this letter to you at all.
The Blood War was a war of many things. People died with no mercy
while others were left with nothing. Nothing to believe in and nothing
to hold on to... We were all lost souls, wanders left to fend of this
darkness that lurked within the hearts of these men who literally called
themselves 'the saviors of mankind'. It's funny because all they did was
plunge us into eternal damnation.
I'm a bitter and tired person, Trowa. Four concentration camps does
that to one person. I have the package. There's the psychological
drawbacks and the 'I don't want to live' phase, I went through it all.
I am marked for life. The little number on my right wrist will forever
be the indication that I was one of them, an Untouchable. I am a
wander, a lost soul.
Trowa, I wish I could tell you everything because there is just
so much. Unfortunately, I am restricted to tell this much as little
as it seems. I just wanted to tell you what I could since you
trusted in me with a secret that could have killed you. This is the
way I could only repay you by... I hope.
Live, dear Trowa. It is the best you can do for anyone. Live life and
keep its lessons close to you. That is the most important thing you
can do for anyone.
Love Always and Forever,
Cathy
**
Her hands shook as she placed the letter on the table in front of her. She
had been searching for scissors in the small apartment she and Trowa
shared. Searching through an obscure drawer, she pulled out the small
envelope. It was unmarked and opened, so naturally her curiosity got
the best of her.
The letter was very moving and she did not mean it in a corny way. It
was filled was so much pain and longing, she almost felt strangled by it.
Who was Cathy? She had never even heard the name uttered from
Trowa's mouth, but then again neither her nor Trowa talked about
what happened in that time period. Let past be past, he had said to
her while their lips touched in a long needed kiss.
The letter still bothered her.
Who was Cathy?
**
He knew she had changed when the doctor had escorted
him down the hallway.
The air itself screamed negative energy as the turned darkened
corner after the other. It was almost like the experience he had
with the Zero. This whole experience was going to be something
none of them are prepared for. He sighed and slowly reached his
hand out to knock on the door before him. It had been what,
twenty minutes since he'd been standing outside the door?
He sighed again and knocked softly.
"It's open," came the muffled reply from the other side.
He pushed the door open slowly with one hand and was greeted
by darkness. A windowless room, he thought. What was she
doing in a windowless room?
"Dr. Peterson said I could find you here."
There was no response. He moved closer, hoping to instigate some
form of contact. He felt uneasy in this atmosphere. It was something
in the room that was worse than what he had felt from the beginning
on.
"Miss Dorothy?"
A flicker of light caused him to jump back and he found himself staring
into a pair of emerald green eyes. His mind screamed for him to move,
but his body responded otherwise. It wasn't going anywhere.
"It's Dee."
Her voice was low and soft, reminding him of the jazz singers that used
to sing for his father at the Winner Corporation parties. She stood against
the wall, arms crossed in front of her chest with her right hand holding a
lighter close to her face. She was dressed in all black, her jeans resting just
under her navel and her tank top glazing just above. Her hair was pulled
back out of her face into a braid, with a few tendrils framing her face.
"You're staring."
His eyes widened as he snapped out of his trance, letting the accusation
settle in. She was staring at him, eyes almost daring him to answer.
"Alright," he began softly, unsure on how he should approach the
situation. "Miss Dorothy, I just wanted to know what we are assigned
to do."
A hint of a smile graced her features. "Always in Paris, mon cher [1].
Always in Paris."
"And may I ask what our purpose is?"
"But of course, of course. There is always that certain aspect of
curiosity that lies within the psyche of the human mind. Quite
right, I do believe. It's quite an interesting concept. Don't you
agree?"
He watched her, enchanted by her ramblings. She seemed to know
that she was having this effecting on him because he could see it in
her eyes. She was toying with him deliberately.
"I don't understand."
She smiled again and blew out the small flame that was provided by the
lighter. Darkness enveloped him in its arms.
"You're not supposed to understand," came the quiet and dark
response. "None of you are supposed to understand. Facts of
life or something rather, it's how it goes."
He drew in a shaky breath. "What do you mean we're not supposed
to understand? This thing concerns every-"
He had barely enough time to breath as he found himself pinned to
the wall and what he made out to be Dorothy's arm right under his
neck. Her warm breath teased him, dancing across the skin close to
his ear.
"This isn't like anything that you've been through. Mon cher, this is
completely different from any experience that you went through
with the Eve Wars and the Barton Fraction Incident. I lived through
those and I have lived through this countless of times in my dreams
and waking hours. We were expecting this to happen, don't you see?
These stupid and foolish battles over the years and those attempts to
maintain an unattainable peace left holes for this to happen."
A growl escaped his lip. "I have to remind you that you and Miss
Relena took part in that pacifist movement."
She tightened her grip. He could see the faint glow of her eyes even
in the dark. "Relena and I did what we had to do. You don't even
know half of it, Monsieur [2] Winner. This is not what you think it
is."
"Who are you," he whispered. "You're not the Dorothy I knew..."
She laughed softly, bringing her hand up to caress his cheek. "You're
a piece of work, you know?" She dropped her arm that was under his
neck and he soon found himself face again with the silver lighter, flame
dancing before his eyes.
"I am everything you fear. I am everything you don't want to be."
He gazed once more into those blazing emerald green eyes of hers,
ignoring the heat that was coming from the lighter.
"My name is and was Dorothy. My name, Monsieur Winner... The
Dorothy you knew well let me put it this way. Je suis mort. I am
dead. She is dead. It is a very simple, simple concept. I have step
back into the crossroads of the past and must embrace my persona,
if you call it. I am Dorothy, but then I am someone else. That
someone else is what you saw when you first came here. Lost,
undermined, and scared... And when those two personalities
combine, I am who I am right now. I am the Demoness, pilot
of the mecha Judith. I burned my victims alive. I killed because I
needed to survive. I am the type of person you are going to see
out there. This is a game and I am prepared to do what I have to
keep. The question is... Are you?"
He slowly nodded, hoping to avoid any minor burns.
Her lips curved into a slow smile and she slowly released him
altogether. "Good, good. We have a flight to catch and we're
meeting Yuy and Rel along with an old friend of mine."
He coughed and grabbed the wall to support himself.
"Be ready in five."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She
took one between her slender fingers and lit it. He watched her,
fascinated as she brought the cigarette to her lips eyes closed.
"The name's Dee... And I don't want to have to tell you again."
**
"What's the problem, onna?"
Merian said nothing in response and quietly continued to work at the
pilot's controls. He watched as she let out a sigh of frustration and
pushed an escaping strand of ebony hair out of her face.
"Onna, what the hell is going on?"
Again, there was no response from her as she continued to rapidly
work at the controls muttering curses out in their native Chinese
tongue.
"Onna, I'm waiting..."
"Wufei," she hissed literally. "If you don't shut the fuck up and help
me, we're all going to die. And let me remind you here that we have
very, very important people sitting back there. So if you don't die with
people, who are sitting and drinking goddamn cocktails on the otherside,
I suggest you come and help me. Luxury jets are made for more than one
person to fly."
Sensing the urgency, he complied and ran to the nearest controls. Checking
and rechecking, he made sure that there was no damage. They had both seen
the pilots to the aircraft before they were boarding and judging by the look
on Merian's face, he assumed that someone was going to die.
"Engine one is responding well, tanks are in check and running. Engine two
is responding as well. Three is running the generator, but I'm assuming that's
correct?"
Merian nodded. "I have the controls. I'm trying to figure out whether
or not I can run this on auto, so that we can find out what happen to
our 'friendly' pilots."
He looked up from his second recheck of engine three. "They couldn't
of--"
A beeping sound interrupted him. Looking up, his eyes
widened. "The radiator in engine one is rising."
"What? Check the temperature."
"It's ninety degrees and rising."
Wufei whirled around and found himself facing the barrel of .45 Colt. A
tall and brooding man stood before him, a smirk form on his face as his
eyes settled upon Merian.
"It's been awhile, mi querida [3]."
He watched as Merian tensed up. "Not long enough..."
**
The flight to Paris was in total silence. Relena seemed to be off in
another world, Heero noticed. While he was still trying to take
everything in. He turned to watch his close-eyed partner. Years, he
thought. It had been years for the both of them and her conceivable
ability to continually prove him wrong was still an ongoing presence.
Every time his temper rose or he questioned something out of his
place; she rose to the occasion.
Yes, Relena could never change.
"We're almost there."
He sat up, thoughts interrupted by her voice. "How long are we going
to stay here? I thought our original plans were to go to Germany."
She shrugged. "After our small detour, things changed. I think you and I
are going to meet up with Dee and Quatre in Paris. While you were
sleeping, I got a call. The German incident has already gained clearance;
they're sending me the papers so that when we meet up with the others in
London Hil and I can compare. S'okay with you?"
He looked at her, eyes meeting the challenge. "Of course it is," he replied
coolly. "Now can I ask you a question?"
She rolled her eyes. "If I get to ask you one."
"Fine."
"Fine."
He sighed and turned to face her. "How and why?"
"That's two questions, love," she responded, brushing a strand of hair
out of her face. "I thought it was the one to one deal."
"Relena..."
She lifted her hands up in mock surrender. "What? You said one
question."
"Please Relena."
She was silent for a moment, her expression blank. Finally she looked
at him and spoke. "It's not like any of us were presented with choices,
Heero. From day one, our lives, my life has been in the hands of that
old and senile man."
He looked at her. "And?"
Blue eyes pierced him still. "And what? Do you want me to pour out
my bloody life story to you? Word by word, emotions so raw that it'll
strangle you? You don't understand. You'll never understand. And I
don't need you to understand. So please for your own sanity, don't ask
or pry anymore."
He was tired of this. Eventually, she would have to tell him. They
needed to have some basis of trust after all. She was the one who
had left...
"How do you expect me to work along side of you if I don't trust you?"
Click.
Heero's eyes widened as he found himself in a headlock with a silver
knife a breath's way from his neck.
"I never asked you to trust me," she whispered, her breath softly dancing
against his skin. "I never asked you to come. I never asked you to fight. I
have a job to do, love. I have people to protect. Sit down and chill out, we
should be in Paris in an hour."
She let go of him and suddenly, a feeling he that never felt before
begin to rise.
He felt lucky to be alive.
**
"Great," she muttered, eyes peering into Duo's worried ones. "Just fucking
great."
"What's going on?" Duo whispered. Both could hear the screams
and shouts from the commotion from down below. He watched
as Hilde rolled over and lifted her pant leg up, revealing a .45 magnum
and a small handgun. She reversed her side and pulled up the other
pant leg, revealing another .45 and small handgun.
She looked up at him and bit back a smile at the expression on
his face. "I'm well prepared, what can I say?"
He shook his head and grabbed the two guns she pushed
towards him. She motioned for him to lay low.
"This is what's called a roundup," she whispered, eyes watching
at least a hundred men and women charging at the fifty of Paci's
crew, whom he had only talked to moments before. His soul was
screaming at him to do something, but his mind having it's logical
moment said no. Hilde as if reading his mind spoke up.
"Playing hero is something that you don't want to even venture
onto in a place like this. Your skills as a gundam pilot won't help
you here, it's a different world than what you believe it is."
Duo felt his patience begin to wear thin. "Then what do you suggest
we do, babe? There's two of us and about a hundred of them."
An unfamiliar glint lit up in Hilde's eyes. She pointed to the truck
where what look like soldiers were loading people inside. "That's
an armory truck and mistake number one. These soldiers although
larger in number have no experience what so ever. What Larson is
doing is he's saving all those that have experience for the battlefield.
It may look extremely difficult, but in reality it's a piece of cake."
"So what do you suggest we do?"
A grin crossed her features, almost sardonic. "You are going to cover
me from up here and then when I give you the signal you come down."
"And what about you?"
"I'm gonna jump."
**
She had never felt this nervous in her life. She had a reputation
for being calm, cool, and collected, but there was something in
the room that was disrupting the balance of her emotions. It was
almost as if she was an overprotective mother, worrying about
not only the future of her girls but what was going on in the
present time.
"Ah, Doctor Peterson. I apologize for keeping you waiting. I had
a number of things that demanded my attention."
"It's quite alright," she responded quietly. "I thought I was late."
He smiled at her, obviously hoping to convey the impression of
him being charming. She didn't buy it though.
"I called this meeting in hopes that you could update me with the
progress of our girls. Charles has done nothing what so ever to
inform and my dear doctor you seem like just the person to help
me. So, the progress?"
She said nothing, gathering her thoughts. Finally, she spoke. "Progress
is as expected. The girls are easing back into their roles as pilots,
retraining is something that is totally not needed. Currently, each girl
and an assigned gundam pilot are at the requested locations. Stuttgart
has been taken care of, but photographs will be sent to Silence as soon
as they're developed properly and ready for analysis."
He leaned forward, eyes piercing her still. "And what of turning results?"
"One only confirmed, sir."
He leaned back, eyes closed. "That is unacceptable, Doctor."
"I'm sorry, sir, but unacceptable?"
"We have a war on our hands, Doctor. We cannot afford to wait for the
process to continue at this pace."
She leaned forward, almost in complete shock and listened to him
continuing on. "Who has turned so far?"
She almost didn't want to answer. She wanted to scream that the
reason he was still living was because of her girls. Instead she
answered quietly, "Demoness."
He was silent for a moment. "Good, good. Do we at least know
who's next? Any signs?"
She watched him, eyes narrowing. He was speaking of them as if
they were trained animals. He looked at her. "Doctor? Emma? Is
there anything wrong?"
She stood up, pushing a strand of silver hair out of her eyes. "Listen,"
she began softly. "I may be old, my dear. But these old eyes have seen
more things beyond your years. You rush the process, you'll get even
more than you can handle."
She got up and slammed the door behind her.
"And I intend to just that, my dear Doctor Peterson. I intend to
do just that."
**
"... Love is a battlefield..."
She had always loved to sing. It was natural for her, her mother was a
singer, and her grandmother was a jazz singer and played the piano.
She never had the courage to actually show her talent in front of a live
audience. Her anxiety would never let even near the stage, so as a result
she ended up burying herself amongst the books.
"And that was Pat Benatar with the her hit..."
She shut the radio off, somehow preferring silence at the
moment. Reminiscing was not what she came to do.
Glancing at the packet of papers beside her, her determination
began to rise once more.
"I'm doing this for you, Thomas. I'm doing this so that maybe one
day you and I can have some peace," her voice was soft, almost as
if she was gently scolding a child.
"Paci will know your secrets. I have made sure of this. I cannot stand
to see more people die for your non-existent cause. I will be the first
of the last."
**
"... In other news, NSI leading specialist Lynne Jones died in a car crash
today. According to reports, her car hit a patch of ice left by the recent
snowstorm to hit Moscow last week. No reports on burial services..."
She couldn't breath. Movement wasn't even physically possible even
though her body was screaming for her to get out and go. She faintly
heard the phone ringing in the background, most likely hoping for her
attention. She let out a shaky sigh and made her way towards the ringing
phone, already knowing deep inside of her who the person on the other
line was.
"Hello?"
"I need you to get into the London base somehow."
"The London base? What am I looking for?"
There was a chuckle. "You ask too many questions, Little Rose. Your
flight is at three." The voice then took a more serious tone. "Do not
fail me, Lana. I don't want to waste a valuable asset."
She set the phone down quietly and closed her eyes. A tear fell gently
down her cheek and she soon found herself sobbing.
"I'm so sorry Duo. I'm so sorry..."
**
Dictionary:
- Another way to say 'my dear' in French.
- Mister.
- It's a term used in Spanish along the same lines as 'sweetheart'. It's a sweet-talking term.
**
So begins the first of the new chapters... Exciting, eh?