[Notes: I'm sure you read the notes before the Prologue, so I won't repeat those… mainly, the glass falls this chapter, but you'll have to wait on the daisy… Ahem. Yeah. I just got back from North Carolina, that's why this chapter wasn't written and loaded. Thanks to all you supershiney people who REVIEWED ME!! Last thing I expected was reviews so quickly^^ I'm sorry this chapter's not too long—ones that follow won't be this short, I promise, especially once we have a plot… And eventually we'll have a plot. Alrighty.]
{DISCLAIMER: Dude. I own nothing here but this fic, and the baddies. The baddies are mine. All the good people are property of the several companies and people that own GundamWing, which aren't me. Sue me and I laugh because you will be paid in dirty socks. I have no money. No. Literally.}
"Ukiyo-e"
c h a p t e r 1
The technician peered nervously out the window of his quarters. He had secretly pulled strings to get an outside room with a view of earth, distant though it was. Fortunately, it was thought that he wanted to see it in order to better comprehend how to conquer it.
A thin, nervous young man with large grey eyes behind big round glasses, he wasn't quite sure why he was here. He knew the official reasons—he was one of the greatest technological minds of the times, and he was part of the team that would build an empire… yeah. But he didn't know why he was there, on that colony called "Base", trying to build something that would… he wasn't quite sure. He was only building part of it—but an important part, he was certain.
Why else would he be forbidden to discuss it with others brought for the same reasons?
He sighed and pushed his glasses back up on his nose. Just then, a high-pitched beeping announced a page. Without waiting for a reply, the voice of Crinian crackled through the speaker. (I really must fix that, he thought absently.)
"Requested time of solitude expired. Further requests denied for four weeks…"
Not that I'll need them. We commence in a week. What are we doing, anyway?
"…Required in Common Hall immediately." Footsteps lead away from the door and disappeared.
"Common Hall?" the young technician said with mild surprise as he slid his door open and began walking. "I thought I was denied access to that…"
-
"Howard," said the girl as she climbed nimbly down a ladder, "what do you think's going on, anyway? I mean, I haven't heard from Duo—or anyone else—for a while. Last time Relena contacted me, she sounded worried, though."
"That girl's always worried," the balding man answered, taking a swig of the drink in his hand and knocking himself in the nose with the tiny orange umbrella. "But I don't see what the worry is. Besides, none of those guys have Gundams anyway and it shouldn't matter. It's not like I can build one from scratch, either. I'm a repairman."
"That's true," the girl answered, lifting up her beret with a finger as she scratched her head. "But it still kind of bothers me."
"Well you can always see who you can pick up on that old radio," Howard said, waving a hand rather dismissively. The girl lifted an eyebrow at him, but followed the hand anyway and entered a dusty old room to find an equally dusty radio setup on a table.
She paused, shrugged, and lifted the headset onto her head, fiddling with the dial.
"I wonder," she murmured to herself. "Hey, this one looks interesting," she said suddenly. The number sequence on that setting was faintly familiar. "Hello?" she said, switching on the headset. "Hello? Is anyone there?"
The boy was, to say the least, mildly surprised to hear a voice come out of his laptop computer. However, he was not at all given to strong emotion, and he answered quite tonelessly.
"Who are you and how do you know this frequency?"
"It was on the radio… wait… Heero?"
He didn't reply.
"Heero! It's Hilde. Do you remember me?"
"You shouldn't be able to use this frequency." Because, he thought to himself, I'm getting my information on it.
"It was on Howard's radio. I guess he put it there. Heero," she said abruptly, "what's going on?"
"…What do you mean?" He had absolutely no intention of telling her what exactly was going on, but as she had proved other than incompetent as far as he knew, he felt that an answer wouldn't be wasted.
"Oh, come on. Look, I figure you, of all people, should know why Relena's so worried. She's not telling the general public anything."
Because she doesn't know anything. Not that that bothered him. Worry wouldn't kill her. "I can't give you any more information than that. Don't use this frequency again."
"Why? What are you using it for?"
". . . ."
"Hey, you there? …Crap." She set the radio down in irritation, rolling her eyes. "No help. I wish I knew where Duo was. Or anyone. Maybe I'd get an answer then."
-
He-was-going-to-snap. She didn't know what she was talking about. Her advice wasn't something he needed. Or wanted. Or would take. Or react to. But it wasn't her advice. He thought of it himself. Besides, they couldn't do anything alone.
Watching him from inside and sipping coffee, the woman couldn't keep a small, satisfied smile off her face as she watched the Chinese boy pace outside, clearly upset. "I wonder why he bothers to fight anymore," she told the air conversationally. "He knows I'm right." She shrugged and swallowed some coffee nonchalantly as he finally stormed in.
"I suppose I have to say something. Those other fools can't do anything by themselves."
"You know, Wufei, if you'd give it some thought, you might find that they aren't quite as useless as you think."
He didn't deign to reply as he strode down the hall and slammed a door behind him.
She chuckled and sipped her coffee.
-
The radio crackled to life. "BARTON! Barton, pick up!"
The young woman jumped and whiled, knocking a glass of water off the table. She ignored the shatter, reaching for the microphone.
"No, Cathy," said the young man as he stood, taking the mic gently from her. "It's mine. Yes?" He said into it. "Who's there?"
"Chang Wufei. I suppose you weren't planning on doing anything at all?"
"Waiting on you guys. Besides, what do we know?"
"Nothing. But Yuy does. He always does."
"And where is he?"
"…Don't you know?" Wufei sounded affronted.
"No. Do you?"
"No. Winner might. Maxwell's almost sure to."
"Well, we don't know where Duo is either. Quatre then?"
"Fine."
Trowa put down the microphone.
"Trowa, you're not going again?"
"I have to. It'll be fine, Cathy. We don't even know if anything's really wrong."
"Don't you dare die. Or stay away too long. You better come back, Trowa."
He nodded and left the room. A minute later, the sound of a vehicle starting up was heard. "I don't know why I let him go," Catherine muttered to herself, turning back around and stirring the pot on the stove.
-
The next day, Quatre Raberba Winner was startled by the doorbell and a page over his presumed-dead radio simultaneously. "Would you mind getting the door, please?" Quatre asked the group of various people around him apologetically as he went for the radio. There were several "certainly!"s and footsteps as he picked up the microphone with some hesitation.
"Hello?"
"Quatre?" asked a female voice.
"Yes, may I ask with whom I am speaking?"
"I got the right frequency!" the voice said with evident relief. "It's Hilde Schbeiker, do you remember me?"
"Of course! It's good to hear from you."
"Thanks, I'm glad someone has manners… I'm sorry to bother you, but I need to know if you have any idea what's—"
"WINNER!" another voice bellowed. Quatre whirled to see Wufei and Trowa enter, the latter calm as always, the former looking for some reason put out.
"Please, I'm trying to communicate! I'm sorry, Hilde, could you repeat that?"
"Have you got any idea what's going on? I mean besides what the news is telling us?"
"Exactly!" Wufei said. "And where's Maxwell and Yuy?"
"I don't know," Quatre said into the mic, looking at the two. "But I may be able to find out. Hilde, I'll get back to you, alright?"
"Sure, thanks. Out."
"So you can find out where Heero and Duo are?" Trowa asked.
"I should hope so," Quatre replied, setting the microphone down. "I've communicated with Heero a short while ago, and I ought to be able to trace him."
"Yo!" Said the radio. "Who's there?"
Wufei darted forward. "MAXWELL!"
"Well. Wufei is. Whatcha doin' at Quatre's house?"
"Looking for you! Where on earth are you and Yuy?!"
"Well geez, I tried to get you earlier… I'm with Catherine, Trowa, since I'd thought you'd be here…"
"Where ARE YOU?!"
"I tolja I'm with Catherine on the colony!"
"Where's Yuy?"
"I left him yesterday, he could be gone by now."
Trowa removed the microphone before Wufei snapped it in half. "Duo, where was he when you left him?"
"He was holed up in a hotel near the capital. Wouldn't tell me why he was there in particular, though, I guess it was because the signals were strongest there."
"Signals?"
"Yeah, he's getting data from the satellites that are scanning that colony everyone's freaking out about. That's why the Preventers can't get any information."
Quatre took the microphone with a polite look and ignored Wufei's expression of fury. "What has he found?"
"So Quatre's there after all! He wouldn't say. He mentioned that it didn't matter that we didn't have Gundams, though. Although he could have been lying."
"Thank you, Duo. I think we're going to find him."
-
Heero was not happy. Not that he usually was… that is, he was even less happy than normal. He had never considered that Relena would worry about the Preventers' lack of information, and now that that dratted Duo had mentioned it, he couldn't get the notion out of his head.
Which shouldn't have bothered him. Her worries were not his problem. But lately, he had been finding it harder not to find her, make sure she was okay. He was distracted, and distractions were not what he needed. She was a distraction. Again. And he still didn't know why. That he did know why, and wouldn't admit it to himself, was not an option.
He slammed his computer shut in a rare display of temper and put his head in his hands. This had to end. There was nothing that tied him to her. There was no war anymore, shred what he was finding. She didn't need protection—she never really had. He was sick of the gutwrenching feelings that caught him when he least needed them. He was sick of the mad urge to follow her again. He was sick of the blue eyes that looked at him out of the darkness of nights spent sleepless.
He was sick of the dim half-memory of being held and wanting nothing more than to stay like that.
Why? Why was it? He didn't want that. She had never represented anything more to him than an annoyance, or a cause. Both even.
Once more. Once more he'd see that she was fine. Then never again. He didn't want to keep doing this. He wouldn't.
As he stood and left, he didn't consider that maybe he just didn't want to see her worried.