The End of a Mystery
Chapter Five
I'm still pumped about that last chapter. You see, in this case, I've decided that Relena isn't such a bad character, and so I've blessed her with my own clear thinking. At least, that's what I believe I'd be thinking if I was going through what she is.
As you well know, I do not own Gundam Wing or the characters that debut in Gundam Wing. But I am a huge fan, if that counts for anything.
And I have one more message. I bet that Non will never read this! Ha! (And now we shall see what response we shall get. This'll be fun. I hope she reads it just so I can laugh.)
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way-in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only." ----------------------------------------------------Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities (Isn't that fitting? Just a little culture for fanfic readers)
And now that that's done, onto the continuation of my perfect fanfic, thus, chapter five.
With droopy eyes, Duo stared into his second cup of coffee for the morning. It was early, or seemed early to his system, although in space, there really was no way to tell time. His watch said six-an ungodly hour to be sure-but he couldn't sleep. His throat was killing him-Quatre had told him green tea would help that, besides soothing his raw nerves, but Duo didn't consider it manly to drink tea-just black coffee, thank you. He'd slept badly-hell, worse than badly!-if you could even call it sleep; just continuous nightmares about breaking glass and exploding planets and furniture inside a Gundam.? It was, in fact, like one great long action movie-a bad action movie too. He didn't wonder at it. He wouldn't even be surprised if he had nightmares for the rest of his life. He'd have to confront Heero about that-if he ever came back.
If he ever came back.
It didn't seem very positive under the circumstances. Heero had survived worse. Duo remembered-it seemed like ages ago-was it the second or third time they met? He'd seen him through a window, his eyes open and perfectly clear. But his pulse hadn't changed-he had such good control!-from when he'd been asleep. Duo had been impressed of course. When he'd finally sprung Heero, the only way out had been through a glass wall on the edge of a cliff-typical bad-guy move, building their HQ on a cliff-and he remembered thinking that Heero was a total nut when he'd leapt down the cliff without a parachute. He broke his leg at the bottom and set it himself. Duo vaguely remembered wanting to leave his lunch behind on the beach.
It wasn't the typical fuzzy, friendly memory-at least it wouldn't be if he were normal. As it was, he looked at it now like a wild and colorful experience. Heero was fascinating. Duo had never met anyone more messed up in his life and that was saying something. It was like Heero could do anything-it sounded cheesy even in his own head-but it was fitting. Maybe not literal. He couldn't fly, which that incident with the cliff had proved-and he'd probably never breath under water-but damn! if he didn't know how to blow things up! And set bones! And totally gross out his new partner.
Maybe that was what he'd intended. You never know. Heero could actually have a great sense of humor but maybe he hid it like some weird game! Maybe he only pretended to be mean and antisocial just so he could laugh at others when they freaked out. Duo frowned and shook his head. No. No way. It was the stress. It was getting to him and he was imagining things, and not in the usual way-where there are actually facts to aid irrationalization-more like just making things up off the top of the head.
The coffee wasn't helping. His eyes were still baggy and uncooperative, and there was none of the usual zip in his system that drinking two cups of coffee slime normally gave him. Come to think of it, the coffee tasted a little funny, extremely bitter. Duo made a face. Had Quatre bought decaf?
"Good morning Duo." Speak of the devil. Quatre's voice squeaked on seeing Duo in the cafeteria so early in the morning. Dressed in a dark blue bathrobe as he was, Quatre still looked like an aristocrat-if a very young and eccentric aristocrat. He had a cup of-tea, Duo saw-in his hand and in his other hand, a raisin muffin. Weird. But of course Quatre would be up now; it was one of the strange eccentricities of his. Which was perfectly all right.
"Morning, buddy." Duo winced. Too happy. Depression was dark in his mind but it was just so natural to cover it up, that he'd overdone it. Quatre looked taken aback for a moment, and then gestured with his muffin.
"Mind if I take a seat?"
"Go ahead."
Quatre sat down opposite him and pulled a book out of somewhere-Duo glanced at the cover-"A Tale of Two Cities". Interesting. No, not really. Not in the least. They sat in silence for a time, neither minding, their thoughts too full of other things to hear the emptiness of the cafeteria or the faintly echoing footfalls of another as he made his way over to their table, like an island. No one was awake but those with the opposite shifts- oddly enough, their time schedules were an exact 12 hours different, making it six in the evening for them and six in the morning for the boys.
Wufei looked down at the table; neither of his companions noticed him, completely absorbed in their own thoughts. Despite the words of two days ago, Wufei felt a moment's pity for Duo; he sat silently, unsmiling, bruises making a ghastly necklace round his throat, oily smudges under his eyes, and the guilty pistol strapped to his back. His eyes did not glitter now with amusement but deeper thoughts showed themselves in dark violet as they contemplated, unseeing, his black-
For an instant Wufei felt mild irritation and then amusement as he realized Duo's error. Taking his seat next to the braided one, he sipped his black Chinese tea and smirked in Duo's direction. It didn't take long. Duo shot him a glance out of the corner of his eye and like lighting returned it to his cup. And then another to make sure. Wufei continued to watch him intensely, waiting for it.
"All right! What do you want? Why are you watching me? What did I do now?!" Duo's voice was a croak and almost made Wufei laugh, and nervous energy made him nearly spill the remnants of his drink as he made very pronounced arm gestures.
Quatre looked up from his book, startled by the noise and the presence of the pilot of Shenlong.
"Good morning Wufei. What are you doing up so early?" He'd been trying to make up for what he considered his temper a few days ago, successfully making the others uneasy with his constant politeness. Wufei nodded in acknowledgement to the salutation and leaned back in his chair to better observe his friends.
"Training. And Shenlong had an engine out that I thought I should see to. And you, Duo? I've never seen you up this early before?"
"Couldn't sleep." Obviously. It came out as a mumble and puffy eyes were returned once again to the depths of his cup. Already the strange look had been forgotten and Wufei felt worry trying to worm its way into his tightly controlled emotional state. Heero and Duo, surprising as it was, were actually good friends-it made sense, therefore, that Duo would be upset. He simply hadn't expected it, accustomed as he was to seeing Duo cheerfully brushing things off-things that were often far more serious than this. Like that the world was going to be blown up, for instance.
Despite the weird feelings he was having at the moment, he found himself barely able to control the ridiculous smile that was trying to take up residency on his face. Quatre had gone back to his book-it was probably too early to try for polite conversation this morning. Finally Wufei spoke, unable to ignore the irony any longer.
"Do you take sugar in your. coffee, Duo?" Duo looked up at the random question, wondering at Wufei's oddly twitching face. Wufei took a sip of his tea, enjoying the rich flavor.
"Not today. I honestly don't think it would help," said Duo, again pulling a face.
"Bitter?" Wufei raised his eyebrows innocently at the question.
"Extremely. I think it must be decaf."
Quatre looked up. "Oh! I forgot!"
"What did you forget?"
"We ran out of decaf coffee mix a few days ago. I forgot to put it on the supply list. Thank you for reminding me, Duo." Duo looked nonplussed and Wufei looked amused. Quatre was back in his book.
"Then what.?" He watched his cup suspiciously, as though expecting something to leap out at him.
"Do you usually drink Chinese tea, Duo?" Duo gave Wufei a bland look, and then looked back into his cup, examining the dark liquid. Abruptly he got up, walked purposefully to the garbage and dropped tea and Styrofoam cup into the trash, continuing on through the cafeteria doors. That had ruined Duo's day, but Wufei laughed silently-something he hadn't done in a long time.
Lieutenant Noin-no, just Lucrezia now-paced her room. She was high up in the world-relatively-so she got a room with a view. However, that view also made it more likely to be smashed open like an oyster shell when they were brought into battle. But then again, that was unlikely, seeing how they only carried a peace advocate. It wouldn't be respectable, even in war to harm a pacifist.
Worse had been done before.
She shuddered but was pleasantly aware of the beauty every time she raised her eyes from their downward position on the cold metal floor. Her mind was in turmoil. Zechs was out there, right now, doing something. But what? What was he thinking? What was he seeing that would bring him to even consider an action with such consequences? And His Excellency? He was close she knew, and she could almost feel his charisma pulling her where she was, inside her own ship even. What was he doing-what was he planning that would bring him in such close proximity with Relena Peacecraft, Zechs Marquise and the Gundam pilots? What were any of them doing here, tempting fate, provoking their enemies? It was crazy-purely insane.
But there was something right about it. They were all tied together with threads finer than lace and tougher than steel. The future was terrifying- no less now that they'd stayed in their place between the Lightning Count and Earth. He could destroy them so easily-indeed, she didn't know why they weren't dead already if Zechs was truly as crazy as it seemed. But was there a reason?
Did he love her? Did he even like her? Or remember her?
She loved him, though it might well damn her to hell in the end. He was dangerous; he was a killer-but so was she, as an experienced soldier. For him she would give her life, yet her spirit cried out against what he planned to do and so she remained in the line of fire. If he killed them then he would kill her, and she didn't mind at all, only mourned the loss of something she'd never had. She loved him. It hurt so painfully; she hadn't seen him in a long, long time and a deadness had begun to settle on her mind. He couldn't possibly love her, probably didn't even know she felt anything for him but a close friendship. But she missed him so badly. If he killed her she would die knowing that he had never loved her, never so much as she him, and she'd be glad that she wouldn't have to live alone.
Thinking of him broke her heart; her eyes teared against her will and she bit her lips and glared around the room, trying to harden her features. If a soldier walked in now. her authority among her inferiors would drop considerably if they saw her crying like a teenage girl-come to think of it, Relena didn't cry. Never. Forcing her mind away from Zechs was difficult but she was glad for the distraction.
Relena never cried; she should have. She was so young, so inexperienced in politics, and Noin had the vaguest feeling that there was something else as well. She always seemed so sad, in a quiet, collected way-but it was likely just loneliness. There were so few women aboard this ship, and only one was younger than Noin besides Relena herself, and she was a techi. Relena was too young to be cornered with such responsibilities-yet she had handled them with a grace and dignity that would have done someone twice her age proudly. She was too young. She should have been in school, going to the mall with her friends, crushing on nice boys, buying ridiculously tall and uncomfortable shoes. That was the way it should have been, contradicting as it was to Noin's feelings.
What chaos. They were all young; Relena, Noin, Zechs, the Gundam pilots- even Treize and Une. They were all so young, and yet so old, so used to want and pain and sacrifices. It wasn't right that their youth should be taken so freely from them, yet the people needed someone and Noin couldn't think of anyone that could match them-any of them. Sometimes friends, sometimes enemies; the people in her life were everything worth living for- though none so much as Zechs and his sister-and for them, in spite of them, she would pull herself together and she'd suffer, as she knew they suffered.
They suffered.
Heero opened his eyes, feeling an all-consuming cloud lift from his mind and body. He knew where he was, knew what had happened and the consequences. His heart remained steady without his concentration, pumping slowly in his breast as though trying to force itself out. It was a common enough effect after being drugged for-how long?-residues would certainly remain in his system. Or was it something else.?
Foolish. His head was strapped down, as were his arms and legs and torso. Treize was not taking any chances apparently; they'd dealt with each other too long to make so blatant a mistake. The last time this had happened he had been saved by the braided American who came crashing in like a maniac and told him that the only way out was down a cliff. But Duo wasn't going to come for him this time. No one was going to come for him.
That's all right. He allowed his eyes to fall half closed, rolling slightly into the back of his head. If anyone were watching him they'd think he was still dull from the drugs they'd been pumping into his blood. He focused his mind, forcing all the power in his body to his ears; there was nothing in this world but sound; there was no light, no dark, no Princess..
True; in this world there no longer would be a princess.
He heard a beeping, perhaps his heart monitor as it began to pick up speed and forced himself to breath deeply and slowly, forced his body to relax and to settle back into the foamy prison as it would have in sleep. Unfortunate. He'd deal with that later. Right now he needed a plan to get off this ship and away from Treize Kushrenada. But it was hard. He didn't really want to think, didn't really want to plan. He needed to; he knew that. He needed to force himself to find a suitable course of action so that he could get away from here and-what?
Stupid question. Of course. He'd do what he'd been trained to do, what he'd always done. He'd use his Gundam to fight the oppression of the colonies-and the earth now as well if they would accept it. He would fight injustice and pain and maybe someday he'd stop fighting. Not that there'd be peace now, not ever. But his luck couldn't last forever, and that would be the day when he'd stop fighting. Not before.
The numbness in his side had vanished and the throbbing pain was what had brought him back. to the world of the living. Where had he heard that? It was like a dream. He hated dreams; the thought of them made him want to scowl. He dreamed too often of blood. When he had a nice dream it would vanish just as soon as he allowed himself to be happy, and then there would be shadows, and blood and a sense of something menacing right behind him that he could never find. And it irritated him that he couldn't control something that was inside his own head.
He kept his face slack and his eyes closed as he listened for movement around him. The room he was in was a cold room with it's soft beeping and the whir of machinery, both denouncing the presence of someone in need of such life support-and he might have been, but his system was too strong to be down for long. There was nothing sick about him; he'd never had a cold or even minor allergies-the only injuries he had received were from fighting-fighting Treize. And Oz of course, but the two were interchangeable. There was nothing. The room was silent but for its mechanical occupants and his own steady breathing
He opened his eyes to white light and stoically waited for them to stop watering before taking in his surroundings. White. White machines stood at his left ear making their various noises but he could not see much but what was directly above him. He tested the straps on his calves and arms, trying to work the stiff material looser.
His eyes darted everywhere at once, taking in the feel of the place, the organization of the room, the-his eyes caught on something-white. He frowned. His eyes were watering again and he had to resist the urge to just shut them and try this again later. No! It was getting easier to ignore the throb in his side now, easier to relax despite the strain on his system. He couldn't even feel it anymore.
Horror shot through his system as his brain finally realized what it was seeing. Was it over finally? Was it time for him to give up? Surrender? He didn't know how. The video monitor seemed to laugh at him and he closed his eyes, just so that he wouldn't have to see the piece of mute machinery that had spoiled his chance and might yet destroy any hope he had left for a peaceful world. His mind was-closed-as something or someone increased the level of drugs being pumped into his system.
He'd wait, for now. And remember the camera before he opened his eyes again. Would he open his eyes again? He attempted to push the contemptible thought away but it stayed, locked behind his eyes, along with a face.
A face with fierce, ice-blue eyes.
Again, I'm sorry not much happened. They just gotta all cool their heels for a little while, to set the mood, you know. Is anyone out there a Patricia McKillip fan? If not, I recommend her. Heck, you may actually like her. I recommend "Riddlemaster". Oh, and everyone on the planet should read "The Three Musketeers". Again, just me. I hope you've enjoyed my little fanfic and I really do hope you'll review it. It just breaks my heart that no one cares, not even those who should.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------As always, be happy.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------StarChild
Chapter Five
I'm still pumped about that last chapter. You see, in this case, I've decided that Relena isn't such a bad character, and so I've blessed her with my own clear thinking. At least, that's what I believe I'd be thinking if I was going through what she is.
As you well know, I do not own Gundam Wing or the characters that debut in Gundam Wing. But I am a huge fan, if that counts for anything.
And I have one more message. I bet that Non will never read this! Ha! (And now we shall see what response we shall get. This'll be fun. I hope she reads it just so I can laugh.)
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way-in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only." ----------------------------------------------------Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities (Isn't that fitting? Just a little culture for fanfic readers)
And now that that's done, onto the continuation of my perfect fanfic, thus, chapter five.
With droopy eyes, Duo stared into his second cup of coffee for the morning. It was early, or seemed early to his system, although in space, there really was no way to tell time. His watch said six-an ungodly hour to be sure-but he couldn't sleep. His throat was killing him-Quatre had told him green tea would help that, besides soothing his raw nerves, but Duo didn't consider it manly to drink tea-just black coffee, thank you. He'd slept badly-hell, worse than badly!-if you could even call it sleep; just continuous nightmares about breaking glass and exploding planets and furniture inside a Gundam.? It was, in fact, like one great long action movie-a bad action movie too. He didn't wonder at it. He wouldn't even be surprised if he had nightmares for the rest of his life. He'd have to confront Heero about that-if he ever came back.
If he ever came back.
It didn't seem very positive under the circumstances. Heero had survived worse. Duo remembered-it seemed like ages ago-was it the second or third time they met? He'd seen him through a window, his eyes open and perfectly clear. But his pulse hadn't changed-he had such good control!-from when he'd been asleep. Duo had been impressed of course. When he'd finally sprung Heero, the only way out had been through a glass wall on the edge of a cliff-typical bad-guy move, building their HQ on a cliff-and he remembered thinking that Heero was a total nut when he'd leapt down the cliff without a parachute. He broke his leg at the bottom and set it himself. Duo vaguely remembered wanting to leave his lunch behind on the beach.
It wasn't the typical fuzzy, friendly memory-at least it wouldn't be if he were normal. As it was, he looked at it now like a wild and colorful experience. Heero was fascinating. Duo had never met anyone more messed up in his life and that was saying something. It was like Heero could do anything-it sounded cheesy even in his own head-but it was fitting. Maybe not literal. He couldn't fly, which that incident with the cliff had proved-and he'd probably never breath under water-but damn! if he didn't know how to blow things up! And set bones! And totally gross out his new partner.
Maybe that was what he'd intended. You never know. Heero could actually have a great sense of humor but maybe he hid it like some weird game! Maybe he only pretended to be mean and antisocial just so he could laugh at others when they freaked out. Duo frowned and shook his head. No. No way. It was the stress. It was getting to him and he was imagining things, and not in the usual way-where there are actually facts to aid irrationalization-more like just making things up off the top of the head.
The coffee wasn't helping. His eyes were still baggy and uncooperative, and there was none of the usual zip in his system that drinking two cups of coffee slime normally gave him. Come to think of it, the coffee tasted a little funny, extremely bitter. Duo made a face. Had Quatre bought decaf?
"Good morning Duo." Speak of the devil. Quatre's voice squeaked on seeing Duo in the cafeteria so early in the morning. Dressed in a dark blue bathrobe as he was, Quatre still looked like an aristocrat-if a very young and eccentric aristocrat. He had a cup of-tea, Duo saw-in his hand and in his other hand, a raisin muffin. Weird. But of course Quatre would be up now; it was one of the strange eccentricities of his. Which was perfectly all right.
"Morning, buddy." Duo winced. Too happy. Depression was dark in his mind but it was just so natural to cover it up, that he'd overdone it. Quatre looked taken aback for a moment, and then gestured with his muffin.
"Mind if I take a seat?"
"Go ahead."
Quatre sat down opposite him and pulled a book out of somewhere-Duo glanced at the cover-"A Tale of Two Cities". Interesting. No, not really. Not in the least. They sat in silence for a time, neither minding, their thoughts too full of other things to hear the emptiness of the cafeteria or the faintly echoing footfalls of another as he made his way over to their table, like an island. No one was awake but those with the opposite shifts- oddly enough, their time schedules were an exact 12 hours different, making it six in the evening for them and six in the morning for the boys.
Wufei looked down at the table; neither of his companions noticed him, completely absorbed in their own thoughts. Despite the words of two days ago, Wufei felt a moment's pity for Duo; he sat silently, unsmiling, bruises making a ghastly necklace round his throat, oily smudges under his eyes, and the guilty pistol strapped to his back. His eyes did not glitter now with amusement but deeper thoughts showed themselves in dark violet as they contemplated, unseeing, his black-
For an instant Wufei felt mild irritation and then amusement as he realized Duo's error. Taking his seat next to the braided one, he sipped his black Chinese tea and smirked in Duo's direction. It didn't take long. Duo shot him a glance out of the corner of his eye and like lighting returned it to his cup. And then another to make sure. Wufei continued to watch him intensely, waiting for it.
"All right! What do you want? Why are you watching me? What did I do now?!" Duo's voice was a croak and almost made Wufei laugh, and nervous energy made him nearly spill the remnants of his drink as he made very pronounced arm gestures.
Quatre looked up from his book, startled by the noise and the presence of the pilot of Shenlong.
"Good morning Wufei. What are you doing up so early?" He'd been trying to make up for what he considered his temper a few days ago, successfully making the others uneasy with his constant politeness. Wufei nodded in acknowledgement to the salutation and leaned back in his chair to better observe his friends.
"Training. And Shenlong had an engine out that I thought I should see to. And you, Duo? I've never seen you up this early before?"
"Couldn't sleep." Obviously. It came out as a mumble and puffy eyes were returned once again to the depths of his cup. Already the strange look had been forgotten and Wufei felt worry trying to worm its way into his tightly controlled emotional state. Heero and Duo, surprising as it was, were actually good friends-it made sense, therefore, that Duo would be upset. He simply hadn't expected it, accustomed as he was to seeing Duo cheerfully brushing things off-things that were often far more serious than this. Like that the world was going to be blown up, for instance.
Despite the weird feelings he was having at the moment, he found himself barely able to control the ridiculous smile that was trying to take up residency on his face. Quatre had gone back to his book-it was probably too early to try for polite conversation this morning. Finally Wufei spoke, unable to ignore the irony any longer.
"Do you take sugar in your. coffee, Duo?" Duo looked up at the random question, wondering at Wufei's oddly twitching face. Wufei took a sip of his tea, enjoying the rich flavor.
"Not today. I honestly don't think it would help," said Duo, again pulling a face.
"Bitter?" Wufei raised his eyebrows innocently at the question.
"Extremely. I think it must be decaf."
Quatre looked up. "Oh! I forgot!"
"What did you forget?"
"We ran out of decaf coffee mix a few days ago. I forgot to put it on the supply list. Thank you for reminding me, Duo." Duo looked nonplussed and Wufei looked amused. Quatre was back in his book.
"Then what.?" He watched his cup suspiciously, as though expecting something to leap out at him.
"Do you usually drink Chinese tea, Duo?" Duo gave Wufei a bland look, and then looked back into his cup, examining the dark liquid. Abruptly he got up, walked purposefully to the garbage and dropped tea and Styrofoam cup into the trash, continuing on through the cafeteria doors. That had ruined Duo's day, but Wufei laughed silently-something he hadn't done in a long time.
Lieutenant Noin-no, just Lucrezia now-paced her room. She was high up in the world-relatively-so she got a room with a view. However, that view also made it more likely to be smashed open like an oyster shell when they were brought into battle. But then again, that was unlikely, seeing how they only carried a peace advocate. It wouldn't be respectable, even in war to harm a pacifist.
Worse had been done before.
She shuddered but was pleasantly aware of the beauty every time she raised her eyes from their downward position on the cold metal floor. Her mind was in turmoil. Zechs was out there, right now, doing something. But what? What was he thinking? What was he seeing that would bring him to even consider an action with such consequences? And His Excellency? He was close she knew, and she could almost feel his charisma pulling her where she was, inside her own ship even. What was he doing-what was he planning that would bring him in such close proximity with Relena Peacecraft, Zechs Marquise and the Gundam pilots? What were any of them doing here, tempting fate, provoking their enemies? It was crazy-purely insane.
But there was something right about it. They were all tied together with threads finer than lace and tougher than steel. The future was terrifying- no less now that they'd stayed in their place between the Lightning Count and Earth. He could destroy them so easily-indeed, she didn't know why they weren't dead already if Zechs was truly as crazy as it seemed. But was there a reason?
Did he love her? Did he even like her? Or remember her?
She loved him, though it might well damn her to hell in the end. He was dangerous; he was a killer-but so was she, as an experienced soldier. For him she would give her life, yet her spirit cried out against what he planned to do and so she remained in the line of fire. If he killed them then he would kill her, and she didn't mind at all, only mourned the loss of something she'd never had. She loved him. It hurt so painfully; she hadn't seen him in a long, long time and a deadness had begun to settle on her mind. He couldn't possibly love her, probably didn't even know she felt anything for him but a close friendship. But she missed him so badly. If he killed her she would die knowing that he had never loved her, never so much as she him, and she'd be glad that she wouldn't have to live alone.
Thinking of him broke her heart; her eyes teared against her will and she bit her lips and glared around the room, trying to harden her features. If a soldier walked in now. her authority among her inferiors would drop considerably if they saw her crying like a teenage girl-come to think of it, Relena didn't cry. Never. Forcing her mind away from Zechs was difficult but she was glad for the distraction.
Relena never cried; she should have. She was so young, so inexperienced in politics, and Noin had the vaguest feeling that there was something else as well. She always seemed so sad, in a quiet, collected way-but it was likely just loneliness. There were so few women aboard this ship, and only one was younger than Noin besides Relena herself, and she was a techi. Relena was too young to be cornered with such responsibilities-yet she had handled them with a grace and dignity that would have done someone twice her age proudly. She was too young. She should have been in school, going to the mall with her friends, crushing on nice boys, buying ridiculously tall and uncomfortable shoes. That was the way it should have been, contradicting as it was to Noin's feelings.
What chaos. They were all young; Relena, Noin, Zechs, the Gundam pilots- even Treize and Une. They were all so young, and yet so old, so used to want and pain and sacrifices. It wasn't right that their youth should be taken so freely from them, yet the people needed someone and Noin couldn't think of anyone that could match them-any of them. Sometimes friends, sometimes enemies; the people in her life were everything worth living for- though none so much as Zechs and his sister-and for them, in spite of them, she would pull herself together and she'd suffer, as she knew they suffered.
They suffered.
Heero opened his eyes, feeling an all-consuming cloud lift from his mind and body. He knew where he was, knew what had happened and the consequences. His heart remained steady without his concentration, pumping slowly in his breast as though trying to force itself out. It was a common enough effect after being drugged for-how long?-residues would certainly remain in his system. Or was it something else.?
Foolish. His head was strapped down, as were his arms and legs and torso. Treize was not taking any chances apparently; they'd dealt with each other too long to make so blatant a mistake. The last time this had happened he had been saved by the braided American who came crashing in like a maniac and told him that the only way out was down a cliff. But Duo wasn't going to come for him this time. No one was going to come for him.
That's all right. He allowed his eyes to fall half closed, rolling slightly into the back of his head. If anyone were watching him they'd think he was still dull from the drugs they'd been pumping into his blood. He focused his mind, forcing all the power in his body to his ears; there was nothing in this world but sound; there was no light, no dark, no Princess..
True; in this world there no longer would be a princess.
He heard a beeping, perhaps his heart monitor as it began to pick up speed and forced himself to breath deeply and slowly, forced his body to relax and to settle back into the foamy prison as it would have in sleep. Unfortunate. He'd deal with that later. Right now he needed a plan to get off this ship and away from Treize Kushrenada. But it was hard. He didn't really want to think, didn't really want to plan. He needed to; he knew that. He needed to force himself to find a suitable course of action so that he could get away from here and-what?
Stupid question. Of course. He'd do what he'd been trained to do, what he'd always done. He'd use his Gundam to fight the oppression of the colonies-and the earth now as well if they would accept it. He would fight injustice and pain and maybe someday he'd stop fighting. Not that there'd be peace now, not ever. But his luck couldn't last forever, and that would be the day when he'd stop fighting. Not before.
The numbness in his side had vanished and the throbbing pain was what had brought him back. to the world of the living. Where had he heard that? It was like a dream. He hated dreams; the thought of them made him want to scowl. He dreamed too often of blood. When he had a nice dream it would vanish just as soon as he allowed himself to be happy, and then there would be shadows, and blood and a sense of something menacing right behind him that he could never find. And it irritated him that he couldn't control something that was inside his own head.
He kept his face slack and his eyes closed as he listened for movement around him. The room he was in was a cold room with it's soft beeping and the whir of machinery, both denouncing the presence of someone in need of such life support-and he might have been, but his system was too strong to be down for long. There was nothing sick about him; he'd never had a cold or even minor allergies-the only injuries he had received were from fighting-fighting Treize. And Oz of course, but the two were interchangeable. There was nothing. The room was silent but for its mechanical occupants and his own steady breathing
He opened his eyes to white light and stoically waited for them to stop watering before taking in his surroundings. White. White machines stood at his left ear making their various noises but he could not see much but what was directly above him. He tested the straps on his calves and arms, trying to work the stiff material looser.
His eyes darted everywhere at once, taking in the feel of the place, the organization of the room, the-his eyes caught on something-white. He frowned. His eyes were watering again and he had to resist the urge to just shut them and try this again later. No! It was getting easier to ignore the throb in his side now, easier to relax despite the strain on his system. He couldn't even feel it anymore.
Horror shot through his system as his brain finally realized what it was seeing. Was it over finally? Was it time for him to give up? Surrender? He didn't know how. The video monitor seemed to laugh at him and he closed his eyes, just so that he wouldn't have to see the piece of mute machinery that had spoiled his chance and might yet destroy any hope he had left for a peaceful world. His mind was-closed-as something or someone increased the level of drugs being pumped into his system.
He'd wait, for now. And remember the camera before he opened his eyes again. Would he open his eyes again? He attempted to push the contemptible thought away but it stayed, locked behind his eyes, along with a face.
A face with fierce, ice-blue eyes.
Again, I'm sorry not much happened. They just gotta all cool their heels for a little while, to set the mood, you know. Is anyone out there a Patricia McKillip fan? If not, I recommend her. Heck, you may actually like her. I recommend "Riddlemaster". Oh, and everyone on the planet should read "The Three Musketeers". Again, just me. I hope you've enjoyed my little fanfic and I really do hope you'll review it. It just breaks my heart that no one cares, not even those who should.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------As always, be happy.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------StarChild