Chapter 2- All Hail the Gundam Pilots
Location- Colony IW35899, L2 sector. Outer shell. A week after the explosion at the Conference. Yes. I like to Time Travel. Don't you?
A small unnoticeable ship was attached to the outside wall of the colony. Inside, scanners would have picked up 5 heat signatures. These five heat signatures belonged to five pilots, trying to get a grip on their new situation, and awaiting their mission briefing.
A loud noise escaped one of the sleeping rooms, coming from Duo's wide open mouth as he slept. He was having a nightmare. Heero groaned and slammed the door as he walked past. All this waiting around was doing his head in. The effects were clear in his comrades too. Duo was sleeping more, but having nightmares every time he shut his eyes. Trowa would sit before the television, staring at it soullessly, until he drifted off into an exasperated sleeping state. And Wu-fei. Well, he didn't seem to sleep at all. He just sat, pretending not to listen to the news and wringing his hands. Heero had sworn he'd been crying a few times, but he wasn't going to question the poor guy. Heero wasn't even sure if Quatre was aboard. Trowa said he was, but Heero hadn't seen him. Heero sat down at the control desk and switched on the radio, trying to intercept any messages. Silence. No one was talking just yet. There was a thump from behind a closed door as Duo rolled out of his bunk.
"Mrrfffghh!" he said from behind the door, before tearing the door open and storming out into the living area… in a sleepy rage. Heero switched of the radio and turned in his seat.
"What was it this time?" he asked. Duo shrugged.
"Some chick died… then came back to life…" he waved his hands around as he tried to explain.
"Zombies?" Trowa asked.
"Naw… not zombies…" Duo fell onto his face on the sofa. "I ain't afraid of no zombies…" and with that, he dozed off again. Trowa rolled his eyes.
"We got any sleep-eez?" he asked.
Heero frowned. "Dunno, but if we do it'll be in the kitchen."
Trowa got up and stretched. "I'll go check," he sighed and walked off towards the kitchen area. Wu-fei lay back a little in the arm chair dubbed 'his' and sighed.
"I'm sick and tired of sitting around!" he whined, "If anyone picks up the signatures, we'll be captured instantly!"
Heero shook his head. "They've no proof of who we are. They'll just think we're space gypsies and fine us for being tagalongs."
Wu-fei frowned. "Whose gonna believe that five juvenile space gypsies decided to set up shop in an aircraft carrier with five illegal mobile suits which are supposedly non-existent?" He gestured towards Nataku's head, clearly visible through a pane of glass. Heero frowned.
"We'll move on as soon as we get word from Dr J and the others," Heero said, his voice no louder than a growl.
"But they haven't made contact since you emailed them on your laptop! Are we supposed to sit here and suffocate? The oxygen tanks and back up life support won't last forever, Yuy!" Heero shot a glare at Wu-fei.
"What's up with you?" he asked sharply. Wu-fei bit his lip and looked away. The news roared in the background.
"News Bulletin! The clear up work on the Inter-colony conference hall began today. The authorities have now confirmed that it was terrorist attack, perpetrated by members of the Earth forces who attacked the colonies two weeks ago. Today, after much deliberation, the ministers of the colonies declared that an army will be gathered to attack earth, and fight forces such as the New Earth Alliance, or NEA." An image of five men appeared on the screen. "This image shows the leaders of the NEA, Abarov, Hiwatari, Oninetchi, Yamaue and Solonne. They spoke to their forces earlier today…" the news continued to broadcast the image of the massive NEA army, watching their leaders as they spoke of true peace and righteousness.
"I'm surprised you haven't kicked the TV in yet," Trowa mused, re-entering the room with a small bottle. Wu-fei sighed.
"I'm waiting for a piece of news," he replied meekly. Trowa dribbled a little of the powerful smelling liquid onto the cushion under Duo's head, and youth stopped twitching, lulled into a calm sleep by the strong relaxing vapours.
"In other news, the only true victim of the attack, Miss Kitty Winner, is reported to be recovering from initial shock. Here is Serra Lloyd with the report." Wu-fei's head snapped around. Heero rolled his eyes.
"You are so hung up on that girl," he sighed. Wu-fei shot a glare at Heero.
"I'm the reason she died!" he barked. Heero frowned.
"She didn't die, Wu-fei, look." The images on the news showed the initial shots of Kitty's almost lifeless body being removed from the scene, before showing the frail figure in the hospital, bandaged almost from head to toe. Wu-fei's eyes widened.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, before having to leave the room. Trowa sighed.
"Poor Kitty," he whispered, "they say she was about ten feet from the door when it blew." Heero showed no emotion. He looked at the screen, the camera zooming a little as if to entice the audience to rise up against the perpetrators. One wrist lay slightly un-bandaged, revealing heavy blue-black bruising.
"In some way, we're all responsible, I think," Heero whispered. Trowa sipped at his drink.
"I suppose, but soldiers don't blame themselves for casualties along the way. That's the incorrect way to look at things. If we regretted every man lost in the wars we've fought, we'd have millions of angry souls on out hands. Just think, in that final battle, close on 100,000 people died."
"That's a lot."
"No kidding," Trowa managed a weak smile at Heero's sarcasm. Heero was going soft, compared with his original frame of mind, but that didn't change his feelings about war. There was a beeping noise near by. Heero snatched up his laptop.
"Dr J," he greeted the familiar face on the screen.
"Heero, it is good to see you so well," the familiar voice said. The face was different, however. More tanned, a little less tense. "I received your email only moments ago. A bad connection or something. Let's get down to business."
"Roger," Heero settled further into his chair. Trowa was listening intently, though his face remained indifferent as he sipped at the warm beverage.
"I'm not going to give you any orders, Heero," the Dr said with a sly grin.
"What?" Heero exclaimed. Dr J laughed.
"Don't try and ask any of my colleagues either, because they are in the same frame of mind. I told you two years ago that you last mission was to finish the war, and not get killed. I'm no longer your trainer. I'm an old acquaintance who should have perished years ago, but was allowed to live through a chain of luck. I am not going to tell you what to do any more."
"Then advise me," Heero pleaded, "as an old and wise acquaintance, tell me what I should do." Dr J smiled.
"You've changed, boy, you really have. The arrogance has melted from your soul. Did she do this to you?" Heero felt a slight heat on his face.
"Please," he repeated. Dr J sighed.
"Are you all there?" he asked. Heero nodded. "Good. I will call you back in three hours for your 'advice', and I want every gundam pilot present. That'll be it Heero. I shan't advise you again. Do you understand?" Heero smiled.
"Affirmative," he said formally, before closing the screen. Trowa looked up.
"I can understand why he's reluctant to get involved. I mean, who would want to become an advocate of war if they had a choice. I'm glad you persuaded him, though." Heero sighed and lay back. He picked up the remote and switched off the television.
"I'm sick of hearing bad news."
His knees were blurred, but he knew they were just below his chin. His arms enveloped them in a comforting embrace. Images and emotions kept rolling through his mind and body, sending him into spasms of fear, pain and sheer and petrifying stillness. The inevitable misery of mortality bore down upon him like an ocean, crushing him beneath its weight, destroying him almost. He would hold on. He had to. Besides, Gundam Pilots are immortal, and dreams aren't deadly. There was a knock on the door. Quatre pulled further backwards into the shadows of his alcove-bed.
"Who is it?" he asked quietly, hugging his knees so tight that it strained his hips to the point of pain. He could just imagine and evil spectre, enveloped in a cloak of darkness, to open that door and smother him. Death. He'd seen so much of it, and felt so much of it that maybe Death would be a relief, a friend to his tormented soul. However, his frail human psyche, however abnormal, forced him to fear the ghoul that hung over his every step and it was that unfounded fear which had forced him into hiding for the past week.
"Trowa. May I come in?" The door eased open, casting the looming shadow of the tall boy across the floor. Quatre didn't look up. His knees were unchanging. His knees were a safe focus for his tired eyes. Trowa sat down at the end of the bed.
"How are you feeling?" he asked. Quatre turned his face away. The wall was unchanging too. The wall wouldn't die.
"I'm fine," he replied gently, sighing heavily. Sighs were brilliant things, he had realised. A really good sigh cleared the lungs of air and the soul of grief for a few moments, like a new start. Trowa leant back against the brackets.
"You were never a good liar," he said with a sympathetic smile. "We're not expecting you to be fine. We understand what's wrong, and we're not asking you to prance about like nothing happened. We just wish you felt the strength we are trying to give you as your friends, and we wish you'd come out of here. Maybe talk to Duo or something. He's not feeling to great either." Quatre sighed again, this time the subtle breathy notes quivering a little with the convulsions of oncoming tears.
"I told you I'm fine," he repeated, a little tension building in his sweet voice as its volume increased.
"And I told you not to lie," Trowa shot back. "Stop hiding in that corner and show your grief. That's how to truly grieve for the ill." Quatre's head snapped around, eyes flashing violently with the internal fire of his pain.
"She's dead for Christ's sake! Not ill! Dead!" He barked, his voice cracking a little. Tears began to form, perfect glittering orbs along his thick lashes.
"She isn't dead Quatre, and if you'd stop acting like a little girl and hiding in the corner you'd know that!" Trowa slapped a hand over his mouth mentally. He hadn't meant that. Quatre straightened up a little. His brows were drawn and his eyes narrowed.
"She IS dead! That isn't Kitty! That is an empty shell of what she was. I felt her die! I saw her cry out in my minds eye! I felt every torment she went through, right until the end." Trowa's eyes widened.
"And," Quatre stuck his nose in the air, the tears now tracing lines against his drawn cheeks, "if you must insult me, do it out of earshot. I'm known to hold long grudges." Trowa got to his feet.
"I didn't mean that, it came out wrong," he said gently.
"Well that's what you were thinking!" Quatre spat. Trowa frowned.
"Look, I'm sorry for insulting you, and I'm sorry that you've suffered, but this is the real world, Quatre! You are a soldier of peace, and we need you out there. Besides, she isn't…"
"If she's alive, why can't I hear her?" Quatre snapped, glaring viciously at Trowa. "Why is there an empty void in my heart where she should be? You got any more answers, Trowa?" Trowa sighed and shook his head.
"We're getting orders at 19 hundred in the living quarters," he said mechanically, before leaving the room, the door slightly ajar in a hope to breach the fortress. As he walked away, Trowa heard the door snap shut. The fortress was impenetrable, and not even the efforts of kindness would break its icy walls.
There was a shriek from the living room as Duo woke up and fell off the sofa. Heero rolled his eyes.
"You gonna get up now?" he asked. Duo rubbed his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm up!" he protested. "What time is it?"
"Half six. We've got orders coming in half an hour." Duo nodded.
"That's enough time for a shower… why the long face Trowa?" he glanced over to the taller boy as he sat, flicking aimlessly through the channels.
"Quatre," he sighed. "I can't get through to him. Can you talk to him?" Duo frowned.
"I s'pose I can shower later. What's up with him? I haven't really seen him all week.
"Kitty," Trowa sighed. "He's convinced that she's dead. I mean, the pictures on the news tell us otherwise, but maybe the Winner's just made another doll, just in case of a situation like this." Duo hissed.
"That's just sick," he whispered, turning away.
"Really?" Quatre said as Duo came face to face with him. Quatre looked up into the American's deep cobalt eyes. "Do you find me sick, then?" Duo frowned.
"I didn't mean that…" he began, "I meant that creating people for your own needs is wrong." Quatre's brows drew tighter.
"Then my father was a sick man for creating me wasn't he?" Quatre hissed, "People are having a lot of trouble keeping their thoughts to themselves this week. Maybe it's the low oxygen levels." Quatre turned away. Duo caught his shoulder.
"Dude, I'm sorry… I didn't know…" he began awkwardly. Quatre turned and stared into Duo's face. He sighed gently and looked away. There was a pregnant silence. He turned his face back, smiling weakly. There was an obvious internal battle behind those overcast eyes.
"I'm sorry too," he whispered half-heartedly, "I know you didn't mean it. This has just been a frustrating week for us all. Besides, you are entitled to your own beliefs. My belief is that life is a gift, and we should accept it warmly. I made the mistake of not doing that before, and I don't want to make it again." Quatre removed Duo's hand from his shoulder. What time is it?" Quatre turned to Heero.
"Six thirty two," Heero replied. "I'll go check on Wu-fei. He's been down in the hold for a long time." Heero eased himself out of his chair and walked over to the air lock. Quatre claimed the chair for himself, sighing heavily.
"I can't wait to get off this ship," he whispered. Duo placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"No worries," he reassured, "once the doctors get through to us, we'll be out of here in no time." Duo sat down on the chairs arm and sighed heavily. Trowa eased himself up and stretched.
"I'm going for a shower, if you're not," he said, looking emptily at Duo, before leaving the room almost effortlessly. The pair watched him go. The television flickered in the background, muted. Quatre sighed again and picked up the remote. He was about to change the channel when Duo coughed lightly.
"You want to talk about anything?" he asked. Quatre put the remote back down. The TV flickered on.
"Not really, but I suppose you want to talk about something," Quatre sighed heavily. Duo got up and sat down on the edge of the opposite arm chair, leaning forward.
"Trowa was worried about you… no, we're all worried, Quatre. We've barely seen you since we got on this ship, and then you and Trowa fighting? That's not like you!" Quatre groaned.
"It's been a bad week Duo. I've been so reckless, just to run off like a little boy. So many things should have been organised, but there wasn't the time. I should have left a note to Rashid, telling him how to organise my secretaries and so on, and I should have written something to the maids…"
"Somehow I don't think that's it…" Duo cut in lightly. Quatre looked up a little, and then down into his lap and at his unchanging hands again.
"I'm… frightened, Duo," he finally said. Duo frowned.
"Of what? Wait a second, you been having nightmare's too? Geez, the last one I had was like, call of the undead or something!"
"No!" Quatre cut Duo off. "I'm frightened about Kitty." Duo looked across the room at the blonde. His pupils were dilated, eyes wide with no focus in their azure depths. "I felt her die, Duo." These words fell thickly in the close atmosphere. "I felt everything. Wu-fei will tell you. He knows." Duo could feel his hart rate quicken. What was Quatre talking about? The blonde youth got up and walked over to the observation window.
"Kitty is my little sister. The one I was always closest to. When she was eight, she fell very sick, and was comatose for a good 5 years. She woke up just after the '95 war. Feburary 22nd, if I remember correctly. After that, things were different. She was different. There's something about her, Duo, that no one else knows. She can see things, things normal people can't see." Quatre looked up a little, eyes glassy. Duo frowned in confusion and concern. "Things I can't see. The only reason I know is because she's been sitting down with a dazed look on her face, and she'd suddenly run off upstairs in floods of tears. Within five minutes on the news, there'd be a special report of a bomb, or a mass murder. She can see inside people's minds. I don't know how… I can't explain it… but because of my Empathy, and her… gifts, Duo, we had a link. If I was hurting, she'd know, if she was hurting, I'd know. I felt her die Duo." The words fell hard and fast once more. Duo couldn't take it in.
"Stop," he whispered, "I don't understand…" Quatre blinked, his pupils shrinking.
"Oh my," he whispered, his face flushing with fear and embarrassment, "I shouldn't have said that… what was I thinking…" Duo got up.
"No- no," he cleared his throat, "you got what's bothering you off your chest, and that's what matters. If I'm too dumb to comprehend… well that's probably for the best." Quatre blinked, before weakly smiling.
"I suppose. Just… keep it quiet… please?"
"Sure thing," Duo laughed, "with all the sleep-eez they've been doping me up with," he chucked his head towards the hold, "I surprised I can stand, let alone remember anything!" Quatre gave a little half-hearted chuckle. The television hissed a spat in the background. Duo stretched.
"I'd better go see if Trowa's done in the shower…" he ambled off towards the showers. Quatre looked over at the clock. 18:47 flashed monotonously below the hobs of the stove. He sighed and leant back in the old chair. He didn't often get homesick, since he'd been travelling so much, but he felt a distinct longing to be back with his sister. Back in school. He wanted to go back to the debating society. He wanted to be stared at by that girl again. He wanted to play his violin solo in the orchestra again. He wanted to finish his DT project. Heck, he was beginning to miss the flagpole where his fertility had so often been compromised. He stood up lethargically and walked back to his room. Once inside, he lay back on his bed, and fell into the welcoming grasp of his memories.
"…How can you possibly found an argument for war? There isn't one! We should try and live in a society where we can share our resources, where everyone can benefit. Do you really want to have to explain to your children why their mother or father is MIA? I know I don't. Wars a just a way to waste resources, kill off the human population of the earth and the colonies, destroy beautiful landscapes and the history of our race. We all lose at war. 100,000 lives or more were lost in the last war. The soldier's body count was less than this, but just think of the civilians who were caught up in air raids and other attacks. Think of peoples families. I lost my father and sister. I know a lot of you lost far more than that. I pray for the souls that have been lost, and that they will not have to witness another massacre." Quatre sat down just as the hammer fell to end his two minutes. The floor clapped vigorously. Annice Walters, a British girl from earth, stood up between the opposition and proposition. Annice, as Madame Chair, addressed the floor.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the house, since time is short, we will have to get right to the straw poll. You have heard the argument from the proposition," she gestured to Kenji and Ai Orikawa, "and the opposition," she gestured to Quatre and a girl named Sandra from the year above Quatre. "I now ask you to cast your votes for the motion 'This house believes that war is founded". Those for the motion?" About twelve hands went up, mostly the girlfriends of the thuggish boys who had been picking on Quatre for a while now. "Those against?" Quatre perked up and mentally counted as the hands went up. Twenty four! "Any abstentions?" A single hand went up. The girl stared quite intently at Quatre as she raised her hand. She did that every week. No one really knew much about her, only that she was quiet and unsociable. She was dazzling pretty, not like most of the girls at the school who flooded their natural appearance with makeup- this girl had naturally fine features. She had long dark hair, and she looked middle eastern or Egyptian in descent. Quatre didn't know her name, but he was sure it began with an E. Elle or something like that. Quatre met her gaze, but made no unusual expression. She returned the favour. Annice announced that the motion was not passed and dismissed the floor. The girl left swiftly and quietly…
"Quatre, it's almost seven! Get up, dude!... why won't he wake up, Tro?"
"Poke him. Usually works."
"OW!"
"Sorry, dude! I thought you were sleeping!"
"I was thinking! You really think I'd fall asleep in ten minutes?"
"I do…"
"That's not the point, Duo!"
"Will you two stop it? It can't have hurt that much, Quatre."
"I've got a bruise right there!"
"Oh…"
"Wimp… OW!"
"Are you guys coming?" a voice called out irritably.
"Yeah, yeah," Duo barked back, rubbing his arm. The trio dashed back into the lounge area where Heero was setting up his laptop and Wu-fei was pacing, his natural demeanour returning- proud arrogance mixed ever so carefully with something along the lines of PMS. Quatre couldn't help but crack a smile. It was another mission. The natural temperament of the boys was returning with their sense of purpose. Duo's nervous energy was in full swing- he was clicking his finger joints. Heero's impenetrable concentration had returned- it was clear in the way he flicked the switches and typed in the codes. It was very almost seven. A large window opened up on the screen. The boys gathered around expectantly. Doctor J flashed into view.
"You're early," Heero smirked.
"Your clock is slow," Dr J replied calmly. "Now, let's begin…"
Location- Three Months Later (present day ^^;)- Winner Estate
A young man stood in the rain, looking up at the curtained windows. He was watching a female figure intently. She was pacing back and forth behind a pair of large curtains, illuminated pink by the lamp. With his keenly trained senses he could just hear her angry words down the phone. He smiled, a young, handsome smile, barely creasing the soft skin of his face, and dropped a case. He took a step forward, peering more deeply at the window, and revealing a slight limp. He ran a finger over the healing gash to his upper lip and cheek, before dropping the finger to tap a button on a keypad at his waist. There was a beeping noise. The figure froze.
"I think there's someone outside," said a muffled but clearly frightened voice, "I'd better call you back." T grinned.
"Oh no, little kitty, I don't think you will be calling Miss Relena back," he hissed, "Since Miss Maria has far more, heh, important plans for you."
Location- Colony IW35899, L2 sector. Outer shell. A week after the explosion at the Conference. Yes. I like to Time Travel. Don't you?
A small unnoticeable ship was attached to the outside wall of the colony. Inside, scanners would have picked up 5 heat signatures. These five heat signatures belonged to five pilots, trying to get a grip on their new situation, and awaiting their mission briefing.
A loud noise escaped one of the sleeping rooms, coming from Duo's wide open mouth as he slept. He was having a nightmare. Heero groaned and slammed the door as he walked past. All this waiting around was doing his head in. The effects were clear in his comrades too. Duo was sleeping more, but having nightmares every time he shut his eyes. Trowa would sit before the television, staring at it soullessly, until he drifted off into an exasperated sleeping state. And Wu-fei. Well, he didn't seem to sleep at all. He just sat, pretending not to listen to the news and wringing his hands. Heero had sworn he'd been crying a few times, but he wasn't going to question the poor guy. Heero wasn't even sure if Quatre was aboard. Trowa said he was, but Heero hadn't seen him. Heero sat down at the control desk and switched on the radio, trying to intercept any messages. Silence. No one was talking just yet. There was a thump from behind a closed door as Duo rolled out of his bunk.
"Mrrfffghh!" he said from behind the door, before tearing the door open and storming out into the living area… in a sleepy rage. Heero switched of the radio and turned in his seat.
"What was it this time?" he asked. Duo shrugged.
"Some chick died… then came back to life…" he waved his hands around as he tried to explain.
"Zombies?" Trowa asked.
"Naw… not zombies…" Duo fell onto his face on the sofa. "I ain't afraid of no zombies…" and with that, he dozed off again. Trowa rolled his eyes.
"We got any sleep-eez?" he asked.
Heero frowned. "Dunno, but if we do it'll be in the kitchen."
Trowa got up and stretched. "I'll go check," he sighed and walked off towards the kitchen area. Wu-fei lay back a little in the arm chair dubbed 'his' and sighed.
"I'm sick and tired of sitting around!" he whined, "If anyone picks up the signatures, we'll be captured instantly!"
Heero shook his head. "They've no proof of who we are. They'll just think we're space gypsies and fine us for being tagalongs."
Wu-fei frowned. "Whose gonna believe that five juvenile space gypsies decided to set up shop in an aircraft carrier with five illegal mobile suits which are supposedly non-existent?" He gestured towards Nataku's head, clearly visible through a pane of glass. Heero frowned.
"We'll move on as soon as we get word from Dr J and the others," Heero said, his voice no louder than a growl.
"But they haven't made contact since you emailed them on your laptop! Are we supposed to sit here and suffocate? The oxygen tanks and back up life support won't last forever, Yuy!" Heero shot a glare at Wu-fei.
"What's up with you?" he asked sharply. Wu-fei bit his lip and looked away. The news roared in the background.
"News Bulletin! The clear up work on the Inter-colony conference hall began today. The authorities have now confirmed that it was terrorist attack, perpetrated by members of the Earth forces who attacked the colonies two weeks ago. Today, after much deliberation, the ministers of the colonies declared that an army will be gathered to attack earth, and fight forces such as the New Earth Alliance, or NEA." An image of five men appeared on the screen. "This image shows the leaders of the NEA, Abarov, Hiwatari, Oninetchi, Yamaue and Solonne. They spoke to their forces earlier today…" the news continued to broadcast the image of the massive NEA army, watching their leaders as they spoke of true peace and righteousness.
"I'm surprised you haven't kicked the TV in yet," Trowa mused, re-entering the room with a small bottle. Wu-fei sighed.
"I'm waiting for a piece of news," he replied meekly. Trowa dribbled a little of the powerful smelling liquid onto the cushion under Duo's head, and youth stopped twitching, lulled into a calm sleep by the strong relaxing vapours.
"In other news, the only true victim of the attack, Miss Kitty Winner, is reported to be recovering from initial shock. Here is Serra Lloyd with the report." Wu-fei's head snapped around. Heero rolled his eyes.
"You are so hung up on that girl," he sighed. Wu-fei shot a glare at Heero.
"I'm the reason she died!" he barked. Heero frowned.
"She didn't die, Wu-fei, look." The images on the news showed the initial shots of Kitty's almost lifeless body being removed from the scene, before showing the frail figure in the hospital, bandaged almost from head to toe. Wu-fei's eyes widened.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, before having to leave the room. Trowa sighed.
"Poor Kitty," he whispered, "they say she was about ten feet from the door when it blew." Heero showed no emotion. He looked at the screen, the camera zooming a little as if to entice the audience to rise up against the perpetrators. One wrist lay slightly un-bandaged, revealing heavy blue-black bruising.
"In some way, we're all responsible, I think," Heero whispered. Trowa sipped at his drink.
"I suppose, but soldiers don't blame themselves for casualties along the way. That's the incorrect way to look at things. If we regretted every man lost in the wars we've fought, we'd have millions of angry souls on out hands. Just think, in that final battle, close on 100,000 people died."
"That's a lot."
"No kidding," Trowa managed a weak smile at Heero's sarcasm. Heero was going soft, compared with his original frame of mind, but that didn't change his feelings about war. There was a beeping noise near by. Heero snatched up his laptop.
"Dr J," he greeted the familiar face on the screen.
"Heero, it is good to see you so well," the familiar voice said. The face was different, however. More tanned, a little less tense. "I received your email only moments ago. A bad connection or something. Let's get down to business."
"Roger," Heero settled further into his chair. Trowa was listening intently, though his face remained indifferent as he sipped at the warm beverage.
"I'm not going to give you any orders, Heero," the Dr said with a sly grin.
"What?" Heero exclaimed. Dr J laughed.
"Don't try and ask any of my colleagues either, because they are in the same frame of mind. I told you two years ago that you last mission was to finish the war, and not get killed. I'm no longer your trainer. I'm an old acquaintance who should have perished years ago, but was allowed to live through a chain of luck. I am not going to tell you what to do any more."
"Then advise me," Heero pleaded, "as an old and wise acquaintance, tell me what I should do." Dr J smiled.
"You've changed, boy, you really have. The arrogance has melted from your soul. Did she do this to you?" Heero felt a slight heat on his face.
"Please," he repeated. Dr J sighed.
"Are you all there?" he asked. Heero nodded. "Good. I will call you back in three hours for your 'advice', and I want every gundam pilot present. That'll be it Heero. I shan't advise you again. Do you understand?" Heero smiled.
"Affirmative," he said formally, before closing the screen. Trowa looked up.
"I can understand why he's reluctant to get involved. I mean, who would want to become an advocate of war if they had a choice. I'm glad you persuaded him, though." Heero sighed and lay back. He picked up the remote and switched off the television.
"I'm sick of hearing bad news."
His knees were blurred, but he knew they were just below his chin. His arms enveloped them in a comforting embrace. Images and emotions kept rolling through his mind and body, sending him into spasms of fear, pain and sheer and petrifying stillness. The inevitable misery of mortality bore down upon him like an ocean, crushing him beneath its weight, destroying him almost. He would hold on. He had to. Besides, Gundam Pilots are immortal, and dreams aren't deadly. There was a knock on the door. Quatre pulled further backwards into the shadows of his alcove-bed.
"Who is it?" he asked quietly, hugging his knees so tight that it strained his hips to the point of pain. He could just imagine and evil spectre, enveloped in a cloak of darkness, to open that door and smother him. Death. He'd seen so much of it, and felt so much of it that maybe Death would be a relief, a friend to his tormented soul. However, his frail human psyche, however abnormal, forced him to fear the ghoul that hung over his every step and it was that unfounded fear which had forced him into hiding for the past week.
"Trowa. May I come in?" The door eased open, casting the looming shadow of the tall boy across the floor. Quatre didn't look up. His knees were unchanging. His knees were a safe focus for his tired eyes. Trowa sat down at the end of the bed.
"How are you feeling?" he asked. Quatre turned his face away. The wall was unchanging too. The wall wouldn't die.
"I'm fine," he replied gently, sighing heavily. Sighs were brilliant things, he had realised. A really good sigh cleared the lungs of air and the soul of grief for a few moments, like a new start. Trowa leant back against the brackets.
"You were never a good liar," he said with a sympathetic smile. "We're not expecting you to be fine. We understand what's wrong, and we're not asking you to prance about like nothing happened. We just wish you felt the strength we are trying to give you as your friends, and we wish you'd come out of here. Maybe talk to Duo or something. He's not feeling to great either." Quatre sighed again, this time the subtle breathy notes quivering a little with the convulsions of oncoming tears.
"I told you I'm fine," he repeated, a little tension building in his sweet voice as its volume increased.
"And I told you not to lie," Trowa shot back. "Stop hiding in that corner and show your grief. That's how to truly grieve for the ill." Quatre's head snapped around, eyes flashing violently with the internal fire of his pain.
"She's dead for Christ's sake! Not ill! Dead!" He barked, his voice cracking a little. Tears began to form, perfect glittering orbs along his thick lashes.
"She isn't dead Quatre, and if you'd stop acting like a little girl and hiding in the corner you'd know that!" Trowa slapped a hand over his mouth mentally. He hadn't meant that. Quatre straightened up a little. His brows were drawn and his eyes narrowed.
"She IS dead! That isn't Kitty! That is an empty shell of what she was. I felt her die! I saw her cry out in my minds eye! I felt every torment she went through, right until the end." Trowa's eyes widened.
"And," Quatre stuck his nose in the air, the tears now tracing lines against his drawn cheeks, "if you must insult me, do it out of earshot. I'm known to hold long grudges." Trowa got to his feet.
"I didn't mean that, it came out wrong," he said gently.
"Well that's what you were thinking!" Quatre spat. Trowa frowned.
"Look, I'm sorry for insulting you, and I'm sorry that you've suffered, but this is the real world, Quatre! You are a soldier of peace, and we need you out there. Besides, she isn't…"
"If she's alive, why can't I hear her?" Quatre snapped, glaring viciously at Trowa. "Why is there an empty void in my heart where she should be? You got any more answers, Trowa?" Trowa sighed and shook his head.
"We're getting orders at 19 hundred in the living quarters," he said mechanically, before leaving the room, the door slightly ajar in a hope to breach the fortress. As he walked away, Trowa heard the door snap shut. The fortress was impenetrable, and not even the efforts of kindness would break its icy walls.
There was a shriek from the living room as Duo woke up and fell off the sofa. Heero rolled his eyes.
"You gonna get up now?" he asked. Duo rubbed his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm up!" he protested. "What time is it?"
"Half six. We've got orders coming in half an hour." Duo nodded.
"That's enough time for a shower… why the long face Trowa?" he glanced over to the taller boy as he sat, flicking aimlessly through the channels.
"Quatre," he sighed. "I can't get through to him. Can you talk to him?" Duo frowned.
"I s'pose I can shower later. What's up with him? I haven't really seen him all week.
"Kitty," Trowa sighed. "He's convinced that she's dead. I mean, the pictures on the news tell us otherwise, but maybe the Winner's just made another doll, just in case of a situation like this." Duo hissed.
"That's just sick," he whispered, turning away.
"Really?" Quatre said as Duo came face to face with him. Quatre looked up into the American's deep cobalt eyes. "Do you find me sick, then?" Duo frowned.
"I didn't mean that…" he began, "I meant that creating people for your own needs is wrong." Quatre's brows drew tighter.
"Then my father was a sick man for creating me wasn't he?" Quatre hissed, "People are having a lot of trouble keeping their thoughts to themselves this week. Maybe it's the low oxygen levels." Quatre turned away. Duo caught his shoulder.
"Dude, I'm sorry… I didn't know…" he began awkwardly. Quatre turned and stared into Duo's face. He sighed gently and looked away. There was a pregnant silence. He turned his face back, smiling weakly. There was an obvious internal battle behind those overcast eyes.
"I'm sorry too," he whispered half-heartedly, "I know you didn't mean it. This has just been a frustrating week for us all. Besides, you are entitled to your own beliefs. My belief is that life is a gift, and we should accept it warmly. I made the mistake of not doing that before, and I don't want to make it again." Quatre removed Duo's hand from his shoulder. What time is it?" Quatre turned to Heero.
"Six thirty two," Heero replied. "I'll go check on Wu-fei. He's been down in the hold for a long time." Heero eased himself out of his chair and walked over to the air lock. Quatre claimed the chair for himself, sighing heavily.
"I can't wait to get off this ship," he whispered. Duo placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"No worries," he reassured, "once the doctors get through to us, we'll be out of here in no time." Duo sat down on the chairs arm and sighed heavily. Trowa eased himself up and stretched.
"I'm going for a shower, if you're not," he said, looking emptily at Duo, before leaving the room almost effortlessly. The pair watched him go. The television flickered in the background, muted. Quatre sighed again and picked up the remote. He was about to change the channel when Duo coughed lightly.
"You want to talk about anything?" he asked. Quatre put the remote back down. The TV flickered on.
"Not really, but I suppose you want to talk about something," Quatre sighed heavily. Duo got up and sat down on the edge of the opposite arm chair, leaning forward.
"Trowa was worried about you… no, we're all worried, Quatre. We've barely seen you since we got on this ship, and then you and Trowa fighting? That's not like you!" Quatre groaned.
"It's been a bad week Duo. I've been so reckless, just to run off like a little boy. So many things should have been organised, but there wasn't the time. I should have left a note to Rashid, telling him how to organise my secretaries and so on, and I should have written something to the maids…"
"Somehow I don't think that's it…" Duo cut in lightly. Quatre looked up a little, and then down into his lap and at his unchanging hands again.
"I'm… frightened, Duo," he finally said. Duo frowned.
"Of what? Wait a second, you been having nightmare's too? Geez, the last one I had was like, call of the undead or something!"
"No!" Quatre cut Duo off. "I'm frightened about Kitty." Duo looked across the room at the blonde. His pupils were dilated, eyes wide with no focus in their azure depths. "I felt her die, Duo." These words fell thickly in the close atmosphere. "I felt everything. Wu-fei will tell you. He knows." Duo could feel his hart rate quicken. What was Quatre talking about? The blonde youth got up and walked over to the observation window.
"Kitty is my little sister. The one I was always closest to. When she was eight, she fell very sick, and was comatose for a good 5 years. She woke up just after the '95 war. Feburary 22nd, if I remember correctly. After that, things were different. She was different. There's something about her, Duo, that no one else knows. She can see things, things normal people can't see." Quatre looked up a little, eyes glassy. Duo frowned in confusion and concern. "Things I can't see. The only reason I know is because she's been sitting down with a dazed look on her face, and she'd suddenly run off upstairs in floods of tears. Within five minutes on the news, there'd be a special report of a bomb, or a mass murder. She can see inside people's minds. I don't know how… I can't explain it… but because of my Empathy, and her… gifts, Duo, we had a link. If I was hurting, she'd know, if she was hurting, I'd know. I felt her die Duo." The words fell hard and fast once more. Duo couldn't take it in.
"Stop," he whispered, "I don't understand…" Quatre blinked, his pupils shrinking.
"Oh my," he whispered, his face flushing with fear and embarrassment, "I shouldn't have said that… what was I thinking…" Duo got up.
"No- no," he cleared his throat, "you got what's bothering you off your chest, and that's what matters. If I'm too dumb to comprehend… well that's probably for the best." Quatre blinked, before weakly smiling.
"I suppose. Just… keep it quiet… please?"
"Sure thing," Duo laughed, "with all the sleep-eez they've been doping me up with," he chucked his head towards the hold, "I surprised I can stand, let alone remember anything!" Quatre gave a little half-hearted chuckle. The television hissed a spat in the background. Duo stretched.
"I'd better go see if Trowa's done in the shower…" he ambled off towards the showers. Quatre looked over at the clock. 18:47 flashed monotonously below the hobs of the stove. He sighed and leant back in the old chair. He didn't often get homesick, since he'd been travelling so much, but he felt a distinct longing to be back with his sister. Back in school. He wanted to go back to the debating society. He wanted to be stared at by that girl again. He wanted to play his violin solo in the orchestra again. He wanted to finish his DT project. Heck, he was beginning to miss the flagpole where his fertility had so often been compromised. He stood up lethargically and walked back to his room. Once inside, he lay back on his bed, and fell into the welcoming grasp of his memories.
"…How can you possibly found an argument for war? There isn't one! We should try and live in a society where we can share our resources, where everyone can benefit. Do you really want to have to explain to your children why their mother or father is MIA? I know I don't. Wars a just a way to waste resources, kill off the human population of the earth and the colonies, destroy beautiful landscapes and the history of our race. We all lose at war. 100,000 lives or more were lost in the last war. The soldier's body count was less than this, but just think of the civilians who were caught up in air raids and other attacks. Think of peoples families. I lost my father and sister. I know a lot of you lost far more than that. I pray for the souls that have been lost, and that they will not have to witness another massacre." Quatre sat down just as the hammer fell to end his two minutes. The floor clapped vigorously. Annice Walters, a British girl from earth, stood up between the opposition and proposition. Annice, as Madame Chair, addressed the floor.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the house, since time is short, we will have to get right to the straw poll. You have heard the argument from the proposition," she gestured to Kenji and Ai Orikawa, "and the opposition," she gestured to Quatre and a girl named Sandra from the year above Quatre. "I now ask you to cast your votes for the motion 'This house believes that war is founded". Those for the motion?" About twelve hands went up, mostly the girlfriends of the thuggish boys who had been picking on Quatre for a while now. "Those against?" Quatre perked up and mentally counted as the hands went up. Twenty four! "Any abstentions?" A single hand went up. The girl stared quite intently at Quatre as she raised her hand. She did that every week. No one really knew much about her, only that she was quiet and unsociable. She was dazzling pretty, not like most of the girls at the school who flooded their natural appearance with makeup- this girl had naturally fine features. She had long dark hair, and she looked middle eastern or Egyptian in descent. Quatre didn't know her name, but he was sure it began with an E. Elle or something like that. Quatre met her gaze, but made no unusual expression. She returned the favour. Annice announced that the motion was not passed and dismissed the floor. The girl left swiftly and quietly…
"Quatre, it's almost seven! Get up, dude!... why won't he wake up, Tro?"
"Poke him. Usually works."
"OW!"
"Sorry, dude! I thought you were sleeping!"
"I was thinking! You really think I'd fall asleep in ten minutes?"
"I do…"
"That's not the point, Duo!"
"Will you two stop it? It can't have hurt that much, Quatre."
"I've got a bruise right there!"
"Oh…"
"Wimp… OW!"
"Are you guys coming?" a voice called out irritably.
"Yeah, yeah," Duo barked back, rubbing his arm. The trio dashed back into the lounge area where Heero was setting up his laptop and Wu-fei was pacing, his natural demeanour returning- proud arrogance mixed ever so carefully with something along the lines of PMS. Quatre couldn't help but crack a smile. It was another mission. The natural temperament of the boys was returning with their sense of purpose. Duo's nervous energy was in full swing- he was clicking his finger joints. Heero's impenetrable concentration had returned- it was clear in the way he flicked the switches and typed in the codes. It was very almost seven. A large window opened up on the screen. The boys gathered around expectantly. Doctor J flashed into view.
"You're early," Heero smirked.
"Your clock is slow," Dr J replied calmly. "Now, let's begin…"
Location- Three Months Later (present day ^^;)- Winner Estate
A young man stood in the rain, looking up at the curtained windows. He was watching a female figure intently. She was pacing back and forth behind a pair of large curtains, illuminated pink by the lamp. With his keenly trained senses he could just hear her angry words down the phone. He smiled, a young, handsome smile, barely creasing the soft skin of his face, and dropped a case. He took a step forward, peering more deeply at the window, and revealing a slight limp. He ran a finger over the healing gash to his upper lip and cheek, before dropping the finger to tap a button on a keypad at his waist. There was a beeping noise. The figure froze.
"I think there's someone outside," said a muffled but clearly frightened voice, "I'd better call you back." T grinned.
"Oh no, little kitty, I don't think you will be calling Miss Relena back," he hissed, "Since Miss Maria has far more, heh, important plans for you."