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Broken Lullaby: II

-By ReddAlice-

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(181)-(-)-(Seconds Later)-(-)-(-)

Pain swelled in Amanda's heart. What had she expected? His life to be exactly the way she left it? Hardly, but she had never expected him to have moved on and forgotten her entirely; not to mention, to be replaced by princess Barbie in stilettos and red nails. Then again, she was just a girl then, and it was a short-lived illegal tryst...

"How old are you?" The woman asked envy darkening her words as she bitterly starred at Chance's round indigo eyes.

"18."

She shook her head, "I'm 21!" She yelled, her porcelain face shading a light red. "I've known him for 8 years, we've been married 5! How long have you known him?"

"I haven't seen him in a while." Amanda said evasively.

Mrs. Ivankovich's face screwed up into an awful expression of hatred, "Don't think that I am going to let a tramp like you and your bastard child-"

(182)-(-)-(-)-(-)-(-)

Amanda walked into Ilia's office, ushered her son in behind her, and shut the door with a quite final click.

"Who are-..."

Rubbing her fist, she looked up with ferocity glowing in her eyes, her visage the image of calm. "I'd call someone..." She said.

Ilia stood at his desk, his face a shade paler than alabaster, his faultless gaze torn wide and visibly wounded by her presence. "What?"

"Your wife." Amanda answered curtly. "I doubt she'll be getting up anytime tonight, sorry if I've ruined dinner plans." She waited patiently for him to react, but instead he continued to stare, unconcerned about the unconscious broken nosed spouse lying spread-eagle in the hall. "So tell me, do you have five kids, a big house, and a picket fence?"

All at once feelings crashed into his features, "Mandy." He murmured nearly tripping over his desk as he staggered over to her and crushed her into his body. "Mandy."

Amanda shifted her gaze, not returning the fraught embraced. "Get off me, Ilia."

Taken aback, he dropped his lanky arms and stepped away. "Mandy..."

"Yes, we've established that I'm Mandy." She retorted hoarsely. Where were those insults she had planed? It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Returning to his physical assault, Ilia grabbed her hand and eyed the deep tissue bruising with anger. "Who did this to you?"

"I did."

Ilia looked up, his eyes wide with confusion, "You?" Had he expected it to be some abusive man? Did he want her coming to him for help?

"On an asshole on the flight here, and not to mention your wife's face."

Her words finally registered, "Is she alive?"

"I hope not."

"Why..."

"She called my son a bastard."

Ilia's eyes gravitated to the floor, and then to the small feet planted squarely next to Amanda's. There a little boy stood, his hands on his hips, and scowling at him. Fruitfully, the toddler swatted at his biological father, and took hold of his mother's hand overprotectively.

"Don't touch." Chance advised with as threatening of a tone a child nearly three could muster.

Ilia squatted down and looked the kid in the eye, "I won't."

Chance tugged his mother back, "Good. I don't like you."

Ilia's brow shot up, "Why?" Stubbornly, Amanda's son looked away. "Alright." Ilia assured standing back up and turning his heartened gaze to the runt's mother. "Mandy?"

"I need money." The words rolled out of her mouth rather quickly for her own liking, but as ashamed as she was, she was glad she didn't put much thought into it... or had she?

"Okay." Ilia affirmed, "How much?"

Amanda was at a loss for words. She had expected questions, a list of inquiries, and possibly rejection. Instead, she got: How much?

"Not much, I'll pay every penny back." She swore.

Ilia shook his had and staggered over to his desk still partially dazed. "No. I don't want you to. You keep it, every penny, and more if you and him need it." There was guilt there she could hear it. "Don't ever bring him here again, he can't see me..." He whispered as an afterthought.

Wow, he was quickly jumping to conclusions! "Who said he was yours?"

With the presence she had always known him to command, Ilia turned and transfixed her with a hazy smile. "Are you telling me you slept with my father?"

Amanda threw her hands above her head, "What?! That's disgusting! He's probably dead."

"Do you know many men who look like me, Mandy? You act as though you'd have expected me to have never seen my own reflection, men posses' vanity as well. I can see my likeness, I can see me." He said watching Chance and smiling abstractedly.

"Chan." Amanda instructed, "Go sit on that seat right there...don't move, please, for momma?"

"Yes mama." He mumbled sluggishly making his way to the low loveseat and crawling onto it.

"Mandy, come sit and talk."

They were quiet as Chance settled down and fell deep asleep from all the excitement he was proud to believe he caused the past few days.

"How have you been, Mandy?" Ilia started slowly, his rich voice soothing, but injured

Amanda rubbed her temple feeling weak, "I've been-...we've been fine up until the past few months."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why did you fire me?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Suck it up, we all gotta do things we don't want to." Amanda growled adopting a motherly tone she had yet to ever use on a living being.

Ilia eyed her for a moment, coming to the understanding this woman in front of him was a far cry from the vulnerable child he knew and tried to shield. Obviously, he messed up big time, because here she was...in the blue blaze of danger.

"Mandy...that afternoon...you walked in on something you shouldn't have." Ilia neglected to say he traded his business and morals for her safety. "Mr. Barton is my benefactor and sole client now." He summarized.

She waved about at the ornate office, "One man got you all this?" Words clicked into place, and suddenly, Amanda felt like an ass. 

"I'm sure you'll come up with terms I can agree with." Mr. Barton had said smoothly.

Amanda placed a hand over mouth and shook her head.

"I'm glad you understand." He said avoiding the tear filled words he nearly died without saying once again. "Contact me if you need more money, but stay far..." He looked from his former lover to his only child he had never seen until moments ago. "Both of you stay away from me."

"Alright." Amanda agreed, listening to her mother in the back of her mind.

"I mean...love can make happiness, but can't buy safety, not for you...or for...." Or for Chance, mama, you were always so right.

Love was unsaid in the air, their eyes hardened by necessity, but their hearts breaking on the floor. It would have been easier had they both hated each other, or had Ilia truly just used the pretty girl and left her in her own mess, but it wasn't like that. Damn the world, it wasn't like that at all.

A nebulous voice interrupted they time they had earned and used in silence, "Mr. Ivankovich." Came a man. "Master Dechem Barton is on his way upstairs."

Ilia's heart stopped. Not. Now. Hurriedly, he picked up his son, wishing desperately to linger in the moment and passed him to his mother. "Go."

"Where?" Amanda asked.

Ilia stuffed a piece of paper in her sweater pocket, his hand brushing her hip. "Out the way you came, don't stop to speak to anyone, just ignore everyone like you are suppose to be there. Leave L-2."

Amanda nodded, and did just that, not even taking a moment to glance back at the man she had hated and wanted for what seemed like forever.

Down the hall, she stepped over Mrs. Ivankovich's unconscious body, keeping her son against her body, and thanking God she was not blessed with a fussy child, because he rested his head on her shoulders and fell asleep again not seconds out of the door.

On her way into the elevator, Amanda passed a man whom she presumed was Mr. Barton. He watched her like a hawk as she disappeared, stopping by a small inn-table, to see her off with an appreciative smirk.

The money Ilia had given her, the slip of paper he had put in her pocket during the short-lived goodbye, had been quadruple the amount of money she had earned during Chance's life. It was more than enough to get a nice apartment, and to have to work less if she managed it correctly. After a long debate Amanda decided to stay on L-2 for a while, hoping for another opportunity to speak with Mr. Ivankovich.

Maybe even an opportunity to share her son with him someday...

(184)-(-)-(A brief meeting between Ilia Ivankovich and Dechem Barton -7 pm-)-(-)-(-)

Finally...Dechem's plans had come to full light.

Ilia starred in utter disbelief, he would not take part in such an atrocity. He would not help kill any more people; the war was closer to coming to an end if he remained completely out of it. "I've had enough of you, enough of Leia." 

Dechem drummed his fingers along the gold panel of his subject's desk. "You don't know what you are saying. I can do this with or without you, I don't need you anymore, yet out of the kindness of my heart I have allowed you to believe you are required. I own you; Ilia, you and everything that belongs to you are mine. Leia went to school to be a registered nurse at my medical facilities to help me..."-he let the emphasis ring around them-"but peruse her love for you and became your devoted secretary. Truly you don't want to leave my daughter heartbroken should some horrible mishap befall you?"

"I don't care anymore. I am finished."

"No, Ilia, I am finished." Dechem countered his voice finally betraying his mask; he was annoyed. "You have three seconds to rethink your decision and get me what I asked, or there will be horrible repercussions."

Without thinking, Ilia snapped back. "No!"

"Fine..."

Ilia mouth parted, Mr. Barton was being defeated to easily. "What?"

Dechem stood up and walked towards the door, "I warned you those years back, I was gentle, I eased you into this profession, I created you, I gave you everything, and you kept at you relentless and childish turn backs. I am done, and it is time you learn your lesson. Ilia...It is time to pay the devil your soul you sold."

Confused, Ilia's brow creased. "What?"

"The arrangement. I am going to go pay a ratty grease monkey and her illegitimate progeny a short visit. I'll give you 24 hours to find them."

"This is not a game! I sent them away!" Ilia barked in panic. "They aren't on the colony."

Dechem stepped outside the door. "Aren't they? Hmn, I must be thinking of another longhaired brunette whore and her misbegotten kid. I could have sworn..."

As if stabbed, Ilia's heart bled down his ribs, his suffering pooling deep in his gut. "You kept tabs on them...you've know about my son all along...even when I didn't."

A chuckle fell from Dechem's lips as the cruelly curved, "Ilia, my pathetic son-in-law, I know everything. Only 24 hours..." He added as the door shut.

"Mandy..." Ilia grabbed his jacket and picket up his phone, his mind scattered in a thousand dread filled directions. "Hello? I need to get a hold of a locations directory...All right...This is Ivankovich; I'm Dechem's son-in-law. Put me through...I don't have two days. Now...Yes, Yes...good... Thank you."

(184)-(-)-(-10:30 pm-)-(-)-(-)

Amanda seated herself at the small desk she had bought and lifted a pencil to compose, something she hadn't done in years. Maybe it was time she finished the song she and Helen had so wanted to write for Chance. It would be a great 4th year birthday gift, something for him to remember always. Not that she wanted to haunt her son and her grandchildren with a lullaby from an obsessed mother; she just wanted to give something to him...that would be immortally symbolic; something just for her baby.

"I think it should be short and sweet...not all epic like, I mean, when you sing it to him...he should remember it!" Helen had suggested.

Still, Amanda had a different idea of how her son's song should be. "No, it should be a song, or a story, something with significance that'll mean more to him as he grows up. Something he'll never forget."

Helen had scrunched up her nose at the idea and turned her head, "Classic is better, but you're the expert, not me. At least start it off with Hush now, just in case he's sniffling his little brains out." Amanda had glared at her for a long 15 minutes after the remark.

Diligently writing, reworking, and humming to herself, Amanda stayed up most of the night until she was satisfied with her own writing, and then fell into the blankets next her son in her quaint apartment and drifted off to sleep.

(-)-(-)-(January 13th, 184 A.C. -6:50 pm-)-(-)-(-)

Amanda whipped the cake batter from her nose, and wondered if she should have invested in an apron. Then again, why would she want to look the part of a domesticated housewife? She sure in the hell wasn't one, not saying she didn't want to be one, just that she was incapable. Her personality was not grounded enough; big dreams, little girl.

"Chan..."

-CRACK-

"Chan. Please put the eggs down."

From the floor, the four year old looked up cleverly under his thick lashes as his mom. "Yes mama." He said getting on his knees and sliding the carton of eggs back onto the table. "Mama, what kind of cake are you making?"

"Vanilla." Amanda answered feeling her son crowed next to her leg trying to see. "Sweetie, why don't you grab the plastic stool from the living room and help me stir?"

"Yeah!" The four-year-old yelled, enthusiastically running from the room. He had become so active the past few months, he was so vigorous, and Amanda was delighted even more so by the fact that she could keep up with him. Amanda's mother had given birth to her when she was 35, age and hard work had always kept them from playing much.

 This would be the best cake ever, Amanda gushed inwardly, and it would do her own mother proud. "See mama..." She said to herself, her head inclined slightly to the ceiling.

Amanda beat the mix feeling her arm muscles working, a bit of the blend splattering her face. "Hey! Chan-Chan! Do you want sprinkles in your cake, or...just on top of the chocolate frosting!?"

...Silence....

"Chan?" Amanda found herself dropping the spoon in batter and gradually making her way to the hall. It was her worst fears as a mother to one day hear her son's laughter stop. "Chance?"

"Heya mama!"

Amanda's heart beat again. "Chance? Where are you?"

"In the TV room mama!"

Exactly where I told him to go, why was I worried? Still...Amanda jogged the short distance to the living room, nearly tripping over the rug at the sight that awaited her.

"Look mama." Chance said craning his head to look at her from the feet of a familiar man.

"Ilia..." Amanda's heart once again found it hard to go on under the strain. "What...what are you doing here?"

Chance wagged his head happily, "Mama, I think he came for my birthday!" He looked up at his father, "Did you come to say happy birthday?"

Ilia looked down at his son, his posture slack, and his face gray. "Happy birthday." He whispered.

Seemingly having forgotten his tart feelings towards the man who touched his mother, Chance beamed with glee. "Mama and I are making cake." He chatted. "Vanilla cake, huh mama?"

Amanda and Ilia starred at each other, a darkened cloud hanging above them. Something was wrong.

"Huh mama?" The boy persisted.

"Yeah." Amanda said quietly.

Chance grinned, and shrugged. "The best cake we ever made, I've never made a cake before. I bet you can't wait to try it, huh?" Not giving his guest time to comment, the kid continued. "Hey, what's your name?"

A little surprised, Ilia finally looked back down to his eloquent son. "Ilia."

"That's a girly name." Replied the boy.

Amanda decided it was time to cut off her son, "Hey, Chance...why don't you..." Amanda glanced about, "Why don't you go...play...for a few minutes. I'll come and get you when I am done talking to Mr. Ivankovich, and we'll all finish the cake together. Okay?"

The idea fit well to Chance, and he nodded fiercely, "Yeah! Together." With that, he made his exit into the hall and towards their bedroom, laughing probably at the prospect of messing up their companies suit with cake mix.

Amanda didn't wait long before she began to speak, "Ilia-"

"You've been here the whole time." He nearly sobbed, his voice haggard and tired. "I thought I told you to leave L2."

"But-"

"Amanda, I said to leave L2. Why did you stay?"

"Because-"

Ilia shook his head and closed the space between them with two long steps, "Never mind that, it's not important. Grab him, Mandy...and a jacket...I've got some money; we've got to leave. We'll go back to Earth."

"What's wrong?" The fear she had felt earlier was crashing back into her, beating her.

Ilia managed some up every horror in one sentence; even covering worries she never knew was there, ones possibly her mother had had for a long time ago. "Barton is coming both of you."

(184)-(-)-(Seven O'clock)-(-)-(-)

Amanda hated him suddenly, hated him for her, but most of all for their son. She should have stayed away, she should have borrowed money from Helen, or she should have listened and not been so hard headed. She should have gone back to Earth. She shouldn't have stayed on that god-forsaken colony. Above all, she should have listened to her mother.

In her mind she could here Chance giggling, calling to her, and then a scream only a mother could imagine followed by the searing sound of silence.

"Chance!" Amanda grabbed a jacket for both of them, and ran back to her room where she knew she would find chance.

Putting her hand on the door, Amanda looked back down the hall towards the living room, straight down the hall the apartment door gaping open, taunting her. "Ilia?"

...Love can make happiness, but can't buy safety...

The foreign sound of a gun ringing out in her apartment burned her soul. "Ilia!" She had not finally gotten him to loose her son's father; he had come to save them. She didn't hate him. She wanted him to be with her!

Amanda's hand let go of the knob, and at a pace she didn't know she could achieve, she ran back to the living room.

In a modest tangle of limbs, Ilia lay face down on the floor. "Ilia-..." She wouldn't loose him...she had a choice! Plummeting down next to him, Amanda rolled him over. "Ilia!"

A stray bead of blood ran down the bridge of his nose and into his sleep-deprived and sunken blank eyes. Just above his nose, slightly skewed to the left, a small black fleshy hole drain it's contents like a stray stream.

"So you must be Amanda. I'm sorry we've never formally met." Said a man..

Amanda dry heaved, crawling away from the corpse in tears. She had never gotten to say I love you, never once...not once had she ever returned it to him.

"My name is Dechem Barton. My daughter was married to that carcass there." He dispassionately gestured to the body. "Again, I apologize, you see...but this just doesn't fit well with my plans. There is an old saying that works well for this situation." He said thoughtfully.

The sound of fire distally roared in the kitchen, but Amanda just stared at her hands, her body quaking, and her mind precariously flat lining.

"I believe it was said by Zelda Fitzgerald." Dechem stepped forward from his portentous position just barely out of sight, a deplorable image at hand; Chance's limp body in his arms, horrendously dark bruises caressing his neck. "It is the loose ends with which men hang themselves. She was a very brilliant lady, and it is a saying I live by, and other die by." He said looking back to Ilia's still form.

Chance! How could she have forgotten her son! What sort of mother was she? Amanda scrambled to her feet and lunged for her child, but fell to the ground as one expertly place shot entered chest and exited her back.

Dechem stepped over her body, and nudged her onto her back with his polished boot. "Are you still alive? Well...I'll be damned." He laughed dropping the boy onto her abdomen. "You should have been a soldier, a will like yours is a scarce commodity." Rather than shooting her again, he left her jolting in shock on the rug.

"You won't make it far in heat." Dechem alleged with a smile. "I put the cake in your oven, be sure to tell your boy Happy Birthday for me, would you?"

(199)-(-)-(The Hall of Duo's Apartment Building -12:30 am-)-(-)-(-)

No, no...Duo was wrong. Quatre bounced a little on his feet feeling responsible for allowing Duo to think such a thing about his mother. Everyone needed that love, or at least the knowledge that it was there for them. How could he have fallen into that trap and doubted for one moment is mother hadn't loved him, cared for him, cried for him when she died, and that she was sitting under Ala's vast embrace proud of him. Smiling for him.

Her portrait in his deceased father's office loomed in his mind, her wide sparkling eyes, soft flaxen hair; she was so much more than beautiful. In the mental image, his father was in the picture as well, his arm around her slender shoulders, smiling.

"I'll make sure he understands..." Quatre said aloud, finally knocking on Duo's apartment door. Minutes passed, and no one answered. "Huh...He must be with Heero. Well, if there is anyone who can pound it into his head, it's Heero." He added as an afterthought.

(-)-(-)-(----Duo's Dream---)-(-)-(-)

"Hush now my child..." The voice was hauntingly slow, the tune lost in pain; agony woven under each forced word.  "No need to cry-..." The voice broke as the woman drug in ragged breath, shaking Duo's eyes open. He was resting on her stomach; smoke wafting in and out of his lungs. "I'll...make...all...your...dreams come true..." She was fading right under him, but he wasn't crying, he didn't understand.

Duo couldn't move, he was frozen under the golden glow of the flames, struggling to hear the young woman's words; each verse of the song becoming quieter. "Be...it chance...that I got you...or God's grace...all I know...is love...when I see your bright face..."

A crash in the background covered up her words again, someone was there! With every once of his energy, Duo rolled his head, his eyes catching the subtle forms of people in the smoke.

"Hey there's a kid and a woman in here! A man too!"

The contours of a face came within inches of Duo's, examining him with great interest. "The woman's dead, but the kids awake!"

"Dr. Garron the fire fighters aren't here yet, just grab the kid, don't get all weird on me now!"

No, No...Duo could still hear the woman's departing whispers she wasn't dead! "I'll make...all...your dreams come...true...only because...I love you.... Just you..." For a flit of a instant, Duo saw her eyes open to look at him, her loving stare glazed with tears. "Chan..." Duo looking through himself and recognized the dilating eyes, the cool tears making snail trails on her dirty face, but the boy didn't know the finality of the scene.

Without warning, the weak older man hoisted him with effort over his shoulder. The woman's broken lullaby drifting in Duo's mind: Be it chance that I got you, or God's grace...All I know is love...when I see your bright face...

...I love you...just you...

Without meaning to, Duo's mouth opened, "Mama...I love you...."

(-)-(-)-(Heero's Apartment -1 am-)-(-)-(-)

Startled, Duo's eyes lids snapped apart, his sight blurry and stinging. Had he been crying? That's right, he was in Heero's room, he had come there from his house after Quatre dropped him off, and there was no fire. That golden red beast had eaten everything he loved, and any moment now an angry spark from a cord could engulf him and his boyfriend lying vulnerable in bed.

How often did he really think about his parents? How much did he remember of them? Why did he only think of her when he tried to recall them?

Duo lie quietly in bed, Heero's strong arms wrapped tightly around him, consoling his sudden relapse into arsonphobia unconsciously.

"Heero..."

"Mmmm..." Duo could feel Heero's eyes open, his hazy stare on the back of Duo's head.  "Duo? Why are you still awake."

"Do you think you parents loved you?" A long thoughtful silence ensued in the private moment the two shared behind closed doors. "Heero?"

"Yes, they loved me." He finally said.

Duo found himself rolling over, and fixing Heero with a curious look. "Did you know them? Do you remember them?"

Heero squinted quizzically, "No."

Frustrated, Duo's voice deepened. "How do you know then?"

Heero cleared his throat, "One time, on X18999, someone told me to act on your feelings and you'll never regret the fact."-Duo nodded-"Well, this follows the same principle, my feelings tell me they did. I may not know what happened to them, they may have been kamikaze terrorists, or possibly a small family at a Shinto shrine, but I feel they loved me whatever way they could."

Duo grinned, "I never thought I'd hear that from you. I don't know where I got off thinking you never contemplated this sort of thing. That person who told you that, what did he say afterwards?"

"He basically called me a brat, told me not to die, then later died himself."

Duo made an O shape with his mouth, and lowered his head a bit. "Was he important to you?"

A private smirk surfaced on Heero's face, "Let me leave it at this Duo... if I was to pick an immediate father figure... one I knew, felt concern over, and perhaps loved... I would have chosen him. I choose him to be the body which represents the love I know my parents had for me, that old fool..."-Heero sighed quietly-"Why are you asking this?"

"I've been thinking about my mother."

"Did you know your mother?"

"No." Duo mumbled.

Heero shook his head, "Do you remember her?"

"I remember she was beautiful...I have been wondering if she would be proud of me, I want her to be proud of me...I wonder if she even loved me..."

An odd sound filled the room, one even Duo himself rarely heard, Heero laughing.

Shoving away from Heero lightheartedly, Duo mock-scowled. "Do your 'Feelings' tell you that my dilemma is amusing and to laugh at me?" Heero continued his inappropriately incessant laughter. "What?"

"How could someone not love you Duo?"

(-)-(-)-(-)-(-)-(-)

~The End ~ Jiendo ~ Fini ~

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Ending Note: I did a bit of research into the canon Gundam Wing and it's concluding movie Endless Waltz and formulated a plausible occurrence between Dechem Barton and Duo's father Ilia. ^-^ Thanks!!! AND LOVE!!! Freefall you didn't leave me an e-mail! Thank you for reviewing. ^-^ I hope to hear from you and everyone else again on part 2.

Please check the next part (where the next chapter would have been found) and further understand my fanfic!!

ReddAlice's new quote:

Genetics explain why you look like your father-and if you don't, why you should!

When people run round and round in circles, we say they're crazy. When planets do it, we say they're orbiting.