That's Childish, So Childish…
Chapter Ten: Remember When You Were More Easily Led…
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Disclaimer—No, you can't have the fish. Do I own other things? Not that you'd want. Go sue someone of value.
Warnings—Eventual 2x6, at least in theory, not that you'll see anything more than the vaguest of insinuations yet. Sarcasm. Panic. Minor swearing. People scratching their heads. That's about it.
Party poopers arrive at the Maganacs' village. Trowa and Heero travel in style, courtesy of the Oz Specials. Treize debates if he sent Dermail the right dropped gauntlet.
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Zechs trailed after Quatre and Duo on light, eager feet through the maze of an underground compound for the entrance to the village. They had half a day left to explore the village. Then, the celebration…
//When was the last time I had leave? 3 years ago? /Longer?/ It's been ages since I've walked around in anything civilian without some bloody purpose behind it all—and no, the formals Treize made me go to do NOT count as going out…// he mused, horrified by the passage of time. //About time I got out and discovered what fun is again!//
Miri resisted the urge to do a little dance. His feet felt light again, scolding practically forgotten. Okay, so rollerblading around the hangar was forbidden—did he care?
//No. There's always other things I can do…// Ice blue eyes gleamed with wicked mischief. //Or I can come up with new things… There's a /reason/ Treize sent me on so many missions across the world!//
Duo grinned as he tabbed open a door and waved Quatre through—and into the blinding sunlight outside. The Arabian Gundam pilot walked out without hesitation, smiling, with a murmur of thanks for his fellow—and Miri quickstepped to nearly tread on the other blonde's heels in his eagerness to see the town he had nearly crashed into.
Stopping a few feet outside the door—enough to let Duo out, too—Zechs stopped, looking about brightly, smiling slowly. //It's lovely…//
It brought the feelings of home, without enough visual similarities to blast his heart with old memories of Sanc. Just the warmth, the peacefulness—this is what his father had dreamed of turning the world into. Not so much the whitewashed mud and brick walls of homes, the wood-and- cloth overhangs of shops, the bright clothes of people passing on various errands… but the smiles on those faces, the happy calls of children playing in the streets, the quiet but content industry all around.
Miri could feel his cares vanishing there in the bright sunlight, the calming influence of the place seeping into skin and bones long-starved of such nourishment.
People passing by offered cheerful greetings to both Gundam pilots and the strange child standing nearby as if they were old friends. A couple girls came over from a flower stall with bouquets in hand, holding them out to Duo and Quatre with shy giggles.
Zechs could only stare at that last… ice entering his veins and holding him statue-still.
"I… Thank you, though I don't deserve them," Quatre murmured sheepishly back to the girl holding his flowers. However, he had no choice but to accept them in his arms, and those bright blossoms drew the gentle blonde pilot's gaze downward modestly. The young woman, however, giggled and dashed off again…
Duo, on the other hand, actually backed up a pace in surprise at the gift, as if not certain how to react. After a moment, a hand hesitated forward to accept the flowers, though, and the braided pilot nodded, smiling broadly—a hint shyly. "Hey, thanks… But—/why/?"
The second girl giggled like the first, and rather than answer Duo, also ran off… leaving both Gundam pilots to look at their flowers and shuffle embarrassed feet.
//Flowers,// Miri mused numbly, assaulted by old memories.
Miri had been given flowers like this… Long, long ago. People like to give flowers to royalty, to heroes, to those they love. People had given them to his parents. They had given them to him and even his little sister, too, when she was able to cutch at one (those didn't last long, though). Because the people had loved their royal family—and knew they were loved in return.
//Numb. I feel… numb… Am I still alive?// Ice blue eyes blinked blankly into space as the churning tide of memories began to recede, leaving a flotsam of devastated emotions in its wake.
"But… what did they give us these for?" Duo asked, dumbfounded, of nobody in particular.
//Probably stunned, like me,// the ex-Oz boy mused randomly through his sinking spirits. //Had he received many gifts in life? Does he know what this means, to the people? From his reaction, probably not.//
Quatre smiled gently, warmly, eyes lit up with a determination and pride almost destroyed by recent setbacks. "They appreciate what we're doing… Like they appreciate the Maganacs. I bet Rashid and the rest told them about us." He looked ready to hug those flowers like a plushy.
Zechs had to tear his eyes away—they were growing damp. It felt like someone was crushing his heart in a fist. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. Things were suddenly too sharp, scathingly so—as if the desert sun had focused a laser-bright beam straight on his soul to show every flaw's every exact line… //They're right—they're doing the right thing. They're fighting Oz and Romefeller and the last of the old Alliance… and me, I've been too narrow-sighted. I've set Sanc free—and that is all. And in /how/ I did that, I've destroyed my people's hopes… except for in giving them Relena. I'm a failure. I've become what they hate…//
///I've become just like the Alliance soldiers....///
Miri could feel himself shaking. That comparison…! Too cruel. And… And yet…? //It's… It's not /quite/ true. I at least have some honor. I do not kill innocents, civilians, when avoidable. I kill cleanly—I don't torment my enemies—I give clean death!// But the shivers didn't want to stop. //I'm not like them… I'm NOT!//
"I'm /not/," he breathed insistently to himself. He had to /hear/ it… //I'm NOT! I may be a killer, but I am not that evil—not yet, and not ever, if I can help it!//
"Zechs…?" Quatre's voice drifted to his ears distantly, hesitant and concerned.
//I'll do what I must—that's what I decided 13 years ago, and I'll hold to it,// he resolved silently, eyes narrowing determinedly. //But /only/ what I must…//
"Hello? Zechs?" A hand swung before his face, too close for comfort.
Zechs jerked backwards slightly, wrenched from his thoughts, and whirled—to end up facing a curious Duo with flowers resting against his shoulder. "Hmmm?"
"Are you okay, Zechs?" Quatre asked gently, stepping up behind the black- clad Gundam pilot.
Miri nodded slowly, ragged bangs half hiding his eyes. //Okay as I'll ever be, I suppose… at least for now.// "Yes." He made the answer terse.
Duo frowned slightly. Quatre looked quizzical.
"Memories." It wasn't an apology—just an explanation. After all, he /had/ admitted they were hard to distance right now, and they /had/ started this train of thought.
Quatre grimaced and looked a bit sick to his stomach, quickly tearing his gaze away.
That made Zechs's eyebrows arch slightly. //How much /do/ they know about me…? No, wait, Duo had mentioned talking to the doctor… Perhaps… He may have reported everything. Ugh. Don't follow that thought, Miri!//
Shifting his gaze over to Duo, the youth tilted his head slightly. Duo was watching him with a faintly puzzled expression, as if by studying his profile long enough, the Gundam pilot could get all the answers he wanted. And Duo looked like he had a whole list needing blanks filled in…
//Not this time, I'm afraid,// Miri decided with a hint of smug amusement that he kept hidden. //You won't get the story of Sanc out of me /that/ way. The fewer who know about it… the safer you stay…// He couldn't let others get too close to him, to learn to much, because that could endanger his friends. //Heck, look at poor Noin—I don't even know for sure if she managed to escape Romefeller!//
"Well… let's go see if we can find the Sheikh," Quatre offered, breaking the silence.
Duo pulled his gaze away to glance at the blonde Gundam pilot, breaking into a broad grin. "Sure… but won't these things melt or something? It's hot out here…"
//No experience with flowers, I'm sure of it now,// Miri snickered silently. Mischievously, he gestured towards a stall where a man was selling wooden containers. "Put them in water, add a bit of detergent, and leave them in the shade somewhere. They'll keep," he suggested.
Even Quatre eyed him in surprise. "And you know this… how?" Duo demanded sharply, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Zechs smiled wryly, and gestured back towards the entrance of the underground base. //So, they never heard of Treize and roses? Frankly, I'm surprised—I thought the Gundam pilots were well informed.// "Your briefings didn't cover Treize's obsession with roses? No, seems not… Well, then… If I thought the man would stay in any one city for more than a month, I'd have invested all my money in flower shops there. He always has to have them—be it in Luxemburg, Lake Victoria, or Antarctica… You pick up a few things about keeping the damn things alive in the worst of conditions after a bit…"
"Ugh," Duo groaned, looking at his flowers as if torn between pitying the supplier or the flowers themselves.
Shaking his head, Quatre slowly led the way towards the indicated stall. "Didn't he have aides to deal with all that?"
Miri nodded as he moved to follow. //For what good they were…// "Who do you think they turned to for /their/ answers?" he countered, stifling a giggle. "I may have been /intimidating/, but at least I wasn't /scary/, like Lady Une…"
Duo started laughing, and hurried to catch up with them. "I never thought the leader of Oz needed a /babysitter/!"
Quatre grinned at that.
//Well… more just someone who had a clue how to do things right, consistently, and had some idea of what he wanted. I swear, the rest of them, even Lady Une, seemed to need an interpreter to figure out what Treize meant half the time!// Zechs's face felt hot, and he ducked it to hide behind his bangs. "Well… not /exactly/…"
"Don't tell me /he/ used to rollerblade around the hanger half the time, too!" Quatre groaned.
Duo nearly doubled over at that image of the dignified OZ leader on makeshift skates.
Miri snorted indignantly. "Hardly… He was too old at the time for me to convince… Actually, that one was Noin's idea. I came up with downhill skiing on the sand dunes." //Though the friction-burns were a bit nasty those first few falls…//
It was hard not to laugh at the resulting expressions on the Gundam pilots' faces.
"It wasn't /that/ bad when you fell," the ex-Oz pilot protested, spreading his hands. "Sand is easier to soak out than asphalt…"
Quatre blanched.
Duo shook his head and walked on, muttering, "I'm not even going to /ask/ how you know that…"
Zechs laughed, and scurried to keep up with their longer strides. //Poor things… They really weren't briefed too well on us!// "Well, it all began with a large fan, a hang-glider, those rollerblades, and a good five rolls of duct-tape… Oh stop groaning—it was safe enough will all that tape!"
"I'm surprised you're even still /alive/, man, if /that's/ what you consider fun hobbies for your free time!" Duo answered over his shoulder.
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Arriving at the mostly-rebuilt Corsica Base, Trowa stepped out of the truck to give their papers to the officer in charge of the plane, who met them by the hanger. A thick sheaf of papers, at that—Heero had been busy at that last internet cafe. Heero himself waited behind the steering wheel, silent, watching patiently, so as not to reveal his injuries to everyone.
The recipient of the papers flipped a couple pages, skimmed… paused, reread a few lines, then groaned. "What does he think we are, a storage rental facility? He's got a damn locker for that, like the rest of us… though the lucky bastard always has the /big/ toys… Where's he hiding nowadays, anyway? No, never mind—there's such a thing as too much information. Some secret mission for His Excellency, no doubt. Hunting Gundam pilots, maybe."
Trowa stayed impassive, quiet.
Sighing, the man patted the papers back into some semblance of order, taking the lower half and passing them on to another soldier, who took one glance, rolled his eyes, and scurried off, calling to other various personnel. The first soldier turned back to Trowa, looking him over appraisingly.
"You're a bit young to fly her, but then, he's always had a bit of a following among you kids… maybe because he was shooting rebels down effortlessly at your age. I suppose he wants to pass the opportunities he received to youngsters like you… but I say it's a good way to get killed young and nothing more." He sighed again. "Not that my opinion matters… She's fueled and set to go…"
A fellow officer had idly wandered over towards the truck-bed during this chatter, unseen by Trowa but cautiously observed by Heero. Even as the injured Gundam pilot watched through the side-mirrors, the man tugged at the canvas, lifting a bit up to peer at the machine underneath. "Hey, this isn't an Aries!" he exclaimed in wonder, turning all heads towards the truck.
Trowa glanced over his shoulder, stiffening. He could see Heero's shadow shift inside the cab—perhaps he had drawn his gun? But… perhaps there was a way to fib their way out of this…
"It's not a new machine—it's one confiscated," Trowa murmured emotionlessly in explanation. Fingers crossed at his side—just in case.
The two officers exchanged looks, the one by the truck-bed whistling in awe. "/Another/ Gundam? I swear, the Colonel's got all the luck!"
Those words made Trowa shiver slightly, abruptly worried. How could Oz already have one, after all? Not good news… "The pilot was trying to smuggle it out of Italy by loading it onto a boat. He's dead."
"It I were him, I'd say 'screw the military' and invest in lottery tickets," answered the officer admiring Heavyarms absently, more interested in guessing the lines of the machine beneath the canopy.
The officer standing by Trowa shook his head and reached out to clap Trowa on the shoulder, nearly staggering the Gundam pilot. "That's good news! I have to admit, worrying about what those guys were up to has been ruining my nights lately. Things were getting a bit, well… /too/ quiet, if you know what I mean."
The soldier who had called various personnel after him into the hangar was now hurrying back, and so the officer broke off to call over, "All set, then?"
"Yes sir! She's good to go—just needs to be loaded!"
The second officer chuckled, and walked towards his fellow by Trowa, pausing to peek in the window of the truck and offer Heero, "Pass on our thanks to the Lightening Count, will you? I bet he'll be glad to know /some/ of us appreciate his efforts!" Then he walked on into the hanger.
"I'll second that," the first officer murmured, handing back those papers remaining in his hands. "Which one did you guys get, anyway?"
That was a good question. Trowa knew they were known by numbers, but which was /he/? One person could know, though… Turning to the truck, he called, "Hey, Duo!"
Heero poked his head out the window, blue eyes narrowed sharply. "What?"
"Which Gundam is it?"
Let Heero know, please. Let Heero know, please. Let Heero know, /please/…
"03," came a half-snorted reply, as if disgusted Trowa had "forgotten".
"Hm," Trowa grunted, as if annoyed, though he was secretly relieved, for the officer was nodding and smiling at that reply. "Well, if the transport plane's ready…"
Chuckling, the officer waved for Heero to drive into the hanger. "Yeah, yeah, whenever you're ready. Things are quiet here lately. Just be /nice/ to the tower after take-off this time, okay? They weren't too happy with Zechs for how he let you trainees buzz them last time… Thought you were playing 'chicken' with their antennae."
The truck rumbled to life again, and rolled for the hanger, Trowa walking behind, the officer trailing after as far as the doors…
Trowa had to make an effort to hide his surprise upon entering, however. He'd expected a typical transport plane with some fancy insignia and a name neatly painted on the nose. This sleek, gunmetal-blue plane was familiar, though—and /not/ a typical transporter plane. Special engines, set closer to the body, yet capable of holding her high in the upper atmosphere. The belly was large, yet sleek for landing on water, snow, or sand. The top was flat and the windows small, angled like an old Stealth Fighter plane. The insignia was plain, the name a faint bit of cursive black script by the cockpit windows: "Raven."
He'd seen it before. It had leapt into the air and escaped when he had first met Quatre. It had vanished like a flare into the evening sky despite a belly full of some sort of heavy cargo, adroitly evading a few parting shots given by a couple of the Maganacs.
The officer sighed softly. "She's a beauty of a transporter… I'm surprised he didn't leave it with Miss Noin, though, over in Lake Victoria. Their hanger's still in one piece, after all… Ah well. Have a good trip."
Idly, Trowa had to wonder why the Colonel hadn't tried to engage them—why he'd fled. It was something to ask Heero later. Wing's ex-pilot had fought the man—perhaps he had some insight behind such a move. And it wouldn't hurt to know more about the man they were pretending to be underlings of.
But the truck was rumbling up the tail ramp, so Trowa moved towards the stairs for the cockpit.
The officer waved, then wandered back outside, off to other duties.
Taking a seat at the controls, Trowa was shortly joined by the still- bandaged pilot of 01.
The pair looked at each other as they began starting the plane up, listening to the purr of the powerful engines, the thrum of agile power under their fingertips. They worked as if they'd been a team on this plane for years. And she responded beautifully to their movements, rolling towards the runway in a mere couple minutes, no warm-up needed. Their glances agreed—this plane was well worth stealing!
Trowa glanced at his companion, and a slow smile formed on his lips—a rare sight.
Heero blinked at him a moment, then arched an eyebrow in silent inquiry.
"What do you say we buzz the tower?"
A grunt was the only reply necessary.
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Treize Kushrenada sat back, feet up on a stool, and savored the red wine in one hand, eyeing a glossy close-up photo in the other hand.
//I wonder if I sent the right message to Duke Dermail…// he wondered idly, unconcerned, eyes not leaving the picture.
He had sent a copy with the message.
//I hope he doesn't mistake two right-hand gloves for a pair. It would be so unobservant of him.// Two white gloves had accompanied the picture. One had been Treize's.
//Thank God that Zechs always keeps a change of uniform at every base, or I'd never have been to send a challenge on his behalf as well.// The Congo Training Base had provided a glove on the Tallgeese's pilot's behalf.
//But I think the rancid dead camel with the broken back conveys the message best…//
It was best not to think of how /that/ was found and packaged into a crate for delivery.
//But the overall message should be unmistakable.//
Quite pointedly so. A picture pinned to the broken back of a dead camel, and two gloves of challenge to formal dueling sitting beside the odiferous pile. The last straw. The bonds broken. Honor should be appeased.
//But can it?//
Looking into the eyeholes of the cracked, blood-streaked mask of the boy in the picture, Treize had to wonder. He had seen that same determination in the eyes of the Gundam pilots. That same to-the-death determination in the eyes of a boy who had dueled him and lost. But more, that gaze, that expression, it cried out to the world that justice had been denied the wearer. And that triumphant smile beneath the mask, lit up by the proximity of a firecracker in the boy's hand—it brought to mind the words of a homeless, lost princeling with tears in his eyes.
"'Maybe I can't have justice… But I /can/ do revenge.'" Treize murmured those words again under his breath before taking another sip of wine to savor.
//AC 125… A good year. Your smile says you aren't done with them, Zechs—no, Milliardo. I am ashamed I can't keep your names straight. But what will you do? What can be done? They /have/ effectively made you no longer a serious threat…//
The smile in that picture seemed to mock his conclusion.
//…Or, perhaps I am wrong? /Are/ you the same boy you were back then?// Treize shivered a little, smiling slowly, wryly, eyes saddened. //The more I think about it… I must be wrong. You'll find a way. You did back then, after all.//
//I only wonder…//
//How many times you can sell your soul for those you care about? The blood already on your hands is nearly killing you—and this will demand even more.//
"Seven more hours, Your Excellency," the pilot called from the cockpit.
Treize sighed softly. //Hold tight, old friend. I'm coming to do what I can…//
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Duo looked back over his shoulder at where Quatre was talking to the local sheikh. Zechs hung back, a bit behind the blonde Gundam pilot, as if needing a body shield between himself and the rotund man. In fact, the boy had been rather the same around the villagers as well—tending to hang back, to hide either behind one of the Gundam pilots or under long bangs.
//Is it shyness… or embarrassment? Or guilt? Around us and the Maganacs, he seems more comfortable, but around other people, it's as if he… Is he afraid of them? I don't get it.// Sighing, Duo rubbed the back of his head, turning to head back to his companions.
The celebration seemed to be going nicely otherwise. Some villagers were making a bonfire, and others had brought strange instruments to play music, and a couple people were even dancing along to the current tune being played. Many were just talking, laughing, sharing food and drink…
Duo returned in time to hear the sheikh ask Zechs what he thought of the village so far. Recalling how the boy's wide eyes had eagerly followed the activity around them—yet how the boy had clung worryingly close to the two Gundam pilots for the entire tour, Duo wondered how he'd respond. //He /seemed/ to like it… but I was starting to get annoyed by all those people asking us if he was Quatre's younger brother or something.//
"It's really a nice place, sir," came a quiet, almost formal reply from under that pale-blonde fringe.
Duo fought to roll his eyes, and smiled wryly. //You hide too much, Zechs. Someday, I just might take shears to those bangs of yours…//
"And you, Duo Maxwell?"
Uh-oh, they'd noticed him standing behind the boy. //At this rate, I'm getting no better than Zechs—hiding behind others. Ah well—caught now!// "It's pretty cool, I think. I wish the rest of Earth and space were this nice and peaceful."
Both the sheikh and Quatre beamed at that, the former murmuring excitedly before being called away to judge some minor dispute caused by a friendly bet.
Zechs's head dipped, and the boy simply shifted his attention to the dancers and laughing villagers… a hint of longing in that gaze.
//Oh, stop brooding,// Duo sighed mentally, and dropped a hand on one of those boney shoulders. "Hey, go join them, kiddo," he suggested.
Under his hand, Zechs immediately jerked—then shuddered—before ducking his shoulder and quickly shedding Duo's grip, eyeing Duo scathingly over his shoulder.
Duo winced, remembering. //Damn, damn, /damn/ fool move, Duo! How could you forget?// "Er, sorry Zechs…"
"It's all right…" Zechs glanced back at the people enjoying themselves a long moment, then shook his head in denial, though whether he was denying something to himself or their suggestion was a good question. "I'd… rather stay with you and Quatre, though, if you don't mind."
Quatre piped in, "We won't mind, Zechs. Actually, if you can find Rashid—he should be out there somewhere by now—Duo and I'll catch up with you in a moment. Rashid's probably about done with the Gundam you brought in… and we need to figure out what to do with it soon."
A solemn nod of that white-blonde head, but something flickered in those perceptive ice-blue eyes. "All right." Then Zechs slipped off through the crowd like a shadow.
Duo sighed softly. //He saw right through that, Quatre.// "Better hurry with what you want to say, before our tail gets back.," he suggested wearily.
Flushing faintly, Quatre echoed that sigh. "He's… He's really reverting sometimes, so I keep forgetting…"
//Oh no, he's spacing out again with that Space Heart of his!// "Quatre…!" he warned, voice a low growl.
The blonde Gundam pilot started, and flushed a deeper red. "Sorry! Sorry! I just wanted to say that… well, just don't push him. You seemed suspicious, but… he really /is/ shy. He's comfortable with soldiers, but he feels very guilty around civilians…"
//Then… he did something, long ago, didn't he? Like the Alliance… only he regrets it.// Duo felt his chest hurt at the idea. It was hard to imagine the innocent-seeming boy a ruthless, cruel killer. "For what he did?"
Quatre paused, frowning a little at the crowd of revelers. "No," he decided at length. "More like… he failed them somehow."
//Failed them? By being part of Oz? Did he fail to stop Oz from some vile action? Or is it by joining Oz at all?//
"Master Quatre! Duo!" Rashid's voice derailed his train of thought. The burly figure practically charged through the crowd to reach them, plowing a path for two other Maganacs.
"What's wrong, Rashid?" Quatre asked urgently, posture signifying that he must be sensing something agitating them.
//Uh-oh… This must be big and bad!// A quick glance showed Duo that the boy sent to find the Maganac leader was nowhere to be found. //Where's…?//
"Abdul picked up a fleet of trucks headed this way—we suspect they've mobile suits in the beds," the tall man rumbled over their heads, like a serious thunderstorm.
//Well, guess they found us finally… Took them long enough.// "How'd they find us?" Duo asked resignedly.
"How many and when?" Quatre piped in, almost at the same time.
"We counted fifty, but likely more are elsewhere if they know about /us/, and they should be here in thirty minutes," Rashid calmly replied, taking one question at a time. "They might not suspect a Gundam here yet… As for /how/ they found us, we'd have to ask your young friend." Frowning, the Maganac turned to look over his shoulder by the feet of Auada—then grimaced.
Auada looked about wildly around his feet, then brought a fist against his palm. "Damn! He was right next to me when we were coming through the crowd!"
//Zechs…// Duo blinked, stared at the empty space, and blinked again, because now his eyes were burning. //Did you…? But why /would/ you? This doesn't… But maybe we're being too harsh.// "Wait—Rashid, did you guys tell him before you found us?"
The tall Arabian nodded firmly, looking thoughtful… before suddenly groaning. "He'd better not be taking that white thing out!"
"He promised not to," Duo admitted, though immediately his mind jabbered, //He promised not to /fly/ it—but he can still fire that damn gun from the ground!//
"He might be just getting out of sight," Quatre reasoned. "He /is/ rather conspicuous."
//I hope so, I really do,// Duo sighed mentally. "Well, then we'd better follow his example, because /we/ don't exactly blend in, either!"
"We'll be getting our suits in place to fight—but you two should keep your Gundams out of it," Rashid declared firmly, in a tone broking no argument. "We should be able to handle them by attacking from the sand bunkers outside the village… and then, only if necessary. For all we know, they're passing through."
Quatre sighed quietly, resignedly. "Well, we'll watch what they do in the village from the windows of our rooms—they look onto the main streets, after all… If things get bad, we'll have to help, though, Rashid! We can't let the people get hurt!"
//I definitely want to watch!// Duo decided. //And I'm NOT letting them hurt anyone here. I… /like/ these people. I WILL protect them!// A vision of flowers being held out to him by a giggling girl flashed behind his eyes, tightening his resolve.
"There's an evacuation tunnel through the main hanger," Auada informed them with a wink. "Trust us—nobody's going to get hurt. We'll help them escape before a battle can get into the village, and if we need to, we'll retreat into the desert, where they can't find us."
"Then it's agreed? You'll stay out of it, Master Quatre?" Rashid demanded sharply.
After a reluctant silence, the blonde Gundam pilot nodded. "All right… but I still don't like it, Rashid…"
//Well, /I'm/ not promising anything… How much time left before they get here?// Duo glanced about worriedly. "We'd better get inside, then…"
Rashid nodded, and led the way, his huge form making a path through unaware villagers too intent on having fun to notice their excited conversation moments before or their retreat now.
As the two Gundam pilots moved to follow, Deathscythe's pilot caught at Quatre's arm to hiss urgently, "What about Zechs? Should we look for him?"
After a brief hesitation, Quatre shook his head firmly and whispered back, "He'll be all right. I'm pretty sure he's already hiding somewhere where he can observe them…"
//Then you don't think he betrayed us,// Duo decided, breathing a quiet mental sigh of relief. //I agree… They did too much to him recently for him to help them. But damn… I hope they don't find him! If they were cruel before, when he was an /adult/ prisoner, they'd be worse /now/! I hope he's hiding /really/ well…//
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To be continued…
"Remember when
You were more easily led
Behind the cricket pavilion
And the bicycle shed?
Trembling as
Your dreams came true
You looked right into those blue eyes and knew
It was love
And now you can't pretend
You've forgotten all the promises of that first friend
It's bad enough
She knows how you feel
But she's not prepared to share you with those memories
So ask yourself now: can you forgive her
If she begs you to?
Ask yourself now: can you even deliver
What she demands of you?
Or do you want revenge?
That's childish, so childish…" ---------"Can You Forgive Her?" by Petshop Boys
Chapter Ten: Remember When You Were More Easily Led…
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Disclaimer—No, you can't have the fish. Do I own other things? Not that you'd want. Go sue someone of value.
Warnings—Eventual 2x6, at least in theory, not that you'll see anything more than the vaguest of insinuations yet. Sarcasm. Panic. Minor swearing. People scratching their heads. That's about it.
Party poopers arrive at the Maganacs' village. Trowa and Heero travel in style, courtesy of the Oz Specials. Treize debates if he sent Dermail the right dropped gauntlet.
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Zechs trailed after Quatre and Duo on light, eager feet through the maze of an underground compound for the entrance to the village. They had half a day left to explore the village. Then, the celebration…
//When was the last time I had leave? 3 years ago? /Longer?/ It's been ages since I've walked around in anything civilian without some bloody purpose behind it all—and no, the formals Treize made me go to do NOT count as going out…// he mused, horrified by the passage of time. //About time I got out and discovered what fun is again!//
Miri resisted the urge to do a little dance. His feet felt light again, scolding practically forgotten. Okay, so rollerblading around the hangar was forbidden—did he care?
//No. There's always other things I can do…// Ice blue eyes gleamed with wicked mischief. //Or I can come up with new things… There's a /reason/ Treize sent me on so many missions across the world!//
Duo grinned as he tabbed open a door and waved Quatre through—and into the blinding sunlight outside. The Arabian Gundam pilot walked out without hesitation, smiling, with a murmur of thanks for his fellow—and Miri quickstepped to nearly tread on the other blonde's heels in his eagerness to see the town he had nearly crashed into.
Stopping a few feet outside the door—enough to let Duo out, too—Zechs stopped, looking about brightly, smiling slowly. //It's lovely…//
It brought the feelings of home, without enough visual similarities to blast his heart with old memories of Sanc. Just the warmth, the peacefulness—this is what his father had dreamed of turning the world into. Not so much the whitewashed mud and brick walls of homes, the wood-and- cloth overhangs of shops, the bright clothes of people passing on various errands… but the smiles on those faces, the happy calls of children playing in the streets, the quiet but content industry all around.
Miri could feel his cares vanishing there in the bright sunlight, the calming influence of the place seeping into skin and bones long-starved of such nourishment.
People passing by offered cheerful greetings to both Gundam pilots and the strange child standing nearby as if they were old friends. A couple girls came over from a flower stall with bouquets in hand, holding them out to Duo and Quatre with shy giggles.
Zechs could only stare at that last… ice entering his veins and holding him statue-still.
"I… Thank you, though I don't deserve them," Quatre murmured sheepishly back to the girl holding his flowers. However, he had no choice but to accept them in his arms, and those bright blossoms drew the gentle blonde pilot's gaze downward modestly. The young woman, however, giggled and dashed off again…
Duo, on the other hand, actually backed up a pace in surprise at the gift, as if not certain how to react. After a moment, a hand hesitated forward to accept the flowers, though, and the braided pilot nodded, smiling broadly—a hint shyly. "Hey, thanks… But—/why/?"
The second girl giggled like the first, and rather than answer Duo, also ran off… leaving both Gundam pilots to look at their flowers and shuffle embarrassed feet.
//Flowers,// Miri mused numbly, assaulted by old memories.
Miri had been given flowers like this… Long, long ago. People like to give flowers to royalty, to heroes, to those they love. People had given them to his parents. They had given them to him and even his little sister, too, when she was able to cutch at one (those didn't last long, though). Because the people had loved their royal family—and knew they were loved in return.
//Numb. I feel… numb… Am I still alive?// Ice blue eyes blinked blankly into space as the churning tide of memories began to recede, leaving a flotsam of devastated emotions in its wake.
"But… what did they give us these for?" Duo asked, dumbfounded, of nobody in particular.
//Probably stunned, like me,// the ex-Oz boy mused randomly through his sinking spirits. //Had he received many gifts in life? Does he know what this means, to the people? From his reaction, probably not.//
Quatre smiled gently, warmly, eyes lit up with a determination and pride almost destroyed by recent setbacks. "They appreciate what we're doing… Like they appreciate the Maganacs. I bet Rashid and the rest told them about us." He looked ready to hug those flowers like a plushy.
Zechs had to tear his eyes away—they were growing damp. It felt like someone was crushing his heart in a fist. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. Things were suddenly too sharp, scathingly so—as if the desert sun had focused a laser-bright beam straight on his soul to show every flaw's every exact line… //They're right—they're doing the right thing. They're fighting Oz and Romefeller and the last of the old Alliance… and me, I've been too narrow-sighted. I've set Sanc free—and that is all. And in /how/ I did that, I've destroyed my people's hopes… except for in giving them Relena. I'm a failure. I've become what they hate…//
///I've become just like the Alliance soldiers....///
Miri could feel himself shaking. That comparison…! Too cruel. And… And yet…? //It's… It's not /quite/ true. I at least have some honor. I do not kill innocents, civilians, when avoidable. I kill cleanly—I don't torment my enemies—I give clean death!// But the shivers didn't want to stop. //I'm not like them… I'm NOT!//
"I'm /not/," he breathed insistently to himself. He had to /hear/ it… //I'm NOT! I may be a killer, but I am not that evil—not yet, and not ever, if I can help it!//
"Zechs…?" Quatre's voice drifted to his ears distantly, hesitant and concerned.
//I'll do what I must—that's what I decided 13 years ago, and I'll hold to it,// he resolved silently, eyes narrowing determinedly. //But /only/ what I must…//
"Hello? Zechs?" A hand swung before his face, too close for comfort.
Zechs jerked backwards slightly, wrenched from his thoughts, and whirled—to end up facing a curious Duo with flowers resting against his shoulder. "Hmmm?"
"Are you okay, Zechs?" Quatre asked gently, stepping up behind the black- clad Gundam pilot.
Miri nodded slowly, ragged bangs half hiding his eyes. //Okay as I'll ever be, I suppose… at least for now.// "Yes." He made the answer terse.
Duo frowned slightly. Quatre looked quizzical.
"Memories." It wasn't an apology—just an explanation. After all, he /had/ admitted they were hard to distance right now, and they /had/ started this train of thought.
Quatre grimaced and looked a bit sick to his stomach, quickly tearing his gaze away.
That made Zechs's eyebrows arch slightly. //How much /do/ they know about me…? No, wait, Duo had mentioned talking to the doctor… Perhaps… He may have reported everything. Ugh. Don't follow that thought, Miri!//
Shifting his gaze over to Duo, the youth tilted his head slightly. Duo was watching him with a faintly puzzled expression, as if by studying his profile long enough, the Gundam pilot could get all the answers he wanted. And Duo looked like he had a whole list needing blanks filled in…
//Not this time, I'm afraid,// Miri decided with a hint of smug amusement that he kept hidden. //You won't get the story of Sanc out of me /that/ way. The fewer who know about it… the safer you stay…// He couldn't let others get too close to him, to learn to much, because that could endanger his friends. //Heck, look at poor Noin—I don't even know for sure if she managed to escape Romefeller!//
"Well… let's go see if we can find the Sheikh," Quatre offered, breaking the silence.
Duo pulled his gaze away to glance at the blonde Gundam pilot, breaking into a broad grin. "Sure… but won't these things melt or something? It's hot out here…"
//No experience with flowers, I'm sure of it now,// Miri snickered silently. Mischievously, he gestured towards a stall where a man was selling wooden containers. "Put them in water, add a bit of detergent, and leave them in the shade somewhere. They'll keep," he suggested.
Even Quatre eyed him in surprise. "And you know this… how?" Duo demanded sharply, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Zechs smiled wryly, and gestured back towards the entrance of the underground base. //So, they never heard of Treize and roses? Frankly, I'm surprised—I thought the Gundam pilots were well informed.// "Your briefings didn't cover Treize's obsession with roses? No, seems not… Well, then… If I thought the man would stay in any one city for more than a month, I'd have invested all my money in flower shops there. He always has to have them—be it in Luxemburg, Lake Victoria, or Antarctica… You pick up a few things about keeping the damn things alive in the worst of conditions after a bit…"
"Ugh," Duo groaned, looking at his flowers as if torn between pitying the supplier or the flowers themselves.
Shaking his head, Quatre slowly led the way towards the indicated stall. "Didn't he have aides to deal with all that?"
Miri nodded as he moved to follow. //For what good they were…// "Who do you think they turned to for /their/ answers?" he countered, stifling a giggle. "I may have been /intimidating/, but at least I wasn't /scary/, like Lady Une…"
Duo started laughing, and hurried to catch up with them. "I never thought the leader of Oz needed a /babysitter/!"
Quatre grinned at that.
//Well… more just someone who had a clue how to do things right, consistently, and had some idea of what he wanted. I swear, the rest of them, even Lady Une, seemed to need an interpreter to figure out what Treize meant half the time!// Zechs's face felt hot, and he ducked it to hide behind his bangs. "Well… not /exactly/…"
"Don't tell me /he/ used to rollerblade around the hanger half the time, too!" Quatre groaned.
Duo nearly doubled over at that image of the dignified OZ leader on makeshift skates.
Miri snorted indignantly. "Hardly… He was too old at the time for me to convince… Actually, that one was Noin's idea. I came up with downhill skiing on the sand dunes." //Though the friction-burns were a bit nasty those first few falls…//
It was hard not to laugh at the resulting expressions on the Gundam pilots' faces.
"It wasn't /that/ bad when you fell," the ex-Oz pilot protested, spreading his hands. "Sand is easier to soak out than asphalt…"
Quatre blanched.
Duo shook his head and walked on, muttering, "I'm not even going to /ask/ how you know that…"
Zechs laughed, and scurried to keep up with their longer strides. //Poor things… They really weren't briefed too well on us!// "Well, it all began with a large fan, a hang-glider, those rollerblades, and a good five rolls of duct-tape… Oh stop groaning—it was safe enough will all that tape!"
"I'm surprised you're even still /alive/, man, if /that's/ what you consider fun hobbies for your free time!" Duo answered over his shoulder.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -
Arriving at the mostly-rebuilt Corsica Base, Trowa stepped out of the truck to give their papers to the officer in charge of the plane, who met them by the hanger. A thick sheaf of papers, at that—Heero had been busy at that last internet cafe. Heero himself waited behind the steering wheel, silent, watching patiently, so as not to reveal his injuries to everyone.
The recipient of the papers flipped a couple pages, skimmed… paused, reread a few lines, then groaned. "What does he think we are, a storage rental facility? He's got a damn locker for that, like the rest of us… though the lucky bastard always has the /big/ toys… Where's he hiding nowadays, anyway? No, never mind—there's such a thing as too much information. Some secret mission for His Excellency, no doubt. Hunting Gundam pilots, maybe."
Trowa stayed impassive, quiet.
Sighing, the man patted the papers back into some semblance of order, taking the lower half and passing them on to another soldier, who took one glance, rolled his eyes, and scurried off, calling to other various personnel. The first soldier turned back to Trowa, looking him over appraisingly.
"You're a bit young to fly her, but then, he's always had a bit of a following among you kids… maybe because he was shooting rebels down effortlessly at your age. I suppose he wants to pass the opportunities he received to youngsters like you… but I say it's a good way to get killed young and nothing more." He sighed again. "Not that my opinion matters… She's fueled and set to go…"
A fellow officer had idly wandered over towards the truck-bed during this chatter, unseen by Trowa but cautiously observed by Heero. Even as the injured Gundam pilot watched through the side-mirrors, the man tugged at the canvas, lifting a bit up to peer at the machine underneath. "Hey, this isn't an Aries!" he exclaimed in wonder, turning all heads towards the truck.
Trowa glanced over his shoulder, stiffening. He could see Heero's shadow shift inside the cab—perhaps he had drawn his gun? But… perhaps there was a way to fib their way out of this…
"It's not a new machine—it's one confiscated," Trowa murmured emotionlessly in explanation. Fingers crossed at his side—just in case.
The two officers exchanged looks, the one by the truck-bed whistling in awe. "/Another/ Gundam? I swear, the Colonel's got all the luck!"
Those words made Trowa shiver slightly, abruptly worried. How could Oz already have one, after all? Not good news… "The pilot was trying to smuggle it out of Italy by loading it onto a boat. He's dead."
"It I were him, I'd say 'screw the military' and invest in lottery tickets," answered the officer admiring Heavyarms absently, more interested in guessing the lines of the machine beneath the canopy.
The officer standing by Trowa shook his head and reached out to clap Trowa on the shoulder, nearly staggering the Gundam pilot. "That's good news! I have to admit, worrying about what those guys were up to has been ruining my nights lately. Things were getting a bit, well… /too/ quiet, if you know what I mean."
The soldier who had called various personnel after him into the hangar was now hurrying back, and so the officer broke off to call over, "All set, then?"
"Yes sir! She's good to go—just needs to be loaded!"
The second officer chuckled, and walked towards his fellow by Trowa, pausing to peek in the window of the truck and offer Heero, "Pass on our thanks to the Lightening Count, will you? I bet he'll be glad to know /some/ of us appreciate his efforts!" Then he walked on into the hanger.
"I'll second that," the first officer murmured, handing back those papers remaining in his hands. "Which one did you guys get, anyway?"
That was a good question. Trowa knew they were known by numbers, but which was /he/? One person could know, though… Turning to the truck, he called, "Hey, Duo!"
Heero poked his head out the window, blue eyes narrowed sharply. "What?"
"Which Gundam is it?"
Let Heero know, please. Let Heero know, please. Let Heero know, /please/…
"03," came a half-snorted reply, as if disgusted Trowa had "forgotten".
"Hm," Trowa grunted, as if annoyed, though he was secretly relieved, for the officer was nodding and smiling at that reply. "Well, if the transport plane's ready…"
Chuckling, the officer waved for Heero to drive into the hanger. "Yeah, yeah, whenever you're ready. Things are quiet here lately. Just be /nice/ to the tower after take-off this time, okay? They weren't too happy with Zechs for how he let you trainees buzz them last time… Thought you were playing 'chicken' with their antennae."
The truck rumbled to life again, and rolled for the hanger, Trowa walking behind, the officer trailing after as far as the doors…
Trowa had to make an effort to hide his surprise upon entering, however. He'd expected a typical transport plane with some fancy insignia and a name neatly painted on the nose. This sleek, gunmetal-blue plane was familiar, though—and /not/ a typical transporter plane. Special engines, set closer to the body, yet capable of holding her high in the upper atmosphere. The belly was large, yet sleek for landing on water, snow, or sand. The top was flat and the windows small, angled like an old Stealth Fighter plane. The insignia was plain, the name a faint bit of cursive black script by the cockpit windows: "Raven."
He'd seen it before. It had leapt into the air and escaped when he had first met Quatre. It had vanished like a flare into the evening sky despite a belly full of some sort of heavy cargo, adroitly evading a few parting shots given by a couple of the Maganacs.
The officer sighed softly. "She's a beauty of a transporter… I'm surprised he didn't leave it with Miss Noin, though, over in Lake Victoria. Their hanger's still in one piece, after all… Ah well. Have a good trip."
Idly, Trowa had to wonder why the Colonel hadn't tried to engage them—why he'd fled. It was something to ask Heero later. Wing's ex-pilot had fought the man—perhaps he had some insight behind such a move. And it wouldn't hurt to know more about the man they were pretending to be underlings of.
But the truck was rumbling up the tail ramp, so Trowa moved towards the stairs for the cockpit.
The officer waved, then wandered back outside, off to other duties.
Taking a seat at the controls, Trowa was shortly joined by the still- bandaged pilot of 01.
The pair looked at each other as they began starting the plane up, listening to the purr of the powerful engines, the thrum of agile power under their fingertips. They worked as if they'd been a team on this plane for years. And she responded beautifully to their movements, rolling towards the runway in a mere couple minutes, no warm-up needed. Their glances agreed—this plane was well worth stealing!
Trowa glanced at his companion, and a slow smile formed on his lips—a rare sight.
Heero blinked at him a moment, then arched an eyebrow in silent inquiry.
"What do you say we buzz the tower?"
A grunt was the only reply necessary.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Treize Kushrenada sat back, feet up on a stool, and savored the red wine in one hand, eyeing a glossy close-up photo in the other hand.
//I wonder if I sent the right message to Duke Dermail…// he wondered idly, unconcerned, eyes not leaving the picture.
He had sent a copy with the message.
//I hope he doesn't mistake two right-hand gloves for a pair. It would be so unobservant of him.// Two white gloves had accompanied the picture. One had been Treize's.
//Thank God that Zechs always keeps a change of uniform at every base, or I'd never have been to send a challenge on his behalf as well.// The Congo Training Base had provided a glove on the Tallgeese's pilot's behalf.
//But I think the rancid dead camel with the broken back conveys the message best…//
It was best not to think of how /that/ was found and packaged into a crate for delivery.
//But the overall message should be unmistakable.//
Quite pointedly so. A picture pinned to the broken back of a dead camel, and two gloves of challenge to formal dueling sitting beside the odiferous pile. The last straw. The bonds broken. Honor should be appeased.
//But can it?//
Looking into the eyeholes of the cracked, blood-streaked mask of the boy in the picture, Treize had to wonder. He had seen that same determination in the eyes of the Gundam pilots. That same to-the-death determination in the eyes of a boy who had dueled him and lost. But more, that gaze, that expression, it cried out to the world that justice had been denied the wearer. And that triumphant smile beneath the mask, lit up by the proximity of a firecracker in the boy's hand—it brought to mind the words of a homeless, lost princeling with tears in his eyes.
"'Maybe I can't have justice… But I /can/ do revenge.'" Treize murmured those words again under his breath before taking another sip of wine to savor.
//AC 125… A good year. Your smile says you aren't done with them, Zechs—no, Milliardo. I am ashamed I can't keep your names straight. But what will you do? What can be done? They /have/ effectively made you no longer a serious threat…//
The smile in that picture seemed to mock his conclusion.
//…Or, perhaps I am wrong? /Are/ you the same boy you were back then?// Treize shivered a little, smiling slowly, wryly, eyes saddened. //The more I think about it… I must be wrong. You'll find a way. You did back then, after all.//
//I only wonder…//
//How many times you can sell your soul for those you care about? The blood already on your hands is nearly killing you—and this will demand even more.//
"Seven more hours, Your Excellency," the pilot called from the cockpit.
Treize sighed softly. //Hold tight, old friend. I'm coming to do what I can…//
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Duo looked back over his shoulder at where Quatre was talking to the local sheikh. Zechs hung back, a bit behind the blonde Gundam pilot, as if needing a body shield between himself and the rotund man. In fact, the boy had been rather the same around the villagers as well—tending to hang back, to hide either behind one of the Gundam pilots or under long bangs.
//Is it shyness… or embarrassment? Or guilt? Around us and the Maganacs, he seems more comfortable, but around other people, it's as if he… Is he afraid of them? I don't get it.// Sighing, Duo rubbed the back of his head, turning to head back to his companions.
The celebration seemed to be going nicely otherwise. Some villagers were making a bonfire, and others had brought strange instruments to play music, and a couple people were even dancing along to the current tune being played. Many were just talking, laughing, sharing food and drink…
Duo returned in time to hear the sheikh ask Zechs what he thought of the village so far. Recalling how the boy's wide eyes had eagerly followed the activity around them—yet how the boy had clung worryingly close to the two Gundam pilots for the entire tour, Duo wondered how he'd respond. //He /seemed/ to like it… but I was starting to get annoyed by all those people asking us if he was Quatre's younger brother or something.//
"It's really a nice place, sir," came a quiet, almost formal reply from under that pale-blonde fringe.
Duo fought to roll his eyes, and smiled wryly. //You hide too much, Zechs. Someday, I just might take shears to those bangs of yours…//
"And you, Duo Maxwell?"
Uh-oh, they'd noticed him standing behind the boy. //At this rate, I'm getting no better than Zechs—hiding behind others. Ah well—caught now!// "It's pretty cool, I think. I wish the rest of Earth and space were this nice and peaceful."
Both the sheikh and Quatre beamed at that, the former murmuring excitedly before being called away to judge some minor dispute caused by a friendly bet.
Zechs's head dipped, and the boy simply shifted his attention to the dancers and laughing villagers… a hint of longing in that gaze.
//Oh, stop brooding,// Duo sighed mentally, and dropped a hand on one of those boney shoulders. "Hey, go join them, kiddo," he suggested.
Under his hand, Zechs immediately jerked—then shuddered—before ducking his shoulder and quickly shedding Duo's grip, eyeing Duo scathingly over his shoulder.
Duo winced, remembering. //Damn, damn, /damn/ fool move, Duo! How could you forget?// "Er, sorry Zechs…"
"It's all right…" Zechs glanced back at the people enjoying themselves a long moment, then shook his head in denial, though whether he was denying something to himself or their suggestion was a good question. "I'd… rather stay with you and Quatre, though, if you don't mind."
Quatre piped in, "We won't mind, Zechs. Actually, if you can find Rashid—he should be out there somewhere by now—Duo and I'll catch up with you in a moment. Rashid's probably about done with the Gundam you brought in… and we need to figure out what to do with it soon."
A solemn nod of that white-blonde head, but something flickered in those perceptive ice-blue eyes. "All right." Then Zechs slipped off through the crowd like a shadow.
Duo sighed softly. //He saw right through that, Quatre.// "Better hurry with what you want to say, before our tail gets back.," he suggested wearily.
Flushing faintly, Quatre echoed that sigh. "He's… He's really reverting sometimes, so I keep forgetting…"
//Oh no, he's spacing out again with that Space Heart of his!// "Quatre…!" he warned, voice a low growl.
The blonde Gundam pilot started, and flushed a deeper red. "Sorry! Sorry! I just wanted to say that… well, just don't push him. You seemed suspicious, but… he really /is/ shy. He's comfortable with soldiers, but he feels very guilty around civilians…"
//Then… he did something, long ago, didn't he? Like the Alliance… only he regrets it.// Duo felt his chest hurt at the idea. It was hard to imagine the innocent-seeming boy a ruthless, cruel killer. "For what he did?"
Quatre paused, frowning a little at the crowd of revelers. "No," he decided at length. "More like… he failed them somehow."
//Failed them? By being part of Oz? Did he fail to stop Oz from some vile action? Or is it by joining Oz at all?//
"Master Quatre! Duo!" Rashid's voice derailed his train of thought. The burly figure practically charged through the crowd to reach them, plowing a path for two other Maganacs.
"What's wrong, Rashid?" Quatre asked urgently, posture signifying that he must be sensing something agitating them.
//Uh-oh… This must be big and bad!// A quick glance showed Duo that the boy sent to find the Maganac leader was nowhere to be found. //Where's…?//
"Abdul picked up a fleet of trucks headed this way—we suspect they've mobile suits in the beds," the tall man rumbled over their heads, like a serious thunderstorm.
//Well, guess they found us finally… Took them long enough.// "How'd they find us?" Duo asked resignedly.
"How many and when?" Quatre piped in, almost at the same time.
"We counted fifty, but likely more are elsewhere if they know about /us/, and they should be here in thirty minutes," Rashid calmly replied, taking one question at a time. "They might not suspect a Gundam here yet… As for /how/ they found us, we'd have to ask your young friend." Frowning, the Maganac turned to look over his shoulder by the feet of Auada—then grimaced.
Auada looked about wildly around his feet, then brought a fist against his palm. "Damn! He was right next to me when we were coming through the crowd!"
//Zechs…// Duo blinked, stared at the empty space, and blinked again, because now his eyes were burning. //Did you…? But why /would/ you? This doesn't… But maybe we're being too harsh.// "Wait—Rashid, did you guys tell him before you found us?"
The tall Arabian nodded firmly, looking thoughtful… before suddenly groaning. "He'd better not be taking that white thing out!"
"He promised not to," Duo admitted, though immediately his mind jabbered, //He promised not to /fly/ it—but he can still fire that damn gun from the ground!//
"He might be just getting out of sight," Quatre reasoned. "He /is/ rather conspicuous."
//I hope so, I really do,// Duo sighed mentally. "Well, then we'd better follow his example, because /we/ don't exactly blend in, either!"
"We'll be getting our suits in place to fight—but you two should keep your Gundams out of it," Rashid declared firmly, in a tone broking no argument. "We should be able to handle them by attacking from the sand bunkers outside the village… and then, only if necessary. For all we know, they're passing through."
Quatre sighed quietly, resignedly. "Well, we'll watch what they do in the village from the windows of our rooms—they look onto the main streets, after all… If things get bad, we'll have to help, though, Rashid! We can't let the people get hurt!"
//I definitely want to watch!// Duo decided. //And I'm NOT letting them hurt anyone here. I… /like/ these people. I WILL protect them!// A vision of flowers being held out to him by a giggling girl flashed behind his eyes, tightening his resolve.
"There's an evacuation tunnel through the main hanger," Auada informed them with a wink. "Trust us—nobody's going to get hurt. We'll help them escape before a battle can get into the village, and if we need to, we'll retreat into the desert, where they can't find us."
"Then it's agreed? You'll stay out of it, Master Quatre?" Rashid demanded sharply.
After a reluctant silence, the blonde Gundam pilot nodded. "All right… but I still don't like it, Rashid…"
//Well, /I'm/ not promising anything… How much time left before they get here?// Duo glanced about worriedly. "We'd better get inside, then…"
Rashid nodded, and led the way, his huge form making a path through unaware villagers too intent on having fun to notice their excited conversation moments before or their retreat now.
As the two Gundam pilots moved to follow, Deathscythe's pilot caught at Quatre's arm to hiss urgently, "What about Zechs? Should we look for him?"
After a brief hesitation, Quatre shook his head firmly and whispered back, "He'll be all right. I'm pretty sure he's already hiding somewhere where he can observe them…"
//Then you don't think he betrayed us,// Duo decided, breathing a quiet mental sigh of relief. //I agree… They did too much to him recently for him to help them. But damn… I hope they don't find him! If they were cruel before, when he was an /adult/ prisoner, they'd be worse /now/! I hope he's hiding /really/ well…//
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --
To be continued…
"Remember when
You were more easily led
Behind the cricket pavilion
And the bicycle shed?
Trembling as
Your dreams came true
You looked right into those blue eyes and knew
It was love
And now you can't pretend
You've forgotten all the promises of that first friend
It's bad enough
She knows how you feel
But she's not prepared to share you with those memories
So ask yourself now: can you forgive her
If she begs you to?
Ask yourself now: can you even deliver
What she demands of you?
Or do you want revenge?
That's childish, so childish…" ---------"Can You Forgive Her?" by Petshop Boys