Spoiler Warning: This story contains major spoilers for Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch From Mercury, Episodes 5 and 6.

You have been warned

What Dreams Are Made Of

A Witch From Mercury Story

Prologue

Happy Birthday

Enhanced Person Number 4 woke up in a cold, dark chamber, his hands and feet bound by thick, iron shackles. A faint, yellow glow lit up the room, giving the boy a dim view of his "cell".

A long hallway, built from lead and steel. And in front of him, an oval shaped wall, emmiting a saffron light, and a gentle heat, that grew with every passing moment. But this was no heat lamp. The teen had never seen the inside of a laser canon before, but he knew the design well enough to recognise it at a glance. So this was it. This was his execution.

Of course, he'd expected this from the start. The owners of Peil Technologies had never seen him as anything more than a tool - something to serve it's purpose, and be tossed away when it failed them. And Number Four had failed them quite spectacularly. He'd disobeyed orders, resulting in serious damage to a priceless Gundam. Expecting to live would be wishful thinking.

As the beam charged, and the moment of death approached, the boy couldn't help but smile. It wasn't that he wanted to die, but it wasn't like he could stop it, either. He'd pushed his body to its very limit. If he tried to pilot again, he would surely perish. At least he could meet his end with a happy memory, and the knowledge that someone had once loved him.

If he had one regret, it was that he couldn't keep his appointment with Suletta. The Mercurian girl would likely spend the whole day waiting for him. Waiting for a friend who would never arrive. Oh well. Better to think he stood her up, than to know the truth of his fate. And it made him a little happy to know she cared. He just hoped the next Elan Ceres would be kind to her.

The young man kept his smile, even as the laser pierced his body. There was no pain. There was no fear. Only a moment of intense heat and light. And then...

Peace

But, was this really death?

Instead of a cold, unfeeling void, the nameless boy experienced something quite different.

He was warm, and comfortable, as if he was being held by a pair of unseen arms. He was alone, (as far as he could tell), but he sensed a kind of... presence. It was as if somebody was with him, in the darkness, holding him, surrounding him. Someone familiar, but someone he couldn't quite remember.

Was this the afterlife? If it was, then deatvlh wasn't so bad. An eternity of this? That sounded pretty nice.

But it was not to be. Already he could feel himself slipping from this ethereal embrace. The presence, once surrounding him, slowly let him go, and he felt himself falling into the darkness. "No... please..." He begged, "Let me stay, just a bit longer..." His words fell on deaf ears as something, or someone, pulled at his soul, dragging him away into a future he could not fathom.

And then, he opened his eyes.

He found himself laying in a warm bed, his mind still in a haze. The memory of that experience was already fading, but he was too confused to hold onto it.

What happened? Had they spared him? That didn't sound right. Those women never showed mercy to people like him.

He sat up in bed, finding himself in a room completely unfamiliar to him. It looked nothing like the dark, bare quarters he'd stayed in at Peil House. It looked, for lack of a better term, lived-in. Clothes strewn about the floor, left there by someone too lazy to sort their own laundry. Walls covered in posters for various anime and manga, none of which he'd ever heard of. But what really caught his attention, was the desk at the corner of the room.

It was a complete mess, even for a bedroom like this one. Cardboard boxes, all of them from some company called "Bandai". Cans of spray paint, in every color of the rainbow. And at the center of it all, a small, plastic figure. He picked it up, staring at the model like it was some alien artifact. To most people, the little purple robot would seem fairly unremarkable. He, on the other hand, recognized it instantly.

"Pharact?"

He barely had time to contemplate the implications of this, before the door swung open, and a very familiar woman stepped into the room.

"Oh! Good morning, birthday boy!" She said, "You're up early."

He couldn't believe his eyes. It was his handler: Belmeria Winston.

"Ms Winston!?" He asked, reeling from all he'd been forced to take in, "Wh- what's going on? Where am I?"

"'Miss Winston?'" The woman scoffed, "That's a fine thing to call your mother. And we're at home, dear, where else?"

Mother!? Did she really just say that? And home? Where was home?

He looked out the window. A small, urban area, dotted with houses that looked like they were from the middle era. Was he on Earth? Most of their tech was years behind the rest of humanity. That might explain the outdated building designs...

He checked the calender. The year was 2057. "2057?" He said aloud, "Ad Stella 2057?" That made no sense! That would put him a good 2000 years in the future!

"Um, no..." Belemeria said, "2057, Common Era." She gave him a very concerned look. "Are you alright, Elan? Are you feeling unwell?"

The boy sat on his bed, rubbing at his temples in confusion. He was so overwhelmed, that he barely noticed her call him Elan. "I'm not ill." He assured her, "At least I don't think I am. Just, can I ask you one question Ms Winston... I mean... Mother?" Mother. That sounded so wrong...

"Of course, dear!" Said his apparent mother, "Ask me anything."

He took a deep breath, and gave her the most serious look, she had ever seen.

"Am I dead?"

To Be Continued