Camille Bidan stared blankly out of the window of his home on Von Braun City, not really looking at anything but thinking to himself. Many years have passed since the end of the Gryps War against the tyrannical Titans, where his mind was crippled in a last ditch-effort by Paptimus Scirocco as he rammed his ruined Zeta Gundam into the giant mobile suit known as PMX-003 The O. Though he since recovered and regained the use of his mind, he still felt a need to be out there, not confined to his home like an invalid.
Fa Yuri had cared for him in the years after the war, becoming both his nurse and closest confidant but yet seeking something more from the relationship. He couldn't give her what she wanted, the love and affection she deserved from a man who felt the same. The last time he cared deeply for another woman, her life was stolen from her. Even after all these years, the death of Four Murasame haunted him like an ethereal spectre. His heart was still far too wounded to be opened to anyone anymore. It was a risk Camille could no longer afford in his life.
His thoughts were disturbed by a knock on his front door. As he went to open it, he was greeted not by Fa but by what he could only call as a ghost from his past. Camille could barely speak as he digested the sight of this supposedly-dead woman standing in his doorway.
"I was hoping you were home, Camille. You look well."
"...Emma Sheen?"
The once-neutral spaceport known as Von Braun City was busy with activity of various types, all preparing different ships with supplies and fuel. At one time, this place was a testing ground for the powerful RX78-GP01-FB Gundam Zephyrantes and RX78-GP03S Gundam Stamen, two mobile suits that were developed in UC 0083 by Anaheim Electronics under absolute discretion. Now, it remained as neutral in the conflict between Earth and the PLANTS as when the One Year War occurred. A paradox, given that the forces guarding the lunar metropolis were White Ark-class ships and their supplies of RGM-110 Heavyguns.
Despite the presence, many former Federation veterans made their home here, away from the conflicts and politics of Earth and the colonies. Some of them chose to market their mobile suits and technologies to the highest bidder. Other simply faded into an obscure existence, far removed from the reality around them. It was here that the recently-converted Freeden II, commanded by Jamil Neate, was moored and being supplied.
Jamil could be described as a quiet man at best, unwilling to share his past or his problems with anyone else. He alone bore the burden and guilt of the 7th Space War, a sense of loss shrouding him in an aura of misery. He had been the one to allow the colonies to fall, to decimate the planet Earth and kill billions of lives. For that, he must repent of that terrible sin by living, if you could call it living.
"You okay, Jamil?" He turned away from the viewport of his room to see Garrod Ran, the young pilot of the GX-9901-DX Gundam Double-X, standing there. Garrod was the opposite of Jamil, a kind-hearted boy who had once lived the life of a carefree rogue. He had, at first, made a life out of acquiring mobile suits and parts as well as selling them for a price. That had changed when he encountered Tifa Adil, a quiet and beautiful young girl as well as a Newtype. His need to protect her drove him to find the original GX-9900 Gundam X and come to the ship.
"They've come already." Jamil said quietly in a cryptic voice, turning to his young protégé. "It's almost time for you to launch, Garrod."
"Camille, listen to me." Emma tried to tell the confused and panic-stricken young man, understanding her fragile state of mind. "I know you must be confused right now, but I need you to calm down and let me explain." She looked only a few years older, her appearance no different than the last time the former Zeta Gundam pilot had seen her alive. Her brown hair was somewhat longer, fixed in the same style as always, yet her eyes had changed. They seemed much colder, more hardened instead of softer with age as if they had seen too much in their lifetime already. Yet they still reflected the same cool facade he had known her for. Still for Emma Sheen to be alive and standing there, trying to calm him down...
"Stop!" Camille managed to say, backing into a wall out of confusion and fear. "Don't come any closer!" For several months, he had seen visions of people he cared for coming to haunt him. Sometimes they would ask him why they had to die. Other times they wanted him to come with them into the eternal abyss. He was able to resist it and even ignored them. Now he was questioning his slipping grip on sanity.
"Camille..."
"Just go away and leave me alone! You're not real! You're just a ghost trying to make me insane! I won't let you!"
Emma tensed slightly, somehow knowing that those words would come up somehow. She was running out of time and his mental state was slipping. She moved closer to him, seeing the nervous look in his eyes. She then slapped him. Hard.
"Was that real enough?" Emma grabbed the once-formidable Newtype by his shoulders, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Now I need you to listen, Camille. We don't have a lot of time right now. In a few minutes, a group of terrorists from Blue Cosmos are going to come here to try and kill you."
"...Blue Cosmos?"
"That's right. They're a cell of dissidents who are against Coordinators and Newtypes as a whole. They track down and assassinate anyone on Earth or the moon who is suspected of being one. I've spent the last few months working with the Earth Alliance government trying to track their movements. That's how I knew where to find you." She stopped when Camille gently touched her arms, a look of calm beginning to replace the insanity in his eyes. He was starting to look like the young man she once knew.
"...Emma... you're really here..."
"Yes. I am."
"But... how? I though that you..." His reply was cut off as she pulled a gun out of a holster in her jacket, a now cold resolve settling in her emerald-green eyes. She then carefully opened the front door, first checking to see if there any marksmen or snipers in the area. Positive that it was clear, she returned her attention to Camille.
"You have to come with me, Camille."
The young man stood there, silent at first as he struggled to make sense of what was happening to him. The supposedly dead pilot of the RX-178 Gundam Mark II comes to him, alive and well for some reason, and tells him that he's been marked for death. None of it made any sense. He truly wished he could believe what she was telling him, perhaps someone's way of playing a practical joke on his already fragile ego. Suddenly, he looked past Emma and saw something on the roof across from his home. The familiar glint of sunlight on metal told him that it was one thing.
"Get down!" Camille shouted, pushing Emma to the ground as the air snapped with the sounds of multiple gunshots. He couldn't explain how he knew that was going to happen, since he was robbed of his Newtype powers along with his mind after the Gryps conflict. Adrenaline rushed through his blood as his instincts took over, grabbing Emma's gun and taking a few shots at the roofside marksmen. Turning his attention back to the brown-haired woman beside him, he saw that one of the would-be assassin's bullets had struck true. There was a crimson stain on Emma's leg. He heard her curse as she struggled to stand.
"Shit! Why didn't I see that coming?" Emma moved slowly up the door for support, looking back to the startled face of Camille and seeing that the memories were finally starting to come back to his mind. "You believe me now, Camille?"
"W-we have to get you to a hospital! That wound needs to be..."
"It's just a flesh wound." Emma lied, leaning onto his shoulder for support. "Besides, my orders were to deliver you to the spaceport and safeguard you until then. Right now... that's top priority."
"I don't care about that!" Camille tried to say.
"You'll have to, because if you take me to get treated, both of us will be killed on the way."
Emma let the blue-haired young man guide her to the ground, seeing him tear off a piece of his shirt's sleeve and started wrapping it around the wound. There wasn't time to get anything from his house that might've helped. He then helped her to her feet, a sick feeling washing over him. It was starting again, the senseless bloodshed and violence. This time, he didn't believe any of them would escape it.