Of Saints and Soldiers: The Eldest Child

by A. Ruth Howe

Book II: The past has finally caught up with the Eldest Child. Now she must come to terms with herself and a past that brought her from child, to fugitive soldier, to the creation of Lady Une. ::Complete::

13. Replacement

All standard disclaimers apply

Chapter 12

"Left to die with only friend, alone I clench my gun"

~James Hetfield

            A book flew in her direction as soon as Hildre walked into the first floor Study where she had been told by a member of the house staff that Zechs could be found. The book, a hard cover, crashed against the wall next to the door and made Hildre put her hands up in defense. But almost immediately she put them down as she saw Zechs crouched over a pile of books, examining the title for a few seconds and then throwing them over his shoulder in slipshod fashion. For a moment she decided to just stay quiet and watch him. A few feet away from him she noted the table where a decanter of dark liquid and a half filled glass sat. Around the room were stacks of other books precariously lying on the edge of various tables, ready to topple with the slightest disturbance. Zechs himself could be heard mumbling the titles of the books he read and with each one there would follow a negative "No, no, definitely not". He repeated words and deeds for several moments before Hildre became bored and called his attention to her with a small cough.

            "You better not be sick. I don't want any more viruses or mucus in this house" he warned gently, still not stopping his searching process. He looked at every book as if it would be the exact title he searched for. Hildre assured him that she was in perfect health and asked after the children politely. She noticed that Zechs was in another strange mood. He seemed almost cheerful as he trudged knee-deep in the written word.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, skillfully dodging a book that flew blindly at her head.

"Not sure, I'll let you know when I find it."

"Is this your usual morning ritual, tearing through a sea of books at the crack of dawn?" Hildre immodestly hopped up on a table and made herself comfortable, pulling slightly at the collar of her Preventer uniform.

"Is it now your morning ritual to visit me in the early hours? People are going to think we are messing around, Little Girl." Zechs clicked his tongue in mock shame. It made Hildre think back to what Tenacious had said earlier in the car. These sorts of visits would incite just those kinds of rumors.

"You love to flatter yourself, Zechs" she chuckled at him. Zechs turned around and sat Indian-style while pulling forward a stack of previously un-reviewed books. He smiled at her through his concentration.

"I don't flatter myself. Women fall in two categories with me, fear and love. And as it is I know of only three or four women in the world who aren't afraid of me."

"Sally isn't afraid of you. You think she is crazy in love? Because after the way she yelled at you earlier this week, I wouldn't bet on it." Hildre had been hard pressed on that occasion not to laugh when Sally had let loose on Zechs about the disinfectant spray incident. Zechs had looked like a chagrined little boy and Hildre would have paid to have had a camera on her to get proof of the expression. Hildre clicked her tongue back at Zechs and folded her arms. Zechs huffed at her and then smirked.

"Sally is a lesbian"

Hildre's jaw dropped. Zechs practically jumped out of his sitting position into a standing one, bending over briefly to put the pile of books on the table beside her. He slapped his hands musically several times against the table top.

"That leaves you, Anne, and her demented sister. In love with me, the lot of you. I can't say I blame you, though."

"Now wait a second. What makes you think-" she began to say but stopped when Zechs tapped his temple and smiled with that same strange cheerfulness.

"Zechs knows all" he moved towards the door, Hildre followed after, suspecting that he had had a vision. Something had to be responsible for this sarcastic but chipper behavior. Zechs was almost being… funny?

"Well, what makes you think that Anne is in love with you? I mean she is not really here to affirm or deny your claims, is she? And all you two ever did before was fight." She asked as Zechs started speed walking down the hall. Hildre had to jog to keep up with him. Every few doors he would open up and look inside. What was he looking for?

"I can't get into it, Little Girl. It's too grown up for your ears. I'll tell you all my dirty secrets some other day." He was clearly bullshitting, but half of Hildre was delighted with this new side to Zechs. It came startlingly close to the humorous charisma she loved in Duo.

"Now, Miss Preventer Hildre, do you have something to report to me at this early hour? Or would you rather we just went right to the bedroom and put all the rumors to rest?" he said as they reached the office he had converted from Lady Une's to his own.

"Zechs Merquise!  I am astonished at you!" Hildre set her hands on her hips as Zechs set himself in the chair behind the desk. "I'm not sure I like this sudden change in personality."

"Well then it's a good thing my personality doesn't depend on your approval. I would never get anywhere in that scenario. Now, REPORT!" he abruptly barked and Hildre found herself immediately falling into line while Zechs sat behind his desk, amused. She thought, as she delivered the report of the HERF theory, that if Zechs wasn't at least three times her size she would be kicking his ass right about now. Be that as it may, Hildre still respected him as her commanding officer and a good friend, one that she needed. She wouldn't let him make a regular habit out of it, but if this slight sexual harassment meant that he was finally putting an end to his long-lived depression, she could deal. But just for good measure, she concluded her report with a brief summary of the ESUN's statute on Sexual Harassment in the workplace. Zechs listened patiently, and to Hildre's awe, he began laughing, quite hard. It was an expression completely foreign to Zechs and she had never seen him so . . .happy?

"Alright, this all works out well. Let the boys work on their Frequencies. We can train in the meantime. I realize now that our situation isn't as dire as it was last night."

"Why is that Commander? From where I stand we are still short a very crucial advantage?"

"I don't mean to say that it is going to be easy, Hildre. This is going to be a damn tough fight. I don't know what losses we will sustain in this endeavor. I only know what losses we won't sustain. And that has given me the hope I need."

Hildre thought on that for a moment and observed her commander. His eyes shined as they shined when he would look at Tallgeese III, something he admired and yet could control. It was something that was his and something that he could keep, something that he secretly understood and cherished. But she knew this was not about Tallgeese. Hildre furrowed her brow as she worked out a theory.

"You saw her, didn't you?" He must have had a vision. Zechs nodded profoundly and half smiled.

"She, at least, will be coming home" he prophesized.

"Is there any chance that it could turn out otherwise? I mean, I've been thinking about these vision things you have been having. Is there a chance that you knowing the future could change the outcome? And you said you think that the Zero system did this to you; you've been having episodes since the first Eve War. Heero Yuy was also exposed to the Zero System for a long time just like you. What about him? Is he one of the others who can 'see'?" Hildre paced in front of his desk working out these possibilities, turning it over in her head like a puzzle.

"Indeed he is. But I think he Sees about as well as I do. Heero had roughly the same exposure to Zero as I. But then there is Gabriel. That was Epyon he was piloting that day they took Anne and Relena. He is most certainly being exposed to it now but I have no idea to what extent. It could be that Gabriel's ability far exceeds my own or that of Heero. Gabriel is a variable, a free-radical, and one that lingers on our enemy's side."

"But, as to the first portion of your question, it is complicated. I think the future could turn out different ways. The future is like . . .mises-en-abyme. It's sometimes like holding two mirrors together, there are infinite reflections. But what I have seen has always been mysterious, usually a hundred images at once. Perhaps I was seeing multiple futures and only one of them came to be, or perhaps I was just seeing many parts of a single future that is inevitable. But I will tell you one thing. I have seen Anne die more than once during these . . . very painful episodes. Yet last night I dreamed of her and she was very much alive. I bled through the dream and so I know it was not just the workings of my own subconscious. It was the future. I have never had a vision like that before, where it seemed for a few moments I was literally in the future. I heard voices clear as day instead of just unsteady images and disconnected sound bytes tearing through my brainstem." Zechs put the pads of his fingers together and looked ponderous. Hildre vocalized her misgivings.

"If it differs so greatly from all the other visions then it sounds like it might be just a dream Zechs, a dream that you bled through. From the way you have been acting today I think it must have been a very good dream. However, perhaps . . . it was just a manifestation of your wishful thinking. I can see everyday how much you love them and want to bring them home. But something about this doesn't sound right, Zechs. It sounds too irregular and too good to be true."

Zechs was silent. It might be that he had his own personal doubts about the vision/dream. Hildre felt a twinge of guilt at possibly sweeping away whatever hopes he had found in the last twelve hours. But if there were to go into battle, they needed accurate information. Zechs was only so accurate as it was, and he still refused to tell anyone what he knew of Anne's involvement with this family and what their plans were. He closed his eyes and pressed the palms of his hands together, as if in prayer and whispered softly "It was the future" and when he opened his eyes they still shined. He was not giving up on what little hope he had found. Hildre found despite her hesitations that she liked this. It was another strange twist of personality that he was holding to one thing. In Zechs' well understood history, he had never been a man that held to any one thing for long. He had never been a man of conviction. But perhaps the weather was finally changing. Still, Hildre decided that she would believe it when she saw it. He might very well change his stripes in a few weeks or even hours. Statistics were against him.

"What about the High . . .Frequency… thingy?"

"Go with it. It's all we have. Maybe there will be a miracle of some kind and we will find the working frequency."

"Ten told me in the car that since they are aiming for high frequency, it's possible that our weapons might not be able to generate that height." Hildre added, loathing to keep up this trend of discouragement. She wasn't made of optimistic timber, at least not anymore.

"One bridge at a time, Little Girl. We have plenty others to cross right now. I think it's time we called Quatre back. I want as many Gundam Pilots as possible on hand when we are ready."

"Are you planning on taking the Gundam Pilots on the attack?"

Zechs smiled through his answer. "Only a fool would let Gundam Pilots wander around to act as they choose. They always manage to involve themselves in these kinds of matters and this time, I will make sure they involve themselves on my side."

* * * * * * * * * *

            Many decades ago they had dammed portions of the Elbe River in order to stop flooding and damage to the towns and cities that lay on its banks. In the early years, the mass construction had aided a slumping economy by creating new employment opportunity, both for damn workers and the towns that soon found new resources from the hydro-electricity the dams generated. The dried sections of the riverbed created by the dam became settlements that benefited from a restructuring in the River's course along several areas of eastern Germany. The regular flooding along these new courses following the completion of the Dam Project affected agricultural areas that mostly benefited from the rising waters, much like that of the Nile River of Egypt. Unfortunately, in later years, the Dam Project became a hazard, as war and lack of funds left poor maintenance for the dams. They started to deteriorate and show signs of age. Up keep of the dams was expensive and the electrical resource negated by a number of wars that cut off electrical power so frequently that the surrounding population learned not to depend on it. By the turn of the first century AC, these dams were more like mass tombstones whose generators had broken down and whose only living purpose was to hold back the Elbe from its natural course along the now inhabited river bed. It was not the best place to make battle, but an ample location for a headquarter compound.

            You could see the Wittenberge Dam in the distance from the encampment that our forces had erected on a large tor just east of the riverbed dale. The raised elevation afforded us a mighty view to detect attacks from all four directions. Only several months before I had been called down to this Sachsen portion of Germany from Bremen, where we had won several key victories against Alliance Dead-Enders in the city that continued resistance. Berlin was safely ours as was much of the northeastern border of the land. Our trouble was coming from Dresden and the more southeastern portion of Sachsen, near the Czech/Polish border. Intelligence had reported that the Alliance Specials Forces were being called in, and when Aria summoned me there, they had already started to cross the Spree River and take towns along the western side of the river, moving closer to the Elbe. Aria and I called it the "River Campaign", as both our forces and that of the enemy sought to take control of the water flow. Expedition Storm, whose forces were further down south on the Elbe from Wittenberge, closer to the Mittellandkanal that bisects the Elbe near Braunschweig, had encountered two divisions of the Specials and dubbed them quite formidable. Much of our concentrated force was brought south of the Wittenberge Dam at that point. I remained there with an adequate accord of forces, having been relegated at this point to a strategic capacity rather than active combat, for which I had quite a unique gift. Aria held the south for many weeks before reporting that the enemy was using 'trickle tactics', giving the illusion that they had little to fight with despite having good ability. The Specials first attacks, which had ended in a massacre for them simply because of the unequal numbers, were all but suicide missions to fool our perceptions. As the weeks drew on, the Specials attacked in increasing numbers and I saw early on that if the trend continued, we would be swiftly overwhelmed by this continuous supply of fresh suits and troops. Their resource seemed to be an inexhaustible host of very well trained men and advanced Mobile Suit technology that could possibly rival that of the Isle. But the strength of their suits, though not always on par with our own, was increased by the ability of the soldiers themselves. The Specials Forces were highly disciplined and far more competent in strategy and execution than the complacent Alliance divisions we had easily overwhelmed.

            Because of these trials and the time they took up, I was never able to visit the actual city of Wittenberge, but was only ever able to look at it from the distance from my quarters on the tor base. From the elevation of the headquarters, one could see for miles. But in actuality there was little to really look at. Your eyes would likely focus on the forest that lay on the far western bank of the old riverbed, further down south there were a number of smaller towns that had been built within the riverbed. To the northeast were the glittering lights of Wittenberge, and of course, to the direct northwest of us, lay the Wittenberge Dam. I found myself staring at it on many nights when I couldn't sleep. Being now something like a General in this army, I was afforded very comfortable quarters in which I took no comfort at all. Twenty months of platoon life had left me with a taste for sleeping on the floor, and a bed wouldn't do anymore. So on rare occasions when I did sleep, it was on the carpet beside my bed. But usually at night, I was out on the newly built terrace, staring out at the Dam.

It was late December now, and very cold. Snow had long carpeted the riverbed, causing an eerie stillness to pervade across the land. If the winds were right, the sound of car horns from far off Wittenberge might reach our ears on the hill. Night was particularly unsettling. The snow on the darkened landscape glittered in the moonlight and made the riverbed valley beneath us seem like the earth was caste in silver. The stillness remained, however if your ears were sharp, you would hear a distant and low churning sound coming from the Dam, sounding almost like the calmed sea lapping at Dover's limestone cliffs. In warmer months over the edge of the tor, gray usually prevailed before the morning sun helped the dell to a steady green marked with rocky trails and roads. But in December, everything was monochromatic, white, the absence of color, the absence of conscience and feeling. As I said, an ample place for our headquarters.

It was in the infant hours of the morning, slouched out on the makeshift terrace outside my quarters, wrapped in the standard issue gray woolen blanket from my bed with my breath heavy and misty before my face that I thought of Treize Khushrenada for the first time in two years. I was surprised with myself that there had been no thought of him after the war broke out. It seemed like he had masked my every thought for those brief weeks prior. Not surprising was the feeling, or more appropriately the lack of feeling my remembrance of him inspired. But such was the case with most things in my memory. It was a stretch to say that most of his grandiose words and ideals lingered in my limited memory of him. All the events of my time with him seemed like dull images playing on a screen behind my eyes, gray toned and misty, as blank in sentiment as the snow. The only thing I guess I felt at that time was cold, cold like in the moment after he shoved my head into a stone bench. But it was likely just the cold of the Rhineland that I felt, the cold of the war and the stillness of the world.

I folded my hands before me, rubbing them slightly; breathing cold breath on them. Still they were chilled as if they were made from the frozen gray dirt of the dell floor beneath the snow below us. I took down my hair, which was extremely long at this point and even turning prematurely gray in some places and let it fall along my neck to bar the night chill. Straight hair was not as useful in keeping my head warm as my impenetrable curls had once been. I shivered still, straining to hear the churning of the Elbe on the other side of the Dam, standing sentinel like in my immediate view of the northern horizon. My thoughts lingered on Treize for a small time after that, wondering where he was and what he had ended up doing. Had his family and associates cast him out yet as a lunatic? Perhaps he was better now, perhaps he was much worse. It didn't matter anymore. I let him go with both hands and let my thoughts linger on nothing. The coldness was eased with our spectral parting. A nightly ritual of mine was to empty my head of all thoughts and let myself be nothing for a short time before reality would call me back and remind me that I was something. I felt neither guilt, nor pain, nor relief, nor passion. I felt like the snow, blank and cold, and surviving through my brief time.

The churning was low tonight. I couldn't hear it clearly enough to have the dull drone lull me and so I went back inside, settling on the floor beside my bed with just the blanket. The second part of my nightly ritual was mnemonic. I repeated to myself basic facts that I tended to forget as a way of countering the Mentescadere that sometimes compromised me. It was embarrassing at its best, and deadly at its worst. Once or twice I had treated a subordinate of mine like a commanding officer. I had forgotten that I was now the First Lady of War and not a low ranking Field Medic of a lowly platoon. My condition was not public knowledge, and so the incident was politely ignored by the two subordinates involved. I had remarked to Aria on the last time we saw one another that the condition, in traumatic circumstances, might be in part a blessing. When and if we made it through this war, I would be more than capable of forgetting that it ever happened. If I couldn't rid myself of this mental circumstance, I would at least make the best use of it. Such practicality was a key step in survival.

Sleep did not come but the cold kept me company as I slowly repeated the names of myself, my family members, my lieutenants, my countries, the necessities of my life. The sky outside was turning from navy to azure with the approaching cold dawn. I would have to be in counsel early to hear reports of the Eastern fold where the enemy was concentrating attacks. That was in less than two hours now and I was without a moment of sleep to my night. In fact, I was still in my uniform, save for the jacket. My boots held fast to my feet and legs twisted around the blanket. I turned on my side and breathed out, startled to see a hint of mist before my eyes. The room was cold too. Everything was touched by the gray chill. Still, it was infinitely more comfortable than frozen mud clinging to your extremities as you sleep with your face in the iced over dirt.

            I rose, regretting sleep and settling on a whore's bath before I replaced my jacket and went out to the cafeteria for what little food I could manage to eat. Hot showers and lavish breakfasts didn't occur to me anymore. They seemed excessive and I didn't take to excess. The small kitchen cafeteria was sparsely staffed and thinly populated at this hour. They had some soft apples and dried bread that I thought I could manage. Coffee was a saving grace that I afforded myself. The one luxury I could manage. It was not lost on me that I was doing myself more harm than good. After all, I was a medic with ample knowledge of the body's need and how I was not fulfilling them food or sleep wise. It didn't change my habits at the time. The hot soups that would be available for breakfast were still an hour or so from being ready and the smell, though fragrant enough on other occasions, turned my stomach this morning. I took my modest accord of food and coffee, waved off the few men in the cafeteria who stood and saluted at my passing, and found a spot next to the heater. The soldiers watched me, though they attempted to be subtle about it. They must have been new I thought and shocked at the lack of regality I displayed. The rest of the army had been fed grand stories of the Ladies Delizabane and their imperious elegance as High Commanders, but I was in no way interested in strengthening that popular mythology by being anything other than what I was, which was just a wearier version of the common soldier. It was my job to lead them, not inspire them with pretense. Perhaps that was and is my failing as a leader. But one of my only remaining moral convictions was that I didn't hold to lying and I avoided it when it wasn't absolutely necessary for my survival. As I stated before, when life is at stake, all morality and honor are useless. I don't regret that. In fact, I still hold to it in cases were I deem my life to be of enough value, which in the present is a fluctuating circumstance.

            I ate in silence, as I always did. The activity around me began to pick up as the kitchens became alive and more men entered the dining hall to receive their morning meal. All who saw me paid a respect, which I usually acknowledged by a slight inclination of the head. I indulged this morning by taking a second cup of naked coffee. I was halfway through it when one of the more familiar faces among my staff appeared at the doorway and scanned the crowd, undoubtedly looking for me. He was one of the men who would come to wake me in the morning, an attendant of sorts. Today must have been his turn and he seemed quite haggard at having an irregularity because of my strange movements. Seeing me, he scurried over and bowed. I groaned and blandly motioned for him to be at ease. He stammered some apology to me and I could see that he was plainly worried, by me or maybe just the situation. This piqued me some, as I had never seen any reason for me to be feared in this army. I rose and let him accompany me to the counsel room where I could get reports from my Colonels and Lieutenants, all of whose names I was silently repeating to myself as we went, lest I forget them yet again. My attendant was fiercely irritating, behaving as if he was about to keel over from nervousness. I asked him what his problem was and he blabbered some obvious lie about being alright. I thought perhaps he was new to service and asked him his name and age. He responded that his name was Kertsein and he was twenty five. I snorted, telling him that he was almost seven years older than me and shaking like a leaf beside a child. The young man seemed to cool at that and commented more freely that he thought I was older than he and was amazed that I could be so young. I responded with some choppy comment about how those who fight in a war age quickly because they may not live to see naturally gray hair.

            By the time we reached the counsel room, I was actually hungry again, and not sated by the small breakfast I had. The room was circular and very sterile looking. Kateline was the only one among the commanding staff that ever demanded décor. I was of the opinion that our bases were not places of state, and so they need only contain utilitarian comforts. No plants, no paintings or wall hangings, unless they be maps of the area, I was not in the business of inspiring through artistic flare and in general, I had little to no use for inspiration as all of it seemed to me at that point a ploy. Ploys were what we used against the enemy, not on each other. In any case, the room was circular. We used windows to illuminate the room in order to conserve electricity for the evening alone. To this end, a skylight had been installed in the ceiling. Electric light was used only from dusk until sunrise. We did keep coffee and a small refrigerator handy to save time. Time was the only thing we tried to conserve more than electricity.

            My counselors were already at work at the center table which held maps. In Bremen we had used a holo-table that provided three-dimensional projections of topographical maps. Half of the time the damn machine broke down and with none of us being engineers we were unable to get it working again on our own. Not one to repeat mistakes, we did not install one here. So the table was overflowing with a variety of paper maps. They spilled over the sides and unrolled to the floor. I had tripped on them half a dozen times. The set up was old fashioned but effective, more so than that inconstant technology.  I entered and ignored the flurry of salutes, working my way to the small refrigerator and coffee machine, intent on filling my cup and scoping the scenery. The group at the table was silently watching me as I leafed through the contents of the refrigerator. It took me a few seconds to become aware of the silence, as they were usually all trying to give me reports and developments at the same time. Behind a jar of jam, I found a small bowl of chocolate pudding. One of my lieutenants cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, Ma'am?"

"Whose pudding is this?" I asked, still focused on the fridge and holding the bowl above my head. No one committed.

"If no one is going to claim it, I will" I responded to the silence, rising and going on a search for a spoon. Finally, something I could stomach until dinner time forced me to eat again. I found my spoon and with bowl, spoon, and coffee all juggled together, I went to the table.

"Well good morning, good morning. What is the situation today?" I started looking at the maps they were pining over, sipping my coffee. No one answered again and so I started looking over things myself. There were markings all over the Potsdam.

"What's this?"

"The Specials took it last night." A woman across from me stated. I looked at her and tried to remember her name. Damn it, I was drawing a complete blank.

"That's less than one hundred and thirty kilometers away." I clicked my tongue and hovered over the maps, still trying to remember that girl's name. It was on the tip of my tongue. Finally, it came to me a few seconds later. The girl was Aria, my own sister.

Hell, but I covered it up nicely.

"Well, since I assume you are here for that purpose, report the situation." 

Aria wasn't fooled and I could tell it by the way she quirked her eyebrow at me as she described the basics of the situation in Potsdam. I listened and spooned the pudding, nodding where appropriate and hoped that Aria might right off my behavior as eccentric instead of forgetful. The Specials had pushed north to Cottbus with a mass force and invades Brandenburg yesterday afternoon. The Isle forces there, having felt secure in their holding of the northwest portion of the Spree and Brandenburg had been overwhelmed. By midnight Potsdam had fallen to the Specials. They were now starting aerial surveillance of the western country, coming dangerously close to Wittenburge. Finishing my pudding as she finished her report, I picked up a black felt marker and began drawing the line on the map.

"We need accurate reports as to how far north they are venturing. Battle plans should not be made on initial reports. However, action is needed. We can't sit and wait for the Specials to find this base. An attack on our infrastructure would be a hard blow. Bring the forces that are concentrated in south Sachsen before the Mittellandkanal and bring them here. Watch the sky and shoot down any Specials reconnaissance that you detect." I drew the line of the march for the troops; most could get here within a day. They could settle in the nearest town not three miles south across the undulated landscape.

"That still leaves an opening here, and here along the Magdeburg course. The occupation would be too thin there to hold off any attack" This from a Colonel to my left. I loved figuring out these puzzles. It was like playing a more simplified yet important game of chess.

"Then move the western forces here in Hessen to compensate. We have full compliments there and if we hold them in the east then there is no need to worry about the west just yet."

"I suggest you put the American Legion on standby, Leecy" said Aria to my irritation. I did not like her using my name during counsel meetings. It was inappropriate conduct for a subordinate even if she was my sister. Furthermore, I was irritated with the mention of the American Legion.

"I see no reason for that action, Colonel."

"What about the Calypso line?"

"Still in preliminary development, we won't see them for at least a year and a half if ever."

We worked the problem most of the day and into the early evening, using the reports that came in to chart a more appropriate course of action. The southern divisions arrived and after dinner Aria would return to where they were making their encampment next to the nearest town in the riverbed. We went to the dinning hall afterwards where Aria proceeded to fill my plate past the capacity of my stomach. She sat across from me and watched me sternly as I attempted to eat at least two percent of what she had set down. Her choices were lousy ones as well and after a few moments I pushed the plate aside.

"You need to eat." She warned.

"The day I allow you to play nurse maid to me will be the day I am bound to a wheelchair and unable to feed myself."

"Well with the exception of the wheelchair, you are almost there. Eat."

"Fuck off."

"Such a lady we are tonight."

"I dropped the lady act two years ago in Lyon."

Aria ceased her attempts at caretaking, though they were lovingly meant. Instead she leaned into me and resumed business. I stared into her plate and concentrated on the colors of the mixed foods. In my mind's eye I traveled the landscape of the east, tracking my enemy like a ranger of old.

"They could make an atmospheric attack, drop on us from above." She offered. But I shook my head, having worked that out long ago.

"We are well protected from that by satellite. They would be detected and shot down before they could reach the lower atmosphere."

"What about from the west?"

"They can't reach us from that side without running into an occupied area. Unless they mount a tremendous force to overrun one of our more thinly occupied areas. But despite their vast divisions, they can't have enough to coordinate such an attack on two sides. I don't care what the probabilities are. No force could muster that quality of soldier in that quantity, especially not in such a short time. Five years time perhaps, not in two."

"I still think you should tell General Washington to muster the Legion. If we should be overtaken, that additional force could mean the difference between defeat and victory."

"I have no intention of calling the Legion in. Not now, not ever." This was something I had decided a long time ago. I sipped my water. Aria stopped chewing.

"What? Why?" It was emphatic.

"I . . . don't want to cause trouble for them. I don't want to bring them into war. William and I have been speaking often during these last months. I still believe in the cause of helping that country to reclaim what it lost. But . . . I don't see how. How can anyone resist this Alliance? They have taken over all the Colonies and most of the world. What chance does the forgotten glory of America have against such an encompassing power? Stirring the Legion, their only defense, would only incur the wrath of the Alliance. No, Aria. I will not call upon them to aid us in our long defeat. I will not drag them into this mess Merrick has created. If the Alliance comes and takes us, then that is regrettable. But I will not suffer to see my dream since I was old enough to have one destroyed by the arrogance of my father. America must rise by other means than war. I am young, but I see that clearly. Calling for their aid would ensure it would never rise again. My duty, if ever I believed in it, lies in protecting them before protecting my family, second only to my duty to protect you."

Aria shook her head and looked back down at her plate, making to eat again "You have no duty to protect me."

"Not so, not so at all, little Doll. It was the only duty that I took for myself. No one ever forced it upon me. It's my place to look after you and to see that you are kept safe as much as I can. Why do you think I kept Kateline on the Spree and you in the South? Whatever your talent in war, I won't place you at the front to be blown to pieces when I would easily see Kateline there in your place. Call that ineffective leadership, call it personal manipulation. I will submit in either case. But never will I willfully send you into danger if I can help it. And in war, I can help it only a very little." I answered smoothly in our native tongue.

Aria looked at me, and then around to see who immediately looked on. Then quickly she grasped my hand and spoke in a desperate, low tone. "You don't need to protect me. But please don't ever forget about me. Whether we make it out of this or not, if everything else should one day pass from your mind, please always remember me. You are the only person in this world I love and I would rather be dead than forgotten by you. I am not afraid of dying. Already I feel I have died a hundred times since we came here. But I am terrified that you will look at me one day and not know me, or know me and willfully turn away from me. Please, Leecy, never forget who I am, who we both are." She released my hand and began eating again, so that no one would see what had passed between us. After three bites in silence, she rose from the table with her plate, dropped it in the dish pan at the front, and departed the headquarters for the nearby encampment. A part of me was relieved that she left when she did. I never wanted to admit that I had already forgotten her once this very afternoon. I think perhaps she suspected it. Aria was very clever and could read me very well. But suspecting and having it confirmed were two separate things. I couldn't forget her again.

The next morning, we had an early ceremony to honor those lost at Potsdam and promised justice through victory. I don't think anyone found me sincere in that promise. We all knew that war is just war, void of justice in most cases. But it was a common thing to honor the distant dead since we could not properly bury them. It was part of my duty as well, as the First Lady of War to view battlefields where corpses that had not been yet buried or burned lay at the site of their deaths. It was like something out of very old non-digital photograph that depicted the old wars in Europe and it the stench was overpowering. On one occasion when touring the fields, I had actually found shells on the ground that were not from our guns but from guns shot over five centuries earlier. It gave me that same cold feeling that Treize did. I hated these ceremonies, but not with any passion.

Aria was there and the only communication we had between each other was a moment when we stood together after the proceedings. She was feeling empty, I could sense it. Aria had manners about her that subtly indicated her mood, even though she was well schooled in hiding such emotions. Her left hand shook slightly and she wouldn't meet my eyes. I stared straight out and spoke these last words, trying to lighten her spirits.

"Do you remember that young man you danced with before Christmas, Zechs was his name I think? When you feel as you do now, think of him and those brief moments and how they made you feel. Remember how you felt and know that one day you'll feel that way again. As for me, I'll remember you, and Ireland, and I'll not excuse myself for anything I've done before or since then."

Late in the afternoon, Aria's troops were setting up perimeter defenses and such while I was on the phone with one of the colonels based in Strasbourg occupying the actual Rhine River. Apparently my father was once again giving orders over my head and sending the troops North East toward our position. This greatly disturbed me as it left us open on the West front. But I could not override the authority of my father in this army. He was the 'Great Benefactor' who had made this war possible and the deluded forced respected his rule and coveted his promises of glory. Yes, thank you, Dad. You made this war possible by refusing the Alliance in anger and sending an entire nation out to die for it. And people fell for it the same well the fell for the idea that I was some child prodigy who would lead them to victory like Joan of Arc. Even back in those days the masses were easy to convince, and that still hasn't changed. The masses believe in me now in AC 203 as much as they did in AC 191. I have even heard that one of the Colonies submitted a request to the Vatican to have me canonized as a Saint. Ridiculous!  It is just as ridiculous that the world should spontaneously revere a sixteen year old girl as Queen of the World and allow her to dissolve all their national borders. The world is made up of equal parts of fools and idealists, each one playing off the other in a flurry of destructive idiocy. All you have to do is tell them what they want to hear in a dramatic tone with lots of big words wedged in and they are caught. Give the people the impression we are moving ahead, that progress is being made, that the world is going to work for them, and they will be yours to make either sleep or cheer. It is that way now, and it was that way then.

I was in the middle of this very rant to my colonel in Strasbourg when then communication fluctuated and died. I tried several times to reestablish the connection, and then to establish any kind of connection but the signal was down. Huffing, I went out outside my office and began complaining to one of my under secretaries when I saw that all the communicators were down. This was not at all good. It meant that the satellite was out or possibly destroyed. The satellites had been very well guarded, but nothing was ever perfectly secure. We spent the next hour reestablishing our communication links via a secondary satellite that wasn't as reliable as our primary one. Once reconnected, I called back to Strasbourg and received no answer. I called several times to be sure. I ordered the Lieutenant on hand to put a call into other concentrated areas for status reports. We tried contacting Bremen, Erfurt, Metz, and Nurnberg. We found no answer at any of them. It was concluded that the satellite malfunction had probably affected the rest of the bases, and that they were reestablishing their own links. But something about this didn't sit well with me. Knowing that my family manor would use a regular communication satellite, I called there to make sure of things. On my screen the link was established and waited for a response. I waited what seemed like too long, my apprehension growing with every passing second. Finally the screen buzzed to life and I saw a little hand appear before Shireen lifted her face.

"Hullo, who is it?"

My heart was lightened by her small face, already so grown since Ireland.

"Shireen, it's Leecy. I want to speak to Bram. Can you get Bram for me?"

"Bram is downstairs with father."

"Please get him for me."

"I'm not supposed to answer the Ringer. If I tell him he will know. Don't get me in trouble, Leecy."

"Shireen. You won't get in trouble. Just let me talk to Bram." I tried to keep my voice non-threatening.

"But he's mad already. He's yelling." There was yelling indeed. I could hear the faint rise and fall of harsh tones over the speaker. Someone in the house was fuming. What was going on?

"Are you coming home, Leecy?" Shireen asked.

"Shireen, if you don't get Bram or father now, you will be in trouble." I warned her. Shireen immediately started to whimper.

"Don't tell on me!" she pleaded.

"Shireen!"

But my little sister banged her hand on the keyboard and broke the connection in her apprehension. I tried to make a call back, but there was nothing. By this time I was frustrated, feeling that something was not right. My last thought was to perhaps call William Washington, but I decided against it. Instead, I folded the communicator down and thought. In such a deep thought, my ears picked up a distant sound; a low humming that was growing louder. I groaned as I imagined that the Strasbourg forces that my father had deployed eastward to our location had already arrived. I rose and looked to the window, watching the large convoy approach. They were dark against the sky. Then my heartbeat quickened as they came closer and my thoughts went rapidly. The deployed troops would be coming from the western sky. This convoy was coming from the east, the wrong direction. I hadn't had any report of a large convoy coming in from the east. We needed all our eastern troops staying in their locations to fight off the Specials. No convoy was sent to us without my approval. Perhaps this was another one of my father's spontaneous orders. If they were enemies we would have known it. The detection sensors would have picked up an enemy aircrafts or mobile suits.

Unless the Satellite had knocked them out too.

Too slowly I made out the shape of both aircraft and Mobile Suits taking formation, not in preparation to land. People were just starting to yell warnings of immediate attack when I ran out of my office, giving the order to sound the alarm. Within thirty seconds, the sounds of explosions could be heard and the Special Forces insignia clearly seen on the enemy suits and jets. The jets flew over our compound on the high tor while the suits proceeded toward Aria's encampment. That was all I saw for the time. Inside we braced ourselves for the bombing. The building shook under the barrage of fire power from the jets, windows blew out, people screamed. Several Lieutenants scrambled to security sheds that were furnished with firearms. Everyone was given a gun for the siege. Overhead we could hear battle raging about the compound and in the distance. Aries fought above us, shooting down the enemy jets and taking on the Specials' own airborne suits. Several people reported seeing a line of Alliance Leos marching toward the encampment. How big was the force? Could Aria hold them off?

Inside, my people were holding it together as best they could. The base troops had made it to the bunker and were also airborne, engaged in the battle. It was from their reports that we learned that only 20% of Aria's encamped troops were deployed. Many of the others had been critically hit by the initial bombing. A huge section of the bunker had also been destroyed on the western side and our building was on fire. We couldn't win if Aria couldn't muster the majority of her force! I made a fast decision and ran back to my office. Perhaps there was still enough time to connect to New York.

The connection was painfully slow, and I was frantic. I watched the connection bar slowly fill to green, all the while questioning my decision. Had I not resolved to never call the American Legion into this? Had anything changed that would alter their fate should they come? I would still be condemning them. Deep down I knew we would never win this war against the world. They would be dragged down with us. What would be the use of that? William Washington's face appeared on my screen, static-ridden, but still there.

"Washington here?"

I was silent, staring at him like a fool.

"Leecy? What is wrong? What is your status?" he started. No doubt he could hear the battle around me and guessed that the time had come. "I will deploy the Legion immediately. What is your location?"

"No" I spoke from the heart and in the back of my mind I thought of Treize and the life I might have had if I had been able to stay in Lyon. "Let it keep, William. Let the dream keep." I severed the connection just as a mighty explosion blew out my window. The noise was deafening, but I was able to make one last call out to the base on the Spree where Kateline was."

There was no response. I knew the base was either not online, or destroyed by this time.

An enemy Mobile Suit lowered to my blown out window. I saw it and dove behind my desk as it began firing into the room. The bullets sprayed across the wall and I crouched as best I could, hoping the desk would hold out against the attack. My office door opened and a few men who came to see what was happening were bullet ridden corpses by the time I saw their faces clearly. After less than a minute, the Mobile Suit moved on, and I was able to escape into the building interior.

The base was infiltrated within half an hour. During which time we held them off with what weapons we had. Specials soldiers littered the area and the siege was hopeless. Outside, the battle continued and we knew that Expedition Storm was still holding out against the Specials. We however, would not hold much longer. Our soldiers fought well, but they were frightened nonetheless. "Bitte Gott, helfen uns!" the young Captain near me kept murmuring, asking for God's aid after the woman beside her lost one side of her head firing on a niche of enemy soldiers. I did my best to calm the Captain, but there was nothing I could say. They were going to eventually get through. The sounds of air battle diminished and we knew that Aria's forces were pulling back. They couldn't help us now. Our only hope was in surrender. So, I did the only noble thing I have ever really done. I tore the rank of office off of my jacket and walked out in the hallway with my hands up, surrendering the group before we were all picked off. Not quite the most practical way to assure survival, but even I have my golden moments. Fortunately for me, prisoners were just what they wanted, and so we weren't all killed. They rounded us up and asked who the highest ranking officers were. No one volunteered me. No one even answered. If they wanted the officers alive, they would have to keep us all alive.

"We can get the answers back in Potsdam. Take them along"

"Look, this one is just my type. Little far from home, aren't we darling?" one of the soldiers prodded my back with the barrel of his gun. I wanted badly to have a gun on me. I felt extremely open and vulnerable. Killing all these men would have been an automatic response had I had the means to do it. But that wasn't how it was going to go. They secured us, and lead us out of the building.

Outside I saw the devastation of the battle. The airborne Specials were overwhelming what was left of our Aries and the encampment. The neighboring town was on fire and under siege. The noise was deafening from out here and we could barely hear our captures shouting at us in German to form lines. An important looking man in a dark green Napoleonic style uniform came over to survey us. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and neat dirty blond hair. A self-important look wrapped his features making him appear smug. I supposed he had a lot to be smug about. Hadn't he just won the war?

"That's the last of them, Major" one of the soldiers reported to the man.

"Good. What about the rest?" he indicated those still holding out in the riverbed encampment.

"Captain Lo'Hyan says they are still resisting"

"Get the Colonel online. We'll see what he wants done now." The soldier left us. I noticed then a large carrier sitting near the edge of the tor. Our captor was deferring to a higher authority, probably the architect of the attack. I stood in the front row of our line up and watched the Major pace back and forth before us. He addressed us directly then as he surveyed the group.

"It will make it all much easier on you if you disclose who the Officers in charge here are. I find it highly unlikely that we killed them all in the siege."

I had a strong desire to shout the name of Merrick Delizabane to the Major. But the soldier came back and we had to wait as the Major went to consult with his superior. When he returned he gave orders to his men too quietly for us to hear. The soldier saluted and radioed into a squadron still in the air. I watched with my heart in my throat as the group of Mobile Suits dispersed from the south where the encampment was and flew north. I can still feel my eyes widening as I saw them reach the Wittenberge Dam, letting loose a furious attack on the old mammoth. They pounded on it for nearly three minutes and then drew back. The Wittenberge siren went off. It could be heard all along the riverbed. The Specials Forces all moved out with their suits, striking at those who still resisted. Then a tremendous crack followed by a terrible rumbling sounded through out the dell and the dam was broken. I turned frantically looking down the riverbed and seeing little dots of people scrambling for the sides of the riverbed. But the bed was too large. They would never make it. The water would rush down on them too quickly and sweep everything away, encampment, and the at least forty towns running south in the riverbed. All of them would be swept away, all of Aria's troops and Aria herself. If she wasn't already dead, she would be in a matter of seconds and I was powerless to stop any of it.

I couldn't move at all. My feet had become earth and I was fixed to the ground. But my eyes worked and they saw everything, the water coming down the dell, covering trees and rocks. Even the tor shook with the approaching of the water. But we would be safe, too high for the water to reach. When the water passed us, it was the loudest noise I had ever heard. One of the soldiers smacked my face and forced me to look forward as the water passed behind us, speeding toward the south. There was no change in the roaring when it overtook the town, just the same vociferous crash. Only now my sister was gone with the soldiers, with the town, with the water.

I held my ground and stared ahead, determined to see nothing. My first reaction was a sudden outbreak of that horrible coldness and then an overwhelming desire to let myself forget all of it. I told myself I could let it seep out of my head and that I would never look for it again. But I knew my promise to Aria would make that impossible. So instead I clenched my hands and determined how best to survive. First, I would have to keep still and make no more movements until I was told. That soldier was standing right next to me; waiting for me to so much as blink so he could hit me again. No more thinking now, just listen and do what you are told. Just listen, don't speak, don't think, don't move, stare straight ahead, no more thinking.

When the noise wavered a little, we were corralled into the carrier plane and secured to seats with cuffs. I remembered the soldier had spoken of Potsdam but I had no idea what would happen to us there. I was alive for now and, survival being my greater talent, I would try to remain so. That was a good enough goal for the moment. We had a small window near us, as we ascended I strove to see out of it. All I saw was the water of the Elbe, stretching for miles over its regained course of old.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Trowa was tinkering on the remnants of his computer when the door of his apartment opened. He cocked an ear for the sounds the person made half ready to spring upon the person should it be another attacker. But his instincts told him that the new arrival had no such purpose. The sounds of the footsteps were heavy enough to indicate a male, and slow to indicate fatigue, not stealth. He heard a sigh as the door opened and was surprised. Quatre never just walked in. He always remembered his manners and knocked politely.

            "Trowa?" the young man called.

            "Here"

            Quatre walked into the shot up living room. There were bullet holes all over the walls and fragments of glass and metal strewn about. Trowa had moved the larger pieces of his computer onto the table and now he was trying to gather pieces of the hard drive. The girl who had attacked, Shireen Delizabane, knew just what needed to be destroyed on the files.

            "Doesn't look good" he commented to Quatre who wearily sat down on the small sofa across from where Trowa was working. "Welcome back"

            "How is Duo?" he asked Trowa.

            "The same."     

            "How is Heero?"

            "Still gone. No word from him since he left." Trowa put aside his tools and moved to the kitchenette to make a pot of coffee. He thought about offering a drink to his friend, but knew that even in crisis Quatre would not blaspheme. Quatre remained uncharacteristically quiet while the coffee brewed and Trowa knew that Okami had not been found.

            "Any trace at all?" he asked, finally handing the young man his cup. Quatre sipped and shook his head.

            "There is none. I haven't a clue to where she would have gone. I suppose I should accept the fact that she has merely left. But I thought that if I could see her one last time then I would understand the reason or make her understand. But I returned instead when the Preventers called on me. They need me more now to get back Mariemaia and Miss Anne and Relena. Okami doesn't want to be found. She turned off her Communicator. It's probably lying at the bottom of a river right now." He sipped again and fell into silence. Trowa decided not to pursue the topic any further. Quatre was hurting enough.

            "They are working to find a frequency that will be strong enough to take out the Calypso. We have to wait until that time. There isn't much to do besides that." Trowa set down his cup on the coffee table between them.

            "Are we to be part of the assault?"

            "If we consent to be, yes. I think they need us. Those Calypsos can be nasty to deal with in regular Scorpio suits. I've gone down to the base and tried some of them out, they aren't Gundams by any stretch of the imagination and there is a finite amount of them. We have no idea how many suits they may have in the Isle. We could be easily outmatched when the time comes. So they are going to need skilled pilots to fly with them."

            Yes, skilled. Three skilled pilots, for Heero is no where to be found and Duo isn't quite among the living right now. But there is more still. The Delizabanes have a Gundam themselves, do they not? A black shaded Epyon. How could they have gotten a hold of the prints to that machine? The original Eypon was destroyed and Wing Zero as well. The Gundams and the Gundam Scientists have passed on."

            Trowa nodded and settled back in his chair. It was good talking to Quatre again. "I believe Gabriel Khushrenada must have inherited the plans as part of his brother's estate. Remember that he was found and brought back to Earth by Lady Une in order to settle his inheritance. I doubt she knew that Epyon was part of it. But what is Gabriel's now belongs to the Isle. Thus they have the Epyon. As to how we are going to deal with it, I can't say for sure. But considering it is Gabriel, I think Zechs will be the one to step up.. I saw it beginning last year after the Summit and especially when Zechs disappeared for that time he was prisoner in the Isle. He and Gabriel have much to settle and I think it goes deep."

            Quatre listened quietly and Trowa wondered how he would reconcile going back to war. He had not wanted to see war again, believing somewhere in his heart that with the Gundams gone and OZ destroyed he could now embrace the pacifism his father had died for. But Trowa was made of less idealistic stuff. He felt that this was the burden of all people and pacifism, however wonderful, was a luxury most humans were never able to afford. So instead they kept it in their minds, just out of reach, dangling it like a carrot before their eyes to help them move through troubled times like these. Quatre finished his cup and set it down.

            "I suppose we had better get training then. They could find that code any second and we would be forced to fight without any practice. Can't have these Preventer pups making us look like fools." Quatre tried to smile. Perhaps delving back into his best talents as a fighter would help him through this troubling time. Trowa rose and got his coat. He saw as Quatre reached in his pocket and pulled out a communicator, looking at it solemnly. "She won't call" he murmured to himself and made to set the device on the table. Trowa took his wrist before he could drop it, meeting his friend's still youthful eyes.

            "Hold on to it. You never know . . ."

            Quatre grasped and then plunged it back into the depths of his pocket. He nodded once and turned toward the door.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

            It was dark when we arrived. The sky was velvet blue and the air desperately cold. My fingers felt stiff and frozen as I tried to pull down the cuff of my jacket to warm them, but the metal handcuffs prevented it. We were all ushered out of the carrier and made to stand in the snow for an hour while arrangements were made. I could see little of Potsdam in the dark, but I suspected by the light of day much devastation would mark the newly taken city. For a few seconds I thought about the west front and wondered if perhaps all our other bases had been taken by now, or if there were still holding out. But quickly I turned my mind away from it. No thinking, just surviving.

            We were taken inside the base, which by the security light I could see was riddled with bullet holes and blackened by fire in places. This must have been one of our bases before the city fell to the Specials. My face was struck by warm air as soon as we passed over the threshold. Under heavy guard we were transported to a detention area. There were large rooms for roll call, and individual cells where a single occupant could be placed, or if need be, cuffed to the wall. We were ordered to line up in one of the large assembly rooms and again made to wait. There was an urge to look to my right and left and mark the condition of my fellow prisoners, but that passed. Every man had to look out for himself now. There was no looking to others. They didn't matter.

            Again, the Major in charge of our capture appeared and began addressing us. He impressed on us again the value we would have if we could name the commanding officer at the base. He warned that it would be much harder on all of us if we did not at least give the name. But to my astonishment, none spoke. I thought sure someone would have given me up at this point. The fools should have given me up. The Major told us then that he would find out anyway who the leading officer was and that they might make their circumstances better by coming forward and giving themselves up for the benefit of themselves and the group. Hearing this, I swallowed heavily, knowing that I should step forward and proclaim my identity. I quickly weighed my options. If I submitted myself, I would likely be executed. If I stayed silent, we would all likely be executed, but it was not certain either way. My instinct was to remain in the crowd and hide myself, but my mind knew that I risked sacrificing everyone else in order to survive. But that was the point, wasn't it? Anything to survive; no loyalty, no honor, no nobility, only survival mattered as long as my life was still worth it, which at that point was extremely debatable. I thought for a moment longer and then, just as I was about to move forward to submit, a voice near the Major rang out.

            "That one there!" he said pointing to me. I looked and I recognized him. It was Kertsein, one of my attendants. He was not standing among the prisoners but side by side with the Specials officers. He was wearing one of their waist-coat uniforms!

            I could literally feel my eyes turning black and the blood rushing to my face as I looked on him, snarling out venomously "Spy!" The Specials Officers were on me at once. They pulled me from the line and roughly started dragging me forward. But I was so angered at the treachery of Kertsein that I lunged forward, trying to get a hold of him. If I could just get within reach of him I would be able to tear out his carotid artery using one of the Samurai techniques I had learned long ago. I fought madly against the two men and managed to get one arm loose, though both wrists were still held by the handcuffs. My eyes saw only red and I was blinded by fury. Somehow I got within two feet of him and was struck on the back of the head with something. It sent me down to the ground pretty damn fast. But I didn't stay there long. The officers were lifting me again and one punched me in the jaw until I was limp and no longer struggled.

            "She's a fiery one."

            "What's your name, girl?" they asked me, but I only spit my own blood out at them. They assured me that for every question I didn't answer there would be another bruise somewhere on my body. I still remained silent, slipping into my mind and out of my body so that I would feel it less. I don't know how long it went on, but at some point they took me into one of the individual cells at the end of the block. It was completely dark except for a little light from down the hall coming through the barred panel in the door. And it was cold, terribly cold. I was forced to sit on the floor with my back against the wall and my wrists bound to the wall above my head. Time slipped by slowly while the blood on my face dried. They had only struck me there once; mainly they kept to the back of the head and to my stomach. It was lucky I had eaten very little this day or I would have thrown up. But soon I wished I had eaten something, for they left me there a long time and after a while I reckoned that it had been almost two days since I had eaten.

            The room got colder and colder. My body temperature was failing and moving was made impossible either by my bounds or the pain of the beating. I tried to fall asleep after a while, but I was too angry to sleep. My mind's eye saw Kertsein betraying me over and over again. My mind's eye saw the flood rushing toward us. As much as I tried not to think, I realized that my thoughts maybe all I had left, and in a way my anger kept me warm. So I turned my fury as high as I could and before long the object of my absolute hatred was my own father, the one who had caused all of this to happen on a whim.

When I noticed light again, it was morning, or perhaps early afternoon. A small bit of it penetrated a slither of a window near the ceiling. Footsteps sounded. They had been sounding all night but these ones caught my attention because they stopped at my cell. I stirred myself a little, trying to move my frozen fingers, but I couldn't. The door began to make noises and finally it opened. I could feel the warm air rush in. A few men stood on the threshold, obscured by lack of light. I could hear what looked like papers being shuffled and a folder flapping open. After a few seconds delay one of the men came in.

"My god it is freezing in here." he commented, still looking at his papers but now there was not enough light to see them by, so he moved into the light from the window to read from his files. I felt sure my eyes must be frozen over and that I was seeing him incorrectly.

"So you are the Rhineland's First Lady of War? Cute title, very inventive." He said. His voice confirmed what my eyes incorrectly saw. No, not incorrectly, unless my hearing was off as well.

"It says here you have refused to give your name. It will make things easier on you if submit." He couldn't really see me, not in this gray light. I saw him look at me and then look back down. I was sure now. This was no trick of my imagination, my eyes or ears. This was just a sick and twisted turn of fate.

"So I have heard" I responded, making sure to lay my accent on thickly and give him just a hint of familiarity. He stopped for a moment but then he resumed, closing the folder and folding his arms behind his back.

"Well, I thought I would at least visit my adversary in war. You most certainly gave the Alliance a lot of trouble and surprised the Specials with the force of your resistance as well."

"How very kind of you to offer compliments to the vanquished." I took a deep breath but it hurt and I made a small noise, coughing out the frigid air.

"Yes, I do try. At least I thought it would be noble to come and look upon my opponent, perhaps find out her name before she is executed." he stepped forward more fully into the light. I just closed my eyes and let my head fall against an aching arm.

"If you could actually see me, you would already know my name, Treize." I whispered raggedly.

That stopped him, as I opened my eyes I could see the perplexed look on his face. Something was stirring in those eyes, he was figuring it out, but did he dare believe such a thing? It was a long period while he stood there in the colorless light, trying to see me through the shadows. Finally, went for the door.

"Captain, turn on the lights to this cell" he ordered and reentered the room, this time shutting the door behind him. A few seconds later the room was filled with florescent light and I was blinded. I shut my eyes against the painful light and waited for them to adjust. When at last I could see, I saw the bright blue of his elegant jacket and the reddish brown of his hair. His expression was certainly one of shock, lips parted and eyes were slightly widened.

"You." was all he seemed to be able to get out. After his initial shock he came kneeling right in front of me, the folder of papers discarded on the spot where he had stood. Treize gripped my face in his very warm hand, examining me carefully; perhaps only half believing what he saw.

"It can't be." He touched a piece of my straight dull hair, lighter brown and very different from the last time he had seen me in Lyon.

"Anything can be" I responded, letting him finger the dark bruise and dried blood on my jaw and mouth.

"Anne . . .Christ . . How could this be?" Treize's voice softened to a whisper and was laced with pity.

"Spare me your pity, Treize." He ignored my slight hiss.

"My god you are freezing. What was done to you?"

"Only the legendary courtesy of the Specials. Their hospitality is quite renowned." I answered, wincing as he continued his inspection.

"Was it really you then who commanded the resistance against us?" I looked at him and what he displayed was not disbelief, but admiration. I tried to give him a cheeky smile, but failed from the swelling of my jaw. So I nodded and he set a hand on my head that patted through the limp strands there.

"I was right. You are something special. Simply remarkable. I knew you would be important." He was now smiling as though I was a beloved lost pet that had finally come home.

You have changed so much, almost nothing like you were before. I can hardly see the girl I knew in the face before me. You're most certainly a woman now." He smiled fully in amazement at what he never expected to find in this dank cell.

"A woman whom you will soon have executed" I answered, my dull eyes fixed on the floor. Treize was silent for a long time, just looking at me. This was no happy meeting for either of us. The reality of our separate roles in this travesty asserted themselves.

"You ordered the dam broken. You flooded us out."

"Yes" he answered.

"You killed my sister."

He was quiet for a few beats, probably not having considered those that had died in water's wake. "Yes."

"And now you are going to kill me."

He did not answer. Instead he rose and slowly, with a little hesitation, he left the cell. The lights were again turned off and his footfalls echoed up the cell block. I heaved a short sigh at our meeting and tried to think no more of it. It was likely the last I would see of Treize Alexander Khushrenada.

 Being unable to move and consequently unable to sleep, I watched the light move across the far wall of the cell. My body was by this time mostly numb and I could no longer feel the pains of hunger. A few times I became sleepy but didn't dare sleep, fearing I would freeze to death if I nodded off. Most of my time was spent listening to the distant sounds of soldiers walking up and down the cell block. No other prisoners could be heard and I hoped that the rest of the captured were being held elsewhere in more comfortable places. The only other alternative was that they had been executed, but I didn't want to think about that.

My joints were extremely stiff by evening when the light disappeared from the cell again. The juncture of my shoulder and arms throbbed with renewed pain when I moved my legs up against my chest, trying press close what little body heat I had left. I thought of the soup the base kitchen would have been cooking about now and how I would gladly eat everything Aria had put on my plate if it were before me again. It was a stupid thing to be so finicky about food and appetite. I should have shown some gumption and eaten when I needed to. But I don't think becoming famine-resistant is high on anyone's priority list. The thought of stuffing my face made me laugh a little but my abdomen was so sore I quickly stopped. I think by this time my mind was slipping into waking dreams, because I could almost hear the waves crashing against the cliffs in Dover, or was it Ireland?

Inhaling the air that suddenly didn't feel so cold, I smelled bacon and sausage. Mrs. Collins must have been preparing breakfast, which meant I'd have to get up soon. The bed was so soft and warm that I rolled myself in the sheets and hid my head under the pillow. Mrs. Collins hummed old English songs while she cooked, I could hear Greensleeves and Scarborough Fair echoing up the stairwell. My eyes hurt from the dark and I wouldn't open them, but I knew the sun was starting to come into the window. But I was not ready to wake yet, I wanted a little more of just smelling the food and hearing the sound. Soon, either Mathius or Shireen would creep into my room and jump on my bed, demanding that I get up. Perhaps it would be warmer today that it was yesterday. Yesterday it had rained and made the land green. Hopefully it had all dried out so we could take breakfast outside on the deck porch. Aria would be teaching me how to play War with the new deck of cards she had purchased yesterday in town. But not before I finished the book I was reading. All of it would have to wait in any case, I was still sleeping and still smelling the wonderful aromas and feeling the warmth of my bed.  Finally, I knew I had tarried long enough and I stretched my limbs and cracked open my eyes.

Then I felt the burn of my limbs, the immobility of my muscles. Every contraction caused the wakened parts of my body to shudder and my eyes were dry from the cold. For a moment, tears formed from the shock of the cold air, but they seeped out and make my cheeks colder yet. There was a gnawing in my mid-section, like an animal trying to shred its way out of my body. God, I was so hungry. I had heard stories of prisoners who had been starved on and off for years in their confinement. They're were grown men who would begin crying while trying to describe what it was like to be hungry all the time. A part of me felt like crying now, the rest of me couldn't remember how. I hadn't cried since my mother died. But maybe if I stirred myself enough, I could manage a few tears. Tears must be worth something. I dwelled on all the sad things for a few minutes, hammering in the hurt and the different hardships, waking all that was numbed in me and wringing it out, trying to get some tears out for everything that had gone on. There were none because in the end it didn't mean anything anymore.

So I gave up. I let myself fall back against the wall, limp and wasted. My eyes closed and I decided to let myself sleep and to hell with waking up. But the footsteps now approaching  again stopped me. They were coming back again. This could be the end if they were coming to execute me. I watched and listened as they came slowly, multiple pairs of footfalls, conferred for a moment outside my cell, and then opening the door. The florescent lights came to life and I was again blinded. With my eyes shut against the ache caused by the lights, I felt men removing my hands from the cuffs against the wall. I hissed in a sharp pain when I was able to lower my arms. Everything ached terribly, especially there. My hair fell in my face and shaded my eyes from the light. They were pulling me up but there was no way I could stand at this point. A few more men came in and I saw what seemed to be a stretcher. The men who had pulled me up balanced me while another took off the torn jacket of my uniform. I was then lifted and placed down on the stretcher bed, hearing the metallic raking as it took on my weight. Somewhat adjusted to the light, I looked from face to face, none of them were familiar, but all were wearing white coats over black Specials uniforms; Medics I thought.

I was strapped into the stretcher and heavy blankets were placed over me, an air mask was fitted over my swollen mouth. They spoke amongst themselves about my status, but I barely heard any of them. This might well be the worst torture of all, to cure me of all ailments before execution. At least I would be put out of my misery if they executed me in my current condition. The Specials might indeed be that cruel to their prisoners. That was why I always let Kateline kill those we had captured right away. No sense in being so brutal by allowing them to linger and waste away contemplating their impending deaths.

The stretcher jolted and I was being wheeled forward out of the cell. We passed more soldiers in the cell block hall and another prisoner being led to my cell. As they wheeled me away, I saw that the new prisoner was a terrified young girl with long brown hair. They uncuffed her and roughly forced her into the jacket they had taken from me. She was crying as the replaced the cuffs and took her forcefully into the cell. I could hear her whimpering and the sound of cuffs being secured to the wall. Then we turned the corner and I was out of sight from the cell. One of the orderlies next to me leaned over and said very quietly.

"You know who that was? That was you."

* * * * * * * * * *

And Now, Ye Old A/N:  This method of author response to reader questions was suggested to me recently and I thought it would be helpful for some of you with questions about the story. This will only be given to the reviewer questions, as those who email me already get their answers in response mail.

Sarah: Thank you for the comparison, I am extremely flattered. While I do use Tolkien as an influence for writings on despair, I could never place myself even close to his level or the level of any other professional author of such tremendous vision and artistry.

Is-U: I know it! That was so rushed. But in all honesty, it had to be so. It could take another five chapters to sum up all the nasty experiences that went on in the beginning of the Rhineland War. I figure there has been plenty of grit and mind-numbing despair already and so her experience was summed up in brief exposition. If you really need to get a feel for what it was like, Saving Private Ryan is just a video store away. I hope this more slowly paced chapter does the trick for you.

Quincy007: I seriously have to stop myself from putting Monty Python vignettes in this story, and I have you to thank for it since you wrote that review. When things get so depressing or there is some dramatic standoff, I have the most terrible urge to make Zechs or Anne say "NEH!" Just so you know that I do have a sense of humor. And I do have plenty of funny little bits in store for my third installment (which still has no name yet!). Now, as to your questions, concerns, people with mental disorders are often written off as Mental Retards, but such is only the case in a handful of disorders. The disorder in this story is not one of those kinds, though it can be debilitating and cause irrational and violent behavior, it is not Mental Retardation, as all the characters have average to above average comprehension skills and such. I guess over all I have to ask you to suspend your disbelief when it comes to the Mentescadere. Yes, a lot of people in this story seem to have problems, an entire family is mentally disturbed (and since the Delizabanes are ½ of the cast, it tends to show up). Treize is somewhat damaged because of the overdose he suffered, and there are definitely irregularities in Gabriel (with both his New Type ability and the brainwashing the Delizabanes dealt him) Zechs, and Heero. The New Type stuff was one of my first ideas in this story and I wanted to incorporate more of the actual Gundam themes, since this is a tale that is Gundam but not about the Gundam Boys.

Anne's age discrepancy has a reason behind it and will be dealt with in the next chapter. I also try to establish that in this time, youth is more utilized. In the series, Sally was a doctor at 19, Treize the leader of OZ in his early twenties, Zechs and Noin Colonels at 19. It is a youth against the world kind of plot, realized by the youngest of all, the Gundam Pilots and Relena. GW gave me a feeling that the young were the bearers of the future and the ones who can achieve peace. I try to ground that in more realism by creating a society that promotes maturity and responsibility in mere children. In Analicia's case, it is in the extreme, and completely eliminates that which children fundamentally need, love and security. But it does work, Aria and Anne are no different than the Gundam Pilots or Zechs in that they are extremely young and are capable of handling the responsibilities they are given because they have been forced into growing up very early. Growing up for them is just another means of surviving their circumstances.  Still, this doesn't say much for the older generation who are willing to bet the structure of their society on the abilities of children, which was one of my initial gut reactions to first watching Gundam Wing.

The matter of Anne's claims that Zechs never really understood war is just one of her personal perception. She feels that if you have never had to repeatedly watch your enemy die in front of you, and not just explode inside a mobile suit, then you aren't really experiencing the act of killing or war itself. This can be debated of course, but we are dealing with Anne's own opinion on the matter. Perhaps she and Zechs can argue out the philosophy later.

On the matter of Anne's sudden decision to stay with Treize, it can be chalked up to a sudden whim born out of a feeling she has never had before. Not a single person in her life has ever really given her a choice in the direction of her life. To her, choices don't exist and she doesn't miss what she has never known. A lot of possibilities that she never considered before open up with the suggestion that she can decide for herself where she will go, what she will do, and who she will be. She knows she has it rough but she figures this is her lot and there is nothing to be done about it. Treize is telling her it doesn't have to be so and when given the choice to stay and explore this strange new freedom or to return with her family and to the life that in almost all cases has done nothing but hurt her, she chooses to stay. However, as we all know, the choice was taken away from her. If it still bothers you, you can chalk it up to my poor writing skills J

And to the question that everyone keeps asking me "Will this have a happy ending?" My answer is, it depends on your definition of happy. There will be no "Happily Ever After" in this story. I feel to do so would cause everything I have written to collapse. My efforts here are to add a little more realism into the Gundam Wing universe, particularly as it deals with war and change. The happy ending will come depending upon which characters can adapt to the change they will have to live with in the end, which characters are best equipped to handle life in the wake of their experiences, which ones will inevitably fall apart under the strain, and which characters will have changed enough themselves to find their own stability and help others to find it as well. I leave each of you to decide how the overall ending ranks on the happiness scale, because it will probably vary from reader to reader.

As always, thanks for being the lovely readers that you are and bearing with me while I behave as the windbag that I am ^_^.  Further questions or comments can be addressed via email as always. 

~A.