I don't own anything except Ken DiFalco, his team, and Sophia DiFalco

Joint Operational Strategic Headquarters, Alaska, Atlantic Federation, Conference Room, May 3rd, C.E. 71
The room was very dark, with the only lighting coming from an overhead fluorescent lamp, hanging low over the table. The peculiar arrangements turned the officers sitting around the table into silhouettes, almost invisible even to each other.

"So the Archangel has returned," one man commented; in better lighting, his name tag would've read James Hamilton.

"Yes," another said; his tag read William Sutherland. "It took them three months, but they finally managed it; it appears Halberton was of some use, after all."

"Indeed," Charles Kreitzman noted. "His sacrifice enabled them to survive the battle in orbit; yet now that they've arrived, they may not have brought us what we needed."

"Yes," Hamilton agreed. "They arrived, but without the precious Strike."

"They lost the pilot, as well," Sutherland reminded them. "That alone makes the loss of the Strike worth it; we can't have it said that a child, a Coordinator no less, was flying it. This way we can keep the matter suitably under wraps."

"But what of the Raptor?" Kreitzman wondered. "And its pilot, who did survive? What are we to do with him?"

"The Grimaldi Falcon has a lot of nerve coming openly to our headquarters," Hamilton mused. "He's got a lot of brazen gall, I'll grant him that."

"It's not gall," Sutherland told him. "It's overconfidence. He'll take whatever we throw at him, because he knows... knows about Spit Break. After all, it was all his plan, from the very beginning." In the darkness, he smiled. "He thinks he'll get the last laugh; but in the end, he will be the one who suffers. And from the same weapon that nearly killed him last time, no less."

"What do we do with him in the meantime?" Castor Truman questioned. "Do we allow that... that space monster to go about unhindered?"

"He's no threat," Sutherland said dismissively. "We can afford to indulge him for now; we might even learn something, though I doubt it. The important thing is that we can rid ourselves of this particular nuisance, when the time is right."

"Yes," Hamilton agreed. "It would be best to cut him orders for a transfer from Archangel, however; keep him from suspecting anything. Then, when the time comes, we simply make sure that he hasn't enough time to leave the ten-kilometer limit."

"A fitting end," Kreitzman concurred. "He's been a thorn in our sides for too long; he would never have gotten this far if it weren't for Halberton's bizarre rapport with him. Now's the time to rectify that idiot's mistake."

"But what are you going to tell Azrael?" Truman asked. "He must be informed..."

Sutherland shrugged. "I told him all was under control; which it is. Once Spit Break begins, the spider will be caught in his own web; and he'll unwittingly lead his own comrades into it."

Hamilton frowned. "Do you believe the tale that claims DiFalco deserted, and is acting on his own?"

Another shrug. "Does it matter? Either way, the fools have so much confidence in his abilities that they're even still using his plans. That works very much in our favor."

"Yes..."

"Construction of the three new machines is still on track," Truman interjected. "Once the sacrifice has been made, our plans will proceed according to schedule."

"Yes..."

"And once the Archangel -and DiFalco- are gone, the PLANTs will be at our mercy." Sutherland smiled. "For the preservation of our blue and pure world."

PLANTs, Aprilius One, Clyne Residence, April 23rd, C.E. 71
Kira Yamato awoke slowly, and only gradually became aware of the face looking down at him; it took a few moments more before he dimly realized someone had spoken.

"Hello there, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?"

He blearily tried to focus his eyes. "Where... am I...? What... happened...?"

"You're in my house," Lacus Clyne told him. "Reverend Malchio found you unconscious and brought you to me; but I'm afraid I don't know exactly what happened to you."

Unconscious...? Kira strained his mind, trying to get it to focus, trying to remember what could possibly have led to him being knocked out. "It's... Miss Lacus, right?" he managed, filling the time while he fought to remember.

Lacus smiled. "Just Lacus is fine, Kira; but I'm pleased you remembered my name."

He nodded vaguely, and turned inward again. There was... some kind of battle... he realized. Raptor... went down... and... and... Tolle...?

He sat bolt upright in the bed, eyes wide with horror; his breathing went into overdrive, entering hyperventilation, and Lacus looked at him in concern. "Kira! What's wrong?"

"I... I..." Kira gasped out. "I... fought with Athrun... I killed... his friend... and then... he killed... my friend..." Behind his eyes, the battle played itself out again, every excruciating moment repeated in every tiny detail. "We fought... tried to... to... kill each other..."

She grasped his shoulder. "Kira..."

"But... why?" he whispered. "Why am I... still alive...?"

"I don't remember any of Athrun's friends getting killed," a new voice said, and Kira's eyes snapped over to the gazebo's door.

He looked at the green-haired youth who limped in, startled out of his panic. "Who...?"

The other teenager smiled. "I'm Nicol Amalfi; and if you're worried about killing the Blitz's pilot, don't. See, that's me."

Kira jerked in astonishment. "But... how...? I... killed you..."

Nicol shook his head. "Nope; came close, but you missed the cockpit, and Hades picked me up after the dust cleared."

"Hades...?"

"A vessel controlled by a faction led by a friend of yours," said the room's other occupant, a black-haired man with a walking stick who had, heretofore, been silent. "Commander DiFalco's Gray Demons; though I believe some are beginning to call them the 'True ZAFT' faction."

Nicol nodded. "That's right; and now, I'm one of them." He smiled again. "Actually, I should thank you for shooting me down. It hurt a lot -still does," he admitted, "but it gave Leanne the chance to tell me the truth... and it may yet save Athrun." Learning the truth about Patrick Zala's intentions -about GENESIS- had been the biggest shock of his life; and when his father had learned of it, it had gained the Gray Demons a powerful ally.

Kira looked away. "But still... I tried... to kill Athrun..."

Lacus looked at the green-haired pilot, who nodded. "Look, Kira," Nicol said, "from what I hear you didn't have much of a choice. Athrun thought I was dead, so he decided to destroy you for it. If you hadn't fought to the best of your ability, he'd have done it, too; I know him. Look what happened to you anyway. And besides..." He looked away, knowing that this pain wasn't one he had any right to intrude upon. "He did kill your friend; under the circumstances, in the heat of battle like that, nobody could expect you to act any different."

"Ken would," Kira said quietly, control returning. "He told me that vengeance has no place on the battlefield; he'd have expected different..."

Nicol actually chuckled at that, startling the brown-haired youth. "He may've said that; but if you believe it, you don't know anything about the Bloody Valentine. Leanne -that's Leanne Eldridge, my cousin- was there, and she told me later that Commander DiFalco went berserk and destroyed everything in sight. His own machine included, I hear; over-stressed it."

The black-haired man, the blind Reverend Malchio, nodded. "And I would suggest you may be putting too much faith in your mentor's words," he advised. "More than DiFalco himself would expect you to. You are your own man, Kira Yamato; you make your own decisions, and fight your own battles."

Kira closed his eyes. "But... was what I did... the right decision...?"

"That's a question only you can answer," Lacus told him. "Never let anyone else judge you when they weren't in your place. Choose your own path, Kira, and make your own judgments."

Kira Yamato lay back on the bed, and pondered those words, so like ones Ken DiFalco had told him, time and again.

Archangel, May 3rd, C.E. 71
Kenneth "Grimaldi Falcon" DiFalco found himself wandering the Archangel's corridors, feeling very tense. He'd been tense from the moment the ship reached Alaska, of course; it was Earth Alliance Headquarters, after all, and as far as they were concerned he was the enemy.

Fair enough, he thought to himself. As far as I'm concerned, they're the enemy. Still... something isn't right here. From the very start, Ken had expected that the JOSHUA brass wouldn't be happy with the Archangel and her crew; having not one but two Coordinators aboard wouldn't be calculated to please them. But this...

The ship had been at Alaska for over a day now, plenty of time for the brass to get down to business, yet so far the only instructions they'd received had been to stand by aboard the ship. Not even instructions to report for debriefing... and that made the ace nervous.

Nor was that his only concern. Ken had been very highly placed in ZAFT, with access to the details of every operation being planned, as well as the influence to come up with several of his own. And from Sparky's latest report... he knew there was trouble coming.

Specifically, he knew Operation Spit Break was coming. To be sure, Murrue and the others knew essentially the same thing: that a major ZAFT operation was on the way. But they didn't know what he knew: that Spit Break's target was not Panama.

It was Alaska.

So he was understandably quite nervous at the prospect of being caught at the base when the operation got underway. Even with Preybird's -hidden- might, he wasn't sure he could take on that many ZAFT units... at least not without using the Nataraja, which in his opinion would cause too much collateral damage. Still, if he had to...

"Blast it," Ken muttered in frustration. "It wasn't supposed to be this way. The Shiva Option should've ended it last year... but Patrick perverted it, forced me to fight my own comrades, my own plan... and now he's planning a role-of-the-dice operation, which will force me to kill even more ZAFT soldiers..."

The only silver lining, as he saw it, was that all or nothing, do or die plans very rarely worked. In addition to being a master strategist in his own right, he was a student of military history, and knew that role-of-the-dice plans didn't work. Not, at least, without a grueling, step-by-step battle of attrition against the enemy forces.

"You can only achieve success in a 'bold stroke' operation if your enemy is a complete idiot," he'd once written, in the same paper that had attracted Zala's attention. "Even when you have control of high orbit, and thus have the ability to land forces just about wherever you please, you still can't risk such a foolhardy operation. Sure, you can drop overwhelming force on the enemy's capital... but only if you uncover your own vital locations, which gives the enemy the opportunity to do the same thing to you. The bold stroke is a double-edged sword; a strike you should never attempt, and if you do, you had best hope your enemy's leaders are as stupid as the micro-managing politicians who lost the Vietnam War in the twentieth century, when the military, given a freer hand, could've ended the war in a week." Ken smiled to himself at the memory. "Of course, if the enemy's government is stupid enough to keep their forces on such a tight leash, remember what one man famously -and idiotically- said: 'They couldn't bomb an outhouse without my personal authorization.' If you've got an enemy like that, they won't even be able to respond before you drop the hammer on them..."

The only problem was, the Earth Forces very nearly were that handicapped... and, thanks in large part to Ken's own efforts, Zala had the overwhelming force he needed.

Alaska was doomed; there was no doubt of that. The only question now was how to arrange the Archangel's survival... and what the brass were up to by keeping the ship and her crew in suspense for this long.

So he was tense... and knew absolutely nothing he could do about it.

PLANTs, Aprilius One, Clyne Residence, May 2nd, C.E. 71
Kira's second conscious week in the Clyne Residence had so far been much calmer than the first. The knowledge of Tolle's death still had him very depressed, but meeting Nicol Amalfi -miraculously alive- had at least eased his guilt.

He even knew that Athrun was alive; Lacus had confirmed that, which was quite a load off his mind. Now, all he had to do was lie there, and recover. But what he'd do after that...

Kira really didn't know. Strike was gone, and the Archangel far beyond his reach. Was this to be his course, spending the remainder of the war in the PLANTs recovering his strength? Was he to leave the rest of the fighting to those who did it willingly, like his mentor, the Grimaldi Falcon?

He didn't know. But at least he seemed to have plenty of time to think about it.

He looked up when the door to the gazebo slid open, admitting a huge man in ZAFT red. There was a katana at his side, and he had a perpetual facial tic; there were also a number of old scars visible, faint traces of what looked like blade wounds.

Kira had seen the man before, usually shadowing Lacus like an enormous bodyguard -which he was, though the youth didn't know it- but hadn't actually spoken to him before; so he was slightly startled when a rumbling voice emanated from the big man.

"You're looking better than when the Reverend brought you in," he remarked. "Frankly, I was amazed you were still alive; you're made of sterner stuff than normal people, just like the Commander. So how ya feeling, kid?"

"Uh... not bad," Kira managed. "Uh, I'm, uh-"

"Kira Yamato," the big man said, nodding. "I know. And I'm Lance Cooper, but you can call me Sparky." As if to confirm this, his face twitched again.

Sparky... The nickname seemed familiar, so Kira took another look at the sword. It looked like... "Wait a minute... you're one of...?"

Sparky nodded again. "That's right, kid; I'm a Gray Demon, or 'True ZAFT', as some people are calling us now. The Commander is your buddy Falcon; best pilot I ever flew with."

Kira frowned. "But... if you're a Gray Demon, what are you doing here? Ken told me you guys are still working for him..."

"That's right, we are," the big pilot acknowledged. "But we needed cover stories; and the Boss figured Master Siegel probably needed protection anyway, so I got the job." He grinned. "So far, nobody's tried anything fancy; don't know why."

Kira, reflecting on the man's huge build, had a feeling he did know why. He knew he wouldn't want to tangle with somebody that big. "I... see..." The information that Ken himself had given Sparky his current assignment reminded him of something else, and he frowned. "Can I ask you something, Commander?"

"That's Sparky," Sparky reminded him, but nodded. "Go ahead; what's on your mind?"

"I was just wondering... Ken was always talking about messages he got from you guys... so would you know if the Archangel's...? I mean, are they okay?"

"Haven't heard from the Boss in awhile," the big man said slowly, "but it's nothing to worry about. See, they just entered Alaska's air-defense zone, so he can't risk any messages. So yeah, if you're asking if they're safe from ZAFT right now, they sure are. But Alaska... I don't know if they'll be safe from the Earth Forces there. The Boss seemed mighty worried about it, anyway..."

Kira nodded, relieved that Archangel had reached safe harbor, and slightly disturbed that they might have problems with their own superiors. But it wasn't really a surprise; Ken had muttered about it from time to time, after all.

But while the ship might be safe, there was someone else...

He looked up. "There was another person... in Orb, a girl named Cagalli..."

Sparky grinned. "She's fine, kid; Leanne -that's Leanne Eldridge; you've never met her, but she saved your hide outside Orb, flying Preybird- the Boss dispatched her to Orb, and last I heard she and the princess were getting along like a house on fire. You don't have to worry, kid."

Kira nodded, biting his lip. "But... she must think I'm... I'm dead. I don't want her to go through that..."

The Demon nodded solemnly. "I know what you mean, Kira, and I sympathize. She's important to you -and I'll wager you're important to her, too- and you don't want her going through grief like that. I wish I could help... but I can't afford to send a message like that down to Earth. The information that you're alive is too sensitive to risk being picked up by Patrick's agents."

That confused the youth. "Why would that...?"

Sparky gave him a shrewd glance. "Let's just say that you may be more important than you know, kid. Important enough that the Boss would skin me alive if I took a chance like that."

"What do you mean?" Kira demanded.

The only response was a slight smile, and, "It's not something you need to worry about right now. At the moment, the only thing you should be worrying about is getting yourself back into something resembling good health. Can't do even yourself any good as you are."

The huge pilot promptly left, and Kira lay back on the bed, thinking to himself that speaking in riddles was obviously a contagious disease, and all the Gray Demons had caught it.

PLANTs, Martius Three, True ZAFT Headquarters, May 3rd, C.E. 71
The Gray Demons had once again gathered to meet in their "abandoned" headquarters for a meeting; but this time there were only the two of them.

Nonetheless, there were important matters to discuss. "So how's the kid doing?" Tom Delaney asked, gazing through the viewport at the pair of ships being constructed in the harbor there. "He recovering okay?"

Sparky snorted. "Kid? He's only a couple years younger than you, Tom. But yeah, he's doing fine; getting blown halfway to the moon doesn't seem to have done anything permanent. Reverend Malchio did a first-rate job to begin with, so I suppose he'll be as recovered as he'll ever be in just a couple days. As it is, he just tires easily; he'll be okay when the time comes."

Tom nodded. "If the time comes," he pointed out. "You know he might decide to sit the rest of the war out; and frankly, I wouldn't blame him."

The bigger man sighed. "Yeah, I know. I wouldn't either; but it would be a real waste of his potential if he did. Which reminds me," he went on, shifting gears, "how's the X10A project going?"

"Freedom was completed this morning," Tom told him. "Everything's in place; and we're in a position to hijack it if the time comes."

"When," Sparky corrected sadly. "There's no more doubt, Tom: we cannot allow Patrick to use machines with nuclear reactors. As it is, we've failed to prevent the construction of GENESIS; if we leave Freedom and Justice in his possession, I don't know if even the Boss can stand up to them both. We have to have at least one of them under our control. That's what we need Kira for."

"I know." Tom sighed. "Look, Sparky, whatever happens, we can take Freedom. Even if we don't have a proper pilot for it, we can at least get it out of circulation, maybe stow it on Arkbird or Asmodeus; and if things get really desperate, we can probably seize Eternal herself... though to do that, we'd have to come completely out of the shadows."

Sparky nodded. "Yes, that's true... but we may not have a choice." He began to pace, occasionally glancing at the two incomplete warships. "This is how it stands, Tom: Patrick has complete control of ZAFT, almost total dominance over the Supreme Council... and approval for Spit Break. Once that plan is launched, Archangel will become a factor again... and the true mission will begin. For that, we need every asset we can muster, including both ships, any mobile suits we can steal, and all the pilots we can get."

"Somebody call me?"

They both turned in surprise, to see a brown-haired woman in ZAFT red enter the room, smiling. Like them, she had a sword at her side... and the gray feathers pinned to her collar -a touch not present on their uniforms- seemed to indicate her intentions.

She raised an eyebrow at their expressions. "What, you didn't expect me to show up? Look, you two, when I get an anonymous note saying that a couple of survivors from Endymion are looking for me, it doesn't take a genius to figure out who... or where."

Sparky simply blinked, his facial tic going into overdrive, but Tom burst out laughing. "Shiho Hahnenfuss, you always did have a way with words, didn't you? Shoulda known you'd know it was us; but how did you find us, anyway? I was figuring we'd be meeting someplace neutral, while we felt out your attitude toward our current leader."

Shiho shook her head. "You think this place was hard to find? Not when I know you as well as I do. I remembered you guys saying something about constructing the Arkbird, but when I never heard anything about it from official channels, I started to wonder, and did some checking of my own. And you know what I found? That before Jachin, you two and Commander DiFalco were stationed at this very base. With it now decommissioned, what better place for some old Demons to hole up?"

Sparky winced. "Remind me to be more careful in the future; Victor might've found this place, and then we'd be in real trouble."

She shot him a surprised look. "Victor? You don't mean Victor Tempest, do you? I thought he was supposed to be dead."

"He was," Tom said grimly. "But apparently the Boss didn't kill him dead enough, so we have to worry about that psycho turning up at inconvenient times." He waved a hand. "Anyway, long story, which we don't have time for now. So what brings you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Shiho smiled again. "I'm coming back to the unit, and I brought a DEEP Arms with me; the original prototype, not like the production model Huckebein -should have recognized that name right away- got sliced up in when the Eighth Fleet got wiped out."

Sparky nodded thoughtfully. "That's right, I heard you were the test pilot... Well, I'm glad you're here, Shiho. We need all the people we can get right now." His expression darkened. "You know about GENESIS?"

"Yeah." Yes, she knew about GENESIS... which was one of the reasons she was here. "So, where's Leanne? Last I heard, she was still around..."

"She's fine," Tom told her, with a smile. "She's on Earth right now, in Orb. You may not believe this, but she and the Princess Cagalli Yula Athha seem to be fast friends."

Shiho winced. "Those two? Ugh... I'd rather they'd never met. They're so much alike it's scary... But how did the Chief Representative's daughter get involved in all this?"

Sparky dropped into a chair, nearly breaking it in the process. "Seems she was on Heliopolis when it all went down; and later, she was in Africa when the Archangel turned up. She ended up as the Boss's gunner, before his machine went to pieces... and apparently she's the best friend of the kid we're thinking of putting in the Freedom."

Tom snorted. "Best friend? C'mon, Sparky, from Leanne's reports I'd say it went a little further than that, whether either of 'em realizes it or not."

Shiho looked at them suspiciously. "Let me get this straight: you're thinking of stealing one of ZAFT's new nuclear-powered machines... and to pilot it, you've got access to the Princess' boyfriend?"

Sparky coughed. "Well... essentially, yes, if you want to call it that. Personally, I think Tom's reading too much into it... but not by all that much."

She rolled her eyes, amused by his discomfort. "Sparky, get a girlfriend," she advised, and turned back to Tom. "So, you guys have quite the conspiracy going, it seems. Just how long have you been plotting, anyway? Judging from the progress on those ships, you've obviously at it awhile now."

Tom nodded. "Since last September, when the Boss deserted. It took us a couple months to get everything together -resources, people, and the hunk of metal that's starting to look like the Arkbird- but by November, we had things in place."

"Things really got into high-gear in February," Sparky interjected, "when the Boss analyzed the G-weapon data, came up with a machine of his own design, and transmitted the specs to us via Miss Lacus."

Shiho's eyes narrowed. "A new machine... that wouldn't happen to be the unit that caused the Zala team trouble back in March, would it? I remember reading reports of some kind of superweapon that took all four of them out of the fight in less than thirty seconds. I thought it was an exaggeration..."

"It wasn't," a new voice said from the doorway. "And if it'd been anybody but Leanne piloting it, we'd probably have been killed there."

She spun around. "Nicol Amalfi?" she said, startled. "But you're supposed to be..."

"Dead?" Nicol smiled. "So they say; but Kira -the Strike pilot- managed to miss Blitz's cockpit... barely. The Hades picked me up and got me into the Infirmary in time, and then I got sent up here for recovery... and briefing."

Shiho gave the assembled pilots a shrewd look. "Let me guess... you've got Representative Amalfi on your side, don't you? It's the only thing that makes sense; after everything you've been doing, you'd need someone on the Supreme Council to squash any reports that you've turned on ZAFT."

"That's right," Sparky confirmed. "Carpentaria's attempted to send reports to the homeland that we're no longer to be trusted -seems Athrun Zala got a talking-to from both the Boss and Leanne, and passed the word on- but a few of our agents have managed to intercept the reports and suitably... edit them before anyone like Patrick sees them. Only a matter of time, of course, but we're safe enough for now."

Only a matter of time... which told her why construction of those two ships had so obviously been expedited. Why Leanne Eldridge was on detached assignment in Orb... and why she herself had been called in after nearly a year away from the team.

They're getting ready, Shiho realized. They're getting ready to completely sever ties with ZAFT... and before they do, they need to squeeze every last tool they can out of the organization. Which includes me...

"All right, you guys," she said finally. "You've convinced me; I'm in. What's the plan?"

Sparky began to lean back in his chair. "For now? Nothing. We wait for Spit Break to begin... and then, I suspect, Master Siegel and Miss Lacus will take the necessary steps for us."

"You sure are confident," Shiho mused. "I hope you've read them right."

"Of course we have," he said confidently... and the back of his chair snapped, dropping him to the floor.

Archangel, Cafeteria/Corridor/Infirmary, May 4th, C. E. 71
It had been a rough time for Mir Haw, since Tolle Koenig's death. Even now, two weeks later, she couldn't cope with it; she wandered around in a daze, barely even eating, while others filled her post on the Bridge. Even Natarle Badgiruel knew, however much she might disapprove, that Mir was in no condition to man her station right now.

Now she sat in the cafeteria, absently looking at her food, listening to the chatter around her. Some of it was cheerful, some melancholy -quite aside from Tolle, Kira's death had hit the entire ship hard- and some simply frustrated.

"We've been at the base for two days now," mechanic Jack Johnson complained. "Yet they still insist we 'remain on standby' and won't let any of us off the ship."

"Yeah," Frank Catrone agreed. He, too, was a mechanic, and going stir-crazy himself. "They tell us to just keep on working... but work on what? All we've got are two Skygraspers -on which we've done everything but polish the wheel wells- the Commander's Moebius Zero -useless in atmosphere- and Commander DiFalco's new machine, which he won't let anybody near. What are we supposed to do?"

Mir felt her muscles tighten, hearing that litany... and noticing, naturally, that the machine Tolle had flown wasn't among those listed.

"You really should get something to eat, Mir," Sai said softly, appearing at her elbow. "You need your strength..."

But somehow, he wasn't surprised when she ignored him. She's been like this ever since, he mused. If only there was some way to get through to her... Although he was found Mir's reaction far more reassuring than Flay's; it was hard to tell what that girl felt these days. He wasn't even sure if she was genuinely grieving... though he did know she'd had some kind of blistering argument with Kira, before he went... MIA, he told himself. They still haven't found a body... And with Kira missing, Birdy had, for whatever reason occurred to its robotic brain, chosen to follow Sai around, and now perched on his shoulder.

"Why don't we kill some time by repairing the Buster?" Johnson suggested. "It's in pretty bad shape; could occupy us for awhile."

Catrone thought about that. "You know, that's not a bad idea. It took quite a few hits before we finally brought it down, so why not?"

"Although..." Johnson frowned. "It is an enemy machine..."

"Not originally," Catrone pointed out. "It was ours at first, so why not make it ours again? Besides, Commander DiFalco would probably be happy; they say that pilot used to be his best friend..."

Sai sighed. "Come on, Mir," he said quietly, standing. "You should get some rest." He began to carefully guide her to the hatch... someplace where she wouldn't hear constant reminders of Tolle's death.

As they stepped out into the corridor, he wondered idly if Ken would be of any help. On the one hand, he still seemed a cold-calculating young man; but on the other... On the other hand, the whole ship knows about that photo by now. Whoever she was, it was grief that pushed him onto the path that eventually led to his leaving ZAFT...

Sai was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind him until a voice joined them. "Sai?"

He looked over his shoulder, to see a certain red-haired girl watching him. "Flay? What is it?"

Before she could reply, Birdy took flight, flying right at her, and Flay's eyes went wide. She remembered another time the little robotic bird had done such a thing... when Kira's shoulder was still its perch. When Kira... was still...

She threw up an arm, warding the robot off. "No, stop it! Get away!"

As though miffed, Birdy wheeled around, soaring down another corridor. "Don't do that," Sai said reprovingly. He and Kira hadn't been on the best of terms for the last couple months, but seeing his treasured pet treated so... He took hold of Mir's shoulder again, and turned away. "If it's not urgent," he told the red-haired girl, "we'll talk later."

Flay blinked in surprise. "Sai, wait!"

"Excuse me." Sai guided Mir to the Infirmary hatch; it seemed the best place right now. "Just wait inside here," he told her gently. "We'll see about getting a prescription or something from the Doctor... something so that you can get some rest. Sound good?"

Mir didn't reply, but she did wander over to the stool next to one of the sickbeds -one which happened to have the curtains drawn- and sat, feeling just as dazed and depressed as she had in the days since Tolle's death. She wasn't paying much attention to her surroundings... so the voice that spoke from behind her came as quite the surprise.

"Hey, Doc! How long are you just going to leave me here, huh?"

She spun around, eyes wide, and came face-to-face with Dearka Elsman... who looked just as startled as she was.

Out in the corridor, Sai turned back to Flay. "What do you want?" he asked wearily.

She blinked; this wasn't how she'd expected the conversation to go. "What? Well, I..." How do I say this? Flay wondered. After everything with Kira, how do I get him to listen to me...?

He seemed to almost read her mind. "Tolle is missing," he sighed, "Kira's missing... the whole ship seems depressed. Nobody's feeling very good right now... and that includes me."

Flay swallowed. "What are you trying to say...?"

"I'm sorry," Sai cut her off. "But I'm in no condition to comfort you. Go ask someone else," he advised, and turned back toward the Infirmary.

"Sai, wait!" She thought fast. "Because..." That's it! "Because... I still have feelings for you!" That should get his attention...

His reaction surprised her. "Flay," he said, tone sounding almost like a warning...

"All along," Flay persisted desperately, "you must have known. Kira... wasn't the one I really wanted!" He has to believe me...

Sai rounded on her. "Flay, that's enough!" he snapped angrily. "You did have feelings for Kira!" You might not have admitted it, even to yourself -and Kira might not have truly shared it- but it's true... and why there's nothing more between us.

"You're wrong!" she said hotly.

"I'm not!" His vehemence shocked her, and he used that reaction ruthlessly to hammer his point home. "Kira was... a better man than any of us," he ground out. "Because... because that's the way he was! You may not have realized it at the beginning, but there was something between you two, and you know it!"

Flay shook her head violently. "You're wrong! You're wrong, you're wrong, you're wrong!"

In the Infirmary, Dearka had quickly recovered his equilibrium, even as Mir shot to her feet, looking almost like a frightened rabbit. "Why are you staring at me?" he wondered, with a slight smile. "You find me...unusual? Or are you just frightened? Relax, why don't you," he advised, sitting up. "I couldn't be any more tied up." Indeed, his wrists were tied behind his back, with restraints attached directly to the bed.

Mir couldn't tear her eyes from this... this... He's one of the ones who was out there when Tolle... when Tolle... Her eyes began to mist. He's... Her gaze strayed toward a nearby tray... on which lay a surgical knife...

Dearka lay back again, eyes closed. "But what I really want to know is, why are you crying again? It's hard to believe a ship like this would have such a crybaby onboard." He chuckled. "You've got no business being a soldier if you're that afraid."

It wasn't really his fault; he'd gotten into the habit of being sarcastic toward Naturals for the simple reason that the only Natural he knew very well was his best friend's sister, Sophia, who he remembered with a certain amount of scorn.

And then he made his final, almost fatal, mistake.

"Or maybe..." he drawled, "your good-for-nothing Natural boyfriend went and bought the farm or something."

He didn't notice the knife coming for him until it was almost too late.

Dearka's eyes snapped open, and he sat upright just in time to ensure that it was his pillow, instead of his head, that got perforated. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "You're psycho!"

Mir, rage on her face, didn't reply. Instead, she lunged for him again, and sent both him and herself crashing to the deck, ripping through the curtain in the process... and opening a cut on Dearka's head.

At that moment, the Infirmary hatch opened again, and Sai stepped back in, trying to ignore Flay's shouted denials. His eyes instantly went wide, and he practically teleported across the compartment. "Mir!" he called out, grabbing her arms. "What are you doing?"

Ken, who had been on his way to check on his old friend, entered a split-second later. "What the- Miriallia!" With two quick strides, he, too, was at her side, reaching for the knife; he was oblivious to Flay's entrance.

"Tolle's gone!" Mir burst out, struggling with them both. "And he's never coming back! And yet this freak...!" Her mouth twisted in hate. "What is this murderer doing here?"

Dearka's eyes went wide, and in that instant he began to realize that his comment had been entirely too close to the truth. No... I... I didn't mean...

Ken finally succeeded in getting hold of the knife, and he flung it across the room, where it embedded itself in a bulkhead, "Come on, Miriallia," he said quietly, in as soothing a tone as he could manage. "Come on. He's not responsible..." But I am, he thought to himself. I should've been able to do something; but I was locked in a death-duel...

Flay, too, heard the "murderer" remark, and her eyes strayed to a gun that happened to be in the room. What it was doing in a drawer in the Infirmary, she didn't know... but she did know how to use it... and whom it ought to be used on...

Mir, by now, had subsided into sobs in Sai's arms. "Sai... Tolle's gone..." she whispered. "Why is he gone...?"

"I don't know, Mir," he said softly, torn up inside by her grief. "I just don't know..."

It was Ken's keen -and experienced- ears that first registered the sound of a pistol's slide racking back, chambering a round, and his eyes snapped to Flay. What does she think she's doing...?

Flay's eyes were filled with hate. "All of you Coordinators..." she hissed, "...will get what you deserve!"

Those words seemed to reverberate through the compartment, and two figures lunged toward her. Ken instinctively interposed his body between Dearka and the gun... and got shot in the left shoulder for his troubles, while Mir got her hands on the gun, forcing it toward the ceiling and knocking Flay over just in time to redirect the second shot into the deckhead.

Ken was back on his feet in an instant, his katana flashing out, and the pommel crashed into Flay's temple, knocking her unconscious.

The entire event had taken perhaps five seconds, maybe less; and the only spilled blood came from Dearka's cut and Ken's shoulder wound. It could've been worse, the ace thought grimly, painfully sheathing his blade. And it would've been, if Miriallia hadn't decided -for whatever reason- that Dearka wasn't worth killing after all...

The Infirmary hatch slid open as Ken was picking up the fallen gun, and Chandra and a security man charged in. "What happened in here?" Chandra demanded. "We heard gunshots-"

"It's over," Ken told him calmly, and fixed his attention on the pistol. "I hate these things," he muttered, gripping the handle in one hand and the slide in the other; then he yanked hard, separating slide from pistol. "I suggest you get Dearka out of here," he went on, "and put him in the brig; he'll be safer there."

Chandra nodded. "Got it, Commander." He glanced at the prostrate -and unconscious- Flay, and the sobbing Mir. "What about them?"

"I'll handle it." The ace looked over at Dearka. "We'll talk soon enough," he told him. "I think we need to clear up a few matters."

Dearka nodded wearily. "You're probably right."

As his friend was led out, Ken turned his attention to those remaining in the room. "Sai," he began, "you'd better get Miriallia out of here; I'll want to talk to her shortly... but first I have to deal with Flay. And my shoulder," he added ruefully.

Sai nodded, shaken. "Okay, Falcon. Come on, Mir," he said softly, and carefully guided her out of the compartment.

Ken nodded to himself, and gazed at the prone figure. In a calculated move, he reached up and pulled off his eyepatch, revealing the Prussian blue eye beneath... the one that many found so disturbing. "And that just leaves... you," he murmured.

No one would ever know if Flay would've recovered consciousness at that moment on her own; because the cold fury in the ace's voice, so completely out of character, was more than enough to rouse her... and she found herself staring at the most frightening sight she'd ever laid eyes on. "F-Falcon?" she gasped out, seeing the cold fury -and, almost worse, the bizarre silver tracery- in those cold blue eyes. "What-?"

"You're lucky I didn't just kill you," Ken said, very coldly. "You just tried to kill my best friend, and if you'd succeeded, I assure you that the cleaning crew would have quite the job, cleaning up the Infirmary. Death by the sword tends to be messy, you know."

"But..." Flay swallowed hard. "But he was the enemy-"

"Dearka Elsman is my best friend, and, more importantly, a prisoner of war." He fingered his sheathed sword; the idle action wasn't very reassuring. "One thing ZAFT and the Earth Forces have in common: we don't harm prisoners of war. And if you'd been in ZAFT, I'd be within my authority to summarily execute you, Flay. As it is, you're lucky I'm not even bringing you up on charges."

She blinked. "W-what charges?"

"Attempted murder of a POW," Ken answered frostily. "And assaulting a superior officer. You do remember that I outrank you, correct, Crewman Allster?"

She nodded, almost convulsively. "So- so what are you going to do with me?"

"I'm going to let you go with a warning." He stood, replaced his eyepatch, and turned toward the hatch. "If it weren't for the fact that you're out of your mind -and have been since your father bought it- I'd bring you up on charges right here, right now. As it is... if you try a harebrained stunt like that again, don't expect me to settle for using the pommel of my sword."

The ace swept out of the compartment, leaving a very, very shaken Flay behind.

Archangel, Crew Quarters
After delivering her here, Sai had tactfully decided to go elsewhere for the time being, so now Mir sat alone on a bunk, still feeling miserable, but finally shaken out of the funk she'd been in for weeks.

Still, she wasn't inclined to talk to anyone just now, and didn't even look up when she heard the hatch chime. "Not now, Falcon," she said wearily, knowing whom it had to be. "I don't feel like talking right now."

The ace didn't even sigh. "First of all, Miriallia," he said quietly, "you can call me Ken. And second... we really do need to talk. About him."

There was only one person he could be, under the circumstances; and Mir thought to herself that perhaps she should hear Ken out. After all, she had just tried to kill his best friend. So, she silently keyed the hatch, allowing the ace to enter.

Ken moved with characteristic silence, his martial arts training having prepared him well for tactful movement. "How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

She knew he wasn't referring to her physical well-being. "Better," Mir said, after a long silence. "Not good... but better than I've been since..." She trailed off, unable to finish, and occupied herself by looking the ace over... which was when she noticed the bandages on his shoulder, and remembered what had occurred. "I'm sorry you got hurt," she said softly. "My fault..."

He shook his head. "No, it wasn't; you were merely the catalyst that sparked Flay into action. Had you not acted, something similar would doubtless have happened before long anyway. I don't blame you, Miriallia; not for something like that."

Mir nodded. But, still... "But... I tried to kill your friend," she murmured. "You should hate me for that..."

"I understand why you acted as you did, Miriallia," Ken said gently. "I've been where you are, you know; I know exactly how you feel."

She looked up sharply. "You... do?"

"Yes." He turned toward the bulkhead, his face in shadow; his voice revealed little, save remembered pain. "Long ago, I went through the same thing... losing one I loved. I took it out on the enemy. You could not; until you found the one ZAFT man aboard." He turned back to her. "No, I don't blame you; and you're wrong, you know, about Dearka being the only ZAFT soldier aboard." To her increasing surprise, the ace reached into his trench coat, pulled out his sidearm, and held it out to her. "I did something far worse than Dearka," he said softly. "If you need to shoot someone to get through this... then let it be me. You'd probably be doing the world a favor."

Mir looked at the gun, then back at him. "You can't be serious... what did you do...?"

"Exactly what isn't important," Ken told her. "What matters is that I have things I must atone for; they're what set me on the path that led to our meeting in the first place. And if that atonement requires my death... perhaps it's a fitting end for the Grimaldi Falcon."

Mir shook her head. "No, Ken; I can't kill you. You're too important to this ship... and I can't let you die until I've gotten some kind of emotional reaction out of you."

The humor, however small it was, brought a relieved look into the pilot's eyes. "I guess you are felling better," he murmured, and slipped the gun back into his coat. "Then I suppose there isn't much more that needs to be said. But let me leave you with this, Miriallia: give Dearka a chance. I know he's sarcastic, and abrasive... and a jerk," he admitted, with a slight smile. "But before you judge how he treats Naturals, let me tell you this: the only Natural he's ever known very well is Sophia... back during her more abrasive period."

She nodded in sudden comprehension. "So he's sarcastic..."

"...Because he learned about Naturals from experience with the wrong person," Ken agreed. "Now, they might actually get along... but first I have to tell him that."

Mir raised an eyebrow. "And if he doesn't believe you?"

He pretended to consider that, an uncharacteristic gleam of mischief in his eye. "Then I smack him upside the head with a dead fish," he intoned solemnly, and left.

Archangel, Brig
Dearka somehow wasn't surprised when, after he'd been in the cell only a few minutes, the brig's hatch slid open again, admitting a dark figure in a gray trench coat. "I figured you'd be turning up soon, Falcon," he said easily, trying to ignore the pain in his face, where the knife had cut him. "Care to explain why two different people tried to murder me in less than two minutes?"

Ken wasn't fooled by the phrasing; his friend's face and tone indicated that he'd been more disturbed by the incident than he'd care to admit. "One was explained by the fact that she lost someone close to her recently," he said calmly. "As for the other... the simple fact is that Flay is nuttier than a fruitcake."

Dearka grinned a little at that. "That's more like the Falcon I used to know. Glad to see that even joining the enemy hasn't totally destroyed your sense of humor."

"It wasn't joining the Archangel that did it," the ace replied, suddenly solemn. "It was... the Bloody Valentine. You know what happened there..."

The ZAFT pilot frowned, seeing the distant, melancholy look in his friend's visible eye. "You're still not over her, are you?" Dearka said softly.

"Did you expect any different?" Ken's face had closed, and all the emotion had vanished from his voice, as though he'd been replaced by an automaton, Purpose Personified.

Dearka sighed. "Falcon... you can't keep this up forever. It'll destroy you one day, you know. You have to let it go..."

"This particular discussion was closed a long time ago, Dearka," Ken said coldly. "I won't reopen it today... or ever."

"Yeah... I figured you'd say that." It's not as if we haven't been over this dozens of times since then...

"Now," the ace resumed, life returning to his voice, "to business. Just what in the world did you say to her, anyway? I've never seen Miriallia Haw do something like that before."

Dearka thought back. "What I said was... I wondered if maybe her 'good for nothing Natural boyfriend' had bought the farm or something. I was just kidding..."

Ken shook his head in disgust. "You idiot," he said succinctly. "That was probably the worst thing you could possibly have said at that particular moment. Don't you know that her boyfriend did buy the farm in the last battle?"

The ZAFT pilot went white. "He... he did...?" He swallowed. "Falcon, you gotta believe me. I never would've said that if I'd..."

The ace nodded. "I know, Dearka, relax. I know you're sarcastic -especially toward Naturals- but I also know that you're not cruel enough to do something like that on purpose."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Dearka said dryly, recovering his usual cocky exterior. "But speaking of sarcasm and Naturals, is your sister still around? If she is, don't let her anywhere near the brig."

"Yeah, she's still aboard," Ken confirmed. "But, believe it or not, we've actually patched things up in recent months. Since learning that she's an ace pilot herself, I've gained something of an... understanding with Sophia. Combat veterans like us can understand each other better than others could hope to."

Dearka snorted. "I suppose it's this... understanding... that caused you to defect, right?"

"No." The ace leaned against the bulkhead, looking pensive. "No, Dearka, until you guys attacked Heliopolis, I never had any intention of joining the Earth Forces. But the combination of the new Earth machines and ZAFT stealing four of them forced my hand; I had no choice but to take action. The fate of the world depended on it... and still does."

Coming from anyone else, his friend would've dismissed that as an incredibly arrogant statement. From Ken DiFalco, on the other hand, it was only mildly arrogant. His track record on the battlefield and in war rooms was enough to make Dearka think that there was at least some truth in that statement... at least within Ken's current world view.

"What on earth are you so afraid of, anyway?" he demanded at last. "What could possibly have made you do this?"

"Patrick's madness," Ken said softly. "I... had a part in it, which haunts me even now. I won't go into detail -it's too dangerous, and, frankly, I'd rather not burden anyone else with it- but suffice it to say that Patrick's goal is the extermination of all Naturals... and when I left ZAFT, it was with the intent of stopping it. That's why my loyal Demons have been working in the shadows since then, constructing Preybird... and several other useful things." He began to pace, though he seemed unaware of it. "Dearka, the war we've fought so far is not the real war; no, the real conflict has not yet begun. I think it will soon, though... and that's why I've acted as I have so far."

Dearka shook his head in bemusement. "What's this 'real war' that you're talking about, anyway? How can the war to avenge the Bloody Valentine and gain independence for the PLANTs not be the true conflict?"

"That was how it began, certainly," Ken said slowly, "but it's evolved since then. As long as the Supreme Council was led by Master Siegel, that was the real conflict; but as soon as Patrick came into power, things began to change. ZAFT has become the enemy... and I won't be serving the Earth Forces much longer, either."

The ZAFT pilot blinked. "You're not?"

"No." The ace suddenly turned to face him. "You see, the Earth Forces are merely a front; the 'Council' that leads them is nothing more than a facade. The real leader... is Muruta Azrael. In truth, Blue Cosmos controls the Earth Forces now."

Dearka jerked. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately, yes. And that's why... I have to stop this war." Abruptly, Ken spun on his heel. "Everything depends on what happens in the next few weeks," he said, conviction in his voice. "Of that, I'm certain. The Archangel will become the centerpiece... and the Broken Blade will have his revenge, his redemption... and his atonement." He started walking toward the hatch.

"Wait, Falcon!" Dearka called after him. "Why are you telling me this?"

The Grimaldi Falcon paused. "Because there's nothing you can do about it... and because I need you on my side, when the coming crisis arrives."

Then, as was his habit, he was gone in a swirl of trench coat, leaving Dearka to worry about even more things.

Author's note: Archangel has reached the dubious safety of Alaska, and tension begins to build among her crew, as two of her members attempt to kill a prisoner. Meanwhile, the Gray Demons' conspiracy continues to progress…

Yeah, I know; late chapter. Well, I didn't have much inspiration for a few days. Next update should be a little faster.

In the meantime, let me know how this chapter was. -Solid Shark