Tourniquet

By Jillian Storm

(Disclaimer: While re-watching some of Gundam Wing, I was impressed by how Hilde and Nichol's arrests were almost simultaneous and couldn't resist the possibilities since I like them both so very much. The following characters do not belong to me. Enjoy.)

***

One arrested for following orders, and the other for breaking them. Nichol and Hilde reflect on how far they have gone and where they have yet to go.

***

Do you remember me?

Lost for so long

Will you be on the other side?

Or will you forget me

I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming

Am I too lost to be saved? Am I too lost?

My God, my tourniquet

Return to me my salvation

~Evanescence

***

He watched as they pushed the pills down the back of her throat. Two officers held her arms and pinned her back against the silver dark slab on which they intended for her to sleep, drugged, for most of the trip through space. One stood at her head, using most of his weight. The third reached around the soldier at her side and had pinched her jaw open.

The sounds of protest turned into strangled gagging, and her legs curled up, kicked out and struck the metal supporting her with a resounding gong not unlike two mobile suits colliding. One way or another, she was determined to demonstrate her protest.

"Knock it off, Hilde." The man who leaned over her head hissed and sounded tense with disappointment as if his own throat had pills forced down it. "Don't be a fool."

As soon as she was released, the girl sat back tight against the wall, legs twisted out to either side, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, "I didn't betray you." Her sweaty, spiked, short black hair stood up in frustrated disarray like an alarmed cat. The whites of her eyes flashed in the dirty tan light provided by the humming, dim fluorescent light of the cell.

"What do you call that little display from earlier? Getting involved with a Gun--" The officer who had spoke glanced sharply at Hilde's fellow prisoner. Something civilian flashed in the young man's eyes. Something naïve. He rolled his shoulders back and stood in the dignified appearance of attention before continuing, "An enemy of OZ."

"Call it whatever you want. Duo Maxwell wanted what was best for the colonies. Isn't that," Hilde choked and while supporting herself against one arm, used the other hand to massage her throat, "Isn't that," she tried again, "What we're fighting for as well?"

No one answered her. Instead, in a formal, stiff line, the three soldiers closed the door behind them, sliding the observation window closed and leaving the two prisoners alone for the first time.

He hadn't shared his room in the brig on the way from Barge to the colony. Now on transport to the moon, they had interrupted his solitary confinement by bringing in the slight spitfire of a girl who was wearing only a gray shirt and thin pants, the underclothes of a spacesuit. She must have been brought in haste, disgrace or both.

She stared at him with lingering hostility, not that the anger was meant for him in particular-simply that he was available and she obviously wanted someone to know how she felt. Her sweat had obviously soaked through most of her shirt and as the chill of the shuttle met her sudden stillness, the girl Hilde wrapped her arms around herself.

He felt a passing urge to offer her his coat with the chivalrous nature that he had recently set aside for duty. The Decision he made that led to his current exile and punishment. Bitterness at the humiliation kept him from following through. Besides, the uniform was all he had left to show his dignity and rank. The little they did for him while under lock and key.

"L-Lieutenant?" She hid the chatter of her teeth. In the vile lighting, he could see the sweat on her neck glisten even as it helped to lower her temperature.

He didn't answer. He continued to sit on his parallel bench, leaning back against the opposite wall, but lowered his chin, suddenly feeling too exposed with his neck and insignia open and obvious to her.

"Why are you smiling?" She snapped, and he could sense her helplessness surfacing and threatening to overwhelm her previous show of bravado. "I don't see what you have to be laughing at, seeing as you were in here first!" Her voice lifted and echoed faintly, audible when he gave no immediate reply.

He had been thinking about how even his uniform, perceived as his last connection to honor, also humbled him. When he unbuttoned the top of his collar, her mouth pulled back in disgust. He lowered his eyes to watch his fingers work each decorative button until the jacket simply rested on his arms. Shrugging his shoulders back, he pulled off the OZ uniform and untucked where it caught under his belt in the back.

"Here," He spoke for the first time and threw the article of clothing at her face. She caught it, although the arms flapped back and slapped her cheek momentarily covering her open mouth. Her eyes wide, surprised, even as he said, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"No, I-" but she couldn't deny her initial suspicions.

"Put it on if you're cold." He interrupted her, his words brisk and clipped. Nervous to be talking at all, he couldn't remember that last time he had spoken to anyone since the general inquiry on the colony a few days before. He wasn't in the habit of making friends and stripped of authority he lost the conversation of his peers. He always knew he was alone, but he'd never regretted it so much as now-confronted by the insubordinate girl.

"My name is Hilde."

"Hilde. I heard."

Their words overlapped, and he watched her lips almost smile before continuing, "Who are you, Lieutenant? Disappointed in OZ like I was?"

He hadn't lost his painful sense of humor, "Hardly the same." The heavy breath from his nose a substitute for laughter. "This is my reward for following orders," He spread his arms out, but just as quickly brought them in and crossed them over his white, pressed shirt. The shirt wrinkled and a little worse for wear as he intently studied his clothes and hoped she wouldn't notice the color of embarrassment that raised the temperature of his ears.

"OZ bastards."

Flinching at her words, he had to see her expression. Odd sympathy seemed glazed over her face, which seemed to slacken under his observation. His jacket swallowed her slim shoulders. He wondered if she was even sixteen.

"What did they give me?" She pitched forward, wrapping her arms around her waist, then spilled over to one side in order to counteract some sort of dizziness.

"Complacency pills were standard fair for disagreeable prisoners," He pondered, inching forward but not leaving his own seat, "But what the colony recruits use is anyone's guess."

"I can't see anything," Her fingers curled his jacket around her as her body began to violently tremble, but her head fell slack against the metal a moment later.

He stood and hesitated for only a moment before crossing over to her. His shadow kept him from examining her properly, and he had to keep moving to reassure himself she was only under some drug-induced sleep. Half twisted with her feet almost touching the ground, she looked ill at ease even as her loosened jaw and unclenched eyes made her appear an even younger innocent. Sleep could not erase the bruise that was forming on her jaw from where her mouth had been forced open.

His heartbeat filled both the emptiness and his ears as he lifted her legs and positioned her into a more comfortable manner to sleep off the drugs.

He sat back on his side of the narrow cell, which seemed to shrink with the silence between them. In passing, he wondered if he had looked that young when he studied at the Academy. The subsequent incoming classes had dipped deeper and deeper into the younger applicants. Children that had hardly entered adolescence were learning the ways of war and sacrifice. Many of them dying before learning of free choice and independence; although, he knew, he had believed, that war left little room for free choice and independence.

Her words haunted him. Slapped his preconceived notions with a perception he had many hours of solitude to contemplate.

"Nichol. What you have done was on the mark, but what I am about to do is also on the mark."

***

She thought it only fair that she could gawk at him, as he had undoubtedly been able to examine her after she lost consciousness. Her muscles ached, partially from the space battle, partially from the struggle she'd started when it became clear that her commander was going to put her in custody. After a while, she understood that she could have suffered more pains if someone hadn't adjusted her limp body into the semblance of comfortable sleep.

His chin had dropped and he dozed while still sitting upright. Not unlike the moment of awkward bashfulness she'd seen overwhelm him when he realized she thought he was going to take advantage of his new cellmate. She ran her fingers over the hem of the too long sleeves and once again appreciated the loan of his heavy jacket. They had taken her flight suit, so what she was wearing did little to warm her in the cold recycled air processed through the shuttle.

His complexion was still rosy tinted, which she expected was characteristic of his natural skin tone and matched his snarlish, outward personality. His hair settled around his face in dark, untidy curls and framed his cheeks with longer burns. Hilde guessed he'd at least reached twenty, seeing his position and rank within the inner circle of OZ and not simply as a recent colony recruit.

He was in custody for following orders. She puzzled over that, but no answers came to her. Even when she let her imagination run wild, she could not imagine how following orders would lead to the same consequence as her disobedience did.

His eyes opened first, but not a muscle not a fiber of his clothing twitched. She watched as his eyes closed and then slowly opened again. Each blink finding the strength to more wakefulness, and she marveled at the fragile gentleness of breaking sleep.

Then with a sharp intake of air, his head lifted and he stared at her. His eyes wary and reflected a dark color in the poor, flickering light. A moment later, he apparently remembered why he was no longer alone and she watched his jaw visibly unclench.

"Still here?" His voice had an unused sound, as when they had first spoken. He tasted his lips then with an expression of experiencing something sour as he moistened his mouth. Right after, his eyes wandered toward the can that sat directly across from the door to their prison. Hilde had taken advantage of his sleep, and, as uncomfortable as that had been even in her safety from his knowledge, she couldn't help but feel amused as his propriety made his face even more flushed.

"I'll just turn away," She slid down to the foot of her uncomfortable bed and turned so that her legs fell off the end, the metal cutting in behind her knees so she curled her fingers underneath for more comfort.

"Aa." It was the closest she was going to get to proper thanks, since the OZ Lieutenant obviously was not used to sharing such close quarters with a woman.

"I woke up with a headache, but the pain is mostly gone." She talked while staring at the wall, pretending for his sake and she prided herself on her generosity of understanding, "I don't even know how long I was knocked out, the lighting in here has seemed to have gotten worse."

He grunted, and she wondered if he was going to pass out from perceived indecency before he actually could hold a normal conversation with her.

"Four hours."

Hilde took that as her cue she could turn around, swiveling around on her seat and seeing him in the opposite corner sitting with every indication that he was uncomfortable. His arms were folded and one leg crossed his knee to point away from her. His eyes were closed and his chin lifted to the wall. "How did you know?" She let her voice betray that she was impressed.

He lifted an arm and the sleeve pulled back to show a wristwatch.

"Oh," she almost giggled, "Why did they let you have all the luxuries?"

He shrugged, but she didn't doubt his honesty. He hadn't lied to her in the little things, so she had no reason to suspect him.

"My best guess is that they were under orders to treat me decently." He offered, after a brief silence.

Hilde took the conversation gratefully, "The only courtesy I've seen so far is that they've let me have a cellmate." She wished he would look at her instead of the wall.

"Having an inquisition on the colony must have been her attempt to let me save face among our unit." His words were soft, as if he finally was trying out the idea that had long sifted through his every thought.

Hilde didn't know whether asking questions would relieve him of his anxieties or compound them. So she waited.

"Why are you here?" He asked, looking at her finally. Fully awake, he asked with genuine curiosity, "Did I hear correctly from the little colony officer that you had an encounter with a Gundam pilot?" The curiosity reversed to drip with dislike at the last words.

Hilde answered with equal, but proud, confidence, "Yes. I helped a Gundam Pilot."

"I'll never understand," the Lieutenant said, "I'm so weary with this Gundam bullshit. One moment they're the enemy out to destroy us, next they've infiltrated OZ and hiding among us. Waiting, while no one does anything about them, and they're obviously up to no good."

"I don't know which pilots you're talking about," Hilde pondered, but, with the memory of a playful smile and affectionate chuckle, she rose to defend what she had experienced, "He had no intentions of harming us. In fact, the opposite. He wanted to save us, save me. And what did the colonist do, but try to kill him. It doesn't make sense." She shook her head.

"Nothing makes sense anymore." His sympathy made his reply softer, "All I know is that the confusion made me angry. And the only control, the only easy stability I could find was to simply follow orders." He laughed sharply, "And I blindly fired the shot that I thought would end my confusion forever."

Hilde wasn't certain what to make of this OZ soldier and his comments, "What did you do?" She asked, tentative and watchful of his reaction.

"I was in love," his words were cold, indifferent, but his lower lip quivered a little under the confession, "I thought I could break through to her, that I could take care of her. But she didn't listen to my warnings and I couldn't trust her judgment. I couldn't trust my own judgment about her."

"She was your commander?" Hilde asked, shifting and becoming aware of his jacket that still kept her snug and warm. She blushed at the indirect intimacy, and shook her head to dismiss the thought.

"Yeah," his formality slipped with every moment, and his demeanor became quite boyish, "I adored her strength and beauty, but she confused me more than anyone. I wanted her to open up to me, but someone else took her trust." He met her eyes for a moment, "I was jealous. More than anything, then, I wanted to hurt her. But. But I didn't deliberately seek to hurt her. I pulled rank to find out what I was supposed to do. I got my orders to . . . destroy . . ." His story stopped then, and Hilde didn't think she wanted or needed to hear all the details.

"Is she alive?" The most important truth she wanted clarified.

"Yes." She could see his gratitude, as if that was enough to hold back his absolute guilt.

"Then, as my mother always told me, 'Lessons might be understood in theory, but are better learned through the pain of experience'." Hilde found herself using the same coquettish tone that her mother liked to use in tense moments. Her own hand was lifted and pointing in punctuation, mirroring Hilde's memory, "The point is," Hilde let her hand drop and spoke in her own voice again, "The point is . . ." The real pain in his eyes made her forget every half-hearted platitude.

"I don't doubt you're a lot like your mother." He closed his eyes and, with an exhalation, seemed to find some sort of peace before speaking again, "I suppose I'm a little jealous of the carefree certainty those Gundam pilots seem to possess."

Hilde paused, then concurred, "I know what you mean."

The door to their prison opened and the brilliant light from the hallway blinded Hilde immediately as she was closer. Momentarily, she recognized Officer Fass who had indulged her in argument when the other colony OZ representatives had only fixed her with infuriatingly silent stares.

"Lieutenant, sir."

Hilde was surprised with the formality with which her cellmate was regarded. Taking in his tired response, however, she did not believe the respect was mutual.

"What is it?"

"The Colonel has requested you speak with her before we transfer you temporarily to the moon base."

Her companion unfolded himself from his prison bed and rebuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. One hand attempted to organize his hair, and he stood long enough to be sure of his stable footing before moving to follow Officer Fass. Hilde had noticed the feminine pronoun and had no doubt as to how he had to feel going to talk with . . . her.

"Wait." Hilde caught his arm as he passed her. He turned to her with a wondering expression, and his eyes softened as she hastily pushed his uniform jacket into his near arm.

The door closed behind them without another word shared, but Hilde felt warm from his look of appreciation.

***

The shuttle lurched with landing, and with no forewarning, both he and Hilde had to reach out and brace themselves from falling to the floor.

"The moon." She said.

He nodded. Colonel Une had mentioned a temporary lay over before returning him back to Barge. He didn't understand her sudden change, but she had strongly suggested the need to have trustworthy officers at her side just then. He knew she had no reason to doubt his current loyalty, but the order to return to her side stunned him.

Hilde rubbed her arms nervously, but she had refused to take back his jacket when he h ad offered it again. On a passing whim, he wanted to tell her more and seek her advice. He wanted to ask her what to do, what was expected of him, how he should behave. He wanted to learn from her how to trust again with the earnest belief that she displayed when she talked about peace, hope and love. He said nothing.

The only sound in their amiable silence was the abysmal light as it sputtered it's last rays of light, one moment casting them in darkness and then immediately after bathing them with a brilliance surpassing any light it had shone on them previously.

"What are they going to do with us?"

He almost didn't hear her voice the concern. And long after she asked, he almost believed he had imagined it or that it had come from his thoughts. But it was a question he could answer.

"The Colonel instructed that you were to be released back to the colonies."

Hilde's blue eyes widened, and her disbelief made him smile with more affection that he had felt in some time.

"It's true. I explained to her your situation, and the Colonel said that you were forbidden to interfere as far as OZ was concerned. However, you can return to a normal colony life," He rushed over her attempt to clarify, to thank him, "I figured that's what your knucklehead Gundam pilot wanted for you anyway. To be free."

She was speechless. It was all he could do not to take her in his arms, but to capture her was to defeat what he had struggled to accomplish.

***

Hilde felt stiff as she stood in the hall that separated the moon base from the transport deck. Officer Fass had his orders to return her to the colony, and she couldn't help but smirk whenever he had to call her "ma'am." She had yet to be given proper clothes, and goose-bumps rippled up her bare arms.

Standing immediately to her side was the stranger that she'd shared quarters with for approximately twelve hours according to his timepiece. Although they never touched, the slight distance between their arms to her was as strong as a velcro bond. She felt the separation as the other officers guided him toward the elevator lift to the sublevels where he would wait in another isolated room until his Colonel officially called him to her side.

"Please," Hilde blinked back her emotions. Perturbed as each significant connection she made was abruptly severed. She didn't know if she'd ever see Duo Maxwell again. But at least she knew his name. "May I ask your name?"

His face ticked, struck with what she had come to see as affection. A similar look to when he talked about his beloved Colonel, "My name is Douglas Nichol."

"I'm Hilde Schbeiker," She replied cheerfully to reciprocate, "May we meet again, Douglas Nichol."

He moved, and for a moment she thought he would hug her, except at the last moment he slipped past her and into the open elevator car. His jacket brushed her shoulder.

Douglas Nichol. The name haunted her thoughts with a flurry of memory-- overwhelming her last shared look with the stranger she'd come to care for.

She tried to remember a story that she'd heard as a small girl.

Nichol. She looked up as the doors of the lift closed and he disappeared behind them. The engines of the machine groaned as they labored to lower the equipment and its passengers to the sublevel.

Her mother had told her about a man from Earth who had worked on the colony for a season. A man who had stolen her mother's heart with his stern bashfulness, and that they had parted with tears of frustration as he felt guilt for betraying his family, which he had left behind.

It had been a story told to teach Hilde about life, love, and consequences. Lessons understood in theory, but better learned through the pain of experience. Experience her mother had hoped to spare Hilde.

Nichol. The name of the man who would never know of his daughter, because he had left them, left for Earth, to return to his wife and son.

"Nichol." She called out to no one. He was gone. Her pardon did not give her the freedom to wander the station. She was an exile being sent back to a far colony in space. "Nichol." Her shoulders dropped with the mystery of unverified revelation.

"Hilde. Come with me." Officer Fass called her at last, appearing a little bewildered by her sudden change in emotion.

"I am coming." She continued to stare at the closed door of the elevator, and how close during her imprisonment she had been to discovering, finding, her family. She could hardly pull herself away, although, she did at last. Wiping her dry eyes with the back of her hand.

With each step, she found the strength of more determination, and she marveled at the fragile comfort of gentleness, of his affection. It restored her confidence, even as the physical distance grew between herself and Douglas Nichol.

Each step she embraced as a promise. Each breath a hope to meet again.