Gibraltar Base Hospital (again)
The pale lemon of dawn could be seen through the hospital windows as the tired doctor made his last call before going off shift. He was already an hour over his time and exhausted. Just this last duty to fit in before he could get some rest.
He returned to the room holding the boys who he had left to sleep, hours before. It bore a very different appearance in the morning light. The two beds had been pushed back apart, the covers thrown off. Both were empty: one former occupant was getting dressed in red ZAFT elite uniform, while the sounds of a shower running declared the whereabouts of the other.
The boy with silver hair laid the red uniform coat on the bed when the doctor entered, and said briskly: "Ah, good. I was planning on sending you a message. We are getting out of here, Doctor."
The peaceful and delicate-seeming youth glimpsed in the night, was gone entirely. He spoke with abrupt authority, face alive with impatience. The doctor had dealt often enough with young elite pilots, to not be surprised at the arrogance of the tone. He was more concerned to see the boy follow these words by peeling off the bandages on his face which must have got wet from his shower. Two fierce blue eyes were now staring the doctor down.
"The decision on your release must be made on medical grounds. I'll need to take a closer look at your facial injury, for one thing."
For a moment the boy looked as if he might protest, but controlling himself, gave a shrug. He permitted the doctor to examine the injury, with a simmering false patience. "This will need a bandage for a couple of more days yet. You should be careful about exposure to UV, as well. Don't forget, sunshine here on earth is not regulated like on the PLANTs…"
He didn't get a chance to explain further as the silver-haired youth stepped back from him in annoyance. "I'm not planning on any sunbathing, Doctor! We're going when Dearka gets out of the shower. If you want to re-bandage it, I'll accept that, but we're not delaying here any longer."
The doctor saw that argument was fruitless and not worth the effort anyway, as there appeared to be no serious medical grounds for detaining the boy in hospital. He dutifully re-bandaged the injury with fresh dressings from the room's supplies. He had just finished when the other boy emerged, fully dressed, from the bathroom annexe. He gave the doctor a sunny smile. "Hi, Doc. Before you ask, I'm fine, and we really gotta get going."
The doctor gave an inward smile of wry appreciation. So one operates as the battering ram, and the other uses charm. Quite a double-act these two have.
"I at least need to record your temperature, if only to make my medical notes look complete" the doctor said in mildly plaintive tones.
"Sure, Doc."
The doctor duly inserted a little electronic thermometer in the taller boy's ear, looking carefully at his skin and eyes for any lingering evidence of dehydration or heat stress.
To distract his patient, he asked "I'm surprised you had your uniforms with you. I had understood you were brought in after combat and atmospheric free-fall."
Dearka grinned. "We didn't, Doc. Yzak contacted the central quartermaster stores before dawn and got them to courier them over to us."
The doctor's eyebrows rose. "I wasn't aware that they issued uniforms over the phone like that."
The silver-haired youth smiled evilly and said "They don't – usually."
The doctor coughed to cover his startled laugh. "Well, you're good to go. Just take it easy for a day or so. You'll feel more tired than usual with the gravity, too, don't forget."
"Thanks, Doc," smiled the blond. His silver-haired companion just nodded, in what might have been either agreement with the sentiment, or simply dismissal. The exiting doctor's last sight of them was the taller boy helping to adjust the new uniform coat's stiff collar at the other's throat, while they argued mildly about its fit.
Interesting couple. Hope they make it. Well, time for some sleep at last…..
Gibraltar Base Communications Room
By unspoken agreement between the two boys, Dearka took the only chair available before the screen in the Base Communications Room, when they contacted Commander Le Creuset after leaving the hospital. Truth to tell, he was still a little shaky on his feet, and the Commander was not someone before whom it was a good idea to reveal any weakness, mental or physical.
The Commander said all the right-sounding things about their safe arrival and Dearka was careful to be deprecating about his own brush with death. The kick in the guts was the news that they were being left on Earth to help the ground forces look for the Legged Ship. Yzak's subsequent outburst of rage, once the Commander had signed off, was the worst Dearka had seen in a long time. When Yzak pulled off his bandage revealing the red slash down his face, Dearka was appalled. Not just fearful that Yzak might do himself harm by acting against the doctor's orders, but at the rage and pain in his face as he did it. Dearka's heart ached for Yzak, even as he felt his own resentment of the Strike building.
"We'll get them, Yzak. They can't escape forever."
"First we have to find them. Let's get ourselves assigned a room in the barracks. Then I'll get Communications to send an alert to our quarters as soon as any reports come in of their whereabouts. It'll mean that one of us will have to be there at all times in order to pick up messages immediately. We may have to react fast once we know. You can take the first shift."
"What are you going to be doing, Yzak?"
"I'll go and check with the maintenance and re-supply crew, see how they're getting on with Duel and Buster. Make sure they're doing as quick a job as they can. We don't want any delays when we get an opportunity. You heard the Commander, if we get a chance, we're to take out Strike and the Legged Ship! I want it to be us that do it, not somebody from the Gibraltar forces."
Gibraltar Base Barracks Room
The room assigned to them was typical of ZAFT barracks. In fact, they were so standardised that the room could have been on any military base in the PLANTs. Two beds, two desk consoles with their own computer screens, basic bathroom facilities and some storage space for uniforms and gear. All done in tasteful beige. Dearka was trying hard not to doze. There was something about beige that he had always found very sleep-inducing. He lay on his bed resting. After all it was doctor's orders, and not even Yzak could bitch about that, could he? Where was Yzak, anyway?
Dearka frowned to himself. He seemed to do a lot of thinking about Yzak lately. They had been friends for so long, Dearka had thought that there was nothing that could disrupt that sense of being comfortable with Yzak. Sure, he was maddening, physically violent, demanding, ambitious, contrary and paranoid. So what? All those things were familiar and comfortable to Dearka. Even the temper tantrums had the warm comfort of an old coat. He was also brave, kind and loyal, and would cheerfully kill Dearka for ever saying any of those things to his face. Lately, however, there was something different between them. Was it in himself, or had something about Yzak changed?
Dearka could only vaguely remember the time before he knew Yzak. His chief recollection was that life then was dull. Dearka was a handsome little boy, charming and likeable. As an only child, he came in for quite a bit of spoiling. Most of his wishes for toys or treats were readily granted; schoolwork was little intellectual challenge for the very bright child; other kids seemed dull and lacking imagination. There was no challenge in Dearka' life, no object, no focus. Then he met Yzak. Bang! At age six, Dearka was presented with a brilliant, spiky puzzle, which might take a lifetime of work to understand, with no guarantee that he would ever find all the answers. The last ten years of being round Yzak was like being witness to a permanent display of fireworks: beautiful, noisy, startling, and sometimes downright dangerous. Dearka couldn't imagine life without Yzak.