Far from You
All at once Misa realized she was missing him. A feeling that flooded every part of her, in a way it hadn't at all for the past three months, and just at the sight of a friendly de-fold signature on her terminal screen. Just a tiny, digital marker, with nothing to say but "I'm here".
Why not when she laid awake at night, warring against nebulous and nameless thoughts? Or during the quiet of the day, while she stared into the sky as if she might be able to see him there, just on the other side of the system?
Perhaps because that had merely been an ache, and this was the buzz of anticipation.
The Adoclass Battlegroup, finally, was back from another long deployment against the remnants of the 118th Zentradi Fleet still offering resistance in the system.
Her chest swelled, making her feel as though she were suffocating on needles. It took all her nerve to keep from opening a comm line herself. More de-fold signatures peppered her radar, and she had to whisk the display away to a smaller window. Otherwise, she would track the lead ship's IFF until it came close enough in orbit to offload its host of Valkyrie fighters.
"Looks like the fleet is back," Claudia said at the station beside her, chipper as always.
Vanessa spun 'round in her chair to face them. "I never thought I'd be so relieved to see Zentradi ships on the radar."
"Me either," the other two girls on the bridge, Kim and Shammy, managed to say at the same time. Which produced a bout of sisterly bickering.
Misa gave a smile and nothing more, their conversation fading to another world as she watched her readings. Today was going to be a fine day, she could feel it, a sterner voice that had become quieter as of late telling her to calm. This was nothing to get so worked up over. She was acting like a little girl.
Even that couldn't stem the giddy warmth rising within her. How foolish. It wasn't unlike what she'd felt during that terrible battle months earlier, when she'd been alone. When she'd been crying out over the frequencies for someone, anyone.
And his voice had answered her.
That memory almost quelled the small rains of doubt starting to trickle over her. Still, her excitement was tempered by something else. Uncertainty. When she thought of afterwards, how Hikaru's squadron was deployed to hunt the enemy remnants, he'd simply left. No goodbye, no warning. He was difficult and stoic when it came to goodbyes, and as with other things, stumbled through them when he faced them.
Well, hadn't she done the same thing? Before the attack on Earth, when she'd volunteered to be sent back to talk to the UN Council, she hadn't told him goodbye, or even that she was leaving. She hadn't been convinced that he really would've minded anyway, until his Valkyrie cruised alongside her transport, flying escort. The message he'd given her through the flashing of his wing lights before veering off.
Did that mean as much to you, as it did to me, Hikaru?
A chirp from her terminal pleaded for her attention, notifying her that the fleet was closing into a geosynchronous orbit. Misa made the necessary adjustments and leaned back against the support rail behind her station. The Macross' view-port was slim, but being so high up, offered a vantage point of everything she could possibly want to see.
Below them spanned the artificial lake: now a crisp, clean blue since they'd managed to get the purifiers working. From it stretched skeletal suggestions of a city, clouds of dust rolling where construction was heaviest that day. Everyone was working dawn to dusk to erect their new city. Most still housed themselves on the Macross, making the long trek across Daedalus every pale morning to begin their labors, and again in the humid evenings when they were done.
Despite their efforts to make it home, sometimes it dredged up black, ugly feelings to look upon what was left of Earth's landscape. To remember what it used to be, having been there when it happened – and to see it all now.
Traffic buzzed in her ear.
"SDF-one, ZBS-Bashtravn, holding short at sector A-twenty-nine, awaiting traffic instructions."
Misa straightened and touched her headset. "ZBS-Bashtravn, SDF-one, go ahead and send your fleet TTC."
"Affirmative. Standby for onboard TTC."
"Standing by."
Flight paths began auto-mapping on her terminal.
"ZBS-Bashtravn, you are clear to send your traffic to point nine for touch down."
"Roger, SDF-one, sending traffic to point nine for touch down."
As they guided the incoming fleet in rotations down to landing zones outside the nascent city, Misa felt her brow crease as the ship data rolled down her screen.
"Vanessa, these are all carrier transports."
The woman looked worried. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Isn't the fleet landing?"
"No, ma'am," she shook head, "their next fold is scheduled at thirteen-hundred."
That was in an hour and a half. "They're deploying again? But they just got back."
"Fuel and resupply," Claudia said. "They're going after another element of the hundred-and-eighteenth that's taken up residence in Saturn's orbit."
A shard of irritation splintered through her. "Claudia, you have the CONN," she said, marching off the bridge.
A private comm terminal out in the hall was subject to some harsh jabs over its input keys. Dialing in, heel tapping the floor, she was connected to Captain Global's personal line. Except the signal took a minute to actually tether, since he was miles away with the survey team in what used to be Alaska. Misa thought of disconnecting and dialing again.
A pockmarked and black mustached face appeared. He'd barely said, "Commander Hayase," before she laid into him.
"Captain, as the Macross' Mission Controller, you do realize that I must be informed of any on or off-world sorties of our fighters – correct?"
Global drew back and she regretted the force of her tone, but this was...
"What do you mean?"
"I mean the deployment of the Adoclass Battlegroup, and by extension, Skull Squadron. They've only just returned and you've authorized them out again without briefing me."
Since Global was away, they had conference calls every day, so that he could keep up with the state of affairs in and around the Macross – and so the crew he'd left behind could manage any orders he wanted carried out.
A hard look came over the Captain. "Considering those Valkyries have been placed under the joint command of First Lieutenant Ichijo and Fleet Commander Britai, it didn't seem necessary."
A look from a parent scolding their child.
Misa's head fell, and she even took a step back from the screen. "I... apologize, Captain." Of course, she was way out of line. Bordering insubordination, if not outright. Not only that, the man had once been like a second father to her. He didn't deserve to be the target of her disappointment.
"Misa... why don't you tell me what's really going on."
When she looked up, some paternal warmth had entered his eyes, yet he remained serious. Ready to listen. She shook her head.
"No, I'm sorry Captain, I suppose I'm letting some external stress get to me."
"Nothing to do with a certain pilot then?"
Misa didn't know what to say.
"Ah, I suppose it can't be helped. My wife used to be the same whenever I was away."
"Excuse me, sir?"
"I, ah, well – I mean," the man began a bout of coughing, taking that old wooden pipe from his pocket. Shifting in his seat, he gnawed on the end of it. "What I meant; is perhaps you need a break."
"I'd like to stay, if that's alright, sir."
Global considered her, something more hanging on the tip of his tongue. Then he relented. "As you like. Let me know if anything changes."
Misa saluted. "Yes, sir."
The terminal screen went blank, leaving her to fume in the stillness of the Macross.
Sometimes, when looking down on the orange and gray planet from orbit, Hikaru couldn't believe that such a desolate world was Earth. Every time he tried, with increasing effort, to recall it as it once was, the memory seemed to fade the more he summoned it, became less defined and swam in a vague sea of impressions.
Would it ever look the way it once did? He doubted it. In the year since they left it, everything had changed.
"Hey, Taisho, you awake in there?"
Max's face appeared on his comm display, jolting Hikaru in his seat. After a moment, he smiled, turning back to the Earth. Long ago his subordinate, the ace pilot always referred to him as though he were still higher ranking, even though he flew a squad of his own now.
"Yeah, sorry Max. I was just thinking."
The man adjusted his round glasses. "Ah, wondering about Miss Hayase? Don't worry, sir, we'll be back on the ground for a while after this deployment."
Hikaru's brow tightened. "Why would I be thinking of Misa?"
"Why wouldn't you be?" Milia asked, her display appearing just under Max's. "We are going out into battle, after all."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Max scratched at his cheek. "Ah, Milia, I'm sure Hikaru is just tired from all these deployments. We've earned a rest after this!"
Milia slid some of her green hair behind a pointed ear. "There will be no rest for you," she said, her feed winking out.
Max laughed. "Zentradi women sure are forward, aren't they?"
Hikaru shook his head. "You sure are a lucky guy."
"Yes, I know..." he said, full of adoration. It faded some when he regarded Hikaru, though his smile remained. "If you don't mind me saying, sir – you're pretty lucky yourself."
He only grunted.
"I'll see you back on the ship."
His feed winked out, leaving Hikaru to the dull drone of his cockpit once more.
You don't know what you're talking about, Max. Still, the thought brought him shame. He was alive, he should consider himself lucky for that. Even if he couldn't see Minmay anymore. He was alive, and he was fighting, and he was protecting people, and maybe after all this everyone could finally take a deep breath and settle down for a while.
For now, there was work to do.
The Battlegroup began to align itself, some ships already making the fold to their next destination. Hikaru glanced at his comm screen, a pit sinking in his stomach. Even as he soared his Valkyrie towards Britai's command ship, he expected it to light up with Misa's face – ready to demand his report, or complain about his lack of one.
Settling back in his seat, he stole one more glance over his shoulder towards home.
Home.
For Misa, it started later in the day with a frantic chirping from her terminal as de-fold signatures appeared in rapid and panicked succession. The bridge alarms triggered, and she soon found out why.
"Multiple enemy pings, coming out of de-fold!" Vanessa called from the plotting screen.
Misa spun. "Bearing?"
"Lagrange one, sector A-thirty-five – they're right on top of the Adoclass Battlegroup."
Movement burst at the terminals, fingers flipping switches and running across keyboards – all consoles live. Misa shoved on her headset and dialed the Battle Circuit. "Set General Quarters. Scramble fighters."
"Aye, ma'am!" Kim ticked the two-toned alert, which began wailing throughout Macross' corridors. "General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands man your battle stations. Transit up and forward starboard side, down and aft portside."
Information from their terminals flooded hers, and her body moved at a practiced tempo. "Claudia, ready countermeasures."
"Aye. Weapons manned and ready."
The next klaxon alert flushed pilots out of their ready rooms, the deck of the Prometheus becoming an angry hive of activity. Ground side, Spartan and Phalanx Armored Infantry squads began moving into air raid defense positions. Readiness reports from stations across the ship fell in. Not that the Macross had any ability to intercept, but they had to be ready if an attack came down from above.
"Shammy, how's our circuit looking?"
"Local is secure. I can't patch into the Adoclass Fleet. Enemy ships are jamming communications; we can't get anything through."
"Then we'll dispatch Stinger and Vampire Squadron – Vanessa, get them a comm buoy so we can get a link up and running. I want Britai on my screen five minutes ago. Kim, contact Captain Global and recall the survey team."
A chorus of compliance answered her. The first of the Valkyries screamed into the air.
He was up there. She was sure of it.
Somewhere totally out of her reach.
A memory.
Soft, warm, but too hazy to fall into completely. Opened as if from an old, buried treasure chest.
"How do I look? Do you like it?" Misa asked, twirling in the blue dress he'd bought. Just for her.
Riber stood there, dashing in his military uniform, cap held in both hands.
"What is it?" She said, glancing down at the dress, then back up. It wasn't quite a grown-up dress, and maybe a bit childish. But she thought that suited her.
He just shook his head, as if breaking a spell. "You look beautiful."
Oh, Riber.
My Riber.
Do you remember when we first met? How I bumped into you, your sleeve splashed with the drink you were holding? You didn't care about that, though. You just stared at me, and I stared back. That moment was magic.
You were seventeen – and me, only a girl of thirteen. I was still just a child – but you never saw me that way. Even when we talked about our dreams, of which I didn't really have any. I was content to be daddy's little girl for as long as I could. So, when you asked me what I dreamt of doing with my life, I made up whatever I could think of on the spot, because they sounded fun and grand. You never laughed or berated me. You took them seriously. You always cheered me on and encouraged me.
Even when I told you, at fourteen, that I would be joining the officer's academy so I could become a solider. Despite your misgivings, you never told me I couldn't do it. You told me I had to pursue it with everything I had.
After all, I did it for you. Did I ever tell you that?
I still remember what a shock it was to see you in your dress blues, a proper soldier like your father. You were always such a sensitive soul, Riber. It's still an idea I have trouble with, given all your talk of building a new world on Mars. Maybe you never belonged in the military. I think everyone but your father understood that. You resigned yourself to living that life, but even so you were determined to make something of it. You were going to lay down the foundations to start terraforming Mars – to give humanity another world to call home. One that wasn't yet stained by bloodshed and cruelty.
It was such a wonderful dream, and I wanted nothing more than to be there to share it with you.
SDF – Macross, 15:54 Hours
Two hours after the attack had begun Shammy was able to establish a comm-line with the fleet.
"It was a trap," said the Captain – a young Zentradi, at least, young for what Misa had seen of Zentradi. It was one of the few ships available to the comm buoy Vampire Squadron had dropped. Battle reports, muffled in the background, told her they were still fighting.
"Enemy ships folded in at our rear just as we entered Janus' orbital track, getting ready to move into the Cassini Division. The main fleet engaged us from B-ring as we were attacked. Commander Britai ordered an emergency fold to our rendezvous point. But by then they'd already locked or coordinates. The Hundred-and-Eighteenth followed us."
Dread rose in her throat, but she swallowed it.
"Where is Britai now?"
The Zentradi's mouth opened to answer, until a voice bellowed off screen. A string of orders left his lips, and then – "All hands brace for shock!"
Static invaded the transmission. Something behind the Zentradi collapsed, followed by cries of dismay.
"Fire on decks four, eight and nine!"
He turned and swept a hand. "Suppression teams to port, mid-ship!"
When she was given his attention again, he was calm. "The Commander's ship has been engaged since we de-folded, he ran the main line with a handful of destroyers so our carriers and the rest of the Battlegroup could get clear. I'm sending you all of our fleet TTC now."
Klaxons sounded in the Zentradi's distorted fashion.
"Missiles detected, inbound!"
"Batteries – release on all targets!"
Their shouting became indistinct, the translator failing to decode the frantic flood of alien speech. Pieces of bridge burst from off view, throwing the captain, and fire snapped as a blast met with oxygen.
The transmission snow screened.
"Shammy, what happened?"
"I don't know! Our comm buoy is still reading green!"
Vanessa touched her headset, then turned. "The ZBS Orgul has gone silent."
For a long moment, muffled radio chatter from the Valkyries and the chittering of their consoles were the only sounds on the bridge. A Salan-class ship held over 500 personnel. An understanding that didn't belong to Misa alone. She could see it on all their faces, and realized they were waiting for her to say something. To be in command.
Visions of another ship being vaporized in the dark of space assailed her, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat.
"We have their fleet data now. Keep monitoring communications. Any word from Skull Squadron?" An idiotic question. If there was, she'd be the first to hear of it over the Battle Circuit.
"No, ma'am," Shammy said, trying to make herself small, "they were attached to Britai's ship."
Misa wanted to curse. Instead, she glared at the waning evening sky. Claudia tried to catch her eye, but she stared ahead.
Beyond the view-port – soft suggestions of battle ships started to appear just beyond the atmosphere.
Another.
You seem to be haunting me today, Riber.
Do you remember when we toured New Tokyo together? It was my first real adventure on my own in the world, and it was by your side. I showed you everywhere I could think to take you, down the piers and by the docks, where the gulls cried and restless waters lapped the sea walls. Through the alleys and up the towers, where markets overflowed with fried rice and grilled meats. To the corner shops and late night diners, where we shared cream filled coffee and jelly stuffed sweets. I didn't want that day to end.
I wanted to always be able to do those things with you, and to hold your hand, and to feel you next to me. And had you asked me what my dream was then? A pure white wedding dress, the summer country of your homeland in the fields, your smiling face to greet me in the mornings.
But I had to let you go.
I had to let that dream go, because you wanted to go to Mars. Because the war was unraveling all around us and you wanted to do something to change it. To make the world better than when you'd found it.
So you flew away, farther than I could ever hope to reach.
And then.
And then you were gone.
I'm feeling myself begin to crumble.
Is all of that destined to happen again? Am I meant to hold these feelings forever? Feelings that are unable to reach a man so far in the sky? So far out of my reach? I thought I had changed. I thought I had grown up, grown out of this – but I'm still just that lonely little girl, stuck on this planet. Stuck, waiting for her soldier to come home.
Don't.
Please don't do this to me again.
SDF – Macross 19:32 hours
Particle beams glittered in the dark, making brief splashes of flame over the stars with their impacts. Shammy called out damage to another carrier and Vanessa updated the plotting screen. They were still working on enemy numbers and disposition.
Only an hour before, contact with Commander Britai had been reestablished and most of the Battlegroup was brought into the Circuit. Thanks to Stinger and Vampire Squadron dropping jamming countermeasures, the fleet had been able to bring their own to bear. Formations were still erratic and limping together. Pockets of enemy resistance remained across the board, but faltering.
The only confirmation they'd had on Skull Squadron was from Britai, who said they were fighting their way through one of these pockets to get ground side again. She'd sent Stinger and Vampire in to support, but the combat was far too demanding on the pilots for Misa to keep up with. She was managing enemy pings and directing the squads as best she could if they weren't immediately jumped by enemy battle pods. None seemed to free up for more than a few moments.
"Friendlies, inbound!" Vanessa shouted.
Kim jumped to her feet. "It's Skull Squadron!"
Misa dialed in their frequency faster than she could think of what to say. "Ichijo–"
Black streaks marred his cheeks – maybe from something electrical – while one side of his visor was shattered, red slits clawing the skin around his eye. "Hayase! Clear the Prometheus' deck, we're coming in for refuel."
Misa shot off orders. Her heart pounded, and she wanted to interrogate him over the damage to his fighter. How recklessly could he be flying to be injured like that?
They dove in with jerky, adrenaline fueled speed – snapping their fighters to B-mode at the last moment and hammering down onto the deck of the Prometheus. Maintenance crews, who were hunkered down in the pit bunkers, leapt into action once the fighters landed, dashing forward with tools, hoses and armament.
From her screen, she watched Hikaru unstrap his respirator and shove it aside, taking the bottle of water a crewman handed up to him. It was gone in a few rapid gulps, and he gasped.
Misa wished she could catch his eye. "Macross has been trying to hail you for the last hour."
"Gimme a break. The fighting's too dense up there to maintain comms." He rose half-way in the cockpit, jabbing a finger at someone. "Hey, hurry up with that ammunition!"
"Stay on the Battle Circuit from here on out. We're sending you to sector B-forty-two–"
"Negative, we're heading back to support Stinger and Vampire. There's a Vergnitzs-class ship chasing down a carrier that got separated."
"Stinger and Vampire are already peeling off to regroup with Britai's ship."
"What about the carrier?"
"It's still up and a detachment of destroyers are already en route."
Hikaru shook his head. "They won't make it before they're engaged by the rest of the enemy fleet still pushing us. Skull Squadron will handle the ship."
"Ichijo, that's a command-class ship, you can't possibly take it down without support!"
Why?
"Of course you would say that."
"Excuse me?"
Why are you being so stubborn?
"It's already been damaged; we just have to make a run at the engine block again," he said, turning off-screen once more. "Hakyo! make sure everyone has the reaction ASMs – we're going to need them!"
"Yes, Taisho!"
"Belay that! Skull Leader, you will stick to your course deviation–"
Hikaru's eyes met hers for just a moment before he reached over and the feed went black.
"Lieutenant Ichijo!"
Again and again she tried to bring him up on comms, but he'd turned off his receiver. She couldn't get through.
Misa was about to contact the bridge officer of the Prometheus to have him ground the fighters. At least until Valkyries started lifting off from the deck, lighting their departure with brief flashes of thruster burn. Misa found Skull Leader's fighter and watched it rip into the sky. Leaving her behind.
Her fist slammed atop the console.
"Damn him."
She wasn't wearing lipstick. In fact, he didn't recall her ever wearing any makeup. He remembered being stuck on that. Wasn't that something all girls did? To make themselves look pretty? Misa never seemed to care about how full her lips could look, or the contours of her cheeks, or how mascara might highlight her green eyes. Bright, emerald eyes.
Hikaru had been thinking what a relief that was when she kissed him, because at least then he wouldn't have lipstick stains on his mouth, like Focker sometimes did when he threw himself all over Claudia, as if hungry for her. What would Minmay say, if she ever saw the lipstick of another woman on him?
The kiss itself was – how could he say?
She placed her hands on his chest and leaned in, his hands settling on her hips for lack of anywhere else to put them. As the flesh of their lips touched, he held his breath, and felt her do the same. All he was thinking about was that soon, if he was completely still and didn't feel anything, soon it would be over. They only needed it to see how the Zentradi reacted, nothing else. It was just a kiss, nothing else.
She was... warm, and shaking, and smelled like soap and fresh rain.
Later, during their escape from the Zentradi ship, she'd sat beside him and spoke frankly, giggling and laughing. It was probably the nicest she'd ever looked.
That's right, even without a trace of makeup on her face, Hikaru thought it was nice to see her smile.
SDF – Macross 21:17 Hours
His body felt heavy, back pushing into the seat. Hikaru slowed his breathing. Let his limbs relax, like Focker had taught him. The plane was an extension of him. It was the body, but he was the brain. Every bump of turbulence rocked through his arms, made all the more jarring without the stabilizer fins on his right wing.
Bracing, he turned – pulling at 9Gs. Shadows swam at the edges of his vision, threatening to envelope him. His brain pulsed, eyelids fighting to close. Fire tasted the underbelly of his fighter, skirting the blazing inferno that was once a command-class ship plummeting towards Earth's surface. Temperature warnings flared. Hikaru kept his pull on the joystick. The engines wailed and a wash of cold air from the vents hit him as he cleared of the descent arc. His fingers went to work, silencing alerts, righting gauges.
He was losing fuel – fast. Air whistled in through holes punctured in his canopy. The tanks were shot clean through. An up current of air rattled him.
How far off from the Macross was he? A glance at his rangefinder told him a few clicks. His fuel would be gone by then, if he could even keep her steady. Far ahead, specks of light denoted the rest of his squadron.
Hikaru entered the Battle Circuit again. "Prometheus, Skull Leader, I'm coming in for a hard landing."
"Roger, we'll clear the deck!"
Hikaru cast a glance outside, catching the tail end of the enemy ship – a stream of black smoke left in its wake.
In the dark, Macross City was a hodge-podge of scattered light, united by the cluster of electric pockets that was the Macross itself. Down below, he could make out the red run-way bulbs of the Prometheus.
The cockpit became sweltering, drenching him in sweat under the dense layers of his flight suit. His arms shook so bad he couldn't feel them anymore, focused only on keeping the joystick as straight as he could. He was coming in too fast.
The engines screamed.
At the last moment he threw the landing gear out and felt them break as he touched down hard on the deck. The nylon crash-net caught him, a wall of force hitting his chest as it broke the Valkyrie's speed. Metal screeched as the rest of its momentum tore through the net and dragged it across the runway, sparks spaying the deck. Until at last it jostled to a halt. Fire extinguishers were on him in an instant, men clambering atop the Valkyrie to pry the canopy open. A pair of hands helped him out of the cockpit.
She was in a bad way: nose scorched and dented, wings shredded and littered with holes – her frame laying as though having collapsed from her wounds. Hikaru felt about as exhausted as she looked. What would Focker say if he could see it now? What would Focker say after seeing what he'd done to take down that ship? Hikaru thought he had an idea.
After a corpsman checked him over, he grabbed a spare headset, making sure the rest of his squadron made it in safely. Those that were left. The night was a hot one, amplified all the more by the heat of fighters and engines on the launch deck. It wasn't long before he peeled off the top half of his flight suit. Standing was difficult, every inch of him throbbing as if pounded by sledge hammers.
As more of his squadron came in, managing far safer landings than he had, Hikaru's mind raced with Misa's face. Her image over the comm line.
"Ichijo!"
Her hair billowed in the wind of the deck, as if caught up in the fury of her emotions, all given focus by the glare Misa had fixed on him. A frantic energy followed her footsteps, as if she were trying not to break into a run in her haste to berate him. Still, at seeing her, something in him lit up.
"I'm tired, Hayase," he said as she closed in, without anything much behind it, "you can chew me out later."
"I didn't come here about that," she snapped, telling him that she in fact, must have been. What else could it be?
He felt his expression sour and turned to the sky. "I don't need this right now. Go back to the bridge."
"First Lieutenant!" Misa stepped in front of him, right where he couldn't avoid her. "You are addressing a superior officer."
That stirring in his chest upon seeing her suddenly twisted, and a swell took him up in its current. "Is that all you care about? Do you even care that I'm alright?"
"How selfish, did y–"
"Aren't you the one who's being selfish?"
Hikaru caught her hand at the wrist as she raised it to slap him. A gasp left her, as though he'd been the one to strike her. His chest burned, up his neck and over his face. Yanking, Misa freed herself and stormed off, her auburn hair bouncing.
She launched into a full run before she'd even rounded the corner.
All the Bridge officers and Squadron Commanders were debriefed on the Prometheus late that night when Captain Global finally made it back in. Hikaru wouldn't look at her and delivered his report mechanically. When they were dismissed, the Captain asked him to stay behind. A hole gnawed itself in her gut, and continued to do so as she waited outside, report stack hugged to her chest. Raised voices breached through the steel door – Global's voice. Since she'd known him, he'd never been the kind of person to yell, and rarely chewed out his officers.
If anyone deserved that after today, it was her.
Hydraulics hissed as the door parted and Hikaru stepped out. Misa still couldn't decide whether to hug him or slap him, so she did neither. Even though she really felt like crying or screaming. Or both. What was wrong with her? For a second his gaze held her, until she pushed off the wall, lips parting.
"I hope you got what you wanted, Misa." He said her name like a curse.
"I just..." but she didn't manage anything more as he walked off. Clapping footfalls faded, leaving her in the yawning emptiness of the corridor. A cold feeling grabbed her, like last night, when she'd thrown her hand out to slap him – and he'd caught it. His grip was firm, and for a flash she saw in him the hurt she was hoping to inflict. That stung more than anything else.
Was this feeling supposed to make a person crazy?
The thought of that battle, how he'd raced back into the heat of it even when he didn't need to – especially when he didn't need to. All those ships and people up there were Zentradi, after all. Yet he'd thrown himself at their enemies, bringing down the hulking mass of a commander-class ship and scorching back to Earth with it.
It was spectacular and brave and utterly foolish. Yet she couldn't say it was wrong, or unlike him.
Even Riber, for all his dislike of conflict, had thrown himself into the war effort, even if it wasn't out on the front lines. He wanted to contribute something – to prove himself. Perhaps that was just part of being a man, and... even though she often called him a boy, Hikaru was a man, and it was in him to keep proving himself a man.
Once, her mother had tried to tell her that, about her father. Misa had been so alone then, with Riber on Mars, her mother in the hospital, and her father being deployed from one posting to the next. In those days, she resented him for that. For never coming home when they needed him most. When she needed him. Even when he did come home, he always left again. Always went to keep fighting.
Back then, she couldn't have understood what it really meant. Misa wouldn't allow herself to. It was easier not to. The world moved by her, everyone caught up in the complications of their lives. Her mother passed away. Her father became ever more distant. And Riber...
At some point, she'd encased herself in iron, so she couldn't be bruised by losing people anymore. Along the way, she'd forgotten how to take it off, how to speak to the people on the other side.
Until Hikaru had... when she was with him, she felt, undressed. Like he peeled away the thick exterior she'd spent years folding around herself, and he did it so easily. That... scared her. Made her feel as though she could tip over and shatter. Worse was that he didn't know, couldn't know, because whenever he saw her – the Misa Hayase she was, and the one she wore for everyone else, he just laughed it off. As though there was no difference between the two. As though he'd really seen her all along.
Always joking with her. "Well, you might actually get a boyfriend if you acted this lady-like all the time!"
Walking in a daze, Misa realized she had stopped. A hallway of the Prometheus echoed on either side. Standing in front of her was a wall of metal, a plaque with his name sitting on the face. Her hand flinched, rising to her waist before falling back to her side.
Misa rested her head against his door, cold to the touch.
That time, Misa was determined not to forgive her father.
Here her mother was, withering away in the hospital – and not once had he come to see her. Not once had he called. Not once had he even written. She didn't see how her mother could stand it, and after it all came tumbling out, her mother only smiled. Misa was dumbstruck and in tears over letting all those stewing emotions out at once, and there her mother was, smiling. Patient and gentle.
"He's thinking about me, and I'm thinking about him,' she said, when Misa finally calmed down. She took her hand and squeezed it. "All the time. And we both know that. And I can even feel him thinking about me – right now."
For them, that was enough. Knowing that no matter where they were in the world, what they were doing, thoughts of the other consumed them, filled them – connected them across continents and oceans. They had each other completely, and there wasn't any need for words.
Misa hadn't been able to live that way, couldn't see a way to justify it. Not with Riber, and not... and not with Hikaru. Even though when they talked, it was jibes or jokes that often ended in arguments. Because he was stubborn, like her. Because he stumbled around his feelings, like her.
Still, being able to hear his voice, knowing that he was alright even though she couldn't see him. That made it bearable when he was riding out and risking his life. So how couldn't she be sore with him after yesterday? After what he'd done? Hikaru didn't understand anything, and it just, it made her want to explode.
Misa took a deep breath.
Either way, she couldn't leave things as they were. That wouldn't be right – and she was glad to see him. More than anything she was glad that he wasn't drifting dead somewhere in orbit. After Action reports were still trickling in. Bagging and tagging the KIA, filing the MIA. Even now the Zentradi were combing the wreckage of the battle, and they would be for some days yet.
Misa had caught a glimpse of their most recent casualty report before she'd left the bridge to see him. It wasn't something she took lightly, not anymore. Not since coming to realize how harsh it was for fighter pilots out in the vacuum. That, and Skull Squadron, along with the others, had suffered awful losses.
Hikaru felt those things acutely, even if he wouldn't say it – she could see it written all over his face. Like when Kakizaki had died. She hadn't understood him then, but loss was something she was very familiar with. How, in her haste to see him in one piece, could she have forgotten that?
She hadn't seen him in months, and this was how she acted?
It made her feel sick.
Automatic doors hissed open at her approach, allowing her into the Prometheus' massive hangar bay. A blare of noise hit her: power tools, shouts, and clanging equipment. Valkyries littered the deck, the wonderful smell of their oils and grease hitting her as she marched by. Above her, missiles sat stacked on mezzanines.
She was technically off-duty, but wore her working uniform, otherwise she wouldn't be allowed where she knew she would find Hikaru. At times, he seemed to live for nothing else but his fighter. In many ways it reminded her of Focker.
Another shadow blanketed her as she walked.
It had been the better half of a day since they talked, and she'd slept a little in the coffee room behind the bridge and knew she must've looked haggard, sleep-deprived and, like that bull-headed boy called her, an old lady.
He, on the other hand, appeared to have at least showered, wearing his blue trousers and black boots. Though he had shirked his jacket, leaving just an olive-green tank top to cover his torso in the sweltering heat of the hangars. Sweat glistened on his skin, and she watched it tense as he tooled some apparatus from an open maintenance hatch. Muscle had bundled over those once scrawny arms of his. Not like any of the ground infantry, but enough for her to notice. They were strong arms.
His grip slipped and he cursed, jamming a thumb against metal. Another curse, he tossed the wrench somewhere under his plane and shook his hand. As he was about to stick his thumb in his mouth, he caught sight of her.
The change was cutting.
"First Lieutenant Hayase." He went rigid and snapped a salute.
"At ease," she said, quiet.
He did so, parting his feet shoulder length and clasping his hands behind his back. Staring ahead, she couldn't meet his eyes. At least that hadn't changed in the last few months, especially when he was being difficult like this.
She folded her arms under her breasts.
"I'm sorry," she said, tossing some of her hair aside. Courage came back to her. "I know you were doing your best."
"But it wasn't good enough, right?"
"I didn't mean it like that," she shot back, unable to keep the bite from her tone. He flushed and found another part of the hangar to focus the heat of his gaze on. Misa sighed through her nose. "And... of course I'm glad you're alright. How could I not be?"
Something shifted behind those blue eyes and with reluctance, he softened. She could never tell what he was thinking.
Stepping forward, she took his left hand, rivulets of blood dropping to the floor from where he'd sheared open his thumb. A strong smell hit her then, more than just the mechanical odors of the hangar bay. Cockpit leather and nylon and coffee and sweat – dozens of other things she could only identify as the scent of him. Memories of being in his fighter came. The feel of him as he leaned against her shoulder. Going over mission packets with the aroma of coffee between them. How she sank into him when they'd kissed.
Misa reached in her shirt's front pocket, withdrawing a handkerchief and making gentle dabs at the wound. Hikaru didn't flinch, and she sensed him watching her. Always one to be prepared, she retrieved her usual tiny stash of medical supplies: a finger-sized tube of antibiotic ointment and a pair of band-aids. When she was done pressing them over his thumb, she took a step back, only then realizing they'd been mere inches apart.
"Thank you," he said, and she liked the sound of it from him. Tools whined, an uproar of commotion reaching them from somewhere further down the deck. Each stood close, but apart.
"I'm going to mess." He looked at her, a hand rising to scratch the back of his head. "Are you hungry?"
She answered with a meek nod.
They went below decks without a word and with a few feet between them. For the time of day, the mess hall wasn't very busy, but there were always hungry mouths aboard a ship, especially after a battle like the one they'd just had. It was certainly nicer than some of the one's she'd seen as a child. There was even a row of wonderfully painted vistas along the port-side wall, to make up for the total lack of windows. After shuffling through the serving line, that's where Hikaru led them.
Misa hadn't felt very hungry in the hangar bay, but the smell of burgers and fries had her mouth watering by the time they sat down. Both were gone in short order. Only halfway through did she realize Hikaru was watching her wolf it all down, looking somewhere between concerned and bewildered. Misa felt her face grow hot and lifted a hand to cover her mouth as she chewed. She could practically hear him bemoaning how un-lady like she was.
When their trays were clear, and there was nothing but the murmur of conversation from other tables, they made their way topside into a fickle, but arctic wind. There they stared out at the Daedalus across the water. A barren horizon stretched behind it, the sky smoldering with sunset.
"There wasn't much I could do during the attack," Misa said, wringing her hands from where she leaned against the railing.
"What do you mean?" He asked.
Misa didn't answer right away, choosing her words with care.
"I'm... not used to that. Normally, when there's fighting, I'm right in the middle of it. Not like you are, but still." She searched above, but it was late in the day and the ships in orbit were too far off to see. "Not being up there felt off. All I could really do was watch."
I couldn't hear you.
I couldn't see you.
Hikaru became serious, as though the pilot that was with everyone else had fallen away, and a sincere man she rarely saw occupied his place.
"I wish you had been there," he said, eyes to the horizon, "you really are an amazing officer."
Misa was certain her heart melted, and it warmed her from her core to her cheeks. All her earlier frustrations faded, and she ached with guilt at having ever let them get the better of her concern. If the prospect wasn't so terrifying the moment it struck her, she could have kissed him right there–
"It was strange," he said, "not having you there to nag me."
She stared at him.
Then her mouth remembered how to work.
"To – to nag you?!" She rounded on him, a finger jabbing his chest. "Of all the..."
A smirk played on his lips.
"What?"
He laughed – loud and bright and pure. Misa blinked, once. Then twice. This... this man was... unbelievable.
But he had the most wonderful laugh she'd ever heard.
"Seriously..." she mumbled, leaning once more on the railing as his mirth faded.
"It's good to be back."
"On Earth, you mean?"
Hikaru didn't answer. For a while, he let the stillness of the city enclose them, his face becoming just as subdued.
"I have to notify their next of kin. If they have anyone left." He said. A pang of shame nailed the bottom of her lungs, and she recalled the casualty report for his squadron.
"There are officers who take care of that already."
Hikaru shook his head. "No. I have to do it myself. It wouldn't be right otherwise."
Transport ships cut the sky farther out over the red mountains.
"Haya– Misa."
Her head quirked and she hummed.
Hesitation filled him. "Would you... mind coming with me when I go to tell them?" He took one glance at her and then shrugged the idea off, leaning low on the railing. "Ah, what am I saying? That would be such a burden, wouldn't it? Forget I asked, it was stupid."
She shook her head, moving closer. "No, it's okay... I wouldn't mind."
Hikaru opened his mouth, then decided to close it. Standing straight again, his hands gripped the rails tight. Then they relaxed.
"Thank you, Misa."
If it was a burden Hikaru decided to carry, then... she wanted to be able to help him carry it too. Such a thought caught her off guard, but she let it sit there. Allowed the streams it opened in her mind to wash over her, and realized that if it was for Hikaru, she'd be happy to do it.
She really would, wouldn't she?
The idea became shadowed with the close of day, which lit the sky ablaze with twilight – deep crimson and golden orange. The Macross stood before it, painted black by the sun at its back. A massive, crumbling tower of doubts that bundled her in a coil of tension. Powerful and unknowable.
Misa stole a glance at him, caught in the sunset.
There would be more battles, she knew. Many more times she would watch his fighter screech into the distance, wondering if it might be the last. Wondering if he might ever...
Looking down, she found her hands intertwined. She thought of how Hikaru's hand had felt in hers, the roughness of his fingertips.
When he showed her his vulnerability, his tenderness, his laughter. She wanted more of it. Was that selfish? For her to want so much of him? Misa didn't know anymore. All she knew, really, was that she didn't want to lose this. Whatever it was.
Taking a deep breath through her nose, she closed her eyes, and let those things fall through her. For now, she would enjoy this moment, standing beside him as a breeze swept over the lake, close enough to feel his warmth.
For now, this was all she needed.
And she whispered it in the bottom of her heart, where it couldn't be taken away. Where she could hold onto it a little while longer.
Aishiteru
A/N: This was a pleasant distraction from Amarantos, not that I'm not enjoying that particular story immensely, but a change of scenery is always nice. This took about a month to write, actually. My brother and I had just finished watching the original Super Dimension Fortress Macross, all 36 episodes. I'd seen it before, he hadn't. But I remember we'd both been bothered by the 2 year time skip between the climatic Battle of Earth and the re-population/terraforming of the Earth, and the fact that Hikaru and Misa's relationship hadn't seemed to go anywhere in that time.
I thought, well, even if they didn't end up together during those two years, they did seem to be much closer than they had been before. So I wanted to write this. My little homage to the Macross Universe.
Also, in writing this, I discovered a quite wonderful book called Misa Hayase: White Reminiscences, written by Hiroshi Onogi, detailing Misa's life before her posting aboard the Macross. You can find it easily enough online, so give it a read.