30 Ways to Conquer Mars
#026 ぼくのものになれば良いのに
A.C. 197, August 12, 02:35:「Save Me」
Gundam Wing © SOTSU AGENCY - SUNRISE - ANB
This is a work of derivative Fanfiction. No claims are made towards the ownership of intellectual rights pertaining to the metaseries.
...
"We're going to show Lucy just how much of a monster you really are." Donn whispered, sticking the end of Zechs' gun into his own mouth, one hand on the smaller man's throat, the other forcing Zechs' finger down on the trigger.
For the second time in the last five minutes, something small and cold brushed up against the back of his neck.
"I know what he is, Donn, there's no need to have your head blown off for that."
Donnovan relaxed. Tears welled up in his bloodshot eyes. She was okay. His Lucy was okay. He let Zechs' arm drop form the weapon, although he did not ease up from where he sat, bleeding all over his chest. The cold weight on his skin dug in.
"Hand me the gun, Donn, there's no need for any of this," she instructed, her voice low and harsh.
For a moment, as Zechs struggled with his newly freed hand to pluck Donn's fingers from his windpipe, it seemed as if he might.
"No." It was by far the sanest sounding he has been all night. "No, Lucy, I can't. He's taken everything from you, honey, keeps taking you from me… can't let him get away with that…"
And caressing the pommel of the gun in his hand and pointing it between Zechs' eyes, Donn started to weep silently, each gigantic sob rippling through his entire being.
The smell of blood suffocated his senses more than having a two-hundred pound man bearing down on him. Two things occurred to him that seemed entirely irrelevant to the situation: one, that this must be the most embarrassing way to die the Powers That Be can arrange for him; two, he hoped that Noin will be okay.
It does not occur to him that she could have shot Donn or let Donn shoot himself and get all this over with. The current situation seemed to be the only logical sequence of events, in his failing judgement. Donnovan dominated his line of sight, and the thought on the forefront of his mind was how she was going to kill him if he left again without a proper good-bye, and how much easier it was to survive nuclear reactor explosions than a man sitting on your chest wavering between wringing the life out of you and planting a bullet in your head. At least this time, it wouldn't be because he was running away.
"Donn, no. No." The tremor in her contralto was oddly calming. He knew it as the timbre that colours her voice just before she breaks down, and he thought what a bastard he was to be glad to hear her cry for him in the end.
"Don't make me shoot."
"Don't joke around, Lucy," Donn replied, like a child patiently explaining the rules of his game to an oblivious adult, "you could never shoot anyone."
Slowly, Noin circled around them and knelt in front of Donn without a single glance for Zechs, and her partner realised why she hadn't done much more than talk to his mad assailant when she let a brass button drop from her hand. It was an amateur prank the cadets at Lake Victoria used to play, pressing metallic objects of an approximate shape and size to a muzzle to each other's heads and seeing how long before the other realises there was no gun.
"You're right," she coaxed, "I can't bear to see any one get hurt, no matter how much they deserve it. Don't hurt anyone for my sake, Donn. Please."
The pressure on Zechs' throat eased. Air raked through his lungs, breaking apart the darkness on his senses.
"No, too late for me… …" His arms shook, clutching the pistol between his palms. Donn smiled and paid no attention to Zechs, who at this moment is struggling with the mathematics of knocking the pistol out of his hands far enough that Noin could get to it before Donn does. It would almost certainly result in his face getting smashed in and being rendered useless to Noin's defence afterwards, though, if the silly girl doesn't shoot.
"Donn." She was backing away. Zechs balled up his fists. Did she read his thoughts? Is she moving into position? She moved out of his field of vision, He swore under his breath. Come on, Noin! He missed his partner, that girl who called herself his loyal knight and never missed a cue. The woman who, had she been by his side, would never have let this happen. It was as much his fault as hers, if only he'd thought to hold on to her before she disappeared on him…
"Donn," she said, and Zechs fumed at the woman who'd stolen his Noin. "This is your last chance. I'm holding poison, so choose. You can kill him, or come save me."
.
"You can kill him, or come save me."
How many women throughout history have tried this gambit and how many times has it worked? Noin does not know. She had thought it the single most ridiculous thing one could say when she first heard it in her sister's study, a different lifetime ago. Oh, wouldn't Isadora laugh to hear her now…
She had hoped it would distract Donn enough to give Zechs a chance at getting free and… Well, she hadn't thought that far ahead yet, but hopefully, he had.
Noin let the syringe she had impulsively injected herself with fall to the floor for effect. Donn struggled to his feet, releasing Zechs, and ambled blindly towards her position on the infirmary bed, everything forgotten except her plight. She sought his fevered eyes and held them firmly, mumbling indistinct soothing words in answer to his wild gibberish, as she had been taught.
She had seen this before, on one of her missions with Sally. She has had nightmares about it. Schizophrenic delusion triggered by a mix of emotional stress and addictive withdrawal. She should be feeling incredibly guilty about the relief roaring in her ears, the treacherous voice in her head that chanted It's okay, it's Donn who's got it, not Zechs like a mantra. She wasn't. Over and over again, Thank god it's not Zechs.
There were nights where she'd woken up in a cold sweat, dreaming about discovering Zechs in such straits. Not that she can't find any good, logical, reasons for the concern, psychopathic Zechs was not something that should even be wondered at. Had he been the one with the problem, it would have been more direct, and merciful, to kill everyone onboard herself. After all, Zechs Merquise had taken on the ZERO system with barely a mark on him.
Those close to them had blamed his hostilities during the Eve War on the Epyon's AI, but they did not know him like she does, nor have they seen him as she has, running down his prey like a bat out of hell at age twelve. Zechs had not been consumed by the Epyon when he rode out against Earth, nor when he raised his weapon twice and tried to strike her down. It was Milliardo Peacecraft who had been in command of the Devil's reins; out of control and mad with disappointment, but it was all him.
Him, that familiar tall blond with the hard blue eyes, sneaking up behind the man whose attentions she held in thrall in her hands, a sacrifice to the terrible beast that reared its head in his wiry, bloody, silhouette. Noin lifted her eyes to him just as he flipped his pistol around and swung his arm down, cracking the back of the poor madman's skull open with the pommel.
Only when he was sure that the big man with the bloodshot chocolaty eyes was no longer a threat did he glance at her. 'Are you alright?' He raises an eyebrow and lets himself fall into a sitting position next to her, panting and holding his ribs.
Was just saline, She thought at him, shook her head slightly, and buried her face in her hands. The night could have gone a lot better.
She felt his arm slip around her shoulders, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and pull her towards him in a sticky embrace. Zechs' chest was soaked from where Donn had bled all over him. It should probably frighten her, how much blood the mechanic had withstood losing. She should at least be bothered by how Zechs was causing her to be covered in blood. Instead, she was preoccupied by the warmth of Zechs' breath gently stirring her hair as he dropped a light, companionable kiss on the top of her head.
Donn had called Zechs a monster. He had not been wrong.
So, what does that make her?
...
A/N:
Uhm, in reply to responses to the PSA, I didn't say I was going to stop, seeing we're what, 4 themes to the end? I just mean to say I'm sorry I'm not more responsible in regards to the confusing, not always "in character", often completely whack-jobbed excuse of a story I've apparently been subjecting you to, and that I am not going to bother with making sense of it all any more, just concentrate on hitting all 30 kisses, then moving on to the real story-writing... you know, as opposed to rambling on in 1000+ word drabbles heh