Disclaimer/Note: I do not own GundamWing, or any of the characters in this story (unless otherwise stated). The young man on the other end of the line, for example, belongs to me. I do not own the series' creator, mech designer, or PHYSALIS, and I'm not making any money off this story. This story was written solely for entertainment purposes, and no copyright infringement was intended. Please, do not sue. All original concepts in this story are original (duh) and belong to me, or have had all rights handed over to me. Do not steal. This story is AC (Alternate Continuity), takes place (for the most part) almost five years after Endless Waltz, and contains violence, language, angst, flashbacks, acts of terrorism and subsequent political brouhaha, religious references, twisted senses of morality, and an obnoxious timeline. The three quotes used by the young man without their sources listed are from Dhammapada and Lenin.

Better Than Nothing
Chapter Two — See Nothing

"Your strength is admirable, Miss Peacecraft, but I'm afraid that my voice alone is not enough to inspire the frustrated masses to lay down their weapons and accept God's will," the man on the other end of the line spoke easily, his fluent English heavily tainted by an L1 cluster accent. Relena had recognized the colony dialect almost immediately, knew with certainty where the young man hailed from. If only she could see his face. . .but even though he had opened a video channel, he remained disguised. He wore a ragged dark blue baseball cap that he played with often; tugging at the stiff brim to ensure that it was low enough to shadow his eyes from view. The rest of his face was covered by an unmarked black bandanna, wrapped around his head and tied in the back. Not even the color of his skin was discernable now. "My enemy cannot be convinced or shamed, only terrorized and crushed."

Relena raised a brow questioningly, a small frown pulling at the corners of her mouth at the quotation. It sounded odd, coming from this young man, though she could not quite put her finger on why. Perhaps it had to do with the line's original context.

"You're a Communist?" she ventured doubtfully, an uneasy feeling growing in low in her stomach. She did not know this man, did not know how he had gotten her personal number or why the transmission could not be traced. There was a slight delay between the visual and audio input on his end, and so she assumed that he must have been transmitting the signal from somewhere in the colonies. Perhaps L1, since that was obviously his home. She did not know why he would not call her by her proper last name—Darlian—even though she had reminded him of it at least three times now. Still, she could not shake the feeling that there was something very familiar, and very wrong with him. Truthfully, Relena did not like talking to him. He had a slick way of speaking, a smooth and oily kind of affection in the tone of his voice. It was not directed at her, but at something else, something less tangible. A far-off goal or lofty ideal, perhaps. It made her skin crawl with apprehension. The man on the other end of the line chuckled at her questioning remark, shaking his head somewhat ruefully.

"No, no, of course not, although I do reserve a great deal of respect for Trotsky's brilliance. I believe that equality is something that only God can grant us once we arrive in His holy kingdom. In mankind's system, where each individual is caught up in his own personal struggle for material wealth and power, everything revolves around the concept of victory. Victory breeds hatred. Only he who has given up both victory and defeat can be truly contented and happy."

"It doesn't have to be that way," Relena assured the man, her brows knit delicately as her expression took on a hopeful, beseeching air. This time, she did not recognize his quote, and so she assumed that it was safe to say that it was not from a European thinker. "I believe that there is a way for us to live without being used by those with greater power, and without wronging those who are less fortunate than ourselves. Equality and peace are not just dreams. We can reach these goals through pacifistic and legal means—"

"Perhaps you can, Miss Peacecraft, but the taint worse than all taints is named ignorance" the man interrupted her with his idle musings, spoken softly into the off-screen speaker. She watched his hand come up to toy with the top of the bandanna, perhaps checking to make sure that it was secure across the bridge of his nose. The hand was dark; a swarthy complexion intermixed with drops of paler scar tissue. It reminded her, very briefly, of the back of Duo's hands; those scattered scars that the former Gundam pilot had laughed off after explaining that he did not always wear gloves while welding. Hot sparks would land on skin, and burn deep, scarring if not immediately attended to. The hand dropped then, and Relena shook the similarity from her mind. She needed to stay focused. "You have an amazing gift, you know. Your persuasion, your voice and beauty make for a dangerous political adversary. It saddens me that you did not stay as Queen of Earth, nor did you utilize the full power of that position when you held it."

"I appreciate your faith in me, but that position should never have been legally sanctioned."

"I suppose not. . ." the young man trailed off, head turning slightly as though he was regarding something off to one side. It was hard to tell, since she could not see his eyes to follow his line of sight. He touched something just above and to the right of the camera, and Relena heard a several soft beeps and a gently mechanical whirr. Were those gears moving? She wished she knew where he was. The young man was seated, for sure, in some kind of high-backed chair, the headrest of which was curved and came forward at the sides. It looked suspiciously like a pilot's seat; was he transmitting from a shuttle? That might explain some of the difficulty in locating the source, but still. . .Relena glanced back to the door of her home office, checking to see if any of her staff had returned with good news. No such luck. "But tell me, Miss Peacecraft, is the Sanc kingdom still a haven for the innocent? Do the lost still gather at your doorstep, begging for your mercy?"

"So long as the Sanc kingdom exists, it will remain a sanctuary for those who have nowhere else to go," Relena answered with a smile as she returned her attention to the screen in front of her, curious as to where this line of questioning would lead. "No individual is turned away, regardless of the circumstances surrounding their arrival. May I ask why?"

He was silent on the other end of the line for a long moment, tinkering with something that Relena could not see. There was a warning light flashing above the camera, sending flashes of red across the young man's hat and bandanna. Why was it that she was assuming that he was a young man, anyway? It must have been the way that he spoke; the bizarrely childish enthusiasm that snuck into his tone every so often. He sounded a lot like the young radicals that Wufei spent time with; spoke with the same cultured air as the new-age revolutionaries scattered throughout the countries and colonies, each with their own agenda and half-formed plan for reformation. The man on the other end of the line was probably older than her—no, definitely older, but still not old enough to have set aside his idealism and political naivety in favor of something less inspiring and far more grounded.

". . .My true desire is to relieve others of their pain though I myself may fall into Hell," he replied cryptically, his hands coming back to rest on his lap, or perhaps a keyboard that was located below the camera's rectangular field of view. Relena puzzled at this strange statement, hoping that he would elaborate if she said nothing. Another pause, and he continued. "A wise man by the name of Bassui said that once, and I believe that it is true for me as well. Miss Peacecraft, I want death and violence to be a thing of the past; I have dreamt of an era where the drums of war have finally been silenced for all of eternity. It is my true desire. . .no, it is my holy mission, to embark on a quest that will end with all of God's kingdom at peace."

"That sounds like a beautiful goal."

"It is," he must have been smiling beneath that bandanna, because his voice was breathy and delighted. His eyes must have been wide and gleaming with excitement beneath the brim of his hat, because he was leaning forward and had clasped his hands together. He was starting to sound like a child again; a slightly fanatic and wonderfully educated child, but a child none the less. "But for our peace to be born into these brutal times, into this vicious reality, you have to understand, Miss Peacecraft—"

"Oh no. . ."

"That this era of humanity's undignified scrabbling calls for sometimes unforgivable measures. Pacifism cannot change the current status quo; throughout history, it has been shown to us that only violence can bring about a new world order. We must be prepared to fight, and shed blood in the name of peace. The only way to win is to brutalize the enemy and force him to accept your terms."

Relena shook her head with a sigh, bringing a hand up to her face to rub at one temple in dismay. But of course he was a violent radical bent on war in order to bring about peace. It seemed like everyone who tried to contact her and talk had the same political motive now. She was not Queen of Earth, but if she chose to place her vote behind any official or movement, it would surely pass. It had nothing to do with modesty or vanity; Relena knew that the people of Earth viewed her as iconic symbol, and that many believed her to be the voice of the reason, regardless of the words she chose to use. People would follow her blindly, if she asked; they would rally behind her without ever truly understanding the philosophy or ideal that drove the movement.

"The world does not need another bloody revolution. Non-violent means can be used to bring about change."

"We must force our opposition up against the wall, Miss Peacecraft. We must let our response to dissenters be to shoot and threaten to shoot—"

"More quotations from famous thinkers of the radical left?" she countered with a glare, her annoyance starting to show in her tone and volume. Relena sighed again, shaking her head more vehemently this time. "If this is all that you have to say, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to end this conversation."

The young man lapsed into silence again, his head lowered as though thinking hard about this new ultimatum. At some length, he began again, slowly, his fanaticism calmed and held back once more.

"Not just 'thinkers,' Miss Peacecraft. These intellectuals were men of action as well as words. They were movers and shakers of their times," he took a deep breath, gesturing vaguely in the air in front of him with both hands. The young man seemed to be struggling to find the words needed to convey his meaning. "In a sense, I called you because I want your help—"

"I will offer no help or sympathy for those who advocate violence."

"No, no, of course not!" he quickly assured her, raising his head for just a moment before ducking it back down. In that instant, she saw his eyes; slanted, Japanese, dark brown. But then they were gone again, hidden beneath the low brim of his hat. Relena said nothing, waiting for him to explain. "But, you see, you are beloved by God; the Almighty Lord sees in you the hope of humanity. He is moved by your faith and cherishes your goodwill. I only wanted to know that the Sanc kingdom remains a refuge for those who are not yet meant to be judged by God."

". . .Just who, and what, exactly are you?"

"In time, you will understand. But for now, know that I will send all those who are deemed innocent in the eyes of God to you for protection. Be ready for a vast immigration from the colonies, for the innocent and the lost to show up on your doorstep as though it were the entrance to the Promised Lands," his voice was rapturous, and he opened his arms as if to remind her that his mission was for the sake of peace and that these pilgrims would arrive unarmed. Relena stared, lips parted ever so slightly in shock. "Unto Tahtinen once said that there were only two ways to avoid war: one is to satisfy everyone's desire, the other, to content oneself with the good, but I believe that there is a third way. A way that, unlike the two he mentioned, will—without a doubt—utterly annihilate mankind's craving for war."

"Wh-what—?"

"That's right, Miss Peacecraft," he whispered into the microphone, leaning forward towards the camera with rising zealotry in his low tone. "I am going break the warrior spirit. I am going to destroy all those with the appetite for violence; I will invoke a reign of terror like none the world has ever seen, and every voice that cries out for vengeance and retaliation will be cut short and drowned in the blood of their brethren."

The line was cut abruptly, his image snapping out into white static.