Authors Note: Yes, I know I usually put A/N's at the end of the chapter. But as this is a special chapter, I felt it would have better use at the beginning. So, short and condensed so you can get on with it, here are the things you need to know.

This chapter takes place during the Episode Zero manga. For those who haven't read Episode Zero, I'm sure you can find transcripts somewhere, if not, go to GW Addiction and ask one of the knowledgeable people there. Also, Endless Waltz has some snippets of it, but I haven't watched EW in ages so I'm not sure how much there is. 0o; Because this takes place in the Episode Zero manga, I've taken the liberty to snitch all the lines from the manga. There's going to be much more then lines of course. Some of them --okay most of them are paraphrased in order to make it seem, less stilted. And I changed one of the scenes too to make if fit better…but only the dialogue…so it's still the same thing…right? Right? I want this to be canonical damnit. ;;

---

The colony drifted placidly outside the window. To the naked eye it looked lonely and serene, still in the darkness of space. No one saw the magnetic field surrounding it that kept it connected to the other colonies in the L-3 cluster. Most people, impatient to be doing other things, wouldn't notice the slow rotation of the colony that kept their feet glued to the metal floor. Odin noticed it. Partly because focusing on something kept him from remembering how much his stomach hated space travel, but mostly because he made it a point to notice everything. From the finest detail of a person's face to the angle of a window in an abandoned room.

"Sir?" said the stewardess. Odin turned his head to look up at her. She was a pretty young thing with hair swept up in a style much too old for her. It made her seem elegant and something that belonged in a limo rather then a shuttle. She cocked her head and her smile tightened somewhat, telling him he'd been staring much too long. Too bad he wasn't old enough to be considered harmless.

"Yes?" he asked, trying to make it seem he'd just noticed her. By the arch of her eyebrow she wasn't buying it.

"Would you like anything? Peanuts? Juice? Beer?" She said beer as if that was what she expected him to get and disapproved severely of it. Odin smiled. Well. He'd never been one to disappoint a lady.

"Better make that two. There's still a long flight."

"Yes, sir." Voice as cold as the vacuum of space. She plunked the cans a little too forcefully on the tray and prepared to move the cart to serve the nice old lady in seat five A.

"Oh, miss? I couldn't have one of those little shuttle pins?"

"I'm sorry, sir. We only give them to physical children."

Ouch. She must be new. Or used to old perverts giving her a hard time. Odin popped open his beer and saluted her before taking a sip. He waited for her to ignore him before wincing at the taste. It was too bad he didn't like beer. He preferred to get plastered on straight vodka. He put the can down and blew out a soft breath. The teasing hadn't really been worth it after all. Not only was he stuck with something he wouldn't serve to the Alliance, he was also bereft of a shuttle pin with very little hope of getting one. That was the worst part. He'd wanted to present it to the kid when he saw him again, just to get that evil little glare.

Odin sat back and turned his gaze back out the window. It had been almost a year since he'd dropped the kid off at headquarters and he'd be damned if he didn't miss the little brat. If he could go back in time, he wouldn't have done it at all. He'd been furious after the colony had been destroyed. Little Hlidskjalf had been his home once upon a time. Odin smiled wryly. Of course it wasn't called Little Hlidskjalf any more. The Alliance had decided in its infinite wisdom that X-93375 would be a more apt name.

Whatever the name though, there was no reason to blame the kid entirely on its destruction. The colony had been tearing itself apart for months. And anyway, despite his above-average intelligence and truly frightening marksmanship, the kid was still a kid. A little boy who had just been trying to save the only thing that meant something in his life. Odin wished he would have realized that. He wished he hadn't taken his anger out on the child. There was so much he wished he would have done. Find out the kid's name for a start. Be there for him when he had his nightmares instead of just listening to him scream in the dark. Odin sighed and closed his eyes.

He'd treated the boy the same way he himself had been treated by old Benton Lowe. He'd thought, at the time, it was the only way. But now he knew better. The circumstances were entirely different. He'd chosen to become an assassin. True, it had been at the ripe old age of fourteen, but at least he'd had the chance to have a life. At least, for the first ten years of his life he'd been innocent. As innocent as a child of the colonies could be at any rate. All the boy had known was death and blood. It was really no wonder that killing so many people hadn't fazed him. Now he was on his way to becoming a monster. Odin didn't even want to know what the rebels were having him do.

It was that thought alone that had bought him out of his all too brief retirement. The thought that made him decide to do this one last job. One last assassination before he threw away the rifle and tried to make what peace he could with himself before he died. Now he was on his way to New Denmark-- or whatever damned stupid number the Alliance had tacked onto it. There he would pick up the boy and take him on one last mission, and then get out of his life forever. Honestly, he didn't want too. But there was too much blood between them for him to do anything else.

The beer chose that time to hit his stomach. Odin's concentration immediately switched from deep contemplation to keeping his breakfast where it belonged. That delicious chow mien he'd had just hours ago was turning out to have been a very bad idea. Heh. Story of his life.

---

Headquarters, like all proper rebel bases, was hidden in the basement floor of an otherwise nondescript library in the worst part of town. The library part, of course, was just a front. Judging by the way the librarian/secretary had waved him through after just a glance at his ID; they weren't worried.

The secret stairs were hidden ingeniously in plain sight. The fact that they were narrow as all hell and looked ready to fall apart at the lightest step was probably deterrent enough. Even though he knew it was probably safe, Odin couldn't help but cringe at every creak and groan. He couldn't help but be nervous. It was dark and, having never been to this particular base, completely unknown. It was all he could do not to reach for his gun.

After forever, the stairs finally ended in an unremarkable stone hall with bare bulbs hanging from rusted chains, throwing everything in harsh light. At the end of the hall stood a man in a white lab coat. As Odin came closer, he was able to pick up details of his contact. The man was fair-haired, with cheerful blue eyes staring from small round glasses perched on the end of his nose. He was leaning casually against a door and looked ready to wink at any moment. Odin's anxiety level went up a few notches. Rebels who were so relaxed when meeting a stranger probably had twenty hidden rifles targeted on said stranger.

"Hello," said the man brightly. "You must be Odin."

"Yeah," he said, self-consciously shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. Strange people knowing his name didn't help matters any.

"My name is Alec. Alec Howell. Or Doctor Howell if you prefer," said the man, unfolding his arms to extend a hand. Odin inwardly panicked. Was there supposed to be some secret handshake? He knew rebels used those sorts of things. No one had informed him of anything. Howell laughed slightly.

"Relax. This isn't the Spanish Inquisition. We're pretty informal here." Nevertheless, the doctor retracted his hand and swung open the door. "Welcome to our little paradise."

Compared to the streets outside, it was a paradise indeed. Odin walked into a large circular room with leather chairs clumped in random groups around the room. Doors leading to unknown places were scattered at intervals along gold scrolled wallpaper. To the left of him was a large desk at which a young woman filed her nails with a bored air.

"Just someone in to pick up the kodomo," Howell said.

"Mm," said the woman without even looking up.

"Kodomo?" Odin asked as Howell started to lead him across the room.

"Oh, sorry. Kodomo means child. I studied on L-1 and haven't gotten the language out of my system yet." They came to a door not quite on the opposite side of the room with a lighted panel beside it. Howell's fingers danced so quickly across the buttons that Odin couldn't even catch the numbers. There was a soft click. The doctor pushed open the door and beckoned Odin to go first. The assassin did carefully, still feeling like a deer in the crosshairs. This was another hall, filled with doors and even more expensive wallpaper. Howell grimaced.

"I know. Gaudy, isn't it? But at least it's comfortable. It helps being so close to the source of the funding. You should see the base on X-33892. This looks practically plebeian compared to it."

"Doesn't it have a name?" Odin asked, not certain whether he liked this man at all anymore.

"What? Oh, you mean the colony? It's called Star Britannia or something else completely ludicrous. I prefer the old numbers system better. That was the way the original scientists intended it."

Odin snorted silently. Well, even if the scientists had given his colony a number, he still preferred Little Hlidskjalf.

They went through another door, another hall, then another door and so on until Odin was completely lost. Either this place was huge, or Howell was leading him in circles on purpose. He wasn't about to discount either idea. A rebel had to be careful, especially with hired assassins who had unknown motives.

"So, has the kid been on any missions yet?" Odin asked, mostly to fill the monotonous silence.

"What? At eight?" Howell rolled his eyes. "He'd be lucky if he got to run messages. Not that I don't think he's talented, mind you. But the people who pull the strings don't think much of children."

"What are you exactly? To him, I mean."

This earned another eyeroll and a loud snort.

"Well I'm technically just observing him as a scientist. But, being as understaffed as we are I'm also his tutor, his physician, his nanny. You name it."

"So if he hasn't been going on missions, what has he been doing?"

"Reading mostly."

"Reading?" Odin echoed. This surprised him somewhat. Sure the kid had picked up an odd book or two, but to spend most of his time reading… Odin had never spent most of his time reading at the boy's age. Granted that he couldn't remember exactly what he'd been doing at eight, but he knew it had nothing to do with books. "You mean like fairy tales or something?"

"No, I mean astrophysics, geometry, politics, military strategy, basically anything non-fiction he can get his hands on."

"Don't you think geometry is a bit high-level for a kid like that?"
"Well, he's still struggling a little with some of the concepts, but he's exceptionally bright. Right now, though, he's at the shooting range."

The shooting range turned out to be a large metal room filled with all sorts of strange devices. Odin's heart did a strange little twist when he saw the kid. The boy was sitting in a high backed chair with something that looked like joysticks mounted on the arms. He wore a virtual reality helmet wired to a larger machine a few feet behind it. Every once in a while, the boy's finger would twitch on the left joystick, which seemed to be the only one he was using.

"He'll be wrapping up soon," Howell said, going to the machine the helmet was hooked too. "He's been at it for two hours." The scientist pressed a few buttons and his brow furrowed. "Well that's strange."

"What?" Odin asked, heart stopping for a moment. He'd heard about all sorts of stories about those virtual reality things. Everything from cardiac arrests to brain damage.

"The program's been…changed. It's probably a bug or something. I'll fix it when-"

"I changed it," said the boy, taking off the helmet and running a hand through his all ready tousled hair.

"Hey, kid," Odin said, grinning. The kid glanced at him and then back at Howell without as much as a flicker of emotion. Odin felt strangely deflated. Usually the boy smiled or something when they'd been apart so long.

"Why change?" Howell asked. "No, forget the why- how?"

"I watched you design it, remember? And I changed it because it wasn't offering enough of a challenge."

"Not enough of a- You were at the highest level!"

The kid shrugged.

"I shouldn't have underestimated you, kodomo," Howell said with a laugh. "But you'd better go now. You're shuttle leaves in half-an-hour." Odin raised his eyebrows. They were tracking his movements that well? Damn. They really did know what they were doing down here. After this mission he would have to be extra careful in covering his tracks.

The kid started toward Odin, looking like he didn't care.

"Oh, by the way," Howell said. The kid stopped and looked over his shoulder. Howell smiled and held up a small disk between two fingers. "If you ever find what you're looking for, you should take a look." The scientist held it above the kid's outstretched hand, but stopped short of placing it in his palm. Instead, his face suddenly became serious. "Just be very careful what you decide."

"I will," the kid said. Howell nodded and dropped the disk into the boy's hand.

"What was that all about?" Odin whispered as he followed his student from the room. The kid said nothing, not even looking back at Odin as he led him down another lavish hall. Odin sighed. He seriously hoped it wasn't going to be like this the whole trip.

---

Odin took a deep breath as they walked through the spaceport. Here they went again. Space travel. God. What ever happened to the good old days where people walked everywhere? The security desk loomed ever closer. Odin was more concerned about what lay beyond. The only comfort was that security was pretty lax around here. This was the final checkpoint before they could get access to the terminal. Odin composed his features, thumping his rifle case onto the desk and handed the man his ID card.

"Odin Lowe," said the man, glancing at the card, then at the case. "You're a musician?" There wasn't a trace of suspicion in his voice, just mild curiosity.

"Used to be, but I'm retired now." Well, that was true. He'd tried his hand at the saxophone when he was a young man…until old Benton threatened to make him eat it. "I'm traveling with my son," he said, putting a hand on the boy's back. The security man nodded and tapped some information into the computer. While he was intent on the screen, the kid stepped away from Odin's hand. Odin mentally rolled his eyes. Stubborn little-

"Your destination is X-18999?" the security man said, surprised. "I thought that colony wasn't completed yet."

"Like it says, we're not going there for vacation."

"A former musician doing hard labor like colony construction?" the man asked, again, seeming not one whit suspicious. This was entirely too easy.

"I've been told I'm an odd one," Odin said, taking his ID card from the man's fingers and slipping into his pocket before picking up the case. "Let's go," he told the kid. Not that he didn't particularly want to go. Unfortunately, Septem had to be two hours away. Two hours of miserable flight time away.

Odin absently glanced down at the kid. He looked as far away as Odin had ever seen him. He'd changed since they'd last been together. There was something missing between them that Odin couldn't put his finger on.

"Hey," he muttered, plunking a hand on the kid's shoulder. "Try to act more like family, eh? That is our contract." Or rather, the one he had to sign in order to get the boy out of the damned base. It should have been easier since he'd been the one who brought the kid in the first place.

"Hm. Okay, Dad," the kid said. For the second time that day a voice the sun wouldn't melt. Odin's stomach knotted in irritation. It wasn't as if they hadn't done the father/son thing plenty of times before. Why was he being such a rotten little twit about it now? Just because they had one little stupid fight the kid was acting like he didn't even know him. Odin wondered if he'd ever given his mentor this hard a time. No wonder the old man didn't seem to mind being shot.

---

The space flight had been long and full of chilly silence. To make matters worse, there had been a malfunction in one of the thrusters and, after a jolt that nearly brought his spine into his ribcage, they had drifted aimlessly for two hours. The only highpoint had been the matronly stewardess giving the kid not one, but two shuttle pins for being so very brave. It had been all Odin could do not to laugh. Despite his best efforts, a snicker had escaped which had earned him a glare with the killing force of a .33.

Now they were in the Wall Hotel. A building with the unique design of being built right into the wall of the colony. Their room was larger then he was used to, with a huge window that looked out onto the stars. Trying to pretend that he wasn't anxious about only ten inches of metal separating them from complete oblivion, Odin whistled loudly.

"This bedroom is bigger then our apartments," Odin said, setting his suitcase by the door that lead to the bedroom. The kid said nothing. Odin glanced up at him and found him staring intently out the window.

"What're you looking at?" his mouth said without any input from his brain. "The void of space which took everything away from you?" Okay. Well, technically he had. But, damnit. He was going to get the kid to react one way or the other. This considered, Odin pressed on. "Or your own nameless face?" The kid didn't even look at him. He turned away sharply and plunked the rifle case on a nearby end table.

"Why did you come to this colony?" the kid finally asked. Odin smirked to himself. Heh. Mentor: Nine thousand. Runt: Negative two.

"To abandon you," Odin said simply, removing the violin that acted as a cover for his illegal weapon. Not unexpectedly, the kid didn't seem to react to this. But it didn't matter; he'd still reacted to something.

"Soon there'll be a coup d'etat on this colony," Odin continued, fitting the scope on the rifle and checking to see if it was centered right. "You can take advantage of the confusion and settle down here. You know how. I've taught you everything you need to survive." Of course, judging by what he'd witnessed over the years, there was very little the kid couldn't survive. He was tougher then a cockroach. Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Glancing at the kid out of the corner of his eye he saw a gun pointed at him. Odin returned to his inspection without much worry. The kid had gone to great lengths to keep from shooting him before.

"And who are you going to kill this time?" the boy asked, speaking in slight disapproval. Odin bit back the sarcastic remark forming on his tongue. Things were bad enough without alienating his little protégé further.

"Septem of the Alliance Space Force. This will be my last job." Satisfied with the rifle, he set it aside, and picked up the violin. He worked his fingers under the nearly invisible latches on the side. Clicking them up, he lifted the violin's back out of the way and checked the inside, which was packed with enough explosives to blow up a small army. "You should go to school and try to live a normal life."

"I'll decide what I'm going to do," the kid said. Odin chuckled to himself at the defiance in the boy's voice. Years of training kept his face neutral, but inside he felt a renewed sense of pride. No matter what happened, the kid would never turn out like him. No. He would blaze his own trail through this war zone, instead of taking orders from everyone else.

The presence of the gun disappeared. Odin smirked. He knew the kid wouldn't have shot him. Putting the violin back together, he carefully set first the rifle, then the instrument back in its case. Then he slumped on the soft first-class armchair and turned his attention to the boy.

"So, how did we get this room?" he asked.

"Howell got it," the kid said, crossing the room to get his small suitcase and plunking down Indian-style on the floor next to it. Odin raised his eyebrows.

"He didn't even look like he could afford a solid meal."

"He didn't buy it. He hacked it." The boy lifted a pitiful pile of clothes out of the travel warn luggage, tossed them carelessly to the side and started rummaging around with something left in the bottom.

"Hacked it?" Odin echoed. The boy sighed softly and fixed the man with an annoyed look.

"Hacked the hotel's file systems so it looks like we've paid."

"That's right," said Odin, trying to cover his ignorance. The look the kid gave him told him he'd failed miserably. There was silence as the boy pulled various objects from his suitcase and started fitting them together. Odin's eyes widened as an assault rifle formed in the child's hands.

"Where the hell did you get that?"

"Stole it," the boy said, giving the weapon a quick but thorough check before disassembling it.

"From where?"

"The munitions room."

"What do you think they'll do once they find out who took it?"

"They won't," said the kid with so much confidence that Odin couldn't help but believe him. The assassin grinned and sat back. Heh. If he were still in this business, there would probably be a few things the kid could teach him. A relatively peaceful silence hung over the room. Then from outside, came the faint rumble of a starting battle.

"Well," Odin said standing and stretching the kink out of his back. "Shall we go see the show?"

"Hn," the kid said, which was answer enough.

---

It was a strange feeling, almost surreal, to be standing there and watching the Specials' advanced mobile suits beat the clunky outdated rebel weapons into the ground. Odin watched it with the detachment formed through years of violence. He knew he should care. He knew he should be cursing the Alliance's troops to the darkest pits of hell… but he just couldn't bring that emotion to the surface. Odin smiled wryly. To think he'd been mad at the kid's lack of compassion not quite a year ago. Some mentor he was.

Just across the street was the building Septem occupied, the Alliance command center. Odin had already had the violin case delivered to the place via simple mail carrier. Hopefully he'd fitted it with enough electronic red tape to make it difficult for anyone there to find out who the package was for. Theoretically, the case would be shuttled around the building until Odin could manage to get at it.

This wasn't the wisest course of action, as there was always a chance for it wind up somewhere outside or thrown in the dumpster. But, as Septem was in the most important people list, security was exceedingly tight. Odin hadn't been able to figure out another way to sneak the case in there without it getting searched. Or maybe he wasn't seeing all the possibilities. Maybe he was just getting old. He'd be willing to bet the kid could have thought of something better.

Odin glanced briefly down at the boy who was sitting a few feet away, hugging the assault rifle casually to his shoulder and looking entirely too damned introspective for a kid of eight. The boy was going off to do something on his own. What, exactly, he wouldn't tell Odin, and strangely, Odin felt reluctant to pry. The kid was too distant now, caught up in his own world…his own thoughts, leaving Odin feeling like a stranger. Or maybe that was what he had always been only the kid had finally recognized it. A particularly large explosion bought his attention back to the battle.

"Hmm," he said absently. "There seems to be a rather clever man in command." The kid made an irritated noise in the back of his throat.
"The rebels are just amateurs. They need to take out the frontline command center or they'll be individually targeted."

Odin didn't know what was worse. The fact that the kid sounded so much like him when he was younger, or the fact that the kid was right.

"That's why they need people like us, kid," he said, absently shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "You have to understand that before this most of these rebels hadn't even seen a weapon, let alone used one. A lot of them are just everyday people trying to fight to keep their homes theirs."

"Should I fight for them too, then?" the boy asked. Odin slightly so he could look the kid fully in the face. His face still had that same dark cynical expression, but the question had seemed honest enough. Odin glanced back at the battle, feeling bitterness knot in his throat. The kid never learned, did he? In all their time together, what had Odin ever taught him that had helped him? Well…no…there was something. Something he should have probably told the boy a long time ago.

"I know you want to be your own person now. But listen, because this is the last piece of advice I'm ever going to give you. No matter what happens follow your feelings. Do what your instinct tells you to do." Odin sighed softly, suddenly feeling all his forty plus years and then some. "Once, some idiot fired a shot and changed the course of history. Hell, he made history."

"You're talking about Heero Yuy, aren't you?"

Damn. He didn't miss a single thing. That kid was something else. There wasn't really any point in confirming something the boy knew, but Odin did it anyway.

"Yes. I was the one who shot him. Those were my orders. It wasn't right and I knew it…but back then, there didn't seem to be much of a difference. I killed because I was trained to be an assassin. Being a weapon is fine for a while. But when the gun runs out of bullets, then it's nothing but empty." The words were bitter on his tongue. It was a truth he'd always known but never wanted to admit. Now, though, seemed to be the right time. The only time.

"Look, kid, don't ever let yourself be used. It's dangerous and you'll probably be killed sooner then later… But it's better to die because you cared enough about something rather then you were just following orders." There. That was it. There was nothing left to say. Somehow, though, he felt heavier then when he'd started. So much for the benefits of talking about it. The boy seemed to have listened, or at least wasn't saying anythin to counter it. Odin hoped he had. Odin hoped he'd heard every word.

Behind them, the door that opened onto the roof clicked open. This was soon followed by the clack of booted feet. Just what he'd been waiting for Odin reached into an inner pocket for his small pocket knife.

"Hey!" said an authoritative male voice. "What are you doing here?" Odin turned before he'd even finished his sentence and released the knife with a casual flick of his wrist. The solider made an almost squawking sound as the knife cleanly punctured the skin of his chest.

"Hey!" said his companion, starting forward. This man was armed, but considering he held a rocket launcher, Odin didn't feel much threatened. Suddenly like a little brown blur, the kid shot up to the soldier and expertly kicked his feet out from under him, sending the soldier toppling backward and his head cracking hard onto the floor. Odin raised his eyebrows. Well. He'd never taught him that one. He couldn't remember even doing that one. He grinned.

"Impressive, kid."

"I'd teach you, but you're too old for it," the boy said, picking up the rocket launcher almost too easily and inspecting it. When he was done he looked up at Odin and smiled faintly. "You probably wouldn't be able to get up again."

"Shut up, brat," Odin said with a laugh, and began to pull the military jacket off the unconscious shoulder. "You know if you used that thing, you'll knock yourself flat on your ass," he said, nodding toward the rocket launcher.

"All I have to do is brace myself right," the kid said, hefting the large weapon onto his tiny shoulder and glancing through the scope. "Anyway, Howell showed me the security access codes for the weight room, so I'm stronger then I was before."

Before? Odin thought, almost speaking this question aloud but deciding against it. He honestly didn't want to know. Soon he was outfitted in one soldier's jacket and the other's trousers. The shirt was a bit small and the trousers a bit too big, but Odin was glad it wasn't the other way around. Both soldiers had feet the size of ballerinas so he would have to make do with his not quite standard boots and hope to get away with it. He slipped on the too large helmet that smelled faintly of sweat and coconut shampoo and looked down at the kid. He was holding the rocket launcher loosely and returning his gaze with an unreadable expression.

"Well, this is goodbye," he said, knowing somewhere that it was absolutely true.

"Don't overdo it. Remember, you are old." There was a genuine concern in his voice. Odin smiled. The first true smile he'd had in a long time.

"I'm forty-seven, kid, and don't you forget it. And you're only six, so try not to get yourself killed just yet."

"I won't. I've got much better aim."

Ouch. Well…there was nothing to say to that. Nothing to say at all any more. Odin turned and walked away, smile fading as he switched his focus back on the mission at hand.

---

Odin knelt on the floor, giving his rifle one last check. He was kneeling at the junction of two corridors, one which stretched out behind him, dead ending in a metal wall, and another that ran across his path.

Everything was ready. The violin case had been set up next to the nerve center of the building. The command center was bigger then he'd anticipated, and after a few rough recalculations, he doubted the bomb would be enough to completely destroy it. About the most it could do was wipe out the central operations room and several floors going either way. But that would be quite enough to confuse the hell out of things for a few months until they got their systems back on line. Now the only thing left to do was assassinate General Septem…who should have been through this corridor ten minutes ago.

Odin shifted the rifle to one hand and with the other, pushed the helmet back into place. It slipped down again. With a grunt of frustration he ripped it off and flung it down the hall, then wiped his sweating palm on the front of his uniform. This entire operation had been easy. Very easy. Of course, Dekim Barton, the man who'd hired him for this assassination, was acting on the inside. But Odin wasn't even sure if he trusted the man, especially since Barton had been an old friend of Yuy's.

And too, Odin knew Septem. He'd worked under him long enough when he was a young man to realize the general may be loud and obnoxious, but underneath it, was as sneaky as a rat. How else could he have survived four different assassination attempts without as much as a scratch? There was something about this entire operation that just didn't sit right with him. He couldn't back out now, though. This was his last mission. He didn't want to retire knowing he had failed.

There was a mechanical whirring sound and Odin tensed, adjusting the rifle to a ready position. Diagonally right from him, the elevator doors whooshed open. Septem stepped out, along with a few of his aides, followed by Barton. All of them had their backs turned to them. Odin squinted through the scope at Septem's broad back. "We must connect the emergency circuits at all costs!" he was saying to one of his underlings.

"Yessir," said the other man, whether agreeing with him or agreeing to follow orders, Odin didn't know. This was the perfect shot. He could Septem down without the general even knowing he was there. But- Somehow- He couldn't do it. If he was going to kill the man his mentor had respected so greatly, he was going to do it to his face.

"Septem!" he called. The small company turned to look back at him. At first, the general merely looked surprised, then recognition flooded his face.

"O-Odin Lowe?" he stammered. Barton gave Odin a hard look over the general's shoulder. The assassin hesitated from pulling the trigger. Had Barton changed his mind?

"Y-you bastard!" the general snarled, just as Barton gave him an affirmative nod and slipped away. Odin hesitated a second longer, then squeezed the trigger, just as one of his aides jumped in the way, taking the bullet for his general. Ohh shit! Odin threw the rifle to the side and ran for it.

"Open fire!" Septem bellowed. "Don't let him get away!" Gunfire erupted behind him. There was another elevator at the end of the hall and around the corner. He had set it up as his secondary escape route so as long as he reached it, he would be okay. Just as he reached the end of the corridor, pain exploded in his left calf, making him stumble. Damnit! He dove around the corner and into the waiting doors of the lift. He slammed the switch that would close the doors and pressed the button to go down to the basement level. It was used as an underground storage area, the perfect hiding place.

Only when the elevator started did he allow himself to slump against the wall. His calf throbbed and itched as blood trailed down his skin and plipped softly on the metal floor. Odin closed his eyes and leaned his head back. That had had been stupid. Really stupid. Odin smirked to himself. For the first time in his life he'd followed his own advice and the only thing it got him was a bullet in the leg. But, strangely, that was okay. A part of him was relieved he hadn't been able to bring himself to shoot Septem in the back. Maybe he was human after all.

The lift doors opened and he limped quickly out. Giving the room a quick scan, his eyes settled on some tall crates and he made his way over to them. Once there, he collapsed and began searching his borrowed pockets for something to stop the bleeding with. With as many pockets as these uniforms had, the soldier's had to put something in them. The efforts of his search proved rewarding as he found a handkerchief in the lower side pocket of the shirt.

After bandaging his wound the best he could, he sat back and stared across the storage area without really seeing it. He hoped the kid was all right. Knowing the boy, he'd probably gotten shot or gotten too near a bomb or something to keep him in bed for a week. Heh. Maybe when he got out of here, he should go see what hospital the kid was staying at and say hi. But, no. The last thing the boy needed was Odin to show up again. He seemed to be doing fine without the man's guidance. It was depressing really… For five years, all Odin had ever been telling himself was that he couldn't stand the little brat and couldn't wait to get rid of him. Now that the kid was on his own, Odin wanted to be back in his life…just to see him grow. For some reason, thinking of his little protégé made him remember the bomb that he'd set up. That was about ten floors above him, so he'd be all right for now. He took the ignition key from his trouser pocket turned it upside down to nudge off the little safety switch that kept it from accidentally going off. It really was little too, so that he could only really push it with a fingernail. It also appeared stuck. Ah bloody damnit. Why was everything going against him?

Suddenly, footsteps rang through the air, Odin hid the ignition key behind his back, frantically scratching at the safety with his thumb to deactivate it. The footsteps came closer.

"Are you all right?" said a voice that could only belong to Dekim Barton. Odin breathed an inward sigh of relief and looked up to see that he'd been right. He'd never been so glad to see that bald old head. At the moment, Barton had disappointment written all over his face.

"Don't worry," Odin said, showing the man the ignition key. "This place will blow with one press of this button." As soon as I can get the bloody safety off, he added mentally.

"I see," Barton said. Suddenly Odin found himself staring at the barrel of a gun.

"You want me silenced?" he asked, feeling more then a little insulted. "There's no need for that." And he shouldn't have even had to tell the man. Odin had been too careful to build his reputation to someone who could be trusted. Everyone knew that. Okay, well, Septem probably had doubts at the moment, but he was-

"This is revenge," Barton said, darkly. The shot was strangely quiet, but the bullet seemed to burn into his chest far longer then it should have. The next thing Odin knew, he was lying on the ground, hand clenched to stop the blood that flowed freely between his fingers. Ah…damn.

"Y…you've planned this si…since you hired me…" Odin said, not really asking or expecting an answer. Barton only walked away, shoes echoing on the floor. Odin rested his head on his outstretched arm. Blood pooled on the floor beneath him and pain shuddered through him with every breath. The idiot hadn't quite hit his heart. But either way, Odin had just been assassinated. Heh. How ironic.

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours and the cold metal floor didn't change much. God, dying was boring. It was justification, he supposed. He'd never really minded the thought of death as long as it could be done quickly. It was getting cold, too. That irritated him somewhat. His body just had to be dramatic about it. Again, there came the sound of footsteps. Light footsteps, running toward him.

"Odin!" that simple word, in that voice and that tone warmed him more then he could ever remember feeling. The kid knelt beside him and Odin pushed himself up so he could look the boy in the face.

"All right, I am old…" he said with a faint smile. "I admit it… I'm really fifty-two… Are you happy?" This pose wasn't helping the leakage situation and pain spasmed through him again. The boy gently helped him on his back so he could stare at the cold metal ceiling for a change.

"You wait here. I'll secure an escape route," the kid said, getting to his feet. He should just let the kid go… But suddenly he didn't want to die alone.

"Don't worry about it, kid. It's too late."

The boy came to stand over him again. He didn't seem sad at all, just accepting. It was that same expression that had so infuriated Odin when the kid had almost shot him last year. Now, though, he understood it. Now it was okay. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision and the cold was more like a weight now. Still, it was gradual, slow, dramatic… Well, since it didn't appear he was going to die any other way, might as well go with it.

"Don't forget…what I told you before we last left. Best advice I could ever give you…" Odin wasn't sure if he closed his eyes or not. It seemed not since he could still see the boy staring serenely down at him, but little flashes of the past blurred through his vision. The first time he'd taught the boy to use a gun. Pushing the boy on a swing. Watching him from a distance as he pushed himself on a merry-go-round at that orphanage on L-4. God, he loved that kid.

"You…k...know. The y…years we spent t…together…." Odin trailed off, trying to collect his thoughts. It was hard, like he was reaching for them at a distance. Speaking wasn't easy but he forced himself to continue. "Weren't s…so bad..." Then his eyes slipped closed. He was positive of it this time…but still the image of the boy's face remained. A single burning light before darkness utterly consumed him.