NOTE: The following chapter does not feature any Gundam Wing characters. If you wish to skip it feel free to do so. It won't affect your reading of the rest of the main story in any way. :)
Bonus Chapter
The Tale of Emil and Amelia
'Come back here, ye lil' rascal!' old man Frederich's shouts followed the ten year old boy as he ran. 'I know where ye live! I know yer parents!'
The shouts died down as he crawled into the underbrush, away from the village and towards the beach. His heart beat wildly in his chest, but a wide triumphant grin had taken over his face unhindered. When he broke through the trees, gasping for air, a flock of seagulls took flight yelling angrily at him for the unnecessary scare, but Emil did not care. He paused to catch his breath, leaning over his knees. It was not long before he took off again.
Amelia sat on the edge of one of the fishermen's boats, probably her father's, her needle working blindly on a torn fishnet as the sun set behind her. She raised her eyes when she heard him shouting and squinted, smiling brightly as soon as she recognised him. 'Emil!' she waved as if he had not seen her.
'I did it, Ame! I did it!' he shouted euphorically, his own hand raised and a small pouch dangling from his little fingers. 'Here, here! Open it!' the boy trust the pouch at her as soon as he reached her, his high speed sending sand flying into the hem of her dress as he dug his bare heels into the sand to bring his body into a halt.
Putting the needle away, the twelve year old girl took the brown leather pouch from the younger child's fingers. He was smiling smugly up at her. It was an endearing sight. 'Ye really think old man Frederich keeps his missin' teeth in 'ere?' she questioned amused that he would go to such lengths all because of a silly scary tale she had made up to entertain the younglings.
'Open it.' He urged her, shifting restlessly with anxiety.
She pulled the thin fibre-made cord free and slowly parted the edges of the sack. 'Emil!' she protested when his head immediately blocked her view of the contents, but her anger dispersed as soon as she saw his shoulders sag in disappointment. 'What is it? Oh…'
Inside the pouch laid a humble collection of buttons. She pulled out the biggest, an old chipped black one, then the one she thought was prettiest, a small light coral pink button. They certainly belonged to old man Frederich's wife. Noting how quiet and downcast her friend looked, Amelia fastened the cord back in place. 'I'll tell mother I found it on the beach.' She reassured him. 'She'll take it back to—'
'Nay!' he said, meeting her eyes with a pout. 'It should've been teeth! I stole it for ye!'
Blinking in surprise, she glanced down at the pouch in her hands then back up at him. 'And I like it!'
'Then keep it!' Emil pushed her hands and his tiny loot against her chest before taking off and disappearing into the trees followed by the echo of his name as it escaped Amelia's lips.
8 YEARS LATER
His father sat at the table munching loudly on a piece of bread, his eyes were wide and unseeing and eighteen year old Emil knew – by the way his mother had made herself scarce – that the man was in a foul mood. The young man tried to make his way past him unseen, but ended up tripping on one of the liquor filled chests, making the empty bottles inside clink loudly against one another.
'What're ye doin'? Trying to sneak behind me back, eh?'
Suddenly pinned by his father's possessed red-rimmmed gaze, Emil faltered. 'I…'
'I hear ye've been runnin' 'bout with that wench again. What's her name? Johnathan's daughter. Aye. I hear all ye do is trail after 'er like a dog! A pup! What ye say to that, mongrel? What kind of man are ye? Always lickin' that whore's feet! Ever since ye were a tot!'
He could do no more than stand there pale and frozen and do his best not to succumb to the pain and the anger those words evoked. So his… What was it? Love? Devotion? Emil had never truly needed to give a name to the feelings he harboured for Amelia. It seemed though that, whatever they were, they made him less of a man. At least according to his father and – if he were honest with himself – most of the other males in the island. That was why he did not have friends, no one except Amelia, but then that had never bothered him before…
'Eh?' his father insisted. 'What kind of man are ye? Puttin' some woman's needs above yer own?'
'I…'
'A weaklin' good-for-nothing's what ye are! Old man Frederich's son's a deckhand in Port Royal, Rupert's son's a trader in Kingston. Ye know that? What should I tell me mateys when they come askin' 'bout ye? Eh? That ye spend yer days fishin', runnin' after some skirt and helpin' yer mother cook?'
'Albert, please, stop.' His mother stepped out of her bedroom, trying to make herself as small as possible. Emil loved her. He knew what a wonderful person she was when his father was not around to assail and intimidate her. Did his old man even know her? Had he ever – even for a fleeting moment – cared to? 'He's our son…'
'Shut yer trap, woman! Shut it 'fore I do it meself! And since ye've finally decided to show that ugly mug of yers… Fetch me another tankard!'
Emil exchanged a look with his mother. He meant to defend her, he wanted to, but her eyes pleaded with him not to say a word, not to make things worse. She cared about his father, for whatever reason, and wanted the man to love and be proud of their son. He let his fisted hand fall back to his side and took the opportunity to slip defeatedly into his bedroom.
1 MONTH LATER
Amelia straightened her bun and her shawl, giving the pouch in her hands a worried look. Emil had started avoiding her and when they eventually – and inevitably – met he was guarded and distant with her. She did not know what had brought on such a dramatic change, but… It made her realise just how much she missed him. In fact, she feared there was little left of her life now except for a big Emil-shaped hole.
She wondered if it was her fault… Perhaps she had unintentionally done or said something that had upset him. Sometimes she angered him because he felt she still treated him like a child, but he had always made sure to inform her quite loudly and clearly whenever that happened. He had always been open with her, and Amelia wanted to be open with him. She wanted to tell him it had been a long time since she had seen him as a child… She wanted to tell him why she had refused to get married… Who she was waiting for.
Amelia heard the commotion long before she reached it. The few young men, who had yet not left the island to pursue their dreams of wealth and fame elsewhere, were fighting again. It was a common occurrence since they all seemed to wear their angry frustrated hearts on their sleeves. Sometimes one or another tried to woo her, tried to turn her body into an escape for their explosive feelings, but she refused them, she ran away seeking her father's protection and waited for the day Emil would finally porpose to her.
It never came, and now he was starting to distance himself from her…
Amelia decided to take matters into her own hands. It was certainly not traditional, but then again nothing about their relationship had ever been. They were different from the other men and women who inhabited the island. She was flamboyant and independent, he was thoughtful and kind. None of them had ever wished to leave. They were unique, and she liked it that way.
She had never thought things might change…
Emil threw a punch that missed his adversary's jaw entirely. The man spat, called him names, taunted him and Amelia saw the same frustration, the same painful anger, that so marked the other youths' eyes, blaze in his. All the naivety, the thoughtfulness and kindness gone. She shuddered.
'Stop!' her voice was out before she knew it, her knuckles white as she clutched the brown leather pouch to her chest. Distracted by her sudden appearance, Emil got hit on his left cheek and ended up stumbling precariously until he fell on his knees.
The small circle of goading young men laughed. 'What's wrong, Emil? Lost yer nerve?' his adversary sneered.
'He ain't gonna fight no more, Silas. 'E gots to do what his mistress says.' Another man mocked.
Shaking with the intensity of his rage, Emil made it back on his feet, spitting blood, and charged at Silas. The man sidestepped him easily and immediately joined their spectators in a roar of laughter. When his unstable adversary tried a second time though, he ceased being amused and, instead of dodging, he parried and countered with a well-aimed kick.
'Emil, stop!' Amelia pleaded, watching as he fell on the sand yet again.
He pushed himself to his feet one more time, gasping for breath, and his eyes suddenly burned into hers. 'Piss off, Amelia!'
For a moment, time seemed to freeze around her. The pouch fell from her hands and she watched as a drop of blood made its way down his chin, leaving a glinting red trail in its wake. He had never – ever – said anything remotely rude to her or even in front of her before and then… Just like that, without her knowing, everything had changed… 'Why?' she asked, but the wind could not carry her fathomless whisper far enough for him to hear.
A FEW WEEKS LATER
'Did ye hear?' her mother asked her one morning as they sat by the pond near the village washing linens. 'Emil's leaving the isle. For good.'
'For good?' Amelia clutched the soaked sheet tighter to try and stop her hands from shaking.
Her mother rambled on pretending to be oblivious. 'Aye, aye… Heard he's going to become a sailor or a whale hunter or some such. Ain't that great, Ame? He'll be able to help his mother and father! Give them a better life!'
'Hn.' She said quietly. The old Emil might have meant to help his mother, but the new Emil… Amelia knew it was not his fault. It was that damned island! She was sure there must be a curse hanging over their heads. A curse that made all the young men restless until they took to the seas and never came back. 'When's he leave?'
'Oh… Didnae I tell ye?' her mother paused, feigning surprise as she resumed washing a tablecloth, seemingly absent-minded, but the young woman could see behind her façade and she saw guilt. The ship should be leavin' right 'bout now… Amelia! Amelia, come back 'ere!'
She did not wait for her mother to finish, she was already dashing through the underbrush and towards the beach. The huge white sails of the ship could be seen over the large leaves of the palm and coconut trees and Amelia picked up pace. As it turned out, her mother had not managed to prevent their parting by safeguarding the news until the very last minute, for she reached the assembly with enough time to spare. The sailors were still all ashore, drinking and bartering loudly with the locals. Emil stood a little to the side of the main group, looking torn as if he wanted to blend in and yet did not quite know how.
'Emil!' she shouted and waved, approaching with long fast strides. He frowned when he spotted her and looked away as if the sight of her pained him. Amelia tried not to let the contrast between the grumpy man he was now and the jolly boy he had been get to her.
'What?' he snapped when she finally reached him.
'Ye could've told me ye're leavin'…' she reprimanded him, pouting good-humouredly as if his decision to keep her in the dark had not wounded her.
'Why would I?'
'I would've knitted ye something… A parting gift.'
'I wouldnae have wanted it.'
'Why not?' she demanded, irritated by what she perceived as his childish need to deny everything she said.
'Cause…'
'Cause what?'
'Just 'cause.' He was scowling stubbornly at her, his arms crossed.
'Emil!' Amelia started to protest, but then changed her mind. 'When are ye comin' back?'
'Am not.'
'Why not?'
'Stop askin' that!' In his annoyance, Emil finally turned to her fully.
They glared at each other, both angry and frustrated and all those things their cursed island made its vulnerable youths. 'Why did ye change?' the young woman asked finally. 'We were so happy!' He faltered, gaping, and the frown seemed to melt from his face. Amelia seized the opportunity. 'I loved ye, Emil. I still do 'cause I know deep down ye haven't changed. No one can change that much that fast.'
'Amelia…' he began, but then his eyes fell on his parents standing by the path that led to the village, looking for him. His father had been so proud and jolly with the news of his departure, he had patted him on the back and offered him hooch… As if they were mates. His mother had cried tears of joy.
Amelia made him weak, she made him run about trying to make her smile, she made her happiness the sole reason for his existence and no real man lived for anyone's sake but his own. Or so Emil's father kept telling him…
'Yes?' she urged him on, her anxiety obvious.
He took it in, the image of her standing there wringing her hands, her eyes sparkling hopefully at him, the rebellious strands of hair that had escaped from her neat bun floating in unison with the breeze. She was the prettiest woman he had ever seen and Emil knew, at that moment, that he would love her forever. But it was time for him to be a real man now. His jaw clenched shut.
'Farewell, Amelia.'
XXX
Days went by and Amelia kept herself busy fixing fishnets and adjusting garments in exchange for a few coins, helping her mother wash clothes, cooking for her beloved father…
She inevitably went to the beach, sometimes in passing others for a stroll, but she tried not to gaze at the horizon too frequently or too longingly. It would take a while for Emil to even make it to his destination… She should not expect him back so soon.
XXX
Weeks went by and Amelia exceled at pretending she did not miss him and no longer thought about him. Even her father believed her farce and introduced her to yet another suitor, but she sent the man on his way for no apparent reason, much like all the ones before him.
Her mother cried for her then. She cried because her child was getting old and barren and still she refused to wed. Amelia no longer gazed at the horizon for there was no point, at least for now, but she assured them Emil would be back for her.
XXX
Months went by and Amelia started visiting the beach with the sole purpose of watching the horizon. She did not search for any ships because she knew maritime voyages could last for years. Emil would be back, just not so soon.
Her father told her he was no longer trying, that she had embarrassed and humiliated him enough by turning down so many decent proposals. He was thoroughly and deeply disappointed in her. He died before she could change that.
XXX
Years went by and Amelia lost her mother. She had spent her final years mourning the grandchildren she had been denied and resenting her daughter for it.
The day her mother passed, Amelia went to the beach and searched the horizon for ships. She did it again and again, every day since, but none of the few vessels that eventually decked on their remote little island brought Emil back to save her from herself.
XXX
Decades went by and Amelia had woven a routine out of gazing at the horizon every afternoon in search of ships. At some point, her disappointment at the arrival of boats that were never Emil's turned into frustration then anger then hatred. She started cursing them when they left and then when they even as much as breeched the horizon, whether they were headed towards her isle or not. She loathed them all, and the false hopes they instilled in her every time their silhouettes disturbed the planitude of the ocean ahead.
Amelia prayed for storms to swallow them.
XXX
Decades went by and Emil learned of his father's death. He wondered if the man had died proud of him after all and was bitterly amused to realise he had no idea. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himseld to think of the little isle… His home. To think of Amelia and her unforgetabble smile.
That night, Emil abandoned his crew and hopped onto the first ship that would take him back home to her arms. The future had never looked brighter than it did during that voyage. His last, he silently promised his beautiful, sweet, kind Amelia…
Then the lookout cried out to him one morning. His destination was a dot in the horizon, ever so close… Emil had a grin on his lips when his ship got caught in a storm.
