Disclaimer: Gundam 00 characters and related indicia © Bandai Entertainment, Sunrise.

Written back in November 17, 2008, this is a one-shot in response to a prompt at the Mechaphiles Forum, "Like a child, like an adult."

... And also because we need Marina to stand up and do something. We also need something to showcase her strengths (because at the rate the season is going, she's going to be the worst and the weakest heroine in the whole Gundam franchise – and I don't want that to happen!!)

One Less Lonely Child

a Gundam 00 fanfic by Cielo

An elderly man watched a group of children run along the park in a game of tag. He sat on a bench with a paper bag by his side, holding two loaves of bread and provisions for two days. He leaned forward, wrinkled hands on a cane, his brown eyes smiling at the laughing group of youngins.

One child caught his attention. He was standing on one side watching the group run to and fro. His lips were in a pout, face downcast. Something stirred in the old man's mind -- he closed his eyes and he was met by a vision he would never forget...

It was a good forty years ago, but his mind's eye could still paint a mural of elephants grazing on green fields against a sun kissed blue sky. He looked down to his hands -- still smooth and small -- as he absentmindedly piled oddly shaped blocks on top of the other.

Three other children were playing to his left with the rest of the blocks and some puzzles. They were laughing and joking around. Sometimes they would go out and run around the underground Katharon base they called "home", and left him alone to his thoughts.

Looking back, he couldn't blame them -- he was the latest addition to the growing number of orphans to the base. They didn't speak the same dialect, and the grownups had their hands full to give them their full attention.

He was surprised one day, however, as the children brought back as what he thought was an angel -- her silky black hair falling down to her waist, her eyes blue as the night sky and her white dress immaculate. From what he understood from his fellow orphans was that she was a queen -- Marina Ismail, her name was.

The tension in the small room grew thick for him. He felt all the more like an outcast. No parents, no friends, no fellowman. The fact that she was royalty weighed heavily on his young mind -- he was not worthy and he was nobody. This woman had nothing to do with him -- she was not his queen, and he was definitely not her subject.

The blocks lay by his knees. He no longer knew what he wanted to create -- until his field of vision glowed -- ethereal it was in his mind's eye. He looked up and saw this Marina crouch down in front of him, speaking in a neutral dialect.

"Why are you alone?"

Then a transformation -- he did not know if she had some divine power in her, but all the weight and stress lifted from his spirit as he saw the smile on her lips. He no longer saw a queen or a woman -- he saw a mother, a sister, a friend...

"Come play with us!"

He looked at her gentle hand and onto her face -- her eyes carried not just warmth, but a distinct sparkle, and so full of joy.

At that one moment, he saw Marina Ismail, a child.

He reached for her hand and felt a sudden rush -- for the home that was destroyed, and for the friends and family that he lost. Whatever magic or spell this Marina cast, he found someone whom he knew would understand, who would feel his pain.

He fell in her arms in an embrace -- and there he understood: this woman was no queen. She was a child, an orphan of war, just like he was.

Opening his weary eyes, the old man refocused on the blurry images in front of him. He picked up his paper bag and got up, making his way back home. His eyes traveled to the cloud of youthful energy still rushing to and fro in the never ending game of tag. He noticed that the lonely boy had managed to join them.

His eyes then wandered to a white marble sculpture. Surrounding its base were well-maintained flower-patches of red and yellow blossoms. These were enclosed by a low, white, ornate metal fence, adorned with a simple brass plaque:

"This Children's Park is dedicated to the memory of Marina Ismail (2XXX - 2XXX), Mother of Azadistan."

The sculpture was lifelike and was set, not on a 6-foot pedestal like other persons-worth-of-mention would, but on the ground. Marina was not standing, but kneeling on the field of flowers, surrounded by statues of four children, to whom she was reading a story to. The marble had immortalized her eyes' slight squint whenever she had that child-like smile. The old man shook his head, "That is so like you," he glanced back at the group of tireless children, "and I'll bet that's you working your magic again."

-- END --

I actually wanted the old man to be Setsuna, but I feel that the Meister -- and I feel that many would agree -- sees Marina more as a mother figure. I wanted a character to see her as a child, and the pint-sized canon fodder fit the bill just right.

I also imagined it was Setsuna who commissioned the sculpture; and in the initial draft, I wanted our lil' canon fodder to see this, "older man of Kurdish descent, with deep brown eyes." ^_^