So I've been pretty uninspired lately. Sorry that's resulted in not doing anything with the story. Thanks for sticking with the story though.

We Were Promised Jetpacks

Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

Trowa couldn't sleep.

It was that simple.

He lay in bed wide awake staring up at the ceiling. The same ceiling he had been staring at for the last three hours. And he still wouldn't be able to say a thing about it.

Because, though his eyes were upward, his mind's eye was elsewhere. He lay there replaying scene after scene, exchange after exchange, memory after memory.

His expression never changed. His body never moved. He just sat there staring up the ceiling, slowly torturing himself with memories past and recent that he could neither change nor fully decipher.

The events of the previous day were a particular focus point.

He ran through every detail of the entire encounter—from the moment she opened the door to the moment she closed it hours later. And then he compared. Every expression, every gesture, every anything—he compared to every memory he had of Nicole.

And he did again, and again, and again.

But what stuck out most of—what really kept him up until four in the morning—was her words.

"You're one of those quiet people, aren't you?"

Trowa blinked.

"It's refreshing, you know?"

It was late. Late enough that Peacemillion's main hanger was completely deserted, which put the time somewhere between four and five in the morning, though he had always felt that distinctions such as morning and night seemed suddenly meaningless in space. Among other thing.

He stood leaning against the railing high above the floor of the hanger. The walkway was eye level with Heavyarms and the other gundams. He slowly relaxed his body.

He found himself coming there time and time again when the hanger was empty. He was drawn to it. Somehow, this place was where he found…peace? That wasn't right. There was no peace for him—not yet, at least.

He closed his eyes.

No, he found…comfort. The height reminded him of the circus—of walking tight ropes, of taming animals, of Catherine…

"Hey!"

Trowa's eyes popped open, and he pushed off from the railing. A small redhead was approaching him from the far end of the walkway. Even at such a distance he could tell that her skin and clothes were covered in black smudges and that the way in which she walked suggested that she may as well be dead on her feet. However, she approached him with a wide smile, even though Trowa was sure they had never met.

Of course, he knew who she was—the mechanic girl who worked on their gundams. She was also close to Duo, whether that was a good thing or not he wasn't sure.

"It's nice to see I'm not the only one crazy enough to be up at this hour."

Trowa didn't reply, a fact that didn't seem to bother her, as she kept on talking.

"I don't think we've officially met. I'm Nicole Hawkins," she told him brightly, sticking out her hand.

Trowa looked down and crossed his arms.

"Oh, right, forgot," she mumbled, turning red, "my hands are covered in god-knows-what." She subtly tried to wipe them on her pants.

"Call me Trowa—Trowa Barton," he said simply.

"Barton, eh?" She gave him a knowing little smile before shrugging. "Cool name."

And with that she plopped down on the edge of the platform and let her legs dangle off.

Trowa finally let himself return to his position on the opposite railing. The girl clearly wasn't going anywhere, and he was nowhere near ready to head to bed. Though, give her a few minutes of his silence and she would disappear, and he would get his…comfort back.

"Amazing view, isn't it?" she said suddenly, voice hushed in wonder. "Right in front of us are the very pinnacles of technology of our era. These machines are the most sophisticated proof of mankind's ability to build and create."

She broke off for a moment.

"And—ironically—to destroy."

She seemed to physically sag under the weight of such a paradox, or maybe her lack of sleep was simply catching up with her.

"But it's easy to fool yourself into seeing only their beauty when they sit there like that. All still and quiet. It's easy to forget that they're killing machines designed for only one purpose—to destroy."

"No."

Nicole turned round to look at him. Her expression showed her surprise. She raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"They can bring peace. That's their purpose now—to bring about peace for the colonies. And Earth. That is the purpose of the gundams. And the gundam pilots," he stated simply.

Nicole stared at him, as if she had never really seen anything like him before.

"Bringers of peace, huh?" she asked, turning back to the gundams. "That's a pretty lofty goal, especially for those five. But that fits the paradox, doesn't it? Made for destruction—bringing about peace."

She let out a wistful sigh. "That's a dream I'd be willing to believe in."

Nicole then leaned back and began rummaging through some pockets in her pants. She pulled out two bright shiny apples. Trowa had barely caught sight of them before one was flying at his face. He plucked it out of the air easily.

"Now what about you pilots, hmm?" she asked with a cheeky tone.

She took a large bite out of her apple. Trowa waited patiently for her to finish chewing, the slightest bit curious about where she was taking the conversation—if one could even call it that.

"Ever heard that absolute power corrupts absolutely?" Her tone was light, but Trowa sensed there was a deep seriousness to her words. "Gundams are as close to absolute power you can get nowadays. What's to keep you five in line then? So gundams can bring peace, but what about you? Can you bring peace?"

A long while passed in a silence disturbed only by the sounds of Nicole biting into her apple.

Trowa carefully turned over her words. Could they be trusted to bring peace?

This wasn't their fight necessarily. All five of them could just as easily walk away and let mankind blow each other up.

But they didn't.

Though they were tired of fighting—tired of the endless battles, the endless enemies, the endless politics, the endless waltz that was this war—they didn't.

They were reluctant soldiers. Simple as that. They didn't want nor did they ask for this war, nor this responsibility, but that didn't change the fact that they alone had the means and the abilities. These were their gundams—their responsibility—and no one else's—for better or worse. Each of them had to accept that and move forward. And then—maybe they could make a difference.

"Yes," he said finally.

Nicole turned to look at him with a hard stare. Trowa met her gaze.

"You're the quiet type, aren't you, Trowa?"

Trowa blinked—the only outward sign of his surprise.

Nicole gave him a grin before turning away again. "Don't take that the wrong way—it's a good thing. Quiet people are underrated nowadays, but I've always wanted to be a quiet person. I tend to talk and preach a lot—and ramble. I do a lot of rambling. So, I've always had a lot of respect for people like you—those that can say just what they mean in a handful of words. No bullshit, no lies, just pure, straightforward bluntness. It's refreshing, you know?"

Trowa raised an eyebrow at the girl's back. She was certainly…something. Unusual? Odd? Honest?

Maybe he was beginning to see why Duo was so drawn to her.

Before he even realized it, he found himself taking a bite out of the apple in his hands.

Trowa turned to look at the clock. It blinked back at him the time five in the morning. He stared at it a moment longer before making up his mind.

And then he pulled back the covers and slipped out of bed. He walked out of his room and into the hallway without making a sound.

It was a rare moment in this time of peace that the skills he picked up in his soldiering days were appropriate.

Besides, he knew Duo wouldn't miss his video games—at least not until he woke up.

Trowa had been waiting for him by the door.

To say Duo had been disappointed was an understatement. He had hoped—like prayed—that Trowa had forgotten, or had oversleep, or had mysteriously died in his sleep. But, no—that would be just too much to ask from the universe, wouldn't it?

In record time, Duo, and Trowa, of course, arrived in front of Locke's shop. Duo reached forward to open the door, but before he had even grasped the handle, the door swung open.

"Excuse me, I'm so sorry—oh, it's just you."

Duo put on an upset face. "So this is the kind of welcome I get? You're killing me, babe."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever Mr. Dramatic," Alice said dismissively, shuffling past him with familiarly large cardboard boxes. She paused though upon spotting Trowa.

"Oh—Trowa," Alice exclaimed, "didn't expect to see you so soon."

Trowa didn't really respond outwardly, unless a barely detectable shrug and nod counted.

"Actually—I don't mean to be a pain or anything—but are you—er—busy? Like now-ish?"

Trowa blinked. "I'm not. I was just dropping Duo off."

Duo sputtered in the background. "Dropping off? What are you? My babysitter?"

His comments were ignored by both parties.

"Well, if you're free, you wouldn't mind helping me out again today, would you? I don't mean to take advantage of your kindness or anything, but I could really use the help. It'd be the same deal as yesterday."

Trowa nodded and reached forward to take one of the boxes. "Sure."

Duo rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to stomp his foot, but obligingly approached Alice and reached for the other box.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" came the sharp rebuttal.

"Helping?"

"Nu-uh, mister." Alice shook her head with an ever-growing smirk. "You missed work yesterday, and Locke has a nicely sized pile of work waiting for you. Have fun!"

She gave him a cheeky little wave and took off down the alleyway with Trowa in step.

Someone, somewhere, hated him.

The door had just barely closed behind Duo when a voice rang out, scaring the crap out of him.

"We need to talk."

"Jesus, Locke! Could you be any creepier?"

"Sit down."

The expression on Locke's face made it clear that he wasn't in the mood for jokes, a fact Duo was catching on to. His solemnity meant whatever he wanted to 'talk' about was pretty heavy and more likely than not meant trouble for Duo.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming gramps—keep your pants on." Duo threw himself onto the chair opposite the man. He almost propped his feet up on the rickety metal kitchen table, but thinking back to the night before he winced. He considered it in his best interest to keep his feet glued to the floor.

"So what's got you so glum, old man?" Duo said, not hesitating to stretch back and fold his arms behind his head.

"I want to know about that other boy you brought here," he deadpanned.

"You mean Trowa?" Duo let out a chuckle. "Gramps, Trowa is the last person you need to worry about. He wouldn't hurt a fly—at least not now anyway." Duo paused and seemed to reconsider his words. "Okay maybe if provoked—but you definitely don't have to worry about him hanging around Alice. She's probably a million times safer that way actually. So don't be worrying you're pretty wrinkled head about it."

Locke didn't look the slightest bit amused or satisfied with Duo's little monologue.

"Okay, fine, I'll bite." Duo leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. "What do you really want to know, and what makes you so nervous about Trowa?"

"How do you known him?"

"Curious bastard, aren't you?" he told him with a bitter edge to his voice. Duo let out a great big sigh. "He's another gundam pilot—the pilot of 03—otherwise known as Heavyarms—the one that runs out of bullets."

Locke narrowed his beady eyes. "Another gundam pilot? Whoever that girl used to be was mixed up in some serious mess."

Duo gritted his teeth to keep himself from commenting.

"But I don't trust that Trowa fellow. Gundam pilot or not, I really don't give a damn, but that kid worked for OZ at one point, and I never had and will never trust any of those bastards—reformed or not."

Duo blinked. Trowa working for OZ? What the hell was grandpa talking about? Trowa never worked for—

Duo let out a bark of a laugh. "You got it all wrong, gramps—very, very wrong." Duo took a moment to recover.

"Trowa never worked for OZ—not really at least. When OZ came to the colonies and offered peace, and the colonies stupidly accepted, we gundam pilots were left without any support or any way to overtly fight OZ up here in the colonies. So, T-man, there, did what he did best and went undercover in OZ and became one of their top pilots and sabotaged them from inside. I'm kind of reluctant to admit it, you see, but when I was stupid and got myself captured by OZ without Trowa's help—I would have been a goner." Duo let out a sigh. "So there you go gramps—no need to worry! Trowa passes all of your little background checks with flying colors—trust me."

Duo suddenly got very serious. He leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"But I can't help but wonder, Curtis, is how you came about such information. It wasn't like it was public knowledge Trowa went undercover in OZ back in the day. And, on the subject of sketchiness, how about that underground pseudo-military base you got hidden under our feet, huh? What's a so-called civilian like yourself doing with technology like that?"

Locke avoided his gaze and was steadily burning a hole through the table. The lines on his face seemed more distinct, and for the first time since he had met him, Duo felt that Locke finally looked his age.

"You gonna share your sob story, or not, old man?"

Locke jerked his gaze up and sent him a look strong enough to knock a lesser man out of his chair.

"OZ killed my wife and took my arm and leg. I built this place to retaliate against them. White Fang appeared, and I offered them all the financial and military support I could. And then White Fang goes and starts an even bigger war. I was angry I couldn't fight. My son decided to fight for me and got himself killed. I lost everything because of OZ and my stupid, revenge driven mistakes, so don't fuck with me kid. I have my reasons."

Duo gave a grim smirk. "Yeah? Well so do I. And so does Trowa. So the same applies to you."

Locke slammed his fist onto the table. Duo jumped. "Jesus, gramps, think of your blood pressure."

"Look kid, I've been allowing you to live out whatever little plan you have, but I need to make something real clear to you before you get too deep."

Duo raised an eyebrow, not really following.

"Alice has no desire to remember anything about her past." Locke took a deep breath. "She has an almost ridiculous hatred for war and mobile suits and everything that has anything to do with those two. And I have no intention of telling her about her accident or my guesses at her past as long as that remains true."

Duo was speechless.

"You might want to consider that you're fighting a losing battle, kid, and throw in the towel before you get hurt. As far as I'm concerned, this is for the best. However she was involved with you people will not sit well with the Alice of today. It might even tear her apart. So maybe you should consider that it might just be better for you to disappear back to wherever you came from and let her live out this peace in peace."

Duo gritted his teeth and clenched his hands to the point he was sure he had broken skin.

"Look—I understand you mean well, Gramps," Duo said through clenched teeth, "but you didn't know the Nicole I knew. Her life, what she did, and the person who she was—it's not something to be ashamed of."

Locke crossed his arms.

"Then tell me."

Duo let out a big, showy sigh.

"Look, she wasn't a soldier—her hands were as sparkly clean as you can get. She was a mechanic who believed in peace and who dreamed of setting foot on Earth. And the Nicole I knew died to keep that dream alive—to save the Earth she wanted to see so bad."

Duo looked down to hide the look in his eyes. "Fucking ironic, wasn't it?"

The sound of chair scraping against floor caught Duo's attention. He looked up to see Locke's retreating back.

"You got work to do, kid. Don't think you can just miss a day and keep skipping along."

Duo supposed that was Curtis' way of telling him that he could stick around for a little longer.