Update: Tweaked/rewritten October 2020.

Coffee, Kebabs, and a Tiger

"Let's see. Codename Lunar Eclipse; part of the Le Creuset team; elite training; skills various—"

"Well, isn't that specific," the commander chided in, stopping his second-in-command mid-briefing. He wasn't the typical "head dog," but not one to take lightly either. Sporting a burnt yellow shirt—with black shoulders and rolled up cuffs—the only thing indicating his rank were the three stripes near his breast pocket. Given the environment, the opened shirt collar was expected—as was the brown and scraggly, (yet short) haircut—but usually ZAFT officers liked to keep up appearances. The sideburns seemed to be a nice touch and if anything, it showed his scruffy character. There was a reason he was named the "Desert Tiger" and even more reasons he was feared.

Blame it on the coffee.

The younger man just sighed, letting the clipboard slip down slightly in exhaustion. His superior always seemed to have a wise crack, but for once he wished he could go through a meeting without some sort of interruption. "Age 15; cooperation commendable; shooting percentage—"

"Remarkable; speed above average; personality charming—yes, yes, we go through this every time, DaCosta."

"Andy, please," the only other person in the room said, sitting down on the commander's armrest and crossing her legs. Attractive, she wore a strapless, blue jumpsuit with white ruffles and blue sleeves starting around the biceps of each arm. It may have looked awkward on many, but for this particular soldier it looked almost comfortable. The grace she showed in that small movement proved she would act better—and quicker—in such an outfit. Her long blue hair accented the attire, but the two, orange strands in her bangs stood out enough to offset the constant color. However, not even fair skin, a stern look, and a melodious voice was enough to calm down this commander.

"There has to be something different about her. For goodness sakes, they're making a mobile suit especially for her use." He dropped the papers back on his desk, leaned back, and grabbed his cup of coffee, taking an abrupt sip.

"True, but we don't have to worry about the suit yet; it's still in production," DaCosta said, bringing the clipboard down to his side. He debated fixing the wrinkle in his green uniform, but decided against it. Instead he put a gloved hand through his crew cut red hair. Not as professional looking, but it was better than having to stop mid-motion with the wrinkle. The commander would probably make fun of him for it later, but oh well. Unfortunately, he was used to it.

"Yes, but how many soldiers get a mobile suit built for them?"

"Jealous?" the lady teased, but was rewarded with a small glare.

Waltfeld shoved her off the chair playfully and took another sip of his coffee. "Don't be ridiculous, Aisha. The LaGOWE is all I need."

"Well, that's good to know." She smiled and took to leaning against the wall near the door.

DaCosta leafed through his reports again, stopping on the unit the commander was so concerned about. "MW-979ca STEALTH."

"STEALTH?" Aisha echoed, and the greencoat nodded.

"CA?" Waltfeld asked and he nodded again. "What do you suppose that stands for? Coffee addict?"

"Only you would think of that one, dear," the female pilot sighed. It was amazing how one person could be both amusing and exhausting at the same time.

"Sir, I don't think—" DaCosta began, but, as usual, was cut off.

"How about customized airbags?" the commander suggested.

"Sir—"

"What would be the point of airbags in a mobile suit; they'd go off every second. Quite annoying if you ask me," Aisha chimed in. The greencoat wished she would stop supporting the Desert Tiger's unprofessional kicks. If anything, she could make him be a bit more serious at times like these.

"I dunno," Waltfeld said. "Might be useful."

"Wouldn't do much good when you get sliced by a beam saber."

"Sir, it means—" DaCosta tried again, but judging by the looks on their faces, now he seemed to be in the middle of some lovers' spat. How the hell did that happen?

"Must you always be dramatic?" the commander asked, swiveling his chair to look at her directly. It was a small movement, but enough to grab the attention of everyone in the room. This must have been the tail end of some argument that either started the night before or earlier that day.

Whatever had happened, now wasn't the time.

Aisha looked like she was going to respond, but DaCosta had finally built up enough frustration. Well, at least he had the balls to shout. "Sir!" The two paused and turned back to the second-in-command, blinking as if they just remembered he was there. "It means Communication Alteration."

"Ah, isn't that a mouth full," Andy muttered and took another swig. Damn the stuff was good. "Well, coffee addict sounds better."

"Oh, and it strikes such fear into the hearts of our enemies too," Aisha retorted, looking to start up the playful act again, however, the commander didn't seem interested; in fact, his thoughts were elsewhere.

"Hey, I'd be scared of someone who liked coffee more than I do."

The other two could only groan. There was no good comment to give and, frankly, he was right.

That kind of person would be the most frightening being alive.

Because they departed later in the day, Eclipse the others didn't arrive in Banadiya until about three o'clock in the morning. The redhead didn't mind the early hours, but apparently her new teammates liked to sleep. Their rude awakening wasn't a pretty sight—and thank goodness Eclipse didn't have to do more than round up her things—but once they were off the transport and back on the ground, Breck and Rika were standing pretty well on their own.

The place was huge, there really was no other explanation. It was hard to see because of the time—thanks to some spotlights the redhead could make out a few details—but it had to have been at least five stories and wrapped around on three sides. Eclipse was hoping she didn't have a top floor room and just by looking at the front steps she felt exhausted. There were probably hundreds leading up to a pair of doors and she couldn't imagine what walking to the fifth floor would be like.

Especially when her two comrades were half asleep.

DaCosta met them at the top of one flight of those stairs—luckily no one fell over—doing a full body checkout on Eclipse before moving to the Breck and Rika. In any other situation, the redhead may have called it offensive, but since he was just sizing her up and deciding whether or not to trust her with a gun at his back, she really didn't mind. However, she did wonder what he thought of her. "Because of the ungodly hour, Commander Waltfeld said he'd meet you all at 0900."

"Wait, so we get only six hours of sleep?" Rika complained, hiding a yawn behind her sleeve. Breck tensed and Eclipse just sighed.

"You're lucky you're getting that. The commander usually gets the base up around 0500. Would you rather have two hours? I'm sure I can arrange it because being a huge fan of being woken up at three I'm sure he'd oblige," the greencoat said, sounding a bit snappy even to someone having been around Yzak for the past few days. Looking at his calm demeanor and the way the other officers glanced at the man, Eclipse decided it was unusual. Good thing to know because the redhead didn't think she could handle another personality like the Duel pilot's. If anything, it proved how much she didn't want to get on DaCosta's bad side.

When Rika didn't answer he nodded and led them inside. They walked down a series of hallways, Eclipse admiring the display of squares and triangles etched on the walls. It looked nice—for the most part—she couldn't help but feel she had stepped into geometry class. "Here are your rooms. There's some toiletries, but things have been a bit hectic around here lately so they might be running low. There's a storage room in the next hallway if you absolutely need some." When Breck looked passed the greencoat to find said room, DaCosta glared at him slightly. Damn, it must have been a bad night. "It's labeled 'Storage' for your convenience, so I doubt you'll miss it."

"Oh—uh—I—"

"Eclipse and Rika here. Breck there." The officer pointed to each room in turn, cutting off the younger soldier's stuttering. "Remember, 0900 hours. The commander's pretty testy in the morning, so you'd better all be sharp. At least I wouldn't want to be the one walking in and saying, 'I got lost, sir.' Know where you are, where you want to be, and how to get there. That's all my advice for now. G'night." And he left, leaving two terrified greencoats and one amused redcoat behind to digest the words.

This was going to be an interesting stay.

For the most part, they were early. Rika had set her alarm for 0800 hours—instead of the 0840 Eclipse was thinking of—and proceeded to take a very short shower. Given the length of the bathing session, the redhead figured she was being nice by getting in early and having Eclipse take a shower after, but once the water was turned off, she remained in the bathroom for the next half hour. Lazily lying in bed, the redhead really didn't mind. She hadn't had enough sleep to gather the insane amount of energy it would have taken to walk to the door, bang on it, and then shout at the blonde for being so insensitive. While Rika and—most likely—Breck had decided to pass out early, Eclipse stayed up a while doing research. She didn't get to do much on the transport and seeing as she was behind because of her time in the hospital, she really didn't have a choice.

And her crazy friends seemed to be having a bit of fun.

Eclipse had given up around 0600 with some disturbing information on SIN-ED concerning the assassination of four minor officials in the PLANT government as well as the indiscreet destruction of a technical facility on December 2. The PLANT officials, by far, had it worst off. Given the state of the situation, Eclipse figured a huge article would be posted on the front page of the newspaper, but it was vaguely mentioned next to some television show advertisements in the paper two days ago. The reason probably had to do something with the nature of the death and no newspaper was willing to give such details. That had required further investigating on Eclipse's part. SIN-ED's participation had only been a guess, but reading about the quick execution and grisly aftermath, Eclipse knew FS—or at least another member—had something to do with it. Apparently, the heads were found three blocks from their torsos, dangling from the traffic light on a busy intersection in Aprilius 1. All the arms and legs were laid out under the heads, spelling the phrase, "NO WAR!;" the fingers and toes cut off and thrown into a pile to dot the exclamation point. The redhead doubted random passersby would just let someone tie a bunch of heads to the traffic signal, so the killings had to either have been coordinated and executed at night, or they had somehow blocked off the roads. She was betting on the night theory, but she wasn't about to let the blockade slide so easily either.

The explosion was a bit flashier and had a bigger article. Three hundred workers and civilians were killed in the blast that took out one of the biggest radar and communication factories in the PLANTs. The paper said it was an accident, but most likely a lie to keep the public from erupting into chaos. A witness said he had heard three explosions near the site, but the police report indicated four hot spots; two in the facility, one in a fueling station close by, and one other in the apartment building housing most of the workers and their families. From a civilian's perspective, it may have looked like a chain reaction started by a fire in the factory which was too close to the gas pumps. This ignited an explosion big enough to engulf the apartment—and other small houses—a block away as well as the rest of the facility. What people didn't know was how ZAFT had anticipated a possible problem earlier with the fuel and factory so close together. Putting the gas tanks under ground about three blocks away—so it could provide for other places as well—they wove pipes underground to the station and the only way to get the fuel required a short series of numbers and a two-minute wait. The station had been under renovation at the time so there wasn't even any fresh fuel lingering in the pumps when the fireworks started.

See, not an accident.

Eclipse wasn't sure whether to applaud SIN-ED for their precise executions, or slap them for being so careless. The headless official had been relatively successful for scaring the shit out of the general public—and even the explosion seemed to have the police running for the hills—but such flashy antics would get them noticed for sure.

But then again, maybe they were finally making their move.

"You're still in bed?" Rika asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun and the green uniform ironed to perfection. The only thing throwing off her flawless appearance was a mascara smudge near her right eye.

The redhead decided not to mention it. "It's only 0837 hours and unlike you, it takes me about ten minutes to get changed and smelling halfway decent. Sweat mixed with perfume and make-up doesn't sound like an appealing day to me."

The girl didn't respond and walked out the door. Either she was angry, the scent of her body spray had suddenly become so overbearing she just had to get some fresh air, or the stick shoved up her ass was so deep she didn't dare pull it out with Eclipse sitting there watching.

Despite what people think, sometimes the correct answer is "all the above."

Taking the 10 minutes the redhead anticipated, she was dressed, relatively clean, and standing with her other two teammates at exactly 0858. DaCosta rounded a corner as Eclipse was walking up and quickly nodded a greeting. "I'll go in first." Not waiting for responses, the greencoat turned the knob and pushed open the door. "Sir, these are the new recruits who came with the BuCUEs: Rika Stattin, Breck Hall, and Lunar Eclipse." He pointed to each in turn, directing them inside with the sweep of his hand. It was a tiny office. One desk—with an overzealous display of coffee flavors as well as equipment—and chair was positioned directly in the center of the room with three filing cabinets off to the right. A smaller table was set up near the door, along with two more chairs on the left by a closet; at least Eclipse figured it was that. Two larger windows were open behind the desk, making the commander's face slightly shadowed, but not enough so to miss the amused look on his face and interesting attire.

Ah yes, the outfit.

"Sir? What are you wearing?" DaCosta asked.

"What, you don't like it?" Waltfeld countered, standing up. He wore a yellow and red striped polo shirt with white pants, but not even to the common civilian did he fit the definition of "trendy." Slick, brown loafers covered his feet and with the flick of his hand, he pulled a tan sunhat and shades out of the drawer. "I planned on taking a stroll through town today."

"In that?" his second-in-command quickly asked, seeming to be a reflex more than anything.

"What? Would you rather have me go out in uniform?"

"I'd rather you didn't stand out on either spectrum, sir," DaCosta said, deciding to change the subject when Waltfeld put the hat and shades on to argue more. Obviously, this was not an argument the greencoat was going to win, especially since the hat had a red bow on in. "Anyway, what would you like to me to do with the recruits?"

"Hm? Oh, them. Breck, you're going to be our newest pilot, so I'm leaving you with DaCosta. Aisha wants you, Rika, so I'm shipping you over to that woman's capable hands, but as for Lunar Eclipse, I'd like to talk to you for a second."

"But wait—sir. I-I've never piloted—" Breck stuttered.

"I know you're capable of handling a BuCUE. I've looked at your records and they are quite impressive, but if it'd make you feel better, I can send DaCosta to show you a few things," the commander said and sat back down in his seat. A smile curled up his lips at their reactions, making him look like an amused cat. Eclipse couldn't help but pity the mice.

DaCosta looked like he was going to argue, but then stopped. After all the time he had spent under the Desert Tiger, he knew better than to continue an argument. Evidently, Waltfeld was getting back at him for the comment about his attire earlier, so the redhead had no choice but to oblige. "Yes, sir."

"Good, now, you're dismissed." The three saluted and then walked out, closing the door behind them.

Once they were gone, Eclipse couldn't help but feel sorry for DaCosta. Not only did he have to put up with the commander's abuse periodically, but he now had to deal with Breck. Does he treat all his soldiers this way, or is he just special?

"Lunar Eclipse I have a few questions for you." By this time, Waltfeld had taken off the hat and shades and set them down on the desk. That was a relief because Eclipse liked being able to see a person's eyes when she talked to him, but also because the whole getup was pretty distracting. She could handle the shirt, but the other accessories had to go. Pulling over one of the chairs near the closet, he set it in front of his desk before walking back to his own spot. Eclipse took the hint and sat down, suddenly—because of her proximity to the desktop—noticing the breathtaking smell of coffee. It was strong, to be sure, but because it reminded her vaguely of Stray and FS, she found it more of a pleasurable experience than a sickening or horrifying one. "Alright, remember these questions are all of great importance and answer them to the best of your ability. Are we clear?" She nodded. "Well then, first question. Would you like some coffee?"

"Would I ever," Eclipse responded immediately and rather unprofessionally, not even bothered by how far off kilter his priorities were. Either it proved she was beginning to know the commander pretty well, or she had been deprived of the beverage for far too long.

Waltfeld blinked, smiled, then handed her a mug. "Great! I'm an expert coffee blender and, let me say, this one is especially tasty. A little espresso mixed with cinnamon, vanilla, and some French Roast added in for a kick. I'm sure you'll find it the most delicious cup you've ever tasted."

The redhead took a sip, thought a little on the taste and then nodded. "It is very good, sir."

"I knew it!" he announced. "That's what the CA stood for!"

Not even bothering to ask, Eclipse just took another drink. Sure, they were in the middle of a desert, SIN-ED was ridding the human race of fingers and toes, and an overenthusiastic—yet dangerous—addict was giving her a caffeinated beverage. Still, she had to enjoy life sometimes and why not have a moment of bliss before realizing she was joining said addict on a trip to town?

Aisha had picked out the attire, and after seeing what she was wearing, Eclipse found she didn't mind her outfit. A light blue tank top sat lightly on her upper torso, the straps too small to hide the sports bra, but—after all the redhead had gone through to destroy her social image—it looked fine. Cotton blue trousers and black tennis shoes finished the getup with a sense of comfortable familiarity, but it was still too fashionable for her tastes. Fashionable meaning the only place for a handgun was the purse hanging on her left hip. Not something she was used to. "I look ridiculous," Eclipse had complained when Aisha stood her in front of the mirror. This was the second time she had somehow slipped into a level of informality she hadn't dared breach before. It was hard to place the reasoning, but she figured it had more to do with the laid-back nature of the ones in charge rather than her own personality shift.

Though, she quite liked being so casual.

"Why, darling, you look great. Here, let's put your hair back in a clip to keep it out of your eyes, like so. There! One gorgeous, ass kicking bodyguard."

"Y'know, if you didn't add in the 'ass kicking' I'd have been offended," the redhead had said and the woman just laughed.

"Yes, well, you'd better live up to it. Andy can take care of himself, but if he gets too adventurous, you'd better be there to slap him across the back of the head. I'll not lose him to some brute of a woman during a market sale."

"I take it he's done that before? Over some coffee beans, I'm thinking."

Aisha had nodded sadly. "He came back with a nice black eye too."

Great, so not only was she forced to socialize, she had to keep an eye on her rambunctious commander and hope no grisly details would make their way back to the keen ears of his girlfriend.

How convenient.

The town was a lot bigger and busier than Eclipse had expected. Tall cement apartments lined the streets and stretched back for miles in either direction. There seemed to be only one main street—the one they were on—so the only way to reach the buildings further out was by a series of alleyways. Damn, this place is ambush central, Eclipse thought, casting a glance at Waltfeld. Keeping him from doing something foolish was the least of her worries now. Three other soldiers—all incognito—came as well, talking amongst themselves. They seemed to be having a good time and perhaps that was what bothered Eclipse the most. Why weren't they as nervous as she was?

"Relax, Eclipse. If you don't wipe that scowl off your face, we'll start looking suspicious. Now, I didn't invite you to blow our cover," the commander said, not worrying about the volume of his voice. He doubted anyone could hear him anyway.

"First of all, sir, you didn't invite me; I got courteously blackmailed. Second of all, I have a feeling you do this quite often. Given the demeanor of your bodyguards and your lackadaisical approach to the situation you probably do this about three times a week. You don't look to be sporting any major injuries and you only brought four soldiers, so you probably don't get into too much trouble. Despite all that, I have one question, why did you bring me of all people?"

"I thought you'd like to see the town and there's a restaurant up here selling some pretty decent coffee."

"So, this is all because of coffee, sir?"

"You complaining?" Waltfeld asked and smiled when Eclipse sighed. "To be honest, I want to see what you'd do if a situation does arise."

"Ah, so this is a test? Either you have a lot of faith in me or are a masochistic fool who'd put his life in danger to see if some soldier is good with a gun."

"Do you speak to everyone like this? And here I thought your cooperation was 'commendable,'" the commander muttered, tipping his hat as a pair of young ladies walked by. "Have you met so many stiffs in the military you can't believe I honestly want to sit down in town and have coffee?"

Eclipse decided not to answer, so Waltfeld didn't press the matter.

The restaurant was also better than the redhead expected. Not only did it have some fine seating arrangements—both tables outside as well as inside—but the bay windows on the side of the establishment made it look very inviting. The fresh smell of cooked food and coffee was also a plus and when the commander took a huge whiff and sighed, she knew he enjoyed it there. Waltfeld sat first—which was both out of respect as well as tradition—and picked two tables near the end. Seeing as the commander wanted to talk to Eclipse a little more, the other three bodyguards took the next table over and started ordering.

"You hungry?" Waltfeld asked. "They make the best donar kebabs around, so if anything, order that."

Well, I didn't have any breakfast, the redhead thought and merely shrugged. If she was going to eat that day, might as well be something someone suggested. "Honestly, I've never had one before, sir."

"That's alright; I'll tell you how to eat them." He ordered the two kebabs and two glasses of coffee, looking quite pleased with himself. Eclipse watched him in that moment. Sometimes he seemed like an air headed dolt who didn't know the difference between his nickname and a dingo, but at other times, he was quite intimidating. She suspected most people didn't take him seriously, but that, of course, was their loss. He was a fine commander—if her ease with talking to him was any indication—and deserved a lot of respect based on his record alone. The way he controlled himself was enough for her. Even though he was dressed in such a goofy outfit, Waltfeld honestly wanted to know what was going on in his town. Yes, his town. She mustn't forget that because he obviously took it by sheer skill. If the happy civilians weren't enough to prove her point, the way everything in the city looked was amazing. He didn't just waltz in and floor the town. In fact, he took command, kept the economy stable and the people safe at the same time. Impressive. Not very many commanders would care about the people he overthrew and even a military dictatorship was likely in most cities. Eclipse didn't see that here in Banadiya. Given, she didn't know Waltfeld's dark secrets—and guessed he had to use some form of fear to keep the citizens from rebelling—but, for the most part, things seem pretty good.

"So, what're you thinking about so diligently?" the commander asked, leaning his head on an upraised hand. "Please tell, because I'm curious as to how that mind of yours works."

"And why would you say something like that, sir?"

"You see, we received some information concerning a new mobile suit being built in the PLANTs and was curious as to why you are its chosen pilot."

"Wait, I'm piloting a new mobile suit?" Eclipse asked, now interested in the situation. The coffee arrived before Waltfeld could continue and only after the redhead put some sugar and creamer in the drink did he move on.

"Those are the rumors, but it'll still be some time before you'll get the suit. It's still in production and isn't scheduled to be completed for a couple of weeks yet."

"Why are they giving it to me?"

"That's what I've been wondering. Sure, you're an elite and the others on your team have powerful units of their own, but is that enough to give you a brand-new model? I looked further into your files, but nothing of significance came up. There has to be something vital, but as far as I can tell, the only ones who find you important are the ones giving the orders. To the rest of the military, you're nothing but a mere soldier." He took a sip of his coffee, studying her reaction. Honestly, this whole interrogation could have been because of curiosity, but the emotions that crossed Eclipse's face when he mentioned "vital" and "significance" were interesting. Brief and very small, it was nothing but an eye-lid tick and two ripples in her cup, but Waltfeld's observant eye caught everything. She knew something—or at least suspected something—but what? Finally, he sighed. "It's getting harder and harder for me to understand what is going on in the military."

"Sir?" Eclipse asked, surprised at the comment.

"Oh, nothing; I've just been thinking about some things lately. Besides, we probably shouldn't be talking on this subject at a dinner table."

"Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Hm?"

She took a pause before speaking, and he watched her again. Redcoats were often a bit more conversational with commanding officers than those of lower rank and so far, her character had been expected. Perhaps, what hadn't been expected was for her to realize that was what she was doing. It was as if her unfiltered speech surprised her sometimes, and that was based on the subtle reactions she had made through the walk to the restaurant and even this pause was making him think his deduction wasn't too far off the mark.

"You can speak freely. I value respect more than allegiance, though I'd like to think the two were linked," he said when she still hadn't asked her question. "I find merit in listening to opinions from any rank and in the desert it's far too hot to care about protocol."

She relaxed at least, though she still looked suspicious. "What's my role here, sir? I was sent here without my teammates, so that either says I can be of value to you, or they're taking me off the Le Creuset team altogether."

Be of value to you, he thought, noting the way she had worded it and recalled the way she had reacted to their conversation earlier. He would need to look at her profile a bit more closely.

"That's a valid question," he began with a sigh, looking away from her and to the street as he picked up his coffee. "I had asked for two new pilots to fill in my ranks. Your contribution to the Le Creuset team and rather unceremonious fall to Earth caught the attention of a few and your name was recommended, so I picked you—or, should I say, you're on loan to me. I'm very anal when it comes to pilots, so consider yourself honored. Taking that into account, you'll be piloting a BuCUE for a while. That won't be a problem, right?"

"No," Eclipse responded with a shrug. "Not at all. Will just need some training."

"Training we can do. Ah, here're the kebabs. Now, try this yogurt sauce, okay? They taste so good with it on."

For the most part, the afternoon had been going well. Things got a little boring around the third cup of coffee, but as soon as the commander found a newspaper, they were passing it back and forth so much they didn't even notice as another hour went by.

"Hm, I wonder who they are," Waltfeld said, looking over at two teenagers at the table kiddy-corner from them. The girl had her back turned to the duo and was waving some slip of paper at the boy across from her. She wore a red tank top with khaki pants. Nothing fancy, but it was enough to offset her unusually pale skin and shoulder length blonde hair. The boy looked exhausted. Just as pale as his friend, he wore a white, button-up shirt—with a blue shirt underneath—and khaki pants, proving why the commander would be so interested. The young man may have looked normal with messy brown hair and purple eyes, but everyone in this town had some sort of tan and they were, well, not. At the boy's feet were four bags of goods—bread, fruits, vegetables, and other basic needs—however, none of it seemed out of the ordinary.

"Sir, what d'ya think—" Eclipse began, but the commander had already gotten to his feet, muttering a quiet, "Oh no you don't." Was this the "adventurous" side Aisha had warned her about?

If so, damn it.

If not, still, damn it.

Two kebabs were set on the teens' table, exciting the blonde and making the boy look downright disgusted. Either he had never had the delicacy before and wasn't impressed, or the girl had done something peculiar. Eclipse figured it had to do something with the chili sauce container she was waving in his face.

"Hold it right there!" Waltfeld shouted, walking up to the table. "Wait just a moment. How could you stoop to putting chili sauce on your kebabs? Now," he picked up the other container on the table. Eclipse just groaned and looked away. "This yogurt sauce, that's the proper thing to add to such a dish!" The rest droned out from there, the redhead having turned her attention to the people walking on the street. The crowd had died down since they had arrived—making the bodyguards feel better—but it was still at an uncomfortable level.

"You look just as nervous as I feel," one such soldier said, moving from the other table to join her. "Usually, the air isn't so tense when we come out, but today something feels a bit off."

"Intuition?" Eclipse suggested.

"Experience," he responded. The redhead nodded knowingly and went back to the busy street.

The commander's gasp pulled everyone's attention back to the conversation going on behind them. At first the gesture had startled them, but as soon as Waltfeld yelled, "What a terrible waste!" they all knew he was just talking about the kebabs again.

"He's one of the most diverse commanders I have ever met," one of the soldiers at the other table said, shaking his head at the same time. Everyone joined in agreement and Eclipse smiled. Somehow, she was starting to like that about him.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey! Don't force your bad habits on this guy!"

"So, what looks like the most likely spot someone's going to attack from?" Eclipse's tablemate asked and grabbed a section of the paper. He had to keep looking casual or people would catch on.

"The alleys most likely. We have one on each end of the restaurant and another across the road. If they were smart, they'd just come in with guns and level us all before we could react. It'd create a scene—and they'd probably get caught pretty easily—but we'd all be dead, so in the end it would be a victory for them."

"At least you're honest," he muttered. "Ugh, must he sit down with them? Those two make me nervous."

"Huh? They're just kids," she responded. Not even she sensed any malice from the two of them.

"And so are you, but you have some pretty dangerous vibes yourself."

"I admire how careful you are, but—shit! Launcher! Down! Comm—"

Many things happened at once. Eclipse had noticed two people on the roof of the building across the street. One was holding a rocket launcher and let loose an attack as soon as she started shouting. The other three bodyguards reacted instinctively, tipping the tables over on their sides and using the tops to hide behind. Waltfeld had done much the same thing by kicking the teens' table over and pulling them behind it.

The rocket flew into the restaurant window with destructive results. Broken glass, loud screams, and other unpleasant fragments hit each person respectively, causing some more cries from the unlucky citizens. Eclipse didn't think any of them were injured from the debris, but she didn't have much time to doublecheck. The most she could do was see the commander and he seemed fine, if only thrown off balance for a moment. Her eardrums pounded as her pulse sped up, the explosion reducing her hearing for a moment as the heat from the initial blast faded against her skin. It all deteriorated quickly, however, her hearing returning, the warmth shifting to more of a dull vibration as the fires continued behind her, and any thought that their enemies would only attack once.

Four, armed men came running out of the building opposite her position, an automatic rifle each. Her tablemate and her were sharing one table between the two of them and the others were one more table over, also trying to shelter a civilian, it seemed. Automatics versus semi-automatics with their back to a wall and flimsy cover at their front.

Not great odds.

Routinely, the bodyguards all pulled out their semi-automatic pistols and Eclipse did the same, aiming for their miracle.

"Die Coordinator; you lousy rotten space invaders!" one man yelled, firing in mid-sprint. They needed to keep them from advancing too far, too quickly, so Eclipse rounded the table quickly and fired at the thigh of the speaker. It wasn't a clean shot and ended up merely grazing the thigh, but one of the other soldiers put a bullet into his gut and he went down. She ducked back for cover when his comrades sprayed a barrage at her and the ground to her right. The sand danced with the assault and she felt her chest pound with the pressure as a few bullets hit the table at her back.

She really hoped her cover held.

"For the preservation of our blue and pure world!" another shouted, sending a barrage the commander's way. She heard him curse, but he didn't seem injured. The most interesting thing about the spectacle was not his sudden shift from light-hearted commander to experienced soldier, but the two teenagers seemed far less affected by the gunfight than she thought they should be. Were they used to this? Or, suspecting it?

Eclipse chanced another attack when she felt another barrage end, breaking cover and firing two shots. One bullet hit an attacker in the chest as his focus was on the other table and another shot wounded the left arm of the rebel running towards Waltfeld. The commander took him out with a shot through the neck. "Go ahead! Eliminate them all, now!" he ordered, ducking down for cover.

"Back-up's on the way," Eclipse's partner said as he put one into the collar of an attacker sneaking out of the alley near the table protecting their fellow comrades. The four that had rushed them were down, but two more had joined the fray, having been the ones manning the initial attack from the roof, Eclipse figured. Others were advancing on them from the side alleys at each end of the restaurant.

"I have a feeling this'll be over before they get here," she responded. She was going to pop up and shoot one of the two who had crossed the street, but he had anticipated the movement, forcing her back down with some well-placed shots past her position and into the restaurant debris. Pissed—and taking advantage of a well-aimed shot to his weapon from one of the other ZAFT bodyguards—the redhead put on shot through his right kneecap and one into his stomach. As she was going back to her defensive position, movement from the alley at the far side of the restaurant caught her attention.

Right at their backsides.

And with a clear shot at the commander.

Waltfeld was so occupied with the two new attackers arriving on the scene, he didn't see the threat until the man was leveling for the shot. She didn't have a clear shot because his crouched form and the teens were in the way, but she almost risked it, knowing even an injured commander was better than a dead one.

However, one teen wasn't as helpless as she had expected.

The purple-eyed kid rounded the table, picked up a fallen firearm, took advantage of his momentum and threw it hard at the attacker all in one motion. It was gun on gun action as the throw knocked the automatic rifle up and left its handler started, but the brunette wasn't going to let him off that easily. A graceful—yet deadly—kick to the jaw knocked him senseless and ended the ambush with five empty magazines, seven dead aggressors, a destroyed restaurant, and an impressed commander.

As predicted, the back-up arrived after everything had settled down. DaCosta had finished off a fleeing rebel and was on his way to Waltfeld as Eclipse walked over to one mortally wounded enemy. Deciding on the coup de grâce, the redhead aimed at his forehead and fired, not noticing—or perhaps not caring—the boy was watching the show. Looking up in time to catch his hurt and disgusted expression, she felt a bit angry at his reaction. That man had tried to kill them—all of them—and that dumb teen was looking at her like she was the enemy. When she went berserk he could look at her like that, but not when she was trying to save his ass from getting shot.

It was downright ungrateful.

"Don't you even know what a gun is supposed to be used for?" the girl asked, coming over to stand near her friend. She looked hideous. Not in looks, but the chili and yogurt sauce was staining both her hair and clothes so much so it soured her appearance and made her look like a kebab herself.

But there was still something. The voice maybe?

"Well," she went on, "whatever the case."

"Commander! Are you all right?" DaCosta asked, finally reaching Waltfeld.

"Yeah, I'm doing just fine, actually. And it's all thanks to that guy." Turning, the commander pointed to the teen who, at the moment, didn't look too keen on the attention. His muscles tensed and his fists clenched, but still Waltfeld's confident look wouldn't falter.

The girl, however, was more worried about the man's name than his visage. "You mean, we were talking with Andrew Waltfeld?"

Eclipse gasped, instantly recognizing her that time. Shit.

"The Desert Tiger. It's him."

It's her. Cags…

"Well, m'boy, you saved my life. How can I thank you?"

What the hell is she doing here? What about Orb? What had changed in two years?

It wasn't easy, but Eclipse managed to avoid Cagalli the entire trip back, not wanting to be recognized. Both the blonde and her friend rode with the commander, often exchanging uneasy looks, but Waltfeld never seemed to notice. In fact, he looked quite pleased with himself. Eclipse figured he knew something no one else did, but at the moment she didn't care.

If he stayed out of her game of hide and seek, she would stay out of his.

The commander stepped out of his vehicle as soon as they reached headquarters, explaining again to the teens why he insisted they stay for a while. Hesitating once more, they looked at each other again and giving Eclipse a moment to pass by unnoticed. She walked in behind Waltfeld and fled past his "greeting room" when he turned in, praying he didn't call her in as well. The luck held and she had turned the corner before Cagalli walked through the door. Hide. Hide. My room. Go. Now. Hearing Aisha down the hall, she slammed the door behind her and flicked the lock. She shook her head and leaned back once she knew everything was clear. This has been a strange couple of days; first my brother and then Cagalli. If I didn't know any better, I'd say someone was trying to force me back home. Sighing, she pushed herself towards the bed, grabbed her laptop, and blinked when she saw an envelope fall to the floor. It was sealed shut—which was surprising because usually all mail had to be opened—with no name. Eclipse figured someone had snuck it in, but the question was, why? If it was just a letter to say hi, they were taking extreme lengths.

So, maybe it was important.

She set her laptop down on the bed, picked up the letter, and began reading.

"Al-Jairi's. 2300. 2/22." Signed, "Envy."

Eclipse looked for further information, but didn't find any. Being quite unnerved about the situation, she set the paper down next to the laptop and fell sideways onto her pillow. She recognized Envy for being one of the seven sins and just the thought of a SIN-ED member running around in headquarters made her squirm. They had guts alright, to send someone inside a ZAFT command station just to drop off a letter, but why would they be telling her where they're going to be next? Haven't they figured out she was the one chasing after them? Maybe it's from FS, she thought and rested an arm over her eyes. Then he just wants to talk and it's not an ambush. Then again, they probably realized I'm the one following them and FS has no other choice than to take me out. If that's the case, he'd leave Stray behind, maybe take two or three guards with him, and do the whole thing quietly. The time's predictable, so if this is a trap, the commander wouldn't find out anything until the next morning. Comforting. But, if it isn't FS what is it? Is that really something I want to be caught up in? Do I really have a choice?

Groaning, she rolled off the bed and went to the bathroom. Since she didn't get her shower that morning, she turned on the water now and hoped it would make her relax—not only that but she had a lot of sand and other things to wash off. The dread was growing the more she thought about it. The word "trap" was screaming louder in her head, which was making the possibility of FS being the one to meet her seem unlikely. FS wanted her alive and she couldn't help but recall what Le Creuset had hinted at.

Different agendas.

Did they want to meet her and make her a deal? Have her take out FS maybe? It is my duty to track and destroy SIN-ED… she thought with a sigh and braced her arms on the sink. I'd have to follow Defense Chairman Zala's orders. Right? That's what I signed up for.

"Right?" she asked aloud, cursing when she suddenly got terribly angry and her thoughts started to spiral. Ever since she started going after the organization, she has had one hesitation after another. At the time, she had figured she would just keep others from killing her friends and try to talk them back to sanity at the same time. Now, however, she was getting continuingly restless and scared even. Waltfeld was trying to gauge her "significance" and that was making Eclipse think maybe there was something else going on.

"How long do you think it'll take before ZAFT figures you out?" Greed had said and she shivered at the memory. Maybe FS had been right and ZAFT wasn't the home she was looking for.

So, what should I do? Run to SIN-ED? Try and do things their way while keeping them alive at the same time? Is that even possible? She started to undress and paused, her pulse speeding up at the realization. If it was FS at the meeting spot, she would go with him in a heartbeat. There'd be no argument; no nothing.

Is that my feeling? Or someone else's? She shook her head, giving a shaky laugh. She was being ridiculous. SIN-ED wasn't the answer, they were her problem to solve.

…Right?

((Look below by the way!))

A/N: Hey all, another chapter up and ready. I've already started on the next chapter and hope to get it down within the next week. Like I said, I want to get this done by the end of the summer and that's really only three months away. I have to pick it up.

I have one question, is there too much sarcasm? Yes, this may sound dumb, but I had a short story that didn't go so well 'cause of my sarcasm. Actually, the teacher said it took away from the main plot and characterization. Who knew I'd have to cut back? Anyway, let me know if it's bogging anything down and I'll cut back. Thanks!

On that note, I should probably say a huge "I'm sorry" to me betas for having them work so much, but then add in a huge "thank you" because this story would be nothing without them. CSSStravag and Death-Scimitar deserve a ton of praise not only for their work on this story, but for the work on their own. I'm always eagerly awaiting the next chapter of their own stories and recommend Archangel's Amazing Adventures and Roses, Guns, and Boys to anyone looking for excellent reads. AAA is a story full of high-tech action—that puts mine to utter shame—and enough humor/sarcasm to brighten anyone's dreary day. Mix all that in with great writing and you have a memorable story. RGB is a bit on the other spectrum but more worth the read than you know. It's Gundam Wing AC crossed with Ouran High School Host Club but if that isn't catchy enough it's a one-of-a-kind story and if you don't snatch up the opportunity now, you'll miss reading the only story in that particular crossover. It's a bundle of laughs, but has a serious plot as well, so don't ever take the quirkiness for granted.

Well, back to topic, I hoped you all like the chapter and are looking forward for the next one. It's great hearing from ya so thanks for the all the reviews and readings. I'll see you in the next one!

Gripes and Questions

Asmus: I know you mentioned the Victoria incident-I already explained it to you in my review reply-and just in case other people were wondering, I'll give you guys my reasoning. I watched the episode that recapped what happened in Victoria. It was when Said (Spelling?) was talking to the Archangel crew at the camp near Banadiya. They went through a series of pictures depicting the chaos and I saw ZAFT soldiers deliberately shooting Earth Alliance forces, tied up, and kneeling. I just took it at face value and figured they either did that out of complete hatred, or they wouldn't cooperate. Either way it was gruesome, and even though the two armies didn't start-officially-duking it out until later in the series, it kind of gives a foreshadowing of what's to come. As for the Mobile suit question, I'm sure that's answered here in this chapter. :) Be prepared for some interesting action in upcoming events.

Darkangelsonic: I forgot to mention this in my review reply, but Shinn doesn't officially join the ZAFT army until Orb is destroyed in disk 8 (I'm thinking). That being the case, he wouldn't be around yet and I don't think Luna had been considering the military yet. I might have one-or both-come in later to tie in the series, but I haven't decided yet. We'll have to see where my hands, the insane amounts of coffee, and my overactive imagination takes me in the future.

Here's a little insert that almost made it into the story, but I thought it'd be too hyper for our fair commander and a bit out of character. It's not written out in story form 'cause I didn't have time to go back and fix it, but hopefully you can all understand it. Anyway, this is what Eclipse and Andy really talked about while waiting for the kebabs.

Lions and Tigers and Bears! …Oh my

"So, why are you called the Desert Tiger, sir?" (Eclipse)

"Huh? You've never heard of the 'Wizard of Oz'?" (Andy)

"Oz? Gundam Wing?"

"Huh? Uh, no. The old movie. Y'know… Damn, what's my age again?"

"Anyway, about that nickname."

"Ah yes. There's a phrase where the main characters are walking through a dark forest. Trees are attacking them; flying monkeys; green witches—"

"Sir, is there a point to this?"

"Oh, well they're all so afraid and they start muttering the three most fearsome animals they can think of. 'Lions, and Tigers, and Bears.' I can't believe you haven't seen it."

"So, you're the tiger, I take it. How fearsome to have come from an old children's movie."

"Ah, but the Desert part makes it so much more interesting. You see, I single-handedly stopped an Earth Alliance advance."

"Just you and the mobile suits huh? How brave."

"Enough with the sarcasm. Anyway, that's where the desert came from."

"…Because you threw sand in their eyes?"

"Stop."

"Sorry. So, who's the lion and the bear?"

"Oh, well, DaCosta's the bear, obviously."

"Obviously?" (Image of scrawny redhead)

"Have you ever been hugged by him?"

"I've only known him for a day, sir, and have not had the honor. Unfortunately… I bet you're going to tell me all about it though."

"It's ridiculous!"

"Here we go." (Sigh; roll eyes; etc.)

"I mean for goodness sakes you could pinch his biceps and pop 'em, but damn, he must put more body into it or something."

"Uh, excuse me, sir?"

"…Ahem. So, the lion, or lioness to be exact—"

"Ah, is Aisha. And what's the reason behind that one?"

(Serious expression; hands folded at lips; shades and hat still on) "Rawr." (Roll the 'r'; pawing hand motion.)

"Sir."

"Hm?" (Drinks coffee)

"Never do that again."

"Oh."