Updated: Tweaked/rewritten October 2020.

Lucky? Or Unlucky?

"I said hold her down!"

"Grab her arm!"

"Damnit, now the leg!"

"For fuck's sake—"

"She fuckin' bit me!"

Dearka and Yzak could only stare into the medical room as five medics attempted to soothe their frantic teammate. Someone had suggested just leaving her in the Buster's hand until they could sedate her, but—for some reason—no one bothered to take the proposal seriously. The Berserker wasn't severely hurt, but the large amount of blood littering the Gundam's fingers when Dearka brought her in was enough to cause a panic where the medics were concerned.

"How the hell can the anesthesia not be working? Just give her some more!"

"We could seriously hurt her if we did that!"

Eclipse's hands were bleeding badly, but the biggest damage was the chunk of skin missing on the knuckle of her left pinky. Exposing tendons—and even the slick white color of bone—the gash extended down to the tip of her finger, leaving a rotten taste in Yzak's mouth when he saw it. Her leg was much the same, that sharp edge on her BuCUE digging a cut on the side of her right knee down to about mid-calf. The wound wouldn't have been so bad if the Berserker hadn't yanked herself out of the wreckage and, thus, tearing the puncture hole downward and, to make matters worse, there was sand in it. Whether or not it was deep enough to have nicked the bone was still under debate.

They had to get her strapped to the bed first.

"Damnit, Dearka, you said she was okay!" Yzak shouted, pointing an angry finger into the room. "Does she look fine to you?"

"I didn't say she wasn't hurt, just alive," Dearka corrected, actually glad for the distraction. While the Duel pilot's anger may have been an emotional hazard, at least it was better than worrying about Eclipse. "I didn't know she was that injured when I brought her in. She's lucky to be alive."

"I think 'lucky' depends on perspective," Yzak mumbled, his anger subsiding when he heard Eclipse cry out in the other room. A doctor and four, male nurses had finally pinned down her lower torso, tying off leather straps near her ankles, one across her shins, and another one on her upper thighs. Some others were still struggling with her arms, but it looked like her strength was waning. Perhaps she would be apprehended after all.

"Quick, stop her!"

Or not.

The redcoats ran to the door after the outburst, wishing they could go inside and help instead of merely peering through the window. Either way, it was a terrifying sight. While still strapped from the waist down, Eclipse had somehow gotten a hold of a scalpel and was currently attempting to stab an older doctor near his upper chest cavity. Her right arm held firmly onto his shoulder as her left hand punctured three areas on his body. The first one was a direct hit to the muscle just above the doctor's collarbone, splattering the redhead with a bit of blood as she pulled it out and readied for another strike. The second stab grazed the right side of his neck, this time cutting off a fair-sized chuck of skin as well. Even though the flesh landed with a sickening sound on the floor Eclipse still reared back for another blow. If it wasn't for a heroic nurse, the doctor would've been dead—seeing as the next strike was aiming for his head. The younger man grabbed the redhead's wrist, but not anticipating her to have such strength, the nurse only managed to veer the stab down and away. It clipped the doctor's bicep, cutting through the first two layers of skin and leaving a nice, red gash as a souvenir.

Finally, she was caught and strapped to the bed, but only after two more shots of anesthesia did her body stop flailing. Dearka and Yzak watched in horror as the nurses brought in new machines and began hooking the Berserker up to the various monitors. It was hard to believe that not three hours ago Eclipse was standing in front of them and boarding her BuCUE. Now she was strapped to a bed with the gut-wrenching mixture of blood and tears drying on pallid cheeks.

"Y-Yzak?"

"She'll be fine," the Duel pilot assured, swallowing down the last bit of his own fear. Only when another nurse came around to shoo them away did the panic arise once more.

The closing blinds in the medical room didn't help either.

"Sir, as a doctor I can't let you take this soldier." The man, Cale Drudger, was younger—about late 20s—and even though he may have aced his clinical exam, he had no idea who he was talking to. Surprising, because the man had an obvious, recognizable trait—mainly the mask on his face—but Commander Le Creuset decided to let it slide for now. However, who they were talking about was another matter. Lunar Eclipse had been the talk of the base for the past day and a half since her stabbing of the veteran physician aboard the Lesseps. "Talk of the base" may not be as good as the phrase "psychopath of the month," but it kept a lid on the panic to some degree. Although, as soon as Le Creuset arrived, the jabbering stopped immediately. They weren't about to make him angry over some hotheaded girl.

Unlike this doctor here.

"And why can't I take my pilot?" the commander asked, placing a hand on the end of Eclipse's bed. While still alive, the redhead had been unconscious ever since her chaotic rescue. Some blame her hysteria, some blame her guilt, and still others think the doctors went overboard on the anesthesia. If any of the formal theories were the case, she should feel lucky to be alive, but if the guilt of Waltfeld and Aisha's untimely death was behind it all, Eclipse would most likely be comatose for a while yet.

"Well, we did some additional tests as soon as she calmed down and came up with some pretty interesting information. To put it frankly, this girl should either be in a mental hospital or a research facility, not a mobile suit," the doctor explained as he flipped a few pages over the end of his clipboard. Either they did find a fair amount of info, or he just did that out of nervousness. Then again, addressing Commander Le Creuset as he had been was bold in and of itself. Somehow the jitters didn't seem part of the equation.

"And why would you say such thing? Tell me, are you a psychologist now too?"

"Just a simple measurement of her brainwaves showed us something peculiar. As you may have already heard, the anesthesia didn't work right away, so we ended up giving her as much as necessary. She went quiet after that, providing us with enough time to finish the tests."

"Is there a reason for the restraints?"

"Yes sir," the doctor began, absently rubbing the back of his head with the memory. "She was very violent when another member of your team brought her to us. So violent, in fact, there are three stab wounds in my superior as we speak. Given, none were serious, but the act alone has caused a lot of uneasiness, which I'm sure you picked up on. Your soldier here is lucky we had a secluded room and a forgiving staff or she'd be dead by now."

"I'm sorry for your inconvenience, but I'll have to ask you to remove the restraints," Le Creuset said, noting the small scowl cross the young man's fair face. It probably had something to do with how lightheartedly the commander took to hearing about the hospital's chief medic. That guy would be fine. Eclipse was still in the grey area. "So, when do you expect her to wake up?"

"To be honest, there isn't a clear answer for that. She wasn't as badly injured as some of the others, but her problems seem to be more psychological than anything. The test results alone proved this theory. When we managed to calm her down and start treatment, she was still awake—at least as awake as a trauma victim can be. We figured something might be wrong mentally when her hysteria sent her into a fit of hallucinations and the anesthesia had worn off, or even just failed. Her brainwaves were… nonexistent. I couldn't believe it myself," the doctor admitted, swinging his weight to one leg as he lowered his clipboard. A hand on his hip finished the stance, proving he was confident in talking about the situation. Either that or he was proud of his discovery. "There she was, awake, and—for the most part—comprehensible, but somehow her brain wasn't doing anything. We tried another machine to the same result, so we can't blame technology."

"Brain-dead, then, while she was still awake?"

"Yes, but we have no idea why. As soon as she went unconscious, her brainwaves started up again, however, the neurons weren't firing enough to keep us optimistic about her condition. She seems to be stuck in the fourth stage of sleep, Delta Sleep, and the only thing we can do is wait. Her brain's very… unstable and we don't want to rush her into anything that might permanently damage her."

Huh, I'm not sure you can permanently damage her, Le Creuset mused, admiring the doctor's evaluation rather than being worried by it. The resilience to anesthesia particularly caught his interest. Someone had to have some stubborn genes to pull that one off. "I guess you're right in saying we have to wait. I don't like to, but there's really no other choice, is there? If need be, could she be transferred to Gibraltar unharmed?"

Pausing, the doctor took the time to digest the question. "Sure, it is possible, but if something went wrong in the transfer, that'd be it. I'd hate to see such a good soldier die because of an over-zealous commander."

Now that was bold.

"I'd watch that tongue of yours, doctor," Le Creuset stated, his tone cheery instead of sounding deep and threatening. Perhaps that was why the young man took a step back. Apparently, his survival instincts were working after all. "You may know something about brainwaves, but never—even involuntarily—think you know anything about how I treat my team. I know the weaknesses and strengths in every one of them, mind you, so you can just worry about how to get Eclipse back on duty."

"Yes sir," Dr. Drudger muttered, regretting his ridiculous comment as soon as the commander offered his cold glare as a present. Next time, he'll just say "no" to taking care of a member of the Le Creuset Team.

And then get the hell out of the hospital.

"I'm assuming there's been no change," DaCosta muttered, a clipboard of papers under his right arm and more papers in his right hand. He must have stopped in before he had to run off again. Knowing that he was now the one in charge to deal with the clean-up, his schedule was bound to be busy. "Does Commander Le Creuset still plan on transferring her to Gibraltar tomorrow? I realize she's been out for over two days now, so is that a good thing to do?"

Dearka sighed, putting down his crossword puzzle and walking to the bed in one fluid motion. Given the room's seclusion, it was expected to be of fair size, but it looked more like a holding cell than a recovery room. The white walls and tiled floor were anticipated, but whenever he came to visit, he felt the eerie silence broken only by the sound of the medical machines. Wiping some sweat from his forehead, the blonde checked the monitor before shrugging. "We're not sure what he's up to and, honestly, him coming here was a huge surprise. We both figured he was still in space and then the day after all of this began," he swept an arm over Eclipse's body, "there he was on the doorstep. The doctors say she's stable enough for transfer, but they never make eye contact or seem to stand still when they talk about it."

"We're pretty sure they're lying," Yzak chimed in, setting his book down on the small lamp stand near his seat. They were both visiting then, it seemed. With the team in disarray and the base still a chaotic mess them keeping out of the way was a welcome more than anything. "We just can't prove it because we know shit about medical stuff and we think they're using the medical jargon on purpose."

DaCosta sighed, walking forward to put his clipboards and papers down on one of the smaller tables before leaning back against the wall near the other two pilots. "So, she is more serious than I thought." He ran his hands over his face, feeling Dearka's and Yzak's gazes as he did. "Damn, this has been a hellish couple of days."

The two redcoats could only agree. Surprisingly, Waltfeld had been found alive; barely, but still ticking. Eclipse would have been relieved if she ever woke up, but that was a problem too; she was still sleeping nicely in a coma. Why, no one knew, and each passing day caused more panic, at least among her closest comrades. Her wounds were weren't serious, bandaged, and were healing, and there was no indication she received brain damage in the battle.

It was just so frustrating.

"Commander Waltfeld woke up this morning. The doctor called me in to see him, but what could I say? He asked me some questions, joked a bit, tried to make me get him a mug of coffee, but other than that, he avoided the Aisha subject. I'm sure he knows though." DaCosta sighed, combing a hand through his hair as he shook his head. "I mentioned Eclipse briefly, but didn't go into much detail. Honestly, I was hoping she'd be up by now."

"I admit I'm surprised by her level of guilt. She had never shown such loyalty before," Yzak remarked, leaning forward in his chair.

"Waltfeld has the charisma to get along with anyone and that person, in turn, gets along with him. It's quite a gift and one that took Eclipse by surprise, I'm sure. They respect each other and Aisha adored her, so I think that had something to do with it too." The redcoats gave a non-committal noise and DaCosta sighed, crossing his arms over his chest thoughtfully. "Eclipse blames herself, as does most of the crew. Hell, I was stuck in the Lesseps the entire time. This blow hurt everyone and the fact that she was the only one—besides the commander himself—to survive an encounter with the Strike doesn't weigh any less. She had two chances to take him down before Commander Waltfeld and Aisha made it on the field, but, in the end, the Strike won."

Dearka and Yzak shared a curse at that. The Strike had won again. Again. How did it keep happening and even against the Waltfeld team?

"If anything, we're the ones with the prototypes. We should be feeling far more guilt than her," Dearka muttered, offering a side glance at Eclipse's prone form.

"Based on that medical jargon shit there might be more to it than that," Yzak added simply, offering a sad shrug as he leaned on an upraised hand.

"I've been hearing those whispers as well," the greencoat replied quietly, shifting a hand uneasily through his red hair again. It seemed to be a habit. "I don't know all the details about her physical state, but, frankly, morale is low. Losing Aisha, the commander, four of our main pilots, and Eclipse all at once was a hard blow. The commander's fine—for the most part—I know that now, but still I wish Eclipse would wake up."

The three were silent, sentimental about the whole ordeal, but, honestly, not knowing why. For DaCosta, it could've been the gut-wrenching feeling of watching a hard loss play out in front of him. Losing colleagues was never easy and even keeping the team going was a drain on his own mental stability. War was awful like that, and DaCosta had promised himself plenty of times he would get out one day, but something always held him back. Question was, was that "something" still there?

Yzak's and Dearka's dilemmas were much the same, just bridging on the edge of maturity and immaturity. When they first joined the military, this wasn't what they expected. Sure, death and pain—both emotional and physical—were part of the deal, but at the time, it was a far-off nightmare. Then, after losing Rusty and Miguel so quickly into their first mission, their battles after with the Archangel and then the Lunar Fleet—well, that nightmare wasn't so far off anymore.

"We'll get that Strike," Yzak spat, for once, surprising everyone by the statement.

DaCosta said nothing and Dearka agreed softly, but his lips flipped into a frown as he stared at Eclipse's heart monitor sadly. Revenge? Is that really the answer?

Greed didn't show up in her dreams this time; in fact she didn't dream at all. The last thing Eclipse remembered was the slick feeling of the scalpel as she stabbed some persistent doctor. Then, she didn't care—why the hell would a Berserker care whether a guy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?—but now she felt nauseous. That feeling had been racking her body a lot lately, and, frankly, she didn't care much for it.

Things were so much easier when she didn't give a damn.

Dry heaving over the side of the bed, the redhead barely had time to appreciate the wet washcloth put on her forehead. It was cool—and very relieving—but her brain felt like it was throbbing; pulsing with too much blood and failing pain killers. Her left arm strained against the bed, seemingly strapped to her side and she felt her bed jerk as she pulled. Was she restrained?

"Just keep breathing slowly, Eclipse. You'll be fine. This is just a reaction to waking up so abruptly," the nurse said, presumably she was the one holding the washcloth to her forehead. The redhead felt the vague sensation of something being pulled off her skin around her temples but another dry heave stole her attention. Nothing was going to come up, the redhead knew. What was there to? She didn't know how long she had been out, but based on the pain in her head, she was wishing she had just stayed unconscious.

"Here, I got it," a male's voice said and the pressure on her forehead shifted. "Eclipse, just breathe."

Breathe. Everyone was telling her to just fucking breathe as if that hadn't been the thing she was going to do anyway. It was infuriating. Whether she wanted to be in that moment or not, she was alive and there was nothing left for her to do.

Coughing a few times, she forced herself to settle down and turned back onto the bed when she felt her stomach had calmed down enough to not force its way up her esophagus. She opened her eyes slowly and saw the face of the male voice she had heard earlier. He was young, blond, and had a stethoscope around his neck so her deduction that he was a doctor was probably accurate.

"How are you feeling?" he asked and Eclipse swallowed. What was that look on his face?

Why was he looking at her like that?

"O-okay," she managed, looking away at the wall instead of his eyes and lightly tugging on her restraints.

He sighed and gave a small chuckle. "I admit I'm relieved. You gave us all quite a scare." He turned her face back to him and flashed a light in her eyes. "We had to calm you down when you had arrived and we pumped a bit too much anesthesia into your system. You'll have some side effects, I'm afraid." His explanation was so matter of fact she felt herself tense. "Amazing, really, that you even awoke."

"She's lucky, y'know, she was about to be prepped for transfer not two hours from now," the nurse chimed in absently, making the redhead jump. She was so glad someone else was still in the room that she turned her head too quickly to the side and winced, the pain returning to her head.

"Just relax," the doctor said, misunderstanding her panicked look. "You'll definitely survive the transfer now." She felt her eyes widen and her heart monitor sped up. Who was this doctor? "I'd like to do more assessments, before you leave," he continued and walked to the other side of the room.

She pulled at her restraints again. "Why am I—Can I?" she asked and the two medical professionals shared a look before the doctor nodded. The nurse walked over and unbuckled the belts around her wrists and ankles then helped her sit up, dangling her legs over the side of the bed.

Hurried steps in the hall caught their attention as Eclipse was massaging the skin around her wrists. "Did I hear right? Is Eclipse really—" DaCosta stopped, stared, and did a full body checkout of the redhead sitting on the other side of the room. At any other time, Eclipse may have slapped him for the obvious gesture, but right then, she was happy to see a familiar face.

Wait.

"Comm—" she began, but the words gurgled in her throat as the nurse shoved a thermometer under her tongue; however, he understood anyway. DaCosta sighed and looked down for a moment, making Eclipse's heart skip a beat. He sighed and looked up, matching her worried stare with a calm one of his own. "Commander Waltfeld's alive, Eclipse, but Aisha's gone."

The redhead's eyes lit up at the commander's survival, but instantly turned downcast when she heard about his co-pilot. Sweat beaded on her forehead, feeling her face whiten under everyone's hot gaze. Yes, hot. DaCosta knew her abilities—had seen it. He blamed her, she knew. That calm look was accusatory. Hell, the whole team probably blamed her. She should have gone berserk and destroyed the Strike when she had the chance, but that damned pride of hers had won out in the end. And now she had to pay for it. The coffee runs, the unpleasant skirmishes in the market, the way Aisha pampered her, it was all just a vague memory.

She would never get them back.

And it was all her fault.

"Come, we'll talk about this later," the doctor said, shooing DaCosta out. "I'd like to do a few more tests and a little rest before she's shipped out would do her some good."

"S-sure, okay," DaCosta said and turned back to Eclipse. Her reaction to the news had worried him. "I'll come see you later," he said firmly and she looked up briefly to nod before the nurse took out the temperature and the doctor closed the door in front of him.

She really didn't want him to leave; didn't want to be left alone with these two again. She wanted to get as much information as she could. The commander's alive, she thought, a goofy grin gracing her lips before the devil snatched it away again. But Aisha's… Commander, I'm so sorry. I should've self-destructed or… or…

"Right, my name is Dr. Drudger and I've been looking through your files. I must say, you're an interesting patient." He handed her a cup of water before reaching forward and putting his palm against her forehead. "Your temperature was a little high, but nothing to worry about." She tensed instantly, the water jumping in her cup at the gesture. "Tell me, dear, do you know how much trouble you've put us through?"

"I want to see Commander Waltfeld," she said softly and turned away from his insistent stare. Out of everyone, he was the last one she wanted to talk to, and, in a desperate attempt to find other company, she searched the room for the nurse, but realized she must have left when Dr. Drudger was talking.

Shit.

"Do you now? From what I've heard, your guilty conscious is what may've induced your coma, not our medical practices."

Coma? She paused, not expecting to hear that. She just assumed she had been out for a few hours. "How long—" she started, but he had already continued his thought.

"So tell me, who in her right mind would want to see the source of her problems?"

That was bold. "You know nothing about it!"

"I know your brain's on the verge of collapsing," the doctor explained calmly, holding up a hand to silence another outburst. "I've already talked about this with your commander, but he won't listen to reason; hopefully, you will. While you were unconscious, we did some evaluation tests and came up with some interesting information. I want to say it's a bad thing, but seeing as you're still alive, it might not be as awful as I originally anticipated. Lunar Eclipse, your mind is in a very delicate position at the moment and I'd like to do further tests in order to figure out how we can help you."

Collapsing? Eclipse thought, unable to keep the surprise off her face despite the fact that this doctor deserved nothing other than her anger. "It's like a drug, y'know," Namarra had said. Was this just scientific proof?

"Delicate how?" she asked.

"Well, when you were brought in, your hysteria and hallucinations—among other symptoms—prompted us to check your head for further damage. Upon scanning your brainwaves, we found out you had none, at least not until you fell unconscious. This monitor here," he pointed to the darkened screen just to the right of her IV stand, "was measuring your brainwaves. They had been normal when you awoke ,but it doesn't give us any answers as to what happened a few days ago."

Days? She had been out for days? Eclipse turned away from his look again to look up at the monitor, only then remembering the sensation before of something being pulled off her skin on both sides of her head. Brain-dead, huh? Apparently, this Berserker thing has more to it than just heightened skills and the need to be overly sadistic, she mused. I wonder if Namarra knew anything about this.

"So, you understand my concern then? I don't think you should be anywhere near a battlefield in your condition. Would you consent to staying here under my observation?"

The redhead almost said yes, until she heard the words "under my observation." Yes, she did want to stay on the Lesseps with the commander and DaCosta. Sure, the desert was a bit too hot for her liking—and the sun was far from the word "pleasurable"—but she fit in there. Dearka and Yzak may have been getting "teammate-like friendly" as of late, but what was going to happen as soon as they were all back under Le Creuset's supervision? Would they shift back to their old selves? Eclipse really didn't want to be around them when that happened. She liked them now and if leaving them to stay on the Lesseps meant she had that false memory forever, she wasn't about to complain.

And then there was Athrun and Nicol. Her last encounter with them was far from pleasant, and why should she risk her mental state with more emotional turmoil? But… this doctor. The look in this young man's eyes scared her more than the thought of leaving the Lesseps. He wanted her under his close observation?

What the hell did that entail?

"No," Eclipse responded. "I know more than you think about my 'mental condition' and believe me when I say your tests won't do too much. It's about time I joined the rest of my team, sir."

Obviously, that wasn't the answer he wanted to hear, but he masked his anger well. "I'm sorry to hear that." The doctor sighed, pushing off the bed to stand near the doorway. "Honestly, I'm not sure you'd last another stressful battle like this one. Without further tests, you won't be able to get the right treatment to keep—whatever it is—from killing you. Tell me, does that scare you in the least?"

"No offense, sir, but I think I know more about my mind than you do."

"Are you so sure, soldier?"

"No, but I'm willing to take the chance."

Seeing as Eclipse fell asleep soon after her "delightful" conversation with Dr. Drudger, she neither got the chance to see Waltfeld nor say goodbye to DaCosta. Waking up on the transport carrier was an interesting experience as well. Surprisingly, the redhead wasn't startled by the whole ordeal—blissfully sleeping as some nurses pushed her wheelchair down the hallways—but now, she was just plain pissed. Clawing at her IV tubes, she tried to run out and say her final farewells, but a sudden head rush—and the biting pain in her right leg—sent her crashing to her knees.

"You really must be more careful," Le Creuset cooed, hoisting her to her feet and helping her sit back in the chair. "You're lucky to be alive."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't leave without talking to them."

"We're on a strict schedule, Eclipse, and you are in no position to say otherwise."

"Yes, I understand, but please—"

"Sir, everything's onboard and we're ready to take off," Dearka announced, both him and Yzak saluting as they walked up. They noticed the redhead next, but made no overly emotional reaction to her consciousness other than a quick eye twitch. Perhaps it was because the commander was there.

Too bad, Eclipse didn't care about that at the moment. "Sir, please. Just a few—"

Le Creuset sighed, putting a firm hand on her shoulder when she tried to get up once more. Shaking his head, he waited for the other two redcoats to come over before he began talking. "I'm sorry to have to tell you all this right here, but there seems to be no better time. Commander Waltfeld passed away not a half hour ago, while you, Eclipse, were sleeping and you two were helping with the departure. The doctors tried desperately to save him, but, in the end, an infection—forming at the base of his amputated arm—is what claimed his life."

You're lying, Eclipse thought, but not even she believed the words. Why would he lie?

"Alas," the commander continued, watching each face carefully, "his second-in-command was so distraught about it all he could only express his apologies for not wishing us off in person."

The redhead stopped breathing; in fact, she was sure she did. Another head rush racked her body even though she was sitting safely in the chair, and would have knocked her out completely if her pride wasn't still holding onto some string of hope. No tears stung her eyes this time—having neither the energy nor the emotional stability for such an act—but her hands were clenched in raw fury.

Someone was going to die.

And horribly.

"Truly, I'm sorry. This is a great loss indeed."

The arrival at Gibraltar wasn't as glorious as originally anticipated. Well, maybe Eclipse didn't think "glorious" so much as "a time for a well-needed rest." The transport was ridiculous. Yzak and Dearka started bickering about… something. Eclipse's mind was elsewhere and couldn't concentrate on the conversation even if she tried.

Commander Waltfeld was dead.

Her mind was indeed cruel then, churning that news over and over in her mind instead of sending her off into the much-needed bliss of sleep.

Dead.

They were both gone.

She remained silent the rest of the ride, speaking only once when they landed to let Yzak and Dearka know that she was okay and ready to leave.

"We might come around and visit," Dearka mentioned offhandedly as he and Yzak walked at her sides. A male nurse pushed the redhead towards the infirmary, his pace brisk in the evening chill. Though the difference in temperature between Banadiya and Gibraltar probably had more to do with everyone's shivers.

"'Might,' huh?" Eclipse asked, her voice displaying more emotion than her face did.

"Sorry, but I have a feeling we're going to be pretty busy."

Watching Le Creuset walk out next, the redhead finally caught on. They were back under his command and his commanding was far from the laid-back atmosphere she had been spoiled with in Banadiya. Their stay was going to be hellish indeed. "Any news on when Athrun and Nicol are getting here?" she asked instead, not wanting to dwell on the sad memories she had left behind.

"They're coming?" Yzak grumbled, showing more anger than actual curiosity about the answer. He probably should have expected it, but even he was off his game lately.

"I'd assume so," Dearka finished for Eclipse, figuring out her line of thinking. "Since the 'Legged Ship' is here on Earth, there's no reason for them to be in outer space."

The redhead debated telling them the "Legged Ship" was formally know as the Archangel, but in the end, she just chickened out. After all, what good would that kind of information do? The name "Legged Ship" was easier to spit out than Archangel anyway. "And we are a team," Eclipse added quietly after a moment.

"Well, as long as I'm able to unpack before that pretty boy comes and starts bossing me around, I'll be fine," Yzak muttered, a scowl on his lips.

"I'm assuming you're talking about Athrun," Dearka said, hiding a smile.

"Who else?"

Eclipse vaguely listened as another bickering session began. The dock wasn't busy that evening so very few soldiers were wandering about and no one seemed to notice their arrival. It's for the best, she figured, not wanting anyone else to fuss over them. Someone was dealing with the Buster and the Duel, she knew, so really there was nothing more to worry about. Sighing, she looked up, watching the stars start to pepper the evening sky. She wished her anger had held out a little longer, but it seemed as if she was going to succumb to grief anyway, despite her efforts. It had, indeed, been easier when she didn't care.

"Hey, I'm sure you'll be walking around again soon," Yzak said and she turned to look at him. Whether her solemn expression had prompted the statement or something else, Eclipse wasn't sure. He gave a shrug as if answering her question.

"And I heard your suit might already be here," Dearka added, turning her attention back over to him. "We can see how much of a mechanical reject it really is." He winked and Eclipse gave a soft smile as she shook her head.

"Thanks, guys."

"So, this is it," Eclipse muttered, ordering the greencoat to stop the jeep in the mobile suit hangar, careful of her right leg and bandaged left hand as she swung out of the passenger's side. Staring at the crutch lying in the back seat, she debated bringing it out, but decided to be stubborn instead. After all, she had to start rehab sooner or later. "MW-979ca STEALTH. For such a mouthful, I thought it'd be grander."

"Well, you obviously don't know what this baby can do, then," the main mechanic announced, stepping over to meet the redhead at the foot of the machine. Offering a quick salute with his clipboard, he gave her a teasing smile.

"I don't, do I?" Eclipse muttered, ignoring his sleezy grin. The redhead had convinced herself that morning she would mask her foul mood, but it was harder than she had anticipated. First, her right hand had cramped up—it hadn't done that in a long while—and then her leg and left hand decided to start whining too. It was a huge pity fest and not one Eclipse wanted to be involved in. Unfortunately, she didn't have a choice and when her head wanted to join in on the fun, the porcelain god was the only thing she could pray to. Damn, with as many times as I offer sacrifice to that thing, I should just become a nun and get it over with.

"Would you like me to enlighten you?" the mechanic asked, noting the glazed over look in her eyes; however—despite his smile before—he didn't want to know what she was thinking about. He had learned a long time ago most pilots were just a little off their rocker.

"Everything would be in the manual, wouldn't it?"

"Did you really want to go up there in your current condition?"

"I take it you won't bring it down to me," Eclipse said, slightly frustrated—and amused at the same time—with his stoic look. For some reason, she thought only certain soldiers could perfect that expression. Kind of refreshing to know she was wrong. "Point taken."

"Alright, I'll let you take a moment to bask in its greatness before I go into specific details."

Cocky little bastard, isn't he? the redhead mused, covering a smile with an upraised hand, but turned to the Stealth nonetheless. Considering the amount of time it took them to build the machine, it was quite impressive. The body looked like it was taken straight from a GINN, but only not as bulky and more angular in how the armor was shaped. A bottomless black color seemed to be the paint of choice, the only thing offsetting the overwhelming feeling of it all was the accent of silver around the biceps, cockpit area, upper thighs, and head. Ah, the head. Ironically, it was a humanoid-like face—common with all the other prototypes—but on top was a helmet and fin much like Commander Le Creuset's CGUE. It didn't look bad, but made the face look a tad smaller than, for example, the Aegis or Blitz. Well, Eclipse was willing to get used to it and since she was in such a judgmental mood at the time, perhaps she couldn't fully appreciate the design just yet. She was going to move onto evaluating the backside when the mechanic's sudden explanation became her chief priority.

"Judging by the look on your face, you're impressed. Good; you should be. This baby stands a tad over 22 meters—making it tall for a mobile suit—and weighs about 75 tons. We installed a new battery that just came off the assembly line. It's an improved version of the standard CGUE battery, and should last you between 5 to 20 hours, but if you put too much strain on it—being a tad trigger-happy for example—it'll die before you know it. Be smart; that's all I'll tell ya." Eclipse merely nodded, choosing not to answer just yet. Staring at the machine, she now held more admiration for it than she had a moment ago.

The good part was, it could only get better.

"Besides just the battery though, the Stealth comes with a HFC-EPR, or, since you're probably not fluent in the technical jargon, Hydrogen Fuel Cell—"

"—Emergency Power Rejuvenator," the redhead finished, noting his surprised look out of the corner of her eye. "Yes, I've done my fair share of time in the ugly world of mechanics so spare me the 'simpleton' talk."

Rawr, the man thought, beginning to hate this girl more and more. Too bad he didn't know that was the only thing Eclipse could remember. How come the pretty ones always come with attitudes? Seeing her glare shifting in his direction, the mechanic quickly cleared his throat and continued. "Well—uh—yes, but it's a one-shot system and needs to be replaced at a high-tech facility, so don't forget that. However, it's very useful—as you probably know—for recharging your battery one hundred percent mid-battle if need be. Remember though, once; I can't stress that enough. Once. I'd hate for you to be shot down for just having a terrible memory."

Eclipse nodded, thinking of the possibilities with such an interesting feature literally at her fingertips. She might be able to get her revenge after all.

"The armor might be something you'll be interested in, considering your tendency to do reckless things in battle—or so I've heard," the mechanic added a second later, feeling the blow of her scowl that time. Damn, why did he do this for a living again? "It's an improved form of the CGUE, but still nothing like the Phase Shift armor your teammates have. 'Bullshit' you might say, but, well, sorry we're good, but not that good just yet. On the plus side, it doesn't drain your battery—and you're a bit more resilient than the typical GINN—even if it won't make you immune to physical weaponry. The outer shell of the armor is plastered with a layer of anti-beam coating similar to the surface of the Duel's or even the Aile Strike's shield. While that may sound all fine and dandy, I'd advise you not to rely on it to save your ass. It should at least prevent a stray beam from blowing a hole through you, every now and again, but that's about it. Oh, and even that will deteriorate over time."

Eclipse sighed, not liking all the "buts" in this conversation. Yes, she knew ZAFT wasn't perfect, but she was still waiting for the announcement of an "invincible" mobile suit. Honestly, how hard could that be? Hm, perhaps that's why she made a better pilot than an engineer.

She was way too ambitious.

"Woah there little lass, before you force a grenade down my throat," the mechanic began, not liking how this redhead could shift emotions so suddenly. One minute she was doting on the unit and the next moment she wanted to put his head between its fingers and squeeze. Well, now he knew why he never got married. "I should tell you, the Stealth is really designed for more special operations than, say, being a scapegoat in a battle. Emphasis on the special part, by the way. Your primary defensive weapon will be the stealth systems, both passive and active, including an improved Mirage Colloid cloak. It can last up to 180 minutes, and, hopefully, I won't have to tell you to use that wisely either. In other words, you have three hours of invisibility per battery, for a grand total of six without returning to base if you use the EPR."

"Sounds about right," the redhead said, absently fiddling with the bandage on her left hand. She wasn't bored, per se, more like over anxious and not the scared kind of anxious either; excitement was the better word. Impressive was another good term for the situation but that really only related to the Stealth. And he hadn't even gotten to her weaponry yet.

"There's one more tidbit I'd like to add, your cockpit has also been revamped and expanded a bit, so it should be more comfortable for stake outs and the like. There's also an expanded gear locker to put your—uh—personal equipment," the mechanic stuttered, clearing his throat and hiding a smile from the priceless look she cast him. She even looked embarrassed for a moment. "Anyway, the life support systems have been boosted as well. Oh—given your last reentry to earth—I'm sure you'll like this little feature we added in; there is an option to mount single use, disposable atmospheric re-entry stealth shields to the front of the machine. Alright, it may not sound that great, but it allows for undetected transit from orbit to surface, entirely unaided." Eclipse looked happy about that one, so he moved on, pointing up at the wings next. "Those wings are a new system type called 'HiMat.' They fold out to a wider configuration to provide enhanced maneuverability during combat, and also allow for unaided atmospheric flight. Or—if you don't feel like being some damned seagull—they can fold back for faster flight in space or ground bound movement. One problem, though; they're terribly delicate, so keep an eye out, deary."

"Deary?" Eclipse wondered, rolling her eyes when he just gave an innocent smile in return. "Your babble's growing long, sir, so can we please stop with the pet names and get this over with. Forgive me if my headache's slowly turning to a migraine."

"I know you're sore over your loss at Banadiya and all, but—"

"That's way out of line. You stick with the technical stuff and I'll worry about my psychological welfare."

"Of course, ma'am; sorry about that."

Eclipse never turned away, in fact she was enjoying the scared look in the mechanic's eyes. Sadistic? Probably, but after all she had gone through in the past few days, the attitude shift was refreshing. "Now, what about the weaponry."

"Yes—well—there's a pair of 20mm gatling CIWS guns in the head for anti-missile and light anti-vehicle purposes. You might not be so happy about the positioning, but let me tell ya, it can come in handy when you're pinned against the wall. Basically, you'll be spitting them from the mouth, honey, but hey, I've always like a woman who was good with her mou—" he stopped himself then, instinctively jumping two feet away from the redhead. She didn't make any movements, but, damn, the thoughtful look on her face was scary enough. He could almost imagine his intestines wrapped around his neck too.

When was he ever going to learn?

"S-sorry, again, I wasn't thinking, ma'am. L-let's just move on, okay?" Still no verbal response—a blessing in disguise—and not a cue the mechanic was going to miss. Clearing his throat, he began once more. "E-each hip conceals a holster with a pair of EARP Daggers, which stands for Explosive ARmor Penetrators. Hm, just think of them like large grenades made into the shape of throwing knives. One, good hit will take out a GINN—or blow apart a G-Weapon's shield—but if you plan on taking out a carrier, more firepower is probably needed. Now, let's move onto your hand-to-hand stuff. I've heard you're pretty skilled in this area, so I'd like you to know we took that into account. This baby's beefed up for that sort of 'in the face' action, let me tell ya. On the top of each forearm is a circular, armor buckler for extra defense. Based off the 'Gleipnir' offensive shield system of the Blitz, each buckler can be fired like a projectile, sprouting beam edges and trailing behind it a metapolymer cord. Just imagine the damage you can do with something like that and I'm sure some teammates might not mind being pulled out of a shitty situation, if you're into that kind of thing. Although, the chords might not stand for pulling too much weight, so watch it. I'd hate to see a good intention turn bad just because you got over anxious."

Eclipse could only agree with him. So far, she had been able to avoid the "good Samaritan" scenario, but if all this firepower got to her head, she might think she actually was invincible.

Perhaps all these "buts" weren't bad things after all.

"Beneath the bucklers on both arms are two, foldout swords, each with a blade four meters long. Standard GINN physical blades—made out of steel—but they can deploy or retract at any given time and 'in the blink of an eye' if you'll permit me the cliché. They're best used for surprise attacks—which I'm assuming you picked up on—but are really good in 'save your ass' times too. Nothing like a reliable weapon to pull out at the last second before some Natural chops your cockpit in two. Anyway, there's another, four-meter blade in the top of each foot too. Deploy it at the right time and you can officially make eunuchs out of every male mobile suit on Earth and in space. Appealing, no? So, knowing that, how's your football skills, little lady?"

The redhead just sighed and shook her head. She was going to ask how many "endearments" he was going to shower her with before the briefing was over, but restrained herself when he made the "eunuch" comment.

That, at least, had earned him some brownie points.

"Now, this I know you'll love, oh ambidextrous one. The Stealth also has 2 beam sabers—one in each forearm—that are spring-loaded to drop into your hands when you don't want a measly army knife to save your apple-bottom ass." That compliment may have gone a little overboard. He had no idea how lucky he should feel at the moment. "I'm sure you don't care to know the 'potpourri' information, but I'll tell ya anyway. Your right blade's a crimson color—apparently, it has a better output of energy for a fiercer attack—and your left is blue—better for defense. Not sure if the colors are just superstitious shit or actually make a difference, but it might help you out in the long run." The mechanic just shrugged, pausing a moment to make sure he didn't forget anything major. "Oh," he snapped his fingers, "there are two, high-energy beam rifles strapped to the rear of the machine—just above its ass or the curve of the lower back to give you a visual sense—for quick draws and while it may be a weak long-range attack, it may buy you enough time to gather your bearings. There's also a sniper rifle specially designed for this suit as well. However, the two guns I just mentioned have to be taken off in order to mount the thing on your back. Sorry, there's just not enough room on this baby."

Eclipse could only shake her head. The machine would have been far too perfect if it had had all of that juicy stuff.

Well, either that or off balanced.

"Now, this is the last bit I'll tell ya, but save the sigh of relief for when I leave. Trust me, I'll be issuing one of my own. This baby is too decked out for my tastes, but if you're able to destroy a few more Naturals than the average pilot, I say have fun. Okay, in your left palm is a one-shot, 330mm Hyper-Impulse cannon, based off the 'Scylla' design from the Aegis. You only get one shot, mind you, but whatever you hit will be sunbathing in the fires of Hell before you know it. A thing straight out of your nightmares, I'm assuming. Well, maybe not yours but there are a few out there who'd rather have their body put into a grave than be cremated."

"True, and you have a point; however, I'd rather be cremated any day," Eclipse admitted, this time turning to the mechanic thoughtfully instead of casting an icy glare. "After all, if you're all burned up, there's no chance you'd be buried alive, right?"

"Heh, terribly morbid, but—uh—true I guess. Shall I put that in your will?"

"Sir, if I die, I'm sure you're not far behind. You'd probably rather be starting on your own than messing around with mine."

Cocky bitch, he thought, but smirked nonetheless. With as much fire power as this Stealth had, the prospect of her dying was a small one. So, in that off chance she did have bad luck, he would be running for the hills.

"I'll come back as soon as I can and take her for a test run. Sound good?"

"Uh, sure. I'm assuming I should also have the base on high alert as well. Wouldn't want you to have too much fun, after all."

"Whatever you want." Eclipse smirked and limped back to the jeep, motioning for the greencoat to take her back to her living arrangements. The mechanic waved mockingly at her as they drove away, laughing all the louder when her middle finger waved back.

A/N: All right, all, here's another chapter. 30, can you believe it? Well, I can't because I never thought I'd get this far. Let's just hope I can make it all the way to the end, huh?

And so ends the life of our fair commander, or so we're told. Le Creuset's a sly snake in this episode and him telling the redcoats such a blatant lie was very unnerving. I found myself twitching at the keyboard as I was whipping that one up. Well, let's just say Eclipse isn't going to let this one go so easily, and Namarra might feel the blunt force of it... or not. We'll have to see!

Ah, here's the Stealth. Yup, I had every intention of wimping out and putting it at the beginning of the next chapter—trust me, I was having a writer's block for days just because I didn't want to write all of that—but thanks to a bit of prodding on my friends' part, here it is for your enjoyment. A huge thank you goes out to Maderfole for all the technical help. You guys have no idea how bad that part would've sucked—and if it does please let me know O.o—without his help. Remember my cell phone and a Neanderthal comment a few chapters back? Yeah.

Let's see, oh yeah! We should probably give Athrun and Nicol a big "Welcome Back!" party in the next chapter. Hm, perhaps we will. That would be an interesting one-shot... Nicol drunk? Dearka drunk? ...Yzak drunk? Let's lock away the armaments, shall we?

All right, last and certainly not least (yes, I'm a fan of cliches... you'll find out why later on) a special thanks to my Betas Death-Scimitar, CSS Stravag, and Maderfole. You have no idea what you miss until you see a bunch of highlight marks on your paper... and then realize most were because of stupidity. This story makes so much more sense because of them.

Gripes and/or Questions:

Asmus: FMA wasn't really an inspiration, but it was in the back of my mind. :P Besides, it's so much fun and, since most of them are children anyway, it's only fair to let them have some fun in their life. Sadistic, yes, but still fun. The beam sabers weren't the problem, it was the BuCUE itself. Leave it to technology to ruin a perfectly good attack/kill.

Eclipse did go berserk. Perhaps I didn't specify that as well. My bad.

Rickrolled: I love bickering so Kira and her will go at it later. There was a slight time restriction on this battle, so I had to keep it short. Besides, Kira isn't very "godly" at the moment. He's just really... misguided.

Again, thank you for all the reads and reviews! Thanks too for the new ones and I hope you guys'll stick around. There's so much left to this tale—I'll tell ya that much—and none of it will come without a bit of drama, blood, and maybe even some romance. We'll have to see.

Strata