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Chapter Thirty-One
Culmination
Great things are done by a series of small things brought together. – Vincent Van Gogh
A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality. – Yoko Ono
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In which everyone achieves their goals (enlightenment?), and Lucrezia and Dorothy prove to be polar opposites.
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NOTICE:
This site has been actively screwing with me, and I suspect has stopped sending out any kind of notification. If you see this, I'm going to keep cross-posting here for sake of posterity... but Archive of Our Own has very much become my primary place to post and it's where all my editing is done in full - in part because editing on here post-fact is a nightmare. So if you want to reliably know when there's a new chapter, I'd set up an alert over there.
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Whoo! Here we are with the last full chapter at over 31k (51 pages), with just an Epilogue to go before we move on to Succession! And with less than five weeks since the last one. Hope you guys enjoy it! As usually, many thanks to Emily for both the hard edit and indulging me at bizarre hours, and to both Big Fisch and MystRunner – all three of them helping me sort out… so many aspect of this are a good chunk of why it's kept moving along at a steady clip. Relena's life has been complicated as fuck – she's trying to fix that.
Enjoy! And, uh… I'd apologize for Dorothy, but I think you already know she just… does things. The woman deserves her own warning label, just in general. Please consider reviewing! We're so close to the end!
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February 11th 199 – Tuesday – Berlin, Germany – Berlin House
It was well after ten when he made it through the front door, and the house was dark.
Hn. The lights of the city coming through the far wall gave him more than enough illumination to be assured of his footing. Still, he took his time moving about the main of the first level, adjusting his eyes from the brightness of the hall. When no motion greeted him, he headed for the stairs – no light on the first landing saw him head directly for the second.
Lucrezia's weekend bag lay at the foot of the small couch she insisted was called a lounge, but the room was otherwise untouched, with the bedding neatly folded down in the professional signature that said the maintenance service that came with the property had been through since Quatre left. Hm. He ducked into the bathroom to be sure, but aside from her toiletry bag on the counter, it, too, was empty.
Upstairs, then. He took a moment to drop his duffel in the closet, then headed to the final landing.
This room was both darker and lighter than those before. Its peaked glass ceilings refracted light from outside in chaotic patterns that the mirrors on the south wall confused further, but the upper level to the north cast a deep shadow over nearly half of the remaining room. It was beautiful in a way he hadn't expected, and a part of him wanted to stand and take it in – but no. Lucrezia hadn't responded to the sound of the door opening, so he made a point of shutting it firmly and moving such that his clothes rustled, giving her warning as he approached.
She didn't react, instead remaining on the floor with one leg drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around it as she rested her chin on her knee, staring out at the city. The spot she'd chosen to focus on was dark – some kind of park or fountain square, if memory served, instead of the glittering commercial buildings that surrounded them otherwise – so after a long moment of seeing nothing himself, he sat down next to her. She leaned into him when he wrapped an arm around her, shifting to scoot the last inch closer so there was no gap between them before pulling her other knee up and dropping her head on his shoulder. He tightened his grip in a one-armed embrace, balancing himself against the floor with his right hand as he leaned back into her, dipping his head to settle his face against her crown. Her scent was stronger right now, like she had been working out, and it…
This. Whatever this was, he never wanted it to stop. Obviously the rest could be better, but this, what was between them through good and bad, still very much here despite her black mood… He was never letting that go. He just didn't have the words for it.
I missed you. The next time he had to go to the dark site – which was once again going to need to be sooner than he liked – she needed to come with him. As simple as the numbers had looked, eighteen days had felt like an eternity. He could focus around it, had, because he needed to make the most of his time in at the dark site if he wanted to limit it in the future – but he hadn't wanted to. The absurdity of it had made him laugh when he realized, but he had genuinely wanted to sit and be depressed about her absence more than be productive. He hadn't let himself, but the very urge…
It wasn't enough. Shifting his weight more onto his left hip, he twisted and brought his free hand to her chin, tipping her face up towards his. The kiss was slow but deep, less teasing than he usually liked to start but with a building tension just the same, and when she broke her encircling hold on her knees to turn into him more, he rearranged his hold enough to pull her sideways into his lap, left thigh dragging across his belly. Reaching both hands up to cup her face, he indulged in a shorter, more tense but gentler kiss before settling his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath. "I love you."
Still inadequate, but better than anything else he'd come up with so far – and she had said the words themselves mattered.
Lucrezia let out a husky, breathless little laugh that had pure want coiling in his gut even before she swiveled her hips to grind down against him. Suddenly far more aggressive, she clasped his head between her hands and fisted them in his hair before slanting her mouth back over his. Grinning into it, he dragged his own hands down her sides with enough pressure to make her moan and arch her back, then dug his thumbs into the front waistband of her pants. Elastic, and slightly damp from perspiration – she hadn't been resting long before he arrived, though he did wonder if she'd been exercising in the dark. Probably.
She made a needy, whining sound when he swiped his thumbs over bare skin, and he pulled his head back enough to kiss her firmly on the mouth instead of deepening it again, trying to slow down her headlong rush. He tilted his head away to instead press his mouth against her neck, nose to her sweaty nape. He had no idea why, it certainly didn't apply to anyone else, but her scent like this was intoxicating.
"You're sure you don't want to talk about this?" he asked, taking a moment to just breathe, and… revel. Not that he was against distracting her to the point that she couldn't think, but she had changed their plans to travel together, coming home a day early to be alone, and he'd found her sitting in the dark. While he was more than willing to be her escape, he hadn't thought they were starting there.
"About how you love me?" she prompted, arching her back again to press her chest against his and tilting her head back in an unspoken directive.
He hummed, smiling at her gasp as he dragged his teeth down to her clavicle. "You already knew that," he reminded her, pulling his hands out of her waistband to run them over the outer edges of her breasts, making her squirm.
"I like reminders," she informed him breathily.
"I'll remember that," he promised, nuzzling at her throat for a moment before sighing and wrapping his arms fully around her instead of continuing to tease. She was beginning to shake, and it was much too early for that to be a good sort of tremor. "I'm here," he reassured her, unsure of what else to say. Of what came next.
Whatever it was, his point stood. Quatre had warned him that she was upset; that if it had been less sensitive news, he would have waited for Odin to be there when he broke it. The way Quatre had said it, he'd gathered that somehow his presence would have made the news better, which made no sense, but he trusted him to know what he was talking about. If nothing else, he supposed emotions had a way of warping facts, even if they didn't change them.
Maybe that was why Odin had put so much emphasis on them. Though at the same time… he wasn't sure his father had ever felt anything so strongly. Maybe he'd been able to once, but if he had ever felt more than the kind of love he did for Marie – and maybe less even with that, frankly – he had buried it so deeply in layer upon layer of practical apathy that it might as well have never existed. In never planning for the future, he had instead negated it, and…
It didn't matter. Whether his father was a cautionary tale or just a bad example on his own merits, the result was the same. Even if he didn't resent so much of what Odin had done, what he hadn't done, he wasn't a model worth following. It was one of the reasons he'd agreed when Marie suggested they buy property. There were security compromises for convenience, but the same was true of any random hotel they selected for a night, and it… was different. He wasn't sure why, logically, but it felt different, and Lucrezia…
He had given Marie specific parameters, though he hadn't thought she might find something so ideal as this. He hadn't wanted the hassle of a yard, but he had wanted neighbors less and was aware that he might have to compromise. A secure garage, good surrounding security, and the ability to increase internal security in the future. Enough space to exercise, though a specific room didn't need to be dedicated to it. Four or more bedrooms, or rooms that could be made into such – in the short-term, one for himself and Lucrezia, one for Marie, one for guests, and one for Jack. In the long-term…
He had seen Lucrezia's face when he first showed her this place, for all that he'd only smiled instead of answering the questions in her gaze. Marie had outdone herself: it was perfect instead of the mere adequacy he had been planning to build on. As it was…
Marie was mostly grown and would still prefer to live with her mother if the option presented itself. He hoped she could have that again, but even if Leia was gone, he didn't see Marie still wanting to stay with him in another five years – aside from how quick she already was to run off on her own, the Barton Foundation was waiting for her. Jack would find his own place eventually, once the novelty had worn off and he didn't feel like their relationship was at risk; probably sometime after they both stopped traveling so much that they would rarely be in the same space at once. He was less sure on the timeline for that, but even at the outside, he assumed that would fall in the category of 'under five years' he had tentatively outlined for Marie.
He knew a great deal could happen in the next five years even without the looming war and shifting politics, but even if it didn't? If they had to stay hidden and fighting for the world's freedom for that long?
Lucrezia had been very clear when they started sleeping together about where she stood on the subject of children – accidental or otherwise. Had been solid on the point of prevention, but also gone into excruciating detail on both her wants for the future, and what he could expect to happen if… if. If, and if it didn't work out between them long-term. That if he didn't agree, they could either slow down or call it off.
Based on her lead-up and reactions, apparently she had expected her admission that she would keep any child of his whether or not she kept him to be awkward instead of exhilarating. They were careful and the idea of going their separate ways was unthinkable now, but the thought of… He wasn't sure if it was some driving biological instinct he'd been entirely unaware of before she'd reminded him he could be a father or simply the sheer competence and compassion she'd shown in making it a point of concern in the first place, but it had only driven him forward harder. Her words had been haunting him since, even as he tried to not latch on prematurely. The fact that she wanted…
The realization that these feelings could be never-ending. Cyclical. Culminating into something continually expansive. The idea that he could have… It practically shattered his mind every time he let himself think on it. It felt dangerous to want something so desperately when he had no control over it, to reach for something he could hardly comprehend, but at the same time it was the greatest high he had ever known. It burned, left him shaking and all he wanted was more, and every time he thought he understood the emotions only grew more complex and somehow stronger for it.
So of course he had seen her reaction for what it was when she first took in his house, even before he'd asked if she would consider it hers too. He enjoyed life on the road and thought he'd done alright with Marie, but he wanted more than the life his father had lived – and having a home to come back to seemed like a good first step. Even if he kept more than one, even if he had to keep it impersonal enough that he was comfortable letting strangers in to run the maintenance he didn't have time for… it was different. He still couldn't settle on exactly why it was so different, but he felt it, and he could see that Lucrezia agreed, even if she had waited until he was across the room, far enough away that he couldn't hear her and would have missed what she had said while looking around with too bright eyes if he hadn't read her lips. 'I could raise children here.'
She had seemed to want the privacy, so he hadn't agreed outright, just smiled and come back over to take her hand and finish the tour, but… That had been at least half the point. He thought they would be more free in a year or two, but even if the world stayed hostile? If they had to hide for the next ten years? He had wanted it to be clear that whatever happened to the rest of the world, it didn't need to have a say on them. Not that he wanted to abandon the fight, quite the opposite, but… just…
That it didn't need to be a compromise. War or peace, unity or secrecy – it didn't have to have any bearing on what they were. That he wanted them to be whatever they were, to the greatest degree, and everything else was secondary. Even if it didn't end up working here, if the location became unsuitable or they had to keep moving, this was just a place, it didn't truly matter. Claiming this space was a proof that he was thinking ahead, that he wanted whatever came next; that he would adapt and make a future for them instead of just taking things as they came.
Beginning to shake harder, Lucrezia dropped her hands from his hair to loop them around his shoulders, half collapsing into his arms. "I…" She choked herself off with a sniff, then took another bracing breath before growling out, "Am so angry."
He nodded in understanding, rubbing his palms in small circles over her back – enjoying having her in his arms again despite her upset.
"There will be no armistice," she continued, voice raw. "He didn't just break the treaty, he fucking shattered it." Her next breath was ragged. "When everyone finds out, the Regime will shatter with it, and the East… the opportunity will be prime."
Quatre had outlined as much. "It will take them time to gather their forces before they can push the border," he reminded her. "We assume they have suits despite the treaty, but even if we're right, they've had to hide them – that leads to lower numbers."
She ducked her chin into his shoulder. "Even so, never mind the suits… Odin, if they can break the border in a meaningful way to get a large number of troops in? They outnumber us two to one and have been aggressively militarizing their entire population since Operation Daybreak. If our lines break and they get enough people through, they could blend in and take a guerilla approach, and we would have no idea which way to turn." She took another shuddering breath. "Treize's bullshit is already scattering the Regime's military to the winds, and another blow… With the Regime's forces and mine, we could make a dent. With the gundams added in, it's a sure bet. But with just mine and the gundams?" Her next breath was closer to a sob. "And even in a best case scenario, we can't just hold a line, they broke the treaty too. We're going to have to pursue, take the fight back to them and do it all over again to keep-" Her voice broke. "Fuck! And the economy will crash again in the chaos, I can't-"
He held her more tightly, pressing his mouth into damp hair to wait her out, and gave in to the instinct to rock slightly, inane as it seemed. He focused on touching every part of her he could reach without loosening his hold, easy pressure and reassurance…
The first time Marie had started sobbing on him, it had been an awkward trial and error. He had never thought he would be grateful for those little episodes, but… at least this wasn't overwhelming. With Marie, he had always either had solutions or at least a plan, a way to move forward. For this… This was beyond him. This was her field, maybe Quatre's.
The situation… didn't really change, for him. The exact where and when, maybe, but not what he was doing. His concern was… secondhand.
The contrast between her emotions and his left him at something of a loss.
He hadn't expected Zechs' actions, but he wasn't thrown either, really. It felt… symmetrical. And Quatre was different too – quietly furious and clearly calculating factors that Odin didn't think he could even recognize without Zero, but not so… distressed. Though it could be hard to judge that with Quatre, especially when he was borrowing someone else's equilibrium.
Lucrezia, though… it wasn't the same. He wasn't happy that this had happened, of course, not even content in that feel of puzzle pieces snapping together in a way he almost thought was right. He had wanted Lucrezia's race to armistice via show of force. But…
Ah. It clicked. While he may have wanted it… he'd never been able to bring himself to believe in it. He knew better than to trust his own instincts on the matter, politics were bewildering and he only understood a battlefield in reference to himself, but… He supposed it had never been real to him.
It… would have been nice. But he didn't appreciate how different they claimed this made their situation; he had excelled against far worse odds. He was going to have a better suit than ever, and comrades he could trust, and…
He closed his eyes, shifting to press his cheek to her crown instead. I have something worth coming back to now. Lucrezia became more and more central to that by the day, by the hour, but there was… so much more, too. Marie, Quatre, Duo and Moira… so many others. None of them were quite so absolute as her, but…
He thought back to that phone conversation a few weeks ago. Maybe that centrality was what Jack had meant about not being able to decide, because that wasn't something he could understand. But if Odin had become the father he remembered because he lost his anchors, then…
He remembered what it was like, to have nothing. Those first years after Odin's death hadn't been too bad – he'd always had something, if not someone. It could have been better, but he hadn't been experienced enough to know that, and perspective was critical. Goals and causes, even physical objects were acceptable anchors, if not nearly so strong as people. It had been the retraining that stripped him of everything he cared about, of even himself, and…
He would do virtually anything to never be there again. Maybe it hadn't been so absolute, but if his father had lived like he had during the war, for years… maybe that could explain the way he'd been?
No. Odin had had years, and more than one person actively interested in helping. He had had two sons to find meaning in.
He just hadn't wanted to try.
Lucrezia pulled away enough to scrub her hands over her eyes. "Damn it… I'm sorry."
"I don't see why," he admitted, reaching up to pull her hair tie free.
"I'm a mess."
He didn't agree. "You're processing," he corrected, dropping the elastic and starting to massage her scalp.
"You don't do this," she groused, leaning into his touch.
He froze, memories slamming home. That…
"Odin?"
"It's… been a while," he admitted, swallowing. He restarted his ministrations, very firmly closing the door on… that. Or trying, at least. His heart didn't want to cooperate, racing at nearly double his baseline.
She cupped his face, body language such that she was probably trying to look deep into his eyes, but the world was all shadows. "Yeah?"
He took a slow, controlled breath… and forced down the tempo, giving up on the massage as all sensation… scattered. "I pull back before the emotions can rise too high," he explained, trying to reorder his thoughts into something less… less.
"Mm." Slumping, she settled her head against shoulder. "That sounds useful."
"Sometimes," he agreed, trying to… find the edge. His mind had… had bottomed out, and this… was not where he wanted to be right now. It was useful, for all sorts of things, but that wasn't the point of being here, with her.
"I can do that short-term, in a stressful situation," she admitted. "But it builds, and I have to let it out."
The framing shattered, his heart slamming into a gallop, and he wanted to snarl because as much as he'd wanted to get rid of it, he hadn't wanted that either-
"Odin?"
He let out a sharper breath, closing his eyes in pure spite of what he'd been taught. Because it had been wrong. "Bad memories," he admitted, throat feeling tight. This… was starting to happen more often. Frustratingly so. Still, he didn't want to talk about it, especially not when she was so upset, so he needed to explain something before she asked. The truth without the details, maybe? "It wasn't a skill I gained willingly."
"Oh." Her hands fiddled with the fabric of his shirt. Then, "The retraining?"
"Yes." Looking back, he didn't think he had ever been prone to it before, but… he'd cried. Not the same way, exactly, but… maybe? He remembered…
He couldn't remember. But he'd always known what it felt like. So he'd done it before, when he was little. And then during… He hadn't thought that was in him until it came screaming out, and…
Did I use it up, or did they turn it off?
Enough. "Quatre thinks Relena might have a plan on the political front," he offered, "but the only thing he's sure of is that it has a lot of moving parts."
Lucrezia hesitated, then accepted the subject change without protest. "He thinks she already knows," she agreed, though her tone was doubtful.
"Unless her alliance with Soleil is off, it's a viable explanation for Treize's recent actions." He shrugged. "But he doesn't have all the data he'd need to be precise." Quatre was excited about it though, which was promising. "He thinks he'll know within six weeks, but for now, we don't want to risk tipping whatever she's doing out of balance. He's worried it might be delicate."
Lucrezia sighed, beginning to run her nails up and down his sides in a rhythmic pattern. "That makes sense," she decided. "I'm not particularly fond of the idea of blowing the secret open until we have another gundam or two to field anyway. Waiting for her move shouldn't do any harm."
He nodded. "We're speeding that up too," he added. Their original projections had put them at the end of May, and that was before Howard had started hitting complications. "We'll need more people and the addition of the secondary site we rejected before, but it's well within limits. It has a higher chance of discovery, but it's not significant – we chose the more remote location because the risk was virtually zero."
She shook, and he frowned, trying to find the flaw for a moment before she spoke and he realized it was laughter. "Pun intended?"
He blinked, then grinned. "It should have been," he decided. Letting out a short laugh, he added, "If we're using both, the core suits would stay where they are. But my work, the wings and mods, maybe some of the weaponry, anything we can integrate later without issue – that could be done there more openly."
Lucrezia's tone was skeptical. "Openly."
"Maybe not the weaponry," he admitted. "But the rest is defensive tech that no one is familiar with, and Neut can claim to be working on something experimental." It would even be true. "The site is an abandoned shipyard that took damage in the war, but most of the forges and works are functional. If we ran normal metals through most of them for other projects, we can partition off a few for gundanium." He smirked. "If we do it right, the subdivision might look like a government contract that's supposed to be kept quiet." Quatre liked his layers of subterfuge, and it had been working out well so far.
She hummed. "What else would you be building? I get that the mods don't look like any kind of MS equipment, but you think you can use the same forgeworks? Or if you dedicate only a few, won't that be different enough to get attention?"
Odin started to feel lighter, excitement buoying him up. "I have a personal project that I've been thinking about since I started to work on the shape dynamics of the wings," he explained. "Maybe an answer to something I've been thinking about since we realized how bad the satellite coverage has gotten."
She shifted in his lap, trying to see his face. "Oh?"
"There's a treaty now," he pointed out. "But once it's void for one reason or another…" He grimaced. "Even aside from spoofed footage, the network is thinner than it used to be. We've been taking advantage of it, but if someone broke the old regulations, the system in place to prevent long-range missile launches has fallen into disrepair. Maybe they have too much Romefeller pride still to do it, but maybe not." After all, Romefeller – OZ – were the very last people anyone had expected endorse automated warfare like dolls. "I've been thinking of ways to patch the network so we might be able to use it properly again, but bringing the old defense system back online would take more time and effort than I'm willing to put in – and given the few times it was used in the last two centuries, I suspect the claimed surgical bombardment accuracy was exaggerated." It had been threat and show of force enough to stop anyone from trying the tactic, but he didn't trust it to hold if their enemies became annoyed enough. "I have something better."
Lucrezia had stilled, hardly breathing. After a long moment of silence, she pointed out, "No one has launched a long-range bomb in a hundred twenty years."
Her tone was flat, but it was deserved. "They might not for another hundred," he returned, running his hands up and down her arms like she was cold – she sounded cold, and even if it wasn't truly temperature-related, it might help. "But I was thinking about it, and when I showed Howard, he gave me the green light – it needs testing, but we think it will work."
Lucrezia was tense for another long moment, but then she sighed and leaned against his chest again. "I'm going to have to come back to that one," she decided. "That was a problem I hadn't even considered."
"Don't worry about it," he insisted, wrapping his arms around her. "It's a possibility I'm covering, and it might not even be relevant." She was already so stressed all the time, riding the edge of being overwhelmed; he hadn't even planned to bring it up until he was ready to implement it.
"Odin-"
"I've got it," he reassured her, teasing at the hem of her shirt and pressing his nose back into her hair, relishing the way it made his blood sing. "Between the second site, getting a little more aggressive with supply routes, and putting Deathscythe on the backburner, we think we can have Fusion, Chalkydri, and Gilgamesh ready by April." Or at least, good enough to be functional in a pinch, if not entirely finished.
She stretched a little, head sliding against his shoulder, her top hitching and giving him more access to bare skin. "Mm. Gilgamesh, huh?"
"He took your advice," he agreed, feeling his pulse pick up a beat in response to her breath on his neck. She could be… so impatient. Whether or not the gentle tease was intentional, he was enjoying the soft buzz of anticipation; Lucrezia's idea of foreplay was usually more demanding than this slow build. "Apparently it's the oldest story in the world." He let one hand travel down to her hip, waiting for a reaction.
"Mm. I remember something about that, but not the details," she admitted, stretching a little further, body gaining tension.
He smiled into her scalp just behind the curve of one ear, wondering if she could feel it. "You'll need to come out to the dark site at least twice before then," he continued, speaking into her skin. "If that's too much of a stretch, it might be worth getting Quatre more up to speed, so he can stand in for you as General."
"It's a thought," she agreed, tone almost normal. "It's not a perfect solution, but the Maguanacs wouldn't mind."
"That's what he said," Odin agreed, experimentally changing the pattern his fingers were tracing on her side. "Though Abdul is the least enthused. Quatre isn't a teacher."
Her sigh was only slightly breathless. "He and Rashid are going to be the busiest, the next month or so," she admitted. "It's going to be a lot of drills… maneuvers. With what's coming, we can't risk more pilots; they take too long to train. If the East is going to come anyway… we can't waste anything to defend the status quo. Our MS action is going to become entirely defensive while we recoup. No…" Her breath hitched slightly. "No more effort is going to the balancing act. I thought we were looking at a series of skirmishes; if it's going to be full-scale war, I want us as ready as we can get."
Odin hummed, smoothing his left palm over her thigh in a small circle. "We're looking into alternate avenues too," he added. "Felix thinks he has a start on the money trail, especially now that we know more of the goals behind the Regime's PR machine. Zechs might have started the space campaign primarily with dolls that were supposedly decommissioned after his post-Fall rush for supremacy, but he's been taking heavy casualties with no sign of losses – he has to have a factory somewhere making up the difference." He slid his right hand fully under her shirt, splaying his fingers across her low back, but kept it at waist-level. "Adam has probably spent more time playing with the satellite network footage for the last two years than anyone else, even over America. It's how he found the nuclear situation in Texas. He says there used to be several doll factories in Canada, though he's having a hard time remembering where."
"Canada is enormous," Lucrezia protested dryly. "Not to mention all but uninhabitable now."
"Autonomous factories," he explained. "He thinks he remembers where the oldest blind spots are, for more of a start. And there are only so many places they could be launching finished suits into space from without notice. No one has been trying to surveil the Americas from orbit for years now, but too close to either coast…" There were only so many possibilities. "If he's been making them in space, he has far more security issues to account for, and in North America… everything would have already been there. No need for construction, and if supplies had already been stockpiled? Getting them back out would have been the hard part." He remembered Duo and Quatre fail at getting one suit up to space after the colonies renounced them – but then, the world had been far more populated back then, and OZ had been watching. Flexing his fingertips, he hummed at the friction as she squirmed across his thighs, dragging his mouth down to gently nip at the nape of her neck. "Might be shipping them back across the Atlantic somehow to launch from here too," he mused. "But we can start looking. Narrow it down." He snorted, smirking when the sharp breath of air made her shudder. "Adam asked me to go hunting with him. As if I don't have enough to do. I said I would ask if he could take Xu."
Her laugh was breathless. "I think you should ask me when I'm not this distracted."
He laughed too, slowly bringing his right hand higher up her back. "I thought you could multitask," he teased, kissing just below her ear. She wasn't so sensitive there as he was, but it was enough to build from.
"I'm… not thinking of a good reason to-" She gasped when his left hand moved around the back of her thigh and stroked along her center with a single smooth motion, clutching at his shoulders, and he caught her mouth with his again. Sensitive. She was closer to a peak than he'd thought. All the same, he smirked when she whined, trying to rock back into the contact only to realize his hand was back on her leg. "Odin…"
"Don't rush," he admonished, tracing a Möbius over the top of her thigh, angling inward, and nibbled at her lower lip. Tension and heat were building throughout his body in a slow, lazy swirl, and he wanted to see if it could build up enough to just… spill over. They always got too caught up in some other facet of this before he could find out. As enjoyable as that was, he wanted…
Lucrezia groaned, trying to shift so she could straddle him, but he laughed, dragging his nails across her stomach to distract her so he could grab her ankles, slipping his fingers under the hems on either leg of her pants and twisting to form a solid grip without bruising her. "Stop." He didn't feel like giving her that much control – he was going somewhere with this. Swallowing her aggravated growl, he scraped nails down across her lower belly, then rocked his head back at the way she shuddered against him, his nerves starting to thrum. That… Yes.
"Do you have any idea," he murmured, nuzzling into her neck, "how good it feels to find you here?" He'd been worried because Quatre had told him to be, because he'd known she was upset, but just… coming here, finding her comfortable, in his space? He groaned. Sure, she had been upset… but she had come to him.
Her hands spasmed for a moment, then she took a deep breath, calming herself, and smoothed them into his hair. Her breathing hitched a few times like she was about to start speaking before stopping herself, and he let go of her pants so he could wrap both arms around her and squeeze, just… marveling. He'd lost the edge of the wave and it felt almost like an adrenaline crash, but he couldn't care. The sheer weight of that realization made him want to gasp – and the loss didn't feel bad, exactly. Just… different. Warm, still, and…
Lucrezia found her words. "You said this was home."
He did gasp then, because it was like she'd sparked a flare to life in his chest, and he laughed, dragging his face up so they were cheek to cheek, trying to catch his breath. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, but they cluttered his chest and his mind so much that he couldn't make sense of them, so he settled on the phrase she'd said was important. Too simple, but if she wanted to define it that way? "I love you."
She laughed this time, an almost disbelieving sort of giggle spilling past her lips before she pushed him back far enough to kiss him properly on the mouth. "I love you too."
"I can't stand how these always feel like stolen moments," he admitted, stroking her back, her shoulders. "Like it's tertiary. It's not." He dropped his forehead against hers. "There's just never enough time."
She let out a shuddering breath, clasping her hands together around the back of his neck. "Yeah."
"Everything else should be stealing time from this," he argued, trying to unravel the… the frustration of it. "It's… core. The fulcrum." He frowned. "It does," he realized, narrowing down the problem.
"What?"
"You're the axis," he explained, wondering at it, because whenhad that happened? He wanted to laugh again. Maybe it wasn't a strict event, per say, but the decision had already been made. At least, the first time? And the second, and third, and… He supposed the point was that it couldn't really be counted.
Lucrezia laughed too, then, though it was a halting sort of chuckle. Pleased, elated, but very definitely confused too. "What are you talking about?"
He kissed her again, trying to apologize because he knew he wasn't… He'd never tried to explain this. "Change is the only true constant," he began, trying to find the right words as he pulled back, threading his fingers in her hair. "Nothing is permanent."
She stiffened. "Odin-"
"Nothing is static," he corrected, massaging her scalp. "Permanence is a choice, not to… not to keep, exactly, but…" He let out an aggravated breath. "Nothing is stable. If you want to keep something, it requires constant motion."
Lucrezia shifted. Then, "Are you applying atomic physics to-"
"That would be so much simpler than this," he growled. Licking his lips, he tried again. "Loose connection is easy, but more requires…" Something in him settled. "It's about choice," he continued. "To not just allow, but direct, and love is about redirecting, over and over, making choices that bind, and…" He felt dangerously close to losing the thread. "If you want to keep someone, you have to choose… not them, exactly, but their changes." No. "Their choices," he corrected. "Because that's the only way to stay. To change together, into each other's choices, so that even as things change, they're blending into a new whole, endlessly." He frowned again. "That doesn't mean agreeing," he temporized, not liking the implication. "But… acceptance? Nothing is perfect, it's not exact or what would even be the point, but… together. In step."
Swallowing, he reached one hand to the back of his neck to clasp it around both of hers. "There are… a lot of ways to love someone. Degrees, and directions, and facets that rise and fall and shift into new things entirely, sisters and kin and friends and… everything in between. But… this." He cupped her face with her other hand, wishing he could make out her expression in the poor light. "It's the axis. The center that everything spirals out from, and it's perfect." He swallowed again, because that sounded- "Perfect for me," he temporized. "For… us?" He hated how vulnerable the question sounded, how it made him feel, but drove onwards before she could answer. "I want this to be the center, the crux that the rest of our lives are built on, that never ends – that just spirals back into something new but us, every time. Whatever happens. I…" He floundered, suddenly terrified that he hadn't been making any sense at all, and, breathing hard, wrapped his hands around each of her shoulders and finished with a quiet, lame, "I love you."
He… was shaking, he realized. Like an adrenaline crash after all. He felt spent, and useless, because she might love him back but he was very aware that no one thought the way he did, and this was… Embarrassing, he realized. This shock of misfiring nerves and apprehension, it was embarrassment, which was so strange without the usual guilt attached.
Why… why did people feel this way so often? It was better than the drowning shame he'd experienced over the collapse at L3-X18999, but every time someone gave him that aghast look and told him he was 'shameless', hadn't they meant this? He'd thought it was ridiculous before, but why was this a goal? They all acted like he was missing something worthwhile.
Lucrezia shifted and his attention zeroed back in on her… and his breath caught. Her face had never shifted away from his, but he couldn't make out more than the shine of one eye, the curve of her cheek… and he was terrible at reading expressions even if he could see clearly. He closed his eyes. The tremors had mostly died down, but all the same… He felt absurd. He should have stuck to normal phrasing, however lacking it felt. Not for the first time, he wondered how he could understand so much about languages and still be so bad at-
"Did you just propose?"
Relief flooded him, and heat, so much heat, because… I am stupid. That was an obvious, far more concise way to get the point across. It just… hadn't occurred to him. "Yes." He felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin, or maybe the shaking was just back with a vengeance, but he cupped her face with both hands, drawing his thumbs across her cheeks. It was… such a simple solution. His voice sounded like something that had been dragged out of him, so he cleared his throat. "Yes, I-"
Lucrezia dragged him in for a deep, almost violent kiss, one that made his blood sing again, and he groaned as he sank into it, pushing back and for the first time in forever feeling like he didn't know where he should put his hands, it was almost awkward, but not, because yes. Growling, wrapped an arm around her back and broke her hold on his neck so he could shuffle her off his lap and half kneel over her, and in the next moment he was pulling her flush against him, core to core. When she eventually tried to pull back for air, he ground against her and licked his way back in, wrapping her hair around one fist and tugging just hard enough that she growled in response and tackled him.
Some indefinable amount of time later –probably only a minute but it felt like years – Lucrezia settled her head on his chest and groaned, going limp.
That… felt about right. Sighing, he levered them back up into a sitting position, feeling exhausted and… perfect. "I love you," he offered again. Maybe if he said it enough times, the phrase would stop feeling so insufficient.
Lucrezia laughed softly, sitting up on her knees to brush a very gentle, barely there kiss against his lips. "I love you too," she returned. "But Odin?"
"Yes?"
"Get a ring and do it again."
That… was probably a fair request. "Okay."
"I love you," she repeated. "But… This is one of those things. Properly, next time. Please."
A challenge. He could do that. Grinning, he tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "Understood."
oOo
oOo
February 12th 199 – Wednesday – Brussels, Belgium
"Aiden, hey," Shel greeted, grinning as she pinched the phone between her ear and shoulder. "Getting impatient, huh? I'm almost done." She had an interview tomorrow for one more character reference and then? Bam! Might end up being the story of a lifetime, or at least her career. Which was both awesome and depressing to think about, since she had no intention of stopping any time soon.
The man on the other end of the line scoffed, though he was clearly trying not to laugh. "It's Arthur," he reminded her.
"Sure it is," she returned, not believing him for a moment. "Anyway, I'll have my current story to my editor in two days, and then I'd love to follow any leads you've got for me." At least, until something new came up from this trail – but that might or might not happen, and she'd take it as she went. And anyway, one of the things she liked about this particular tipster was that he clearly stashed different flavors of blackmail for future use and tailored when he gave them out – which meant that if she pushed hard enough in one direction, he might feed her something helpful in that vein instead of trying to hold his intel hostage.
She was waiting to see if he could make it worth her while before she tried that, though. The man was cunning, but he also liked the game – and giving in didn't always mean losing, after all.
"It'll be out in two days?"
"I'll be free in two days," she corrected. Geraldine would probably have it edited in a couple of hours, but then they had to decide on what release approach was best, especially with something so inflammatory. "Why, are you feeling neglected already?"
"I'm feeling nosy," he protested, sounding amused. "It's been a crazy week. What kind of super important hot story are you on anyway?"
She laughed at him. "Oh, sweetheart! You are not that special. You can wait like everyone else." The last thing she wanted was for a substantial rumor to leak before her big break.
He chuckled, acknowledging the point, but still persisted. "Not even a hint? Just a genre? What if I want to hand off the domestic scandals to that coworker you mentioned? I've stumbled across something a little more… daring."
Shel snickered. "You're cute, but I wasn't born yesterday. Put out or shut up. The story will be out in three days."
He scoffed. "I don't want to sit on my hands for another three days if I need to go find another reporter who can handle this one," he admitted. "It sprang up on me, and while there's time, it's… involved. Depending on what you ran off for, it might be perfect, in which case I do want that number for the old scandals. Otherwise, I need to go hunting for a risktaker with at least some of your knack." He sighed. "I need to get them vetted yesterday."
Hm. "Closer, but no dice," she returned. "Give me more. If I'm not interested, I can get you a daredevil worth your time." If he wasn't bluffing, though, she doubted she'd pass it off.
But… he might be full of shit. This guy collected secrets like nobles did gemstones. Just because he hadn't yanked her chain for no good reason before now didn't mean he wouldn't start – especially with how backwards some of his tips had been, including the last. He'd sent her on a hunt that turned out to be utterly fucking bogus, but left her with all the pieces to find a different, way bigger scandal – then laughed at her and said he'd done it because he couldn't give up his sources, the asshole.
On the one hand, she totally got it. On the other, he was a fucking shadow on the wall that could vanish any time a plan of his didn't pan out. She had a life, a career she adored, and a reputation to protect – as much as she liked the guy, she had no interest in ruining her life for one of his games.
"What, so you won't risk a hint, but I'm supposed to give it up for free?" Despite his words, she could hear a smile in his voice.
"That's the price, take it or leave it," she agreed. "So far as I see it, I'm the one carrying all the risks. Don't get me wrong, I like your games, but I can also do just fine without."
"Ow. That hurts, Shel, it really does. I thought we had something special."
She rolled her eyes, checking her watch. "Uh-huh. Sure. Look, I've got an interview in two hours and still need to finish my prep, so… Are we getting anywhere with this? Because I could really use a shower."
His laugh was genuinely delighted this time. "You've gotten cutthroat in the last couple of years!" His hum was… a little suggestive. "I like it."
Shel rolled her eyes again, even as she found herself giggling. "I am not that dumb, boyo. I'm serious."
"So am I," he protested. "That just makes it even better."
She scoffed. "Right, so I'm going to go," she started.
Arthur, whatever his name was, cut her off. "What do you think about Cambyses vets getting charged with pre-Regime crimes?"
Her breath caught. That… Ooh, but that was a rush! "Please tell me you have examples."
He sounded smug now. "I thought you were busy?"
This was going to dovetail perfectly into her Mitchell story – where better to go than the man's first big crusade? "Two days, and I absolutely want it," she told him. "Do you still want Oakley's contact information for the rest?"
"I want to see examples of her work first, but probably, yes."
"I'll let her know what's what and give her your email." Dragging in a deep breath, she forced herself to focus. Damn. "I really do need to go, but I'm in." They'd talked enough already for her to know he'd like her spin on the subject.
"Hey, I caved and I still don't get a hint?"
"You got me, didn't you?" She snorted, mind spinning with the possibilities. "It's a good match," she admitted. "Good guess." Snorting, she finished with, "Give me a couple more days."
He sighed melodramatically. "I suppose that will have to do."
"You'll live," she reassured him, and hung up.
oOo
oOo
Amsterdam, Netherlands – New Renew
"I… what?"
Adelheid gave him a patient look that was chiding at the same time. She was good at that; had, in fact, perfected it before he met her. "It's never even occurred to you, has it?"
"Of course it hasn't," he snapped back, feeling wrong-footed. "We're talking about our home, why would I-"
"Luc found the Den and the six of us went in on it together to make the deposit, knowing we could get at least a dozen more tenants," she explained to him calmly, crossing her arms. "And half of that 'deposit' was frankly a bribe to keep inspectors off our back because the top floor is unstable enough that the building probably ought to be condemned. We got the overall rent lowered as compensation for continuing to keep people away and the money flowing in while we took over the utilities, and with everyone else we brought in, it was sustainable so long as we didn't go to the third floor."
"We barely go to the second floor."
"And that doesn't say anything important to you?" Her tone was sarcastic, but also tired. "Kay… We've made it work. And… I know that the Den has become something of a symbol to the neighborhood, but… We're only there because it was the best we could do, the summer after the Fall."
Duo stared at her. "Okay?"
Adelheid began to look genuinely exasperated. "So, Jamus and Farrah want their own place once they're married, and they're looking at some of the Da Capo offers in the Atlantic – and they're not the only ones. Markos, Adriaan, and Christiaan have signed up and were debating how to tell you. Tiede got an offer for a builder's apprenticeship that's going to involve living on site, and the company ranges all over the continent! Nicolaas' girlfriend asked if he wanted to move in with her, not the other way around. Harold and Anika are talking about leaving the militia for Lotus, they both hate the paperwork in admin and apparently the pay is better, but even though they want to stay local…" She sighed. "Kay, I'm honestly not sure the roof is going to last the rest of the season. We're going to have to either fix it or move, and… this is going to stop being sustainable." Rubbing at her face, she added, "If you hadn't come to us, I'm not sure if we would have made it through the first full year."
His gut clenched. "But we did," he reminded her.
"Yes, but… Kay, this was always meant to be a stopgap. The lot of us that went to high school together were talking about what to do, and this was our best bet but we weren't sure if we could pull it off. But then Luc found out 'Liss had resorted to the red-light, and he just went and did it." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. "And I agreed, we all did, but that was retroactive. We made it work – and after you came, we even thrived. But Kay… This was always going to happen." Her gaze turned consoling. "It was always supposed to happen. We're better off, now. We can do better now."
And the lease is up at the end of March. Adelheid had handled the renewal last year, since her name was on the paperwork after Luc and Shov's, but… Shit.
He hadn't really thought about it in a long while, but… the Den was huge. They had blocked the vents and barricaded off the portions they didn't need, then done it again when they decided to stop using the second floor to save on utilities, but… it was still a big building, even when they were only using the main and basement levels.
He… didn't know where to start. "How much do you think it would cost to fix the roof?"
She scoffed. "A lot. But you're missing the point, Kay. Even if we weren't losing almost half our people for rent, the roof is one problem, and the place is literally full of holes. Our prime minister is part of the princess's new Accords committee, and so far, everyone has been voting in lockstep with her proposals – which happen to include a lot about fair housing." Adelheid leaned forward, bracing her hands on the table. "If we are still living there when those inspections start – inspections that I have already been asked to help organize? We're going to be in trouble. Even if it all falls down on the owner's head, it will fuck with us, and then it'll keep rolling downhill, and fuck over everything we have done for this neighborhood."
Shit. Duo covered his face with both hands. "I didn't know it was that bad."
"I mean this in the best of ways, Chaos, but you're a street urchin," Adelheid reminded him, tone flat. "We love you, and you've cleaned up nicely, but you have no concept of…" She sighed. "Your standards are terrible. You're happy so long as you're not getting rained on. There's a reason we've never left you in charge of any part of the household."
He wanted to be offended by that, but had the sinking feeling she wasn't wrong. All the same? "'Liss never said anything."
"Melissa lived on the street in the rain and snow for almost two months that first summer after," she pointed out dryly. "She's not much better." She rolled her eyes. "And even when she's not, she finds it easier to just show up with nice things and be happy about it, which means you're happy about it, and the two of you don't talk about it."
He wanted to make a smartass remark about the single lady criticizing his marriage, but she was also about five years older than him and probably knew what she was talking about. Shit. Instead…
Well, Adelheid was nominally in charge of the house since Luc's death; in a lot of ways, she'd really been in charge of the most domestic aspects from the very start. The kitchen had always been her domain, even when she set others to the work of it – the planning, the portioning and organization had always come down to her, even if she delegated more and more of the rest after taking up with the militia. Melissa got the title of 'leading lady' only because she managed the more social aspects of the female Devils – then a lot of their social interactions with anyone not a Devil as time went on. That, and… well, Adelheid was amazingly efficient in a bookish sense, but she preferred to work behind the scenes. Melissa might not care much for a spotlight, but she knew how to rock it, while Adelheid would run, and… maybe plot how to destroy said spotlight. Really efficiently. In such a way that no one would think she'd been involved.
In any case, she had obviously been thinking about this for a while already, and probably had a layout of solutions. "What do you suggest we do?"
He hadn't realized how tense her shoulders were until they relaxed. "Nothing, until we talk to everyone," she acknowledged. "But we need to do that soon. Could be that a lot of people want to resettle in their own space. We have more options than three years ago if we definitely want to stay in a group, but… we could spread out a bit too." She shrugged. "I'd need to know how big the group was, or how many smaller groups. Alternately, we could look into repairs, but… I'm less confident on that front. Even without everything we suspect is wrong, we've made a point of not bothering our landlord too often. Given the reputation we've drummed up over the last few years, we could probably get away with murder, but I'm not keen to test it either."
Duo closed his eyes. "Benny still has a year of school left," he reminded her. Theresia too, but she'd leapt on one of the online-based Rubato programs almost as soon as they came out so she'd have time to pick up an extra shift. Tiede and Christiaan had graduated at the start of December, but…
It… hadn't occurred to him that anyone would want to leave. Nolan was one thing, but he'd always been the baby of the group; Will coming back to town had changed things. But…
"I am still more than happy to play den mother and manage the food planning," Adelheid announced. "And no matter what the others say: Shov, Gust, Val and I agreed that anyone who wants to stay as a group can stay with us, and we'll figure it out. I just…" She sighed. "We need to talk to everyone. I don't know if you realized, but becoming a 'gang' was something of an accident; we didn't plan for it, but found we couldn't stand to back down either. None of what happened was ever planned, so… I don't know where each of us stands. Melissa made it clear she'd stand by whatever you wanted on this one, except to say she didn't want the five of you to live out of the shop."
Duo rolled his eyes. Oh course she'd already talked to 'Liss. "Okay." Apparently he was the last one to know they had a big fucking problem, but… it was fine.
Adelheid bit her lip. "I'm sorry."
He waved a hand at her, shaking his head. "It's not your fault."
"I know the Den means a lot to you," she insisted. "And it's not just you, it's… Like I said, it's practically a symbol now. But I also don't know that it's salvageable, and whatever reputation we might lose by walking away from it, it'll still be a long sight better than if it's taken from us."
He closed his eyes again, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah."
Adelheid hesitated long enough that he'd started to think she was just going to leave. But then, "The things you've done for this town are too big to be contained by one ramshackle building," she assured him, voice quiet but firm.
He grimaced, because saying it like that made him feel downright childish. "I know that." He swallowed, trying to find the right words for what made this worse; what had been bothering him for weeks now. "The world keeps getting bigger," he admitted. "I… I came here to make it small, you know?"
To make a difference. He'd failed the world, and it had bitten him back the way it always did eventually, and he'd just… wanted out. A fresh start.
And he'd gotten it. Luc and Rina, Melissa, Amos and Nolan, everyone else in this entire city that he was starting to think he knew all by name…
The problem was that it just kept getting bigger. And while he had this nice protective bubble now because everyone knew him now and not the old 'Wanted' shots… It still wouldn't take much, in the end.
"You could legitimize your network," Adelheid pointed out. "Streamline it through a system, and you could probably get subsidies from one of the RLTT or Rubato programs. Keep it growing. Take care of a whole lot more people."
"I can't take the limelight," he argued tiredly, not opening his eyes. "Not to mention the problems with enforcing it."
"The streets have been getting safer by the day," she reminded him. "Despite the winter. It's a steady trend; you might not need heavy tactics to enforce peace for much longer."
While that was true – the pressure on the population was dropping steadily with all the Da Capo and WendSyn recruitment, and the militia was turning into something a lot closer to a true police force instead of matching its name – it didn't solve the other problem. "It doesn't matter. If the wrong person…" He groaned, opening his eyes and sitting forward, meeting her gaze as he started over. "I'm a fugitive, Adelheid. I can't get around that. My current ID isn't bad, but it won't hold up to a basic background check, let alone something more intense. Even if I wanted to expand the way you're saying, legitimacy isn't an option."
She narrowed her eyes at him, scowling. "Right. What did you even do, anyway?"
He snorted. "Nothing I feel a need to confess over." Maybe he thought it was pointless now, but… Heero's words from the circus were still haunting him.
~~oOo~~
'I don't regret the things I did. I can't. Too many of them were important, and the rest… I can't pick and choose, that's not how life works. It all happened, and it interconnects, and even if I could undo some part of it, what would happen to the rest? You're not the only one with people you're willing to do anything to keep, and… I wouldn't have them if Libra didn't fall. I wouldn't have anything if I hadn't failed in exactly the way I did. I thought you would understand that.'
~~oOo~~
It had been… a chilling realization. Maybe he could've done it smarter, made a better showing, but… in the grand scheme of things, he didn't know that that would've made a difference. They had lost, but… Well, it hadn't been the end, and he supposed that was the important part. Maybe they could've lost even harder, and the whole Earth would've died – maybe the bit he'd given, while not enough, was still worthwhile.
That didn't meant he was going back. Just because he wasn't ashamed of anything he'd done didn't mean he saw any reason to martyr himself for a group of people who'd proven, over and over again, that they wouldn't give a damn anyway.
…Well, maybe he was a little ashamed of the clerical collar. That had been going too far.
"It can't be as bad as you make it out to be," she argued. "I know you too well for that. Melissa loves you. What are you so scared of?"
Well, it was Adelheid. 'Den mother' wasn't a bad descriptor, and he knew she wouldn't hold it against him any more than Shov. "I flew a gundam," he admitted, feeling a dark grin twist his mouth. "Think the going price on my head is enough to fix the Den?"
She scowled at him, folding her arms across her chest again. "Seriously?"
"As the grave."
She threw a pen at him. "Don't make stupid fucking jokes about things like that," she sneered.
Great. Not the response he'd been expecting, but at least-
"No one is trading you in for anything, let alone a derelict flophouse."
Oh. So she did believe him. That was… probably good.
She pursed her lips, eyeing him critically, then shook her head. "No wonder 'Liss was so pleased about taking your name – Melissa Mariah Maxwell. That's got some great flow. She doesn't even have to change her initials."
Duo choked out a laugh. "That's all you've got to say?" Never mind that his wife had more or less said exactly that.
She pointed at him, repeating her words from before. "I know you." Scowling again, she added, "I never understood why the gundam pilots got outlawed in the first place."
He shrugged. "Threat level, I suppose."
"Yeah, when he could have recruited you into the new world order instead," she returned scornfully. "If he'd really meant his whole 'Sorry for almost killing you all, I've learned my lesson' bullshit, he'd have gotten over his ego enough to recruit the best and get shit done."
Oh. Wow. "In all fairness," he admitted, "I probably would have tried to kill him in his sleep."
"And then his sister would have taken over, and oh, maybe we'd have seen the changes we've gotten in the last two weeks a whole two years ago."
Duo wasn't entirely certain how she managed to sound so sweet and yet so scornful at the same time. "You're really into this," he realized.
Adelheid rolled her eyes. "Marquise dropped Libra, blitzed his way across two continents to defang Romefeller, then put them back in charge and tried to act like the World Nation never happened. He didn't bother trying to fix anything unless it was military, and even then, he did a shit job of it, or we wouldn't have had so many problems with vets trying to play kingpin. Other than laying out a few edicts about rationing and writing bounties, collecting tariffs and taxing the fuck out of any sort of trade, he left everyone to their own devices. The only thing he really came down on was that no one else got to have an army." She shook her head. "Anything good we've seen come out of the Regime has been since Relena came out of exile and started to meddle."
Duo scowled. "And yet it's Relena that's going to see us kicked out of our home," he reminded her.
"Because we are living in squalor, Kay!" She glared at him, breathing hard. "It's the start of not needing gangs to patrol in order to stop stabbings and rape! She's raising the poverty line, and now that she's got more than sixty heads of state ratifying a new code of law and working to write it into their own constitutions? I think it might actually stick."
Duo's mouth felt dry. "That many?"
Adelheid nodded. "At last count, yeah. And it hasn't even been a full two weeks since she started whipping them up in a frenzy over Soleil – more are coming."
Holy shit. "How is the Regime taking that?"
She smirked, looking smug. "So long as she's not raising an army, she hasn't done anything illegal."
"It can't be as simple as that," he protested.
"The Regime government is only superimposed on top of the old ones, and she's been resolving their squabbles for the last two years already," Adelheid reminded him.
"But sixty?"
"Closer to seventy, honestly." Adelheid frowned. "Though I'm starting to wonder how much the girl sleeps, at this rate. She's been running nonstop since that bullshit with Treize started." She blinked a few times. "Wait. If you're Maxwell, then those friends you've had swing through-"
"Can we just stick with 'don't ask, don't tell?'" he pleaded.
She rolled her eyes again. "Okay, fine, but don't they have the same problem as you? And they run around."
"Their pictures were either bad or nonexistent," he acknowledged. "Or they changed enough for it not to matter." And Trowa could get mistaken for someone else in a crowd just on general principle. "OZ had really good ones of me, and they're spread across too many places to get rid of. I've mostly been banking on the fact that no one's tried to circulate them in a while."
She considered that, staring at him. "The beard was a good idea." She tipped her head to one side. "It would be better if you lopped your hair off for good, though."
Yeah… He closed his eyes. "I really don't want to," he admitted. Melissa took scissors to it every time it passed beyond the small of his back, now, and he didn't even like that. He agreed to it, but…
It was probably dumb, but it was all he had left of Solo. The fact that that didn't really make sense didn't change the way he felt about it.
"Well, tie it up when you go out and about," she suggested. "And anyway, I brought up your friends because maybe they could make you a better quality ID – that way, if your picture does make the rounds again, you could be all, 'Man, I could totally rock a cosplay of this guy, that's cool!' and we could just say it's coincidence. Everybody's got a twin out there, you know?"
He just stared at her. "Seriously?"
Adelheid grinned. "Haven't you ever heard about those stories where famous people enter look-alike contests for themselves as a joke, then lose?" She shrugged. "If your friends can fluff out your background a bit and get the rest of us in on it, I bet we can make a believable alibi. Luc's mom divorced his dad when we were sophomores because he'd been sleeping around – everyone outside the gang seems to have forgotten your awful accent when you showed up, so it wouldn't be too hard to say Luc found out he had a half brother up in Groningen and took him in." She rolled her eyes. "When we were teenagers, we actually had a running theory that Bram made himself a second family up there. There's probably quite a few people who already think that's where you came from."
Duo just stared at her. "Luc never talked about his dad."
"And now you know why." She shrugged. "There was more to it, of course, but that was a good part of the issue. A lot of people think the von Koll's family issues started with Renee and Melinda's deaths, but they didn't, really. It was more that they stopped trying after that."
Wow. Duo took a deep breath and made himself shake his head. He'd known Luc was an orphan, and bits about how the Mehiles and von Kolls had been close because Melissa and Renee were best friends, about the car accident that killed Luc's sister and Melissa's mom right after they'd dropped 'Liss off for martial arts practice, but… apparently there was a lot more to unpack there. Though whether that was because Melissa would rather not talk about it or because she didn't think it was important was hard to say. "Great," he decided. "So…. House meeting, ASAP?"
Adelheid pursed her lips. "I'll start getting everyone's schedules together and see what we can make work. In the meantime, I'm serious about your friends. Revenant Rubato is working on the government level now and not having issues. They've got to have a better way of solidifying your identity than that black market junk you cobbled together."
He snorted. "Thanks."
"Any time," she returned breezily. Turning to walk back to the door, she added, "Let me know how it goes. Between me, Gust, and Shov, we could probably come up with some fun backstory for you."
That… had a good chance of ending horribly. "Let's hold off on that."
She just laughed at him as she headed down the stairs.
oOo
oOo
February 14th 199 – Friday – Dublin, Ireland
"Lluvia here."
Nick felt like he was about to explode. "Do we know how real this is?"
Jovi sighed. "The hard facts, sure. Rachelle Prisbrey is really big on having accurate sources, and even when she slides into sensationalism, she draws a clear line between fact and theory. Otherwise… I don't know."
He swallowed, trying to loosen his death grip on the phone. "Didn't you give Razo one of these superphones too?"
"Yeah, but he turned it off the same as the rest of the Strike Force did every other line of communication. I'm hoping he didn't toss it too, but I have no way of telling. Audi says the system is designed for full end-user control – if the phone is off, I have nothing."
Nick closed his eyes, grinding his teeth. Fuck. "You don't know anything?" he tried again.
Jovi groaned. "I know… a lot of unhelpful things. It's… not a bad theory, but…" He sighed again. "I don't know. It's complicated."
Nick grimaced, and looked back to his tablet screen and… the article.
Brigadier David Mitchell and the entirety of the Strike Force were missing. He'd known that last week when the Regime had had to own up to why the steady stream of updates on the anti-anarchy brigade had stopped. The media had been following the Strike Force's progress to some degree practically since its inception, and absolutely since the first reports of success in the Sahara. The reports that came out were always sanitized of concerning details and released on a delay, but Mitchell's battalion had become the military's pride and joy, especially since Epyon's poor showing against the Insurgence in Sudan last July. They liked to show him off. The kind light being shone on Cambyses survivors now was partially a reflection of that, a proof of success – and the more work being done in that vein by Relena, HTD, and now Rubato had reflected back onto Mitchell too, and therefore the Regime as a whole. They had been more than happy to feed off of that.
Admitting the loss had been a blow to their clout, even as outrage kindled in turn. No one had been quite sure what to think – or at least, no one who was willing to talk about it. No one was entirely willing to believe they were even alive at this point – though that theory wasn't favored, considering what the Strike Force had already accomplished in the face of insane odds. No, the more favored theory had centered on betrayal, which… caused an entirely different problem. Combined with Khushrenada's declaration of war, it threw everything the man had done into question, which reflected back on anyone who owed him something and… was bad for literally everyone, at this point. At least on the public front, the Regime wasn't acknowledging any kind of exodus from their military ranks – though to be fair, the majority of the army was trapped out in space fighting Soleil. They probably couldn't leave.
On the other hand… Well. It had only been a matter of time before someone put Brigadier Mitchell's life under a microscope and tried putting all the pieces together. Even if he'd done something like openly declare for Treize, the man had become such a media darling that they wouldn't have been able to help themselves. People loved a good story.
Also? This reporter had apparently gotten her hands on a tidy chunk of information on the presumed defection that the Regime hadn't released. And on some level, the public had been holding its breath, waiting for some kind of news, even if it was an additional declaration of the brigadier's treason.
The timing of the story was perfect.
Most of the article was a focused biography. Mitchell was a Jewish Sanc citizen that had been orphaned during the kingdom's first fall who had been taken into – i.e. indoctrinated – the Alliance as part of their 'countermeasures' against King Peacecraft's 'faulty' rhetoric, then was later sponsored into OZ for his talent. Unlike most of Khushrenada's faithful followers, Mitchell had gone to the Academy with the nobleman as a peer, and by all reports the two had formed a genuine friendship in their school days. Fast forward to the war, and when Treize was arrested for condemning the use of dolls and most of his followers had gone some variation of rabid – fucking Treize Faction splinter cells had wrought so much freaking havoc – Mitchell had deserted OZ and claimed refugee status under Relena's offer of sanctuary in the newly re-instated Sanc kingdom. He had stayed there until Zechs personally extended him an offer of rank in the Regime, almost exactly three years ago today. One year later, in 196, he had been assigned to the princess' protection detail, and had made no secret of how honored he felt to again serve his native monarch.
And despite the fear now, as everyone tried to second-guess the man's actions over the last three years under heavy suspicion that he had probably known about Treize the entire time? Apparently no one could find any sign of foul play. Prisbrey had done her homework and had a fascinating array of character references from within the Regime as well as out. Unrelated to the article, even Relena Darlian-Peacecraft had spoken well of him a few days ago. There was this foregone conclusion that Mitchell had been a mole from the start, but the princess had looked as though she was holding back tears even as she kept her statement simple and dry. No one had heard from him since Khushrenada's broadcast.
But then… Prisbrey had teased out a few interesting details about that broadcast that Nick wanted to kick himself for not realizing himself two weeks ago. The lighting, and a lot of the little details of pomp that Khushrenada had always handled perfectly during all of his public appearances? The video quality, the location of the original signal itself? It was all substandard on that transmission. Substandard in a way that the few clips they had gotten since – that the Regime had either willingly released or been unable to smother before they went viral – were definitely not.
As if, despite being a hell of a dramatic entrance that should have been planned for years? It was rushed. As if something – or someone – had forced his hand.
And apparently the Strike Force had cut communications and disappeared less than twenty-four hours before Khushrenada's transmission.
So Prisbrey was asking the obvious question: What if that little speech wasn't planned? What if someone had refused to fall in line – had, instead, threatened to reveal the truth?
What if that announcement on the thirty-first had been a rush job to break the news of Khushrenada's survival with some measure of control? To burn a double agent gone native before the man could burn him? After all, they were talking about Brigadier Mitchell, who fought to not only bring down Cambyses, but rehabilitate them. Who had worked tirelessly to eliminate human trafficking and arms deals in the months since succeeding at the impossible. Nick had worked with Mitchell, he knew him, and this writer had presented him perfectly.
It was a fucking beautiful piece. It made him remember why he'd wanted to be a journalist.
He set his jaw. "What kind of 'unhelpful' things do you mean?" Because without Mitchell… Fuck, maybe Robby could have gotten them out, but honestly, they also might have all died. However much it felt like Robby was invincible back then… the edge they'd been riding was frankly insane. Or, honestly? Mitchell could have made the call to fucking bomb the Sahara and send in the nanotech terraformation that would have killed off the stragglers. The suggestion had been floated a few times, and the brigadier had had the authority.
That just wasn't who David Mitchell was, though.
"Nothing I feel comfortable talking about on the phone," Jovi returned. Then he cursed. "Or, actually? At all. I don't do politics, Nick."
"This is Mitchell," Nick ground out.
"Yeah, which makes it worse. I have no idea where the fuck this is going. None of us do. Cat has some ideas, but it's all just conjecture."
Nick scowled. "What the fuck do you mean you don't do politics? I've been watching the news, and Rubato is everywhere now."
"I," Jovi announced pointedly, "am around to make friends and talk pretty. Not make the calls."
He rolled his eyes. "What, so that's still all on Cat?"
"It's more of a committee, actually, but Cat's the one who keeps it running smooth. So a little?" His sigh was tired. "It's… even more politics than you think, Nick."
About to roll his eyes and say something sarcastic, Nick paused as he really thought about what Jovi had told him about Robby turned Cat. That he had been leading small armies during the war. That Jovi now knew these guys that used to work with Robby. And that Robby had not wanted Mitchell to get a good look at this face, which meant those old comrades were not Regime-friendly.
He… hadn't really thought about that before, but now… Fuck! Had he intentionally not been letting himself think about that and only just realized?
He fucking hated his brain sometimes.
"Nick?"
He closed his eyes. "I think I'm going to be sick."
There was a long hesitation, then Jovi groaned. "Your vacuum just crack?" he demanded.
"My what?"
"I thought you were way too calm last month." He groaned again. "Can you just trust me that it's fine, for now?"
Nick scowled. "You don't talk that pretty," he snapped.
Jovi snorted. "Whatever you're worrying over, I can say that none of Rubato's statements have been lies. All our public alliances are true. There's just a lot of hidden currents too."
"Real descriptive, thanks."
The other man scoffed. "Tch. Fine, how about 'We're not talking to Stanton's faction?'"
Nick scowled, because that was gibberish. "What are you talking about?"
"The one sponsoring you. Or did you really think Inez Stanton didn'thave politics in mind when she offered her deal? I'm sure she'll follow through no matter which way you fall, but Nick, the world is not that simple."
…Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
"Not to say that we won't eventually," Jovi continued grudgingly. "Because it seems pretty inevitable, and we think we're probably on the same side in the end because she's probably benign, but my point is that it's not simple, Nick. Don't be so quick to paint anyone in any direction." He sighed. "It didn't matter when you didn't want to talk to us at all anymore, but… If you want the middle ground, you're going to have to work for the balance, and that means thinking things through instead of just reacting." Another sigh. "And Mitchell… We really don't know, and believe it or not, we feel the same way about him as you."
Nick forced himself to take a deep breath in… out… again… "Okay."
Not Regime. Not with Mitchell. Whether or not Prisbrey had called it right on the relationship between the brigadier and Khushrenada… Probably not with Soleil. And Inez was very obviously spaceborn, which… he didn't really want to discriminate, but at the same time? Jovi had more or less said it was a false name and Soleil was supposedly all about colonial independence, so whether or not she was involved, she…
Shit. He didn't even know more than the basics of the factions. Jovi was right.
"It's… also completely fine if you want to just leave it here," his friend added. "Go to class, and just… don't worry about it. You're a priority for more than one group, okay? It doesn't have to be a balancing act unless you want it to be. The entire point of Rubato is to make it so people have that choice."
Nick closed his eyes, slumping back into his chair as he finally fully acknowledged the problem. "That's not enough."
"…Yeah?"
He barked out a laugh that sounded way too close to tears for comfort. "I don't know what to do," he admitted. "But… Just being out? It's not enough, and you…" He squeezed his eyes shut. "Fuck, Jovi. How the fuck did you get spun into something so big?"
Jovi scoffed. "You know exactly how." He sighed. "He's got a hell of a pull, doesn't he?"
Fuck my life. "How much of Rubato is him?" It didn't really matter, he was doing it and… Jesus. "How did this even start?"
Jovi hummed thoughtfully. "Well, Cat settled everyone somewhere safe and ran off to find his best friend from before, and when he came back, they'd cooked up Rubato – except Vaska says he wasn't even going to mention it. He made sure each of them was set for a fresh start, then was utterly floored when no one wanted to run for it. Spent a solid month trying to talk them out of staying while they picked up and claimed pieces of his plans before he gave in and leaned back into the support."
He sighed again, sounding exhausted. "Fuck, Nick, but he still looks like he's about to shake apart every time another of us comes back into his orbit. He's so focused on everyone else that it's like he doesn't understand that it goes both ways. I don't think he realizes just how… uneven he is, that way. I thought that was maybe his mark from the trauma, but Rashid says it's always been an issue; he thinks it's a side effect of the empathy. That it's more exaggerated now, but that counts for the highs as well as the lows? But the way Rashid describes it, I don't think he had much control of his space heart before 197? Like, it was just a thing that happened to him. But after… Well. You know."
Nick closed his eyes. Because Robby was always just a fucking kid. God, but every time he remembered that he felt like an asshole all over again. "I still can't believe he's only eighteen," he found himself mumbling.
"Hey, Relena Darlian-Peacecraft is only eighteen. Don't knock the wise baby geniuses, man. That lady is boss." He made an excited sound. "Did you know that Kansas is part of her bodyguard detail?"
Nick blinked, running his brain back through that one until the facts connected. "Foreman?" At Jovi's affirmative hum, he frowned. "He's not with Mitchell?"
Jovi cackled. "He and Mitchell both served under the princess after her return post-Fall, though it looks like Kansas wasn't recruited until after she locked down RLTT and started touring. Anyway, I know you went for the bare minimum, but Cassidy left in October, just before I did. He's pretty high up on the totem pole too." His sigh was a little wistful. "That estate she works out of is wickedly cool; beautiful too. Every inch of it is a layered fucking kill zone, but damn, I wouldn't mind seeing it again."
Nick sighed. Jovi could be… "You're crazy," he reminded the other man. "You know that, right?"
"Mm-hm!" Despite the lack of video on the call, Nick could just see his friend's self-satisfied glee. "I love being me."
oOo
oOo
February 16th 199 – Sunday – Oslo, Norway – Evening
Jake stared at his phone in something like disbelief for a long moment, but… Well, as weird as it felt, it was probably nothing? Just… weird timing. Relena was asleep in the next room, and the Guard in the outer chambers of the suite, so as long as he kept the volume at a reasonable level this should be fine. Step by step, he reminded himself, forcibly settling his nerves and leaning back against the wall before tapping the connect button. "Jack, hey," he greeted, closing his eyes and trying to relax. This didn't have to have any bearing on-
"Is she okay?"
So much for that. He didn't bother to hide his sigh as he closed his eyes, slumping a little. "I thought you didn't pay attention to the news," he countered tiredly.
His father snorted at him. "I make an exception for anything to do with my children, and at this point? She counts too."
He figured it was even odds that Des had let something about the ring slip, or… honestly, it was past time he acknowledged that Jack knew him better than he liked to admit. Despite everything, maybe in spite of everything, his dad had always…
He sighed. Everything was supposed to shift by degrees, and his relationship with his father was no different. "She's fine," he confirmed. "Just tired. It's annoying that the paparazzi got wind of our visit, but trying to placate them would set a dangerous precedent. The fuss will die down in a few days and everyone will move on."
It was a lie of course – but that was the point. They had needed to concede something, give a sign of what was to come, but they hadn't nailed down exactly what until he'd gotten a good look at Relena yesterday. They'd spun off in different directions again on the morning after the gala she had so been looking forward to, him focusing on getting the Lotus Trust fully on its feet while she gathered more Romefeller factions. He had planned to take her somewhere quiet so they could have a belated Valentine's luncheon, maybe even play at getting caught, or at least leave some clues that someone could twitter over, but…
Instead, they had gone to the hospital.
They had been subtle about it, moved through the right channels to avoid attention – then also been sure that enough about the visit was leaked to get the gossip rags rolling. In a lot of ways, the situation was ideal, and they would end up releasing the details sometime next week to negate any of the more asinine rumors. But…
While dehydration, sleep deprivation, and general overwork were all things they wanted to suggest, he hadn't wanted the symptoms to be so genuine. A little was one thing, it helped to have something to lean into and exaggerate – but Relena wasn't exaggerating. He had seen just how much a banana bag IV and Meyer's cocktail had perked her back up even before the quietly exasperated doctor had tried insisting that she needed to take a day to herself and get some sleep. She wasn't so much acting as leaning hard into the role they'd laid out.
The urge to chew out the majors wasn't helpful, but it wasn't going away. They would be taking better care of her in any other circumstance, but they couldn't push back too hard right now without disrupting the whole act.
He just… wished it was more of an act.
In any case, Relena had been able to smile and wave off the reporter who had tried cornering them on the way out, and almost successfully made it look like a planned trip to check on a friend or one of her more subtle programs – but the camera had caught the details of her wan complexion, and the vultures were drawing all the right conclusions.
It was fine.
Jack sighed. "So long as she's okay," he temporized. "I don't need to tell you that the press is making a mountain out of a molehill."
Jake's lips twitched, and he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. "You've never seen a molehill."
"It's an expression, okay?" Jack sounded amused too though, despite his words. "They're having a field day, that's for sure."
He rolled his eyes. "She's spreading herself too thin," he acknowledged. "The rest of the theories getting tossed around are just absurd. Why would she go to a local public hospital instead of a private physician for anything else?" Part of the joy of media outlets was their insanity, though. Grinning a little, he changed the subject. "What are you up to? Are you still in Berlin?"
"No, I'm out in the middle of the Atlantic right now." He made an incredulous sound. "I can't believe how absurd it is to build structures like this outside of zero-G."
The agricolonies, Jake remembered, feeling a zing of excitement pass through him. Forget the hydroponics complexes – Junior had a serious 'go big or go home' attitude. "Yeah?"
"I'm still trying to decide if the decision to finish construction out here on carriers was genius or insanity." He sighed. "It's a hell of a trial run, at any rate. I think the next one or two is going to be done on land just to see if that makes it better or more complicated. I'm mostly a tag-along until it's done, but it's a real trip to watch."
Jake nodded to himself. "That makes sense." While the agricolonies had largely been constructed in space, the finished product would be far too large to bring through the atmosphere whole – hence the 'zipping up' stage the Revenants had described, as the pieces were brought back together like an enormous interlocking puzzle.
Smiling to himself, he leaned back against the wall again and just… basked in the wonder of it. Everything he'd seen out of the Revenants so far was genuinely cool. "It's a start of a whole new era," he mused. It wasn't a new feeling, but… he'd gotten so used to being a primary point of genesis. Seeing it in someone else, let alone Junior, was thrilling on a level so deep it was hard to find the words for. As eager as he was to make friends of them all, to finally stand on even footing with more people who thought the same way, wondering what might come next was… a giddy feeling. "You're helping make history, out there."
"Eh, maybe a footnote. Not that I'm complaining." He sighed. "You're both okay, right? I know we're not…" Jack hesitated, then gave up the approach. "I'm always here, okay? I know you don't need me, but… that's never going to change."
His smile turned a bit more wry, and he brought his free hand up to cover his face, glad to have this room to himself for now. "Yeah. I know." He hesitated, but… For all that it had been downright catastrophic so many times over the years, honesty had been working out well the last few times they'd talked. "I've been trying to turn over a new leaf on that, you know?"
"…You don't have to," Jack reminded him quietly. "I know I've never…. Even just this is… worth a lot, Jake." He sighed. "Not being at each other's throats. I… I mean, I'm glad, I do want to know you better, but if… You built your own life without me, and you have the right to that too. Being on decent terms doesn't mean you have to force something if you're not interested. That's… just another way to make it go bad again."
Some part of him wanted to laugh, and maybe scream at the same time – because for so long that had felt like the entire issue with Jack. He had always been so persistent, so larger than fucking life every time they met that it overwhelmed him, and he'd just wanted it all to stop. And sometimes he had wondered if it would work out better if they could just take it down a notch or two, but… Fuck. For all that he'd always turned into a fucking psycho around his old man, Jack has also never been willing to back down, not even a little.
Not until after the Fall, at least. He'd… as shitty as that run-in on his twenty-first birthday had turned out, it had actually been the start of an upswing. Maybe tragedy had tempered them both.
It didn't have to be all or nothing.
Jake closed his eyes, thinking back over the last two years, wondering just where it had all begun to tilt. As with so much of his life now… as best as he could tell, it all came back to Relena. "I want to try for more," he confessed. "I have since… at least last summer. Maybe since the Dam Square Riot." Probably since before then, but that was the first time he'd really acknowledged it. "I've known how fucked up we are for a long while now, but just… I kept getting caught up in my own head. But I'm sick of my issues being the reason why I hate my life, if that makes any sense. I…" He grimaced. "So much of it has always been self-inflicted. And I think I always knew that, I just… didn't have a good enough reason to care." Letting out a long sigh, he added, "I never thought I lacked drive, but this is different somehow. I'm starting to think I'm just a late bloomer, and figuring this stuff out is supposed to be part of growing up." He bit his lip for a moment before finishing with. "I'm sorry for always taking that out on you."
"…I'm sorry that it's taken me this long to understand it," Jack returned after a moment, just as quiet. "Maybe if I'd been less stubborn, it wouldn't have taken us so long."
Jake resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I never really gave you the opportunity to get anywhere with me," he reminded him. Had, in fact, done the exact opposite for over a decade – interspersed with bouts of extreme violence and absenteeism. "I've always been a little brat."
Jack sighed. "My mistake," he continued slowly, with deliberate emphasis, "was in thinking your problem was a lack of maturity. But Jake… It was always the opposite. The way you ran off proved that over and over again. You've always known how to take care of yourself, and how to find people to take care of you back. That's… the most important part, really."
"I don't disagree, but people keep arguing with me about that lately," he pointed out, feeling the familiar dissonance settle over him again. Every time someone dismissed some psychosis of his youth as 'you were a child' he…
"I think the problem is that you don't remember ever being a child."
Jake frowned, sitting up a bit, thinking. "That gels," he decided.
Jack made a noise that sounded truly… exhausted. "Because that little line of logic you're on about? That this is part of growing up? You're not describing adolescence. That's how you overcome depression."
That… clicked a little too well too. Damn. He'd always thought… But at the same time, when would that have happened? "I always got angry, instead of sad," he argued. August lulls had always been the exception, not the rule. "Maybe that's a coping mechanism, but… Jack, I didn't really change even after Odin died. My temper got worse, but-"
"Senior took away your childhood, and you've been compensating ever since."
…Oh. He meant that he'd always been depressed. Which seemed a little excessive, but… also rang true.
"You… lived through your brother, Jake. Because that was the best you could have. And even then, the two of you… you treated him like an extra set of limbs, and he didn't understand that he wasn't. I'm about ninety percent sure that the reason he wouldn't talk to anyone was because if you had already answered, that was the same as talking. He didn't see the difference. He had so many problems after we separated you because he was leaning on you to the point that he was skipping entire developmental stages." He took a shuddering breath. "It was… terrifying to watch, and the older he got, it… That level of codependence damages, Jake. It hurts everyone involved, but when you're so young… It was like he didn't know how to think if you weren't in the room. He was so obviously fucking smart, and at the same time it was like he thought the two of you were the same person."
Jake swallowed, really thinking about that… feeling half frozen.
Jack groaned. "And none of that was your fault."
…Debatable.
His father sighed. "He's fine now," he remined him. "Both of you are. That's enough. And if he's odd as hell… honestly, he's smart enough that he was probably always going to be weird, okay?"
That startled a laugh out of him, though it hurt so much that he started to cough, his vision fuzzing out at the edges. Which was confusing for a second, but… Well, not really.
He coughed some more, trying to get in enough oxygen that his lungs would stop burning.
"Jake?"
"I'm fine," he managed, thought it was more of a gasp than he liked. "Just stressed." Stupidest fucking anxiety response ever. How did that kind of instinct even develop?
"Sorry."
He groaned. The thing was… he had talked to Junior a handful of weeks ago now, and if he was going to do that again, he needed to fucking deal with some of this shit. "Don't be." His phone vibrated, and he pulled it away from his head… to see it was Zechs calling him. Fuck. "Look, our fearless leader is calling me to be a spazz, I have to go. I'll talk to you later."
Jack choked out a laugh. "Did you just reference-"
Jake laughed as he shushed him, grinning so hard his face hurt. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I…" Yeah, no, he wasn't managing another fucking phone call like this today. "I'll try to text you later," he offered instead. He didn't know if he actually would but… Step by step. He hadn't promised either.
Jack audibly hesitated, not sure what to do with that before settling on, "Take better care of yourself," and disconnecting the line.
With the call ended, the Imperial March started to belatedly blare through the speaker, and Jake stared at the device for a long moment, knowing he should answer. But…
Fuck it. Tapping the mute, he set his phone down on the floor next to him and leaned into his knees. He… was not in the mood.
oOo
oOo
February 17th 199 – Monday – Prague, Czech Republic
"Odin is working on the sat feed network, but he says it'll be intermittent views at best unless he makes it accessible to everyone again, which we don't actually want," Quatre explained. "Or, even if we did, there's nothing to say that the Regime won't immediately compromise it again. I think we're better off getting selectively scheduled sneak peeks than rocking the entire boat like that." He made one of his nonsensical little gestures. "That, or we can build and place our own satellite independently, but I'm not sure if we could really get away with that undetected." Another motion. "If we can, it would probably be limited to five or less, which is… not a lot to work with, especially given the amount of work it would take to pull off. I would prefer to only go there if the first set of options are insufficient."
Sally nodded grimly, considering the map. "Understood." Sighing, she added, "And I agree. We already have more than enough construction work going on, even if we outsourced it."
Quatre nodded back. "The second site is going to drain what's left for manpower from all across space, and we were already pushing it between the Neut and Da Capo. It's… busy."
Sally focused on him. "Does Heero even have the time to spare for this?"
Quatre winced. "I'm temped to ask him to give the project to Audi and touch base with her regularly instead," he admitted. "From what I've seen of her work so far she could manage it, if not as quickly."
Sally ground her teeth, biting back a sigh. So here I am, putting more children to work. At least the gundam pilots had been fifteen the first time she tried bossing any of them around. The girl was barely even a teenager.
"What?"
Right. Empath. "I don't like what war does to our principles," she acknowledged. "Audi's only thirteen."
Quatre tipped his head in a conciliatory way. "You're not putting her on the front lines," he reminded her. "And she's reached a point where, if you don't include her, she'll find her own way into the fight. Odin wouldn't let me bring her away from the dark site until I promised not to let her out of range. He seems convinced that if left to her own devices, she'll go pick a fight that will see an ugly ending."
"He's worried she's going to get herself killed?" Given his history, she hadn't thought him so overprotective.
"I think he's more worried that she's going to kill someone, honestly. That she'll be alone when it happens." He gave an elegant little shrug. "But yes, he's also worried for her health, not just her virtue. I gather that she's growing up faster than he expected. In any case, she'll see playing with the satellites as a game – a fresh challenge. It's both practical and will keep her out from underfoot. It's a win-win scenario." Tapping the map with one finger, he added, "Once we have visuals on the area, we can decide a better plan of attack. I still don't understand how the Regime stopped all communications from inside the cordon, but if we can't reach anyone inside ahead of time, we're going to have to do this half blind." He grimaced. "I heard about what happened at Sanc – I would rather not approach this the same as Lieutenant Otto and Zechs did."
Sally sighed. "Right." There was a reason they hadn't made any progress on this front so far. "If we can't figure out something smarter and do need to take the brute force method, Lu wanted to wait until we had three gundams to field it."
"Mm. It would be doable, especially if we have multiple mods for shielding, but it's not my preference," Quatre agreed. "It also involves both waiting until April and showing our hand before the East see us in battle, which I don't like." He tapped the map of northern Italy again, clearly deep in thought. "If we got a grip on the how behind the media blackout, we might be able to force a more diplomatic solution."
She smiled in spite of herself. "Now if that isn't a masterful juxtaposition, I'm not sure what is."
He rewarded her with a small, closed-mouth smile. "That doesn't make it less accurate." He sighed. "Though I will admit that I'm curious to see if Relena can bring down the cordon first. She keeps surprising me lately."
Now isn't that the truth? "Girl's on fire," Sally agreed. Though, considering the rumors going around after yesterday… They could just be rumors, but she might also be a little more on fire than anyone appreciated.
But then, they were only rumors – Relena went everywhere these days, and her little swat team of bodyguards had long since developed a reputation for slipping her in and out of all kinds of places unnoticed. Politics was a crazy game on the best of days, and if she was playing at covert half so often as it seemed, she was bound to get caught in odd places now and again. For all I know, this is the precursor to some new regulation or project to do with medical care. She doubted it, but…. Well, there were too many possibilities.
And if she had had some kind of medical issue, evidently she had sought care for it, so why should it matter? In her opinion, it was just as likely the princess had slipped in to visit a friend or get some kind of support for her coterie of the day.
Until she found out otherwise, she wasn't going to count the rumors as a valid factor against the girl's political acumen. "I'll admit that her progress with these 'Accorded Nations' is a little fast, but, well…"
"But her work with the World Nation was the same way," Quatre agreed. "Besides, I think she had a head start this time. I doubt all these alliances are actually new. So far she has a believable history with each, or at least with people that some of her newest friends are connected to, but it feels… thorough." He shook his head. "I would put good money on this being a culmination of everything she's done since coming back to the fold. Treize's appearance just gave her the excuse to do it openly, instead of risking the chance that it would make her brother nervous."
Sally pursed her lips. "And he's not nervous now?" she asked sarcastically.
The empath's eyes lit up as he smiled wider this time. "I don't think he can afford to be – and she knows. It's perfect."
Sally raised her brows at him. "What comes next, then? If you're so sure."
He shook his head, though the smile didn't fade. "There are too many variables I still don't know. This might be about the dolls, or it could be an entirely separate play. Maybe they don't know yet. But I do suspect, if Zechs were to die tomorrow, Relena would find herself an empress." He settled his hands on his hips, looking off into the middle distance. "Maybe even one that the others would follow willingly." He frowned. "But that feels too direct. If they considered it a viable option, I imagine it would have been done by now." He shook his head. "I don't know." Looking back to the map, he added, "It's the same as this – we need more information first. Too much is still missing." Turning to give her a considering look, he added, "I'm reasonably sure we could make our own alliance in good faith, either with Relena or my sisters. That would doubtlessly fill most, if not all of the gaps."
Sally sighed. "Soon," she agreed. "I want to have something they don't, to be able to stand our ground on our own merit before we open that door." They had come too far to risk just being rolled over into someone else's game. She didn't think it was pride talking, to want to be sure on that point.
She had fought in other people's wars before. She had taken the middle ground. Both sucked – she wanted her own damn front this time. Her people deserved to know their leaders cared about them – that their lives wouldn't be wasted uselessly for someone else's game or gain.
To her relief, Quatre just nodded. "The gundams," he agreed. "And the doll factory, if we can find it. Whether we destroy it, or…" His grin this time was entirely vicious, visceral in a way she wouldn't have believed Quatre was capable of before this moment. "Odin has this idea," he practically purred. "That I would truly love to see in action."
Caught between a primitive need to run and insatiable curiosity, Sally smiled back, resettling her weight and waving off the lizard brain instincts – because of course Quatre was dangerous. He wouldn't be half as interesting if he was truly so soft as he liked to pretend. "Oh?" It didn't seem right to call it 'fight-or-flight' when the fight was more of a 'stay-and-play,' but she appreciated the adrenaline all the same. "Do tell."
oOo
oOo
February 18th 199 – Tuesday – Munich, Germany – Sarracenia
Relena was aware the noise that she made was more than a little vulgar, but frankly, she was too tired to care. She barely bothered to peel back the wrapper before biting into the fist-sized cake – and then groaned. It was real chocolate and the middle was warm and gooey and rich enough she doubted she could stomach more than a couple bites, but oh. "I love you," she moaned, taking another bite before offering it up to Jake.
"I've been practicing," Dorothy announced, looking smug even as she held up the plate she'd carried in for emphasis to show a second cake. "Cassandra says she's used these as currency before, and I think they are my favorite so far."
"I can see why," Relena agreed, watching Jake's expression as he obviously enjoyed his bite… but also turned contemplative eyes on Dorothy. "What?"
He hummed. "This feels like bribery." He raised his brows. "Do I get to know why you're bribing us?"
Dorothy's returning smile was sweet and sly and entirely savage all at the same time. "Do you want to sit down?"
Relena narrowed her eyes, gesturing for her boyfriend to hand the cake back – apparently she was going to need it. "Who have you exploited this time, and how?" Given how pleased her friend was she assumed all was well in any case, but Jake was right – if she was going to the effort of placating them before she even began, it was bound to be interesting.
Her question clearly delighted the other woman, though she looked up and away as she moved around them to set her plate on the coffee table by the waiting tea service, clearly thinking. "I'm not sure," she decided, clearly amused at the realization. Sweeping her hair to one side as she sat in an elegant motion, she admitted, "Someone, I suppose, though he needn't ever worry. Hm." Reaching out, she began to pour them each a cup of, Relena hoped, something non-caffeinated. "Perhaps I should consider a softer definition, though that does widen the pool significantly."
That was… ominous. Trading a quick look with Jake, Relena strode over and took a seat on the opposite couch. "Thea?"
Jake followed, frowning. "If there's trouble, then-"
"No trouble," Dorothy assured him, smiling as she sat back with her cup, ankles crossed. "A personal problem; and solved, at that." She pursed her lips. "Well, mostly." Her smile was downright blissful this time, and… soft.
Relena wasn't sure she had ever seen Dorothy look soft before. It was a good look, but also… bewildering. "Thea?"
"It began with Treize," she admitted. "He has no claim to the Catalonia seat, of course, but his standing for control of the aristocracy far supersedes my own. Without him, and barring changes brought by Relena's rise, I thought it likely that the court would fall into something of a fallow period with more resemblance to a republic than Romefeller has seen in some decades. I was acknowledged as the most powerful figure on the board, but also ignored – and frankly, I preferred it that way. I also believed the stagnation would aid Relena's efforts for change, though by how much was debatable. We are… set in our ways, after all. Nearly forty years have passed since daughters were legally made viable heirs again, but very few have allowed that as more than a loophole to be accepted when other alternatives fall through." Her smile turned wry. "I am fortunate that my father had so little interest in children that he did not care a whit about my sex, particularly after my aunt taught me to multiply at the age of three. His position demanded progeny, and I believe he was fond of my mother, but… Mm. Perhaps the same way that Mailin is fond of her dog? They served a purpose in each other's lives and I was the meeting point, but I do not believe either saw the other as more than a means to an end."
Relena startled as the cake started to tumble out of her lap, and Jake caught it before it could hit the floor. Not sure what on earth to say, she murmured, "I'm sorry."
The lines of Dorothy's face hardened, drawing taut as she pursed her mouth again. "I do not want a marriage like that," she announced, looking out the window into the dark night. "It was not poor, per se, but… I do not want it." She turned her head back to meet Relena's gaze firmly. "Whether I find romance like you have or remain unattached, I don't particularly care – I wish my social entanglements to remain true."
"Of course," Relena agreed, feeling bewildered that this was even a point of discussion.
Jake's voice was stern. "Is someone pressuring you?"
Her smile was wistful this time. "Not yet."
She was exhausted, but Relena tried to gather her thoughts for a clue as to why Dorothy thought this was a pressing issue – and came up blank. Still, the subject had been touched on more than once with other parties. Had she not… rounded the board on that with Dorothy? Their interests were diverging more lately, but all the same… "Dorothy, what you're describing is one of the big reasons we're changing things," she insisted. By all reports, her own birth parents' marriage had been something of a mess as well. "It's part of the private charter we've been working on, I don't-"
"And I do hope that works," Dorothy interrupted. "But even if it goes well, the first few years are going to be… rocky." She brought one shoulder up in a shrug. "Any husband of mine would not have full control of my estate, but he would gain enough power through me that many would consider subterfuge worth the prize."
"And the poison, afterwards?" Jake asked sardonically.
"I believe anyone clever enough to pull it off would convince me the marriage was also in my best interest." She admitted. "I am not immune to charm, and over time, pressure will grow. From a certain viewpoint, a man willing to play such a game might be my best option – particularly if I wait too long for a runaway romance that never occurs."
Relena could only stare. "Dorothy…" That sounded so… clinical. And horrible.
Jake wasn't done, though. "Dire predictions for your life despite being nineteen aside, what does all this have to do with Treize?" His face was terse. "Did you think he would manipulate you like that? Move things along, give you a line-up and enforce some kind of deadline? He was raised by Amarianna, Thea, he-" His breath caught, and he swallowed, looking shattered as he opened his mouth again. "This is why you were wailing about being damned? You thought-"
"I considered it, but no," Dorothy admitted, cutting him off. "My aunt raised me as much as my mother, and while I barely knew my father, he was very clear that I ought never look up to anyone. Father hated the way Grandfather Luthor sold off his sister, for all that she found happiness in the end." She shook her head. "The problem was less to do with my cousin's decisions so much as his presence. In a stagnant Romefeller where I held the pinnacle seat and kept close to the new power we were building for Relena, I had nearly a decade to forge my own path before my peers would force the issue. But in a court where Khushrenada leads over Catalonia, and any action from either him or Relena would accelerate action from all parties? We have a better chance for great societal change, of course, but I very much doubt my peers would do business with me if I remained a spinster at twenty-four. They did not lock my father out until he reached his forties, but it is different with women." Bringing her teacup up for a sip, she added, "My cousin's survival even now, with his oaths to renounce Romefeller, still affect how the nobility view me. With every year that passes, the noose would tighten, and I would not be able to consider a suitor with anything but suspicion." Meeting Relena's eyes again, she admitted, "I am not without flaw. Perhaps I would find one genuine, or at least amicable, but… The pressure would always be there. I don't care for it. I would be like to panic and choose the first least terrible option so that I maintained a level of control, and I do not want that."
Jake released a deep breath out his nose. "Relena is right, this is something we're actively working on, Thea. Noventa is leading an outright crusade-"
"I do like Sylvia," Dorothy interrupted, smiling as she leaned over to set her cup back on the table. "But she's from a more liberal house, and has a… different stance." A purely mischievous smile flitted across her face. "She has different priorities, and therefore different options; not to mention that her hereditary allies are also more progressive, and that gives her more breathing room."
Jake frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Relena rolled her eyes, because she wasn't sure how he had missed it. "It means Alejandra is as much her 'assistant' as you are mine."
"…Oh." He blinked a few times, shrugged, then frowned again. "But if Romefeller is so fixated on line continuation, then why haven't they-"
"They think she'll grow out of it," Dorothy explained with a wry smile. "Supposedly, most do – or at least, agree to take a husband anyway. Men don't usually mind if their wives keep a mistress or two." She smirked. "More than once in our history, such relations have become quite… happily ambiguous. Bastards can be legitimized, after all."
Jake sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm not going to debate polyamory with you Thea; whatever people get up to in their own bedrooms is their business." He sighed. "Where are we going with this? I'm with you, we both are, and the interpersonal politics you're describing are a literal crock of shit – so what do you need?"
Dorothy's smile was bright, and she twisted in her seat to dig a small envelope out of her purse. "Nothing. At least, not yet." Holding it out for him to take, she added, "I told you, I've already solved the problem."
Relena stared at her friend incredulously as the other woman leaned back again and crossed her legs. The problem she had just laid out was not exactly… Solvable? Not simply, at any rate. "How?"
"By capitulating," Dorothy assured her. "But on my own terms."
Jake's voice was toneless. "This is a sonogram."
Relena frowned, turning to face him, but he wasn't looking at her at all.
"Yes."
Jake turned the paper around, as if he needed Dorothy to confirm that she knew exactly what she had handed him. "This is a baby."
And there was that purely blissful smile again. "His name is Jared."
Relena's breath caught and she just… stared. "What?"
"He's due on July seventh," Dorothy explained. Then, with a more thoughtful look, she admitted, "I expect I will start showing soon."
Jake's voice had a faint tremor running through it. "Who is the father?"
The savage lilt came back into their friend's expression, her grin sharp. "I have no idea."
"What the hell do you mean you have no idea? Dorothy-"
"I dyed my hair, said I was on birth control and attended a number of… parties."
"…Parties."
"Mm." Dorothy tipped her head. "Orgies?"
Relena felt like her heart was going to stop. "Dorothy!"
"A very high admission price set of orgies," she decided, nodding to herself. "They were all quite pretty – I made sure of that." She shrugged, smirking. "But no names were involved, and quite frankly, I wasn't keeping track of who was doing exactly what, let alone which face he belonged to. That was rather the point in any case."
"You just-"
"I don't want a baby daddy any more than a husband," Dorothy insisted. "And I didn't want a record that someone could someday try and use against me either, or I would have gone to a sperm bank." Her eyes flashed. "My son will be mine. No one else's." Her self-satisfied smirk returned. "He will be the next Catalonia head, and any man that approaches me in the future will do so with the knowledge that his progeny are not in the line of succession – which will reduce the number of those simply seeking a rise in station. My line will go on, and I will be happy." Once again, she looked radiantly blissful.
Relena couldn't think. "You're…" Twisting, she took the slip of paper from Jake and stared at the picture. He was right – it was very recognizably a baby. "You said July? That's-"
"Five months away," she agreed. "And I'm five months along, as of today."
Halfway. Another thought occurred to her. "Willam! All that time you were spending with Willam! That started last summer-"
"I thought I'd better try it on first," her friend agreed. "Addie is a single mother, after all, and she is entirely delightful. My circumstances are far better than those she found herself in after the death of her fiancé, but I would not make such a big decision without research. If I'd found myself ill-suited to motherhood, I had considered sterilization as well."
"What?"
She shrugged. "Treize is alive and has proven his virility. Even if he has no more, I could have declared Mariemaia my heir." Her smile was, once again, one of the happiest Relena has ever seen her wear. "But I do like children, I've found. I was a little daunted after meeting Lyle, it's so different at that age, but he's growing fast, and Tai and Azaria are an absolute delight." She sighed wistfully. "It's a shame that this gambit will be too risky to try a second time. I think I should like more than one."
This is what being in shock feels like, Relena decided. Forget the shock during the attack at Brussels, that had been about physical danger and pain, but this…
"Relena?"
She hadn't realized she'd been looking down into her lap – at the picture she'd taken from Jake. Looking up to meet Dorothy's eyes again, she suddenly realized she was crying. "You're going to be a mom?"
Dorothy frowned, then stood up to come around the table and sit down next to her, leaning into her space and taking one of her hands into both of her own. "I am going to be the best mom," she declared, a fiery glint in her eyes. "This is the most important thing I've ever done. I've been thinking about it for years, just… not how I would get there."
Jake groaned. "Please never say 'orgy' again."
Dorothy gave him a sharp smile, eyes bright. "Sex club?"
He groaned again, curling in on himself to drop his head to his knees. "No."
The edge on that smile sharpened. "Did you know that if you-"
"No, Thea."
Relena giggled, still crying as she rested her hand with the photo back on top of Dorothy's. "Save it for Mai," she suggested, feeling… detached from everything. A baby. Dorothy. It just… wasn't making any sense. Though that begged a different question. "She doesn't already know, does she?"
"I don't think so," Dorothy mused, looking thoughtful. "But it is Mai. I think BJ's known for a month or two, but he hasn't said anything. And Olivia, of course. She helped."
Relena couldn't help the hysterical laugh that crept out then. Oh God. "Of course she did," she gasped, closing her eyes. Just… A wave of horror swept through her. "She's not-"
"Of course not," Dorothy scoffed. "Olivia doesn't know if she ever wants children, and her brother will let her do as she likes; she's the youngest of six and can breed dogs for the rest of her life without repercussions." She shook her head, pulling her hands away to wrap Relena in a sideways hug. "But she's my best friend, and she helped me sort out all the details." She hummed thoughtfully. "Though Cassie is becoming a fast second. Did you know her eyeliner is a tattoo? And that she does her nails every day?"
The nails thing had actually come up, mostly because it had come off as insane. "It's a specialized polish, it's meant to come off without chemicals every night," she protested.
"Yes, because she doesn't want any on if she's working with dough," Dorothy agreed. "But Lena – she paints her nails flawlessly every morning! In under sixty seconds." She sounded a little breathless. "I've watched."
Relena started laughing a little more helplessly, reaching up to clasp her hands around the other woman's arm and lean into her – because that was as much of a return hug as she could manage, with how Dorothy was wrapped around her.
"And you need to buy a fleet of robotic vacuums and make the Guard start a cleaning rotation of your inner sanctum, because Addie is absolutely wasted as a maid," she continued, nuzzling the side of her face against Relena's. "I know she was a maid before you brought her on, but honestly, you ought to have her leading HR. I don't know how you've managed without someone in that role so far, but it can't keep and she is perfect for it."
That… was very true. On all fronts, actually. Addie had become a maid out of necessity in the crashed economy and had filled any role anyone pointed her towards since, but she had the skills to manage far more than a house. And especially considering… Well. They needed to talk to her about it and make sure she was truly interested, but the timing was just about perfect.
Grinning and rubbing her own cheek back against Dorothy's, she teased, "All these best friends you have now! Where do I stand?" It was a good change though, especially considering Dorothy's possessive fear of anyone new befriending Relena, just last summer.
"Mm, sister?" A hesitation, then, "Godmother?" She pulled away enough to lean forward and look at Jake, still half curled into a ball, before suggesting, "Godparents?"
Her stomach sank. "I am not ready to be any kind of parent," she protested. Not that that was a thing unless Dorothy died, and even so, it wasn't like she minded Jake being a godparent, which would automatically include her, she would absolutely rise to the occasion, but why did people just assume-
"I'll ask Cassandra then," Dorothy returned breezily. "She says Des won't give her any more – she'll tease him that she found a workaround."
Jake started laughing helplessly, still curled up.
"You're still Aunt Lena, though," Dorothy insisted.
She was shaking now, though she wasn't sure if it was from the shock or pure relief. "I can do 'Aunt Lena,'" she agreed. Then she sighed. "I'm sorry, I just-"
"You should have seen Olivia's reaction," Dorothy informed her cheerfully. "I ought to have recorded it. Mm, this lets me cover my bases better anyway. Jake?"
Jake groaned.
She still felt bad. "I have so much to do before I want to be responsible for a tiny human," she protested. She did want kids, just… "I'm eighteen." She wanted Jake all to herself for at least five years before she had to find a new way to balance her personal life, and she didn't think there was anything wrong with that. And if Romefeller didn't like it they would just have to get over it.
"Lena, it's fine," Dorothy insisted, pulling her close again and starting to run a hand over her hair. "I didn't think you'd want it, I just didn't think it was right to ask Cassandra without checking first." She tucked a few stray locks of hair back behind one ear before admitting, "I am still recruiting your consort, though. My son is going to need a stable male role model, and Des ought to be a grandfather anyway."
This time when she started laughing, she found it hard to stop.
oOo
oOo
February 20th 199 – Thursday – Dublin, Ireland
Nick bit back an annoyed sigh when someone jostled the table and down across from him like they had some kind of right to the space when he clearly had his shit scattered over the entire surface. Like that wasn't an obvious 'I'm busy, leave me alone' anywhere, let alone in a university library. Tugging the cord on his earbuds so they'd pop out, he looked up with a glare, because there were obviously plenty of empty tables around them, and… stared.
Robby gave him a coyly amused look, casually resting one elbow on the table.
…Shit.
"I can leave, if you'd like," he announced quietly. "But if that's the way you want it, I bet Dmitriy fifty credits that you'd throw something at me, so maybe we could work with that."
Nick snorted out a laugh. "Not Skye?"
His heart leapt as the younger man's face softened, even as a bright glint entered his eyes. "Skye voted on how many different ways you would use the word 'fuck.' I'm supposed to keep count." His lips twitched. "I'm not sure what the stakes are on that one, but since it was Don who countered him, I assume it isn't money."
Nick shook his head, trying not to laugh again. "I can't believe you're here," he admitted.
"I'm still working on the part where you're happy about it," Robby admitted candidly. "Jovi insisted, but I thought he was being overly optimistic."
"What, because you saved me from myself?"
Robby made a face that, once again, was entirely foreign. Mostly it looked… awkward. Hesitant. "Did I?"
…This was unreal. Sighing, Nick started gathering his stuff back up to put in his bag. "Come on, this is supposed to be quiet space. Let's go get coffee or something."
Once they were out of the library and had enough distance from other people to have a semblance of privacy, Nick decided, "It's weird to see you without a sword."
Robby made a noncommittal noise. "I'm feeling a little naked without it," he admitted. "I do still carry one most of the time, but it's harder to conceal, and I don't have as many resources this far northwest if someone wants to call me out on it." He shrugged, looking either uncomfortable or cold. "My aim has also been improving, so it's something of a trade-off."
Nick raised his brows. "Your aim?"
Now a wry smile, which was almost an expression he'd seen on his one-time leader's face, but also… not. "I was passable during the war, but only just. Then I didn't fire a gun for two and a half years, and… In terms of muscle memory, I practically had to start over. At least Vaska is a patient instructor." He smiled. "And Abdul." He snorted. "I expected Odin to give me shit for it, but I've gathered that he thought I was a bad enough shot before that he can't tell the difference."
He didn't recognize the name Abdul, but Jovi had said Robby's best friend from before Cambyses was named Odin. There was an invitation there, in giving the names, but… "Vaska is still going by the same name?"
"Mm, Vaska was always a nickname for Vasiliy," Robby explained, hands jammed deep in his pockets, looking up at the sky. "Putting Vaska down as his full first name was enough degrees of removal to get by."
Nick frowned. "How do you get 'Vaska' out of Vasiliy?"
"By speaking Russian, I suppose," Robby returned, grinning. "It's… different." He shook his head. "Skye is still Skye, Donciano is claiming Donovan, and Charlie was full of shit in the first place because apparently his name was always Chad."
Nick snorted. "Oh, that does go a long way to explaining Mitchell's frustration. The 'Charles Layson' on your list never turned anything up, and with the way he and Cory ran off… He was pissed about that."
Robby freaking rolled his eyes. "He thought he was being very clever, yes. He says he didn't have anyone left even before Cambyses to worry about giving closure to and Charlie was a nickname, so he decided to spoof my list in the first place just because he could."
Nick smirked. "How do you get Charlie out of Chad?"
He was rewarded with a laugh his time, and it looked so… gentle. "I have no idea." Then he turned, giving Nick another wry smile. "What?"
Space heart, right. Jovi had explained that, warned him when he visited last month, and it while made so many little things click together, it was still odd. All the same, he wasn't going to deny the fact that it was really bloody convenient. "You're really different."
Robby made that same awkward face as before. "I should hope so." He rolled his eyes again. "I'd never even swatted someone's hand before… you know. Let alone hit them. Sparring for sport isn't the same." He shrugged. "We all became what we had to in order to survive. I'm never going to be who I was before, but…" He shuddered. "I never wanted to be that, Nick. Whatever you decide to think of me in the long run, give me at least that much credit." He frowned, stopping in his tracks to narrow his eyes at him. "What's that for?"
Nick grimaced, sliding back a step and shrugging sheepishly. "Sorry."
Robby leaned back, expression bewildered. "Why guilt?"
At least I don't have to explain that part well enough for him to believe. "You did it for me," he explained, looking down. "Well, for all of us, but… you hated it, and you did it anyway. Because we needed it."
Robby scoffed, spinning on one heel to storm away. "That sounds like something a battered spouse would say."
Mother of God, but that was different. Nick stared after him for a moment, then scrambled to catch up because fuck that. "That's not what I meant and you know it."
"I didn't come here for forgiveness," the other man growled, and okay, that was a little more familiar. The next part, however, delivered while he still moved away at a steady clip, was not. "If you want some kind of closure, that's fine. Feel free to think what you will of…" He stopped abruptly and spun back around fast enough that Nick stumbled, eyes blazing. "Robby is dead," he snarled. "Think what you want of him, villain or savior, I don't care. Feel free to vilify me too – I won't deny you the right. But I…" He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. More quietly, he finished with, "I will never be him again. I will die first. So hate me if you like, but do not tie me back into him and tell me that my actions were good." He rubbed a hand across his face, fingering the long crooked scar spanning his cheek. "I can't… I can't stand to make him real again. Please don't try."
Nick considered that, and… he thought he followed? But at the same time, it was a mess. "You need therapy."
Robby let out a wet-sounding laugh. "I need so much therapy," he agreed, rubbing at his eyes. Then he took a deep breath, standing up straight again. "But it's going to have to wait until the world settles down a bit more." Rubbing at his eyes one more time, he shoved his hands back in his pockets and offered Nick a wry grin. "For now, coffee sounds like a good start."
Nick shook his head, but gestured for the other man to follow him again before heading to his favorite shop. "I don't see why it has to wait, but sure."
Robby sighed, walking alongside him again. "It's more that I'm not ready for it," he explained, ducking his chin into his scarf. "And I've been making good progress so far, but it's… hard to tell what's mine sometimes. That problem actually gets worse with a counselor."
He hadn't thought of that. "Vid conference only?" he suggested.
Robby grimaced. "Then we start hitting security issues. I'm fairly high on the Regime's hit list, and the more Rubato accomplishes, the more costly a mistake on that front will become." He sighed. "I can float on everyone insisting it's fine, for now." Smirking, he added, "It might even be true. I went out in the black of space on my own for a while and kept minimal contact with anyone, and nothing changed. It's a long way from perfect, but… This might just be me, now."
Nick supposed he sounded stable, at least. And, you know… decidedly not-Robby. Not that he hadn't known that before today, but… Well, now he knew.
Cat. Right. Not that that answered a hundred other questions. "How do you fight in a war without ever hitting someone?" he asked, trying to call him out.
"You climb into a cockpit and do it at arm's length instead," Cat returned immediately. "Rest assured that it is very different from interpersonal violence."
He considered that; the distances involved in MS battles were far from negligible, and maybe that was an explanation right there. "Did that keep them out of range of the empathy?"
"No."
Or, you know, maybe it didn't.
"I did fine so long as I didn't fight alone," Cat explained. "When I did, or we all disagreed…" He winced. "Things could get dicey. But it's different, with comradery."
Nick shook his head, thinking on what he'd already said. "And you didn't worry about their emotions sweeping you away?"
Cat gave him a very self-satisfied smirk. "Maybe if they weren't all following my orders." He sighed. "Though it was also different, back then. My space heart was on the top edge of average when I was younger – about as high as you could get without facing disability. Enough to get more regular, functional use out of it, but rarely enough to impede my choices." He shrugged. "That changed during the war, after my father died. It wasn't too severe, but I had to work harder than ever before to keep a lid on it, and if not for Odin… It helps to be near someone so unflappable. Then after Libra… Well, Odin was far less help, honestly, but he'd already become my baseline. I think I leaned on that more than either of us realized." He sighed. "Then he almost died, and I went out for some air, and… the cages happened."
Nick let out a deep breath. The cages. "Any idea how long you were in there?" His therapist had asked him that, and he hadn't-
"No idea whatsoever," Cat replied, a wry twist to his mouth.
Nick grimaced. "I think the only people who do were the ones who got some kind of date marker right after they got out," he admitted. "But I thought if anyone had been able to keep track…"
"I lost my mind right alongside everyone else," Cat returned dryly. "Though the method was more intentional than most, I suspect." He chuffed out a short, very not-funny laugh. "I'd done it before; I suppose I thought I could at least control the direction I fell the second time, and leave a trail of clues to find my way back out."
"Mm. Seems like it worked?" Nick offered.
Cat sighed. "Looks like it. I still have to figure out the aftermath, but… yes." He shrugged. "It all got easier once I realized I could project instead of just receive, but at the same time, the dial that's supposed to only go up to ten got pushed up to fifteen, after I'd lived my life around seven; so it wasn't exactly a gift. If I hadn't been able to push back, I probably would have just laid down and waited to die."
"…I'm glad you didn't."
The look in Cat's eyes as he turned to focus on him was gentle, again. Grateful, maybe? "Thank-you."
It was probably his turn, though. "Well, therapy's been doing wonders for me," he announced. "I've still got a long way to go and nothing is like what I expected, but it is better."
"I'm glad," Cat affirmed, and… sounded like he meant it. Glancing down at the satchel he'd watched Nick pack up earlier, he asked, "How small of a camera did you go with? I didn't think anything like you described would fit in there." Then he flinched. "Oh. Sorry?"
Nick closed his eyes for a second, trying to get his emotions back under control. About to apologize, he thought about the other man's reaction before, and changed his mind. "Don't worry about it." Then he sighed. "I don't have a camera. Not unless you count the one on my phone." According to the specs he'd looked up on the device, apparently it wasn't half-bad, though hardly versatile.
Not that he'd ever opened the app.
"Oh." He hesitated, then offered, "I thought you'd missed it."
Of course he had – Nick had talked to Robby endlessly about photography, lighting and angles, and… so much shit. And maybe at first he'd been happy that the man was humoring him, letting him vent, but then he had brought the subject up later, and it had been clear he'd been absorbing the details.
This was something he still hadn't been able to really cover with Kenneth, but… Maybe Robby could understand. "There's a trap in it," he began. "Almost… like a siren's call, you know? A quick way to drown." Letting out a sharp breath through his nose, he tried again. "It was a crutch, and without it, I fell. I'm trying to rise above that, now. I don't need it."
Cat was silent for a long moment as they walked, digesting that. Then, "Even if love is a crutch, I think it's still important."
Nick frowned. "I didn't-"
"Whether or not we need it, beauty is important too," Cat insisted. "Whatever form it takes, art sees us through the brutalities life brings our way, and shines as a light to follow when all else falls dark." He was frowning now. "That's important, Nick. People are too static – we like it when everything stays the same. We like it when everything is predictable. But we need those reminders that not all hope is lost when we are broken; or why we still fight, after we've forgotten how to weep. Both ends of the spectrum are important, and art is what ties that together. I prefer music for expression, but however much that makes me feel? The visual mediums communicate so much more clearly. Universally." He shook his head. "I've seen your old portfolio – you loved your work. It shows. And of course it's your decision, but… Don't let anything that happened take it from you. Walk away if that's what you want, but don't let the desert's malice poison something you love. Not without a fight."
Nick was breathing hard now, but seeing the sign for the coffee house up ahead, he refused to slow down. "I take it back," he decided.
Cat sounded suspicious. "Which part?"
"You don't need that much therapy."
That started a sharp, genuine bubble of laughter out of the younger man.
This close to campus, the coffee house was really more of a café, practically a pub, and when Cat ordered a full meal with tea Nick decided it was close enough to lunch time and got a sandwich. It was loud as hell and the tables were all taken, so they settled in a corner near the door to wait before Nick tried to heckle him again. "I thought we were getting coffee."
Cat looked amused, even with half his face hidden in his scarf. "You realize I almost always passed mine off, right?"
He blinked. "Really?"
His friend shrugged. "It was bad for morale when I refused it outright – something about solidarity, I think? I drank it some of the time. But usually I just had a token sip or two where someone could see before I made a point of getting visibly distracted and leaving it somewhere, or passing it on to one of the captains."
Huh. "I figured you for a caffeine addict. You were always a bear when we didn't have any."
Another shrug. "Solidarity again, and reflection. You wouldn't think it, but morale was better when I irritable over it than when I tried to acting like it was no big deal. Everyone else was upset, so they felt vindicated that I agreed, I think."
"Really?"
"I tested it. And at any rate, being near someone feeling the effects of a stimulant more or less has the same effect as taking it myself." He looked thoughtful now, almost calculating as his eyes swept across the room. "Hm. I think… the ratio might be worse out here."
Nick stifled a sigh. He had pointedly been avoiding meeting anyone's eyes. "I mostly try not to notice," he admitted.
"Mm. It's still a trigger, then?"
He grimaced. "I manage some female interaction, I'm doing better, but… yeah." Then he did sigh. "Let's just go, once we've got our order. I'm not in the mood."
"We can," Cat agreed. "I can also chase them off, if you want? Though it might start rumors."
That sounded incredibly appealing. Taking a quick, sweeping glance around, he decided, "I don't talk to any of these people." Not that he really talked to anyone outside of class, but he didn't feel like owning up to that right now.
"Suit yourself," Cat returned cheerfully, shivering and resettling his weight. "Though I wouldn't mind eating out of the wind."
Ugh, and we didn't order it to go. This place used real dishes for dine-in. Shit. "We could head back to my place," he suggested. "It's not far."
Cat looked surprised, though happy too. "If you want."
It seemed easier. "Yeah, let me get everything to go."
By the time he finished at the counter, someone had brought two ceramic mugs over to Cat, which would have been annoying if he hadn't already confirmed it would be another ten minutes until their food was ready. As it was, the other man's eyes were shining as he held out his coffee. "Careful, it's hot."
He snorted. "I'd fucking hope so." That earned him a laugh, and he shook his head, bumping shoulders with him companionably before leaning back against the wall and asking what had been circling his mind. "You looked up my portfolio?"
The look Cat gave him was incredulous in an amused, teasing way. "Of course."
Nick frowned, taking a sip of coffee to try to get over how… implicit that suggestion was. "I didn't realize it was still up."
Cat shrugged. "The domain didn't expire and you never blocked your account, so it's still out there," he pointed out. "I don't know how many people knew to look for it in the first place, but it's not hard to run a search on your name."
He didn't know how he felt about that. Honestly, he'd assumed his account had been deactivated sometime after he'd gotten declared missing. He'd still had the hard copies, of course, but… he hadn't been able to find himself to open them, either the files or his books. He'd taken them all with him when he moved out of his mom's again, but only because he'd completely moved out this time. If he went back to Cardiff at all, he'd find his own place. "I didn't think you'd care about that," he admitted.
Cat gave an overly fluid shrug, then flinched when the door opened and a sharp wind gusted through, ducking slightly behind him like he was a shield, the asshole. "I was curious. I didn't know anything about the visual arts before you started teaching me."
Nick smirked, feeling a little disbelieving. "You… are way too educated for me to buy that."
"My schooling was specialized," Cat countered, very happily fixated on his tea. "I only had time for one of the arts, and I chose music."
He blinked. "So what, like, classical?"
"Technically no; but in practice, it's easier to call it that."
Oh, now that was just bait. "Come on, you can do better than that."
He'd only ever seen glimmers of amusement in Robby, a flash and gone again. Never excited like this – apparently no one had humored him on the subject for a while. And it was… actually kinda interesting for all that he'd never heard about any of it before.
It helped to finish burying Robby. The man he'd known in the desert had always been a hell of a listener, but Cat had talked more in those fifteen minutes than he had over three months in Libya.
"I think that's us," his friend finally announced, gesturing up to the counter.
Nick blinked. Because yeah, maybe, but… "They usually bring it over," he admitted, straightening out of his slouch to go check it out.
Cat snickered, handing him his empty mug – the bussing bin was over by the takeout counter. "I thought you wanted to escape attention."
Well, yeah. But since nothing had happened, Cat's plan hadn't been necessary. "Be right back," he muttered.
The tickets matched, and one of the regular staff came for the dish bin right as he was dropping their mugs in. "Thanks."
She gave him a distracted smile before moving back behind the counter, which was fine; even welcome, honestly. That waitress had practically been therapy homework for the last couple weeks because she always insisted on talking about something or other. Not in a bad way at all, just… a lot, sometimes. Huh. Picking up the containers – not bagged, and he had to move down the counter to grab a fistful of napkins – he turned back around. They're busier than usual, he decided, taking a moment to consider the crowd… that wasn't paying him much attention.
It was nice. But also… he hadn't realized how used to it he'd gotten? Which… What the fuck. As much as he hated crowds anymore, he'd gotten good at reading them, and… something had shifted.
Though, there was one girl eyeballing Cat in a considering way, which made him want to roll his eyes… right up until he realized she was frowning. Not…
He blinked, and the scene took on new meaning. Cat was tall, if not so tall as himself, slim and lanky, but he was bundled up in what looked like two sweaters and a scarf – all in an array of pastels. His khaki pants were simple, but looked both soft and expensive. His coat was khaki too, knee length and well-fitted despite the extra layers, and while he'd pulled back the mitten overlay on what turned out to be fingerless gloves while they had their drinks, his hands were mostly hidden. His neck and the lower half of face were obscured in the colorful folds of his scarf, and with his long hair in a loose, twisting French braid trailing over his shoulder, he looked like a model Nick might have asked to run a session with him when he was a freshman.
Not a male one, either. Or at least… Not definitely male.
Cat met his eyes as he moved back to the front of the room and started laughing.
"Oh, you asshole," he hissed, feeling embarrassed even as he started to laugh too. Fuck, but he'd been… looking back on their conversation, that had been a lot of diminutive, deferential body language, and he'd leaned into it without even thinking. "I can't believe you."
"I think the problem is that you did," the other man practically chirped back, and now that he was listening for it? Cat's voice wasn't quite androgynous, just a bit too deep, but when combined with the mannerisms he'd adopted, most people wouldn't think about it. That, and it was noisy in here – people would've only heard snippets of their conversation, if anything at all.
"Let's get out of here," he grumbled, and was rewarded with something just shy of a bounce as Cat moved to hold the door open – and fuck, but he had been bouncing a bit earlier. He'd thought it was just that he was excited to talk about something he was clearly into, but the asshole was a fucking consummate actor.
"Relax," the man suggested lowly as they made their way back down the sidewalk – the way he walked shifting to something more athletic, more confident – proud and smooth. More inherently male too, somehow. He tossed his braid back over his shoulder. "You would think I'd done something bad."
Nick groaned. "Was that you Pushing?"
"Psh. Why waste the effort? You played right into it."
Ugh, he had.
"Also, I did ask."
Nick groaned again and started leading the way back to his apartment, pointedly changing the subject. "You've heard Mitchell's rebuttal this morning, right?"
It had taken a few days, but after Prisbrey's article had gone viral the brigadier had published a response on the net – refuting both Soleil and the Regime, even as he lauded Princess Relena – and declared himself independent. Nick was kinda at a loss as to how he and his people were expecting to still eat and get supplies, but apparently he had no intention of stopping what he'd been doing all along – and had, in fact, released some far less well written reports of issues they'd handled in the northeastern range of the Regime's empire in the two weeks since they had gone incommunicado.
It was… kinda nuts, but also entirely too familiar. And very in character, honestly.
"I watched it," Cat agreed.
Nick blinked. "I thought it was audio only."
"Mm, the more polished version that's going around is. I think someone was trying to protect his image; the visuals are fairly low quality and the mood…" He waved a hand. "He's looked better. It's definitely home-video quality."
"Huh." After thinking about that for a moment, he snorted. "I guess he's not exactly famous for his videography skills."
"I suspect that's the point," Cat returned dryly. "He had access to better; even just Razo's phone would have gotten better results." He paused, then shrugged. "Unless they tossed it. I'm not asking Audi to check its status."
Hm. "I keep hearing that name," he noted pointedly.
Cat scoffed, even as he smiled. "You are not ready to handle Audi." Then he laughed as he focused on something in the distance, obviously remembering something. "Then again, very few people are." He sighed. "I'm more interested in everyone's responses to Mitchell than his admission. He's a lot closer to Relena that people think."
That sounded about the same as saying that water was 'really wet' as far as he could tell. Everyone knew there was a good connection there, even before the article had come out. "How close are we talking?"
Cat's voice was low, so muffled he could barely hear it. "Her former head of guard is his best friend and so far as we can tell, every single one of his furloughs since leaving her command has been taken in her company. Including the weekend before the Soleil broadcast."
He blinked. "Yeah?" That was closer than he expected.
"Razo went with him to her compound for Christmas."
Hm. "Former head of guard?"
"Colonel Jake Miller," Cat explained. "Who apparently quit his post five months ago, but is still regularly seen in her entourage."
Nick considered. "Is that the guy she was seen leaving the hospital with the other day?"
Cat looked irritated, if only mildly so. "Yes. He's not always there, but enough that if he'd been a new addition someone would have questioned it by now." He sighed. "Then again, Miller has something of a record for desertion, and its… complicated."
Nick frowned, turning over possibilities in his head as they walked. Then, just as quietly, he asked, "You don't think it's a ruse, do you? That they're entrapping her?"
His former leader sighed. "If they are, Jovi says she's entirely pleased with the way it's going. You know him; he's good at reading people. Though they pointedly haven't introduced him to Miller any time that he's interacted with the princess – we're not sure if that's intentional or if he's moving in a separate enough sphere that they've begun to associate less." He tipped his head one way then the other in a so-so gesture. "I don't know. There's more to it than that, but I've honestly said too much already; and even so, I don't have enough facts to make an accurate assessment."
He thought about that for a long moment… then back to what some of the tabloids had been suggesting. "Do you think she is trying to take the Regime from Milliardo?"
Cat grimaced. "Probably? But there's something else going on too. And I'm not entirely sure that this dance of power she's doing within the Regime isn't choreographed with her brother." He sighed. "I doubt it, there are much easier ways, but Relena has always had her own way of doing things. Just because they defy logic doesn't always mean they won't work perfectly."
He considered that. "Good cop, bad cop?" he suggested.
Cat's returning smile was wry. "I wouldn't be surprised, especially if they have difficult elements within Romefeller they're trying to wrangle. Though… Mm." He shook his head. "Let's leave it there. Like I said, I'm more interested in seeing how Mitchell's reception develops over the next few days."
Hm. "There's that big to-do down in northern France today, isn't there? Do you think she'd make a statement about him?"
Cat made that awkward face again. "I suppose we could watch; but it would be incredibly off-topic, and she's usually good about that."
"Yeah, but Jovi said the Minister of Economics and a bunch of other cabinet members from other departments were going to be there," he pointed out. "This is hot news, only a few hours old. Someone is going to ask about it, and will they all have the self-control to stay on task?"
Cat frowned at him. "I didn't realize you were paying this close of attention to the world scene."
Nick shrugged, then gestured to his building as they got close to the front door. "I tried ignoring it for a while," he admitted. "But I was a journalism major before, and this is history in the making." He's also realized he started handling Kenneth's therapy homework a lot better when he had something focal to sink his time into. "Then I realized Rubato was… Well, you know." He didn't want to say it here, where people were starting to walk close again, especially after Cat's talk of risk management earlier. "I'm still not sure about it as a career after everything, but… Well, everyone needs a hobby, right?"
"Why wouldn't it still be a viable career?"
Nick shrugged, feeling… he wasn't sure what, but given Cat's grimace, it was coming through clear enough. "It's not enough."
The other man was frowning, opening his mouth to probably say something that he'd already heard from his therapist, when he froze. A moment later, his head snapped up towards the dorm.
Nick frowned, feeling his hackles rise. He'd seen that reaction to nothing all too many times on Robby and that… This isn't Robby, he reminded himself. "Cat?"
"I think something's happened," Cat murmured, staring off into nothing. "Maybe…" He closed his eyes. "You might be right. I forgot about the time difference, I… The opening of the advancement center in Amiens would have begun an hour ago." His frown deepened. "Or maybe this is unrelated."
"But?"
"But that's a lot of people reacting strongly in a wide range, all together," he explained. "Either way, that means an event." He shook his head, offering Nick a wry smile. "Then again, I have no context. Are there any big football matches going right now?"
He blinked, thinking about it. "Not today," he decided. "You really can't tell?"
"Perspective is everything," Cat agreed. "It's easy to read what you want into it. All the same, though… the timing might be right." He shook his head. "Do you still want to go inside?"
"I'm still carrying this soup you bought," Nick pointed out sarcastically, moving past him to unlock the door. "Give me a break. And wasn't I the one pushing you on this subject?"
"I pick up emotions, not context," Cat reminded him, right on his heels. "And it's hardly so clear cut as people seem to think. They run in layers of conflicting current, and the more attention you pay to one person, the more they conflict." He made a point of making sure the door latched behind them. "It's usually only straightforward when the mood is strong, and even then, it's fairly rare outside of children. We're complex."
In other words, he can feel how nervous I am even when I'm mostly excited. Good to know. "The more you explain this, the more it sounds like a disability instead of a superpower," Nick decided.
"I'm not inclined to disagree," Cat returned, voice sardonic. "I didn't get a say, remember? It's genetic."
Nick shoved his way into the stairwell and started pounding up the steps; from what Cat had said, the sooner they got to his room, the better. "Makes me glad I'm earthborn," he added. "How common is it, anyway?"
"Maybe a ten percent rate of occurrence, though the statistics behind that are… skewed. The phenomena is spread fairly equally across all the colonies in terms of population density, but while we see first generation incidences, the majority of us come from families known for producing the Talent." He ran a few steps to be even with Nick before adding, "It's a fairly typical stable mutation pattern. Once it's presents, it stays in the bloodline. But I've seen it in the earthborn too."
Huh. "I did not know that."
Cat rolled his eyes. "You don't have it," he pointed out. "And the Earth incidences I've seen are both much rarer and weaker. I'm… not convinced it's a new presentation."
"That's terrifying," Nick protested.
"You don't have it," Cat repeated, beginning to sound exasperated. "Why do you care?"
"I'm just remembering why I didn't go into the biology," Nick grumbled. "Life is already enough of a fucking roulette, I didn't want to think about mutations."
Cat let out something close to a giggle. "Why does everyone get hung up on that word? I'm talking about something at the level of conception, not whatever sci-fi horror you're cooking up."
The spaceborn were crazy – he'd seen evidence before, but this laid back attitude was just… the cherry on top. "It's something that came from too much space radiation breaking up your DNA."
"It's a rare and stable evolution that's breeding true enough that we know it's not causing speciation," Cat countered, sounding like he was trying not to laugh again. "It's hardly a pandemic, or even problematic to the human race as a whole. And I just finished telling you it's not exclusive to the spaceborn."
"Yeah, except what if these earthborn empaths are all descended from people who traveled in space and hit just the wrong kind of radiation?" he demanded. Utterly fucking nuts. "I am never going to space." However shitty it had gotten dirtside, he would just learn to deal.
Cat made a happy sort of noise. "I hadn't considered that theory."
Nick groaned as he pushed open the door for the third floor, digging in his pocket for his keys. "You're welcome." No one was in sight, though he could hear a TV and voices down in the common lounge – thankfully, they'd reach his room before that. He handed the take-out boxes back so he could use both hands; the door tended to stick. "Come on."
Normally he just tossed his bag on his bed, but he took the time to hang it on the peg for his coat before digging out his slate. "What town was this going down in, again?"
"Lille." Cat set Nick's box on the desk before popping the lid on his soup to take a sip. "Mm. It's more of a Rubato and RLTT co-op, but the Lotus Trust candidate is new and seems more than happy to ride Relena's coattails when she makes the offer. Ostensibly, this is only supposed to be a ceremony over the opening of one of the new advancement centers we've been building that's focused on adult education; the first of many. Relena is involved because its focus is more on administrative duties that she hopes will see admissions into her programs after graduation, and because the curriculum is close to the baseline she required at her school Sanc – and also to help smooth things over, presumably, as it's going to have some degree of international attendance and that involves her Ministry." Sitting on the bed, he added, "Then a handful of cabinet members and the Minister of Economics invited herself, though whether that's to try to leech off the goodwill or because they don't like how close it is to Brussels is hard to say." He shrugged. "It's probably both and then a few other reasons, honestly."
Nick smirked as he took a seat next to him and woke up his slate. "Isn't Merriweather the minister that's known for badmouthing the princess?"
Cat grinned back at him. "I believe she would call it constructive criticism, but yes. There is some known friction." He rolled his eyes. "Something about nepotism, I believe."
Hm. "There is a bit of nepotism happening."
"Yes, but far less than either Romefeller or the space dynasties are known for, honestly, and every time Relena has found herself in a position of power, she's handled it admirably." He took another sip. "Also, for better or worse, Vice Minister Darlian raised his daughter by spaceborn principles. He likely did it because he knew he was bringing up a princess that might someday need those skills, but she finished ACET track in winter of 193 even while she was effectively apprenticed to him since 191. The last school she attended as a student, Saint Gabriel's, was a post-secondary program with a specialization in economics. Whatever Merriweather has tried to claim about her lack of qualifications, Relena has education on her side as well as pedigree. She just has the nobility's privilege in that she didn't choose her career. Her foster father began grooming her for Sanc as soon as she could form full sentences."
"When you put it that way, it sounds brutal."
"Perspective," Cat repeated, "is everything." He shook his head as Nick pulled up his favorite vid feed; things from the news popped up here almost as soon as they were filmed. "I'm going to laugh if what I'm feeling is unrelated."
"I don't keep track of sports," Nick admitted. "Though… it could be something bad, too?"
"Mm, I'm getting a lot of righteous indignation mixed with horror and disgust, awe and concern." He tipped his head to the side in an oddly feline fashion. "It's some kind of event, or at least the recognition of one? Mm. My sense of direction on this is generally poor, but it's in more than one direction now too, which means it's probably more than one group upset enough to project loudly." Then he shot Nick a tolerantly amused look. "I'm fine. This is normal."
"You fucking noticed this level of shit in the desert?" Nick demanded, feeling… kinda gross, honestly. He'd thought he understood, but…
Cat rolled his eyes. "Stop that. But yes – why do you think I was so invested in making everyone happy? There are a few things that mellow it out, but when I could mellow everyone else, life was easier." He pointed at a likely thumbnail. "Try that one."
It looked promising enough. The princess could clearly be seen in front of a building on some kind of temporary stage, standing next to an older, shorter woman with a dark complexion – probably the Lotus Trust candidate – and a slew of other people. As soon as he tapped it, French subtitles started too. "Lille is in France?" he guessed.
"I thought you'd already heard about this happening," Cat countered, smirking.
"It was some boring thing that Jovi was muttering about yesterday," he returned, fumbling for the volume button. Speaking of, now that it was full screen, he could make out his friend too, off to one side. "Isn't this primarily a Rubato thing? Why isn't he front and center?"
"What's the point of having Relena show up to one of your public events if you're not going to let her take center stage?" Despite the words, he sounded amused. "At least, I would guess. Despite lacking any kind of space heart, Jovi can read a room better than I can. Hm. Do you have it on mute?"
"Apparently," he grumbled, flicking the hard switch on the side of the slate, then jumping at the all too loud, heavily garbled sound that came through. "Ugh!" He tapped the volume back down… then made a face and tapped to go back. It wasn't actually garbled – it had French dub overlaying the speakers' native English. "Let me find a different one."
He refreshed a page, and a newer, shorter file was at the top of the que. "This one's only a couple minutes long," he realized as he tapped it – the first had been over forty.
"Closing statements and questions, then," Cat mused, leaning closer as the video buffered. "It adds to the theory – it's a little fast for someone to be making clips of it if it didn't turn inflammatory."
That was a good point. This had to be, what, minutes old? "I-"
"-not ideal, of course. But-"
"Not ideal? The man commits treason, is actively engaging in violent anarchy with some of our best infantry under his thumb, and you want to try brushing it under the rug as-"
"I don't believe this is-"
"That is entirely my point! It's bad enough the way you flounce around in front of the camera with little more than your name and borrowed power-"
"All power is borrowed," Relena interrupted sharply, expression hardening. "That is what makes it power. Taken or granted, governments stand solely so that the people may sit-"
"And you are endorsing violent upstart because you are a spoiled princess!"
Nick felt like his jaw was going to drop. He had the feeling that he was really going to need to see just what had led up to this conversation, because holy shit, this lady was in a mighty fury.
Relena, usually a cool customer on screen, was starting to breathe hard. "So far as I am aware, my birth status of a ruined country has no bearing on my work."
"Your brother-"
In the blink of an eye, Relena's demeanor shifted into something harsher than Nick had ever seen on her. "My brother is a conqueror," she snarled. "His position as conductor of this ill-gained empire also has nothing to do with his standing as a prince of Sanc."
"You-"
"Nearly everything I have done since the Fall has been accomplished outside government funding or control!" Relena continued, her voice rising. "Even the few things that started with Milliardo's approval have since been relegated back to the private sector, because the Regime does not care for the wellbeing of its people!"
Oh shit. No wonder this was going viral so fast. There had been rumors that Princess Relena didn't have a temper, but-
"Oh, and your Ministry is just what, window dressing?" sneered Merriweather.
The princess let out a bark of a laugh, eyes lit up with an internal fire. "My Ministry? That I've had for seven months? That I had to spend three months clearing of corruption before I could trust any of its actions to any but my personal staff? The Ministry I only have because, after Milliardo invaded the Neutral Zone with a gundam, China demanded my appointment as a primary concession to call that fiasco a misunderstanding instead of an act of war? That Ministry?" She laughed again. "The one that has… nothing to do with why I'm here today?"
Cat made an interested sound even as Nick felt like he was about to choke on his tongue. That… none of that had been public knowledge.
"I left Brussels last year because I was tired of quietly being put 'in my place,'" Relena went on. "And despite the circumstances, I had hoped to make new strides. My foster father taught me well; by the time he died I was doing most of his paperwork for Foreign Affairs. He said it was good practice – and until he lay dying, I don't think he ever intended to tell me I was not his daughter, but his liege." She shook her head, starting to shake. "I thought, if nothing else, I could stand to make him proud. My fathers both believed in peace, after all."
A woman in a military uniform with shaggy brown hair took a step towards the princess, one hand outstretched. "Relena-"
"But it looks like we still have some ways to go before we accomplish that, don't we?" She took a shuddering breath, closing her eyes for a moment, before turning them back on her fellow Minister, her gaze pure ice. "My friend thinks something is so wrong with this Regime that he not only endorsed a rival faction, but is now standing on his own because he thinks all sides in this power struggle are wrong. And he has at least eight thousand under his command who fully agree." Her smirk was a little mean. "And personally, Minister Merriweather? I would rather our dissidents – the ones who have successfully hidden within the ranks since the birth of my brother's empire – choose to follow him than Treize. All we've seen from Soleil so far is their hostility, but I know David."
She turned away from the seemingly shaken Merriweather and passed a hand over her face in a very human motion of exhaustion. Her face shone with sweat, and Nick suddenly realized her color was off; he'd have to re-watch to be sure, but he thought that hand might be shaking. "I don't need this," she announced, dropping her hand and eyeing the camera, the crowd, for a moment with a stone-faced expression. "We're done here." She turned away from the cameras and hesitated at the sight of her fellow RLTT candidate, of Jovi fucking standing there looking like he wanted nothing more than popcorn, before bowing her head in an apologetic fashion and swiveling sharply to move off the stage.
Nick let out a deep breath. "Fuck." That… had definitely been more interesting than he'd expected. He looked at Cat, grinning. "I wonder-"
The crowd roared, and his eyes snapped back to the screen, realizing that the princess was- "Hold on," he demanded, tapping the screen and running it back a few seconds. This time, he definitely saw her hand shaking as she found it to her eyes, and then the sway as she fumbled her step, almost as if her leg was going numb…
She would have landed flat on her face if that soldier hadn't run forward and caught her. The… same soldier who had looked all too ready to launch herself across the stage a minute before. And Relena's eyes were open, but barely, and she looked half boneless as the… major, he thought? As the major calmly lifted her in her arms like she weighed nothing, a calmly determined expression on her face as she resolutely ignored the flashing cameras and questions being screamed, whisking the princess away as the rest of the squad closed ranks behind them.
The video ended, and he stared at the frozen screen for a long moment before letting out another deep breath. "Fuck." That… no wonder Cat said half the building was all shaken up. This was… no one even knew what was wrong!
Cat made another thoughtful noise, before deciding, "That does make for quite an exit."
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Lille, France
"I love you," Jake sighed, grasping at her hand almost desperately as he bend his head over it. "But you're going to be the death of me."
Relena giggled, reaching out with her other hand to comb her fingers through his hair, ignoring the awkward tug of the IV. "Don't be so dramatic." Then she sighed, looking up and behind her to the bag go fluid dripping into her arm. She wanted to protest the nasal canula pouring excess oxygen into her system too, but… it was almost as nice as it was irritating? She was tired. She wanted to ask him how long before they could leave; the staff had been very nice so far, but she'd much rather be home than in a second hospital in as many days. "I can't believe Calliope decided to be such an utter bitch," she grumbled instead, twisting her right hand to grip his hands back. Sure, she had needled at the other woman when she'd been snooty with her, but that was their regular tit for tat. She hadn't planned on the other Minister getting sassy with her in front of a crowd, but…
Well, she couldn't have staged it any better either. She'd purposefully been riding the line on sleep and food today just for sake of authenticity, but Merriweather had practically handed her what she needed on a silver platter. She'd expected to lay the groundwork for tomorrow with some sympathetic but conflicted body language on the Mitchell issue, but this had been perfect.
She couldn't say that, though. Not here – and it wasn't as though Jake didn't know exactly what had gone through her mind anyway. Instead, she focused on another truth… and sighed. "I lost my temper." That had not been forced at all – the near fainting spell, beyond Mai half prompting it, had been more to do with how liberating it had felt to speak her mind. As much as she had acknowledged the need to improvise a loss of control after shutting down the impromptu conference, the stunned look of concern on Nadiya's face had genuinely made her feel light-headed. That hadn't been fair to her new friend. And then…
It frankly worked out, that the fall had been genuine. As exasperated as everyone was with her, she felt confident about the way that had gone. Now they just had to write up a statement assuring everyone it was nothing but overwork… and she had given them enough to gossip over otherwise that no one would look at that twice, even if she hadn't had ample proof.
She really was going to have to apologize to Nadiya, and likely Jovaughn as well; today ought to have been about them. That was for later, though.
She sighed, dropping her hand on his head back into her lap. "When can I sign an AMA?" Whether they drove or chartered a flight traveling was still going to take a while, she wanted to go home.
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Szczecin, Poland
"Come on. It's only a couple of weeks, not the rest of your life."
Xu had the thought, not for the first time, that he had been selected for this mission because most people would either break down sobbing or try to strangle Adam with their bare hands if forced into close proximity with him for a handful of hours, let alone weeks on end. Which was something of a standing argument against his personal self-restraint, but he was too far in now to back out.
Besides, this was important. And it also helped that he didn't have to take the brat with him this time. Maybe he had to sit and think about the pros and cons to be entirely sure, but he might prefer Adam over Yasa. At a minimum, he could lose his temper with Adam and not feel guilty about it.
Still, he took another long moment to consider the long horizon he's grown so used to since leaving home. Coming to Earth had been a reckless move, but at the same time… It had been the right one. The longer he was away from his own people, the more toxic he realized they had been. It was… nice to be part of a larger whole without being… dehumanized.
He wondered how Wufei was doing, now. If he's found a better sense of purpose than the one Master Long had foisted off onto first him, then his old roommate. He'd heard about the old man's stint as a suicide bomber during the war too, and if anything that had sealed his resolve in the belief that escape had been his best choice, but…
It could be hard to leave behind everything you knew. Even when it felt wrong, it was still your everything.
Not that this was going to be the same thing. As much as he was already regretting the mission, Adam was right – two weeks in the tundra was hardly the end of the world, and either they would find something worthwhile, or they would be back for a brief reprieve before going back with more information. With Heavyarms grounded and the rebellion effectively in reserve during the preparations for the coming conflict, it wasn't as though he had anything better to do.
It also let him foist the little faux-Japanese shit off on Odin and Quatre. He probably would have agreed on that point alone.
"It's the end of an era," he announced, trying to explain the way leaving on this trip made him feel. Their tactics had changed dramatically, the anticipation was building… and he had shit to get done. Smirking, he turned back to face Adam. "Everything we've done… it's led to where we are now."
Adam's look was bemused. "That's usually how it works."
Xutao rolled his eyes and started up the gangplank to their aircraft. "I wasn't being literal."
"But you actually were." The other man's smirk widened. "Aren't you supposed to make metaphors when you're aiming for poetic?"
There wasn't much reason to respond to that. At any rate, Adam still cackled when he flipped him off.
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February 26th 199 – Wednesday
"-because, in the end of the day, it appears that I cannot, in fact, personally handle every aspect of my administration. One person cannot carry the weight of the world – though according to my doctor, it was not for lack of trying, ahem. Mm. In any case, now that I know what it is like to exceed my own limits, I suppose I shall have to accept more help in the future.
"That said, these last few weeks have opened my eyes – in particular, my last few days of enforced rest made me realize just how much I was trying to shoulder. And that… frankly, is not fair to anyone. We are all in this together. That is the entire premise behind the charter of Accorded Nations – together, we are stronger. I have so many friends and allies to share both my dreams and work with, and in trying to rise to every occasion for any request or reason, no matter the source, I have been doing both myself and everyone else a disservice. I do not know what tomorrow holds, but these are not simple times – and if I am to continue to serve the people, then I must do so at my best, not with whatever is left of me after too many duties have taken their toll. I must focus on what I believe is best for our people – and I sincerely believe my talents align best with that of the Accorded Nations negotiations.
"Therefore, I hereby announce my resignation from the Peacecraft Regime. I wish my successor to the post of Foreign Affairs the best of luck."
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Culmination
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Thoughts? We had a whole lot going on in this one, and a lot of really fun moments. I'm honestly not sure I can pick a favorite…