SHIN KIDOU SENKI GUNDAM WING

SAINAN NO KEKKA
ACT XIII, PART II

 
 
Scene V: The Glittering Shards of Broken Dreams

 
She was in a cell, which was probably where she was going to spend the rest of her life.

Maybe a part of her had always known that it would end up this way, because she felt remarkably calm about the situation. The 8' by 12' space contained a bed, a toilet and a sink, but no other luxuries were allowed. The walls were painted a dull white, a color which she was heartily sick of. White was the color of death in China, and she wondered if some sadistic person had thought of that before tossing her in.

She had been placed in protective isolation, away from the other prisoners. She had no privacy, with camera set to monitor her every action, and guard coming through to check on her every four hours. The guards weren't kind, but neither were they cruel. Perhaps their careful indifference could be seen as insulting, but Sally didn't really pay attention to them. Her thoughts were turning ever-inward, and a sense of peace was starting to emerge. She had done what she had to; the consequences were beyond her control.

She had a lot of time to think.

Her memories of her childhood, that ideal time she had tried to protect for other children, besieged her mind. She remembered watching her grandmother cook, watching as she cut the garlic for a Beijing style meal. The older woman moved slowly, her joints swollen from arthritis, but that hadn't stopped her from dispensing wisdom in small, sharp spurts.

"A fall into a ditch makes you wiser," she had told Sally once, after cutting herself with a knife. Sally had panicked on seeing the blood, but her grandmother's face had been smooth, with few lines marring it as she sucked delicately at her wounded finger, no pain visible. It scarred, but not horribly, and Sally remembered the old lady's serenity. It had been something she had tried to embrace, but her passionate nature had never let her truly take that peace into herself.

She understood now. In retrospect, she could see her mistakes.

She should have convinced Wufei to join her side beforehand, secured his promise before making her grand statement. The stress of the situation had taken his calm away, and he had replied with passion instead of logic. She wondered if he regretted, now, sealing the final nail in China's fate. She would never forgive him, but she doubted he would forgive her, either. There was too much death between them.

She hadn't given Une enough credit for her sheer chutzpah, hadn't imagined Relena and Dorothy would manage to guilt trip the World Nation in line that quickly. She had believed she had firmly taken Quatre out of the picture, a mistake which cost her L3. She hadn't known Zechs would snap out of his confusion, hadn't imaged Etille was anything but a burnt-out soldier. She should have killed both Trowa and him right away.

There were so many variables she had discarded. No plan survives the first five minutes of engagement, and hers had gone wrong nearly from the start.

She should have sought out Heero Yuy, instead of assuming the specter of his power had faded the same night Treize's star had vanished. She should have accounted for Heero. In the end, it was always Heero Yuy.

She'd taken to braiding and undoing small strands of her hair in sheer boredom, giving herself a horrible case of split ends on the pieces close to her face. As she wove, she imagined those she had left behind.

She had heard what had happened to Li, and a very small part of her was relieved. She had never completely trusted the hacker, and the idea of Li able to continue doing what she wanted was nightmarish. It was wrong to see any satisfaction in someone's maiming, but Sally had come far beyond the basic concepts of right and wrong. Li never would have been contained otherwise.

Gils-Reve, though, she honestly mourned. He had been bright and loyal, his sincerity and devotion to the cause blazing in his youth. He had been smart, but even he couldn't fight the explosion that had destroyed the ship. He hadn't deserved to die. She supposed that was the way war was. Her mistakes were myriad, made of pride and her overconfidence. Her belief had been sincere, but the cost of decisions was something that would be hard to bear.

As she unwound her braid, she thought of Riley. They had never caught the clever old man, and she was glad. Wufei had turned over copies of the conversation they had right after her initial rebellion for evidence, but none of them had figured out the old man was whom she had been referring to. She would die before betraying him.

There was no torture, but the interrogation techniques the Preventers had used were still uncomfortable. Itchy blankets, thin clothes, being woken at odd and irregular hours - they had filled her first month of confinement. She hadn't broken, though. She had meditated, her strength of will seeing her through.

She would not let them break her.

She had lost track of days, the days merging into an endless cycle of monotone. She imagined that about six weeks had gone by, but she wasn't sure. There was no way she could know. It was disconcerting to watch time slip away from her, but she was starting not to care.

When she slept, she dreamt of Wufei screaming her name, a desperate sound of friendship and despair. She heard Duo contradicting her as she imagined the faces of those who had died when the missile struck L1. The true punishment, she decided, wasn't the loss of her freedom so much as being left to her thoughts.

Occasionally she would rise to her feet, stretching slowly as she worked out in her cramped living area. The twenty minutes of "leisure" she was allotted was an uncomfortable thing, caged in a narrow courtyard barely twice the size of her cell. Usually she'd just stare up through the chicken-wire, dreaming of the blue sky she could see just beyond it. She knew, intellectually, that she should move her body to remain fit and avoid the depression of the institutionalized, but she couldn't bring herself to find the energy.

There was the sound of two sets of footsteps coming down the hall, and she wondered which inmate was being sought. It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner, and they all had already had their outside time earlier that day. Perhaps a lawyer or a lover was stopping in.

She was mildly interested when they stopped in front of her cell, and she heard the sound of the gate opening. A female guard dressed in the crisp uniform of an enlisted person stepped into her cage.

"You have a visitor," a she told her. Sally hadn't bothered to learn her name, since the guards rotated out of prison duty frequently. Guarding military prisoners was a boring job, with days spent watching screens of people doing nothing.

"Oh?" Sally raised her eyebrow, but the guard didn't reply, merely holding out a pair of handcuffs. No matter where she went, the handcuffs would remain. She found it silly, since they'd already implanted a tracker into her skull. If she ever dared to escape, all it would take was a push of the button, and the small detonator would take care of any ambition she might possess.

She obediently let herself be chained, prepared to take the walk to the visitor's room. Her representative had seen her the day before yesterday; he wasn't supposed to return for a week yet. She wondered if this would be another interrogation. She'd gotten used to staring at the wall as people alternately cajoled her or shrieked at her about whatever they were after during that particular session.

She never let them have anything, merely repeating her name and rank.

"Sally Po. General, Liberation Forces." She hadn't had time to create serial numbers for her army, but that would have to do. She refused to claim her title as a Preventer, because she had never really been one of them.

Instead of being led down the hall, the guard stepped out of the cell, highly unusual. "The prisoner is secure," she announced to whoever was standing behind her out of Sally's line of sight.

"That will be all," someone said. The voice that dismissed the guard was too familiar. Procedure called for her to be sent to a visiting room, but the new head of the Preventers was beyond standard military.

He was blonder than she remembered, his hair nearly white in the dim light of the cell. He was taller, too, his shoulders held higher with pride and confidence, like a weight had been removed from his shoulders. He looked like Zechs Merquise, she thought. There was fire in this man; he was not the broken individual she had written off a few months ago.

She waited silently for him to speak first. She had nothing to gain, and she had always kept her own counsel. His eyes raked over her body, evaluating her in a single instance, and dismissing everything she was. Only Wufei had ever managed to make her feel so insignificant, when he had dismissed her cause and her beliefs as wrong. It was a struggle not to squirm, but she held fast to her pride, the only thing she had left. She would not be made into nothing.

"Forgive me for not being a better hostess, but I'm afraid my means are a bit limited at the moment," she said with heavy irony. The chains on her wrist were cold, but the blue of his eyes rivaled the Arctic for warmth.

He motioned for her to sit, but she remained on her feet, not willing to bow down. He nodded slightly, then pulled the door shut. The cell was crowded with both of them standing, but neither would yield. "If I were Une, I would say something mocking," he said.

Une had always been a bit of a bitch even at the best of times, Sally thought in agreement. "You're not. My congratulations, by the way." She stared at the rank pips on his collar.

His hand automatically touched them, then fell to his side. "It's nothing I wanted."

She understood. His ambition had always been nearly overwhelming, a search for something that demanded his skills and talents. He didn't seek power for power's sake, perhaps the only thing that kept her from hating him.

That, and Noin. Noin had loved him, and Sally had loved Noin in her own way. Noin would have understood, better than anyone, what she had been trying to accomplish - and that was why Noin had died.

"No, I don't suspect so," she agreed, feeling a bit of her belligerence fade. "What are you going to do with me?" she asked. No one had made it clear yet if she was to be tried for treason, or if she was just going to be executed quietly. She didn't even know if anyone was aware she was still alive, and not dead by the hands of the Gundam pilots.

"You present quite a problem," Zechs said. "Your legal status is in limbo - whether we try you as a terrorist or a traitor. There's groups speaking up for your civil rights, and no matter what we do, it will be watched closely." He spoke clinically, as though her fate mattered no more than what he'd had for breakfast the day before.

She had her own opinions on what should be done. She had asked, once, that she be returned to her country of origin as a prisoner of war, but they had pointed out that neither of the countries she had dual citizenship with wanted a thing to do with her. For one, she could care less, but the other one was a secret wound that was festering in her heart. She still loved China, although it had disowned her.

"Will you hold the shotgun, then?" she asked. "Will you lead the firing squad that kills me?"

A flash of passion, of hatred that took her aback crossed his face. "We won't kill you. I won't let them turn you into a martyr."

She raised her chin, meeting his eyes squarely. "I already am a martyr. I have given up my life and freedom for my cause."

"No... you're not. I refuse to let you be like Treize. You're not worthy of being spoken of in the same breath."

She bit her lip. "Treize was a fool."

"At least he wasn't selfish. He was prepared for the consequences of his own actions."

"Are you prepared to live with the consequences of your actions, as the commander of the Preventers?" she demanded. "Are you prepared to be the one who has doomed the colonies and earth to their own destruction?"

"I've done no such thing."

"Yes, you have! By agreeing to go along with the World Nation, you're destroying us! You're destroying China, destroying your own precious Cinq!" Her voice rose, a spiral of condemnation and honest rage. She couldn't remember being so angry, not about this, but Zechs was forcing her to react as no one else had. Maybe she was more angry at herself for failing, but seeing this man, the son of a proud dynasty which had nearly been destroyed, condemning her was the final straw.

She had not been wrong.

He was quiet for a long minute.

"You didn't come here to gloat. Why did you come?" she asked.

"For her." Zechs stared at her, and she was surprised that there was no hatred, no passion in his eyes - just disgust. "I wanted to see the friend who knowingly sent her to her death."

"Sometimes we have to pay high prices for our ideals." She stared down at the handcuffs, thinking of her lost freedom. "I don't regret it," she said. "I did what I had to."

He stared at her, that raking look that evaluated her and discarded everything she stood for. "I wish you hadn't felt the need." He moved toward the door, producing a key from his pocket to let himself out. "Someone will be in to remove the cuffs shortly."

The lock clicked open, and for some reason, it sounded more final than the first time they'd shut her in the cell. When he left, she knew that the story would end.

"If it helps, I'm sorry about Noin." She was surprised to hear the words slip from her lips, and the effect on Zechs was electric.

"Sorry won't bring her back." He turned away without another word, and she watched his back as he left the cell.

She never saw him again.

 
Scene VI: The Reconstruction of Time

 
Before he arrived at Lake Victoria, Etille had taken some well-deserved leave to make a short family visit, one he had been planning since the end of the first war. He just hadn't had the time. At least, that was what he told himself before finally admitting that he hadn't wanted to see his family because they were so proud about him being in the military that it made him feel ashamed.

But there was no shame as he walked in through the front door and greeted his parents, his younger sister who had come home just for the occasion. His father had laughed and his mother had cried, and his sister had given him a kiss and a pair of new shoes. "For your new job," she told him, "because you can't wear that horrible uniform around all the time."

He had been about to protest that Noin Academy was a military school, and that he would have to wear the horrible uniform, whether he liked it or not, but the smile on her lips stopped him, and he bent to kiss her cheek.

"Thank you," he said.

He'd told them the rest of the story over a good homestyle French dinner, vegetables and bread and beef stew and wine straight from their own vineyards. Etille had almost forgotten what real cooking tasted like, after years of eating military rations or the slop poured onto his plate at the chow hall. His mother had almost forgotten to eat, staring at him with shining eyes as he downed plate after plate of her cooking. He had not been so happy in a long time.

They'd wanted to know everything, but he kept it simple. He doubted they would understand the ties that wove him and Dorothy Catalonia together, nor the political intrigue of Sally's rebellion and its aftermath. "A007 will be fine without me," he said, at the end. "I believe they plan to turn it into a real colony, though I don't know how long it will take. General Peacecraft showed me the outlines last week and it looks promising."

"And what about your teaching position?" his mother wanted to know.

It had come as somewhat of a surprise. He'd already known that Une would most likely step down in favor of someone more driven, a visionary, and he'd guessed that the man who fit that description would be Milliard Peacecraft. But he had never thought Une would include him in her plans as well - plans that she was keeping quiet even from the Preventers themselves. The school she wanted to build out of the ruins of the old Lake Victoria Academy was something he knew the World Nation would shake their heads and mutter at, and he'd had enough controversy to last a lifetime.

"Why do you want me?" he had protested, when she'd asked him to accept the post of head instructor, and she had simply crossed her arms and stared at him.

"Would you rather stay a general?"

To anyone else, that question would have sounded a little ridiculous. But Une had always been good at reading people, and she had effectively trapped him. He remembered listening to Peacecraft tell the story of how he had gotten "roped into" the command position, and it had seemed to happen much the same way, though Etille could tell, even behind the exasperated voice, that Peacecraft was happy with where that road was taking him.

"I was Noin's friend," he told Une. "And I still believe in Treize. I'll take it."

They'd cut him a set of orders with plane tickets directly from Geneva to Lake Victoria just after the change of command ceremony, and when they had arrived at his office, the ink still warm and fresh on the paper, with Milliard Peacecraft's bold signature across them as the new commander-in-chief, he had stared at them, then picked up the phone. Was there any way, he said, that he could stop over for a few days of leave before he reported?

He had put down "family visit" on the leave request, and no one had questioned that he was stopping both in France and Spain before his flight. Perhaps they assumed he had relatives in both France and Spain, or perhaps they decided it was better not to ask. As he said goodbye to his parents the next morning, his mother slipped a few homemade pastries into his bag and kissed him on both cheeks.

"Say hello to her for me," she whispered, and he looked into her smiling eyes, knowing that she did not mean Une.

The drive to Spain seemed to take longer than usual, and there was nothing on radio to entertain him. He nearly swerved off the road several times as he daydreamed, staring out the windshield at the rolling fields and nostalgic landscapes so uniquely French, and wished he could be a child again, that he could rewind and start over.

He checked into the small bed-and-breakfast, carrying his small bag up to his room and snagging a pastry from it before heading back out to his car. The wind had picked up and the thick curtains of Spanish moss draped over the trees were swaying as he sped past, but he hardly noticed, intent on the yellow highway line flashing by, and how the first fat raindrops burst upon the windshield almost like bubbles.

It was pouring by the time he reached the graveyard, but he got out of the car anyway, wrapped securely in the light coat he had brought for Europe's mild autumns. Within a minute, he was soaked to the skin. The old family graveyard's gate was closed, and his fingers slipped on the wet metal several times before he managed to unlock it and slip inside.

Even through the rain, he had no trouble locating her grave. He had been here only four times in person, but a hundred, a thousand times in his memories and in his dreams. There were a few small, withered flowers tucked close to the headstone, he noticed, and he reached out one hand to prop them up against the rain, then stood.

"Well," he said, "I'm back, Alicia."

Reaching inside his coat, Etille drew out his mother's pastry, took a small, thoughtful bite, staring down at her grave. "My mother says hello, and she would have given you some pastries, I think, if you'd come with me to visit. It has been far too long since I have been home."

There were things he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her about her niece's defeat of Aidoru, about Sally's rebellion and what had happened in the end, about Milliard Peacecraft and his sister the queen of Cinq and their bravery that wasn't just the stuff of legend. He wanted to tell her about Treize.

A year ago, he would have. But now he simply stood there, eating his pastry in the rain and looking down at the inscription on her headstone, glancing next to hers at her brother's grave, similarly black and somber and slightly fuzzy through the raindrops, and then at their father's, the last in the long row.

"Dorothy," he said instead. "One day I'll come back with you here. I don't think your grandfather ever told you of this place while he was alive, but you should see it."

He knelt and rested one hand on Alicia's tombstone slightly, then rose, touched Leon's and then Duke Dermail's in turn. They were symbolic only, he knew, as all three of them had been killed in battle and no body had ever been recovered. But still he thought he could almost hear them, see them standing there watching him with solemn eyes. Leon's arms would be crossed, and Alicia would have her hair drawn in a thick braid over one shoulder, and the duke would be standing a little to their left, keeping watch.

"One day, you'll see Dorothy again," he promised them.

He drove to the airport in Madrid the next day. The flight to Africa was a direct one, a military charter plane, and he spent most of the flight sleeping. When he woke, he was almost surprised to see that they were preparing to land and that it was not raining and in fact was rather sunny. As the plane taxied to a stop, he pressed one hand to the airplane window and felt the heat there, and he took off his coat, folding it neatly over one arm as the plane came to a halt.

Une was there at the end of the ramp to meet him. The airfield was still under construction, smelling of fresh paint and concrete and sparkling with all the newness of a modern military building. "We've a bit to do before the school officially opens," Une told him after a short greeting, but he'd expected that from her. "Word has gotten out, though. Apparently we'll have almost 90% enrollment for the first term."

He'd raised an eyebrow as they left the terminal and crossed the flat, white pavement to the staff car that waited for them. "How did you manage that?" he asked. "I would think that the recent war would have scared everyone off."

They slid into the leather backseat and Une smiled wryly. "But that's just the thing. Noin Academy isn't a military academy, Etille. It's an academy for everyone who wants to come and learn. Students may choose to go into the Preventers after graduation, and perhaps most of them will. But that isn't mandatory."

The academy bore little resemblance to the Preventers Headquarters, Etille realized then, as the car cruised through streets that still bore the orange construction cones, passing by almost-finished buildings constructed of the warm tones of brick and granite. The Geneva headquarters was square, precise, almost austere in its military formality, as most OZ bases had been. But Une had completely rebuilt Lake Victoria, turning it from a military installation to something reminding Etille of the atmosphere of a university campus.

"Still full of new ideas, I see," he murmured with a smile, and Une looked at him fiercely.

"I built the Preventers for Treize. But those days are over, Etille. I've carried on Treize's legacy as best as I can, and it's up to Peacecraft now to take that where he will. He'll do a better job, anyway. I was simply Treize's follower, not Treize's friend."

"I wouldn't say that-" Etille began, and then stopped, because what did he know? He had never known Treize as a man, much less a friend, and he had known neither Une nor Peacecraft before the war. So he folded his hands in his lap as the car turned the corner, passing by a grassy knoll and then a graceful European fountain beside a red brick walkway. "I'm sorry. I'm not one to judge." He laughed. "I've only been in the Preventers a matter of weeks, and I know you did what you think is best."

Une smiled a bit sadly. "I've made a lot of bad decisions, Etille," she said. "Tell me. You said Noin was your friend. Do you think she'd approve?"

He looked out the window thoughtfully as the car came to a halt in front of a modest two-story pink granite building. He could imagine Noin here, he thought, perhaps strolling through the wide, green lawn that spread out on both sides of the building, or sitting on one of the benches in the courtyard which lay just in front. Yet there was something here that did not quite fit, because for all Noin had been an elegant woman, she was also a soldier.

"I think she would," he said. "I don't think Noin would have wanted to teach here, and I don't think she would have been at ease here. She was always a soldier, no matter what else she was, and she died doing what she loved best. But...at the same time, I think the legacy she would have wanted to leave...would be something like this." He looked at Une, trying to put the conviction into his words that he felt in his heart. He had never been good at expressing himself. "Noin was a soldier who believed in peace. I think this would have made her proud."

Une was silent, and Etille wondered if he had said something wrong before a hand gripped his.

"Thank you," Une said softly. "There's nothing I wanted to hear more."

The hot air hit them with a blast as soon as he opened the car door, but the inside of the school's main building was cool and hushed, all ivory marble and pale stone. Etille followed Une up the long staircase without a word. The second floor was slightly warmer, with the whir of ceiling fans joining the hum of the air conditioning. He remembered it had been much the same at Lake Victoria some twenty years earlier, and an odd sense came over him, almost like if he closed his eyes and opened them again, he would be standing here again as a cadet.

"It's always strange coming back to a place that is home, but not quite," Une said over her shoulder, and her voice startled him as they turned a corner into a hallway where a row of doors stood ajar.

"My office is the first one here on the right," she said. "You can pick whichever you like. None of the others are taken yet."

Etille peered into Une's new office, decorated much like her old one had been in Geneva, which meant hardly at all, and then glanced into the empty one next to hers. "I don't mind being next to you," he told her, knowing that she would grin wickedly at the remark. "It makes life interesting."

"It should be more interesting when the other teachers get here," she said, beckoning him into her office and crossing the room to her desk, strewn with papers. Etille went to the window behind it, looking across the campus and marveling again at how like and unlike Victoria it was. There were still mobile suit yards, he noted, and turned around to ask Une about them before realizing she had stepped to the window as well and was looking in the same direction.

"This is not a military academy," she murmured, "and there is no obligation for students to join the Preventers. But I want to remember always what Treize sacrificed himself for. He died so that there would be an end to war, and I believe that someday, there can be. But until that day, there will be a Preventers, and there will still be soldiers."

"You're much too serious for the occasion," he said after a minute, and Une laughed, turned back to her desk. "The other teachers will think you've turned into an old lady."

"There isn't much danger of that," she told him, flipping through a file. "I hired them personally, and most of them are people I've known for a while and who I think you'll work well with." She paused. "Especially my newest hire, who signed the contract a week ago."

He frowned at her, sensing the devious note in her voice again. "And who would that be?"

The smile she gave him was wicked and delighted all at the same time as she said, "His name is Duo Maxwell."

 
Scene VII: A Place to Return to

 
Even though Shinobu had encouraged her to stay with him, Helena knew she had to go back to Cliffside. The life she'd led since being pulled inadvertently into the conflict had been thrilling, but all dreamers must waken from their sleep, and all people had to go back where they belonged.

Shinobu hadn't understood as she tried to explain in halting words her desire to go back to where she had come from. It wasn't fear of the unknown, the scary life that Shinobu led, but rather a sense of responsibility. She had to finish what she started before she could allow herself the luxury of following her conscience.

It hadn't made saying good-bye any easier.

They stood in one of the docking bays which was gradually being converted into a spaceport. The damage done by the missile had been immense, killing thousands. The colony leaders were being forced to rebuild, and Shinobu was in the thick of it. He, along with Yamazaki Kazuma, were speaking for the refugees from the Breaks.

Aid was pouting in from all over the colonies and the world, for a rebuilding which would have been better served if that aid had come twenty years before. Perhaps the Eve Wars could have been prevented. It was a train of thought she didn't want to dwell on, instead taking satisfaction in the reconstructed bays and flood of relief workers. It would take time for L1 to get back on its feet, but many hoped the quality of life would be higher. Duo and Hilde would have been pleased to see it - but they'd vanished two days after the confrontation.

She had been surprised that Darkflight had accompanied Shinobu to see her off. She thought he didn't like her much, but the way the slight smile was pulling at the corner of his mouth spoke of some affection. If anyone had told her last year she would become friends with an assassin from the colonies, she would have laughed, not realizing Duo already qualified. Now she knew two, and Darkflight didn't even speak her language.

He shifted on his feet, his eyes in constant motion as he surveyed their surroundings. The slight tenseness in his muscles warned that he was quite prepared to react to any perceived threat. His was out of place and uncomfortable, but he nodded to her and spoke a farewell.

"You good girl," Darkflight said in slow English. "Be safe."

"Thank you," she said, and before she could give it a second thought, she rose on her toes to deposit a careful kiss on his cheek. "Tomodachi," she said, hoping she had the right word. Friends.

He caught her arm, and she froze a bit as he touched his dark fingers to her blond hair. Shinobu didn't move to protest, so she waited to see what he would do.

"Be safe," he said again, his voice husky with emotion. The smile broadened just enough to show his sorrow, and then his hands left her, and he hurried away. She noted how he just melted into the shadows without even trying. Her eyes lingered for a second, before she looked at Shinobu with question on her face.

Shinobu shrugged. "You remind him of someone, I think."

"Ah," she said, unable to find anything more to say.

They stood uncomfortably aware that this conversation was going to be painful and neither wanted to instigate it. "You could stay," Shinobu said finally.

It was tempting, so tempting, to agree. She imagined a life with Shinobu, helping him as he navigated the murky politics of the stubborn colonists. She had grown to like many of the residents of L1 she'd met so far, finding them honest in a way that people from Earth couldn't understand. They fought for survival daily, which tended to make them more open than most of the people she knew. They called a spade a spade, and freely admitted what they were.

"I could," she agreed. His eyes brightened in hope, but she forestalled him by placing a finger on his lips. "I could stay, but I won't."

"The people love you here," he said.

She blushed a bit. The adoration she'd been the recipient of made her understand how Queen Relena most likely felt. Wherever she went, there would be eyes following her every movement with idolatry in their depths. She had been the girl who had helped save them; she had been the messiah who had come to them in their darkest hour. It was uncomfortable and exhilarating by turn.

"I like them, too," she said. "Maybe that's why I can't stay."

"That does not make any sense," Shinobu said, a bit of his frustration glittering in those dark eyes she could - and did - drown in.

"I don't deserve it. Their adoration - it's not something that I should have. I wouldn't be Helena Rosenbaum here. I would be someone who stands for a cause, instead of an individual. I would be an ideal."

"The world needs ideals."

"It does, but when you strip away the passion of the moment, what do you have? I'm not anything special. I'm just a girl who hasn't even finished high school. There's a reason the hero rides into the sunset at the end of the tale. People don't want to see their flaws. I'm sorry, Shinobu," she apologized, wishing she could remain. He was the person she had come to love most in the world, and she knew he wanted her by his side.

Shinobu merely smiled a touch sadly. "It's okay," he said. "What will you do?"

"I'm going back to pick up my life. I need to finish this year - can't have Cliffside without its student body president." It sounded so trivial compared to the work Shinobu and Darkflight would be doing. "Then... well, there's politics. I'll intern with Mr. Keets as I go to college and see where that takes me. We don't need another Ilene."

Ilene had been so pretty, so alive. It was hard to think of her rotting in a grave somewhere, dying so young. At night, Helena dreamt of her best friend, laughing as she danced in the rain. She wanted to keep those memories alive, and while she couldn't bring Ilene back, she promised herself she wouldn't forget her.

"No, we do not." His voice was nearly a whisper, and she knew he was thinking of how close to dying they had come. He glanced around the bay, watching the flight crews make their final preparations. "It's time."

She nodded, and then stepped into his arms. She felt his strength as he pressed his face into her hair, breathing deeply like he wanted to inhale her very essence. He smelled of sweat and work and that unique scent she'd come to associate only with him. They clung together briefly, and then he stepped back. He bowed, low and deep to indicate the regard he held her in, and she felt the distance rise between them. "Travel safely."

"This... is goodbye, isn't it?" She had clung to Shinobu for a month as the world exploded around them.

"It depends. It could be, or it could be 'until I see you again.'" Both of them knew which of them it would probably be.

The air was cooler than it had been the last time Helena had been here.

Late October in Vermont was a glorious time of year, with the bursting colors of autumn foliage defying the blue of the sky. There were few perfect days left before the weather would fall into the gloom of winter, but those that came were sweeter than maple sugar because each was more precious than the last.

The blue-fleece pullover she had yanked on hurriedly before heading out was scant protection from the seasonal gusts off the lake. She knew many boaters were docking their crafts for the season down a few bays, but the brave still took time to squeeze the last possible moments for all they were worth. A sailboat went by, its cloth full of red and orange, looking like a stray leaf upon the water. Across the way, she could see the small hamlets that made up the New York shore, their rustic houses drab, but determined, dots among the beauty of the leaves.

School had started later than it should have, and there was talk about session running well into July, pushing back graduation for her class. It was something that made many students groan in protest, and a few wild plans to have a boycott were fostered, but it was something she accepted. Once she might have politely protested, pointing out the delay would prevent them from moving onto college or joining the workforce, but now she understood the virtue in remaining young. They could spare another month for their youth; all too soon they would be forced into the adult world. She had already seen it, and wanted to remain a child for just a little longer.

It was a futile dream, of course. Even as she went to classes, she felt the pressure of expectation on her. She felt older than almost all of her classmates, except those who had come from the military. She hadn't understood before what it was like for ex-soldiers to enroll as students in a private school, but she had a good idea. She could see it in their eyes, a wistful sadness that mourned for the youth they had given up. Sometimes she would walk into a classroom and meet the gaze of a student she didn't even know, and feel that comradeship of sorrow.

She heard him coming long before he arrived, the slight groan of metal at odds with her scenic surroundings. Helena didn't bother to turn, instead inching closer to the cliff. The sky was so blue that she wondered if she could grasp it in her hands.

"Careful, or you could become Champ food," Chris teased as he finally arrived. He carefully stayed a bit out of reach, still wary of heights.

She smiled, knowing the legend. Lake Champlain, like many smaller lakes, was rumored to have its own lake monster. Everyone knew someone whose uncle or cousin or best friend had seen the arching head of a creature that was a throw-back to prehistoric times. Ilene had claimed to had seen the legendary "Champ" while on a date in her sophomore year. Helena and her friends had viewed the sighting skeptically, know Ilene's penchant for fairy tales too well. The thought of Ilene still made her sad, but the pain had faded into a dull throb instead of that immediate sharp sense of loss.

"Maybe Champy would prefer a larger dinner?" she replied playfully. "I think you'd make a better meal than bony lil ol' me."

"I doubt he'd appreciate the garnish," he said, looking at his legs. He sounded a bit rueful.

Technology was an amazing thing. Had it been a century earlier, Chris would have been a paraplegic from the bullet he'd taken. Now he walked with the aid of braces which stimulated his muscles with electronic pulses. For him, they were projecting a complete recovery, but there would be many months of therapy and surgery before he could finally move under his own power. He had already accomplished a lot, walking less than a month after the trauma.

She was still uncomfortable looking at the signs of Chris' injury. Her eyes skated over the metal waistband that the doctors used to keep track of his progress. It could be worn outside of his clothing. Most of it was underneath, with only the slight metallic clicking as proof he was wearing it.

"Does it... hurt much?" she asked hesitantly. They hadn't really spoken since that day in the hospital.

"Only my pride," he said, before grimacing a little as he carefully sank down to take a seat. "It's painful, but it's better than being paralyzed."

She shuddered at the thought. "I'm so sorry." Words were inadequate to express how she was feeling.

"It wasn't your fault," he said gently. He folded his hands in his lap, tilting his head slightly. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"I like it up here," she said, stretching the truth. She had never been particularly fond of heights, and the cliff made her dizzy. But she remembered seeing Duo, standing on the very edge, challenging nature to take him down. She understood better, now, why he had always been so daring. Life was too short to be afraid.

"I meant Cliffside. Why did you come back?"

She nibbled on her lip, knowing she could answer him honestly or she could reply with the "correct" response. "It felt like something I needed to do." She looked at the lake again, noting the boat was nearly out of sight now. "I needed to come home."

"This isn't home anymore," Chris said. "Without Ilene... without Duo or Shinobu..."

She had missed her roommate more than she could say. It had been horrible, that first night, sitting in her bed, wishing Ilene would start chatting about the day and how cute the boys were, and how Old Hickory needed to get that stick out of his ass. It had been one of their nightly rituals, and now Ilene was gone.

The absence of Duo in classes was like an elephant in the room. Classes were quieter, and no one dared to speak his name. In a way, Ilene's death was easier, because at least people weren't trying to erase her existence from their mind. Shinobu, too, had faded from memory, but he had never been a very visible presence.

"I'm not letting them take my home from me," she said softly.

"You shouldn't live in the memories," he chided in return. "It serves no purpose."

Once she would have found it easy to tell Chris what she was feeling, but their broken relationship lay as a nearly insurmountable barrier between them. She didn't know if Chris would understand the thoughts she still hadn't sorted out. He hadn't understood her need to do something, her ability to believe that war could be a necessary evil.

"I..." she took a breath. " This is my future. As much as I might have wanted to stay on L1, I couldn't. I don't understand them. They are not my people."

"And Cliffside is?"

"Home isn't always about being comfortable. It's about going to a place where you can be understood, a place that you understand. It's going to a place where you can be looked at honestly, and find yourself among your peers. Home isn't always where you want to be, but it's where you should be."

She inched closer to the cliff, sliding on her rear end and probably damaging her skirt. There were students who were advocating a uniform change for girls now, allowing them to wear pants as an option, something she fully supported.

"Was it hard to leave Shinobu behind?"

She tried not to wince. "Harder than leaving you, you mean?" she asked. Her guilt over her treatment of Chris still hung heavily around her.

"Yes."

She owed him the truth, and nodded slowly. "Shinobu and I... it's hard to describe. I knew he needed me. He probably will always need what I represent, but I couldn't stay." She hesitated, then continued. "I slept with him."

"I don't want to know that," Chris said. They had never had sex, which Helena regretted a bit. Her first time with Shinobu had been an experience that lingered in her memory. She remembered the feel of his body against her, the way his skin had been so smooth and hot and his lips insistent. She awakened at night sometimes, missing the feel of his arms around her. He had been so strong, so comforting. Perhaps if she and Chris...

No. She wouldn't change what had happened.

"A part of me hoped I might be pregnant."

Chris paled visibly. "Are you?"

"No. It's good I'm not, but in a way, I wanted to keep Shinobu with me. I wanted him to know he'd have a child that would grow up safely. He's not safe up there, and I'm scared - but if you think on it, we're not safe anywhere." She looked back over her shoulder where a monument was being constructed to the students who had died. It was barely visible from where she sat, the gray slab of Vermont granite which rose on the quad. She knew that flowers were scattered around its base, turning brown with neglect. People were moving on. As she should. "Do you remember Duo up here?"

Chris shivered and nodded. He had always thought Duo crazy for taking such risks. "I remember."

"There was a day shortly before the news broke that he was up here, and I came to get him. He looked so sad for an instant. I couldn't understand what he had seen."

"And you do now?"

"No. I haven't had to kill anyone." She shivered a bit, less than a foot away from the edge. "They say it's a good idea to walk a mile in someone else's shoes, and maybe that was what I did. Now I need to settle down, and start finding my own path." She finally inched close enough to dangle her feet over the edge. It was scary. "I'm not going to back away. Are you?"

"I've never shied away from doing what I believe."

"I know." She turned back slightly again, holding out her hand. "Come sit with me."

 
Scene VIII: Back to the Beginning

 
He had been washing clothes with the television just a hum in the background. He wasn't sure what had alerted him, because he had been in the other room and if a name or an event had been mentioned, he wouldn't have been able to hear it. Maybe it was a murmured wave of sound, or maybe it had been coincidence that he had walked back into the living room just as the clips from the press conference began playing. Whatever the case, the boy once known as Darkflight thought as he raised one eyebrow at the face on the screen and stepped out to the balcony to hang t-shirts on the washing line, it was only another sign of how far they'd come.

The television was turned too far down for him to catch much over the whipping of the wind and flapping sounds of wet laundry, so he shuffled back inside, making a dash for the remote control and upping the volume to a more comfortable level. "-think," said a random reporter as Darkflight shuffled back out again.

"The press conference ended at approximately eleven thirty this morning," the clipped Japanese of the news anchor drifted through the open door, "and Seki-san and his bodyguards left quickly afterwards. We were able to get a brief interview from him as they exited the door."

Darkflight stiffened at that, debated kicking his shoes off and standing in front of the television with wet underwear dripping onto the tatami, then decided it wasn't worth it. He clipped the clothing to the line, listening as the familiar voice rolled quietly into the tiny living room.

"I am no longer the heir to the Black Diamond Cartel," the voice said calmly, and Darkflight could almost hear the snapping of cameras, the whirring of flashbulbs, the muddled questions of reporters which the boy he still knew as Shinobu was doubtlessly not answering. "I have signed the legal rights of the Breaks over to the Breaks government, to be developed and restored to the way of life Breaks residents have deserved for many years." He paused, and there must have been a question thrown out that Darkflight could not catch, because Shinobu said then, "No. Yamazaki Kazuma-san will be managing those estates."

He strained his ears in case there was more, but the news anchor cut in again and Darkflight tuned her out, hanging the last two t-shirts and one pair of jeans, then leaning moodily against the balcony railing. It was, he reflected critically, a sound decision on Shinobu's part. The cartel heir didn't quite have the cunning and the wit it took to manage a cartel, much less a society lying in shambles after the murder of its leader and partial destruction by a nationalist fanatic. Part of his brain mumbled that it was probably incorrect to call Sally Po that, but he didn't care. Po had been Wing's friend, not his.

And yet, there was something sad about the fact that after all these years, the Breaks they had both known were finally and irrevocably...gone.

"It's a good thing," Darkflight said to the clothesline, which simply swayed in the currents of air gusting around the apartment walls, and he turned, leaning his elbows on the balcony and looking down. The street was quiet with the lazy quiet of mid-afternoon. One or two cars passed almost soundlessly by, turning and disappearing around the next corner, and the noisy racket which usually accompanied the construction machines a block down was silent on the weekends.

It had been almost unthinkable to him when the comm had crackled after a long, long radio silence and Duo's voice had greeted them, telling them in shaky tones the battle was over and wondering if everyone was still alive. Shinobu and he had been so sure that there were no Breaks left after the horrific explosion shaking the ground under their feet, and when they'd seen Duo again at last and heard the outcome of the final battle, Darkflight had been doubtful there would ever be a Breaks again.

In a way, he was right. But the loss of home hadn't hit him until much later, because even Duo's parting with them when he had gone back to Earth hadn't seemed like much. The Deathscythe pilot had given them a short farewell, and Shinobu had been quiet as they walked back to the waiting car together from the hangar. Later in the car, he had confessed in a rare burst of emotion, "I feel like a part of my life just ended. I wonder if ending a chapter of your existence always feels this empty?"

Darkflight hadn't answered because he knew Shinobu hadn't expected an answer. He knew though, if the boy had asked he would have responded, yes, it does. His own chapter had ended when Wing became Heero Yuy. He'd never quite said goodbye to Wing, but that wouldn't have served any purpose either. Sometimes when the newspapers or television mentioned Major Yuy doing this or that, he would get a strange feeling in his gut, but it would go away after a while and he would forget that it had been there.

That chapter of his life was over.

A week after Sally Po's attack on L1, he found himself standing in Yamazaki Kazuma's makeshift office at the edge of what had been the Breaks' war refugee camp, listening as the big man offered him some options. He had been surprised that the now de facto leader of the Breaks remembered him; Duo Maxwell and Helena Rosenbaum had been the big names of the day, and the two Japanese boys with them hadn't done anything much. At least, Darkflight hadn't thought so, but Yamazaki apparently did not. Or maybe he was trying to make peace with the ghost of the Shionji cartel.

He hadn't denied the fact that he was most likely one of the heirs of the cartel when Yamazaki had asked, though when the man had asked if he wanted DNA testing done, he had refused. "My life is my life," he told Yamazaki quietly. "Not any of the world's business, not any of the colony's, and most definitely none of yours."

Darkflight, Breaks assassin, had no place in this new society that was slowly emerging from the ruins of Po's rebellion, and he simply nodded when Yamazaki had told him as much, bluntly. Breaks denizens minced no words and Darkflight appreciated it. He had basically two choices, Yamazaki said: he could leave the colony and seek his fortune and life elsewhere, or he could help rebuild.

His old haunts had been decimated in the attack, and what was left of them was now swarming with L1 officials and clean-up crews. The slums which were left had been cleaned out finally by police, who were moving in swiftly and a bit gingerly, watching over their shoulders even though the cartels had fallen. The people he had known were either living in government housing, in homeless shelters, in the hospital, or were dead. He'd asked if he could walk the streets of his childhood home one last time, and Yamazaki had refused. "It's not that they're unsafe," he said, "though I know you'd have no problem with that. But the Breaks we both knew isn't there anymore. It's gone."

Darkflight had thought about what Heero Yuy was now doing, what Duo and Helena were doing in the new world before them, and something had whispered to him that that kind of work was something he could do too.

Yamazaki had done the paperwork for him, and Darkflight had begun the next chapter of his life as Matsuura Tatsuya. He had been about to choose Shinobu as his first name, but decided to leave that for the boy who had rightfully claimed it. Shinobu had laughed when he'd seen Darkflight's new colonial resident registration card, slapping him on the shoulder playfully and saying they were brothers now. He'd taken the teasing with a slight smile, knowing that Shinobu realized the significance of it.

"I thought you might have chosen Shionji," Shinobu told him later, "but then I thought about it and decided you didn't want people mobbing you on the street or planning to kill you for revenge."

"I wasn't ever a part of them," Darkflight said. "Blood ties or no blood ties. It wouldn't have been right, anyway."

He worked days with the construction crews and went to school at night, a new school set up by the L1 government for former Federation, OZ, and White Fang soldiers who had been eking out a painful existence in the year following the war as Breaks assassins. Shinobu had helped set that up. Shinobu had helped start the construction of several new orphanages, as well as delving into the bank account of what had formerly been his cartel and donating various large bundles of cash to charities and non-profit organizations. It was blood money, Shinobu said firmly, and he didn't want it.

Darkflight saw little of Yamazaki after he'd been given his new identity and firmly ensconced in one of the newer apartment complexes springing up around the center of L1, three clusters away from the former Breaks. He rarely saw Shinobu either. A week or so after the battle, he'd received a call asking him to go down to the docking bay to see Helena Rosenbaum off, on a flight back to Earth. Shinobu had been very quiet after she had left too, and Darkflight had let him think, seeing Atsuki's face in his mind as they rode back silently together and wondering what she would have said about this strange new world they were living in now. The next he heard, Seki Takeru had become the spokesman for various aid organizations all around the colony and a staple on the nightly news.

And even that was about to end.

He glanced at the clock, which read just a little past four, padded back into the living room and slipped into his shoes, grabbing a backpack hanging on the hook by the door, and stepping out into the stairwell.

The four-twenty train was just pulling into the station as Darkflight hurried down the stairs to the platform, and it was nearly empty. There were few people using the new train system still, for which the L1 government was now laying tracks through former Breaks territory. He had heard it was modeled after the much older L3 system, and Shinobu had been the spokesman for this too, urging citizens to support public transportation and reduce pollution, as his last act of public service for L1.

"I wonder if they'll miss me at all," Shinobu had confessed to him over the telephone a few weeks ago, a quick call to inform Darkflight he was moving. Darkflight's first thought was that Helena had decided the relationship would work after all and had sent for him, but Shinobu was quick to express it had been nothing like that.

"We write each other, but I'm not going to pursue anything with her if she's not willing to be more than friends. No, I'm moving to Japan."

Darkflight was silent for a moment, and then he said, "I can see you doing that."

"Good," said Shinobu, and the smile was in his voice as he hung up, telling Darkflight he'd be leaving in a month and hinting that it would very nice for a friend to come help him carry his bags to the spaceport.

The train was clean, sparkling with newness, and a little more than half-full. He noticed the furtive glances from the other passengers as he stepped aboard and found a seat between a middle-aged woman and an elderly man, slouched over his cane, asleep. There were few elderly colonial residents left after the attacks, and his eyes flicked over the man's form, crumpled like an old worn hat, before making its way around the train car. Curious glances looked away, and he found himself contemplating if it was because of his obviously mixed heritage, or if some of them had somehow recognized him.

A year ago, Darkflight wouldn't have wanted to be recognized. Survival depended on it, and the darkness was what he ate, slept, breathed. Now, it was almost impossible to escape the recognition, but he still didn't want it. He furtively rubbed at the scars on his wrist, staring out the window as the colony flashed by, wondering how almost three months after Sally Po's defeat, life could be so different and yet still the same.

Things would be better with Wing around, he thought, and then wondered if that was true, because it wasn't so much that Wing wasn't here as that Shinobu was leaving. Remembering how he'd hated the other Japanese boy when they'd first met on the Preventers base was like trying to remember a nightmare that had long faded. He'd needed Wing to survive, but Shinobu was someone who had gradually wormed his way inside the space Wing had created and fleshed that space out, stretched it and smoothed it down into a position that could be called friendship. It wasn't even that they saw each other often, because Darkflight saw Shinobu more on television than he did in person. But the friendship was there, as if it had always been there.

The train jolted at a rail exchange and the elderly man twitched briefly before going back to sleep. Darkflight got up from his seat, restless, and the conductor's cheerful voice came on over the intercom, like a ray of sunlight. "We've arrived at Akita Cluster Station. Please don't forget your belongings, and watch the gap. Thanks for riding the train."

Shinobu was waiting for him just outside the exit gates, baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and dressed in frayed pants and a baggy jacket that looked like it had seen five wars. "Nice disguise," Darkflight said.

"It works," the other boy returned, then smiled. "Thanks for coming."

"You didn't think I was going to let you leave by yourself, did you?" He rummaged through the backpack and pulled out a hastily wrapped package. "Here."

Shinobu's eyes widened and then narrowed, and Darkflight grunted. "Don't think I'm getting sappy on you."

The other boy laughed as he unwrapped the present and pulled out a brace of knives, balanced for throwing and very, very sharp. They were about a block away from the train station now, and the trickle of pedestrians flowing past them on the new concrete sidewalk paid them little attention. "Thank you," said Shinobu, "but I'm not sure weapons of this kind are allowed in the hands of uneducated teenage Japanese boys."

"Which you're not," Darkflight said. "Look, take them. I'm trying to get rid of some of my old junk." He didn't tell Shinobu that this particular brace of knives had been Wing's, that Darkflight had been torn about what to do with them. One didn't just mail off weapons through interstellar mail to an officer in the World Nation Preventers. Shinobu was the first name that had come into his head as he'd thought of others he knew who would appreciate something like this.

The former Seki heir was silent for a moment, and then he said, "Thank you." His expression was grave, and Darkflight was thrown back to the voice he'd heard on the television this morning.

"I saw you on the news today," he said.

They turned a corner and Darkflight recognized the upscale townhouse in which Shinobu had resided until now. There were boxes in front of the gates, the last of them being loaded into a small moving truck, and none of them were nearly large enough for furniture.

"It was a small convocation," Shinobu said, and Darkflight was confused for a moment before he realized that Shinobu was referring to the press conference. "There really wasn't much to say. I think the media's making a big deal out of nothing."

"Yamazaki keeps saying it's the media who started the war," Darkflight muttered. "Are you sure you really want to give it all up? You're not even taking your furniture, are you?"

"Antique furniture doesn't fit very well in a university dorm room," Shinobu grinned, then realized that Darkflight was being serious. "Honestly, I don't regret a thing. I think about what I've done for L1 and I think I should leave it at that. I don't want to be a politician or an entrepreneur my whole life. I look at what Helena's doing, what Duo's doing, and you know, I want something like that for myself. Even something like what you're doing."

Darkflight shook his head. "All the same-"

Shinobu touched him on the shoulder. "We should get going," he said. The black car was the same one that had taken them to the spaceport on two previous occasions, both to say goodbye, and as he slid into the leather backseat, Darkflight wondered if this would be the last time.

The ride to the terminal was short and silent. Shinobu stared out the window and Darkflight didn't disturb him, watching the traffic in the rearview mirror, the new shiny buildings of L1's downtown district, wondering if that was what the Breaks would look like in twenty years. He wondered if he would still be around to see it. Sometimes he would wake up in the morning and wonder who he was and how he had gotten here - wonder if he would ever get used to sleeping through an entire night without disturbance or walking down the street and wondering if he would survive another day.

Wing would understand, he thought again, rubbing one finger along the chrome plating of the car's side door as it pulled up to the terminal.

Shinobu only had two bags, one check-in, one carry-on. The attendant behind the counter was pleasant, friendly, and if she recognized either of them, she didn't show it. Darkflight had been holding the tickets as the other boy rummaged through his backpack for baggage tags, and glancing at it, he was surprised to see that the name on the receipt was not Seki Takeru.

Matsuura Shinobu was a real person now, and he supposed if that was so, then Matsuura Tatsuya could someday be a real person too.

"It's not really anything," Shinobu said as Darkflight handed the tickets back to him and silently pointed out the name. "Not a new beginning, not any of those things you might be thinking. I just feel more comfortable being Shinobu. I'm used to it. That other person, that other boy...I left him behind at that press conference this morning." He smiled, brown eyes lighting with a happiness Darkflight couldn't remember seeing before, at least not after Helena had gone back to Earth.

"You take care of yourself," Darkflight said, finding himself at a loss for words. "If you see Duo..." he trailed off.

Shinobu glanced at him and laughed. "I'll give him your regards. You should write to Heero," he said. "It would be a waste of a friendship if you didn't."

Darkflight raised a silent eyebrow, and Shinobu half-turned away. "Flight leaves in half an hour," he said at last. "I have to go."

"See you later," Darkflight said in reply, almost afraid of the answer he would receive.

But Shinobu flashed him another easy smile, with the same light in his eyes. "See you later," he said, and vanished through the security gates.

To his surprise, the fancy black car was waiting for him outside the terminal, and he told the driver to take him to the train station. As they pulled away from the curb, he could feel a tremor, as if the ground were shaking, the vibrations of a spacecraft taking off.

You should write to Heero. It would be a waste of friendship if you didn't.

Perhaps he would and perhaps he wouldn't, Darkflight thought, but as Shinobu's car sped through the evening L1 traffic and the train station came into sight, he decided that he would take a detour on the train. Maybe he'd go into town and take a walk along the river, or get takeout for dinner, or pay 500 yen for the elevator up to the observation platform on the new television tower. He could watch the shuttles take off from the spaceport there, bound for that bright star in the sky called the Earth.

 
Scene IX: This Night, Two Years Later

 
Christmas Eve on the Catalonia estate wasn't the most enjoyable thing she knew, but it was hers now. In the past, her mother had reigned over the event, a queen basking in the affection of her loyal court, but now Emily was not welcomed to these hallowed halls. Dorothy had made it clear that she had more than repaid her mother for giving birth to her.

It had been invigorating, really, telling her mother exactly what she thought of her. Someday, perhaps, they could reconcile, but Dorothy didn't believe it was possible anytime soon. Her mother was still shallow, with simple, grasping desires that gave little thought to the rest of the world. Dorothy could finally admit to herself that her mother was a petty, wicked person she shouldn't waste her time on.

She could smell the heady scent of the balsam trees that stood scattered in haphazard precision through the ballroom. Long strands of garland draped the room like fallen dancers, graceful and somehow melancholy. It was beautiful, but she felt the strain. As the hired quintet slid into another traditional holiday carol, the babble of talk rose, then fell, then rose again over the music. The musicians were quite talented, but the festive crowd wasn't in the mood for the quiet contemplation of the joy of the season. They wanted to see and be seen, and continue the complex politics they lived for.

All in all, it seemed to be a successful party. She could even catch tomorrow's scandal out of the corner of her eye, as Lady Lyra draped herself over a man who was twenty-years younger, ignoring the fact both were very married to other people. Her husband looked strained around the eyes, turning his head away from the display as he chatted up the pretty daughter of an Arabian prince.

For Dorothy, it was extremely unsatisfying. She saw the ebb and flow of power swirl around her, but felt oddly distant. These people, these posers, were nothing in the scheme of things. A part of her wanted, just once, to tell them exactly what she thought of them, but her temper remained steady and she smiled, pretending to be one of their own.

A man was coming towards her, a rather ambitious fop who had his sights set on marrying well. He reminded her all too much of her mother, and she quickly averted her eyes, looking for an escape - and sighting one. Sylvia Noventa was thankfully alone, and Dorothy set off immediately to her side.

The girl looked like a Christmas spirit, wearing a deep green gown which nipped her waist smartly, with a poinsettia in her pale blond hair. The A-line swirled around her toes teasingly, and Dorothy was struck by how pretty her petite cousin was. Dorothy had to suppress a twinge of feminine jealousy as she offered Sylvia a welcoming smile. "Happy Christmas, Sylvia," she said, stepping forward to give a socially polite kiss on the cheek. "Are you having a good time?"

"Happy Christmas to you, too." Sylvia surprised her by reaching out and offering her a hug in response. Her arms were surprisingly strong, and they clung to each other for a second longer than was necessary before stepping back. Her cheeks dimpled pleasantly as she winked. "You looked like you needed that," she said simply.

"Probably," Dorothy agreed, laughing as she tossed a chunk of her long hair over her shoulder. She hadn't bothered to have it put up, and she was regretting it now. The body heat of so many revelers made the room a few degrees hotter than was comfortable. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I'm having a grand time, Lady Dorothy," Sylvia said, topping her words with a cute little curtsy. "So far I've had three marriage propositions, one offer to talk over "drinks,'" she waved her pinkies to indicate quotation marks, "and even one offer to attend a 'special show.' I advise you have someone sterilize your sunroom before you use it again."

"And you didn't go?" Dorothy asked with mock horror. She knew these parties could get positively out of hand, so it wasn't a surprise what was going on in her house.

"I'm such a wallflower," Sylvia replied. She shook her head, the teasing fading from her face. "I sometimes wonder who they're trying to impress."

"They're like peacocks," Dorothy said. "Parading themselves around with their plumage in dull display." It was hard not to sound sour.

"Dorothy?" Sylvia said, the question in her voice soft and undemanding.

"Six months ago, we were fighting for the fate of humanity. When I see these people, I wonder if we won."

"Who is to say one person's life is more valuable than another's?" Sylvia asked philosophically. "They fulfill their purpose the same way you fulfill yours."

Dorothy grunted a bit. She didn't like the idea. She could have been one of these vapid, vacuous idiots if not for her grandfather's influence. "Maybe," she conceded grudgingly. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Sylvia nodded in agreement, before threading her arm through Dorothy's familiarly. "How are things with your mother?"

"She's said she's never speaking to me again," Dorothy answered. "She's upset."

"You did throw her out of here," Sylvia pointed out.

"I didn't technically throw her out, dear cousin," she replied. Sylvia, at least, Dorothy was proud to call family. "I merely pointed out that I would be using this house as my base of operations, and her input was unwelcome."

"Semantics."

"That's our job." They strolled closer to the punch bowl, and Dorothy noticed Storm Vedichi, one of the younger Italian reps. He was casting shy looks at Sylvia. "You know, I think I see someone who could use a dance."

Sylvia's eyes widened, but before she could even open her mouth, Dorothy was beckoning Vedichi over with one commanding finger. "Sir, your next dance," she told him archly, propelling the two towards each other before spinning around and heading in the opposite direction

"Dorothy!" Sylvia called helplessly to her back, and she allowed himself a real, genuine smile for a brief moment. Relena and Catherine would have found it amusing, she knew. She wished they had been able to come, but Relena had politely declined, saying she wanted to spend time in Cinq, with her family. Dorothy would have paid to see Zechs and Relena's first Christmas together, but she had developed enough tact to keep her mouth shut. Instead, she merely wished Relena the best, and promised to see her at the New Year's Eve ball Relena was throwing. Catherine she hadn't been able to track down, but she knew even if the invitation had reached her, the other girl wouldn't be comfortable in these surroundings.

How much one day, one week of shared suffering changes people, she mused thoughtfully, watching Une dance with General Brown. The former Preventers commander's face was full of laughter, despite the few lines that were starting to form around her eyes. Handing the Preventers over to Zechs had done her a world of good.

Satisfied that all was going well, she slipped away from the crowds. She needed a little breather before she could go back to the stress of being on display. The group, despite the festivities, were a politically savvy bunch, and all knew to keep one eye on the hostess for their cues. She remembered the way Treize had moved among all those guests, at that Christmas party where he had taught her the games of war through chess. It had not been his party, but when she thought back, the only figure she could remember was him, with all the other guests melting into the background behind the force of his presence.

Her chess set was in the library, just as it had sat in her grandfather's library all those years ago. She suddenly felt the need to see it, to touch the marble pieces, to sense that Treize had been real.

The corridors were lit but empty, and the click of her high heels against the marble floor seemed tinny in her ears after the tumult of the crowd and the music. She began to push the library door open, then froze as a shadow moved for a moment against the frosted glass panes of the door, noticing the flicker of lights inside. She hesitated for a second, wondering if it was a pair of lovers slipped off to exchange a few clandestine kisses, or some kind of shady political meeting, but she could only hear one person's breathing.

It was like stepping back into the past, being a child again, confident and brash and innocent. She half-expected to see the mysterious cousin she had met here, all those years ago. Or maybe she would meet his ghost and challenge him to a game which would never end.

She missed him, she supposed.

She eased the door open wider, hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruder before they became aware of her presence., then froze as she caught sight of the man inside.

Dorothy barely recognized him. His uniform was crisp and his face had filled out from a better diet, but she knew who he was on seeing his sharp eyes which acknowledged and dismissed her as inconsequential at the same time. She hadn't expected to see him - hadn't even thought to wonder if he was still alive. He had been relegated to that small part of her mind where she had carefully locked all memories of A007.

"So, commander, are you enjoying my library?" she asked.

Evon Gustavson ran a hand over a binding, his touch lingering over the gold lettering. "You have a lot of rare books," he replied. "The collection of first edition Dickens is particular impressive."

She heard something disapproving in his tone. "But?" she prodded.

"They don't look like they're meant to be read," he said. "These books are something to be looked at, not used. It seems a pity."

"Can't we just enjoy them for what they are? Something beautiful, a form of artwork?"

"I'm too practical. Something must be used to have value - I never was very good at sitting in an art museum," he said. "I guess I just don't see art as beautiful - but books, now. I'm a bibliophile, always have been. During the war, the thing I missed most was being able to read. I only had two on me - The Bible and a copy of Heaven's Passion by Rajiya Winner, one of the worst pieces of romantic fiction I've ever seen. I read it so many times the pages were about to fall apart."

"Dare I ask why you had a romance novel?"

"It was what my wife had been reading when they came for us. I got out - she didn't." He spoke softly. "The A007 rebellion started small, with people disappearing at night. I didn't take it seriously until they were on my doorstep. We ran, like cowards - but she was wounded. I couldn't find a doctor in time... and she died. She still had that book in her hand, so I kept it."

Offering condolences would have been trite, so Dorothy decided to change the topic. "I must confess I wasn't aware you were on planet," she said. "I didn't realize you would be attending." She planned on having several sharp words with her butler, who also served as her security advisor. All of the guests should have been thoroughly vetted before gaining entrance to one of the most exclusive parties of the year.

"I'm actually a delegate for the Alpha Colony," he said.

"Alpha Colony?" She had always considered herself well-informed, but could make no recollection of having heard that term anywhere in the near past.

"You'd probably know it as A007," he said. "We're seeking official colony recognition from the World Nation, and observer status...providing we can find a sponsor." His hawk eyes regarded her with the clarity she remembered from the screen during all those mobile suit exercises. No matter how fuzzy the transmission, no matter how unclear the visual, Gustavson had always been in command.

She realized why he was there. "Oh? Are you asking for a favor?" she asked, arching an eyebrow sharply. She had hoped to avoid politics tonight, but they always seemed to draw her in. She would be lying if she said she resented it; it was what she lived for.

He arched an eyebrow in return. "Jumping to conclusions already, lady?

"I've long experience with the military higher-ups," she returned. "My grandfather, if you recall, was Duke Dermail. I'm acquainted with the custom of...favors."

Gustavson shook his head, almost in amusement. "No favors, Lady Dorothy. Just a request for you to do the right thing."

It was impossible not to chuckle. "The right thing? Sir, I am a politician," she replied with amusement. This was a game she could play.

"Are you?" his question was carefully neutral. "I seem to remember meeting a soldier."

"I'm a politician now," she answered, refusing to take the bait. "I will not give you my support without some time to think on it. There's no need to be rash."

"There's every need. Without help, the legislation to recognize Alpha Colony as an independent entity will stall in committee. You and I both know that," he said.

"It's the way things work, General," she said, folding her arms and giving him her patented stony stare. He simply stared back at her. A memory floated up: Gustavson, weary face grey and uniform wrinkled, tapping at a light map of A007's defensive structure, voice firm and commanding despite it all. "I'll tell you what everyone else will tell you. The war's over and the colonies are free. A007 is as free as any of you could ask for. You got what you fought for, and you should be content with that freedom. Isn't that right?"

"The idea of freedom is bullshit," he said coarsely. "It sounds very pretty, but in the end, we are all constrained by society. We all follow rules, whether it's what side of the road to drive on or not killing the annoying clerk in a grocery store who insists the coupon expired yesterday. There are certain things we just don't do because we're bound by a common set of right and wrong."

"You sound like an anarchist," she said.

"Do I? I'm not. I happen to like a nice, organized society. It's why I'm military, but as long as I serve, I give up my freedom so that other people have a chance to make their own choices. You were once military too."

"Not of my own volition," Dorothy shot back, beginning to feel the heat of a good debate settle into her bones.

"Long enough to have learned that the code of duty and honor we uphold is something worth fighting for," Gustavson returned. "I can't believe that the lady soldier who fought so bravely with me side by side on A007 would believe in anything less."

"You sound like Etille," she muttered, and heard him laugh.

"Dermand Etille is one of the people I respect most in this world. I think I would be remiss if I didn't mention that he was one of the people whose influence allowed us entry into the World Nation's agenda. Without him, we would still be A007, a dying colony in the middle of nowhere."

She saw in a flash what Etille had also done. "I don't suppose he let drop my whereabouts in the process, did he?" she said dryly, trying not to sound disgruntled and failing miserably. Gustavson laughed again, and she said before he could answer, "I suppose I owe him that much, at least. He was..." she paused, searching for the word. "An inspiration, I suppose I'd say."

"He was always that," Gustavson agreed, passing his fingers over the spines of the books, and she saw what he was asking for was not a favor, but a pledge. The word of a soldier to a soldier, because no matter what happened, he still saw her as such. In that light, it was not such a hard thing to give. It was the fulfillment of a contract she had voided when Noin had died and she had gone back to Earth because she could not bear to face her own failure.

"I don't promise anything," she told him before she could have second thoughts, "but when I next go to the World Nation, I will see what I can do. Not-" she held up a hand as he started to speak, "-for your own ambition, or for mine. I don't doubt it will be an unpopular move. But from a soldier who was at A007 to her former comrade-in-arms, the payment of a debt."

"Thank you," he said gravely, making her a little bow, and she started despite herself, surprised at the chivalry of the gesture, before recovering to curtsey in return, noticing he was still smiling. "It's funny to think that two years ago, you were trying to blow up the world," he said.

"I most certainly was not," she replied. "I happen to like the world very much in one piece, thank you."

"Then what was the White Fang thing about?"

"It was about something I didn't understand," she confessed.

"Do you, now?"

"I doubt I ever will. We're all granted minute parts of the picture of war, and we might gain a better comprehension of what we're doing with a little help. True understanding, though, is an elusive wish. Peace-" she stopped, glancing at him sharply to see if he would judge her, but the look in his eyes was neutral, pensive. "Peacecraft understood that more than anyone. I'd say that out of all of us, he's the closest now to what White Fang was searching for. I don't even know though, that I can say for certain he's found it yet."

"So why bother searching?" he asked.

Dorothy looked at him, and the ghost of A007 passed over his face again in her memory before she shook her head. That was the past, and behind them now. There was only him, and her, and her grandfather's old books in this library, and the old chess set, where Treize had first taught her about sacrifice. War perhaps was endless, but humankind always managed to exceed its expectations, reaching out for the fleeting ideal known as peace. There was hope being born every day, all through the galaxy, and carried in the hearts of the people.

"Commander, do you happen to play chess?"

 
Act XIII Part I | Act XIII Part III | Back to Sainan no Kekka