SHIN KIDOU SENKI GUNDAM WING

SAINAN NO KEKKA
ACT II, PART I

 
 
Scene I : The Breaking of the Storm

 
It was raining. How fitting, Lady Une thought. Brushing the sopping long brown hair away from her cheeks, she placed the bouquet upon her grave. Roses. Always roses.

It wasn't technically her grave. She was alive, breathing, but her heart was six feet under, with the man who was not there. He had died; there was no question about that. Still, there was no body to bury, so she could claim the grave for herself just as easily as the man whose remains were scattered among the stars.

He had died; with him, he had taken the Colonel who had fanatically tried to please him, and the woman he had named Lady in one fell swoop. Une had been forced to pick up the pieces of her life, forced to make decisions she hadn't wanted to.

More then once she had been tempted to follow him. Without Treize, the world had lacked spark, lacked logic and reason and passion. Still, he would never forgive her for doing such an inelegant thing. He had worked so hard for the world to be at peace- now it was her job to protect it.

Thus, the Preventers. She straightened the collar of her jacket, staring down at the letter written on the memorial. The color of the uniform was amazingly unflattering. She doubted that anyone would look good in it (well, with the exception of Milliard Peacecraft, who would make a sackcloth and ashes look good). Beauty wasn't important. What was important was the mission, and the dull colors were reminiscent of military units of old.

She reached out and touched the letters on the memorial, wondering. She still dreamed of him, often.

"Are you still mine, my Lady?" he would whisper, and she would turn her head, hoping to catch a glimpse of his much-beloved face, yet the shadows would obscure his features. She would feel his hands on her waist, icy with the chill of death. She knew that if she leaned back into his embrace, he would take her with him, yet she couldn't let go. She loved him too much. She needed to protect the world he had created. Love hurt. God, it hurt.

She would dream, and her dreams hurt her. She loved him.

"Je t'aime," she whispered, struggling not to cry. She didn't cry. Une was the woman without tears. Tears did no good.

She heard footsteps behind her, and she almost growled. This was her private time, a daily ritual people knew better then to interrupt. Before heading to work each morning she made this pilgrimage.

Turning around, Une set her eyes on Sally Po. The brigadier general's lips were tight, and she wondered what was wrong. Sally never worried unless something was drastically wrong. Une rose to her feet, bracing herself for bad news.

Sally gave her an abrupt salute, then stared into her eyes. "We had better get out of here. The Press is going to be looking for you," she said, taking hold of Une's right arm, and dragging her towards the car.

"What's wrong?" Une demanded.

"There was a break-in at Preventers Head Quarters last night. Apparently a reporter managed to infiltrate our ranks."

Une felt herself go white. "What office did he get into?" she demanded.

"Yours," Sally said grimly.

She forced herself to keep from panicking. Blinking slightly, she called on the part of herself that had mercilessly ordered the destruction of the colonies. Colonel Une flashed into the forefront of her mind. "What information did he get?" she demanded in a hard voice.

Sally blinked, surprised to hear the harsh tone. "The worst possible. He got the files on the Gundam pilots."

"Shit," Une swore quietly, once again speaking in her sweeter soprano. Her head hurt. "Has he done anything with it?"

"Unfortunately. He published some of the basic information on the pilots, including their ages. Luckily he left their names out of it, but there's no way we can do anything to prevent the damage this is going to do to our credibility as an organization. People are going to be mad, and I can't say I blame them. Finding out that the most feared terrorists the world has ever seen aren't even old enough to have beards wouldn't be something that would reassure me."

They reached the limo and slid into the back seat. Sally carefully raised the soundproof glass that would keep their conversation from the ears of the driver. "Here's the article."

Une quickly scanned it while absentmindedly wringing out her wet hair. She had a change of clothes in the office- it looked like she would be needing them. Then she wondered why she was worrying about her personal comfort when the world was about to explode. "This is not good," she muttered.

"Agreed," Sally said. "Do you know where any of the pilots are? We should warn them- it's only a matter of time before the press releases the information. Perhaps put them in protective custody- they're still minors, so we should be able to manage that. There're going to be some lynch mobs forming."

Une snorted. "The pilots aren't children, no matter what their chronological ages may be. I only know where Quatre Raberba Winner and Trowa Barton are- the other three disappeared into the general population, and to be honest with you, I let them."

Sally raised an eyebrow. "You let them?" she asked in surprise. "You let three of the most dangerous terrorists humanity has ever produced vanish?"

Une nodded. "They deserve to be left alone after all they've done. If they want anonymity, then I will do my best to see that they get it. Besides, it would be very... tempting to use them and their skills. They aren't children, but they should at least have a chance to grasp their youth again."

"Will you at least warn Trowa and Quatre, then?" Sally asked worriedly.

Une shook her head in the negative. "I can't. Obviously our security isn't as secure as we believed it to be, especially if they were able to break into my office. I don't want anyone tracing my phone calls."

Sally nodded. "I guess they'll all hear soon enough." She hesitated. "What do you think will happen to them?"

"To be honest, I don't know. There's going to be some people out for blood- the Gundam pilots have a kill list longer then the bible, after all. Quatre's the one I'll be most worried about- aside from the fact that he's a public figure from a family renown for its beliefs in pacifism, there was the incident with the Zero System where he destroyed two colonies."

"What about Zec- Milliard? And Relena?"

"They'll have to fend for themselves. You and I are going to have our own share of problems as well. Is there any spin control we can put on this?"

Sally shook her head. "No. We kept a secret from the public, and they're going to want to make us pay. I just hope no one gets the bright idea to start hiring assassins."

Une waved that concern away with a negligent hand. "I have assassination attempts on my life every other week. I'm not worried about that." Then she stared at her fingers, feeling a great sense of depression well up within her. "Why do they have to drag up the past?" she wondered out loud, clenching her fists. "We're finally starting down the road to true peace, and then someone has to find something wrong with the lives we're leading. Why can't they see that? Why do they have to destroy the chance at happiness we've all worked so hard for?"

Sally, in a rare moment of compassion for Une, wrapped a comforting arm around the general's shoulders and gave her a brief squeeze to show support. "I don't know," she said. "But we've got to get ready for the barrage of accusations we're about to find ourselves in the middle of."

Une nodded, then straightened her shoulders. She was not weak. Tears were no good. Now was the time for action. "Tell me about this reporter."

Sally pulled up the file she had assembled rapidly before going to fetch Une from Treize' s memorial. "I haven't had time to do a thorough background check yet, but his name is Muhammed Ali Banks. He's twenty-seven and apparently quite a hot shot. He covered a lot of the Gundam attacks during the war, and apparently has a very strong grudge against them, though I haven't been able to determine why. He infiltrated the Preventers about eight months ago- long term project. He passed all of our security checks using a fake identity. We're going to need to see who made the mistakes and reprimand them."

Une rubbed her temples. "So this hot-shot reporter is ready to turn the world upside down for a story? Of all the..." she broke off before she degenerated into unladylike language. "Didn't he think about who he would hurt? There's nothing to be gained and much to be los‚”."

"Reporters seldom think of anything besides the story."

The two women were quiet as the car started to pull into the long drive leading to the Preventers headquarter's main gate. Already there was a small crowd of reporters gathered around the guard shack, hovering like vultures over a dying animal, and the driver barely managed to maneuver the car through the opening gates, flooring the pedal with a roar that definitely was nowhere near the posted base speed limit.

"What do you want to bet they've managed to sneak themselves in around the main building already?" Une said absently, staring out the window at the familiar sidewalks and manicured lawns.

Sally sounded apologetic. "I talked to Public Affairs as soon as I found out about it and decided that letting a few in was the best course to take. Hiding away behind our gates will just make it seem worse to the rest of the world. I'm sorry."

There were a few choice phrases on the end of her tongue, but Une bit them back. Sally was right, of course. "I'd have liked to be in on the decision," she said instead, trying to keep her tone even.

"You wouldn't have let them in."

Une resisted the urge to sigh, knowing her second-in-command was right again. The car pulled into the semi-circle of the main building's driveway, and there they were: dressed in the latest fashionable suits, cameras at the ready, microphones bristling. Looking at each other, the two top-ranking Preventers straightened their uniforms, aware that they were about to be the subjects of a barrage of flashbulbs and prying questions. The chauffeur came around the other side of the car and opened Sally's door.

The blinding flash of camera lights assaulted them as they got out of the limo with unhurried ease. Une stared stonily forth, trying to ignore the prying question.

"General Une! What can you tell us about the pilots?"

"If you knew their identities for so long, how come you kept it quiet?"

"General Une! Can we have the names and current locations of the pilots?"

"Are you aware that the civilian courts are ready to try you for obstruction of justice?"

"General Une!"

"General Une!"

"General Une!"

Together Sally and Une entered the building, maintaining their silence. The automatic doors shut behind them, shutting out the clamor.

"That went well," Sally said in her usual dry tones.

Une rolled her eyes. "It went just swimmingly," she said sarcastically. "Come up to my office with me. We need to figure out what our next step is."

Sally nodded, obediently following her commanding officer into the elevator. They watched the numbers tick up as they ascended to the topmost floor.

"Did anyone do a scan for bugs?" Une asked as they stepped off.

"First thing I ordered when I found out. There was nothing."

Une opened her door and looked around. The office which had previously seemed so comfortable now felt foreign. She had had her privacy infringed on, and she felt as though she had been attacked personally. She looked at the drawer which had been pried open, and bent down. "The investigators come already?"

"Yes. They were here while I was getting you. You can touch things now- holos, prints, and DNA evidence have already been taken. There's no question that it was Banks. We have a rock-solid case, should you want to press charges for breaking and entering, theft, and whatever else we can throw at him."

Une ran a hand over the place where the missing files should be. "Damn it," she cursed. "DAMMIT!" She rammed her hand into the metal drawer, ignored the pain exploding behind her knuckles and sank to the floor, trying to suppress the tears that were welling behind her eyes. "Treize would never forgive me," she whispered. "I should have destroyed those files."

Sally knelt down beside the guilt-wracked woman, and gently hugged her. "There's always a lot of 'should haves', but we can't do anything about it now. It's not your fault, but we have to figure out what to do now. The world is going to need us more then ever, but they won't accept our help."

Une looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "What are we going to do? Just sit back and take it?"

"I haven't a clue. You're the politician," Sally said.

Une's lips quirked slightly at that, and she pushed herself off the floor, dusting off her uniform with businesslike strokes. "Right. The first thing we do is go after this reporter. It'll be like shutting the barn door after the cows have gotten out, but there's no helping that. We need to make sure no one else thinks that infiltrating us is a good idea. There's even the possibility that we should execute him."

"That'll make him into a martyr, and cause civil unrest."

Une closed her eyes, trying to envision what Treize would do in the same situation. Her tendencies were still those of the Colonel she had been whenever she was backed into a wall. Treize wouldn't be so inelegant, though...

"We need to arrest him to prevent him from doing any further damage. We can call it protective custody, and then we can investigate the options. I personally want his guts for garters."

"You and me both," Sally agreed with a nasty grin, which Une returned with a weak smile of her own.

"We're going to have to have our lawyers ready for lawsuits as well. You and I need to work on a case that proves that we kept the information quiet for public well-being."

"Me? I'm the Deputy Commander and Personnel Operations Officer... it's not exactly my forte, law."

"Aside from Noin, Milliard, and myself, you're the one with the most vested interested in this. Noin...well, we don't know where she is, and Milliard is off on A007. We've got to protect ourselves."

Sally nodded. "Should I send a squad out?"

"Yes. Go arrest Banks. I want his ass in a cell before I snap my fingers three times."

The other General blinked at her superior officer's crude language. "'Ass in a cell?'" she reiterated.

Une's smile grew stronger. She was going to fight this battle. If she had learned anything from Treize, it was when it was worth making a stand. "Oh, yes. We're going to be playing dirty, Sally. The gloves are off, and someone's going to get hurt. And if I have my way, it won't be any of those who matter."

 
Scene II : Those Who Hide from the Light of Day

 
When he awoke that night, he felt something was different. The boy who called himself Wing breathed deeply, smelling the stale, cold air coming in through the cracks in the walls before opening his eyes to the flicker of the cheap light of the glow-stick. This hide-hole was one of the best they had found yet. Then again, there wasn't much choice in the slums of the L1 colony, the part of the colony that the inhabitants called the Breaks.

Rolling over, he found a pair of dark eyes staring him in the face, and he fumbled for a gun that wasn't there before recognition set in and he relaxed.

"Stop doing that."

The eyes blinked at him for a second and then withdrew. They were narrow and expressionless, set in a dark face with short-cropped hair and a long, almost invisible, scar running across the forehead. Darkflight had never told him where the scar came from, and he wasn't going to ask. Wing had his own share of scars, and the stories behind them were not fond memories of his.

"I swear, someday you're going to learn not to sleep through half the night."

"What?" Wing was up in an instant, alert and hand reaching for the weapons belt that lay within arms reach of his ratty pillow. "Did we miss a mission? What's happening?"

Mission.

Darkflight smiled sardonically, lithe arms folded over a thin chest. "Nothing like that. What's gotten into you, anyway? You've been sleeping a lot lately."

Wing didn't answer, throwing the weapons belt into a corner. "Anything to eat?"

The silence spoke volumes.

There had been no food since the day before yesterday. The last of their food supply had consisted of old Federation Army issue MRE's, and now that those were gone, there was nothing left in the smelly bag which acted as their food storage compartment. Times were thin, the money was only trickling in, and work was hard to find.

"It's ridiculous," Darkflight said after a moment, watching him. "Shadowwing is the best fucking assassin group in the city, and we have more talent than all the others combined. But we don't get hired."

Shrugging, Wing rummaged around in his pocket, drew out a cigarette, and lit it. Smoke clouds were gray fog in the bluish light.

"Maybe there's no one to kill," he said.

"Oh, there's people to kill, all right," his partner said. "But we're not the ones getting the better end of the deal. No fucking money, no fucking food..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. Wing could feel the blood in his veins craving the next fix of whatever drug happened to be the choice drug of the streets that month. This month, and for two months past, it had been heroin. Before that, it had been Ecstasy. Before that....

He couldn't really remember before that. Even remembering that far back was an effort. Memories, real and imagined, blurred in his brain and he found it easier just to focus on the present. That was hard enough.

Funny how the price of heroin kept going higher as the price of kills slid slowly downhill. Darkflight had brought home a little bit of the drug in a small pouch the other night, and both of them had sat there and looked at the meager supply, remembering back to the days just a month ago when a supply twice that size could have been bought for half the money.

No, it wasn't funny. It was just sad.

But the drugs kept him from remembering, and that was all he wanted. He craved the forgetfulness. He was addicted to it.

"Wing?"

"Hn."

"We got two jobs, if you wanna go out tonight. Lower level Breaks cop is one of them. Other one is some minor government official. We're movin' up in the food chain, pal."

He raised one eyebrow. "Really. Government official."

Darkflight snorted. "Government official, drug dealer scum, it's all the same to me. Bunch of bastards."

"Hn."

"I take that as a no. Atsuki and Steel said something about meeting them down at the bar, if you'd like to go to that, then."

Through the smoke, Darkflight looked like an Arabian genie, ready to vanish at the slightest touch.

Arabian...there was something important about that.

"You'll go even if I don't."

"Isn't that how it always is?"

Wing shrugged. "You just never struck me as the social type."

"I'm full of surprises," Darkflight returned. "I'm leaving now, if you want to tag along. Atsuki asked about you the other day...says she hasn't seen you in fucking ages."

"She just wants sex."

Darkflight grunted. "That too. You coming?"

"Maybe they'll have something there for us," Wing said, standing up. His head almost touched the cracked ceiling. "There's nothing here for me to do besides sleep."

"I take that as a yes."

He flicked the cigarette butt away and ground it into the dirt with one boot heel. Reached into his pocket and pulled out another, lighting it. He offered the pack to Darkflight, who waved it away.

"You know I don't smoke."

Wing replaced the pack into his coat pocket. Outside, thunder rumbled and he could smell rain mixed with smoke and car exhaust. It would be muddy.

"There are worse things in the world you could do than smoke."

In the light of the glow-stick, Darkflight's eyes glittered as he shrugged into his own threadbare coat, slipping his pistol into the pocket, easing open the door.

"But I do those things. I figure, why kill yourself slowly by smoking when there are other, better ways to kill yourself?"

"Or," Wing said as they stepped out into the wet night, "you could do both. And be dead even faster."

Darkflight laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. "You're going for that, aren't you?"

The inside of the bar was hot and sweaty and smelled of beer, as it always did. Darkflight moved through the crowd like a shadow, knowing that Wing was one step behind him. He didn't frequent bars and neither did his partner, but when he did it was as if he melted naturally into the greasy shadows, blended as one with the shame and the sin he found there.

He needed the sin.

He could tell Wing needed it too, could tell it from the way his partner drank and smoke and slept around. Granted, the other assassin was as emotionless as a rock, but Darkflight had developed the knack of reading the other's stance, his eyes. It was the small details about the way Wing stood and pronounced his words that made all the difference.

They'd known each other for about a year now, and Darkflight could honestly say he'd never had a better partner. Wing killed like a natural and had all the planning and stealth capability of a trained assassin. Perhaps he'd been one before they'd met; who knew? Wing certainly never volunteered information, and Darkflight never asked. As long as Wing never asked about his past, they were equal.

Besides, asking was a bad thing. There was such a thing as asking too much and winding up with your throat slit. Darkflight had no doubt that Wing could easily kill him if he asked the wrong questions. He wasn't so sure if the opposite were true. Better not to ask...though he doubted anyone would miss him if he died. It was like that in the Breaks. If Wing died, he would simply find another partner. Granted, they would not have the level of skill that the other boy had, but then again, no normal human being would. There was something uncanny about the boy with the long black hair and dark blue eyes, a story that was deeper than the thick, raised scar that ran from Wing's neck up to his face, running across his nose and right eye to disappear above his hairline. Much deeper.

The stench of the air in the bar was almost nauseating. Darkflight bumped shoulders with drunken gang members, breathed in the smell of cigarettes and other, more dangerous substances. He turned, trying to look for Wing, spotting him in what looked like an intense haggling session with a man who was obviously too stoned to catch half the words Wing was saying. It didn't matter. Wing always won.

"Hey...Darkflight!"

A large hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up to see a dirty, bearded face grinning down at him. The stench of unwashed clothing swirled around him, but he managed a smile anyway. "Steel!" His eyes caught sight of the slim girl standing next to Steel, smoking a joint and dressed in garish colors that looked almost black in the dim bluish light. "And Atsuki. How you been? Haven't seen you in a while, man."

"Times change." Steel slapped Darkflight on the shoulder. Atsuki smiled seductively at him, twirling her joint between her fingers. She was wearing even less clothing than he remembered her in the past...but she was Wing's. He'd promised Wing that he wouldn't touch her, though it probably didn't matter if he did or not. Atsuki was a prostitute, and she took what came to her without complaining.

"You heard the news?"

Darkflight raised an eyebrow. "News? No. What news?"

"Big news, man!" Steel raised a shaking hand towards the crusty bar he was leaning against, raising his beer mug to his mouth. Beer spilled down the front of his chest. Darkflight tried to back away surreptitiously but the big man's hand was clamped firmly on his bicep.

"What news?" he repeated.

The bartender behind the counter snorted, moving to where they were standing. "Steel's too drunk to tell you anything. The news about the fuckin' war, of course. Haven't you heard?"

"What news?"

That was his partner's voice. He looked over as Wing moved next to him, parting the sea of bodies and pulling up a crooked bar stool. Wing had won his deal. "You got the junk?" he said in a low voice.

Wing blinked and gave Darkflight only a brief glance before his eyes slid over to where Atsuki stood, but the look in his eyes and the cigarette in his hand that didn't smell like a regular cigarette was all Darkflight needed to know. He held out a hand and Wing slipped a joint of heroin into it, handing him a lighter as well. The first few drags were like heaven to his deprived body.

"What news?" his partner repeated, his stare boring holes in the bartender's forehead.

The man affected not to notice, polishing the grimy countertop with a blackened rag. "You know, about the war. About the uh...pilots."

"Pilots?" Wing repeated sharply. The cigarette wavered in his hand, and Darkflight looked over at him, concerned. The other boy still wore the same expressionless mask, but his eyes...

The bartender nodded. "Yeah. Crazy shit. Seems like they found out the pilots of those Gundam space robots were fifteen year old boys or some shit like that. There's a big disturbance back on the planet...politicians and all that. There's a whole shitload of lawsuits and shit goin on too." He reached behind the bar and pulled out a dirty newspaper. "Here ya go."

Wing took the paper, eyes scanning the headlines. Darkflight watched as his hand gripped the table and the cigarette fell from his fingers. He bent and picked it up for his partner, shoving it back into his hand. Wing stuck it back in his mouth, knuckles white on the paper. "Where did you get this?" he demanded harshly. The scar on his neck and face throbbed in the dim light. Darkflight placed a hand on the other boy's shoulder, but Wing shoved him away.

"On the radio, man. It's on holovid too...all over the damn place on the news. In all the papers...hey...where ya goin?"

"Wing!"

The other boy disappeared between the crowds of people, clutching the paper. Darkflight slid out of Steel's drunken grasp, not even bothering to answer Atsuki's puzzled inquiries as to what was going on. He was going out, to find out what the hell was bothering his partner so. His normally inscrutable partner, with the emotional capabilities of a robot.

The rain was coming down in a slight drizzle, and he almost didn't see Wing slouched against the rough brick of the outside of the ramshackle bar. The clouds covered the moon. Garish neon lights blinked against the black of the sky, highlighting barbed wire fences and abandoned houses and the shaking body of his partner, still clutching the newspaper in one hand.

"Wing? What's going on?" He reached out to touch the other, then stopped. Wing flinched away from his hand.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me."

When Wing didn't answer, he lowered his hand toward the newspaper, pulling it from the other boy's hand.

AND A CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM? GUNDAM PILOTS REVEALED!

"What the hell...?" he murmured, eyes sliding down towards the words of the article. Reading had never been his strong point, but he could get by, and he skimmed the articles and commentaries on the front page, skipping the big words and hoping that none of them were important.

Formerly classified documents have proven that the supposed "saviors of the colonies" were none other than genetically engineered, brainwashed teenagers...This is a truth that the colonies should not ignore...How can a power as great as that which could destroy the galaxy be given to children?...An atrocity that cannot be passed over...

Darkflight flipped the page. The newspaper was getting soggy with rainwater and he moved into the relative shelter of the bar's awning. There were pictures of politicians on the other side, their raging comments against the war, the Gundam pilots, and the military in general. There were testimonies from families who had supposedly lost their sons or daughters or uncles or fathers to Gundam attacks.

I can't believe that children would do such a thing...a disgrace to our generation and to the military...the repercussions will be wide and far-reaching...

There were no pictures of the pilots.

"I don't understand," he said, looking up. Wing was staring at him, frozen against the red neon lights in the distance. "What's this got to do with you?"

The other boy blinked. He was silent for a long moment, the rain pelting both of them, dripping from Wing's long hair and running down Darkflight's forehead.

"I don't know," Wing said at last. He pressed a hand to his head. "I can't...I can't remember. It's all so hazy..."

"Did you ever encounter a Gundam?" Maybe that was it. Wing had probably fought in the war in one way or another, and even though the drug use and life on the streets had in all likely erased most of his long term memory, there might still be dredges left. "Did you know someone killed by a Gundam?"

"No..." There was confusion in his voice. "I..."

"C'mon, Wing...forget this. There are plenty of things in life for you to get worked up about without worrying about some damned pilots who have nothing to do with you anyway."

"I suppose..." Wing said. His voice trembled. "I can't remember..."

Darkflight bit his lip, thinking fast. Wing had never displayed emotions so obviously before; hell, he'd never displayed emotions at all before. Something must be very wrong. "Come on. Let's go back inside. Have a drink, a smoke. Forget this shit. Atsuki's waiting for you, remember? You came to see her, right?"

For another moment Wing stood there, looking at the newspaper in Darkflight's hand, at the headline splayed across the front page, and then nodded.

"See? There you go. It's nothing, seriously. It'll all blow over in a day or two...you're probably just having junk flashbacks or something. Should be used to it by now."

"Yeah..." Wing whispered. "That's probably it." He brushed past Darkflight to the door, digging in a pocket for a cigarette, or perhaps a lighter, or maybe a tablet of some other drug. The whispered voice came back to him. "That's all it is..."

Darkflight watched him disappear like a wraith into the mass of bodies and voices, then dropped the soaking newspaper into the gutter and followed him back inside, out of the rain.

 
Go to Heero story Remembrance

 
Scene III: The Illusion of Happiness that was Shattered

 
Duo sat in his math class, throwing spitballs at the wall. It was tempting to actually throw them at other people, but he knew that it would catch up with him. The last time he had created mischief -starting a food fight in the cafeteria, he had ended up with a plateful of jello in his hair- the strawberry kind.

Sad that one of the world's most renown terrorists is reduced to attacking with spit-balls instead of a beam laser, he thought in amusement. Beam lasers are a touch more predictable though, his thoughts continued with a mental wince as one of his projectiles hit the clock and bounced onto the floor, narrowly avoiding the class representative. Close call.

Beside him, Chris yawned, not even bothering to hide his boredom. The sensei (teacher, Duo reminded himself, think in English) was known for his long-winded discourse on the possibilities that imaginary numbers added to the mathematical community, and right now Mr. Glenburnie was raving about his favorite topic, oblivious to the fact that the day's lesson was supposed to be on fractals.

A note landed on his desk, and he looked over his shoulder to see Ilene smile at him- though he noticed that it lacked her usual sparkle. Curious, he unwrapped it.

Ilene's handwriting was the bubbly script that Duo had found many girls had, and all of her dots were shaped like hearts. It was too cutesy and he sometimes thought of telling her that, but Ilene was a cutesy person overall. She had a strange joie de vivre that he found infectious, and he loved her for her sweet innocence. He recognized that she wanted to pursue a relationship with him, but his heart belonged to Hilde. Ilene was too innocent to understand who Shinigami was- had been. Hilde had been there, and was a strong enough person in her own right.

The note was brief:

I have something I want to discuss with you. Meet after class outside. Big news.
~Ilene

Frowning, he looked over at her. He had been planning to go up to his cliff and watch the water, but from the way she was biting at her lip, this was important to her. He wondered why she wasn't discussing it with Helena, but there was no figuring out how the female mind worked.

Duo saw her watching him, and he nodded at her slightly to indicate his acceptance. He was rewarded by a large smile, and he glanced at the clock. There was half an hour left of the lecture.

The time dragged by, time that Duo spent trying to make a smiley face out of spit-balls on the opposite wall. He could feel Ilene watching him, and wondered what she was up to. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, the bell rang, signaling their release. Ilene grabbed up her books and clutched them to her chest, waiting for him.

"What's up, doll? You finally get a boyfriend and want to break it to me gently?" Duo asked teasingly, leaning forward to tug one of the two long ponytails she wore.

Duo recognized that they made a striking couple. Their coloring was similar, and her hair matched the color of his eyes perfectly. She assured him it was her natural color, and he was inclined to believe her. There was the time the four of them had gone skinny-dipping and he doubted most people would color theirs to maintain the illusion of naturalness...

She shook her head. "Duo, this is serious," she said, her voice grave.

He looked at her sympathetically. "Do you want to go somewhere to talk?"

Ilene nodded. "Please. How about the lounge? There shouldn't be many people there."

He nodded his consent. "Sure thing, little one. You're worrying me."

She didn't answer, and he wondered. Usually she would rush to reassure him that it wasn't that bad, but this time her eyes remained glum.

Duo grabbed her hand and started to drag her away, holding onto his books with the left hand. She kept pace with him, which was amazing, especially when Duo's rate of motion was taken into account. He was incapable of walking- he bounced, skittered, ran, or bounded; Duo Maxwell did not walk. Walking was too pedestrian.

Soon they reached the lounge, and Duo threw his books onto one of the tables and sank into an over-stuffed chair. The thing was one of the ugliest things Duo had ever seen, but it was comfortable. He looked at her, scooting over to allow her a place to sit. She just stared blankly, remaining on her feet.

"Oi, what's the matter?" he asked, leaning forward and catching her hands in his own. Her touch was clammy, and he rubbed her hands gently, trying to give them a little of his warmth. "Tell me," he begged.

She blinked. "You know I had an older brother, right?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, you never mentioned him to me," he said, wondering where this was going.

She looked at him, her brown eyes verging on black. He recognized the sorrow in them, and knew this wasn't going to be pretty. "His name was James, and he was three years older then me. He was killed in a Gundam attack."

Duo barely kept from flinching. People had died in the war, and sometimes it hit a touch too close too close to home for his liking. "And?" he prompted.

Her eyes filled up with tears. "There was an article in the paper today- apparently the identities of the Gundam pilots were discovered."

Duo couldn't stop himself. He lounged forward and grabbed her by the upper arms. "Did they release the names?" he demanded urgently, blinding panic assaulting him. He had sudden visions of the life he had so carefully built for himself being destroyed. There were so many people who would want his hide.

"Duo!" Ilene protested, wincing at his bruisingly strong hold on her. He was strong- how could such a slender young man be so impossibly strong? she wondered, trying to escape his grip.

He shook her, causing her teeth to rattle in her head. Her ponytails swung back and forth like they were in a strong windstorm. "Tell me, did they release the names?" he reiterated, his voice dangerous.

She didn't recognize this fierce boy who stood in front of her, wearing the face of someone whom she had believed to be a friend. His purple eyes were blazing with a terrifying light, and she felt like she would be consumed by the flames within them.

Ilene might not have recognized Duo Maxwell at that moment, but any of his fellow pilots would have known that look in an instant. Shinigami had returned, and Shinigami should be obeyed. In a way, Duo was the most frightening of the pilots- he was the only one who let his emotions rule him, and right now he was letting his darker side have free reign. It had been over a year since he had last let this side of him come to the fore, and it was coming out with a vengeance.

"They-they didn't say who they were, only that they weren't even old enough to vote," Ilene managed to get out through stutters. "Duo, please- you're hurting me."

Duo blinked, suddenly aware of his surroundings. He was holding Ilene- one of his best friends- several inches off the ground in a painful grip. Everyone in the lounge was staring at them, and he noticed the shocked looks on their faces and could practically read their thoughts from the expression in their eyes. Duo Maxwell, reacting violently? Impossible! Not Duo, the guy who was always good for a laugh!

He blinked a few times, desperately trying to find the happy-go-lucky attitude everyone expected from him. "I'm sorry, Ilene," he whispered softly, setting her down gently before he bolted for the door.

No one made a move to stop him.

Half an hour later, he sat on the cliff, staring off broodingly, trying to work out what to do next. He could always disappear again; there were places that a person who wanted to be lost could go- Duo had been to most of them. He was an expert at it, but that defeated the purpose.

What did I fight for? he wondered. Why can't things just stay the same? I was doing good, and for the first time, I was enjoying my life! Is it too much to ask for?

Apparently it was. He didn't turn when he heard the footsteps approaching from behind him. He just kept his chin on his knees, staring forward without really seeing anything.

"I knew I would find you here," a male voice said.

Duo didn't do anything to acknowledge his roommate's presence.

Chris Johnsen sank down to sit next to him. "I can't understand the fascination you seem to have for heights," he said with a mock shudder. "The first time I saw you up here I honestly thought you were going to fall off. You sit so close to the edge," he said pointing at Duo's legs, which were hanging careless over the very end.

"I've always sat on the edge, no matter what I've done," Duo said quietly.

Chris looked at his roommate. Duo was rarely this serious, and now was the time to push a few issue he had been meaning to ask about for ages. "I heard about what happened in the lounge," he said softly.

Duo winced. "I'll write Ilene an apology later- I really didn't mean to. I just got a little bit carried away."

Chris sighed. "She'll understand. It's not a big deal- news about the Gundam upsets a lot of people," he said. He paused carefully before continuing.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know."

"What?" Duo asked, feeling his blood pressure start to rise again.

"It's obvious that you were involved in the war somehow. I just haven't figured out what you did yet- you're obviously not one of the OZ soldiers, or else you would probably be working in the Preventers," Chris reasoned. "Still, there's something about you that just screams soldier."

"Really," Duo said in a flat voice that Heero Yuy himself would have envied.

"Yes, really!" Chris snapped back temperamentally. His voice rose. "There comes a time when you have to trust other people! What's wrong, Duo Maxwell? Did you see a Gundam attack? Is that why you're so scared?"

Duo looked over at him, his expression grave. "Please, Chris. I need to be alone. I need to think."

Chris looked like he was ready to argue, but rose to his feet, stalking off. Duo knew he'd have another apology to be making shortly.

He buried his face in his hands, for the first time giving into despair. "It's going to come out. It's only a matter of time," he whispered to himself. "The question is, what do I do then?"

 
Go to Helena story Someone Special

 
Scene IV: Of War, Past and Present

 
"I beg to differ," Dorothy said, sipping lightly at her tea. "I have killed many men more skilled than Okure. His form is lacking."

The young Japanese man across from her swallowed compulsively and looked at her with wide eyes. "Ah...is that so...?"

"Of course," she said with a hint of the slightest arrogance. She wondered how long it would be until she got rid of this one. The last suitor her mother sent had only stayed fifteen minutes before she'd sent him scurrying out the door with her barely-concealed barbs. She was good at this. It was fun. "My opponents are weak. I would like to fence with Okure-san. It would be an opportunity, I think."

The man stood up, placing his cup on the table hastily. "Well..uhh..."

"You are tired?" Dorothy said, stretching out on the sofa, waving one ringed hand. "It was a pleasant discussion, Akai-san. Perhaps you should come again sometime."

"Of-of course," the man stuttered, before she reached up and rang the small bell that called for the butler. The black-and-white clad servant appeared, bowing.

"Would you show Mr. Akai to the door, please?" Smiling, she turned to the young man. "It was a pleasure."

"Ah...for me as well, my lady," he said, turning and hurrying out of the room before the butler could follow, at a speed which amazed Dorothy. After he had gone, she looked down at her watch. Ten minutes. This was a record.

Smiling to herself, she gathered up the teacups and set back on the teacart. The maids would clear them away if she left them on the tea table, but there was no harm in her making their lives easier. She enjoyed being helpful sometimes.

Her mother would no doubt call in the next hour or so, wondering how the visit went, and Dorothy would have to nod and smile and reply in sweet yes's and no's and convince her mother that yes, she had been nice to this suitor. She wished she could just discard the smiling façade and proclaim to the overbearing duchess that this was a all a waste of time. If she could not have the man she wanted, she would have no other man. She had made up her mind, and when Dorothy Catalonia made up her mind, nothing, not even her mother, could change it.

There were too many weaklings in this world, and she would not be another one.

Sighing, she stood up from where she'd been reclining on the couch, adjusting the white gossamer dress that floated around her body in sweeping folds. She hated dresses, hated wearing them even more, but it was necessary to maintain her feminine image while scaring the hell out of her would-be suitors. It was all part of the game, and Dorothy loved games.

Life, after all, was one giant game.

She rang the bell, sighing, and a maid appeared this time, dressed in a starched apron and uniform. Dorothy waved at the tea cart, and the maid curtseyed.

"Would you like anything else, Lady Dorothy?"

She shook her head. "Not now. Perhaps later."

The maid wheeled the cart out of the room and Dorothy stood there for a moment, watching the sun through the blinds and wondering what to do with the rest of her day. It was only morning - not even late morning at that - and there was nothing that she felt like doing. Fencing would help if she had a good opponent, like that boy Quatre Raberba Winner...but Quatre was stuck on some colony with some title, an inheritance, and a high class position. He was always on the news for something or other, blamed for high petroleum prices or praised for some new colony renovation.

It wouldn't be such a bad idea to have a go at winning Quatre's heart, just to appease her mother, but Dorothy had never liked the executive types, and even Quatre, with his land and money, might not be high-status enough for Emily. Besides, Quatre wasn't...exciting. Kind and gentle and a noble warrior...but not exciting. She wanted someone exciting. Someone dangerous.

Damn her mother. Damn all the men, at that. She leaned against the wall, watching the dust motes swirl in the sunlight, waiting for the eventual appearance of her butler and the message that her mother had called.

Not for the first time, she wished she was still aboard the Libra, reveling in her freedom and glory, by the side of one of the most powerful men in the galaxy...

The blank holovid in the corner caught her attention, reflecting her glittering white dress in its dark surface, and on a whim she reached for the remote. She rarely ever watched holovid, getting her news through more elegant and perhaps less trustworthy sources, but it was late morning and she was bored. With a flick of a button, the vid flickered to life.

"-latest from the breaking Gundam story here on Earth. Stay tuned after these messages."

The smiling face of the news anchor disappeared in a flash of light and a commercial for some facial cream powder. Dorothy frowned. What Gundam story?

A nagging feeling crawled at the back of her neck and she leaned closer to the viewscreen as the commercials ended and the news station sign flashed back on. The anchorwoman appeared again, dark eyes looking serious as a series of pictures flashed to her right. Dorothy recognized some of them...politicians, government officials, friends of her mother. Others looked more lower-class; people interviewed off the street, perhaps.

"Welcome back. I'm Alanna Bar-Ali, here with the latest news on the Gundam Revelation. Here's the story."

The screen flashed to a picture of a Gundam-Wing Zero, Dorothy realized with a feeling of impending doom. The anchor's voice cut into the background.

"It has been one year since the war some people call the War to End All Wars, but for many of us, it might just be beginning. Yesterday, some startling news was released from previously classified military information. The Gundam pilots who had been destroying the lives of innocent civilians and colonial dwellers were revealed to be no more than fifteen year old children given toys to play with. However, what not many realized was how destructive those toys, the Gundams themselves, could be."

Dorothy stood, frozen, as the anchorwoman rambled on about the role of the Gundams during the war. Children? Toys? Her hands worked against the sides of her dress. Heero Yuy had been no child. None of them had been. It was the same as saying...that she had been a child. She was no child.

This was outrageous. How had this classified information been released to the public? What had Lady Une told the media? Didn't the woman understand the meaning of tact?

"Charges are being pressed against the military, former members of the colonial resistance, and the five Gundam pilots, whose names and whereabouts are yet unknown at this time. There have been riots in several cities..."

"Ridiculous," she murmured, carefully placing the remote on the tea table. "Utterly ridiculous."

Her mouth felt dry and she couldn't seem to take her eyes off the screen. It was ridiculous...she had thought that the identity of the five Gundam pilots was rather common knowledge. Then again, she had been privy to much information that many people, not even top officials in the Romefeller Foundation, had had access too. Still, to react this strongly...?

Damn the media, while she was at it. Still...

She watched as images of burning buildings and smoking hulks of vehicles filled the screen. Still, it was fascinating. A game, of sorts. She felt a smile begin to curve her lips as a politician's fat face appeared, ranting against the "outrage" the Gundams had caused to his country and his people.

The injustice must be stopped! he announced. The criminals must be held accountable for their crimes!

Dorothy sniffed. How little someone like him would know about crime. She had been a criminal during the war; she admitted it, and it had been...exciting. Controlling those mobile dolls had stirred her blood like nothing else in the universe could, and the fact that she was a rebel had excited her even more.

She held the remote in one loose hand, considering, the voice of the anchor a low buzz in the background. With her high status, she could perhaps influence the sway of the players in this new drama. The war was still a hot issue in her political circles, the Gundams even more so. At every social function she had attended there had always been the curious question of what exactly she had done during the war and the heated debate of whether the war should have been fought at all. Any single word from her, and...

Yes, this could be interesting.

The game was still in too early stages for her to try her hand at the cards, but soon, very soon.

There was a brief flash in her mind of the face of a boy, blue eyes wide, begging her, speaking of war and peace and ideals. He was so innocent...it wasn't right.

She smiled, flicking off the holovid, cutting off the woman in mid-sentence.

Quatre...we'll see who wins this time. The war isn't over yet.

"Lady Dorothy?"

She jumped, smoothing down her dress as she turned. It was her butler.

"A call from Mother? I'll be right there."

The butler blinked. "Actually, Lady Dorothy...it's a visitor."

It was her turn to blink. "A visitor?"

"Yes, Lady. He's waiting in the parlor right now. Should I show him into the tearoom?"

Dorothy frowned. She was expecting no visitors except for the failed suitor this morning, and there were no people she knew who would want to drop in to visit her. Dorothy Catalonia did not pride herself in being the center of any purely social circles, much to the disappointment of her high society mother.

"Lady?"

"Oh. Yes, show him in."

The butler bowed and left the room. She crossed to the couch by the tea table, seating herself and arranging her dress so that it fell in graceful arcs around her. Whoever this mysterious visitor was, she hoped he didn't stay long. She had things to do.

Her life up to this point had been a waste. With the war over, there hadn't been anything useful she could do with herself, and a lady of her station and class did not simply wander off into the galaxy to become a sweeper or mercenary or anything that might be remotely exciting. Dorothy had thought about renouncing her title and joining the Preventers group, but that would mean risking the wrath and possible estrangement from her mother. She wasn't quite willing to risk that yet.

Not quite.

Now, with the identities of the Gundam pilots at stake, there might be no need to.

She had to plan. Mentally counting on her fingers, she reviewed in her mind the faces and names of politicians she knew, whether intimately or just as acquaintances. She would have to gauge their political stance, their ability to be swayed, their response to popular opinion. There were so many factors in this game, just like the game where she had controlled the mobile dolls. She-

"Dorothy?"

Her head shot up at the voice, towards the figure who stood uncertainly in the doorway. Her breath caught in her throat.

Oh dear God.

This can't be.

All plans and thoughts of the war vanished from her mind and all she could see and think and feel and breathe was the man in her tea room doorway whom she had for the longest time thought to be dead and then had suddenly reappeared, when she had fallen in love with him all over again.

She wasn't a fool for any man-had never been, and yet...

Of all people, she hadn't expected him to come here. Not him. His eyes were bluer than she remembered, and his hair...

He had cut his hair.

"Dorothy?" Zechs Merquise said, stepping forward into the light. She couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Could only watch as he smiled at her, a bit uncertainly.

"May I come in?"

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