SHIN KIDOU SENKI GUNDAM WING

SAINAN NO KEKKA
ACT VIII, PART I

 
 
Scene I: Playing for Keeps

 
Duo had insisted on going outside to scout first, before allowing any of the others off the shuttle. Sally was a Preventer, and Wufei would be suspicious of her; the Shenlong pilot wouldn't know Shinobu or Helena, Preventer Krushchev was out for the same reasons as Sally, and he wasn't about to risk Hilde's life on whether or not Wufei remembered her.

Sally wasn't happy about it, but she understood his reasoning. She wished that she hadn't been so eager to put him in the sim; the bright red marks of barely congealed blood on his face standing out in stark accusation, but she hadn't had any choice. Duo was still off his game. If he had been up to his old standards, Hilde never would have gotten the better of him and taken Zero without his permission. Besides, she would need time to work with each pilot on the sim to make sure they were back in top form. And if she was careful, she could even get a hint of what made them able to pilot Gundams, rather then just being good regular MS pilots.

It had always been a fascination for her; the thing that made the pilots unique. She'd been following them ever since meeting Heero during the war, aiding them when she could. The nice thing about the VR sim was that it automatically recorded the user's data... heart rate, breathing, stimulus/response. She had gathered plenty of information on all of her Preventers, but she still was missing one vital piece of the puzzle.

The Gundam pilots themselves....

She shook her thoughts away from her latest research project. She had other things to worry about- Wufei would shortly be joining her, and she had to remember how to talk to him effectively. Chang Wufei had always been something of a conundrum; he didn't think in a manner most people would consider "rational", and dealing with him could be tiring, exasperating, and dangerous. Most wouldn't have bothered, but Sally liked and respected him.

She understood him.

And Heero...Heero had always been the one she'd seen as an avatar, someone who was not quite of this world. Someone too pure and true, perfection incarnate. Shinobu's report that he'd been working as an assassin on L1 had been a surprise, and she wondered how much the intervening months since she had last seen him had changed Heero. Would he even care for what the world thought? Would he care about peace anymore? About truth? She had so many questions that haunted her. Hilde sat in her passenger's seat uncomfortably, her eyes fastened on the hatch Duo had exited. She had been against letting him go, but he had quieted her objections with a look. Shinobu sat stoically, but Helena was fidgeting, nervous. Sally understood quite well the reality of what Helena's actions were doing was just hitting home.

They could hear the tick of the clock, an unnaturally loud sound that echoed in the cabin. Sally was uncomfortably aware of her own breathing, and wondered why the wait seemed so endless. Wufei would either agree to come or not- providing Heero hadn't beaten them there. If he had...

Her overly fertile imagination supplied images of a dead Wufei, killed by Heero's hand. She didn't think Heero would kill a man he had once called a comrade, but then she didn't understand this whole assassin business. Heero had been too noble for that. She remembered watching him put himself between the falling Libra and Earth- that wasn't the action of a man would would kill for the highest bidder... right?

Would Wufei defend himself? If Heero attacked? His honor might not let him... but Heero could just as easily be the one dead. Wufei was a trained terrorist himself, and would not be an easy kill.

The sound of the hatch opening brought them all to their feet, ready for... something. To Sally's immense disappointment, Duo entered on his own, nibbling on his lip thoughtfully.

Hilde rocketed across the cabin into his arms, giving him a quick hug before stepping back and gazing at him with interrogatory eyes. "Well?" she asked, that one word containing many layers of meaning.

He shook his head, wrapping a casual arm around her shoulders as he led her back to her seat. "Nobody's there. Looks like there was a fight... maybe a week ago? And then whoever was there left." He held up a black mask like a trophy. "Typical assassin's issue. It looks like it was torn off... and there's signs of blood."

"Fuck!" Sally exclaimed, pounding her fist into the armrest angrily.

"Calm down... there's not enough blood for a fatal wound. Chances are that they're both ok. My guess if that Wufei somehow managed to talk Heero down, and maybe ally with him."

Sally looked grim. "And if not?"

"Then Wufei has been taken hostage, though it's anyone's guess why Heero would do that." Duo's word's held an unusual note of seriousness for the usually laid back colonist.

"Chang Wufei would be a valuable hostage," Shinobu noted quietly in Japanese. "People would pay astronomical amounts to have him in their possession. Yuy himself couldn't ransom him, but if he had an accomplice... and he probably does- my grandfather mentions something about a partner." Helena looked lost, but her face cleared as Duo translated for her quietly.

Sally wanted to throttle him. "And you didn't think to tell me this?" she demanded in a deceptively calm tone.

The Black Diamond scion's dark eyes were mysterious and Sally couldn't read any emotion in them aside from a little bit of amusement. "You did not ask," he returned in English.

Helena pinched him in the side hard. "Is there anything else you're neglecting to let us know, Shin-chan?" she asked, sweetly. "Time for full disclosure, dear."

He seemed like he was about to say something else just as vague, but Helena pinched him again, eliciting a wince. "Yuy is part of an assassination team known as Shadowwing- there are only two members, but they are good, better then any other team. My grandfather did not have the place where Chang was living until after they left, so I was hoping that we would arrive before."

The Preventer general clenched her hands in an attempt to keep her temper. She succeeded, but only by the barest margin. "Matsuura, the next time I catch you withholding any information on me, no matter how minor it may seem at the time, I will string you up by your toenails over a baited tiger trap." The smile on her face was in direct contradiction to her words.

Shinobu nodded hastily, suddenly self-conscious. The woman across from him could make his life very difficult if she decided that she didn't like him. Sally Po was reputed to be the calm Preventer General, but he was sure that she had a temper... and he had just agitated it.

"Well, what now?" Hilde said.

Sally tugged one of her braids and ground her teeth, the sound irritating the other people in the cabin. "I'm going to contact General Brown and see if he has any suggestions. He's the head of Military Intelligence for the Preventers."

"Talk about an oxymoron," Duo muttered.

Sally just gave him a superior look as she went to the cockpit, ignoring the giggles Hilde and Helena let slip. Teenagers... she thought with disdain, ignoring the fact she was barely out of her teens herself.

The person who answered her call was one she barely recognized. "Captain Lopez?" she asked after a moment.

The young man blinked at her tiredly. "General! General Brown isn't here! May I take a message for you?"

"Where is he?"

"He's in Milan. Last night there was an attack on an anti-Gundam cell. No one was killed, but there was a lot of explosives used, real high-grade stuff. Brown thinks that Barton may be involved, seeing as how he was spotted in the area not long ago."

Sally thought for a second. "Blowing things up is his style... but normally he'd need orders. Are you sure it wasn't one of the others?"

"Well, aside from Maxwell, the other three were accounted for last night. And Maxwell is most likely on the Colonies- there was a reported citing of him in C Side, on L2."

"You know where the others are?" she demanded, rising to her feet in anger. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"There's been an order on radio silence. We weren't allowed to contact you, but... since you contacted us... General Brown left orders that I was to tell you when you called."

"So where are they?" she asked sweetly.

"Winner's sister managed to have his arrest declared illegal, so he was released to his family. They've come to HQ. Yesterday morning was the real surprise, though. Did you ever meet an agent named Varis? He brought in Chang and Yuy..."

"They're there?" she asked, feeling the blood drain from her face. I went through all this for nothing?

"Yes... well, as there as they get. Chang's sick and from what I hear, Yuy's been acting... abnormally. Even for him. Une almost had a fit after meeting with him."

"When isn't Une having a fit," Sally murmured to herself. "So is there anything else I should know about?"

"Brown also said to let you know that Relena Peacecraft was on base, along with Catherine Bloom. If you check the vid, most of the networks keep replaying the interview periodically... you can't miss it."

He looked hesitant, like a person about to relay news that he knew the listener wouldn't want to hear. "It's also my sad duty to inform you that Major Lucrezia Noin was killed in action on A007, and Colonel Peacecraft has been transported back to his manor on Earth due to wounds sustained in the same engagement."

Sally nodded slowly. Brief memories of the short-haired woman flashed through her head but she had already mourned Noin once. Her sudden return from death hadn't really registered. It was like she'd been given time for a more honorable death, a death worthy of the soldier she had been.

What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.

Noin had died for something she believed in; there was no reason to mourn her.

"Thank you, Captain. Please let the General know that I'm returning to base- and that I have some company. Level 10 security to be at the landing pad."

His pupils dilated slightly, but aside from that, he displayed no sign of his surprise. "Yes, ma'am."

She nodded once more to him courteously, then cut the transmission. "You heard me, Krushchev. Back to base."

"You're sure you want to, General?" he asked. "You want to put the Gundams there?"

"Just do it. I know what I'm doing."

He still appeared unconvinced, but the soldier in him was used to following orders. "Take-off in five minutes. Let the children know, ok?"

She laughed. To the fifty year old, they must all seem like children. "Sure thing!" she teased, her tone reminding him who had the rank.

He waggled a finger at her. "You may be a General, Missy, but I've been flying crafts since before you were born. On a plane, the one who sits at the controls is Lord and Master after God. Capiche?"

"Aye, Aye, sir!" she said, standing and saluting like someone just out of the Academy, with exacting precision. They laughed together, and then she moved into the back. Krushchev's teasing had lightened her mood considerably.

"Well?" Duo asked. He was draped comfortably over Hilde. The girl was half-asleep, but sprang immediately back to life when Sally entered. Shinobu and Helena were seated by each other, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"We're going back to Preventer's HQ. Quatre, Heero and Wufei are there."

"Talk about a wasted sidetrip!" Duo said, laughing.

"Yes. Buckle up, ok?"

The all complied. Krushchev's take-off was as smooth as anyone could have wished, and Sally looked at Duo, reaching behind her seat to retrieve something.

She gave Duo a hesitant smile. "Are you up to another round?" She held out the VR gear to him. "You can't be weak right now."

"NO!" Hilde protested, but Duo silenced her with a quick kiss to the cheek.

"I am, Sally. You're right. There's no time for weakness right now."

Sally smiled and started to turn the monitors on, handing Hilde the connections. "This simulation will run for an hour and fifteen minutes.. I'm sure you can do it."

Duo nodded with determination. It took two minutes to have him suited up properly. Sally sighed as he lowered the goggles to begin the simulation. I'm sorry, Duo, she thought, but this needs to be done. This isn't a game I can afford to lose...

 
Scene II: The Space Between

 
They wouldn't tell her where he was.

Atsuki had eaten dinner alone, politely refusing Jaffa's invitation to join the rest of the family at the officer's club. Yaminah had needed to meet with two JAG officers that night to discuss the details of the upcoming trial and to compare notes, so she had decided to make it a family gathering, with Quatre in tow.

Quatre had asked her, begged her, even, to come when Jaffa had told him of her decision. She didn't know why it was so important that she be there, and she had flatly said so when he wondered why.

But you are important, he said, his blue eyes intense. You're important to me.

She could tell that he wanted to call her by name, but he knew that the old name was too painful to her and that it was too painful to him to even attempt to address her by what she now called herself, so he had simply tried to reason with her. In the end, he'd given up and left her alone, but at six 'o clock, when the family had been supposed to meet to head over to the mess, a large tray filled with all kinds of entrees had shown up at her door. She'd glanced at it warily for a moment, then taken it inside and eaten all of it.

It wasn't every day that a girl from the Breaks got room service.

She had planned to go visit Darkflight after she had eaten. Darkflight's room wasn't top security and General Une's aide had willingly given her the building and number when she had asked, but when she knocked on his door, the electronic monitor device attached to each of the officers' quarters doors informed her that the room was presently unoccupied.

"Where'd he go?" she asked it, to which it replied that it was not programmed to answer such questions at this time.

She left his room and wandered the halls aimlessly for a while, wondering if she would stumble upon something interesting, but the building seemed to consist only of hallways of rooms. The blinking halogen lights that lit the corridors began to wear on her after a while and she decided to find her way back outside only to discover that she wasn't sure where she had come from.

Great. Her first night here and she was lost. She imagined what Quatre would say when he found out, if she couldn't find her way back by the time they came back from dinner. Jaffa would probably lock her in her room for the rest of their stay on base.

Darkflight was right. She belonged back in the Breaks, as much as she hated it there. It was familiar, and this world, this life, was entirely foreign to her. She could see the looks her sisters gave her, the pity in Quatre's eyes when he spoke to her. She didn't doubt that they all loved her, but it was as if she was the fragile one, the long-lost sister who needed to be coddled and catered to, because they believed she would somehow return back to the happy, confident Winner sister she had been.

She wondered how long it would be until they discovered that they were mistaken.

Feeling miserable, Atsuki wandered the hallways for a while until she found one that looked vaguely familiar. Followed it hopefully until she emerged into the lobby of the building, breathing a sigh of relief. Darkflight's room was the second one on the right side of the left hallway leading in from the lobby, and she backtracked until she was standing in front of his door.

The monitor device beeped.

"I'd like to leave a message for Darkflight," she said, feeling faintly self-conscious about speaking to a machine. They didn't have these in the Breaks, but her room in the Maguanac compound had been equipped with one, and it had taken a patient Jaffa several days to persuade her to make use of it. "Video and audio."

The monitor beeped again and the red light came on, indicating it was recording. She cleared her throat nervously, trying to work up the courage to leave a voice message, then decided that it wasn't worth it. Raising her hands in front of her, hoping the video screen was large enough to pick up her movements, she began to sign in the Breaks assassin sign language. Came by but you weren't there. Come find me.

She was about to add more, but perhaps because it wasn't picking up any sound waves, the machine clicked, indicating that recording was done. Oh well. What she hadn't said she could tell him in person. She hurried through the lobby and back outside, feeling the cool mountain night air wash over her. She hadn't realized how tired she was until now. The flight here had taken more out of her than she had thought, and suddenly all she wanted was a hot bath and to crawl into bed and sleep till morning.

To forget.

She felt a flash of guilt, realizing just how casually she had thought of the hot bath, as if it were something she had always taken for granted. How easily she would be able to slip back into the role of Lilah, upbeat and carefree Winner daughter.

If she let herself, it would be so easy.

There were still planes and mobile suits coming and going at this hour, which she found amazing. Granted, it was a military base and it was to be expected, but still, it seemed that as the light faded, the roars of engines increased. She had been heading back to her own quarters, but the feeling of curiosity overwhelmed her and she changed direction, making her way across the green lawns and white sidewalks towards the noise of the planes, needing suddenly to touch that piece of reality that had been part of Heero Yuy, long before he had been Wing. It was a part of her that she had realized she could never have, could never experience with him, but it had never bothered her. Until now.

I'm losing him...I'm losing him, and I'll never get him back.

She wouldn't let Relena have him. That girl was too high for someone like Wing, too bright and glorious, someone who might have been appropriate for the boy Wing had been, but not the one he was now. Relena was the goddess to a fallen angel, and Atsuki hoped that Wing wouldn't be too blinded to see it.

It wasn't fair, really.

A car passed by with a quiet whir and the street lights lining the edge of the road flickered on and with a start she realized that it was almost completely dark. Aircraft landing lights blinked through the sky, bright clusters of red and yellow. She kept to the sidewalk, hearing the roar of engines louder in her ears, wondering how close she could get before they spotted her and escorted her off the premises.

Surprisingly, no one seemed to notice her. Whether it was that they didn't think a lone girl was too harmless looking to be of any threat, or if they just were lax on security that night (which she doubted, since the base was practically on Threatcon Delta), she reached the side of a huge concrete building which after a few glances, she identified as a hangar. It was certainly big enough to house mobile suits and other aircraft, and in fact had some of its doors open and a few maintenance workers scurrying up and down mobile suits that were parked inside, looking like small rodents scavenging for food under harsh spotlights. But she'd grown up in a pacifist family, with no need to know about hangars and mobile suits and military bases.

The aircraft were clearly visible on what must be the "flight line," as Quatre called it. She still couldn't dismiss from her mind how easily he bandied about the term, her peaceful, perfect little cherub of a brother. She slowed her pace, eyes drinking in the sight of the huge craft taxiing back and forth along the landing pad, the airmen running back and forth toting hoses and tools, cars scuttling back and forth between craft carrying what she assumed to be pilots.

The wind changed and she shivered, rubbing her arms. The sound of a cargo plane taking off raised the hairs on the back of her neck, and she began to wonder if coming here was such a good idea after all.

"Miss?"

She jumped.

It was a young airman with a tool bag slung over his shoulder, taking in her long silk wrap and sandals, looking faintly apologetic and helpful at the same time. "Miss, are you lost?" he said in English.

"Oh," she said, managing a shaky laugh, wincing at the sound of her own mangled English accent. As a Winner, she'd been taught English as a child, but it had been years since she had used it. "Oh, no...I was just...well, I wanted to see the planes, and..."

The airman smiled. "I'm sorry, miss, but we really don't allow civilians over on the flight line, for safety reasons. Can I escort you anywhere?"

He looked nice enough, she supposed. If this had been the Breaks and it had been a good enough night, she would have considered making a pass at him for the promise for an easy two thousand yen or so, but this wasn't the Breaks. Instead, she blinked at him, then tried to smile. She hoped it looked friendly enough.

"I-" she began, and then a familiar voice said from behind her in perfect English, "She's with me."

The airman looked surprised, then took a step back. "Oh, I'm sorry." He sounded apologetic. "She just looked like she was lost." Flashed a grin at her. "Have a good night, miss."

She gaped at him as he walked away and then jumped again as a hand grasped her shoulder.

"Fancy seeing you here," Wing said, sounding not the least bit surprised.

For a long moment she just stared at him, drinking in the sight of him. He was cleaner than she had ever seen him, clean-shaven and long hair neatly combed and tied back, and he was dressed in decent clothes that managed to transform him from a penniless assassin into a young, well-to-do gentleman.

Where have you been? she wanted to shout at him. Wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss him hard, to make sure he was real. Instead, she managed a steady smile, looking him in the eyes. He looked more weary and harder, leaner, more dangerous at the same time, if that was possible. She wasn't sure what it was about him that had changed, but there was something.

"I was just going for a walk," she returned.

"Never knew you were interested in planes," he said.

She shrugged. "Maybe I am."

"Walk with me," he said suddenly, turning away. "It's good weather for a walk." The breeze whipped at his ponytail, sending it cascading across his shoulders and back in a dark wave.

They cut back across the lawn which she had crossed to get to the hangar and the flight line, back across the street and then back onto the white sidewalks that glimmered in the streetlights. Wing was silent, and she didn't press him for answers. It was always like that with him, she had found. If he wanted to talk, he would talk. If he didn't, no amount of prying would get him to open his mouth.

"How'd you get here?" he said at last.

"Flew out of L1, like everyone else," she said, knowing that she was being evasive and knowing that he knew. But he wouldn't question her further if she chose not to talk. It was just something you learned in the Breaks.

"All right," he said. "I assume you know who I am...was..." He sounded unsure, and she smiled in the dark.

"Yes," she said simply. "I know. I figured it out. You don't have to say anything," she continued as he started to reply. "I've got my own reasons for coming here, though finding you was part of them. Don't think my universe revolves around you."

"I'm not that arrogant," Wing said serenely. "Not yet, any way."

She almost laughed. It was like old times, except it wasn't, because they'd only had these kinds of conversations in bed after sex, and she didn't know what to think. "I know you got here this afternoon," she said. "But I haven't seen you."

"They questioned me for a good two hours after we landed," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets, "and then Une came and got me, questioned me for another two. Then they let me go take a shower and all that. I've been asleep since then."

"What time is it now?" she wondered.

"Half past ten PM," Wing said.

"Good lord," Atsuki said, horrified. "Fuck."

He stared at her. "What's wrong?"

"Quatre...I need to get back to my room...they're probably all wondering where I've gone...Jaffa will have a fit..."

Wing caught her arm. "Wait a moment. I think I'm missing something." She glanced at him and found herself transfixed by those blue eyes, as she always was, but his grip on her forearm was almost bruising, and she winced.

"Wing...please. That hurts."

He released her and she rubbed at the painful ring that his hand had left, wondering just how she was going to explain all this to Quatre, just as they had-

"Atsuki."

She didn't look at him. She knew what he was going to ask her, but she didn't want to tell him. "Yes?" she whispered.

"Look at me," he said quietly. Startled, she did so, flinching slightly as he took her chin in his hand, his eyes roving over the features of her face as if he'd never seen them before. "I see," he said softly, then repeated it louder. "I see." Sighing. "I...it's been a long time since I've thought of the others." He smiled grimly. "My brain wasn't exactly functioning at a hundred percent. There were times though, through the fog when I could actually think, when I thought that you looked familiar."

"If you hate me for it," she mumbled, "you can leave."

He didn't say anything for a long time. The street light beside them illuminated the sidewalk in a gritty white light, but the space in which they stood was a comfortable sort of darkness, enveloping them. "Quatre...was..." he said at last.

"Was what?"

"He was one of my best friends." The acknowledgment sounded like it had been pulled from him, a phrase he had been unwilling to utter. "I don't hate you. Why should I?

"I don't know," she said. "Just...you've never talked about this. You being a pilot." Aware that she was broaching the topic first, but it had to be broached some time. "You-"

"If anything," he interrupted, "I should love you more for it."

She stopped. Looked at him. "Say that again?" she said.

"I said it once," he said quietly. "I don't need to say it again."

"Do you mean it?"

"If you think I do," he responded. "You know, Atsuki, this might be the last time I'll see you in...a long time."

"You told me that when you went off to Earth," she said. "And look at us now."

"This was different. It's not every day that you find out that the person who's your next target happens to be a long lost friend from your past."

She laughed, trying to keep it lighthearted, but a trace of the bitterness crept in nonetheless. "Isn't this weird? Both of us...we're related in ways that we'd never imagined."

His eyes were intent. "Is that bad?"

"No...I..." She turned away. "Wing, what about Relena?"

"What about her?" His voice was cold. The mood of the conversation had changed suddenly. She could feel it chilly about her shoulders, like a shroud, and the darkness in which they stood was no longer comforting, but distorted and angry. A truck roared past, hot air wafting over her, and she shivered. She felt dirty.

"Were you two ever..." She couldn't finish the sentence. "I...I just need to know. About you and her. I don't want to compete with her...I don't know if I could compete with her."

"I haven't thought about Relena in years," he replied, but there was an odd quality to his voice. "What does she have to do with any of this?"

"Wing, you talk in your sleep," Atsuki said. "You've mentioned her name...I just wondered. At first I didn't believe it could be the same Relena, but when I put two and two together..."

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"Fine," she said. "If that's how you want it."

He snorted. "I've never slept with her, if that's what you mean."

"Do you think that's all I care about?" she demanded.

His eyes glittered hard and dark in the streetlight and she felt like she hardly knew him. "How should I know?"

She grabbed his arms, lifting herself up on her tiptoes, catching him off guard. There was a flash of something in his eyes, quickly smoldered. "Wing, I love you. You know that and nothing is going to change that. But you need to make up your mind."

"What are you talking about?" He sounded bewildered now, and a little hurt. "I told you, Relena...I haven't thought about her. Since the end of the War...we were partners during it, I suppose, if you could call it that. But nothing more."

"If that's how you want it," she said again.

"Call me a liar, if that's how you want it," he returned, his tone hard. "Why are you so fucking difficult, Atsuki? Take me at my word, for once."

"I always do," she said softly, bringing her face close to his and kissing him in the shadow of the moonlight, quickly, then releasing him. The scar was ridged and ugly in the dim light and she reached out, traced it with her fingers, removing them as he jerked his face away. "That's the problem."

"Atsuki-"

"Choose one," she said. "One or the other. You can't have both."

"You're not making sense."

"I need to go," she responded quietly. "It was nice...it was nice talking to you. I'll be with the Winners, if you need me."

It hurt to leave him standing there watching her go, because so many things had changed and yet so many things were still the same, and neither of them had been the same people they had been. Because she knew that he wouldn't come after her unless she asked him to, and she was too proud to do that.

The clock on her wall read just after eleven when she opened the door to her room. The hallway was empty and the cracks under the doors to all of the rooms were dark, and when she checked the machine for messages, there were none.

 
Scene III: The Letter of the Law

The papers were strewn around the room, and four Winners were browsing through them intently. Yaminah and Aisha were working side-by-side, Quatre was reading through old legal precedents, and Lilah -no, Atsuki- was sitting on a chaise flipping idly through some papers without really looking at them.

Quatre spared a glance for his wayward sister. He wasn't quite sure what to do with her- she was nothing like the quiet girl he remembered. This Atsuki -it was becoming easier to think of her by her self-appointed name- was a wild child. Her emotions blazed fast and furious, and it seemed that she was unconsciously doing her best to make his life even more difficult. He'd heard reports of her visiting Relena the day before, and her vanishing act when she should have joined them for dinner had upset Jaffa- and Jaffa was the LAST member of the family you wanted to annoy.

Still, she had shown up in the morning, volunteering to help with whatever. Her offer had immediately been welcomed by Aisha, who handed over a huge stack of newspaper clippings that she wanted organized by date and subject. Atsuki was complying with something shy of enthusiasm, but she was doing work.

"Well, what do you think of this?" Aisha was murmuring.

"That's Soviet legal precedent, love," Yaminah answered. "You want either American, European- WESTERN European, Arabian or Global. Right now the only thing I've found is the Nuremberg Trials right after the second World War... not what we want."

"I don't see the point," Atsuki said finally. "Some of this stuff is hundreds of years old- how in hell can that help get Quat and W- I mean, Quat off?"

Quatre heard the slip, and wondered. Had Atsuki known Wufei? He had a hard time picturing it- the woman his sister was didn't mesh well with the mental image he maintained of the Chinese pilot. But it had been a while, so...

He shook his head. Now was not the time for idle speculation. His preliminary hearing date had been set for three days hence, and he wasn't looking forward to it. He felt like a victim of a witch hunt. And the fact that it was Fatima who was leading the charge didn't help. She would be an implacable foe- she hated him on a personal level.

In a way, he respected her hatred of him more then the hatred of those who were merely prejudiced against him for his perceived crimes during the war. He'd done many things he hadn't been proud of, but it had been war. People died in war.

He hated being a scapegoat.

The door swung inwards and he looked up, surprised to see another of his sisters enter. Dr. Juju Winner was a respected geneticist and scientist- he hadn't seen her since the family had met prior to his global disclosure. Her red hair was braided back intricately, setting off her bronze skin and deep gray eyes to perfection. She was the family's only redhead.

"Juju?" he asked in surprise.

"I had something I wanted to talk to you about." Her voice was low and sensual, and he knew that she would roll her r's. She spent a lot of time in Latin America, and had picked up an accent because of it.

"Sure thing," he said, sliding over so she could sit on the couch beside him.

She took her seat like a queen taking her throne, then looked at Quatre, her gray eyes grave. "I know I've never been much help, but I think I have something that could help you this time."

"What?" Quatre asked, trying to remember her discipline. She was a scientist, and there was no way science could help his case. He was guilty; the question was to determine if his actions constituted a war crime.

Juju looked down into her hands. "I spend a lot of time of the net... I've even met a few... acquantainces. People who can be bought, and have the skills to make computers dance."

"Huh?" Aisha said, coming over to her younger siblings. "You want to get a hacker?" She knelt down on the floor, tucking her feet neatly beneath her.

"If we contacted them... we'd be able to get this done a lot faster... and maybe even screw Fatima over while were at it. If she's dealing with some legal issues of her own, then she's bound to be slightly distracted...."

"Juju!" Aisha exclaimed. "We're not going to break the law!"

Her eyes hardened, deepening in color. "Why bother when the laws are unjust?"

"Juju!" This time it was Quatre exclaiming. "You have to work from within the system if you want things changed!"

"Really..." Her raised eyebrow threw a mocking question at Quatre.

"We have a system to work within! If they decide I'm guilty, then I'll take it, since that's what I fought for."

"But you're not guilty of a crime! Will they punish all soldiers for following orders?" Juju rose to her feet, tall and graceful. "I can see you're not going to agree, but... I can give you the contact information. Aidoru is due in a certain hole at a certain time- I know that you're a good enough hacker to find him...."

Aidoru...the idol...Named by the cyber police for a cyberpunk fantasy book written four hundred years ago, Aidoru was rumored to be the best hacker in generations. No security measures were able to prevent the hacker from getting in.

Quatre choked slightly as he recognized the name. "Juju, Aidoru is the number one on the cyber police's Most Wanted list! How the hell do you know him?"

"Quatre... you really don't want to know."

He looked at her. "Why don't you report him, then?"

She snorted. "To whom? My political philosophy is as close to anarchy you can get. Besides, he'd get away, be able to trace me as the whistle blower, and then he'd destroy me. I've seen him do it before, and its not pretty. He can erase you from existence- no bank accounts, no comp accounts, no records... he's a vengeful bastard, but I think he could help. He's very much against the World Nation- I think he's an anarchist."

Which would explain how they met, Quatre thought. Juju had a reputation in the family for her radical political beliefs. If she hadn't been such a good doctor, their father might have disowned her as well.

"Thank you for the suggestion, but I want to handle this in court." He smiled, touching her hand in reassurance. "It'll be ok," he promised.

She nodded, and started for the door. "If you change your mind..."

Three hours later he was wondering if she was right. The political system was certainly corrupt. It was true that there were people like Relena and Une, but there were also the Fatimas as well. It was depressing to consider what had replaced the Federation- the World Nation was supposed to be something better, but scum always seemed to rise to the top.

His other sisters had left for lunch, but he had declined their invitation. He hadn't been hungry for days. He would be damned if they'd take him down without a fight, but he was starting to wonder if he even had a chance, or if this was simply a farce set up to appease the letter of the law.

Quatre sighed as he started to thumb through a pile of precedents from the founding of the colonies. The legal jargon was incredibly dry, and he was just about to call it quits for a while when footsteps sounded down the hall.

"Aisha?" he called, wondering why his sisters would be back from lunch so early.

He had turned around in his chair, preparing to ask her what was wrong, when the footsteps stopped and the face of a man peered around the corner.

"I thought I would find you here," the stranger said.

...or perhaps not so much a stranger. With a shock, Quatre realized who it was. The face had thinned, becoming even more angular, if that was possible. The silky black hair was longer, falling in a familiar ponytail to mid-back, but he'd gained little in the way of height. His body had become more sculpted, losing the last traces of childhood.

He swallowed. "Wufei?"

The Asian man -not a boy any longer- entered the room, and Quatre found himself rising to his feet. His normal instinct would have been to hug his friend, but Wufei was not one for tactile contact, no matter how long the separation had been. "Hello, Quatre," he said, nodding his head graciously. "It's been a while."

Quatre gave him a blindingly bright smile. "It's been too long! I never thought I'd see you here, of all places."

Wufei shot him a level, if polite gaze, and Quatre lowered his eyes, realizing that they were both older and neither of them were the boys they had been during the war. There was an awkward pause.

"So, um..." Quatre said at last, trying to think of something they could talk about. Something they had in common. He couldn't come up with anything.

Wufei's smile was only slightly forced. "I don't want to disturb you, if you're working..." he gestured at the papers. "But they told me you were here, so I decided to come let you know I was here as well."

Quatre shook his head rapidly. "No, no! I've been worried that an extremist group had gotten to you... or one of the others. I'm so glad to see you're all right!"

Wufei nodded slowly. "I guess I am..." His pensive expression belied his reassurance.

"What's wrong?" Quatre asked, forgetting the awkwardness for a moment. He'd always been the observant one, watching out for his comrades' emotions and mental state.

Wufei gave a slight half-smile. "I'm not the one you should have worried about."

"Who?"

"Heero..."

Quatre shut his eyes slowly, and inhaled deeply. "Is he here, too?"

"Yes... or what's left of him..."

"Don't be cryptic!" Quatre said, alarmed. "We don't have time for that...What's wrong with Heero?"

Wufei sank to the floor, assuming a lotus position without any thought or effort. His right hand rested on his knee, the fingers dancing nervously over the white silk of his pants. Quatre sat down beside him, used to it. It was much like the time he had spent among his relatives' tents in the deserts... furniture was a luxury. "Yuy seems to have spent the time since the war as an assassin... in the Breaks. He's totally fried his mind with more mood altering substances then I care to contemplate. He didn't even recognize me... and he doesn't remember any of you, even Duo. And you know how close the two of them were."

"Heero did that?" Quatre asked in disbelief. The blonde looked at Wufei. He and the pilot of Shenlong had never been particularly close -Wufei had never been close to any of them, for that matter- but he trusted him as he trusted few others.

"I swear that I don't know him anymore." The other pilot sounded hesitant, something he had never been back in the old days. "His memories are little better than swiss cheese, and his current taste in companions... leave something to be desired. He actually tried to kill me."

"What?!" Quatre exclaimed again. He inched closer to Wufei, placing a hand on the Chinese man's shoulder. "How??"

Wufei's expression was one of weary amusement. "That was my reaction when I recognized him. I was amazed I was able to win- he was always better then I was, but he attacked with hand-to-hand weapons, rather then a gun. If he'd remembered me, he would have known that was a mistake."

Quatre nodded. Wufei was a martial arts expert. If Heero had been thinking, or really wanted Wufei dead, he would have selected a way to remove him from a distance.

"He's not up to his old skill level. He's still good, but not as good. The old Heero would take down this new one in seconds."

"I see," said Quatre quietly. "I'm glad you're all right."

"So am I," Wufei said. He looked down at his hands. "I was just released from the hospital, actually. Not for that," he said hurriedly, when Quatre looked alarmed again. "A bad case of exhaustion, that's all. I just needed some sleep and food."

"That's good," the former Sandrock pilot said fervently, for the first time realizing that the thinness of Wufei's face was not entirely due to the maturing of his features. "You don't look well. Maybe you should go get some more rest?"

Wufei shrugged. "I'm fine. The hospital was stifling. I needed to get out...I needed to talk to...a pilot. A sane one."

Quatre swallowed. "I'm not quite sure I'm even that anymore."

"What's going on?" Wufei asked sharply, and Quatre found himself spilling out everything about the breaking of the Gundam news, the attacks, his flight and capture and subsequent release, Fatima and Jaffa and Atsuki. When he finished, he found that he was trembling, as if all the strain of the past few weeks had suddenly caught up with him.

"I'm just...so tired, you know?" he mumbled. "I don't know what to do anymore. What's right and what's wrong. Juju offered to help me by using a hacker...and I almost accepted. I'm that desperate."

There was a moment of silence and then he was shocked to feel Wufei slide an arm around his shoulders and give him a quick, short pat on the back. He glanced over at the Chinese pilot, and though the other wouldn't meet his eyes, it was enough.

"You've changed, Wufei," he said, unable to hide the surprise from his voice.

"So have you," the other returned. "Perhaps for the better. Which is more than I can say for the rest of us."

Quatre managed a wry grin. "Thanks."

He saw the corner of Wufei's lips twitch in return. "I know we've never been close, Quatre," he said, "but you and I both know that we can't do this alone. None of us can."

"So... what does this all mean? Duo and Trowa are still missing, Heero's out of it... I'm about to be tried as a war criminal, Une and Relena are fighting political battles..."

"It leaves us with our backs against the wall," Wufei said, his smile widening. "Just like old times- and just like old times, we'll fight even better for it."

 
Scene IV: Upholding the Lantern of the Damned

 
He'd booked an early shuttle out of Milan for Geneva the following day, but even as he started off for the airport at a brisk walk, Trowa wondered if he should really bother.

He had figured it would be best to get out of Milan in case anyone started asking questions. The Italian police were savvy, having dealt with the Mafia for centuries, and though he knew he could probably outwit the best policeman alive, it wasn't really worth the trouble. Besides, he had no reason to stay in Milan. Even if the police didn't come looking for him, the Mafia would, whether to recruit him or to kill him. He didn't want to be there when that happened. Those ties, back in the days where he had been Nanashi, nobody, were ties that he hadn't wanted to remember.

But now, for the first time, Trowa wondered if he had done the right thing.

Well, it was too late now. It was still early morning and there were few cars out on the road, but he hugged the shadows of the buildings tightly as the sun began to rise over the horizon. He'd put on a hat to conceal his easily recognizable haircut, and had a pair of sunglasses on just in case. To complete the disguise, he'd exchanged his formerly bulky traveler's pack for an old backpack, in which he kept his spare change of clothes and some food. Along with a battered pair of sneakers and jeans and a t-shirt, he could be any college student out for an early morning study session or perhaps embarking on a cross-continent trip to spend the summer with family.

It was a wistful thought, but he didn't really envy those who did have those privileges. Trowa Barton was a soldier first and foremost. He had to remember that.

The airport gates were already bustling with activity. He slipped through one of the checkpoints easily, trotting to the baggage check and waited patiently in line to place his backpack on the moving belt. Security was tight nowadays, with people frightened of the "Gundam terrorists," and it took almost twenty minutes for him to finally get to the counter. The lady behind the desk stared at him for a moment, as if looking for a way to detain him, but he pretended not to notice behind his dark glasses, hoping she would lose interest. She did after a few seconds, and he stepped into the body scan, again waiting as the machine analyzed his body data.

The attendant finally nodded and opened the door to let him pass, and he collected his backpack, slightly amused that the tough security measures had let the real Gundam pilot get away. One obstacle down.

He'd managed to get a fake ID for a cheap price back in Bangkok, and he slipped it into the electronic ticket machine at the terminal entrance. The machine blinked, then beeped once. His name and identification information scrolled down the screen. Kevin Leger, 18 years, American, University student.

He punched in his ID code and there was a whirring sound as the machine spat out his shuttle ticket. 0800 hours departure time to Geneva, Switzerland, FS seat. FS for futsusha, coach seat, one of the many Japanese loanwords which had gradually filtered into the international traveling vocabulary. Trowa scanned the ticket once more, then logged out of the machine, retrieved his card, and headed towards the waiting area.

There weren't many people at the terminal gate at this hour of the morning, though not many people in their right minds, he would expect, would want to go to Geneva with all that was going on. A frail-looking old woman was nodding off in a seat near the window while two little girls played in excited whispers at her feet. There was another couple seated at the far end of the waiting room eating breakfast. A lone boy wearing a ski hat sat a little ways off, nervously bouncing his pack on his knees. His face was screwed up in a frown and he looked tense.

Trowa slid into one of the closer seats, looking at his ticket again, then at the clock on the wall. It read 0730 hours, 30 minutes until takeoff and probably at least ten until boarding. He stared out the window, watching the shadowy reflection of passing people on the glass, seeing the bright silver bodies of the airplanes and shuttles gleam in the rising sun. It hurt to watch, and he turned his face away.

The seconds ticked by slowly, and he got up, slinging his pack onto his shoulders. He had to go to the bathroom and there were still five more minutes to spare. Following the picture signs, he found the men's room and proceeded to take care of business, emerging from the stall and starting to wash his hands when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the nervous boy from the waiting room entering the bathroom. Trowa turned off the water and moved over to the hand dryers, and as he did so, his foot slipped on a puddle of water. He felt himself starting to trip, quickly caught himself, but the sunglasses came loose and clattered to the tiled floor.

He reached for them, but another hand was there first. "Here you go," the boy said, straightening to hand them to him, and then froze.

"YOU!"

Trowa blinked, then realized that the boy was staring, horrified, at his uncovered face.

Oh shit.

He lunged for the door, but the boy was ahead of him, and before he knew it, there was the cold sensation of a stun-gun pressed to his skull.

"One move," the boy said in American-accented English, "and I'll kill you."

He saw their reflections in the mirror, the boy's face white with terror, holding the stun-gun in a shaking hand, his own calm, composed expression left carefully blank. Inside, his mind was racing, trying to figure out how the hell he could have been so stupid. That boy had been watching him...to think about it, that boy had been there ahead of him at the baggage check line too...perhaps even farther back?

He could feel the boy trembling beside him. This child was no threat to him as far as strength or expertise was concerned, but untrained terrorists were in many ways more dangerous than they appeared, and he was about to take no chances.

"What do you want?" he said, as calmly as he could.

"You're Trowa Barton. Aren't you?" The boy was breathing heavily. Trowa stood very still. "Aren't you?" the boy shrilled, pressing the gun down on his head.

"Yes," Trowa said. "Who are you?"

"Don't play word games with me! If you move, I'll...I'll kill you!"

Trowa doubted the boy would act on his word, but one never knew. Better safe than sorry. "I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly. "What do you want?"

"I want you dead, you bastard," the boy spat, the nervousness of his voice accenting the roughness of his words. "You don't deserve to live."

"Then kill me," Trowa said. He was still facing the mirror and he saw the boy's eyes dart frantically from side to side, as if looking around for help from someone else. Interesting...a green untrained boy sent by someone to kill him. By who?

"Don't-Don't change the subject!"

"You're the one who wants to kill me," Trowa said in a reasonable tone. The minutes were ticking away. They were probably boarding now. Ah well. A wasted ticket. "I wouldn't do it in the airport if I were you. It'd be pretty messy, and then you'd just get yourself in more trouble."

"SHUT UP!" the boy screamed, but Trowa could hear his breathing grow heavier. If someone were to come into the bathroom just then...

But apparently the boy had already thought of that. "Let's go. We're leaving."

"Where are we going?"

"Shut up and walk!" the boy snapped angrily, jabbing him in the head with the gun one more time. "If you try anything-"

"I know, I know," Trowa said wearily. "You'll kill me. Which way?"

"Right," the boy said coldly as they emerged from the bathroom. He turned right down the long terminal corridor, passing people trying to get onto the moving walkway. Funny, how he had just ridden that same moving walkway down to the terminal of the shuttle that he would never take now.

Catherine.

"Hurry up!" the boy hissed from behind him.

They emerged out of the airport into the early sunlight, passing back through the checkpoint gates, and the boy flicked out the gun again, jabbing him in the ribs. "Left. Don't argue."

The rundown neighborhood near the airport was a maze of streets and rickety houses, and he just barely managed to keep track of the twists and turns, though someone less trained probably couldn't have. The boy poked the gun back into his ribs every so often when they came to a turn, but other than that they both were silent. He wondered what lay in store for him.

"What-" he began, but the boy jabbed him in the ribs again.

"Shut up."

One more turn and then the boy stopped before a large sewer cover, glancing around furtively before lifting it with some effort. It banged onto the cobblestones and he motioned with the gun. Trowa crouched down, trying to peer into the blackness, but a boot came down hard in his face and he lost his grip, tumbling back into the sewer and landing hard with a loud splash.

The water wasn't too deep, but it was enough to wet his pack and the rest of him that had fallen into it, and it smelled, very prominently, of waste. The sewer lid closed above him with a sharp bang, cutting off the daylight. He stood up with a sigh, trying not to breathe, as the boy dropped down lightly next to him.

"Let's go," he said.

This was beginning to get very tiresome, but rough hands pushed him forward and he began walking again blindly through the darkness, wondering if he shouldn't just overpower his captor in the dark and make his way back to the airport. The flight he'd booked was probably long gone by now, but he could always get another. He stopped and turned around, started to lunge for the other's throat, but some strange impulse gripped him and he stepped back, let his hands fall limply to his sides, squeezing them into frustrated fists.

"Keep going!" The boy shrilled, as if suddenly realizing that in the dark, even with a gun, he was no match for a former Gundam pilot.

I could have gotten him. I could have killed him then. Stop, Trowa. Stop. Turn around. This is ridiculous.

No...I can't. He's too young...I...

You bombed a terrorist hideout last night. You're a soldier. An assassin. You've been doing this all your life. You don't have to kill him. Just knock him out and take his gun.

But I-

What's wrong with you? He's going to kill you! Do it!

He saw a light suddenly bloom in the far distance and the dialogue in his mind faded as he stumbled towards the brightness, wanting to just get out of the darkness. The slimy sewer water swirled about his legs, seeping into the cracks of his worn tennis shoes and curling like snakes around his feet. As they approached, he saw that the light was coming from a small round opening in the wall of the sewer, just large enough to fit a man's body and reachable by a metal ladder.

"Climb," The boy said, as if Trowa was incapable of doing even that. He gritted his teeth, adjusted his soaking pack on his shoulders, and scaled the ladder quickly, swinging one foot and then the other through the hole and dropping to the ground below in a crouch.

The room was small and dim but there was daylight nonetheless coming through slits in the sides of the walls. A basement of some kind? The stench from the sewer was still present, though in less quantity, and he let himself stand dripping on the dry floor as the boy squeezed himself through the hole and motioned with the pistol.

"Sit there. Over there."

Trowa moved quietly to the corner to which the boy gestured wildly, watching curiously as the other rummaged through some drawer and drew out a pair of rusted handcuffs.

"Take off your pack."

He let the boy handcuff his hands behind him and then push him roughly to the floor, where he sat with his back against the wall. His young captor began to move towards the door, then stopped suddenly, biting his lip, gun wavering.

"What are you going to do with me?"

"Shut the fuck up," the boy shot back. "I'm going to go get the chief, and then we'll see how big you talk then! You better not move till I get back!" With that, he unhinged the heavy wooden door at the opposite end of the room, slamming it behind him. Trowa heard the sounds of chains being fastened and then all was quiet.

"I missed my plane," he said to the empty air.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he heard were the sounds of the chains being unfastened from the door, and he sat up, expecting an unfamiliar face, but instead the same boy entered the room, shutting the door and staring at him.

"Where's your chief?"

The boy looked lost for a few moments, and Trowa could see him screwing up his courage. "They're not here. But they'll be back! And then you'll see!" The gun was back in his hand again.

Trowa sighed heavily. "Look. I'm not going to run. I just want an explanation."

"There's nothing to explain, you murderer!"

Trowa blinked. "Murderer?"

"Don't play innocent!" The boy yelled. "I know you! You just like killing, don't you? The more people the better! People are just playthings to you, aren't they? AREN'T THEY?"

"I don't quite-" Trowa began, but the boy's eyes filled with tears and he bunched his fists, his face contorting with rage.

"You bastard! You killed my sister!"

Trowa stared at him.

"She was an OZ pilot...she was killed by the Gundams." The boy raised his face, wet with tears, hurt and rage quivering in his voice. "It was you, wasn't it? Cold blooded murderers - that's all the military is! That's all they'll ever be!"

"I wasn't-" Trowa said, a little more firmly, but the boy's words tumbled on like an avalanche.

"Shut up! If you ever had a sister, you'd understand!"

"I do-"

"This is all your fault! You've ruined my life, you son of a bitch, and I'm going to make you PAY!"

"I-" Trowa said again, alarmed, but the boy was rushing forward and he tried to throw his hands up to protect himself before he realized they were handcuffed. "Stop!" he yelled, feeling the boy's weight fall suddenly on top of his, and then pain exploded in his head, bright red bursts one after the other, as he felt the cold, hard, metal butt of the gun slamming against his skull.

"DIE! DIE! DIE!"

"Stop!" Trowa cried again, and he tried to stand up, to throw the boy off him, but it had been a while since he had practiced hand to hand combat, especially when he didn't have any hands. He stumbled forward one step and then the boy tackled him again, throwing him against the wall. He staggered and fell, hitting his head on the way down against a hard metal panel, throwing his assailant off him again as he went with one hard jerk.

There was a snap and then a female voice filled the room.

"-nd your name is?"

Both of them paused, startled, and Trowa blinked, trying to see clearly through his pain-fuzzed vision. The sound was coming from an ancient-looking television set on the table across the room. His mind went back to the metal panel he'd fallen against, and he realized that he must have triggered the on switch for the television. The speaker was a crisp-looking woman, fashionably but sensibly dressed, holding a microphone. Trowa recognized her: Vanessa Curtis, one of the reporters who did biographies of the famous on the international news network.

The camera shifted to her companion, and his mouth dropped open. He blinked rapidly, convinced that he was seeing things, but as the girl started to speak, there was no doubt.

"My name is Catherine Bloom. Trowa Barton is my brother."

"Cat?" he whispered.

He heard the boy's harsh breathing, heard him struggling to sit up, and braced himself for the next round of attacks, but nothing happened.

"We're here today to hear Catherine's account of her brother," Vanessa Curtis said on the television, "the one most of us know only as the Gundam pilot 03. Catherine, tell us a little about him."

"Well," Catherine said, turning a thoughtful, sweet face to the screen. "The best word to describe Trowa, I think, would be loyal." She paused. "Trowa's always true to everything he believes in. You won't find anyone who's more trustworthy, more honest and kind. He keeps his promises. But that doesn't mean he's misguided," she continued, her eyes hardening. "Characterizing someone like Trowa as a blind follower is as far from the truth as you can get. Trowa's not a coward. He'll stand up for what he believes, but not until he's sure that what he believes is right."

"Ms. Bloom, describe your relationship with your brother."

Catherine's face softened a bit. "Trowa...we're both circus performers, so most of our time is spent rehearsing routines and getting ready for the next show. He's a hard worker, but he also knows when to wind down. I'd like to say that I take care of him, as the older sibling, but really, he takes care of me just as much too. It's...it's hard to explain, I guess."

"Explain what you mean by 'take care'," Vanessa said.

"Well, I don't really mean 'take care' as in he buys me things or anything like that. Though he does on occasion...but I'm more the one doing that. He has a strong set of values and a strong code of honor that the military has fostered in him. I suppose you could say that he's like my conscience, in a way. He's a very simple person...Trowa isn't concerned with material wants or needs. He's more concerned about the heart."

Vanessa pursed her lips. "That makes him sound like a little bit of a passive type, Ms. Bloom."

Catherine's eyes flashed. "There's no way that Trowa is passive. If he sees something he knows is wrong, he'll take action right away."

"I see," Vanessa said. "What about his actions in the war?"

Catherine paused for a second. "I hate war," she said firmly. "I hate it. It killed my family and nearly killed me and Trowa as well. There's no way that I'd condone any kind of war. But Trowa isn't me. He's a fighter. He saw what was needed to be done...he saw that this war was tearing apart the lives of not only the people on the colonies but the people on the Earth as well, and he knew that he needed to do something to stop it. Trowa didn't fight because he enjoyed fighting or killing. He fought because it was the right thing to do!"

"So you're saying," Vanessa said thoughtfully, "that you hate war, yet you condone your brother's actions?"

"I hate war," Catherine said, speaking directly to the camera, her gaze honest and piercing, "but I believe that sometimes, war is necessary. Only then will people realize the true treasure of peace. Trowa is, I believe, one such person."

Vanessa opened her mouth again, but there was a quiet click and the TV screen went blank. Trowa glanced up to see the boy standing quietly, one hand on the switch and the other still holding the stun-gun but hanging loosely at his side.

"Was that true?"

"The interview?"

"The girl," the boy replied. "Catherine. Was she really your sister?"

"Yes," Trowa said. "She was."

"Oh," the boy said, falling silent.

Trowa sat down heavily again, feeling his head start to throb, but he ignored it. He'd suffered through much worse and lived. A fractured skull wasn't going to keep him down.

"Was that true?" the boy asked at last, a bit timidly. "What your sister said. About you fighting."

"I suppose it was," Trowa said thoughtfully. He glanced at the boy standing there, his posture helpless and hopeless, and felt a wave of pity. "You know..."

The boy raised his head. There was no emotion now in the blank eyes, only emptiness, the eyes of someone who had nothing left to live for.

"You know," Trowa said again. "Going to war isn't as much of a conscious decision to go out and kill people as it is an act of courage to stand up for what you believe." He paused, thought. "I saw what needed to be done, and I did it. If I had to kill in order to accomplish it...then I would, but I never once pressed the trigger and enjoyed it. I knew that I was going out there to either kill or be killed, and I was prepared for the consequences of either of those actions, because the cause that I fought for was stronger than love of my own life."

The boy said nothing.

"I believed that with all my soul. The other Gundam pilots did too. As did, I think, your sister."

"So it doesn't matter then?" the boy mumbled bitterly. "The people you leave behind don't matter? As long as you're doing what you think is right, then it doesn't matter if you hurt those who love you?"

"It hurts," Trowa said softly. "There's no way around that. But...if they really loved you...I think they'd understand, why you did it."

In the silence that followed, neither of them moved. The boy was still breathing heavily, little gasping sobs in his throat. Trowa opened his mouth and was about to speak, but there were suddenly voices far away down the hallway outside the door, voices and footsteps.

The boy froze, then flew to the desk, rummaging around in the drawer and drawing out a keyring, racing back to Trowa and forcing him to bend down as he fumbled with the handcuffs. A click and he could move his arms forward again. He turned and saw his pack flying towards him, catching it as it slammed into his chest.

"They're going to Geneva," the boy said, moving across the room and talking quietly over his shoulder. Trowa could see another door there, one that he hadn't previously noticed. "They're going to attack. You'd better go warn your friends."

"What-" he began, but the boy was unlocking the door with another key on the keyring and beckoning him inside frantically.

"Hurry! Take two left turns and then a right and another left and you'll see a flight of stairs that'll lead you back outside."

Trowa looked at the boy, then at the door. The footsteps sounded closer. "Oliver? Oliver, are you in there?"

"Hurry!" the boy hissed.

Trowa moved to the door, putting one hand on the handle, preparing to draw it to. "Why?" he asked softly.

"I..." the boy said, but a knock sounded on the other door, and the last thing Trowa saw was the boy's tear-filled eyes as he pushed the door shut. Light streamed in through more of the slitted windows at the tops of the walls and he stared at the door, listening to the murmured exchanges of voices through the heavy wood before he turned and started down through the maze of tunnels.

It wasn't until he had emerged back into the morning sunlit world above that he realized that for all he'd vowed to protect his sister, it was she who had just saved his life.

 
Act VII Part IV | Act VIII Part II | Back to Sainan no Kekka