Gundam Wing is property of Sotsu Agency, Bandai
Studios, and TV Asahi. Sainan no Kekka and all
original characters and plot copyright 2000 by
Quicksilver and Gerald Tarrant. Please ask permission
before reposting. 
 
SHIN KIDOU SENKI GUNDAM WING 
SAINAN NO KEKKA
ACT VII, PART II 
  
I just feel rhythm emotion
Ayamachi mo itami mo
Azayaka na isshun no hikari e to michibiite 
I just feel rhythm emotion
Kono mune no kodou wa
Anata e to tsuzuiteru so faraway 
Sou shinayaka ni ima o suhada de uketomete
Motto yasashisa mitsuketai yo
I just feel rhythm emotion
Mistakes and pain
Guide us towards a moment of light 
I just feel rhythm emotion
The beat of my heart
Carries to you so faraway 
By taking in the present more
I want to discover kindness
--Gundam Wing, Rhythm Emotion
[Second TV opening theme]
 
 *************************************************** 
Scene V: The Zero Speaks the Truth 
"Yeah, you don't hear the sounds I hear
Yeah, you don't feel the fear you fear."
-Fuel, Easy
***************************************************  

She shivered, pulling her sweater more tightly around
her body. He glanced at her, His eyes deeply violet in
the dim light of the cabin. That was something she had
loved about Him; the unpredictable way His eyes would
shift color with his moods. One second they would be
blue, like His official records said they were. The
next His eyes would be lavender, or gray, or even
verging on black. She had wondered how He had ever
become a terrorist- all you had to do was look into
his eyes to figure out what He was thinking. 

His arm was slung across her, and even though it was
going into summer, the cold air of the plane more then
made up for the date. She pressed herself into His
side, relieved for His warmth, listening to His breath
with relief. As long as He was breathing, it meant
that He was alive. 

She still had nightmares, about the falling Earth,
choosing to save it rather then Him. About Him being
betrayed by someone He trusted, and her not being able
to do anything about it. 

These friends of His, the ones who had known Him when
he had been a student, made her nervous. Shinobu had
depths to him that made her fingers ache for her gun,
to protect herself and Him- she didn't trust the
Japanese boy. He reminded her of Heero Yuy, for some
reason. 

And Heero had not been a person to put trust in, no
matter what He may have said. 

The other girl, the blond American.... raised more
ambivalent feelings. There was innocence there, and
she could tell that He knew that, but that He was, for
some reason, distancing Himself. That made her
nervous, for the girl raised no internal alarm, but if
He knew something she didn't... 

Well, she would trust him. Right now He was the only
thing she could trust. The Zero System hadn't lied
about that. 

The Zero System couldn't lie. 

It spoke the truth, no matter how painful. 

"You okay, Hil?" He asked, pressing her a little more
tightly against Him. He hadn't let her out of his
sight since the other had arrived, and she was
grateful. Perhaps since she knew that something
-someone- was going to betray him, she could protect
both him and the world. 

Their world. 

She loved the Earth, after all. She may have been a
colonist, but there was an instinctive desire for the
open skies and vast lands of their home world. Most
colonists felt it, no matter how loath they may have
been to admit it. "I'll be fine," she whispered,
huddling in closer, but keeping feverish eyes fastened
on the other two teens that sat across from them in
the deep chairs. 

Helena looked at them, nibbling on her lip. "I've
never been to Asia," she said. "My family doesn't
consider it important. Our financial interests are
heavily invested in United America and the European
Union." Her voice had the strain of someone trying to
make conversation, and fill the uneasy silence that
loomed like a dark specter. 

He looked slightly surprised. "That surprises me. I
would have though that your father would have sunk
some money into Japan. Their economy is booming." His
fingers unconsciously stroked Hilde's short purple
hair, and she relaxed into His touch. They were safe,
together. 

"He has some... political arrangements with the
Inomoyamas. That's their area, and if you want to stay
on their good side, you don't invest there unless
you're Asian. They're very much into nationalism,
which always struck me as sort of ridiculous." 

"National pride is nothing to be sneered at," Sally
said, coming in from the cockpit. "Having a sense of
identity is important." She leaned against the back of
His chair, and Hilde shivered at Sally's proximity,
nervous. She remembered how the surgeon had healed her
aboard the Libra a year and a half ago, but now she
held little trust in anyone except Him. She couldn't
even trust herself... after all, she had chosen the
Earth over Him in the Zero system, and the Zero spoke
the truth. 

Sally noticed her unease, and cast her a gentle smile,
taking a seat next to Helena instead. "Being part of a
nation is very important to some people, and keeping
those nations pure... well, many people would
sacrifice a lot to do that." 

He snorted his contempt, and His hand stilled. "Those
people are fools. No matter how you look at it, the
world has changed. The one thing the Gundams succeeded
in doing was uniting the population against the common
enemy, and no matter how much wishing they do, you
can't rewind the clock. The World Nation is the way of
the future." 

"Is it?" Sally said softly. "I wonder. A month ago, I
would have agreed with you, but Une is barely keeping
the Preventers together. She's fighting a war of many
fronts, and history tells us that fighting on too many
fronts usually leads to disaster. And if the
Preventers fall, the World Nation loses its teeth." 

"I thought they weren't related?" Shinobu asked. 

"The Preventers do most of the dirty work for the
World Nation. Right now Une is at odds with the
politicians, which doesn't bode good for anyone,
except the anarchists. Unless she's able to pull
things together soon..." Sally trailed off, leaving
them to draw their own conclusions. 

Hilde pretended to hide her face in His shirt, as she
watched Helena find her voice. It was sweet and
musical, yet full of confidence. It reminded her of
how she used to speak. Back when she had been
innocent. "Anarchists? What do anarchists have to do
with us getting the Gundams?" she wanted to know. 

Hilde could have cared less about the potential
collapse of the World Nation. One government was much
like any other as far as she was concerned. It was the
people who mattered. 

Sally answered quickly, a frown on her face. "They're
not actually directly involved, as far as our
intelligence services can tell. But they're taking
advantage of the chaos the news about the pilots'
identities caused. Anarchists, nationalists, the
remnants of Oz and White Fang- everyone. We tried to
pretend that the war just ended with a spectacular
battle by putting a cork on things, but the crack in
our facade is starting to show. We need to settle
things, really settle them this time. And make it a
solution everyone can live with." She glanced over at
Shinobu, obviously trying to find the words to say
something. 

His heartbeat was steady and reassuring, but she could
feel him tense, and saw his free hand (his right- he
had unconsciously maneuvered her to his left side so
that he was able to keep his weapon arm free when they
had original taken their seats) inch towards the top
of his boot, where he kept one of his guns. His
instincts where warning him of potential trouble, and
Hilde found herself shifting away so she wouldn't
block Him as she reached for the knife in her left
front pocket. 

Her blue-gray eyes looked around, wondering where the
tense atmosphere had come from. Helena was perfectly
unaware, but she thought she could see Sally breathing
more heavily, and there was a light in Shinobu's eyes
she didn't like. One wrong move, and someone would end
up dead. 

Sally finally spoke. "Shinobu... I have to ask you
something," she said, her voice level, betraying no
emotion whatsoever. 

No one was fooled, and even Helena went rigid.
Shinobu's dark eyes narrowed as he looked at the
Preventer General in an assessing fashion before
nodding slightly. "Hai?" 

"You're a smart man, so I won't lie to you. It's
S.O.P. to run background checks on people involved in
sensitive matters. We ran one on you, and the fact is,
according to records, you don't exist." 

Helena inhaled deeply and moving away from him
slightly, but Shinobu merely smiled. "I was expecting
that to be a matter of discussion," he stated quietly.


"Would you care to explain? I ran some tests on the
blood samples you were required to provide the school,
and you carry a few very interesting antibodies and
genetic mutations that suggest your origin." 

Hilde watched the unfolding scene carefully,
maintaining her calm. 

"It's easier for me to explain in Japanese. Duo,
translate for Helena, ne?" he asked, and He nodded
warily. Shinobu raked a hand through his black hair,
and he switched to Japanese. "None of us can chose the
circumstances of our birth, and I think I was born to
the wrong family. 

"I'm very sorry for lying to you, Duo, Helena, but I'm
not from Japan. At least not directly. I'm a
colonist." 

He laughed lightly. "Should've known. And if you're a
colonist, that means L1, what with a Japanese
background." 

"It's not that that's the problem. Matsuura Shinobu is
an assumed name. I was born Seki Takeru." 

"SHIT!" He exclaimed, falling into English. "Black
Diamond!" His gun was out suddenly, trained on the boy
who had been His friend. 

Hilde had reacted as well. Her knife was in her hand,
but she refrained from going for Shinobu's throat.
There was more to this story, she knew, and He would
regret it if they were hasty. He had a temper, and
relied on her to be the rational one. 

So she would be rational. 

"Wait," she said, speaking for the first time in
hours. 

The effect was remarkable. It was like dousing
everyone in cold water. They had almost forgotten her
presence, and the sudden insertion into the volatile
situation had prevented bloodshed, restoring balance. 

"Were you sent? As an assassin? Or did you come on
your own, for some other purpose?" She spoke slowly,
considering her words. 

Shinobu's eyes widened. "No! I'm not- I wasn't
involved in the Cartel! I was trying to escape!" He
looked down at his hands, and Hilde could almost taste
the pain in his next words. "I was trying to break
free." 

"So you used Black Diamond to locate Heero?" He asked,
still suspicious. 

Shinobu nodded, his features lacking blood. "My
grandfather didn't have to do too much work. Heero Yuy
has made a name for himself as an assassin." 

Helena shivered, looking out of place. The rest of
them knew the world, but she was an innocent.
Discussing assassins wasn't something she was used to.
Hilde almost felt pity for her. 

Almost. 

She just didn't have the time to worry about trivial
things anymore. 

He nodded, as though He had been expecting it. "Not a
surprise. He was always good at that, and it pays
well." 

"I'm surprised," Sally said. "I would have thought
he'd show a little more.... moral fiber." 

He laughed, a deep and bitter laugh that seemed to
come from his gut. "You don't understand us, Sally.
You may be a soldier, but we were Gundam pilots. Heero
needed to have a clear objective, and after the war...
well, what was there left for him? He was discarded,
useless. Obsolete. When the war ended, we became
relics. And the world saw the pilots as assassins and
killers, and he believed them." 

"He could have joined the Preventers- I could have
easily found him a place on my staff. And Relena
hasn't stopped looking for him since she met him!" 

Hilde remembered Relena, the blonde Queen who
passionately spoke for peace. Once she had considered
her great; now Hilde knew her to be a fool. The Zero
had pointed that out, after all. Peace was a dream, a
futile dream. 

It was Helena, surprisingly, who argued Sally's point.
"He doesn't know who he is. And that's hard. Being
told what to do is easier then finding yourself." 

"Then where are we going?" He demanded. "This shuttle
isn't space ready." 

"China," Sally and Shinobu said at the same time. 

"Why China?" 

Sally looked at Shinobu. "Because he's going after
Wufei. There's a contract on Wufei's head, and Heero
has taken it." 

"WHAT?!" He exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He stared
at them both in disbelief. "You've got to be wrong.
Shit! There's a mistake somewhere." 

Sally shook her head sadly. "I can't figure out why,
but my information comes from reliable sources." 

"So does mine," Shinobu agreed. "My grandfather was
the one who hired him." 

"Really. That bastard... when I get my hands on
him..." Sally looked like she was ready to strangle
someone. 

The Japanese boy just looked weary. "You're not the
only authority who'd love to catch him. Problem is
that there's no EVIDENCE against him. People aren't
crazy enough to go against the most powerful man in
the Breaks." 

He was shaking His head, pacing the cabin like a caged
leopard. "That's wrong! You don't get it! Wufei and
Heero were pilots! They -we- fought together! Heero
couldn't just decide to kill him- maybe he's going to
warn him! That has to be it!" 

He was being irrational, and Hilde knew it. "If Heero
accepted the mission, he will complete it," she
pointed out softly. 

He froze, going rigid. The gun he had been holding in
His hand clattered to the floor as He crumpled up into
a little ball, hugging His knees to his chest. "Damn
it," He whispered. "Why now?" 

Hilde forgot that there were others in the cabin. His
pain conveyed itself to her so well that she felt as
though she had developed empathy, the New Type
ability. She hurt with Him. 

She had been weak for the few days, fearing what the
Zero had warned her of, rather then confronting it and
using her newfound knowledge. Well, she wasn't going
to be weak any longer- Duo needed her. 

She crouched down beside him, wrapping her arms around
his warm body. "Shhhhhh," she said into his ear, "it's
going to be all right, my love," she promised, in an
uncanny role reversal. 

He leaned into her, though no tears fell from his
eyes. "I'm so tired, Hil," Duo whispered. "When is it
going to end?" 

"I don't know. But no matter what, I'll be by your
side," she promised. 

"Then everything will be ok," Duo answered, giving her
a heartfelt smile. 

She nodded in agreement, despite the fact that
everywhere she turned, she always thought she caught a
glint of silver out of the corner of her eye. And that
silver looked terrible familiar, like the blade of the
knife Duo held in trust for his best friend. 
 

*************************************************** 
Scene VI: The Interrogation of Innocence 
"I wake from a nightmare now
In the day it haunts me,
It slowly tears me apart."
--L'Arc~en~Ciel, Spirit Dreams Inside
*************************************************** 

The bed was way too large for his liking, the sheets
were too damn soft, the mattress was too un-lumpy, and
the light reflecting off the single chandelier that
cast a soft, luminous glow on the room was starting to
hurt his eyes. It was, Darkflight decided, throwing
another pillow to the floor, a bad deal all around. 

The older man had introduced himself as General Brown
after ushering him and Wufei off the landing pad into
the outbuilding. Wing was waiting for them in there, a
closed expression on his face. He had refused to look
at the blond girl, who kept giving him expressive
glances when she thought his eyes were directed her
way. Darkflight had watched them for most of the time
they were in there, looking from one to the other.
They had some connection�he was sure of that. He was
also sure that he'd seen the girl somewhere before. 

The general had given them the sparse basic facts: all
three of them were wanted men. He threw a look at
Darkflight which signified that he wasn't exactly sure
what Darkflight was wanted for, but since he was
traveling with the two former pilots, he was probably
dangerous. Darkflight wasn't sure how to take that. 

We've prepared rooms for you, the general said.
General Une has been notified of your arrival When she
gives us further instructions we'll notify you. Do you
have any questions? 

Darkflight had hundreds of questions, but he remained
silent, standing in the back of the room, letting
Wufei and Wing do the talking. The Chinese boy fired
off a rapid string of questions and Wing added several
of his own, all which consisted of terms which flew
right over Darkflight's head. Probably concerning
military and politics, he thought glumly. Things which
he knew nothing about. 

There seemed to be a lot of those lately. 

It seemed very long ago when he and Wing had been just
assassins. He remembered when he used to be the
expert, when he was considered important in the scheme
of things. Coming here had made him feel tiny,
inadequate. Wufei and Wing were the central players in
this game, and he was merely a pawn, called on when
needed, not understanding anything that went on behind
the scenes. 

Basically, he was worthless. 

But I made the right choice, he told himself,
smoothing the rumpled covers and climbing back into
the bed and surveying the pile of extra pillows and
throws on the floor. He stared at the far wall,
gripping the blanket tightly with both hands. Where
Wing goes, I go. I'm not going to leave him. 

Deep down, he knew that Wing didn't need him. That
Wing had in fact never needed him, and he had just
blinded himself to the fact. When it had been just the
two of them it had been so easy to pretend that he was
the one in charge, that he was the experienced one. 

He'd always known, somehow, that Wing was much more
than he seemed. 

Much more. 

He curled up under the blankets, smoothing the sheets
which still felt too soft and clean to be wrapped
around the body of someone like him. General Brown had
taken them into the main base by military car, and
Darkflight hadn't been able to do anything but gape.
Wufei had looked grim and Wing had stared at his hands
the whole time. He supposed they were both used to all
military installations, but Darkflight had grown up in
the Breaks. It had been the only home he had ever
known, with its collapsing houses and seedy bars, the
human and animal excrement piled on street corners and
worse fates lying in wait in the rotting shadows. 

The Preventers base was white. He had never seen so
much white in his life, white, gleaming, clean,
sparkling buildings. It was a sunny day, and the light
reflecting off the glass windowpanes was almost like
light bouncing off diamonds. The grass was cut, the
streets were clean. It was like something out of a
dream. When the general had shown them to their rooms,
he hadn't been able to do anything but stare. 

You have the wrong room, he wanted to say. I don't
belong here. 

They'd let him keep his weapons, though General Brown
had warned them all never to use them on base except
in emergency, and left him in the room, promising to
bring him some toiletries. He'd started by stripping
off his clothes and taking a long, hot bath in the
tub. It was the second time he could remember taking a
real bath, and spent the better part of the first
minute trying to remember how to work the tap. The
label on the soap bottle said something about a
Lavender scent. He'd spent several minutes struggling
to read the text, trying to decipher the directions,
then gave up and just poured half the bottle into the
tub. 

The clock had read 1846 hours when he had finally
stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped
around him, and the second thing he had done was to
test out the bed. It was entirely too decorative for
him, and he had remedied that problem by throwing most
of the pillows that were lined at the head of the bed
onto the floor, along with an extra blanket or two.
Removing the towel and throwing it carelessly on a
chair by the door, he'd made his way absently to the
drawers to look for clothes. Not surprisingly, there
weren't any. The general had promised to get them some
inconspicuous civilian clothing as soon as possible,
but for now all he had were his dirty clothes which
he'd been wearing for two weeks, and damned if he was
going to put them on again after that bath. 

There was a full-length mirror to the side of the
chest of drawers and he had stepped to the side,
glanced at his reflection in it. They hadn't had
mirrors in the Breaks, and the only glimpses he'd ever
caught of himself were in shards of broken glass or
the occasional cracked mirror in one of the bar
bathrooms. The first thing that struck him was how
thin he looked. There were dark circles under his eyes
and his hair stuck out in all places, still wet. He
quickly smoothed it down. Scars crisscrossed his
chest, with the largest one slanting diagonally across
from armpit to shoulder blade, faintly pink and raised
in the soft light. His ribs stuck out from his sides
under the muscle and the hollows under his cheekbones
were dark, shadowed. 

"I look a mess," he said to the mirror. 

He'd decided to go back to bed. The sun was just
beginning to go down outside and he rolled over,
looking out the window at the waning sunlight,
slanting purple and gold and brazen red through the
thin curtain. Back home, he and Wing would be just
waking up, perhaps to take another contract, perhaps
getting ready to hit the streets for a long night for
one reason or another. The nights were always long. 

The aching feeling hit him again, as it always did
when he thought about the Breaks. He didn't miss it,
not in the true sense of the word, but it ached. It
hurt, to think that he might never go back. That he
might never see it again. As far as he knew, he'd been
born there. He'd grown up there, that much he knew.
Had learned his trade there. His friends had died
there, and he had expected to die there as well. It
was a separate world, and he hated it and loved it at
the same time, missed it with an aching hatred. 

He wasn't wanted here. He could see that. 

He should have gone home, like Wing said. Just gone
home. But if he had gone home, it wouldn't have been
the same either. 

Darkflight drew his legs to his chest, feeling his
heartbeat thump slow and steadily against his thighs,
closing his eyes and letting the tears fall to the
pillow silently. He was tired but he couldn't sleep.
The bed was just too soft, the sheets too clean. 

Climbing out of the bed, he dragged a blanket out of
the pile of pillows, spread it out on the floor, and
lay down, wrapping himself up in it. 

He awoke to the sound of a light knocking on the door.
Instincts instantly alert, his eyes darted around the
room, which was fully dark now, with the light of the
moon shining faintly through the window. For a second
he panicked, not recognizing his surroundings, then
relaxed as he remembered. The knocking stopped,
started again. He rolled out of the blanket and began
to climb to his feet, realized with a start that he
was still naked, and wrapped the blanket around his
waist. 

Opened the door. 

"Yes?" 

It was an Asian woman, dressed in a Preventers
uniform, with some sort of insignia on her
shoulderboards. Rank, Darkflight supposed. She looked
dubiously at him, eyes going to the towel, then to his
unkempt hair, then back to his face. She opened her
mouth, said something in English. Darkflght blinked. 

"What?" 

She didn't look surprised, simply said in Japanese,
"General Une would like to see you in her office." 

He blinked at her. "Me?" 

"Yes, you." She sounded tired. "Can you be ready in
five minutes? I'm to take you there." 

'I don't have any-" he began, but she shoved a bundle
at him and stepped to the side. 

"I'll be waiting here. Come out when you're ready."
Clearly a dismissal. 

He gaped at her for a second, about to tell her that
no one ever spoke like that to him, but then
remembered that this was a military base and the wrong
move could get him in more trouble than he could ever
hope to get out of. So he simply nodded and closed the
door, switching on the light. 

The package contained clothes, a shaving kit, a
toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb, and a pair of
shoes. He put on the blue shirt, shrugging his arms
into the crisp, pressed sleeves and then awkwardly
buttoned the buttons. Shoved his legs through the
black pants and tucked the shirt in, slid into the
shoes. Looking into the small mirror in the bathroom,
he slicked his hair down with water as best as he
could, running a comb through it. He had only used a
comb a few times, and it took him several tries to get
his hair where he wanted it to go. Stepped back into
the bedroom and looked a little hesitantly into the
mirror. 

The boy in the neat looking clothes wasn't him. He
reached out and touched his reflection. The material
of the clothing felt scratchy against his skin and he
looked longingly at his old, worn clothes, lying
discarded on the chair. 

Another rapping on the door. "Ready? I don't have all
day, you know." 

"I bet they don�t treat Wing like this, he muttered as
he threw the door open. The woman was there, her hands
on her hips. She blinked as he closed the door behind
him, eyeing him with a different look her eyes. 

"Well," she said at last. "At least you clean up
nicely. Let's go." 

He'd expected the office to be only a short distance
away, but they walked up a short flight of stairs and
exited the building. Darkflight followed the woman
closely, careful not to let her see him gaping at
everything around him. The cool night air smelled even
smelled clean, so different from the urine, alcohol,
and smoke filled air of the Breaks. 

They rounded a corner, drawing nearer to a building
that more resembled a tower than a military
headquarters. The general's office was obviously
inside. He tried to read the sign as they passed it,
but the words were too big and in English. 

The woman said something to him in English over her
shoulder, opening the large glass door to the bottom
floor of the tower, and Darkflight promptly tripped
over the threshold. The woman clucked her tongue at
him. 

"I don't speak English," he said, feeling stupid. 

"Oh." She looked at him, then began walking again.
"Follow me closely. This is a heavily secured area,
and if you're caught wandering in the wrong place, it
could mean bad things for you and me." 

He nodded, keeping on her heels as they entered the
elevator. The doors opened on what seemed to be a
deserted floor. There was a guard station at the
front, but the light was dimmed and the post itself
was empty. The woman passed the post, turning into a
wide corridor, stopping at an intimidating-looking
door. She knocked. 

"Come in," the voice said, muffled through the wood. 

She turned the handle and Darkflight followed her. The
office was well-lit, and before he could glance
around, a hand presented itself under his gaze. He
followed it up to the face of a woman, her hair neatly
pulled behind her, lips parted in a friendly smile. 

"You must be Darkflight." She spoke Japanese. 

"I'll go take care of that paperwork, ma'am," came the
other woman's voice from behind him. 

"Yes. Thank you, Major Li." 

The door closed behind her, and for the first time, it
dawned on Darkflight that the young woman standing
before him was the famous General Une. 

"But you don't look old enough to be a general!" he
burst out before he could stop himself. 

For a moment, there was silence and he had the sinking
feeling in his stomach that he had offended her, but
she burst out laughing. He watched her laugh, watched
as she wiped her eyes and stuck out her hand again
with a grin. He took it gingerly. 

"I must say," Une said, "that's the first real laugh
I've had in weeks." 

"Err�ma'am?" 

"Never mind." She waved a hand behind her. "Let's go
into my office. We'll have a little more privacy
there." 

For the first time he saw the glass wall that divided
the office from the room. Une opened the glass door,
motioned him through, then shut it behind her.
Crossing behind her desk, she slid into the chair with
a sigh, motioning to him to sit as well. He chose one
of the two chairs in front of the desk, glancing
around. The room was very sparsely furnished. There
were no pictures on the walls, no decorations, just
the desk and the three chairs. An enormous window made
up one wall of the room, looking over the base. 

"Impressive, isn't it?" she murmured, and he jerked
his gaze back to her. Une had her hands folded in
front of her, an expression of concentration on her
face. "I know you must wonder why you're here." 

He nodded. 

Une took a deep breath, let it out. "The fact of the
matter is this. I've already talked to Wufei and
Heero, and Heero's story is the one that interests me
the most. He didn't mention much about what he's been
doing these past two years, but your name came up
quite a few times." 

She paused, as if to give him room to say something,
but he sat and stared at the stained wood of the desk.
The collar of the shirt was chafing his neck. 

"So I decided that I would call you in and hear your
side of the story as well. I know this might be
awkward for you�you probably never wanted to get
pulled into this in the first place, is that right?" 

Darkflight nodded. His palms were sweaty and he felt
incredibly nervous. The walls seemed to be closing in
on him and he focused his attention on staring at one
of the glass paperweights that seemed to litter the
desk at random. 

Une seemed to notice his discomfort. Getting up from
her chair, she crossed to a small table in the corner,
pouring something into a mug and handing it to him. 

"Drink this. Relax." Smiling at him again as he took a
sip, discovering that it was very strong coffee. 

"These are strange surroundings, I know, and you
aren't used to them. I'm sorry�we need to protect all
of you, and this is the only way we can be certain
that we are doing that." 

"Why me?" he found himself saying, gripping the mug
with shaking hands. "I'm not�" 

"A pilot?" the general finished for him. "No, you're
not, but you're a liability. You're close friends with
one of the pilots, and if the World Nation got ahold
of you, who knows what they'd do to force us to
release Heero to you?" Her gaze was penetrating. "Do
you understand? You're just as important as the pilots
are to us. I'm sorry, but there's no other way." 

"I don't want to be," he mumbled. 

"I know." Une's tone softened a little. "I admire your
effort in standing by your friend, in a time like
this. It's always difficult to do." 

He didn't respond. 

"Can you�.tell me when you first met Heero?" 

Darkflight finished the rest of the coffee, felt the
liquid settle his stomach somewhat. "We met in the
Breaks," he said a little hesitantly. "I was�looking
for new members for my assassin group." He glanced up
at her quickly, but she didn't seem to be fazed at the
mention of that, so he continued. "We'd heard about
someone called Zero who was taking contracts solo, so
we decided to see if we couldn't hire him." 

"Did he come willingly?" 

Darkflight snorted. "Hell, no. He put up a fight. It
took us about a month to convince him that was wanted
him to work with us, then he decided to join. And he
was good�.we became�friends, you could call it, I
guess. Though you really don't have friends in a place
like that. He changed his name to Wing soon after
that. That's what I've always called him." 

"He told me that you two worked alone," Une said. 

He nodded. "We did. A little after that we split from
the group and formed our own. It was a good enough
life, I guess. There were�lots of things to keep us
busy." He didn't say what things and she didn't ask.
He wondered if Wing had told her. 

"And did Heero ever mention anything about the
Gundams? The war?" 

"He said�he said stuff, sometimes. About the war, but
he said that it wasn't anything. Sometimes he talked
in his sleep. Something about Zero. I always thought
he was talking about stuff he did before he came with
me." 

"Since he used to call himself Zero. I see." Une
looked throughful. "Anything else?" 

"No. We never really talked about it�the past of the
people you work with in the Breaks is an off-limits
topic, really. Something you don't talk about. And I
never asked." 

"I see," she said. "Heero told me that he had made
himself forget." 

Darkflight shrugged. "I guess so. He always said that
there were things he couldn't remember, but it was
better that way. The�substances we took helped, I
suppose. It wasn't anything I worried about." 

Une's mouth compressed into a thin line when he said
"substances," but she didn't comment. "Tell me about
when he discovered who he really was." 

Darkflight was silent for a few moments, then launched
into the telling of the newspaper episode, when the
news of the Gundams had first broke, then Wing's
breakdown in Beijing, and finally the attack on Wufei.
"I didn't believe him at first. I thought he was
joking. I thought he was making excuses for not being
good enough for taking the target�" He looked down at
his hands in his lap. "During the fight after Wufei
pulled off his mask he kept saying Heero. I thought he
was calling for something. It was only when Wing�" 

"I see," she said again, crisply, folding and
refolding her hands. "What kind of�assassin�was
Heero?" 

"He's one of the very best. We both are�but there's
just something about him. His technique, I guess." 

Une nodded. "Comes from the training all Gundam pilots
get. That's why Wufei was a match for you. Impressive,
after two years of inactivity." She fixed him with a
penetrating stare. "Now I want to know about you." 

He stared right back, the nervousness gone. "What
about me?" 

"Who you are. What your real name is. Where you're
originally from. I need to know everything about you.
You're in the same boat as Heero is." 

"More than you know," he said bitterly. "I don't know
any of the information you want." 

Une narrowed her eyes. "Explain." 

"There's nothing to explain!" he burst out, bringing
the mug down on the wooden desk with a crack. His
nervousness had given way to anger, anger at Une for
asking him things he didn�t' know, anger at Wing for
getting him involved. Anger at the world in general.
"Hell, I don't even know why I told you all of
that�you might be here to arrest me. I�m a criminal,
you know. Wing might be the almighty Gundam pilot,
savior of the world, but I�m just a common criminal."
Staring, challenging her. "What's in it for me?" 

"There's nothing in it for you," Une said sharply, her
voice a whip crack through the room. "Absolutely
nothing. If you want, I'll order a shuttle and you can
go right back to the Breaks, where you came from. Do
you want that?" 

He gaped at her. 

"Heero needs your help. I need your help. And I will
get it, whether you give it willingly or not. Hundreds
of people have already died because of those two boys
whom you've been traveling with for the past few days,
and I won't let anymore of them die!" 

"That's their problem," Darkflight said. "Their
problem, not mine. I'm only an assassin." 

"You don't care what happens to Heero?" 

He looked at her, and suddenly she didn't look like a
general anymore, just like the young woman he'd seen
when he first walked in. She was hardly older than he
was, really. "You know, General," he said, "for a
woman who has so much power, you're remarkably
stupid." 

She simply raised an eyebrow. "And how do you see
that?" 

"You're talking to me about ideals and honor. And you
know, I don't really care. I'm a criminal. I'm an
assassin. I was born in the Breaks, I grew up there. I
have my own code of honor, and it doesn't involve any
of the complicated plot twists of yours. Sometimes I
think that Wing was right, and that I should have
stayed in the Breaks, but I'm here now, and don't
think that you can manipulate me and Wing into doing
what you want. We're stronger than that." He was out
of his chair, arms crossed over his chest, feeling
naked without his gun. 

Une sighed. "Darkflight, sit down." 

He blinked, then sat. He felt drained. 

"I'm not trying to manipulate you," she said. "It
might feel like it, but I'm not. I'm sorry if I'm
intruding, but I need any and all information you can
tell me, because it's crucial to our case. We're
fighting a war, Darkflight, but it's not a war with
weapons. It's a legal war. And if we lose this case,
you'll see Wufei and Heero and the other pilots taken
from you. Going to prison, maybe. Perhaps executed.
The public hates them that much. Do you want that for
them?" 

He stared. "Ex�executed?" 

He'd known of people being executed, before, in the
rare cases when L1 government authorities managed to
catch them. Some of them had been his friends. Some
had been acquaintances. Some he hadn't known at all,
but it was always horrible. Horrible not because they
were innocent. Most of them had more deaths on their
records than he had, but it was the fact that they
were brothers. Sisters. Family. 

Une nodded. "Executed. You've known people who have
been executed, haven't you?" When he nodded, feeling
sick, she looked like she had expected as much. "It's
up to you to decide, then. The World Nation thinks the
pilots are criminals because of what they did during
the war. Are they?" 

He opened his mouth, but she made a cutting motion
with her hand. "I'll leave it to you to think it over.
Just remember, you're important to Heero. No matter
what falling out you two might have had." She looked
satisfied when he gave a start at her words. "And no,
he didn't tell me, but I can put two and two together.
You two need to figure out if you want to stay
friends, because if you don't, then there's no way you
can take the next step." 

"General-" he said. 

She got up before he could say anything more. Pressed
a button on the intercom on her desk. "Major Li? I�m
finished here." 

"Major Li's coming back to get you," Une said. "Think
about what I said. And if you decide you want to join
us�I'll be waiting." She flashed him a smile. "Good
night, Darkflight." 

The wooden door closed behind her and he stood there
in the office, staring out the window at the brilliant
lights of the base and of Geneva beyond. Thought of
Wing, wherever he was. Sleeping? Staring out the
window at the same city, and the same moon? 

You're important to Heero. 

"Am I?" he said softly, pressing one hand to the
glass. "I'd like to know the answer too." 
 

***************************************************  
Scene VII: Reflections in the Broken Mirror 
"Lucretia, my reflection
Dance the ghost with me."
--The Sisters of Mercy, Lucretia My Reflection
 *************************************************** 

"Shh, it's all right," she soothed, and he smelled the
familiar scent of her perfume and her kiss on his
forehead. "Don't be afraid, Milliard. Don't be
afraid." 

"Mother?" he called, but she had gone, though he could
see her face smiling out of the flames that suddenly
engulfed him. It was very warm. "Mother," he said,
reaching out a hand to her, but there was no one
there. The flames crackled in his ears and he felt
very cold. 

"Mother," he said again, and he awoke. 

The room was freezing and he stumbled out of bed,
turned on the electricity to the fireplace, watched as
the pilot light caught fire and the way the flames
licked at the logs. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Why was
that? They'd told him that if he didn't wear a shirt
he'd catch cold and get sick, but it all seemed very
hazy and far away. 

It didn't matter, anyway, if he never came out again.
If anyone could come and find him again. 

None of it mattered. 

He was hungry. He remembered enough of the layout of
the old mansion to remember where the kitchen was, the
smaller pantry beside the large kitchens used when
guests were to be entertained. Down three flights of
long stairways, across winding passages and wide
French doors. 

Treize. 

Treize Khushrenada. 

Treize had died, he remembered suddenly, mouth poised
in mid-chew, hand clasped around the shiny skin of an
apple. Treize had died�many years ago. 

He shrugged and went back to chewing, observing the
elegant paintings on the ceiling of the dining room.
It was just him, sitting at the end of one long
polished mahogany table. The walls were bare of
paintings. He had sold them, after Treize died. 

Dead? Who had died? 

He frowned. 

"You should have come back with me, Noin," he said to
the far wall. "You'd like it here. There's lots of
trees�we could have bought some horses. You liked to
ride horses." 

There were footsteps in the hallway and he froze, the
glass of water halfway to his mouth. "Who's there?" he
said loudly. 

His father had told him a story about one of his
grandfather's brothers who was murdered at his dinner
table by an assassin. Apparently the man who hired him
was one of the Peacecraft servants, out to steal a
small fortune. It hadn't worked, of course, his father
had consoled him. For weeks afterwards, he had slept
with all the lights on. He had only been eight years
old. 

"Master Zechs?" 

He turned abruptly at the sound of the voice emerging
out of a darkened hallway. The old man was stooped, a
large moustache covering his upper lip and drooping a
little past his chin, but his eyes were bright.
"Master Zechs? You're awake." 

He blinked uncertainly. "Who are you?" 

"You don't remember me?" the old man said. "I was here
when you were just a small boy�when Master Treize
brought you in. I took care of you until you left for
the Academy." 

"I don't understand," he said. His head whirled and
the room spun. He grasped the table for support.
Suddenly, he doubled over, sharp pains like knives in
his chest. 

"Master Zechs!" the old man rushed over to him, moving
far faster than he thought a man of that age could
ever move. "You need fresh bandages." 

"Bandages?" he said. Narrowing his eyes at the man. To
think of it, his arm hurt too, and he reached up to
his face to touch several freshly healed cuts on his
forehead. "What happened? Where's Treize? He said he'd
be�he said he'd be back. He was going�" 

The old man was looking at him with a look something
akin to pity. "Master Treize is�not here right now,"
he said finally. "Let me bring you to your room and
get something for your bandages." 

He let himself be taken by the elbow, led out of the
room like a small child. Back up the flights of stairs
and the familiar turns and found himself back in the
bedroom. The fire was burning brightly now and it was
pleasantly warm. He felt himself getting sleepy. 

"I'll be back," the old man said, and vanished out the
doorway. He sat on the bed, smoothing the velvet
bedspread under his fingers, glancing at the dancing
flames. Dancing�hypnotizing. 

There was a shadow in the flames and then his father
appeared out of the fire, stepping to the floor.
"Hello, Milliard," he said. 

"Hello Father," he said, surprised at his own
response. "How long have you been there?" 

He felt suddenly dizzy and blinked, found himself
sprawled on his back on the bed, the old man tending
to his chest with some kind of cool ointment that
lessened the throbbing. "Lie back, Master Zechs," the
man said. Clucking his tongue. "Dear God�what did they
do to you?" 

"They?" he pushed himself up on one elbow. "Wait�.who?
Who's they?" 

"Lie still," said the man, his voice soothing, but he
couldn't lie still, had to get up and find the ones
who- 

"Drink this." 

Obediently, he drank, and opened his mouth to ask the
old man what had happened to him, but the man had
vanished and snow was falling all around him, except
he was still warm, as if the fire had not stopped
burning through the blizzard. He looked down at
himself, found that he was naked but felt no
particular shame. A raw, red freshly healed wound
glared angrily from his chest, straight from his
collarbone almost to his navel. He touched it and bit
back a yelp as it stung. 

"Please lie still, Master Zechs," the voice said and
he sank into the warm snow, looking up at the dark
sky, wondering how he could still see when there was
no light. 

"Father?" he said, and his father materialized out of
the snow, staring at him with solemn, broken eyes. 

"I don't understand," he said, but his father simply
nodded to him and began fading back into the darkness.


"Wait!" he shouted, reaching out his hand, jerking it
back in surprise as he brushed the edge of a fur-lined
cloak, blinking at the confused eyes that looked back
at him, realizing that he stood in the front entryway
of the newly rebuilt Cinq Palace, the chandeliers
blazing overhead, dressed in the garments of Cinq
royalty. 

"What do you want, Milliard?" Relena snapped. 

"Relena? Wait, where's - I mean - " 

"If you don't want me going out, I'm sorry," she said,
drawing herself up to her full height, tilting her
head back and staring him straight in the eye. "We've
had this conversation a million times. I can date
anyone I want. I'm not your kid sister anymore. You
can't tell me what to do, and Friedrich is a perfectly
respectable gentleman." 

"He's not good for you," he said, somehow feeling that
he had spoken those words before, with a horrible
sense of d�j� vu. 

A servant - chauffeur? - emerged from a side corridor
to the right, looking at them uncertainly. "Lady
Relena, if you're ready-?" 

"Go away, Milliard," she said, sweeping past him. "I
don't need you." 

"Relena!" he shouted, suddenly angry. "I'm not-" 

"See you later," she called, and the door closed
behind her. 

"There's nothing you can do," the voice said from
behind him. "No matter if the choice is wrong or
right�you cannot change fate." 

He whirled, coming face to face with his father, who
was glancing at something behind him with a serious
expression. "But-" He glanced around. The hallway, the
corridors were still there, but something had changed.
The air was slightly musty, the lights dimmer, the
silence still with a legacy of twenty generations. 

"Father," he said again, and then he looked past and
saw the child, standing there, wide blue eyes
uncertain, long blond hair falling in cascading waves
down his back. 

"Father," the little boy said. 

"That's you," the sweet voice whispered in his ear.
"Adorable, weren't you?" 

"Relena," he said without surprise. "What are you
doing here?" For a moment the palace shifted back
towards the restored version he had seen first, then
flickered back to the palace he had known as a child.
Elongated into his room at Treize's mansion, narrowed
and shrank into his room at the Academy, and then he
felt himself floating. Relena's hand remained on his
shoulder, its pressure strangely comforting. 

"Why are you here?" he asked again. 

"A better question, Oniisama, would be�why are you
here?" 

"I'm here because�" he said, then paused. "I don't
know. I don't know where here is." 

For a moment it looked like she would cry, and then
she shrugged, put her other hand on his shoulder and
turned him gently towards her, brought her forehead to
his and kissed him. He closed his eyes. 

"It doesn't matter now," she said, and when he opened
them again she was holding a pair of scissors. 

"Relena?" 

"You see that?" she said pointing into the distance,
and he followed her finger he saw a thin silver line,
curving in towards his vision and then out of sight
back into the darkness. 

"What is that?" 

She stretched out her hand, pointing the scissors at
the thread, which seemed suddenly to draw closer.
Smiling up at him. 

"Dorothy really should be the one to do this�but since
she's not here, I'll have to do her job for her, I
suppose." 

He reached out and grabbed her wrist before he was
aware of what he was doing. "Dorothy?" he said
urgently. "Dorothy. Where�what�" 

"Oniisama," Relena said. "You're hurting me." 

"I'm sorry," he said, not letting go of her hand. "But
I can't let you go. I can't let you cut that thread. I
need�I need�" 

"Noin always said," Relena murmured, never taking her
eyes from his, "that you were like Treize. That the
only one who could destroy you�was yourself." 

Noin. 

"Relena?" he said, releasing her wrist in a daze and
as she reach out to snip the delicate silver thread he
realized that he couldn't move to stop her, and as the
scissors closed with a final sounding snap- 

He jolted up in bed. The fire was out in the fireplace
and he felt cold again. Blinking, looking around the
room that was at once familiar and foreign. The
digital clock read 5:37 AM. Just before dawn. He felt
his forehead and withdrew his hand quickly, found it
stained with beads of sweat. Looked down at himself,
realized he was naked above the waist, with a
semi-fresh bandage wrapped around his chest 

The old man. Dimitrios. He remembered when he had
first been brought to Treize's mansion as a boy,
feverish and ill, six years old, an orphan, with no
family and no home. The old man had taken care of him
then. He looked around the room, recognized the
bedroom he'd had for three years before he had gone to
the Academy, when he had lived as Treize's ward, under
his care. 

"Have I been dreaming?" he said. 

And then faces flashed across his eyes. Une. Sally.
Gustavson. Etille. Dorothy. Noin. 

Noin. 

He felt the breath hitch in his chest and then he fell
back against the pillows, feeling suddenly, horribly,
overwhelmingly empty, and when the tears came, for the
first time in twenty-one years, he didn't try to stop
them. 

The wound on his chest throbbed painfully but he
didn't care, turning his head to the side and muffling
his sobs in his pillow, still hearing Noin's last
words in his ears, watching her charge headlong into
the other mobile suit, watching the explosion play
over and over again in his mind like the slow motion
tape of a replay. Over. And over. 

Dorothy, she'd said. Her last words. Move, Dorothy. 

Dorothy had hated her. 

Why? He screamed at her, ghost speaking to ghost,
reaching out vainly to grasp a shred of her presence,
searching and unable to find. Why, Noin? Why? 

The explosion was the last thing he remembered. 

Memories�dim memories of voices. Etille's voice.
Bright lights and murmured whispers. Silence. 

"Master Zechs?" 

"Leave," he mumbled into the pillow. 

"I see your fever has broken," came Dimitrios' voice,
muffled slightly through the crack in the door. "I
made you some breakfast." 

"Dimitrios," he said. Speaking to the wall now. "How
did I get here?" 

"A man who called himself Etille came to the door
yesterday, bearing you on a stretcher. He said that
this was the last address of permanent residence on
your record, and of course I took you in." 

"Did he say what happened to me?" 

If Dimitrios was puzzled, he didn't show it. "No,
Master Zechs. He merely indicated that you were ill,
warned me that you might be delirious for some time,
and gave me medical instructions. Apparently you had
been to the military hospital in Geneva." 

"Geneva." The word rolled off his tongue like a bitter
curse. "I hope to never see that God forsaken place
again." 

A silence, in which he heard Dimitrios enter, place
what sounded like a breakfast tray on his bedside
table. He caught a whiff of toast and coffee. 

Noin had liked toast and coffee too. 

"Are you feeling better, Master Zechs?" 

"No," he said hollowly. "Leave me alone. Take your
damn breakfast with you. Let me die here." 

"I believe that's impossible," Dimitrios said.
"Perhaps if Treize told me to, I could. But Treize is
not here, and the last orders he left to me were to
take care of you. So I will continue to do so." 

"You bastard," he mumbled, but there was no malice.
"What do you want?" 

"I need to take your temperature and give you your
medication. And change your bandage." 

His fingers went automatically to the wound,
remembering the jagged, vertical gash he'd seen in his
fever-delirium. Shrapnel wound. 

"Why?" he whispered to the wall. "Noin died and I
survived�it was supposed to be the other way around.
It was�.Treize told me that�" 

"I am deeply sorry for your loss, Master Zechs." And
the tone of the old man's voice told him that he was,
indeed, sorry. 

"Dimitrios?" 

"Yes, Master Zechs?" 

"Did I talk�in my sleep? While I was still feverish?" 

He did turn over then, careful not to strain his
chest, to look over at the old man, the noble, aged
features exactly the same as he remembered him from
more than ten years ago. "Yes," Dimitrios said. 

"And what did I say?" 

"I believe," Dimitrios said quietly, "You were calling
for your father." 

He closed his eyes quickly and then opened them,
seeing Dorothy's face, her eyes accusing him of some
misdeed. Saw the explosion again. 

"Pardon?" 

He had forgotten Dimitrios was still there. Sat up
quickly, wincing at the sudden onslaught of pain, but
waved Dimitrios off as the man reached out to help
him. "You need to take your medicine," the old man
said. 

"Dimitrios?" 

"Yes, Master Zechs?" 

A pause. 

"Where is my Epyon?"

END 7.2

Note:  Is anyone following this off the FFML?   I
haven't heard anything off that list in an age, and I
don't want to keep sending these huge files if no one
is reading.  Drop a line, ne?
QS

=====
"HOW DARE YOU LOOK SO MUCH LIKE MY SAFFIR-CHAN!"

http://www.homestead.com/quicksilverslabyrinth

http://www.method.org/gundam

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