Akiasha's Haven

Vampire Knight - Blood Legacy

2008-05-12T17:03:10Z

Vampire Knight Fanfiction:

Blood Legacy

A Vampire Knight Fanfiction
By: Akiasha
Chapters ??
Rating: for Mature Beings only
Main Pairings/Characters: KanaYuki, HaruJuuri, and maybe others
Supporting Cast: Anybody you don't know or just appears every now and then....they're supporting. I haven't yet settled on any supporting pairings yet.
Genre: Romantic Drama/ Adventure
Warnings: After-series, During-series, Before-series, adult themes, hetero-sexual relations, mild language, plethora of original characters(though one will tend to stick out), and the author's attempt at adding humor to an otherwise serious series(please forgive her, she just found that it needed a bit of snarking and she loves to snark).
Spoilers: If you're not up to date with the manga...spoilers will abound in it. Ch. 35+ definitely.

Summary: coming soon, still working out details.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction created from the mind and heart of the author (and any poor unsuspecting friend she could batter ideas off of) and not intended for sale or profit. Character rights and original story are copyright of the Hino Matsuri and LaLa.

Date Started: April, 2008.
Date Finished:
Status: in-progress
Current Word Count: ~5,097

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[Prologue: The Hidden Ones]
[Night One: ????]

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Authors Note: Ok, so I'm not very good with summaries. I tried my best and it may change, don't know, but I know the story makes sense...or at least I hope so. Here's how it works~ the story is broken up like the series into Nights, each Night will have a set number of parts splitting the way I feel it works best. Big credit to lady_readwolf for the breaking up idea, she used it for "Eternal Destiny" and I liked it so much I snitched it.

If you want to know why I name my Chapters, it's because it's fun. It also helps me keep track of things. I may post tentative titles for future chapters, but I don't have them written yet.

Welcome and please enjoy.

Vampire Knight - Blood Legacy - Prologue - The Hidden Ones

2008-05-12T16:40:34Z

[main]

Prologue
The Hidden Ones

“You’re going to take her aren’t you,” Haruka said to the silent shadow behind him. He didn’t turn back to look at Galen, but continued watching the stars.

Galen had come quietly, as soft and silent as the late night breeze. He’d always had a feline grace. He’d always been so hidden in amongst the loyal servants of the Kuran family that many would have mistaken Galen for something he was not. Galen was a loyal servant of the family, a guardian for the newest generation of children. Galen was not, however, loyal to the Council of Ancients who so imprisoned and watched the pureblooded realm, even though his station as council watch dog should have made him so.

“She can’t stay here Haruka,” Galen said at last, breaking his silence. “You know she can’t.”

“For nearly ten thousand years she’s slept in our care, Galen.” Haruka glanced back over his shoulder. “We would never do anything to harm her.”

Galen took a single step into the light, leaning against the doorframe. His silver gray haired head nodded in agreement. “I believe you, old friend. But I cannot say the same for your brother.”

Haruka looked back to the stars, listening for the tiny whisper of Juuri telling Kaname a bedtime story. Juuri’s heart had broken with the disappearance of Kazuya, but its burden of grief had lifted somewhat when she’d taken Kaname into her care. Hers was a heart made to love. And love it did, despite the loss of their son. Kaname had taken Kazuya’s place in the records, erasing their son even before he’d been introduced to vampire society.

“Nor can I,” he admitted. “Tell me, old friend, is the boy really Kaname?”

A dry chuckle of laughter answered him. “Why do you always ask questions to which you already know the answers?”

“Force of habit.” Haruka glanced over his shoulder at Galen. “So,” he prompted.

“His coffin is empty,” Galen confirmed. “If he’d died, there would be a pile of pearl dust left inside. You know that.”

“I know, but you want me to believe that he’s somehow transformed himself into a child.”

“Don’t believe the legends about her, do you.”

“About her, yes. But we’re not talking about her.” Haruka turned around, leaning up against the balcony railing, facing his friend. “She had a whole bag of tricks that most of us couldn’t begin to understand. One of the many perks of being first…or at least that’s what she’d said about it.”

“She also said that he had a power that none of her other children ever had,” Juuri said from the study’s doorway. “The truth remains that he has changed form. He doesn’t remember anything from before the day he woke up in Rido’s mansion.”

“I didn’t hear you finish.”

Juuri smiled the first real smile he’d seen in months. “You need more practice.”

She settled down on the one couch that was still in the light of the moon, absently resettling her shawl. Bathed in the moonlight, she was breathtaking. “You’re taking her, aren’t you, Galen.” It wasn’t really a question.

Galen nodded once.

“I suppose it is to be expected. If that bastard can get through security enough to be able to abduct Kaname’s body and then have time to awaken him, than it is likely he’s seen her resting place.”

“That’s only if he knows what it is that’s down there,” Haruka clipped dryly.

“Whether or not he knows, the truth remains that he’s awoken one of the two keys,” Galen said crisply. “The others feel it prudent to separate the two of them. If by chance the second key appears and he gets his hands on both of them, he’ll be able to awaken her himself.”

“I thought the point of recording her death was so that no one would be looking for her.”

“That was our intent,” Galen said. “And for nearly ten thousand years it has served to protect her. The Kuran family’s never been one to break that rule, but—”

“But he may have,” Juuri bit out. “Both Grandfather and Father agreed that the only way that Kaname could be revived was with the price of a pureblooded life. A life they weren’t willing to sacrifice. And yet, Kaname is here, alive and healthy. What other conclusion would you make of it?”

“Juuri.”

“Do not silence me and spare him,” Juuri snapped back, her eyes snapping with anger. “The only reason that bastard is still alive is because the Council stands between me and him. They will never call for judgment, Haruka. Not while that foolish old man is their leader.”

“Juuri, we don’t know for certain that he did anything more than take Kazuya,” Haruka said, wishing that he didn’t have to play devil’s advocate. A part of him was with her whole heartedly, but most of him had to play the role she’d given him when she’d chosen him. “Awakening Kaname, unfortunately, isn’t a crime.”

“You know he did it, Haruka. The scent of his blood was on that boy when we found him. The only way he could have survived giving his blood to restore Kaname was by eating a pureblood.” Juuri looked away, choking back the grief roaring inside her. “Kazuya is gone. And who knows how many others they’ve covered up. Are we to wait until the cursed blood running through his veins drives him mad? Until we have no hope of stopping him with all of our powers combined?”

Haruka glanced at Galen, finding himself curious as to why the hidden ones, those loyal only to her would seek to separate her from the keys of her awakening when the possibility of her needing to be awoken was nearly upon them. “You’ve been quiet, Galen. The hidden ones have nothing to say about it.”

“You would only summon her back for judgment, Haruka.” Galen sighed, shrugging his shoulders as if this reality could not be changed. “She has ended entire bloodlines for less. The Kuran family is the one family that could bring the others together enough to challenge the Council. You think it’s a mistake that they court him so. They know this as well as we do.”

“They’re gambling that I won’t risk it.”

Juuri looked down at her hands, her fingers playing with the fringe of her shawl. “And for now they would be right,” she said after a moment. “One key is not enough to awaken her. And we can’t risk it and hope to protect Kaname. Especially if she is not in a particularly generous and forgiving mood. Where will you take her, Galen?”

“To the eldest.”

[chapter 1]

Terminal: Phase 4: In Memorium

2006-12-22T06:38:47Z

[Return to Main Phase Hub]

Terminal
Gundam Seed Destiny Fanfiction

Phase 4: In Memorium

Words:

Nifty Factoid: This is the chapter was originally supposed to be "Angels and Demons," but as with most things that I rewrite, I hit a point in Phase 3 where I just felt like the phase was done and it was time to move onto another one. I know it's been slow going, but I do have my reasons for wanting to add this.

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[Part 1]
[Part 2]
[Part 3]
[Part 4]
[Part 5]
[Part 6]
[Part 7]
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Challenge: none this time.

[Phase 5: Angels and Demons]

[GSD-Terminal-4-Part1]

2006-10-14T04:28:00Z

[previous entry]

C.E. 72, Orb, Onogoro Coast

In the seven or so years that Azamaria had lived in Orb she and Kaien had lived, mostly, in a little tract house in a suburb of downtown Onogoro, but when the pair had decided that their second child was going to be an orphanage—or rather when they’d decided to be the sponsors for said orphanage—she had found the perfect excuse to shower her husband and child with an extravagant gift.

Most designers and geneticists couldn’t afford the palatial mansions that many of the filthy rich families of Orb did, but she’d swung the purchase of the seaside estate with only a half-hearted explanation as to how it was that she could afford it. Kai had never really explained it either, but that was on par with his reactions to just about anything she did. When it came to his wife, Kai had never explained much, leaving it up to Kisaka to figure out that the woman Kai had married had been a spy and was a coordinator and a half dozen other little things that one would think would have been mentioned at some point.

Kai, at the time, had been smitten with both wife and child, and his new laboratory. Apparently, the reason she’d preferred this particular estate was not only the extra space and ocean view, but because it also had a vast underground complex. Originally it had been designed as a shelter, but she’d had one of the rooms retrofitted to serve as a private lab for her husband. At the time, Kai’s research hadn’t been widely accepted and was the subject of much ridicule in the academic community—actually it was still that way, but most had forgotten all about it—and so having the lab built had been Azamaria’s way of providing a way for him to continue his research.

It wasn’t all that odd that Az would share the estate with Waltfeld and Ramius because it was already partially loaned out to Malchio’s orphanage when the main facilities were either being repaired or reconstructed.

“That hurt,” Waltfeld’s voice snapped. “Are you trying to kill me, woman.”

“Shut up and sit still, already,” Az’s voice barked back.

He found the pair of them in the kitchen with Az sitting on top of the butcher-block table that took up the section of floor that joined the main kitchen to the breakfast nook and Waltfeld with his arm under her intense scrutiny. Waltfeld had only just recently had it installed. Somewhere after her meeting with Lacus, Az had doffed the sari for a pair of shorts and a halter top. She’d also removed the beads that had been in her hair. Practical to the last, the beads would have just gotten in her way.

“Alex said you were showing him the house,” Kisaka said dryly, gaining their attention. “I should have known you’d be playing mechanic.”

Az turned almost immediately back to work. She was always that way around anything mechanical. Even Kai hadn’t been able to keep her attention, unless he happened to steal whatever she was working on. She twisted a tiny screwdriver and Waltfeld jerked.

Biting back a cry of pain, Waltfeld gritted his teeth through the following adjustments. “She wanted to see the new arm.” He attempted to sound jovial, but failed entirely since she decided to remind him of her presence by tweaking something else.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that was dangerous,” Kisaka laughed.

“It’s his own fault for buying shoddy workmanship,” Az taunted, waggling her tool in Waltfeld’s face. “There was enough in that account to buy something better than this. But like all men he has to have a fun toy.” Her eyes rolled towards the ceiling. “As if you’re ever going to actually use this concealed weapon of yours.”

Waltfeld ignored her, lifting a tiny vile that had been in his hand into the light. He shook it. “So what does this stuff actually do,” he asked after a moment.

“Performance enhancer.” She twisted one of the tools, adjusting things again as if this subject had been the one all along. “Lab tests indicate that it’s likely still in the prototype stages, but if adjusted correctly it could produce a soldier that could keep up with us on the battlefield. In essence, it produces a coordinator without having to manipulate any genes.”

“Cosmos,” both he and Waltfeld said.

“More than likely,” she agreed. “The lab guys think that this is only just a part of the cocktail they use.”

“It would explain the behavior of those pilots,” Waltfeld muttered, settling the vile onto the tabletop. “I can’t imagine there would be much left of those three to test it against, though.”

Azamaria glanced up from her work just long enough to shoot them both a look that said they shouldn’t mention this part of the conversation to anyone. “Presence of this and several others were found in the remains of the one pilot that was recovered.”

Pieces started to fall into place, bits of information, stray comments, all of them fitting easily into the frame before him. This was definitely the kind of development that would explain her chumminess with Chairman Canaver. Az never once got involved with the political realm. She did claim to understand it, though. “This is why you’re here,” Kisaka asked, pulling out a chair and settling in to listen.

“This and another matter,” she said, closing up the section of Waltfeld’s arm she’d been working on. “According to the test results, its effectiveness is limited, it’s instantly addictive, and they recommend avoiding going through withdrawals.”

“Limited…The reason they retreated during the battle of Orb,” Kisaka prompted.

Az acquiesced with a slight nod. “It’s likely that Azrael believed he wouldn’t win without them. Considering their abrupt departure on two separate occasions, it’s likely that that was the cause. Either way, they appeared to have solved some of the problems by the final stages of the war.”

“They can’t expect this to be an effective product.”

Waltfeld was wrong about that part. They had expected it to be an effective product. It was the only reasonable explanation for why the pilots had been deployed at Orb first. It hadn’t been to test the machines; those would be effective in anybody’s hands. It was the pilots that had them concerned. Orb had merely been their guinea pig. If the pilots proved effective in a battle, which consisted of both coordinators and naturals, then they’d push the rest of the line into production.

“You know that they’re going to try and finish this.” Waltfeld flicked the vile.

“Of that I have no doubt,” Az said, darkly.

Waltfeld silently passed the vile over to him. Kisaka held it up to the light, giving it the same shake that Waltfeld had. A simple, clear liquid that could turn a natural into a fighting machine. Strange to think that that was even possible. Strange, but not surprising.

“Does Lacus know about this,” Waltfeld asked.

Az shrugged slightly, her attention still intently on her work.

“My guess is she doesn’t know a thing.”

Az glanced in Kisaka’s direction, pouting. She never changed. “For now, knowing about it wouldn’t do her any good,” she explained. “I’ll leave telling her or not up to you, Andy.”

“Careful or I might think that you’re trying to keep her on that island,” Waltfeld teased.

Kisaka let out a dry bark of laughter. Az’s expression was amused as if she had expected him to put it together. Az was trying to keep Lacus on the island, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Lacus had to stay there for the same reasons that Cagalli had to stay in Orb. It wasn’t safe to go out into the world, just yet. The Alliance may have agreed to the surrender, but that didn’t mean they’d lost their hatred of Coordinators. It was simply that the wolf had lost some of its teeth. After all, it was simple to get rid of a girl and make it look like an accident. “How much do you know about this one,” Kisaka asked, indicating Az.

“Only as much as she wants me to.” Waltfeld warily regarded his mechanic. “Probably more than she thinks.”

“Oh.” Az amusedly raised an eyebrow. “And how much did Ai spill before her death?”

Ai? Kisaka frowned, puzzled by the fact that this name was unfamiliar to him. And he’d thought that he was getting better at guessing her secrets.

Waltfeld burst out in laughter, apparently amused by his confusion. “It looks like it’s a family trait.”

“Trait?”

“Didn’t mention she had a sister, did she?”

“No.”

“There’s what….six or seven of you?” This was directed at Az.

“Twelve,” she answered, summarily closing up the rest of Waltfeld’s arm. “There are twelve of us. Eleven, now.”

“My god. How did your mother survive twelve?”

“Eight of us were adopted.” Az closed up shop, putting away her tools, letting the two of them digest the information. “Apparently, she thought a dozen was a nice round number. Mother was always of the opinion that those who have more than enough should share their good fortune with others.”

“All of them Coordinators?”

She hopped down from the table, giving only a half-hearted shrug to Kisaka’s question. “If I told you, I might have to kill you. And Kai wouldn’t like that one bit.”

It was Waltfeld’s turn to be confused. He looked between the two of them, apparently trying to judge just how much the two of them knew each other. “The kid mentioned that name, too,” he muttered after awhile. “So, who is this Kai? And why the hell did you ask if they were all Coordinators?”

Az gathered up her tool case, ignoring both questions altogether. For a brief moment and Kisaka was fairly certain Waltfeld had missed it, her expression looked haunted, pained by the loss. The only reason Azamaria would have gone back to PLANT, after having gone through the trouble of leaving it, was to leave the shadow of the life she’d had. Kai hadn’t been the only smitten one in the relationship; it had been reciprocated by his wife.

“Kai is Kaien Dennon,” Kisaka said after awhile. “Her husband.”

Waltfeld turned about, looking over his shoulder, watching Az stow the tool box in a cabinet in the hall and gather a drink from the fridge. He looked like a man that had finally put the pieces together; who had figured out why it was that she could be chummy with him despite the death of her sister.

Az popped the top off the beer bottle in her hand. “And before you get any notions in your head, Andrew Waltfeld…” She took a swig from the bottle before jabbing a finger in his direction. “That had nothing what-so-ever to do with it. Ai would come back from the dead and give me a beating if I took it out on you.”

“Probably right,” Waltfeld agreed.

“I know my sister well enough, Andy,” she said, turning serious for a moment, twirling the bottleneck between her fingers. “You told her to get out and she decided—quite on her own—that she was going to stay. But the other matter is totally unforgivable.”

Waltfeld looked torn between relief and fear, when she stood before him, looking decidedly miffed. “Uh…about that…” Waltfeld nervously began.

“Someone swore that he wasn’t going to use it,” she said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “He promised that under no circumstances was he going to use it. After all it was only a prototype and hadn’t been finished yet. And then—after having borrowed it without permission—he blew it up.”

“It wasn’t like I tried to destroy it…”

“You took it into a battle situation.”

“I really thought it would help.”

“The only thing that can beat a SEED is another SEED, Andy.”

Waltfeld’s retort froze, leaving his mouth hanging open. He looked decidedly confused by her choice of terminology. “A what,” he asked.

Az heaved a sigh and drained the rest of her beer. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t know anything about it. It’s not like its common knowledge. Even the academic community has forgotten about it. Of course it’s a bit of a crack pot theory anyways,” she muttered. “Ah, well…we need to get on with the tour and get back to Malchio’s before the party…guess I could explain the basics of it….It’s going to have to be a short tour, though.”

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-3-Part8]

2006-10-14T04:03:42Z

[previous entry]

C.E. 72, Marshall Islands

He’d been watching them, the waves, the water that pounded upon the shore. Just watching, waiting, and seeking the moment when everything had changed. He’d known what to do and how to do it and who to trust and who he could not, but now he didn’t. He still trusted the same people, but he didn’t know what to do now. And so, he’d taken up his little post, his deck chair, and watched the waves.

A part of Kira was always aware of the others, aware enough to know when to respond and when to remain silent. Aware enough to realize that Lacus’s smile was different and that Athrun seemed weighted down by something he wasn’t talking about. Aware enough to know that Cagalli had come and gone a number of times, looking less and less like the spirited girl that had shoved her way into his life.

So much had happened. So much that he didn’t know where it began and where it had ended. He just knew that the end had come. Floating there, face plate towards the stars, his body weakened by the fight with Creuset, by the war, by everything, all he could do was float. Freedom didn’t matter. The war didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was alive.

Funny how that life didn’t seem to have much meaning anymore. Why was he alive when so many other good people were dead? What about him was so special that he had to survive?

He’d been tallying the number of times he should have died since he’d landed. And in the end the only thing he was left with were questions that appeared to have no answers. It was strange, but he remembered during each and every one of those tally marks an extremely vivid clarity.

One moment he couldn’t think straight enough to keep himself alive and the next he knew when to dodge, where to place the shield, how much time it took to get from one place to another and when he’d have to leave that place to get to the place he needed to go, and when his return attack should come to result in the greatest damage. It was an unending stream of knowledge that the more he thought about it, it seemed nearly impossible to know. Battle in its very nature was chaotic. Yet he had been calmly detached, evaluating, calculating, and registering threats across the board as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

It was unsettling the degree of accuracy of each and every movement. It was an accuracy that under normal circumstances required a great deal more thought and planning than such a situation would afford. And yet it was unmistakable that he’d done it. He’d done all of it.

Waltfeld had labeled him a Berserker back in Banadiya, a warrior that in the heat of battle would gain strength.

The waves thundered in, pounding against the rocks. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes to the world, and listened to their pounding and to the laughter of Lacus and the others.

He’d researched the subject, but he wasn’t certain that a Berserker could properly encompass everything that he had done. It was true that the initial description fit, but it was more than just strength. It was more than a kind genial soul becoming a crazed warrior. He just knew things. Things he shouldn’t know, but he did.

At first it had seemed to be something that took control of him, kept him alive when he didn’t wish it. But the more he looked at it, there were a string of times that he’d sought it. The string had begun just after the battle with Athrun, just after he’d gotten Freedom. During those tally marks, he hadn’t been conflicted over what was right and wrong and hadn’t been bothered by the idea that Athrun would be on the other side. He’d known that he would need its power and had used it accordingly.

But still, what was it?

“I think he’s asleep,” the voice of a Haro chimed.

Kira rolled his head around towards the sound of the voice and cracked open an eye. An orange Haro bounced up and down in his view. Lacus’s Haroes couldn’t get past asking if one wanted to play or how one felt with the occasional expository sentence in between.

The Haro stopped hopping and just looked up at him. “Nope, I was wrong.”

After a moment of intense scrutiny by the Haro, it began to hop up and down again as if the stop had been only momentary and it wished to return to being the way a Haro always was. Kira abruptly snatched it out of the air and sat up. He twisted it back and forth in his hands trying to see what made this Haro different. The rest of Lacus’s Haro’s had long since lost interest in him and taken up pestering which ever child happened to react. How was this one different?

“Of all the,” the Haro exclaimed, its little feet batting at his hands. “Let me go.”

Laughter invaded the string of explicatives that followed and Kira was drawn away from the fascination of the unusually intelligent Haro in his hands. A boy was perched on the railing with one sandaled foot on the rail before him and the other swinging back and forth on the other side of the railing. He was doubled over in laughter. He, also, wasn’t one of the kids from the orphanage.

“Quit laughing like a maniac and help me,” the Haro scolded. It grunted as its feet attempted to pry open Kira’s fingers.

Intelligence didn’t half describe it. It was like… It was like this thing was alive. Well, more alive than most machines.

“Orange, maybe you should stop moving, and let him take a look,” the boy suggested. His amber eyes were bursting with amusement and tears. “He’s just being curious.”

“‘Let ‘em take a look’ he says,” the Haro huffed. “I’d like to see you let someone attempt to open you up to take a look.”

The boy burst up laughing again. “As if that would be possible.”

“It’s not funny, you ingrate,” the Haro protested. “It’s degrading and rude. The least he could do before attempting to take a peek at my innards is introduce himself, maybe even offer a drink or something.”

“You don’t drink,” the boy corrected.

“That’s not the point,” it huffed, abruptly stopping its struggle against his grip. “It is considered polite to introduce one’s self.”

“His name is Kira, you dolt. Or weren’t you listening to that part of the conversation.”

“I was referring to his full name, you idiot.”

A dry, amused laugh interrupted them. Both the Haro and the boy froze, the boy looking like he’d just gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar, both hesitantly glancing at the porch steps. “That’s enough you two,” Kisaka warned from the porch steps.

“But we hadn’t even gotten three words in today,” the boy protested. “He’ll be behind in learning his requisite word count.”

“His words wouldn’t happen to be swear words, would they,” Kisaka asked, looking more amused than upset over it.

Come to think of it the two of them had been trading a number of insults over the course of the conversation, though they had been mostly mild. Not that he’d really considered them all that foul. It was just that the conversation hadn’t sounded like the one’s that Lacus usually had with her Haros. It was actually closer to the type of conversation that two kids would be having. It was surprising enough that he’d only watched it happen, curious as to how it was that a machine could sound so much like a person as to seem to have intelligence of its own, which he hadn’t witnessed in the other Haros.

The boy turned sheepish, running a hand nervously through his hair. “We kinda hit that list this week.”

“The things your mother let’s you get away with,” Kisaka said, ruffling the boys hair.

“Stop doing that,” the boy huffed, hastily straightening his ruffled hair. “I’m not a kid anymore, you know.”

“You’ll be a kid…” Kisaka ruffled the boy’s hair. “Until I say otherwise.”

“Kisaka-san, you know…” Kira began to ask, interrupting before the boy could snap back a response.

Kisaka glanced down at the boy, looking decidedly displeased by the realization that the kid hadn’t told Kira his name yet. “Alex,” he warned an edge of steel to his voice.

“I was getting to it,” Alex protested.

“Uh huh.”

“I was.”

Kisaka just laughed. “Where’s your mother?”

“Showing Unc…” Alex fumbled for a moment, stuttering before clearing his throat and moving on to cover for his slip up. “She’s showing Andy the house in Onogoro. Reverend Malchio said he didn’t mind if they used it since the only time he uses it is when this place is in the midst of being repaired. Mom said that she wanted to make sure that Andy knew where everything was, but that she’d be back in time for the celebration.”

“Celebration?”

“The after-war celebration,” Alex explained. “Mom said that she’d seen enough sad faces that she thought a party might lighten them up, but I think she just wanted to throw a party.”

“A party celebrating the end of a war.”

Kisaka sounded as puzzled as Kira felt. It was odd to think that someone would want to celebrate the end of a war. It didn’t seem right to celebrate death in such a manner. A memorial was perhaps more fitting than a party.

“Why shouldn’t you celebrate it,” Alex said defiantly. “The war is over, no one’s dying, people are getting back to their lives, and the rabid smurf population is decreasing by the day.”

“Smurf? Do you mean that old earth cartoon that Kaien found in that used video store?”

“Uh huh. It’s what mom calls the Cosmos people.” Alex abruptly turned towards Kira, a hopeful expression on his face. “You’ll come, right? I mean, it’s just over on the beach, but you’ll come.”

“Don’t you think you should introduce yourself first,” Kisaka prodded. “Before inviting him.”

Alex hopped off the railing and extended a hand towards Kira. “I’m Alex, Alex Dino.”

“Since when,” Kisaka asked.

“Since I moved here,” Alex shot back defiantly. “I was named after him, you know.”

“Why do I have the feeling that I need to have a talk with your mother.”

“She said you might say that.” Alex turned back to him, his hand still held out, his expression expectant.

Kira started to reach out, started to introduce himself, but was drowned out by the loud roar of an incoming pair of waveriders. The pair of waveriders were swishing in and out of the wake of a larger vessel, which was just turning the final curve into the cove in which the parish was nestled.

“So that’s why it took them so long,” Alex said, cryptically, watching as the pair of waveriders were beached. With their craft safely beached, the riders exchanged a few chortling remarks with the two guys that had been speaking with Lacus, before crossing over to the dock where they appeared to be waiting for the cruiser to dock. The cruiser, which could easily fit at least a dozen people if one resorted to sleeping on the deck, trundled its way into the cove before wheeling around to come to rest against the dock. Lines and bumpers were passed into the waiting hands of the people on the dock.

“What took you so long,” Alex abruptly yelled, catching the attention of the group on the dock. “Mom told you to get a boat. I don’t remember her telling you to get those.” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the waveriders.

“It’s a surprise,” was the return explanation. “If you’re quick, you can get a ride in before the Great One gets back.”

Alex lit up at the suggestion. A mischievous grin was sent in Kira’s direction just before the hand that Kira had extended in greeting was used as a means to pluck him from his chair. “Come on,” Alex said, dragging him down the porch steps and out towards the waveriders. “Let’s take ‘em for a spin.”

Kira wasn’t given time to explain that he wasn’t properly dressed for such an excursion. He also wasn’t given time to protest. All he had time for was to idly wonder what on earth had happened to Kisaka, who had somehow managed to avoid being the focus of this kid’s attention and had managed to disappear from the porch. Kira had rather liked watching everything, but somewhere between the porch and the waverider it occurred to him that this kid was a lot like how Cagalli used to be, open and adventurous, and mysteriously able to know just when he needed a hug or to be dragged off his chair.

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-3-Part7]

2006-10-14T03:57:38Z

[previous entry]

C.E. 72, Marshall Islands

The scene on the beach wasn’t all that different, when Lacus rounded the bend, than when she’d left it. The kids were still in the midst of a rousing game of kick ball, but Alex had taken Kira’s place. Kira watched from the porch, occasionally cracking a smile when Alex or one of the kids performed some odd feat.

Alex balanced the ball on his toe, wavering back and forth in his attempts to keep it out of reach of the others. He was showing off. Eventually, he flipped the ball up over his head and caught it on the heel of the same foot that had been balancing it before.

“What is it?”

“As you can’t return to PLANT…” Azamaria looked away, her hands fiddling with the folds of the sari. “It is not safe for a certain someone to remain in PLANT.”

“A certain someone?” Lacus asked, puzzled.

“Reverend Malchio has agreed to be Alex’s guardian until the situation changes, but I was hoping that you might watch over him while he’s here. He can be quite a handful at times.”

“Alex.” Lacus gaped. “Wouldn’t he be safer with you?”

Azamaria looked up, a fond smile spilling across her face. “I would love nothing more than to keep him close, but circumstances require that he be placed elsewhere.”

In the end, Lacus hadn’t found a reason to argue with her, but had numbly accepted the request. The original plan for when she and the others had left PLANT had been to take Azamaria along with them. There was no reason for her to stay and having the designer with them would prevent similar designs from being built. However, Azamaria had refused to leave.

Looking at Alex kicking the ball around on the beach, Lacus wondered if he’d been the reason behind her refusal. She’d certainly been amenable to the plan before Freedom had been given, even after Justice had followed it. The reversal hadn’t happened until the last stages of the plan, during the last few days in PLANT. And now, Alex was to stay on Earth under the guardianship of Reverend Malchio.

“Hmmmm….You know what that looks like, Garen,” a familiar voice asked from beside her.

Garen, clad kaki shorts and a bright Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses slipping down his nose as he peered into her face, grinned. “That looks like someone who’s found out a secret.”

Lacus squeaked, hastily stepping back. “Garen…” She glanced to the other side, finding Garik in a similar outfit and pose. “Garik…”

“We did promise to visit when it was all over,” they said.

“So you did,” she muttered, absently straightening her blue sundress to cover her surprise.

“Something’s missing, Garen.” Garik straightened, pushing his sunglasses back, fingers cupping his chin. His gaze was centered on the beach. “What could it be?”

“Let’s see…” Garen straightened, pushing his sunglasses back, humming deep in his throat. “We have palm tress, small children playing in the sand, a beach front house, a Reverend, and…wait…that doesn’t look anything like the knightly one, does it?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Are you sure,” Garen shot back. “I distinctly recall that the romantic-getaway-on-an-island scenario required the knightly one’s presence.”

“Does everyone know where this island is,” she asked, interrupting their ponderings on Athrun’s absence. She was more than a little irritated that a supposedly secret island wasn’t as secret as she’d expected.

“It actually wasn’t that hard to figure out,” Garen said, waving her question aside. “The good Reverend is a family friend.”

“And how exactly did you get here?”

“By boat of course,” Garen playfully sniped back. “I take it that the Great One is taking the Fearless Leader back to Orb, yes?” He barely glanced her direction before he’d continued on, leaving her no room to answer. “The Great One mentioned that the Fearless Leader was playing hooky while delivering a certain suit back to Orb and since Orb was kind enough not to mention that she wasn’t there the whole time…. So, we thought we’d tag along and come for a visit. Speaking of boats….I wonder—”

“That’s it!” Garik smacked a fist into his palm.

“What is,” she and Garen asked.

“There’s no bonfire,” Garik cheerily replied, motioning at the beach. “We can’t have a proper after-war celebration without a bonfire.”

“A bonfire,” Garen puzzled, a slight frown dimpling his lips. “I don’t recall a bonfire being a part of the scenario.”

“What would that pretty head of yours do without me,” Garik sweetly asked, patting his brother on the head. “How can you have a clam bake without a bonfire?”

“Did we buy clams?”

Garik opened his mouth and froze, puzzling over the question. Slowly he frowned and then dug in his pocket, pulling out a cell phone a moment later. His finger typed out the number. “I’ll ask.”

“After-war celebration,” Lacus asked, glancing between the two. They were making even less sense than usual. Bonfires and after-war celebrations and romantic getaway scenarios...

The pair paused, looking at her, slowly blinking wide green eyes. They both looked like it hadn’t occurred to them that she wouldn’t know what it was. “She hasn’t heard,” Garik asked his brother.

“How would she know?” Garen fired back. “It’s only recently been instated.”

“Did she not get the memo?”

“She hasn’t been in PLANT.”

“I suppose we’ll have to explain it, then,” Garik added with a shrug. “Hime, an after-war celebration endeavors to boost morale in the post-war world by providing an excuse to eat, drink, and be merry. Of course this past time was only recently created by the Great One.”

“Actually, mom just wanted an excuse to throw a party,” Alex’s voice interjected.

“Did we buy clams,” Garik asked into the phone, pulling slightly away from the others. “And where the hell are you guys? The Great One had the copter…” He paused, listening when the phone squawked in response.

“Also a valid explanation.” Garen continued, turning towards Alex, who was standing just behind him with a soccer ball tucked under the crook of his arm. “Is it me or have the Little Gundam’s skills improved? I didn’t even hear him walk up.”

“Grandpa’s been giving me stealth lessons.” Alex shrugged, a lopsided grin on his face.

“And here I thought the Great One was endeavoring to not get you involved in the family business.”

“Mom doesn’t know about it.”

“Good news, we have clams,” Garik interrupted. “Unfortunately, Haro and her bedmate decided to make a stop along the way, until they get back...” He frowned as the phone squawked. “No, I didn’t know about that,” he said into the phone.

Alex had looked back at the house, his gaze resting on Kira, who in turn was watching them. Kira looked slightly amused by the antics of the group, and yet he still kept his distance. Lacus sent a smile of reassurance to him. It was probably odd to see her talking with a group of people he’d never met. “Who’s the coma case,” Alex asked.

“We’d been meaning to ask about that as well,” the twins said, glancing in Kira’s direction. “It is curious that while Hime is on an island, the knightly one is not there with her.”

“Athrun’s not here.” Alex blinked wide amber eyes, glancing around as if realizing that Athrun was missing. “Come to think of it, there was that rumor that he’d settled in Orb.”

“There was also the one where he died nobly protecting the people of PLANT.” Garen fainted into his brother’s arms with a dramatic flourish. Garik heaved a sigh and nestled the phone between head and shoulder, expertly catching his brother’s limp form. Garen wearily rested a hand against his forehead. “It’s said that his last words were….sadly… not heard.”

“What about the one where he and Hime escaped PLANT, traveled to Earth, and eloped,” Garik said after having dropped Garen into the sand. He laughed as the phone squawked. “I hadn’t heard that one,” he said into the phone. “There’s also, apparently, one in which he’s shacked up with some princess.” He closed the phone and stowed it in one of his pockets.

Lacus was torn between amusement and horror at PLANT’s speculations, but tried to keep both from her face. Athrun, had he been there, would have been beet red with embarrassment or stammering out a denial. He was living in the same house as a princess, but he wasn’t shacked up with her yet.

“Well,” all three prompted.

“The engagement’s off,” she said with a shrug. “We decided to go our separate ways.”

The three of them turned slowly to look back at Kira. “So that would make him,” Garen began.

“The new boyfriend,” Garik finished.

“You two could be wrong, you know,” Alex said, looking back and forth between them. “He could be a random person in a beach chair on a deck on an island.”

“True enough,” they said, shrugging at each other. They glanced her way, grinning the same cheshire grin that she’d seen the day she’d first met them. “We require information. Name, affiliation, place of meeting, etc.”

“His name is Kira,” she said and paused, an amusing idea forming in her mind. These two were always full of little bits and pieces of information. She smiled sweetly at the pair. “If you wish to know more, you’ll have to pay for it.”

The cheshire grin widened, a wicked sparkle glimmering in their green eyes. “And what payment did the fair Hime have in mind, hmmm…”

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-3-Part6]

2006-09-25T18:29:24Z

[previous entry]

C.E. 73, Terminus, Terminal Asteroid Base

Lacus was in the hallway just off the hanger bay in Eternal when the two suits came in. Waltfeld had made the decision to send out Hilda Harken, the former ZAFT red coat that was to command the DOM squad, which was currently under construction in the Factory, and Herbert Von Reinhardt, the former ZAFT green coat that served under Hilda, to pilot the pair of suits in, saving the time in carting the pod back.

The pair didn’t look any different than the last time, but they definitely weren’t the same units. Justice had lost a little weight and acquired a different fatum pack, while Freedom had lost several weapons, acquired Dragoons incorporated into its wings, and a host of other small changes.

Just what was Azamaria-san saying by sending them? Was it that Kira was in danger? Was it her way of saying that Lacus was right to investigate Durandal? PLANT seemed to be securely behind their Chairman, but most of that was due to his Lacus’s support. Of course all of it required Lacus to believe that Azamaria was still alive. Lacus had checked Terminal’s logs and Azamaria hadn’t accessed it since the day she was reported missing. The message with her user name stamped on it had been back tracked to Eris in PLANT. Eris, the head of PLANT Terminal, had been instructed to pass the message along if Azamaria ever disappeared.

She sighed. Maybe she was reading too much into it. Maybe it was just that it was easier to send both at the same time. Maybe it was just Azamaria planning ahead. But why construct both of them?

technicians swarmed over the units the second they finished docking, logging data, running tests, doing everything that they always did.

She had just opened discussions on rebuilding Justice from the data stored in Eternal’s database. And suddenly, she didn’t have to think about it anymore. Justice was there. Of course, Athrun wasn’t there to pilot it anymore, a fact that worried her a little more than she’d previously thought.

The two of them had settled into a friendship after the war ended. She’d moved on to Kira and he had moved on to Cagalli. It just worked better that way. But that didn’t mean that she’d stopped caring about him. It was just a different type.

She sighed, resting her head against the bulkhead. Athrun wasn’t the only one who was confused. On the one hand she was inclined to believe that Kira was right and that the Chairman was behind the attempt on her life, but Athrun presented reasonable alternatives in his argument as well. On the surface everything the Chairman was doing was right. PLANT had to defend itself, but it couldn’t afford to extend the war any further. It could hardly ignore the cries for help that were coming from Eurasia’s direction. And it wasn’t that surprising that the Alliance was acting the way it was, it was just a little unsettling the lengths they were willing to go to. The Earth had barely recovered from the drop of Junius-7 when they forced their way into a new war.

And yet, given the fact that the Chairman was utilizing his Lacus to boost morale and in general garner support, there was a part of her that was wondering what he hoped to gain. No political power was ever truly altruistic. They always had a reason behind it. She was no exception, despite his portrayal to the contrary.

And she was right back to that nagging thought. The one that said that as she was now, she wasn’t wanted. If that was the case then it ought to apply to more than just her. But it hadn’t, Athrun was back in ZAFT fully supported by the Chairman, and so were Dearka Elsman, Yzak Joule, and any number of others that had changed in the first war.

Then of course, there was the feeling that she’d done everything before, which was silly because she hadn’t. She hadn’t been almost killed, she hadn’t been forced into hiding, and she hadn’t chosen to escape to space in order to get information out of PLANT. She hadn’t done a lot of it before. And yet, it felt as if she had. Even watching the Techs perform checks on Freedom and Justice, she felt like she’d done it before.

“Aisha said that Az was always doing things like this. Giving presents even when there wasn’t a reason. Fixing things that worked because they just weren’t good enough,” Waltfeld said from behind her. He floated up to the view port, setting his feet down on the decking with a judicious push against the wall. “You know, when I first met her, Aisha hadn’t even told me she had a sister,” he added with a grin and a nervous chuckle. “Aisha hadn’t even known she was back in ZAFT until the day she showed up with the LaGOWE to test out in Banadiya.”

“It’s hard to believe that someone could forget a sister.”

“Their family was always a bit strange. Half the things I ought to know about them, I don’t. The other half really has no importance. For them, it all comes down to ‘need to know’ information.” He turned towards her, looking serious for the first time in the many years she’d known him. “Something about those units bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“Not them personally, but perhaps what they might mean,” she answered, leaning up against the edge of the view port. “Commander Waltfeld, have you ever gotten the feeling that we’ve done all of this before?”

“How so?”

“The last time Azamaria-san came to us with the information on the X-series project,” Lacus began. “She gave it to father under the guise of Orange-chan being an annoyance she had to get rid of. This time she’s sent a message. Only, I don’t know what she’s trying to say. Freedom wasn’t even built by this time in the last war, and yet it’s here as if there’s something about it…”

“You think it’s possible that she’s trying to warn us that something is going to happen to Freedom,” Waltfeld finished.

“There’s no other reason I can think of.”

“Sometimes she means something, other times she’s playing games…” Waltfeld shrugged. “I’ll tell Murrue to keep an eye on the kid, though.”

“Maybe I’m reading too much into it,” she muttered, resting her head against the bulkhead. “I keep wondering if it’s more than that we’ve done this before. Durandal’s the only one in PLANT that stands to gain anything from using my image and he’s the only one who is doing it, but at the same time…Is it wrong to protect those that ask for help? It can't believe that it is wrong to help those that ask for it, but at the same time helping is also making the situation worse. The Alliance forced their way into this war as if they wanted to start another one, as if they were looking for an excuse to start one. PLANT's helping hand is encouraging them to do something worse than they were already doing. In the end, their help may prove to be temporary.”

“The Alliance forced their way into the first one, too,” Waltfeld muttered, his gaze falling heavily on the two suits. “It’s like they didn’t learn anything from the first war and so they repeat the same mistakes, again.”

“Repeat…” she mumbled, brows drawn down in thought. “I suppose it is ironic that Junius-7 would start both conflicts.”

“Almost as ironic as Minerva being chased around Earth like Archangel was,” Waltfeld quipped, turning to leave.

“Commander Waltfeld.”

In the view port’s reflection Waltfeld looked back at her. “What?”

“Please have them run a full check out on them.” Lacus glanced over her shoulder, meeting his gaze. “Just in case.”

“Already done.”

Lacus let him float his way back out the door. If they were going after Freedom she’d done all she could to protect it. Repeating the same mistakes, her fake being two years too young, an extra Freedom....

“Like Archangel,” she whispered, a slight frown creasing her lips. “Now why does that bother me?”

[next entry]

[GSD - Terminal - 2 - Part 6]

2006-08-18T03:59:48Z

[previous entry]

C.E. 74, Gibraltar Base

He did what he always did. He managed to make everything that he did seem right. Every explanation made sense. It had to be done. Athrun and Meyrin had gotten into classified data. Sometimes, it was amazing how many easy explanations just rolled out of his mouth.

Talia curled further into his jacket, inhaling his scent, diving farther into the illusion that it was alright. She watched his chest rise and fall, wondering when it would feel like he was actually there. She wanted to believe he wasn’t capable of such things. Wanted to believe that he was the way she remembered him. There was something different in him. A part of him that he hid from her.

Why did she have to be surrounded by know-it-alls? If it wasn’t Gilbert it was Azamaria.

The timing had been perfect. Talia smiled, silently laughing at it. Az had “died” a handful of days before the Destroy had come onto the scene. But what she hoped to accomplish in death, Talia hadn’t a clue.

“The smart one, huh,” she mumbled into his jacket.

Talia knew that she should have told him about Az, but she didn’t want to. A true know-it-all Az had probably appeared because she knew Talia wouldn’t tell him. Was she really that predictable?

She looked down at the black phone in the hand in her lap. Az wouldn’t use it again. A trained spy wouldn’t use the same method twice. She should have thrown it away. Instead she clung to it, keeping it close incase there was more.

She flipped the phone open, typing out the same message she’d typed hours before. A single contact name rested in its memory, though she didn’t know who “friend” was. The message on the computer had said that Az was her “friend.” Was it possible that this “friend” was her?

She flipped it closed, erasing the message, again. What good was asking going to do? It wouldn’t change the fact that Athrun and Meyrin had stolen the data. It wouldn’t change the fact that she had….

Talia looked over at the bed. He slept on unaware of her scrutiny, dark hair fanned out on the pillow. When had it happened? When had she started not to trust him?

When he’d knocked on the door, she’d pocketed the phone. She’d hid it away from him as he’d hidden himself away from her. It’d been so easy. Not even a second thought was given to it.

Talia fingered the hem of his jacket, tugging it closer about her. It was odd that she didn’t trust him. But she couldn’t recall when it had happened. She loved him, she knew she did. But how could she love a man she, apparently, didn’t trust?

Azamaria had given her far more reasons not to trust her than Gilbert had. But she expected Az to lie about things. It was her job after all. Information only remained secret until someone found out about it. That’s just the way it was. So, why did she trust one and not the other? Of anyone, Az was the one not to trust. She flipped the phone open and closed, frowning in his direction. She should trust him, but she didn’t. Why?

It was stupid to stop trusting someone over information that she couldn’t even confirm. But she had the feeling it had happened before that. “What’re you up to,” she mumbled.

“Hmm…”

Her hand fled into the jacket, hiding the phone. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

His golden eyes blinked in the gloom. “You didn’t. What is it?”

“If you’d known about the Destroy…” She hesitated. This was stupid. She already knew the answer. There was no way that he wouldn't have... “Would you have prevented it from attacking those cities? Would you have destroyed it?” There it was. She had to know.

“Yes.” He didn’t even blink. “It was truly unfortunate that that happened.”

“They helped us.” She looked away from him, staring at the floor. “If they hadn’t gotten involved that thing might still be out there. And we repaid their assistance by attacking them, by destroying Freedom.”

“He was quite angry about that, too.” A heavy weighted sigh drifted out from the bed. His eyes closed. The sheets rustling as he rolled over. “It couldn’t be helped, Talia. I had to order it.”

“Did you?”

“Talia.” It was his turn to look away from her. “That one act was not enough reason to—”

“But it seems enough to condemn them,” she snapped. “Did you even try talking to them?”

“You offered them a chance to surrender.”

“I wanted to know who the captain was.” She shrunk into his jacket, her nose peeking out above the collar. “And don't pull what I did or did not do into this. This is all about you.”

“Talia…”

“I know.” Her hand clenched the phone. This was going no where. “It couldn’t be helped. Go back to sleep, I’ll be there in a little bit.”

He sighed, his eyes drifting to the window, watching the rain. “I didn’t want to do it,” he said softly. “They might have been great allies, but I couldn’t allow them to roam free. They showed up wherever they wanted to, interfering in battles that they had nothing to do with.”

“This war is as much Orb’s problem as it is anyone’s. If they were from Orb…”

“There wasn’t enough debris at the scene to indicate that Archangel was destroyed.”

She wished she had Az’s training. She might have been able to tell if he was lying. That was the problem with Gilbert, he was hard to read. She slipped from the chair, heading for the bathroom. “Sleep, I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“Did something happen,” he asked. “You’ve been acting strange all night.”

“Nothing happened.” And shut the door.

How would Az spin it? She rested her head against the door. “It would probably be… Nothing was happening before and even more nothing is happening now. Sometimes I envy you, Az, even if you are a know-it-all.”

[next entry]

[GSD - Terminal - 2- Part 7]

2006-08-01T05:58:47Z

[previous entry]

C.E. 74, Orb Transport

Sometime during their flight across Asia towards Orb Azamaria had fallen asleep. She was still curled up on the floor next to Athrun’s bed, head pillowed on her knees. A part of Kisaka wanted to just let her sleep. She’d need all of the rest she could get before she went back up into space. And yet, she’d grumble more if he let her sleep like that. “You’ll hate yourself in the morning if you sleep like that,” he chided, prodding her shoulder.

“Leave me alone,” she grumbled, yawning. She rolled her head to the side, looking up through her hair towards him, fixing him with a glare. “What time is it?”

“Late,” he answered, her mood not affecting him in the least. “We should be there in a couple hours.” He tapped her shoulder with the plate of food he’d brought with him. “Thought you’d like something to eat.”

“Oh.” She sat back, the locket slapping against the front of the uniform. “Thanks,” she added, taking the plate. “Have the others…”

“Eaten and decided to take up the last of the beds for some sleep. Luther mentioned that you hadn’t eaten.”

A simple breakfast of water, some rations, and some fruit that someone had managed to stick on board. She dove into it with a single mindedness. “Any news,” she asked, in between bites.

“Helios reported that Angel made it to Orb. They apparently lost an engine and are in bad need of repairs. Freedom’s toast though.”

“We already knew about Freedom.” She ripped open a ration bar, tearing off a bite. “At least the pilots are alive.”

“What good are pilots without suits?”

She laughed, “You forget who you’re talking to.”

Athrun groaned, silencing the conversation. She set the plate aside, stuffing in a grape before standing up. She checked the i.v. and shrugged when his breathing returned to normal.

He shouldn’t have woken up. They’d pumped him full of sedatives just to keep him from moving too much. It wouldn’t do him or anyone any good to have his wounds open up again.

Azamaria stood there for a moment a puzzled look on her face. An intelligence officer she was, but she definitely wasn’t a doctor. Kisaka shrugged when she shot him a questioning glance. She ripped off another bite of the bar, chewing as she headed back to the plate of food.

Athrun’s hand caught her wrist, jerking her to a halt.

She swallowed, looking down at Athrun. Her eyes slowly blinked. Shoulders slumped as if she’d spent the night without sleep, worrying over his safety. The grace and authority that was Azamaria was gone, instead she was fiery, authoritative, a woman more used to having people listen to her voice only when it was at full pitch. Her fingers snitched the bar from her other hand, releasing the other hand to rest softly against his. “Sleep Athrun,” Cagalli’s voice came from Azamaria’s lips.

Kisaka blinked, gaping at her. Her red eyes glanced in his direction and the image dissolved in a single wink she threw his direction. Someday she was going to have to teach him that trick.

Athrun’s head rolled towards her, his eyes fighting to open. “Cagalli?”

Her fingers twitched. She was trying to decide if Cagalli would pat his hand. Her eyes drifted back to Athrun, “Sleep Athrun.”

“Cagalli,” Athrun moaned. His groaned, shoulders rising from the bed, trying to sit up.

Her hand was pressed against his shoulder, roughly shoving him back into bed. “Don’t get up you idiot.”

“Kira,” he asked, allowing her to press him back into the bed.

“He’s fine,” she snapped back, a hand hovering above his chest as if she feared he’d try and move again. “Rest, you idiot, we’re almost there.”

His emerald eyes were barely open a crack, when he seemed to lose all of the energy that had had him awake. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. His grip on her wrist slackened as his breathing returned to steady rhythm of sleep.

Azamaria crashed back into herself, stumbling back from the bed, red eyes wide. Her head shook back and forth, willing away what had just been admitted.

“And you said love had nothing to do with it,” Kisaka teased.

She scowled at him before looking down at Athrun. “Idiot,” she admonished, this time in her own voice. She ripped another bite of the bar, picking up the plate as she joined him, sitting down on one of the chairs bolted into the wall. “You know, I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know.” He snitched a grape. “But I cheat.”

“Who doesn’t?” She chewed on the bar, gaze still lingering on Athrun. “I wonder if Lacus will be able to sort him out, again.”

“So, this plan of yours…”

“I don’t have a plan,” she interrupted. “I’m winging this like everybody else. The only one who isn’t is him…the Chess Master.”

“Why do you call him that,” Kisaka asked, snitching another grape.

“Because he likes chess. Or are you going to tell me that you hadn’t noticed the chess board that’s always hanging around him.”

“It wasn’t just a decoration?” He reached for the grapes again.

She slapped his hand away. “Quit eating my breakfast.”

“I can’t help it if you don’t eat fast enough.”

She tossed a grape at him. “Ledonir.”

“Hmm…”

“I would’ve given him one.”

He ruffled her hair, earning a glare. “I know.”

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-3-Part5]

2006-07-18T18:22:19Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 72, Marshall Islands

According to the latest reports, everything was calming down. Soon even she wouldn’t have to worry about anything. A welcome release to be certain.

Lacus smiled softly, laughing at the kids. They had captured Kira, determined to work him out of his blue mood by forcing him to play with them. A rousing game of kickball was hardly what she would have chosen as a method to get him to brighten up, but the kids had been so determined to have him feel better.

A handful of months had passed since that single moment, the moment when she feared she’d lost them all. Kira, Athrun, Cagalli— all of them were infinitely more important to her than she had first thought.

He more than most.

Would he be able to pick up the pieces left after the war or would the Kira she knew be lost forever? She hated to think that even though they’d survived, the two most important men in her life were struggling to find themselves again. Athrun had certainly thrown himself into his work, but even he had those moments where the real Athrun revealed himself. The two of them were a pair, both trying to find the answer that they thought they’d found in the war, both learning to be friends, again.

Sometimes Kira looked lost, so uncertain of himself. Maybe that was why she had thrown herself into the Terminal Project. She had to have something to distract her from him.

In the end, she didn’t know how to help him. She’d hesitated to return Freedom to him, there was no more need of it. Instead the keys to its hanger rested inside Pink-chan. A part of her hoped that she would never have to bring that choice to him, again.

She didn’t want to lose him. Lacus Clyne’s first selfish wish.

And yet, he was still slipping away. She’d find him on the porch looking out at the waves or down on the beach and even though she spoke to him, he wasn’t there. A part of Kira was never there. He smiled, played with the kids when they wanted him to, talked with Athrun when he was there, but she could see it. A part of him was still up there, floating in space.

“I know,” was all he said sometimes.

What the hell did that mean? He knew— did he know that he was leaving? Did he know that she was waiting for him to come back?

It wasn’t fair. He didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve this.

“Orange!”

She knew that voice. But what on earth was Alex doing on Earth.

From the porch she looked past the children, searching, hoping that she wasn’t wrong and that he was actually there. His shaggy brown hair was bleached from too much sun, his face was bronzed, and yet it was the same old Alex. He pelted down the beach, tossing sand up in his wake, trailing behind an orange ball that bounced and floundered in the sand before righting itself and hopping on.

“Lacus, visitors…you have visitors,” the orange Haro called.

“Wait up you dolt,” Alex scolded, amber eyes flashing.

“Visitors?” She stepped towards the porch railing, silently amused by both the boy and the Haro.

The Haro threw itself up on the porch railing, bouncing back and forth, trying to get the sand out and only succeeding in spreading it all over the porch. “Very important visitors,” it answered and abruptly turned about, crying, “I am not a dolt. I am a Haro,” at Alex.

Her smile faltered. Who would know to find her in this place? She’d chosen it so that Kira could get away for awhile, sort out his thoughts, and she could have a place where she could do what needed to be done without getting anybody overtly involved. Terminal was hardly an organization that could be built with ties to any one nation. Though Cagalli had offered them a wing of her estate, Lacus didn’t want to be in the way of Cagalli’s relationship with Athrun. Nothing put a damper on a relationship quite like having the old girlfriend hanging around the house. It was just better this way. “What kind of visitors, Orange-chan?”

“Come see,” it cried, bouncing down the steps. It stopped at the bottom of the steps, looking up at Alex. “You stay here.”

“Idiot,” Alex snapped back. “You’ll get sand in you if you bounce like that.”

“It is unfortunate that we cannot walk,” it answered, waggling its little feet as it rolled back and forth. “Bouncing will simply have to suffice.”

Lacus stifled a laugh, glancing over at Kira and the kids, and found him well occupied. “Alex?”

“Mom’s down the beach a little.” Alex took the steps two at a time. “This dolt will take you to her.”

“I am not a dolt. I am a Haro,” it corrected, bouncing on down the beach.

Lacus found her and another just around the bend. Azamaria was playing in the surf. Her plaited orange hair hung down her back, strings of gold and green beads woven through it. The rest of her was hidden underneath a gold, brown, and green sari. A pair of sandals dangled from her fingers as she tiptoed through the surf. Lacus had only seen Azamaria a handful of times with her son, but even then her outfits had not been so eclectic.

Her companion, however, was as inconspicuous as she could manage. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a French twist, face partially hidden behind a pair of fashionable sunglasses, and she wore a blue sundress with a golden ribbon that tied in the back. She sat in the sand, sandals settled next to her, one hand twirling idly in the sand. She was oddly familiar, but Lacus couldn’t place where she’d seen her before.

“Alex-kun looks well,” Lacus opened.

“He usually is,” Azamaria answered cheerfully. She stopped her tiptoeing, looking around at the island. “This place hasn’t changed all that much. It seems to suit you.”

“It is quite peaceful. I wasn’t aware you’d been here before.”

“Reverend Malchio,” A sad smile wafted across her face, “is a very old friend. He says that here all of the world’s noise goes away. That one can find himself closer to God. I don’t know if I believe him or not.”

“Why are you here?”

“I believe that would have something to do with me,” Azamaria’s companion replied, flicking the sand off her fingers. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Lacus.”

Her voice was calm, cultured, carefully spoken, and exactly the way Lacus remembered her. She, however, was not the way Lacus recalled her, having only seen her dressed for council. The youngest of the Supreme Council members and the shrewdest politician, Canaver had been chosen as interim Supreme Council Chairman. A duty that most seemed to want to avoid. Especially given the rocky nature of the political world.

“Chairwoman Canaver,” Lacus gaped.

Eileen Canaver laughed softly, idly pushing back a forelock that had escaped the twist, tucking it neatly behind her ear. “I don’t think I will ever get used to that.”

“You may find it’s easier than you think,” Azamaria shot back.

“However do you manage such an optimistic disposition, Azamaria,” Canaver queried, heaving herself out of the sand.

“It’s quite easy, but it took years of practice.”

“I wasn’t aware that you two knew each other,” Lacus interrupted, slightly surprised by the friendly banter between the two.

“We don’t,” Canaver frankly denied with a sly grin, “Not officially, anyways.”

“Unofficially, I know her better than you do.” Azamaria had returned to her tiptoeing in the surf, the hem of the sari draped over her arm. “The things I could tell you—”

“You will keep your silence,” Canaver ordered. When Azamaria opened her mouth to continue Canaver stared her down. Azamaria’s lips kept twitching as she fought to keep her amusement in check. Maybe these two really did know each other or at least they knew each other well enough to know when to shut each other up. It was the kind of fight the twins would pull every now and then; a silent staring argument that would end when one of them shrugged and went back to what they’d been doing before. Azamaria raised an eyebrow, shrugging when Canaver said nothing, and silently returned to her play in the surf. Canaver heaved a weary sigh before saying, “She has her uses, Lacus, many more than most would think,” as if to explain their argument. “Officially, of course, this conversation never happened, but it is good to see that you are well.”

“Thank you for your concern. I am a little curious as to why you came in person,” Lacus said. “I would think that the peace talks would be taking up all of your time.”

“Walk with me,” Canaver invited, linking her arm with Lacus’s. “Don’t noise it about, but I do prefer being planet-side now and then, but I don’t have much time for it anymore.”

Lacus let her draw her into a lazy walk along the beach. Azamaria was following in the surf. Canaver chatted about various happenings in PLANT, the peace talks, and generally avoided everything but pleasant conversation. None of it mentioned why it was that PLANT’s Chairman had come in person.

“I believe I owe you a great many thanks for your assistance with ending the war,” Canaver said after awhile.” However, there is still much to be done. With the last of the peace talks scheduled for this week, there are a number of matters that we had put off that must be dealt with.”

Ah, so that was why. Lacus held her silence. A part of her had hoped that the silence from PLANT had been an acceptance of her decision. The rest of her knew it would come up eventually. “I understand. The peace talks were always more important.”

“I don’t think you do,” Canaver said heavily. “While I would love nothing better than to ask you to return, there are a number of reasons why I cannot. You commandeered a ship of the fleet and then proceeded to use it not only against the Alliance, but against PLANT. If ZAFT’s commanders had their way, you would be in prison. Fortunately, the Council overruled them, quite unanimously.”

“I suppose that means that the Provisional Council likes you,” Azamaria quipped. “Popularity can be such a problem in politics.”

“True enough,” Canaver responded. “Your father believed you to be a shrewd politician. Most were hesitant to put a sixteen year-old in the position of chairman, even if it was only on a memorial committee, but you proved to be the right one for the job. With this latest foray, some have begun to question where it is you intend to go in the political world.”

“I had not yet decided,” Lacus replied, neatly avoiding admitting anything to do with Terminal. While it wasn’t political, it did affect the political world. It wasn’t that she was withdrawing from politics, it was just an exploration of another facet of the political world.

“I hadn’t expected you to. The council has decided that while you did effectively end the war, it would be best if you did not return to PLANT.”

“Wasn’t that your decision?” Azamaria interrupted. “If memory serves me correctly, the others would love nothing more than to have her around. They’re all itching to get her support on their projects.”

“You have absolutely no sense of tact, Azamaria.”

“This is why I’m not in politics, even though I understand most of what is going on.”

“There are a number of factors that call for my presence here, at the moment,” Lacus interrupted, slipping her arm free.

A part of her had argued against returning to PLANT, simply on the basis that she had betrayed them, even if it had been to save them. And of course there was Kira, Athrun, and Cagalli on Earth. Three people who knew her better than anyone. At least they didn’t expect her to be prim and proper all the time, though they did tend to look at her strangely when she didn’t. In the end, there were always many more reasons not to return to her home country than there were ones to go back.

“I can imagine that there are and it’s not that I don’t want you back,” Canaver added, a slight smile dimpling her lips. “It is a matter of politics at the moment. The provisional council may have decided to pardon you, but I’m afraid that it was only a matter of convenience. Most of them didn’t want to be seen in a negative light, but they could only bend the rules so far. I do hope that you will return one day.”

Bending the rules was hardly anything new. How far did they bend them for the others? “What was the decision on Athrun Zala and Dearka Elsman?”

“Given that, even though he did desert and took military property with him, he used that property to save PLANT, the provisional council has seen fit to be lenient in the matter of Athrun Zala. He’s been discharged from ZAFT, is forbidden under council edict to ever pilot a mobile suit that belongs to ZAFT, and has been informally requested not to return to PLANT.”

“He’s been banished.”

“He knew what he was doing, Lacus,” Azamaria said.

“My crime was no worse than his. And yet, he is punished and I am not.”

“In your case, they had a bigger fish to fry,” Azamaria said playfully, rocking back and forth on her feet. “It’s always been easier for a political party to punish a soldier than a citizen.”

A long heavily measured look passed from Canaver to Azamaria. “In some cases more than others,” Canaver said softly with a sigh. “In Dearka Elsman’s case, he cannot be conclusively proven to have been in Buster during the battle of Jachin Due and as such, the council has dropped the charges against him. However, he was reported to have been involved in the altercation at Colony Mendel and so he’s been demoted a grade. Yzak Joule has petitioned to have him transferred into his unit, which ZAFT command has approved. He’s currently on indefinite leave from ZAFT, but given his qualifications there are many who would advocate for the formation of a squad under his command.”

“Didn’t he turn that down,” Azamaria asked.

“So his father informs me.” Canaver heaved a weary sigh, turning a serious expression on Lacus. “There is also the matter of the strange number of artifacts that went missing at the end of Jachin Due.”

“About that…” Lacus began.

“I have no desire for them to return.” Canaver interrupted. “According to initial investigations at the scene, it is believed that Justice and Eternal were destroyed. Further investigation reported that the amount of debris at the scene wasn’t conclusive on the destruction of Eternal. For the moment it is conveniently missing. While I am inclined to believe the initial report, I am aware of the possibility that it was fabricated to make their disappearance seem believable.”

Lacus gaped. Anybody who’d been there wouldn’t believe that report. That Eternal was missing most would believe, but that it was destroyed was stupid. “Why would you allow such a report to be written?”

“Convenience,” Azamaria suggested. “It would be better for such weapons to be missing or destroyed than in the hands of ZAFT. It opens more political routes towards peaceful relations with Orb and the Alliance.”

Canaver looked amused and grew more so the more Lacus was surprised by what was being said. “Your current endeavor may require them,” Canaver neatly explained with a small grin

She couldn’t be talking about….

“Your father requested our help in creating it.” Azamaria said, a similar grin spreading across her face. “He hoped that such an organization would serve as a buffer, a humanitarian path towards peace.”

Lacus gaped, looking back and forth between the two of them. “He told you about—”

“Yes, he did,” Azamaria interrupted. “You’ve certainly chosen the right locale to start this little rebellion. The network in PLANT is working efficiently, but Earth is somewhat lacking. If it is to be effective, you will have to extend it beyond PLANT.”

“You speak as if you know how.” Lacus watched as Canaver and Azamaria shared an amused look with each other.

Canaver raised an eyebrow as if questioning something. Azamaria shrugged, waving her to continue. “Azamaria is not what she appears to be,” Canaver said. “Her contacts and expertise will be a great asset on Earth.”

“I was under the impression that you were one of the best mobile suit designers in PLANT, a former Crew Chief in ZAFT. Was I wrong to believe in this impression?”

“I became that when I met Alex’s father, but I was not always that way.” Azamaria waded out of the water, coming to stand beside them. “I find that old habits are harder to get rid of than I previously thought.”

She leaned in whispering what could not be spoken aloud into Lacus’s ear. Lacus’s eyes widened with each and every word of the explanation. Her mouth was dry when she stammered out, “You’re…a….”

“Yes, I am.”

“Did Father…”

“Yes, he did.”

“I never thought…”

“Most don’t.” Azamaria played with the end of her braided orange hair. “It’s the hair that has most convinced that I’m not. It tends to make me stick out. Most tend to forget that the best place to hide has always been in plain sight.”

“I suppose…” She let the words drift off, puzzling over both revelations. Terminal was an organization that would require information in order to function properly and this woman was that kind of person. If her father had been aware of Azamaria’s past and told her of the plan, than it was worth a little trust. “It would be helpful, having someone of such expertise in this endeavor,” Lacus wistfully commented. “Though I find it curious that you would offer your assistance so easily.”

“In return for that assistance, I have but one request.”

“What is it?”

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-3-Part4]

2006-07-18T18:20:14Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 73, Terminus, Terminal Asteroid Base

Two years and however many odd days had passed since Lacus had cast aside the bubble-gum image of her youth, and she couldn’t say that she’d missed it, though she had kept portions of it. After all, as the twins had said, “The closer it is to you the easier it will be to act it and then cast it away.”

Looking at the image of the girl who was supposed to be her, she wanted to feel disgusted. She should feel disgusted, but… In the end, all she could feel was pity. The bubble-gum image wore the girl instead of the girl wearing the image.

The image had been Lacus’s shield, keeping her safe amongst the throngs of political advisors and politicians looking to court the favor of both father and daughter. Lacus had always worn it, controlled its appearance. Never once had it controlled her.

Terminal, unfortunately, had come no closer to discovering who the girl was than it had been when they’d started their research on her. Who was she? Would it be possible to get the girl to understand that she could never be Lacus? And just what was it that Durandal hoped to gain by using her?

There were a lot of little things that had slipped through the cracks, which she had ignored in favor of other more pressing matters, but this one refused to leave her alone. The girl was not too bad as far as a singing was concerned, but possessed no idea of who Lacus really was. She was being manipulated to believe that what she was doing was right and so she was completely unaware that Lacus would never have supported a war. A simple look through Lacus’s work record would have revealed that to anyone with half a brain. Memorial Committees, humanitarian work, concerts dedicated to charity, and a slew of other events had all been carefully chosen for the very reason that they promoted the welfare of the people and not their destruction.

And Lacus wasn’t the only one that PLANT didn’t seem to know anything about. It had drifted into Athrun and Kira and everything they had done at the end of the last war. It was like, rather than erasing a period of history, someone had blurred reality to suit their own purposes.

She hadn’t betrayed her country because she was a peace loving person, though it was a part of it. She’d done it because it was the right thing to do. They’d all done it because it was the right thing to do. And yet, no one seemed to know that.

The door chimed, announcing that she had a visitor. Her rapidly typing fingers halted for a moment, twisting to hit the appropriate key to respond. “Yes.”

The door whisked open a moment later, admitting Commander Waltfeld, who was nearly grinning ear to ear. “You’re going to want to see this,” he said jovially, passing her a computer pad.

Lacus neatly caught it, glancing at the contents. She tapped the screen, scrolling through the pictures DaCosta had sent. Crouched down inside the cargo pod was not just Justice as DaCosta had first reported, but hidden just behind it was Freedom. The original message had said something about it being a gift. That was one hell of a gift. “Both of them,” she gasped. “That’s quite an expensive gift.”

“According to the report they are in perfect condition,” he added. “There were even a few modifications to the programming, increasing range of movement and a number of other factors.”

It was true that in order for Eternal to be an effective warship it required these two suits, but they currently were only short Justice, which Athrun had self-destructed in order to destroy GENISIS. Freedom was down on Earth with Kira and Archangel. “But why both of them,” Lacus asked, puzzling over the turn of events. “Kira still has Freedom. There’s no reason to construct a new one.”

“Knowing her…” He shrugged. “Either she’s running out of room in her hanger or she’s trying to say something.”

Lacus set the pad down on the desk, and hastily called up the latest reports from PLANT Terminal. If she was right, there was more to this than just a pair of suits. A report, there’d been something in the reports from that section of Terminal regarding…something about missing… Ah, there it was. Her eyes scanned the contents of the report, focusing in on the section dealing with the report filed on Azamaria Dennon. She’d been reported missing after her ship failed to check in and a search team had found debris at their last known coordinates. An addendum was tacked onto the file, stating that there was a high likelihood that she and the portion of the crew that was also missing were still alive. “According to the reports from PLANT Terminal, Azamaria-san was reported MIA.” Lacus looked down at the images. “Unless...”

“Until I see a rotting corpse…” Waltfeld quipped back with a shrug. “That one has more tricks up her sleeve than I care to count. Besides, if the latest intelligence is to be believed she’s the only one in PLANT who would know how to build those two.”

One of many investigations upon their arrival was the one into the erstwhile designer, Azamaria Dennon. It hadn’t produced much on her whereabouts, but it had turned up several irregularities. One of which was that the X-series project, of which she was chief designer and head, which had produced both Freedom and Justice, had been shut down at the end of the war in compliance with the Junius Treaty and then erased as if it had never existed in the first place. All subsequent data on the suits produced by the project had also gone missing. Not a lick of it remained anywhere, which, effectively, put Azamaria in a position to be the only person who could build them.

That both Freedom and Justice were in that pod was a red-letter stamp direct from Azamaria. Maybe it was simply her way of telling them that she was still alive. But why had the project been erased? Lacus sighed, yet another little mystery she had to put off in favor of more pressing issues.

“One of these days, I’ll have to remind her that weapons don’t have to be the most powerful in the world to get the job done,” Lacus said, scrolling through the report, again. There were significantly more weapons on the pair this time, though she’d exchanged a few on Freedom.

“Somehow, I don’t think she’d believe you.”

“Either way, please retrieve them. I’d hate to waste a perfectly good gift.”

“Think of it this way, even if she is dead,” Waltfeld said, heading for the door. “She likely built those two long ago and one of her people could have forwarded them to us.”

“I suppose, if that is the case, that we should be grateful that she took the time to think of such things before her death.”

A thought had occurred to her when she’d begun her research on Durandal and his Lacus. The girl was definitely not accurate as far as fakes went, even the twins would have been appalled by her. But she was the spitting image of Lacus from two years ago, back when she’d been PLANT’s idol, their princess. But Lacus had cast the princess aside. It was like she was purposely being told that, as she was now, there was no use for her. In which case the attempt on her life was not just to kill her, but to remove everything she had become.

Someone was rewinding history, causing the same war to repeat, the same course of events to unfold, but what did they hope to gain by it. Lacus shook the thought away. It was silly to think that things could repeat. After all, if they were really repeating then…

Her eyes drifted to the pad, to the images. “Unless,” she whispered. “That was what you were trying to point out, Azamaria-san.”

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-3-Part3]

2006-07-18T18:18:31Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 71, Junius-5, White Symphony Theater

Lacus had been carted to three different colonies before word reached her that Athrun had returned. Six days had passed since she’d betrayed her own people and for the first time she felt like she was actually being herself. They all expected her to be as air-headed as she had portrayed herself to be. An air-headed princess would have returned to her home, wouldn’t have trussed herself into a get-up that the image conscious would balk at, and wouldn’t bother to take precautions when meeting with one of the most important men in her life.

DaCosta had fought hard against allowing her to meet with Athrun, but she’d won in the end. Though, she had given in to his request for extra security to be in place within the theater.

It was fitting to end the old image in the very place it had been born. Lacus was polite, kind hearted, and possessed a small voice, but she was not an idiot. A fact, many on the Junius-7 Memorial Committee had learned after her first few weeks as Chairman. A fact, she had to remind Athrun of as well. He had long ago figured out the act, but every now and then he would be surprised by the switch from sugar to steel and he probably had never expected her to take it so far, either.

She had argued, back when the image was created, that it wasn’t necessary, that she didn’t have any need for it, but over the years the bubble-gum image came in handy. It opened more doors than she had thought possible. But as with all fakes it had to end eventually.

She settled herself down on the rock in the middle of the rubble strewn stage, glancing fondly at the rows of empty seats. The front row center seat had been Athrun’s favorite, as well as her father’s. He’d always have a bouquet of flowers with him in the seat next to him, too. The old Lacus might as well end in this place, as any other.

“Are you certain you want to do this,” DaCosta asked from the wings of the stage.

“Yes.” She sighed. “He may not join us, but I cannot not face him. He deserves an answer as much as anyone. Would you have me avoid him?”

“It wouldn’t matter much if I said I did,” DaCosta grumbled. His hand shot up to his ear piece a moment later. “Keep an eye out for any tails,” he commanded. “He’s here.”

“Thank you very much.”

She hummed the first few measures, before she let the song loose. She sang with heart and soul, letting the words that had come when she’d let Kira go flow out into the empty hall. She didn’t know if they would get through to him or if they would simply open the door, but she had to try, for Athrun’s sake.

She was aware of his approach from the back of the hall, catching a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t turn to face him. He had that far away look in his eyes, like he wasn’t even in the theater any more. What was he thinking of, she wondered, drawing in a breath, letting the song drift between them. She’d put as much hope into it as she could.

“Lacus,” Pink-chan’s voice cried as it bounded out of Athrun’s hand and up onto the stage.

“Oh, my,” she exclaimed, neatly catching the Haro and looked fondly down at it. “Pink-chan.” She turned to him, a slight smile dimpling her lips. “I was certain that you would bring him here. Thank you very much.”

“Lacus.” There was steel in Athrun’s voice and a note of uncertainty.

“Yes?”

Athrun jumped up onto the stage, the gun in his right hand hanging limply beside him, his other arm nestled in the sling around his neck. She followed him, saying nothing. “How do you explain all that’s happened,” he asked.

She hesitated, looking down briefly, allowing the slight smile to dimple her lips. “You came here because you heard what happened, right?”

“Then what they’re saying is true. That you assisted a spy?” So he hadn’t believed it. No, it wasn’t that he hadn’t, it was that he didn’t want to believe it. “Why did you do such a thing?”

“I never assisted a spy.” Athrun sat back, confusion mirrored on his face. “All I did was provide Kira with a new sword,” she added, catching the tightening of his grip on the gun. “Because it’s something Kira needs...and would serve its purpose best in his hands.”

“Kira,” Athrun rasped out. He shook off the surprise, stepping forward, clearly meaning to correct her mistake. “What are you saying? Kira…He’s…”

“Did you kill him,” she asked, interrupting his denials. He stepped back his face registering the verbal slap she’d delivered. She turned steel to sugar, schooling her face as if delivering great news. “It’s alright. Kira’s still alive.”

She could see it in him, the war of denying and wanting to believe what she’d just said. He shook it violently away, bringing the gun to bear with a single denial, “You’re lying.” Lacus didn’t cringe, didn’t look away, just sat, silently watching him. “What is the meaning of this, Lacus Clyne,” he asked. The gun dipped a fraction of an inch, his arm, his body fighting with everything it had to deny what she’d just said. “What you’re saying is crazy!” True enough from his point of view. “There’s…There’s no way he could be alive!”

“Reverend Malchio brought him to me.” She answered him with truth. The old Lacus wouldn’t have, she probably would have played sweet. What he needed now was cold hard facts. The facts that he didn’t want to hear and yet did want to hear at the same time. “Kira also told me that you two fought.”

That had his attention, he gulped. There was the Athrun that she knew, desperately trying to be what he’d chosen and yet, still wishing for the impossible. Kind hearted to the core and yet, still very much a warrior. It was the warrior that had analyzed the situation, had come to the conclusion that Kira couldn’t have survived, but it was Athrun that wanted to believe what she was saying.

“You don’t believe me?” She asked. “Then do you believe what you saw with your own eyes?” The gun slowly lowered. “In the battlefield, at PLANT, after you returned following a lengthy absence, did you not notice anything?”

He’d turned inward, looking away before and now looked back. The gun still stood between them, shielding him from her words. “Lacus…”

“What is it that you believe you’re fighting for?” She asked, plowing on, emboldened by the slightest hint that it was getting through to him. She needed to know that this would work, that even if it was just Athrun, she could get through to them. That she could stop the cycle of hatred and war that had started a year ago. “Is it the medals you receive? Your father’s orders?”

“Lacus.”

He didn’t really know. She couldn’t really say that she did either. She had a shard of it, a piece that was important. Kira had one as well. “If it is, then Kira may become your enemy once again.” He gulped, taken aback. To have Kira be alive was more than he’d probably hoped for, to have him still be an enemy was a thing that neither of them had ever wished for. “And so will I,” she finished, standing up, closing the distance between them. “If you’ve declared me as an enemy, will you shoot me, Athrun Zala of ZAFT?”

She knew that Athrun wouldn’t do such a thing, but for a moment wondered if he would ever be capable of such a thing. He’d fought Kira, believing that he had no other choice. Would he make the same mistake, again? Or choose a different path.

Her answer came the moment he stepped between her at the people from the Justice Department. It was the only reason why she told him where Kira was and suggested that this time, he really talk with Kira.

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-3-Part2]

2006-07-18T18:15:56Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 71, Aprilus-1

“Go with our strength,” Lacus whispered hand pressed to the closed door of Freedom’s hanger. “And if at all possible, come back.” And that was all the time she had. She turned from the door, striding with a confidence that hid her uncertainty. In her heart she wanted to keep him here, to keep him safe, but she understood that he had to go. His destiny was not PLANT it was somewhere else, and as much as she might wish to she couldn’t or wouldn’t keep him there.

If this was Kira’s path, than she would lend him her strength. Not because she cared about him, but because she knew that this was the path they had to go down. It was strange how easy the decision had become. After weeks of speculating where she would go, what she would do, it had just come out. Maybe it had been that he was crying that had made it so easy.

Kira had stayed with Archangel out of an obligation to his friends. Now, it was his choice to save them. He needed a sword that was free, unattached to either country or ideal. This sword would be his. No matter what, it would be his. The choice to use it or not, would not be up to her.

Lacus slid into the waiting car, absently noticing the little orange Haro that rolled back and forth across the seats in front of her.

For months it had evaded her, the song of peace that she’d been searching for. It didn’t matter how many times she penned out a song, it refused to come. And now it was there weeding its way into her brain. There was only one problem with the song; she’d have to face Athrun. Athrun would probably be surprised, maybe even devastated by her choice on top of Kira’s “death.”

And yet, the song was something he might need as well. The smile, the kindness, the little things that made him Athrun had been slipping away. She’d noticed it before she’d been a hostage on Archangel, but hadn’t known how to get him to realize that this was not the life he wanted. He was a fighter, but that didn’t make him a soldier.

Her hand fiddled with her mother’s ring, twisting it back and forth in time to the Haro’s rolling. Her lips vibrated to the tune playing in her head as she hummed.

“Pretty song,” the Haro said. “Lacus sing pretty song.”

She blinked, watching the Haro roll to a stop. She knew that Haro. That was the one that she had given to Alex-kun, the one that she had fibbed to Athrun that she’d lost. “Orange-chan.”

The Haro turned about calling, “She’s not very bright, is she? She’s been here for three minutes and didn’t notice me,” to the two men in the front seat.

Twin faces turned to look back at her, grinning as she gasped in surprise. Short blonde hair, mischievous green eyes, the same dimple in the right cheek when they smiled, dressed in the same black driver’s suit, Garik and Garen asked, “Where to, Hime?”

“Garen, Garik, what are you doing in my family’s car,” she asked more than a little surprised by their presence. She had known the twins for years, having first met them at a Halloween party some years past. The twins had been the cat from Alice in Wonderland and surreptitiously had decided that she, despite the fact that she was dressed as a princess, was to be their Alice.

“Driving obviously,” the twin on the right answered, tipping his black driver’s cap. “The other driver is taking care of your father.”

The only problem with the twins was telling them apart. And with both wearing a cap, she really couldn’t tell them apart. They had adopted the habit, some years past, to always part their hair in opposite directions. If one parted it to the right the other would do it to the left. Of course with their twisted personalities it was hard to tell if they always followed the rule or not.

“So…” The other twin crossed his arms over the seat back, settling his chin on top of them. “What’s it feel like to cast aside everything for the chance to become a rebel princess that will attempt to stop a world at war?”

“Ask me tomorrow,” she said, turning back to her song. “Right now, I need paper and a pen, please.”

She spent most of the ride tinkering with the song that was stuck in her brain. When the car pulled off the highway and was tucked neatly under a tarp in an old garage, she had Garik lean over so she could use his back as a writing surface. The twin’s switched off half way through her tinkering, letting each of them switch outfits, trading black suits for casual wear. “Can’t use the same car for very long,” they had explained when they’d stopped. “The cameras likely caught it on the feed, so the sooner we drop it the better.”

Orange-chan rolled out into the street, looking both ways as if he were searching for something. “It’s late,” it commented.

“I swear that thing increases in intelligence every time I see it,” one twin commented, the other nodding sagely in agreement.

They snitched her paper away for a moment, commanding her to change before they’d give it back to her. Reluctantly she agreed, only to discover when she checked what was in the bag they gave her that she might need help with the wig. “Pink hair is too obvious. This once, you’ll have to hide it,” Garen explained from the other side of the door.

Lacus emerged in an outfit that she would have never picked out, which she figured was the idea. Everything about it screamed for its death, but she had to admit that when she looked in the mirror it didn’t even look like her anymore. Too used to fashions that accented her own unique style, being shoved into a pair of thigh high boots, mini skirt, and a peasant top, felt wrong. After neatly tucking her hair under the long white wig, she couldn’t help the frown that slipped across her lips. “I feel like you were trying to make me into Yzak Joule’s sister,” she said, settling the wide blue belt around her hips.

“Does he have a sister?”

“Not that I know of,” she answered, absently brushing the white hair over her shoulder. “You two have absolutely no sense of fashion though.”

“The idea was to make you as little like you as possible,” Garen replied, clipping her hair back with the same clip she usually wore up front. He gave her paper back a moment later, motioning Garik to resume his role as the writing surface.

“To think that one day I would be used as a writing surface by our creation. Garen, we could so sell this jacket in an auction and make a fortune off of it,” Garik said, slightly bent over so that she could write on the paper slapped onto his back. “Is it good?”

“Hmm…” Garen said, peeking over her shoulder. “It’s not bad. The third and forth variations need some work, but it’s quite good. Too bad no one will hear it. This time tomorrow you’re likely to be a fugitive.”

“It’s for Athrun,” Lacus explained, tweaking a phrase here or there. “What did you mean ‘it increases in intelligence’?”

“The Haro,” Garen said, his hand motioning towards the Orange ball in the street. “Was thrown against a wall by the Great One. Alex was devastated that his little friend was destroyed and so she fixed it. It’s a great deal more intelligent than the knightly one made it to be.”

“I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising,” Garik added. “After all she is a goddess among men as far as anything mechanical is considered.”

“Why is Orange-chan here,” she asked, furiously erasing a line and jotting down another one.

“It’s here,” Orange-chan cried, bouncing back into the garage. A white van screeched to a halt before the open garage door. Several men piled from the van, heading for the house. It took her a moment to recognize them as men who usually served in her father’s security detail. The back door to the van was raised a moment later, a red haired man in ZAFT green stepping out onto the pavement. “Martin’s here,” Orange-chan cried again, bouncing in front of her.

“Martin,” she asked.

“Oh, that’s right,” Garen said with a snap of his fingers. “Orange is here because she sent him this morning to tell us that Justice has been assigned to the knightly one.”

Lacus stood back from her paper, blinking in surprise. She was only half aware of the stream of equipment being transferred from house to van and the approach of Martin. Athrun had been assigned Justice. Well, that certainly changed a few things. She looked down at the song. There were more reasons for it now. She hadn’t anticipated them assigning a unit to him so quickly. And with its assignment came the eventual order to hunt down its brother. Would she be able to get through to Athrun before they were catapulted down the same path, again? “I need to arrange a meeting with him once he gets here,” she muttered softly.

“He’s already on his way,” Garik said, standing up. “It will have to be somewhere he’s familiar with, though.”

“We can arrange that, later,” Martin interrupted. “Right now, Miss Clyne, we need to get you to safety.”

Lacus nodded, allowing them to draw her along, until she noticed that the twins weren’t following. She stopped short of entering, shooting them a puzzled look.

“When they put together the list of people who are most likely to hide you, we’ll be near the top of it. DaCosta here doesn’t have any connection to you at all,” Garen said, helping her into the car. He leaned up against the door. “You won’t see your father either. It’s easier to hide you two separately, than together.”

Lacus numbly sat down in the seat. This choice was definitely more complicated than she thought. It wasn’t simply walking away from the old Lacus. It was not being able to talk to friends she’d known for years or even see her father. “I guess this is good-bye then,” she said softly.

“Not really good-bye,” Garen said with a smile. “We’ll see you after it’s all finished.”

Garik took her hand, raising it to his lips, planting a chaste kiss. “It has been a pleasure, as always, Hime.”

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-3-Part1]

2006-07-18T18:14:15Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 73, Debris Belt

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy being second in command. It was actually quite a spiffy position, for a rebel. That being second in command usually meant him staying on board while the Commander was dirt side was part of it, was mildly annoying.

Then again, the man was fond of his coffee and having him dirt side was a welcome relief from the stench.

DaCosta liked his coffee black, no cream, and no variation. It was simple, didn’t require hours over a Bunsen burner and didn’t require any change.

Waltfeld apparently was unaware or, as usual, had ignored the fact that his second in command was steadily going stir crazy. He’d been shackled to the command deck for two years while Waltfeld was dirt side, apparently living it up in Orb. The crew regularly rotated on leave whenever they could manage it, but he was stuck. Unless Waltfeld assigned someone to take over, he had to stay.

Once the war was over DaCosta had every intention of requesting the longest leave in history. He hadn’t figured out where he was going, but he was definitely taking a vacation. Maybe that was why he’d volunteered to go traipsing out to investigate a set of coordinates left in a message via Terminal. It hadn’t been the usual kind of message either.

Come to such and such coordinates— coded coordinates— and pick up a gift that was only going to be there for a little while. The message was logged under the user Goddess, whoever that was. He’d lost track of code names and who was working in which cell group and where they were stationed long ago.

God, he needed a break.

“Sir, sensors are reading a pod at the target coordinates. No other vessels present.” The shuttle’s pilot called from the cockpit.

“There wouldn’t be anyone if it were a trap,” he grumbled. He snapped the last of the fastenings on his suit, setting down the thruster pack. He’d taken only him and the pilot figuring that if it were a trap the fewer people the better. He kicked off from the seat, floating up to the front of the shuttle, catching the back of the copilot’s seat.

The asteroids and debris that surrounded them tumbled about, but floating in between them was a single ZAFT cargo pod. Whoever had left it was probably watching, but the sensors weren’t picking up any other signatures in the area. If it were a trap they were certainly laying low.

“Hide the shuttle,” he ordered, pointing to a suitably large asteroid, “just behind that one over there. I’ll go take a look.”

Tumbling through space a moment later, he found himself immensely amused by the sneaky way the pod was left. He knew that whoever had left it wanted them to take it, but they had also anticipated someone wanting to take a look at the contents, choosing a cargo pod instead of a drop pod. The pod was enormous. Why was it that everything always appeared smaller even in magnification than it did when one was right next to it? If it was a gift and not a trap, it was going to be a pain in the ass to get it back to Terminus.

“Saw Hime at Diocuia,” he muttered, repeating the message. “Power given to protect may be reclaimed.” He frowned. Terminal was one of the more secure networks on Earth and PLANT, but the sender seemed to want to keep the contents of the "gift" a secret. Maybe Goddess enjoyed surprises or games. Either way, she was telling them something, but at the same time saying nothing. “Guess we won’t know till we open it.”

“Sir?”

“Almost there,” he hastily replied, covering for his preoccupation. It would be nice if this went off without a hitch. If this was really a gift as the message seemed to suggest it was.

He puffed the thrusters, rushing his approach, and hit the pod a little faster than he had intended, tumbling for a few meters before his hand managed to find a grip on the surface. Grumbling in annoyance, he paced his way along the exterior looking for a hatch. The thing was easily big enough to house a mobile suit.

That he nearly missed the hatch entirely was a mild amusement and embarrassment. “Entering now,” he commented. “Let’s see what they gave us. It would be nice if I didn't explode just because I opened a hatch.”

“Yes, sir.”

A puff of air hissed out from around the hatch as it slid back. He hesitated, half holding his breath, waiting for an explosion, a lance of light, something to say that opening this thing had been a bad idea. But nothing came, "Entering now," he added with a shrug.

He grabbed the edges of the opening and shoved himself through. With the burst of speed it was no wonder that a moment later he bounced off of what was inside. He fumbled for the flashlight, shining it on the obstruction in front of him. A boot, well not really a boot, it was actually the size of a small house, but it was a boot.

He pushed against it, sliding away from it, shining the light upwards. The laughter that bubbled out of him probably sounded like a mad man, but what was centered in the light was not what one would call a gift. Only an insane person would call it a gift. “Oh, my god," he chuckled. "The Commander’s not going to believe this.”

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-2-Part5]

2006-07-18T18:04:50Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 74, Orb Transport

Several hours later, Azamaria found herself staring at the door way to the med bay. She should go in, there was nothing keeping her from going inside. And yet, she couldn't make herself open the door. Freshly cleaned, dressed in ZAFT white with the winged FAITH hanging on her lapel, she was the spitting image of everything the pair inside had just fled from..

What if they woke up? They might find it strange to have someone from ZAFT so close to them.

Then again, she was no more in ZAFT than Ledonir was in OMNI. It was a stationing, an outfit of convenience. Or at least it would be in a few hours.

The doctor had left with the East Asian boat, but he’d assured them that their conditions were stable. Everything was up to Athrun now. The boy had to want to live.

It was stupid to think that this would actually accomplish anything. They still didn’t know very much of anything about what was going on. A handful of data analysis had provided the theory that Durandal was attempting to create a fake Archangel through Minerva, but it had only been a guess. Azamaria kept leaning towards the possibility that he was trying to create a new one, but as of yet none of the evidence conclusively pointed to either one.

The only thing that was certain was that events were repeating themselves. The people and places were different but the event was the same. Gulnahan, Lohengrin, and the path to Gibraltar for Minerva became the copy of the Lesseps and Banadiya mission for Archangel. Being chased around the Mediterranean by stolen mobile suits became the copy of being chased around the Indian Ocean by stolen mobile suits. Though some of the events appeared out of order, Minerva was following in Archangel's footsteps. An occurrence that while odd was definitely not up to chance. It was being directed, though for what purpose Terminal hadn't discovered, yet.

Knowing he was up to no good was one thing, figuring out what no good he was up to was something entirely more difficult. She frowned at the door. The Blue Cosmos fanatics and Logos were so much easier to figure out than he was, especially when they were being used and didn’t even know it.

Gil was getting under her skin, she couldn’t even enjoy a few hours of leave without her mind turning back to the puzzle of what he was up to. Ah, well… The least she could do was sit with the kid for a little while.

She shoved the door open, boots thudding across the floor. Two beds were occupied, only one of them was actually supposed to be there. The kid looked bad, but Meyrin seemed to be alright. Not that Azamaria had ever had any doubt that he would protect her. After all, Meyrin had gone to all the trouble of helping him escape. A small smile of amusement tickled her lips. Meyrin had certainly stepped into quite the mess.

Azamaria stood looking down at him, “We’ve met before and you probably don’t remember me, but I really wish you would stop going back to them. It’s a pain in the ass to orchestrate an escape under the guise of a death plan. Next time you feel like going somewhere for a bit of personal life discovery, let me know. I’ll kick your ass myself.” She slid down onto the floor, resting her chin on her knees.

Athrun didn’t answer. Not that she expected him to, but it would’ve been nice. That whole sedative business was keeping him from answering one of a handful of questions that she had left about him. Not to mention it felt a bit silly to be talking to someone who was asleep.

“So, which was it? Was it the Chairman’s diabolical plans, which by the way I think your ex-fiancé is starting to piece together or was it the Athrun Zala fan club that got to you first?

“Guess we won’t know till you wake up.” Her hand strayed to the locket that dangled under her uniform jacket, the square metal chill against her skin. “I wonder if you still wear it. Did she ever tell you who she got that stone from? Probably not, huh.”

Athrun’s silence was irritating.

Suddenly she was on her feet, hands clenched, furious. “You know the least you could do is grunt,” she grumbled. “I did go through the trouble of saving your sorry ass, which wasn’t easy I’ll have you know.”

Meyrin groaned, one of her hands scratching at the blankets. Azamaria laughed, “See even she knows when to do something.”

She slipped back down onto the floor, lifting the locket out of its hiding place. Five little nicks in the back tugged at the skin on her thumb as she rubbed over the back of the locket. There were five now, at the beginning of the stupid war there had only been four. Five marks to match the ones she’d left with Kaien.

Kaien would have thought this stupid. Stupid to have gotten involved in a stupid war that was just repeating, but, like Ledonir, she couldn’t just sit back and do nothing when she had something she could do. She slipped the chain off her neck, swinging the locket back and forth in front of her. Kaien probably would have taken Athrun out of ZAFT much sooner than she had, probably would’ve smacked him upside the head too, but she was not him. The boy had been looking for something, searching for something that couldn’t be found in the protected walls of Orb.

She idly flipped open the lid of the locket, feeling the hum of the locket’s mechanics as it warmed up. A moment passed before the picture inside blacked out and then reappeared.

The camera shook as he swiveled it around, aiming it towards the couch. Brown eyes hidden behind rimless glasses, skin bronzed from too many years in the dry desert, thick curly brown hair, he grinned into the camera.

“Hey you,” Azamaria whispered.

“Come on mom,” Alex’s voice cheerfully cajoled.

“This is for your own good,” Kaien waggled a finger at the camera. “So that we’ll always be with you.”

“I don’t need some stupid film for that,” her voice answered in the background.

Alex, shaggy curly brown hair, grinning like a maniac, popped up beside his father. “Do too,” he added. He dropped out of the frame returning to his tug of war with her.

The two of them had wanted to make a gift, a moving picture just for her.

She looked so young. A few years older than the kid who slept fitfully next to her. Ok, maybe she hadn’t been that young, but at thirty-four she was starting to get too old for this type of thing.

Had it really been that long ago?

Kaien handed the camera off to Alex, which managed to keep only half of them in the picture. A wonderful view of the floor, littered with toys and books, the couch, and a peek at the grass in the backyard.

“Please,” Kaien’s voice pleaded.

“You are totally unfair,” she protested. The view drifted upwards, catching the house next door and the stack of books and papers on the desk near the window. Kaien had captured her in his arms. She was playfully attempting to get out. After a moment she gave up, giving him a soft punch in the chest for his troubles.

He rubbed at his chest, “Ouch.”

The camera turned away from them, putting Alex center and larger than life. “Mom hit Dad,” he announced, grinning. “She does that a lot.”

“I do not,” she objected at the same time she did in the video.

“I’m afraid the child is on to something,” Kaien thoughtfully answered. “Perhaps your skills of deduction have passed on to him, hmm...”

She glared at him playfully. “Genetic traits don’t pass on like that and you know that, Mr. Geneticist.”

“I’m almost natural,” Alex added, amber eyes dancing with amusement at his turn of phrase, “Unlike mom, who was grown in a lab, and dad, who came normally.”

“Your mother was not grown in a lab,” Kaien chided, stepping in front of the camera lens, stealing it away from his son. “Go join your mother.”

Alex popped back onto the screen a moment later, climbing over toys and the ottoman before settling next to her on the couch. He’d barely settled before her fingers attacked him, tickling him. “Revenge is mine,” she laughed.

Alex rolled around on the couch, attempting to bat away her fingers, convulsing in laughter.

The camera was set down, Kaien putting a finger to his lips before sneaking up behind her. His fingers hit the sweet spot, she jumped. The return attack resulted in most of the couch cushions being sprayed onto the floor and Alex laughing from his spot over on the ottoman, as both she and Kaien focused in on each other. The fight ended with her pinned underneath him, “Traitor.”

“I learned from the master,” he shot back, giving her a peck on the nose.

The video ended, reverting to the family picture that was the only picture she had left of the three of them. A soft smile graced her lips, her fingers passing softly over the edge of the image. Her eyes drifted up from the locket, resting on Athrun.

How had he gotten that name?

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-2-Part4]

2006-07-18T18:02:18Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 74, Balearic Islands, Mediterranean Sea, Orb Transport

“Status,” Kisaka asked.

The thin man looked up from his suturing, before returning to work. The thread passed in and out of the wound working its way across Athrun’s abdomen and for a moment Kisaka feared the pragmatic doctor wouldn’t answer. “The girl’s condition is stable, minor lacerations to the right arm and cheek, the wound on her abdomen was shallow enough that it required only minor suturing,” the doctor rattled off diagnosis. “The pilot is worse off. He sustained a lot of damage to both arms, a great portion of the torso and abdomen. He’s lucky he didn’t die.”

“Is it safe to transport them?”

“Yes,” the doctor answered, tying off the last suture.

Two for dinner, indeed.

He glanced down at the red head, wondering what mischance had brought her to be in the same GOUF with Athrun. Athrun was expected, in one form or another, but he hadn’t expected her.

“Sir.”

Kisaka looked towards the door, half returning the salute offered by officer standing in the open doorway. Though both of them were dressed as Alliance officers from the Republic of Eastern Asia, he knew that none on the transport were actually following Alliance orders in this endeavor. This was strictly Terminal work.

“Terminal reports safe extraction of the team at Gibraltar,” the officer added. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Understood.”

The red head stirred, grumbling something about cold and it being bad to sleep. He sighed, striding for the door.

“Neither of them can take much jostling,” the doctor’s voice warned from behind him. “If you insist on transporting them, make certain that they aren’t treated like baggage.”

“I hadn’t planned on it, but understood.”

He shut the door behind him, silently wondering if there was any possible way to get Athrun back to health before they returned to Orb, but at the same time knowing it wasn’t likely to happen. Cagalli probably wouldn’t leave his side once they’d gotten him to Archangel, which would present a problem for Orb.

If she was right, then after Heaven’s Base was finished the next stop for this merry war was Orb and Orb without the lioness would never be able to defeat what ZAFT and its allies would throw at it. If she was right…

He hated ifs; they were annoying in their ambiguity and required more thought than he had time for.

“I’m just saying, they should think of installing cup holders.”

“It’s a GUNDAM,” Az retorted rounding the corner. Her black flight suit was open to her waist the dangling headset swinging back and forth in front of it as she attempted to clear the water from her ears. "Not a pleasure cruise.”

“But think of the time they could save.” He was fighting to get his suit off, stopping time and again to tug at the material. "Pilots....damn thing won't come off...." He tugged at left cuff trying to get it to move. After awhile he stopped, turning his attentions to the other arm which was already half off. Az waited patiently, idly squeezing the water out of her hair. "Pilots would no longer have to disembark to get a drink. They could take one with them.”

Az stepped in, curling a finger seductively under his chin, tipping it up. “Luther," she savored the word. "When do you think you’ll have time to take a drink in the middle of a battle?”

Luther retreated, his cheeks flushed, running a hand over his bald head. He looked down right uncertain, then again he might have been stalling, Kisaka wasn’t really certain.

A hand with pink painted nails, slid up his side, expertly tugging the offending left arm off before a pink haired head slipped up over his shoulder. "Hmmm...maybe...." She rested her chin on his shoulder, her fingers drawing lazy circles up his left arm. “Maybe he thinks that he can do it while he fights,” she suggested, amethyst eyes bright with amusement.

Az sighed, stepping back. “That has to be the stupidest suggestion I’ve heard so far.” Az spitted both with a glare. “I’m not installing cup holders on Ares, and that’s final. Get cleaned up, you have a couple hours before we play ZAFTers again and I need you ready to go.”

Luther opened his mouth to add further comment before he was sharply turned about by the woman. “But…” he started to protest.

“I know, I know,” the woman responded, shoving him forward. “It can’t be helped. Goddess has decreed and it shall be done.”

“Haro,” he objected, fighting against her pushing. “It’s a good idea.”

“To the shower, Adonis,” Haro abruptly barked. “Or I won’t let you near me.”

Kisaka chuckled, watching as Haro continued to push the protesting Luther down the hall. Az certainly had a way of choosing subordinates.

Az sagged against the wall, hands hanging onto the ends of the towel around her neck, a deep sigh escaping her. “They’re doing it to me again, Ledonir.”

“So, I see. Two for dinner?”

“I thought you’d find it amusing,” she retorted. “How are they?”

“They’ll live.” He crossed his arms as he leaned up against the wall. “It was a bit of a surprise when the GOUF showed up in one piece, despite the fact that I watched it explode.”

Az met his gaze, thoughtfully for once, before shrugging and flippantly replying, “It was programmed to turn off in case of a critical overload. It was the only way to make certain that he wouldn’t blow up. While he does have Kira’s knack for surviving impossible situations, I decided to cheat a little.”

“The explosion...”

“Depth charge.”

“That’s not possible.”

“You probably didn't notice the few seconds delay between the GOUF hitting the water and then the explosion. They probably didn't either. Part of the programming that turned it off also broadcast its location. Most systems will log the signal as a biologic, but it chirps a locator signal. Poseidon, who has been trailing it and is also trailing a depth charge, catches up to the sinking GOUF, captures it, heads for deeper water, releasing the charge, which floats up to a depth where it can take the GOUF’s place, and a second later...”

“Depth charge, huh.”

“Uh huh.” She shrugged, a smile of appreciation tugging at her lips. “By now Poseidon’s scattered its remains in the same area. So, when ZAFT comes out to take a look at what's left, they won’t even know that it hadn’t blown up on its own.”

“A lot of work just to bring back one pilot.”

“Like you’re any better,” Az shot back. “I recall a certain someone tagging along with Archangel, damn near losing a certain princess because he let her fly a Skygrasper in a combat area…” she ticked them off on her fingers. “Letting her join the rebellion in Africa, fighting with said rebellion against mobile suits, while you were armed only with bazookas, and then of course there was the Lesseps battle in which said princess fought in a Skygrasper. Oh, and let’s not forget the nearly getting blown out of the water before reaching Orb.” She smiled sweetly, “Have I missed anything?”

“You’ve made your point,” he grumbled. “Will they buy it?”

“Of course they will,” she laughed. “It’s what Chess Master wanted and I hate to disappoint him, despite the fact that I’m apparently MIA.”

“Damn it, Azamaria,” he growled. “You weren’t supposed to talk to her.”

“Talia is the least of our problems,” Azamaria snapped back. “While our talk did make her curious, she can’t move given her current standings in the military and probably has no inclination to do so. She’s loyal to a fault, which is why he made no protest about our switching commands.”

“She’ll tell him—”

“No,” Azamaria interrupted, red eyes flashing, “She won’t. Talia knows that I’m a valuable information source. She also knows that while I revealed nothing as to them,” she stuck a finger at the door behind him, “there is a high likelihood that I was there to pull them out. While she may be banging the Chairman, she’s not stupid. At the moment she has no reason to believe that this event, however momentous, is anything other than an expertly played farce.”

“You never change.”

“Neither do you.” Her expression darkened, her gaze lingering on the door, her fingers brushed against a square locket that peeked out of the opening in her flight suit. She sighed. “There are still too many unknowns, Ledonir.” She added, striding down the hallway. “Even Talia Gladys could provide answers we don’t have yet.”

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-2-Part3]

2006-07-18T18:00:29Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 74, Gibraltar Base

He wondered if she would be calm enough. He hated to put off a confrontation with her. She might drift away again and then all of this would have been for nothing.

Athrun had been a useful tool. One that he had hated to lose, but when the pilot failed to acquiesce to his current life choice it was time to get rid of him.

Besides it wouldn’t do any good to have Shinn confused. The boy was finally proving himself to be everything Durandal had expected him to be.

Ah, well. Timing was everything.

With the Alliance sated as to the reason of the pursuit and everything running on schedule, things were going according to plan.

Pity about Athrun though.

A quick stop at his office to settle any other important business and then he’d face her. Calming Talia would take a bit of finesse. She hadn’t taken to his stepping into her arena very well, but it couldn’t be helped. The plan had to go forward.

He was settling paperwork onto the desk, preparing for the next day, when a glint of red caught his eye. His head drifted in its direction almost before he'd thought about it, focusing on the chess board.

A red knight was on the chess board, flanking the white knight, ahead of the white queen.

He couldn’t recall having a red knight piece. In fact he was fairly certain he’d removed the white knight before his meetings that evening.

Someone had added the piece.

Odd.

Definitely odd.

Who would be clever enough to make it inside his office, plant a piece on the board, and then not take anything on the way out? Why just the one piece?

He searched the board, looking for any other pieces that might have been added, but found only one... A black rook had been removed from the board and the white knight that should have been the red was missing.

     They had no direct effect on any of the strategies in play on the board. And yet, they’d been taken off and added as if someone wanted him to know that they knew what he was doing. He plucked the red knight from the board, twirling it in-between his fingers. But, knowing wasn’t enough. One had to have the power to be able to stop him to affect any change.

     Besides, he smiled to himself; he'd already taken care of anyone that could stand against him. Without power nothing was created, nothing was defended, and nothing could survive. A rule that Logos was completely familiar with, but ignored. They'd lived for too long with the rules not applying to them. It had to have been quite a shock for them to realize that the rules still did apply; it was just that no one had bothered to make it happen.

     He dropped the red knight piece back on the board. Ah, well. Such thoughts would have to wait for later. Now it was Talia he had to settle.

[next entry]

[GSD - Terminal- 2- Part2]

2006-07-18T17:58:44Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 74, Gibraltar Base

To say that she was mad would be an understatement. She wanted to wring his scrawny little neck. Not once had he ever dared to give her that look. She slapped at the lift button, seeking in the slap to relieve some of the anger welling inside her. He'd given her that look, the one he'd promised he'd never give no matter where in the government he was. Talia's sense of propriety was the only thing that kept her from slapping that look off his face, from announcing to the rest of ZAFT that the two of them were in a relationship and as such she had a right to drag him from the room by his ear and give him a piece of her mind. She should have hit him. He deserved it.

She knew she looked calm, that she looked in control, but she really wanted to punch the wall, to destroy something —Athrun Zala, it didn’t make sense for anything to have happened. —Meyrin too. The situation stunk of lies and deception, but Gilbert wasn’t likely to let her in on what had really happened. After all he hadn't let her in the whole war, why would he start now.

The lift opened and she stepped in, giving the barest of nods to the officer in the lift.

Give her time to calm down. He was just stalling. He didn’t want to have to reveal what it was he was up to and she was damned sure he was up to something.

She’d taken Athrun in because he was as honest as they came and if Gilbert trusted him enough to let him back in ZAFT then it was worth giving him the benefit of the doubt. He had been in the Special Forces before and so it wasn't strange to have him back there. He was good, very good, as far as pilots went, but he wasn’t the type to do anything rash. She hadn't expected this of him; it was actually more like Shinn.

“Captain Gladys.”

Talia blinked. Hadn't the lift been empty? No, there had been someone there. Was it Minerva? But Minerva hadn't spoken to her since...

She started to turn around.

“No, don’t turn around.”

Talia faced the doors. "Minerva?"

     "She wishes to speak with you."

     She, but that wasn't possible. The only one that Talia had ever known to be referred to that way, utilizing a person that didn't want to be seen, wasn't supposed to be in a position to talk to anyone. That's what the reports had said. Then again, knowing her, Az was probably up to her usual tricks.

     "You’ll find a phone on the desk in your room. Let it ring three times before answering. Do not call her by name.”

“What does she want,” Talia asked.

“Just to talk.”

Az had been on and off her ship several times throughout most of the war, a habit that was useful for an Intelligence Commander. If she wanted to talk than maybe, just maybe, Talia would be able to get some answers. But why would Az want to talk now? The lift opened and Talia stepped out without looking back. She was likely never to actually know who Minerva was. Nor had she any wish to know either. It was just like Az to wait until after the actual event had occurred before making contact.

Talia sighed, punching her card through the lock. It beeped and she strode into the room. A small black cellular phone rested on the desk, just as she had been told it would be. The computer was on, an odd little geometric figure morphing its way around on the screen. Hadn’t she turned that off? How long was Az going to take before she made contact?

Her fingers idly tapped the phone. "More of your work, Minerva or hers?" She tossed her hat onto the bed, unbuttoning her collar.

The only reason she’d agreed to the relationship was because he’d promised that he wouldn’t do exactly what he’d done, and because, in the end, she really hadn’t wanted to live without him. And yet, she felt more and more like she was being pulled around on the board in a game that she never knew existed. When was he going to tell her what the hell was going on?

The phone chirped.

It chirped two more times before she snapped it open. “What?”

A laugh answered her. “Talia, you are mad.”

Her eyes closed for a moment, an annoyed sigh escaping her lips. “This is not the time for your games.”

“I know,” Az answered. “Go to the window.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

“You might want to sit down.”

Talia blinked, sitting as Gilbert had requested more because of the tone in his voice than anything else. He never used that tone of voice. The one that was soft, subtle enough in its sympathy. “What is it,” she asked.

In the video display’s image Gilbert looked away, gathering himself before he answered. “Zenith missed its scheduled check in time a few days ago. A distress signal was registered at their last known coordinates. The rescue team recovered several life pods and the wreckage of the Impulse that was on board.”

“Is…” she hesitated, fearing she already knew the answer.

“She wasn’t among the survivors,” he answered. “Neither was a great portion of the crew. Initial reports state that it’s possible that Zenith escaped, but given testimonies from the surviving crew and the amount of debris at the scene, Intelligence Command has classified them MIA.”

She stood across the quad, leaned up against the railing, one of her feet idly twisting back and forth. Her orange hair, pulled up in a pony tail, dripped water into a puddle at her feet. Why was she dressed in a pilot’s suit? One of her hands was fiddling with the headset, resettling it. She was supposed to be dead and yet, Az seemed oddly unconcerned by it.

“You’re here!”

“Of course,” Az laughed. “Where else would I be?”

“You're supposed to be dead, you idiot. According to Intelligence you were reported MIA, about two weeks ago,” Talia snapped.

Talia hesitated. She hadn’t been that worried or at least she hadn’t thought she had been. Az had a nasty habit of going missing, of not reporting in to her controller, of not telling anyone what she was doing. The possibility had always existed that she’d been alive, but faced with evidence that lead to contrary conclusions Talia had started to believe it. “Along with Zenith,” she finished.

“I suppose MIA is as good a term as any…” A coy amusement flitted across Az’s face, a shrug dimpling the edges of her flight suit.

“Why are you here?”

“Amusement would probably be a good description.” Az stood up, flicking her hair over her shoulder, splattering the walls with water. “So, Talia Gladys is mad at Gilbert Durandal,” a pause, “I can’t imagine why. Could it be because he’s gotten rid of a certain war hero, perhaps?”

Talia regarded her in silence for a moment. Was that part of why Az was there? Had Az taken them away to safety? Would Az tell her if she had? It wouldn’t be all that strange for her to have managed it, despite the fact that Athrun’s GOUF had been shot down. Only one way to find out… “Athrun Zala,” she baited.

Az doubled over laughter. Eventually she straightened, waggling a finger, the way a mother would to a child who was asking too many questions. “You were always the smart one. It was a bit of overkill, wasn’t it? Sending two brand new mobile suits with more firepower than was required to take down one little GOUF. It could have been done with one, but given the boy’s mental state, I can imagine that they had to make certain he would do it.”

Boy— Shinn, Rey, or Athrun? “What do you know?”

“I know many things.” Az rested her arms on the rail, her gaze darkening. “Some of them may sit well, others won’t.”

“So.”

A pregnant pause, a long weighted look heavy with what she wasn’t saying, and a shrug followed. “He knew about them, Talia.”

“About what?”

“GFAS-X1 Destroy,” Az answered. “You encountered one recently, in Berlin.”

Talia sunk into the seat nearest the window. That wasn’t possible. He’d been as surprised by its appearance as anyone had. Hadn’t he? “How—” Talia forced the question past clenched lips. If she was lying about this…

“I gave the information to him, myself.”

“Conjecture doesn’t prove he knew about them.”

“I know. I didn’t come here to get you to go against him.” Talia twisted in the seat, looking over at her. “There are things that we all can and cannot do. That is one of yours.”

Trust Az to know when she could push and when she couldn’t. And yet, if she were telling the truth than—

“Let’s say I did believe you,” Talia began, watching the woman across the quad. “How long did he know?”

“Two months.” Az didn’t even blink.

Two months. Gilbert would’ve sent someone to take them out, not sit on the information. And yet, Az was serious about it. There hadn’t been any laughter in her voice, no sense of a joke, just factual information.

Why tell her this? She couldn’t move against him, even if it was true. Talia’s fingers slid across the winged FAITH symbol on her lapel. Of anyone she was the one who couldn’t move.

“One of my teachers once said that if a leader fails to prevent a tragedy he knows is coming than he has proven himself unfit for leadership,” Az added a moment later.

“And if he encouraged it?” Talia held her breath—

“I didn’t say he did.”

—and released it.

A part of her knew that there was some truth to what she was being told, but she also didn’t want to listen. She wanted to believe that he—

That he wasn’t capable of such things. She’d always known that he wasn’t a fighter. She’d known that when she’d followed PLANT’s rules in order to have a child. He didn’t say anything, didn’t fight, didn’t protest, and just offered his hand in a handshake. It was what she hated most about him.

He should have fought, but he didn’t.

“How is Ethan,” Az asked.

Talia smiled, remembering the last time she’d seen him. He’d been all smiles for his mother. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.”

“Would you like to?”

Talia’s smile faded. She could call him anytime she wanted to. It wasn’t like it was impossible. Was this another one of her games? “Why,” she questioned.

“Take a look at the computer.” Az paused and when she added, “And before you give me that look again, recall that I’m not in the habit of using children,” anger tinged her voice.

Talia walked the few steps to the computer, knowing that Az wouldn’t be there when she got back.

Her fingers slid across the mouse pad, flickering the screen to life. A video feed was open. And suddenly he was there, Ethan, light brown hair, blue eyes focused on the little mechanical bird that was drifting into the atrium in her parents home. Ethan looked away from the bird, turning his attention towards the robot in pieces on the floor. An everyday scene when she was home, and yet, she wasn't there. “How?”

“Security camera,” was her answer. “Ethan’s grown a lot since I last saw him. I wonder if he still likes those games as much as he used to.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

“Regret?”

“Being in the military,” Talia asked. A faint smile graced her lips. It was nice to see him again.

“I’m here so that he doesn’t have to be. One day I hope that I won’t be needed anymore.” Az sighed, “The feed will stay for the next few minutes. Have fun at JOSH-A.”

The line went dead.

Ethan had grown since she’d seen him last. Just a little bit, not too much to be noticeable to anyone who wasn’t his mother, but it was enough. He’d be tall, lanky like his father, when he got older. While she’d regretted leaving Gilbert, Talia could never say the same about her son. Not a single day went by that she didn’t cherish him.

How like her to leave a gift and yet Az hadn’t told her anything about the one subject that she’d wanted to know about. She’d avoided any conversation, other than a passing comment, about Athrun and Meyrin. Did that mean that she didn’t know anything? Or was it that she did, but she didn’t want to get her involved?

There were very few reasons for Az to have come personally to Gibraltar, especially given the fact that according to the records she was MIA. The Intelligence division hadn’t been all that forthcoming regarding information on her. And yet, Talia hadn’t really expected them to.

“Have fun at JOSH-A,” Talia whispered.

It was an odd way to end a conversation. She wasn’t going to JOSH-A. No one was.

And yet, Az had mentioned Gilbert’s knowledge about the mobile suit from Berlin as if she'd wanted Talia to know. Talia didn’t have any way to verify the information, but then she would have known that. So why tell her? Just so that she would know? Just so that she would begin to doubt him? Or was it something else?

“Have fun at JOSH-A.”

The Alliance had sacrificed JOSH-A in the last war to gain the destruction of over half of the military fleet currently on Earth. They’d hoped to win the war by such means, but ZAFT had turned on them by taking Panama not long after. Az couldn’t mean that the Alliance would try something like that again, could she?

The feed solidified, stilling the image of her son playing.

I have high hopes for that battleship…

Text scrolled slowly out onto the screen.

that they may serve a role similar to archangel’s role in the previous war.

~gilbert Durandal to athrun Zala

She sat back, blinking in surprise.

A little known fact, Talia, is that the Alliance intended for Archangel to die in the defense of JOSH-A. History circles closer and closer to the present, I wonder how it will go this time.

~your Friend, now as always. A.D.

Minerva was Archangel?

The phone clattered to the desk. That was impossible. Archangel was not Minerva and history couldn’t repeat because it was history. “Az, what are you up to?”

[next entry]

[GSD- Terminal - 2- Part 1]

2006-07-18T17:55:38Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 74, Gibraltar Base

She was crouched on the hanger’s roof’s edge, curled into a tiny ball, hands palm down on the roof’s edge, fingers idly tapping. Her rain soaked orange hair slapped against the shoulder of her black pilot’s suit as she watched the GOUF fly away. In her peripheral vision Rey was doing his best to bark into the comm. set he held to his ear and run at the same time. A faint smile slipped across her lips, lighting up her red eyes with amusement. Her hand slipped up to flipping comm. channels with a single tap on the ear piece on her headset. “Activate Remote Terminal, ID code 2485667.”

“Remote Terminal activated, welcome Goddess,” a light unobtrusive computer’s voice answered.

“Access messaging protocols, new message. Goddess to Osiris,” she added, uncurling and pacing her way slowly along the roof’s edge, eyes searching for an easy way into the interior. A skylight would be best. “Message: GOUF. Expect two for dinner. End message.”

“Message sent.”

“Goddess to Minerva.” A small skylight just a few feet away garnered another smile. “Message: Send the message. End message.” It was as simple as they came and annoyingly locked. Single pin barrel hinges, rusted from years of rain, but easily popped with the right amount of leverage.

“Message sent.”

“Goddess to Poseidon. Message: Initiate Red Knight Down." She paused, grunting with the effort of prying the skylight open. It was possible that it would have been easier to just jump on it, the extra glass on the floor below wouldn’t be noticed, but she hated to leave sloppy work. It groaned, hissing against her attempt to move it. She paused, taking a breather. "Do not interfere with pursuit, but feel free to pick up the remains. End message,” She finished.

“Message sent.”

The hinges groaned and then popped. She flipped it over, the lock clinking against the roof. “Deactivate Remote Terminal. Goddess log off.”

“Goodbye.”

She switched back to the comm. frequency she’d been on before. “The rest of you get to work,” Goddess ordered. It was unfortunate that they might find the skylight open, but she still had to get inside and since Athrun had gone through the door no one would be looking for anyone to have come in through the roof. She sat down, dangling her feet through the open skylight. “I want everything as it was before we got here.”

“As you command Great One,” Luther’s cheery voice answered. Six clicks followed.

“Chess Master’s status,” Goddess asked, ignoring the irritation that he’d disobeyed standard protocols. It wasn’t like he obeyed them anymore than she did.

“He seems to be enjoying himself. They should be heading your way about now.”

She floated to the floor, the thrusters on her pack barely stirring the mess they had left behind. “I think someone needs to practice his aim a bit more,” she mumbled, amused by the pattern Rey had left in his attempt to actually shoot anyone. The maintenance consoles would have to be replaced; the GOUFs had a few dings here or there. “Little Gundam, even on a bad day, makes less of a mess than this.”

Her head cocked to the side as the walls of the hanger shook with the passing of Legend and Destiny, a small smile lighting up her eyes. The deeper pitch of Legend went first, four seconds later the higher pitched whine of Destiny joined it. So, the boy wasn’t excited about this mission.

     “He sent both of them,” Haro's lyrical voice exclaimed. “Isn’t that a bit of overkill? He could take down the GOUF with just one.”

     She rolled her eyes. If one did it than the other was bound to follow. Sometimes having team members that were joined at the hip was a pain in the ass. "Was there a notice that I wasn't informed about," she barked.

     "No, but you were talking and I could hear," Haro sheepishly shot back.

“Think he’s concerned about the SEED factor coming into play,” Luther asked before she could snap back.

“Quite likely,” she answered. “Gladys’s reaction?”

“I think it’s safe to say that she’s pissed,” he responded. “Are you still not going to call me by name?”

“No,” Haro snapped.

She laughed, “You are not Adonis.”

“Great One, how can you say such things?” And yet, he had the nerve to sound amused, even playful.

“You’re the one who chose it,” Haro snapped. “Be thankful it’s not Medusa you’re talking to.”

“Cut the chatter, you two,” Goddess snapped.

[next entry]

Terminal: Phase 3: Freedom

2006-07-18T17:49:32Z

[Return to Main Phase Hub]

Terminal
Gundam Seed Destiny Fanfiction

Phase 3: Freedom

Words: 13,657

Nifty Factoid: I always wondered what it was that DaCosta was doing for those two years between wars. I mean, everybody gets to see him on Eternal, but what happened to the guy. Waltfeld obviously spent a lot of time in Orb, but his crew....hmmm... mysteries abound.

I like to fondly call this the Lacus chapter. Oh, and get ready to do a whole lot of time hopping. I go back, I go forward... I suppose you could call it the time warp review.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[Part 1]
[Part 2]
[Part 3]
[Part 4]
[Part 5]

[Part 6]

[Part 7]

[Part 8]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Challenge: In this challenge you get to tell me who Alex is. As in what is not only in the phase, but your speculations. Speculate my readers...

[Phase 4: In Memorium]

Terminal: Phase 2: Time to Tell

2006-07-18T17:35:36Z

[Return to Main Phase Hub]

Terminal
Gundam Seed Destiny Fanfiction

Phase 2: Time to Tell

Words: 8,583

Nifty Factoid: The title for this chapter originally was an episode title from Witch Hunter Robin. Obviously I snitched it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[Part 1]
[Part 2]
[Part 3]
[Part 4]
[Part 5]
[Part 6]
[Part 7]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Phase 1 Challenge answer: there were twelve instances of the word "stupid" and the one time it wasn't said was near the end....
~I'd forgotten to post the answer to this thing. Ah, well...such is the life of a writer.
Challenge: no challenge this time.

[Phase 3: Freedom]

[GSD-Terminal-1-Part 6]

2006-07-18T08:08:36Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 74, Gibralter Base

She was not a spy. She’d never been a spy; of that much she was certain. Of course, infiltrating a base’s computer and triggering an alarm was simple enough to do. It seemed like a good idea.

It was stupid to think that once they figured out that it was a false alarm that they wouldn’t immediately trace it back to her computer. She’d have to think of a way to get out of the inevitable interrogation, after she’d gotten Athrun-san to safety.

She peaked out into the street. Clear, for once. How many times had they had to hide on the way down the fire escape? She was losing count of things.

She wondered if he was just being nice, if that was why he didn’t seem to notice that it took all of her to keep her from shaking.

This escaping business was nerve racking. It was not something she wanted to do. Not that she'd ever had a time when she needed to escape. It was one of many reasons why she didn’t make it in intelligence work. Puzzles were all nice and dandy, until you actually had to act on the information you’d gathered. When life and death hung in the balance, her skills proved sorely lacking. And yet, she'd wanted to be good at it.

“Wait here, I’ll go get a car,” she instructed, “When you see me, come out.”

She didn’t wait for him to answer. Didn’t wait for his objection to what still—logically—was a stupid plan.

Well at least it was a plan. It was better than standing in the middle of the rain waving her arms in the air, begging the gods for a plan.

Her hand fumbled in her pocket for the keys.

Why did it have to be raining? It would’ve been much easier if it was just dark. No storm, no rain, no lightning, nothing, that was the best situation.

Then again, she’d never actually helped anyone escape before. Did it matter that it was raining?

For the tenth time since she’d come up with the stupid plan she found herself wondering if maybe Sensei had been wrong. Sensei had said she wasn't suited to field work, not even really suited to desk work. An expert in information that was all she could be. Command and Control the sum total of all her skills. Surely there was some hope that she could be a good intelligence officer.

The keys slipped from her fingers, plopping down onto the road way, a tinkle following in their wake.

Meyrin frowned down at the escaped keys. Then again, maybe not.

“This is why I’m not in intelligence,” she dejectedly muttered, “I drop keys at the wrong time.” She snatched the keys off the ground, continuing her annoyed mutterings about her short comings, and quickened her pace.

Running was bad. It was as good as screaming that she was helping someone; then again there wasn’t anyone on the street. There might be someone in the parking lot though. It was better to be quick, but not too quick. They’d shut the siren off in a few minutes, she was fairly certain of that.

The problem was where she was going to take him once she got the car.

Could he manage to get off base if she let him have the car? But they'd notice if he was the one that was driving. Driving would require both of them and Onee-chan would really kill her if she did something like that.

She could take him to one of the hangers. She was fairly certain that he could fly just about any mobile suit that he got his hands on, but the take-off would be instantly caught on the sensors.

Damn it!

She should have thought of that sooner. If the hanger was where they were going than she should have known that the unauthorized flight would be flagged and the alarm triggered and then of course there was the inevitable pursuit.

She skidded to a halt before the car and huffed. She really wasn’t a spy. A real spy would’ve known exactly what they were going to do.

Her hands fumbled with the keys searching for the one that would open the door, nerves rattling them. She hesitated, taking a deep breath, and plunged the key into the lock.

Lightning cracked, spinning her away from the car in fright, illuminating a figure on the rooftop.

Meyrin froze, blinking away rain water, hoping that she was just imagining it. There couldn’t be anyone up there. It would be silly. Who would be stupid enough to be standing on a roof top, in a rain storm?

Lightning cracked again.

She waited through the flash, memorizing the curve of the curled figure on the rooftop. It was too dark to be certain, but it looked like it had a pack strapped to its back and that it was dressed in black. An advantageous color for night time viewing. A ribbon of orange flicked against its shoulder. Orange hair?

Was it looking in her direction?

This was stupid, even if it was looking at her freezing would only give who ever it was the idea that she was up to something. “Just get in the car,” she mumbled, turning back to the car. “It’s nothing. Besides they don’t know that you’re helping him.”

She tumbled into the seat, hastily recalling that she should strap herself in, before throwing the car into gear. The wheels screeched a little bit as she backed out and headed for the roadway.

She took one last glace at the rooftop. Well, at least they weren’t moving. But why on the rooftop and in the middle of the night, in a rain storm no less.

Her nerves settled a tiny bit as she slid the car to a halt, honking the horn to let Athrun-san know that she was there. He pelted out of the alcove he’d hidden himself in and scrunched down in the seat beside her.

We’re going to the hanger became the mantra that played over and over in her mind as she drove. Green light after green light earned a silent celebration in her head. It was the upcoming red, just down the road that had her worried. Would it turn green in time or would she have to...

Did one drive fast or normally when attempting an escape?

But, if one did drive fast than weren’t they more likely to attract attention? But if they drove normally than they wouldn’t make it there quickly.

She decided it was the better part to get there fast and slipped and skidded through the red light on the way to the hanger. All she had to do was get him to the hanger. Once there he could handle things. He’d done this sort of thing before, hadn’t he?

Of course an open hanger would be nice. Why was it all of them on this street were locked up tight. Should she try a different street?

He tapped her shoulder. She jumped, hastily recalling a moment later that it was the better part of valor to drive down the street on the correct side. She glanced to the side, wondering what had possessed him to do that. His finger pointed towards the open doors of a hanger just down the street.

Finally some good luck.

The car screeched to a halt, the headlights illuminating neat rows of GOUFs. Not as fast as Savior but it would do for an escape vehicle. The two of them piled out of the car. “Most of your pursuers are at the harbor. So it shouldn’t be too hard…”

He hesitated for a moment, looking back at her.

“Please go,” she added, looking away from him. This was all she could do. It had to be enough.

“But what about you,” he asked.

Why did he have to be so nice? Why wouldn’t he just go? It was better for him to leave. If he stayed they would catch him and …and he would get hurt. “If you’re going to be killed, it’s better for you to go.”

He hesitated, his green eyes mirroring his confliction.

Go, please just go.

There was a chance that someone could have followed them. That all of this was for nothing. She had an out. All she had to do was tell them that he had forced her to do it. It would be a lie, but it was better than him dying.

Her mind barely registered the sound of footsteps before he had her around the waist and had catapulted them towards the bank of maintenance consoles. He’d managed to roll their flight until he took the brunt of the impact with the floor. Thunder cracked, spinning a fragment of the console in front of her towards her. Athrun-san was up, his body shielding against the fragments that followed.

“So you will run away again,” an all too familiar voice barked from the doorway.

“Rey!”

Oh, great.

Perfect.

Just what she needed. Rey had to be the one to find them. Rey—the one who, according to the target practice records, was the least likely one to miss. Granted he wasn’t as good as Athrun-san, but still—

“I won’t allow you to betray Gil!”

For god sakes there wasn’t time to be bickering about politics. Soldiers were attempting escape. She was being shot at. Meyrin, still curled up on the ground, hands covering her head, frowned.

Gil—

He knew the Chairman well enough to call him by his first name. She hadn’t known that.

She squeaked, curling into as much of a ball as she could manage, hands attempting to cover her head as the gun snapped bullet after bullet, peppering the repair consoles they’d hidden behind.

“Stop it Rey,” Athrun-san’s voice called through the noise. “Meyrin is…”

She cried out, holding her hands up, covering herself as much as she could, trying to keep from getting injured by the fragments spitting in all directions.

Stupid, stupid, stupid....

The proper protocol was not to shoot at the hostage. Especially when said hostage was being covered by the target. Not that she wanted Athrun-san to be shot, but it was the lesser of two evils.

Athrun-san was gone, the familiar presence having drawn away. She glanced back, watching as he popped up between the two consoles, fired off a few rounds and then ducked behind the console again.

Rey hastily retreated from the door the shots pinging very close to where he had been. A moment later he was back, the console in front of her spitting out fragments again.

Athrun-san rolled across the floor towards the GOUF. He landed in a crouch; green eyes narrowed; aimed the gun at the doorway and popped two shots. The first pinged against the doorframe; the next sent the gun in Rey’s hand spinning into the air.

Did the rolling really help, she wondered.

A grimace of disappointment appeared on Rey’s face before he went pelting after it.

She didn’t move, didn’t want to go out where she might get in his way. Athrun-san had risked his life to save hers. Why had he done something so…so…?

His hand was out, the look on his face inviting her to come with him. She sat back in surprise.

Rey had shot at her, despite the fact that Athrun-san had been trying to tell him to stop. Granted Rey probably thought he was doing the right thing. Athrun-san was deserting and according to military regulations that warranted death, but she hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d helped him, but that hadn’t been wrong. Had it?

It was a chance that she would only have once. Going with Athrun-san, staying alive—given Rey’s apparent lack of interest in her safety—and maybe answering a few more pieces of the puzzle.

She took it.

The pair of them raced for the lift, for the GOUF. Shots pinged on the hatch entrance informing them of Rey’s return. And then the hatch was closed, she was nestled behind the seat and Athrun-san was punching buttons. She’d never been in a mobile suit before. Granted she’d peaked into Onee-chan’s ZAKU, but Onee-chan had been sitting in the pilot’s seat at the time.

“I’m sorry,” Athrun-san was saying. “But at this rate, you’ll…”

She nodded, finding herself in agreement with his assessment. Besides, she was already in the GOUF and it wasn’t like Rey was going to stop shooting long enough for her to get out.

It wasn’t until they were already out over the ocean that she spoke about anything. She didn’t want to distract him while he was flying, though she wasn’t certain as to how much concentration he needed. “B-but, what will we do?”

“We’ll look for Archangel,” was his answer.

“But that ship was destroyed,” she protested. He couldn’t honestly believe that it had survived a direct shot from Tannhäuser. It had to have been destroyed, especially considering the explosion.

“It’s not gone,” he answered. “I’m sure Kira’s fine too…”

Why did he look sad? Was this Kira a friend of his? She couldn’t recall that having been in any of the data she’d gathered.

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-1- Part 5]

2006-07-18T08:06:10Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 74, The Ocean outside Gibralter Base

Chirp.

She wondered if she would turn blue from the cold.

Would she look the same once her body had sopped up all the water or would she bloat, filling up like a balloon?

Chirp. Chirp.

Something was chirping.

She doubted it was Athrun-san—in fact she was fairly certain it wasn’t him.

She wanted to move, to twist a little so that her side didn’t ache so much, but twisting hurt more. And it wasn’t like she could remove a sword.

It was oddly amusing to think that the lower half of her body was slowly numbing to the water’s temperature. She’d bleed to death and she wouldn’t even feel it happening.

Chirp, chirp, chirp.

Why couldn’t she look at him? She should look at him, make certain that he was alright, but at the same time she couldn’t.

There had to be something that she could do. Some way to get this to change, but she didn’t know how to move a wrecked GOUF, let alone a whole GOUF.

Why couldn’t she have managed the escape just a little bit better?

Athrun-san should have been able to do this all on his own. He was experienced in escaping from capture or at least that was what the data had said. He’d fled capture in Eternal the last time, along with Lacus Clyne and some Commander that had been injured in a fight with Strike.

Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirrrrrrp.

Was it because she was there? Was that why he was fated to float to the bottom of the ocean in a wrecked GOUF?

She still couldn’t open her eyes. A part of her wanted to see what had happened. A part of her curled inside waiting for the inevitable slow death that was sure to come. Neither wanted to face the sword and the wounded soldier that had protected her.

It wasn’t fair.

Life wasn’t supposed to end at the bottom of the ocean.

Chirp, chirrrrrrrrp, chirp, chirrrrrrp.

That stupid chirping was getting on her nerves. She would have to remember to kill whatever was making it…

She yawned, a lance of agony shooting up her side. Whether it was from the blood loss or the cold or maybe it was just that she was tired, her body wilted against the back curve of the cockpit. She needed to sleep and yet she also wanted to stay awake. Her mind was both fascinated by the chirping and its source and oddly uninterested. There wasn't anything in a cockpit that would chirp and yet, it was still there.

Sleep would be a very nice thing to have.

Was she allowed to sleep? Would it be okay if she did go to sleep? Something told her that she shouldn’t.

Sleep seemed like such a warm idea too.

Cold—something about cold and it being a bad idea to sleep. She wanted to remember what it was, to recall it incase it was important.

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-1-Part 4]

2006-07-18T08:03:31Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 74, Gibralter Base

“Athrun-san—”

His hand silenced her surprise at his hasty entrance into her room. “I’m sorry, I just want to get outside,” he said in a rush. “Please, stay quiet.”

So, they were after him.

She nodded. But why would they want him, it wasn’t like he was given to being as rash as Shinn. She wondered what they would charge him with.

We’re sorry but we have to arrest you for being too good at your job.

Or—

We’re sorry but you have to be arrested to keep the female population of Minerva from becoming any more interested in what it is that you’re doing.

—No, that was silly. Onee-chan had shown the most obvious interest, but—

Why would they want him?

“You’re being pursued,” the words spilled from thought to action, tumbling out of her mouth. “Why?”

He was at the window; his gaze slid her direction for a moment before looking back. “Ask Rey or someone else about it later.”

Why the hell would Rey know anything about it? Rey wasn’t the type to give the weather report, let alone explain why it was that the ZAFT hero of the last war was standing, dripping wet, in her room.

A pounding on the door snapped her about, whirling her away from him and the window. She watched the door for a moment hoping she was just hearing things. They pounded again. “This is the military police. We’d like to search your room. Open your door,” a voice barked.

A door to door search?

That was the most likely event, but what had he done to warrant such a search. Her eyes darted to the gun he had in his hands. Did he steal it from them or had he gotten it from somewhere else?

“After I get outside, scream and tell them that I was holding you at gunpoint,” he was saying.

She stepped back in surprise. That was a stupid plan. They’d find him in a second. She glanced towards the door, glanced back at him, an idea forming in her mind.

Damn it— Onee-chan was going to kill her later, but it didn’t feel right to let him get hurt. He was a nice guy. Not bad to look at. And there was still the matter of the missing pieces to the puzzle that was Athrun Zala. She’d never figure them out if he was dead and all things being considered equally, she didn’t want anyone to die.

Determined, Meyrin grabbed his arm, dragging him protesting behind her. “Over here.”

“There is one trick that works no matter when or where you use it,” Sensei’s voice whispered in her memory. “If you ever need to help someone escape—”

It was known as the shower trick.

“Hey, is there anyone in there?”

“Uh,” she hastily answered, “yeah.”

Was one supposed to add “Just a minute” to that or were they supposed to say nothing? But if one did say that they would be just a moment more, than they would be expected to appear within that allotted time. A truly a perplexing situation, but it would just have to be addressed at a later date when she had more time.

She’d tugged him in behind her, wedging him between the tub and the door. Reaching for the shower knobs she wrenched them open, splashing water into the tub.

“Idiot, that won’t work,” he complained.

In all likelihood he was correct. She’d never actually had an occasion present itself that would warrant the using of such measures.

“It’ll be ok,” she answered over her shoulder. Her fingers worked the buttons of her uniform off, dropping it to the floor a moment later. He sounded like he was trying to protest, but something was stuck in his throat. She ignored him, fought against the blush that threatened to spread from her cheeks, and shoved her head into the cold water.

In order for the trick to work one had to look appreciably similar to one who had just stepped out of the shower. Or at least that's what Sensei had said. Sensei was fond of leaving out information that might be important. She wrung out her hair.

Her hand snatched the towel from the bar and she was out the door. She wondered if he’d know to stay in the bathroom, but rejected the notion. He wasn’t that foolish. She wrapped the towel around her, shutting the bathroom door behind her, and took a deep breath. "Calm yourself, but remember that they're here looking for him. They don't expect you to know where he is. You're just a lowly officer, caught unawares," Sensei's warm voice whispered. "Remember to be slightly annoyed. They interrupted your off hours, but be respectful at the same time." And she pulled the door open.

Their eyes went wide, the one closest to the door had obviously been about to force his way in. Blinking innocently— hopefully innocent enough—she waited for them to collect themselves. The one who had been about to force his way in teetered back on his heels, stammering out what might have been an apology if he could manage to get it past his grunt of surprise. Meyrin's eyes widened a bit, Onee-chan was behind them, shoving her way forward.

Why was Onee-chan in the hallway, hadn’t she said she was going to get something to eat.

“Meyrin,” Onee-chan snapped. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Oh, Onee-chan…” she hesitated, uncertain as to how to answer it, then decided that truth could be fubbed considering a certain blue haired someone was hiding in her bathroom. “I was taking a shower, but they were pounding on my door, so…”

Onee-chan spitted the nearest of the military policemen with a glare.

He stepped back, his hands raised as if to surrender.

Onee-chan’s glare slid back to her, “Hurry up and get dressed.” And then without waiting for Meyrin’s answer she turned back to the officer, “And what is this commotion about to begin with?”

“Well, umm…” the policemen Onee-chan had glared at fumbled for an answer. He decided after a moment that retreating from her angry sister was the best course and moved on down the hall, motioning for her to go back into her room.

The door clicked shut behind her. She wilted against the door, drawing one ragged breath after another into her lungs. It had worked.

It couldn't have worked. By all logic that shouldn't have worked. She was a horrible actor, had always been a horrible actor. Where were the sirens? Why weren't they barging in to take him away? That couldn’t have worked as well as she thought it would. They couldn’t have been fooled by just that. What was she going to tell Onee-chan when it came out that she’d harbored Athrun Zala in his escape attempt? Why had Onee-chan believed her? She'd never been able to keep a secret from Onee-chan.

She sunk, curling into herself, dropping to the floor.

What was she thinking? He was a fugitive. She could go to jail for harboring him. This was stupid.

The door to the bathroom clicked as it opened, his boots thudded across the floor, and she was draped in warmth. It took a second for her warring mind to figure out that it was the robe from the bathroom and the heavy weight on her shoulders was actually his hands. His hands were on her shoulders—in another situation, another day, maybe it would have brought a blush to her face.

“Thank you,” his soft voice brought her head up. Damn why did he have to be so nice. She’d just done the stupidest thing of her career in the military and he was thanking her. “But why…?”

Her head sunk. Why indeed. She didn’t really know. All of the answers that had seemed so correct in the moment of decision seemed wrong, foolish even. “I don’t know,” she answered, tears clogging her throat.

It was the truth, simple and pure. Maybe she could chock it up to cosmic influence, but simply she’d done it because she could.

The weight of his hands on her shoulders was gone, “But you did save me. Thank you.”

She’d saved him for a moment that was all. Given him time to formulate something else, maybe even time to think, but she hadn’t really saved him all that much. In a little bit he would be gone and she wouldn’t have really saved his life, not like Onee-chan or Shinn had or so many could. She wasn’t that strong, she couldn’t do the things they did.

There had to be something else. She’d done this one thing. Done it and survived it, ironically enough. But when he left she couldn’t help him anymore. There was something, some piece to the puzzle that was Athrun Zala that had driven him to rejoin ZAFT, something that couldn’t be found in any of the data streams she had access to.

“The heart drives all decisions, Meyrin,” Sensei’s voice admonished. “Without the heart the data is irrelevant ...”

The heart was always the piece that eluded her. It had eluded her when she’d pieced together the puzzle that was Shinn, but that was only until Onee-chan had mentioned that his family had died in Orb.

Orb…

Her hand snapped out, grasping his ankle, jerking his stride out of motion. She looked up into his surprised face. “The hanger,” she stammered out. “Please just wait a minute.”

[next entry]

[GSD-Terminal-1-Part 3]

2006-07-18T08:00:33Z

[previous entries]

C.E. 74, The Ocean outside Gibraltar Base

The cockpit jerked, the GOUF seizing against the intrusion of a sword, cracking her head against the back cockpit plating.

“I’m sorry.” Athrun-san mumbled.

She didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see him or the cockpit. A sword, she knew she’d be looking at a sword if she opened her eyes. Her chest hurt, pain rippling up from the point where the sword had grazed her before plunging on through the back of the cockpit.

At least Shinn’s inability to hit center on a target was coming in handy. If only he’d missed, if only he’d –

It wasn’t like thinking of ifs was going to get her anywhere.

Well, she could claim to be the first Hawke to have successfully gotten Athrun-san’s attention. Not that she’d ever wanted him to put himself at risk for her. She’d rather preferred it the way it was.

Two possibilities: death by explosion and death by drowning.

The GOUF would destruct, but that depended on the position of the sword and how much power was in the cell. It was very likely that the cell had been fully charged. The sword’s intrusion would interrupt the flow of power in the cell, cycling it towards overload. Critical overload in turn resulted in a fire ball of explosion.

What would it feel like to explode? Would it hurt?

Probably.

Her breath hitched, a groan of agony slipping past her lips. He may have missed killing them but Shinn hadn’t missed them entirely. A section of her arm, a good portion of her torso, and a cold numbness in her toes told her that in all likelihood she would die no matter what happened.

Was Athrun-san unconscious?

Her teeth chattered, shuddering against one another as she drew air in despite the fire in her side. Cold had spread up her legs.

Yes, that was to be expected. The ocean was always cold, unless of course you were near a thermal vent. The likelihood of being near one of those wasn’t high.

Water…

If they were in the water, than that had to mean that he’d successfully dodged the death by explosion possibility.

Funny how that didn’t seem to make drowning feel any better.

Chirp.

Ok, now she was hearing things. Wonderful. As if dying wasn’t enough, she had to fall momentarily into insanity as she died.

Chirp.

[next entry]