(FMA / GW) The Braid
Title: The Braid
Part: Chapter Two - Solitary Souls
Warnings: Gundam Wing x Fullmetal Alchemist Crossover. FMA spoilers through 50, GW spoilers upto but excluding Endless Waltz. Definitively AU for both stories, diverging from points in FMA 50 and GW 49. Pulls in elements from GW manga Episode Zero, but AUs a bit of it. Heavily Ed and Duo centric. *Heavily*. However, this is also non-slash.
Pairings: None, except those in the canon of the series, and even then only unobtrusively so. This is so *not* a romance story.
Words: 5454
“Father Jacob!” A light tenor voice called across the yard as the tall man once again re-entered his gate, closing it behind him. “Father Jacob! Guess what?”
“What, Kip?” Father Jacob replied, the tired wrinkles in his face smoothed by the smile that graced it instead. The eight year old dashed from his seat on the swings to stand before the priest, jumping up and down in delight. “Has something interesting happened?”
“That boy is here again!” Kip answered. His violet eyes danced with delight. “Sister Helen said to be sure to tell you soon as you gots back, so I did!”
“Really?” The priest smiled at the boy before him. He lifted his head and glanced towards the open doorway, half expecting the blond to be waiting there to greet him. No, the doorway was empty. The grin flickered from his face for a moment, before carefully reasserting itself. “Has he been waiting long?”
“No, only a few minutes.” Kip answered cheerfully enough, but his violet eyes darkened slightly. He paused a moment, then asked, “Hey, Father Jacob, is something wrong?”
Father Jacob laughed and tousled the boy’s hair lightly. His fingers slid easily through the short brown hair, just long enough to brush the child’s collar. It would need to be cut again soon. Kip protested slightly as his head was forced this way and that by the pressure on his scalp. Then the priest straightened, and gave him a gentle shove.
“Go play with the others, Kip.” Father Jacob said gently. The boy’s eyes searched him for a moment before he nodded and dashed back across the lawn to rejoin the game of kickball the kids were having. Father Jacob watched him go, smiling, before turning towards the door. As he twisted the knob and opened it, the cheery look slipped from his features, lines deepening once more as a frown creased his brow.
The hallway that the door opened into was lit only by the sun streaming dimly into it through nearby windows. A small table situated under a mirror sat simply next to a chair, a basic white table cloth with a wooden rosary atop it resting on the table’s surface. To the right stood a room with a multicolored rug that had faded with time. In it stood a play pen that had seen better days which held two small children, who together played with a few large building blocks. To the left, a room with a fireplace and a couple of couches scattered throughout it had shadows creep into it as the day headed towards its end.
Father Jacob took off his coat, hanging it upon the rack that stood just inside the doorway. He walked swiftly to the bend in the hall, and placed his hand on the doorknob. He paused for a second, looking at the floor and allowing the darkness of the far end of the hall to hide his face momentarily. Then, without a second thought, the priest lifted his head and swung the door open.
The warmth of the room rushed to greet him, delicious scents filling the man’s nose. Kitchens seemed to always be the best rooms in a house - the vibrancy and lived in sense they created could be duplicated by few, if any, other locations. The priest nearly sighed in relief as he spotted his visitor seated at the table, a mug of tea clenched in his hands as he made idle conversation with Sister Helen.
“So, Solo, what trade brings you here today?” Two heads swung round to greet him, the woman’s clearing cheerfully even as the blond boy frowned. Father Jacob walked towards the table and gracefully seated himself as Sister Helen quickly filled another mug with tea and passed it to the priest. He nodded at her gratefully.
“The usual.” The boy replied, choosing then to watch silently as the older man took a sip. The warm liquid couldn’t quite reach the spot in the pit of his stomach that had gone cold.
“A cup of tea for a bit of information, then?” The priest queried. The boy before him nodded, still not proffering any further words as the man before him considered this. The priest inclined his head toward the boy, crystal eyes meeting golden ones head on as he remarked, “Well, you’ve got your tea, shorty.”
“WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL YOU’D NEED A MICROSCOPE JUST TO SEE HIM?” The boy shouted as he jumped to his feet. Father Jacob laughed quietly and waited for the golden haired one before him to find his chair again. Several minutes later, with a belabored and put upon sigh, the boy seated himself. He took a swig of tea, then remarked, “It’s serious this time.”
The lines carved themselves deeper into Father Jacob’s face. “Have they finally realized?”
“What, that you aid and abet a gang?” The slight frame shook with what might generously have been referred to as a laugh. “They’re not bright enough for that, no. This is worse.”
“What is it?” The priest asked, staring at the child before him as a humorless smile crossed the boy’s face.
“The Alliance.”
The words echoed in the priest’s mind, as did the telltale clink of china the came as the dish Sister Helen had been washing slipped from her grasp back into the sink. What could the Alliance possibly want from them? They were just a church like any other, they hadn’t done anything that would bring the wrath of the government upon them, had they? Unless…
“It’s the communication links, isn’t it?” Father Jacob said, horror spreading itself neatly across his face as his eyes went wide. The boy blinked, and the man’s expression had returned to normal. “They know that we still have them, that we still can and do use them. After all, the government has stayed separate from religion, and they can’t take away our lines without problems. They want them gone, don’t they?” He paused dangerously, a wolfish smile lacing his face. “Well that’s just too bad for them.”
“Father Jacob -“ The boy protested, lifting his arms almost beseechingly from the teacup his hands had been cradling on the table towards the man. He let them fall to the table a second later and focused his eyes on the dregs floating in his cup. For a moment he remained silent. Behind him, Sister Helen had resumed washing the dishes, her motions by far more cautious then they had been, but steady nevertheless. As he spoke, though, he raised his eyes once more, mischief twinkling in them. “Anything I can do to help?”
The man winked at him. An evil little smile quirked its way onto the kid’s face as Father Jacob rose to his feet and beckoned to follow him. The two exited the kitchen door, and walked quickly across the small hallway. Father Jacob glanced briefly up and down the hall to make certain that no one would come upon them, and then motioned for the younger one to remain where he was as he retrieved the rosary beads from the table in the center of the hall and returned to his place at the boy’s side.
“Father Jacob?” The boy asked curiously but quietly. The priest showed him the beads, allowing the longer part to drop as he held tight to the crucifix. With sure and steady hands, the man inserted the cross into a tiny crack in the back wall which Father Jacob’s companion could not recall having seen earlier. He then twisted it swiftly to the right.
The blond boy’s eyes widened as he discerned a quiet click. Father Jacob looked about the hall once more before tugging lightly on the rosary. The wall, which heretofore had seemed to be a single complete piece, now swung open about a hinge in its center. The kid darted quickly around the priest and to the other side of the wall as the priest twisted the rosary back to the left and pulled it from the wall before heading through himself.
“This way.” The priest said, shutting the wall behind them.
From a pocket, Father Jacob retrieved a book of matches, which he used to light a candle that had been hanging by the door. Its small flame flickered ominously in the enclosure, the sphere of its light extending just far enough to reveal a flight of stairs. The upper part of the staircase had been constructed from wood, just as the rest of the orphanage had. Once they passed ground level, however, it switched quickly to stone.
“The orphanage wasn’t always an orphanage, you know.” Father Jacob remarked after they had descended several feet. The one called Solo raised an eyebrow. “No, really. During the first uprising of the colonies, L2 managed to free itself of martial rule for a bit. What you’re about to see is something the Alliance has been hunting for decades.”
“You can’t mean -“ The boy said, inhaling sharply as he focused intently on the back of the man’s head. Father Jacob obligingly turned to give the young man a glimpse of his eyes before nodding sharply and facing forwards once more.
The stairs descended deep into the ground, before flattening into a long, narrow passageway. The pair crept silently through the corridor, at whose end shimmered a glowing light. They approached it, the younger of the two visibly flinching into the bright glare as they passed through the archway at the end of the passage. His eyes widened.
It should have been more impressive, really, the boy reflected as he stared at the monitor before him. The room that held it certainly was. The long, graceful table made of mahogany could easily have seated twelve, and would certainly not have been out of place in any board room. The monitor, though, was old and simple, having aged well and gracefully but nevertheless having distinctly aged. A lone chair had been drawn from the head of the table, and cordoned off at the far end of the room.
“Heero Yuy himself once sat there.” Father Jacob said, gesturing with his free hand at the chair. The braided one wandered over to it, resting his hand lightly on it for a moment, before striding closer to the monitor.
“The make is pretty old, twenty, twenty one years or so. The wires on this side are so thin from use that they’re about the same size as the ones we use today.” He turned to regarded the priest measuringly. “Faking the actual connection will be the hard part. They’ll probably check the system to be sure they’re at the right place, and to see if they can find the location of any of the others. I could…”
The younger of the two allowed his voice to trail as he studied the interaction of the wires and switches, turning the screen on and off several times repeatedly. Father Jacob watched silently, remaining in the doorway even as his companion plucked at several of the wires, moving them this way and that. After a long moment, he spoke again.
“You can do it?” The priest’s voice, normally so jocular, sounded almost completely flat. Only the lingering edge of something uncertain tinged it unpleasantly, breaking it from uniformity. A blond head looked quickly up from the screen before it, pausing for a moment before nodding once, swiftly, and then returned to fiddling with the wires. Father Jacob sighed tiredly. “All right, name your trade.”
Gold-flecked eyes turned to bore into pale blue ones. The blue glanced away first, their owner blowing out his candle and sitting in a nearby chair as he resisted feeling the full weight of the stare upon him. Silence fell over the chamber, before the golden eyes refocused on the wiring. Two flesh hands carefully separated and examined connections.
“The materials, of course.” A voice said at last. The younger man ceased his endlessly toying with the wires, turning around as an arrogant air swept into him. “Can’t do anything without the proper materials. If you can get one of the limited comms they have, and some wire cabling, I should be able to make it work from that. My skills are, as always, yours at the price of dinner and a cup of tea.”
“Don’t suppose you’ll let us put milk in the tea this time, eh shorty?” Father Jacob watched the predictable explosion with a hint of mirth quirking up the corners of his mouth. For someone who was so calm, Solo’s buttons - once you knew the right ones - were remarkably easy to push.
“My silence comes at a higher price.” The boy said, once he finally stopped rambling about who was he calling a tiny bean, anyway? The priest turned to him, regarding him carefully with a fixed and steady look.
“What more could you want then our continued silence about your gang’s activities?” Father Jacob replied. The boy’s gaze didn’t flicker. Interesting… “You know, kid, where I come from, silence in exchange for silence is considered an equivalent trade.”
“I know.” Golden eyes flickered for a moment, before carefully going over the priest’s features once more. Finally, the glittering orbs reflected once more into the man’s eyes, before casting far into the distance. “What you need done? I can do it… but I need your guarantee that you won’t say a word about how it was done.”
The priest watched as tension stretched itself across the young man’s shoulders. Sometimes it was all too easy to forget that this fiery soul really was a child, for all he proclaimed himself an adult. Father Jacob rose to his feet and approached the boy cautiously, much as one would approach a frightened animal. The boy’s natural skittishness, and resistance to physical contact, had only grown with him, rather than vanishing as the priest had once hoped they would.
Slowly, gently, Father Jacob extended a hand and turned the boy’s face towards his own. The fairer skinned one tensed a bit more, small lines on his face becoming steadily more apparent. Still, he met the stare head on, refusing to allow his fear to show. Father Jacob’s respect for the young man in front of him grew.
“Why do ya need it, kid?” He asked, careful to keep his own voice steady and soft. The child regarded him carefully. For a long moment, Father Jacob was certain that the boy would say no more, perhaps even that he would bolt as he had the first time they had met, over a year ago. Then the child’s gaze fell to the side, and the priest’s patience was rewarded.
“You asked me a question, once, when I told you that I no longer believe in god.” The boy’s hands clenched into fists. “You asked me if I had never seen a miracle occur, and promised me that when I saw something change right before my eyes, something that seemed impossible, then I would be able to understand who god is.”
“Yeah, kid, what’s your point?” The priest asked, the soft sound of his voice lessening the impact of the terse words. He allowed his hand to drop once more to his side, allowing the blond discretion over where he chose to look.
The boy stared at the ground, lapsing into silence once more. Then he continued, his voice slightly less steady, “You had the problem wrong, Father. The problem wasn’t that I’d never seen something change right before my eyes. The problem has always been that I’ve seen too much change.”
“Solo…” The priest said softly. He started when he realized that his hand had, entirely without his permission, begun to reach for the younger one. Carefully, he pulled it back to his side, waiting for whatever would come next.
“They say seeing is believing, don’t they, Father?” The blond queried quietly. His right hand slipped into his pocket, and from it he withdrew a single piece of chalk. The boy stepped towards the monitor, and slowly began to draw a wide circle around it.
“Listen, kid, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but -“ Father Jacob began as the blond one superimposed a pair of triangles over the circle, crisscrossing the monitor to do so. Fathomless eyes glanced back at him for a moment, all motion halting. The priest paused. True, no spark of mischief lit the child’s eyes, and to be sure he had proven himself trustworthy so far… Could he allow this, all the possible destruction of what he and so many others had worked so hard to protect?
The older man nodded his head, and the boy resumed his chalk drawings. Graceful lines of white, drawn with a swift and steady hand, soon covered the wall before him, filling in the circle neatly. The symbols were myriad and variant. Some of them Father Jacob recognized from his days in the seminary, others were completely beyond the scope of his knowledge. Still, the system, the pattern, seemed somehow to be in balance.
At length, the hand holding the chalk came to rest loosely by the boy’s side. He turned and looked at the man for a moment, before remarking quietly, “Believe me.”
Father Jacob had to turn his face away from the bright flash of light that followed that statement. He had just enough time to observe the boy’s finger’s resting on the outside of the circle, brilliant eyes closed as though in preparation, before a gleaming blue light shone forth from the circle. He raised his arm to shield his eyes from it, only to realize it had faded once more.
“What the hell?!” Father Jacob said, striding forward to grab the boy by one of his shoulders as he pulled him to his feet and shook him slightly. “Listen, kid, I don’t know what you just did, but pulling dangerous shit like that - Kid, what the heck were you trying - You’ve just scared several years off my life, I hope you know - I can’t understand what -“
“Look.” The boy said, his nonchalance remarkably irritating as he quickly extricated himself from the older man’s grasp. He stepped sideways a few paces, then gestured back at the machine. Slowly, the priest turned his head back towards the place on the wall where the old monitor had hung.
“What…?” The priest started, staring at the wall. The circle remained, certainly, its lines intersecting and crossing just as they had mere seconds ago. The monitor, though, had changed drastically. The years had faded from it, the cabling shone as it had the day it had first been placed there, and even the small cracks the frame had developed over time were gone.
Startled, he turned once more to the mysterious boy, wondering not for the first time how much he really didn’t know about the child. The boy gave him a wink, and allowed a gleam of mischievousness to dance across his eyes as he smirked at the priest.
“More things in heaven and earth, Father Jacob.” He said simply as he threw his arms open expansively and seated himself in the chair nearest the monitor. Father Jacob allowed his jaw to drop in amazement.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Children, come inside now!” Sister Helen called into the yard. The boys and girls of the Maxwell Orphanage laughed merrily as they happily ignored their caretaker, chasing one another around the small yard. The woman sighed, running a hand lightly over the top of her hair and down her simple plait. She muttered under her breath, “Kind Lord, grant me patience.”
“Michael, Gabriel, John!” The woman shouted, cupping her right hand at the side of her mouth as she leaned out the window a bit further. “Liselle, Julia, Annette! Nina, Kip! The weather cycle will be starting soon, and dinner’s almost ready! Come inside!”
“But Sister Helen!” The children whined collectively at her. She gave them a stern look, as though daring the little ones to disobey her. Reluctantly, they one by one turned and headed for the kitchen door.
“Kip Kierland! Nina Tucker! You two get off those swings and come in here right now!” Sister Helen yelled insistently as the two remained seated, swinging steadily higher and higher. Nina giggled and let go of the swing she had been swinging on. She flew through the air for a moment before sticking a perfect landing and dashing into the house. Sister Helen smiled at her benevolently before shouting once more, “Kip!”
“Coming, Sister Helen!” The child responded. Unlike his companion, Kip waited until the swing slowed to a stop before rising from it and walking at a snail’s speed toward the door. The nun pulled her head back into the house and shut the window. Kip trudged inside, closing the door carefully behind him just as the rain started to pour from the sky.
Sister Helen shook her head exasperatedly as she reached carefully over the boy’s head to lock the door behind him.
“Now really, Kip,” she said, giving him the infamous look of disappointment that never failed to make recalcitrant children behave, “is it really that much of a problem for you to come inside the house the first time I call? I know you like to play in the rain, but if you do that then you’ll have to change into dry things and make me do more laundry.”
“I’m sorry, Sister!” The boy replied even as a wide and unapologetic grin split his face. The nun stared at him at length until her resolve broke and she found herself smiling as well. She gave him a hug, then ruffled his hair gently.
“Go on, you, get out of here.” She shooed him easily from the kitchen. Kip ran off laughing, following in the other children’s wake. Sister Helen sighed to herself, the corners of her lips turned bemusedly upward as she resumed peeling potatoes. Some days she really had to wonder what would become of that scallywag.
Carefully, Sister Helen began boiling water, and dumped the peeled potatoes into the water. Stepping to her right, she grabbed hold of her long wooden spoon and carefully resumed stirring the soup. Hopefully she would be able to convince Solo to bring some back with him this time. After all, it’s not like those children he looks after ever get real home cooking, she considered idly.
Solo was a wild card - had been from the first day she had heard of him. Sister Helen could still remember the day Father Jacob had trudged back from the market, looking tired and confused. He’d had smiles for the children as always, but when at last they had all been shuffled off to bed, he had sat beside her in the kitchen and sipped tea. For a long time, he had been unusually quiet, lost in his thoughts, and she had been unable to find it in her heart to disturb him.
“I met a strange child today.” He had said at last, still gazing into the distance. Startled, she had glanced up from her tea to stare at him.
“A child?”
“Yes,” he’d replied, an odd smile curling the corners of his mouth, “a young boy. I wonder if I’ll see him again.”
“Hmm…” She’d answered noncommittally, wonder what could possibly be so interesting about a single young boy. The same pattern had repeated for several weeks, with Father Jacob every so often returning to the orphanage with an odd grin on his face. After the first couple of times she’d been able to tell at a glance precisely what had happened that day. Still, in spite of her best efforts, she knew nothing more about the boy then that he was young and strange.
Then came the day when the priest had not returned alone.
“Solo, this is Sister Helen. Sister Helen, this is Solo.” He had said by way of introduction. The boy was young, certainly. To judge by the look of him she’d imagined him to be no more than ten. Still, the scowl etched on his face and the shadows in his eyes suggested that perhaps it was his height and shaggy blond hair that belied the truth of him.
“Welcome to Maxwell House, Solo.” She had said, smiling encouragingly at the boy. She’d been surprised when he looked almost more disgruntled then he had before, his eyes narrowing at her.
“Listen, don’t get the wrong idea, sister.” He had replied, clearly forcing the effort to be polite to her. He glanced sideways at the man beside him, a Father Jacob whose smile seemed only to annoy the boy. Crossing his arms, the child had declared irritably, “Look, I’m just here for a cup of tea, ok? Then I’m leaving.”
“Of course.” She had answered, taken aback. “Come right in.”
After that first meeting, Sister Helen had seen Solo fairly frequently. The deal Father Jacob had worked out with the boy struck her as odd at first, although it certainly was extremely beneficial to the orphanage. Solo, a street rat through and through, garnered little to no attention from the officials on the streets. The poor had always been invisible - Solo, it seemed, had figured out a way to make that useful at last.
“He trades in information.” Father Jacob had explained to her that first evening, when she had looked at him confusedly as she cleaned the tea cups from the table. A wicked smile had crossed the priest’s lips. “Apparently looking young and innocent goes a long way towards finding out things people would rather you didn’t know.”
“But he’s only a child!” She had protested, only to cut herself short as the holy man shook his head.
“He may not have much in the way of physical age,” the man had replied, “but that one hasn’t been a child in a long time. He’s seen too much, been through to much, with no one there for him.” Father Jacob had shaken his head. “I don’t know who was supposed to be looking out for that one, but they’ve really mucked it up.”
Sister Helen had frowned pensively. What could possibly have happened to one so young…? And his name…?
“Solo…?” She had queried aloud, her voice a shade softer than it had been, concern coloring it.
“He wouldn’t give me a name for him, so I gave him one. Kid said that he liked the sound of it, though.” Father Jacob said with a shrug. The roguish grin on his face lost a hint of its humor. “It just seemed appropriate, since he always wants to do things alone. Won’t take anything without what he considers “equivalent trade”, but more often then not the trade is fair to everyone but him.”
“Poor boy…” Sister Helen had murmured. The father had had nothing to say in return.
Now, several months later, Solo’s face had become a familiar one here at the Maxwell Orphanage. He never stayed longer than a cup of tea if he could avoid it, and yet he came back quite frequently for one who claimed to completely distrust them. She knew from Father Maxwell’s chatter that the boy’s usual price of information differed greatly from the cost he charged them. It had risen once he started taking in strays.
At first it had just been cats. Sister Helen had never figured out what it was that the boy found so fascinating about the small animals, especially given how tough he liked to act. Still, even a boy named Solo would be sure to experience loneliness, and cats made as good a companion as any.
Then came the dogs. Remarkably, Solo had been able to keep the natural enemies from attacking one another. One of them, a personal favourite of the boy, was a medium sized black one with a white nose and paws whom he called Den. Den followed Solo wherever he went, and could at times be quite fierce in defense of the boy. More than once the dog itself had only narrowly escaped injury.
Finally, it had been people. The runaways, the orphans - all the children who either had no one to turn to or were too old or proud to ask for help. Sister Helen had never figured out which class Solo himself belonged to… In the end, she supposed it didn’t matter. His network of information ran from an abandoned warehouse that no one seemed to own, and that served as shelter for all the members of it and then some. It worked on the principle of equivalent trade, like everything else that Solo seemed to do. In exchange for loyalty and a little bit of work, Solo made sure that everyone’s basic needs got taken care of.
Loyalty had never been a problem for Solo, really. He seemed to command it without even asking for it nine times out of ten.
Still, Sister Helen reflected as she tested her stew one last time before straining the potatoes, I do wish he would accept more in exchange for all of the help that he gives to us.
The sound of the wall creaking alerted Sister Helen to the return of Father Jacob and Solo. Idly she wondered what his response would be to the system, if any. Solo being who he was, it wouldn’t surprise her in the least if he had already figured out their secret. She heard the rosary beads fall to the table in the main hallway and turned to face the men as they walked into the room.
“Father…?” She asked curiously, staring at his wild-eyed expression. The priest shook his head amazedly as Solo shrugged ambiguously and began to gather his coat.
“I’ll be back in a couple of days to finish the job, if you can acquire the necessary parts between now and then.” The boy said, his golden eyes wandering over Father Jacob in an attempt to measure heaven only knew what.
“Yes, of course.” The shell shocked man managed. Sister Helen glanced quickly between them, debating if it were more important to worry over Father Jacob or convince Solo to stay until the older man had been brought out of his state. Solo made her decision for her as he headed towards the door.
“Solo!” She exclaimed sharply, and he turned back to look at her inquisitively. “It would seem I’ve made too much stew tonight. The children have never had particularly large appetites, and I would hate to have to throw away this much food. If you would be willing to wait for me to put some in a container for you and the others, I’d be very grateful to have it put to good use.”
Solo met her eyes unflinchingly and shook his head defeatedly, perhaps having anticipated this as much as she had. Then again, Sister Helen had never once let the boy out of the house without a bit of home-baked goods for the children he looked after. She doubted Solo ever ate any of them himself… which was, of course, why she was a lady with a plan.
“Would you call the children for me?” She asked innocently as she began ladling the stew into a series of bowls.
“Of course.” Solo replied, then proceeding to do so. He wandered into the hallway and called up the stairs, “Kids! Dinner!”
When Solo re-entered the kitchen, Sister Helen was ready and waiting for him. She pounced as quickly as one of the cats the boy was so fond of, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him into the chair next to the priest. He started to struggle a bit, began to rise from his seat, but she cut him off at the pass.
“Now then, Solo, since you’re doing me a favour and finding a home for all of this stew, and because you were so good as to call the children to dinner, I insist that you accept the equal payment of a meal here with us.” She said sweetly, but with an undeniable and unyielding steel in her voice as she placed a bowl of the warm stew in front of him. “It’s the least we can do to make sure you stay dry during the weather cycle, and you did after all agree to do me the favour of getting rid of this stew.”
The boy sputtered for a moment as Father Jacob recovered himself enough to laugh, but ultimately settled for merely snagging the spoon Sister Helen offered him and enjoying the stew as the children bounded in for dinner.
Part: Chapter Two - Solitary Souls
Warnings: Gundam Wing x Fullmetal Alchemist Crossover. FMA spoilers through 50, GW spoilers upto but excluding Endless Waltz. Definitively AU for both stories, diverging from points in FMA 50 and GW 49. Pulls in elements from GW manga Episode Zero, but AUs a bit of it. Heavily Ed and Duo centric. *Heavily*. However, this is also non-slash.
Pairings: None, except those in the canon of the series, and even then only unobtrusively so. This is so *not* a romance story.
Words: 5454
“Father Jacob!” A light tenor voice called across the yard as the tall man once again re-entered his gate, closing it behind him. “Father Jacob! Guess what?”
“What, Kip?” Father Jacob replied, the tired wrinkles in his face smoothed by the smile that graced it instead. The eight year old dashed from his seat on the swings to stand before the priest, jumping up and down in delight. “Has something interesting happened?”
“That boy is here again!” Kip answered. His violet eyes danced with delight. “Sister Helen said to be sure to tell you soon as you gots back, so I did!”
“Really?” The priest smiled at the boy before him. He lifted his head and glanced towards the open doorway, half expecting the blond to be waiting there to greet him. No, the doorway was empty. The grin flickered from his face for a moment, before carefully reasserting itself. “Has he been waiting long?”
“No, only a few minutes.” Kip answered cheerfully enough, but his violet eyes darkened slightly. He paused a moment, then asked, “Hey, Father Jacob, is something wrong?”
Father Jacob laughed and tousled the boy’s hair lightly. His fingers slid easily through the short brown hair, just long enough to brush the child’s collar. It would need to be cut again soon. Kip protested slightly as his head was forced this way and that by the pressure on his scalp. Then the priest straightened, and gave him a gentle shove.
“Go play with the others, Kip.” Father Jacob said gently. The boy’s eyes searched him for a moment before he nodded and dashed back across the lawn to rejoin the game of kickball the kids were having. Father Jacob watched him go, smiling, before turning towards the door. As he twisted the knob and opened it, the cheery look slipped from his features, lines deepening once more as a frown creased his brow.
The hallway that the door opened into was lit only by the sun streaming dimly into it through nearby windows. A small table situated under a mirror sat simply next to a chair, a basic white table cloth with a wooden rosary atop it resting on the table’s surface. To the right stood a room with a multicolored rug that had faded with time. In it stood a play pen that had seen better days which held two small children, who together played with a few large building blocks. To the left, a room with a fireplace and a couple of couches scattered throughout it had shadows creep into it as the day headed towards its end.
Father Jacob took off his coat, hanging it upon the rack that stood just inside the doorway. He walked swiftly to the bend in the hall, and placed his hand on the doorknob. He paused for a second, looking at the floor and allowing the darkness of the far end of the hall to hide his face momentarily. Then, without a second thought, the priest lifted his head and swung the door open.
The warmth of the room rushed to greet him, delicious scents filling the man’s nose. Kitchens seemed to always be the best rooms in a house - the vibrancy and lived in sense they created could be duplicated by few, if any, other locations. The priest nearly sighed in relief as he spotted his visitor seated at the table, a mug of tea clenched in his hands as he made idle conversation with Sister Helen.
“So, Solo, what trade brings you here today?” Two heads swung round to greet him, the woman’s clearing cheerfully even as the blond boy frowned. Father Jacob walked towards the table and gracefully seated himself as Sister Helen quickly filled another mug with tea and passed it to the priest. He nodded at her gratefully.
“The usual.” The boy replied, choosing then to watch silently as the older man took a sip. The warm liquid couldn’t quite reach the spot in the pit of his stomach that had gone cold.
“A cup of tea for a bit of information, then?” The priest queried. The boy before him nodded, still not proffering any further words as the man before him considered this. The priest inclined his head toward the boy, crystal eyes meeting golden ones head on as he remarked, “Well, you’ve got your tea, shorty.”
“WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL YOU’D NEED A MICROSCOPE JUST TO SEE HIM?” The boy shouted as he jumped to his feet. Father Jacob laughed quietly and waited for the golden haired one before him to find his chair again. Several minutes later, with a belabored and put upon sigh, the boy seated himself. He took a swig of tea, then remarked, “It’s serious this time.”
The lines carved themselves deeper into Father Jacob’s face. “Have they finally realized?”
“What, that you aid and abet a gang?” The slight frame shook with what might generously have been referred to as a laugh. “They’re not bright enough for that, no. This is worse.”
“What is it?” The priest asked, staring at the child before him as a humorless smile crossed the boy’s face.
“The Alliance.”
The words echoed in the priest’s mind, as did the telltale clink of china the came as the dish Sister Helen had been washing slipped from her grasp back into the sink. What could the Alliance possibly want from them? They were just a church like any other, they hadn’t done anything that would bring the wrath of the government upon them, had they? Unless…
“It’s the communication links, isn’t it?” Father Jacob said, horror spreading itself neatly across his face as his eyes went wide. The boy blinked, and the man’s expression had returned to normal. “They know that we still have them, that we still can and do use them. After all, the government has stayed separate from religion, and they can’t take away our lines without problems. They want them gone, don’t they?” He paused dangerously, a wolfish smile lacing his face. “Well that’s just too bad for them.”
“Father Jacob -“ The boy protested, lifting his arms almost beseechingly from the teacup his hands had been cradling on the table towards the man. He let them fall to the table a second later and focused his eyes on the dregs floating in his cup. For a moment he remained silent. Behind him, Sister Helen had resumed washing the dishes, her motions by far more cautious then they had been, but steady nevertheless. As he spoke, though, he raised his eyes once more, mischief twinkling in them. “Anything I can do to help?”
The man winked at him. An evil little smile quirked its way onto the kid’s face as Father Jacob rose to his feet and beckoned to follow him. The two exited the kitchen door, and walked quickly across the small hallway. Father Jacob glanced briefly up and down the hall to make certain that no one would come upon them, and then motioned for the younger one to remain where he was as he retrieved the rosary beads from the table in the center of the hall and returned to his place at the boy’s side.
“Father Jacob?” The boy asked curiously but quietly. The priest showed him the beads, allowing the longer part to drop as he held tight to the crucifix. With sure and steady hands, the man inserted the cross into a tiny crack in the back wall which Father Jacob’s companion could not recall having seen earlier. He then twisted it swiftly to the right.
The blond boy’s eyes widened as he discerned a quiet click. Father Jacob looked about the hall once more before tugging lightly on the rosary. The wall, which heretofore had seemed to be a single complete piece, now swung open about a hinge in its center. The kid darted quickly around the priest and to the other side of the wall as the priest twisted the rosary back to the left and pulled it from the wall before heading through himself.
“This way.” The priest said, shutting the wall behind them.
From a pocket, Father Jacob retrieved a book of matches, which he used to light a candle that had been hanging by the door. Its small flame flickered ominously in the enclosure, the sphere of its light extending just far enough to reveal a flight of stairs. The upper part of the staircase had been constructed from wood, just as the rest of the orphanage had. Once they passed ground level, however, it switched quickly to stone.
“The orphanage wasn’t always an orphanage, you know.” Father Jacob remarked after they had descended several feet. The one called Solo raised an eyebrow. “No, really. During the first uprising of the colonies, L2 managed to free itself of martial rule for a bit. What you’re about to see is something the Alliance has been hunting for decades.”
“You can’t mean -“ The boy said, inhaling sharply as he focused intently on the back of the man’s head. Father Jacob obligingly turned to give the young man a glimpse of his eyes before nodding sharply and facing forwards once more.
The stairs descended deep into the ground, before flattening into a long, narrow passageway. The pair crept silently through the corridor, at whose end shimmered a glowing light. They approached it, the younger of the two visibly flinching into the bright glare as they passed through the archway at the end of the passage. His eyes widened.
It should have been more impressive, really, the boy reflected as he stared at the monitor before him. The room that held it certainly was. The long, graceful table made of mahogany could easily have seated twelve, and would certainly not have been out of place in any board room. The monitor, though, was old and simple, having aged well and gracefully but nevertheless having distinctly aged. A lone chair had been drawn from the head of the table, and cordoned off at the far end of the room.
“Heero Yuy himself once sat there.” Father Jacob said, gesturing with his free hand at the chair. The braided one wandered over to it, resting his hand lightly on it for a moment, before striding closer to the monitor.
“The make is pretty old, twenty, twenty one years or so. The wires on this side are so thin from use that they’re about the same size as the ones we use today.” He turned to regarded the priest measuringly. “Faking the actual connection will be the hard part. They’ll probably check the system to be sure they’re at the right place, and to see if they can find the location of any of the others. I could…”
The younger of the two allowed his voice to trail as he studied the interaction of the wires and switches, turning the screen on and off several times repeatedly. Father Jacob watched silently, remaining in the doorway even as his companion plucked at several of the wires, moving them this way and that. After a long moment, he spoke again.
“You can do it?” The priest’s voice, normally so jocular, sounded almost completely flat. Only the lingering edge of something uncertain tinged it unpleasantly, breaking it from uniformity. A blond head looked quickly up from the screen before it, pausing for a moment before nodding once, swiftly, and then returned to fiddling with the wires. Father Jacob sighed tiredly. “All right, name your trade.”
Gold-flecked eyes turned to bore into pale blue ones. The blue glanced away first, their owner blowing out his candle and sitting in a nearby chair as he resisted feeling the full weight of the stare upon him. Silence fell over the chamber, before the golden eyes refocused on the wiring. Two flesh hands carefully separated and examined connections.
“The materials, of course.” A voice said at last. The younger man ceased his endlessly toying with the wires, turning around as an arrogant air swept into him. “Can’t do anything without the proper materials. If you can get one of the limited comms they have, and some wire cabling, I should be able to make it work from that. My skills are, as always, yours at the price of dinner and a cup of tea.”
“Don’t suppose you’ll let us put milk in the tea this time, eh shorty?” Father Jacob watched the predictable explosion with a hint of mirth quirking up the corners of his mouth. For someone who was so calm, Solo’s buttons - once you knew the right ones - were remarkably easy to push.
“My silence comes at a higher price.” The boy said, once he finally stopped rambling about who was he calling a tiny bean, anyway? The priest turned to him, regarding him carefully with a fixed and steady look.
“What more could you want then our continued silence about your gang’s activities?” Father Jacob replied. The boy’s gaze didn’t flicker. Interesting… “You know, kid, where I come from, silence in exchange for silence is considered an equivalent trade.”
“I know.” Golden eyes flickered for a moment, before carefully going over the priest’s features once more. Finally, the glittering orbs reflected once more into the man’s eyes, before casting far into the distance. “What you need done? I can do it… but I need your guarantee that you won’t say a word about how it was done.”
The priest watched as tension stretched itself across the young man’s shoulders. Sometimes it was all too easy to forget that this fiery soul really was a child, for all he proclaimed himself an adult. Father Jacob rose to his feet and approached the boy cautiously, much as one would approach a frightened animal. The boy’s natural skittishness, and resistance to physical contact, had only grown with him, rather than vanishing as the priest had once hoped they would.
Slowly, gently, Father Jacob extended a hand and turned the boy’s face towards his own. The fairer skinned one tensed a bit more, small lines on his face becoming steadily more apparent. Still, he met the stare head on, refusing to allow his fear to show. Father Jacob’s respect for the young man in front of him grew.
“Why do ya need it, kid?” He asked, careful to keep his own voice steady and soft. The child regarded him carefully. For a long moment, Father Jacob was certain that the boy would say no more, perhaps even that he would bolt as he had the first time they had met, over a year ago. Then the child’s gaze fell to the side, and the priest’s patience was rewarded.
“You asked me a question, once, when I told you that I no longer believe in god.” The boy’s hands clenched into fists. “You asked me if I had never seen a miracle occur, and promised me that when I saw something change right before my eyes, something that seemed impossible, then I would be able to understand who god is.”
“Yeah, kid, what’s your point?” The priest asked, the soft sound of his voice lessening the impact of the terse words. He allowed his hand to drop once more to his side, allowing the blond discretion over where he chose to look.
The boy stared at the ground, lapsing into silence once more. Then he continued, his voice slightly less steady, “You had the problem wrong, Father. The problem wasn’t that I’d never seen something change right before my eyes. The problem has always been that I’ve seen too much change.”
“Solo…” The priest said softly. He started when he realized that his hand had, entirely without his permission, begun to reach for the younger one. Carefully, he pulled it back to his side, waiting for whatever would come next.
“They say seeing is believing, don’t they, Father?” The blond queried quietly. His right hand slipped into his pocket, and from it he withdrew a single piece of chalk. The boy stepped towards the monitor, and slowly began to draw a wide circle around it.
“Listen, kid, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but -“ Father Jacob began as the blond one superimposed a pair of triangles over the circle, crisscrossing the monitor to do so. Fathomless eyes glanced back at him for a moment, all motion halting. The priest paused. True, no spark of mischief lit the child’s eyes, and to be sure he had proven himself trustworthy so far… Could he allow this, all the possible destruction of what he and so many others had worked so hard to protect?
The older man nodded his head, and the boy resumed his chalk drawings. Graceful lines of white, drawn with a swift and steady hand, soon covered the wall before him, filling in the circle neatly. The symbols were myriad and variant. Some of them Father Jacob recognized from his days in the seminary, others were completely beyond the scope of his knowledge. Still, the system, the pattern, seemed somehow to be in balance.
At length, the hand holding the chalk came to rest loosely by the boy’s side. He turned and looked at the man for a moment, before remarking quietly, “Believe me.”
Father Jacob had to turn his face away from the bright flash of light that followed that statement. He had just enough time to observe the boy’s finger’s resting on the outside of the circle, brilliant eyes closed as though in preparation, before a gleaming blue light shone forth from the circle. He raised his arm to shield his eyes from it, only to realize it had faded once more.
“What the hell?!” Father Jacob said, striding forward to grab the boy by one of his shoulders as he pulled him to his feet and shook him slightly. “Listen, kid, I don’t know what you just did, but pulling dangerous shit like that - Kid, what the heck were you trying - You’ve just scared several years off my life, I hope you know - I can’t understand what -“
“Look.” The boy said, his nonchalance remarkably irritating as he quickly extricated himself from the older man’s grasp. He stepped sideways a few paces, then gestured back at the machine. Slowly, the priest turned his head back towards the place on the wall where the old monitor had hung.
“What…?” The priest started, staring at the wall. The circle remained, certainly, its lines intersecting and crossing just as they had mere seconds ago. The monitor, though, had changed drastically. The years had faded from it, the cabling shone as it had the day it had first been placed there, and even the small cracks the frame had developed over time were gone.
Startled, he turned once more to the mysterious boy, wondering not for the first time how much he really didn’t know about the child. The boy gave him a wink, and allowed a gleam of mischievousness to dance across his eyes as he smirked at the priest.
“More things in heaven and earth, Father Jacob.” He said simply as he threw his arms open expansively and seated himself in the chair nearest the monitor. Father Jacob allowed his jaw to drop in amazement.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Children, come inside now!” Sister Helen called into the yard. The boys and girls of the Maxwell Orphanage laughed merrily as they happily ignored their caretaker, chasing one another around the small yard. The woman sighed, running a hand lightly over the top of her hair and down her simple plait. She muttered under her breath, “Kind Lord, grant me patience.”
“Michael, Gabriel, John!” The woman shouted, cupping her right hand at the side of her mouth as she leaned out the window a bit further. “Liselle, Julia, Annette! Nina, Kip! The weather cycle will be starting soon, and dinner’s almost ready! Come inside!”
“But Sister Helen!” The children whined collectively at her. She gave them a stern look, as though daring the little ones to disobey her. Reluctantly, they one by one turned and headed for the kitchen door.
“Kip Kierland! Nina Tucker! You two get off those swings and come in here right now!” Sister Helen yelled insistently as the two remained seated, swinging steadily higher and higher. Nina giggled and let go of the swing she had been swinging on. She flew through the air for a moment before sticking a perfect landing and dashing into the house. Sister Helen smiled at her benevolently before shouting once more, “Kip!”
“Coming, Sister Helen!” The child responded. Unlike his companion, Kip waited until the swing slowed to a stop before rising from it and walking at a snail’s speed toward the door. The nun pulled her head back into the house and shut the window. Kip trudged inside, closing the door carefully behind him just as the rain started to pour from the sky.
Sister Helen shook her head exasperatedly as she reached carefully over the boy’s head to lock the door behind him.
“Now really, Kip,” she said, giving him the infamous look of disappointment that never failed to make recalcitrant children behave, “is it really that much of a problem for you to come inside the house the first time I call? I know you like to play in the rain, but if you do that then you’ll have to change into dry things and make me do more laundry.”
“I’m sorry, Sister!” The boy replied even as a wide and unapologetic grin split his face. The nun stared at him at length until her resolve broke and she found herself smiling as well. She gave him a hug, then ruffled his hair gently.
“Go on, you, get out of here.” She shooed him easily from the kitchen. Kip ran off laughing, following in the other children’s wake. Sister Helen sighed to herself, the corners of her lips turned bemusedly upward as she resumed peeling potatoes. Some days she really had to wonder what would become of that scallywag.
Carefully, Sister Helen began boiling water, and dumped the peeled potatoes into the water. Stepping to her right, she grabbed hold of her long wooden spoon and carefully resumed stirring the soup. Hopefully she would be able to convince Solo to bring some back with him this time. After all, it’s not like those children he looks after ever get real home cooking, she considered idly.
Solo was a wild card - had been from the first day she had heard of him. Sister Helen could still remember the day Father Jacob had trudged back from the market, looking tired and confused. He’d had smiles for the children as always, but when at last they had all been shuffled off to bed, he had sat beside her in the kitchen and sipped tea. For a long time, he had been unusually quiet, lost in his thoughts, and she had been unable to find it in her heart to disturb him.
“I met a strange child today.” He had said at last, still gazing into the distance. Startled, she had glanced up from her tea to stare at him.
“A child?”
“Yes,” he’d replied, an odd smile curling the corners of his mouth, “a young boy. I wonder if I’ll see him again.”
“Hmm…” She’d answered noncommittally, wonder what could possibly be so interesting about a single young boy. The same pattern had repeated for several weeks, with Father Jacob every so often returning to the orphanage with an odd grin on his face. After the first couple of times she’d been able to tell at a glance precisely what had happened that day. Still, in spite of her best efforts, she knew nothing more about the boy then that he was young and strange.
Then came the day when the priest had not returned alone.
“Solo, this is Sister Helen. Sister Helen, this is Solo.” He had said by way of introduction. The boy was young, certainly. To judge by the look of him she’d imagined him to be no more than ten. Still, the scowl etched on his face and the shadows in his eyes suggested that perhaps it was his height and shaggy blond hair that belied the truth of him.
“Welcome to Maxwell House, Solo.” She had said, smiling encouragingly at the boy. She’d been surprised when he looked almost more disgruntled then he had before, his eyes narrowing at her.
“Listen, don’t get the wrong idea, sister.” He had replied, clearly forcing the effort to be polite to her. He glanced sideways at the man beside him, a Father Jacob whose smile seemed only to annoy the boy. Crossing his arms, the child had declared irritably, “Look, I’m just here for a cup of tea, ok? Then I’m leaving.”
“Of course.” She had answered, taken aback. “Come right in.”
After that first meeting, Sister Helen had seen Solo fairly frequently. The deal Father Jacob had worked out with the boy struck her as odd at first, although it certainly was extremely beneficial to the orphanage. Solo, a street rat through and through, garnered little to no attention from the officials on the streets. The poor had always been invisible - Solo, it seemed, had figured out a way to make that useful at last.
“He trades in information.” Father Jacob had explained to her that first evening, when she had looked at him confusedly as she cleaned the tea cups from the table. A wicked smile had crossed the priest’s lips. “Apparently looking young and innocent goes a long way towards finding out things people would rather you didn’t know.”
“But he’s only a child!” She had protested, only to cut herself short as the holy man shook his head.
“He may not have much in the way of physical age,” the man had replied, “but that one hasn’t been a child in a long time. He’s seen too much, been through to much, with no one there for him.” Father Jacob had shaken his head. “I don’t know who was supposed to be looking out for that one, but they’ve really mucked it up.”
Sister Helen had frowned pensively. What could possibly have happened to one so young…? And his name…?
“Solo…?” She had queried aloud, her voice a shade softer than it had been, concern coloring it.
“He wouldn’t give me a name for him, so I gave him one. Kid said that he liked the sound of it, though.” Father Jacob said with a shrug. The roguish grin on his face lost a hint of its humor. “It just seemed appropriate, since he always wants to do things alone. Won’t take anything without what he considers “equivalent trade”, but more often then not the trade is fair to everyone but him.”
“Poor boy…” Sister Helen had murmured. The father had had nothing to say in return.
Now, several months later, Solo’s face had become a familiar one here at the Maxwell Orphanage. He never stayed longer than a cup of tea if he could avoid it, and yet he came back quite frequently for one who claimed to completely distrust them. She knew from Father Maxwell’s chatter that the boy’s usual price of information differed greatly from the cost he charged them. It had risen once he started taking in strays.
At first it had just been cats. Sister Helen had never figured out what it was that the boy found so fascinating about the small animals, especially given how tough he liked to act. Still, even a boy named Solo would be sure to experience loneliness, and cats made as good a companion as any.
Then came the dogs. Remarkably, Solo had been able to keep the natural enemies from attacking one another. One of them, a personal favourite of the boy, was a medium sized black one with a white nose and paws whom he called Den. Den followed Solo wherever he went, and could at times be quite fierce in defense of the boy. More than once the dog itself had only narrowly escaped injury.
Finally, it had been people. The runaways, the orphans - all the children who either had no one to turn to or were too old or proud to ask for help. Sister Helen had never figured out which class Solo himself belonged to… In the end, she supposed it didn’t matter. His network of information ran from an abandoned warehouse that no one seemed to own, and that served as shelter for all the members of it and then some. It worked on the principle of equivalent trade, like everything else that Solo seemed to do. In exchange for loyalty and a little bit of work, Solo made sure that everyone’s basic needs got taken care of.
Loyalty had never been a problem for Solo, really. He seemed to command it without even asking for it nine times out of ten.
Still, Sister Helen reflected as she tested her stew one last time before straining the potatoes, I do wish he would accept more in exchange for all of the help that he gives to us.
The sound of the wall creaking alerted Sister Helen to the return of Father Jacob and Solo. Idly she wondered what his response would be to the system, if any. Solo being who he was, it wouldn’t surprise her in the least if he had already figured out their secret. She heard the rosary beads fall to the table in the main hallway and turned to face the men as they walked into the room.
“Father…?” She asked curiously, staring at his wild-eyed expression. The priest shook his head amazedly as Solo shrugged ambiguously and began to gather his coat.
“I’ll be back in a couple of days to finish the job, if you can acquire the necessary parts between now and then.” The boy said, his golden eyes wandering over Father Jacob in an attempt to measure heaven only knew what.
“Yes, of course.” The shell shocked man managed. Sister Helen glanced quickly between them, debating if it were more important to worry over Father Jacob or convince Solo to stay until the older man had been brought out of his state. Solo made her decision for her as he headed towards the door.
“Solo!” She exclaimed sharply, and he turned back to look at her inquisitively. “It would seem I’ve made too much stew tonight. The children have never had particularly large appetites, and I would hate to have to throw away this much food. If you would be willing to wait for me to put some in a container for you and the others, I’d be very grateful to have it put to good use.”
Solo met her eyes unflinchingly and shook his head defeatedly, perhaps having anticipated this as much as she had. Then again, Sister Helen had never once let the boy out of the house without a bit of home-baked goods for the children he looked after. She doubted Solo ever ate any of them himself… which was, of course, why she was a lady with a plan.
“Would you call the children for me?” She asked innocently as she began ladling the stew into a series of bowls.
“Of course.” Solo replied, then proceeding to do so. He wandered into the hallway and called up the stairs, “Kids! Dinner!”
When Solo re-entered the kitchen, Sister Helen was ready and waiting for him. She pounced as quickly as one of the cats the boy was so fond of, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him into the chair next to the priest. He started to struggle a bit, began to rise from his seat, but she cut him off at the pass.
“Now then, Solo, since you’re doing me a favour and finding a home for all of this stew, and because you were so good as to call the children to dinner, I insist that you accept the equal payment of a meal here with us.” She said sweetly, but with an undeniable and unyielding steel in her voice as she placed a bowl of the warm stew in front of him. “It’s the least we can do to make sure you stay dry during the weather cycle, and you did after all agree to do me the favour of getting rid of this stew.”
The boy sputtered for a moment as Father Jacob recovered himself enough to laugh, but ultimately settled for merely snagging the spoon Sister Helen offered him and enjoying the stew as the children bounded in for dinner.