[gw fic] Surfacing 1/2 (Duo/Hilde)
Surfacing
1/2
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Duo/Hilde, vague Trowa/Quatre
Summary: When Marie Maia Barton-Khushrenada declares war upon the Earth and Space Colonies, the colonists seek to re-arm themselves. With the Gundam pilots away, can one civilian make a difference?
A/N: Approx. 6,200 words (this part only). This is a companion to Duo's Lie. I recommend reading that one first, simply because I wrote it first.
I didn't find out exactly what happened on the Earth until much later. News still reaches the Colonies slowly and sometimes I think L2-X34 is even more backward and backwater than most. Why Duo chose it for our base of operations I don't know. I distinctly remember clipping articles for him about the blockheaded things the leaders of this colony have done. The rent is cheap, he argued. That was certainly true, and we got the garage, and there was that grove of trees nearby where we could hide Deathscythe. So, maybe there's the answer right there.
The morning after Duo left to meet up with Quatre so they could send the Gundams into the sun, I vowed that I'd make him proud of me, as long as it didn't compromise my ability to make myself proud of me. Then I poured myself a cup of orange juice and toasted myself a bagel, put on some of what Duo calls my Angry Woman Music, and did the thing I'd been longing to do since we moved in together.
I cleaned the house.
I am not a neatnik, or rather, I didn't use to be. But living with Duo changed me in many ways, and that was one. I'm not meticulous, but I like things to have some semblance of order. He, on the other hand...
I tore through the house like a miniature tornado, sweeping old newspapers, dirty laundry, and small tools (I found a screwdriver and a wrench in the fridge--WHY?) into my arms and carrying them all to the kitchen table, where I dumped them and began to sort through them.
It was freezing, and I didn't feel like trotting out to the garage--I was still in my boxers, anyway--so I put the tools in an empty coffee tin that was just sitting around and placed them on a shelf over the sink. I bundled the newspapers and tied them up with string, then set them on the floor by the front door. I'd bike them over to the recycling center later.
Then I started on the clothes.
They were all his and they were mostly socks. Duo owns one pair of faded blue jeans, those jodhpurs, and a pair of black leather pants that he saw at a vintage store one day a few months ago and decided he had to have. (I'd laughed, but he thought he'd look hot in them and after he tried them on I was inclined to agree.) He'd taken the leather pants and the jodhpurs with him for some reason, but he'd left the jeans. Probably he meant to take them and simply forgot in his hurry to leave. They were the most normal article of clothing he owned.
I ran my hand over them. They were cold from having lain on the floor, and soft from much wear. The knees and seat were almost threadbare. I'd spent many a fine afternoon working in the garage, stealing over-the-shoulder glances at his fine denim-clad butt while he bent over Deathscythe. I gathered the jeans into my arms, hugged them to my chest, and buried my nose in them.
They reeked.
I quickly deposited them--and the socks, boxers, and t-shirts--in the laundry basket and swallowed the lump in my throat.
I was being such a sentimental twit, and it made me angry.
He told me he was leaving before we slept together. I seduced him. And he swore up and down that he'd be back. He even left his crucifix as proof. (It still lay on the night table; I couldn't make myself touch it.) Moreover, he'd only been gone a few hours. And it wasn't as though it was my first one-night stand. Actually, it was my second.
Actually, I think my angst had less to do with his leaving than with his making me promise that I wouldn't get involved if any more fighting broke out.
He wanted me to be safe. I was his rock, he said.
Still, it wasn't fair. I know that sounds very whiney of me, but goddamit, I was a soldier. I was trained to fight. Being told to stay put, like I was some damsel in distress or some kid...well, it really smarted.
If it were anyone but Duo I'd never have made that promise. And I would certainly not have implied that I would wait for him to come back to me. Being in love sucks sometimes.
As I cleaned I made up possible scenarios. Zechs Merquise returned from the dead and engaged the Gundam pilots in deadly combat. Of course, the Gundams would be halfway to the sun by then, so Duo would have to call in the cavalry: “Yo, Hil, get your sweet, sexy ass out here and help us! Oh, and incidentally, I love you, too.” Or he'd call and say, “Everything went swimmingly! The Gundams are ancient history. Don't feel like going back to November on L2-X34 just yet. Howard told me about this little Caribbean island. White sand beaches, flamingo sunsets. Why don't you swing by? I'll keep the pina coladas cold. Oh, and incidentally, I love you, too.” Or even, “Just met up with Quatre. Did some thinking on the flight and I realize I was wrong, before. Given the fact that you've saved my ass twice already, if anything happens you're the first person I'll call for help. Oh, and incidentally, I love you, too.”
Stop it, Hilde, I admonished, after catching myself gazing forlornly at the com unit for the third time since getting up. And grow up, while you're at it.
He did call when he met up with Quatre, two days later. Of course I was out of the house then, trying to organize the garage, so I didn't find out he'd called until later. When I came into the house, filthy and shivering, and saw the com light blinking the first thing I thought was, “Now, why didn't somebody shout out the window to me?” The answer hit me like an elbow in the gut.
Oh, yeah. Right.
Duo's message was brief and typical: “Made it safe and sound. Figured you'd worry. Quatre says ‘hi.' He blushed when I mentioned your name. Guess he remembers you planted one on him last New Year's. So, you can make a guy blush at twelve parsecs. Or wherever the hell we are now... Ehh...about the other night...”
Yesyes??
“...Don't forget what I said. Stay out of trouble. You're my rock. Over and out.”
Elbow in the gut, knife between the ribs. I was getting the shit beaten out of me and I was most profoundly alone!
Well, that's what happens when you let your guard down, I thought as I deleted the message, then went to soak myself under hot running water.
Thing was, even if I did remember my plate mail when dealing with Duo, he'd find the chink without even trying. That's just how he is. And that was when I finally started to cry, standing there in the shower, with suds running down my bare legs and water sloshing around my feet. And those tears, unlike my anger, had nothing to do with being left behind. They had everything to do with wanting him and missing him and wishing he was with me--yes, in the shower--and this terrible, terrible feeling that I'd never see him again.
Don't ask me where that fear came from. I still don't know and I've looked back so many times. I just knew, in my soul, I guess, that something bad was going to happen. It wasn't over. Duo was in danger, and because of a promise I'd made to calm his own fear, there was nothing I could do to save him. I've never felt so helpless.
I didn't hear from him again for two weeks. During that time I buried myself in my work (I kept the garage open and I sat in on Council sessions and occasionally voiced my opinion) and tried to make the best of being alone. I didn't have very many friends on the colony; I was always a little nervous about how people would react if they found out I used to be with OZ, even though I'm from the Colonies originally. Duo didn't have very many friends, either. None his age, anyway. That fact has always surprised me because he's pretty gregarious, but it makes sense if you really think about it. He's told me half a dozen times that he's only alive because of luck and that he continues to fight so others don't have to. He really does think that, and it's kept him isolated from people his age. He's such a warm, friendly person, but he's afraid of losing anyone he becomes close to, the way he lost Father Maxwell and Sister Helen when he was eight. I think that's the reason he's so fascinated with the other pilots. They're a lot like him in that respect.
Anyway, since I did not have very many friends on the colony, when I wasn't working I was trying to find ways of filling up the remaining hours. I taught myself card tricks and new recipes (I had a lot more money to spend on food, since I wasn't buying for him, and he eats enough for two). I spent a few afternoons hunting around for a saxophone instructor, since I played when I was little and I thought it might be nice to take it up again. I watched the news a lot, hoping there'd be some mention of Duo and the other pilots, but there never was. I guess that was good, since Duo mentioned before he left that Quatre had wanted this last mission to be as covert as possible. A lot of times I fell asleep under my blanket in front of the television. I woke up once or twice to the sound of someone shrieking. On those occasions I'd sit bolt upright, heart hammering, completely disoriented, but ready to fight. Then I'd remember my promise to Duo. Then I'd realize that the shrieking came from the B-list movie actress in the late night horror flick that was on. Then I'd feel really stupid, turn off the television, and stretch out on the sofa, too lazy or too frightened to go to bed.
It was on one of those nights that Duo finally called. I'd just gotten back to sleep, so for a moment I thought that what I was hearing was part of my dream. Then I heard Duo's voice, and I sprang up because dreaming or not, I wanted to pay attention.
“Hilde?” He sounded really tired. “Hope the fact that you haven't picked up after seven rings means you're out partying or sleeping with your earplugs. Actually, I guess you could be at work. I have no idea what time it is on L2-X34. This time difference thing is screwing with my head.”
I crouched by the com, holding my blanket loosely around my shoulders, wanting to answer, but shy, and troubled by the weariness in his tone.
“Anyway,” he said, after a long pause and a deep sigh, “I was kinda hoping I'd get to talk to you. I miss you, girl. But, since you're not there or sleeping, just wanted to let you know everything's okay. The Gundams are on their way to the sun. It'll take them a while to reach there, which is... Actually, I dunno how I feel about that. I don't miss Deathscythe. I told you I hated it and I do. I just feel sort of...”
I couldn't just sit there listening when he sounded like that. “Duo, I'm right here,” I said, leaning close over the com. My voice sounded gravelly and harsh from my being asleep.
“H-Hil! Hey! Did I wake you up?”
“Kind of. It's okay, though. It's about three in the morning here, since you were wondering.”
“Ehh...sorry.”
“Don't be sorry.” I picked up the machine, sat down cross-legged on the floor, and held it in my lap while we talked. It was warm, and it wasn't long before I was running my fingers along its smooth surface as though it were his skin because I really am that much of a sentimental twit sometimes. “Where are you?” I asked. If he said he was at the station waiting to be picked up--despite the fact that the station was shut down for the night except for emergency comings and goings--nothing would have prevented me from squealing for joy and letting him know exactly what kind of sentimental twit he was coming home to.
“Actually, I'm with Heero, strangely enough. Um, everything went fine with the Gundams, like I said before. Quatre was where he said he'd be, and Trowa and Heero brought theirs. Wufei didn't, but you know, it's his darling Nataku. I don't--nah, I don't want to know what he does with that suit when the rest of us aren't looking. Trowa's looking pretty diesel. Either he spent the entire year working out or his sister's been putting something in whatever she's been feeding him. Quatre looked like he was having heart palpitations. He's so obvious--to me, anyway--it's kind of funny.”
I knew Quatre had a crush on Trowa Barton a year ago (my God, who could blame him?) so it was kind of nice to hear that he still felt that way about his friend. Quatre and I spent a few days in the hospital on MO-II after the Earth's surrender and Duo played a game of tag with hospital security and Quatre's Maguanacs, sneaking Trowa in to see his friend whenever he could. I liked listening to Duo talk about them, then as now, because he sounded so...complete. These were his people, the ones who helped him feel like a normal human being in a way that even I couldn't.
But then he said, “Anyway, Heero looked like crap. Not that he usually looks like the kind of guy you'd bring home to meet your folks. He looked pretty bad, though. So I thought--”
He broke off abruptly as someone whose words I could not distinguish began to talk.
“Yes, I'm talking about you,” Duo said dryly. “I said ‘Heero', didn't I? Sorry, the Death Glare has no effect whatsoever on Death himself. Goodbye to you, too.” He chuckled and said, “He always knows when I'm talking about him behind his back. He's uncanny. He says hi, by the way.”
“No, I didn't,” Heero said and I almost laughed. I could just picture Duo's expression.
“Well, he means hi,” Duo whispered. “Now you see what I subject myself to? I'm saintly. He doesn't talk except to snarl, he doesn't hang out. I tried to take him to a pub the other day. This cute--but obviously mental--girl asked him to dance and he just growled and gave her his patented Vulture Look. He doesn't know it, but I got a Monopoly set the other day. The little metal pieces are shaped like mobile suits; it's pretty cool. And you can own properties like L2 and all. I must have a death wish, but I'm going to try to teach him to play. I think I'm going to buy him a pair of jeans, too. I think he's depressed.”
How can you tell? I wanted to ask, but I didn't dare. It was pretty clear from his tone that Duo felt he had to stay with Heero. Heero meant a lot to him; he looked up to him, even idolized him, almost.
“So,” he said after a slightly awkward pause, “how are things on L2-X34? You holding up okay?”
“I'm fine,” I told him, trying to sound nonchalant. “There was a debate three days ago about waste disposal.”
“Sounds fascinating.”
“Oh, you have no idea how much fun you missed. Neither do I, since I fell asleep.”
He laughed. “That's my Hilde, always on the alert.”
“Hey,” I said, “if it had been Billy Archer talking, I might have been alert. He's hot.”
Another awkward silence. Then, “Hil, about that night...”
“Don't worry about it,” I said quickly, squeezing my eyes shut and ordering my heart to quit pounding. “It was great. Better than. I have no complaints at all.” The morning after, now... “We'll talk when you get home.”
“I might not be home for a while.”
“It's okay,” I whispered. “Heero needs you right now. I understand. You can't just leave your friend.” I rubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand. Stupid emotions.
“Thank you, Hilde. Incidentally, I...”
Yesyes?
“...I left my only pair of jeans back at the house. How dumb is that?”
I didn't say anything.
“You don't have to send them or anything, since we'll be moving around a lot I think. I guess...I'll see you? Soon?”
“Soon,” I echoed, feeling hollow.
“Don't forget that promise you made me.”
“I haven't.”
“Well... Bye.”
And that was it.
He called two more times, both when I was out of the house. (I guess he was moving around quite a lot because the first thing he always said was, “I have no idea what time it is where you are...”) The first time I hung onto every word he said. The second time I listened from the kitchen while I put away groceries. I wasn't trying to shut him out of my heart; I just couldn't afford to let him get to me. I've never been a weepy, wimpy girl, and I didn't intend to become one over Duo. So, when he didn't call a third time part of me was bitterly disappointed, but part of me was a little relieved.
Which was not to say I didn't miss him. I did--terribly. On a very base level, my body craved his, which is kind of funny, since I've never been a very sensual person. But suddenly everything turned me on, and I knew it was because of him. I'd be eating ice cream in the kitchen and some of it would drip onto my fingers and I'd start licking them clean and all of a sudden I'd feel all tingly and hot and flushed. Once I went out and bought a lacy black bra and panties, something I'd never even thought about owning in the past. But suddenly all my blue cotton seemed so juvenile. A couple of times when I was watching a romantic movie at home (don't ask me why, I don't like romantic movies) I started thinking about Duo. I tried not to, but he was there in my head, doing all the things the actor in the movie was doing--but much, much better. After a little while I gave up the struggle, turned off the light, turned up the movie's volume, lay down on the sofa, slipped my hand into my pants, and tried to find the spot Duo touched that night. I never did.
Being in love really sucks sometimes.
Anyway, November became December. It got colder, but not too much colder, because while L2-X34 was designed to resemble North America, there were some elements of the original that the colonists decided they could do without. It snowed twice.
I got a cat. Or the cat got me. Either way, by the second week of December there was another male in my life, although it was not the species I'd been hoping for. I'm not really a cat person. I like dogs. But cinder-colored Loki showed up in the garage one day, looking cute and slightly demonic. I tossed him a piece of my tuna sandwich because I didn't want all of it and he looked cold and hungry. He wolfed it down and walked away and I thought that was that. But when I went back to the house an hour and a half later, he was waiting for me on the front step. And when I opened the door he padded right in, so I guess that was where he lived.
I started going into the city center more frequently. Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanzaa decorations were up, and I liked walking around the shops and the parks. The holidays still made me feel like a kid, even though I was almost seventeen. I had two dates with Billy Archer. Well, okay, they weren't dates since we met with the intention of discussing politics and that's what we did, and he's ten years older than I am, but...we didn't have to meet at that coffee shop, and he didn't have to pay for my white hot chocolate, we didn't have to walk along the reservoir afterward.
Actually, it was not at all romantic. I was concerned about the Council's thoughts about Duo--they had wanted him to turn Deathscythe over to them rather than destroy it--and I was trying to trick the information out of Billy, since it was confidential stuff. What I gleaned was that Duo was not in trouble since the Colonies had disavowed the Gundams and their pilots halfway through the war and so Deathscythe really belonged to Duo, but they weren't pleased with his decision. I figured he'd get away with it as a hero of the Eve War, but I'd wanted to hear it from a councilman's mouth.
Howard Katz showed up kind of unexpectedly three days before Christmas. He was looking for Duo. He didn't seem too put out when I told him Duo was not back yet, but then, I don't think Howard gets put out. He said he'd wait, even though I didn't know when (if) Duo would be back, so I helped him find a cheap motel near the city center. He came over for dinner on Christmas, which was nice since I didn't have anyone else to celebrate with and I missed cooking for people and wanted to try my new recipes on someone. We sat in the den talking and eating and listening to Duo's jazz records while Loki flirted shamelessly with both of us.
“He's a good kid, Duo,” Howard said, leaning back against the sofa cushions and sipping his eggnog. “I met him when he first came to Earth a year and a half ago, but I already knew him by reputation. The guy I used to work with, who designed Deathscythe, met Duo when he was twelve, when he was caught raiding a Sweeper ship.”
I hadn't known that. Duo told me some things about his past, like the Maxwell Church Tragedy, but not much about the years that followed, which I think he spent wandering from colony to colony. I felt a twinge of loneliness and leaned down to scratch Loki's jaw. He rumbled happily and butted his hand against my cupped hand.
“You know,” Howard went on, staring at the night-filled window (thanks to the L2-X34 Weather Department we were having a white Christmas), “Dr. G and I thought about giving Peacemillion to Duo originally. It was a powerful ship, but it was designed for space exploration. It could've gone beyond the Solar System. We were going to wait until Duo was old enough, then let him play with it. He'd have made a good space explorer. Still might, if anyone resurrects that department. Peacemillion was needed, though, to counter Earth and Libra. Well, so it goes. I worked on Libra, too.”
“I guess Duo told you I was the one who gave the Gundam pilots the data on Libra.”
“Sure did. That kid likes to talk and there wasn't much else for him to do while he was waiting for you in that hospital. Guess he forgot I helped design it.” He gave me a wink, and I grinned and felt better. “Anyway, I have a proposition for him, if he's interested, whenever he gets back. You too.”
I didn't ask him what he had in mind, and he didn't say. We just talked some more, about Duo and the past, and about what was happening on Earth. I think we were afraid to talk about the future. I don't know why, but that night, whenever I started to think about it, I found myself looking at the window and the windy darkness outside. I wondered where Duo was, how he was celebrating, if he was. And then I felt cold and afraid.
Was I psychic? I doubt it. But the next day, everything went crazy.
It was mid-afternoon and I was coming out of my sax teacher's apartment (I'd found someone whose rates were good who could give me forty minute lessons twice a week) when I started to get the feeling that something wasn't right. It was the day after Christmas and most of the stores were having sales, but the streets were practically empty. The few people I did see seemed to be in an awful hurry to get wherever they were going, which wasn't the stores. Some were heading in the direction of City Hall, so I got on my bike and followed them.
There was a huge crowd outside City Hall. It was pretty obvious what they were all looking at. On the big screen on the broadcasting headquarters opposite City Hall, a little red-haired girl in a funny, plumed hat, was talking.
“...wish to assert our independence from the Earth Sphere Unified Nation and at the same time declare war against the Nation. My name is Marie Maia Khushrenada, the daughter of Treize Khushrenada.”
I gripped my bike's handlebars and almost fell over. The people were muttering to one another, but the girl's voice rang out over their drone:
“I'm carrying out my father's will. It's in human nature to fight...”
She kept talking, but the ringing in my ears prevented me from hearing what she said. You know, despite that, and despite the sudden sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, it took me five full minutes to convince my brain that I wasn't watching a movie.
I think the people around me had similar reactions. Very dimly I heard exclamations of disbelief and snorts of derision. She couldn't be serious. What kind of joke was this?
Who would dare joke about this? I thought, wanted to yell. She's serious. The question was, whose puppet was she--and what kind of force did she have behind her?
Treize's daughter! Could that be for real? And if it was, how in hell did that happen? Half the people I served with were in love with the guy--man and woman, straight and gay alike--and no one said one damn word about a kid. Had Colonel Une known? Had Treize even known?
The motorcycle's roar scattered my ponderings.
“Hilde Schbeiker!”
It was Councilman Billy Archer. People leaped aside as he rumbled down the street and screeched to a halt beside my bike. His hair was a windblown raven tangle, his sandstone-colored brow beaded with sweat despite the cold. He wore his trademark black leather jacket over a dirty tank top, so I figured he'd been summoned from the gym.
“This is serious shit, Schbeiker,” he said, not mincing words and reminding me why he was the only member of the L2-X34 governing body that I actually liked. “Get on. Come on, ditch the bike, you'll find it later. If there is a later. Council's convening and we want you there.”
“But why me?” I asked as I climbed on behind him, holding my sax between us. Stupid question--I could guess the answer pretty easily.
“Here's the situation, Schbeiker,” he said as I trotted after his long-legged strides, down City Hall's marble-floored hallway. “We don't know if she's real or not, but her threat seems to be. Right before she started broadcasting she sent us--and I'm assuming all the other colonial leaders--a statement of her intentions including an appraisal of her military strength. If she's not exaggerating, we're all in trouble. Even if she is...we're either with her or against her according to her statement. Against Earth.”
“But why?”
He didn't answer. We bypassed the main council chamber and went to a smaller meeting room, where the other eight councilors were already assembled. Their heads were bent together and their chatter sounded only slightly less chaotic than the chatter I'd heard outside.
“If you want to know where Duo is, I can't tell you,” I announced after the door closed and was locked behind us. “Even if I knew, I wouldn't. You can't get Deathscythe.”
“Ms. Schbeiker,” Councilman Derecha said sternly, without looking up from his notes, “you are out of order.”
Derecha liked order, and he didn't particularly like me, and usually I made an effort to act with some decorum or stay out of his way, but at that moment I didn't care. “I'm guessing you want me here because I was with OZ for part of the war. I have no idea if Marie Maia Khushrenada is really Treize's daughter. I never heard of her before today. Councilman Archer told me about her ultimatum, though. What are you going to do?”
Billy Archer came up behind me, touched my elbow. “Hilde, you're way out of line,” he muttered.
“Ms. Schbeiker, kindly sit and wait until your opinion is asked for,” Councilman Derecha said, indicating a chair at the far end of the long table at which he and the others sat.
“But there isn't time,” I complained.
“No, there isn't,” Derecha said with a flash of impatience. “But that does not mean we should abandon order or protocol. Now sit while I finish my statement to the people, or you will be escorted off these premises until the need for you arises.”
I sat.
He worked quickly--I'll give him that. I could tell that he was worried, from the sheen of sweat on his brow and the way he kept kneading his earlobe (a weird habit Duo and I liked to make fun of when we sat in on Council sessions). He'd been part of the colonial government during the war, so he knew how to act in times of crisis. But this was so unexpected.
Finally he put down his pen, gathered his notes, and rose. The other councilors rose with him. So did I, after a second.
“I'm going to address the people before too many rumors take flight,” said Derecha. He shuffled his papers, touched his earlobe again. “All right, let's do this.”
Four of the other councilors followed him out of the room. “You can't have Deathscythe,” I said stubbornly to the remaining four (one of whom was Archer). It was all I could think to say, all I could think of. The day before Duo left the Council asked him to turn Deathscythe over to them, practically ordered him, although the Gundam was his and they knew it. Facing them now, I remembered the look on his face, the way he held his body as though he were in pain when we walked home together afterward. It had taken a long time for him to feel ready to give up his armor, the thing that let him protect the people he cared about. What they asked of him--demanded, practically--was cruel. He couldn't give Deathscythe to anyone else, and for his own peace he couldn't keep it, either.
As I stood before the four councilors I imagined Duo behind me, his shoulders hunched the way they were that day, his face pale and pinched as though he were much, much older than sixteen. I held up my arms as though to protect him. I was ready to spit and hiss, tear and claw, use my sax as a weapon if I had to.
But they didn't want Deathscythe. Or rather, they understood that it was beyond their reach. They weren't happy about that, but they accepted it. What they wanted was any information I had about Marie Maia Khushrenada--which I gave them--and the mobile suit parts and other scraps that I still had in the garage--which was another thing entirely.
“No,” I said.
“Hilde...” Councilman Archer's whisper sounded pained.
“I won't,” I said, turning from one councilor to the next.
“I don't think you understand the severity of the situation, Officer Schbeiker,” Derecha said. He'd come back looking very weary. I felt badly for him--he wanted this over as much as I did--but I wasn't going to give.
Nevertheless, I felt a little faint when Councilwoman Sheridan said, “We've received intelligence from an undercover Earth-based group called the Preventers, of which Therese Une is the head. Marie Maia Khushrenada's threat is very real. We could be on the brink of another war. However, Earth and the colonies that stand against her are at a severe disadvantage because of the disarmament. Moreover, Vice Foreign Minister Darlian is missing. It is believed--and you are not to repeat this to anyone--that she is being held by Marie Maia Khushrenada on L3-X189999. We need all the help we can get. It was for this very reason that we asked that the Deathscythe Gundam be turned over to us.”
“But I don't have anything that would be truly effective against an army. If Marie Maia's forces got through the Earth's defenses--negligible as they are right now--and came here, you couldn't hold her off with what I've got. An armed resistance on the part of the colonists would only lead to senseless death.” The unless caught in my throat and for a moment I couldn't speak.
“It is in human nature to fight,” Councilwoman Johnston said softly into the silence.
Didn't I know it! I looked down at my hand, clenched around the handle of my saxophone case, and hated what I felt. Powerless. Helpless. Like a twig trying to hold back a flood. God, I wanted to lash out at someone, anyone. Marie Maia Khushrenada for bringing this on us again. Derecha and the others for asking this of me. Duo for making me promise. Myself.
So don't ask me where this came from. Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure--it sounded like me, anyway--that I said, “There are other ways of fighting.”
Did I say that? Who else could it have been? Anyway, the next thing I knew I was out in the hall, making a break for the exit, but there were guards there to stop me.
“Just let her go,” Councilman Archer said, and the guards moved aside. “Hilde,” he called after me, “the people might not see things your way.”
I didn't turn. “If they don't, you'll protect me from them, right?”
He didn't answer.
“It's your duty, dammit!” And then I walked out of the building.
The unless that I'd left unsaid jangled in my head as I pedaled home as quickly as I could, skidding over icy patches of ground, almost crashing into fences and streetlamps, not caring. It went like this: An armed resistance on the part of the colonists would only lead to senseless death unless they actually sided with Marie Maia. Earth was weak militarily due to the disarmament. If it fell to Marie Maia, or appeared to be losing its fight against her, what would the Colonies do? Everyone I knew wanted peace, and there wasn't much talk of revenge against the Earth these days, but what if it came to a choice between peace under Marie Maia's rule (and siding against the Earth) or fighting what could well be a losing battle in the Earth's defense?
The colonists were not cowards, I reminded myself as I hurried past the reservoir. The original Heero Yuy had been a very brave man, according to what I'd read. Moreover, the colonists had built the Gundams after all, and spawned their pilots. And I guess it took some guts to move out to the Colonies, far away from the Earth's natural resources. Still...
I almost tumbled headlong off my bike in my haste to get inside the house and call Howard. I wasn't really sure what we'd be able to accomplish together, but I didn't want to have to think through this mess alone.
“Be there in a jiffy,” he said. “Hold the fort.”
Like there was anything else I could do.
I went into the garage and took inventory. Duo and I kept pretty good records of the stuff we came by--well, I did anyway--but I wanted to see what was really there.
It was cold in there, and damp. The sweat I'd worked up during my mad dash back to the house had dried and pretty soon I was shivering despite my warm jacket. It wasn't just the cold that gave me goose bumps. Suddenly everything I looked at was a potential weapon--and not the kind you use to defeat your enemies. The kind you use when you have nothing else and you're desperate; the kind that gets you killed.
There are other ways of fighting.
I wasn't even sure what I'd meant by that!
I closed and locked the garage, then I ran back into the house. I plopped down on my bed, drew my knees up to my chest, and hugged myself.
Okay, soldier, I thought, what do you do, now? You're pretty much on your own, your world is on the brink of war, and your government seems to have misplaced its common sense. Who knows about the population as a whole. What do you do?
Part 2
1/2
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Duo/Hilde, vague Trowa/Quatre
Summary: When Marie Maia Barton-Khushrenada declares war upon the Earth and Space Colonies, the colonists seek to re-arm themselves. With the Gundam pilots away, can one civilian make a difference?
A/N: Approx. 6,200 words (this part only). This is a companion to Duo's Lie. I recommend reading that one first, simply because I wrote it first.
I didn't find out exactly what happened on the Earth until much later. News still reaches the Colonies slowly and sometimes I think L2-X34 is even more backward and backwater than most. Why Duo chose it for our base of operations I don't know. I distinctly remember clipping articles for him about the blockheaded things the leaders of this colony have done. The rent is cheap, he argued. That was certainly true, and we got the garage, and there was that grove of trees nearby where we could hide Deathscythe. So, maybe there's the answer right there.
The morning after Duo left to meet up with Quatre so they could send the Gundams into the sun, I vowed that I'd make him proud of me, as long as it didn't compromise my ability to make myself proud of me. Then I poured myself a cup of orange juice and toasted myself a bagel, put on some of what Duo calls my Angry Woman Music, and did the thing I'd been longing to do since we moved in together.
I cleaned the house.
I am not a neatnik, or rather, I didn't use to be. But living with Duo changed me in many ways, and that was one. I'm not meticulous, but I like things to have some semblance of order. He, on the other hand...
I tore through the house like a miniature tornado, sweeping old newspapers, dirty laundry, and small tools (I found a screwdriver and a wrench in the fridge--WHY?) into my arms and carrying them all to the kitchen table, where I dumped them and began to sort through them.
It was freezing, and I didn't feel like trotting out to the garage--I was still in my boxers, anyway--so I put the tools in an empty coffee tin that was just sitting around and placed them on a shelf over the sink. I bundled the newspapers and tied them up with string, then set them on the floor by the front door. I'd bike them over to the recycling center later.
Then I started on the clothes.
They were all his and they were mostly socks. Duo owns one pair of faded blue jeans, those jodhpurs, and a pair of black leather pants that he saw at a vintage store one day a few months ago and decided he had to have. (I'd laughed, but he thought he'd look hot in them and after he tried them on I was inclined to agree.) He'd taken the leather pants and the jodhpurs with him for some reason, but he'd left the jeans. Probably he meant to take them and simply forgot in his hurry to leave. They were the most normal article of clothing he owned.
I ran my hand over them. They were cold from having lain on the floor, and soft from much wear. The knees and seat were almost threadbare. I'd spent many a fine afternoon working in the garage, stealing over-the-shoulder glances at his fine denim-clad butt while he bent over Deathscythe. I gathered the jeans into my arms, hugged them to my chest, and buried my nose in them.
They reeked.
I quickly deposited them--and the socks, boxers, and t-shirts--in the laundry basket and swallowed the lump in my throat.
I was being such a sentimental twit, and it made me angry.
He told me he was leaving before we slept together. I seduced him. And he swore up and down that he'd be back. He even left his crucifix as proof. (It still lay on the night table; I couldn't make myself touch it.) Moreover, he'd only been gone a few hours. And it wasn't as though it was my first one-night stand. Actually, it was my second.
Actually, I think my angst had less to do with his leaving than with his making me promise that I wouldn't get involved if any more fighting broke out.
He wanted me to be safe. I was his rock, he said.
Still, it wasn't fair. I know that sounds very whiney of me, but goddamit, I was a soldier. I was trained to fight. Being told to stay put, like I was some damsel in distress or some kid...well, it really smarted.
If it were anyone but Duo I'd never have made that promise. And I would certainly not have implied that I would wait for him to come back to me. Being in love sucks sometimes.
As I cleaned I made up possible scenarios. Zechs Merquise returned from the dead and engaged the Gundam pilots in deadly combat. Of course, the Gundams would be halfway to the sun by then, so Duo would have to call in the cavalry: “Yo, Hil, get your sweet, sexy ass out here and help us! Oh, and incidentally, I love you, too.” Or he'd call and say, “Everything went swimmingly! The Gundams are ancient history. Don't feel like going back to November on L2-X34 just yet. Howard told me about this little Caribbean island. White sand beaches, flamingo sunsets. Why don't you swing by? I'll keep the pina coladas cold. Oh, and incidentally, I love you, too.” Or even, “Just met up with Quatre. Did some thinking on the flight and I realize I was wrong, before. Given the fact that you've saved my ass twice already, if anything happens you're the first person I'll call for help. Oh, and incidentally, I love you, too.”
Stop it, Hilde, I admonished, after catching myself gazing forlornly at the com unit for the third time since getting up. And grow up, while you're at it.
He did call when he met up with Quatre, two days later. Of course I was out of the house then, trying to organize the garage, so I didn't find out he'd called until later. When I came into the house, filthy and shivering, and saw the com light blinking the first thing I thought was, “Now, why didn't somebody shout out the window to me?” The answer hit me like an elbow in the gut.
Oh, yeah. Right.
Duo's message was brief and typical: “Made it safe and sound. Figured you'd worry. Quatre says ‘hi.' He blushed when I mentioned your name. Guess he remembers you planted one on him last New Year's. So, you can make a guy blush at twelve parsecs. Or wherever the hell we are now... Ehh...about the other night...”
Yesyes??
“...Don't forget what I said. Stay out of trouble. You're my rock. Over and out.”
Elbow in the gut, knife between the ribs. I was getting the shit beaten out of me and I was most profoundly alone!
Well, that's what happens when you let your guard down, I thought as I deleted the message, then went to soak myself under hot running water.
Thing was, even if I did remember my plate mail when dealing with Duo, he'd find the chink without even trying. That's just how he is. And that was when I finally started to cry, standing there in the shower, with suds running down my bare legs and water sloshing around my feet. And those tears, unlike my anger, had nothing to do with being left behind. They had everything to do with wanting him and missing him and wishing he was with me--yes, in the shower--and this terrible, terrible feeling that I'd never see him again.
Don't ask me where that fear came from. I still don't know and I've looked back so many times. I just knew, in my soul, I guess, that something bad was going to happen. It wasn't over. Duo was in danger, and because of a promise I'd made to calm his own fear, there was nothing I could do to save him. I've never felt so helpless.
I didn't hear from him again for two weeks. During that time I buried myself in my work (I kept the garage open and I sat in on Council sessions and occasionally voiced my opinion) and tried to make the best of being alone. I didn't have very many friends on the colony; I was always a little nervous about how people would react if they found out I used to be with OZ, even though I'm from the Colonies originally. Duo didn't have very many friends, either. None his age, anyway. That fact has always surprised me because he's pretty gregarious, but it makes sense if you really think about it. He's told me half a dozen times that he's only alive because of luck and that he continues to fight so others don't have to. He really does think that, and it's kept him isolated from people his age. He's such a warm, friendly person, but he's afraid of losing anyone he becomes close to, the way he lost Father Maxwell and Sister Helen when he was eight. I think that's the reason he's so fascinated with the other pilots. They're a lot like him in that respect.
Anyway, since I did not have very many friends on the colony, when I wasn't working I was trying to find ways of filling up the remaining hours. I taught myself card tricks and new recipes (I had a lot more money to spend on food, since I wasn't buying for him, and he eats enough for two). I spent a few afternoons hunting around for a saxophone instructor, since I played when I was little and I thought it might be nice to take it up again. I watched the news a lot, hoping there'd be some mention of Duo and the other pilots, but there never was. I guess that was good, since Duo mentioned before he left that Quatre had wanted this last mission to be as covert as possible. A lot of times I fell asleep under my blanket in front of the television. I woke up once or twice to the sound of someone shrieking. On those occasions I'd sit bolt upright, heart hammering, completely disoriented, but ready to fight. Then I'd remember my promise to Duo. Then I'd realize that the shrieking came from the B-list movie actress in the late night horror flick that was on. Then I'd feel really stupid, turn off the television, and stretch out on the sofa, too lazy or too frightened to go to bed.
It was on one of those nights that Duo finally called. I'd just gotten back to sleep, so for a moment I thought that what I was hearing was part of my dream. Then I heard Duo's voice, and I sprang up because dreaming or not, I wanted to pay attention.
“Hilde?” He sounded really tired. “Hope the fact that you haven't picked up after seven rings means you're out partying or sleeping with your earplugs. Actually, I guess you could be at work. I have no idea what time it is on L2-X34. This time difference thing is screwing with my head.”
I crouched by the com, holding my blanket loosely around my shoulders, wanting to answer, but shy, and troubled by the weariness in his tone.
“Anyway,” he said, after a long pause and a deep sigh, “I was kinda hoping I'd get to talk to you. I miss you, girl. But, since you're not there or sleeping, just wanted to let you know everything's okay. The Gundams are on their way to the sun. It'll take them a while to reach there, which is... Actually, I dunno how I feel about that. I don't miss Deathscythe. I told you I hated it and I do. I just feel sort of...”
I couldn't just sit there listening when he sounded like that. “Duo, I'm right here,” I said, leaning close over the com. My voice sounded gravelly and harsh from my being asleep.
“H-Hil! Hey! Did I wake you up?”
“Kind of. It's okay, though. It's about three in the morning here, since you were wondering.”
“Ehh...sorry.”
“Don't be sorry.” I picked up the machine, sat down cross-legged on the floor, and held it in my lap while we talked. It was warm, and it wasn't long before I was running my fingers along its smooth surface as though it were his skin because I really am that much of a sentimental twit sometimes. “Where are you?” I asked. If he said he was at the station waiting to be picked up--despite the fact that the station was shut down for the night except for emergency comings and goings--nothing would have prevented me from squealing for joy and letting him know exactly what kind of sentimental twit he was coming home to.
“Actually, I'm with Heero, strangely enough. Um, everything went fine with the Gundams, like I said before. Quatre was where he said he'd be, and Trowa and Heero brought theirs. Wufei didn't, but you know, it's his darling Nataku. I don't--nah, I don't want to know what he does with that suit when the rest of us aren't looking. Trowa's looking pretty diesel. Either he spent the entire year working out or his sister's been putting something in whatever she's been feeding him. Quatre looked like he was having heart palpitations. He's so obvious--to me, anyway--it's kind of funny.”
I knew Quatre had a crush on Trowa Barton a year ago (my God, who could blame him?) so it was kind of nice to hear that he still felt that way about his friend. Quatre and I spent a few days in the hospital on MO-II after the Earth's surrender and Duo played a game of tag with hospital security and Quatre's Maguanacs, sneaking Trowa in to see his friend whenever he could. I liked listening to Duo talk about them, then as now, because he sounded so...complete. These were his people, the ones who helped him feel like a normal human being in a way that even I couldn't.
But then he said, “Anyway, Heero looked like crap. Not that he usually looks like the kind of guy you'd bring home to meet your folks. He looked pretty bad, though. So I thought--”
He broke off abruptly as someone whose words I could not distinguish began to talk.
“Yes, I'm talking about you,” Duo said dryly. “I said ‘Heero', didn't I? Sorry, the Death Glare has no effect whatsoever on Death himself. Goodbye to you, too.” He chuckled and said, “He always knows when I'm talking about him behind his back. He's uncanny. He says hi, by the way.”
“No, I didn't,” Heero said and I almost laughed. I could just picture Duo's expression.
“Well, he means hi,” Duo whispered. “Now you see what I subject myself to? I'm saintly. He doesn't talk except to snarl, he doesn't hang out. I tried to take him to a pub the other day. This cute--but obviously mental--girl asked him to dance and he just growled and gave her his patented Vulture Look. He doesn't know it, but I got a Monopoly set the other day. The little metal pieces are shaped like mobile suits; it's pretty cool. And you can own properties like L2 and all. I must have a death wish, but I'm going to try to teach him to play. I think I'm going to buy him a pair of jeans, too. I think he's depressed.”
How can you tell? I wanted to ask, but I didn't dare. It was pretty clear from his tone that Duo felt he had to stay with Heero. Heero meant a lot to him; he looked up to him, even idolized him, almost.
“So,” he said after a slightly awkward pause, “how are things on L2-X34? You holding up okay?”
“I'm fine,” I told him, trying to sound nonchalant. “There was a debate three days ago about waste disposal.”
“Sounds fascinating.”
“Oh, you have no idea how much fun you missed. Neither do I, since I fell asleep.”
He laughed. “That's my Hilde, always on the alert.”
“Hey,” I said, “if it had been Billy Archer talking, I might have been alert. He's hot.”
Another awkward silence. Then, “Hil, about that night...”
“Don't worry about it,” I said quickly, squeezing my eyes shut and ordering my heart to quit pounding. “It was great. Better than. I have no complaints at all.” The morning after, now... “We'll talk when you get home.”
“I might not be home for a while.”
“It's okay,” I whispered. “Heero needs you right now. I understand. You can't just leave your friend.” I rubbed at my eyes with the back of my hand. Stupid emotions.
“Thank you, Hilde. Incidentally, I...”
Yesyes?
“...I left my only pair of jeans back at the house. How dumb is that?”
I didn't say anything.
“You don't have to send them or anything, since we'll be moving around a lot I think. I guess...I'll see you? Soon?”
“Soon,” I echoed, feeling hollow.
“Don't forget that promise you made me.”
“I haven't.”
“Well... Bye.”
And that was it.
He called two more times, both when I was out of the house. (I guess he was moving around quite a lot because the first thing he always said was, “I have no idea what time it is where you are...”) The first time I hung onto every word he said. The second time I listened from the kitchen while I put away groceries. I wasn't trying to shut him out of my heart; I just couldn't afford to let him get to me. I've never been a weepy, wimpy girl, and I didn't intend to become one over Duo. So, when he didn't call a third time part of me was bitterly disappointed, but part of me was a little relieved.
Which was not to say I didn't miss him. I did--terribly. On a very base level, my body craved his, which is kind of funny, since I've never been a very sensual person. But suddenly everything turned me on, and I knew it was because of him. I'd be eating ice cream in the kitchen and some of it would drip onto my fingers and I'd start licking them clean and all of a sudden I'd feel all tingly and hot and flushed. Once I went out and bought a lacy black bra and panties, something I'd never even thought about owning in the past. But suddenly all my blue cotton seemed so juvenile. A couple of times when I was watching a romantic movie at home (don't ask me why, I don't like romantic movies) I started thinking about Duo. I tried not to, but he was there in my head, doing all the things the actor in the movie was doing--but much, much better. After a little while I gave up the struggle, turned off the light, turned up the movie's volume, lay down on the sofa, slipped my hand into my pants, and tried to find the spot Duo touched that night. I never did.
Being in love really sucks sometimes.
Anyway, November became December. It got colder, but not too much colder, because while L2-X34 was designed to resemble North America, there were some elements of the original that the colonists decided they could do without. It snowed twice.
I got a cat. Or the cat got me. Either way, by the second week of December there was another male in my life, although it was not the species I'd been hoping for. I'm not really a cat person. I like dogs. But cinder-colored Loki showed up in the garage one day, looking cute and slightly demonic. I tossed him a piece of my tuna sandwich because I didn't want all of it and he looked cold and hungry. He wolfed it down and walked away and I thought that was that. But when I went back to the house an hour and a half later, he was waiting for me on the front step. And when I opened the door he padded right in, so I guess that was where he lived.
I started going into the city center more frequently. Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanzaa decorations were up, and I liked walking around the shops and the parks. The holidays still made me feel like a kid, even though I was almost seventeen. I had two dates with Billy Archer. Well, okay, they weren't dates since we met with the intention of discussing politics and that's what we did, and he's ten years older than I am, but...we didn't have to meet at that coffee shop, and he didn't have to pay for my white hot chocolate, we didn't have to walk along the reservoir afterward.
Actually, it was not at all romantic. I was concerned about the Council's thoughts about Duo--they had wanted him to turn Deathscythe over to them rather than destroy it--and I was trying to trick the information out of Billy, since it was confidential stuff. What I gleaned was that Duo was not in trouble since the Colonies had disavowed the Gundams and their pilots halfway through the war and so Deathscythe really belonged to Duo, but they weren't pleased with his decision. I figured he'd get away with it as a hero of the Eve War, but I'd wanted to hear it from a councilman's mouth.
Howard Katz showed up kind of unexpectedly three days before Christmas. He was looking for Duo. He didn't seem too put out when I told him Duo was not back yet, but then, I don't think Howard gets put out. He said he'd wait, even though I didn't know when (if) Duo would be back, so I helped him find a cheap motel near the city center. He came over for dinner on Christmas, which was nice since I didn't have anyone else to celebrate with and I missed cooking for people and wanted to try my new recipes on someone. We sat in the den talking and eating and listening to Duo's jazz records while Loki flirted shamelessly with both of us.
“He's a good kid, Duo,” Howard said, leaning back against the sofa cushions and sipping his eggnog. “I met him when he first came to Earth a year and a half ago, but I already knew him by reputation. The guy I used to work with, who designed Deathscythe, met Duo when he was twelve, when he was caught raiding a Sweeper ship.”
I hadn't known that. Duo told me some things about his past, like the Maxwell Church Tragedy, but not much about the years that followed, which I think he spent wandering from colony to colony. I felt a twinge of loneliness and leaned down to scratch Loki's jaw. He rumbled happily and butted his hand against my cupped hand.
“You know,” Howard went on, staring at the night-filled window (thanks to the L2-X34 Weather Department we were having a white Christmas), “Dr. G and I thought about giving Peacemillion to Duo originally. It was a powerful ship, but it was designed for space exploration. It could've gone beyond the Solar System. We were going to wait until Duo was old enough, then let him play with it. He'd have made a good space explorer. Still might, if anyone resurrects that department. Peacemillion was needed, though, to counter Earth and Libra. Well, so it goes. I worked on Libra, too.”
“I guess Duo told you I was the one who gave the Gundam pilots the data on Libra.”
“Sure did. That kid likes to talk and there wasn't much else for him to do while he was waiting for you in that hospital. Guess he forgot I helped design it.” He gave me a wink, and I grinned and felt better. “Anyway, I have a proposition for him, if he's interested, whenever he gets back. You too.”
I didn't ask him what he had in mind, and he didn't say. We just talked some more, about Duo and the past, and about what was happening on Earth. I think we were afraid to talk about the future. I don't know why, but that night, whenever I started to think about it, I found myself looking at the window and the windy darkness outside. I wondered where Duo was, how he was celebrating, if he was. And then I felt cold and afraid.
Was I psychic? I doubt it. But the next day, everything went crazy.
It was mid-afternoon and I was coming out of my sax teacher's apartment (I'd found someone whose rates were good who could give me forty minute lessons twice a week) when I started to get the feeling that something wasn't right. It was the day after Christmas and most of the stores were having sales, but the streets were practically empty. The few people I did see seemed to be in an awful hurry to get wherever they were going, which wasn't the stores. Some were heading in the direction of City Hall, so I got on my bike and followed them.
There was a huge crowd outside City Hall. It was pretty obvious what they were all looking at. On the big screen on the broadcasting headquarters opposite City Hall, a little red-haired girl in a funny, plumed hat, was talking.
“...wish to assert our independence from the Earth Sphere Unified Nation and at the same time declare war against the Nation. My name is Marie Maia Khushrenada, the daughter of Treize Khushrenada.”
I gripped my bike's handlebars and almost fell over. The people were muttering to one another, but the girl's voice rang out over their drone:
“I'm carrying out my father's will. It's in human nature to fight...”
She kept talking, but the ringing in my ears prevented me from hearing what she said. You know, despite that, and despite the sudden sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, it took me five full minutes to convince my brain that I wasn't watching a movie.
I think the people around me had similar reactions. Very dimly I heard exclamations of disbelief and snorts of derision. She couldn't be serious. What kind of joke was this?
Who would dare joke about this? I thought, wanted to yell. She's serious. The question was, whose puppet was she--and what kind of force did she have behind her?
Treize's daughter! Could that be for real? And if it was, how in hell did that happen? Half the people I served with were in love with the guy--man and woman, straight and gay alike--and no one said one damn word about a kid. Had Colonel Une known? Had Treize even known?
The motorcycle's roar scattered my ponderings.
“Hilde Schbeiker!”
It was Councilman Billy Archer. People leaped aside as he rumbled down the street and screeched to a halt beside my bike. His hair was a windblown raven tangle, his sandstone-colored brow beaded with sweat despite the cold. He wore his trademark black leather jacket over a dirty tank top, so I figured he'd been summoned from the gym.
“This is serious shit, Schbeiker,” he said, not mincing words and reminding me why he was the only member of the L2-X34 governing body that I actually liked. “Get on. Come on, ditch the bike, you'll find it later. If there is a later. Council's convening and we want you there.”
“But why me?” I asked as I climbed on behind him, holding my sax between us. Stupid question--I could guess the answer pretty easily.
“Here's the situation, Schbeiker,” he said as I trotted after his long-legged strides, down City Hall's marble-floored hallway. “We don't know if she's real or not, but her threat seems to be. Right before she started broadcasting she sent us--and I'm assuming all the other colonial leaders--a statement of her intentions including an appraisal of her military strength. If she's not exaggerating, we're all in trouble. Even if she is...we're either with her or against her according to her statement. Against Earth.”
“But why?”
He didn't answer. We bypassed the main council chamber and went to a smaller meeting room, where the other eight councilors were already assembled. Their heads were bent together and their chatter sounded only slightly less chaotic than the chatter I'd heard outside.
“If you want to know where Duo is, I can't tell you,” I announced after the door closed and was locked behind us. “Even if I knew, I wouldn't. You can't get Deathscythe.”
“Ms. Schbeiker,” Councilman Derecha said sternly, without looking up from his notes, “you are out of order.”
Derecha liked order, and he didn't particularly like me, and usually I made an effort to act with some decorum or stay out of his way, but at that moment I didn't care. “I'm guessing you want me here because I was with OZ for part of the war. I have no idea if Marie Maia Khushrenada is really Treize's daughter. I never heard of her before today. Councilman Archer told me about her ultimatum, though. What are you going to do?”
Billy Archer came up behind me, touched my elbow. “Hilde, you're way out of line,” he muttered.
“Ms. Schbeiker, kindly sit and wait until your opinion is asked for,” Councilman Derecha said, indicating a chair at the far end of the long table at which he and the others sat.
“But there isn't time,” I complained.
“No, there isn't,” Derecha said with a flash of impatience. “But that does not mean we should abandon order or protocol. Now sit while I finish my statement to the people, or you will be escorted off these premises until the need for you arises.”
I sat.
He worked quickly--I'll give him that. I could tell that he was worried, from the sheen of sweat on his brow and the way he kept kneading his earlobe (a weird habit Duo and I liked to make fun of when we sat in on Council sessions). He'd been part of the colonial government during the war, so he knew how to act in times of crisis. But this was so unexpected.
Finally he put down his pen, gathered his notes, and rose. The other councilors rose with him. So did I, after a second.
“I'm going to address the people before too many rumors take flight,” said Derecha. He shuffled his papers, touched his earlobe again. “All right, let's do this.”
Four of the other councilors followed him out of the room. “You can't have Deathscythe,” I said stubbornly to the remaining four (one of whom was Archer). It was all I could think to say, all I could think of. The day before Duo left the Council asked him to turn Deathscythe over to them, practically ordered him, although the Gundam was his and they knew it. Facing them now, I remembered the look on his face, the way he held his body as though he were in pain when we walked home together afterward. It had taken a long time for him to feel ready to give up his armor, the thing that let him protect the people he cared about. What they asked of him--demanded, practically--was cruel. He couldn't give Deathscythe to anyone else, and for his own peace he couldn't keep it, either.
As I stood before the four councilors I imagined Duo behind me, his shoulders hunched the way they were that day, his face pale and pinched as though he were much, much older than sixteen. I held up my arms as though to protect him. I was ready to spit and hiss, tear and claw, use my sax as a weapon if I had to.
But they didn't want Deathscythe. Or rather, they understood that it was beyond their reach. They weren't happy about that, but they accepted it. What they wanted was any information I had about Marie Maia Khushrenada--which I gave them--and the mobile suit parts and other scraps that I still had in the garage--which was another thing entirely.
“No,” I said.
“Hilde...” Councilman Archer's whisper sounded pained.
“I won't,” I said, turning from one councilor to the next.
“I don't think you understand the severity of the situation, Officer Schbeiker,” Derecha said. He'd come back looking very weary. I felt badly for him--he wanted this over as much as I did--but I wasn't going to give.
Nevertheless, I felt a little faint when Councilwoman Sheridan said, “We've received intelligence from an undercover Earth-based group called the Preventers, of which Therese Une is the head. Marie Maia Khushrenada's threat is very real. We could be on the brink of another war. However, Earth and the colonies that stand against her are at a severe disadvantage because of the disarmament. Moreover, Vice Foreign Minister Darlian is missing. It is believed--and you are not to repeat this to anyone--that she is being held by Marie Maia Khushrenada on L3-X189999. We need all the help we can get. It was for this very reason that we asked that the Deathscythe Gundam be turned over to us.”
“But I don't have anything that would be truly effective against an army. If Marie Maia's forces got through the Earth's defenses--negligible as they are right now--and came here, you couldn't hold her off with what I've got. An armed resistance on the part of the colonists would only lead to senseless death.” The unless caught in my throat and for a moment I couldn't speak.
“It is in human nature to fight,” Councilwoman Johnston said softly into the silence.
Didn't I know it! I looked down at my hand, clenched around the handle of my saxophone case, and hated what I felt. Powerless. Helpless. Like a twig trying to hold back a flood. God, I wanted to lash out at someone, anyone. Marie Maia Khushrenada for bringing this on us again. Derecha and the others for asking this of me. Duo for making me promise. Myself.
So don't ask me where this came from. Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure--it sounded like me, anyway--that I said, “There are other ways of fighting.”
Did I say that? Who else could it have been? Anyway, the next thing I knew I was out in the hall, making a break for the exit, but there were guards there to stop me.
“Just let her go,” Councilman Archer said, and the guards moved aside. “Hilde,” he called after me, “the people might not see things your way.”
I didn't turn. “If they don't, you'll protect me from them, right?”
He didn't answer.
“It's your duty, dammit!” And then I walked out of the building.
The unless that I'd left unsaid jangled in my head as I pedaled home as quickly as I could, skidding over icy patches of ground, almost crashing into fences and streetlamps, not caring. It went like this: An armed resistance on the part of the colonists would only lead to senseless death unless they actually sided with Marie Maia. Earth was weak militarily due to the disarmament. If it fell to Marie Maia, or appeared to be losing its fight against her, what would the Colonies do? Everyone I knew wanted peace, and there wasn't much talk of revenge against the Earth these days, but what if it came to a choice between peace under Marie Maia's rule (and siding against the Earth) or fighting what could well be a losing battle in the Earth's defense?
The colonists were not cowards, I reminded myself as I hurried past the reservoir. The original Heero Yuy had been a very brave man, according to what I'd read. Moreover, the colonists had built the Gundams after all, and spawned their pilots. And I guess it took some guts to move out to the Colonies, far away from the Earth's natural resources. Still...
I almost tumbled headlong off my bike in my haste to get inside the house and call Howard. I wasn't really sure what we'd be able to accomplish together, but I didn't want to have to think through this mess alone.
“Be there in a jiffy,” he said. “Hold the fort.”
Like there was anything else I could do.
I went into the garage and took inventory. Duo and I kept pretty good records of the stuff we came by--well, I did anyway--but I wanted to see what was really there.
It was cold in there, and damp. The sweat I'd worked up during my mad dash back to the house had dried and pretty soon I was shivering despite my warm jacket. It wasn't just the cold that gave me goose bumps. Suddenly everything I looked at was a potential weapon--and not the kind you use to defeat your enemies. The kind you use when you have nothing else and you're desperate; the kind that gets you killed.
There are other ways of fighting.
I wasn't even sure what I'd meant by that!
I closed and locked the garage, then I ran back into the house. I plopped down on my bed, drew my knees up to my chest, and hugged myself.
Okay, soldier, I thought, what do you do, now? You're pretty much on your own, your world is on the brink of war, and your government seems to have misplaced its common sense. Who knows about the population as a whole. What do you do?
Part 2