Gundam SEED Fan Fiction / Gundam Seed Destiny Fan Fiction ❯ Terminal ❯ Phase 2: Time to Tell ( Chapter 2 )

Phase 2: Time to Tell

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Message sent.”

 

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

 

“Message sent.”

 

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

 

“Message sent.”

 

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

 

“Goodbye.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Think he's concerned about the SEED factor coming into play,” Luther asked.

 

“Quite likely,” Goddess answered. “Gladys's reaction?”

 

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

 

“No,” Haro snapped.

 

Goddess laughed, “You are no Adonis.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

-

-

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Captain Gladys.”

 

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

She started to turn around.

 

“No, don't turn around.”

 

Talia faced the doors. “Minerva?”

 

“She wishes to speak with you."

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

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

 

“What does she want,” Talia asked. 

“Just to talk.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

The phone chirped.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Why?”

 

“You'll see.”

 

“You might want to sit down.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“You're here!” 

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

“Why are you here?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“So.”

 

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

   

“About what?”

 

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

 

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

 

“I gave the information to him, myself.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Two months.” Az didn't even blink.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“I didn't say he did.” 

 

—and released it. 

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

 

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

 

He should have fought, but he didn't.

 

“How is Ethan,” Az asked.

 

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

 

“Would you like to?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Do you ever regret it?”

 

“Regret?”

 

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

 

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

 

The line went dead.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Have fun at JOSH-A.”

 

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

 

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

 

I have high hopes for that battleship…

 

Text scrolled slowly out onto the screen.

 

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

~gilbert Durandal to athrun Zala

 

She sat back, blinking in surprise.

 

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

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

 

Minerva was Archangel?

 

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

-
-

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

 

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

 

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

 

Ah, well. Timing was everything.

 

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

 

Pity about Athrun though.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Someone had added the piece.

 

Odd.

 

Definitely odd.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

-

-

 

“Status,” Kisaka asked.

 

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

 

“Is it safe to transport them?”

 

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

 

Two for dinner, indeed.

 

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

 

“Sir.”

 

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

 

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

 

“Understood.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“So, I see. Two for dinner?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“The explosion...”

 

“Depth charge.”

 

“That's not possible.”

 

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

 

“Depth charge, huh.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“She'll tell him—”

 

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

 

“You never change.”

 

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

-

-

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Athrun's silence was irritating.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Hey you,” Azamaria whispered.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Had it really been that long ago?

 

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

 

“Please,” Kaien's voice pleaded.

 

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

 

He rubbed at his chest, “Ouch.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

How had he gotten that name?

-

-

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Hmm…”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Did you?”

 

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

 

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

 

“You offered them a chance to surrender.”

 

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

 

“Talia…”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Nothing happened.” And shut the door. 

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

-

-

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“What good are pilots without suits?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“So, this plan of yours…”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

She tossed a grape at him. “Ledonir.”

 

“Hmm…”

 

“I would've given him one.”

 

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