Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Survival ❯ When the Thorn Looks Attractive... ( Chapter 4 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

When the Thorn Looks Attractive…

This is the first chapter with additional material in it outright, such as this first scene. It's hardly vital to the story, but it does give a bit more background, just as the earlier changes added more depth to the early characterization.

October 31st 196 - L4

Atia sighed as she dropped into her couch, closing her eyes and trying to make the tension in her head ease away. She had had to fight tooth and nail for the rights of her colony that day, with the Regime trying to suck the lifeblood of the Winner Corporation dry. She understood needing to stretch their resources, she understood giving away everything that could be spared…

But that didn't mean that Peacecraft had the right to employ mass extortion just because her little brother had fought in a gundam.

It wasn't as though any of her sisters had even seen Quatre since he was a baby; their father had been severely paranoid that one of them would tell the boy he had been borne truly by their mother, even when he had become depressed to the point of being suicidal for thinking he was artificially born and therefore replaceable. She shook her head a little. Silly boy. The practice of mass-producing clones had been done away with for over sixty years; every child, no matter their means of birth, was an original meeting of egg and sperm, not a copy. Only the worst of areas still produced twin after twin for backbreaking manual work in mines and construction, and despite the rumors the Winner family had been dedicated to eradicating such facilities for decades. They had had less luck ending the practice of producing individuals to be born into virtual slavery, as that Maguanac group was, but there were fewer cases year by year in any case.

And fair or not, Milliardo Peacecraft still believed he had ever right in stringing up the rest of the Winner family and therefore the majority of L4 as it pleased him. It made her want to cheer little Quatre on, if she were honest with herself… She had loved her father dearly, and while she had not approved when she first learned that Quatre was fighting, it was obvious now that her brother had had the right idea. The actions of White Fang had more than proven how utterly insane humanity could be, and sometimes such sickness had to be burned out. That and that awful “Zero System” ought to never have been created… it was alarming that it had coerced not just her little brother but the older and more experienced Milliardo Peacecraft into the believing that massacring entire populations was a viable solution to end the fighting.

Sighing again, she picked up the remote and turned on the news. She had managed to negotiate some ground for her to remain standing on, but she was also sure that in a week or so another of her sisters would have disappeared into the woodwork of the various colony clusters with their husbands and families. Them cutting all contact hurt, but she understood… they all did. It had nothing to do with pride or escaping fame anymore; it was a way to avoid persecution. You cut off the fingers one by one, then the hand and arm as the infection spreads, all to save your own spark of light; better to be mutilated and still stand a chance than dead or enslaved. Atia herself was the twenty-fifth child, and had been far too busy with her education and apprenticeships during the war to have found the time to fall in love and consider settling… and so she had volunteered to stay and keep everything together to the end along with Sarali, who had just finished university and turned twenty-one.

Frowning at the clock, she realized the her little sister should be either awake or home by now… and heard the noise she hadn't really put a name being turned off. Oh. Sara had been showering. A moment later she came out into the little suite the two of them had decided to share wearing her robe with a towel wrapped around her head.

“Hey At,” she greeted cheerfully, reaching into her bag for this or that ointment for her hair, most likely. “Good day?” When Atia only offered a grumble and half-hearted glare, Sarali laughed almost musically. “Well in that case, I'm going to set up the oils and let's make it a night to relax.” She ducked down the hall into the room they treated like a dual vanity. Sarali had always been rather into aromatherapy… and living with her now, Atia found herself appreciating the little touches.

After all, it too late now for them, at least, to run for the hills… or to the resource satellites, as it were. I have to have a masochistic streak. She refused to think that maybe she had jumped in too fast and bitten off more than she could chew. That would have to mean she had been foolish, and if that was the case then it certainly didn't bode well for the future.

And now this girl… She couldn't help but smile at the posted picture of Hilde Schbeiker when she was recruited next to a still from a video camera in the latest raid on a Regime-held base… each with the same bright, shit-eating grin. Now she had jumped in without looking…

But from the looks of that grin, she was thriving just as much as Quatre had.

Be safe, little brother… They couldn't help him now, but he had to know that they cared.

***

December 2nd 196 - Friday - Amsterdam

It was funny, really, how time could fly. It had only been two months since Chaos had shown up, but Luc couldn't help but feel a kind of companionship for him. He was really a good guy…

Luc shook his head a little, a little disbelieving despite what he had been seeing. A good guy who fought like the devil himself. Their rough times leading up to him showing up probably made it even easier to like him, if he was honest. In just two months, he'd managed to make almost a legend of himself. Hell, he'd gotten to be their fucking mascot; the Slingers feared that grim figure in black. The Slingers were all soldiers, but the longer he knew Chaos the more he realized that whoever the kid used to be, the Slingers weren't even close to being made out of the same stuff.

That popularity was as much trouble as it was good, though; last month, when he'd taken to putting streaks of red dye randomly throughout his hair, a couple of the kids had mimicked him. Nolan had known better - he either hadn't cared in the first place or Melissa had talked him out of it - but Ruben, Christiaan, and Laura of all people had gone and done it. A few sharp words from Luc had brought that nonsense to an end, at least; Chaos had gotten himself a reputation and there were more than a few idiots who thought they could prove themselves by beating him and would attack, given the chance. He didn't worry about Chaos, the guy had more than proven that he could handle it, but he wasn't about to have some cocky fool in his crew mistaken for the ex-soldier by a Slinger looking for a fight with the `Devil Incarnate.'

Chaos actually seemed to shy away from the extra attention, for the most part. He was prideful, confident, but he never spoke of his prowess. Sure, he humored the people who'd started to look up to him, and he had a playful way of talking, a way of making you like him, but… it was impossible to miss that deadly grace about him, and the dark pain in his eyes. He never spoke more of his past to anyone, but it was obvious that it still haunted him.

Maybe that was why he frequented the church so often. That was another thing he never spoke of, but it seemed that if he couldn't be found, it always turned out that he had been at the old chapel. He seemed to be more attached to the place than Sin had ever been… And that was alright; he didn't mind a churchman, really, there were worse sorts to get mixed up with. His girl seemed to hate the newcomer, for all that she, too, was spending a great deal of time at that church. But, truthfully, it was no wonder why; she was used to everyone melting under her, paying respect or awe, or at least having a liking to her, and Chaos, quite simply, didn't give her any attention he could help, short of being exceedingly rude.

He made sure nobody could really tell, but he was kinda proud of the kid for standing up to her. That and it was about damn time she learned not everyone would just roll over for her; there were certainly worse people to learn it from.

He'd long gotten used to Sin's flirtation with the guys, knowing nothing came of it; it was one of her ways of making sure he stayed possessive of her, that the idea of taking her for granted never entered his mind… but he had liked the rather resolute way Chaos had put an end to it. She was irritable as of late, and largely he had been leaving her to her own devices; she probably needed to find herself or something after the newcomer had made her realize her sweet charm was resistible. She was younger than she claimed to be, he was positive. He loved her though… and everyone grew up early these days anyhow. He didn't bother trying to keep her from the chapel anymore; it was safe ground, a place where any gang member could stand a foot away from each other and nothing would happen until they were a ways away from building. The number of those with faith was surprising, and those with respect completely encompassing. There would never be any violence done under that steepled roof, no matter how great a hate. And then on top of that, Chaos was generally either there or in the area. He would keep her safe.

In other circumstances, Luc might have found his trust in him perturbing. But no one could deny his sincerity. It was like his confidence, it just… radiated off him. There was just something about Chaos that put you to ease, made you feel safe. You couldn't help but just… like him. He was cool, he had a quick wit, a good sense of humor, he kicked ass like no one else, he treated everyone like he was their best friend, their only confide, the one person they could trust. Everyone in their right mind both respected and adored him. He offered companionship like a hand to help you up, and asked nothing in return.

If he had had any kind of actual ambition, Luc would worry about him taking control.

***

Three and a half months. She was three and a half months in, and still broke. Soon, it could become obvious. She had to do something.

Trying not to think about it more, she snuggled closer to Cal instead. He grunted slightly and continued to watch TV, momentarily tightening the arm he had around her in a sort of embrace.

…Luc would have asked if she was cold, and tucked the blanket they shared around her better however she answered. Then again, they would never be in this situation, seeing as Luc didn't have a TV.

Luc didn't have a lot of things… and sometimes he seemed to be more scared that she would break than he was affectionate. He treated her like a little girl sometimes… Cal, at least, respected her right and independence as a woman. They fought, and he could be an insensitive prick, but he respected her for who she was.

Is it Luc or Cal?

Truthfully, there would be no way of telling even if she carried the kid to term and had it. All three of them were blonde and blue eyed. Facially, even, both Cal and Luc were largely alike. They weren't in build, but who was to say that a child would grow to look like his father? Or was it her father?

Why am I thinking about actuallyhaving it?

Feeling a sudden disgust rise in her, she threw off the blanket and stood. “I'm going for a while,” she muttered as she stalked out. She thought he said something in response, but she didn't hear it.

She didn't really want to go back to the Devils just yet. She soon found herself, back in the church, it had been her sanctuary for years now, and her feet took her there seemingly of their own will, sometimes. Father Espen always found some way to comfort her, even if it was just with his presence. He was gone in the back rooms now, though. Normally she would wait for him, but… she really just wanted to talk to him, today. Biting her lip, she turned the handle on the door leading into the back chambers.

She felt more than a little out of place as she walked down the hall. For all that she came to the church often, she had never been back here. Scraps of ratty decorations hung over doorways and spotted the walls here and there. She could hear Christmas music playing faintly somewhere, and… children? Giggles of children, and older laughter. Curiosity and a bit of surprise pushing her on - what were children doing here? - she followed the sound to its source, and opened the door.

She was buffeted by music, much louder now, first. Then she stood unnoticed and gaping at the scene before her.

It was some kind of little party.

There had to be at least twelve kids, ranging in age between two and thirteen, though most were on the younger end. One tiny little girl sat happily bouncing on the lap of the church's sole, gaunt nun. A boy of fair height, probably the oldest of them, stood hunched over, grinning, trying to dance with a girl of about five who seemed to want to twirl near constantly. But it was the other boy standing in the midst of the short crowd, wearing a ragged old Santa's hat, laughing deeply and effortlessly tossing a little boy up in the air and catching him, that caught her attention.

She had never seen him like this, his cobalt eyes twinkling with genuine happiness as he spun suddenly, carefully mindful of the babbling children clustered around his feet, the boy in his arms squealing with glee. He set the child down only to have him stumble and fall on his behind, dizzy, and suddenly every child was talking, pleading, tugging on the pants and sleeves of Chaos' clothes, wanting the same treatment. He just laughed again, deep and rich, before snatching up three and trying to spin again, stumbling and barely managing to remain upright. His wheezing panting as he set them back down was somehow still laughter.

The oldish boy laughed at the sight, picking up the girl he'd been spinning around, ignoring her half-protesting kicks and giggles. “Brother!” he called, hefting her. Chaos turned to him and grinned back. “Catch!”

The little girl squirmed and squealed at the notion, but no sooner had the boy swung her up, never intending to throw her, than Chaos lunged over and snatched her up. She giggled delightedly as he mock-somberly told her that she had almost crashed to the floor and that she ought to learn to keep better company than her brother Amos. A moment later he was tickling her and counting to three over her screams, about to `toss' her back to the boy.

It was then, however, that he caught sight of Sin standing in the doorway, and froze.

It was only for moment, though. The next, a grin was plastered back on his face and he restarted his count, finished what he was doing. Then he stepped back and looked to the doorway, but really needn't have.

She had already fled.

***

“They really won't like it if they find you alone out here.”

“I can go where I please,” she growled back at him. The hat was gone, along with his gentle mannerisms. It was the Chaos she knew, but… it almost hurt to see, now. “Besides,” she added. “I'm not alone now, am I?”

After a moment, he came over and sat next to her, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. This was the park where he had first appeared, she realized. They just sat there for a while, neither talking, then… “Why did you run?”

She flushed. “I never even knew the church had children who frequented it.”

“They live there,” he corrected quietly. Then, even softer, “War orphans.”

“From the Gundam war?”

“Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely.

There was something inordinately dark about his mood, and after seeing him in the church… she hated it. Grabbing at the first topic that came to mind, which she later realized wasn't all that smart of an idea, she said, “I've never seen you so happy as you were in there.”

He shrugged, his long ponytail falling over one shoulder. “Churches bring back a lot of memories. I was a war orphan myself.”

She blinked. “And you lived with a church?”

He nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “For some three years, till I was ten or so, I think. Maybe eleven, looking back now.” At her look, he shrugged a bit and said, “Before that I was just on the street, under the wing of an older kid who tried to keep his crew in good order. I don't remember any life before that… no parents or anything.” He sighed. “Some of those kids in there are like that, they won't remember anything about their folks, but most of them knew what families were like.”

“My parents died when I was six,” she announced softly.

“I'm sorry,” he replied easily.

A pause. Then… “I'm pregnant.”

“…Congratulations.” His face was impossible to read.

“It's not the first time it's happened.”

“…Ah.” There was too strong of a note of comprehension in that. “Why haven't you told Luc?”

She bit her lip. “I don't know,” she lied after a moment.

“Ah… You think it might be Cal's?”

The world spun. “You know?” she hissed.

His smirk was humorless. “A suspicion, Sin. My thanks for the confirmation.”

“You're going to tell Luc?”

A pause, then, “No.” She breathed again, and he continued, saying, “It's none of my business.”

“…Thank-you.”

He just shrugged. “I don't know what you think you're doing, but I wish you luck anyhow.”

“I don't know what I'm doing,” she whispered.

She absolutely hated that understanding, “Ah.”

They just sat there for a while, neither talking, each lost in their own thoughts, before finally Chaos stood. “Come on,” he said, reaching down a hand to help her up. “We'd better go home before one of Cal's guys tries to break my face in.”

It was only later that night that she really realized that he had initiated the physical contact there… that there he had began to treat her like anyone else in the gang instead of someone to be wary of. He knew what she was… and it was okay, somehow.

She slept well, for once.

***

December 2nd 196 - Friday - Unknown

He eyed his gun for a moment, seriously contemplating the idea.

All it would take was one shot.

But that would wake Quatre up, and alert everyone nearby as to their location, and the blonde Arabian would have to make a run for it. He really didn't want to put his old comrade in hot water.

Still, the cold, black barrel looked eerily appealing. With it, he could end everything, the pain, the degradation, the pressure on Quatre… Without Heero, he could actually find a way to really hide and lay low for a couple years. Without Heero, he could start over.

If he could get away once the gun went off and the police came to investigate the noise. If he could handle the incident, and its aftermath, at all. Quatre wasn't exactly renowned for his stability.

So no, he couldn't; Quatre had to go on, if nothing else. Just the same, the thought wouldn't leave him as he tried to sleep.

One bullet, one small piercing, and that would be it. He could make it so all he would feel before the end was a simple prick.

He threw the gun across the room to join Quatre's blanket, which he had tossed off almost an hour before. It looked a little too attractive, just then.

***

December 18th 196 - Amsterdam

Her jeans were too snug.

She wasn't any closer to deciding what to do… Except, of course, she now knew what she couldn't do.

She had begun spending more time with Chaos and realized that most of his free time was spent at the church, with the orphans. There, he was always the carefree jokester, a klutz, though she suspected the children could tell that his clumsiness was an act to make them laugh. She had never thought twice about it before, but after all those days spent with those children…

She couldn't kill it.

She didn't know what she was going to do, but even the debate of which gang leader was the father had stopped bothering her. It didn't matter which was the father; it was hers.

She wasn't sure what exactly had sparked the sudden possessiveness, but she suspected it had something to do with the way Chaos seemed so utterly content in the church. It made her crave something, even while she knew she had no way of making this all end well, something… she'd forgotten how to have. Maybe. If she could get that, somehow… anything could be worth it.

***

December 22nd 196 - Brussels

“Merry Christmas, brother.”

Milliardo Peacecraft turned and smiled warmly at the younger girl. “Relena,” he greeted, moving over to pull her into an embrace. “I hadn't known you were coming.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she returned, smiling brightly. She wore a black turtleneck and a traditional plaid skirt, along with black tights and stylish, heeled boots. Her golden earrings were long and dangly, strings of tiny bells.

“I'll have rooms prepared for you at once,” he reassured her easily. It really had been a long time since he had seen his little sister. She seemed almost… radiant. Much better when they had last met. Her time in retreat had been good for her.

“Thank-you.” She tilted her head to the side and smiled a little abashedly. “Do you think perhaps they could be ones that I could keep for a while? I've missed living in one place, and… I think perhaps it is time for me to begin learning about the world as it is now.”

“Of course,” he answered easily, masking his surprise in another smile. She was staying to learn? Excellent. She really was budding to be a lovely woman, a lovely princess, future queen. In a few years, she might really be in full blossom and ready to take up her stead. The world needed someone like her.

Not every rose had to have a thorn.

***

December 23rd196 - Amsterdam

“Chaos?”

They were walking home from the church now, and it was dark. Snow was falling, and not for the first time, but it wouldn't last long; snow never lasted long in port cities.

“Yeah?” He had become much friendlier with her over the past three weeks. They seemed to becoming actual friends… He showed the same sort of friendship with the rest of the Devils, but none of them knew who he really was. What he showed them was a mask… well, not quite, it wasn't false… but it wasn't everything, either. Who he really was only came to the surface when the orphans were around. And sometimes, just every now and again… when only she was.

“…I'm keeping it.”

He nodded, not breaking stride, though he slowed down a little so that they would have longer to talk before reaching their destination.

She licked her lips. “I don't know what to do, though…”

“Tell them both,” he muttered quietly, waving merrily at a passing gang member heading out for the night.

“What?” She was wide-eyed at the idea.

“Tell them both,” he repeated. “Let both think it's theirs. Play for some time, and work the rest out later.”

She nodded a little bit. It seemed to make sense, when she stopped to think about it…

“Luc first,” he continued. “Tomorrow, at night. It's Christmas Eve, tell him you were waiting until then to say.”

“And Cal?” she asked in a whisper.

“New Year's. The church has a vigil that night; tell Luc you want to stay for it, I'll vouch for your safety.” He glanced at her sideways. “If anything goes wrong, that's where I'll be. What's your story for why you live with Devils?”

“I live with my brother there. It's easier for me to stay there, and I don't want anything to happen to him. Cal understands.”

“Good. Does your brother know you're sleeping with a Slinger?”

“I don't have a brother.”

“That's not the point. Does he know?”

She eyed him with a sudden new respect. “Yes, and tries to keep everything hush hush about it.”

“You've told Cal that before?”

“Yes.”

“Make sure he lets you leave after midday, or else your brother will send someone to come look for you.”

Sin swallowed. “You can't,” she whispered hoarsely.

“I can,” he countered, his eyes flashing a brief violence. “Just make sure he understands that.” They entered the sector where the Devils all lived, and he swiped his fingers down the edge of his dark baseball cap to her in a sign of farewell. “Merry Christmas, Sin.”

The important message was in his eyes, though. `Watch your back.'