Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Survival ❯ Company ( Chapter 26 )

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

Company

Hm, well… First off, I suppose thanks to YinYangWhiteTiger for over a page of reviews… *wide eyed* I'm still a little thrown by that one, but wow, Survival has over 100 reviews now…

So, most of my work lately has been character development, but hopefully this chapter's a bit more plotworthy… this one is probably going to cover more time than the last ones, seeing as they've only been covering something like five days max. Either way, enjoy… and also, seriously, thank-you to everyone else who reviewed too. You are awesome and guys make my day.

August 16th 197 - Wednesday - Amsterdam

“Kay!”

Chaos laughed as he caught his girlfriend, who was outright squeaking with happiness. “You didn't miss me that much?” he asked incredulously.

“Nope!” she returned, eyes dancing mischievously.

He made as if to pout at her, even as he hoisted her slightly - eliciting another squeak - so that instead of her resting her weight on him, he was holding her off the ground, his forearms forming up a seat for her. “Not even a little?”

She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Maybe a little,” she offered, nuzzling at his neck slightly, sending thrills down his back. She noticed this, sniggering slightly as she pulled back to look him in the face. “Otherwise, though…” Her eyes glinted, and she tilted her head in that way of hers. “My Daddy says he can come visit.”

“Ah.” Melissa hardly looked to her father for care anymore, not after she had had to go to extreme measures to keep both her and her little brother fed, but she was also proud of him and delighted by his presence as only a daddy's girl could be. Nolan was younger, but not nearly so attached… Luc had said something about how it was because Melissa had always looked after him like the mother he could hardly remember. From the home life Melissa would talk about growing up in, it seemed like she had taken care of her father to some degree as well… but when it came down to it, she just adored her father, and could happily talk about him for hours.

That was probably one of the reasons he didn't feel all that daunted by the idea of meeting his girlfriend's father. The other probably had something to do with facing down entire armies by himself, but he had been told that that logic wasn't supposed to count for this sort of meeting.

“He hasn't bought a ticket yet,” she went on to explain. “But he called to ask when would be good, because his boss said he could take some vacation time to come see Nolan and me, and I figured maybe in a week or two would be good, but I'd run it by you and Luc.”

He considered. They had officially opened shop almost a week ago, and the upstairs loft was almost finished for being organized… not exactly stocked, but that wasn't as relevant. “He's going to take the bus, right?” At her nod, he decided, “My only bit would be to say have him arrive right about when I'm getting off night shift and can square in some sleep while he's getting his wind back from the travel, that way we meet each other on decent footing.”

Her smile was sweet… yet somehow still mischievous. “I was already planning on it. Nolan has a between term break coming up in a week, so I thought that would be best.”

Duo shrugged, letting her fall back to her feet. “Whatever Luc says, then.”

“Spoken like a true henchman,” she returned cheerily, practically skipping over to the door that separated the garage from the `house.' He had just crossed the boundary of the driveway when she pounced him.

Rolling his eyes, Duo followed her as she flicked through papers sitting on the desk; they had, as they had hoped, gotten more business with the opening of a true shop. Coming up behind her to look as well, he had the sudden urge to pull her close… and felt another thrill that not only was he allowed, but that she'd appreciate it.

After almost a month of going out, he was beginning to think that the ability to be stupidly happy over something so easy would never fade… and that was an entirely awesome idea.

She made a happy sort of noise and smiled up at him, leaning back slightly as he held her, before returning her attention to the papers. Reading over her shoulder, he asked, “Is there anything I need to get done before I get some sleep?” He had just gotten off his shift with Tate; they had decided that unless it was extra money for a rush or something, the work that needed his more expert attention could wait until he'd slept half the day away.

“Nothing I can't handle,” she informed him easily, tilting her head backwards to look him in the face. “Nothing on rush either way; if there was someone else to watch for a customer, I wouldn't mind taking a nap too, really.”

“I could go steal Sin,” he suggested… maybe a little too quickly from the way `Liss was grinning at him. That was something he'd decided he really liked… not sleeping alone. All they did was sleep, maybe some low key making out, but… there was something comforting about not being alone. He had been alone for so much of his life that he supposed it would be normal for him not to like company, especially with his paranoia, but he had learned during the war that even someone as nerve-racking as Heero crashing next to him was nice. It's probably left over from my crew days… Heating was expensive in space, so while the `outdoor' temperature on the L2 colony he grew up on wasn't enough to cause hypothermia for the urchins making up Solo's crew - because none of the rich liked it that cold - it was enough to end with them all sleeping in something just short of a pile.

“She probably is bored,” his girlfriend allowed. Their friend had gotten the waitress position down at the pub that Melissa had vacated, but it was only certain nights a week, and it didn't include Wednesdays. Amos wanted to get in what time he could and was an official employee under Melissa - unlike Duo, who would be getting paid under the table - and would work Saturday mornings along with a fair number of afternoons after school. Melissa patrolled for the militia during a graveyard shift several nights a week, overlapping somewhat with his nights working for Tate. They had tentatively worked it out so that they would be sleeping at the same time for at least half the week… and with some adjusting by, say, recruiting Karina, something more regular could be devised. Most of their actual working hours would be in the afternoon and evening.

Shaking her head, Melissa decided, “You've been running around enough already, though… you handle the shop and I'll go get her, huh?”

“Sounds good,” he agreed readily. Part of him wanted to protest, as she had been patrolling last night, but the other part reminded him that she had been off shift for over two hours and had had some chance to recuperate, while his body wasn't quite shaky from the lifting he had stopped doing maybe fifteen minutes ago. She tossed him a knowing sort of smirk before running out, headed back to the den.

He supposed at least his work with Tate was building up his point blank strength so that in a fight he had some true muscle to go with the speed he had always relied on; that had proven to make a hell of a difference when he fought the Slingers in their own den. Not that he had thought it wouldn't, but he had never had the time to devote to pure strength training while under G's tutelage, let alone during the war. Having grown a decent bit, he also had a better reach now, which was an advantage he definitely enjoyed.

I wonder how much the other guys have changed…?

He grimaced hard, dropping into the chair sitting at the desk. Why'd I have to go and think something like that? he demanded of his traitorous mind. Those were the kind of thoughts that led to outright depression, and that was really the last thing he needed. Some days it felt like they had just been on different missions for a while and he'd group back up with Quatre or Heero next week, maybe… and on some level, those were the ones that scared him, for two reasons. First, he liked to think he had moved on, and that perception destroyed that hope, and second… well, hope was a cruel thing. He had ruthlessly decided a long time ago that the other gundam pilots were dead, in part so that he would quit thinking about it, but mostly because it was great to find out you were wrong with something like that, but hell to believe somebody was alright when there was a good chance that they were anything but.

He'd learned how dangerous keeping that sort of hope was a long time ago. Sure, it had saved Hilde out at Libra that once, but he wasn't stupid enough to believe her survival was much more than dumb luck. To hope was to open yourself up to a world of hurt… and he preferred to only open those doors to fairly safe bets, if he could help it.

So the only hope he really allowed himself about the other pilots at all was that Heero was still alive… and that was really just because the guy got himself `killed' so often that the he knew he couldn't make himself believe the whackjob was gone unless he saw the body.

Sighing slightly, he sat down behind the desk and started stretching out his shoulders; it wouldn't be too long before the girls came back.

***

Undetermined

“This is irritating!”

Jake snorted. “It didn't occur to you that it would be hard to pull back, that short?”

“I haven't had hair this short since before I started school,” Relena returned, rolling her eyes before scowling again at her reflection; far too many bits were still escaping her ponytail.

“It's so strange to see you so fussy about your appearance,” her bodyguard noted, still grinning.

She sighed. “It's still just… new. It's been two weeks, but I'm still startled by my reflection.” Pulling the rubber band out again, she shook her hair out and reached for her brush again. “And I didn't think it would be this much hassle to make it look decent when pulled back.”

Jake inspected his nails with far too much attention; she swore it was just to get on her nerves. “At risk of sounding far too feminine, it'll work just fine if you get some of those metal clippie things.” Looking back at her, he added, “Or a headband… I would suggest a hat as well, but since this is half publicity, it would depend on how much it hid your face.”

“`Metal clippie things?'” She wanted to avoid a headband; they usually gave her a headache and hardly looked professional. There was some major appeal to the idea of a baseball cap, at least for days like this one where she was going to look at crops, but she honestly had no idea what he'd meant about the `clippies.' Bobby pins might work, but she had no idea how to slip them into her hair without making a mess of it.

He frowned, looking up. “Lucrezia used to wear them all the time, before she started cutting her hair like the guys… You, like, push on them to make them shut.”

Relena blinked. “Noin had long hair?” She couldn't even picture it…

“Eh, about the same length as yours is now,” he conceded. “Before she started having real issues with people underestimating her for being a girl; she cut it off right about when she started insisting people use her last name.” Shrugging a bit, he added, “I've honestly never understood that, seeing as Zechs practically sat on his hair and refused to even put the shit back in a ponytail, but any of the other chicks in training usually had it really long and kept in a bun or something. I think her issue was more being associated with them than it was the guys thinking she couldn't keep up, really.”

“I suppose that makes sense… How old was she?”

“Mm… it was before I left, so eleven or twelve… closer to twelve, I think, because she was a couple levels up from the newbies by then, so she had to have been there for over a year.”

“So she joined at ten.” Still young, but that's supposed to be the record for the youngest OZ took, not nine…

“Yeah, then her dashing prince showed up maybe six months later,” Jake noted wryly. “I'm still not sure why she was so taken with him, though pretty much all the girls were. That overly confident way he has of holding himself, he had that even on his first day. He was…is… flashy.” He shook his head a little. “But yeah, the clippies… Do you know which ones I mean? They're kinda triangle-shaped.” At her confused, vaguely amused look, he frowned more, gesturing pointlessly with his hands. “They're metal, and the middle part moves down, it works like a spring to hold tension when you push it back with hair in between…”

She was relatively sure she knew exactly what he was talking about, probably something common that she just hadn't paid much mind to seeing as her hair had been under control, but his description caused her to be even more clueless. “You're overcomplicating this,” she told him dryly.

He made a frustrated sort of noise, walking to the connecting door to the next-door room, where the rest of security was. “I need to go out to get something,” he told them briskly. “She's staying, so who's getting off their ass to keep polite conversation?”

“So elegant,” Relena noted, resisting the urge to shake her head.

“Elegance was in the job description?” he asked in mock surprise. “Oh shit!”

“Tch.” Coming back out of the bathroom to stand next to Jake, she decided, “I'm going to call room service for some breakfast, if anyone else wants to add to the order.”

“Bribery with food is a textbook move!” the blonde man cried in mock indignation.

“So long as it works, I see no point in unnecessary creativity,” Relena returned primly before grinning at the contingent of men next door. This wasn't all of them, but it was all those currently on duty. There were two other hotel rooms nearby where others were sleeping, like Mitchell. “So, is anyone else hungry?”

“I've already eaten, but I don't mind keeping company,” one returned easily, standing. It was… Lincoln Sobrie, if she remembered right.

“Cool, I'll be right back,” Jake muttered, moving for the door.

Another soldier, Cassidy, shrugged a little as his superior left. “If you tell us what you want, it'd be better to order it through here and we'll add whatever.”

She nodded, looking back to the door Jake had left through in dismay. “Whatever their breakfast special is… if they don't have one, ask what they recommend and go with that.” It was a running experiment for every place she went, now; it was a surprisingly good indicator of what `normal' was in a given area.

…Jake just left to find me hair clips…? Shaking her head and moving to sit at the foot of one of the beds in the room her lower ranking bodyguards were in, she started up a conversation with Lincoln, and inevitably the rest of the men as well.

She had never claimed to understand men, but she was becoming more and more certain that Jake Miller was decidedly odd.

***

August 17th197 - Thursday - Prague

“So were you really serious about running into a gundam pilot?”

Xu groaned at Hilde's voice. “When did you get here?” he asked morosely. And it was turning out to be such a good day, too…

“You're cheerful,” she noted dryly.

“And you are cheerful,” he returned, thoroughly annoyed that she had decided to seek him out for no particular reason again. Technically speaking, they were partners, seeing as their skill level was so close, but Hilde took pride in widening the gap, and he generally found himself frustrated at his apparent inability to close it again.

The woman's learning curve was insane.

She rolled her eyes. “Cheerfulness usually gets you something easier than being an ass,” she returned sharply. “If you learned that, maybe you'd blend in enough to not get shot.”

“Thank-you,” he grit out, narrowing his eyes. “Your advice is so helpful.”

Hilde made a sort of half amused, half irritated noise. “Are you going to answer my question or not?”

He sighed; perhaps if she got her answer, she'd leave him in peace to continue working tension out of the bicep he'd gotten a bullet through on his last mission… though it had been four months since he'd received the injury. “Other than his word and what he was capable of, I have no proof,” he noted. “But considering just how fast he was, and his aim while moving that fast, and the fact that he'd been tracking me since Jerusalem, I'm not inclined to doubt him.”

“What did he look like?”

Xu sighed again; he had reported to Po… why couldn't she just get her information from Po? “Short, blonde, blue eyes. He talked in a monotone… but something about him really set me on edge.”

She frowned. “Well, that last bit sounds like Heero, I guess. If it really was him, we'll hear from him eventually.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and say something along the lines of `no shit.' Instead, he shook his head and noted, “He thought I was Wufei, apparently… was really annoyed once he saw my face.”

“Well, if I spent three months tracking you off hints of rumors and it turned out you weren't the person I was even looking for, I'd be pretty pissed too.”

“Why do you go out of your way to state the obvious?” he asked irritably. Why can't she just go away already?

“It's called thinking out loud, you know,” she returned nonchalantly, staring off into space. “I seriously can't see Heero blonde.”

Xu blinked; he had known that his sometimes partner was friends with the gundam pilot Duo Maxwell, but he hadn't realized she might know the others. That wouldexplain her trying to ask for my impression directly. “You knew Heero Yuy too?”

She made a face. “Vaguely; he was quiet in a sort of intense, almost creepy way. I only met him briefly a couple of times.”

Remembering those cold eyes, Xu forced himself not to shrug uncomfortably. Something about that look had made his skin crawl. “That was about my impression,” he admitted. “And when I mentioned Po, he looked surprised and asked what Dr. Po had to do with anything.”

Hilde smiled fondly. “If he really is Heero, we should take that as a compliment,” she explained. “Duo always used to say that if he put his mind to it, Heero could do anything, and getting information was one of his specialties. That's probably how he was able to track you at all.”

“How many specialties does the guy have?” It seemed like every time a subject about the guy came up, it was listed as his specialty.

Hilde gave him a disbelieving look. “He can set his own broken femur and walk it off. If he decides he wants something, there's no stopping him. He's a little messed up in the head, but he had to have been the most talented of the gundam pilots, though you could say Duo was, since they were both pretty extreme in totally different areas. Quatre was almost entirely tactics, apparently, and you knew Wufei… and Trowa, I'm not too clear on, he had amnesia by the time I knew anything about him, but he knows MS inside out and pilots just as well as Duo and Heero, but he's a pretty major acrobat too. He was actually part of a circus, back in the war, though all I ever saw him do on stage was stand still and get knives thrown at him.”

“I really didn't need a summary.”

She rolled her eyes, standing. “You're a real asshole, you know? Go ahead and brood, then, see if I care.”

…It really didn't help his mood that she might have a point there.

***

Unknown

“No, your fingers go here, and you want to rest the weight back a little. Good. No, never rest on the trigger unless you're ready to fire.”

The girl made an exasperated sort of sound. “The safety is on, it's fine.”

“Breeding bad habits gets you shot in the foot,” he retorted, feeling as if he was quoting something… but then, this entire lesson so far had been one big case of déjà vu. He wasn't entirely sure why, seeing as he only had vague memories of first learning to fire a gun, but he was admittedly grasping at all he could recall to try to pass it on with minimal fuss.

Marlé frowned. “I wouldn't have thought it would fit in my hands so easy,” she admitted. “I thought guns were big.” She started to bring it up to look at it, then caught herself and twisted her arms slightly instead, keeping the barrel pointed away and toward the ground. “Except maybe purse guns, and this is an action movie gun.”

He felt his lips twitch into a smile, and decided not praise her for remembering to keep the gun pointed safely; her faint blush told him that she was busy hoping he hadn't noticed her near mistake, and he had learned she would only be more mortified by congratulations on correcting herself. Instead he noted, “It was originally made for the police.”

She frowned at the weapon. “That doesn't explain why it's no issue for me to hold it.”

Odin shook his head a little, half crouching behind her, and tapped at her left knee to indicate she needed to adjust her stance. “Korean police.”

She blinked at that, then grinned, shifting the way she stood until he nodded. “Is this what you learned on?” she asked curiously.

He bit slightly at the inside of his cheek; he had been trying to figure out exactly that, actually. The weight felt right, the weapon looked exactly as the memory suggested, and he could almost swear he could hear his father standing behind him giving the same pieces of advice he was passing on to Marie, but he knew they hadn't had one of these in their inventory when he was given his first gun.

But he had wanted one, he'd asked for this model as his first choice before Odin distracted him with other designs… so had they gotten rid of it for some reason, or was it just a boy's fancy of perfect?

“I don't know,” he admitted after a moment. “It was a long time ago.” He was relatively sure he had started to learn when he was four… that he had received his first handgun at five, but it was hard to say; Odin hadn't believed in celebrating birthdays, at least not in the traditional way for children. He vaguely remembered being told it was his birthday over dinner more than once, but it had had about as much importance as hearing what day of the week it was… and all he could remember was that those days were warm, so it was unlikely he had been born in the winter. He didn't remember ever being told how old he was on those days… it had hardly been important.

He didn't think they had ever done jobs on his birthday… Odin had acted differently, the more he thought about it, but still not in a way normally indicative of a child's birthday. He paid more attention to him than he might otherwise have, watching him practice or helping him work through a project, but his eyes were sad, and he would stare off into space more often than not…

“Odin?”

Marlé was looking at him worriedly, he realized, so he smiled slightly for her and started explaining how to use the sights, having her aim at a line of tin cans and plastic bottles he had set up before explaining more about shooting; he had made sure she understood cleaning and loading and other general care weeks ago.

While he spoke, he tackled his latest revelation; Odin's depression had always deepened on his birthday. It hadn't affected their day-to-day routine, and he hadn't treated him any differently… but his mind had definitely been elsewhere, on something that upset him… and made him want to watch his son more closely. That look he had had… it was miserable, yet happy at the same time…

“Marlé?”

“Yeah?” She was focusing hard, narrowing her eyes.

“You're too tense,” he corrected quickly, frowning slightly. “Relax your body to take some of the impact instead or you'll jerk back harder than you want, and don't squint.” Watching her sigh slightly and do as he suggested, he asked, “Do mothers die in childbirth much anymore?”

She seemed startled by the question, and lowered the weapon so the barrel pointed straight at the ground. “Um… less than they used to, but it still happens more than people think. At least, that's what Mom said when she was doing her obstetrics rotation. Why?”

“My father always looked sad on my birthday,” he admitted. In one part of his mind, he was marveling at how he had come to speak so freely of his thoughts to Mariemaia… and wondered if that flow of thought to speech would extend to others, eventually. In another, he was correcting himself, noting that Odin had insisted on a number of occasions that they were not actually father and son. On the other hand, it was logical that, even if Odin had not been his father, he had known his mother. There was never any question of trust or hints of fear surrounding the man from his earliest memories, which suggested Odin had had him through those typical trust issue toddling years.

Unbidden, he could hear the man muttering at the table of some restaurant they were having dinner at, “Finish at least half the serving. At least you'll eat green things now; I seem to remember a mistake of identity of pureed broccoli for painta few years ago…”

He bit the inside of his cheek as he felt his lips twist in another brief smile. He had been so affronted by the idea of such childlike behavior that he had eaten everything on his plate, including the garnishes… which was likely the point behind the comment.

So, he had me from some degree of infancy. That solidified his new theory.

“I guess that would make sense,” Marlé admitted. “He never talked about her?”

“Odin never liked to talk about the past,” he explained. “He didn't talk about more than a few months into the future, either.”

She blinked. “Your dad's name is Odin too?”

Heero frowned. “His name was Odin… but I'm not really sure he was my father. My papers usually said Odin too, but that could be the same as yours saying Marlé.”

“But he looked sad on your birthday?”

“Yeah.”

She considered that. “I'll be twelve on September 9th.”

He knew that… he had used her true date of birth on her identification papers, because it would be easier for her to remember. He realized, however, that her statement was really a question. “Mine… is during the summer.”

“You don't know?”

“It was never relevant.”

“It's your birthday, though.” When he only gave her a steady look, the girl sighed and rolled her eyes. “Well, we'll just have to make one up, then.”

“Why?”

“So we can celebrate it.”

Her expression suggested he was stupid for thinking otherwise. He was, however, wary of the idea. He had only been to a single birthday party in his life, and despite the vaguely pleasant affair of dancing with Relena after she had already turned fifteen a few days previous, he had no desire to repeat the experience. “Celebrate how, exactly?”

His `sister' appeared to be getting exasperated. “I don't know, we'll get ice cream and do something you think is fun, or something!”

…That doesn't sound so bad. So long as no one saw fit to gape at him and take pictures for purely obsessive reasons. I haven't had ice cream in years. “Alright.” He gestured toward the targets, indicating she ought to continue.

Marlé wasn't done yet, however. “So, when should it be?”

Heero frowned. It was still August, and therefore still summer… and ice cream sounded good. “Hit those targets and we'll go back into town and have ice cream before searching the last couple hospitals.” They had gone through the possible candidates for Marie's mother in the nearby city earlier that day before renting a moped to come out into the countryside and concentrate on the girl's more practical education.

“August 17th, then,” she announced happily before turning back to what she was doing with her usual vigor… and Odin shrugged. If she wanted to get that excited about it, she was allowed.

***

Brussels - City

Dorothy paused at the sound of heavy bass, considering the building it was coming from. A midnight wander had seemed as good an idea as any, and it had somehow led her to a district she had never bothered to frequent before… which apparently had a club.

Well, I was looking for something… Curious, she went to peek in the door.

***

Brussels - Compound

“General Lee?”

The head of the Department of Defense growled slightly, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Schbeiker,” he drawled. “Is the bane of this organization.”

Indeed, he was beginning to believe that her apparent innocence during the last war, at least until she had left OZ, had been a carefully crafted subterfuge to conceal her ingenuity. Perhaps she had merely joined for information, and her direct clash and detainment of the gundam pilot Duo Maxwell, followed by his escape and her discharge, had all been part of some highly convoluted plot, however ill conceived.

The alternative, that a woman who had merely scored average by all counts upon her entrance to the Order of the Zodiac had elevated to her current skill level this quickly, made him alternately want to weep and kill whatever fool had dismissed her potential. If only his soldiers showed this capacity.

Instead, he had another stolen carrier with twelve Tauruses in it in rebel hands. That was discounting the dead soldiers that had been guarding said carrier, and the damage done to the surrounding area from the firefight she had single-handedly won. They only knew as much as they did because she had been forced to delay destroying one of the cameras in the hangar and the debacle was partially recorded for his viewing misery. A brimmed hat hid her face, but the dark clothing was an outfit was practically her mission uniform and was tight enough that she could not be mistaken for a man, and that low black ponytail that came to the middle of her back was distinct.

She hadn't left any first-hand witnesses to her crime, this time.

“A carrier from Warsaw?”

“That's what it looks like, sir. Schbeiker again.” Lee grumbled to Milliardo Peacecraft, sitting up straighter in front of the monitor. Peacecraft had given him this position, and generally he thought he did a decent job… but this was a disgrace.

A disgrace he had had the unfortunate pleasure of far too often, of late.

“Casualties?” His voice was light, but brisk… this was Zechs Marquise, the Lightning Count, not some pampered prince.

“Nine, sir,” Lee returned darkly, putting the video file back to the start so his superior could watch it himself.

“…She's quite good,” he commented after a minute.

Lee sighed. “That she is, sir.”

“Have you had any luck following her?”

“Absolutely none, sir.”

The blonde man was silent for a moment… before nodding slightly and moving away. “I want an update on the situation, whatever it is, in an hour.”

“Yes, sir!”

***

August 25th 197 - Friday - Amsterdam

“Meeting your future in-law today, huh Kay?”

Duo rolled his eyes, moving at Shov like he was going to hit him, then drew back as the man very quickly danced away. He wasn't actually offended at everyone's teasing him about Melissa and Nolan's father coming to visit, but they made such a big deal about it that some retaliation here and there was due.

He still had no real plan about what to say and do to get the man's approval - and he had decided that he certainly did want approval - but it would hardly be the first time he played something by ear.

This was not to say that he wasn't a little bit nervous, however.

On one hand, he knew it was ridiculous considering the fact that Mr. Mehile already knew a great deal about him because Melissa kept up a great deal of correspondence with her father. The man already liked him, so it really shouldn't be at all tricky to maintain that kinship. On the other hand, her father's opinion greatly influenced Melissa… and that made this more important that he really cared to admit.

The duality of it made him want to go confront the man immediately, with no care for finesse, just to get it over and done with.

“Chaos, can you lend me a hand?”

He ducked into the room quickly, grabbing a fresh diaper off the dresser to hand to Rina, who was in the midst of changing a happily kicking and rolling three-month-old. He moved on to distract Renee by tickling her chest, stroking her cheeks so she giggled, while her mother made quick work of cleaning her up.

“You headed to the shop, then?”

He nodded. “'Liss will have put up a be back by sign of some sort, but I want to already be there by the time they come back from picking up Nolan from school.” William Mehile had come in earlier that day, around the same time Chaos had been going to sleep, and proceeded to take a nap in his daughter's bed while she went to watch the shop. It was the Friday before Nolan's break from school, so she had come back to the den in time to wake him up to go get her brother, since it had been a while since they had seen their father.

Shov had, unfortunately, made the mistake of thinking he had set an alarm instead of taking his casual `Make sure I'm awake by two' very seriously, and he was now running behind.

“I'll see you all at dinner, then,” Rina muttered by way of good-bye, her attention focused solely on the baby she was making silly faces at.

“Later,” he agreed, heading back out at a fast walk. He broke into a run once he was outside.

***

Undetermined

Relena smiled at the children she had just given sweets to, and they smiled back; their mothers were very obviously happy as well, acting proud and muttering at their children in a sort of happily lecturing tone while alternately thanking her. She had no real idea on what was actually being said due to the language barrier, but the sentiments were getting across just the same.

She stood up from her crouch to find Jake already next to her, muttering in her ear. “I'm having the boys give out and it's obvious what they're up to; we'll stay for a couple more minutes before moving back inside.”

She nodded, smiling more broadly as she caught sight of the cues lining up by the administrative tables set up nearby as well as Jake's `boys' starting conversations at the edges of the crowd and discreetly passing small amounts of cash to families or particularly ragged-looking individuals. Those standing in line were making requests for immediate relief as well as noting what needs were more consistently lacking. Chances were they already knew the worst problem areas, but they varied slightly from place to place and it helped people feel like they were participating in the effort even if it wasn't helpful at all.

Hope and self-efficacy were crucial to success, here. These people had more or less been abandoned for the past few years, ever since maybe halfway through the war; they wouldn't take kindly to a `rescue' effort even if they desperately needed it because, simply, they had had to handle themselves and make do for so long that any effort with that attitude would only earn disdain.

She stole a glance at Jake and felt a warm sort of glow spread through her chest. The man seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself, doing little sleight of hand tricks to pull a coin from behind a boy's ear then letting him keep it, reaching out to tousle the kid's hair briefly. He was repeating variations of the trick and others, rolling a coin across his knuckles before flicking it to a little girl…

Jake really seemed to like children. The orphans were always the first groups he focused on when they were going through a crowd like this, then those that were with their mothers second. She could understand, so she generally let him lead their overall direction, seeing as he made sure to never be so far as a yard away from her. The other bodyguards were never far, often another was just as close, but when he was on duty, Jake never strayed far at all.

He stood upright, talking to a teenager with broken English, and whatever the boy said made him laugh. They had spent so much time outside that his hair had lost most if not all of its brown and was a true blonde, and his skin was tanning a bright sort of bronze that gave him an almost exotic look. His facial structure seemed more pronounced, somehow…

Despite the blonde hair, blue eyes, and bland name, her friend was definitely not Caucasian. Well, not fully, anyway. It seemed like a rude question to suddenly ask, however, even if it was just out of curiosity, so she kept her silence on it.

“That's probably good,” she heard Cassidy mutter to her. “You ready?”

She turned to look at Jake again to see him nodding slightly and moving away from the roped off crowds, coming to stand right next to her again. She wanted to shake her head a little at that; he always seemed to be responding to what she wanted before she had fully decided just what that was. “How does he do that?” she muttered under her breath.

Cassidy snorted softly. “It's from spending far too much time in espionage.”

“What?” Jake asked curiously.

“Just giving away the secret of your telepathy, spy-boy sir,” Cassidy explained pertly.

His superior rolled his eyes, offering Relena a smile. “It's about reading body language; it wasn't too hard, what with Cass already talking to you and looking at the crowd like they're getting ready to eat him alive.”

“Pshh, my expression was carefully neutral, thank-you.”

“Your eyes twitch to the right when you lie,” Jake returned cheerfully, stepping slightly behind Relena and waving slightly at the crowd.

Cassidy did the same, then followed the princess in perfect rank as she moved to announce her departure. There was enough noise and the men were speaking low enough that no one would be able to overhear their bickering except her.

They did make it easier to keep up the smile, if harder to stay focused.

“How do you know something didn't just catch my eye?”

“You move different when you do that.”

“It's my eye, sir, come on.”

“I've seen when something from the periphery catches your attention, and you don't do some half-assed eye twitch, you start moving before you realize what you've seen.”

“Not always, though.”

“Yeah, sometimes you just twitch a little instead of moving into a more solid stance or drawing your gun,” the blonde returned dryly. “Stop arguing, it's a good reflex.”

“You don't do it, though.”

“I focus on not doing it the majority of the time.”

“So like I was saying, you spent way too much time in espionage.”

“No, too much would be if I was way paranoid; this is perfectly useful.”

“First of all, you are paranoid, sir. Second, you're the only one who would be able to pick up on that.”

“…Amazingly enough, Lieutenant, there are other people with my level of training out there in the world.”

“Who that's on opposing sides, outside the gundam pilots?”

Jake didn't quite growl, but it was obvious he was frustrated with the conversation. “Lucrezia Noin and possibly Hilde Schbeiker or Sally Po, that we know of,” he snapped. Relena glanced at him; his expression was perfectly content, despite his tone. “The people who are really good at it, it's likely we'll never hear of them. Anyone in this crowd could be trained, so do us all a favor and don't try to be stupid. You know better than that.”

“…You're right, sir, sorry.”

Jake sighed slightly. “It's fine, just… don't forget to be careful. This is hardly the safest maneuver we've ever done.”

Paranoid, Relena thought as she started to speak into the microphone, is right. But… There were more people than she could hope to count in every direction; it would be easy to hide an assassin with this many people everywhere, and therefore anyone else who wanted to make some sort of `statement.' Whether it counts as paranoia or not, it's still reasonable.

***

Adam smiled slightly to himself, shifting the strap of his backpack a little to resettle the weight. Relena Peacecraft was making her finishing statement for this visit on a dais maybe a hundred yards away from where he stood, and he couldn't help his curiosity. She looked very different from what he remembered… but it seemed like maybe that was a good thing. There was a fair chance that she was simply her brother's puppet, but at the same time, she had always been too headstrong to go along with that sort of farce for long… and the people loved her for it.

Well, and it probably helped that she was implementing some much needed social reforms.

The princess's tour was scheduled to run until September 19th… It couldn't hurt to follow her for a couple weeks and try to work out some of the underlying details in what was really going on before she returned to the deep shelter of her brother's stronghold in Brussels. Maybe she would be as important in the inevitably coming war as she was in the last one. Even if she didn't manage anything important, however, others thought she might, and that alone was enough to warrant some extra attention.

And in his opinion, she might well be not only important, but integral, vital even, to Earth's future.

***

Amsterdam

“So, let's see this dreamboat guy of yours,” suggested a man's amused voice.

“Daddy,” I heard Melissa reprimand. “You have to behave.”

“How am I misbehaving?” he asked in a petulant sort of a tone. “The way you talk, this `Chaos' is Mr. Perfect, a few compliments won't do any harm.”

I grinned as he heard the sound of a hand slapping against leather; my girl had undoubtedly hit her father in the arm. “You'll embarrass him!” she protested.

“Huh, bashful too, even better.” He did sound incredibly pleased with himself.

My grin widened. I think I'm going to like him. This probably wasn't going to be stressful at all. “I don't know about bashful,” I called down below as I stood; I'd been tinkering up in the loft when I heard them come in. “I'm too confident to be shy,” I admitted, inviting banter.

Will took the bait happily. “Not too confident, I hope?”

I laughed. “Only as much as I'm warranted.”

His own laughter wasn't quite naughty as I came down the stairs. Melissa was grinning and looking pleased with herself in general, and, feeling impulsive, I quickly went over to peck her on the lips… then worried that maybe I had gone too far when Will's laughter abruptly stopped. That's weird… From how he had been acting, such a small sign of affection shouldn't be that forbidden.

Stepping away from `Liss, I turned to face Will directly. He was middle-aged, and looked as though he might have once been heavyset, but the last year and change had caused him to lose any excess cushion he might have once carried. Melissa had his eyes.

He was staring at me in a shocked, slack-jawed sort of way. I felt my blood run cold as realization dawned.

Oh shit.

He recognized me.

Thoughts?