Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Wayward ❯ Wayward - Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

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

Authors Notes: Is it getting' weird enough for you guys yet



Authors Notes: Is it getting' weird enough for you guys yet? HAHAHAHA!! Well, I'm not gonna waste space with a long authors note like I did in the last few chapters of Broken Wing. Thanks to Trenchcoat Man and Mitsugi-san, whose fanfic "Let's Make a Deal" was the inspiration for Wayward. Also, special thanks to Marika Webster for writing a certain scene. She knows which one. ;o) Enjoy!

Warning: Some of you will doubtless be offended by this chapter. You've been warned.

Disclaimer: GW and its characters do not belong to me.


Wayward - Chapter One


Milliardo sighed as he glanced over the peace treaty in his hands. It was fourteen pages long, and that didn't include the list of demands at the end. He glanced upwards to where the leader of this last, most stubborn colony sat across the table.
"I'll have Vice Foreign Minister Darlian look this over when she's ready." She'll never be ready for this . . .
"I'll have you know," the man stated in a nasally accent, "that I find it extremely rude that I traveled all of this way from space to meet with the Vice Foreign Minister, and when I arrive she isn't the one to greet me, nor do I even see a glimpse of her my entire visit!"
"I'm terribly sorry, but she came down with an illness that was no fault of her own, and I and the rest of her staff felt it would be better not only for her health, but yours, if she avoided this meeting." Milliardo held his breath discreetly, hoping that his well-polished answer was enough for this man.
"Well, I suppose if she is ill . . ." he managed to make the comment sound as if he might, one day, be able to forgive the Vice Foreign Minister for her trespass.
"Then I suppose this meeting is over." Milliardo stood, extending his hand to his guest, who shook it quickly and wiped his own hand with a handkerchief after the gesture was made. They proceeded to the door, where an assemblage of high-ranking colonist officials waited to hear the news from their leader. He led them away shrieking indignantly about the horrible rudeness he had encountered both within and without the conference room. Once he was gone, Milliardo heaved a large, heavy sigh and whirled on the nearest maid.
"Where IS she?!?"
"I-I don't know, Mister Milliardo! I've been knocking on her door for the past hour, but it's locked and she's not answering!" After a brief pause she added only halfway helpfully, "We've looked everywhere else."
Milliardo growled and brushed past her, stomping down the endless numbers of corridors towards the bedroom of his sister, Vice Foreign Minister Relena Darlian. Technically, she was still Princess Relena Peacecraft of the Sanch Kingdom, but for almost two years she had preferred the other title, seeing it as a tribute to the adopted father who she remembered more than her true father. Sometimes Milliardo found this a touching thought, at other times he felt it a great disrespect to their own father. But never had he been angry with his little sister. He'd never had to; she was always the perfect young woman and the perfect leader. He simply couldn't understand why she suddenly would vanish right before a meeting with the very last of the antagonistic colonies.
Before his the white door loomed, and he respected her privacy enough even at this stage of his anger to knock first.
"Relena, what the hell are you doing?!? I know you didn't forget your meeting today! Relena! Relena, answer me!" Silence. "That's it, I'm breaking the door down!" He turned to get a running start, then had a horrible notion and yelled back at the door again. "And if I find Hiiro Yui in there with you, I'll kill you both!" Probably not the best statement from a child of the Peacecraft family, but oh well. Milliardo backed away, then run forward with all of his speed and rammed into the door, knocking it down but probably dislocating his shoulder at the same time.
The first thing he noticed when he managed to push himself up from the fallen door and fix his attention on something else, was the eerie silence of his little sister's room. It wasn't simply silence, it was ghostly, uncanny. It was the type of silence that heralded something truly wrong. Milliardo felt his breath catch in his throat as he dared to look up.
Relena was on the wall. He stumbled closer, dropping to his knees before the morbid picture. There was a cross drawn on the wall, in some type of red ink, behind her. Another instant and he knew what it was . . . not ink, but blood that stained the floral wall-papered surface. As though in mockery of the crucifixion, his baby sister had been nailed to the make-shift cross. His eyes traveled over her body taking in the grisly sight in mortified silence. His lips moved, but his words could find no voice. Nails had been driven into her wrists. Not small nails . . . no these were larger, like railroad spikes. He knew without looking that her feet would be crossed, with another single nail through her ankles. In a flash he remembered something that his tutor from long ago had told him. The hands would not support the weight of a body, but the wrists, with all the bone, muscles and tendons, would.
Relena's face was bloodied; she'd been beaten. A large bruise decorated her child-like cheek. On the other side there was a palm print, larger than Relena's but smaller than Milliardo's own. Trails of blood had partially obscured her open, glazed eyes. Pooled around her feet was another, larger puddle of dried blood. Milliardo forced his eyes to travel down the length of her body, desperately seeking any sign that his precious sister might be alive. No movement came from her bare chest. Her hair had been pushed behind her shoulders, baring her bloody breasts almost proudly for the world to see. In a twisted way he was grateful for the scrap of cloth that was tied loosely at her waist. It had been torn jaggedly from Relena's own bedsheet, for no one but his little sister still used bright pink sheets with tiny unicorns on them. Milliardo swallowed hard and struggled to his feet once more.
He could not tear his eyes from her too-still form. Instead he let his gaze pass over her as though seeking evidence of who had done such a thing. There was none. Upon closer inspection, he noted the other, less obvious, markings of this crucifixion. What he saw, chilled him. Her slender waist had bloody gashes on it, the kind that would have been made by the biblical cat of nine tails. The legendary whip had nine long tails, as described by its name. Milliardo knew there would be sewn onto the leather small pieces of jagged rock or broken glass. When lashed with the beastly instrument, the pieces would bite into the flesh, ripping it away when the person wielding it pulled back for another blow.
He reached his hand out and touched her side, where streaks of yet more dried blood had decorated the flesh around the large puncture wound in her side. He swallowed back the bile that was quickly rising in his throat. Who would do this? Who? He raised his eyes again and shook his head, only now noticing the nails that had been driven into his sister's skull in lieu of the crown of thorns. So this was where the blood on her face had come from. Milliardo's body froze, but his mind was racing. He knew simple anatomy, enough to know that after death no bleeding occurred. Bleeding required a pumping heart. Whoever had done all this to his sister had done it while she was still alive. Milliardo stepped away, catching sight of the perfectly scripted message painted above her on the wall in blood, "Queen of the World". He felt then the panic rising as he stumbled back, at last finding a voice. He raised that voice in a long, lasting scream.


~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~


Hiiro frowned as his laptop beeped at him from across the table, indicating that he had new email. It wasn't from any address he was familiar with. His frown deepened when he leaned closer and saw that the email was in video format. None of the scientists ever used video email, and Hiiro didn't know too many other people, so who could this mysterious person be? Fingers flew over the keyboard, opening the email. The dark screen popped into existence. Then the screen fuzzed and revealed the visage of none other than Prince Milliardo Peacecraft.
"You must be wondering how I found you address, Hiiro Yui. I'm certain you can figure that out for yourself, so I won't waste time telling you."
Hiiro noticed the dark shadow that hung over the man's face, one that wasn't simply a scar of battle.
"Hiiro," Milliardo's image sighed and looked away, Relena's dead. She was murdered some time last night. I . . . I found her this morning."
The boy, always so stoic, froze as the realization of hat Milliardo's words meant washed over him.
"You know as well as I do that as soon as word reaches the general populace there will be an outcry and a demand for the killer. I want the murderer caught before that happens, but I can't do it on my own. I need help. Namely, your help." The Milliardo on the screen learned forward with a desperate expression on his tight face, "You and the other pilots are the only ones who can help me. Please, Hiiro. I know we haven't been allies in the past, but this is more important that old grudges." Tears shimmered on the princes cheeks, "My sister is dead. I want the killer." The video cut of abruptly, leaving Hiiro staring wide-eyed and horror-stricken.
After all of this time, after all of the moments he'd failed to kill her, after he'd finally decided to protect her and her noble if idealistic dream . . . Relena was dead. Someone had killed her and he hadn't been there to stop it as he'd promised himself he would.
Stop, he told himself quickly, this isn't about your warrior pride or your grief. It's about a world leaders who is dead. There is an assassin out there.
Abruptly, before he could even begin to change his mind, Hiiro sent Milliardo a text reply in which he agreed to travel to Sanch and seek out Relena's killer. He made no promises concerning the others; they would make that decision for themselves.
Hiiro spun his chair around to face his vidphone. He dialed the first number to come to mind.
"Yes?"
Hiiro blinked. That subdued inquiry was not the expected reaction to his call.
"Duo?"
"Hiiro." The braided one spoke his name in low tones, completely opposite his usual demeanor. In fact, he didn't sound too happy to hear from an old friend.
"We have a mission." Hiiro hoped that perhaps this would elicit a standard Duo response and set the universe back on track.
"Mission? You're still running around Earth and the colonies doing odd jobs for your adopted scientist daddy? How quaintly Hiiro-ish."
TILT! Hiiro's brain screamed at him as Duo's calm and condescending face glared at him through the screen. The former Wing pilot shook his head and decided to trudge on stubbornly, as he always did.
"Duo, you don't understand-"
"I don't have to, Hiiro. You want me to scamper about with you as you perform some monkey show for your puppeteer. I'm afraid I have more pressing business."
And he cut the connection.
Hiiro sat a moment, his entire world and everything he knew suddenly brought into question. Duo had cut him off, saying he was too busy for a mission. Duo. Duo Maxwell. The Duo who always ran to the vidphone whenever he heard it ringing, who was always only too happy to "scamper about" with the pilots on some adventure or another. Hiiro knew he should call Wufei. Wufei would know what to do. But Hiiro paused before hitting the quick call button to Wufei's office. What if the universe really was insane and Wufei answered with a grin and a giggle? He shook the unpleasant thought violently from his mind and pressed the button despite the worry growing in the pit of his steel stomach. The familiar scowling visage of Chang Wufei took over the screen.
"What is it, Yui? I'm busy."
Now THAT Hiiro was accustomed to.
"I received a message from Ze-Milliardo Peacecraft a few minutes ago. Relena was murdered."
"Impossible," Wufei spat, probably more pompously than he realized, "I would have heard about it."
"Milliardo is keeping it quiet from the citizens, which means he's keeping it from the Preventers."
"Damn."
"He wants us to help find the killer before the secret leaks."
"I assume you're going to Sanch," the Chinese boy stated with a disapproving frown.
"Yes. I want at least one other person with me."
"If I leave here with no warning and no explanation, it will be questioned and that wouldn't help Peacecraft's efforts. I must remain here."
"Agreed."
"I also assume you're calling Quatre next." For some unknown reason, Quatre was the only one of them Wufei seemed to respect enough to call by first name. "He should be the one to go with you."
"I agree. His empathic ability would be a great asset."
"And Barton can go after any suspects." Wufei eyed Hiiro carefully. "Do you have any suspects yet?" Hiiro turned to his laptop and brought up a few files that, while being important before, only had one use now.
"There was a delegation from L9 that arrived this morning before Relena's body," his throat constricted as he said those words, and he had to clear his throat before continuing, "before Relena's body was found. I'm thinking they sent someone early."
"It's possible." Wufei nodded. "Send Barton to L9 to see if he can find any evidence of treason or malice towards the United Earthsphere. Tell him I'll be sending him official Preventer traveling papers. He's on Preventer business as far as they know."
"Alright."
"And Yui."
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry."
Wufei's face dissolved then into the blank black plane of an off screen. Hiiro felt the lump in his throat return and wondered again if the universe weren't completely out of whack.


~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~


Trowa left the side of his bed-ridden koi only once that day, and it was to answer the vidphone when Rassid came to inform him of who was on the line. Of course Quatre wanted to go and speak with Hiiro himself, but both Trowa and Rassid had flatly refused to let him out of bed. Trowa left the tall, burly Maguenac guarding over the delicate Arabian and proceeded downstairs to the waiting image of Hiiro Yui.
"Hiiro."
"Trowa."
It was the standard greeting between the two least talkative of the former Gundam pilots, something they were quite comfortable with. Trowa saw the first beginnings of grief tingeing the normally emotionless boy's face and knew what this call was about.
"You're calling about Relena," he said, relieving Hiiro of the need to say it, "We already know. Quatre felt it happen. He's extremely weak right now, but should recover."
"I wondered why he didn't respond; I asked for him."
"Of course, he's got more resources than I do, and his empathic ability doesn't hurt." Trowa didn't care that he had not been the true target of this call. It was all very logical.
"I'd like him to come to Sanch with me; Milliardo wants us to help with the investigation."
"He won't be going anywhere until-"
"I'll pack my bags the instant you two cut the connection." Quatre stood unsteadily on the stairs behind Trowa, Rassid behind him with an apologetic look towards the taller boy. The little blonde had a set determined expression on his tiny face and Trowa sighed inwardly. There would be no stopping him.
"And what about me?" Trowa asked instead of fighting with Quatre.
"You're going to L9 to investigate possible assassins there. Wufei will be sending you some Preventer visas, so you can be on official Preventer business." Hiiro looked a bit off-screen, towards his laptop most likely. "I'm emailing you a schematic of L9, the profiles of the top three officials, and records of the troubles the United Earthsphere has had with L9 in the past two years."
"I'll get them before I leave. Anything else?"
Hiiro's face suddenly took on a tight, guarded expression. It was as if he were experiencing an internal struggle, wondering whether to voice this concern or leave it unspoken as he so often did. Uncertainty shone in his Prussian eyes even as he came to his decision.
"Have either of you spoken with Duo lately?"
Trowa tossed a look backwards at Quatre, who shook his head and promptly clutched the stair railing tighter. He turned back to the waiting Hiiro.
"No, why?"
"Well . . . he was the first one I contacted and he just . . . he was acting very unDuo-ish."
UnDuo-ish? What sort of behavior was categorized as unDuo-ish considering the fact that the moods and attitudes of the braided one tended to change like the phasing moon? The only difference was that at least one knew what to expect from the moon's phases.
"Nevermind," Hiiro continued, brushing that concern away without even waiting for a reply from Trowa, "He'll get over it soon enough. You know what to do and where to go. Tell Quatre to meet me at Sanch Palace tomorrow morning at nine o'clock."
Trowa nodded and pressed the off button.
"You shouldn't be out of bed."
"Relena was basically the leader of the United Earthsphere. Perhaps someone else actually held that title, but the people loved and respected her above any of the other officials." Trowa turned around again in time to see Quatre bow his head and place a pale hand to his heart, "And she was our friend. We can't let her murder go unpunished, not only for the sake of the citizens, but for our own sakes. This is more important than me, Trowa."
"Nothing is more important than you." The words came out sounding very dry, lacking in the emotion one would think should be in them. But Quatre smiled, for he knew the emotion that was there, only hidden.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm going to Sanch. Rassid, help me upstairs please."
"Of course, Master Quatre."
The huge man wrapped his massive hands about Quatre's tiny arms and supported him carefully as they began the tedious climb back up to the room where the blonde should have been resting but instead would soon be packing for a long and arduous trip to Earth. From the L4 colony cluster, that was quite a long way. Trowa bit his lip against the urge to call Hiiro back and say he wasn't going to L9 after all, he was going with them to Sanch. But no, Quatre wasn't nearly as helpless as he seemed, not even when as weak as he was after such a traumatic empathic experience. And he certainly wouldn't appreciate being treated as if he were.
The banged boy considered this problem as he climbed the stairs, heavy steps muted by the plush carpet. There was really only one solution then, one that Quatre wouldn't be too happy with, but would have to accept.
"Rassid," he said as he stepped into the room he and Quatre shared, "would you go with Quatre to Sanch and watch him at least until he has regained full strength?"
"Trowa-"
"Of course. I shall pack once Master Quatre is through packing."
"Rassid, I really don't-"
"It is my duty as a Manguenac to protect you, Master Quatre!" Rassid looked on the small boy as if Quatre were asking him to commit some great sin by letting him go alone. "I couldn't let you travel alone in your condition!" Somehow the rimrod straightness of his back and the determined way his arms crossed seemed to make him even more formidable than he was by simply being in a room. Quatre acquiesced by way of sighing. Trowa felt much better about leaving for L9.


~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~


Wufei scowled as he looked over the papers before him. If it wasn't the murder of a close and powerful friend, it was the theft of a highly dangerous and banned psychotropic drug. The work of a Preventer was never finished.
Bio-extract X51173A, read the top sheet, is considered too dangerous for even laboratory use, let alone use by Earthsphere or colony civilians. All of the subjects who have fallen into comas as a result of the drug have yet to awaken. The first fell into drug-related coma ten years ago, in AC 187.
Human beings were so foolish, always creating things like this drug - he glanced to the paper again - bio-extract X51173A, a drug which had power that exceeded that of its creators. When they'd realized the jeopardy that their creation could put all of humanity through, instead of destroying it, they'd hidden it away in some "secret" military vault and hidden all the records of its existence. Obviously not well enough, for now Wufei had those records in front of him, and someone had gained enough knowledge to know where to find the drug in order to steal what remained.
"Worrying over Aurora?" the soft voice of his partner filled his ears and Wufei turned to face Sally Po.
"Aurora?"
"Apparently you haven't gotten very far in reading yet. Aurora is the nickname for bio-extract X51173A. Much easier to say, apparently." She smiled at him, laughter sparkling behind her eyes as it had even during the war two years ago, when they'd first met. He hadn't understood then how she could keep that undercurrent of humor in those dark times, and he still wasn't quite sure he understood.
"I had a phone call earlier; I just started reading."
"I know. Yui, Hiiro. Location unknown, phone number unknown, address unknown. I know several people who would like to be able to be as invisible and unreachable as that guy." Sally crossed her arms and leaned against the wall in a rather uncanny imitation of the former Wing pilot. A crack of a smile marred the perfect mask of cold irritation Wufei preferred, and he reminded himself to regret it later.
"You're too nosy."
"I have to be. It's the only way I ever learn anything around here." Her eyes pierced him into guilty reminder of his promise to be more open. A promise he sorely wished now he hadn't made quite yet.
"Sally I can't -"
"Why not? If it's something important, shouldn't the Preventers know about it?"
Wufei paused and swallowed. The Preventers really should know about the murder of Relena Peacecraft, but he had to admit that the brother was right to hide it so far. Hiiro and Quatre would be able to find the killer much more expediently on their own; the Preventers would only hang themselves up on protocol and get in each others way. Not to mention they'd have to deal with the backwash of rage from the civilians. Allowing the others to go about the investigation was, despite his training to the opposite, the best way to handle the situation.
But he was trying to build a bridge of trust, and perhaps more, between himself and this brave, even strong woman he'd come to respect in spite of his best efforts not to.
"It's alright, Wufei." Sally placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up and into her smile, "If it's so important that you keep quiet about this, there has to be a good reason. Gundam pilots never do anything without good reason; I learned that two years ago."
"Sally -"
She waved him off with a flippant gesture and exited his office much the same way she had entered; quietly.
He gave a sigh and shook his head. He would never understand her. She wanted him to be more open, and when he had tried to let go of his pride and apologize for not being able to, she didn't let him! Women! Yet . . . he was grateful to her for not pressing the issue. She still surprised him sometimes at how much she knew without having to be told.
He wished he could have told her. But his bond with his fellow pilots was still stronger than the growing and indefinable connection between Sally and himself. She would have to wait before she could be considered worthy enough to share his deepest confidences.
Wufei rubbed his tired eyes underneath his fingers and settled his glasses back on his nose. The history and theft of Aurora awaited him. Somehow he felt an urgency to this case as well as the death of Relena. Something, some thin thread that he couldn't yet conceive, connected the two events in his mind. And so he read on long into the night.


End Chapter One.