What Can I do?
A Gundam 0079 AU Fanfic
By Meredith Edwards: meredith_mboy_fanfics@yahoo.com
Gundam 0079 and The Characters belong to Bandai/Sunrise
Comments would mean alot. I want to know what you think.
My friend made me write this in a rush. I don't know much about the characters
So if I get anything wrong, please let me know. Iam not a Gundam fan.

He was running late.

Char glanced at the alarm clock as he rushed into the bathroom. 7:15 -- they were scheduled to be at the station by 7:30 sharp, but he had spend half the night on the phone with Lalah, talking about this and that and before he knew it, it was after three in the morning and there was no way he would wake up in a few hours if he didn't hang up and go to sleep now. And he was right. The car left with the others fifteen minutes ago, and Char would've gone but he hadn't even finished his cereal then, so he shoveled spoon after spoon full of milk and Cheerios into his mouth and wished fervently that he had at least tried to go to sleep earlier last night.

Last night? Try this morning. He didn't fall asleep until after four, he was sure of it.

In the bathroom he stared at himself in the mirror, his toothbrush sticking out of the corner of his mouth, and suddenly the room around him tilted dangerously. "Whoa," Char moaned, clutching the sink with both hands. Closing his eyes, he waited for the moment to pass, but his stomach lurched and he spat the toothbrush and a mouthful of toothpaste out into the sink. His mouth tasted foamy, sticky, full of marshmallows and cotton and he couldn't spit enough to get everything out. With a hard twist of the handle, he turned on the faucet and splashed a handful of cold water into his mouth. His teeth screamed in protest, icy pain like steel shooting through him and he gagged, leaning over the sink until he was sure he would throw up, just vomit away his breakfast that he hurried to eat and he hated getting sick, it left him weak and shaky and he didn't need that, not now, not ever but sure as hell not now, not when he had to get out of here and be at the studios in what, fifteen minutes? Was it ten now? Char didn't know, and as he rested his hot forehead against the cool counter top he didn't know how he was going to stand upright ever again. What the hell had he eaten?

Cheerios, he thought randomly. Milk. Toast? I don't think so. Sugar. Lots and lots of sugar. So thick that it sank to the bottom of the bowl and every spoonful brought up a small pile of wet sugar on the tip like a tiny shovel digging into the sandy bottom of the ocean, and it was sweet and it was good and I always eat Cheerios like that so why the hell do I feel like I'm going to die right now?

Gingerly Char pushed himself up from the sink. Maybe this was just a flu, that thing Giren had last week which left him weak and dizzy for three days before it passed. Maybe that was it, just a little something he got because he wasn't the healthiest person alive, was he? Staying up late every night and eating too much sugar and wolfing down his food. Maybe that was all this was, a little bug, a little cold that had him reeling and maybe he should call Giren now, dial up his cell phone and tell him he wasn't going to make it today.

Good idea. Char felt a little better just thinking about it, the promise of lying back down in bed fully dressed and sleeping away the rest of the day as sweet as the sugar in his cereal. He'd call Giren. He'd tell them he couldn't make it and what would they do, really? Drive back and kidnap him? Force him into a car at gunpoint and make him appear at work? He chuckled at the image, just to prove to himself that he could.

The room spun around him drunkenly. "Jesus," Char muttered, raising one hand to his head to stop it, stop it all, just stop it now please, just let him get off. That's it, he thought, stumbling from the room. He'd call Giren now and tell him he wasn't coming, do the work without him, there was no way in hell he was going to make it today.

From far away a dull knocking started up, a light tap that pecked into Char's mind like a bird, picking away at whatever wasn't sick or nauseous inside. The door -- maybe it was one of the guys, come to check on him. Get me a doctor, he thought, unlocking the door. Get me some pills, something to make this stop, something to end this pain --

A girl his own age stood on the other side of the door, a bored I don't want to be here today look on her round face. She wore some kind of uniform and toyed with the hem of the shirt. "I'm sorry," she stammered, glancing around at the empty hallway. "I thought everyone was gone ..."

"What --" Char's voice cracked, and he swallowed against the lump in his throat and tried again. "What do you want?"

She pulled a large linen cart into view. It overflowed with white towels, twisted into damp shapes. "I'm ..." She sighed, thinking for a moment, and Char thought maybe she was frowning because he looked like shit. He was about to ask her to call a doctor when she smiled brightly and said, "I'm the maid. I just need to get your towels --"

"I'm sick," Char whispered. Leaning against the door, he grabbed his stomach as it tried to twist inside of him and closed his eyes. A cool hand touched his brow, and the girl may have said something, he wasn't sure, he couldn't really hear her anymore. God, he just felt so damn awful and if he could only get to the bed, maybe he could lie down and sleep this thing away.

"Are you okay?" the girl asked. He heard that much. When he opened his eyes everything blurred together, as if he was looking through a filmy gauze and he couldn't blink the world into focus. "Mister, are you ..."

Char felt her hands on his shoulders and then he fell back. He hit his hip against a chair and heard the distant clatter of something -- me, he thought, it's me hitting the floor, that's what it sounds like when I fall -- and then the world went black.

* * *

Fuck, Frau Bo thought. Pulling the linen cart into the room, she latched the door behind her and sighed as she looked down at the man collapsed on the floor. His face was contorted in a grimace of pain, his eyes clenched shut, his hands bunched into fists at his waist. Amuro said it would be easy, didn't he? Just slip the stuff into the sugar and wait fifteen minutes for it to take effect. But look at this. This man looks like roadkill, sprawled out at my feet, and this is supposed to be EASY? Frau Bo didn't think so.

First of all, this wasn't some schmuck off the street. This was Char fucking Aznable -- where did they ever get the idea that this would work? And why was it up to her to do this? She wasn't He-Woman. How the hell was she supposed to lift this man into the cart? Why wasn't Amuro here again? Because two people will be suspicious, she reminded herself. Well fuck you, Amuro, she thought, smoothing down the front of her uniform. Next time you play Merry Maid and see how you fucking like it.

But it was too late to turn back now, wasn't it? If she left him here, his friends would return and get him a doctor and the drugs would be found in his system, and then the questions would start, the police would get involved, someone somewhere would remember her face, and it would be all over, wouldn't it? Might as well carry out the plan, get the money and then see what happened.

As she kneeled down beside Char, Frau Bo felt a snag tear up the back of her hose. Fuck, she thought again. This just wasn't her day. Carefully she placed two fingers beneath Char's chin to check for ... yep, there it was, slow and steady but a pulse nonetheless. So she didn't overdo it -- wouldn't that have sucked? Killed him with an overdose before she even got his ass in the cart. How do you hold a dead body for ransom?

Next she pulled up one of his eyelids. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but they always did that in all the TV shows. But he doesn't respond so that means what, he's out cold? No shit, Sherlock. She let his eyelid close again and tugged on his arm. Jesus, she thought, falling to her knees. This man was heavy.

For a few minutes she pulled at his arms, trying to get his shoulders off the ground, or maybe his legs, or something, some kind of leverage, but he wasn't helping in the least and she only managed to exhaust herself without getting him any closer to the linen cart. Finally she knocked the cart on its side, spilling towels and bedsheets out onto the floor. She rolled him into it, and as she yanked on the side of the cart to right it again, a phone rang. Frau Bo froze. Oh shit, she thought randomly, and another jerk on the cart brought all four wheels on the floor again, Char inside amid the towels like so much dirty laundry.

The phone rang again. It was the cell phone by the bed, a shrill sound that stopped Frau Bo's heart. Don't answer it, she told herself, and then another part of her mind whispered, Like I was going to. But when it rang a third time, she wondered if it could be heard out in the hall, if someone passing could hear it, a bodyguard or another maid or someone who would wonder why Char didn't answer and come to investigate. So she wrapped a towel around her hand and, picking up the phone, dropped it into the toilet, cutting it off in mid-ring. For a long moment she stared at the blue water, the phone lying against the hard porcelain, before she became aware of the sound of running water. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she saw a wide-eyed girl, fear like a rash covering her pale face. Is that me? she thought, reaching out to shut off the water. Is this who I've become?

Fuck it. That was Amuro's voice, the one that she heard whenever doubt clouded her judgment and she didn't know what to do. With the water off, the room seemed quiet, too quiet, and suddenly Char was looking at her, she knew it, she felt his gaze and he was angry and pissed and livid with fury, and she whirled around, a scream rising in her throat that she managed to stifle just before it escaped.

There was no one behind her.

Back in the bedroom, the linen cart was still upright. Char was still curled inside like a lost boy sleeping away the day, and it was now almost quarter to eight, she had to get moving, she was running late. Amuro would be in position now, he'd be looking at his watch and wondering what the hell was taking her so long, he'd yell and scream and cuss, and it made her angry just thinking about it. She scooped up the towels from the floor and tossed them into the cart, strategically covering Char's body. Then she tugged on the side of the cart -- damn fuck but he's HEAVY, she thought, kicking open the door to his room and struggling to get the cart over the metal doorframe. You need to go on a diet, buster. Lose some of that muscle, SOMEthing, because I can't be dragging your passed out ass all over creation, you know that, right? You know --

The door swung shut, pushing the cart over the frame and ramming it into her stomach as strong hands caught her waist. "Easy there," a deep voice said, a deep Refined voice, and did she mention it wasn't her day yet? Because when she turned around and looked into Garma Zabi's wide eyes, she knew he could see everything written plainly across her face. "Are you okay?"

She tried to remember how to speak. Your friend's in this cart, she wanted to say. I'm only borrowing him for a bit, is that okay? Does that make ME okay? Jesus Christ, how can you look at this man and SPEAK? "Um, fine," she mumbled. "I'm fine."

Pointing at the closed door, Garma asked, "Was anyone in there?"

Not anymore, Frau Bo thought, and she wanted to laugh. God, you're LOSING it. "No," she whispered. "He ..." He did something, what did he do? "He left when I came in. Said he was ... running late? Yeah, he was running late."

Garma frowned. "Did he say where he was going?"

NO, she wanted to scream, and to keep sane she maneuvered the cart towards the service elevator. "No," she said over her shoulder. When she wasn't looking at him, it was okay, she could pretend it was all okay. She concentrated on the elevator ahead and ignored the fact that Garma Zabi was behind her, watching her walk away, and damn but now he was catching up with her. "I don't know where he went," she said, stopping to push the elevator's down button.

"I tried calling him --" Garma started, and then he laughed. "Well, I guess he just left without me, eh?"

"Yeah," Frau Bo said. She stared at Garma's reflection in the shiny steel elevator door and prayed he'd take the other lift down. Don't make this harder than it already is, please.

But when the doors opened, Garma stepped around her into the elevator and took one side of the linen cart. "Let me help you," he said, and she watched in surprise as he lifted the cart up over the small space between the floor and the elevator. "This is heavy." No such luck. Garma laughed softly and said, "Do you mind if I take this down to the lobby? I'm running a little late myself."

Pushing the lobby button, Frau Bo sighed and muttered, "Aren't we all?"

* * *

The girl leaned over the side of the linen cart and stared at her own reflection in the mirrored door of the elevator. Garma didn't know if she was just bored or scared or both -- he was still waiting for the Aren't you that guy from that really powerful family, but as the elevator hummed, the numbers above the door lighting up one by one, lower and lower, he thought maybe the question wasn't going to come. Maybe she didn't know who he was, but he doubted that seriously. She looked old enough to have heard of The Zabi Family -- maybe a few years old than him, not as old as his sister, surely -- and the look of fear on her face when she bumped into him coming out of Char's room told him she knew who she was dealing with here.

And where the hell was Char anyway? Garma didn't know -- it wasn't like him to be running this late. He probably stayed up too late the night before, like usual, talking to Lalah or his sister or someone and not falling asleep until early this morning. Why couldn't it have been me? Garma wondered briefly, but he knew why. Char had never said the words but Garma knew. Because they weren't like that. The few times they fooled around were just that, fooling around, at least to Char. He had too many beers one time and when Garma helped him to his room he kissed Garma full on the lips, his arms slipping around Garma's neck and his tongue licking into Garma's mouth before Garma managed to realize what was happening and pushed him away. The other time was after Lalah told Char she wasn't going to play the role of his sometime girlfriend, after he went and told his friends that finally yes, they were dating. And then Lalah called him and Garma remembered it vividly, the way Char's eyes were red and raw from crying because she had chewed him up and spat him out, making him feel like shit for the way he treated her, and when Garma opened the door Char had curled into his arms and hugged him tightly and asked to spend the night. Somewhere in the darkness of an anonymous hotel room Garma had tasted Char's kisses again, a sweetness that made Garma angry and bitter because they were just convenient kisses, weren't they? Just momentary touches meant to make Char feel better and why did Garma even put up with it? Why did he bother?

You know why, he told himself. Because you're hoping that one day it won't just be convenient or easy or okay for him, one day it will be forever, as necessary as the air he breathes and that's what you want from him, to be that needed, that loved. He knew Char had that in him, and part of him knew that if he held out long enough, maybe Char would see how he felt and come around, maybe Char would need him as much as he wanted to be needed.

So Garma had called Char first thing in the morning, because he knew when he tried calling his room last night and the phone was busy that he was going to stay up too late. And he knew that the alarm clock wouldn't be enough to wake Char up, and he was right. The cell phone hadn't even been enough -- Garma had to walk down the hall and bang on the door until Char answered, eyes bleary and curls askew, blinking in the bright light and asking what time it was. He knew Char wouldn't make the trip, so he waited down in the lobby for him, intending to drive them both to work -- so they'd be a little late, His sister would get over it -- and when Char didn't come down, Garma tried calling his cell phone again. After four rings he got a User is out of range message, and that was strange, wasn't it? Char was upstairs, several floors up but still in range, right?

And somehow between here and there, he missed him. Damn, he thought, fingering the phone in his pocket. He glanced at the girl beside him again, who seemed intent on pretending he wasn't there. What did I do, Char? Garma wondered as the elevator slowed to a stop. Why can't you just tell me yes or no and stop dicking us both around? "This is my floor," he said, smiling at the girl beside him.

She looked back with wide, staring eyes. "See ya," she muttered. Was he really that scary?

He hoped not, but when he stepped towards the opening doors she pulled the linen cart out of his way, and he sighed wearily. Now he'd have to drive to work alone, but Char wouldn't be the last to arrive so at least he wouldn't get the brunt of his sisters's anger. She could be such a stickler for detail sometimes --

A young man pushed his way into the elevator, knocking Garma back against the linen cart. He was in his early-twenties, and his dark brown hair hung straight to his shoulders like a curtain, hiding his chiseled face. Garma took in the torn jeans and the worn flannel shirt peeking out from beneath a battered leather jacket, and he thought he'd just ignore the fact that the man almost knocked him down because he didn't relish a fight with someone like this. With a wary glance at the girl, he started for the doors again, only to find the newcomer blocking his way. "Frau Bo," the man snarled, pushing the cart back until he pinned the girl to the wall. "You're late."

"I know --" she started, her eyes shifting to look at Garma.

The man turned to glare at him. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked. Up close he had a young face and burning eyes, blue and hard like a stormy sea, and Garma stepped back further, putting some distance between himself and this stranger. Who the fuck AM I? he thought wildly. Just some dude who wants to leave, trust me. Don't want any trouble, mister. Just heading for the door -- The guy pushed Garma in the chest, pushing him back against the wall. "Can't you speak? Frau Bo, who is this?"

"Garma," the girl whispered. Frau Bo, Garma thought. Her name is Frau Bo and she knows who I am, doesn't she? "Amuro, he's not --"

"So he knows," the stranger, Amuro, said, turning to the girl, and Garma thought maybe he could squeeze past him and out into the lobby and still make it to work in time, but the elevator doors were closing, trapping him in here, with these people. "Where's the other one?" Amuro asked.

The other -- Garma turned to Frau Bo. "Where's Char?" he asked softly. He didn't know who she was or who this guy was, or why either of them would be talking about where Char was, but suddenly he knew Char was in trouble, this was why he hadn't come down to the lobby, Garma hadn't missed him, this girl did something to him, he didn't know what -- "Frau Bo?" he choked. "God, where is he?"

She looked at him guiltily and then, turning to Amuro, said, "He doesn't know. Let him go, Amuro." Amuro reached into his pocket, and her voice raised an octave higher. "Amuro, he doesn't know, that's not part of the plan --" And then there was a gun in Amuro's hand, something small and deadly, and Frau Bo's face went a shade paler as she tried to slide down the wall, away from them, away from everything, and Garma wanted to slide down with her because now Amuro had the gun aimed at him and where the fuck was Char? "Look," Garma said, trying to remain calm. He held his hands up and away from his pockets, away from anything that might make this Amuro guy suspicious or angry or upset. "Maybe we can just talk about this, okay? Maybe you can tell me where Char went? Frau Bo? Could you do that for me?" From the corner of his eye he saw her nodding, and if only Amuro hadn't entered the picture, he could've asked her and she would've told him, he was sure of it. "Maybe we can --"

"Shut up," Amuro growled. With the barrel of the gun he punched the button for the garage level and glared at Frau Bo. "This is all your fault. You couldn't hurry it up, could you? And now we have to deal with him --"

"He's not --" Frau Bo started, but Amuro kicked the side of the linen cart with one boot and she bit her lip to keep from saying anything else. From inside the linen cart came an indistinct groan, and suddenly Garma knew where Char was, why he hadn't answered his cell phone, why he wasn't in his room anymore -- and he had no fucking clue how he was going to get them out of this.