Warnings: Yaoi. No lemon yet but no guarantees for later. Old guys. Original characters. AU? You decide... OOC? Same.
Spoilers: End of series, brief for Endless Waltz. This takes place primarily after events in Endless Waltz, though they are not referred to in great detail.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing characters and universe are the property of the copyright owners. My stuff is mine. No money being made here.
Notes: This thing has me by the throat. I can not stop. I hope it will be enjoyed by anyone who reads it. Sometimes my brain just starts cranking and plugging answers into empty spaces and it won't stop.... If you have any problem with suppositions about characters origins, why certain events occurred the way they did, and what are the reasons behind things that were never explained, you might skip this... Also if you think the G-boys deserve a nice long rest after the end of Endless Waltz... if you are glad they destroyed their Gundams...
The first part is not rife with Gundam pilots, but this is *not* the tone for the whole story. I have some fairly extensive plot exposition to plug in, and have done it the most elegant way I could manage. Up to now, I thought I didn't have the guts to post anything that I didn't already know the ending of, but I can not forebear.
This begins at the end of the series, around episode 48, then skips a year.
As with all our fics so far, this is the first time we are doing some characters, so, while our goal is to stay as in character as possible, any discrepancies are our mistakes.
Feedback: Any and all comments, feedback, critiques welcome, be they short or long.
The woman in the large, empty room appeared to be about 25. She was a tiny thing - about 5'2', and her build matched her frame. There was a sense of power about her, like a professional athlete, and her movements were sure, flowing and graceful. She was dressed in a spandex tank-type workout suit, and at various points on her body, small, dull gray circles were attached to her skin.
She dropped from the bar where she had just completed a series of military-style chin-ups, and without missing a beat, fell into a set of full push-ups, on her knuckles.
After 150 repetitions, she came to her feet. Her body was slick with perspiration but her chest moved regularly showing even breathing.
Taking a position on the floor, she began to move through the 56 forms of Chen-style, competition Tai Chi.
At the end of the routine, she bowed to the almost-empty room, Then she turned to the chocolate-skinned woman who had been sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, watching a small console.
"Well?"
The African-American smiled. "You have the reflexes and metabolism of an eighteen year-old."
The small woman walked over, frowning. "Oma. you're lying. Tell me the truth."
Her counterpart dropped the false cheerfulness. Her expression became more serious. "All right, you have the reflexes and metabolism of a twenty-two year-old, healthy Eurasian woman. And the constitution of an Olympic athlete. Satisfied?"
The small woman nodded. "I was right. The deterioration is beginning. Last week it was 20. A month before, 18. "
Watching her friend carefully, the dark woman said, "I've been working on something that I think will help. It's an herbal compound. It should slow this down so we can get a handle on it." She took a small vial of liquid from a pocket and handed it to the other.
Taking the vial and unstoppering it, the little woman drank the contents in a shot.
"Thanks. but we both know there's nothing that can really be done about it. I'm running out of time. We may be able to buy another couple of years but that will be the most I can expect. The timing sucks." She said, grabbing a towel, while the dark woman began peeling the gray disks from her skin. By comparison, the African American looked to be about forty-five, and in excellent shape for it.
"You still think the signal is real?" Oma asked, but it was a rhetorical question.
"I know it is," her friend answer immediately. "Now, when everything is falling apart. The White Fang warring with Earth, the Romefeller Foundation turning into charging knights. All the damn testosterone makes me physically ill."
Oma shrugged. "I find that rather funny coming from you Alfa, or should I say, Superwoman?"
"We have a year, maybe more, maybe less. Then they will be here. And we are not ready for them," Alfa said with steel-toned certainty.
Oma was used to this from her partner. "Then get ready for them."
"I plan to. I have to go out to space. Jacob has gotten himself incarcerated again and if I don't get him out, he will die along with the damn idiots out there in a pissing contest over the fate of the Earth and Space. Fools," she muttered. Going to a small locker, she peeled the suit off and put on a pair of jeans and a shirt, then some sneakers.
"I don't understand why you have to save that disgusting old man," Oma said, pointedly.
"Because I need that disgusting old man, as well as his disgusting cronies. They still know more about mobile suit design than anyone around. If they wouldn't keep getting sidetracked by damn politics."
Sighing, Oma switched to the other side. "It wasn't their fault that Oz decided to pursue a war in Space."
Tying her last sneaker with a curse, Alfa looked up. "It was all their fault for not believing me. for not believing their own damn minds. For calling me crazy." She made a disgusted noise as she got up, pushing the shock of auburn-brown hair out of her eyes.
Oma watched her with a mix of affection and apprehension. After a moment, she said, "*He's* out there too, you know."
"So?"
Oma shook her head. "You are unnatural."
"Tell me something I don't know," Alfa said, grabbing a small gun from the locker and stuffing it in the back of her jeans.
"He even looks like you."
Alfa shot her partner a look. "No, he doesn't. He looks like his father.. Which is what pisses Jacob off so royally."
"What if you encounter him?"
"I won't. He's busy with his own agenda."
"You will have to do it eventually," Oma said, with a slight smile.
"When the time comes, I'll face my son. Not a moment before."
"Will you tell me something?"
"Will you shut up if I do?"
"Why in god's name did you insist on the sexual orientation gene?" Oma asked, watching her friend closely.
Alfa turned to look at the only person in the world she trusted. Her indigo-blue eyes were cold. "You know why. The experiment is uncontained. I had to do what I could to limit their opportunities for procreation."
"Damn cold hearted of you, if you ask me. He might have been happy with that Peacecraft girl." Oma said, with a hint of a smile.
Alfa threw her a disgusted look. "Yes, he might. Too bad. I'm coldhearted, like you said. Inhuman, like Jacob says. Now shut up, I have a transport to catch. I'll be lucky if I can get to the horrible old men before they get themselves blown up."
Anyone hearing this conversation with no other reference might have been surprised when the two women actually took leave of each other. Alfa put her arms around Oma's neck, stretching up on her toes to plant a quick kiss on the cheek of the taller, 5'7' woman.
"BC." Oma said, hugging the other woman tightly.
"I'll be careful. I'm always careful. You be careful yourself. Don't cook something up in the lab that will bite you, while I'm gone." Alfa answered, zipping her flight suit and putting the helmet on over her head.
"More likely I'll cook up something that will bite *you*," Oma answered, with a slight smile. She could not erase the worried crease between her eyebrows, though.
"Stop that," Alfa said, brushing the brown woman's forehead with casual fingers. "You'll get a wrinkle."
"And what then?" Oma said, rolling her eyes.
"Then you'll still be the most beautiful woman on Earth or in the Colonies," Alfa said lightly, blowing a kiss. In a moment she was out the hatch and sliding into the cockpit of an advanced Taurus mobile suit, painted white. Quickly she checked the board and then signaled she was ready to be launched.
The hatch of the small colony satellite opened and the Taurus jetted into space, headed for the biggest battlefield humanity had ever seen.
It wasn't easy getting through the battle zone without getting killed, but Alfa knew how to handle a mobile suit as if she were born to it. In point of fact, she had been one of the first mobile suit test pilots, some twenty odd years before. Her reflexes might be minutely slower than they had been a year ago, but no observer could have detected it. She was still inhumanly fast - her body had been modified using enhanced gene therapy. She dodged through the chaotic battle, avoiding engagements by simply destroying anything in her way. In the confusion, no one noticed the extra white Taurus, or if they did, they might have thought it was the one belonging to Lt. Noin, which was on the other side of the battle.
She was still in space when the collision between Peacemillion and the Libra occurred. Her eyes widened and her breath caught as the two giant ships collided, and for a moment she thought she was going to die, but neither the Libra's nor the Peacemillion's engines were triggered to total explosion. It had been an audacious act, to take out the giant cannon, and she found herself absently admiring whoever had done it. She spotted the approaching Gundams easily, so different were they from the other mobile suits fighting. Ducking around the side of the wrecked warships, she found a breach in the hull and widened it with her suit's weapon until she could get inside, mobile suit and all. Then she left the Taurus and headed for her goal.
The interior of the wrecked Libra was chaotic. It was easy to slip in, find a terminal and get the layout she needed. It was a bit harder to find the room she was looking for, since areas on the ship were now buckled or ruptured and impassible. Finally she made it to the security lock-down area.
In time to see Duo Maxwell blow open the door she was trying to get to. Ducking back with a silent curse, she watched as he entered the room. The door closed. He did not come back out immediately, nor did anyone else emerge.
Maxwell! Of all the times for the little twerp to get in her way. He might make a fitting companion for her son, but Alfa had no patience at all for any obstacle. It was not on her agenda to come face to face with a Gundam pilot at this moment. There would come a time, but even under these circumstances, she refused to give up the timetable she had crafted so carefully, so many years before.
Having no other choice - (kick open the door, shoot Maxwell. no, probably not a good idea) - she hunkered down to wait and watch.
End part 1
Please, please, PLEASE let me know what your reactions are to this....
bonne & von
Comments? Email bonnejeanne@yahoo.com or vonceia@yahoo.com