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Chapter Text

Standing By

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March 30^th 199 – Monday – Space, L2 Sigma Quadrant – Secondary Site

            “Mr Lowe?” 

            That… had not stopped feeling weird, yet.  “Odin is fine,” he corrected, turning away from his view of the main factory apparatus.  Everything was behind schedule in at least two different ways, but that wasn’t new – he’d known before he had left for space with Lucrezia.  Cat had warned him too, even before Howard had said much the same – setbacks were expected.  When projects were too big to be handled by a single core group…  Well, sometimes they happened even then.  It wasn’t as though most of his work with J had had a deadline – by the time the Barton Foundation might have begun breathing down the man’s neck for results, they had long since been delivered. 

            Duo talked about his training like it had all been in a rush, crunched down in a peculiar sort of misery he had been surprised Odin wasn’t familiar with.  Then again, Duo also hadn’t realized that Odin had spent more than twice the amount of time with J as Duo had with G; personally, he couldn’t decide if Duo or Quatre’s history was more impressive.  Duo had dropped out of grade school a few months before Odin died and described a chaotic spiral of heists and piracy through two major quadrants for three years before stumbling across Professor G and a fledging frame for Deathscythe in February of 192.  Quatre had been years ahead of where he and Duo were now for general bookwork in the summer of 193, but it didn’t change the fact that he met H less than two years before Operation Meteor launched, with competitive fencing as his only strenuous physical activity.  Both had been forced to shore up completely new avenues of their education on a timeline he was coming to realize was absurdly unrealistic.  As lacking as his father had been in many ways, teaching had never been one of them; and even then, he had spent more than six years under J. 

            Though… he didn’t think that last year should count.  For… anything, really.  As much as it was intent on haunting him lately, he really didn’t care to give it much thought.  Leia had warned him that this would happen, but…  Well, Leia was more than likely dead, and he didn’t want to explain what had happened to anyone new; not with the looks people got when conversation touched on the edges of it.  Bloodless as it was, he could see how much the information hurt them, even when he tried to make light of it – and he liked that even less. 

            It had been bad enough at the time; he didn’t see any use in making anyone else relive it when the flashbacks were just going to keep happening anyway.  And anyway, any of the advice he found on the net didn’t apply well – either because he was too in control of himself to relate to it, or because the context was too far removed. 

            So.  Considering he wasn’t having problems remembering to breathe  – Which, how was that even a thing?  Who did that? – it was just… a thing that happened now.  It was fine.  It was just a cerebral version of his new hard limit on the amount of cockpit time he could log without severely diminished returns and debilitating aftereffects.  Frustrating, but now that he’d solidly proven those limits couldn’t be expanded… 

            It was fine. 

            The site administrator seeking him out, a woman probably close to Anne’s age, however, did not look fine.  Iriana.  He hadn’t met her personally before now, but she matched the photo in her file reasonably well.  “What’s wrong?” 

            Her smile was closer to a grimace, even as she watched him carefully.  “One of the interns is… unwell.” 

            He blinked, deciding to ignore the hesitation over word choice.  “We have a med bay.”  It was more core diagnostic tech with a net uplink than true medical facility at the moment, but that was fine.  By the time they started up the heavy equipment on Wednesday, the two PAs Sam had helped him interview would be finished settling in.  In any case, the drugs were fully stocked and he couldn’t think of anything serious that might have come up already; the interns had only been here for forty-eight hours. 

            Iriana looked somewhat pained, shoulders pinching in.  “Not that kind of illness,” she explained. 

            …Was he supposed to guess? 

            Her eyes took on a somewhat pleading light.  “Space heart issues.” 

            Oh.  He blinked, considering, but…  Did she not read through the paperwork?  They had another of those ‘standard’ accommodation clauses about this sort of thing.  Most of the interns were assigned to double bunks, but there was more than enough room to make an exception, and it wouldn’t be difficult to repurpose a room outside the main habitation block if need be.  “Arrange some personal space, then.” 

            She turned in on herself a little more, beginning to look miserable.  “I don’t think that will help.” 

            …This was going to take forever.  Clearly she wasn’t going to talk to him about what the problem was, let alone her concerns over the solutions.  “Show me.” 

            She startled, eyes going wide.  “I don’t-” 

            Biting back the urge to roll his eyes, he pushed off and started for the habitation block without waiting; either she would catch up and lead the way, or he’d figure it out himself.  They should all be in the mess hall by now, and that was only a few halls down. 

            “Sir!” 

            “Odin,” he corrected. 

            “I’m not discriminating!” she protested as she came even with him, looking flustered. 

            “That’s good.” 

            “It’s not a typical situation,” she continued, fiddling with her glasses.  “He’s a rare type.” 

            Aren’t all empaths rare?  “Okay.” 

            She flushed, looking more upset.  “He’s one of the best of the lot!  The only reason he wasn’t a direct hire was because he wanted credit for his doctorate.” 

            While he didn’t mind having more details, her attitude was only getting more confusing.  “So why not give him a private room on a different deck?” he asked.  If the guy needed constant isolation Odin doubted he would have applied, but Quatre maintained that having a strong buffer when going to sleep was a game changer. 

            He touched back down a few steps away from the door he wanted and walked the last few steps; ship-grav was an odd thing at the best of times, and more so on this station than usual, with it’s layered zones of control.  Though he was a little startled by how much the increase as he shifted through a zone felt… good. 

            Huh.  He hadn’t realized the complete zero-G they were maintaining at the dark site had begun to bother him.  If anything, given how little he trusted his leg at the moment, he would expect to feel the opposite.  But… as much as humanity had adapted to space, they weren’t made for it.  Truthfully, there were a myriad of problems that came with zero or microgravity, and good reasons behind the invention of all the flavors of ship-grav – they were as much about practicality as comfort. 

            In particular, at this juncture?  Food prep and consumption both worked better the closer you got to a full G.  Consequently, the mess hall and rec spaces had the highest levels of pull.  Still enough to launch instead of walking, and Wufei had made an art of finding that exact balance to float in this level of pull those few times they could relax on Peacemillion, but it was enough to use a cup without a lid – which currently felt like a luxury. 

            He opened the door to the mess hall before Iriana could muster up an answer, and figured he was in the right place.  There was a cluster of people near his age keeping some distance from a tall blonde leaning against one wall, a hand covering his face. 

            “You’re fine,” he was saying, for all that he sounded exhausted.  “It’s not like that.  I’m sorry, I didn’t…  You can just ignore me.” 

            “Mr. Cavanaugh?” Iriana called worriedly. 

            The man groaned, curling in on himself slightly – notably bringing his feet up off the floor to do so in a move that only those intimately familiar with altered gravity found natural.  “I’m adjusting,” he called back.  “I didn’t think it would be this bad, but it’s manageable.  We really don’t need to make a big deal about it.” 

            Well, he sounded reasonable.  “Can I help?” Odin asked curiously, planting a foot against the doorframe and pushing off at an approachable speed.  Closer was usually more effective, in his experience.   

            Cavanaugh grit his teeth, left hand still covering his upper face.  “I don’t read people,” he explained in a tight voice that suggested he sick of repeating himself.  “And even if I did, I don’t know you.  I just…  I thought this place was abandoned before it was hit during the war, but I’m pretty sure people died here.  That, or they got really upset all at once and then they left, but there’s an impression, and it’s… heavy.  I can get used to it.” 

            Odin considered that, dragging a foot on the ground to slow down and stop just out of arm’s reach.  “I can look into the statistics,” he offered.  “But most of the damage was to this quarter.”  There had been a catastrophic hull breech in more than one zone, but it had still been compartmentalized enough to salvage a good section of the habitat.  “It might be better further into the site.” 

            “I’m still going to have to shower and work out to keep bone mass, and that’s all over here,” Cavanaugh argued grimly. 

            “Mm, not necessarily.”  All the same, it was clear that Cavanaugh didn’t want to isolate if he could help it.  “You pick up events?” 

            “Emotional impressions left on objects and places,” he returned clinically.  “Usually objects are stronger, but with something like this…” 

            Hn.  “What influences an object?” 

            Cavanaugh sighed.  “Time spent in contact, sentimental significance, associated mood with it… a bunch of little things that are hard to explain.  I have a set of half-gloves from my mom that usually help with accidental contact, but they’ve never made a huge dent in site impressions.” 

            Hn.  He didn’t have a good example, but maybe…  He took out his billfold and began pulling the cash and cards free of it. 

            Iriana evidently took issue with that.  “Sir-” 

            “I don’t know if this will work,” he explained, cutting her off.  “But…”  He shrugged, tucking his personal effects back into one pocket before gently flicking the folded metal the other man’s way.  “Catch.” 

            Cavanaugh finally let go of his face to do so, looking exasperated as he opened his mouth… and blinked.  Uncurling slightly, he blinked back down at his hand… then focused startled brown eyes back on him.  “Huh.” 

            Odin smirked.  “Yeah?” 

            Cavanaugh smirked back, though he also looked thrown off guard.  “This is weird.” 

            “I get that a lot,” Odin admitted, starting to grin outright. 

            The intern considered him for a long moment, then the clip again, before asking, “What did you do with this?” 

            “Taylor!” Iriana hissed. 

            Odin snorted.  “I carried it for two years.”  Though…  Well, Quatre never gave him a straight answer.  “What does it feel like?” 

            “Like I’m sitting in a Zen garden at the center of the universe.” 

            He blinked, visualizing that.  “That’s pretty,” he decided. 

            “Seriously, do you use your money as a focus or something when you meditate?” 

            That made him laugh, even as Iriana looked ready to faint.  “I don’t meditate,” he negated.  He debated, but… it seemed relevant.  As much as it looked as though Cavanaugh – Taylor? – had flipped a switch off on the empathy, it wasn’t an ideal solution either.  “You need skin contact?” he clarified. 

            “Eh…”  He made a sawing motion with one hand and briefly let go of the wallet, then grimaced and immediately snatched it up again.  Tucking it in one pocket, he withdrew his hand then immediately winced again, pulling it back out.  “Looks like.  Sometimes I can…”  He made a wavy gesture that Odin took as an approximation.  “But not today, at least not here.”  He eyed the metal for a long moment – it was a simple spring-style band of steel to hold bills and cards, since he kept his passport separate – before turning a speculative eye back on Odin.  “Can I buy you jewelry that you wear for a while and later pass back, or is that an unpalatable peculiarity?”  His eyes flicked up to his face.  “I could replace those hoops?” 

            Odin grinned, shrugging and reaching up to unlatch the second of his left earrings.  “I’ve only had these for three months,” he warned. 

            “Tay?” one of the other interns called, the group drifting closer. 

            “I told you guys, it’s literally not like that, stop treating me like a leper!” Taylor called back, twisting the money clip to consider it from different angles.  “At least finish breakfast or something, orientation is in, like… an hour.” 

            “You could probably slide it into your waistband with the flat side against your skin,” Odin suggested, considering for a moment before beginning to unlatch his right hoop as well.  He’d offer all three to see if it made a difference, but he could only see two piercings on his new intern. 

            The other man made a happy sound.  “That’s a good idea.”  Focusing back on Odin and seeing what he was doing, he grinned.  “They weren’t a Christmas gift, were they?” 

            “No, I just didn’t have any piercings before,” he negated.  Though… a few of Quatre’s complaints made him hesitate.  “My fiancée likes them.” 

            “Oh, dude, never mind,” Taylor backpedaled, leaning back. 

            Odin laughed.  “They’re just stock, not…”  He smirked, meeting Taylor’s eyes.  “I have a friend like you, who… complains when I think about her in too much detail.  I don’t know if any of that could carry over.”  He shrugged, pinching them between two fingers and holding them out. 

            Taylor’s lips twitched.  “Are you offering me porn earrings?” 

            Iriana made a sound like she was dying.  Odin smirked.  “Hopefully not.” 

            “Do I have to give them back if they are?” 

            That startled another laugh out of him.  “Maybe see if they work at all, first,” he suggested. 

            Grinning back, Taylor reached out and plucked them from his grasp.  “Well, nothing overtly sexual,” he decided, then visibly braced himself and gently tossed the money clip up so it would hang in the air.  “Hm.” 

            “Yeah?” 

            “Not nearly as strong, but it’s basically the same.  They don’t wipe the slate clean, but they muffle it to something much more manageable.” 

            Interesting.  And no problem either way.  “Keep both,” he decided.  Then…  Why not?  “And if you want to pick out a bracelet or something, I don’t mind being an empathic battery.” 

            “I can pay,” Taylor pointed out, readily unzipping his jumpsuit to tuck the clip somewhere against his skin. 

            “No need,” Odin reassured him.  He had the initial piercing studs at home, and he was headed back that way tomorrow.  He liked the hoops with their lack of sharp edges better, but they would do for now – he’d been warned against letting them close back up. 

            “I don’t know if you realize, but you just gave me something literally priceless,” Taylor continued. 

            “Then don’t put a price on it.”  He considered the layout of tables and the long window connecting to the kitchen; he could smell hash browns.  Why not?  As had already been pointed out, he wasn’t supposed to put the interns through their orientation for close on an hour.  The full engineering staff would take over after the initial run – he would only need to touch base now and again, especially since he’d brought a few of Howard’s crew back with him to keep working on the mods – but he’d wanted to see off at least the start of each project. 

            He looked back over his shoulder to Iriana.  “I’ll see you at orientation,” he offered by way of explanation, then headed for the counter.  Everything was set up anyway; all he’d really been doing before was brooding.  Jack was supposed to arrive soon, but he hadn’t been tracking the docks; the man might already be on station, actually.  He just… hadn’t cared.  Not that he didn’t not care, just… 

            I’m tired, he realized.  And not just physically, though there was plenty of that.  Just… 

            He’d wanted to have this place running two weeks ago, but nothing had lined up right.  Then he and Lucrezia had arrived at the dark site only for him to realize he had to rehash more than half of Fusion’s frame, let alone the other components, too many of which had to be restarted from scratch…  He’d spent nearly every hour there rebuilding it with Howard’s dedicated team over his shoulder so they could finish it without him; then the few hours of free time he’d had, Lucrezia had been on her frame or in the sims, so he’d done the same, and…  They’d been in the same place for three entire weeks, but had barely seen each other.  Then the Deathscythe argument got weighed in again, and it made sense that they were taking it off the backburner, but all the same? 

            An April completion date had evidently been wishful thinking.  May was going to be hard to pull off, and that was if nothing else went wrong in the meantime.  Lucrezia had stayed behind this time, which on some level he resented – but it had been logical, especially when he needed to finish setting this up… 

            And he hadn’t been able to decide if he was looking forward to seeing Jack again or annoyed about everything that meant.  He still didn’t know, and that was… irritating. 

            In hindsight, he probably should have slept more than a handful of hours in the last three days; his thoughts kept scattering.  But he had also successfully integrated the gundanium supply he’d brought back from Howard with the isolated forge and workstations on the far end of the facility without interruptions, ahead of schedule for once, so…  He’d done more taxing maneuvers on less sleep.  So while he didn’t feel good, and his leg was- 

            No.  He wasn’t thinking about his leg right now.  No more than was required to move it. 

            Iriana looked conflicted, but nodded instead of saying anything and turned to go.  

            Taylor, on the other hand, opted to follow him.  “I hadn’t seen you before now,” he announced, clearly taking in the lack of jumpsuit.  Pursing his lips, he added, “I was figuring medical staff, but…” 

            But why would medical staff be at orientation?  “We’re not going to get into the more physical end of things today,” he explained.  Or if they did, he’d deal.  The machinery should run on its own; the staff were here to finagle the programming and troubleshoot through integration and testing.  The main reason he’d wanted to meet everyone on site had been so he could get a grasp on their analytics and how well they understood the programming end of things; it would make working with them remotely far easier.  “Besides,” he added, “there’s no reason you can’t do this in a suit.  Most just prefer not to.” 

            Jumpsuits were convenient in zero-G, but it was nearly impossible to manage an effective concealed carry with one, and introducing himself while openly armed would be counterproductive to the work environment.  In any case, dress suits tended to command attention he’d rather not waste time gaining in other ways at the moment, and the fabric was tailored enough to not be irritating in low gravity.  

            Also, Lucrezia had made it clear she appreciated the look, and he’d been getting used to them again.  Everything he owned now was practically a pleasure to hold against his skin – a far cry from the various suits and uniforms he’d used as camouflage during the war.  The slacks Mark had ordered fitted for him in Switzerland were the first pants that didn’t irritate his leg if he wore them without compression leggings – something about the lining, maybe?  In any case, losing the extra layer was… freeing.  He’d gotten used to it, the gain had been worth the annoyance, but there was also a reason he’d only ever bothered with compression shorts and a tank top when left to his own devices.  It didn’t make sense on a logical front, but excess layering had made him feel as though his senses were dampened.  Which had been intentional with the leggings, but…

            The superficial pain wasn’t as prominent now as last year; part of that was likely just time, but the regular rub of denim against his scarring was still distracting enough that he’d keep wearing the leggings with his jeans.  A full layer was likely still be better than shorts for missions now, and his flight suit was full body anyway, but… only wearing a single pair of pants at once was nice.  Especially since he’d already agreed to incorporate a new layer now that his order had come in, which… was another issue entirely. 

            When Lucrezia had asked him why he didn’t wear any armor, it had been somewhat harrowing to admit he just… hadn’t bothered.  It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known, but… he hadn’t worn body armor since before the retraining.  Hadn’t worn it in a serious way since Odin died, honestly. 

            Just… hadn’t cared, he supposed.  Hadn’t thought about it for years. 

            It wasn’t as though he wasn’t willing to wear it again, but the realization had been… uncomfortable.  Especially given how, despite the way she’d tried to prod and tease him over it, Lucrezia hadn’t been able to hide how upset his unconscious dismissal of an easy, simple safety measure had made her. 

            I am better than my father.  He hadn’t wanted to die for a long time now; he’d gained a great deal of reasons to want the exact opposite.  Even outside his internal motivations, he had collected an unbelievable number of people who wanted him on a less than superficial level.  Lucrezia was the most absolute of those connections, but…  Even if most of those bonds would fade, most wouldn’t vanish entirely – and he was mostly sure others would replace them?  And… 

            If people were important to him, it made sense that on some level, he was important to them too. 

            It hurt, to realize he was still so far behind.  Every time he thought he’d conquered his past, he found something else he just… hadn’t noticed.  After which he realized it wasn’t even a negligible detail, but a glaring problem, and the fact that he’d missed it in the first place was… distressing. 

            And it kept happening. 

            “So you’re saying that if I’d signed on for pay instead of credit, I could’ve skipped the uniform,” Taylor interpreted. 

            “It’s not so much a uniform as free clothes that will be replaced if they get damaged,” Odin argued.  “So long as you’re clean and your basics are covered, it really doesn’t matter what you wear.” 

            “Or HR doesn’t kick a fuss?” 

            “Or that,” Odin returned agreeably, catching someone’s attention in the kitchen and holding up two fingers in a request from the menu.  “Don’t do something to make others uncomfortable, and it should be fine.”  Not that he was the best judge of how to manage that, but… a dress code was either written down somewhere or, he supposed, was something Iriana would be willing to lay out. 

            Though evidently Iriana had just as many communication issues as he did?  If of different flavors.  Given her position, that seemed… unfortunate. 

            Apparently everything was already laid out, because not even a minute later he was getting handed a plate and fork.  Though…  “Did you already get something?” 

            “Oh, yeah, Rod grabbed mine,” Taylor reassured him, pushing off the ground in a gentle tap to head to one of the tables.  “You should sit with us.” 

            It wasn’t as though he had intended to leave, but the impromptu invitation struck him as amusing.  “Sure.” 

            A woman in the same jumpsuit as the rest of the interns was seated near Taylor’s end trajectory, and gave him a critical look.  “You look better,” she decided. 

            “I,” Taylor announced cheerfully, “Have made a friend for life.” 

            Odin grinned.  “Is that what happened?” 

            “Absolutely,” Taylor insisted.  “I’m buying you nice things so you can turn them into priceless artifacts and you don’t want payment, so you’ve been adopted instead.” 

            …If that reasoning had any basis in reality, it would actually explain… a lot.  Hn.  “That’s how that works?” 

            “Unless you want to backpedal and turn it into a transaction,” the other man returned easily, his grin turning sly.  “But you’re clearly not bothered, so you’d have to work to make me believe you.” 

            Odin laughed, tucking into an empty spot on the bench.  “Alright.” 

            “Smart man,” another intern announced – presumably Rod, since he was handing Taylor a pair of breakfast wraps.  “It’s easier to cave early; he usually wins anyway.” 

            “I’m not seeing a downside yet,” Odin admitted. 

            “You will when he wakes you up at four in the morning because he had an idea.” 

            Odin blinked slowly, taking a bite of his breakfast.  “He would have to find me first.”  Unless they were talking about the phone, but that was easy enough to dodge. 

            “It’s not that big of a facility,” Rod countered. 

            What does that have to do with anything?  Aside from that, it also implied that he would make it into the room?  Or be happy about the results once he did? 

            “You’re the first senior engineer we’ve run into,” Taylor added, taking a bite of his burrito.  “Is there a second habitation unit somewhere?” 

            Odin blinked.  “No.”  There were considerably more interns than ‘paid’ engineers, however, and the smaller group bunked on a different deck… and most of the full-fledged engineers had come with him from the dark site, actually.  Only two had stayed up through part of the night with him to get things set up, but even then… Well, they were probably all asleep, now that he thought about it. 

            The woman whose name he had yet to catch hummed thoughtfully.  “What school did you come out of?  I mean, I assume you were fast track even for ACET, but I can’t figure out your accent.” 

            “I apprenticed,” he explained.  “Finished in 193.”  He shrugged; she wasn’t the first to point out that his speech was off.  In any case, he’d expected some degree of interaction and had finished polishing his backstory.  Whether or not his real identity was ever officially connected to his time as Heero Yuy, he’d needed to cover the gaps.  “My father homeschooled before that while we traveled job to job, and after he died, my mentor… had priorities.”  He smirked at their sympathetic winces.  “I only recently certified,” he continued.   “But apparently I’ve been working at a post-doctorate level for a few years now.” 

            She hissed in an appreciative way.  “Old school, nice.”  She held out one hand across the table to shake.  “I’m Alice.” 

            He set down his fork and took it.  “Odin.” 

            Her easy smile turned rigid.  “Odin Lowe?” 

            Hn.  At least one person had read the packet.  Taking his hand back and picking his fork back up, he nodded.  “Aa.” 

            Jack abruptly slid in next to him, holding a pair of wraps in one hand.  “I thought you said you were going to wait for orientation to say hello,” he pointed out in lieu of a traditional greeting. 

            Odin shrugged.  “I was hungry.”  

            “Tay, you just tried to befriend the boss,” Rod hissed out. 

            Tay took another bite of his breakfast, looking pleased.  “I have good taste,” he decided.  “And who said anything about trying?” 

            Odin offered Jack a wry look.  “I’ve been adopted again,” he announced dryly.  “I’m told it’s compulsory.” 

            Rod blanched, leaning back.  “No, wait, that’s totally not-” 

            “This is accurate,” Taylor agreed cheerfully. 

            Jack’s mouth twisted, half amusement, half… something else.  “This is getting to be a habit for you.” 

            Hn.  “It does look that way.”  He debated bothering to ask in the first place, but… while Jack tended to show up whenever he implied he wouldn’t mind company, it wasn’t something he wanted to assume.  “Are you open to heading home tomorrow?” 

            “I’ve finished everything useful I could get done in space,” the man returned agreeably, trying to keep his analytic gaze subtle.  “We’re back to a waiting game on the next wave of construction instead, and following up on reports otherwise.” 

            That works.  “Today should be busy, but I’m set after that and I’m looking forward to a real bath,” he explained.  Lucrezia was going to be out of communications’ reach for another three days, and apparently Marie had gone to Canada with Adam.  Which he supposed managed to both cover some avenue of survival training and kept her out of the looming war front and was therefore a good idea, but was still… upsetting.  He couldn’t fully decide why though, so… he probably just missed her?   And… 

            A resigned sort of sadness had sunk its teeth in deeper the more he understood just how unique his relationship with Lucrezia was becoming.  He had always known the arrangement with Marie wasn’t permanent, had never really sought to make it so, but…  As much as she claimed him, Marie wasn’t really his.  She was meant to outgrow their dynamic and move on; it was right.  But it still hurt nearly as much as it made him happy to see her thrive anyway, and with Leia gone… 

            Losing Leia made Marie less a rising peer and more someone he needed to protect, for all that she would never stop being both.  There was an absolute care between Marie and himself that would never fade entirely, he felt sure, the same as it never would with Duo, but…  It wasn’t the same either.  As much as he expected to enjoy what came next, he also missed what they had had before.  And Jack… 

            He’d half expected irate messages from Quatre about Jack figuring out all their secrets as soon as he came back into communications range.  Despite the initial suggestions for deception dropped by both Quatre and Lucrezia, he had mostly… stopped bothering.  Jack was smart and had access to healthy resources, and had been around Duo more than once besides.  Odin had avoided enough specifics to skate by with most people, but all of them compiled… 

            Jack should suspect what part he had played in the war by now.  The details he’d seen the man key in on, the clever mind he’d shown, not to mention the fact that Duo could not keep his mouth shut? 

            If not for Duo, he could probably have skated entirely under the radar by presenting himself as part of one or more of the thousand Earth military blocs during the war – the Burton identity was specifically designed for that.  If anyone wanted to tear apart the backstory there, they would find evidence that he was a misreported dead mercenary from the group he had fought with before gaining Epyon, with his leg injury dated back by two months to imply it had been a casualty that had seen him miss the end of the war.  But Duo had made it clear that they had fought in space, for space at least to some degree, and there had only been a handful of colonial factions in the war. 

            Jack was smart enough that questions about the Barton Foundation should have come up by now – especially as his engineering ability had come into the light.  For all that there were other groups he could have been learning from and plying his trade with, the Bartons were the obvious connection point of every one of his skills he had noticed the man quietly catalogue.  Even if he didn’t suspect them directly, it was strange that he’d never brought them up even once – the Barton Foundation was large enough that anyone in the same fields of industry had some degree of interaction with them, even if it was just avoidance. 

            Given how Jack seemed to be just as direct as he himself was, he had thought the man would confront him.  But… he’d also pointedly given him ample time and opportunity to do so, and he hadn’t.  And he didn’t seem to be waiting?  Odin knew he wasn’t good at reading people, but he didn’t think Jack would be able to hide that knowledge from him.  The way he was visibly affected by his mood…  He thought he’d be able to tell.  Quatre would definitely be able to tell.  And Jack paid too much attention to little minutiae, collecting and remembering them, to simply not care about what they meant.  He should have realized at least part, if not all, of the connections by now. 

            But he hadn’t.  Which… suggested some form of denial?  Which, given how he more or less leaned into the upsetting details Odin had let slip, suggested something about the Barton Foundation was repulsive enough that he had blocked off the avenue of possibility. 

            Quatre thought they could bind him to them firmly enough that by the time he learned the truth, it wouldn’t matter – and Odin had a good enough measure of Jack to know that even if he took issue, the man wouldn’t use it against him.  Not even in favor of the brother he couldn’t remember.  But…  If Jack hadn’t figured it out by now, then it was because on some level he didn’t want to know.  

            Which was depressing. 

            He liked Jack.  He was tired of weaving around him.  But if his past was going to be that big of a problem, then…  It was what it was. 

            Nothing ever stays the same.  If that was the course they were on, he would enjoy the middle ground while it lasted.  Either there would be a problem that mutated the easy companionship into something more distant, or they would adapt with it and be fine.  There was no point in dwelling. 

            Or at least, no reason to dwell beyond holding onto that middle ground.  If he wasn’t sure about an after, he might as well make the most of the journey. 

            “I can telecommute most of my work for this site,” he continued.  That, and he needed to get fully off of his leg for a while – he didn’t need to manage the physical end of work here, but if it was a possibility, he… had a hard time delegating.  In hindsight, he always had.  As much of a kindness as minimal gravity was right now, he’d just spent the night proving that it wasn’t going to heal if he didn’t remove himself from the situation and stop.  And he needed to fully recover in order to start again with any sort of competency. 

            It was much easier to follow-through on bedrest with company. 

            Alice had gotten over her surprise enough to look between him and Jack critically.  “I thought… didn’t you just say your father was dead?” 

            “Technically,” Taylor interjected, “in terms of genetics, you’re equally related to your aunts and uncles as you are your parents.” 

            Odin smirked, taking another bite of food before answering.  “My mother died in childbirth, and her brother adopted me and decided to never tell Jack I was born.”  He gestured between himself and the man in question with his fork, trying out one of Yasa’s mannerisms.  “I only found out about him three months ago.” 

            She blinked, frowning then raising her brows before deciding, “That’s twisted.” 

            “He was… a piece of work,” Odin agreed, setting aside any of the more descriptive phrases that came to mind.  Truth be told, the more he learned about Odin, the more his personal goal of ‘be better than him’ felt like a low bar.  He shrugged.  “All you can do is make the best of what you have for as long as you have it.”  If Odin had actually passed him off to a responsible adult when he decided he wanted to die, he had no idea who he would be now – but he doubted he would have his friends or Lucrezia, and that was enough to make him lose interest in that sort of wishful thinking. 

            Jack sighed.  “You know, that was something your grandmother used to say too.” 

            He blinked.  “Really?”  That sounded more interesting than any of the stories the man had tried to pass on about his mother – which invariably made him think of Dorothy, and not in an endearing way. 

            Jack, for his part, looked startled at the interest.  Which… fair.  He didn’t usually ask.  “Yeah.”  The man shook his head.  “She died in a partial sector collapse in ’65; I finished school within the year and started running with Tanaka’s branch of the L1 militia.  Met your mom about nine years later when Senior came through for a job.” 

            Huh.  Odin considered his audience, then switched into Swiss.  “You met him because you hired him?” 

            Jack tipped his head in a so-so gesture.  “Not me specifically; I was more of a back end programmer who knew how to hit hard and run.  But yes.”  He shrugged.  “Did you ever hear about Major Grant Tieman, with the Alliance?” 

            He hadn’t, but he was inclined to look it up now.  “Will I be able to find anything on him?” he asked curiously.  “OZ sanitized their records in space for everything before 195.” 

            “I think so?  A lot of their ‘cleanup’ involved pinning their projects fully back on the Alliance instead of straight up erasing them.”  He shrugged again, body language considerably more uncomfortable this time.  “Or I can tell you, if you want to know.”  

            Huh.  He’d put off asking Jack directly about his past for long enough, he supposed – and they were going to need to talk about something while he recuperated for the next few days.  The man’s history with one or more branches of the L1 militia had been stated before now, and he’d overheard enough commentary between Jack and everyone else to know he had served a prison sentence for something he’d done with them.  He had been waiting for Jack to broach the subject, but… 

            Maybe he’s been waiting for me to ask?  Jack had a tendency to drop clues about things and then wait and see if he took the bait. 

            …Not unlike what I’ve been doing in regards to my own past.  Hn. 

            Maybe… that would help? 

            He was tired of this game.  If others weren’t relying on it to stay safe he might have just gone for the truth by now, to see what would happen.  But the secret was important for others, and he didn’t know, and if it was going to make the man leave – literally or just emotionally, either way – he didn’t want to rush it. 

            Moira liked Jack – but Moira, like Marie, liked everyone.  What he really wanted was Leia’s opinion.  Leia, who was often critical to the point of being cold, but still had enough heart to cushion the blow at the end. 

            But Leia was gone, and Quatre was on the fence – and if he asked Lucrezia the whole situation was going to blow out wide whether or not it was a good idea, because she wouldn’t let it go once he explained what he had already worked out.  And maybe that would be a good thing, because he did care at this point and that was probably how this was going to pan out, but he didn’t want it to end.  Not yet. 

            “I’d like that,” he decided, switching back to English and taking another bite of his breakfast.  “We can head out tomorrow.” 

            “Alright.”  Jack frowned, taking a bite of his own food, then frowned.  “Not tonight?” 

            “It’s a private shuttle, and I haven’t slept in two days,” he admitted.  And only a few hours before that.  “I could fly tonight, but I probably shouldn’t.” 

            The look Jack gave him was exasperated.  “You could just ask, you know.” 

            He blinked.  “What?” 

            “I learned how to pilot because Senior was hunting me down for flirting with his little sister and I had to outrun him until he cooled down.  I brushed back up on the controls when I started coming back to space – I’m no suit pilot, but I’m good for ships.”  He shrugged.  “I wouldn’t mind taking it for a test run first just in case you had anything fancy added on, but I could get us home.” 

            “…Secondary dock, bay four,” Odin decided, running his tongue over the inside of his teeth.  It was just a small cruiser – he’d rather leave the larger one here for the next time one of them needed to haul something.  “I’ll text you the activation codes.”  Thinking about it for a moment longer, he asked, “Odin chased you?” 

            Jack made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan as he chewed another bite of his wrap, but nodded.  Once he’d swallowed, he added, “Most terrifying three months of my life.” 

            You kept him off that long?  That was impressive too.  Though Jack had already proven he was an extremely able tracker – it made sense that he would be able to handle the opposite end too.  “I can see that,” he decided.  Considering for a moment, he shoveled down the last of his breakfast and stood, gesturing to Jack.  “Come on.  I’ll show you my bunk so you can sleep sometime today.  Heading back tonight sounds better.” 

            “I still haven’t gotten your number,” Taylor protested, pulling out a phone. 

            Shrugging, Odin recited it as he took his plate to the bussing station, then held up a hand in farewell as he walked back out into the hallway.  The abrupt shift in gravity as he crossed the threshold, interestingly, was again a relief – even as the throbbing of his leg stuttered into a new beat. 

            Hn.  Ignoring it was probably not going to end well. 

            He didn’t change his pace. 

            Jack caught up to him, looking thoughtful.  “A new friend, huh?” 

            “Hn.  Maybe,” he hedged.  He doubted it would last – then again, Taylor seemed ready to overinvest, so…  “I’ll find out,” he decided, then considered the older man keeping pace with him.  Hn.  Maybe. 

            All the same, for now?   Even tangled in resigned loss that had yet to occur, his emotions concerning Jack were still firmly positive.  “It’s good to see you again.”  If Jack had been busy, he would have found some other company – Moira or some member of Rubato or the Maguanacs would have obliged him.  But… as much as the choice had felt arbitrary when he first asked, Jack was a definite preference.  Which…  Hn. 

            Does that mean he changed over time?  Or was Odin just blind?  As much as he refused to regret his life… he didn’t think it would have been a bad one, had he met Jack instead of J that day in the rain.  Not that it mattered, but… it was a pretty idea, if impractical. 

            Even aside for his personal gains, the Bartons might have been able to beat another pilot well enough to go through with dropping a colony into central Europe, after all. 

            Jack smiled back at him.  “It’s good to see you too.” 

-

***

-

Dublin, Ireland

            “I told him I’d think about it,” Nick groused.  “That I’d get back to him after spring break.” 

            “Not to pile on, but… have you tried?” Skye asked. 

            Nick sighed, shifting his bag into a more comfortable position as he kept walking.  “It’s a crutch, and it leads me down dangerous paths,” he insisted. 

            “Or it’s, like, a framing device and maybe the only reason you managed to survive the desert,” his friend argued, his tone dry, bordering on sardonic.  “That you loved enough to never shut up about.  Seems relevant.” 

            He scoffed.  “I thought you weren’t piling on.” 

            “I am pointing out pertinent facts,” Skye insisted happily.  “That you should at least acknowledge before consigning yourself to a life of things you find dull.” 

            Nick rolled his eyes.  “Funny, I just walked away from my guidance counselor to vent at… who are you, again?” 

            “I am not getting paid for my services, and am therefore harder to get rid of,” Skye informed him cheerfully.  “I have in fact been honing my obnoxious baby brother skills for the past nineteen years.  You’re welcome.” 

            Nick bit his lip, trying not to grin.  “You don’t turn nineteen for another month.” 

            “I’m told I kicked valiantly every time my sisters tried to touch me.  I got one of them on the mouth on two occasions.” 

            He groaned.  “What the hell?  Why was she-” 

            “Aria’s always been a hugger.”  Skye’s tone was wistful.  “That’s about how tall she was, apparently.” 

            Nick sobered immediately, licking his lips.  “She…?” 

            “…I don’t know.  Probably?”  He sighed.  “Maybe.  It’s hard to say.  Utah is…”  He sighed again.  “Some of Cat’s friends are wild enough that they’ve been as deep into the States as Texas and Idaho and found people, so…  There were a lot of survivalist movements in the community even before it went to hell over there?  But…  There’s a whole lot of nothing in Utah, you know?  It’s a desert.”  He made an annoyed noise.  “Don’t say it.” 

            Nick held his tongue, even as he considered the sheer hypocrisy of that statement anyway.  So was Libya.  And… well, as much as he felt he’d had rose-tinted glasses on the subject, he remembered how much he’d missed his mom when in the Sahara.  “If Cat has friends who can run that kind of trip…” he began leadingly. 

            “They’re insanely busy,” Skye rebutted immediately.  “But… yeah, maybe.  I could borrow the right kind of ship to make the run, especially if I could get Darren to fly it.  Take a bunch of supplies with me in case it’s…. they had a five year supply, you know?  But shit happens, and if it worked out at all, it only would’ve been through a community with some give and take, and…  It’s crazy over there.  Some of what Adam’s said…  I don’t know who would be willing to go with me.” 

            He blinked at that, reeling for a second.  Then, “Shut your fucking mouth,” he snapped incredulously.  “Are you even listening to yourself?” 

            Skye at least had the grace to guffaw instead of whining at him.  “How do you even ask something like-” 

            Un-fucking-believable.  Well, he’d been looking forward to hanging out with the guys in Rubato, but this sounded important; and as he doubted it would be just the two of them, this would still count.  “So we’re going,” he announced.  “I’m going to hang up on you to call Darren and Vaska and see if we can get this figured out in time for my break or if I need to put in for a family emergency.”  He groaned, though it came out more like a growl.  “What the fuck, Skye, you’ve never been shy about-” 

            “I’m scared of what I might find,” he admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush.  “I just.  I wrote it off, but.  Maybe?  I don’t…  But, you know, maybe?”  He gusted out a massive sigh.  “I mean…  Fuck, what if they died over winter, and I could’ve done something?” 

            “What if they’re hanging on but going to die of infection if you don’t show up with antibiotics next week?” Nick snapped back. 

            Skye made a noise, something entirely inarticulate, an angry and frustrated sound… and the line went dead. 

            Nick rolled his eyes and started looking up Vaska’s number. 

-

***

-

Marseilles, France

            “Which, once those last few points are clarified and confirmed, would make for eighty-five states,” Alejandra concluded, looking pensive. 

            “Plus another six presumptive,” Helena added, tapping the back end of her pen on the table.  “Which leaves startlingly few holdouts, honestly.” 

            “I’m not complaining,” Relena reminded her, rubbing at her temples.  “Though all said and done, it’s only a framework, not a governing body.  The true test of it comes later.” 

            Helena nodded, eyes focused on the middle distance, expression grim.  “Yes.  The longer we have to bind them, to turn them into a willing community first, the better.” 

            “It’s not as if they’ll have much choice by then,” Sylvia noted, rolling her eyes. 

            Helena turned patronizing eyes on the Noventa heiress.  “You remember how the Neutral Zone came into being, yes?” 

            In so many ways, Helena Osborne was the opposite of Delilah, the two dancing to such distinctly separate patterns of thought that it was difficult to imagine they were a couple, let alone married.  Other times…  Well.  It took two voices to harmonize. 

            Still, sometimes she felt she was playing peacekeeper between middle school rivals.  While Sylvia was sardonic and argumentative by nature, which rubbed a lot of people – and the Osbornes in particular – the wrong way, neither woman was entirely incorrect.  Which was the entire point.  “Which is why we started with the bill of rights and have continued with our focus from there for the entire structure of the Accords,” she reminded them, not particularly interested in sitting through another round of passive aggressive catfighting.  While occasionally entertaining, it wasn’t going to get them anywhere, and at the moment it just sounded like the beginning of a headache. 

            “To be the best option by a landslide, not just the latest gaffer to tolerate or toss,” Alejandra agreed, clearly on the same page even if she was making a good show of looking distracted, like she was thinking hard. 

            “No one wants a repeat of the anti-Romefeller mobs,” Helena agreed.  “That would only introduce another chink in our armor.”  She shook her head.  “Still, I would say we’re doing good; ahead of schedule.” 

            “My break from the Regime sped it up,” Relena agreed. 

            The older woman’s mouth twisted into a grimace, and she made a so-so gesture.  “Yes and no.  It came out better than we projected, but with enough tumult that we’ve slid RLTT further back on the timeline to keep the balance.  Too much turbulence all at once and you risk flipping the boat.”  She waved a hand.  “It was the best way to go about it, you need as much distance from your brother as feasible, but now you need to take that half step back and prove your stability.” 

            Sylvia snickered.  “The downside of fainting on camera.” 

            Relena smiled conspiratorially.  “If you could have pulled it off, you would have.” 

            “Oh, absolutely.”  The other blonde’s eyes glittered with amusement.  “That doesn’t mean I’m not laughing.” 

            At least with Sylvia, she meant that she was laughing about how well it worked as much as the fact that she’d gone and done it.  There had certainly been a few nasty – and occasionally patronizing – comments sent her way since her flight back from Perth, not to mention the stereotypically sexist lines, having come back with both a tan and an engagement ring.  No one had really argued that a mandatory work holiday couldn’t happen in a secluded tropical bungalow, however, and…  Well.  With easy ways to keep a broad boundary, she hadn’t even seen her bodyguards for five days.  Jake had managed to give her a sort of absolute privacy she had never experienced before… all on a gorgeous beach with the man she loved practically waiting on her hand and foot.  And then… 

            She smiled down at her ring.  In hindsight, she ought to have seen it coming – she really had been overworking herself.  He had hinted to it rather liberally for weeks, and with an opportunity for a true romantic retreat laid out in advance?  He wasn’t one to waste opportunities. 

            Now if only Milliardo would stop being such a boor about it.  She was a legal adult, he hadn’t had any part in raising her, and her choice of husband frankly had nothing to do with him.  Never mind, of course, that before the proposal he would have insisted that Jake was one of the best men he’d ever known.  At the end of the day it didn’t really matter because she didn’t give a damn what her brother thought, but at the moment, he was… 

            Honestly, she had thought he would be over it by now?  Jake insisted that this was about the reaction he had expected, though, and that it was fine, so…  It was just a little difficult at the moment.  It was another reason why the Osbornes continued to recommend pushing back his announcement that he controlled the RLTT Fund – despite how doing so would help shield him from her brother’s tantrums.  That said if those hadn’t calmed down by the time he went public, any attempt to dodge them would look… poor. 

            At any rate, it instead gave them more time to further merge RLTT and Rubato projects, as well as intertwine both with the Accorded Nations in both intent and action.  More time to distance Jake not just from the Regime, but from his tenure on Libra – because there was no way that wasn’t going to come to light with the level of scrutiny they were under, which meant… 

            She resisted the urge to sigh.  Go big or go home.  Jake’s time on Libra was easily excusable by the fact that he had served as a double agent for Peacemillion, but even with them sticking to the story that he had stopped working with Treize post-desertion in 191, his history was… erratic.  Workable in large part because of RLTT, but… despite how thoroughly his records had been scrubbed in the past, if he wanted to pull off the portrayal – the degree of public acceptance – that he’d laid out in his planning with the Osbornes?  He was going to have to provide answers for some aspects of his childhood. 

            Such as the early connection to the Khushrenadas.  Or how he’d entered the OZ Academy at a level of physical competence matching or exceeding his instructors, despite not having reached double digits. 

            Which meant they were going to have to release something about just who Odin Lowe Senior had been. 

            This was made rather more complicated by the fact that, despite Jake having decided he was okay with this while concocting the early parts of this plan last September, he was no longer the only one who could be affected by letting a few of his dead uncle’s literal army of skeletons out of the closet. 

            Consequently, Junior was going to need to be at least peripherally consulted on the fact that this was coming.  Rubato seemed to be on top of any and all PR nightmare possibilities, but Senior had been…  Monstrous.  In a bizarrely mercenary, reserved way.  No publicity team, no matter how skilled, would want to deal with that mess at all, let alone with little to no warning. 

            This, in turn, meant the brothers needed to have an actual conversation; one involving delicate matters on at least her and Jake’s end, but probably both.  Which ideally meant they needed to have a handful of normal conversations first – that first phone interaction, as had been described to her, did not count. 

            Frankly, getting the two bothers talking was a goal in and of itself that she was not above trying to recruit her future father-in-law for.  She understood that she was going to need to steer clear of it in the early stages since she and Jake were in this odd limbo between being public and yet also not, but it had to break one way or another; the sooner the better.  Stabilize, then break the news.  Again, then again.  They could skate it if that all fell down around their shoulders instead, but ideally… 

            Honestly, the world’s politics were starting to look less convoluted than the dynamics of her in-laws, and she wasn’t even married yet. 

            In hindsight, it was a good thing the press had already had practice spinning David into some kind of modern folk hero.  His connections to Jake and binding the links between their stories would help the process immensely.  If they could in turn bind Junior and Rubato through those same ties… that could be win-win for everyone.  Particularly if Stanton decided he was willing to publicly come back from the dead – they could swing the hero angle.  The only better catalyst she could think of would be if Rubato was hiding any gundam pilots within their ranks – which, given their connection to the Insurgence…  That could work very well indeed.  It would be a matter of timing, of course, and the details could be affected artificially if need be, provided everyone was on the same page… 

            But first, Jake needed to get to know his little brother, which was an obstacle in and of itself.  Also, he needed to finish befriending the person he was chatting through email with that they were all fairly sure was both Cat Wilson and Robby Stanton, as RLTT and Revenant Rubato further married their programs into each other.  Ideally, things would all start to slide together naturally somewhere in the mire of those interactions. 

            That, or crash spectacularly. 

            In the meantime that was… mostly not her problem.  She could support, but… well, she had a constitution to continue negotiating and modifying, and her own work to get done in the little time they had before Milliardo’s stupidity crashed down on their heads. 

            That said, there was no reason she couldn’t nudge it along.  “Did we have any updates from the Democratic Zone leaders on their gentrification progress?”  The area had seen something of a mass exodus as the agricolonies opened their doors, much as they had gained a surplus of refugees in the previous years – and while the change could have led to significant upheaval, the Revenants had been taking an excess amount of care to stabilize it.  Which, considering their progressive mission statements and what everyone knew of their internal structure, was refreshingly transparent. 

            She enjoyed working with people who stated what they wanted, then followed through.  As uncomfortable as they were beginning to make some of her allies, and despite the layers of secrecy she knew existed within the organization, she admired the Revenants’ blatant favoritism of democracy. 

-

***

-

March 31^st 199 – Tuesday – Berlin, Germany – The Berlin House – Early Morning

            The thousand yard stare was just… too much.  “I could help?” Jack offered.  

            Odin let out one of those slow, deep sighs of his that seemed to cover aggravation, before dropping his bag and pointedly turning away from the stairs.  “I’m sleeping on the couch,” he announced, hobbling determinedly in that direction. 

            That seemed… excessive?  He’d noticed something was off about the overly mechanical way his son was moving yesterday, but had first thought it was the sleep deprivation he’d readily admitted to.  He’d begun to suspect the truth when Odin threw back a pill before promptly passing out on the shuttle, before they’d even finished disembarking – but the final cinch had been how when, immediately after they’d re-entered atmo, he had immediately begun assembling that custom cane Jack hadn’t seen since December. 

            On their way out of the concourse, he’d tried asking how he’d reinjured himself, but the answer – a wry “Being stupid” – hadn’t been terribly enlightening.  He doubted he was going to get anything better if he tried again. 

            But he also hadn’t realized it was quite this bad?  Though… the stairs were more artistic than handicap friendly, and the more he looked at them, the more he thought he might not trust them at a two person hobble either.  “I could just… carry you,” he pointed out.  The kid was all muscle, but he could still deadlift him.  If he got him on his back instead, it would be easy. 

            Odin made an annoyed noise, not turning back.  “The kitchen is down here.” 

            Are you hungry, then?  He wasn’t yet, but he also didn’t have a teenager’s metabolism anymore.  The offer of help hadn’t seemed to soothe at all, though, so…  “The bath is up there,” he noted. 

            Odin let out an exhausted sounding sigh as he dropped onto the couch, collapsing bonelessly into the cushions and half disappearing.  “That’s a later problem.” 

            Hm.  He considered the suitcase Junior had refused to let him carry before, and hefted it – probably just clothes, by the weight.  Junior hadn’t bothered to shrug out of the leather satchel Luke – Mark, he thought? – made him trade his ratty old backpack for, and he thought most of his tech was in there.  So…  “I’ll just take this to your room,” he decided. 

            The sound Junior made wasn’t exactly agreement, but it definitely wasn’t disagreement, so…  Good enough. 

            He stopped in his room first, dropping off his own bag to sort through later, before heading up another level.  He settled the bag by the walk-in, and considered the decadent room his son was dismissing…  

            Because of stairs. 

            To hell with it.  It was Junior’s house, he could do what he wanted.  But that didn’t mean there was no room for improvement. 

            A minute of rummaging netted him an absurdly soft lounge outfit that someone other than his son must have bought – Mark again, maybe, it looked classy – and he started collecting pillows.  He started tugging on the blanket – obscenely soft again, this was apparently a theme – before thinking better of it and heading for a linen closet instead.  Presumably he’d make it up here before too long, and it was nice to have the bed already made up.  It didn’t take him long to find another blanket just as soft in a different color, at which point he started tossing it all over the bannister. 

            By the time he made it back to the ground level, he’d thrown over another blanket and his own favorite pillow too, and changed into sweatpants and a fresh tank top.  Despite the early hour… it looked like it was a pajama kind of day.  We’re jetlagged anyway.  Since Junior didn’t seem to have stirred, he left the pile as it was for a minute to investigate the fridge.  Which…  Shit, it’s Tuesday. 

            Grimacing, he pulled out his phone to text the concierge and cancel cleaning services for the day – neither of them had been home a while, so it should be fine to just skip a week.  He got a confirmation back fast enough you’d have thought it was a program… but it wasn’t.  He’d checked.  They asked after groceries, because, you know, they knew exactly how long it had been since someone came up here too… and he made a face, opening the fridge. 

            As bizarre as this whole experience was – because whatever word they wanted to use, Odin basically had a butler, even if it was the most impersonal iteration of one he’d ever heard of – it was kinda nice to have someone else do the food shopping.  Especially since they were neurotically organized about it, and dated everything they brought in with neat labels.  And tossed anything grossly overdue when they knew no one was home. 

            He figured they were fine for the moment, and said as much.  He’d probably need to readdress that later, but you know, the butler already knew anyway, so whatever. 

            It wasn’t too much later that he had two plates in hand and was making his way back to the couch.  “Odin?”  The kid went from dead asleep to perfectly alert in a fraction of a second, gaze sharp, eyes scanning… then softening quickly into surprised delight.  “Eggs,” he explained unnecessarily. 

            Junior’s grin was quick, though he gave a hint of a grimace as he shifted his weight.  “I’ve never seen them done that way.” 

            “Eh, I always thought it was efficient,” Jack mused, handing over a plate with eggs fried into two pieces of toast.  “My mom always called it ‘egg in the nest,’ but I’ve heard a dozen other terms for the same thing.”  He debated stopping there, but, well…  “She’d make it with a second piece of toast done with cinnamon, so I could walk to school eating the first, but catch the drips with the second and finish with something sweet.  Her shifts were long and started early, so we were always out the door long before class started.  I think a lot of it was just her way of letting me sleep in as much as possible while still making sure I had breakfast.”  There had been other things too, but it mostly boiled down to something he could walk and eat at the same time. 

            He shook his head, holding out a kitchen towel once his son had the plate balanced.  “I made it runnier than she did, though, so you might want this.  The yolk’s about to break.” 

            “Thanks.” 

            The kid demolished both pieces in record time, done before Jack was even halfway through his own.  Snorting out a laugh, he handed it over and stood back up.  “I’ll make some more.” 

            Odin blinked.  “You don’t have to.” 

            “I know.”  There were plenty of eggs though, and… well, he’d made it clear he didn’t want more help with what was actually bothering him? 

            He both was and wasn’t surprised when the kid snuck up on him as he was finishing a new plate, slipping into the kitchen more quietly than someone with a cane had any right.  “You threw down all the bedding?” 

            “Nope, it spontaneously arrived all on its own.”  He smirked at Odin’s snort, and shook his head.  “You’ve got some pajamas on the counter there.”  All evidence of the kid being able to sleep literally anywhere aside, he’d never changed out of his suit, and that didn’t seem comfortable.  And given the overly plush nature of everything he’d found in Odin’s room, that looked to be a preference. 

            Odin hummed appreciatively… and started stripping. 

            Jack considered the hip belt with the gun and spare clips as they made a home on the breakfast bar, coming over and settling the plate next to it.  “Do you want me to put that anywhere?” he tried.  It looked to be either the same one Junior had handed him at the circus, or close enough as made no difference. 

            “I don’t like it far,” Junior negated, working on his shirt buttons.  “I’ll figure out where it goes once I settle in to sleep.” 

            Paranoid, but not unexpected; Jack couldn’t say he was much better.  “Fair enough.” 

            “Could you pour some water?” 

            That was a good point.  “Sure.”  He didn’t get further than pulling the glasses out, though, before turning back because his kid made a hissing sound.  “Odin?”  That had sounded like pain, and as much as he’d been trying to not… pry… 

            “It’s fine,” Odin grumbled, popping his head free of his undershirt and finger combing his mop of dark hair into something even messier than it had started out. 

            The fuck it was, but…  Jack struggled to control his breathing.  This… looked old.  And probably wasn’t what Junior was even talking about.  Which… made him recalibrate Junior’s rating system for injuries yet again from a status that was already deeply concerning.  Great. 

            Everything is currently fine, he reminded himself.  Maybe not perfectly, Junior clearly had chronic issues of some kind, but he’d known that since finding him.  Nothing on that scale was going on at the moment, so…  Fuck, but he’d seen enough scars like that to make an educated guess. 

            We already had that talk about explosions, he reminded himself.  More than once, even, and then there had been that bit where Kasey actively expected it to be an issue, even if Odin had blown it off.  Though… he’d also talked about Remalene, and you almost never saw major scarring when you had access to that, even for major trauma.  But he’s got the creases too, and the leg issues…  Limited treatment during the war? 

            He needed… really needed… to not lose it right now.  Because as much as Junior seemed to find his occasional outburst of temper amusing, he got weird about overt concern.  Which said all sorts of shit he needed to not think about too hard right now either, but all the same? 

            Casual.  Keep it level.  Casual approaches tended to work best with his youngest, he’d found.  Setting the glassware back down – it was something of a wonder he hadn’t dropped or crushed them, honestly – he asked, “What happened there?” 

            In the process of tugging his pajama top on, Junior blinked, then realized Jack was focused on his back and shrugged, twisting – without visible pain, okay, that was doable – to try to see the damage himself.  “Shrapnel, mostly,” he decided.  “Burns.  Blunt force trauma too, but once my ribs healed, I don’t think that part really left a mark.”  He shrugged, tugging his new top down.  “It was worse before I got my leg worked on, but they took advantage of the anesthesia during my first surgery to grab the pieces Cathy thought were too risky to yank.” 

            “Pieces.” 

            “Metal, plastic.  Some gravel, maybe.”  He shrugged again.  “Shrapnel.  Apparently it would have been fine, none of it turned out to be ferrous, but until they did that no one was willing to try for the MRI the surgeon wanted before he went in around my knee.” 

            …Right.  Audi had mentioned surgeries, and it had been plural.  That wasn’t actually news.  He latched on to something else.  “Cathy?”  Adam’s Cathy? 

            Junior’s gaze turned more assessing now, but for once, he still answered, despite the cagey look.  “Mm.  I don’t think he thought I was going to make it, but once I survived the trip out…  Cathy’s not a full vet, but she’s pretty close, and she handles most things their animals need.”  He hesitated, then shrugged again, managing to look both sheepish and mildly uncomfortable.  “Nobody was more surprised than me when I woke up.  Adam doesn’t really remember, but…”  He looked away.  “I think that might have been my lowest point.  I…”  He sighed and shook his head, body language shifting.  “Anyway, the only things left from then are Cathy’s needlework and her refusal to let me forget just who changed my bedpan.” 

            Jack’s lips twitched in spite of himself.  “That makes for an odd relationship with an ex,” he mused, watching for a reaction. 

            He needn’t have bothered with subtlety – Odin burst out laughing.  “No.  That’s not a thing.  Adam’s just an asshole.” 

            Okay.  “It did feel a little contrived,” he admitted, thinking back to that day at the circus. 

            Odin rolled his eyes.  “Someone got the idea that it would be funny to make it look like I’d slept with more than two people, and Adam decided to ‘help.’”  He scoffed.  “Stupid.” 

            Jack scoffed right back, not entirely sold, but maybe?  “Not Kasey,” he decided.  Cat didn’t seem like a good fit for that sort of bullshit either.  Maybe one of the Rubato guys?  It could be difficult to predict just what came out of that bunch.  Or- 

            “Kasey can’t even handle talking to her,” Odin agreed, visibly debating before making a face and redoing his pants to gingerly climb onto the barstool and snag another piece of toast. 

            …Wait.  Jack gave him an incredulous look, a grin tugging at his mouth.  “Your girl did this?” 

            “She had backstories planned out for three of them,” his son admitted, looking tired – amused, but still tired.  “Too much effort.  What the hell is in Budapest, anyway?” 

            He blinked.  “I have no idea.” 

            Odin let out an exasperated sigh.  “I feel like I’m missing something.  She says it’s random, but it keeps coming up.” 

            Huh.  “Might be a running joke at this point?” he suggested. 

            Odin groaned, continuing to stuff his face.  “I don’t know.” 

            Mm.  Maybe…?  Rhea had always wanted to see Japan, even if she’d settled for the more picturesque sites that were similar in L1.  She’d had a big thing for cherry blossoms; before they’d found out Jake was a boy she’d been hellbent on the name Sakura, trite as he’d found it.  “Could try taking her out there and seeing what happens,” he suggested.  If it really was random, it couldn’t hurt, but maybe there was something she wanted to see there? 

            “Hn.”  Junior wiped at his mouth.  “Maybe.”  He looked more thoughtful now, though, gaze sharpening.  “You’re not going to dig?” 

            He probably shouldn’t be surprised the kid was asking him directly like that, but, well…  He’d thought they’d established this.  “You told me you had good reasons for keeping quiet,” he reminded him.  “I trust you.  So no, I’m not going to ‘dig.’”  He narrowed his eyes when Odin just kept staring at him critically, feeling a bit slighted.  “You matter more to me than any politics,” he reminded him.  “If it’s important, then it’ll keep until that smooths over, right?”  Until it smooths over or you decide you actually trust me.  There was some kind of deeper issue there, but one way or another… 

            Pushing had been the absolute wrong move with Jake.  God knew the two of them were different, but he was mostly sure it was still the wrong move here.  Settled as he seemed to be, Junior felt like a flight risk in a way that Jake could never eclipse, and the kid obviously had some major hang-ups about family that, considering his easy relationship with Moira, he was starting to think might be directed toward men.  And whatever the hell had gone on with the engineering mentor, they’d had enough conversations about Senior for Junior’s resentment of the man’s abandonment to come through loud and clear.  Not to mention the way he actively tried to stand firm for and anchor his friends, and the way his fosters were actively working to get him to lean on someone instead of always standing tall? 

            That just about screamed abandonment issues.  So no, he wasn’t going to rock the boat in any way that made Junior inclined to either run or chase him off, because this was someone still trying to understand what it meant to have safe harbor. 

            He could wait it out.  One way or another, he’d outlast whatever came of this testing period, and see what happened on the other side. 

            And if he’d read a self-help book on how to connect with your estranged kids, who could blame him?  It had been way fucking overdue anyway. 

            Junior’s mouth firmed up, and he nodded slightly, seeming to come to a decision.  “You’ve done this before.” 

            Done…?  “What?”  He was mostly sure the kid wasn’t referring to his brother. 

            “I’ve been trying to do research, but it’s like you can spin anything into both a wrong and right answer if you try hard enough,” Odin continued.  “It’s wildly conflicting – I think I’m missing too much baseline context.”  His gaze intensified.  “But you’re like me, and you’ve done it before.” 

            A voice that sounded suspiciously like Des wanted to retort back that technically, Junior was like him, not the other way around, but he ignored it.  Because… 

            Was this… an attempt to ask for advice? 

            Holy shit.  He straightened his spine, then, leaned one hip against the counter abridging the breakfast bar, focusing in on his son.  Do not screw this up.  “Okay, let’s try.  What’ve you got?” 

            Odin nodded seriously, leaning forward.  “What, besides the ring, denotes a ‘proper’ proposal?” 

-

***

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April 2^nd 199 – Thursday – Prague, Czech Republic

            “What’s the status?  Did she come through?” 

            Quatre sighed, making a conciliatory gesture.  “Technically yes, but there are caveats – we’ll need a local relay.  Before that, we can get scheduled glimpses, but they don’t amount to much.  Whoever goes in will still effectively start blind.” 

            “But they’ll have full communications after they touch down,” Sally added, leaning forward and pressing her hands against the table.  “Which means we can send in packages or reinforcements as needed.” 

            Quatre nodded.  “We also have temporary access to the second satellite system – the one he, ah… mentioned might not be so precise?” 

            Lu hummed thoughtfully.  “That might be our best bet for breaking through the autonomous barricade bloodlessly.” 

            Quatre’s shoulders tensed, even as he nodded.  “Back to the precision problem, but yes.” 

            Lu sighed this time.  “Possibly bloodless, but at least with minimized losses on both sides,” she amended. 

            “I would rather stack machine against machine, where possible,” Sally agreed.  The automated turrets surrounding both sides of the Italian cordon were nasty things – the ones installed in Sanc in the eighties had been bad enough, but someone had gone and updated the design.  It had taken Tallgeese on a suicide mission to break the Sanc cordon – even if she would lose access to the system little Audi had managed to worm her way into minutes after they activated it, she would rather pull the trigger on this stunt herself than send her cavalry into a meat grinder. 

            Even if Odin doubted the precision of the system, they were talking about Heero’s idea of accuracy.  And the system had been used before, if quite some time ago – it had never been more than a mile or two off target.  All things considered, that wasn’t too bad.  They had three viable sites from imaging that showed a solid no man’s land around the turrets to swallow collateral.  It wasn’t foolproof, especially without active communications, but it was a very viable start. 

            As an added incentive, doing this would effectively use up the available ammunition and prevent the Regime from employing the tactic against them – and the government wouldn’t be able to ‘reload’ the setup so long as her Sweepers were on watch. 

            Besides, using the old planetary deterrent against long-range bombs – localized bombardment – would make a hell of a statement.  Her establishment had pointedly kept quiet since that clusterfuck with Libramentum and Regime troops at the beginning of February; it would be nice to come back with a bang.  Breaking the cordon would both right an ongoing atrocity and get her people back.  Might get her more loyal people, even, especially if she followed Brigadier Mitchell’s example in just the right way – and whether or not that went anywhere, it would fold their goals in neatly with the future campaign while giving them a slant the public ought to associate with both Relena and Rubato. 

            Hilde and so many others had been trapped there since November.  She wasn’t leaving her people behind, and she was done fucking around.  Besides, with Duo firmly out, she needed Hilde back to handle Deathscythe.  She wanted the girl back purely for her own sake, because she was a friend and a colleague and someone she loved, but she’d also pushed for the suit to be finished on the best timeline because she wanted a fifth gundam.  There wasn’t going to be much point to that if she didn’t have someone capable of flying it. 

            Additionally, it was frankly terrifying that Audi had been able to gain access to the orbital anti-artillery system in the first place – she wasn’t sure how much of that was dumb luck versus something she should be obscenely glad no one had considered during the war.  It had been so long since someone had tried long-range bombing tactics that the reasoning behind why it stopped being an option had mostly fallen out of human memory.  As it was… they could ‘empty’ the magazine for Europe and prevent further use, but while she felt confident that the Regime would immediately reclaim custody of the system?  She doubted they would tell anyone it was an empty gun, which would help maintain the status quo. 

            In any case, apparently the system was designed to lock out a user and reinitialize a fresh algorithmic firewall ten minutes after combative use, and that would suit the narrative quite well.  A one and done, a smoking gun, and an empty threat to hold over the East while Odin… had stereotypically managed to take the term ‘grenade jumper’ too seriously. 

            It was very innovative, frankly bizarre tech that had something to do with how the Wing gundam was built to fold up like origami – except not applied to suit mechanics, he could make it behave like a massive chainmail net.  A shielding net that could encapsulate something dangerous.  Evidently, every link in the piece was malleable, programmable to follow various algorithms in seemingly endless possibilities.  He had originally brought it up as a means to create a hands-free shield for a mobile suit in the form of ‘wings,’ and it had quickly spiraled into Quatre’s want for more versatile weaponry than a single suit could provide. 

            Military use aside… it was likely the start of an entirely new branch of modern engineering.  He could go in any number of original directions with it.  But apparently his first thought was to catch live missiles, which struck her as a very Heero sort of solution. 

            New or unique tech was also inherently fussy tech that took longer than expected in development, however, and she’d already been disinclined to wait for their heaviest hitters to be ready for Italy anyway.  “We’re set for next week, then,” she decided, straightening her back and setting her shoulders.  “Enough time for our changeling to come back and for last minute planning, but enough is enough.  We’re not going to get any more ready than we already are.”  Adam had specifically requested to be part of the op as soon as it came on the horizon, and she wasn’t going to turn down the extra firepower.  She wasn’t going to put him in charge either, but the ex-pilot was just that – she didn’t want to send any more pilots down onto this kind of frontline than she had to. 

            “I’m another three days out,” Lucrezia reminded her pointedly. 

            “And you’re stuck running logistics with me on this one,” Sally reminded her.  “We have no idea what the state of things is in there.”  At this point in the game, her ace pilots were literally irreplaceable.  If Adam hadn’t deemed his romp through the American tundra safe enough to bring the child along, she might have protested Xutao’s continued participation. 

            That wasn’t to say she thought those trips were a waste of time.  Quite the opposite – as it stood, technically Quatre’s doll theory was just conjecture.  It was solidly build conjecture from a man who could run probability statistics in his sleep, but she couldn’t bring it to her allies without solid evidence.  It was a bloody powder keg of a situation, and she wasn’t going to spark it on anything less than undeniable proof of their manufacture.  The stakes were just too high. 

            Lu’s hum was half annoyed, but also half agreement.  “Understood.  I’ll be along shortly.”  Then she sighed.  “It will be good to get this done – everything else is taking longer than it should.” 

            Sally considered that.  “Everything going okay on your end?”  Odin’s report back on the complications and why her general needed to hang back had been less than detailed. 

            “It’s great,” the other woman assured her.  “The learning curve was just sharper than I expected, and… I needed to work with the frame a bit to get the hang of it.  Howard needed to know what to tweak, and the tinkering…”  Another sigh.  “It had to be done.  It’s fantastic, and I should be able to finish polishing my technique dirtside now that we have the hard specs ironed out.” 

            So… fussy, young technology.  Right.  “Custom to each user?” she asked, trying to see if she followed. 

            Lu groaned.  “More that I needed restrictions built in.  His grasp of this whole system is insane – I have a single add-on based on it that relies on heavy independent modeling, and without our add-ons it was like trying to shape a sheet billowing in the wind.  His entire suit is that way, and his grouping of the controls is…  You know, it makes sense to him, so it’s great, but it doesn’t translate to anything but a computer.” 

            Sally winced, but stopped herself from reprimanding the other woman for saying ‘suit’ – the lines were supposed to be secure, after all. 

            Quatre, meanwhile, was frowning.  “Am I going to need to head back already?” 

            “It shouldn’t affect you the same way,” Lu assured him.  “Your mods are remote, not attached, and the programming is heavier.  Not to mention the whole… less than singular thing.” 

            Oh, now she tries.  All the same, Sally found herself grinning.  ‘Less than singular’ was a hilarious way to reference the Zero System. 

            Quatre rolled his eyes, though he was smiling too.  “Which I’m not using?” he reminded her. 

            “Yeah, because you’re already equivalent – otherwise those mods wouldn’t work,” Lu reminded him, all sass.  “Your version of this literally requires you to think on two levels simultaneously.  I didn’t think it was possible to split the consciousness that way.” 

            Sally blinked a few times at that, considering the young man. 

            Quatre, for his part, just gave a secretive sort of smile and shrugged.  “Don’t ask me to explain it.  It doesn’t translate any better than your boyfriend’s artificial kinesthetic range.” 

            “Fiancé,” Sally corrected. 

            “Fi-”  Quatre cut himself off, eyes wide.  “What?” 

            Oh, so he hadn’t mentioned that whole debacle yet? 

            Lu groaned again.  “Why do I even tell you things?” 

            “So I can answer appropriately when he tries to pry information out of me,” Sally informed her promptly.  “Which is good, because he has all the subtlety of a brick to the face.  You’re welcome.” 

            “It’s not official yet,” her friend protested. 

            “You can’t think he’s going to change his mind,” Sally pointed out drolly.  It was Heero. 

            “No, but I’ve screwed this up before by taking the lead and making assumptions, and even though I know it’s not like that this time, I need the formality.  For the distance from my ex, if nothing else.”  She took in a deep breath.  “He’s completely different, all of this is, but…  I’m not.  I need the reminders, okay?” 

            And now she felt like an asshole.  Good job.  Hell, but as cute as the story had been, Lu had also told her that she’d freaked out at first just because the absurd physics love explanation made her realize that Zechs had never done anything similar.  Had never even said those three little words, despite, you know… practically eloping.  And then abandoning his would-be bride a few weeks later to… chase after the current fiancé. 

            Hm. 

            Life could be decidedly odd. 

            “Sorry,” she admitted, closing her eyes even as she smiled, remembering the last time Odin had tried to talk about anything not gundam related.  “Don’t worry, though –he’s very much on the case.  The man’s got some wild focus.”  If not for those three weeks of being incommunicado with the rest of the world at the dark site, she felt fairly sure he would have made his move by now. 

            Lucrezia let out an almost hysterical sort of giggle, taking another deep breath.  “I know.  Restraint's not really in his wheelhouse.”  Her sigh was more relaxed this time.  “I rather appreciate that.” 

            “I hadn’t heard anything about this,” Quatre announced pointedly. 

            “Why would he ask you?” Sally returned, raising one brow. 

            He immediately held up both hands, looking away.  “Forget I said anything.” 

            She rolled her eyes.  Seriously, Heero had had more experience with romance when she first met him due to his and Relena’s incredibly questionable trade-off of stalking each other than Quatre had now. 

            “…I feel like I should be offended.” 

            “I thought we were forgetting you said anything,” she reminded him, smirking. 

            “I’m not talking about this again until it’s official,” Lu insisted – the sassy little liar.  As if she was going to be able to help herself.  “What day is our ‘changeling’ back?  I’d like at least half a day to shake off the jet lag before we dive into this one.” 

-

***

-

China

            “Calibration issue,” Wufei agreed, re-watching the mapped out projection of the test they’d just finished.  It was either going to need a way to further stabilize the internal components, or a more accurate way to reset the system – on an automated level.  Promising… but the standard deviation needed to be narrower before it had reasonable applications. 

            Hongying sighed as she slumped, nodding.  “Yeah.” 

            “It’s close,” he assured her.  When she shrugged in a more deprecating way, he shook his head, unwilling to let it go.  “The accuracy is acceptable as is – find a way to tighten up the grouping of each pulse, and it will be ready for review.”  She still looked disheartened, and, trying to think of what Kailì would do instead of Master O, he offered, “You already overcame the heating issue, which is what locked everyone else out of this field for the last decade.  This is nothing.” 

            “Everything I can come up with adds too much mass,” she snapped, slamming her hands down on her desk. 

            “It’s a first generation prototype,” he reminded her flatly.  “Worry about slimming it down later.” 

            “There’s a way to do it now, and it’s a waste of time to say otherwise,” she growled. 

            Am I supposed to see this much of myself in my apprentices? Wufei mused.  The fact that it was as endearing as it was annoying made him appreciate Kailì more, even as the urge to strangle him rose. 

            Not that that was new.  Or unique to him – Kailì had married Xiu Juan.  Given that woman’s disposition, he was fairly sure the man had to have survived more than one literal attempt in the last sixteen years. 

            All the same, Wufei was not Kailì, and Hongying was hardly Yu Zi.  “That’s not your specialty, and you’re part of a team meant to iron out each other’s weaknesses,” he reminded her.  “Either muddle through and get it somewhere reasonable before your deadline, or drop enough pride to bring in Runchu to help streamline it before you present.”  This, at least, was a tactic he would have benefitted from as a student.  Too often, he had been left to his own devices, driven only by his own ambitions, and it had led to… issues. 

            Then again, that might not have had anything to do with his professors.  The population of any single region in modern China exceeded that of his entire home cluster.  While the government had been able to comb the population for promising candidates that he could test, he… might have been the only mind on his tier and education level for more than a decade in any direction, back home.  Of course, his culture had pushed that as a point of pride, a pinnacle to aspire to, instead of acknowledging the dangers inherent in the dichotomy.  Lonely as it had been, he had been raised to be alone, groomed for it, even – and yet, it served no true purpose. 

            Glamorous as it appeared in abstract, there were a great deal of drawbacks to being the only big fish in the pond.  Even without touching on the interpersonal issues, the gains in both competition and collaboration were not half so easy to dismiss now that he had seen the boons for himself. 

            Better that his students learn those lessons early.  They would see less pain for no reason. 

            Enough was enough, though.  “Good work,” he praised, clapping a hand on her shoulder – pointedly, exactly the same as he did for his male apprentices – and left.  She would find her way out of her sulk one way or another – now that he had pointed out a few viable options, the how wasn’t any of his business.  For all that teaching had not turned out to be half so arduous as he’d imagined when the group was first thrust on him, it wasn’t something he took great joy in either.  It was often more interesting than the applied principles on his primary projects, but for all that he agreed doing both at once was important and had better long-term gains, it was still stolen time from the race against the rest of the world.  The rest of the world and space. 

            On the bright side, those factions were stupid enough to show their hand ahead of time.  Though… he supposed it was not ‘ahead of time’ for them, already locked in conflicts his new home had thus far managed to avoid.  That isolation was coming to an end soon, however… and he couldn’t help but worry that these people, for all their changes, still made the same mistakes as L5.  Recouping from both the war and the internal conflicts that had come after, where rival factions fought over both resources and control was understandable – commendable, even, in that his government understood their own scale.  They had seen the downfall of enough predecessors to be cautious of the danger in claiming more than they could manage.  At the same time, however… 

            Europe had seen so many parallels in advancement.  Part of that was likely due to the fact that they simply had the same problems, but watching the news concerning Revenant Rubato’s advancements with Neut and WendSyn… it was nearly a mirror of Kailì and Shui’s work since the three of them had left the amplifier project.  Da Capo was of a scale that hadn’t been seen in nearly two hundred years.  Then, of course, all the social programs being pushed through by the R.L. Tomorrow Today Fund and the princess everyone had been obsessed with for the past four years… 

            He was beginning to worry that despite the difference in scale, despite all the changes he had lived through and continued to push for, he was still only a big fish in a secluded pond.  That the rest of the world was out there, racing past him still, reaching heights he could not even begin to contemplate simply because he lacked perspective.  He had thought the government here was smart, to take charge and follow through, truly looking after its people in a way he hadn’t seen since leaving home, but… the rest of the world, even space, were routing through the private sector.  Merely another route to the same goal, or more clear-sighted for its diversity? 

            He didn’t know. 

            He hated not knowing.  It made him feel small. 

            And of course, that was only what they were discreetly picking up through public channels.  Involved in their own issues as they had spent the last three years, they had no vast spy network to draw upon, and while the brass said a few alliances had been made, the details were sealed – and his impression was that they were threadbare in any case.  Satellite surveillance was something of a joke at this stage – what cameras in the sky his own people hadn’t actively sabotaged, others had finished.  No, alternate equipment and techniques had instead been developed, and for all that even their own population had successfully been kept in the dark on the subject… he couldn’t help but wonder what secret projects laid to the west.  Another mirror, or something else entirely?  It was maddening to be close enough to hear, but never touch – always observing, but never becoming involved. 

            At least, he supposed, that was coming to an end soon.  Whether he was behind or not, he would find out then. 

-

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Chapter Text

Prerequisites

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April 6^th 199 – Monday – Merano, Italy

            Fuck.  She forced herself to take a calm, even breath, despite…  Fuck! 

            This… might be it.  They could manage for a while, rob Peter to pay Paul and scramble for a better solution in the meantime, but…  This was probably the beginning of the end. 

            Who the fuck am I kidding?  The ‘end’ had started a while ago – it just hadn’t been overtly direct. 

            Still, she kept her expression thoughtful, body language confident. 

            She… really didn’t have any time where she could be herself these days.  Not completely.  Whether or not she had an audience, they were so tightly packed that she couldn’t be sure, and…  It was important.  Hope and faith, whether real or entirely counterfeit, was too deeply intertwined with survival to skimp on.  She’d found out the interesting way just how fucking awful things got when people crossed that line, and they couldn’t always be brought back. 

            How the fuck am I going to do this? 

            “Borchia?”  Drea’s tone was hushed – not quite afraid, not yet, but desolate all the same, and… 

            Damn it all, these people needed another last-ditch miracle pulled out of thin air, and so far, she’d been able to deliver.  They weren’t…  They were just people.  At least she had wanted to fight, even if she’d gotten in over her head almost right from the start.  This little enclave was made up of bystanders trying to eke on through, whether by hook or crook. 

            Right then.  She drew herself up, setting her shoulders.  “I’m going to need some paper,” she decided.  Shelve the horror – logistics first.  Without free control of the plant, they’d have to get by on what power cells they could scrounge, or what pipeline they might be able to tap and steal… 

            She closed her eyes.  What I will be able to steal.  Reese had been at the plant when it was taken, and without him…  No one left in her faction had enough know-how to fix a bad outlet in a house, let alone divert something complicated.  Which was going to get really fucking complicated, because she couldn’t be in more than one place at a time. 

            I really, really fucking miss you, Duo.  He could do this shit in his sleep – that, or even better, he would’ve found a way to get everyone out by now.  So often these days, thinking about him felt the same as invoking a prayer. 

            She was going to have to tell him that – the look he’d give her would be fucking gold. 

            She allowed herself a longer moment of respite while Drea and the others shuffled around, the murmuring of Italian soothing by now even if she couldn’t fucking understand a lick of it.  It was fine – she could pull off being in deep thought.  Fuck it, she was in deep thought.  She needed a visual to try and see how much leeway they had before hitting critical.  Maybe… 

            She took another deep breath, shoving the urge to cry down deep.  They… there wasn’t going to be any way to take the plant back.  She only had two people with any decent fighting ability left, and the way it was set up… there was no way.  Not without explosives, and even then, probably not – she had almost no way to shape a homemade charge. 

            And, of course, they had hostages.  Reese… Reese was dead.  Too high up on the fuckers’ shit list, too much of a threat, and too male besides; Milo’s guys usually only bothered with female prisoners, and even then, only the pretty ones.  So… Shanelle and Karin at least?  Maybe another six or seven ladies, depending on their captors’ mood or if anyone had managed to hide.  It was a big facility, after all. 

            Fuck, but she hoped there had been enough warning to hide Susan and Michael.  The less said about how Milo handled kids, the better. 

            She couldn’t think about that.  Not right now. 

            Not that she could raze the building even if she could confirm all her people were dead, since that would just fuck over literally everyone – she hadn’t reached that level of pyrrhic nihilism.  Not just yet, at least. 

            …If I can’t secure at least some electricity in the next week…  And fuck, more than ‘some’ – a majority of the food they had been carefully rationing out for the last few months was frozen.  That alone…  She had far less than a week.  Fuck! 

            I’m going to get some fucking paper, and I’m going to figure it out, she reminded herself.  She’d worked her way through of the last three crises without talking her way through it – circling the drain or not, she’d do it again.  Duo wouldn’t have given up.  The darkest moment was always before the dawn, right? 

            “Borchia?” 

            “I’m thinking,” she reassured Drea, not really wanting to deal with that plaintively questioning tone just yet.  The older woman meant well, but…  Fuck, but being a symbol sucked.  The General had warned her before she’d started to help her build the role up in 196, but every time she thought she had a handle on it, she found more teeth. 

            “Yes, but, ah…” 

            A smattering of Italian effectively fell on the floor between them – whoever claimed immersion was the best teacher of foreign language was full of shit.  She fought the urge to wrap her hands around her head – that never looked good – and cut the other woman off.  Not gently, but not harshly either.  “Drea, unless it will help me sneak back into the plant and sabotage the code or something, it can wait.”  Fuck, but half those words probably weren’t in the other woman’s limited English.  She tried to start over, opening her eyes again and staring at the ceiling.  “I need-” 

            Drea made a frustrated noise, and shoved something into her hand.  Something she almost immediately dropped, because it vibrated. 

            Her gaze snapped down, and she realized that yes, it was a phone – Connie’s, by the case.  Sia had been carrying it since… well, since, and… 

            Holy shit, but the blind hope that the thing might actually work again had panned out.  Well, it had always worked, she’d encouraged Sia to keep it powered up just in case, but it hadn’t communicated, which was the whole fucking point of a goddamn cellphone, and… 

            The screen said she had three missed calls in the last five minutes.  And one text from the same number, just now – the vibration she’d felt. 

            ‘Anybody home?’ 

            Connie, Reese, and Nadine had said these things were encrypted out the wazoo – some kind of work Yuy had done after the lockdown began that she honestly hadn’t cared enough about to listen to.  But that meant this probably wasn’t a trap?  Anyone calling this line was supposed to be a friendly.  One of Sally’s. 

            Besides, if Milo was able to get the communications networks up, why would he bother with her? 

            She tapped the callback prompt. 

            “Hilde?” 

            She let out a breath that was only a little gutted.  It… no one had used her name since Nadine died.  She hadn’t discouraged it – leaning into the fucking ‘boss’ title seemed to help people hold on a little better.  “Who is this?” she demanded. 

            “It’s Adam.  I’ll pass the line to Po if you want, but I can reach you in ten minutes.”  His tone hardened into what she associated with his battle persona – far more subtle than Duo’s, but there all the same.  “Ready to crack this place open like an egg?” 

            Adam, you beautiful motherfucker!  She wanted to scream with joy, and maybe cry. 

            Don’t fucking cry!  Cavalry or not, she still…  There was a lot.  Hold it together.  “I’m going to need your help with a couple of things first,” she announced, tone smooth.  “Tell me you brought a team.”  Adam was worth a team all on his own, but what she needed was a fucking army. 

            Ideally, an army with assault rifles. 

            “I do, with anything else you want on tap,” he reassured.  “Full drop.  Border stands for now, but we’ve got the air.”  A pause.  “Heading your way now.  Any advice on approach?” 

            …Fuck.  Yeah, that was absolutely a thing.  “Get under cover and wait for me to send someone to lead you in,” she ordered.  “This phone can track you?” 

            “And more,” he returned agreeably.  “How do you think I knew it was you?” 

            She really hadn’t thought too much about how the Insurgence agents that broke through the cordon had insisted on keying in her biometrics – it had made too much sense, given the odds they were facing.  Still, she closed her eyes again, locking down on the grief.  This… was the last surviving phone, after all – and Reese had been the last surviving infiltrator.  Two of the people she’d originally been with when the lockdown started were left, but they weren’t much better than her deputized civilians. 

            “I’ll take it,” she decided, feeling lighter but also… blank.  Distressingly blank, despite the good news.  Guess it hasn’t hit yet.  “Do me a favor and set up the tracker in reverse, then hunker down until I have someone reach you.  See you soon.” 

            “Got it.”  He hesitated, but she could hear his intake of breath, like he wasn’t done, before he added, “It’s good to hear your voice.  I was worried.” 

            She snorted.  “Yeah, well, you took your fucking time.” 

            “Not my call – I’d have been here before Christmas if I’d been able to find an in I knew I could land.  How many of Po’s made it to you?  This was the only line I could connect.” 

            She set her teeth, a hole opening in her gut.  “Three.” 

            Silence for a long moment, then a rough exhalation.  “Fuck.” 

            She wanted to ask, but she also… really didn’t.  “Set up that tracker,” she repeated, looking around and debating who to hand the phone off to for this.  She could think about the cost of the last half a year later.  “I’ll see you when you get here.” 

-

***

-

Munich, Germany – Sarracenia

            ‘Are you in the middle of something right now?’ 

            Jake hesitated…  But this was one of those easy ways to reach back, wasn’t it? 

            A year ago, he probably wouldn’t have responded at all, and left it at the excuse that he could say he hadn’t seen it until much later – with the added security blanket that he could change his mind and become ‘available’ at any point in time.  But that latter was just another way to lie to himself, because he’d proven he wouldn’t. 

            Six months ago, he’d decided he needed to respond, and had mostly stuck with it.  He still lied when he felt overwhelmed – which was more or less any time Jack initiated contact – and usually put him off until he could mentally prepare himself for the interaction.  That, or said he could only text. 

            But Jack wouldn’t have phrased it like that if he didn’t want to actually talk, and while he’d go along with whatever Jake was willing to give him…  They’d actually been pretty great over text lately, once they got going.  It had gotten a lot easier over the last three months – the looming specter of expectation on their interactions had lost most of its edge.  It wasn’t gone, exactly, but… well, he actually couldn’t remember the last time they’d fucked it all up.  Which… 

            Damn.  They’d had a few near misses since, but… neither of them had flipped out on the other since August.  That was… pretty cool.  Especially considering the fact that he’d talked with Jack more times in the last nine months than the previous nine years put together. 

            …That last fight had been the last time he had tried calling his father. 

            Fuck it.  He tapped the call button.  He’d gotten comfortable enough that it was time to push again. 

            If I fuck it up, I’ve got a brand new record to hold myself up against for the next wave. 

            The line connected, and his father’s somewhat stilted voice came through.  “Jake, hey!” 

            Simultaneously, a female voice came through, only slightly muffled.  “-still suck!” 

            Jake blinked, not… entirely sure what to do with that.  “Hey,” he returned. 

            There was a low rumble that was probably another voice too quiet to make out, and Jack sighed before muttering, “I’m sorry, she…  Would you believe me if I said I forgot how loud she was being?” 

            Jake felt his lips twitch.  “Probably not,” he decided. 

            Jack groaned.  “It’s been like this for a while,” he defended.  “She’s repetitive, I’ve been tuning it out.”  Another soft huff.  “Your brother has the patience of a saint.” 

            Jake considered that, hearing more – the words were muffled, but the indignance was coming through loud and clear.  Something loosened up in his chest.  Maybe…  He could do this, couldn’t he?  “I’m not sure ‘saint’ is the word,” he argued.  Given the source?  “I remember screaming myself hoarse at Senior more than once, and all he’d do was stare at me.” 

            “…Yeah, he had practice on that with your mom,” Jack decided. 

            Jake snorted.  “What, you never tried?” 

            His father snorted back.  “If the only problem with my temper was that I got loud, our history would be very different.” 

            The feminine voice came through again.  “Still not the point!” 

            Jake winced, even as he grinned at the unintentional peanut gallery hitting the issue on the head.  “Yeah, point.”  Jack got fucking mean, both verbally and physically, but he went for precision instead of volume. 

            Jack huffed out a short laugh.  “And anyway it’s…  Not the same, exactly.  He’s got Senior’s patience, or near enough, but it’s less… passive?” 

            Jake raised his brows.  “It’s been going long enough that you lost track, and he’s acting like it’s a normal conversation?” 

            “Eh, more that he’s tricking her into making fun of herself with each response and quietly gloating about it.” 

            He guffawed.  “What, like Des?” 

            “Almost?  It’s-”  Jack cut himself off as a thoroughly outraged shriek ripped through the line, followed deep laughter as the cadence of the female voice changed to something much closer to sputtering.  “Ah, I guess he’s done.”  

            Jake smirked.  “Oh?”  He’d been assuming this was the little sister, given the context and lack of explanation on Jack’s part, but he was missing nearly all the details. 

            “He launched out of the pool like some kind of trained dolphin and tossed her in fully clothed.” 

            He felt a broad grin stretch its way across his lips; water in an enclosed space did explain some of the odd acoustics he was picking up.  “That was Audi, right?”  At his father’s affirmative hum, he asked, “What is she on his case for anyway?” 

            Jack let out a deeply beleaguered sigh.  “We,” he announced, in a slow, determined sort of tone, “have been doing research.” 

            He raised his brows again, feeling his lips begin to twitch.  By tone alone, this promised to be interesting.  “Research.” 

            “Research,” Jack confirmed.  “Audi is upset that she was not included in said research, despite being…”  He let out another sigh, this one sounding painful.  “In Canada.” 

            There was another shriek, this one more of a joyous cackle, and an excess of water noises.  “Canada.” 

            “Either Adam is obsessed with North America, or he is genuinely determined to find a large number of things he’s left there.  He seems to go often.”  Another sigh.  “I can’t decide if your brother thinks it’s a fool’s errand and is idly watching the process as a means of entertainment or if he’s actively making shit up for his amnesiac friend to find that never existed for the self-same purpose.” 

            “I only get to do one?” 

            Jake snorted out a laugh, bending over with the force of it.  Ah, shit.  He’d been warned that the kid turned out funny – had had examples listed, and there’d been a touch of it in that phone call in January – but it still felt like it came out of nowhere. 

            A lot of that, maybe, was just that the kid himself felt like he came out of nowhere?  As happy as he was about everything he was learning about his baby brother so far… it still felt like a dream, most of the time.  Ethereal.  He’d finally stopped feeling like he was going to wake up and realize it was all a lie, but it wasn’t really solid yet either. 

            Audi’s voice came through the line next.  “Seriously, Adam has lost more crap than most people ever knew existed.  He’d be this bad even without the memory issue.” 

            “Canada,” Jack repeated. 

            “Don’t be boring,” the girl pouted, a giggle hiding in her tone.  “It was an adventure!  I made a snowman!” 

            “I’m still not ready to talk about the snowman,” Jack returned flatly. 

            That sounded promising.  Still, they hadn’t gotten at all close to an answer to his question.  “Research?” he prompted, casting his voice somewhat loudly.  He wasn’t sure whether or not they could hear him half as well as he could them, but it was worth a shot. 

            There as another overly dramatic groan, and a lot of sloshing noises.  “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me!  You suck!” 

            Odin’s tone was all idle curiosity.  “How long can you hold your breath?” 

            She squawked again, and the water sounds increased. 

            “I’m going downstairs,” Jack announced, sounding exasperated.  A moment later, he added, “You’re back off speakerphone.” 

            On the one hand, he wanted to ask why he’d tried to have the conversation in the same room to start with – but on the other, he recognized the view into his brother’s life for the gift it was.  Grinning again, he decided to tease.  “I’m a little curious about the snowman.” 

            “I am not discussing the fucking snowman.” 

            He couldn’t help but bust up laughing again, even as he wondered what had been so offensive about it.  “Okay,” he decided after a minute.  “What are we talking about?”  Of course, if it had just been to get that peek into his brother’s mischief, he would be content – but that wasn’t how Jack worked. 

            His father sighed.  “We hit the end of the research stage and are now on a fairly tight timeline.  Some of the issues are deeply specific and you’re something of an expert – I mentioned you might be able to help, and he asked if I would check.” 

            That sounded ominous, but he was also fairly sure Jack would go about the subject differently if he was talking about something dangerous.  Probably.  “I’m listening.” 

            “I know you have a favorite jeweler in L3, but do you have connections with any closer to home that do custom work?  That can meet a three and a half week timeline?” 

            His breath caught.  “What?” 

            “Nothing as intricate as what you recently had done,” Jack added quickly.  “He says she likes bold, clean lines, and the few styles he’s lingered on are straightforward, if unusual.”  He sighed again.  “He’s not fixated on an exact design so much as finding the right stone.” 

            Jake’s mind spun.  “Holy shit.” 

            “Yeah.”  He hesitated, then, “I may have suggested that if we bring you, we could walk into the right backroom to find the exact gem he wants and get a rush order on fabricating the rest.  He doesn’t care about the cost, but neither of us really know where to start.  Your mom liked traditional solitaires – I just spent a couple hours agonizing over the local stock in a mall.”  He sighed again.  “If that’s not doable we can sort something else out later, he’s not against meeting you somewhere neutral, but-” 

            “It’s very doable,” Jake interrupted, running through options.  He’d been in the middle of another response in his ongoing conversation with Rubato when his phone buzzed, but once he wrapped that up, he could make a few calls. 

            “Are you still hiding from…?” 

            Technically yes, but he was mostly sure Zechs wouldn’t follow through on it at this point?  And he could get around that besides.  “Only a little, and I can be subtle,” Jake reassured him.  He glanced back at his laptop and the nearly completed email.  “Send me what details you have?”  From the way he’d phrased it, he gathered they weren’t talking about a diamond.  “It’ll help me narrow it down.” 

            “Yeah, sure.” 

            He shook his head again, then let out another short laugh.  “You did say he was serious about her, huh?”  And Jack felt sure that Junior committed just as hard as the two of them, so… 

            Po was both accomplished and intelligent, not to mention a beauty, and Lu had said she was sharp as a whip too.  A six year age gap when the younger partner was still a teenager was a little aggressive, but, well… doctors usually married younger than themselves, and Junior had been forced to grow up on a very different timescale than most people; that did things to your maturity.  In any case, if it worked, a six year difference wouldn’t even make anyone blink in a few years – probably not even as soon as Junior turned twenty in four months. 

            Relena had good things to say about Po too – not much, they’d only met twice, but good things all the same.  Warm and no-nonsense at the same time.  She’d been on his list of people he’d like to meet even before they confirmed Junior was attached to her Insurgence. 

            “As much as you and Lena,” Jack confirmed.  “Though not as simple?  There’s been mention of a jealous ex-boyfriend, and Audi said something that made me think that that’s… an active issue?” 

            Jake blinked.  “Yeah?” 

            Jack made an affirmative noise.  “Odin’s entirely dismissive of it, but I think that might only be superficial?  He’s an ‘all in’ type with everything either way, it’s just how his brain works, but he cut off something his sister was trying to say about the ex being a real tyrant with a line about ‘she shouldn’t have to define herself by him.’” 

            Yeah… that did sound like there was some kind of issue.  Huh.  “So he likes that she’s independent, huh?” 

            “Eh…more like he’s determined to go the extra mile so she knows she can depend on him?  I asked if she liked her space then, and he laughed as he told me no.”  He sighed again.  “I’m mostly sure that wasn’t a reference to how randy the two of them get.  He followed it up with a lecture about how defining yourself by another person was endless, not a one and done, and that you can’t just claim people without continuing to put the work in.” 

            He thought about that for a moment, and winced.  That… didn’t exactly bode well for reunions.  “Ouch.” 

            “Eh, yes and no?  He’s also really big on how nothing is really ‘over’ until you’re dead, and is surprisingly forgiving with his friends’ fuckups despite the harsh ideology.  I mean…  I think it explains why he’s giving me such a chance?  But also why he throws Senior under the bus at minimal provocation – if you’re dead, you can’t work on the problem.” 

            That twist made both his head and his heart hurt.  “I’m going to have to think about it,” he admitted.  On the one hand it was hopeful? 

            But it also hurt. 

            It would probably make more sense if he gave his emotions time to settle?  Time to change the subject.  “He’s absolute on the timeline you mentioned?” 

            Jack made an exasperated noise.  “Barring an emergency at the last minute, yes.  His venue is a public event that lines up with an inside joke, and if anything, he doesn’t want to wait that long.  He was ready to find something off the shelf until he realized how many color variations there were in her favorite gemstone, went down the rabbit hole on the quality involved in that, and decided it was the crux of the issue.  Apparently tanzanites are soft, but there’s some kind of treatment that can be done?” 

            He didn’t remember what color tanzanite was, but he knew the answer to this question.  “Yeah, it’s an add-on nano-coating that I would have recommended anyway; it adds luster and shine as well as strength.”  Aquamarines, after all, were naturally prone to scratches – but they suited Relena’s eyes and she loved them.  The primary stone in her ring was nearly colorless but had just enough tint to be perfect… and he grinned, realizing he maybe he had another point of commonality with his brother.  Pulling his phone away from his head, he typed out a search for the stone – the first few images were blue, ranging between what he’d consider sapphire to something close to a winter sky.  Huh.  “White gold?” he suggested, bringing the phone back to his face.  It could work with other metal colors too, he was sure, but the first pieces on his search were silvery. 

            “Cobalt chrome if he can get it, platinum possibly with a rhodium coating if he can’t, followed by white gold and rhodium if there’s problems there,” Jack recited agreeably. 

            Jake raised his brows.  Visual over expense, nice.  The cobalt was technically the cheapest option, and the lightest – but it was tricky to work with.  He’d dismissed it as an option from Relena’s design immediately.  But if the style wasn’t too complex?  “I might know someone for the cobalt.”  Arielle might be willing try it just for the prestige – she was proud that way.  If it pushed her limits, it would help her showcase more for the future – and lucky him, she was working out of her European shop for the next two months. 

            She might be from L3 and primarily ran her business there, but Romefeller liked fancy work, and part of the agreement for Relena’s commission had been that the ring’s maker would be subtly ‘leaked.’  It was hard to beat the depth of the aristocracy’s pockets, and some time on the customer end benefitted her business too. 

            Arielle had manipulated gundanium with internal circuitry into a beautiful pendant for him before – if a stylish feminine ring could be made from cobalt, she’d be the smith to pull it off.  She was also willing to take exorbitant bribes for rush orders.  He usually didn’t bother, but it was a service she offered every time.  “How’s his calendar?” 

            Jack huffed out a laugh.  “For this?  Wide open.  But apparently she’s busy and he doesn’t expect to see her for another week, and sooner is better.” 

            He violently crushed the impulse that had him wondering just what the Insurgence was busy with when they’d been so damn quiet for the past couple months – while he was curious, he really didn’t care in the face of this.  Sally Po had proven she had both morals and an agenda he didn’t disagree with – for now, that was enough.  “Send me all the details you can about what he wants, and I’ll get back to you with a time.”  He hesitated, but you know… better to not assume.  “How’s your schedule?” 

            Jack’s laugh was brighter this time, and it made something in his own chest loosen.  “Wide open for at least another ten days, but we’ll probably have reports back that need follow-up after that.  There’s some flexibility even there, though.” 

            Jake licked his lips.  Might as well.  “You should come visit once he’s off to see her again.  Lena missed you last time, and since work is keeping her busy on her birthday proper, we were thinking about having a belated get together.” 

            “…What day?” 

            “It’s… not set in stone yet.” 

            “Her birthday is tomorrow.” 

            He opted not to make a joke about his fiancée being into delayed gratification.  “I didn’t forget, she just asked to put off any celebrations until she finished wrapping up her latest set of negotiations.  It’s not as though I’m doing nothing tomorrow.”  He rolled his eyes.  “You can come for no reason too, but I’m asking early enough that I can still move the party around; the timing of her work varies dramatically right now.” 

            I’m trying to figure out how to make this feel normal, he didn’t say.  To remind you that I know you don’t need an invite, and you can come as you please.  Getting any more direct than this would just make it feel more awkward. 

            “Ah… okay.”  His father took an audible breath.  “I can probably make any date you set this month.” 

            Jake licked his lips again.  “Cool, I’ll let you know.”  He had to start somewhere, and arranging this now, when Junior very much was not invited, ought to help too.  After all, he’d decided to try to pick up the pieces of their shitty history before his brother’s resurrection act. 

            That said, he was also done.  “I need to go – I’ve got something I need to wrap up before I can start bothering jewelers.”  All the back and forth with the Rubato rep that had approached RLTT directly had been going swimmingly, but interweaving Relena and Nadiya’s programs through the Revenants’ work was ceaselessly time-consuming.  At this rate, if Relena couldn’t take the time back to focus on the upcoming amplifier tour, he was going to have to hire and assign someone for it.  He’d planned to handle it himself with a cameo here and there from Relena to keep the diplomatic end smooth, but the breadth of the work itself… 

            If it turned out that it truly was just Stanton managing all of Revenant Rubato, he might be forced to cry.  Or ask for lessons.  He’d thought he was good at this shit before now, prepared for the new scale he was raising the Tomorrow Today Fund to, but…  Hell, even if Stanton does have a long line of sub-managers, the sheer speed and scale he dances through is daunting.  And that was only what the younger man was letting him see. 

            There’s always a bigger fish, he reminded himself.  He’d known that, but he hadn’t expected it to be quite so much bigger. 

            But on the bright side, he was still mostly sure that he was dealing directly with the infamous Cambyses martyr that was best friends with his brother and the Dutchman, and at least on paper?  He thought they could all see eye to eye.  It could be far worse – Stanton could belong to the East’s camp, or Zechs’.  And he was pretty sure that, despite how he was becoming more and more positive he wasn’t Stanton’s equal?  He didn’t think the younger man viewed their correspondence in a poor light?  If he could just cultivate that relationship long enough, he was fairly sure Stanton’s reported distrust of him as a person wouldn’t fuck the whole thing up when he made RLTT public. 

            The odds of that not going up in flames also went up the closer he was able to grow to his brother – which was win-win in general.  If he played his cards right, he might be able to navigate the lot of this without anyone getting pissed at him. 

            “Okay, take care – I’ll send you an email.” 

            “With pictures,” Jake added.  “It doesn’t have to be exact, just ideas, but especially for the cobalt, I need as much as you can give me.”  After all, if it pushed the limits too far, they were going to have to backpedal back to a different metal; better to not lose the time if they were already facing an impossibility. 

            “You got it.  It’s not going to be organized, but it shouldn’t take me too long.  I’ll be in touch.” 

            “Thanks.”  He closed his eyes, centering himself, trying to decide… but honestly, it wasn’t as hard as last time.  “Bye, Dad.” 

-

***

-

Szczecin, Poland

            “Done,” Cat agreed.  “Next window is in two hours.” 

            “How wide of a radius do you need?” asked a female voice from seemingly nowhere. 

            “Three kilometers for a hostility net to be safe, but theoretically I can hit inside zero point two.” 

            Nick kept his mouth shut.  He’d come in intending to tease the younger man about avoiding him since he hadn’t even come out to say hello, but this… was something else. 

            A different woman’s voice came through, this time definitely through a speaker he couldn’t identify – this one younger, and imminently more exhausted.  “I gave you the territory lines already, so just tell me where.” 

            Cat paced around the massive holographic display of what looked like a city for a moment before muttering something foreign that changed the scale of the projection dramatically and stepping into it to eye the height of the buildings critically.  “Primary,” he announced, shifting something in his hand before starting to draw a ring – color followed his fingertips, then filled in when he closed the loop.  Taking another three steps further in, he announced, “Secondary,” before repeating the process.  Muttering another foreign word of some kind, the scale dramatically sized down, and he looked around critically for a moment before nodding and taking two more steps, crouched, and drew a third.  “Tertiary.  Quaternary further out for domestic essentials, as discussed.” 

            “Second wave in at the same time, with their own gear,” a third female voice added, this one more husky than the others.  “Do we have a preferred landing, or is the original site ideal?” 

            Cat turned to offer him a lazily pleased sort of smile and held up one finger of his off hand in a ‘wait’ gesture. 

            “Might be worth coming in swinging,” a male voice suggested.  “Fuel cells are a hot enough ticket that no one else will have air support.  We’re only going to get one chance at surprise.” 

            He was mostly sure, but he still signed a question – the room was dark aside from the lit projections, and the sound quality incredible.  ‘Alone?’ 

            Cat nodded. 

            “That’s doable,” the third woman announced, her tone a match for Cat’s smile.  “Do we have schematics for that plant, or just memory?” 

            “I forwarded them to Three for modifications,” Cat announced.  “You have the originals in your folder.”  He shook his head, then added, “I’m signing out.  Ring me if need be.” 

            Nick blinked, opening his mouth to protest even as there were murmurs of acknowledgement, but the speakers went offline before he could speak.  “If you’re busy,” he started. 

            “Too many cooks spoil the pot,” Cat returned, shaking his head.  “I’m only in for logistics – Sally will let me know if I’m needed before the next wave.”  He made a fist with his right hand followed by a tossing gesture, and the diagram filling the room faded out, the lights rising.  “Sorry I couldn’t leave it earlier.”  He sighed, looking… careworn.  “It’s complicated.” 

            Sally?  He… hadn’t considered the idea that all his concerns of the last two months might have such a simple answer.  “Sally Po?”  The Insurgence was… 

            Well, with Mitchell gone rogue and the situation in space?  Po’s Insurgence were practically angels. 

            Maybe of the Old Testament variety, but still angels. 

            Cat’s smile was more content this time; a simpler kind of happy.  “She’s an old friend.”  Shrugging, he headed towards Nick and the open door.  “And I might be willing to team up with an enemy to right this particular wrong.  The more we learn, the more guilty I feel that it took so long for us to muster for this.” 

            “That was a town,” Nick noted, feeling… less sure about this as what they were referencing really sunk in. 

            “Merano,” Cat agreed, stepping around him to reach the door.  “Or what’s left of it, anyway.  Six months of segregation have done it no favors, and from first survey, the rural areas in the cordon are worse.”  He let out a slow sigh, expression grimly familiar from before.  “Cambyses’ only saving grace was that they were thoroughly organized.  Without that backbone of structure?”  He grimaced.  “The stories I’ve heard coming out of America are better.” 

            Nick felt like he could hardly breathe.  Like something inside him was beginning to vibrate. 

            Italy.  He was talking about northern Italy. 

            “The Insurgence broke through the Italian quarantine?” he breathed. 

            “As of this morning.”  Cat made a sawing gesture, reaching back to shut the door behind them with the opposite hand.  “After a fashion,” he amended.  “They’re in – we’re trying to get a handle on just what’s left to work with before ending the siege.  You haven’t missed any news – the border is still secure.” 

            That… that was huge.  “And Rubato is involved?’ he confirmed, trying to wrap his mind around it – even as his brain shied away from the comparison to the Sahara. 

            “Only peripherally,” Cat returned, leading him back down the hall.  “Mostly just Adam and me – and honestly, Adam might as well be Insurgence at this point anyway, he…”  He cut himself off with an exasperated noise.  “Adam is only part of Rubato because Odin and I want him to stop running solo as often, not because he listens to anyone.  That hasn’t changed – he makes up his own rules, and changes them by the hour.” 

            Nick considered that.  “Who is Adam, again?”  He kept losing track of the plethora of alternate names. 

            Cat made a dismissive gesture.  “A friend of mine from before.”  His mouth settled into an unhappy line.  “Mostly.  He wasn’t with us in Africa.” 

            That looked interesting.  “Mostly,” he repeated. 

            Cat gave him a considering look, clearly hesitating… then the grimace deepened.  “I don’t know if we were ever friends,” he admitted.  “I wanted to be, almost desperately, looking back, but…  He didn’t really know what to do with it.  Then…” 

            Sounds almost like a bad break-up?  “Major rejection?” he suggested. 

            Cat barked out a sharp, vicious laugh.  “I killed him, Nick.  I completely lost my mind and, unprovoked, I-”  He jerked his head to one side in a sharp dismissal.  “He was trying to stop me from doing something I could never have come back from, because he was awkward and he didn’t feel the way I did but he knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did it.  So he got in my way and I called his bluff, because why would he start caring now, and… and it wasn’t a bluff.”  He stopped walking and dropped his weight back against the wall, covering his eyes with both hands. 

            Nick debated, but eventually opted for the obvious.  “He doesn’t sound dead.” 

            “I blew him up and left him for dead in a battlefield in space,” Cat growled, hunching in on himself.  “Odin chased me down, beat some sense into me, then effectively took me by the scruff of my neck and dragged me around after him for three weeks until I got my back up about it enough that he figured I wasn’t likely to step in front of a train.”  He dragged his hands down his cheeks and fisted them under his chin, curling in on himself further.  “I ended up chasing after his wake again only a week later and stayed that way until Sanc fell.  When I went back to my sisters after that they just wanted to brush everything under the rug – and while I was uncomfortable with the idea, I didn’t feel like I really had any other options.”  Sighing, he dropped his hands and stood up straight again.  “When Odin and a couple other friends turned up again, and I went with them because it was an absolute nightmare and they needed me… and then all of a sudden, there’s Adam.”  He dropped back against the wall again and met Nick’s eyes.  “Same soul, same everything, but no memory.” 

            Nick considered that, only briefly stumbling over the soul comment – he’d come across empaths online referring to people-centric emotions that way.  Obviously there were a lot of missing details, but he the gist of it.  “Second chance, huh?” 

            “Maybe if not for the guilt,” the younger man groused, looking down and away.  “And we…  I was too exhausted, too spent on literally every level to move on it even if we’d had time.  He didn’t…”  Cat swallowed.  “It was his second chance.  Not mine.”  Another sigh.  “Which… has been proven since, and…” 

            He waited until it was cleared Cat had no intention of explaining further before pointing out the obvious again.  “He’s still not dead, though.” 

            Cat swallowed, closing his eyes.  “I recognize everyone I’ve ever met.  He was different after, but close enough to not second guess.  Now?”  He shook his head.  “It was just an echo, maybe because everyone kept telling him what he ought to remember or be, but…  He’s someone else.” 

            Nick fought down the urge to stare incredulously.  Clearly this was an upsetting topic, but…  “So he went through something crazy traumatic, and instead of chalking it up to new life experiences, you decided he got replaced.” 

            “Don’t be asinine.”  It came out in a hiss, a flash back to their days in the desert. 

            But this wasn’t the desert.  “Don’t be a little bitch,” he snapped back.  “If he didn’t want anything to do with you, he wouldn’t have come back the first time, let alone since.  Does he know you’re having, like, imposter syndrome over this?” 

            Cat guffawed.  “That’s not the term-” 

            “Whatever it’s called then, are you shitting me?”  This was stupid.  “The fuck are you going to do when Cory starts calming down enough that he thinks with his heart again instead of fuzzing out?” 

            Cat froze.  “What?” 

            Nick rolled his eyes.  “Anyone can tell that Cory is a vaguely functioning ball of trauma being led along until he relaxes enough to remember how to deal with life again, but I’ve talked about it with Jovi too.  That kid has the emotional capacity of a thimble most days.  I know you’ve got your crazy mutant powers or whatever, but seriously, once he starts a full recovery are you going to turn around and think he’s suddenly not your kid anymore?” 

            He seriously doubted it, but the point had to be made. 

            “Of course not-” 

            “But given how fucked up he is now, won’t he feel like a totally different person in three years?” 

            His friend made a deeply exasperated noise.  “Maybe, but the core-” 

            Nick cut him off again.  “Or will you only still recognize him because you got to see the process where he changed?” 

            Cat’s brain visibly stuttered over that, for all that a moment later he was shaking his head in denial.  “There’s a core, like a fingerprint under everything-” 

            “Fuck off, just how long did you look for that before you noped out?”  He scoffed.  “You’ve got a thing about guilt.” 

            Cat made an inarticulate rage sort of sound, throwing up his hands.  “I literally murdered him.” 

            “Dead man is still walking, and I bet if he held it against you it would’ve come up by now.  Seriously, how hard did you try?” 

            Tellingly, his one-time commander scowled at him before whipping away to stride down the hall. 

            Nick darted after him – almost wanting to skip, just to be an ass about it.  “You’re welcome!” he called. 

            “I’ll think about it,” the younger man tossed back tersely.  “But I don’t see why you’re so smug.” 

            “You’re still refusing professional help,” Nick returned blithely, realizing he did feel proud of himself.  Therapy wasn’t supposed to be comfortable.  “I’m just helping out.” 

            He couldn’t see Cat’s face, but he could just about hear him roll his eyes.  “I forgot how much of an asshole you are.”

            “No you didn’t,” Nick denied cheerfully.  “You just don’t like being painted in a corner.  It passes.”  When Cat didn’t bother deigning that with a response, he asked, “When do I get to meet Adam, anyway?” 

            Cat scoffed, slowing down and glancing back.  “Not this week – Italy, remember?” 

            Right.  He sighed, crossing his arms behind his head.  “I come for a visit, and everyone’s busy,” he whined half-heartedly. 

            He did see Cat roll his eyes this time.  “You were the one kicking Skye out the door.” 

            “Yeah, but I thought he’d take me,” he complained, even as he grinned. 

            “Utah is very much gun territory, it always has been and I doubt the apocalypse changed that.  It would have been a bad idea.  You’ve never even touched a gun.” 

            “I’m Welsh,” he agreed, nodding along.  He’d understood the logic at the time and had even told Skye to rush for it, but that didn’t make him not annoyed at having missed one of his closer friends. 

            Cat made a peculiar noise.  “What does that even mean?” 

            “That I’m British but still have standards.”  He grinned at Cat’s even more frustrated groan.  “Where are you from, again?” 

            “Not Britain, clearly.” 

            Nick snorted out a laugh at that, taking a couple quick steps to walk side by side.  “Whatever.  How much time do we have before you need to lock yourself back in your imaginarium?” 

            Cat choked out a laugh, eyes lighting up.  “My what?” 

            “You seriously have some kind of full VR room and instead of gaming you’re using it to plot out…”  Nick frowned.  “How was that logistics?  You looked like you were picking spots at random, but…”  He’d seen that look before – whatever it looked like, it had been anything but arbitrary. 

            Cat gave an elegant little shrug.  “Statistics, mostly.  Hilde had a clear enough picture of population density and structural damage that I could supplement our satellite glimpses to plot trajectory for accurate supply drops with minimal collateral.  They’re still going to need to check my math and account for weather – our time and geographical windows are both tight.  At least one of those sites won’t be viable.  But it’s a good starting point.” 

            Nick frowned.  He was mostly sure that had been some kind of explanation, but at the same time?  “Try that again.” 

            His friend flashed him a bright, mischievous sort of grin – gone almost as soon as it came – and made one of his more grandiose gestures as he explained, “I sketched out the best possible landing algorithms.” 

            Nick narrowed his eyes.  “See, I’m pretty confident you need a computer to run those.”  There was a big industry in that shit – you needed a spaceport to get enough push to reach the black, but not to come back down safely. 

            Cat nodded thoughtfully.  “But you’d have to write up a program for all the specific parameters that I haven’t had time to collate into machine language yet, in order to use one.”  Another elegant wave.  “This was faster.” 

            “…You’re that good at math,” he deadpanned. 

            “They’re going to need to rehash my calculus – I was adlibbing averages.  But in essence?  Yes.” 

            Nick stared at him, remembering what Jovi had said about Cat having joined the war effort despite being way too fucking young.  He’d known Robby was some kind of brilliant, but this?  “Just how bad were you trying to piss off your dad?” 

            A sharp laugh cracked out of him, almost seeming to shock the blonde even as the amusement settled deep into his skin in a pleased way – and not for the first time, he truly looked like his namesake.  Arrogant, amused, and vindictive.  “My father was a pacifist of the utmost tier,” he sneered.  “And followed Zachary Peacecraft’s example to his grave despite every warning sign.”  The sneer deepened into a grimace.  “Despite having every opportunity to find an alternate route.  He always cared more about the absolution of his ideals than finding a way to make them reality.” 

            Huh.  That sounded like it ran deep.  “That bad, huh?” 

            Cat rolled his eyes.  “He abandoned most of his children and maintained an iron fist of control over the rest.  The only one of us that evaded both options founded a syndicate.” 

            Nick snorted, thinking about how well that glove fit Rubato – even where it also didn’t.  “So you do have a role model.  I can’t decide if that’s worse or reassuring.” 

            Cat’s smile was downright beatific this time.  “That’s not an uncommon reaction.  Tricia inspires or desolates by turn.”  His expression turned contemplative.  “We have a few differences of ideology, but… I could do worse.”  He shook his head.  “She would call Rubato a proof that I was coming into my own and be proud.” 

            Huh.  “You haven’t talked to her since…?” 

            “I’m nearly positive she’s running with Soleil,” he negated.  “Though whether she’s with them or working them over is debatable.  Until Sally is ready to forge that connection one way or another, my sisters can wait.”  He cast a narrow-eyed gaze over at him.  “Don’t mention any of this to Inez.” 

            Nick rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets, because wow.  “I have literally talked to your sister twice,” he pointed out.  “Ever.  Why would I start now?” 

            “She’s only probably my sister, and Rubato’s cover has enough holes in it that she might come sniffing now that you’ve spent your spring break with us.”  He shook his head.  “I don’t know Inez.  I was inside Zayeed’s sphere of influence, and she must be one of the ones he abandoned.  Just because I know Tricia loves all of us doesn’t mean I have any idea how most of them think.  Just because I’m mostly sure we won’t directly clash doesn’t mean I’m eager to find out.”  He scoffed, smirk returning.  “At least not until I’m too fortified to be brushed aside if they’re not pleased.” 

            Zayeed?  Huh.  At least the Arabic-sounding name might go a long way towards explaining how Robby had been so damn comfortable in the dunes, even if it sounded absurd while looking at the man’s decidedly French physicality.  In any case, it wasn’t as if he’d considered the option even before Jovi had first brought it up.  “I’m not going to tell Inez anything,” he promised. 

            Cat’s smile was grateful this time, and they emerged from the bizarrely long hallway into a stairwell leading up.  “Thank you.”  Starting to walk up, he added, “And I doubt they’ll need me again in the ‘imaginarium.’”  He rolled his eyes.  “The ladies of the Insurgence are more than capable.  Mark, Ardith, and I will probably need to start sorting through some of the information release soon, though.” 

            Nick blinked.  “Yeah?” 

            “It is a literal nightmare in there,” Cat reminded him, staying several steps ahead.  “One the Regime purposefully cultivated for terrible reasons.  It’s going to backfire in their faces spectacularly – and we want to make the biggest impact possible.”  He looked over his shoulder to smirk back at him.  “Jovi has a meeting with Relena tomorrow.  I think she’s going to want a piece of this pie too.” 

            Oh shit.  That…  Ugh.  He couldn’t decide if that feeling in his chest was excitement or just anticipation, but…  Fuck it.  “Can I hear her answer?” 

            Cat stopped and turned back to face him fully, resting one hand on the stair rail.  “You’re allowed into any part of this you want,” he reminded him, voice quiet.  “You’re allowed to duck out whenever you want.  Nick, so long as you don’t sell us out to the Regime, I’m okay with you changing your mind every other day on the subject – I just don’t think you would be.”  His shrug was anything but elegant this time – mostly uncomfortable, maybe a little sheepish.  “We can do plenty of things not related to this too.”  Then the smirk came back.  “But if you want to be nosey, I’m not here to hold you back.  I don’t do that anymore – you set your own limits now.”  Body language lightening, he turned and continued up the steps again.  “Just try not to regret it, whatever you decide.” 

-

***

-

Provo, Utah – The United States

            “It’ll take a little time to organize, but I can get anyone who wants to leave out.  I have the influence to find homes and livelihoods in agricultural settings, factory work, space, martial, or probably anything in between.”  He sighed.  “I can’t guarantee it’ll be perfect, but I can work out a fresh start and a basic support network.” 

            The older man hesitated.  “Even though…?” 

            Skye grimaced, shrugging.  “It’s been over three years since the Fall – I knew coming here was a long shot.  Just because I couldn’t find any answers doesn’t mean I should let the effort go to waste.” 

            His parents, his sisters and their families… either they had died, or they had left and resettled elsewhere.  The house had been stripped of all essentials, and no one knew anything – but it had been a week and… well, he could search the wasteland that had once been the greater Salt Lake Area for years and never get a straight answer one way or another.  Anything that might have served as a lead had long since dried up. 

            He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse, to have tried and failed.  Though at least whatever had happened, he could tell that coming last fall, as soon as he had the ability, wouldn’t have been any more successful?  It wasn’t exactly closure, but… 

            Maybe they’d made it out of the desert into more fertile territory in the first rush to leave the urban areas behind.  Everyone had enough horror stories about the early days after Libra that it made a certain amount of sense – there was never enough water here to support the population.  They would have known that.  His own family could have stripped their houses of anything valuable as easily as looters come after.  Just because his first thought had been that they would go to the church didn’t mean it would have been the smart move – and everything here was so fractured that he couldn’t say if they hadn’t gone the church way, even.  The names the of congregations were already fading out of memory – part or all of his particular stake could have made the migration together.  He would probably never know. 

            They could also be three years dead of exposure, here or literally anywhere in an eight hundred mile radius.  As tightly knit as most of the modern world was, everything over here had… gotten big, for lack of a better word. 

            “Is the government coming back?” a woman asked tentatively.  “I mean, are you… scouting?  Maybe?” 

            That hurt on an entirely different level.  No one thinks about the Americas at all anymore, do they?  “I have nothing to do with any government,” he denied.  “And war is brewing again besides.” 

            “So nothing’s changed,” another woman sneered, the bite in her words failing to completely hide the misery lurking in her eyes. 

            Skye grimaced, trying to figure out how to explain without diving down a rabbit hole, and was grateful when Damien stepped in.  “No one is truly recovered from Libra’s Fall yet,” he announced.  “And the conflicts that caused it were merely paused, not ended.  But in Europe, Relena Darlian-Peacecraft and many others are erecting new laws, businesses and humanitarian efforts that are changing things.”  He paused, eyeing the group – Of elders?  Leaders? – before announcing, “We’re part of one of the newer groups that’ve been trying to make waves, outside the politics arena.  There’s a lot more space in between for that than there used to be, and it’s beginning to make a difference.” 

            Either he’d been practicing, or maybe they really should let Damien help Bern write his speeches.  That wasn’t half bad. 

            “Repopulation of the Pacific has already begun,” Vaska chipped in, looking everyone over.  “I don’t know how long that will take.  But if anything, I suspect South America would come after that.” 

            That went over like a lead balloon, but Cliff spoke over their protests.  “Oceania and South America were utterly decimated before what was left got fully evacuated.  They became graveyards, while you all suffered and grew wild enough to defend what was left.  Repopulation is just that – they don’t want to come here because they don’t want to clash with any of you.  The current Regime is already fighting on more than one front while struggling to keep their own people stable – they don’t have the resources to even consider picking a fight here.  They’re not coming.” 

            “But there’s more space in between now,” Damien reiterated, making a placating gesture.  “A whole continent is one thing – but relocating a couple of towns?”  He shrugged.  “This seems like a good place to start.” 

            …Why does Mark bitch so much about Damien’s shenanigans, again?  Seriously, what the fuck.  He was smooth today. 

            “Think about it,” he added.  “You’ve carved out a place for yourselves here, and if you want to stick to it, fine.  But if anyone wants an out, we’ll carve a path.  Half the point of Revenant Rubato is about giving people options – too many people never get a decent set.”  He bit back the urge to sigh, before adding, “Especially after the Fall.  We…”  Oh, to hell with it.  “This wasn’t the only place to descend into a post-apocalyptic hellscape.  All of us here?  We were lucky to find someone who pulled us out.”  He stood up straighter, trying to project confidence.  “The way I see it, the only way forward from there is to return the favor to the universe and help someone else.  Pay it forward.” 

            It still hurt… but maybe some good could come out of this trip anyway. 

-

***

-

Merano, Italy

            Sometimes Hilde felt like she was only a passenger along for the ride, and her body just knew what to do.  Smooth action and reaction, one motion gliding into another… it had excited her, when she first entered basic with OZ and realized she was good at it in a way no one around her was.  It had been heady right up until she met the cocky shit that Duo had been on their first meeting, at the reminder that there was always a bigger fish, even as the creeping reminder that her family had told her to never trust the Earthborn had found new anchors in her superiors.  The humbling after that, when she saw what lengths he would go to… the realization that recognition was a trap.  It had still hurt to play the dumb bitch and get herself kicked out of the program, but nothing like the wound when she’d realized just who she’d unwittingly tied herself to before Duo opened her eyes. 

            She hadn’t quite trusted her instincts for a while after that.  She’d needed to take a step back.  But she didn’t regret going to Libra – even if she hadn’t been the only spy, what she had done was critical – reckless, but critical.  The General didn’t often speak of her foster brother, but he hadn’t known jack shit about Libra’s weaknesses, too focused on playing the defensive, his actions all preventative.  Which, well, point – because if he hadn’t been running that game then Peacemillion and the gundams would have been destroyed weeks before she made her move.  Trying to compare their actions was apples to oranges.  Apparently it had been far from his first spy gig too, for all that her boss wouldn’t give her details. 

            This though? 

            Slamming through the door of the control room of the plant, she let off four quick, precise bursts of fire at the last defenders, pivoting to further clear the room only to find it empty. 

            Sometimes she thought she’d been born for this. 

            She waited a moment, watching for any telltale twitching, before barking, “Clear!” and tugging off the helmet of her body armor – and fuck but had she missed the security of one of these suits!  It slowed her down, but the ability to be a wall for the kind of close-passage push they’d just done while Adam’s team came in the south entrance and Giselle’s through the roof?  Pure fucking gold.  The still cautious way the others moved in from behind her to check the bodies made something deep in her gut uncoil a little further – another affirmation that she wasn’t the only one holding the line, even if she’d proven herself capable of it. 

            God, but it felt good to have competent people at her back again.  Not that the locals hadn’t tried, but… 

            She still couldn’t decide if the last six months had been some kind of personal hell, or a way to prove herself. 

            She wished she knew whether she wanted to preen or never do it again.  Small groups was fine, or all soldiers was fine, but civilians?  She wanted to crow and bask and rub it in everyone’s faces and she also wanted to break down sobbing and hide in a dark room for, like… a month. 

            Well.  A week, maybe. 

            Later, though. 

            “South wing is… mostly clear,” Adam announced through her earpiece, sounding frustrated. 

            “Backup?” Hilde demanded, already turning to gesture. 

            “No, not…”  He made a frustrated noise and called out something in Italian, the tone almost crooning.  “Not unless they used kids.  I didn’t see much of her – long, straight hair, maybe seven?”  Another grumble.  “A small seven, or a very nimble five – she’s behind a grate.  I can’t tell if she’s long gone or still listening.” 

            No one ever talked about how relief could hit as hard as a sucker punch.  Susan.  “You found Susan?” 

            “Did they ever use kids to ambush?” 

            “Who the fuck uses kids to spring ambushes?” she snapped. 

            Another frustrated noise.  “Susan?” he called in that same gentle tone.  Another string of almost sing-song Italian, though she heard ‘borchia’ tangled somewhere in it. 

            “Tell her you’ve got pink gummy bears,” Hilde added, slinging her rifle back over her shoulder and striding over to the security panel. 

            Adam’s confusion was audible.  “I… don’t?” 

            She rolled her eyes.  “It’s a safe code, dumbass.  Only mention pink ones.”  Other colors meant entirely different things. 

            Susan was in truth a very small eight, and clever enough to sniff out most adults’ well-meaning cons. 

            He hummed out an appreciative sort of note before the line went fully silent again – which was good, because as glad as she was to hear at least one of the kids had weathered the siege, she had shit to do.  “Nita, man the security desk and make sure we don’t have any stragglers – I’m securing the mainframe.”  It was debatable if they’d had enough time to truly break past her firewalls, because it looked like Reese had at least had time to get those up, but… 

            Fuck.  Reese.  It still really wasn’t time to cry, damn it. 

            All the same, he’d been a beautiful, masterful piece of work because no – despite holding the plant for a solid eight hours, despite shooting nearly everyone who had been on campus when the raid struck?  Her adversaries hadn’t been able to access the mainframe.  He’d bought them time.  It was hard to say how much time it would have been without today’s rescue, but he…  He’d died for it.  He might’ve had time to run for it, but instead he’d- 

            Fuck it.  She wasn’t the only fucking pillar of hope left standing anymore, and the only people in the room with her were the newly arrived Insurgence agents.  She could cry a little. 

            She wasn’t sure how long it took to finish regathering herself, glad that no one had made any comment but just let her have a minute, before Nita snorted.  “What are you supposed to be now, a tree?” 

            “I can be whatever I like,” Adam returned smugly.  “Including a hostage means of conveyance.” 

            Hilde blinked, wiping at her face one more time and turning as Nita scoffed.  Adam stood in one of the control room’s entrances with little Michael on his shoulders, Susan clamped onto his side in a way that could not be in any way comfortable for either of them, but with no sign of letting go all the same… and she couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.  “You’re okay!” she cried, crouching down and flinging out her arms… and laughed harder as both orphans launched off her friend hard enough that he almost fell.  They tumbled into her arms in a way she normally found overwhelming, but fuck it, she couldn’t get any worse right now anyway.  Instead she just closed her eyes and held on as they clutched at her…  “I was so worried…” 

            Fuck.  She didn’t normally like kids, was rarely even the person who looked after their needs, but the lives of these two had been her responsibility for more than two months now and she’d been studiously not thinking about their fate.  They’d been at the plant because it was the most fortified, defensible place she’d had, and the fact that it had fallen anyway?  “You clever, crafty girl,” she cooed into Susan’s pin straight… utterly filthy hair.  Michael was only four, so whatever had happened, Susan deserved the credit.  Where have you been? 

            As if he could hear her thoughts, Adam let out a soft chuckle.  “I caught her peeking out an air vent at me.  Scouting.  We had to go back three junctions for the boy.” 

            Hilde laughed again, ruffling the girl’s hair.  “Smart.” 

            She grumbled into her shoulder.  “I heard…  Had to see.  I’m quiet.” 

            And since Michael was practically the definition of quiet in a normal sense, she took that to mean that Susan had been worried about the clatter he might make in the vent, not that he’d chatter.  Which… fair.  “Smart to not test the weight limits of the ducts,” she praised, affirming the child’s logic.  After all, it wouldn’t have mattered if none of the adults haunting their home turned prison could fit into the vents; they weren’t exactly bulletproof.  “Even while they held, they might have been bowing, or made noisier just from the added weight.” 

            “The only thing off was your timing,” Adam added, squatting down to be on the same level.  “You can’t count on no one thinking to look in the vent – I always look.” 

            “He’s weird like that,” Hilde informed them conspiratorially, despite agreeing. 

            “I’ve used them too many times to discount them,” he corrected. 

            Susan twisted to look at him with a distinctly judgmental face.  “You’re too big,” she argued. 

            His returning smile was sly.  “They’re not always as small as here, and I wasn’t always this big.” 

            Hilde narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly rethinking this comment from before.  Though…  She switched to Japanese.  “How young did you start this lifestyle?”  He’d really expected a child he thought as young as five to attack him? 

            His smile was… careless.  “The mercenaries who found me as a baby thought I should earn my keep,” he admitted in the same language. 

            …Wow.  Just when she didn’t think her faith in humanity could get any lower.  Now that they were going to be leaving the war zone, she needed to figure out who the hell the kids went to, but that wasn’t inspiring her with any confidence.  “That’s fucked up,” she informed him, switching back to English.  Her Japanese wasn’t bad, but it was shit for cussing.  You had to get creative if you wanted the same oomph, and she just wasn’t in the mood. 

            Adam just shrugged, nodding thoughtfully.  “I think that’s the main reason Odin wanted rubato.  He gets hung up on that kind of thing.” 

            For a second, she thought maybe her brain was playing tricks with the Italian she’d spent the last six months trying to learn, but…  “Odin stole what?” she tried. 

            Adam cackled.  “Right?  Apparently it also has something to do with music, but I still can’t believe they named it that.”  He raised his eyebrows, lifting both hands dramatically. “Ghost thieves!” 

            She scowled, unimpressed.  “Did you just make fucking jazz hands at me?  What are you even talking about?” 

            His grin was entirely unrepentant.  “I don’t think we should let Cat name things.” 

            She blinked.  “Cat?” 

            “Exactly.” 

            Hilde narrowed her eyes at him, letting go of the kids and making a point of ruffling Michael’s hair as she disentangled enough to stand again.  “Now you’re just fucking with me because you can,” she decided. 

            The asshole practically purred.  “Always.” 

            She scoffed, spinning away from him to go back to the desk.  “Do something useful or get out,” she ordered.  “I need to work up a damage report before we decide on our next move.” 

-

***

-

Amsterdam, Netherlands – Hell’s Crossing

            “It’s not that structured,” Katrien corrected, shaking her head.  “We don’t have the space for a full schedule to be fair, and the only exception is for those who live on premises.  The Crossing is a facility of transitions, not a sanctuary.  We have two reserved slots, two lottery, and three walk-in for each of the six two-hour slots.”  Karina existed outside that rubric, but it wasn’t the same.  Even if Kasey wouldn’t completely lose his shit over Rina and Renee being unprotected for most of the day, nearly all the pre-K Lotus Trust programs were home-based.  “If we run into problems with the walk-in situation being abused in the next few weeks, we’ll re-address it.”  Probably to add various age restrictions to open it up more – maybe segregate by age a bit more and open up more opportunities for grade schoolers?  “We’re still working out the details on what the community needs,” she explained.  “So we’re open to suggestions, but we’re going to need to take the time to prove each point before adapting.” 

            “Oh.”  Desi Staffan looked hesitant for a moment before pasting on another smile – clearly overwhelmed, but not upset.  “Do you have time to walk me through the sign-up for those?” 

            “Absolutely.”  Katrien gestured for the other woman to sit down and pulled up the right window.  “Do you have your license number handy?  We can check on everything else too.  Do you still have time to bake bread with this new gig, or is that going the way of the dinosaur?” 

            Desi blinked, clearly startled.  “I hadn’t planned to stop, I…”  She shook her head in a bemused way, then rattled off the string of numbers Katrien had asked for from memory – a good sign.  “I made an agreement, winter before last,” she continued. 

            “Agreements can be changed,” Katrien soothed.  “We’ve been checking in on everyone.  I just told Kasey I’d touch base with everyone who took up the Lotus mantle so he might have time to sleep sometime this month.” 

            Desi let out a soft chuckle.  “He does tend to overwork himself,” she agreed.  “I remember…”  She grimaced.  “I wanted to thank him again, actually.  For before, when…  Well.  And for all this too, of course.  Even as everything changes, I… just knowing that-” 

            She cut herself off when Katrien reached a hand across her desk to clasp the other woman’s hands in one of her own.  “As much as things change, that isn’t,” she promised, meeting her eyes.  “We’re adapting, not moving on.  If anyone hassles you again, we want to hear about it – the only difference is that it might be someone in khaki come to help instead of a Devil.  All these new rules are just a way to expand and add more safety, not a breakdown of the system.” 

            “Right, of course, I know that.  I just…”  Desi sighed and visibly gathered herself before giving Katrien a truly stunning smile.  “If anything, being able to be home instead of at three different jobs…. I might be able to do more.  I didn’t want to bring it up until I was sure, what with having more little ones in the house than my boys, but…  Well, it was something I was already thinking about.” 

            “Give it a handful of weeks first, then come talk to me if you want to change something,” Katrien reassured.  “Or sooner, if it turns out the kids need more of your time than the baking allows.  Either way is fine – just let us know so we can redistribute, okay?” 

            The world had changed again, dramatically, the last few months. 

            In hindsight it had been a long time coming, between the birth of Kasey’s network after the riot and Relena’s continued work to raise the poverty line.  They’d been heading in this direction.  But then Revenant Rubato had come in with a bang, and with a couple of the founders from that group being old friends of Kay’s from before the war and… 

            It wasn’t quite there yet, but… suddenly the Devil’s Quarter was only an inch away from not being a slum. 

            They had the widest scale Neut network to date, and were serving as a proof of concept before other areas could implement the colonial-style power grids.  The vast majority of both the vagrants and young people at loose ends had cleared out following new Rubato job opportunities elsewhere, and what was left was slowly becoming… more of a professional community.  There were still plenty of normal businesses and families, so many of those still broken or wounded like the widow in front of her, but at the same time… it was remarkable. 

            The word was gentrification, apparently. 

            It had been a shock, in a lot of ways – when Adelheid called the meeting together to address the fact that the Den was about to come down around their ears…  That they were going to have to cut their losses and leave.  She’d known the Den was in shit shape, but she hadn’t really thought about it in so long that the older woman’s announcement had hit like a blow to the gut.  She didn’t want to leave, but…  The building they’d been calling ‘The Devil’s Den’ since Luc found it had been one of the smallest leftover buildings from a large boarding school, once upon a time.  Still far too large for what they had ever needed, but at a price they were able to afford so long as they took excess measures to secure it…  They had fought to make it work, but it had worked. 

            She hadn’t cared that it was basically a bloody hole in the ground – it was hers.  She’d bled for it, they all had, to keep this one piece of safety, and to have it threatened?  She’d been holding back tears as the sheer scale of the problem sunk in. 

            Then Kay had stepped up and brought up an option none of them had ever imagined. 

            They were going to lose the Den because it wasn’t fit for living in.  But the Quarter needed more low-income housing, and the lower tier Rubato education programs had already brought in a wealth of opportunity.  More centralized learning centers were in demand for those who had minimal tech access on all educational levels, from primary on.  They needed spaces for the primarily online schools to center on for testing and events, for things like sports and crafts; they needed adult classrooms to get people ready to send out to the Da Capo agricultural colonies, to the WendSyn factories and to train more entry-level Neut technicians…  And the only reason they hadn’t pushed already was because Kasey was a friend of theirs and had told them not to.  Because he had been afraid of what it would mean, what it would do to their city, but at the same time? 

            Rubato wanted more inroads through all of the Democratic Zone, and they had brought only good.  And because of whatever pre-Fall relationship Kay had with some of their bigwigs, apparently they were willing to compromise on practically anything. 

            It made a girl wonder just what the fuck Kay had even done during the war.  Given the Sweeper background, at this point?  She was inclined to think something gundam, which made an alarming amount of sense even as it didn’t answer anything, because seriously, why did he think he had to be this paranoid… but at the same time, the paranoia had always protected them so… whatever. 

            Rubato had bought the entire old campus that the Den had made up maybe an eighth of and gone to town returning it to its former glory – Kay and Melissa’s shop had been subcontracted in for a lot of it, since it was the first part of the Neut network that they’d since expanded through the rest of the Quarter, and he understood that level of engineering.  The sub-basement levels they’d long blocked off had interconnected with the rest of it, construction had gone at a downright insane pace.  Everyone that had still wanted to stay had gotten new apartments connected to a set of common rooms on an entirely different block.  There were classrooms and workshops and a cafeteria, a field, two playgrounds and three gardens, and now that they had officially opened their doors for business last week… 

            Katrien had been in the middle of transferring to a higher administrative position in Lotus when Adelheid first called the meeting – it hadn’t been too big of a jump to get a nod to the RLTT program through the new ‘Crossroads’ that the Den had become.  Part of the deal with Rubato had been that it would be Devils running the center, or if they chose to step down, making the arrangements – their territory, their control.  The neighborhood might be getting better, but it wasn’t safe.  And as many people as they would help with all this, there would always be those who tried to take advantage or otherwise abuse it.  So Laura, Mik, and Marien were now in charge of Hell’s Crossing – a sort of way station to take a path back out of the Devil’s Quarter.  And Katrien did a chunk of that too, but… 

            It was too good of an opportunity to pass, and Kay hadn’t disagreed – though he had made a face when he realized she still talked to Relena every couple of months.  If the Crossing was all about the betterment of their neighborhood, of their city, then it only made sense to have an administrative center for Lotus there too.  Not a daycare by any means, but childcare was critical for the rest of any of it to get somewhere.  And they had those extra playgrounds and gardens… why not let the ladies running Lotus programs tour through and let the kids play too? 

            She wasn’t going to pretend that Karina quitting her waitress job to become one of those Lotus moms looking after three more kids besides Renee didn’t play an important part in him caving to the request.  But honestly?  That only helped sell the point of just how important Lotus was.  And it wasn’t like Kay could really be that annoyed that she’d told the princess the no frills version of the kidnapper incident – they had been and honestly still were thrilled at how he’d handled it.  The colonel she’d saved – was he still a colonel? – had literally cackled and called it ‘fucking appropriate.’  Kay needed to work a little on his faith in humanity, seriously. 

            Anyway, it wasn’t like she was trying to invite them to dinner or anything – they’d met up the once a few months after the riot so she could meet the man she’d helped save, and he was funny, and sweet, but it wasn’t that tight of a friendship.  Or even if it was, she knew better than to bring people home with her, especially famous ones. 

            It had been nice to see how quietly thrilled Relena was when she and the Lotus candidate answered her call about integrating an office into the Crossing, though.  The princess was all about details, and didn’t forget the little things. 

            And step by step, day by day… the world was getting a little brighter. 

-

***

-

Merano, Italy

            “Here.” 

            Hilde grimaced at the intrusion, waving a hand to say something dismissive – then startled as cold glass was pressed into it instead.  “The fuck?”  It- 

            Schnapps.  Calisto’s, even, and peach. 

            Adam crossed his arms as he leaned against the table she’d been using as a desk.  “Sally said that was your favorite.” 

            She just stared at the bottle, emotions warring.  “You brought me a drink?” she asked incredulously.  “Where did you even have it?”  And how is it still cold? 

            “I brought it on me, and I shoved it behind one of the coolant tanks once we cleared this place earlier,” he explained.  “We didn’t…”  He shifted, looking uncomfortable.  “I was hoping there might be something worth celebrating – and you’re alive, so here we are.”  His face fell, but he only looked away for a moment before meeting her eyes again.  “The Regime told everyone that the situation in here was stable, then successfully kept the information under lock and key.  Once Relena stopped publicly protesting it, a lot of assumptions got made, and we’ve found too much disinformation in their network now to trust the trapdoor built into their system.  No one knew.” 

            “The only thing the Regime did was set up automatic turrets to mow down anyone who approached the border,” she pointed out dully.  Which at first, hadn’t been too bad, but as shortages started and resource wars began…  She stared dully down at the bottle.  This… was the kind of thing she’d demand Xu would get her if he lost one of their bets – or she’d find him that ginger hard cider piss he liked, when it was her turn.  Sally had teased both of them for their fruity tastes while the General looked on, eyes laughing but mouth firmly shut about how she also liked sweet shit mixed with her whiskey.  And maybe they’d all started drinking younger than was really recommended, but some days…  Who the fuck cared? 

            It was… weird, though.  “I haven’t had a drink since November,” she realized.  Not just of schnapps, but… anything. 

            “You’re not on watch tonight,” Adam reminded her.  “We have a full perimeter with fresh eyes.”  He glanced back at the desk and it’s scatter of papers, and she saw a muscle tick in his jaw.  “You’ve been in here for hours.  Did you want any help?” 

            Honestly, she’d been done with anything useful for hours too – she just couldn’t figure out how to flip her brain around.  “I didn’t-”  She cut herself off, grimacing.  “I don’t need help.  It’s just that…”  Gesturing around her closet of an office, she admitted, “This is the only place out here that’s not a stage.” 

            He tipped his head to one side.  “Yeah?” 

            “If there’s a safe perimeter tonight, I don’t want to deal with the crowd,” she explained.  “My head’s all fucked up anyway; I feel like I’m going to slip.  If I’m in here, they just… respect it.  Assume I’m doing important shit.  Let me breathe.” 

            He grinned.  “Performance anxiety?” 

            She kicked him.  Surprisingly, he didn’t even try to dodge – just grinned harder.  “Fuck you.” 

            “It’s good to have a backstage,” he mused, shoulders relaxing as he watched her.  “Speaking as a regular performer, I can say that having a break between reps makes a difference.” 

            She rolled her eyes, wiping her now damp hands off on her pants before starting to twist the cap off.  “Says the guy who’s done deep cover shit,” she groused.  Even that wasn’t the same as the last six months had been here, but it was closer than anything else she could think of. 

            “Yeah, but I don’t remember that,” he pointed out.  “And from what I’ve been told, that wasn’t a position of power either.  I don’t think I probably had to fake much of anything to make it work.”  He tipped his head again, looking thoughtful.  “You’re different.” 

            “I’m fucking exhausted,” she grumbled, cracking the seal and raising the bottle to her lips for a tiny sip, trying to remember-  Yep.  The overpowering sweet, then the bite.  Practically candy, but more real, warmer, despite the crisply cold liquid on her tongue.  She took a longer gulp, and a pleasant weight settled in her chest. 

            “It’s more than that.” 

            She took a third swig.  “Of course it, is, I’m awesome like that.”  Shaking her head, she offered him the bottle. 

            He shrugged, taking it to sniff at curiously before shrugging and giving it a try.  “Huh.” 

            Hilde rolled her eyes.  “Really?  That’s all you’ve got, ‘huh?’” 

            “It tastes like something Odin might have,” he decided.  “But mellower.” 

            She rolled her eyes again, reaching out to take the bottle back.  Mellower, whatever.  “Fuck Odin.  You’ve been going around with him, then?” 

            He dodged and took a longer pull before letting her have it back.  Drawing a hand across his mouth, he admitted, “Sometimes.  He’s got his own house now – fancy, with a rec area built like a penthouse.  The pool looks like something out of a magazine.  He doesn’t care if I crash there and raid his pantry.” 

            She considered that, fiddling with the cap.  “What kind of magazine?” 

            He shrugged.  “Something sexy?  It practically looks like it belongs on a movie set, and is still good for exercise despite it.”  He eyed her for a moment, then made a grabby gesture for her to hand the bottle back. 

            Hilde rolled her eyes and let him have it.  “Think he’d be pissed if I came with you?” 

            He snorted out a laugh.  “Wouldn’t that make it more fun?” he countered.  Then he shook his head.  “But no, so long as you don’t step on his toes.  There’s a couple rules about it, but they’re easy.” 

            She considered that, then considered the bottle for a moment when he held it out.  One more sip, maybe.  Then she’d need to hold off until she knew how hard it was going to hit, at least.  “What’s the catch?” 

            His grin was sly this time, and gleeful.  “Your boss lives there too.” 

            “Aw, shit.”  She groaned, then took her last swallow.  “That’s still a thing?” 

            “If they haven’t fucked on every surface, it’s damn close,” he agreed.  Then he shrugged.  “But there’s a weekly cleaning service – so statistically, it’s still safer than anywhere else they’ve been.”  He gave her an annoyed but still amused sort of glower.  “Anywhere that they’ve been.” 

            “Seriously?” 

            “I wish I could see Zechs’ face when he finds out his ex transformed his old rival into her own personal sex god,” he mused, staring into the middle distance.  “It might make catching them out worth it.” 

            The laugh that bubbled out of her was almost hysterical, because holy shit, that…  “You’re right,” she wheezed, just…  She started laughing harder, and might have dropped the bottle if Adam hadn’t snatched it back when she began to bobble it.  Their dictator always looked like he had such a massive stick up his ass, but if he- 

            She howled, just seeing it, and Adam’s deeply satisfied smirk as he set the schnapps aside didn’t diminish it – even if he was exaggerating or making half of this up, it was still hilarious.  Heero Yuy – sex god.  Ugh.  What the fuck ever, she decided.  She was totally going to see the sexy swimming pool.  She deserved a fucking vacation after this, and Odin was batshit enough about security even without the General being involved that it ought to count as a safe haven. 

            Wiping at her eyes, she shook her head, leaning back against her desk before looking Adam’s way again.  “Thank-you,” she decided.  “I think I needed that.”  Just to let go a bit – maybe not completely, they weren’t done yet, but… 

            “You’re welcome,” he returned, smiling softly.  “You look a little better.”  He glanced back over the papers behind them before raising his brows.  “Do you think you can sleep?” 

            She considered that.  Ten minutes ago it would have been a definite no, but…  “I think I should eat first.”  Leaving this room no longer felt quite so wretched – because truly it was almost over.  “Come with me?” 

            “I could eat,” he agreed, standing up straight and stretching… and maybe it was just the alcohol hitting her system, but that… wasn’t an unappealing image. 

            Mm.  “Do you think anything is still warm?” she wondered.  There’d been plans for something of a feast, given everything the Insurgence had brought with them and the sudden loss for any need to ration, but she hadn’t paid much attention beyond telling people to have fun with it. 

            “I know one way to find out,” he decided, and opened the door. 

-

***

-

April 7^th 199 – Tuesday – Munich, Germany – Sarracenia

            Relena gave the man a long, slow blink.  “Would you repeat that, please?” 

            Jovi made a little placating gesture with both hands.  “Hypothetically, of course.” 

            She gave him a gimlet eye, even as the corner of her mouth took on an amused curl.  “Feel free to rephrase – but hypothetically.  Of course.” 

            He grinned earnestly, then continued to protest in an entirely disingenuous way.  “It’s not that unusual a question.” 

            “And yet it is also rather specific,” Relena pointed out, eyes shimmering as she smiled more fully. 

            “It doesn’t need to be specific,” Jovi hedged, leaning back on his couch and stretching his arms across the back of it.  “I could talk about relocating several southwest American towns instead.” 

            Relena let out a short chuckle that rode the line between disbelieving and enthralled.  “That is also an oddly specific example,” she argued. 

            Lin, watching the back-and-forth, resisted the urge to groan.  If he didn’t know for a fact that the princess was completely and utterly taken, he might think they were flirting. 

            Then again, Jovi’s behavior towards everyone tended to come off as flirtatious.  He had a way of honing in a person that made them feel like every ounce of his attention was theirs to command; if he wasn’t so sincerely genial about it, he’d set off alarm bells everywhere he went.  The man was sly as a damn fox – but instead of noticing it, people just wanted to pick him up and pack him around like a housecat. 

            The thing was, that even when you knew that?  You still just… kinda wanted to pet him and see what he did anyway.  It was the damndest thing.  No wonder Cassidy hadn’t been surprised when Rubato selected him as a spokesperson.  He just… had this effortless, laid back  charisma that Jake came close to imitating on his better days. 

            And for better or worse, he also seemed to have Relena’s same sense of humor when it came to political machinations: closet adrenaline junkie.  Of a bizarrely genteel variety. 

            “I could be more vague,” Jovi agreed, grinning.  “But I thought you might prefer I not waste your time.” 

            Lin resisted the urge to scoff himself – as if this little dance had anything to do with a time crunch. 

            Relena gave him a more wryly amused look.  “Pick a topic, please, and we’ll go from there.” 

            “Mm.”  He tipped his head from side to side for a moment, then shrugged.  “The American end carries less weight,” he decided.  “Your insight would be appreciated, but we could also resolve it internally without fuss.”  Drawing his arms back in, he crossed his legs and assumed a more serious posture before repeating himself.  “How would you respond to proof of foul play in northern Italy?” 

            Relena raised one brow as she rested one hand on her knee and leaned back.  “I suppose it would depend on the exact details,” she mused. 

            “Of course.” 

            “But it is no secret that I stood against the ‘quarantine’ in the first place,” she reminded him.  “Let alone its continuation.”  Her mouth twisted in an almost artful way as she tipped her head down and to the right, an angry sort of concession.  “I continued to push against the action behind closed doors after the hush orders on the event started, and was firmly told my concerns were being met but that the how was none of my business.  I have had no way to confirm or disprove those claims in the time since.” 

            Jovi looked to one side in a near mirror of her body language, nodding thoughtfully for a moment before focusing his eyes on her again.  “Could you prove that?” 

            Relena’s gaze sharpened.  “By way of hard evidence?  No.  But by way of public opinion?”  Her smile was just the slightest bit vicious.  “I don’t like to use that venue as currency without a goal in mind, it’s fickle and its use often makes future attempts weaker.  But if other evidence came to light?”  She showed her teeth this time.  “I would be more than happy to build momentum for that crusade.”  Both brows raised this time.  “Where I could take it would depend what material I had to work with.” 

            Jovi had a satisfied lilt to his mouth now, eyes blazing bright.  “But you would have an interest?” he confirmed. 

            “I don’t care to answer leading questions without actual information, Mr. Lluvia.” 

            The man appeared to consider that for a long moment before nodding decisively.  “Mm, fair.”  He leaned back a bit, tucking his hands in the crook of each elbow so both were out of sight.  “I’m limited, though,” he admitted.  “Rubato is not truly involved.  More…  Standing witness, let’s say.” 

            “Standing for whom?” 

            Jovi’s smile was a slow thing, as he obviously took pleasure in what he considered the right question.  “An occasional friend of ours,” he admitted.  “I believe you are aware of our… last Italian handoff?  In Liguria.” 

            The corners of Relena’s mouth crept up.  “With the Bianchi cartel?” 

            He grinned outright.  “Ah, see, I wasn’t sure how much of that tale you heard.” 

            The princess’ laugh was throaty as she shook her head, resettling her weight and crossing her ankles.  “That was decently subtle – but still awkward,” she admonished. 

            Still grinning broadly, he shrugged in a sheepish sort of way.  “I had to start somewhere.” 

            “Direct questions do work.” 

            “Yes, but you have a tendency to deflect when it comes to him; and the few times we’ve met, I’ve found Miller to be worse.” 

            Her expression was, for lack of a better word, satisfied.  “He does tend to be that way, with strangers,” she admitted.  “Particularly when trying to be honest.”  

            Jovi let out a short laugh.  “I rest my case.” 

            Relena laughed with him, shaking her head.  “His history of espionage comes with a few habits that are difficult to break,” she confided.  “It has been…”  She paused thoughtfully before settling on, “Something of a process.”  Smiling again, she finished with, “Unless explicitly stated otherwise, you can assume he has told me any significant information.”  The smile took on a more political edge as she added, “And vice versa.” 

            The Revenant paused to consider that, eyeing her thoughtfully.  “As integral as you make him seem, I’ve still seen remarkably little of him.” 

            “He likes to stay in the background – old habits, again.  And a significant amount of RLTT’s infrastructure has fallen on his shoulders while I manage Accords business.”  She grimaced.  “The heat amplifier tour ran us ragged last year, and even with my exit from the Regime, our workload has more than tripled since then.  With the expected thirty percent increase in we have coming in on top of last year’s quota…”  She sighed.  “Jake is one of the few members of my staff that has been with me since before my candidacy, and even when he was part of my Guard, he handled as much paperwork as I did.  Between the summer tour with the Chinese and mediating the changes the Accords are demanding in the Militia contracts, let alone the rest?  It’s a wonder we have time to sleep.” 

            Jovi looked her over thoughtfully.  “But you are sleeping properly again,” he noted. 

            “We all are,” she agreed.  “Though I may need to hire more staff again soon.” 

            He nodded, still looking pensive.  “You do look much better,” he agreed.  Then he grinned.  “Also – congratulations!  And happy birthday too, while I’m at it.” 

            “Thank you.”  Relena took a moment to gaze down at her ring before giving Jovi a mischievous grin.  “I really needed that vacation.  It helped put things in perspective.” 

            “Yeah?” 

            “Truly.”  She huffed out an exasperated sigh.  “Now if only my brother would get over himself, my personal life might be perfect.” 

            Their guest barked out a laugh.  “He’s not too impressed, huh?” 

            “At the moment, he is not invited,” she agreed, face longsuffering.  “Though beyond that, I’m currently struggling to find time for a birthday party, let alone a wedding.”  She made a dismissive gesture.  “We were discussing Italy?” 

            “I think I was almost discussing Italy,” he argued cheerfully.  “Since it’s more like a ‘friend of a friend’ situation.” 

            Relena’s lips twitched in a suppressed laugh.  “No Rubato involvement at all, mm?” 

            “Revenant Rubato is an organization of like-minded individuals working to make a difference,” Jovi explained pointedly, grin turning ever so slightly sharp.  “But we do not police our members’ hobbies.  What a man chooses to do in his personal time is no business of mine.” 

            Relena did let out a small chuckle at that, reaching back out to pick up her teacup.  “I have heard a few secondhand stories,” she admitted.  “Though, while we are on the subject?  If you believe he would be receptive to it, please offer my thanks to Adam for his assistance with the Ieper evacuation.”  She sighed, eyes downcast.  “The loss of life there if he hadn’t…  Hannover was bad enough.  Ieper would have made that incident look small.” 

            “Mm, I’ll feel it out,” Jovi decided.  “He can be difficult to pin down.”  He paused then, giving Relena a contemplative look for a solid two seconds before his chin lifted slightly and he sunk his weight further back into the couch cushions, coming to some kind of decision.  “You got hit at Charleroi, didn’t you?” 

            Relena raised her brows, and finished a delicate sip before answering.  “Peripherally.  I prefer to take my meals out of public view when possible, since so much of my life outside this house is open for critique.  My Guard and I were across the street in a closed office building.  Why?” 

            There was something slyly delighted about their guest’s expression now.  “Well, this is the first time we’ve met face to face since your resignation.” 

            She nodded.  “Mm.  It has only been six weeks.  Was email insufficient?” 

            “Generally, no,” he dismissed with a small shrug, utterly focused on her face.  “But while Sharpman was certainly a madwoman, we had no interest in giving the Regime her notes.”  His grin sharpened at Relena’s abrupt stilling of all motion.  “I wouldn’t exactly call them easy to decipher, but there were a few… insights that we didn’t want to chance someone trying to cover up.” 

            …Holy shit.  Not that they knew more than they said, of course, it had already been implied, but…  They’re starting to trust us?  Or at least not not trust them, maybe.  Rubato had been outright standoffish about politics before now. 

            But then, they were up front about not trusting the Regime at all, and Jovi knows we’re aware of the Insurgence connection and haven’t said anything.  And Relena had resigned – after throwing a very public hissy fit over the Regime’s poor handling of its citizens.  We’re actually making progress, he realized.  He’d known Jake was chipping away from the RLTT angle and Jack was working on the familial front – but while he liked Jovi, he’d made no secret about being cagey as hell. 

            Relena’s gaze was laser sharp now.  “What kind of insights?” 

            “I don’t believe in spoon feeding,” Jovi returned evenly.  “The point in sharing information with allies is to open perspective and see if different conclusions can be drawn.”  Shifting to plant both feet on the floor again, he reached across his chest to dip a hand into an inside breast pocket of his blazer and withdraw a small data drive.  He began extending it across the table to Relena then hesitated, glancing at Lin, before settling it on the coffee table.  “Photographs and transcriptions.”  He gave a small shrug as he settled back in his seat.  “We’ve been able to draw a few conclusions, but your resources are not the same as ours.  I’m curious to see if we reach the same end or if you a new one entirely.  Ours…”  His face tightened.  “I will never validate what she did.  But the narrative that she fancied herself to be combating, lucidly or otherwise, does concern me.  Ieper and Charleroi were connected.” 

            Mai spoke up then.  “A museum and an office building?” 

            Jovi’s grin was darker than his usual fair.  “A covert meeting in the museum’s bowels and a business being paid by a shell of a shell company fathered by the Regime.” 

            Now that was interesting.  So far as he knew, no one had been able to find any sane motive behind the Ieper bombing. 

            Relena, leaned forward to set her cup back down and pick up the drive, considering it.  “Do you still have the originals?” 

            “Paper is not easy to remove physical evidence of handling from,” Jovi pointed out.  “Digital keeps everyone safer.” 

            “I would not prosecute for the removal of a serial bomber,” Relena returned evenly. 

            “You are not in control of our government,” he reminded her, his easy smile coming back as he relaxed into the cushions.  “The Regime has proven themselves eager to find loopholes whenever convenient.  I would no sooner risk a friend of mine than I would put the weight of any oversights you did not know to account for on your shoulders.”  His grin widened.  “I have many friends, and while I believe more of them may be mutual than we have discussed, the current climate is…”  He grimaced.  “Delicate.  Let’s not take unreasonable risks if we do not have to.” 

            Loopholes.  Lin let his own grimace show as he remembered the shitshow with the forcible re-enlistment of Cambyses vets that was still an ongoing scandal.  He shuddered to think about what else might have been shoved under the rug during the Regime’s database reorganization in the wake of Zechs’ plan for doll usage. 

            The secret of the dolls was still kept, at least.  They had been worried it might out before Relena finished disentangling from the Regime, but now that they were firmly out…  How much longer do we have before the peace breaks?  At a certain point, they were going to need to ‘discover’ and reveal the news themselves, especially since Relena and the other Accorded Nations reps had been assembling a task force dedicated to rooting out corruption.  But for now? 

            It truly was a delicate balance.  Theoretically, the longer Relena’s Accords had to solidify, the better they would be prepared for the fallout, especially if RLTT was public and in the clear as well.  But if they didn’t spill the beans themselves, the timing and spin anyone else might put on it could be disastrous. 

            “And where does Italy fall on that scale of risk?” Relena asked. 

            “Inexcusable brutality will not be left to fester when something can be done about it, regardless of personal risk,” Jovi replied, in a tone that made Lin’s blood run cold.  The man’s face was sterner than he had ever seen it, and right then…  Lin felt like this was a true glimpse of the soldier who had survived the Sahara’s cruelty. 

            Relena stilled.  “It is bad, then?” 

            The granite in Jovi’s eyes did not soften, even as he leaned forward and settled his elbows on his knees.  “The good people we are currently evacuating from northern Utah have been through hell – anarchy and gang warfare, cults, executions, and cold pioneer hardship, for over three years now.  If I could only save one group?  Them or those who have spent the last six months trapped inside the Regime’s modern ghetto?  I would not hesitate to leave my own countrymen to their own devices.  There is no contest.”  A sneer pulled at one side of his mouth.  “At least Cambyses had standards.”  Sighing, he closed his eyes for a moment, body losing some of its tension.  “Fortunately, I do not have to choose.”  Opening his eyes again, he offered Relena a tired smile.  “I have friends to help carry the load.” 

            Relena watched him steadily for a long moment, hands folded in her lap.  “I suppose,” she decided eventually.  “That any current ‘proof’ of this situation that you might share is constrained by the involvement of some of those friends.” 

            “Technically accurate,” Jovi agreed. 

            “I could build a case based on your hearsay, and be ready to move quickly when something goes public,” she mused.  “Altering as need be.”  Her eyes narrowed, growing cold.  “Because if you are being honest with me, then I absolutely feel the same way.  It cannot stand.  And if it was preventable, then someone needs to answer to it.” 

            Jovi raised his brows.  “General Noe Lee and Assistant Undersecretary Kindra Dorchet,” he suggested. 

            Relena blinked, then frowned.  “I don’t know Dorchet.” 

            Jovi’s wide, closed mouth smile was frankly intimidating.  “Sharpman did.” 

            Lin caught Mai tipping her head to one side in a considering way, and resisted the urge to raise his own eyebrows.  That… sounded interesting. 

            “Hm.”  Relena debated for a moment, before giving a little shrug.  “I’ll have to look into her, then.  But Lee, I would need very little provocation to publicly crucify, if that answers your concerns.” 

            “I’m pretty sure you’ve told him that to his face once,” Mai mused thoughtfully.  

            “I think twice, actually,” Relena corrected, looking up and to one side as if trying to remember.  “Or something equivalent, at any rate.” 

            Of course, there was no way that Lee, Zechs’ leading general, wasn’t entirely complicit in the doll scheme.  If anything, this could serve as an excellent prelude to future attacks against his character for that reveal as well – two birds with one stone. 

            “That’s good to know,” Jovi decided, looking darkly pleased.  “But I had another thought.” 

            “Oh?” 

            “What sort of court-admissible evidence would you find helpful in this endeavor?”  At their silent stares, his grin widened.  Spreading his hands, he added, “Just because our friends who helped with the Bianchis are on the case doesn’t mean I can’t add someone else to the mix.  Journalists take stupid risks going into warzones all the time, you know?” 

            Lin wasn’t able to suppress his own grin this time, and Mai wasn’t bothering either.  That… could be very interesting. 

            “Prisbrey does like to play with fire, doesn’t she?” Relena decided after a moment. 

            “It’s one possibility,” Jovi agreed.  “But…”  He tipped his head to one side, then the other.  “Let’s have a hypothetical conversation, then, about what might work best for you, and I’ll see if anything happening actually matches up.” 

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Chapter Text

Stepping Up

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April 7^th 199 – Tuesday – Paris, France

            “Because, first of all?  I am not insane.” 

            Ardith couldn’t help but grin, even as he half hid it behind one hand.  “It can’t be so bad as that,” he protested. 

            “It is actually worse,” Rachelle insisted, narrowing her eyes in warning as she picked her wineglass back up.  “I’m already on more than one watch list, given my recent work.  Even if I found the risks acceptable in an abstract sense – which I am not – I would never reach Italy.  Removing me from public would draw too much of the wrong kind of attention, so they won’t, but the Regime PR engine has already been making my life difficult in other ways.” 

            He frowned; that was news.  “How so?” 

            She gave a small sigh and settled a grumpy look on him.  “Officially, there have been paperwork problems in two different visa offices and I, along with a large group of other citizens, are subject to a number of inconveniences until the completion of a full investigation into the originating problem, some kind of computer virus, is complete.  Unofficially?”  She gave him a small salute with her glass.  “I appear to be on a no fly list.” 

            Are you shitting me?  “They’re illegally withholding your visa?” 

            “Technically no, and I face no issues traveling my land routes, but in essence?”  She wrinkled her nose.  “I don’t know if you’re aware, but I was a reporter on scene for the Dijon incident.  I snuck through the military perimeter looking for a scoop, and found the desolation instead.  My videographer and I promptly left emptyhanded and made it out without ruffling any feathers, but evidently left enough in the way of tracks that the Regime still came down on my publisher after the fact.  Nothing done, per se – but threats were leveled, and the Regime has proven a willingness to both follow through and be viciously petty about it.”  She shook her head.  “I will not let Dorchet end my career, but I am also not going to antagonize her directly after such an overt warning.  My writing is one thing, and I have enough momentum now, enough people following in my footsteps, that trying to silence me outright would only hurt the image the Regime wants shown.  I’m willing to connive and manipulate, the way I did to get half my intel for the first Mitchell article.  But if I get caught outright breaking a law, without any possibility of he said/she said?  I will disappear.” 

            Ardith grimaced.  “I hadn’t realized you were facing any kind of consequences,” he admitted. 

            “Eh, some of it comes with the territory,” she returned, her tone dismissive.  “Most of the time, the risks I take are negligible.  But there are lines that are not worth crossing, and many of those were redrawn shortly before the space campaign started last summer.”  She grimaced and took another sip of wine.  “Some kind of new management, as best as anyone could tell.  It looked ominous enough at first, but seemed to be mostly talk up until the Italian situation began.  After that?”  She made another face.  “People did disappear for saying the wrong thing.  Maybe they’re fine now, but I don’t know, and most of us coped by aiming for a different flavor of story until the psychosis cooled down.” 

            He raised his brows.  “Until the French spaceport went down.” 

            Shel pointed a finger at him.  “I was there looking for scandal, not military ops.  I kept my skin attached because I dropped what I found and refused to pursue once I realized.” 

            Huh.  “And Mitchell?” 

            “Investigating his story through third party sources versus, say, going to get information straight from the horse’s mouth are completely different ventures,” she argued immediately.  “There is a reason he released his pieces personally, on public venues.  Any reporter attached to his direct responses would have faced jail time – and that only after surviving an extensive interview deep in the bowels of a Regime base.”  She shook her head.  “Whatever public opinion or even the princess say, David Mitchell is a fugitive wanted for treason, and anyone known to associate with him is wanted for questioning.” 

            He bit back the urge to sigh.  While he had wondered just how some of those issues managed to get slid under the rug, he hadn’t realized it was such an impasse.  “I don’t suppose you know anyone who might be willing to play daredevil if someone of repute offered protection?” he suggested. 

            “If I did, I wouldn’t be willing to recommend them,” Rachelle denied, though she looked more comfortable as she set her glass back down to pick up her fork again.  “I know you well enough at this stage to know you need someone smart.  Guts will only take you so far.” 

            That was a decent point, but that didn’t make it not annoying.  “So your advice is literally to drop it?” he asked idly, only just holding back a sneer.  This… didn’t suit her. 

            She gave him a dirty look.  “Please.  My advice is to consider your timing – if it’s as big as you say, waiting until the first blows are out in the open won’t cost you much.  Stop being such a drama queen.” 

            “If our government is truly trying to suppress information and access to the level you’ve implied, then I have to make sure the evidence is compelling enough that it cannot be suppressed in the first wave,” he argued, ire rising.  Given everything with Italy, Cat was very worried about exactly that. 

            “There’s something to be said for repetition,” she pointed out dryly, though she wasn’t looking at him now. 

            “With how much collateral of journalists mysteriously finding better places to be, including thin air?” he snapped back. 

            Shel slapped her fork back down on the table and glared at him.  “Better to be very public then.  If you’re implying half of what I think you are?  Maybe take a page from Mitchell on the advance wave.  Once you have enough attention, it’s hard to suppress.” 

            Given the plan for orbital bombardment of the barricade at two points, he knew attention wasn’t going to be the problem – directing it, however, was a concern.  Given the parameters Jovi had brought back from Germany this afternoon, the press had seemed the best option, but now…  “What about if it was anonymously released?” he suggested.  “If no one claimed it, but the evidence stood for itself?” 

            She pursed her lips.  “It would have to be loud,” she decided.  “And even then, it’s a massive risk.  Too many of us have a particular style, or the digital files themselves could be traced back to the model of camera used.  As anonymous as everyone likes to think the world is, every piece of tech carries a fingerprint, and we all have habits we can’t erase – not and still pull off professional level work, at least.” 

            “How about amateur level?” he demanded. 

            Shel gave an irritable shrug.  “It might work, but like I said, you need to be loud.  Someone else can come along later for writing after your witnesses are out and the story is too big to shut down, but poignant visuals are not as easy to capture effectively as you might think.”  She sighed.  “Photography is probably your best bet – something that can be edited in the post-processing stage if need be, but… people go to school and practice for years for that kind of on the spot skill.”  Rolling her eyes, she picked her fork back up and stabbed a piece of meat.  “I suppose you could go for quantity and hope you get a lucky handful of shots, but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”  She shook her head.  “It’s something I personally have very little skill at, and I’ve tried.  The angles, the lighting, a hundred other things I don’t even remember the name of…” 

            She grumbled some more, shoving a bite of food in her mouth, but Ardith suddenly found himself barely listening.  Because he’d heard a lecture about that shit before.  More than once. 

            Including just yesterday. 

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April 8^th 199 – Wednesday – Berlin, Germany

            No one immediately paid Jake any attention when he walked in the door of the studio.  That was fine – he wasn’t letting himself hesitate, but it still gave him a moment to gather himself up without an audience as he tugged off his hat and ruffled a hand through his hair to resettle it before jamming it in one pocket.  Unwinding the scarf Relena had shoved in his hands when he headed out this morning, he considered the subtle pattern of it.  Two shades of interlocking grey but otherwise plain, and as soft as any of the rest she’d tucked into his pockets since she’d first caught him wrapping a stray child up in his knits.  Half gift, half camouflage this time, he mused.  It was thoroughly nondescript, and he’d managed to skew his trail enough so it looked like he was in an entirely different city today, just in case Zechs wanted to raise a stink. 

            The sight of Jack’s coat on the large rack just to the right of the door made him smile.  Not that he had imagined he might have the wrong place, but…  Well, his emotions were a little difficult to pin down at the moment.  A little nervous, maybe, but mostly excited?  There was only one other coat hanging there – the staff must use a different area. 

            The entry area was closeted, the way so many of these old buildings were – he could hear faint music coming from further within, but the hallways in between were tortuous.  Hm.  Not a place that relied on front door representation – that could mean a great deal, or very little.  Don’t stall.  He shrugged out of his own coat and hung it next to Junior’s, taking a moment to consider the fabric.  His brother’s jacket was quietly expensive – quality, but not in a way that stood out until you stepped close enough to pick up the wearer’s scent.  The black wool of the outer shell was finely woven, cut in a classic style that rarely fell out of favor, and the shimmer of the pale inner fabric suggested silk.  Before he could overthink it, he stepped closer than strictly needed to loop his scarf over the hook, jostling into Junior’s coat with the motion – and smirked. 

            Heavy.  Not enough to be considered odd, especially once you noticed the quality materials – not as heavy as his own or Relena’s.  But more than it should be.  Armored.  Probably not enough to deflect a high-powered round… though it could be hard to tell, with some designs. 

            He pointedly did not look for a maker’s mark, and stopped snooping altogether.  It was enough to know that Junior was cautious.  Given the hints he’d let slip so far, it would be bizarre if he didn’t make some effort to protect himself – and in any case, he might have only done it out of comfort or habit. 

            Junior might have been too young to understand that their coats had always been armored against ballistics; it had certainly taken him by surprise after coming to Earth.  The realization that not everyone wore an extra vest or tunic under their shirt to help deflect knives had been… singular.  Though he’d been too much of an arrogant brat to do more than heckle Treize about it, intent on scorning everyone’s stupidity instead of considering the toxicity of his own childhood. 

            Stop stalling.  Turning away from the outerwear, he tucked his hands in his pockets and began making his way up the warren of a hallway. 

            The first doorway, on his left, was clearly an office; a wall of glass opened to an empty suite next.  The music drew him onward, twisting him around past another two doors and a second empty suite.  The juxtaposition between the cramped entry and hall and the wide open suites was almost surreal – the dark flooring was the only thing the two spaces had in common.  I suppose it shows their priorities.  This one had the same set of mirrors lining two walls, as well as a long handrail anchored along the longer of the two. 

            The music cut off and a laugh trickled back to him, and he was able to make out a few words in German: “-you… before?”  It was a woman’s voice, and she sounded amused. 

            He picked up his pace, heart starting to race. 

            Someone answered, the voice low, but it didn’t carry well enough for him to make out the response. 

            “Mm, if you insist.”  She sounded dubious, now. 

            That deeper voice again, and this time he caught a hint of the words.  “-else?” 

            She laughed again.  “Of course.  Anselm?” 

            Jake turned the corner just after the music started again, and saw Jack leaning against the glass between them.  This was the largest room he’d seen so far by a long margin, and a brunette woman with long hair was currently spinning across the hardwood dance floor with a man that… definitely could not be his brother.  He frowned, heading for the door, because… 

            There he was.  Standing further in, arms crossed as he watched the couple intently. 

            Jack noticed him and waved before opening the door with a gesture to be quiet, even as his eyes danced.  “Just wait a minute,” he muttered in Japanese.  “We’ve still got two hours before your appointment, and he’s pretty focused.” 

            Jake concentrated on keeping his breathing steady, on not staring, and instead focused back on the couple.  “Looks like a foxtrot variant,” he decided.  A relatively slow one. 

            “You’d know better than me,” Jack returned, shaking his head.  “They started with something called a Viennese waltz, but they stopped bothering with names a while ago.” 

            Okay… 

            Jack rolled his eyes, clearly reading his expression.  “She likes to dance.  Apparently he was exhausted and still drunk the morning I met him because they were clubbing all night, but she likes ballroom best.” 

            He considered that, sneaking a glance at Junior – who somehow looked so much like the only picture they had from when he was nine that it felt like fate was laughing at him – before trying to clarify.  “Which type of ballroom?”  There were something like thirty, officially. 

            His father’s expression turned wry.  “Yeah, they asked him that.  His answer was ‘Yes.’” 

            He snorted out a laugh before he could help it. 

            “I think she didn’t actually elaborate,” Jack added.  “And he won’t ask, because he’s trying to surprise her.” 

            Jake grinned, looking back to his brother again.  He had his hair longer than Jake had ever let his own get, but still short in back; intentional wild bedhead, rather than approaching a ponytail.  His jeans were a dark blue and fairly close-fitting – whether that was a preferred style or just a measure so the details of his legs could be seen for this lesson was debatable.  Not that denim was ideal for this kind of thing, but Jake doubted he’d be willing to wear something he didn’t have free movement in, no matter how it looked.  He was wearing a dark green knit shirt with long sleeves and handful of buttons in front, the top three undone, and the only jewelry he could see were three dark metal hoops, maybe titanium – two in the left earlobe, one in the right.  As for body type… Jack had said it on Christmas, but it was still disconcerting, how close that was to looking in a mirror. 

            Don’t stare.  He considered the dancing couple again for a moment before turning a bemused look on his father.  “So he’s given himself three weeks to learn?”  At least, he assumed this had something to do with the proposal timeline. 

            Jack made a face.  “It’s…  No.” 

            He opened his mouth to ask what the face was about then, but the female dancer spoke up first, pulling away from her partner.  “Okay, let’s try this again, yes?  What do you think?” 

            “I like the footwork,” Junior returned, also in German, as he stepped forward to take her hand and lead her through a spin.  “It’s different.” 

            “It is,” she agreed, smiling brightly as she raised her arm and settled a hand high on his shoulder, elbow up.  “From the top, please.” 

            So they started… and Jake blinked as the instructor started up that same delighted laugh he’d caught in the hall. 

            It was… nearly perfect.  Or at least, it was a near exact copy of what the male instructor had been doing a moment ago. 

            Jack shook his head.  “Yeah.  She keeps accusing him of playing with her, but…” 

            “But this is the first time he’s done it,” Jake agreed, noticing the little things – a few glances in the mirrors, a foot placed just slightly off sync, a pivot that looked just a little unsteady… each improving if not outright disappearing on the next set. 

            “From what you’ve said about him as a baby, I’m not actually surprised,” Jack muttered.  “I knew he learned fast, but…” 

            Jake couldn’t tear his eyes away, but he understood.  “He… we knew he had training beyond what Senior pushed on us,” he pointed out.  “Fine-tuned control of his body.  This probably isn’t the biggest leap.”  It was still insane, but…  Junior had always been able to copy him within a couple days of him trying out a new punch or parkour move.  He just hadn’t thought… 

            The instructor laughed again, entirely delighted, before announcing, “Double time.” 

            “…So what I was trying to say,” Jack announced after a few spins, “is that he doesn’t need three weeks.” 

            “Yeah, getting that,” Jake mumbled, just… watching. 

            “I think he’ll probably keep coming back to practice,” his father added.  “Especially since he’s not planning anything choreographed; he said he wants to be able to adapt and combine them all to whatever seems fitting.  But to learn?”  He shook his head. 

            “Loosen up… yes… and follow.”  She let go of him and spun away for a moment before stepping sharply back in, leaning into his space in a move the definitely belonged to a tango.  Instead of being startled, however, he mirrored in a smooth lean back that looked downright sensual, and….

            Damn.  Maybe it was a move they’d gone over before he got here, but that definitely looked natural in a way only professional dancers pulled off.  She only laughed again. 

            Jake shook his head, grinning so broadly his face hurt.  “Wow.”  Amarianna had told him he was a fast learner, but this was something else entirely. 

            “I’m cutting in,” the male instructor announced, pulling her away in a fluid motion that Jake absolutely clocked his brother honing in on.  “Try adding a little more flavor,” he suggested, spinning her with flair, gesturing broadly and canting his hips before bringing her back… and almost immediately transferring her back to Odin to try the same move. 

            Jack shifted, and in his peripheral vision, Jake could see him shifting to look his way.  “Don’t think too hard about the lack of introduction,” he muttered.  “When he’s focused, he’s just…” 

            “It can wait,” Jake agreed, not bothering to look away from the dancers.  So much for not staring – but for this, he felt validated.  “Are we here up until time for Arielle?” 

            “No, we’ve been here more than half an hour already; I think we’ve got something like fifteen minutes.”  He shifted his weight again.  “I figured, maybe lunch next?”  He huffed out a soft laugh.  “What time did you wake up?  It’s not a short drive.” 

            “I’m usually up at five,” he pointed out.  “I just skipped conditioning and had Vaughn and Hayden work up a diversion before I slipped out the back.” 

            A soft snort.  “A diversion, huh?” 

            “I have business near Stuttgart today,” he announced in a conversational tone.  “Which I handled the bulk of digitally already, and Nadiya might be confused about meeting Polanski as my stand-in, but when I put him in a suit, he makes a decent body double at fifty meters.” 

            Jack made a thoughtful noise.  “If you say so.” 

            “At fifty meters,” Jake emphasized, watching the increasingly complicated game of ‘pass the girl’ progress.  “I’m not asking for a miracle.” 

            “But you are still worried about…?” 

            “I mean, this is something of a test run,” Jake hedged.  “If anyone tries to corner them, I’ll have a better idea of how pissed he still is.” 

            “Or if he ever gets their vision checked.” 

            “It’s not meant to be a penultimate test,” Jake groaned.  “Just enough of a misdirect that he won’t know which way I did go, if he’s even still having me watched.” 

            “You seem to think he is.” 

            “I am trying to be circumspect,” he grumbled out, fighting to not clench his jaw, “because certain words were said, even though both Lena and I are fairly sure they weren’t meant.”  That particular vid call had been far harder to field than the lies about Treize.  He still wasn’t sure if having Relena next to him for it had made her brother’s reactions better or worse.  “He has to get over it eventually.” 

            Jack snorted.  “Does he know that?” 

            “He wasn’t the only one with a few choice phrases,” Jake muttered, crossing his arms.  “Sometimes I forget just how mean Lena can get, but after that conversation?  It’s not going to be any time soon.” 

            Sound shifted as the door opened again, and a woman in a neat blouse and flowing skirt came in, smiling conspiratorially at them.  “Hallo.”  She considered the group on the floor for a moment with a bemused expression.  “I thought Gabriele said they had a beginner for this time,” she noted.  “Are you walk-ins?” 

            “No, he’s just like this,” Jack returned in German.  “There’s a reason we’re gawking.” 

            “Oh my.  Truly?” 

            Jake smirked as he shook his head, turning to focus back on them.  “Aa.”  It was something else.  He felt a little less ridiculous about being jealous of the kid when they were little.  If any real amount of this was showing back then?  He didn’t really have the context: Marie had always been precocious, he didn’t pay much attention to Willam, and Lyle was only eight months old.  But given the evidence? 

            Even if it wasn’t really deserved, because what the hell had their childhood really been?  He couldn’t help but feel proud of the kid anyway.  All grown up and still making me look bad.  Ah well.  What else are little brothers for? 

            And sometime soon, they’d actually, like… talk.  Over lunch, apparently.  He could work with that. 

            Junior finished copying some kind of convoluted method of spinning Gabriele around his back for the second time, laughing as he passed her back – then suddenly froze, staring back at them.  A moment later he was striding their way, holding out an imperious hand, eyes smoldering.  “No phones,” he ordered, the words coming out in English. 

            Jake twisted to see… shit, the newcomer had apparently started filming and he’d been too damn awestruck to notice.  She blinked wide eyes at him.  “What?” 

            “Delete that,” he demanded.  “Now, or I’ll litigate.  I don’t like being recorded.” 

            “I…I– of course,” she agreed, stuttering and tapping at the screen.  “I- I’m sorry?”  She looked genuinely bewildered.  “I just…  It looked so good, I thought…”  She swallowed, and read the cue in his still outstretched hand.  “Here, check.  It’s gone.” 

            He took it.  “Do you automatically upload anywhere?” 

            “Ah, at-  At the end of the day?  Not-” 

            “I’ll just clear your cache, then,” he announced, swiping through different windows quickly.  “To be sure.” 

            “I… okay?”  She leaned around him to shoot her coworkers a bewildered look, which only got raised hands to either side in a classic ‘beats me.’  They also didn’t look surprised, however.  “Just… can I ask why?”  She shrunk a little when he focused on her again, but evidently felt strongly enough about this to hold her ground.  “It was beautiful,” she insisted.  “Why wouldn’t you want anyone to see?” 

            Odin appeared to consider that moment before smirking in a darkly mischievous way and offering her phone back to her.  “Keep it to yourself?” 

            Her eyes went big again and she actually leaned in, clasping both hands around her phone in s posture reminiscent of prayer.  “Absolutely!” she insisted in a loud whisper. 

            “I am secretly famous.” 

            Jake bit back a hysterical giggle. 

            She blinked again.  “You are?” 

            “Very,” his brother assured.  “But it’s messy.  I don’t like dealing with it.” 

            Yeah, because his version of fame apparently involved people trying to shoot him.  If that wasn’t ‘messy’ Jake didn’t know what qualified. 

            “Oh.”  She looked almost let down for a moment – but then she recovered, and actually seemed excited now.  “You can count on me.  I won’t say a word.” 

            Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh… 

            And then, of course, she turned eyes on them.  “Are you…?” 

            “Very,” Jake reassured her, overriding Jack’s ‘No’ as he painted on his most charming smile. 

            A bright spark of amusement lit up Junior’s eyes as they met gazes, before he turned back to his teachers.  “Day after tomorrow?” 

            “It’s on the books,” Gabrielle returned in lightly accented English before giving him an arch look.  “I speak this too, you know.  Is it your first language?” 

            He started to shrug, then stopped… and looked back at Jake.  “Is it?” 

            Eh…  How to explain this?  “Your first word was in Japanese,” he hedged.  “But your toddler talk was a mash of at least six languages that we couldn’t get you to stop interweaving until the Christmas after you turned three, when you just… quit talking altogether for two months.  After…”  He shrugged.  “It was usually English, after that?  And maybe a third or half English before.” 

            Jack had shown up in April of 183… and half of his initial irritation with the man had been because Junior had responded by retreating back into barely talking again.  Though to be fair, he hadn’t said a word to Senior since before Christmas, so… 

            That had been… pretty alarming, looking back.  Jack had probably only taken so long to freak out about it because it took a few months of forced interaction before he had enough context to recognize a veritable parade of red flags. 

            Ugh, and now he wanted to be mad at Jack for both trying to do something about it and also for not trying to fix it right off the bat.  Stupid.  His brain was stupid.  Talk about ridiculous double standards. 

            Junior, meanwhile, just looked thoughtful as he offered his teacher a shrug.  “I don’t have a first language,” he concluded.  “We’re in Germany.  You spoke German first, so I went with it.”  He held a hand up in a half-assed, overly stoic sort of wave and promised, “Friday.” 

            “For a man who literally speaks more languages than you can count, you’re rather stingy with their use,” Jack pointed out wryly as they made their way back to the front. 

            “Hn.  Yeah,” Odin agreed, twisting his head to watch Jake for a moment as he trailed just behind them. 

            He looked… there wasn’t a question there, exactly.  Or even an expectation.  It probably should have felt awkward.  Objectively he supposed it was terribly awkward. 

            It felt comfortable, though.  And given his brother’s barely there smile, the feeling was mutual. 

            Huh. 

            Jack scoffed.  “Also, litigate?  You?” 

            Junior’s eyes danced as he turned back to their father, mischievous smirk returning.  “Cat suggested it as a blanket threat that wouldn’t draw too much attention,” he admitted.  “Mark agreed.  I figured it was worth a try.” 

            “It works,” Jack agreed, though his tone was still dubious.  “It’s just not something you would do.” 

            “Hn.  That’s fine.  I’ve never been particularly good with threats anyway.” 

            Jack’s shoulders slumped, but he barreled onwards despite obvious trepidation.  “Oh?” 

            “I lack follow-through,” Odin agreed.  “If I’m going to do something, I just do it.  Talking about it is just intimidation or stalling.”  He tucked his hands in his pockets.  “It doesn’t make sense – why waste time and remove your advantage?”  He tipped his head to one side in a considering way that immediately made Jake think of their uncle.  “People expect it though, so it’s not a bad diversion tactic.” 

            Well, that wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d expected.  He was perfectly content to continue tiptoeing around the subject of the war for now, so- 

            “People always seem to think I mean it, though,” Odin continued.  “Well, not…  It actually got… out of hand.  With one person.  But aside from her, people usually believed me.  Looking back, I’m not sure why.  I basically made it up as I went.”  He shook his head.  “I wasn’t even creative.  I just said it, then turned around and did something else.  Every time.”  Twisting to look at Jake again, he grinned before offering, “That seems like something I should have been called out on.” 

            Right, so they were just skipping introductions and doing… this.  Whatever this was.  Sure.  “You’d be surprised just what you can get away with by rocking on like you don’t notice anyone questioning you,” Jake suggested.  “Especially on the more extreme scale – the weirder it is while you’re still acting like it’s just another Tuesday, the more people leave you alone.”  Treize had more than proven that principle, and he’d been known to abuse it a time or two himself.  And, well…  “Odin did sometimes pose as a traveling musician with a personal waffle iron.” 

            …What the hell had that all been about anyway?  Seriously? 

            That netted him a brighter grin, and this one was, again, almost a mirror of his own – and something of a gut punch.  Damn.  He… 

            It had been a long time.  Had he just… forgotten what that looked like?  It shouldn’t have been a big deal, it was practically his own smile, but… 

            He swallowed down the part of him that wanted to wrap his arms around his head, huddle against this conveniently close wall, and scream.  And it didn’t even make any sense.  What the hell did he even have to be upset about?  It was a smile.  Smiles were good. 

            I am completely fucking crazy. 

            “I feel like more people should have commented on the waffle iron,” his brother agreed.  “Could he even play the violin?” 

            Get your shit together.  “I don’t think so.”  Everything was fine.  “At least, I never saw him use it as more than a prop.” 

            “I think most people saw that he had children and just assumed you were picky eaters,” Jack suggested.  “Otherwise, I saw him restring the violin once, but I think that was just so it looked ready.”  He fell back slightly to bump shoulders with Jake.  “Your mother never mentioned him playing.” 

            “Hn.  Cat says it’s not a quick thing to learn,” Odin concluded, looking back at them with a mildly curious expression – like he could tell something was off, but wasn’t sure what. 

            Jack tried to fill the gap.  “Do you think he’s still annoyed about the piano?” 

            That almost devilish smirk came back.  “I don’t think he was annoyed, exactly.” 

            Jake grasped the distraction with both hands.  “Piano?” 

            Odin rolled his eyes, though the smirk was still in place.  “I overworked my leg and had to stay off it for most of a week, and I got bored.  So I looked up some videos on ShareView.” 

            Jack barked out a laugh that was closer to a cackle as they reached their coats.  “And by the time Cat swung by to check on him, he was playing something by Yann Tiersen.” 

            I’m going to have to look that up, Jake decided, still feeling overwhelmed but… Slightly better?

            “It felt good,” Odin decided, eyes faraway.  “It… suited.  For my mood.  Felt right.”  Then he shook his head, looking amused and conceited again.  “The way he acted, you’d think I’d jumped straight into Marasy.” 

            “Marasy is insane,” Jack immediately refuted. 

            “I like Marasy,” his brother argued, eyes shining as he stood up straighter.  “He has good energy.” 

            Jack turned a conspiratorial look on Jake.  “So your brother taught himself piano last week.” 

            “It’s limited,” Odin pointed out, reaching for his coat.  “Only a few songs so far, and it’s easier to watch a video than read music.  But I can identify most of the notes by ear too, so.”  He shrugged, bumping into Jake’s coat as he resettled his weight – and focusing on it for a long moment.  “Huh.”  Then there was that wildly bright and broad grin again as he stepped back and started putting his arms through his sleeves.  “It’s literally a sliding scale of mathematically precise sounds.  I’ve mastered worse layouts with far less feedback.  I don’t see why he got so flustered.” 

            Given what he’d just watched Junior learn a few minutes ago, he wasn’t entirely surprised.  Especially if… 

            They’d been dodging the idea of MS experience, but despite dropping out, Jake was confirmed as a decent pilot, if not exceptional.  And in a lot of ways… the core of the MS cockpit interface was a layered, three-dimensional version of a piano. 

            Don’t think about it.  His brother learned insanely fast and had always had a talent for languages – having an ear for music wasn’t exactly a stretch.  Though he was going to have to look up both of those artists – Composers?  Was that the right word? – later. 

            “It usually takes years,” Jack insisted. 

            “That’s stupid.” 

            Jake found himself laughing helplessly, because, okay… maybe what he’d said before wasn’t so bad if the kid called everything stupid. 

            Jack rolled his eyes, hands out in a surrendering motion.  “It’s not, but I’m done defending it,” he decided.  “Where are we going for lunch?” 

            “I’ll eat anything,” Odin reminded him, settling his collar high and doing up a few buttons while Jake pulled his own jacket down. 

            “Yeah, but is there anything you want?” 

            “No.” 

            Jack shook his head, looking back to Jake.  “He’s helpful,” he noted.  “How about you?” 

            Not something he wanted to think about.  “I think there’s a couple of places in the same neighborhood as the suite Arielle took over,” he suggested.  “We could head that way and see who has the shortest line.” 

            “That works,” Odin decided.  “You have a car?” 

            He didn’t even think about it before it just popped out.  “No, I walked here from Munich in six hours.” 

            Odin laughed.  “You might have taken the train,” he pointed out. 

            Point, he supposed.  “Yeah, but I’m dodging my future in-law, so I borrowed someone else’s car and bailed before he could figure out which way I went,” he explained.  No full, damning explanations just yet, while they tested the waters… but no reason to hide, exactly, either. 

            “Hm.”  He seemed to think about that for a moment, then shrugged.  “We did walk,” he admitted.  “Is it far?” 

            He lives close, then.  Which made sense, all things considered, but he still hadn’t expected it.  “Enough that walking might be a hassle,” Jake decided.  “Doable, though.” 

            “Mm, you drive us, then.”  He gestured at him.  “Is that Atelier’s?” 

            Yeah, he’d thought that’s what the grin had been about.  “She’s the best,” he said by way of agreement, straightening the coat’s lapels and doing up a couple buttons himself. 

            “So I was told,” his brother agreed, looking thoughtful.  “And Arielle?” 

            “For custom jewelry, absolutely,” Jake agreed, opening up the door for everyone.  “At least, on the higher end.  And she likes a challenge too.” 

            Odin considered that, looking thoughtful as he walked past him.  “You do this often?” 

            “Eh, on and off throughout the years, but more often lately,” he agreed.  “I usually have to send out to L3 for her services, but she’s Earth-based for the next couple of months to drum up more business.”  He smiled, thinking of Relena.  “My Lena always wears something of hers, though I don’t think she knows it.”  She certainly hadn’t when it came to her locator necklace, and she didn’t really care about designer labels in general. 

            Jack blinked at the way he’d shifted his cadence so ‘my’ and ‘Lena’ almost sounded like the same word, but Odin was facing away from them, so that was fine.  Just extra insurance – they’d already touched on how ‘Lena’ was easy and common enough to use in public, and he planned to maintain that – but passive misdirection from ‘Re-Lena’ couldn’t hurt. 

            Really, more than half the jewelry he’d given her was from Arielle, though less because any of it was exceptional and more because he liked her specialty work enough to give her patronage in the off times too.  Most of the trinkets he’d picked up for Lena were on the generic, minimalist end. 

            His brother took the bait.  “You’re engaged?” 

            “Proposed in late February,” he confirmed.  “Though like I said, her brother’s being an ass about it.  We don’t have a date set yet.”  They wanted something small and private, but it would be better to wait until both he was fully known to the public and the Accorded Nations were a little more settled. 

            Odin’s eyes lit up, and his smile was more gentle this time.  “I got ahead of myself and proposed February eleventh,” he admitted. 

            Jake’s brain… misfired.  In his peripheral vision, he saw Jack stumble.  “What?” 

            “She was very enthusiastic about the ‘yes’ but also said I needed to redo it,” he continued, looking up at the clouds in an almost dreamlike fashion.  “But we were both so busy last month out at Da Capo that I didn’t have time to figure it out until now.  There isn’t even net access out there.”  He shook his head and looked back to Jake.  “It can’t be too big.  I don’t want her to have to take it off for work or risk breaking her hand when she punches someone.  I don’t know what else Jack told you.” 

            “You didn’t tell me you’d already proposed once,” Jack announced, sounding aggrieved. 

            Odin blinked.  “You asked if I knew for sure she’d say yes,” he countered. 

            “I didn’t-”  Their father cut himself off with a groan, covering his face.  “That’s bad, Odin.” 

            “She said yes,” Odin repeated, tone almost like he was explaining something to a child. 

            He could either cut in or start laughing, so Jake chose the lesser of two evils.  “It’s really bad form,” he explained.  “Though it backs up your fast timeline, at least.”  Because they were already behind. 

            Better late than never, he supposed. 

            His brother rolled his eyes, jamming his hands in his pockets.  “Obviously.”  He looked over the street.  “Which car?” 

            Jake took the lead again, tapping the lock on his keys so the sedan lit up and honked once as a signal before tapping the unlock – he’d been able to get a close spot.  “The brightest white metal you can get, a sinuous nontraditional design with a profile that won’t extend past her second index knuckle, and she likes tanzanites more than diamonds,” he summed up. 

            “I was thinking both, but the latter as accents,” Odin agreed, taking a quick few steps to walk alongside him, leaving Jack to trail after.  “There was a picture – with a triangular blue stone only partially wrapped in metal, and three small white ones to the side?” 

            He thought he remembered.  “Asymmetric style?” he tried. 

            “Almost all the ones she would like are,” his brother returned.  “It’s not quite right either, but it’s closest?” 

            If he was remembering the right one, it at least fit the bill for the low profile demand.  “Okay.”  Arielle was used to him showing up with sketches – he could go over a few ideas during lunch.  He walked around the car to open the driver’s side door.  “Anything else?” 

            Odin held up one hand out in a stop gesture, then pointed at the juncture between his palm and ring finger.  “Is there a reason no one ever puts a stone here?” 

            Jake blinked, momentarily thrown.  “What?” 

            “I couldn’t figure out if it was a logical issue or just fashion.  And it would have to be very small to not limit movement.  But if I could put a thin stone on this side, rectangular or a small series in a channel, it would catch light from both sides.” 

            That… was possibly brilliant.  “I have no idea,” he admitted.  Then he grinned, leaning against the roof of the car for a moment.  “But Arielle is going to like you.” 

            Odin raised a brow at him as he opened the passenger door and stepped in.  “Is she going to give me shit about my timing too?” 

            “Everyone is going to give you shit about that,” Jack groused as he climbed in behind him. 

            “For the rest of your life,” Jake agreed. 

            Odin just snorted.  “Figures.” 

-

***

-

Szczecin, Poland

            “But, like…  Don’t we already know the answer?” 

            Felix shook his head – though to be fair, he was smiling and in general seemed very into this discussion despite it sounding half like an argument to Nick.  “We have a theory we like for it, but until we gather more supporting evidence, all we have is odd coincidence and Cat’s math.  It’s all circumstantial.”  He held up a finger.  “Not to mention, even if we’re right?  Your brother’s bitchfest about Occam’s razor isn’t wrong.  Even if some of this is related to the doll theory, it might hold more gems – whether intentionally hidden or incidental because of how it was wound through other people’s dirty business.” 

            “And either way, Relena benefits from this at least as much as we do,” the girl decided, her face lighting up as something clicked.  “Which is good in the long run.” 

            “Exactly,” Felix agreed.  “And with the task force the Accorded Nations has been putting together to investigate corruption, she’s going to have far more resources to put to this – the walls we’ve hit on Sharpman’s suspicions might not affect her at all, even without the whole…”  He made one of Cat’s gestures for ‘tricky/interesting.’  “Soleil thing.” 

            “Because we’re sure she’s at least talking to them, if not working with them,” Audi suggested with a nod. 

            “Mm… she’s something with them that’s not entirely hostile, but beyond that, the waters are still murky,” Felix countered.  “Even if she was willing to tell us outright, we can’t take it entirely at face value without a lot of evidence behind it, and even then…  Leverage can be applied in a lot of different ways, and the princess has become quite the politician.  No matter how we look at it, she’s deftly lying with great skill to someone in this mix for us to have reached the balance we’re at, and it’s daunting.  I don’t blame Razo for any of it, but he put us in an incredibly vulnerable position – given what she knows, Relena holds an insane amount of power over us.  It’s an uncomfortable stalemate at best.”  He sighed, relaxing his shoulders somewhat.  “But instead of using any of it, she’s been interweaving her work with us deeply enough that she would share some of the fallout should our Cambyses history come to light and otherwise biding her time while hinting that she wants more from us.” 

            Nick bit his lip.  “She’s been really vocal about re-integrating ex-Cambyses men,” he pointed out hesitantly, not sure if he was really… invited to this debate, but also not wanting to stay to one side. 

            “Both publicly and to our faces,” Felix agreed, flashing him a grin.  “And she’s been putting her money where her mouth is on all counts, calling out those that try to step around the issue even as she falls down like the hammer of God on the people who need full rehabilitation.”  He shook his head.  “And she’s been objective with it – some of those guys probably won’t ever make it back to the general population, because they’re twisted and it’s not coming undone.”  He made a conciliatory motion.  “So in a lot of ways, having Jack around is ideal, because he’s a second opinion on this basically being our community service instead of the official programs.  Though we’re also tracking everything… I mean, Anne is great, and I’m glad we have her, not to mention the couple therapists that Sally staffs, but if we ever go fully public, we’re going to want to cover our asses, you know?  Prove that we’re not letting someone nasty slip through.” 

            Nick stared at him.  “That’s… something you’re thinking about?” 

            “It was always a consideration, but it became a goal we prepared against as soon as we learned Razo outed us,” Felix confirmed, his eyes steady.  “But it’s not an option for Cat unless things change dramatically, or for Odin or Adam.  So it’s something we’d rather avoid, because as is, they’d have to formally separate before it happened to keep things on an even keel.”  He grimaced.  “And the more public good we do as Rubato, the more stable that vision is, the easier it’ll all go over.  If we time it right, it’ll both look like a natural conclusion everyone ought to have considered from the start and a good thing.” 

            What the everloving fuck.  “And you think you can swing this ‘timing?’” Nick asked dubiously. 

            Felix took a moment to think before answering.  “A lot of it is going to depend on Relena,” he decided.  “And the state of the government and public opinion, and…  Yes?  Mark and Cat both think it’s doable, especially if we get the princess on board.”  He scrunched his nose.  “It’s the getting on board part that’s tricky.  Now that she’s separated from the Regime we’re…  Well, we’re in the middle of the first step.  We share a little, and see what she shares back, and meanwhile just… see where it goes.”  He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair to twirl a pen and grin at them both.  “I’ve lost track of how many contingency plans are in place if any of it goes to crap, but Cat says he’d be cool just straight-talking with Relena if he could catch her without an audience.” 

            Nick made a face.  “She seems to have a good head on her shoulders,” he hedged.  “But that seems like a bit of a leap, since all of you are what’s on the line.”  Crazy mutant powers or not, even with good odds… 

            They weren’t supposed to have to gamble like that anymore.  The idea made him sick. 

            “Mm, Odin says the same thing, basically,” Audi cut in.  “That if it was just her, this would be easy – but Kay checked out her security once back when it was still pretty basic and got spooked, and no one wants an incident.  So the slow route is best?  At least for now.”  She made a face.  “Though it gets way weirder with the whole Miller thing.  No one can figure out what exactly Odin’s brother does, and Jack goes in and out of her big compound like it’s no big deal when Jovi says it’s really not, so, like… family drama, or something.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Odin is so bad at family drama, I swear.  If it weren’t for everyone else on the line, I think he might’ve told his dad his old name by now just to get it over with, but… He’s also gotten weirdly avoidant about all that lately?  And other stuff.  I was cooking the other night and in the middle of us all hanging out he suddenly went dead-eyed and shuffled me away from the stove so he could finish it himself – like, with no explanation whatsoever.  He literally wouldn’t talk or meet anyone’s eyes for almost fifteen minutes.  I thought Jack was going to have a stroke.” 

            Nick blinked, trying to catch even half the context there, but Felix was narrowing his eyes.  “That sounds like a flashback,” he murmured, voice quiet. 

            Audi flipped out her hands in aggravation.  “Over sesame chicken?!” 

            Oh.  Oh.  “Were you holding a knife?” Nick suggested.  Given how much she seemed to talk with her hands… if she’d been talking while cooking, she might have been waving it around. 

            She pointed an accusatory finger at him.  “I have knives all the time, he taught me, so stop it.  But no.  Tongs.”  Withdrawing the finger in his face, she clenched her hand like she was squeezing the grip to clack the spades together on a set of cooking tongs.  “You know?” 

            …Yeah, that made no sense to him either.  “What were you talking about?” he tried instead. 

            “I’m shutting this down,” Felix declared, eyes hooded.  “It’s rude to speculate.  Let it go.” 

            The girl huffed out a breath.  “Yeah, okay.”  She rolled her eyes.  “But even without him doing that kind of thing, it’s…  Like, I thought him going to space for so long with his lady would help him chill out?  But he’s worse.  I mean, he’s great sometimes, but there’s this underlying mood too, so… I don’t know.” 

            Felix grimaced.  “He came back hurt, didn’t he?” 

            “I thought it was that at first too, and it was, but there’s something else now that he’s better, and I can’t figure it out,” she grumbled. 

            He still had never met this guy and Felix had already tried to shut down the conversation, but Cat clearly looked up to him and Nick was mostly focused on not thinking about the fact that he was talking to a female.  So instead of taking time to consider it, he pointed out, “It could be unrelated.  If he’s getting triggered more often, it could just be that bleeding into everything else.” 

            Audi slumped.  “I wish he’d talk to Anne.” 

            Felix frowned.  “He’s not?” 

            She made a face.  “She’s Moira’s daughter, so no, because he’s even weirder about this kind of thing with her than he is Jack.  He just pretends it’s not there at all.” 

            “He told me he’s talked to someone about his crap,” Felix argued.  “I asked him, when I was trying to figure mine out.”  He shook his head.  “He’s so damn steady all the time that Cat leans on him, I thought…  Who does he see?” 

            She squeezed her eyes shut, and Nick’s stomach flipped as he realized she looked about to cry.  “My mom, but they haven’t… she went missing a while ago, and they haven’t really talked since last spring.  I…”  She pressed her hands over her face and shuddered.  “She said I needed to watch out for…  But then it never happened until now, and now I don’t know, and I can’t call her.  She said I needed to call or get him home again if he ever…”  She let out a short sob. 

            Nick was grateful for the incredulous look at his continued presence followed by a dismissive gesture that Felix sent his way.  It made him feel less terrible for bailing as the other man wrapped his arms around the girl – maybe a teenager, but truthfully just a child – and started talking in a low voice. 

            He’d made it through the conversation without freaking out.  That was pretty good, honestly.  Time to find someone else to bother.  Maybe Mark was also working on the information angle?  He wouldn’t mind continuing that conversation, for all that it felt like he was missing something. 

            “I’m not surprised,” Mark complained, leaning forward with his hands pressed against the table for balance.  “But I disagree that it needs to be pretty, at least for the first wave – that’s only meant as a proof for the princess, not the general public.” 

            “And if they try to silence it at that point?” Cat argued. 

            “Then we still have something and it’s too big of an issue to fully stomp out anyway – it won’t be as big, but so what?  The job still gets done.” 

            “If they can claim we’re spoofing photos from somewhere in the eastern states and generate enough doubt, then they can silence it.  If we don’t have something already circulating when Sally breaks the border, they can claim it’s Insurgence propaganda.” 

            “Technically, it is propaganda.  Truth-telling doesn’t make it any less so.” 

            “Relena wants something already circulating before the border crashes,” Jovi interjected.  “It makes for better proof of foul play, and it’ll make it easier for her to sweep in afterwards and make it stick.  We just need enough volume and key shots to make it impossible to drown.” 

            “And we don’t have a professional willing to risk health and family to drop in, which puts us back to whatever candid shots we can get,” Mark finished, shaking his head.  “I don’t know how well it will work, but fine.  Has Adam ever taken any pictures beyond that damn heroin throne?” 

            Cat grinned.  “Vaska took those.” 

            “And he’s still in Utah,” Mark grumbled.  “I’ll reiterate – has Adam ever taken any photos?  Because so far as I’m aware, he and Hilde are the only ones with a half decent camera in there, and we’ve already seen her attempts.” 

            “I feel like I’m interrupting,” Nick announced, leaning back against the doorjamb.  “But it also sounds like maybe I should?” 

            Ardith, who he hadn’t seen initially, started theatrically pointing at him repeatedly. 

            Mark just narrowed his eyes, standing upright and crossing his arms.  “We’re talking about Italy,” he explained dismissively.  “Scat.” 

            “Do you want to go to Italy?” Ardith tried. 

            “He doesn’t even want to touch his phone’s camera function,” Mark snapped, side-eying the other man.  “Lay off.” 

            “But-” 

            “We do not manipulate our friends for fun and profit, Ardith.  We’ve been over this.  Button your damn fly and go play somewhere else.” 

            Nick’s heart started to race.  “You need a war zone photographer,” he summed up. 

            Mark met his eyes, gaze serious.  “I’d like one,” he countered.  “‘Need’ is a bit much.  Or at least, Relena thinks we need one, but since she’s not offering any suggestions, she can just deal.” 

            “It would be ideal,” Cat explained.  “She hasn’t even gotten through what we gave her on Sharpman, but she’s already wary of what Dorchet is willing to do, and she isn’t exactly wrong.  It would take some muscle, but if they caught it early enough, the Regime could find enough avenues of blame to shirk responsibility on this if they have time and reasonable doubt.”  He listed his chin to one side in a proud sort of motion.  “She wants to nail them to the wall.” 

            “I could get you this really nice, top of the line-” 

            Mark shoved off the table harshly enough the rattle it, and Ardith bolted. 

            On some level, he appreciated that.  But at the same time…  Something in his chest felt warm.  “I quit because it felt like I couldn’t do anything worthwhile with it,” he admitted, waiting for Mark to catch his eyes again.  “Because I let myself fade out into madness without it.  But…” 

            “You miss it,” Cat announced quietly, after a long moment of silence. 

            Hearing it from outside himself made admitting it easier?  “I do miss it,” he agreed, looking down.  He bit his lip for a moment, weighing it… the depression against the fear, the restlessness now versus… this.  Not quite excitement, exactly, but… heavier? 

            No one tried to rush him as he turned it over a few more times, and he really appreciated that.  At the same time, though?  “I want to know more,” he decided.  It had always just been about art, before, but…  Maybe his solution didn’t have to be so cut and dry.  So black and white.  Maybe… 

            “Tell me more.” 

-

***

-

April 10^th 199 – Friday – Turkmenistan

            David let out a deep breath, feeling his shoulders slump.  “Great.”  It was done.  Not that the trail ended here, but these fuckers… he’d successfully avenged his team for that awful raid in Khiva, root and stem… and they’d gotten their books too, which would make the next part easier.  “I need a shower.” 

            Razo elbowed him before he could pivot and go to do just that.  “Not until this clean-up is done,” he reminded him, still sounding… rough. 

            “Fine.”  He was hoping he could maybe skate that, but he hadn’t really expected to get away with it either.  That said – body disposal was a hell of a lot easier when you worked for a government-approved organization.  Even with Jake handling all the Strike Force’s financial needs the same as he’d arranged Treize’s funding before Soleil’s formation, some of the logistics fell short. 

            That said, at least in this scenario, it was more containing the mess and announcing where he’d left it – there were advantages to the bizarre sort of publicly acknowledged undercover agency position he’d laid claim to.  The Regime had declared that they lacked the resources to chase him for now, but with his steady stream of updates posted online, the scavengers came running to check his intel whenever he left bait.  More than half the time their chatter afterwards was even to his benefit, despite the government’s official stance. 

            He still missed having official coroners.  He suspected the coroners missed him too, at least on some level – the delays had to be making their lives harder. 

            It was nearly twenty minutes later when Razo spoke again.  “I thought it would feel better.  Catching up to them.” 

            Zuko snorted.  “Joke’s on you, Charel.  It’ll be another week before you sleep better, if at all.” 

            Not wrong, but still rude, David decided, taking the high road of keeping his mouth shut. 

            “That’s terrible,” Razo announced after a long moment.  “Why did we fixate on this, then?” 

            “We got hit hard and ran out of good things to fixate on,” Chanel explained, tone bland.  “We made the most of it.  It happens.”  She made a disgusted noise as something evidently splashed onto her, and dropped the corpse she’d been dragging to kick it in the ribs, hard.  “Fuck it.  Sir, I could really use a morale boost.” 

            He grinned, appreciating the direct approach.  “I’m supposed to offer it on command?” he protested. 

            “Now, sir.” 

            He laughed a little at that before relenting – he did appreciate the attitude, after all, so long as she didn’t offer it on the field.  “You all get three days furlough while I try to make something useful from these guys’ books.” 

            “Only one extra day?” Ivan returned skeptically. 

            “I’m not impressed,” Razo agreed. 

            “Auerbach asked for morale boosting,” Zuko added, dropping the arms of the body he’d claimed as he reached the room they’d decided on.  “That barely exceeds standard.” 

            Of course they wanted to razz him.  “You’re getting three days,” David continued, “because I don’t want us to be in the middle of something when shit hits the fan out west and we can make a timely appeal to both Relena and the public at large.” 

            Chanel stood up straight.  “Say that again?” 

            He just smirked.  “I have it on good authority that an infamous military body is going to throw egg on the Regime’s face before the week is out,” he explained.  “And I don’t want to miss the show.”  Dropping his own body next to Strozzi’s, he added, “If it’s even half as big as I’ve been promised, we’ve got our in to be back under official auspices.” 

            Zechs had had more than two months to cool down while David kept his word and did exactly what he’d said he was going to do instead of causing trouble.  He’d arguably cleared out the worst of the problems to be had – or at least, he would once he finished this last trail.  Relena had progressed her Accords far enough that, especially with the Regime facing bad fallout from the Italian situation, the Accords would like to hold a claim on the personal military force – albeit, a comparatively rather small one.  And with Relena at the helm, even if he was still pissed about the engagement, Zechs would see the advantage of her bringing their rogues back under control – of pulling them back under a loyal banner, instead of leaving them as wildcards ready to either raise hell or piss off their neighbors to the east. 

            Before this last message in the drop spot from Jake, he’d thought he would have to leverage a situation out here to start his plea to the Accorded Nations.  But the Insurgence pushing on Italy?  Whatever the missing details contained, that opportunity was practically gift-wrapped. 

            “And once we’ve entered negotiations,” he continued, “we’re no longer persona non grata.  And we can stay somewhere nice for a week or two.”  ‘Nice’ being a relative term – they’d been sleeping in transport caravans and camping for the last two months.  Decent beds alongside real bathrooms?  That alone would be a massive step up. 

            Then again, Jake might spring them for something actually nice.  It would probably depend on availability, though.  He had over ten thousand people to house – he wasn’t going to ask for a miracle. 

            Zuko cackled, heading back to grab another – they’d dismissed most of the grunts before wrap-up, so it was just the set of them for this part.  “I’ll drink to that!” 

            “Drink what?” Razo called after him, one brow quirked.  “We ran out of booze two weeks ago and these guys were dry!” 

            Jake paying for extra care packages and then intentionally misdirecting them from the quotas coming out of various agricultural hubs really only covered the basics.  Despite being in ex-Soviet territory, the refugees didn’t get an alcohol ration, so neither did they.  What alcohol they did have since the end of January had been acquired from the bastards they raided. 

            “Whatever I pick up once I’m not worried about being arrested on sight!” 

            I am really looking forward to not living on the lam, David decided, following after Strozzi.  He had too many responsibilities to make anything fun out of it. 

-

***

-

Amsterdam, Netherlands

            “And if I wanted a slice of that pie?” 

            “You’d have to agree to the end goals to put the effort in, continually,” Duo asserted, meeting her eyes firmly.  “If you crap out halfway, you won’t like how I handle it.”  Neither would he, but if she didn’t understand him well enough by now to realize that without him saying it, then there was no point to this talk. 

            Cadence tipped her head, her gaze – as usual – a touch unnerving.  Not that she had anything on Heero, but-  “Define these end goals for me.” 

            He gave her one of his trademark grins.  “Essentially?  Extinction.  Retirement.  A place with no need for gang patrol.” 

            She raised a brow at him.  “That’s asking a bit much, in Tiger territory.” 

            That wasn’t a no.  “Then it doesn’t start in Tiger,” he returned.  He hadn’t expected it to, really.  “The Quarter is the start, a proof of concept – it doesn’t have to extend directly.”  In fact, it would likely be better if it didn’t – what was left of Tiger separated Devil and Cadence territory, but two islands slowly stretching to meet in the middle would likely be more stable.  “It might never reach Beale or Shadow,” he added.  “I’m not trying to take on the city as a whole, and there’s history, there.  But you have to start somewhere.” 

            The history of the Amsterdam slums and their associated gangs was convoluted – while the sector now known as the Devil’s Quarter had never been a great neighborhood, it hadn’t fallen under gang influence until late in the war.  In some ways, that had been what led to the fast descent the Devils described – more than a few groups had risen over the course of the war as displaced soldiers and deserters tried to carve out a piece of the unclaimed real estate, but largely cannibalized each other.  By the time Duo had arrived in September, the worst of the turmoil had settled, leaving the Slingers and Devils at an impasse. 

            He wasn’t sure exactly when people had started calling it the Quarter, but he thought he’d been around by then?  It hadn’t been ‘the Devil’s Quarter’ until after the riot. 

            The Slingers had been an amalgam sort of beast that had survived five or more rebirths before Cal took them over and branded them as such – Adelheid thought the first iteration tracked back October of 195, when Treize told Romefeller to go fuck themselves over the doll issue and desertion hit an all-time high.  Or at least, the highest anyone had seen yet – nothing held a candle to Libra’s fallout.  None of the original members from the first gang had been there by the time Duo took them down, but there had been at least two from their first run, neither of which included Cal.  The Devils had pulled together in April, but had been left alone until July, when the Slingers realized there might be something worth taking from them.  Beale had a similar history, excepting that they rose up from veteran refugees rabbiting from the chaos of Operation Daybreak – the rats who had known their bullshit with the Alliance wouldn’t pass OZ’s muster.  If not for the mess of the months that came after, Tiger or Shadow probably would have absorbed them before they really came into their own. 

            But after the shitstorm that followed Daybreak, there had been the Treize Splinters, and after that, the World Nation, then after that Libra.  The world hadn’t really gotten a chance to get its pants on until after the Fall, and then it had had to limp along with three slugs in one leg – the results, predictably, hadn’t impressed anyone.  There was a reason he’d taken up the name Chaos when he arrived – it had become just about the only predictable thing about life in Amsterdam. 

            Cadence was like the Devils – a locally bred reactionary group that formed up post-Fall.  The difference between the groups boiled down to real estate.  The Quarter had been a barren place no one much wanted to bother with that was starting to suffer from a power vacuum, but Cadence came into being on the border between Tiger and Shadow – two full-fledged syndicates that had been taking bites out of each other for decades.  She’d somehow carved out a space for herself between them by playing to the vanity and ugly wants of each, angling them against each other while simultaneously chewing through the smaller opportunists that tried to harry her same targets – and then after Beale targeted her family the December before last…

            Dam Square, and therefore the riot and the majority of its aftermath, was firmly in the Devil’s Quarter.  The three-way gang war Beale had kicked off that morning by murdering Cadence’s little brother had spilled in somewhat, but only in so much as the chaos of the disaster proved ample hunting grounds.  As devastated as the Quarter had been by the Dam Square Riot, Cadence had spent that day wreaking vengeance and otherwise murdering her way through four distinct gangs in a different sector of the city.  By the end of it, Beale was under new management that took no beef with her and had a far more stable border than before, the two smaller gangs he didn’t actually remember the name of now were gone from memory, and Tiger, once the oldest power of the city’s underbelly, was gone. 

            While most would consider that move a pure power grab, however, she had shown a cunning amount of practicality by pulling back to claim only a mildly expanded territory that she could control with ease.  One of her lieutenants – an ex-lover turned best friend if rumor spoke true – had split off to pick up the remaining pieces of Tiger.  With the old syndicate’s still intact framework of established businesses, deals, and auxiliary members, they had split the difference and turned Tiger into a cadet branch of Cadence able to look after its own needs – much like Duo had chosen to handle the influx of developing crews in the wake of the riot.  And it had, despite all pressures internal and external, remained stable.  That spoke volumes. 

            He’d always mocked Cal for renaming his gang after himself.  But Cadence?  She had the grit to back it up.  And to be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure if that was truly her name, or if everyone had started calling her that as a title and she’d decided against correcting them.  She had a poker face to sweep a championship and a tendency to lean into a near maniacal persona that few could read fact or reality from, and she ran a tight ship.  If something fell into her territory, she protected it fiercely, and she didn’t tolerate bullshit.  She creeped him out sometimes, but…  He trusted her integrity in a gut-check sort of way he had a hard time putting to words.  And she’d always been impressed with him when they met, never read too much or too little into what he said; just kept it simple, practical.  As vicious as he knew she could get, she was direct and down to earth.  A kindred spirit. 

            Sometimes he wondered if she suspected just how close he’d come to approaching her instead of Luc.  If she could see it in him, somehow.  Because he might have decided to try the Devils first, but if Luc had turned him away when he first came to the city? 

            Cadence would have been his next stop. 

            He’d gone to the Devils because they were less organized – less business, more family.  More crew.  But Cadence had a similar backstory, of a local trying to scrape the remains of a neighborhood together in the wake of the Fall.  But instead of holding onto those she considered most dear and making ends meet from there, she’d chosen to impose order onto chaos – a more proactive approach.  The business end had been necessary in the part of town that stood between two old syndicates; treating with older powers meant you had to bring something to the table in order to survive at all. 

            He wondered sometimes, just what it had taken to make Shadow stay put with the shift in powers after the riot.  Whether another war had waged largely unseen by those not involved, or if it was threats and blackmail, alliances no one knew about, or strictly a business arrangement of some kind.  For a while people had wondered if he hadn’t somehow wrecked Shadow too and was now controlling both of the old mafias, but there had been too many points of tension and mixed trade in the year and a half since for that to hold water.  There were too many currents there for the situation to be so simple – but whatever the situation, it was stable enough to broker a deal with. 

            His wants didn’t entirely line up with Cadence – she liked control too much for him to get comfortable with her.  But given where she lived, she probably needed to like it in order to have survived, let alone thrive as she had.  And whatever his distaste, the Devils post-riot were more or less exactly what her gang had been before it, and now… 

            She was interested.  She hadn’t scoffed or scorned at his explanation – was just watching him to see if he had meant it.  To see if he would follow through.  Because in Cadence’s book, results mattered a world more than intent. 

            “If the Devil’s Quarter fully gentrifies,” he continued, not looking away, “and Cadence follows the same example, with the same colonial tech core – the influence will spread and begin smothering the rest.  If that keeps up, then the cores will spread again.  And again.” 

            Done right… it would take a while, but theoretically, between this and everything Relena wash pushing through on the governmental level?  They might eventually run out of slum.  And wouldn’t that be something? 

            Maybe Quatre would even be right, and by then Relena would have enough power that she would dissolve the bounty on his head.  If not…  Well… 

            He didn’t want to leave Amsterdam.  It was home.  He had never fought for anything so hard as he had this city, had never loved a place like this once, not even Maxwell Church.  It had given him something he hadn’t even understood he was looking for, and he had nurtured it and its people in turn, trying to given back more than he had taken.  Everything he loved about his life had only come to him because he had made this his home.  But as hard as he’d fought it, the world refused to stop growing on him… and if he and Melissa had to pack up Rina and the kids, they could do it and know the others would be okay.  Know that if they weren’t, any Devil could ask for help and be given it, regardless of circumstances.  Even if he couldn’t, that was just how Heero fucking rolled, and you know…  Maybe he’d questioned a lot of his life choices, but dragging that asshole home to Howard had turned out to be one of the better ones. 

            “I don’t know if your dream is possible,” Cadence eventually decided.  “But I’m interested.  If we fall short, we can find a way to make up the difference later.” 

            That was fair – he still wasn’t entirely sure he believed it either.  He’d just seen crazier shit before, and kept having people he trusted insist that this was how it worked.  “Then it’s probably easiest to start with a map.” 

-

***

-

Merano, Italy

            “It’s still uploading?” 

            The tall twenty something didn’t raise his head from the tablet he was directing a stylus over.  “The resolution I was using was unwieldy at best, and without any loss of fidelity, the files are large,” he offered.  “I’m also not high enough priority to kill your bandwidth over.” 

            Hilde came close enough to see that yes, he was editing a photo – something to do with the color, maybe?  “And you keep editing.” 

            “It can’t hurt,” he agreed.  “The baseline shots are mostly through, though.”  Shaking his head, he stood and flipped the attached cover over his tablet screen, resettling the weight of his camera bag on his shoulder.  “The urban set should be good, though I’ll forward any updates.  Will Adam be able to go with me to that farm, tomorrow?” 

            He still wasn’t looking at her, which frankly put her back up… but since he did it to just about anyone, she tried to keep her temper in check.  “I’d rather send you with Valencia and René.”  They had effectively cleared Merano of the worst offenders in short order, or at least made enough noise that they’d hide until the worst of this mess was over with, but they only had two days to finish prepping for the drop. 

            The photographer stilled, shoulders stiffening as he tucked the tablet into a flap of his satchel.  “Why?” 

            “Because Adam is overkill for sightseeing, and I could make better use of him elsewhere.”  She had the people now to clear at least one if not two more towns nearby, so long as she arranged it right and they didn’t hit major snags.  The more ready they were… 

            The break in the border would only be the start, especially since Sally didn’t think they could clear more than a ten mile window.  Even if everything went according to plan and people could start walking out unaccosted, this place was going to become an utter shitstorm during the transition.  The calmer the area around the new entry point, the less lives would be lost. 

            He let out a dry, almost wrecked sounding laugh that didn’t sound funny at all.  “Sightseeing, huh?” 

            She rolled her eyes.  “You know what I mean.”  The farm he’d talked about, or at least one of the ones they wanted proof of, had been the site of a goddamn massacre – one no one had known about until a week after the bodies were left to rot.  Or did he mean the one where-  “Poor choice of words,” she offered by way of apology.  She wasn’t… 

            She wasn’t used to it, exactly.  Not really.  But it wasn’t…  As hard?  As it used to be? 

            …Yeah, okay, she was desensitized as shit and should maybe quit while she was ahead. 

            He finally looked at her then, grey eyes morose.  “I went sightseeing my last spring break too,” he told her. 

            This felt like a trap.  “Yeah?” 

            He nodded, face melancholy, even as a vindictive light lit his eyes.  “Yeah.  Thought I’d even try and do some good while I was at it.  Tagged along with one of those church groups to help build shelters for refugees.  My mom gave me shit for it; burned up most of my savings on the plane ticket.” 

            She was sensing a hell of a ‘but.’  “How’d that go?” 

            “I got kidnapped and indoctrinated into a cult that followed a strict survival of the fittest code,” he explained blandly.  “Didn’t make it back out until last summer, over two years later.” 

            Ah shit.  He was one of those. 

            “I am here, on my goddamn spring break again,” he continued, “to do something important.  Because I’m the only one anyone knew who can be anonymous and can handle this shit, and because it is important.  But I don’t know any of you, and this place is fucking crazy in a way that’s giving me nightmares, and the only one of you that Cat knows and thinks of as an equal is Adam.  So if you want the poignant rural nightmare exposé before anyone else has a chance to destroy any proof it ever happened, I need someone I believe will get me out to come with me.” 

            Hilde grimaced.  “Fine.”  Spoiled fucking brat, but fine.  What else was new when it came to spoiled rich boy Winner?  It figured his people were just as fussy. 

            Not that Quatre was exactly…  Well.  That whole Robby Stanton reveal was a gut punch.  Realistically, she’d never actually met the Winner heir – Duo seemed to think he was cool, so… 

            …I am in roaring bitch mode today, aren’t I?  Great.  That was just… super great.  Fuck it.  “Sorry.  All anyone bothered to tell me was that you were here for pictures.”  They’d probably said more than that, but she hadn’t really cared – you won some, you lost some.  He’d clearly been able to walk and talk and not melt down over stupid shit, so she’d just… her attention had been elsewhere. 

            I really need that vacation.  She was starting to think that need might not just be about her, either. 

            Odin’s pool had better be totally badass. 

            The guy –Abby something? – relaxed a little, shoulders losing their line of tension.  “It’s… fine.  I’m not exactly at my best either.”  He sighed, shifting his weight.  “I wanted to come, I’m glad to be here, just…  I’m not totally okay either.” 

            “That’s fair,” she reassured him, trying to ease off a little.  In for a penny…  “Thanks for coming despite, you know… everything.  I’ve only gotten the short version, but the lot of you went through some utter shit.”  She made a face.  “Duo always used to describe Quatre as ‘the nice one’ you know?  I can’t even imagine.” 

            He gave her a dubious look. 

            “Okay, whatever, fine.”  It was a dumb thing to say – even if he had been sweetest of them – which was debatable – he was still one of the gundam pilots.  They weren’t exactly pushovers, and…  Well, considering the competition, it probably wouldn’t be all that hard to be the sweetest.  Adam and Heero were utter trolls, Duo was fucking bipolar sometimes, and she had heard stories about Wufei. 

            Whatever. 

            “…Sure,” he returned after too long a pause. 

            She scrambled for something else to say.  “You’re going to school somewhere, then?” 

            His look was incredulous.  “I think I preferred the awkward silence.” 

            She snorted out a laugh.  “Oh, fuck you!” 

            “No, really.  No reason to strain on my account.  I can see it’s costing you.”  At her renewed laugh, he smirked a little adding, “I’m not sure what, exactly, but it looks painful.” 

            Okay, if this was one of Quatre’s friends?  He was either secretly as much of an asshole as the others, or he had a type. 

-

***

-

April 13^th 199 – Monday – Szczecin, Poland

            Priya sighed when her phone rang, debating just ignoring it… but there was always a chance it was a lead.  Probably not, but… 

            She’d narrowed Rubato founders down to five likely candidates.  If she could just catch a damn break on another one…  

            She could call this a win if she could narrow it down to three possibilities. 

            It would be a lot easier if the fuckers would stop using shell identities and leaving her hanging about where the hell they really were half the time.  At this point, she knew they had to be up to something shady purely because even in her family, no one honest layered on this much subterfuge. 

            If only all of them weren’t doing it.  And then introducing new variables to boot. 

            Groaning, she grabbed her phone… and blinked at the caller ID.  What the hell?  Feeling mildly alarmed, she hit the connect.  “Hello?” 

            If this was another tourist on holiday trying to find a helpful number she was going to kill him for whatever he’d put her name under this time.  Why the hell he even listed her as an emergency contact in the first place- 

            “Hey, Cous.  Long time no see.” 

            Well, at least it wasn’t another false crisis because he’d dropped his phone in the ocean again.  “Hey, Rhett,” she greeted, leaning back into her chair.  She was due for a break anyway.  “You remembered to come up for air, huh?” 

            “You say that like I never do anything worthwhile,” he returned in an easy drawl. 

            Priya grinned, practically seeing his lazy smile despite the phone being audio only.  “You literally declared yourself a ‘professional bum’ eighteen months ago,” she reminded him.  “Your mother would be despairing if your dad wasn’t so impressed that you were still getting away with it.” 

            “Mm.  Is your mom still impressed by it?” 

            “She bragged as if you were her offspring for nearly an hour when Lily visited over Christmas,” she confirmed. 

            And there was that slow, laid back chuckle.  “Well I can hardly stop now, then.  Aunt Nell has a reputation to hold.  I bet I can keep it up at least another three months.” 

            She couldn’t help but smile… but then she sighed.  Rhett usually called with one thing in mind.  “I can’t drop what I’m in the middle of right now,” she announced. 

            It was too bad.  Rhett had a sixth sense for parties; tagging along when he was on the trail for a good time tended to get wild.  They had legit made it onto a yacht for some kind of billionaire bachelor party extravaganza last spring.  She hadn’t been aware it was possible to be drunk for three days straight without facing a hangover, though she still suspected there had been something stronger in the punch that made it work.  It had absolutely been worth sleeping under the tiki bar with only a stolen towel for a pillow. 

            Despite gate-crashing, they’d actually gotten invited to the wedding, somehow.  She was mostly sure Rhett had gone, too – she’d headed back to France, but no one had heard from him for almost two weeks. 

            “Damn.”  He sighed.  “Alright.  How’ve you been?” 

            That was the thing about Rhett – he was basically a golden retriever for life.  He’d meander off, bump into a stranger, make a new friend, have a good time, then wander on.  He preferred to bring company along on new ventures, something about a risk reward balance he’d once tried to explain with way too many hand motions, but he wasn’t needy either.  “Pretty busy,” she admitted, relaxing a little more and picking up the TV remote.  “Flying hither and thither, always three steps behind – but I’m catching up.” 

            “Mm, the gauntlet thing, right?” 

            “Yep.  Mostly being really glad Tricia didn’t impose any kind of time limit.”  Hey, look at that.  “Did you know they were airing reruns of Aspera Stars?” 

            He hummed appreciatively.  “No, but it’s a classic,” he decided. 

            She grinned.  It was a torrid telenovela that only lacked a love triangle because it was more like a dodecahedron.  But while she’d accuse most men of just agreeing to appease her, the two of them had spent way too much of the summer break before freshman year camped out in her room and mooning over that shit. 

            It was the only way Rhett tolerated drama.  Which she completely understood, but it also made him an addict for the trashiest nonsense the internet had to offer.  She had lost bets about just how deep that rabbit hole could go – turns out, if someone could conceive it, they’d find a market.  The last time one of Tay’s frat buddies tried to tell her the internet was for porn, she’d buried him under hours of really badly written romance with stolen surrogate babies for three hours before he conceded the point. 

            “What have you been up to?” she asked, turning on the subtitles.  “Anyone try to make off with your tent yet?”  Last time they’d talked, he’d been camping on some beach in Australia. 

            “Eh, I passed it along,” he admitted.  “Best of the season was up anyway, and the concert ticket she passed over was nice – floor admission.  Hell of a mosh pit.  The band was fun, and the trip there was even better.” 

            Meaning he’d gone hitch-hiking again and probably fulfilled some male fantasy with a couple of coeds while he was at it.  “What band?” 

            “Aries Rising.” 

            Damn, okay, but he’d absolutely gotten the better end of the deal for his… tent…  “You gave her your surfboard too, didn’t you?”  And probably a night – or a couple of days, knowing him. 

            “It’s not like I was going to carry it with me all the way to Sydney.”  His tone said he knew exactly what she was thinking – and was laughing at her. 

            God, but at least the one thing Rhett did concede to spend real money on during his whacky road to enlightenment was condoms; otherwise he’d probably be breaking the family record for number of babies by now.  Ever since they had turned sixteen, the one downside of hanging out with Jolene’s son was the absolutely paramount need to always read the room. 

            Empaths came in all flavors.  Some hid from the world, some coped like normal people, and apparently, some became consummate hedonists. 

            The space heart community, on the whole, alternated between abject horror and glowing admiration of Rhett Stahl’s… unique take on life.  Most empaths in his weight class had serious social issues; a handful were so consumed by their gifts that they were hermits living off of disability checks.  Meanwhile, Rhett had maxed out all of the basic community standards before he’d withdrawn from testing as a kid – but while he’d refused to pursue it, general speculation was that he might be the strongest yet born. And yet…  While their family had muttered and worried about it around the kitchen table when they got the results back, he’d climbed the tree in her back yard to pop her window open and ask if she wanted to check out the horses two farms down. 

            They had been very grounded after that.  Or at least, she had been more grounded than before Rhett staged the jailbreak; he’d technically been in trouble too, but it was just… hard to tell with him?  Whatever happened to him, he had a way of making you feel like that had been his goal all along. 

            Oh, to be eight again.  At least eight-year-old Rhett had only wanted to ski and swim and eat too much ice cream.  Eight-year-old Rhett had never instigated an orgy without checking to see who was in attendance first. 

            “Are you still in Sydney, then?”  He’d been meandering Australia for… at least eight months now.  Maybe closer to ten. 

            “Frankfurt, actually.” 

            Priya froze.  “You’re in Germany?” 

            “Looks like,” he agreed cheerfully. 

            …She wanted to ask how, but she also really didn’t.  If she didn’t know, then none of her sisters/aunts could claim she should have talked him out of it.  “Are you safe?” 

            He laughed at her.  “I’m always safe,” he reminded her. 

            “Yeah, but…”  It was the main reason they’d stopped trying to chase him about the hitch-hiking, or… well, most of it, really.  Rhett could sense ill intent at a range no one had ever been able to quantify.  Everyone he came close enough to talk to, let alone touch, was usually half in love with him by the time he opened his mouth.  If you didn’t have emotions he was interested in, he left long before you knew he was there. 

            But since he practically lived in other people’s moods…  His personal concept of ‘consent’ was a little shaky. 

            He laughed again.  “Let it go, Cous.  If anyone’s taking advantage, it’s me.” 

            “Technically debatable,” she hedged. 

            “Did you know there’s this resort in Zambia with big lofts and glass walls literally over the Victoria Falls?  Panoramic balconies right over the drop.  Hell of a view.”  His voice was… deeply sated. 

            Her shoulders slumped.  That was probably exactly what it sounded like.  “Yeah?” 

            “I think I might actually keep this guy’s number,” Rhett mused.  “I had a good week.” 

            If she didn’t change the subject now, she was probably going to get blowjob tips, and she really wasn’t in the mood – she needed to get back to work in another minute here, not bemoan how long it had been since she found a playmate.  Get him back on track.  What the hell is he doing in Europe?  If he’d decided to leave Australia and not go back to space, she would have expected him to stay in Africa, given all the fur flying this far north.  “Rhett, you don’t speak German,” she tried. 

            “Not a word,” he agreed cheerfully.  “Makes it interesting.” 

            Right – there was no point in fussing.  His current game of not taking more than a handful of cash out of his bank account every other month didn’t mean he wouldn’t if the need arose, especially now that he didn’t have a beach to crash on.  “Are you still blogging?”  She hadn’t seen an update in a while, but she’d been busy and it wasn’t actually in her interest range. 

            “I took a break, but was thinking about picking it up again,” he admitted.  “I’ve had a few messages asking for an update.”  He hummed.  “Though I was thinking I might try writing something else.  I’ve got enough of an online following despite being inconsistent that I could probably get a jump start in the industry if I tried to publish.  Maybe fiction.” 

            Priya blinked, then sat up, grinning.  “You could pull off some really torrid romance work.” 

            “I could,” he breathed, sounding excited. 

            “Use a pen name,” she warned. 

            “I should use Winner, but spell it wrong – like with a Y,” he decided.  “And come up with something really homoerotic, just to make the old man turn in his grave.” 

            God damn it, she loved her family.  “I bet Lily would give you a cash advance for an autographed copy of that, to help you get started.”  She had never seen her dad again after Quatre was born, but Zayeed had tried to take an active interest in each of his grandsons – and she had memories of Jolene coming to visit them and laugh-crying through margaritas with her mom over the absolute shit Rhett had done to screw with Zayeed while somehow looking innocent.  He’d taken a goddamn online poll one time for what idea he should try next, before Cedric reminded him that the man was a bigot, not an idiot, and he should probably tone it down. 

            That said, she was also mostly sure half of those ideas originated with Uncle Ced?  He’d always been Tamelia’s biggest advocate, and Rhett’s dad had taken it personally when the family head shut down her offer to foster Quatre.  Having raised three empaths – four, if you counted how he and Jolene had fostered Camille through her teens – he’d always been pissed about how Quatre’s upbringing was handled. 

            “Aunt Delilah is cool like that,” he agreed.  Then he hummed.  “Damn.  I’m going to need to practice writing porn.” 

            “I’m sure that’s a real let-down,” she quipped. 

            “I need to do some research,” he decided, tone bright. 

            She snorted.  “What are we calling the African waterfalls, exactly?” 

            He cackled.  “No, I meant, like, word choice, and flow.  I don’t compose while bent over a railing.” 

            Priya rolled her eyes.  “You’re definitely going to need an editor, at least for the ‘romance’ portion.”  Truthfully, probably not – he tended to wax poetic about life in a way that ought to translate well – but the point needed to be made.  “It’s a balance – I’m pretty sure the sexcapades can only take up twenty percent of the story if you want it to have any tension, and that’s probably pushing it.” 

            “What if-” 

            Priya frowned as he abruptly cut off.  But it wasn’t the line – the faint background music she’d been picking up the whole time was still there.  “Rhett?” 

            “…Huh.  That’s interesting.”  He cleared his throat.  “Wow.” 

            Her stomach sunk low, and she straightened, wondering what- 

            That was a fucking explosion being broadcast on her screen!  “Gah!” 

            “What’s happening?” Rhett demanded. 

            “I don’t know!” she shrieked back, clutching at the phone.  “Another bombing?” she guessed, squinting at the screen.  It looked pretty remote, though… but maybe that was just perspective? 

            “Do people usually feel righteously vindictive about bombings?”  The sound quality on the line had dropped – he’d probably put her on speakerphone so he could mess with his screen. 

            “You did not just ask me that,” she groused, eyes on the TV.  There was no heading like from a news station… and it honestly looked kinda amateur?  Or raw, at least – not passed through any filters to raise the production quality.  It was aerial, not to mention a little shaky… maybe even collected from a drone camera? 

            “I don’t know!  It didn’t seem right, but I literally avoid all signs of conflict, so, like…  People are weird,” Rhett argued. 

            “Europe is seriously all conflict right now!  Why did you come here?” she protested.  The dust-up from the explosion was massive, but… the barren area around it didn’t seem to be involved?  Despite looking messed up? 

            “I’m talking about people, that’s a place problem,” he defended.  “People are just people.” 

            That explained literally nothing.  The picture was zooming out, though, and…  “What the fuck?” 

            “What?” 

            “I think that tower has a turret on it!” 

            He made an annoyed noise.  “I don’t have any video, I don’t know what-”  But then he cut himself off to crow out a wicked little laugh. 

            “Rhett?”  If he didn’t have video, then what was he- 

            “It’s Italy,” he crooned.  “Yeah!” 

            Her mind blanked out.  “What?” 

            “It’s the border on northern Italy!”  He cackled again.  “And Schbeiker’s flashing her face all over it – this is Po’s Insurgence forcing a play!” 

            She just stared at the footage.  “With a bomb?” she demanded incredulously. 

            “On an automated turret?” he quipped back.  “Come on, Cous, don’t you at least read the news?  That shit’s been shady from the start.  And this…”  His voice dropped, all the enthusiasm draining out of it.  “…Fuck.  Open a browser, you need to see some of these shots before the Regime can take them down.  If this is…”  He slid into Spanish, muttering something fast and clearly rude, for all that she didn’t follow it. 

            “Where are you looking?” she demanded, snatching her slate off the her desk and tapping out the pin. 

            “They literally dropped it into the home page of at least two major browsers somehow, just open anything-” 

            But then she wasn’t listening anymore because the screen had changed and Sally Po was on now, hands braced on a desk so she could glower right into the camera lens – and damn, but that lady meant business. 

-

***

-

Munich, Germany – Sarracenia

            “-utterly reprehensible.  It cannot stand.  I will not abide by it.” 

            David has started a trend, Des mused, watching Po’s angry tirade.  Unlike most, their household had known this was coming and been waiting for it, though the method was a little heart-stopping.  Jake and the rest had guessed at remote explosives or even MS interference, like the second Sanc takedown, but orbital bombardment…  It was a hell of a statement. 

            The surgical precision of the move, when contrasted with the Fall, was also very pointed – almost a calling out of the Regime on the subject of Libra, even if it didn’t really pan out as an analogy.  That they had done something horrifically dangerous correctly, and wanted to rub the Regime’s nose in the fact. 

            Po herself cut an impressive figure, reminding him more than a little of Relena.  She was all righteous indignation right now, smooth words with sharp enunciation as she divulged details about what she had found inside the cordon, damning everyone involved without a single curse or slur.  She hadn’t changed too much since the last time pictures had circulated about her – a sharp white button-up and khaki slacks wrapped a body that was all feminine curves.  Her cheekbones weren’t as sharp as in her wanted posters – for all that she’d been in hiding for three years, she hadn’t languished.  Her hair was shorter, but otherwise… that was about it.  She was wearing make-up, in neutral tones but not minimal – she’d clearly planned for the camera appearance, and she looked like a capable leader. 

            He cast a look over to Jack, ready to make a quip about his boys having similar taste – but the words died on his tongue at the look on his friend’s face.  He’d expected some kind of scrutiny, or maybe even approval or pleasure.  The Millers had come back from the jeweler in Berlin all smiles, joy shimmering in every move.  Why did he look so dark now?  “Jack?” 

            “I… you guys said she was Asian,” Jack muttered, not turning away from the screen. 

            He raised one brow, nonplussed.  If anything, the blush the woman was wearing accentuated her oriental cheekbones as much as the liner and shadow to her eyes emphasized the almond shape and fold.  “Her coloring is white, but little else is,” he pointed out.  “Your boys are the same way, in different directions.”  Maybe the body type leaned a bit more in the Caucasian direction too – but if memory served she was only five foot four, so she was hardly an Amazon. 

            “Sure, but…”  His mouth twisted.  “I never looked at the pictures.  Was she always blonde?” 

            Des would have called it brown, personally, but it was a light enough shade that he wasn’t willing to bicker over it.  “I suppose she could have changed it, but it’s about the same color now as her photos,” he admitted, watching the other man closely. 

            Jack’s head ticked to one side in an almost unconscious negative motion. 

            It’s not her, he realized.  Or at least- 

            “They don’t…  There aren’t any kind of strict house rules, Des,” Jack offered.  “Cat crashes in Odin’s room when he’s out of town.  No one acts like a total slob, but they’re not neurotically clean either.  The master suite shower has a steam function and this water jet setup along one wall that can practically give a massage, and I use it sometimes because Junior’s point blank offered it more than once.  It’s not…  There are no hard boundaries.”  He rubbed a hand along his jaw.  “His fiancée lives there, even if it’s not full time.  There’s make-up on the bathroom counter and a jewelry box on the dresser.  A pair of long earrings sit on the bar by the pool – like she took them out to swim and forgot, but the cleaning people weren’t sure what to do with them, so they just set them in a pretty dish there and don’t disturb them.  The master closet is mostly empty, but they both have a handful of things hanging…”  The hand moved up to scrub over his hair.  “Linens and hard surfaces get handled by the cleaning crew, but unless it’s dry cleaning, the laundry gets done when someone wants something back out of the hamper.  I usually check everyone’s bins when I go to do mine, since I’m home the most and the washer is enormous, and…”  He looked back at the television, lingering on the woman’s figure.  “That doesn’t fit the bill.” 

            Des blinked, considering that, before clarifying.  “You think Po is too much of an hourglass?” 

            “Everyone just said she was Asian and pretty,” Jack defended.  “I didn’t think-  No.  I haven’t done much of her laundry, but those hips?”  He shook his head.  “The fiancée’s build is a decent pass for stereotypical Asian – or at least athletic, whatever the ethnicity.  Not boy slim, but not…  She’s been teaching Audi barre routines, she keeps as many toiletries in the gym shower as the master suite, she leaves running shoes in a different place every time she’s come and gone, and…”  He gestured at the screen again.  “Maybe I’m wrong, but that doesn’t look like a woman who works out even half as much as I know this one does.” 

            All decent points, Des decided.  For the sake of clarity, though?  “You’re sure the clothes didn’t belong to the kid?” he tried. 

            Jack snorted out a laugh.  “Audi has almost as much curve to her as Po, and she’s a full head taller the rest of us.  And…”  He closed his eyes.  “Her hair is pitch black, and at least two feet long.  She could have changed it since she was last to the house, but the jeweler had a full array of things to entice and he picked up some fancy kanzashi style hair pins while we were there, and…”  He let out a deep, exhausted sigh.  “No.  It was too simple of an idea to start with.  An organization as large as Po’s has to have more people running things, so just…  No.” 

            He had a point, but still, it was almost a letdown.  Which was ridiculous, but Jack was right – it had been a neat sort of solution.  Too neat.  “You figure I should be the one to tell Jake?” he offered.  He didn’t particularly relish the idea, but with the mood Jack was in now, they’d just pick at each other until one of them started to bleed for no reason beyond frustration. 

            “Why?” Jack argued. 

            He blinked.  “We thought-” 

            “What difference does it make?” Jack demanded.  “He adores her.  He bought a hidden mansion for her!  He did it because she wants kids and he bent himself into a knot trying to figure out a safe way to support that while both of them are actively hunted by the government.” 

            Des stared at him, his breath catching.  “What?” 

            “He’s done,” Jack insisted, holding out both hands.  “All in, no going back.  I think he was before I even met him – he’s just protecting her from us.”  He shook his head.  “Sometimes I think half this work out in deep space is that he’s literally building them a new goddamn country in the name of safety.  Except at this point it’s clear that her priorities are Insurgence, and he’s always going to back her.  The light in his eyes when he talks about her?  Not to mention the care he puts into every…”  He sighed.  “I don’t care who she is.  He loves her – the rest doesn’t matter.  But if he thinks that’s threatened?  He’ll make Jake on the warpath look mild-mannered. 

            “And Jake…  It went really well last week, but Jake almost crumbled half a dozen times anyway, and it…  Does it matter, right now?  She’s high enough in Po’s camp that their goals are the same, and until the politics stabilize, Po is an easy anchor for Jake to latch onto.  If we take that away, he’ll just come up with another conspiracy theory and fixate on that instead of focusing on his brother, who…”  He closed his eyes. 

            Des frowned, feeling the rising elation from before start to sink.  “Who what?” 

            His friend didn’t answer for a long moment.  “I think,” he murmured eventually, “that he’s waiting for me to lose interest.  He said something the other day, and I…”  He let out a heavy sigh before meeting his eyes.  “He’s got this… opportunistic fatalism that makes me want to scream.  I think he believes the world is going to crash around his ears.  He’s so utterly in the moment all the time, like he’s trying to savor and memorize it for when it's gone.  But he looks at me sometimes like he’s just waiting for it, joy and contentment and resigned heartbreak all at once…”  Jack’s voice cracked like he was trying not to cry.  “Fuck.  Is it just from Senior?  He literally told the kid he didn’t want him anymore, tried to abandon him repeatedly, and Junior straight up believes the man killed himself because quote ‘He didn’t want to look at me anymore.’” 

            Des sucked in a breath.  Because that…  Was a real knife to the heart, yeah.  Jack had talked about how calmly accepting the kid was of absolute shit happening to him before, had implied more, but that still hurt. 

            “He has so much in his corner now, between what Jake left him and Rubato and Da Capo and everything else – and he likes it, you should see him on telecom when he’s equally crafting and bullshitting with his interns at the Sigma site, not to mention everything with the Insurgence.  But he still has his kid memorizing contingency plans and…  Des, he’s squirreling stashes of money and supplies across the continent and space like he expects to have to run at any moment, and when she complains, he just says something about…  He spent a year homeless with a leg that kept going septic.  I’ve seen his scars now, and I had to look up half the terms he used to explain the repairs he’s had done, but from what I learned I can’t tell how he was walking on it at all before 198.  I freaking asked him, trying to reassure myself that I’d misunderstood and it wasn’t so bad, but do you know what he told me?” 

            Oh boy.  “What?” 

            “‘It’s just pain.  I’ve done worse.’” 

            …So Jack was getting a good idea of what his parents would have felt if they’d known about his shit as a teenager.  Not that that made this palatable, because Des’s lunch wanted to make a reappearance, but- 

            “He is planning for everything to be taken from him like it’s just what inevitably happens, Des.  In spite of everything he’s done to secure his life.  And it freaks me out because he’s deep enough in enough shit that I can’t tell if it’s just his trauma talking!” 

            As horrifying as that was, he was starting to feel lost.  “What does that have to do with lying to Jake?” he tried. 

            Jack threw up his hands.  “I don’t want to lie to Jake, I just don’t want to correct the latest way he’s made his damn peace!  Not until he has enough anchors to calm the fuck down.  They’re talking now, and there’s this…  It’s weird.  You put the two of them in the same room and there’s this resonance, something almost symbiotic about how they… almost like how Jake is with Dave, except without any damn reference points for comfort.  They just fall into it, almost like they did get to finish growing up together, except all the details are missing and Jake’s somehow caught between pure bliss and wigging out at the same damn time!  And with Odin, it’s like… despite the time and distance he has this fascination with his brother, except he’s wary, and… it feels delicate.  Just…” 

            His head dropped.  “Can’t it wait?” he protested.  “It doesn’t change the politics of it, and it makes Jake feel like he has more control.  If it truly comes up, then fine, sure, but…  We could just let it happen.  You said Rubato started actively trying to bridge with Lena last week – what if this could all just… mellow out?  Everyone is so afraid they’re going to fuck something up, but if they’re talking, we could just… let it flow.  If he calms first, he won’t be too bothered by waiting longer for his sister-in-law’s name.” 

            Des raised his brows, thinking about it.  He was only peripherally involved in Relena's politics, head buried in Lotus and the other RLTT projects Jake and Relena had had less time for, but…  Rubato had been making active overtures.  Rubato had always been very pointed in that they were wary of and disliked the Regime – but Relena had already detached from the government and literally had plans to light the organization on fire in the next few months.  Rubato had said they weren’t ready to consider talking to Soleil despite Relena’s quiet endorsement – but it had been a similarly quiet ‘we’ll think about it later,’ not a hard no, the way they were about the Regime.  The balance there… 

            Jake needed to announce RLTT.  They were almost positive that a faction of the Sweepers were involved with the Insurgence, which probably included the infamous Howard Oclaire, and Jake’s connections to both Relena and the old engineer might be the final push to get their foot in the door with the Insurgence, if not Rubato as well.  But he couldn’t do that until Zechs dropped the not very vague death threats, or until he made sure he didn’t alienate his brother with the facts that would come with the announcement… 

            Which boiled down to the fact that Jake needed to secure his relationship with his brother.  It blew his mind a little that the kid was so interwoven as that, but…  Fucking politics. 

            He missed Lulu so much.  She’d always been able to lay this kind of thing out in a way that not only made sense, but made him immediately want to fully support it.  He got there eventually on his own, but even when he’d been a CEO, he’d been more suited to the office end of underwriting and making deals than boardroom politics. 

            “I won’t bring it up,” he decided.  “But I’m not hiding anything either, or claiming you said something you didn’t.  If he asks what you thought about this-” 

            “I don’t want to hide anything,” Jack agreed, hands out in a placating gesture.  “If he realizes, fine.  I just want him to sort it on his own.”  He grimaced.  “When it comes from me, he…” 

            Des grimaced too.  “He’s been getting better,” he offered. 

            “Oh, he’s worlds better, and he might not even do it at all, now,” Jack agreed, though he still looked vaguely hunted.  “I just…  I want this to go well.” 

            Understatement of the year, but yeah, fair enough.  “Okay,” he agreed.  Jack was right – a little time was probably best.  Though… Jake had comfort zone issues he needed to finish getting over, especially with the coming RLTT announcement.  “You need to start showing off your tattoo,” he suggested.  “Here and with Rubato, whenever possible.  If it’s not freezing, wear short sleeves, or start pushing them up.” 

            Jack blinked on confusion.  “What?” 

            “You’re caught in the middle of this just as much as Junior is,” he reminded him.  “You know things you haven’t told Junior’s friends, and they know it.  Rhea Lowe is about to become a household name.  Do what you can to soften the coming blow – be proud of your wife, maybe get the ink touched up – weren’t you saying it was about time for that anyway?  Use that as an excuse to have it so exposed at first.  It’s a pretty piece – take getting compliments on it as an excuse for the change.”  He blinked.  “Does Junior have an opinion on it?” 

            Jack made a face.  “He’s seen it, but never really commented.  He’s made it clear that his mom is too abstract of a concept for him to care about – I haven’t… really pushed.  I think he thinks it’s just art.” 

            Des grinned.  “It’s a bit classy for a pin-up,” he argued. 

            His friend rolled his eyes.  “I’ll look for an artist,” he agreed.  “I have no idea what happened to the last one I saw.” 

            “It’s been a chaotic handful of years,” Des offered.  “Last time was, what… 193?” 

            Jack rubbed the side of his face with a grimace.  “It’s overdue,” he agreed, then hesitated.  “Jake mentioned Lena to him, last week.” 

            Des raised his brows.  “He’d be a fool not to,” he agreed.  “The engagement won’t stay under wraps for much longer.  Hiding it now would make it a slap in the face when they go public.” 

            “It hit me like a two-by-four,” Jack admitted.  “The way he said it…  Junior thinks her name is Mailina.  He doesn’t use nicknames unless a person insists on it over their given the way Jake does, and I just…”  He blew out a frustrated breath.  “I don’t know, I just… this is hard.” 

            Des gave him a skeptical look.  “He’s going to have a real hard time getting upset over that one, given his own lady love.” 

            Jack’s belly laugh was something of a relief, to himself as much as Des, by the looks of it.  “God, yes.” 

            Smiling, he threw an arm around the other man’s shoulder.  “It’ll turn out fine,” he reassured him.  “From everything else that’s been said, I bet he’ll even think it’s funny.  Maybe it’ll be what finally kicks both their asses into gear, hm?” 

            “Yeah, maybe.”  Jack relaxed, leaning into the hug for a moment, before giving him a hesitant look.  “Do you think, after Relena kicks the Regime to the curb, maybe…?” 

            He didn’t have to finish the thought out loud – they’d talked about this more than once since the Fall, and even more since Junior came back from the dead.  Still, he fought to keep the smile on his face.  “I hope so.”  If Lucrezia had abandoned her past entirely, he didn’t think she’d still send him a treat for his birthday, especially one that teased about Lyle.  For all he knew, she was one of the anonymous guest commenters on the site he posted his son’s pictures onto – at least, there were way too many hits on the images, steadily and by the day, for him to think she didn’t look at them with some regularity.  He’d been careful to keep any identifying features of their location out of the camera angles, he didn’t want to open his family up to the kind of pervert who might try and steal his child when Cass or anyone else took him out into the city, but…  He had to believe she was watching from afar. 

            He’d have stopped posting by now, otherwise. 

            Zechs, just…  God, what would Zechs do if he found out she was alive?  Especially after Jake had started weaponizing her death against him in the barbs they’d been passing back and forth these last weeks?  He missed her dearly, but if she wanted to avoid any risks associated with her ex until he was out of a position of power…  Hell, Jake right now was proof enough about how vindictive he could be.  Hayden and Vaughn had been followed last week, for all that the motives there were still murky. 

            He didn’t particularly want to find out what might have happened if they hadn’t realized they had the wrong blonde in a suit. 

            He offered his friend a smile that he could tell the other man saw through, but… it wasn’t entirely false.  “We just have to let it mellow,” he echoed back.  “She’ll come back when it all settles out.” 

            He really did believe that – he was just sick of repeating it, was all. 

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Reference Materials (for those who like audio/visual aids and care):

• Odin’s house had a piano in the first place basically because I heard Ar Maner Kozh and it made me think of him to such a degree that I had to go find more… and it devolved from there. It’s sad and moody and hopeful all in the right ways for what he’s dealing with emotionally whenever he gets upset, and honestly, a lot of Yann Tierson’s work hits me that way for different moods for him?  And also doesn’t start at too insanely high of a skill level, I think.  (Though Quatre probably came in on hi polishing a version of Comptine d’un autre été which is more involved…)  Though I, like, have a playlist on Spotify that’s just the piano work that set me in his moods and/or seem like crap he would enjoy playing, so… I don’t know, music is a thing. 
• This the picture Odin references as the a favored style for what he’s trying to do for Lu’s ring, though as he said, it isn’t exact, and I’m still murky on the final details, honestly. Relena’s final ring design is stupidly complex and doesn’t exactly exist in reality, but since I’m already doing this, if you were curious?  This is the board I fell back on for trying to figure that crap out before describing it. 
•  

Chapter Text

Scandalous

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April 14^th 199 – Tuesday – Szczecin, Poland

            “You look like you actually had a good trip,” Quatre greeted. 

            Nick quirked a smirk at him, feeling smug and just a little bit mischievous – which was fantastic, considering the way he’d flung himself into the trenches last week. 

            And the work itself… it had only been twenty-four hours since the images first started going online, and they spoke for themselves, going viral within an hour.  Bleak, but also with just enough polish… 

            It was a shame that Nick wasn’t going to be able to claim his work – at least not for a long while.  He deserved the credit.  That said… if his mood was anything to go by, he didn’t mind. 

            “I think I had some kind of epiphany,” Nick admitted.  He shifted the shoulder strap of his bag, looking down at it with an almost neutral expression… and matching emotions too, huh.  “Though it’s a shame I can’t keep the tech,” he decided.  “I only just started to get into the swing of the settings.” 

            Quatre laughed, reveling in… this.  He hadn’t expected…  “I wouldn't have been able to guess from the end product,” he offered. 

            “That’s post-processing,” Nick returned dismissively. 

            Huh.  This smooth confidence was… addictive.  He didn’t know if he’d ever felt Nick this stable – it made something in his chest want to glow. 

            How could you miss something you’d never actually had?  Let alone so much so that receiving it made breathing difficult?  “I’ll keep it, in case you decide to do something clandestine again,” he offered.  “Ardith already got you the Denali brand equivalent to take home, if you wanted.” 

            Nick’s smile was just that hint of darkly amused that he hadn’t seen in… not since he’d first converted him back from Ghetto lore.  Self-indulgent, a little wicked, and smooth. 

            Sometimes, he’d felt like he was breaking these men into pieces each time he brought one back from the brink – and after seeing Nick in Ireland, he begun to wonder if it was lost entirely.  After all, sometimes life twisted you too much to ever fit back in the same shape – and while of course Nick was better off than if he’d just left him to Aemon when he first stumbled across his spark… 

            It was… hypnotic.  He just wanted to… 

            Something.  Eyagh.  This was distracting. 

            Nick’s smirk widened as he came forward and leaned down to look him in the eye.  “So.” 

            …I should say something.  Though this was starting to get a little too ‘come into my parlor’ to be comfortable. 

            His head tipped to one side slightly, the naughty amusement ramping up as he opened his mouth again.  “Master Quatre.” 

            Everything went utterly flat. 

            Probably for the best, he decided, narrowing his eyes at his friend.  The urge to put his head between his knees and shake was nauseatingly close to the surface.  Instead of giving in, he grimaced.  “Could you… never say that again?  Please?” 

            Belatedly, he realized he should have made sure none of the Maguanacs were involved with the extraction of personnel from inside the cordon.  He’d… 

            He was going to miss the lack of expectation. 

            “Oh absolutely,” Nick agreed, flinging an arm over his shoulder and steering him out of the parking lot, back towards the main building.  “Honestly, kinda gross.” 

            He leaned his weight against him – Nick was wiry and probably weighed less, but was just enough taller than himself that he could do it without either of them having to compensate.  “Try telling them that,” he suggested.  “They don’t listen.” 

            “I’m going to stick with ‘Cat,’” Nick returned amicably.  “Because while this explains a few things, it also makes my brain want to explode.”  He groaned.  “I already have to come up with something to tell my therapist for changing my mind – I don’t need to think of you by more than one name.  That’s just borrowing trouble.” 

            Nick’s easy contentment – the mischief had gone – was promising… but he didn’t follow.  “You already changed your mind by coming to visit Jovi and the others that are known Cambyses,” he pointed out.  “Just lump us together, and let it expand from there.” 

            “Well yeah, that’s easy,” his friend agreed.  “And besides, while Britain is way more pro-Regime than out here, Rubato is making big enough waves that Cambyses is becoming old news, what with the inclusion.”  He patted Quatre’s shoulder, suddenly more… serene than he thought he’d ever gotten.  “I meant my major.” 

            Quatre’s breath caught.  He hadn’t thought… at least, not so fast as that?  “You think so?” 

            “I haven’t felt this good in years, and it gets better every time I go on the forums and see people diving into what I just did,” he agreed, the smugness coming back full force.  The amusement too, though only a little wicked this time, and not half so mesmerizing.  “It’s damned heady, and no one even knows it was me.”  He clicked his tongue.  “That…” 

            Quatre grinned, standing fully upright again, though he didn’t pull away.  “Yeah?” 

            The grin broadened, and this time Nick leaned in, acting conspiratorial.  “I need an alibi,” he decided.  “I’ll need to explain…  Ken’s going to know something happened.  I need a story.  Turns out you’re good at those.” 

            Ah.  Hearing the name of Nick’s therapist put the rest in perspective, even as the excitement remained.  Of course. 

            He smirked back.  “I am good at those,” he agreed. 

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Paris, France

            He had a smile ready for her, as usual.  Confident, sly, and more than a little sexy, but…  Ugh.  “Are you shitting me?” Rachelle demanded. 

            All the same, she opened her door wide enough to let him in. 

            He slid in like he had any right to know her home address.  “Are you mad at me?”  The tone was plaintiff, but only in a falsely humble way. 

            “When did you figure out where I lived?” she demanded, shutting and locking the door behind her.  She wasn’t entirely upset, it wasn’t some kind of sacrosanct secret, but seriously.  What the fuck. 

            “You haven’t moved since 192,” fake-Arthur protested. 

            Great.  Technically she supposed that made this situation less threatening, all things considered, but no less frustrating.  “Why did you come to my house?” she tried instead. 

            “You implied that you might be under surveillance and I’ve taken you out to enough high class places that coming here makes it look less like a business arrangement.”  He blinked at the two hooks by the door and started shrugging out of his jacket.  “I followed your advice – I thought I’d check if you had any additional thoughts.” 

            Shel held in her wince.  She hadn’t been able to decide if the situation with Italy was coincidence or him – hadn’t been able to decide which she would prefer.  “I didn’t think you had that kind of kind of power,” she admitted, still unsure. 

            He gave her a dryly exasperated look.  “Did you really not look into me when I came back?” 

            “What would have been the point?” she demanded, crossing her arms.  She’d tried in the past, when he was living under other names, other styles of dress, and hit multiple false trails she’d felt confident about right until they bottomed out.  She’d long known the man was some kind of white collar thief, had make jokes that maybe he didn’t remember his original identity.  He was interesting to her line of work because, despite his ability to put on airs, he was in no way nobility, and saw the information he gained through his usual run of work as a different kind of currency – and in order for currency to have value, you needed a way to spend it. 

            She had never minded the business arrangement, when he showed up – his tips were always fun, even when he jerked her around for it.  Life had gotten a bit monotonous when he went missing. 

            She hadn’t cared enough to worry about him, exactly, though she’d thought it a shame that he was gone – much the same way that you might miss a favorite piece of art after it was destroyed.  It had been sad, but… well, a lot of things were depressing, after the Fall. 

            He’d been different, since coming back.  Hardly a new person – still a scoundrel, still playful and irreverent and fun, but…  She was mostly sure there hadn’t been an agenda, before the war.  She hadn’t thought there was one now either, beyond possibly some petty revenge or opportunity, since so much of what he’d given her had the feel of counter-blackmail.  But now… 

            This was more, now.  It had always felt like a game, before, but this… 

            “You always made me work for it before,” he protested, leaning back against the wall.  “I thought you were just teasing me – you really didn’t try?” 

            I didn’t want to.  Seeing him again had been a treat all on its own, with no need to try to break the magic of it.  Knowing the guy was practically like keeping a leprechaun in your pocket – half magic, half ‘oh God, why.’  Sometimes it was better not to ask. 

            When you questioned magic too closely, sometimes it came undone. 

            “Are you trying to tell me your name is really Arthur?” she drawled, drawing one arm across her belly to support the opposite elbow and cup her face with that hand, tapping one finger to her cheek. 

            One corner of his mouth twitched.  “Well, no.”  He drew one hand up to the back of his neck in a too casual, clearly choreographed motion of sheepish delight.  “But I did figure we’d have some fascinating conversations when you called me out on it and I had to prove that my friends were real.”  He shifted his weight, looking slightly less polished.  “I honestly thought you might have my plot half unraveled by now.” 

            “Is that so?” she deadpanned, not feeling particularly impressed. 

            “I was counting on it, actually,” he admitted.  “Feeling a little underwhelmed.” 

            “That’s nice.” 

            He raised his too carefully tended, dark brows.  “Should I give you a minute to run a web search, or…?”  He frowned, a playfully thoughtful expression crossing his face.  “How committed to this disinterested fugue are you, exactly?”  His eyes heated.  “Should I find another way to be convincing?” 

            They were far too close to her bedroom, with all her kitschy throw pillows and childhood mementos on display, for her to entertain that particular game.  She rolled her eyes. “Look, Arden,” she sneered.  “I chose to not take the bait.  So unless you’ve got a lead you’re willing to follow through on, I want something else.”  She made a point of eyeing him up and down, ignoring the casual but well-fitted clothes.  “Something substantial, if you please.” 

            Despite the game of her words,  she couldn’t help but think again of how much more fit he was now, compared to before the war.  Not that he’d ever been bad to look at, but never so athletic as now. 

            He stared at her, expression equally unimpressed… but eyes too sharp, too calculating, for him to mean it. 

            She waited.  But the answer wasn’t what she expected. 

            “Ardith.” 

            Shel frowned.  “What?” 

            “Ardith.  Not Arden,” he admitted dryly.  “But close enough that I’m not in the mood to quibble over it.” 

            He had to be stringing her along.  “Ardith,” she repeated scornfully, her meaning clear. 

            “Rasmussen,” he added, expression neutral.  “Though if you tell anyone, I’ll make it look like a long con you fell for by making stupid shortcuts on your research.  There are advantages to being dead.” 

            He… might actually be serious.  He might not be, but…  “In the war?” she asked, trying to find her footing on this.  Those records were notoriously difficult to sift through. 

            “Last June, actually,” he corrected.  “I took up Arthur Petrovitch in August – and at least half his records since are my life now.”  He sighed, relaxing slightly.  “This would be easier if you’d just run a search.  In any case…”  He blew out a breath.  “You’re one of the very few things I thought I might bother salvaging from my old life, you know.” 

            She kept a steady bead on him, waiting for the mask to crack.  “Really.” 

            “I don’t count blackmail material,” he agreed. 

            “Oh good, you’re not claiming to have turned over a new leaf,” she returned, giving him a smug smile.  “That’s a relief.” 

            “Mm… for a given definition,” he hedged.  “My priorities shifted to something less egotistic.  But methods?”  He spread his fingers in a tiny shrug.  “I know what I’m good at.” 

            Alright, that gelled with the new pattern she’d picked up, at least.  She wasn’t sold on it, but he had her attention.  “I’ll think about it,” she announced.  “Why are you here?” 

            He laughed as he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.  “Don’t you think it’s fascinating how quickly Brigadier Mitchell responded to Po stealing his soapbox for herself?” 

            Cute.  “Oh no,” she deadpanned.  “It’s almost as if he established the pattern in the first place.  Or as though he hasn’t been struggling to look after a large faction of soldiers with no funding or oversight for the past two and a half months.  How dare he launch himself at an opportunity to pledge fealty to the queen he lauded when he made his little exit speech.” 

            It had only been a couple hours after the breaking of the Italian cordon with the heart-stopping orbital missile deterrent system before the wandering Jew had posted his own video across multiple online platforms, agreeing with the Insurgence leader’s denouncement of the Regime’s mismanagement – and suggesting that if corruption was to blame, then the Accords were really the only trustworthy organization left.  Suggesting that, given this truth that no one had compelling evidence against, maybe the Accorded Nations ought to have an investigative and peacekeeping force of its own, to be directed at the discretion of its Board. 

            Relena, of course, was the appointed chancellor of said Board of Accorded Nations. 

            Realistically, however, whether he was spouting truthful rhetoric or not?  The Regime needed a viable solution for the Mitchell problem, soon, far more than he needed to play ball.  However he had kept his little army together for nearly three months, they were running dangerously close to a breaking point – by all accounts, the terrorist problem the Strike Force had been created to address was starting to run a little thin, and the Brigadier was drawing worryingly close to their empire’s eastern borders.  He’d been staying out of reach by a mixture of scrambling the information networks – though apparently the planet’s satellite network was incredibly defunct, even before getting into the ability of a rogue group being able to gain access to the weaponized aspect of it – not being quite where anyone expected, and frankly?  By being simultaneously too big of a threat and too low of a priority to be worth investing the necessary manpower into putting him down. 

            If they even could afford to put him down.  The Regime was unsurprisingly closed-mouth on the subject of just how many troops were still earthbound instead of tied up with Soleil in space, but their lack of action despite all of Mitchell’s racket spoke loudly enough. 

            But it was a minor miracle that he had maintained any kind of order for so long, and while it spoke to his ability as a commander?  It was only a matter of time before his troops broke down into a series of factions struggling to find a way to sustain themselves, and began to cause the problems they had been in eastern Europe to eradicate in the first place.  Righteousness rarely lasted past a regular paycheck.  The fact that they’d made it past the first month at all said volumes about just who they were dealing with. 

            If the Peacecraft Regime administration conceded to the Accords opening negotiations for a separate force dedicated to their charter of human rights – not any other actions – it would very neatly solve everyone’s problems before Mitchell’s rebellion had a chance to damage anything aside from Peacecraft’s pride.  Well, and Khushrenada’s.  He had revolted against both conquerors, and the swelling in his ranks since had come from the disenchanted seeking a third option. 

            Maybe-Ardith laughed.  “Okay, maybe,” he agreed.  “Still, he was rather quick on the uptake.” 

            “He’s probably desperate,” she pointed out.  “Hopefully the Regime is desperate enough to consider, or else we’re going to have another war on our hands before long.”  Though whether with the East for breaking borders, due to chaos inside their own eastern borders, or due to a civil conflict that would turn bloody and vicious with their own troops was up for debate.  

            Mitchell had already saved them from that last option once by bolting the way he had.  It would be a shame if it only proved a delay, not preventative.  Quite enough people had died senselessly already, these last five years. 

            “Even if he found himself a few quiet sponsors to keep him afloat in the lean times,” she added, “his people are living in subpar conditions and are too individualist to tolerate that for overlong; too powerful in and of themselves, even aside from the whole.  Very few of the deserters were of the common rank and file.  Something has to break – the question is what, not if.” 

            Maybe-Ardith made a thoughtful noise.  “Do you think it might be Relena?” 

            Shel shrugged.  “It’s a pretty theory, but historically her financial resources are her brother and the Tomorrow Today Fund, neither of which seem likely.  The Accords are too wide-spread and disorganized to pull it off at this stage, especially without notice.  I suppose it’s possible she has other avenues available to her though, especially with the mysterious husband-to-be.  The timing of her engagement is potentially interesting on that front too, if we’re going to ponder the possibility of it being more than a love match.  The secrecy could lend itself in any number of directions – from a love-match below her station that she doesn’t want the scrutiny for, all the way up to a political match she finds distasteful but necessary.  Not to mention anything in between.”  She shrugged.  “It could even be a fake, to avoid or increase some kind of pressure, though that seems less likely.  The ring is an original Arielle, and the estimates for the alloys of the metals used alone, let alone the stones and work itself?”  She shook her head.  Even aside from the materials, the starting price for that kind of commission, purely for the brand, was significant.  “She hasn’t shown any habits to suggest it might be a personal splurge in that kind of ruse; it doesn’t match up.  So I imagine he’s real, and whoever he is?  The man is loaded.” 

            Which did increase the possibility of sponsorship, she supposed.  Relena believed in supporting those she cared for, and given their history, David Mitchell made the cut.  Though that wasn’t to say that the princess hadn’t decided to marry for financial reasons unrelated to her friends. 

            What I would give for a bit more of that story.  She loved the more gossip/scandal angle of the industry, and Relena was good-natured enough that the idea of an arranged marriage, the way so many in Romefeller went, was… not upsetting, exactly, but a let-down. 

            People adored a good love story, and Shel was no exception.  If only the insanity of that gorgeous ring hadn’t ruled out the cute bodyguard she’d saved during the Dam Square Riot.  She could’ve run one hell of a story on that. 

            “Hm.”  Maybe-Ardith tapped his lips with one finger.  “I do know that the elder Peacecraft isn’t particularly happy about the match.” 

            Rachelle stared at him.  “What.” 

            He held up one hand, though he couldn’t seem to stop himself from looking smug.  “From the princess’ own mouth, during a private meeting with a friend of mine.  Though she was wholly vague on the root of the issue.” 

            It was still more than she’d deigned to say in public.  “Who is this friend?” she demanded. 

            “Someone you would have already guessed if you’d actually done your homework,” he pointed out – it would’ve come off snide, if he hadn’t been smiling.  “Are you interested in work in Italy now that the border is open?” 

            “Not particularly.”  The initial rush was already being covered, and she’d do better to hedge her bets on the intrigue front instead of the desolation, especially if she’d managed to win any favors from Mitchell or the princess with her recent work.  There was more opportunity to be had where she had crafted half the public narrative already.  “Who is your friend?”  She could use that avenue. 

            He crossed his arms again, leaning forward with a gleam in his eye.  “Can you make a decent cup of coffee?” 

            She rolled her eyes and led him to the kitchen.  “Am I being graded?” she tossed back over one shoulder.  “More intel for a fancier mocha?” 

            He laughed.  “If you’re splurging on mocha for me, I’ll sing like a bird – but no, it’s not requisite.” 

            “The chocolate is fake,” she warned him, opening the cupboard to pull down two mugs; she could use a second cup.  “Start singing.” 

            He laughed again, coming to stand next to her and bump her with one hip, making dismissive fluttering motions when she reached for the coffee machine, already laid out from earlier.  “I was mostly joking,” he offered.  “Why don’t I do this?  Try your homework instead.” 

            Uh huh.  She rolled her eyes again, pressing her glasses up on her face before spinning away from him and turning to the table, where her laptop was already set up.  “You’re really intent on that,” she groused. 

            “I feel a little unsure of my footing right now,” he murmured, tone mild.  “Exposed, and yet you don’t know which questions to ask.  It is… acutely uncomfortable.  Humor me.” 

            She narrowed her eyes at him, but he kept his back to her, fiddling with the machine with a decent degree of finesse.  Still, the admission was distinctly out of character. 

            Never let it be said that her pet leprechaun lacked for intrigue.  Though if he was telling the truth about his name, apparently the red in his hair was less Irish than Russian. 

            Ardith Rasmussen.  Might as well start there.  Whether he was full of shit or not, the rough timing for an obituary was helpful too, though- “What day in June?” 

            “The eighteenth, in north Africa.” 

            She stopped, freezing for a moment before slowly twisting to look at him.  That…  “Do you know Mitchell?” she asked quietly. 

            “I saw him from a distance once,” Ardith returned blithely, keeping his back to her.  “So no.  But I’ve heard good things from those who do.” 

            There… were a lot of heavy implications in that statement.  Ones he would be a fool to make, if this was only a game.  Maybe a fool anyway. 

            Still otherwise focused on her coffee machine, head bent, he spelled his last name out loud for her. 

            By the time he sat down across from her with both cups, she had the photograph of Stanton’s original list, as well as a social media homepage showing a picture of the man in her kitchen as Arthur Petrovitch – a Revenant Rubato Founder.  There was too much activity on ShoutOut, old and new, between that profile and Revenants – including their very active ex-Cambyses spokesman – to deny at least some basis in reality. 

            And what a horrifyingly fascinating web it was. 

            He sighed.  “To be honest, I expected you to start digging into Rubato motives last month at the latest, instead of assuming I was up to my old shit.” 

            She met his eyes, ignoring the complaint.  The Strike Force raid had begun on the nineteenth, when Brigadier Mitchell had arrived in Stanton’s area to make a covert start and found the remains of the Stanton’s coup instead.  “What happened on June eighteenth?” 

            He let out a slow breath, not quite a sigh, as he looked to the side.  “On June third,” he offered instead, “after nearly two weeks of back and forth, Mitchell presented a deal.  One without grievous loopholes, and far better than we had any right to respect.  Robby told us we shouldn’t push for more – and immediately threw all his efforts into organizing a smaller, more surgical escape plan for those of us that didn’t want to take our chances with the Regime.” 

            Shel licked her lips.  “The survivors say there was a plan for escape for months before Mitchell came.” 

            “For more than a year,” Ardith corrected.  “Robby was fighting to get out as soon as he got thrown in, but…”  He hesitated, then hissed out a long breath between his teeth.  “Well, he never stopped looking for more people like him, and by the time he found a way, there were too many of us.  It would have been a death sentence.  His route into the sand sea… it was pure insanity as it was.  I can’t believe he ran it three times beforehand, and I still don’t…”  He shook his head  “Twenty-five was far more manageable than one hundred eighty-seven.  It…”  He closed his eyes.  “It should have been twenty-eight.  Not everyone made it, the day we confronted Roshan.”  He closed his eyes.  “I know Razo told Mitchell that he refused to burn our bodies with Roshan’s out of principle, but that was a lie – dead is dead, and we were all past caring.  The subterfuge was to shore up our numbers correctly.”  His smile was bittersweet.  “And so far as I am aware, Mitchell offered the post-humous amnesty on his own accord, not at anyone’s suggestion.  I suspect Robby hoped for it, but it was a bonus, not a goal – Roshan was our tormenter, and would have been on high alert if too many of us were missing on those days leading up to the raid.”  The smile twisted into something ugly.  “And none of us were willing to leave while knowing the rest still had to face that monster.  We wanted no unfinished business.” 

            Shel pulled her coffee to herself and sipped, barely tasting it.  “Why are you telling me this?” 

            “Because it has become increasingly clear that our route forward will involve some degree of this coming out anyway.”  His tone was cool now, eyes more serious than she had ever seen.  “And you have shown a finesse for these matters, as well as a sympathetic inclination to those who either suffered or behaved far more deplorably than us.”  He tipped his head to one side in an elegant shrug, not taking his eyes off her.  “We have to start somewhere, yes?” 

            She gripped the hot ceramic with both hands, fingertips going white from the pressure.  “Stanton is alive?” she clarified, mind whirling. 

            “And deeply uncomfortable about the whole martyr business,” Ardith agreed.  “He was a tactician during the war – we only had so many advantages as we did because he served a number of missions with the Maguanacs, including when OZ tried to flush them out of southern Libya.”  He grimaced.  “He suspected that if anyone realized Stanton was a false name and recognized him, Mitchell’s deal might be considered null and void for everyone.  The Regime has a history of vindictive behavior when the mood strikes, and a tendency to be particularly harsh when considering anti-OZ elements.  His goal was to get as many out as he could – he half drowned himself in accomplishing it, and was somewhat surprised he lived to see the other side.  Afterwards, he went looking for old friends – some of us opted to join him.” 

            This was some Grade A conspiracy shit.  If it wasn’t just a story, however… 

            Not many knew the details of how the Maguanacs contributed to the war, but they had been associated with the gundams just frequently enough to receive the worst kind of treatment from Peacecraft.  If this was true… 

            The logic made sense. 

            “The Revenant founders are all Stanton’s ex-Cambyses,” she murmured, thinking aloud. 

            “No.  The seed that turned into our organization arose equally from Robby and one of his closer allies from the war – as well as all the shares and funding.  We wouldn’t be where we are now without the rest of us applying some elbow grease, but in terms of origination… let’s call it fifty-fifty.”  He shifted in his chair and brought his own cup up to his mouth.  “Also, membership has expanded beyond the original twenty-eight in terms of diversity, despite what you might reflexively think when you look at those who joined after finishing their tenure with the Brigadier.  We’re not so cliquey that we don’t play well with others.  I suspect Jovi might just move into Relena’s estate if someone let him.” 

            Relena.  “That’s the friend she mentioned the fiancé to.” 

            Ardith grinned, correctly reading the lack of question in her voice.  “The two of them have been sounding each other out,” he agreed.  “Also – she was the one who wanted early evidence out of Italy, when Jovi offered advance warning.” 

            Oh, coy.  She didn’t regret saying no – they’d clearly gotten the job done beautifully anyway.  Still, she thought out a few lines of connection before settling on her next question; better to sound out the possible dangers before plotting a route.  “Are you expecting retaliation from Mitchell’s crowd over the deception?” 

            “I hear he found it thoroughly entertaining,” Ardith returned in a droll tone.  “I think the man doesn’t mind being outsmarted if it’s done cleverly enough.  You do know he kept Robby’s closest confidant for his own, even now?  Razo ran the negotiations, and so far as we can tell is currently Mitchell’s second, whatever his rank reads as.” 

            She snorted out a disbelieving laugh, the picture shifting into a new shape.  “Easy as that, huh?” 

            “It gets better,” he agreed, smile turning sharp.  “He told his queen – and RLTT began courting us directly afterwards.” 

            Shel stared at him.  “Shut up.” 

            “I know!” he protested, throwing his hands up, smile bright.  “Robby’s all ‘Trap!  Trap!’ but Jovi’s like ‘But they have cookies!’ and the rest of us are walking a balance beam of middle ground, trying to avoid a full inquisition.”  He flipped his hands out.  “Better to have the way toward full disclosure half paved now, in case she throws discretion out the window.” 

            She snickered, then gave him an incredulous look.  “Little late for that, isn’t it?” 

            “I mean, we haven’t been idle,” he hedged.  “But it’s a group effort – I didn’t get a green light for you until now.”  He tipped his head to one side, then the other.  “Relena can slaughter anyone in the court of public opinion at this point – we weren’t sure how she might take signs that we were fortifying before now, when she’s only gone out of her way to be friendly.  We’ve only just started a true give and take – the chance that she could have misinterpreted us before that…  Well.”  He frowned, leaning back in his chair.  “I don’t know.  The entire thing is a quagmire of issues.” 

            “Oh?” 

            He rolled his eyes.  “We just found out that she knew a lot more of our behind the scenes shit of the last few months than we would have guessed and has only cozied up closer for it.  So no, we do not have a solid read on that situation.” 

            Shel smirked.  “To be fair?  She has a reputation for that.” 

            “Ugh.  I know.”  He picked his cup back up.  “She either genuinely likes us, or wants us for something – which might be entirely amicable, but for the moment she has our balls in a vice.” 

            Her lips twitched.  “So you gave her forewarning on Italy,” she noted, slowing her speech as though he was a moron.  “Thereby suggesting you work with the Insurgence.” 

            Ardith scoffed into his cup.  “She already knew.” 

            Shel frowned.  “She knew about Italy?” 

            “The Insurgence,” he corrected.  “Running theory at this point is that that is why she’s so interested in us.” 

            She considered that.  “More old friends of Stanton?” she suggested. 

            He pointed at her.  “Right in one.” 

            So…  “Arrange a meet and greet?” she drawled out. 

            Ardith squeezed his eyes shut.  “I can’t tell you why that’s not on the table yet,” he admitted. 

            She scoffed, then demanded, “Paraphrase.” 

            “The Insurgence doesn’t want to.” 

            She blinked.  But…  “Why?” 

            He just gave her a sullen glower and sipped his coffee. 

            Right.  Politics.  Though she supposed it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that Po felt threatened by the younger Peacecraft – someone was bound to start taking the woman seriously before she reminded them why they ought to. 

            His mouth set at a mulish angle.  “If you do anything to suggest Rubato has a connection to Po, the Regime is going to be the last of your concerns,” he announced quietly. 

            Rachelle rolled her eyes.  Obviously.  “Keep it in your pants, I’m neither stupid nor inclined.”  The Regime was just a necessary evil at this point, and her money was on the princess and Mitchell.  On the Insurgence too.  And maybe she ought to be worried about whatever conflict was happening there, but he’d just laid out a mess of valid concerns and vulnerabilities. 

            He’d said yet. 

            If the Revenants were in bed with the Insurgence, even to a small degree, that put an even better light on what they had done for the world so far – and they were still young.  Their projects had extremely long projections.  Their work also shone a better light on the Insurgence, who had shown craftiness and ability, but none of the long-term economic planning behind Relena and the Revenants.  Putting them together? 

            She might be reaching, but she liked the shape of that.  And besides, reaching for a better goal was the entire point – that was how you pulled it off. 

            The Regime would attack any sign of the Insurgence, but Po’s goals were still nebulous to the general public.  The Revenants couldn’t draw too close a line there, or they’d invite the same ire on their own heads.  But if things could be prepared in just the right way, so that if the Revenants’ secret came out, it would be an automatic assumption from the average citizen that they were a branch of the Insurgence… one meant to bridge with the princess, even?  Whether or not it was true – even if it was quickly disproven – the belief would stick in a way that would be hard to fight against. 

            It can’t be direct.  Only things that would look correlative in hindsight.  Maybe even a botched or discredited story about any of the current powers in Europe…  Scandal sold, even when it was complete bullshit.  Hmm… 

            Later, once this man in front of her was no longer in her house, she was going to have to sit and process the impact of this conversation.  Realign him and these various factions into new truths, and come to terms with them – analyze for convenient gaps and alternate versions.  He might be honest, he might be not – she’d settle it out.  Even if she decided to believe him wholesale, the alternate avenues, the branches, would give her a foundation to work from. 

            But for now? 

            “How do you feel about starting a few rumors?” 

            His gaze sharpened, and a sly smile rose.  “Did you have anything particular in mind?” 

-

***

-

April 15^th – Wednesday – Berlin, Germany – The Berlin House

            Lucrezia smiled as she opened the fridge, seeing the same glass container as last time.  Bingo.  She had no idea where it came from, but the egg salad at the house was one of the best she’d ever had.  Easy, tasty fast food.  They were stocked on the good sweet bread, so she grabbed that and the mayonnaise too.  Setting it all on the counter, she smoothed a lock of sweaty hair back out of her face then grimaced, moving to wash her hands.  “Did you want a sandwich?” she called out into the main. 

            “Sure.” 

            A minute later, Odin was in the kitchen too, trailing a hand over her back as he passed to peer into the fridge himself.  “Hn.”  He pulled out a big carafe of orange juice, setting it next to her before going for the cups. 

            She eyed it.  It looked fantastic, but she couldn’t help but think of how freaking expensive oranges had gotten.  And she’d had a glass last time – there was no way that was from concentrate.  “Where do they even find that?” 

            “No idea,” he admitted.  “But since I marked it as something I like, it’s almost always here now.” 

            This is what getting pampered feel like, she decided, finishing the spread of egg and sticking the spoon in her mouth.  “Are you spoiling me?” she asked curiously. 

            He smirked, pouring two glasses without being asked.  “Only if I’m spoiling myself?”  He shook his head.  “Probably.  Is that a bad thing?” 

            “Absolutely not,” she refuted, grinning as she polished off the spoon.  “I’m enjoying the hell out of it.” 

            His eyes lingered on her mouth, but all he said was, “Good.” 

            Lucrezia resisted the urge to laugh as she picked up the knife; she’d wear less of the salad if she cut the sandwiches at a diagonal.  A moment after she’d finished, however, Odin was behind her; hands at her hips, nose pressed to the side of her head. 

            She closed her eyes and smiled as she felt him take a deep breath.  “That,” she announced, “is a little bit disgusting.” 

            Not that she moved.  At all. 

            “Hn.” 

            “I am literally dripping,” she pointed out.  “I smell.”  She’d done an advanced version of the routine Audi was trying to pick up from her before running five miles, but since this was her house, she’d decided she wanted food before a shower – especially since she’d thought her beau had still been out.  But he’d come in the front door as she hit the bottom of the stairs, and with the way he’d taken to wearing one of those suits like it was a damn mission uniform…  Mm. 

            Her smile stretched wider when he only rumbled again, hands starting to wander.  Not that she was surprised – he’d made it very clear before that this was some kind of weird turn-on, but it still… caught her, every time. 

            Once upon a time she’d thought she was going to be a princess – maybe of a tiny nation no one much cared about, but she’d expected some degree of royal treatment, even if it came with less desirable duties too.  Not that she’d ever figured out what any of that would actually look like, but… 

            She thought she liked this reality better than the idea of that dream that never was, even without getting into the man himself.  Odin… 

            Zechs had never gone out of his way for her.  Even when he’d been willing, he was never… 

            Odin’s fingers slipped under the waistband of her leggings. 

            She laughed a little, shifting further back against him.  “Are you distracting me from asking you about where you were?” 

            His rumble was amused this time, but certainly not a denial. 

            “I’m not against that,” she mused, hitching up onto her toes as he inched lower, dropping her head back onto his shoulder.  He started nuzzling along her hairline and down her neck.  “But I am hungry,” she decided.  “Raincheck?” 

            He dipped his head to catch her lips in a brief kiss, hands smoothly lifting from the upper edge of her underwear to clasp her waist again.  “Sure.”  Wrapping one arm securely around her, he leaned forward to snag a triangle for himself. 

            She laughed but didn’t try to move away, going for the juice first herself.  “Sally mentioned the Regime took the bait?” 

            The genius of the timing and manipulation there had already made her laugh more than once.  Revenant Rubato had approached the Regime in early March with the news that they were developing a terrestrial shielding system that could possibly double as an anti-missile protocol, in a pinch.  They had marketed it as a sort of standing in place bomb shelter – though less about protecting a location, and more about preventing the spread of a disaster like the spaceport bombings.  Not that it could have done much against the reaction from the reactor tampering in Dijon, but the point stood.  It was experimental technology that was still in the development stages, but they had gone out of their way to let the government know, both in the name of transparency and to sound out possible future interest. 

            The Regime reps had apparently made noises of polite interest and asked to be updated on significant findings, but had not otherwise pursued the line of thought – which was fine, because they had not been meant to.  However, in the wake of Sally publicly breaking the satellite orbital bombardment system and, from the Regime’s perspective, secretly depleting it against future use?  They had remembered the entrepreneur’s approach. 

            It hadn’t even been six hours after the loss of the wall, even as the administration tried to vocally backpedal in the face of Sally’s accusations, that they had come calling.  Asking for full details, and offering a significant contract if Rubato thought they might be able to spin an orbital version of the devices they had suggested. 

            It was still firmly under the experimental heading, but a Regime rep had already gone up to the Sigma site for a field demonstration yesterday, limited as that was in zero-G.  Apparently they’d been impressed enough to eagerly sign on, offer absurd tax breaks, and fund expedited supplies and salaries to see it done sooner and with priority over anything else the shipyard had on the cooker – giving them nearly a free pass on any kind of local commerce and activity, free of suspicion. 

            So now, anything happening there would be attributed to the Regime contract, and even if someone discovered the ‘secret’ wing and hanger they were using for construction of the gundams’ auxiliary segments?  They would assume it was an additional government project – something too classified to be questioned.  Not to mention, anything they did make and place for the Regime could be co-opted back by Rubato at a later date – that is, if Relena didn’t take over the Regime and receive the reins herself. 

            It was downright beautiful. 

            Odin hummed in an agreeing way.  “I need to head back to Sigma in a few days.  I have the remaining shipments of gundanium coming in, now that it’ll be easier to hide it in the bustle.  Most of the pieces have been made, but once we get the rest, we can finalize a prototype.”  He slumped a little, admitting, “I don’t trust Howard’s people for the initial and final assembly of it after what happened at the dark site.  I need to be there.” 

            “You think you can finish it in a week?” she asked, surprised. 

            His rumble was less happy this time.  “Probably?  Maybe not, though.  Either way, Howard’s sending you a new ghost of Chalkydri for the sims on this shipment – it would be a good idea to check for any snags.” 

            “I will,” she agreed.  “Do you still think the ghost for the wings is accurate?” 

            “It’s hard to say without a working prototype, but it ought to be.”  He slumped a little more, burying his face in her nasty hair again before grumbling, “I’ll get the prototype done.” 

            She grimaced, but… he was right.  They needed that.  “If it takes longer than a week-” 

            “I’ll let you know,” he agreed.  “It won’t take two.” 

            “Good.”  She smirked, pulling away enough to try and see his eyes.  “Because I have it from a reliable source that I have a date on the first.” 

            He was wearing what Howard called his ‘ghoul smile’ now, all dark trouble and sly ‘come hither’ – and damn but it was hot.  “I may have heard something about that.” 

            Lucrezia laughed, setting down her cup and reaching for a piece of sandwich.  “Just maybe, huh?” 

            “I had to make sure you wouldn’t be otherwise occupied,” he agreed, eyes sparking.  “Your boss is a gossip, by the way.” 

            “She is,” Lu agreed, remembering the conspiratorial gleam in Sally’s eyes.  “I think she might be more excited than I am.” 

            “Mm,” he grumbled, idly rubbing a thumb over her ribs.  “I’ll have to fix that.” 

            She snickered.  “I don’t even get to know where we’re going?” she tried. 

            “No.” 

            She laughed more, squirming back against him until his hand came dangerously close to cupping her breast.  “Come on,” she crooned.  “Give me something.” 

            “Hn.”  His piece of sandwich evidently eaten, he wrapped his right hand back across her to caress the opposite hip.  “I suppose you’ll need a dress,” he mused.  “Probably the right kind of shoes.  I gather they’re important.” 

            She hummed a little, dropping her food back on the plate and pushing both it and cups to one side before stretching her hands up to clasp behind his neck.  She could finish eating later.  “The right kind of shoes,” she mused. 

            “Hn…”  His right hand started to creep back towards her center, nails dragging just enough to make her heart slam.  “Audi wanted to just buy them for you,” he admitted.  “I thought you’d better try them on.” 

            Oh good.  She had assumed, given Sally’s sly looks, but she appreciated the confirmation that he’d roped the baby sister into this plot.  “I’m going shoe shopping once you’re gone, then?” 

            “You need a dress,” he reminded her, his own breath starting to hitch as she ground her hips back, left hand finally smoothing over her breast. 

            She hummed, heat settling low in her belly, and dragged her right hand back down his neck, down his shoulder, before trailing down his arm to settle over his own, increasing the pressure on her center.  “What kind of dress?” 

            His answering groan was part moan, part purr, and his teeth grazed her neck in a way that made her shiver.  “Something you want to be shown off in,” he growled, shifting his hips in a too slow pattern, sliding his hand through the armhole of her tank, under her bra, to tweak one nipple.  “Full range of motion…”  She felt his teeth as he grinned into her neck at her gasp, before continuing.  “Sleek, but flowing enough to show off movement.” 

            Her gasp turned into a laugh, even as she bucked up into their joined hands, relishing the steady grind back down.  “Odin,” she exclaimed.  “Are you taking me dancing?” 

            “Don’t spoil it,” he admonished, fingers flicking expertly. 

            She laughed again, low and delighted, even as it quickly turned into a moan.  She had guessed all the secrecy about May first was his rehashed proposal, but he was usually so private…  Was he out ring shopping just now?  He hadn’t given her any explanation before he left, just said he’d be back… 

            “My face, though,” she protested after too long a pause.  If they were going to be doing something to draw attention, then…

            She didn’t want to wear a mask to her own proposal. 

            “Whatever make-up you think you need,” he suggested, abandoning her breast to reach between them and fiddle with his own clothes – though not before stroking her once hard from behind.  “Go heavy with it, contour, maybe – but no contacts.  I want to see your eyes.” 

            She wanted to make a joke about him not seeing her eyes right now, but was enjoying this far too much to risk him changing gears.  “Hold me down?” she asked breathily instead. 

            The sheer physicality of this man was going to be the death of her.  He’d thrown her over a yard onto the bed once without a grunt of effort, and it was only the fact that he’d already been dropping to his knees that kept her from demanding he do it again.  Grappling with him was easily the most erotic experience of her life short of actual sex, and as much as she usually hated to lose?  The ease with which he could overpower her, even when she was trying anything short of true injury?  Was fucking hot. 

            She might have issues.  But she did not care. 

            He groaned something inarticulate that was probably a curse in some language she didn’t know, slipping one hand into the back of her pants to slide over her rear.  “I don’t have a tie.” 

            Yeah – he had yet to wear one around his neck since the suits appeared, but she had zero complaints about the alternative uses he’d found for them.  “Just use your hands.”  It wasn’t as though he lacked for strength – he didn’t need the extra leverage. 

            He growled into the back of her neck, nails scraping as he dragged her underwear down, palming one thigh hard before slipping his hand on her front down to do the same, her pants still oddly in place, for the most part.  “You’ll bruise,” he argued, playing with her curls. 

            He had been upset after that first play fight, when he saw the marks that bloomed the next day.  For the very first time in her life, Lucrezia had cursed the perfectly ivory skin she’d inherited from her mother – though now that she thought about it, that had been about the time he’d started showing up with those silky businessman ties on every occasion but around his neck.  The bruises hadn’t really hurt, but… his handprints had been distinct. 

            He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, no matter how much they’d enjoyed themselves, or how much she did not care.  The only concession she’d managed to get was that anything on the torso did not hurt in a way that reminded her of something besides time well spent, particularly around the hips.  But he’d caught her flinching over glancing touches to her wrists too many times afterwards for her to get away with saying that getting rough couldn’t become an issue over the thin skin over delicate bones there…  And if anything, he’d been worse over the prints on her upper arm, despite the fact that she could barely feel them and found the whole scenario funny. 

            It was sweet of him, but while she appreciated the concept in a general way, she found it altogether dated.  She’d instigated the sparring match, and had every intention of doing so again.  Even aside from the high of being manhandled about like a doll, there was something exquisite about watching him lose control, of being the one thing to break that unflappable calm, and if she was asking, he wasn’t hurting her. 

            No… she wanted him to trust her enough to move past it.  As fun as he was to drive feral, he wouldn’t actually hurt her.  So… maybe less bossy? 

            “Please?” she tried, shifting onto her toes to try to get his hand lower, bringing both of her own up again to grip his hair, twisting slightly to pull him into a kiss – rocking back and forth between him, pressed behind her, and his hand.  She tugged on his lower lip with her teeth for a long moment before dropping her voice further and trying again.  “Please?” 

            Odin hesitated for a long moment before groaning and recapturing her lips with his, though both his hands unfortunately rose to play with her shirt. 

            She sighed into his mouth and gave it up – apparently this was something they were going to have to talk more about.  A little disappointed, she relaxed into the kiss, cupping his face with both hands to show that it was okay to say no to her… and moaned in pleasure as he tugged both shirt and workout bra up over her head.  She thrust her chest forward, only one hip to the counter now.  Maybe he was going to pick her up instead and move them to- 

            She gasped as, instead of pulling her shirt the rest of the way off, he twisted the fabric sharply around her lower arms once, twice, then pressed her chest down onto the counter. 

            Her shiver had nothing to do with the cold granite on her bare skin. 

            She wriggled a little as he squared his hips against hers again, still far too damn clothed, testing the limits of the new bond.  Maybe not something that would work with a more elastic fabric, but for plain cotton…  She practically purred when he laid himself back over her and pressed his lips to the back of her neck, one hand fisting the fabric to hold her in place… 

            Yes.  That would hold perfectly. 

            He rumbled out a quiet laugh, shifting her higher so she could only just reach the floor with the balls of her toes – giving her barely enough leverage to push back with.  “Good?” 

            God, yes.  “Please,” she groaned, pressing up onto the tips of her toes, feeling tight as the string on a bow. 

            He only laughed again, free hand slowly trailing its way back down. 

-

***

-

Munich, Germany – Sarracenia

            “So you think I ought to pass up a golden opportunity to solve all our problems because it hurts your pride.” 

            BJ rolled his eyes; Miller, he noticed, had resorted to pressing a first against his mouth in an effort to contain himself. 

            To be fair, Relena and her brother had not spent long on the initial pleasantries – though this initial set of salvos was still an improvement on their last call.  That one had devolved into raised voices and the princess hanging up within two minutes.  Either the twenty hours where she routed his calls directly to voicemail had cooled his temper somewhat, or he had learned to pick his battles more strategically. 

            Pointedly, the colonel sitting next to him had yet to be brought up. 

            “He cannot be trusted,” Milliardo insisted, his tone forcefully even.  “You should not even be entertaining the idea.” 

            “I cannot trust David on the subject of you,” Relena corrected.  “He has always done right by his people, and the worst he ever did to me was lie by omission – still a problem, but easier to break him of.  Now that Treize is an open figure, his motives are all laid transparent.”  She shook her head resolutely.  “It may not be perfect, but he is manageable, Milliardo.  Despite his recent foray into vigilantism, David is not a true leader – his talent has always laid in middle management, and he knows it.  He is floundering, and if I give him anchor?  I will make him mine more surely than Treize ever could.” 

            “He is a spy.” 

            “Not a particularly talented one,” Relena scoffed.  “He was one of many that you missed, and in all seriousness, what did he ever give Treize of any value, before he took the disgruntled fence sitters from both of you?” 

            “Relena-” 

            “Milliardo, in all seriousness: how many times could he have handed me over to Khushrenada or one of his subsidiaries in the last two years?” she demanded.  “How much information could he have-  Oh, right.  You don’t know because you left a door to your most private servers wide open for years.” 

            Miller curled in on himself, shaking with silent laughter. 

            BJ ignored him.  He’d asked to be in the room – though out of camera view, of course – because the dynamic between the prince and princess was both important and changing rapidly.  Peacecraft had been damnably close to devastated over his sister’s collapse in February, even as he’d been visibly agitated by her following resignation – and BJ felt fairly certain it was not only due to concerns about retaliation from China.  Enough details had been publicized about the event that Relena had had little issue smoothing over their alliances on all fronts, especially as the Accords gained more acclaim.  The fact that, while it hadn’t been codified into something solid yet, China had not said no to a seat on the council? 

            It was exciting.  The foreign superpower had only said they wished to revisit the notion when the summer survey teams arrived for the amplifiers in June – nothing definite, but that did indicate interest. 

            But China was a sleepy sort of problem, at least so long as Peacecraft’s dolls were a secret.  They were thus far isolationist to everything excepting contracted trade and military action taken in their claimed west Asian and African territories – though whether their upset there was due to concern of setting a precedent or out of some heretofore unknown alliance was hard to say. 

            Not for the first time, he wondered just how the man had thought to handle his latest gambit becoming known.  It had admittedly taken them nearly six months after he left to discover the truth, and only then by unusual circumstances – but it couldn’t hold forever.  Peacecraft couldn’t have been so naïve as to dismiss the possibility either – he’d both ruined others and had too many plots destroyed by prime intel before.  There would have been a plan.  At any rate, the best he could figure for Plan A, especially considering the initial limited news anyone had about the armed forces in space, was that the prince had planned to be home and untangling the subterfuge with no one the wiser before the six month mark was reached. 

            But as the months stretched on?  As distasteful as he found the young man, he was far from stupid. 

            The response to the attempted Italian revolution had been planned; maybe not by location, but certainly in action.  General Lee had been too ready – and using a rebel cell against Romefeller East as a deterrent made a great deal of sense.  The viciousness with which he did so, not so much, but Noe Lee had… something of a reputation on such matters.  Something he was standing by in the face of any and all contrary opinions, even.  BJ couldn’t quite decide if he was surprised or not that, in the face of many reporters and Relena’s Accorded Nations kicking a fuss over what had happened inside the cordon?  He had effectively stated that it wasn’t his problem. 

            The ‘people of northern Italy’ – debatable, honestly – had rebelled.  Specifically, they had tried to secede from the Regime in a forceful fashion.  Per his statement in the face of criticism, he had crushed the rebellion before it could spread, then given them exactly what they wanted: isolation from the larger community.  Apparently, the fact that they had not used their resources well and maintained order was entirely on them.  The Regime administration claimed to have been dropping care packages subsidized from various RLTT programs by air in order to shore up the lack of trade. 

            Maybe they even had – since the military had completely controlled the airspace and satellite views over the area, they could claim practically anything with no one the wiser. 

            In any case, the General’s releases were inflaming public opinion… and interestingly, the poor feelings had yet to drift to their absentee head of state.  That, more than any other fact, made him more convinced that this response, too, had been planned. 

            After all – no one was qualified to replace the man, particularly with the bulk of the army ‘away in space.’  As many people as were calling for his demotion or for charges to be pressed, realistically?  The Regime administration would just assign more oversight on his actions. 

            Which may or may not be real. 

            Not for the first time, this particular tangle of events made him fervently happy that Relena had withdrawn from their government body.  He could now make use of her brother’s slowly collapsing pile of shit instead of trying to mitigate it. 

            “If anyone is a loose cannon, it’s Lee,” Relena was insisting now, expression severe.  “Or at least, you’d better paint him as one if you’re trying to keep your own nose looking clean.” 

            “I didn’t-” 

            “The problem here, brother, is that I no longer know what I believe you would be willing to do in order to accomplish goals you have no interest in explaining to me.  So let’s skip the reassurances I won’t believe and keep our work segregated, shall we?  You and yours have done something the public and the governments of every nation in your empire find inhumane.  You’ve been caught red-handed.  I cannot stop of the flow of information at this point, nor, frankly, would I want to.  What I can do is mitigate the consequences.  Do you want my help or not?”  Her tone turned dry.  “I suppose you could simply rinse and repeat your previous approaches.  Your next rebellion might have decidedly French airs, however.” 

            Miller’s smile was half pride, half infatuation as he watched her.  It was both adorable and a little bit disgusting.  But then, I could have chosen to watch this scene from another room, the way I did Miller’s initial talk with Peacecraft after Treize’s announcement.  It wasn’t as though the lovebirds were ever subtle around him anymore.  He’d still rewatch it later in any case – to take better notes and better evaluate what clues he could make of the man’s micro expressions.  Though… 

            It was odd.  The man had spent so long in a mask under his Zechs Marquise persona that once he took it off, he ought to have been remarkably easy to read.  And in some moments, from the recordings he could see of him during the war, that was true – but his smooth serenity during those Libra broadcasts had been alarming in its intensity.  He had lost that for the most part after the Fall and became easy to read again, mostly controlling who saw him in the first place instead, but now? 

            He was willing to dismiss the lack of micro expressions on Libra as a side effect of the psychosis he’d fallen into – the Zero System was poorly understood, after all, and Relena, Dorothy, and Miller were all fairly certain it had been a factor.  But now? 

            Micro expressions weren’t something you were supposed to be able to hide; effective lying was more about making use of them than masking.  Done right, you could see them misinterpreted by controlling your stream of consciousness – the most talented liars took Miller’s approach of method acting almost as a form of autohypnosis, believing the emotions they were trying to portray.  Often, micro expressions could be near impossible to interpret, but they were still there.  Missing them altogether? 

            He supposed it could be from training, but that usually implied a level of psychosis – which, technically, training could fall under, depending on the regiment.  Dekim Barton had certainly tried to drill all emotional cues, including facial, out of Yuy the same way someone else might loosening knots out of tangled hair, consequences be damned.  But certain drugs could also do it… and the testimony on that front was compelling.  A number of muscle relaxers could have that effect on the facial muscles; Leia had laid out a list of possibilities. 

            The medications were technically nonrelevant though, beyond making his analysis more difficult.  Such is life, he mused.  Whatever his deficits, Peacecraft was still functional enough to fly a gundam, and had done so against Treize’s new Aequitas more than once – whatever had held him back when facing Yuy in Sedan last July had been overcome.  That was more than most could manage without their mental state being altered. 

            “If I open negotiations with David, it solves multiple problems,” Relena continued.  “Giving a small force to the Accorded Nations will be seen as a probationary measure against Lee – a show of trust.  It will help them believe that this cannot happen again, despite the fact that his numbers spread across all these nations will equate to virtually no stopping power whatsoever.  It offers them a legitimacy that will effectively cost you nothing.”  She sighed.  “Besides, can you really afford the manpower to counter him right now?  Especially when we have a peaceful solution within out grasp?  How many men would we lose?”  She planted her hands on her desk, leaning forward into the camera – he was going to have to watch her end of the video later, and see if that move looked half as determined as he thought.  Could be useful.  “Consenting to the parley, letting me take him back in hand, would allow us to not only negate but recoup ten thousand of the personnel losses Treize cost us.” 

            Her shoulders stiffened, and BJ found himself again wishing he could see her face.  “Milliardo, we can’t afford any loss of trained soldiers.  We’re thin on the ground with the bulk of the armed forces away with you, and now that I’ve been talking with more of the border nations…  I don’t know how much longer it will be before someone far bigger than the cell that tried for Italy comes knocking.”  She slowly shook her head.  “Brutal as your guard dog is, the stunt with Italy won’t work a second time.  Trying it will only gain us more problems than it would solve.” 

            Ooh, little sister whiles, BJ thought approvingly.  Not that Relena wanted him to come back with his fake army, but the manipulation there was worth a shot.  ‘I need help, why can’t I have this one thing you don’t even want?’ 

            Peacecraft was silent for a long, contemplative moment before he repeated himself – but his tone held less iron this time.  “He cannot be trusted.” 

            “I wasn’t about to blindly trust him,” Relena returned, shifting one shoulder.  “I want to negotiate.  Build checks and balances, and include obligations he doesn’t want but cannot bypass that will keep him further in line.”  Her hip shifted too, and if he could see her face, he imagined an arrogant glint had entered her eyes.  “Make him bleed for it, a bit.  Understanding his motives doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him for all the conniving.  It’s only an open door.”  Her chin rose.  “But by the end of it, I’ll have him believing everything I’ve saddled him with is a privilege.  He’ll spend years making up the betrayal.” 

            BJ raised his brows.  Nice.  A little too on the nose for exactly what she was doing to her brother, not Mitchell, but the man was either too confident to see it or convinced he still held the better hand.  Probably both.  In any case, the style of intrigue and vengeance ought to appeal to him enough to quench some margin of his concern. 

            Peacecraft hesitated a long moment, then sighed.  “You have a talent for the negotiation table,” he acknowledged, and Relena visibly drew herself up in response.  True to form, however, he couldn’t seem to resist the urge to dig into the compliment.  “I wish you would have considered that more for your personal future.” 

            The princess’ body language closed back up.  “Are we really doing this again?” she asked quietly.  It would be easy to mistake the tone for tired, if you missed the steel cable strung through it. 

            “You just finished lecturing me on getting the most use out of the people around you,” Peacecraft reminded her.  “You are becoming a power unto yourself, even without my support behind you.  You continually remind me of that – everyone continually reminds me of that fact.  And yet you closed off one of the most powerful bargaining chips you have without even talking to anyone about it first.” 

            Relena leaned back.  “I didn’t talk to you about it,” she countered.  “And the evidence of ‘why’ has just reared its ugly head, brother.”  She scoffed.  “As much as I adored Noin, you are not someone I wish to model my notions of romance after.” 

            Peacecraft made a frustrated sound.  “That is not what I meant.” 

            “But perhaps it should have been,” she returned.  “I rather feel as though you are missing the point.” 

            “Marriage is about securing the future,” he tried. 

            “Yes.” 

            The man took in an audibly irritated breath.  “You continually only remember you are a ‘Peacecraft’ when convenient,” he accused.  “You are not truly a Darlian.  Despite all these new alliances you have made, you forget that the vast majority are Romefeller.  How much will you lose when they put two and two together?” 

            She only crossed her arms, staring into the camera with what BJ felt positive was a deeply unimpressed expression. 

            Peacecraft growled.  “Why him?” 

            “I love him,” she returned easily.  “He’s been my partner in everything for years now, and I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”  She tossed her hair back slightly, and he could imagine her smirk.  “It took me a truly unbelievable amount of time to get him to come around to the idea, Milliardo.  He tore himself apart over it for months before coming to terms with how he felt, but he is a good man.”  She shook her head.  “Had Noin lived, you would have called him ‘brother’ anyway.”  Her chin lifted.  “We make each other happy.  Why must you be such an ass about this?” 

            “Stop bringing her up.” 

            “Why, have you had any other liaisons I could use for an example?” 

            He was visibly trying to not lose his temper now.  “It was different, with us.” 

            “And why is that?” 

            “Because I never intended to rule!” he snapped. 

            BJ raised his brows.  That… 

            Relena was similarly unimpressed.  “Your evidence is growing increasingly contradictory.” 

            Peacecraft slammed two fists down on the table hard enough that the camera quivered.  “If your heart is so set, then fine, but by wearing that ring you have sacrificed a massive piece of influence you could have played to your advantage for the next five years.  Doors that you might have wedged a foot through and claimed ground on before removing the possibility of your hand have now closed.  For goodness sake, Relena!  You just lectured me on your ability to manipulate a man to your advantage, and you’re upset that I’m reminding you of your mistakes?” 

            Ah.  He had wondered, when the anger over the engagement didn’t cool, if the man had had some kind of match in mind for his sister – perhaps, if he was feeling magnanimous, a line-up of possibilities for her to choose from.  The notion that he wanted her to play Virgin Queen Elizabeth with the revolving door of Romefeller’s available bachelors had not occurred to him – he had honestly thought the man was too much a prude to consider it. 

            “Mistakes,” Relena repeated evenly. 

            Miller had sat back up again a while ago, and now pressed his hands together in front of his face, eyes lit up. 

            “Milliardo, if I had refused to take on the mantle of Sanc and instead handed it back to you, would you have kept my friend to the side in order to maintain the possibility of a marriage alliance?” 

            BJ’s brows went back up, and he couldn’t help but smirk.  Right where it hurts, he mused. 

            “Relena-” 

            “I am fairly sure you just implied that instead of changing a frankly fucked up system you spent most of your life working to overrule, you suggested I should keep the man I love as my mistress.” 

            “I-” 

            “I am fascinated by your priorities,” she continued, cutting him off relentlessly.  “Out of curiosity, how many of your associates have you intimated I might make an acceptable broodmare for, exactly?  Four?  Perhaps ten, just to keep our options open?” 

            The man has truly dug himself a hole this time.  Jake’s grin was nigh maniacal. 

            “And how many bridges will I abruptly burn if, after those five years, I were to turn around and marry said mistress?  Or worse, marry one of these nobles and bear a child that happens to have a feature just too close to his to ignore?  How likely will I be to have someone I thought leal suddenly stabbing me in the back?  Or questioning every interaction with me for its veracity?  I must say, I find the long-term optics on this option daunting.” 

            “I didn’t-” 

            “My heart is set,” she declared, leaning forward onto her hands for another long moment before shaking her head.  “And besides, I’m not half so stupid as you want to believe.  Did you truly think neither of us would account for the social imbalance?” 

            “Fine!” Peacecraft shouted, apparently desperate to get a full thought through.  “You clearly don’t-” 

            BJ thought it was sweet of her to cut him off again before he could dig himself even deeper – or perhaps she was disinterested in wasting more time.  “Romefeller cares less about lineage than it does money, Milliardo.  Money, familiarity, and prestige.  Contrary to your assertions, many of my allies were aware of Jake’s position in my life before he proposed, and not only tolerate him, but approve.  Would you like to know why?” 

            Peacecraft eyed her warily for a moment, as if he expected another tirade if he tried to answer, before going with the safer option – a nod. 

            Based on experience, she probably offered him one of her more barbed smiles before continuing.  “RLTT, as you have seen it through my activity for the past two years, has tied up perhaps twenty to thirty-five percent of his net worth at any given time – an amount that has also steadily been replenishing itself through investments over the same course of time.” 

            Peacecraft visibly startled. 

            “Due to his strong ties with the Khushrenadas as a child and his work history, a great deal of Romefeller has been peripherally aware of him for most of his life,” she continued.  “Though it does vary somewhat dramatically between blind fear and intrigued speculation.  He is something of a decorated soldier, both on and off the books; rumors often count for more than fact, in that crowd.  However, when he takes The Rhea Lowe Tomorrow Today Fund public?  He will publicly gain all the accolades he earned through his humanitarian works and public esteem will skyrocket, effectively covering both the familiarity and prestige fronts.” 

            He supposed it was unfortunate that this conversation was already too charged to suggest that Peacecraft be ready to back them on the whole ‘Yes, I know he spied on me while on Libra and I was actually happy about it’ announcement.  Later.  It was annoying how much they’d had to push the RLTT announcement back already, but…  Later. 

            “And to cap it off, I do believe the name ‘Lowe’ should ring a different bell for you?  My fiancé’s fortune as he claims it was only ever half of what he had access to, and when his little brother came back from the grave last Halloween, Junior gained the other half.  Your administration did loop me in on their plans to cover atmospheric security, and Jack Odin Lowe is the originating engineer of the project you just agreed to pour funds into – not that he needs the money, because he is the key financier in Da Capo as well as Neut.  And I must say that the estranged brothers are making a far better reconciliation than we managed, thus far.  They went ring shopping together for my soon-to-be sister-in-law last week, and have plans to meet again when he next has a break from the work you’re generating in his shipyard. 

            “So if we’re putting things in terms that my peers would respect?  I believe the consensus will be that I am marrying up.  Perhaps rate your expectations by the standard of if I set my sights on an inheriting Long, Winner or Barton.  They are founding a colony cluster, even aside from what moves Revenant Rubato makes on Earth.  My in-laws are the start of a new dynasty, Milliardo.” 

            Not an inaccurate way to put it, BJ decided, despite what she was leaving out.  Whatever Lowe was up to, in space and otherwise, Miller was going to be the foundation of her own distinctly earthbound empire.  Though with the inherent family connections, alongside the current alliances with Leia Barton – the only link left for the ruling family of L3 – and Soleil – who solidly represented L4 and L5 – the hope was that the gross misrepresentation of citizens and abuses of power seen over the last two centuries would stay in the past.  Nothing was perfect, of course, but… it made for a promising start. 

            So long as the Accorded Nations could finish getting on their feet before the news about dolls broke and war was on their doorstep again. 

            And handle the coming war itself. 

            The siblings stared at each other for another long moment before Peacecraft let out a grudging sort of sigh.  “It’s to be Mrs. Miller then, is it?” 

            “Don’t be ridiculous,” Relena scoffed.  “He’s taking my name.” 

            By his expression, the man couldn’t decide if that was an improvement or not.  “Of course,” he bit out.  “Am I still ‘uninvited?’” 

            “I haven’t decided,” she returned primly.  “Are you going to be gone for another six months?  By all reports, I can’t even tell what you’re accomplishing up there.” 

            BJ found himself smiling this time.  That was just the right kind of sassy little sister barb that Peacecraft tried to pretend he was above responding to, the kind that would make him even more stubborn.  Perfect. 

            “Tell me before you go through with it,” he demanded. 

            She scoffed again.  “I’ll think about it,” she offered instead.  “Good-bye, brother.” 

            Miller wasted no time in striding over to her once the line disconnected, laughing and taking her into his arms.  “That was beautiful,” he crowed, leaning in for a kiss she happily gave him. 

            BJ rolled his eyes and decided to let himself out.  He wanted to go over both sides of the vid a few times before they finalized their next move. 

-

***

-

April 16^th – Thursday – Berlin, Germany – The Berlin House

            “I appreciate you going along with it,” Lucrezia acknowledged, pulling on one boot.  “But I’ll be the first to admit she’s gone a little feral.  If she wears out her welcome, don’t hesitate to send her packing.” 

            “Hilde has always been half feral,” her lover returned with a secretive sort of smile. 

            Mm.  Thinking back, she always had been, at least with him and Xu.  It wasn’t that the girl lacked a softer side, she just… didn’t resort to it very often. 

            But she needed the down time after six months in the quarantine, and would probably see the house as an all expenses paid resort.  A safe house or base would do the trick, but… a little time without comrades would do her some good. 

            After this, they’d need to put her back on the sims and see if she could dust off her piloting skills well enough to make a difference.  They’d already pushed back the timeline far enough by building Deathscythe concurrently with Chalkydri and Gilgamesh – it would be a shame if they went to all that effort and didn’t have a capable pilot for it. 

            “It’s only for a week,” she temporized.  Even if Hilde wanted to stay longer, there were no advanced sims here – something they’d talked about changing, but hadn’t bothered with… and on some level, she preferred it this way.  This house was a retreat, a home, not another place to work.  Maybe they’d reconsider again in the future, but for now they only came here so sporadically that it made little difference. 

            Odin had pushed himself too damn hard on the simulators when they were at the dark site, and his leg hadn’t handled it.  Too much work with the pedals.  Maybe it was good to not have the temptation to keep working here. 

            “I’m heading out tomorrow anyway,” he reminded her.  “Bringing her here was Adam’s idea in the first place, and he knows my rules – if they break them, he can take her back to Canada for the rest of her furlough.” 

            She laughed at that – Hilde had hated their last jaunt to North America.  “Only if she does something egregious,” she agreed, finishing her laces and reaching for the other boot.  His eyes lit up, and she smirked a little to herself – he had a thing about uncommon words, and while she hadn’t done it intentionally, she’d probably touched on one he wasn’t familiar with.  He liked when that happened. 

            “I’ll make sure she knows you said that,” he decided, leaning against the bedpost, watching her. 

            She hesitated a moment, but… it was a good opportunity to bring up something they’d been avoiding.  “Is your biodad going to be a problem?” 

            Odin’s frame tensed, and his face looked… tired.  “I don’t think so.  He’s…”  He made a face.  “Determined to be neutral.  And the details he picks up are scattered at best.  If I explicitly ask him not to do something, he won’t.” 

            She thought about that while she finished with her laces, giving him a chance to explain further… but when she was done and he hadn’t, she sat up and rested her hands on her knees.  “I could stay long enough to meet him, this time,” she offered. 

            He’d been as weird about this as the last time she’d asked about his age, and had developed a habit of changing the subject when anything about the biodad came up, even peripherally.  She’d been leaving it alone because it was clearly his preference, but… she was living in the same house as a stranger that her would-be fiancé refused to define beyond some extension of ‘mine.’  Thus far it had worked, but…  

            They’d been talking about getting married.  And they lived with this guy.  Something had to give, and soon. 

            She didn’t even know anything about him beyond the fact that Odin was having this bizarre push-pull relationship with him, wanting him both close and at arms’ length at the same time.  The obvious conflict in him whenever the subject came up, not to mention how he shut down conversations about the man, had made her inclined to let it lie.  But…

            She didn’t really have a comparable relationship to relate it to, so she didn’t feel like it was right to push.  But it was getting to the point that bringing up any family matters seemed to set off brooding, and they couldn’t avoid that forever.  She had no idea where her family was at the moment, since they seemed to have left for Christmas and never gone home again, but… they weren’t getting married without her father there.  And even once they found him, they probably needed to put off a ceremony until he made up his mind on this paternal limbo with the biodad and either drew him the rest of the way in or let estrangement take its course. 

            She caught herself and shook her head, laughing a little.  Cart before horse, much?  Technically the man had yet to finish proposing, and here she was plotting out the guestlist. 

            But she had already said yes.  And he was, as always, the furthest thing from subtle.  Recruiting Sally had likely been for the best, but Lucrezia didn’t have the heart to tell him that her ‘boss’ might be even worse at keeping a secret than he was. 

            In any case, she wasn’t worried about her family – from her father’s social media page, they were healthy and happy, just no longer in Italy.  And given what had happened over the last six months, she couldn’t entirely blame him for the move.  She wasn’t even worried about finding him – it would be as easy as reestablishing contact with Jake.  Jake would know… and hell, her father might even be with Jake – not that she was inclined to investigate, with how much general surveillance there was from all parties in Munich these days. 

            No, the crux of it all was on Sally, and more specifically, the gundams.  With Rubato, they had a route in to Relena’s compound to start a conversation now – though it was still iffy enough that she would prefer to not throw Jovi under the bus on that one.  While the property was technically private – possibly even Jake’s, though he’d never shown a taste for real estate before – it was also a registered Regime stronghold, and staffed with Regime soldiers.  Despite Relena’s resignation, the vast majority of officials working for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs lived on that campus – the interim Minister assigned to the post hadn’t had the sway to move house back to Brussels when everything was already so well established.  Enough civilians and soldiers moved on and off that property by the hour that it was just… an incredibly bad idea. 

            The time for a calculated risk in that direction was coming, but they weren’t there yet.  Howard and Odin’s latest projection for suit completion was the end of May, possibly the first week of June.  Of course, that was barring any more complications, so… 

            It’ll keep.  She was going to see her father instead of sending baked goods this year, and July was coming up.  She was just about done with this bullshit, necessary as it all seemed.  It had been too long. 

            “I’d rather not,” Odin decided after a long pause. 

            …That’s really all he’s going to give me?  Maybe the situation was even more tense than she’d imagined.  “But you trust him to see Hilde,” she prompted. 

            “Hilde isn’t on the casualty lists,” he pointed out.  “And is publicly known to be Insurgence, who he peripherally knows I associate with.”  He shook his head.  “Hilde will be a curiosity to him, and maybe another way to test the waters, especially since I know he won’t endanger the sanctity of the house.  You are the proverbial keys to the kingdom.  It’s too much.” 

            There was something poignantly sweet about the way he said that.  It made her heart want to break and glow all at once. 

            It also didn’t make a whole ton of sense, though.  “You can’t keep this limbo up forever,” she pointed out quietly. 

            His eyes were dark in a sad way when he met hers.  “I know.  But I’m not ready to let go of him yet.” 

            …Oh.  Had he already settled on estrangement, then?  Not that he couldn’t, it was his right, but… he seemed upset about it?  “Oh.” 

            “I’m enjoying the time,” he continued and, beginning to look frustrated, sat down on the foot of the bed to stare down at his hands.  “But no, it won’t last.  I just… want to have it for a little while longer.  Before something breaks.  It’s coming, and…  It’s been nice.”  He swallowed hard and shrugged his shoulders, sitting up straighter.  “I might be able to build it back into something again later, but… there’s a schism of loyalty.  And history.  And I don’t know what the fallout will look like, so…  It’ll be different.  And I like this, right now.” 

            …He looked a little heartbroken.  Standing from her place on the lounge, Lucrezia strode over to sit beside him on the mattress and wrap an arm around his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder.  “Alright.”  He’d been vague as hell on all fronts about this before, so she didn’t bother pressing now – it was clearly tearing him up inside.  It did need to be addressed at some point, but it didn’t have to be today. 

            He was usually so solid.  Seeing him off-kilter like this left her feeling cold.  It usually only happened in flickers, but this… 

            “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”  Reaching out, she rested her free hand between his – and he immediately began to fidget with her fingers, the way he always did when presented with the opportunity.  He’d just shrugged when asked before, seemingly unable to explain it, but he had a fixation on her hands.  Something how he found them graceful. 

            “I don’t want it to carry over,” he admitted quietly.  “The stress of it.  I can’t fix it.  You don’t need to hold it too.” 

            She let out a little laugh.  “You asked me to share your everything,” she reminded him.  “Forever and always.  That includes the ugly bits too.” 

            He smiled at that, raising her knuckles to his mouth in a soft kiss.  “I know.  And I will.” 

            She raised one brow.  “Just not right now, mm?” 

            “If that’s acceptable,” he agreed, turning his head to meet her eyes again.  “There’s so much going on right now.  Can I just keep this, for now?” 

            The thing was, if she pushed?  He’d cave.  She knew that.  But he’d asked for time. 

            Odin so rarely asked for anything at all. 

            “Alright.”  After all, what else did they have on the backburner already anyway?  One thing at a time.  She leaned in for a kiss and he met her in a rush, one hand coming up to cup her face as the other slid around her waist. 

            A moment later, he was tugging her into his lap, and she laughed into his mouth as she pulled away instead, though not hard enough to break his grip.  “Hey now,” she protested.  “You just asked me to leave before your company arrived.  Don’t start that.” 

            He laughed too, standing and pulling her with him.  “I don’t know,” he murmured, nibbling at her lip.  “Might convince Hilde to leave before she settles in.” 

            Lucrezia laughed again, but stopped fighting the lazy shuffle toward their bedroom door.  She wasn’t going to see him for a minute anyway, possibly not until their big date – as far as goodbyes went, at least this was turning memorable.  “Don’t be mean.” 

            They ended up making it all the way to the stairs before disentangling for safety reasons; and also just as well that he was joking, since it sounded like Audi was doing something with music blasting upstairs.  Though…  She frowned.  “You’re not taking her with you, are you?”  She hadn’t thought so, but if the girl wasn’t ready to head out now, that meant she wasn’t planning to come with her either. 

            “Cat’s swinging by this afternoon,” he explained.  “They’re going to focus on more money work.” 

            She smirked at the irritable way that came out.  “You seem to be benefitting from said ‘money work,’” she pointed out.  Not that she wouldn’t have been happy with an apartment somewhere, and she’d never asked for a permanent home at all, but they’d really pulled out all the stops on this place.  She knew the amount of money being thrown around for the gundams and Taurus suits would have made the price on this place look like a pittance, but… it was a little crazy.  She loved it, but Quatre had weird priorities when it came to money.  Most people weren’t quite so eager to share. 

            Or, well…  She supposed she’d never asked, but with the way Odin had a tendency to steal anything not nailed down and squirrel money away from any source he found, maybe he’d burned it all on this place?  It felt out of character, but so did every other option she could think of.  The way he invited everyone in, she’d figured it was a more private extension of the listing of Rubato properties, and yet… 

            Hm.  He’d said something once about raiding old Alliance and OZ slush funds.  Given the cost of suits and their upkeep, those could get unaccountably deep.  Hell, maybe he’d found the deed tucked away somewhere. 

            She didn’t particularly care.  So long as it was theirs, that was all it had to be. 

            “I am,” he returned agreeably.  “And I’m glad.  Odin taught me how to launder before I could read and J expanded on that, but expanding it through active business practices and keeping it all functional is something else entirely.  So long as they have it handled, I’ve decided I don’t care about the details.  I’ve got enough to do already.” 

            That was probably fair – and given how neurotic she’d seen him get over his engineering designs at the dark site, it was probably a sign of maturity.  “If it works, it works,” she decided, heading over to the coat closet to pull out her jacket.  This April was warmer than last year’s, but she’d also been wearing a scarf appropriately in July – she’d count it as a win if she packed her gloves away at some point this summer.  “I’d better go if you want to avoid an incident, though.” 

            She laughed again as, as soon as she’d shrugged fully into her coat, he pulled her into another kiss.  “I could stay another night,” she reminded him after a long moment, trying to catch her breath.  She had nothing pressing to work on at the moment – just sims work.  The rest of the Italy wrap-up could be handled by Relena and the media, and they were in a holding pattern for now. 

            He hummed as if thinking about it… and pressed her hat onto her head. 

            She laughed again, not sure exactly when he’d been able to grab it.  “Yes, yes, fine…”  And giggled again at the next kiss.  “Odin!” 

            His rumble was definitely amused, but he only deepened the kiss, holding her tight… then let out a long sigh after, nudging the brim of her hat up to drop his forehead against hers.  “I love you.” 

            It gave her a thrill every time he said it.  “I love you too,” she returned, clasping a hand to the back of his neck and just breathing him in.  Then she grinned, pressed a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, and darted back before he could start them all over again.  “I’ll see you next week!” 

-

***

-

            In the end Lucrezia only missed Hilde and Adam arriving by twenty minutes, and Odin found himself wishing she had stayed another hour or two, if only to act as buffer.  He hadn’t exactly put restrictions down with his friends about who could come over, so his annoyance at Adam didn’t hold water, but… 

            If he didn’t have one more scheduled session at the dance studio scheduled for the next day, he would strongly consider just… leaving.  Maybe head up to Sigma now.  Which he could do anyway, but… 

            “If you fuck this up,” he finally announced, the third time she called him Heero, “I will hogtie and lock you in the pantry until Lucrezia retrieves you for endurance training.” 

            Her eyes narrowed as she evidently tried to judge his sincerity.  He met her stare, refusing to be distracted from the moment by the echoes of absurdly bouncy techno-pop Marie still had blasting on the upper level.  She has to be half deaf by now. 

            He ignored the part of him that wondered if Hilde herself would be the final straw with Jack.  He didn’t think so, but…  It was a move closer in the right direction, so maybe…? 

            “You think you can?” 

            There was something vindicating in Adam’s furtive, mildly alarmed glance in her direction.  That didn’t stomp out the annoyance, but he appreciated it anyway. 

            He gave her a slow blink, the way he would when Marie had unintentionally done something shitty and he was giving her a moment to think it over, before asking, “Do you require a demonstration?”  Though after a moment, he shot a glare back at Adam.  If he was in the middle of some kind of altercation when Jack arrived, it could be misinterpreted.  And while it could be sorted and would turn out fine, he had been talking to them for all of ten minutes and he already felt as though he’d been forced to interact with strangers for twelve hours straight. 

            He missed Lucrezia.  And he was mostly sure this whole situation was Adam’s fault. 

            Hilde frowned, then blinked rapidly a handful of times.  “Oh wait.  You’re serious.” 

            He just stared at her. 

            Adam shifted his weight before quietly asking, “Do we need to leave?” 

            He was strongly considering it; if this visit had only been at Adam’s request, he might have just said yes.  But Lucrezia had asked too, and he knew Hilde could run an op.  So if she could just mind herself for the two days Jack planned to be home for, it was fine. 

            Opening his mouth to say as much, he paused as he heard a door open, but… without the sound of the lock first? 

            Adrenaline suddenly flooded his system as Jack came around the corner. 

            That had been his office door. 

            Adam spun, and raised a hand.  “Jack, hey!” 

            He hadn’t bothered to go back upstairs since Lucrezia left.  He’d spent most of the time since tinkering on the piano, with a clear view of the front door.  No one else had come into the house. 

            Jack had been here for… how long? 

            The older man only blinked once before his features settled into an easy smile and he moved in their direction.  “Hey to you too,” he returned, before focusing on Odin and frowning slightly.  “What?” 

            The office is soundproof, he reminded himself.  The master bedroom was too, for all that it had ambient speakers set up to relay sound from the hall if it was wanted, to make the effect one-way.  It… 

            “I didn’t hear you come in,” he admitted. 

            He’d expected Jack sometime around noon.  It wasn’t even eleven yet. 

            The man slumped.  “There was a lock failure below sea level in one of the Atlantic drops around midnight and it was something of a disaster – they called me to work through the overrides and lock down the issue, and then I was just awake.  I knew we’d be starting on any duplicate systems for other sites today to see if it was a construction or system failure, and decided I’d rather work from my own rig, so I set out.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Got in around eight and my phone was already blowing up, so I just got to work.  I haven’t even been upstairs.”  He scrubbed a hand over his face.  “It’s all sorted now, crisis averted, so I thought…”  He trailed off as he really looked at Hilde for the first time.  “Uh…” 

            She apparently dug deep and remembered she possessed something approaching survival instinct, because as his attention fell on her, she drew herself up with a smile and took a step closer to Adam.  “Hi!  Jack, was it?  Don’t mind me.  The lady of the house said I could crash here for a few days if I didn’t make a nuisance of myself.” 

            Jack just blinked at her, seemingly caught between recognition and disbelief. 

            “If she pisses you off,” Odin announced, meeting the man’s eyes, “throw her out.  She lands on her feet.  Most of the time.”  He ignored her glare and focused on Adam.  “Questions?” 

            “Nope,” his friend decided, grabbing his friend by the hand and leading her toward the stairs.  Hilde flashed them both a wide smile and cheerful wave on her way out, but didn’t otherwise fight it… and they disappeared into the same guestroom. 

            Huh.  He wondered if he planned to show her through the shared bathroom or if that was a thing that was happening now. 

            …He decided he didn’t care. 

            Jack remained quiet for about three seconds after the door shut after them before announcing, “That was Hilde Schbeiker.” 

            Odin sighed.  “Unfortunately.” 

            He appeared to think about that for a long moment before asking, “Is Adam…?” 

            “I have no idea.”  He moved his attention back to the ceiling and the sheer noise… and decided he needed out.  “Want to go out for coffee?”  There were a few decent cafes nearby, and he just… wanted to recalibrate a little. 

            Jack had been home.  He’d been stealing kisses from Lucrezia a few yards away, and he’d… 

            She’d offered to stay.  She hadn’t fought him when he said he wasn’t ready, but…  Shit.  His worlds were all about to collide, and he was pretty sure it was going to hurt.  He hadn’t even done more than exchange some meaningless back and forth with the brother that he somehow knew but was still a stranger, and it was all just… going to end there, wasn’t it? 

            Figures. 

            “Coffee sounds great,” Jack decided, tearing his gaze away from the first landing.  “Especially if it’s that little place on the corner two streets over.  I could use one of their sandwiches.” 

            “Sure.”  He tapped out a quick text to Marie – who he was going to have words with, because she had probably turned off the proximity notifications on Jack’s phone on their last visit and forgotten to reset them… and then he had forgotten to check that they were in place, so actually, he was just done. 

            Coffee. 

            He opened the coat closet and was slightly calmed by the fact that Jack’s coat wasn’t there – he hadn’t been so distracted as to miss that too.  “You probably want a jacket,” he noted aloud. 

            Jack blinked into the closet, then groaned.  “I left it in the Ruzzi.” 

            Odin relaxed a little.  It was fine.  They weren’t done yet.  “We can head out that way,” he decided, willing himself to let it go.  Though… 

            He sighed, and spun to face his… friend?  Biodad felt too distant at this stage, but all variations of ‘father’ were patently wrong, so he was really just… ‘Jack.’  Maybe with a possessive qualifier that didn’t come across correctly in English. 

            Whatever. 

            Pointing upstairs, he decided to just get it over with.  “Is this going to be a problem?” 

            Jack looked… confused.  “No?” 

            Might as well be thorough.  “Wanted posters?” he prompted.  “Scandal?  Acclaim?  Theoretically well-meaning associates of my brother who ‘want a quick word?’” 

            Quatre was going to throw a colossal fit when he found out he’d met Jake, but the opportunity had been too good to pass up.  And contrary to what his friend thought, Quatre did not dictate his life. 

            It had been perfectly fine, and he was going to do it again.  There was something… 

            He had known him.  From the moment he’d seen him, there was something… right about his brother.  Something deep in his chest that felt possessive and empty and longing and right all at the same time.  And yet also like he couldn’t quite reach out and touch it, despite making physical contact. 

            He hadn’t wanted him to leave.  But he hadn’t had any fucking idea of what to do to fix the mess in his chest either so he’d just waved goodbye, and… 

            He hadn’t hurt this much since New Edwards.  The sheer depth of loss was fucking catastrophic, and yet it somehow both was and wasn’t a part of him.  He didn’t even know how to get close enough to the problem to begin addressing it, and Lucrezia had asked… 

            It had felt so good to just bury himself in Lucrezia and forget the rest for a couple days.  Lucrezia was fast turning into the only safe harbor, where nothing else intruded and he didn’t need to stay on guard, to be ready to face… 

            But that wasn’t true either, was it?  Not entirely.  Nearly everything led back to the retraining now, and he didn’t…  He didn’t want all this mess to invade what he had with her too. 

            It was going to happen anyway.  It already was, if only by degrees.  And it would be okay anyhow, he knew that, but… 

            He didn’t want it to taint everything yet.  It was a complete fool’s errand, but emotions often were, and he just… wanted that scrap of peace for as long as it lasted.  He’d been relieved when she let it go. 

            Just a little bit longer, and I’ll deal with it.  At this point, procrastination was the only choice he really had about how this went. 

            Jack fixed him with an incredulously unimpressed look.  “Since when have I cared about any of that?” he pointed out.  “She’s in your house, and is apparently a friend.  That’s all I need.” 

            Odin made a face.  “Adam’s friend,” he corrected. 

            The corner of Jack’s mouth twitched.  “Maybe Adam’s more than friend.” 

            He felt his own mouth curl in response.  “She’s Kasey’s ex,” he admitted. 

            Jack actually flinched.  “That sounds complicated.” 

            Eh…  He shrugged.  “It’s Kasey,” he hedged.  Duo made up his own rules by the day, then chose to follow or ignore them at will. 

            That actually startled a laugh out of the older man, which felt good…  And really, that was all that needed to be, right now.  Coffee, and company he actually appreciated.  Even though this all wouldn’t hurt nearly so much if he didn’t like Jack, he couldn’t deny the want of it. 

            It made up for the rest. 

            He threw on his coat and headed for the door.  “I don’t usually mind her,” he admitted, turning it over in his mind.  Really… it had been everything compounding?  Usually her bullshit was at least some degree of funny, and it took a while before he started looking for an out.  So why, then?  He’d been more on edge lately, but…  “She’s just exhausting,” he decided. 

            Jack made a thoughtful noise as he followed him out.  “I guess I could see that.  You’re something of an introvert.” 

            That struck him as something of an understatement.  He grinned.  “The rules on that are flexible, though,” he pointed out.  “They don’t make sense.” 

            Jack let out a soft sort of giggle, eyes gleaming.  “Oh, here we go.  Let’s hear it.” 

            Odin laughed too, and started trying to lay out the conundrum on their way down to the garage.  Jack always seemed to appreciate his attempts to sort out ‘normal’ logic, and that made the exercise more entertaining than usual. 

-

***

-

April 17^th 199 – Friday – Potsdam, Germany

            Elena sipped her coffee once before setting it down on the small table, and shifted the strap of her bag off her back before sitting down.  It was the work of a moment to pull out the dated laptop she’d been assigned along with a spiral notebook and pencil, setting them up as though getting ready to take notes. 

            She rarely did – and then, not about anything critical.  While the computer had its uses, the paper was just a prop to convince strangers to leave her alone.  The thick, plano glasses she wore deterred most who thought her passingly pretty, but it was good to be thorough. 

            It had been a busy news week.  The Regime had shot themselves in the foot with their game in Italy, and now the press was circling like vultures.  All sorts of nonsense was coming through the woodwork, focused on corruption and embezzlement schemes, half of it pure slander with only circumstantial evidence, but with Princess Peacecraft’s announcement that the Accords were officially beginning a dialogue with the Strike Force revolutionaries…  Well, sorting the trash from the rest wasn’t difficult.  As helpful as the general chaos might be, Peacecraft allowing his sister her own personal army… 

            He was a weak man, admittedly.  But that was a dangerous precedent.  He usually wasn’t stupid as well.  At least, not this overtly. 

            She wondered if she would get new orders, soon.  She had been in place for nearly nine months now, and felt comfortable with her cover… but it was dull.  The intel she passed along wasn’t anything special, just an overview of current news circulation and how these ‘citizens’ responded to it – an exercise to keep her attention sharp, more than a job.  And it was hardly her specialty. 

            The waiting was always the worst part. 

            Still, she flipped through the standard news sites, looking for anything of note.  Nothing more specific on how those negotiations were going to be covered, but that wasn't surprising.  The last publicly aired information posted on the Strike Force implied the brigadier’s revolutionaries were riding the border of Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, but was still vague enough to be evading the worst of pursuit. 

            Lazy.  But what else could be expected, really. 

            Gritty evidence as to why anarchists were morons had been found in the Italian cordon… People were still overly fixated on the one image posted of Schbeiker carrying a small boy on one hip out of some wrecked building or other.  She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  She probably could have gotten more work done if she hadn’t been taking the time to pose for a camera, but no one wanted to point that out.  Just released footage of the latest space battle – she bookmarked it to watch later.  No summaries were up yet, but so far as she’d gathered, Soleil had gone back to hit and run tactics.  Smart.  A great deal of continued panic from everyone over the use of the anti-missile web in their atmosphere, despite the Regime-issued statements that the system could not be co-opted again, and that they were in in the midst of upgrades to it as well…  Hm.  She wondered if any of that was true.  Not my department.  Oh, and someone trying to make some sort of emergency over Heiress Catalonia, about… 

            …Fashion.  Elena rolled her eyes again.  Because the style of clothes a noblewoman wore warranted a news briefing. 

            People were ridiculous. 

            She clicked over to the forums for a while, seeing where opinion tended to fall, and spent maybe twenty minutes on it before opening up the assigned reading for one of the classes she was taking.  It wasn’t much, but her cover did require some modicum of effort.  Twenty minutes later, her drink long gone, she packed up and headed back to her small apartment. 

            She had to lift the door by the handle and shove as she twisted the key in lock to open it, but the privacy was nice.  It was little more than a place to sleep with access to communal washrooms down the hall, but she’d slept in worse – the university cafeteria she had a card for wasn’t too bad either, and kept long hours.  Everyone in the building liked to complain, but they were also all morons.  She mostly tried to avoid them, beyond courtesies – the first few weeks she’d been sure to attend the general orientations and mixers, but after stuttering her way through a few particularly boring subjects, no one had bothered her about keeping to herself.  Well, there had been one girl who had gotten it into her head that they could study together, but she’d only had to put up with it for a handful of weeks, when her ‘friend’ realized Elena consistently scored just high enough to pass.  She’d managed to fake a few tears over it and otherwise pretended to care about the material, but thankfully it hadn’t taken long for the chit to move on. 

            She made a point of turning on the radio to one of the more popular, if grating, stations, then pulled her phone out from the small slit she’d made along the seam of the mattress.  Once it was booted up, she took her time punching in her passcode correctly and navigating to the correct program and site, noting that it was about time to charge the device again… 

            And smiled when she saw a new message. 

            Nine months, and this was only the third.  Most likely a status update.  The others had been, and yet… 

            Oh. 

            Oh. 

            Her smile widened at the length of the message, and the details… and she felt a little of the last year’s drudgery fade away. 

            She had a target. 

-

***

-

April 18^th 199 – Saturday – Dublin, Ireland

            “Did you have a good time?” 

            “You know, I really did,” Nick agreed with a smile that felt more genuine than it had in years.  “I’m glad you talked me into it.” 

            Kenneth smiled back.  “It can be good to see how others have acclimated, especially since you all came out of the same situation,” he reminded him.  “I’m glad it helped.  I'd hoped, given how excited you became after re-establishing contact with Jovaughn, but-” 

            “But I still fly off the handle over nothing sometimes?” Nick interrupted with a smirk. 

            Kenneth raised his brows.  “Not how I would have phrased it, but sure, okay.”  He tipped his head, smile becoming easier.  “You’re calmer than usual.  That’s good.” 

            “I had…”  He let out a nervous laugh.  Really it was over the lie, despite Audi completely agreeing to it, but… here it went.  “I actually got stuck babysitting at one point.  Not like a baby baby, but you know… thirteen.  Young enough to have missed most of the build-up to the war until she picked up a modern history class for her Rubato program.  A GED kid someone pulled off the streets last year, you know?” 

            His therapist’s eyebrows rose higher.  “She?” 

            He grimaced and made a helpless sort of shrug.  “She’s a kid – I think that made it easier?  I don’t know.  I was a wreck at first, but… she’s got this force of personality that put the rest of it to the side, if that makes sense?” 

            “No, that’s good,” Kenneth reassured, sitting up straighter and setting one ankle over the opposite knee.  “Excellent, even.  Were you still counting down until you could leave?” 

            “I… only at first?  But by the time I remembered I wasn’t, I’d lost track of time.” 

            “That’s excellent, Nick.  Truly.  That’s significant progress.”  He grinned broadly.  “Are you going to give me flak if I say I’m proud?” 

            “I think I’m proud,” he countered, reaching up to rub the back of his head.  That much was true, if a bit simplified.  “I don’t know how much it’ll translate to anyone else, but… I figured I should tell you.”  Hilde had been a fucking peach to interact with, with all his shit about women right back on the surface and screeching in his face. 

            It was stupid.  The thirteen-year-old had more than one cup size on the Insurgence lady, but she’d been less of an issue.  His brain was fucking stupid. 

            “Anyway,” he continued.  “I ended up helping with her homework, mostly to try and keep from freaking out at first, but she… she didn’t get it.  The way nobody really knew half the things that are posted everywhere about the Eve war now as fact.  Like, she thought it was stupid that people had been scared of the gundams, of all things, and that the colonies were a bunch of idiot yes men, not people who were doing the best they knew how with what little information they had access to.  It was frustrating, and I was about ready to bonk her over the head with her binder because she wasn’t listening – but then the whole Italy blowup started.” 

            “It was quite an event,” Ken mused.  “I wanted to ask you about it – more than a few young men in your same situation are likening the conditions there to the Sahara.” 

            They were worse.  At least in a lot of areas.  Bitchy as she’d been, Schbeiker had kept a habitable living for her people, but elsewhere… it had ranged from bad to worse.  “From what’s been released so far, I think we might have had it better,” he admitted quietly.  “At least once we made it out of the Iron Ghetto.” 

            The older man’s mouth twisted.  “So I’ve heard,” he agreed.  “But I’m still sorry to hear it.  The things you have described are…” 

            “Yeah.”  Heavy relief efforts were flooding the area now, and some of the shit they were finding…  He’d only had a couple days to wander and take his pictures.  He’d seen some shit, enough to know that he was only scraping the surface, but the statistics that were pouring in now?  “But anyway… this kid.  I saw the first wave of it all come out with her, and…. It hit, you know?  Like a sucker punch.  I don’t think she’d ever thought of Italy as more than a place on a map, or maybe where pizza came from.” 

            “That must have been hard.” 

            “I had to leave,” he admitted with a guilty smile, thinking of Audi crying over her brother – over Heero fucking Yuy – and focusing on that uneasiness as he said it, the way Cat had suggested.  “But… it was important.” 

            “I’m sure she forgave you,” Kenneth noted, a small frown between his eyes.  “It can be a lot for anyone to take in, let alone-” 

            “No, I mean… the pictures.”  He licked his lips.  “They were important.”  He shook his head.  “She was fine, she… I don’t know, she acted like it hadn’t happened when I saw her again, but…”  He swallowed.  “Jalee wanted to go hit a bunch of secondhand shops and… I got a camera.” 

            Kenneth exclaimed appropriately over that, and the session went on a while longer, more of a catch-up than one of their typical meetings.  He didn’t lie much more, mostly just mooshed the two weeks he’d been gone to omit the run to Italy, but… it was strange.  Strange in a good way, and it wasn’t like he was magically just great or anything, but… 

            He’d made a difference.  And he didn’t have to become something new to do it.  He couldn’t… quite explain how much that meant.  And Cat had pointed out that he might be able to do it again, maybe, and… 

            He wanted that.  Hell, he’d probably be willing to even drop in for cute stuff, because even if you were both in hiding, people still wanted wedding photos, right?  There had been some jokes tossed around during the layover in the Carpathians about Yuy and Lucrezia Noin that Cat had confirmed.  He hadn’t actually met either of them in more than passing, hadn’t introduced himself, but…  It didn’t have to all be clandestine shit, right? 

            He… had friends.  And his friends had friends.  It was weird – even before the desert, before the war, he hadn’t really ever had this kind of extensive group to belong to.  He’d gotten along with most of his classmates and hung out with a few, but… none of it had been on the same level as Skye or Jovi or Cat, now that that had gotten a little less stilted. 

            He barely knew Cat, really, but the way the guy leaned into the friendship when offered…  It meant something.  All of it did, but…  In a lot of ways, the rules of it still felt new.  They weren’t, it just felt natural, and he’d read enough to know that that kind of thing was fairly common in groups of soldiers who had seen battles together, which they definitely counted as, but… 

            He hadn’t realized just how much he felt like an outcast until he hadn’t been one at all, the last two weeks. 

            Life fucking sucked.  He needed to get back on his old track and finish his degree already. 

            “Well, I almost hesitate to ask, since you haven’t brought it up,” Kenneth announced as they wound down, glancing at the clock.  “But it seems relevant.  How are you feeling about the story this morning?” 

            Nick blinked at him.  What?  His face must have given him away, because before he could ask, Ken gave him a chagrined sort of smile and rubbed one eye.  “Ah, I just assumed… usually you pay better attention than me.” 

            A sinking sensation settled into his gut.  What now?  He hadn’t…  “I forgot to plug in my phone last night,” he admitted.  Or at least, he’d misplaced the charger and decided it was probably fine – then woken up late to a dead screen and had had to scramble to get here on time.  It was still sitting on his bed.  “What is it?”  His pulse picked up.  “Was there another attack, or-” 

            “No, nothing like that,” Ken assured him, holding out one hand.  “Nothing current, just… poignant.  And frankly in somewhat poor taste, but it went viral quickly, so…”  He sighed, then shook his head before meeting Nick’s eyes solidly.  “I would say to feel free to ignore it altogether, but I know you.  So… you know my emergency line if you need to talk.  I’m always here.” 

            Nick stared at him, feeling like he’d been set adrift.  “Of course.” 

            He’d originally planned on finding a late breakfast before going back to his dorm, but that didn’t appeal so much any more – Ken had a gentle touch and all, but he never treated him like some kind of fainting flower.  There weren’t too many people out and about, but he avoided them all anyway, darting up the stairs and closing his door before anyone could think to make conversation. 

            What kind of story could go viral and be upsetting enough that he’d talk about it like that, but not be something I should worry about?  A lot of opinion pieces were floating around these days, especially after so many figures had taken to just posting shit on the internet, so…  Something gritty from the war, maybe?  Both the Alliance and OZ had done some fucked up shit to people, particularly out in L2, where no one seemed to keep decent records.  A lot of what survivors of the plagues had been talking about in the last few years came to mind.  That might cover the poor taste line, but he said it like he expected it to hit me personally somehow.  Which meant it touched on something about the horror of Cambyses, whether it was the indoctrination or the vicious beatings doled out as regular punishments in most camps… he’d talked about some of the worst of those he’d had, before Ca- before Robby came. 

            Keep it straight.  Better to think of Robby, Cat, and Quatre Winner as separate people, even just in his own head.  It would keep him from saying something stupid. 

            His phone was dead dead, so after staring at the loading bar below the logo for a while, he tossed it back on his bed and went for his slate instead.  The battery on it was down to ten percent, but so long as he didn’t try running a bunch of video he could eke it out for another half hour or so. 

            His app for the forums popped up while his browser was still loading and the battery immediately dipped down to eight, so he groaned and dropped it back on his bed before digging the charger back out of his suitcase.  He hadn’t bothered to unpack anything with how late he’d gotten in.  Grimacing at the length of the cord, he decided to hell with it and yanked out his keyboard attachment too, setting up a proper workspace.  He needed to do some stuff on the intranet today anyway to try and go back to his old class set next quarter.  The screen had gone dark by the time he sat down in his desk chair and plugged it into the dock, and he had to tap out his pin again…  But holy shit his regular servers were going nuts. 

            Viral.  Right. 

            He debated for a moment, but…  A little warning might be nice.  He opened a thread instead of tapping the tile of the web browser behind it and started to skim.  He didn’t want to get too much of an outside opinion first and he already knew it was probably going to be triggering as fuck, but ‘viral’ could mean a lot of things.  He wouldn’t mind knowing, like… the general consensus. 

            General consensus seemed to be ‘fucked up shit’ and ‘oh God’ and ‘why hasn’t someone censored this shit yet’.  Along with ‘you can’t trust ANYONE in power’ that led into a tailspin about Relena somehow, and some really nasty commentary about people going space sick. 

            Great.  The lack of breakfast was evidently going to be a good thing. 

            He hesitated for a moment… but really, at this rate?  Someone else was going to tell him if he didn’t look himself.  Even if he’d wanted to come at it slowly, ease himself into it, he wasn’t going to get a chance.  And whatever Kenneth had said about it being ‘historical,’ that didn’t mean it wasn’t important.  He’d literally just gone on a roll about that today, before this got brought up.  There was a reason you taught kids about atrocities before they were even out of school – history had a way of repeating itself if given the opportunity.  So he took a deep breath, and reopened the browser. 

            For the record, against whoever had been bitching?  Someone had tried to censor the article – written by one ‘Sera Abadie’ – and it took a bit of effort to make sure he was getting the original, which… apparently included a lot of attached files.  Weird.  Just to be safe, he downloaded the whole thing – because the government had been known to take things down when convenient, even shutting down entire servers on occasion – then looked at the size of the thing again and activated an anti-virus sweep.  It wasn’t video big, but there was no way it was all text – or if it was, there was no fucking way he was going to read all of it.  Curious while he waited for that to finish, he hopped back on the forums and tried a few key words to see if anyone knew what was up with all the extras… and blinked. 

            Apparently the writer had thought it was important to include her reference materials as part of the publication.  And she’d posted it all over online because she hadn’t wanted to risk a publisher ‘shutting down the truth’ to hide the dirty business of… the Bartons? 

            Nick frowned.  Like… the space Bartons?  Nobody really talked about them anymore, at least not since the old head had died.  Word was that the conglomerate that supported most of L3’s financial infrastructure and wasn’t technically a noble family – but really was – had been in a holding pattern since 197 and would remain so until the heiress came of age.  Maria, or something like that.  Supposedly she was, like, eleven and theoretically in boarding school somewhere.  There’d been a story or two about it after Treize started his little show-and-tell trend and people wondered if the Bartons were in on the latest revolution, but nothing too descriptive – probably to protect the kid, if he had to guess. 

            The Bartons had been responsible for the gundams, after all, not to mention that attempt to pull out of the colonial union with Peacecraft back when he’d still been in the Sahara.  There was some real shit in their history, and the Regime tended to go after anything associated with a single gundam like a rabid wolf, let alone all five. 

            Actually, looking back at it, they’d gotten off pretty lightly right after the end of the war, especially when compared to the liberties taken against the Winners. 

            The scan came back clean, and he sighed, settling himself into his chair better, trying to brace himself… and opened it. 

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The Making of a Hero

The secret horror of what bad men are willing to do for power

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            Oh yeah.  This was going to be fucking grand. 

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Chapter Text

Impact

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April 18^th 199 – Saturday – Szczecin, Poland

            “And?  I told you, I’m busy.  I don’t care.” 

            Mark clenched his jaw, willing himself to have a little patience.  “This is everywhere, and it’s only getting louder,” he reiterated.  “The internet is collectively losing its shit – everyone has an opinion, and if we want our interpretation to stick over anyone else’s, we need to get a move on an hour ago.” 

            Odin made an irritated noise.  “Okay?  Then why wait?” 

            Because you wouldn’t answer your phone for the last four hours!  By the time he’d noticed the posts, it had been far too late to suppress it – if that had even been the way they wanted to go.  But Quatre was a fucking wreck that he and Jovi were seriously debating feeding a tranq to.  It had been bad enough at first when any of them had seen the summary, but then while he and Quatre had been trying to read enough to get a damn handle on the situation, Audi had found it. 

            The lot of them were mostly used to the upsides of empathy.  On the flip side, however?  Audi had melted down hard enough that Cory lost it in response, and the two of them had dragged Quatre under.  He’d been damned close to catatonic before they separated them, and while his color was improving, he was alarmingly monosyllabic. 

            Mark had forced himself to speedread the entire damn thing while waiting for word back from Odin because he was the one in charge of all their public relations, but even just skimming…  He really hoped Audi hadn’t gone into the reference material.  Despite the clinical tone, it was graphic.  Most was text, but he’d opened the images as soon as he realized who the article was about, worried that there might be something he could be identified by.  Thankfully no, just medical films, but… 

            He had seen an x-ray maybe twice in his life before today, and even he could tell that all of the ‘before’ images must have been excruciating.  Reading the file after seeing them and finding out that each injury was purposefully inflicted as some kind of ‘training’?  It was chilling. 

            And when they’d liked the results, realizing that Remalene overdose could be a form of enhancement, they’d done it again.  And again. 

            The most dangerous aspect of Remalene was that its reactivity increased by both volume and time.  It boosted the healing process significantly enough that broken bones and deep wounds healed in a quarter of the time, but dosage wasn’t… simple.  The greater the damage in the body, the higher the minimum threshold: if you tried putting an effective dose for a single broken bone into someone with three fractures, and it wouldn’t work poorly – it wouldn’t work at all.  It had a loading dose you had to rise past to reach the responsive threshold.  However, if the dose was too high, the remainder would remain in the body afterwards – and it could remain for years.  On its own, technically, that wasn’t a problem – in theory, a standing low dose of the drug in your system would give unnaturally fast healing for minor injuries and possibly even aid in exercise recovery.  The side effects – usually exhaustion and immune system drops – were the first deterrent that kept athletes and soldiers from using it that way, but Remalene’s reactivity was what killed people. 

            The higher the volume in the body, the more likely it was to interact with other drugs.  The more time it was allowed to incubate in your mitochondria, the more potent those interactions became.  There was some complicated math to determining the danger zone, but effectively?  If either number went too high, you achieved toxicity – where taking any drug, even aspirin, could lead to a cascading chemical reaction that ate you up from the inside out. 

            Notably, ‘Remalene toxicity’ was usually something you found on autopsy reports, not medical files. 

            Dekim Barton’s lackeys had avoided this problem by eschewing all medications except Remalene. 

            Anyone who might have initially tried to cry hoax had backed off at the sheer density of the files, all meticulously detailed and cumulative… including the sliding scale of just how deep his toxicity ran at any particular time.  All while referring to him as ‘the candidate’ and clinically detailing his ‘responses.’  And that was without even beginning to unpack what they’d called ‘mental conditioning.’ 

            Odin had been fourteen. 

            He was reasonably sure that there would have been a public outcry if this had come out about anyone, but the fact that Heero Yuy had literally saved the planet and its standing population three years ago had made a lot of folks decide to take the news personally.  It was a big fucking deal. 

            To everyone except Odin, apparently.  Who was just annoyed that his phone was blowing up – or so he claimed. 

            Mark wasn’t buying it. 

            He took a deep, calming breath, and tried to focus on simple, logical arguments.  Odin usually either laughed at or stared blankly over his normal tactics, so…  It’s his trauma, he reminded himself.  His rules.  Fine.  “I didn’t want to commit to anything without getting clearance from you first.”  They’d all talked about how the direction the political climate was heading in meant they were probably coming clean in the long run, whether it was months or years away, and this…  This was absolutely wretched. 

            He wanted to slap that reporter bitch silly for releasing all this – this was Odin’s life.  He was going to have to deal with people knowing this shit and having opinions about it for the rest of his life.  He should get a say in how it was handled.  Fuck, but Quatre was still a mess over how his history as Robby was handled, and that had gone far better than anyone had expected.  At least this time, they had the resources to exert some level of control. 

            “…Why?” 

            Mark suppressed the urge to scream. 

            Before he could talk himself back down to something approaching a reasonable response, however, the jackass elaborated.  “It happened.  I’ve never known how to explain it – how should I know now?  I can’t…”  He made a growling sound.  “I don’t know what you want.” 

            Mark closed his eyes, trying to shift mental gears.  Okay…  Take the emotion out and boil it down to action.  “I need to know where your boundaries are, and how comfortable you are with me milking the public and specific organizations with this as leverage,” he explained, doing his best to keep the emotion out of his voice.  “Because once I start, it’s going to be impossible to backpedal.”  It was already flying out of control, but it could be managed, especially if the right person shut it down.  Given Odin’s history with her, they could probably even talk Relena into announcing a subject was off limits – they might have to give her something, but- 

            Odin let out a short, humorless laugh.  “I already told you: I don’t care.” 

            His hands clenched, and for a second he thought he was going to break the fucking phone.  “Odin,” he began warningly. 

            “Use it.  It already happened.”  He let out a tired sort of sigh.  “It might as well be good for something.” 

            Mark took another deep breath, his insides shifting around uncomfortably.  “Carte blanche?” he verified. 

            The hum that came through the line this time was almost pleased, if in a dark way.  “Make it worth something.”  Then he sighed again.  “I’m turning off my phone.  I have work to do.” 

            “Call your fiancée first,” Mark barked, because he knew the man hadn’t talked to his little sister, and if he was just going to- 

            Odin snarled something, and the line went dead. 

            Mark rolled his eyes.  Oh yeah.  He was fine. 

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***

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Berlin, Germany

            “Just let us know if there are any issues,” the woman at the counter reassured him as she handed the bag over.  “Any further alterations are free for the next thirty days.” 

            “I’ll keep that in mind,” Jack returned, taking hold of the hanger… then hastily draped the bag over his left arm, as he immediately felt the blood flow getting cut off.  “Thanks.” 

            “Always a pleasure!” 

            He’d driven, so he dropped the lot of it into the trunk before hopping in, and was home in less than ten minutes.  Hilde and Adam weren’t immediately in evidence when he walked in, so he just headed for the master suite with his prize. 

            After seeing the scars on his youngest’s leg, he’d finally asked about the leggings he wore nigh religiously – and the answer had made him want to slap a hand to his head.  He’d been wearing the suits Mark had made almost religiously because they were silk-lined and didn’t hurt like the drag of denim across his scars often did.  Otherwise, the compression of another layer worked, and he’d gotten used to it, but… 

            Jack had decided to do the sane thing and call Mark – or Luke, as his phone listed him as.  The gay PR head of Rubato that had handled their last shopping trip had been more aggravated than he was – because yeah, fixable problem – and pointed out that the last place he’d taken them to was part of a chain that did have a Berlin store.  Their specialty was suits, but they did branch out, and since they already had Junior’s measurements?  It wasn’t hard to put in a new custom order.  The price was stupid but he’d expected it, and, well… these days, he could afford it.  In any case, comfort went a long way. 

            He undid the wrapping and laid out all five pairs of jeans at the foot of the bed – whose bright idea was it to put denim on hangers anyway?  Supposedly they were the same style as a few he’d taken from his kid’s dresser as examples, so… 

            He stood back and nodded to himself.  Two of the three were thicker too,  more for cold weather, and…  Well, it was hardly the elevator install he half wanted to look into, but it was something. 

            He was pretty sure his son would shoot down the idea of an elevator just on principle, even before the idea of having strangers in his house to build it got brought up.  For that, he was going to have to get Audi and maybe the fiancée on board – and it would probably take a few more incidents like that first day home from Sigma before they got any traction on it. 

            On the bright side, Odin had bounced back quickly enough and limped his way up to his room the day after they’d gotten home.  So maybe he was overreacting on that front. 

            Wait, it’s only Saturday.  Sighing, he picked everything back up and moved to lay it on the couch closer to the windows instead.  He had no idea if the cleaning people were coming this week or not given Hilde’s presence, but if they were, they wouldn’t be sure what to do with the new clothes when they changed the beds.  Odin had guessed he’d be gone seven to ten days this time, twelve at the worst…  Eh.  He was supposed to head out this afternoon anyway, so he was going to class the cleaning people as not his problem.  Though he had planned to at least swing through on Tuesday before Relena’s Accords talk in the city here – he was going to be fresh back from the Atlantic sites and could probably use a good shower by then.  Maybe even a bath.  That was a casual luxury he was still getting used to. 

            But if he was going to be through on Tuesday, that did make the cleaning service at least partially his responsibility.  Mm.  Heading back out into the hall, he opened his messaging app.  ‘Should I cancel the cleaning for this week?’  He hadn’t gotten a straight answer for when the Insurgence lady was supposed to be leaving, but- 

            He was startled when he got back a response almost immediately. 

            ‘This is an automated message: I’m working on a deadline and have my phone switched off.  If it’s urgent, email me.’ 

            Jack raised his brows.  That’s new.  Usually when he was busy, he just… didn’t answer.  Huh. 

            Then he shrugged and headed back down the stairs to his own room.  Someone probably got annoyed and insisted on this as a compromise. 

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***

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April 19^th 199 – Sunday – Munich, Germany – Sarracenia

            “In short, Lyddia Sharpman was aggressively anti-establishment and had a great deal in common with Libramentum, to the point that I strongly suspect she was a member at one point.”  BJ’s mouth twisted in a wry smile.  “I suspect she decided they were too tame for her taste.  Also, given the way she refers to her copycat in her notes?  She was either familiar with them or at least thought she knew who they were, and references them alternately as ‘Nowak’ and ‘Rossi,’ and this ties more into the idea that the copycat was also a Libramentum splinter cell.” 

            He raised one hand, a finger pointing to the ceiling.  “The biggest thing to note, however, is the money trail Sharpman was onto.  Her first target, in Berlin, grossly disrupted a great deal of the Regime’s financial dealings, and in that, made for an advanced point of entry – a great deal of the work there was ported to nearby sites after the disaster, including the Regime office she worked out of.”  He grimaced.  “After that, her logic suffers – the barracks in Paris seems more retaliatory than anything, though it’s hard to say what about specifically.  On the other hand, the Ieper bomb was the site of some kind of secret meeting involving multiple Regime officials, including the Undersecretary of Materials.”  He shook his head.  “Something significant was happening there, and if we give her notes any credit, she was furious to see it foiled.” 

            Hayden bit his lip.  “Do you think…?” 

            BJ waved one hand.  “Don’t jump to conclusions just yet.  The Charleroi bombing was just as interesting as Ieper, and was considered at least somewhat successful, at least by her.” 

            “The office building?” Relena confirmed, looking confused. 

            BJ nodded.  “According to her, said building had a long, convoluted paper trail leading back to one Kindra Dorchet – and Sharpman was convinced that this woman is the root of quite a few things.  Dorchet’s education is fairly flat and boring, with a degree in journalism and a minor in statistics, but rumor has it that she worked as a corporate spy for internal affairs under the Alliance – and there are some decent earmarks on her file for it, whether or not it’s true.”  He shrugged.  “In any case, the Charleroi bomb was a direct response to the start of the Italian lockdown and the Regime’s frankly rabid propaganda campaign – that office was, according to her, the central brain of the whole affair.” 

            “Losing it didn’t seem to slow things down,” Mai pointed out dubiously. 

            “We live in a digital age and bombs are not an effective way to handle problems with authority,” the spymaster returned dryly.  “Also, Relena had already taken most of the punch out of the strike with her lobbying before the lot of you were caught in the blast radius – any success Sharpman might have had with that move was credited to Relena.” 

            “What about Hannover?”  Miller was frowning, trying to connect the dots.  “The casualties there were almost entirely civilian.” 

            “Yeah, apparently she found the memorial parade for the war to be in poor taste and had issues,” BJ returned with a sneer.  “There were some rambles about that, but nothing about an underlying goal.  The woman was a mad dog that needed to be put down – you can’t buy too much into it.”  He shook his head.  “Other than closure, the only thing of real worth in what Rubato gave us is the money trail she believed she was uncovering – at least some of that is convincing.  Dorchet’s projects on the propaganda machine must cover some of it, but the numbers are too vast.  There’s a chance she was jumping at shadows or the problem is the sort of multi-faceted corruption that doesn’t lead to anything at all, but if there is a common thread?  We might have found some of the baseline doll funding.” 

            Miller stilled.  “Do you think the Revenants might have reached that conclusion from this?” 

            He’d been waiting for that question.  “On its own, no.  But this is only the first piece of intel they’ve willingly shared with us, and they have the resources of both the Insurgence and your brother.”  And no, he was not over being left out of the loop on that little detail, thank-you, accidental or not.  “So I’m not sure of anything they know or even suspect.” 

            “Giving us this much was a test,” the colonel reminded him. 

            “I’m aware,” he returned tightly.  “But this is where I hit the wall, at least until a few decisions are made.”  He pointedly met Relena’s eyes.  “What would we need before we feel comfortable trusting them with the doll intel?  Or is that even on the table?” 

            It was a thorny situation, given the double catch twenty-two they were in with the new faction.  While Relena undoubtedly held the stronger hand, the Revenants were aware of her knowledge of – if not outright alliance with – the Soleil Coalition.  They were undoubtedly aware of how this current game of ‘bringing Mitchell back into the fold’ was a charade, even if they lacked the supporting details as to why it had unfolded this way.  If they wanted, they could throw the princess under the bus in a way she would find it extremely difficult to recover from, given the stunt Khushrenada was currently playing.  Of course, Relena could do the same, in a way the Revenants would hit the Revenants like a wrecking ball, and they knew it.  

            Consequently, here they were, with each faction insisting they’d like to be friends – and all the while holding a blade to the other’s throat. 

            Relena squared her shoulders.  “Ideally, I want an inlet to the Insurgence,” she admitted.  “Sally is someone I would trust to keep her head with the knowledge, whatever angle she chooses to take with it.  However, given the way Jovi danced around any direct admission on his last visit, I don’t think that’s something we’re going to get for a while.” 

            BJ’s mouth twisted.  “Agreed.” 

            “Barring that…”  Relena sighed.  “Well, we don’t have anything concrete for the Sharpman data, just suspicions that it may link back to the doll intel.  We still have no idea where these dolls were even built, or if my brother’s army is truly the leftovers from his post-Fall war, reported as decommissioned and secretly stored.  For now, we can agree that this is a large number of funds going who knows where and agree to all the concerns you listed.”  Her mouth pressed in a hard line.  “That said, if the Revenants strongly infer knowledge of the dolls, I would err on the side of trusting them with our knowledge – or perhaps implying that Soleil knows something, but that the situation is delicate.  I might even go so far as implying we had an empath close to the space-bound army say that something was wrong, and see what they give us back.” 

            Hayden’s eyes narrowed.  “You think they might already know?” 

            “The secret is large enough that there must be multiple leaks, and this is likely one of them,” she returned.  “They have entirely different resources than us, and before last week, the Insurgence was nearly silent for two months – this in spite of their pattern of the last year, where they steadily ramped up in action against Regime troops and Libramentum both.  Something happened to change their priorities, and since they remain secretive as ever, we must consider multiple possibilities.  This is one of them.” 

            BJ grimaced even as he nodded.  The Insurgence had been quiet since early February, and no one really knew why.  A few theories had been thrown around, especially since their last mobile suit battle had been that three-way with Libramentum and the Regime at the same time, but nothing that held much water.  Almost seamlessly, Libramentum had taken up the role Po’s people had for so long, harrying the Regime and stealing MS when possible, almost to the point that, were it not for the three-way, it would have looked almost like a direct hand-off.  But… 

            “If the Insurgence is aware of the doll problem, that means they’ve decided to be quiet about it,” he posited.  “And that they are hunkering down for a larger conflict instead of continuing with their previous tactics.” 

            “If the Insurgence is aware, we can assume the Revenants are as well,” Relena continued, lips pursed.  “Which would mean this sharing of intel is a test on whether or not we know.” 

            “That’s a damn big ask for a first test,” BJ hedged.  “I could see that being part of it, but not as a primary.” 

            “I would say the primary is purely a testing of the waters,” Miller interjected.  “Whether they know about the dolls or not.  It’s the first sign we’ve gotten that they’re interested in more than a business alliance.  It doesn’t have to be more complicated than laying the groundwork.” 

            “True, but not the point of this guessing game,” BJ reminded him.  “If they show signs of doll knowledge, how do we want to approach the subject?”  When he was met with silence, he shrugged and tried something else.  “If they continue to be unwilling to parley between us and Po, what is our next step?  They gave us something as a show of trust – but we don’t have anything substantial to offer back on this particular subject.  What, then, is our offering in turn to give them the same chance?” 

            This was the start of a series of give and take that could lead to both sides gaining a little trust.  The more they gave, the more they could expect back. 

            Unfortunately, the secrets they could offer in return were either dire – the dolls or their dealings with Soleil – or negligible.  They would do better to offer some kind of action, but the Revenants were powerful enough in their own right, and with nebulous enough goals that choosing a worthy target was difficult. 

            “…Maybe something less direct?” Miller offered after a long moment.  “You’ve seen the push they’re already putting on the Yuy story to cast him under the same brush as Stanton’s crew – rising out of a horrible situation with virtue in spite of it.  They’re clearly using it for an agenda, but it’s one I could get behind.  Might help to convince them we’re on the same page.” 

            Relena pursed her lips, managing to look calm and upset at the same time.  “I don’t disagree with the notion, though it feels remarkably cavalier.”  She closed her eyes.  “He is a hero, when by all rights he never should have been.”  Bringing a hand up to cover her face, she admitted, “I know you told us the basics a while ago, but still… it puts a different light on my early interactions with him.  What I always took for confidence and strength of purpose…” 

            BJ grimaced.  “Confidence was never something Yuy lacked,” he pointed out.  “Whether or not it was warranted is debatable, but considering the fact that he somehow pulled it off?  I think he gets a pass on his stupider moments.  Whatever your early exchanges, he was stable by the time OZ threw him into a cell on the lunar base, let alone everything that came after.”  He reconsidered.  “Probably stable by the time he broke Maxwell out of a cell in August, if not before that.”  Though there was only about a week in between one event and the next, so he was splitting hairs, really.  “They had him for about a month before Winner showed up in Wing Zero and Tsubarov shot Une as a stepping stone on his way to control of Libra, back before it was finished.”  He frowned.  “Then he went to Sanc in late October, right?”  Except- 

            “The first time, yes,” Relena agreed.  “But he didn’t stay.  He and Quatre both came back a little over a week later.”  Her mouth twisted.  “I thought they just wanted to lie low for a while – as it turns out, Noin had asked them to serve as a last line of defense when Romefeller found the time to take exception to my ideals.” 

            And somewhere during that week or so, he had trashed Wing gundam and gained Epyon.  That’s probably a story in and of itself.  Not to mention whatever he and Winner had been up to between Tsubarov’s takeover at the start of October and that first stop at Sanc. 

            In any case, they had a resource here they could make use of.  “How many accolades do you think you could get away with giving Yuy before you faced repercussions?” he asked.  “Abadie already painted him as a hero done wrong, and so far, that’s the narrative the media is spinning – it’s gaining enough momentum that even if the Regime tried to tamp it down now, they’d only be making Peacecraft look bad in comparison.  Do you think you could add substantially to that?”  He blinked.  “Maybe even spread it around a bit?  I might be able to arrange a convenient intelligence leak or two.  The press so far has been more than happy to demonize Dekim over this – we could add to the pile there.  The general public has no idea what the original Operation Meteor entailed, before all five scientists and their pilots independently went ‘fuck that’ and made their own mission parameters.  With Dekim as the catalyst, we could kickstart a sympathy campaign for all five pilots fit to make your brother cry.” 

            Miller perked up, even as his princess curled in on herself a little.  “It feels wrong to use such misery for it,” she argued, voice quiet. 

            “You’re not the one who blew the whistle,” he reminded her, crossing his arms.  “Besides, we’re reasonably sure Yuy has some degree of contact with the Insurgence, and the Revenants from there – by following in their footsteps, we might even be following his wishes on the subject.”  He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably.  “I still wish it had never come out, but we can’t put the genie back in the bottle.  The files had been on that open database for over a year when I found them – I suspect a lot of people have read them before now, just no one irresponsible or cavalier enough to paste them everywhere on the internet.”  Add in the fact that she’d legitimately done it under her own name, and he wanted to ask if she was born stupid.  Even without the opinion of the Regime coming down on her, HIPPA would likely see her into a cell, at least so far as he understood the laws there. 

            Even if she skated that and the Regime decided the infamy was too risky to attack her over, he imagined Heero Yuy wasn’t going to be too pleased, even with the favorable way she’d painted him.  That was one man it would be wise to never piss off.  And that was before getting into the issue of the obviously vicious Barton Foundation. 

            Relena let out a sigh, then stared up at the ceiling – and the sky, really, since this was her office – for a long moment.  “I feel like it’s the least we can do, whatever anyone thinks of it,” she decided.  “And I will have more leeway to make an opinion if the original plans are out in the mix – if I try to play the noninvolvement card now, but cave on further news releases, and warn Rubato ahead of time that it’s coming…?” 

            “That might work very well indeed,” he agreed, mentally parsing through the possibilities – and sources.  “The original Operation M plans feed well into the Revenants’ current narrative, and…”  He looked pointedly at Miller. 

            His smirk was wry.  “I don’t know if he kept or dropped the shares, but Junior had significant ownership percentages in two major broadcasting networks.  If Rubato kept them, they might be coming at this sideways.” 

            “Even better.”  Though he made sure to give Miller a narrow-eyes glare.  “You could have told me that before now.” 

            “The very first thing he did on gaining control of his accounts was lock me out and go on a massive buy and sell spree with his shares, in such a way that I could only track that something happened in that corner of the market, but not what.  My intel on that front is far from reliable – you shouldn’t make assumptions based off of it.” 

            “I would rather you just tell me it’s unreliable intel, so maybe I would like to strangle you less when it comes out that you knew something and didn’t share,” he growled back.  “In all seriousness, Jake, I am capable of classing information as hearsay without you acting as my filter.” 

            He had the grace to grimace.  “Right, fine.” 

            BJ didn’t let up the stare.  “Anything else you’d like to share?” 

            “I’ll write out what I remember about the stock options,” he agreed.  “But…” 

            “Yes?” 

            The grimace deepened even as Miller’s shoulders slumped.  “At least one Insurgence agent has, in front of my father, referred to Junior’s fiancée as his boss.” 

            …Deep breaths.  “I swear to God, if you try and tell me that information was not relevant-” 

            “No one has met her yet, and the only information he’s offered me on the subject are her jewelry preferences and the fact that she’s officially on the casualty lists,” Jake temporized.  “Before that last comment, Po had occurred to me, but I’m mostly sure he wasn’t lying.  Not to mention the fact that there’s no way Po is traveling to and from as highly tracked an area as Berlin without ever getting sighted – she looks exactly like her old wanted posters.”  He shrugged.  “The Insurgence is a large operation scaling across two continents.  The aforementioned agent is the thirteen-year-old Cambyses runaway we’ve talked about, and that could go in any number of directions.  She presumably has some sway, but it’s hard to say how much.  Junior’s been intent on keeping us away from her.” 

            Deep breaths.  “The thirteen-year-old that’s been tagged with Xutao Chang on more than one occasion,” he pointed out. 

            “She could be Chang’s boss too, but given Yasa’s age and history, he might be crossing departments,” Miller argued.  “I don’t know, and at this rate, I probably won’t until he dubs me safe enough to introduce her.”  He shrugged.  “It’s tertiary information, not something that alters the politics beyond my already current goal of getting to know my brother better.  Maybe we’ll get a boon with Po there, maybe not.”  He shrugged.  “We’re not actively pursuing it, so I don’t see how it matters.” 

            The man was a lost cause, so BJ focused his glower on Relena.  “Kindly try to get him to overshare rather than make decisions alone.” 

            She bit her lip, but was smiling too.  “I thought you already knew,” she admitted.  “He was on the fence after coming back from Berlin, but got downright manic after Sally’s Italian announcement.” 

            BJ didn’t particularly care that this technically fell into personal and yes, tertiary intel.  “Please try,” he emphasized.  Sighing, he forcibly switched gears.  “The Barton Foundation let out a blurb that they’re holding a press conference tomorrow, presumably in response to the Yuy article – I imagine they’re going to try and save face somehow, likely by throwing both Dekim and Trowa under the bus.  Where exactly that leaves them with Leia having been declared dead in 194 and Mariemaia missing, however, I have no idea.  Is Khushrenada still willing to keep his mouth shut about it?” 

            “We talked about it yesterday,” Relena agreed.  “The script stays the same – he might crow about being the one to finally kill the man if the moment looks good for it, but he’s not going to publicly claim a daughter he’s supposed to believe he’ll never see again.  The persona he’s playing believes his lover died in 194 and that his daughter has been a missing person for nearly two years, which never bodes well.  Since Leia’s resurrection and Marie’s health are going to be the basis for his stepping down from such an aggressive role down the line, his interaction on this front stays minimal.”  She shrugged.  “At least, so long as the Barton Foundation continues to color inside the lines.  If they announce that Leia’s ‘death’ was truthfully a way for her to get out from under Dekim’s thumb and try to paint their future under the light of relatives removed from the corruption of the main house, we’re going to have to improvise.” 

            And that set off another case of things he took issue with.  “She’s still refusing to tell anyone who the kid is with?”  He’d been hoping this clusterfuck with the press might move her on the subject. 

            “I don’t think she’s spoken to anyone since the Yuy article came out,” Mai admitted.  “She wouldn’t even acknowledge me when I swung by, and everyone else says the same.  I’m worried about her.” 

            Deep breaths…  BJ let out a sigh.  His upset with Dr Barton wasn’t fair.  He had had a meltdown when he originally read through those files – someone who had full comprehension of all the medical fuckery involved and had taken a Hippocratic oath was bound to take it a lot harder.  Not to mention that while Leia was a far cry from her father, all the commentary flying so far about the entire horror show just listed ‘the Bartons’ instead of saying ‘Dekim’ specifically.  It had to hurt. 

            “Let’s see if you can get an in-person meet with Jovi before your open conference on Tuesday,” he decided, focusing back on Relena.  “Ideally either late tonight or before the Barton release tomorrow.  I should have a better notion by this afternoon on how we can conveniently spread the word on the original Operation M without it tracing back to us – the sweet spot for maximum impact on that is probably going to be less than twenty-four hours after whatever the Bartons release.”  He smirked.  “If it spins out right, we could add some possible statements to your card for after the speeches are done and people have questions.”  He shifted his weight and pointed at Miller.  “And you – why don’t you go see your brother, since we’ll be in Berlin anyway.”  The two of them were powerful enough in their own right based on finances alone, even before getting into the military history.  He was more than willing to use Jake to further their ambitions on that front. 

            But the colonel shook his head.  “He’s up at the L2 Sigma Da Capo site and doesn’t expect to be back until Saturday at the soonest.  I think something in his project went pear-shaped – he was passing word puns back and forth with me over text after he got there on Friday, but then he turned off his phone yesterday.  He’s avoiding distractions while he hammers something out for a deadline.” 

            So much for two birds with one stone, then – but one in hand was still better than two in the bush.  “Fine, then your job is to stand around and look pretty,” he joked.  “See if you can get the gossip rags talking about how you’re too close to the princess – help her fix her hair in full view, or something.” 

            The man’s smirk was indulgent.  “I’ll try.” 

            BJ rolled his eyes even as he tossed Relena and the room at large a smile, and turned to go.  “I’ll be in touch!” 

-

***

-

Szczecin, Poland

            “Hey now…  What’s all this?  You haven’t packed?” 

            Marie sat up and dragged a hand across her face, then grimaced and rubbed at her eyes with both instead – they were half sealed shut with gunk.  “Lu?” 

            “That’s me,” Lucrezia agreed, coming the rest of the way in and shutting the door.  “Did you not see my text?” 

            The plummet of sheer helpless rage hit her again, and she grit her teeth.  “I turned it off,” she grumbled. 

            If he was going to ignore her, then she could do it back. 

            She had asked.  More than once, even after the whole book report incident that she felt like she’d missed the important parts of, and he’d never… 

            She had asked! 

            Lucrezia sighed, coming to sit on the bed next to her.  “I’m not going to defend him for ignoring you right along with everyone else,” she decided.  “But I think it’s safe to say he feels incredibly overwhelmed right now.” 

            “But he talked to you?” Marie demanded.  She tried not to, but… it came out a little mean. 

            “Only for a minute, and that just over an hour ago,” Lucrezia admitted, wrapping an arm around her and dropping her head against Marie’s shoulder.  “I think he had to work himself up to it.  I was already on my way, but he asked if I’d check in on you.” 

            “He’s always just talked to me,” she whispered, feeling the tears start up again.  “I don’t understand!  Even when he avoided everyone else, we…”  She choked up. 

            Lu hummed, running her hand up and down her side.  “Everybody’s got a breaking point,” she mused.  “I think this one took him by surprise.”  She sighed.  “Quatre and I have known something horrible happened in 194 for a while now, but he only ever seemed to bring it up by accident – and then he’d clam up as soon as anyone reacted to it, so we mostly let it go.  But even the little he had said…” 

            She sighed again, pressing her face into Marie’s shoulder.  “It’s a lot, isn’t it?  The details he let slip before made my hair stand on end, but… I never realized it was something so big, even after he gave me a timeline.  Quatre says he’s referenced ‘the retraining’ more often to him and even tried to explain it once, but I guess they both squicked out before getting too deep.”  Slumping a little more, she added, “I don’t know.  How do you explain something like that to another person?”  She huffed out a defeated sounding sigh.  “Other than paste it across the internet, I suppose.” 

            Marie licked her lips.  “He’d do that,” she admitted.  “Reference the ‘retraining,’ then talk around it, distract me with something else so awful that I didn’t even realize until days or weeks later that he’d dodged the question.”  Another sob hiccupped its way up out of her throat.  “I asked, and-  He-” 

            He’d talked about the disaster he insisted had sparked it all.  He’d talked about how something had made him feel like he had back then.  He’d avoid something for the same reasons, but he hadn’t… 

            He’d told her mom.  This had to be what her mom had talked about coming back to haunt him, why he’d been so off lately, why the hell the kitchen tongs had set… him… 

            Suddenly, she remembered a little blip of footage she’d seen a few years back, one that got turned into a meme for a while – one of the gundam engineers, she forgot his name, clacking the tripod fingers of an artificial hand together. 

            …She’d been clacking the tongs when he took them away from her and insisted on finishing dinner himself. 

            She squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly feeling sick. 

            “I think,” Lu began after a moment.  “That he knows how much you look up to him.  And even if he had been ready to talk about it, which I still don’t know that he is, he was worried he might… normalize it, with you.  I don’t know if you realize, but so many of the patterns the two of you fall into are strange, and…”  She sighed.  “He said something to me the other day, about not wanting the ‘taint’ of stress to spread.”  She sighed.  “That’s really not how any of this works, but I can see where that mind frame might have gotten us here.  He’s told me before that he defers to my judgement because he knows I won’t tell him something is okay just because he’s the one who did it – I think a lot of the time with you, when he doesn’t have a direct reference for how to behave, he’s flying blind.  He knows you’ll accept him as he is, but… he worries that that’s not right, if that makes sense.” 

            “That’s stupid,” she grumbled, slouching enough to drop her head down onto Lucrezia’s. 

            “It is,” Lu agreed.  “Everyone gets to be stupid about some things, though, at least some of the time.  All things considered, I think anything approaching this level of trauma gets you a free pass.  All he’s asking for is a little time.” 

            More tears threatened, and she squeezed her eyes shut even harder.  “He’s never shut me out before.”  It came out more like a whine than a statement. 

            Lu hummed again.  “I think he’s more upset about how we’re taking it than anything else.” 

            That…  She remembered him upset about dodging Adam’s questions about the missing guns on their wartime road trip from hell.  About how he’d wanted to avoid talking about it with her, but did, at least a little, when pushed…  But how he hadn’t wanted to burden Adam with it a second time.  Which… 

            He thinks I’ll push, she realized, clarity striking all at once.  Because if she did, especially now that she knew enough details to know what to ask, he wouldn’t turn her away… and… 

            She sniffled again, pulling away from Lu to scrub away the tears with both hands.  “Is he okay?”  Maybe he’d only talked to Lu because he knew she wouldn’t push him, and… maybe she needed to follow that example.  But it was hard, not knowing, and- 

            Lu let out a low, slow chuckle.  “You know, that’s the first thing he asked me when I picked up the phone?  And when I pointed out that I was supposed to be the one asking him, he just said, ‘It’s not new.’”  She sighed again, though this time it had a hint of a shudder in it.  “He’s been dealing with it since it happened – it’s everyone finding out that’s left him flat-footed, if you want to believe him.  Says it’s not great, but that it’s our feelings that he doesn’t know how to handle.”  She deflated a little.  “That, and apparently he really did dive into building the prototype wings for thirty hours straight just to avoid all the drama, and only called me back after sleeping it off.”  She huffed out another sigh.  “I don’t know that it’s the healthiest coping mechanism, but he’s getting by for now and we’ve got all the time in the world to work on him once he comes back.  He’s only asking for a week.” 

            Right now, a week felt like an eternity.  “I need to talk to him before then,” she insisted.  It hurt to leave it like this – and if it hurt her, then it was probably worse for him, even if he didn’t want to admit it.  The heavy emotions bowled him over sometimes, made him feel terrible even when they were good feelings and… 

            She wanted her brother.  She needed him.  And he needed her too, just so he could be sure it was alright to be sad, or mad, or whatever about any of this!  Lu took it for granted, the way he’d figured himself out so easily with her – but none of this kind of thing was easy for Odin, he had this enormous block about any kind of heavy stuff!  And… 

            She squeezed her eyes shut again, but again, they leaked anyway.  And now I know why. 

            Her grandfather had done his very best to turn Odin into a thing instead of a person.  And she’d known that Grandfather was a horrible human being before now, both because of what little Odin had said as well as any of the rest, but this… 

            How could anyone do something like this? 

            “I’m hoping he turns his phone back on before he makes the trip back,” Lu was saying.  “To talk to you, at least, if not anyone else.  But it is what it is, and it’s only a week.” 

            Marie sniffed again.  “He’d better.”  There was no way she was waiting an entire week.  She’d give him until Wednesday, max. 

            Lu hummed again.  “But if you hadn’t pulled the same card and thrown away your phone,” she continued, “You would know that you were going to come away with me for a few days.  Because apparently, I’m supposed to use your credit card to buy whatever dress I desire.  Maybe even a selection to dither over on the day of my big date, mm?” 

            Marie snorted out a laugh.  “That’s what he tried to distract you with?” 

            “Mm-hmm.  Subtlety, thy name is not Heero.  He’s eager.  I appreciate that.”  she bumped her shoulder into Marie’s.  “Come on, it’s more fun with company.  I don’t even know where we’re going – I want to look dramatically sexy, but there’s a fine line between elegant and slutty on these kinds of things and I could use your help.  You could try on a few too, just for fun.  Have you ever tried to do contour make-up?  I need to look up some videos on ShareView and practice – if I get good enough, maybe I can go without the medical mask in public more often.” 

            That… actually did sound like fun.  “I want to learn how to do that too,” she admitted. 

            Lu’s hum was definitely happy this time.  “See?  Let’s leave the boys to their business and moping and make an affair of it.  We can take pictures and spam Sally with them for a third opinion.” 

            Marie’s heart stuttered, but she smiled through it.  “I’ll be Aurelia, and my voice is scratchy enough that I’ll wear a mask too,” she decided, trying to make it not sound like… 

            Well, no one but Adam had recognized her in a long while – but no one had really thought about Mariemaia Barton in a long while either.  Until yesterday, at least.  And maybe she could totally just tell Lu, because, really, it was Lu… 

            …But she hadn’t really thought about it for a while either.  And it wasn’t the kind of thing you could take back, so… maybe she’d better be sure.  Odin said he hadn’t told anyone, and… 

            She really wanted to see Odin before she made that big of a decision. 

            “Sure,” Lu agreed, standing up with a stretch.  “But pack your bag!  I don’t know when we’ll come back here, exactly.  We might hit the Berlin house first, but I haven’t made any kind of solid plans.  I thought we’d see where our feet take us.”  She headed for the door.  “I’m just going to touch base with Quatre – turn your phone back on and call me when you’re ready to go.  I parked in the main garage.” 

-

***

-

April 20^th 199 – Monday – 2:00pm –Paris, France

            After looking through her peephole, Rachelle threw open the door and gave him a flat look.  “Shut the door behind you,” she ordered, and marched right back to her kitchen. 

            Ardith didn’t take long to lock up behind himself, but she’d already taken a seat at the table again by the time he entered the room and gave the bottle on the table a skeptical look.  “Isn’t it a bit early for that?” 

            She didn’t bother to answer, instead gesturing at him with her glass.  “Did you know?” she demanded. 

            “You’re… going to have to be more specific.”  His eyes were on the bottle of scotch and glass as much as her, as if he was beginning to regret coming over. 

            She rolled her eyes and slammed what was left of her two fingers of scotch back down on the table – did he think she was going to throw it at him?  “These ‘original Operation Meteor’ plans,” she clarified.  “Did you know?” 

            He was still eyeing her carefully, not sitting down.  “Yes.” 

            She slapped her hands on the table in front of her, right on top of left, then dropped her head onto them.  “Oh God.” 

            “It… didn’t happen,” he reminded her, his voice edging closer. 

            Shel squeezed her eyes shut.  “By how close of a margin?” she demanded. 

            “I mean… it looks small, but the decisions were independently unanimous?” Ardith hedged, his chair creaking as he lowered himself into it.  “Which says a lot, I think?  All of the Mad Five and their chosen pilots independently said ‘hell no’ and went their own way to do what we call Meteor now – a series of surgical strikes on OZ bases by gundam.  They actively refused to participate in anything that would allow for civilian casualties.  In the instances where lines were more grey, they were never the instigators, so…”  He trailed off.  “I don’t know.  It seems like an important distinction.” 

            She picked up her head enough to glower at him.  “You’re telling me that we avoided the annihilation of two thirds of Europe by the grace of ten people.  One of whom was effectively lobotomized by repetitive torture for the preceding twelve months.” 

            “I mean, probably more than ten, it takes a small army to move a colony, but…  I guess?”  He groaned, slumping in on himself a little.  “It says something that the ‘lobotomized by torture’ kid still said ‘fuck this shit’ and went his own way on it.” 

            “By following alternate orders from one of his tormentors.” 

            “Well, yeah, but…  Only for a couple of months before he went totally rogue?  I mean, you have to start somewhere, right?”  He sighed.  “And considering how much better of a job he did later on that year, I have to wonder if he was intentionally trashing his odds when he first fell to Earth anyway, as a sort of ‘fuck you’ to the old man.  If you read through to the end of the files, you see he had some crazy suicidal ideation going on by the time the Bartons kicked off the war.” 

            “I did not read them, nor will I be going to,” Shel grit out, glowering at him.  “I thought it was sick shit the first time I stumbled across them, last year, and I stopped reading long before I realized it was about the kid who saved the world from Libra.”  She wrapped her hands around either side of her head and shuddered as she leaned back.  “Fuck.  Did Dekim and Zechs share notes, or is this some kind of heretofore unrealized Jungian philosophy of genocide?” 

            Ardith choked on a laugh.  “Right?”  Groaning, he leaned back in his chair and draped a hand over his eyes.  “Less obsequiously though?  Dr J, Dekim Barton, and Quinze all go way back, so I’d pin the blame on Quinze for spreading the madness, since he was running Libra before Zechs got recruited.  But…  I don’t know.  It’s all batshit crazy to me.” 

            They sat there in silence for a few long minutes, and Shel, at least, was running the implications back over in her mind, trying to decide what questions she wanted to ask.  The Barton Foundation had issued a statement this morning, predictably condemning both Dekim and Trowa Barton for their actions leading up to and through the development of the gundams.  They had cited the lack of control the Foundation Board actually had over the ruling family, alongside a few of Dekim’s more callous actions directly within his family…  And had also been quick to point out how Dekim had kept all his ‘extracurricular’ projects at discreetly separate sites and servers while they were ongoing, often with no points of connection between them. 

            Supposedly, while the Mad Five had gotten their moniker while drafting the designs for Wing Zero, they had been split up and had no contact for over a decade afterwards.  Rachelle had her doubts about the validity of that statement, but so the story went, while they had all said they were going to craft more reasonable, specialized gundams, none of them had known if the others had followed through until… the coordinated launch day.  Even odds on this being a sack of shit or Dekim being that controlling of a scumbag.  In any case, whatever the scheming old men did or didn’t know, no one had bothered to tell the kids they recruited, which… made the first few months of the war sound even crazier than she had already assumed, honestly.  Even without getting into the fact that each of the pilots were deep in the throes of puberty and all the emotional whiplash that entailed – Why?! – They had just… been thrown into enemy territory with… 

            With orders that probably made a lot more sense if they came on the back of a calamity like the Fall.  They’d, what, been given a series of targets and told ‘best of luck?’ 

            It was almost worse than the alternative of the original Meteor plan – at least under that auspice, they would have had something resembling a life expectancy.  Seriously, five young men – five boys – even with superior weaponry, against all of OZ and the Alliance? 

            Fighter pilots were expensive, even before you took their tech into account.  The time and training, the resources it took to get a superb pilot were not inconsiderable, and they’d just… thrown them away on the longest odds in the universe.  02, Maxwell, had had some support with a Sweeper faction, and Winner was known to work with the Maguanacs on occasion, though that still seemed touchy given their shit history in L4, but…  Both of those instances supplied minimal help.  And didn’t touch on the other three. 

            Revamped or not, Operation Meteor had never been about freedom or revolution – that had come after the colonies disowned the gundams wholesale.  No, Meteor had only ever been about revenge.  Whether on Earth as a whole under Dekim’s watch, or OZ in particular, according to old vendettas held by the Mad Five. 

            What a fucking waste of humanity. 

            The Barton Board’s statement had been fairly short and sweet, covering the salient points of where they felt the blame for Yuy’s treatment rested and wrapping up with the confirmation that they were neutral in all of this conflict as their heiress had yet to come of age.  If anything, they had practically bragged about the fact that Dekim had disowned his daughter in 186 over a teenage pregnancy, but how in recent years, with no other possible heir in sight, the child was never formally disinherited and therefore took prominence when Dekim died in 197.  They did admit that the circumstances surrounding Leia Barton’s death in 194 had been both suspicious and not well investigated – but were quick to point out that Mariemaia had been raised entirely apart from her grandfather’s influence, and that they consequently expected great things of her. 

            The vitriol on all of those suppositions had begun pouring in even before the statement was finished.  She doubted it would get any real traction, but she hoped the girl didn’t read even a quarter of the shit being said about her. 

            The real kicker, however, came a few hours later, when Brigadier David Mitchell got back on his soapbox and started airing all sorts of dirty laundry from the war.  Including what OZ had known about the original Operation Meteor. 

            And then source after source had started popping up out of the woodwork with more detail after that.  More than half of it was hearsay, but plenty of journalists were pursuing hard evidence to back or disprove each claim now, and… 

            Shit.  She was running behind, because something in her brain had just broken over the fact that Dekim Barton had tried to drop a colony on central Europe four years ago. 

            The scotch was not helping nearly as much as it was supposed to. 

            It could have been the Americas struggling to survive the long years of winter, with Europe a bombed out shell. 

            The war could have been so much worse. 

            But it hadn’t happened – all because five kids who had been thrown on the frontline of the proverbial meatgrinder had stood up and said no. 

            Including the one who should have hated everyone by the time Dekim was through with him, and had instead gone on to save the planet nine months later. 

            She threw back the rest of her scotch.  The ice had mellowed it nicely, and it barely burned. 

            He really had been a big fucking hero. 

            And he was wanted for questioning by… the guy he’d saved the planet from. 

            “Why is Marquise in power, again?” 

            Ardith gave her a narrow-eyed look.  “How much of that did you have before I got here?” 

            “I’m serious!”  It was so incredibly fucked up. 

            “Right of conquest?” Ardith suggested a moment later.  “Because he has guns, and no one can fucking stop him?” 

            She blinked.  “Did you just quote Snow Crash at me?” 

            Ardith snickered.  “Badly, but sure.”  He sighed.  “Are you okay?” 

            She considered her empty glass.  “I’m gonna go with, ‘No.’” 

            He slumped.  “Well, props for honesty, I suppose.” 

            “I’m sick of all this shit about having psychopaths in power,” she announced.  “You know what we need?” 

            He eyed her for a moment and picked up the scotch bottle – looking greatly reassured by the weight of it.  “What do we need?” 

            Joke was on him – she was a lightweight.  “Gundams.” 

            He set the bottle down with a soft clink and let his upper half collapse onto the table.  “You’re killing me, Shel.” 

            “No, wait, hear me out,” she demanded.  “What if we got the gundams back, and used them as a rallying point?” 

            Ardith groaned as he stood.  “I really need to be having this conversation with you sober,” he decided.  “Give me a call when that comes back around, will you?” 

            She scoffed, but decided to pour another two fingers instead of following him.  “Lock up on your way out!” 

            “Throw your fucking deadbolt after I’m gone if you’re going to do this to yourself!” he called back.  “And call me tomorrow, we’ve got shit to do!” 

            Yeah… tomorrow sounded like a good idea.  Today was today, though. 

-

***

-

April 21^st 199 – Tuesday – Berlin, Germany

            The venue was pretty, Jake decided, and large.  He wasn’t sure it had much else going for it.  But since the forecast was so nice this week – never mind that five years ago, it would have been considered a bluster late October day, instead of mid April – Duchess Pinion had wanted to make the most of the good light.  The stage was set up at the edge of a large green, and the section for the press was substantial, but there was still plenty of room for the civilian crowds that had started to gather long before their retinue had arrived in the city. 

            It was nice enough, as places went.  He had always preferred cities over the countryside – more places to hide, more oblique avenues of escape.  Sometimes he thought that that was the only colony-born trait he had left.  He had no problems navigating space, but…  It hadn’t been home in a long time.  Not that he truly thought of anywhere on earth as ‘home’ either, really, even Sarracenia…  But it was always a relief to step into full gravity again, and an adjustment to go up.  A closeness to Relena was the best approximation he could think of to define ‘home,’ but he was fairly sure there were alternate, more appropriate words for that feeling. 

            I wonder how Junior feels about it.  He kept finding himself compiling lists of things to talk about – at first to try and stave off panic, but now because he didn’t want to forget, when his brother was back in contact.  There was so much…  Ugh.  The way that Senior had raised them had been so different from what everyone else described that he’d long since given up finding someone who could relate to the quirks it left him with.  But maybe now…? 

            It was a warm, steadying kind of hope.  They hadn’t talked about anything serious since their last visit, but it hadn’t been silent either, until now.  But it was fine – by all accounts, the work happening at the Sigma site was bleeding edge technology.  The kid had always been brilliant, so he shouldn’t be surprised, and…  Well, honestly, he felt a little bit proud. 

            He wondered if the choice of keeping a home here had been incidental for convenience, or if Berlin held some kind of sentimental value.  The little that had been said about the house made it sound like a work of art in its own right… and he was mostly sure, now, that he was going to see it eventually. 

            Stop woolgathering.  He wasn’t on the job today, but that didn’t mean he had to be idle.  The stage backed up against one of the larger buildings bracketing the green, and all the dignitaries of the day were still inside – probably because it wasn’t actually warm, for all that it looked it.  He was fine, but he was decked out in practically every layer possible and would probably start sweating if he went inside.  As it was, they had half an hour before the opening speeches, and then a few different keynotes before releasing any information on the negotiations with Dave… 

            He wanted to take a walk, though he wasn’t sure how much of that was an itch to check the perimeter that he couldn’t scratch – the surrounding buildings had been cleared hours ago, practically as the sun came up.  If he went poking about people would notice and possibly take offense, and he did actually trust Duchess Lydia Pinion – she, Syl Joyner, and James Ono were thick as thieves and had been well on their way to crafting their own, smaller version of the Accords before Relena had started the framework for it.  It didn’t particularly matter that there were more windows than he was comfortable with, because they had already agreed… and until something went sideways, there was only so much he could do without picking a fight.  So… 

            His phone buzzed, and he grinned.  Hey, look, a distraction.  Fingering his collar to make sure his subvocal mic was turned off, he pulled his phone out, blinked, and tapped the callback.  “Jack?” 

            “I’m fresh out of the shower and look altogether respectable,” his father informed him cheerfully.  “Would you prefer me somewhere specific, or should I just join the masses?” 

            Jake smiled in spite of himself.  “I didn’t realize you were here,” he admitted. 

            “I live here,” Jack reminded him, a hint of laughter in his voice.  “I got back from the third Atlantic site last night.  I figured I don’t usually get to see you two do your thing in person, and since you were already in my neighborhood, why not?”  He hesitated.  “Unless that’s… not good?  I can turn back around, I just thought-” 

            “It’s fine,” he quickly assured, even as his emotions swirled… and it wasn’t all bad swirl, just… a lot?  “I didn’t realize you were in town, is all.”  Considering the ambient noise he was picking up…  “Are you walking?” 

            “Uh… I am now,” Jack hedged. 

            Jake closed his eyes.  Right, stop trying to triangulate where the house is.  Not that that had been his intent, just… it was a habit.  “Sorry about the parking situation,” he offered as an olive branch.  “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have secured you a pass for something close by.”  If he had driven, he would have had to park quite a ways out, even with something so small as the Ruzzi. 

            “I don’t mind the exercise,” Jack returned dismissively.  “And I’m only a few streets away now anyway.  Is everything expected to start on time?” 

            “So far,” Jake agreed, and rattled off the two streets he was at the corner of.  “To be honest, I was spinning my wheels a bit.  I’m not used to being out of the loop on security.” 

            “It can be a rough transition,” his father agreed sympathetically. 

            And so he ended up spending the next fifteen minutes just… killing time with Jack.  He saw his own team sweep by him twice, as well as others he didn’t definitively recognize, and by the time he needed to check his p’s and q’s, he’d realized that he wouldn’t mind having Jack backstage… but on request, had slipped him into the crowd near the front instead, edging up against the press section.  He’d come for the experience, he said, and… 

            Well, this would probably be easier to write off on the publicity front than if his father was seen acting too informally with anyone in Relena’s court or Guard.  Dorothy had opted out for today; they were all fairly sure than her next public appearance would see her rounded belly too obvious to miss, and today was supposed to be about the Accords.  Sylvia was here both representing her bloc to the northwest of the Democratic Zone and to speak further of the developing governments in the newly reclaimed Pacific States – not that they were anywhere near to being structured, but the first settlers were theoretically going out on May fifth.  There were a great deal of questions on that front, especially from the Romefeller houses displaced by the Fall.  The final terms for this summer’s amplifier survey were being released today as well, including the extra meetings with the Accords Council that China had suggested themselves, which ought to cause a bit of a stir… 

            And, of course, Dave was a hot topic at the moment and they would probably end up going long because of it. 

            Duchess Pinion opened the floor – in her late twenties, but still a bit younger than Jayden Vail, if memory served.  She made an elegant hostess, and was clearly proud of the role – an interesting counterbalance to Syl and James, really, which he supposed was half of what made them work so well together.  Then Relena stepped up, and… 

            It… was oddly hard to focus.  Almost like something was setting his hackles on the rise, but… softer?  Like he was being watched, yet not threatening, like it was just Relena, except… 

            At first he thought maybe he was just bored – they’d talked these things out to death last night and this was a problem he had when he didn’t have a list of duties to juggle.  Something I need to account for in the future.  He’d never been one to sit still well. 

            Except… he knew what that felt like.  And maybe his brain had been turning itself into all kinds of new knots lately as he sorted his family shit, but… 

            Something.  Something was… not wrong, exactly, but… not… 

            “412, we have a missing check-in on the south side, over.” 

            Fuck!  Lin had looped him in to the main security channel after he’d settled Jack, and it had all been humdrum before this.  A missing check-in could mean a lot of things, many of them trivial, but- 

            Too many windows.  The buildings were supposed to be secure, but he hadn’t secured them, so depending on the parameters- 

            He could hear everyone’s chatter, but the mic was set up so only his team could hear him.  ‘How long since the prior?’ he demanded subvocally. 

            ‘Almost twenty.’ 

            Fuck.  ‘Relena needs to stage a recess.’  She had the center stage now…  He should have pushed harder about the security, hurt feelings be damned.  They were facing to the south, and the distance involved there gave them some degree of security – it wasn’t an ideal spot for a sniper, even a talented one. 

            That strangely insistent tugging came on him again – almost a visceral sixth sense, but strange – and gone a moment later anyway. 

            No, if he were trying to make a hit…  he’d come from the east or even the north, depending on where exactly he expected his target to stand.  Provided he could get the best crow’s nest, at least. 

            Relena started coughing, aggressively enough to turn away from the podium and hold out a hand like she was asking for water.  They’d say something about allergies and she’d be all pleasant smiles and apologies about the break in schedule, just needed a moment to compose herse- 

            Automatic fire rained down across the stage.  And then the screaming started. 

            His team was smooth, and the aim was shit anyway – What the actual fuck?  Amateur?  If anyone had taken a hit at all, it was likely only ricochet.  Mai had Lena down and half off the back of the stage in moments, behind the flimsy backdrop but out of sight, and here he was in the east wing- 

            A shrill whistle split the air. 

            Instinctively, his eyes tracked the source – mixed South American descent, tightly curled brown hair, strong build, with two fingers of one hand still pressed against his mouth as if to whistle again.  The moment he met those brown eyes, though, the tug of attention he’d been picking up tripled, and somehow he knew- 

            Eyes wide, whether with fear or something else, the man pointed sharply to his right – to the east. 

            A diversion.  The east side of the stage was blind, to reach safety you’d have to- 

            Sylvia.  She’d been waiting for her turn to step up next, and she’d fallen back at the sound of gunfire into what should be a safe position, curled up small. 

            But if this was his job? 

            He was close enough to launch himself at her in one bound – he’d fallen back the same way for the automatic fire, just not far enough to corner himself – and she shrieked like a banshee when he grabbed her leg and pulled hard enough that he heard something pop. 

            He really hoped he was wrong.  That had either been her kneecap or her hip, and it was going to be bad enough already with her trying to claw his eyes out in the next few moments- 

            The air boomed, and blood misted his vision.  The light in Sylvia’s eyes shifted – Not dead, please not- 

            Her screaming changed pitch. 

            He felt like he had all the time in the world and none at all as he slid around her, rounding his back and tucking his chin to his chest even as he tried to bend her flailing limbs back inwards.  Everything was wet.  If she fought him much harder- 

            He felt the next shot before he registered the sound, and the sudden inability to breathe struck him before the pain.  The screaming would have bothered him more if his ears weren’t already ringing from the impact alone, and- 

            He gasped for air, absently realizing he was having such a hard time holding onto Sylvia’s arm because so much of it was missing. 

            His back lit up in pure agony. 

            Sylvia tried to squirm, and he shoved her head down, checking that his chin was still tucked as deep as he could, because all the body armor in the world wouldn’t save him from a headshot.  “Third or fourth floor,” he tried to grit out without unclenching his teeth, hoping someone hadn’t turned off his mic to compensate for all the noise.  They had to find the shooter, or get close enough that he made a break for it.  That was the only way out of this.  He didn’t know how many hits he could take before- 

            Bo-boom-boom-boo- 

-

***

-

Munich, Germany – Sarracenia

            “He truly is the gift that keeps on giving, isn’t he?”  Treize sounded exhausted.  “Every time I think we’ve uncovered the last of his sins, something else turns up.”  He sighed.  “I already regretted my treatment of Yuy by the time Tsubarov introduced mobile dolls, he never responded the way I expected, but this…  I wouldn’t have thought it possible.  He had too much strength of will by New Edwards alone.  To think he was coming back from this?”  He let out a short, scornful laugh.  “If I were Milliardo right now, I would be terrified.  He was always so fixated on getting a fair fight with him, but looking back?  I don’t know that we ever saw Yuy at full strength.” 

            Leia closed her eyes again, not bothering to wipe at them again. 

            It had been…  A very long handful of days. 

            Treize hesitated, then sighed.  “Sorry.  The thoughts have been plaguing me, but it’s no excuse.  Let’s talk about something else.” 

            The thing was… she didn’t want to talk about anything else.  And she still didn’t want anyone harrying Odin, it would be far too easy to misinterpret and send him into a spiral or at least a deep, dark bunker… 

            But she’d been crying for days now, and she could only imagine how the two of them were handling this.  It was a violation, and she’d never even tried to summarize what had happened to Marie out of respect but… 

            “It’s so much worse than I thought,” she finally admitted, her voice little more than a croak. 

            What he had explained had been bad enough, but… either he’d held back or…  More likely?  He didn’t remember all of it.  It was understandable, he likely was never even told most of what was happening even when he was aware enough to acknowledge it… 

            But he’d certainly never been aware that he was someone’s mad science project. 

            “…You knew about this already?” 

            She appreciated that it was trepidation and concern coloring his voice instead of suspicion – like he thought her father might have subjected her to the knowledge, where others might have made a nastier assumption. 

            She scrubbed furious hands over her cheeks and cleared her throat.  “Heero Yuy is easily the oddest person I have ever met,” she began.  “But he has a heart of gold.” 

-

***

-

Berlin, Germany

            This was what drowning must feel like. 

            He’d kept his feet when the crowd began to roil, at least in fair part because the media grouping Jake had tucked him up against was experienced enough to stay calmer than the rest.  Moving was still next to impossible, though, and he’d had a clear view of that first shot. 

            The girl was going to lose the hand, if she didn’t bleed out first.  He couldn’t remember her name, but then his son was wrapping himself around her like a protective ball- 

            Boom! 

            What the fuck were they even firing?  This was an open enough space that it shouldn’t be echoing like- 

            A hand grabbed at his shoulder, and he almost tried to break it before acknowledging enormous brown eyes.  A kid.  Not a kid kid, but close to his sons’ age, and frightened, why- 

            “Are you looped in?” 

            What? 

            “I saw you, can you-” 

            Bo-boom boom-boom! 

            His body went cold, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the stage, just praying for movement.  They’re trying to hammer through him.  This assassin was treating his son like an obstacle to break through and he couldn’t even- 

            The grip on his shoulder faltered, and he found himself clutching the boy before he could fall, because the fucking mob was raging all around them – if he went down, he might not get back up again.  He needed- 

            “She’s moving,” the kid breathed, starting to shake.  “She-  Shit.”  He descended into a colorful spat of Spanish, even as his breathing grew more labored.  “She changed, I can’t feel it anymore, I don’t know-”  He abruptly cut himself off with a whine. 

            Jack turned his head and narrowed his eyes, reaching out to cup the boy’s head with one hand – his pupils were a step beyond dilated, like he’d taken some sort of drug, or… 

            Space heart on the collapse.  “You really don’t want me for an anchor, boy.” 

            “Better you than them,” he whined.  He clutched onto the closer lapel of his coat.  “You’re loud.  I can work with loud.” 

            He grit his teeth.  “I just watched my son get shot five times in the chest,” he grit out. 

            The sound the kid made was less a ‘huh’ and more of a painful exhale, but it still got the point across.  Then he shrugged, dropping more of his weight against Jack.  “He’s loud too,” he offered. 

            Jack closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to take that as a good sign.  His boys had been trading tips about body armor less than two weeks ago.  It… 

            Jake toppled over sideways, and the girl he’d been holding tried to desperately scrabble away from him. 

            Oh God.  Fuck the crowd, fuck the pending kill zone, that was not okay, Jake- 

            The boy made a wounded sound, but suddenly it was much easier to push his way up to the stage, and the kid clung on like a limpet.  Moments later he was climbing over the edge with his tagalong, not caring who he pissed off.  “Jake!” 

            Lin, having gotten there moments ahead of him, jumped about a foot in the air, then narrowed his eyes before grabbing his former CO’s arms to pull him away.  “Get off the fucking stage!” he snapped.  He gave a sharp tug to gain momentum- 

            Jake shrieked. 

            Noise was good – even entirely gut-wrenching noise was good, and he would take it.  “We need medics-”  Jack began. 

            “We need to not get shot again!” the major snapped back.  “We’ve got ambulances waiting, but-” 

            “She’s gone,” the empath still clinging to his shoulder announced.  “She changed or she’s dead, I don’t know, but-” 

            Lin jumped again, looking a little bug-eyed, which…  What? 

            And suddenly Cassidy was sweeping the two of them off the back of the stage in a smooth motion that was hard to comprehend.  “Jack,” he greeted in a terse voice.  “I mean this in the best way, but you have a semi-invisible parasite on your shoulder.” 

            Invisible? 

            His limpet let out a weak laugh.  “Stop being so scary and I’ll stop hiding.” 

            “I make a job out of scary,” Cassidy informed him blandly.  “Name?” 

            “I get a phone call, right?” 

            “You think you need a phone call?” 

            If the kid didn’t have a death grip on him he’d have ignored the conversation entirely.  Somehow he’d missed Mai darting past him, but now she was pulling his son up and over one shoulder – a motion that saw him letting out a sob, but nothing like before.  Left shoulder’s fucked. 

            He tamped down a hysterical giggle.  The entire upper back of Jake’s coat was a mishmash of nonsensical shapes, the grey wool giving way to angular black contours ruptured in erratic patterns.  The worst of it was over the left, but some trick of distributing force had left him with nearly a hunchback appearance, twisted and grotesque – but alive. 

            Someone had just fired five high caliber rounds into his son’s upper left chest, but he was still breathing.  That… 

            It was fine.   He could do this.  He could panic later, when they knew what the damage was, made sure there wasn’t any internal bleeding in his heart, because there weren’t any singular holes in the fabric, it was a massive black patch that he… the armored panels were black, that…  The innermost layer was white, he knew that, so maybe it hadn’t pierced that far down? 

            The kid clinging to his shoulder let out a nervous sort of chuckle.  “I mean… probably?” 

            The adrenaline crash started, and he forced his heartrate to stay low and steady even as he began to shake – he did not need to be sick right now.  “Jake?” 

            Jake flailed out his right hand towards him, and Jack grabbed it – a moment later, another keening sob ripped out of his oldest, and Jake’s fingers lost their strength, twitching. 

            “Your face says I need to call my Aunt Helena.  The rest of you, not so much, but that’s… stress, maybe.  Uh.” 

            Jack swallowed hard, gripping back enough to keep the contact Jake had reached for, but hopefully not enough to hurt.  “You’ve got this,” he tried, not sure what to say.  They’d never… 

            Jake just let out a low, wailing sort of laugh, dropping his face against the major’s back. 

            “Walk with me,” Mai ordered, and started off with a smooth, rolling gait towards what he hoped were the ambulances.  He let go, and hurried to keep up. 

            “You’re Osbourne’s nephew?” 

            “Technically it’s by marriage, but Aunt Helena’s better at legal shit than Aunt Delilah, so she’s the one whose number I memorized.” 

            Jack resisted the urge to scream.  “You’re not coming with me to the hospital,” he announced, glaring into eyes that were far more soulful than lost, now.  Mischievous scamp now that things are calming down, aren’t you?  In any case, he was probably going to finish losing his shit soon, and it would be better to pass the empath off before then.  “Why don’t you run off, mm?” 

            “He fingered the shooter,” Lin negated.  “He’s not going anywhere.” 

            Jake flailed a hand again, but when Jack stepped close enough to reach, his son grabbed onto his limpet instead and wheezed out a weak, “Thanks.” 

            The kid grimaced.  “I was trying for a quarter hour – you’re loud.  Like screaming into a stormfront.” 

            “Felt-”  His rasp tripped into a moan.  “-you?” 

            “I tried,” the kid insisted again.  “Someone lifted my phone this morning, but I knew your face.  Aunt Delilah told me you were a safe haven if I ever needed help, and there you were, but-”  He gusted out a long breath.  “And she was bright.  Bright as a star, and all the meaner for it, right until she slipped a mask.”  He swallowed, and started to shake.  “Or died?  She just… poof.  Gone.  Dead or internal lockdown.  People don’t usually switch gears so fast.  She was vicious, and then she was the crowd.  I… I don’t know.” 

            Jake clearly tried to nod, then shuddered his way into a sob instead, hand going limp again. 

            “Stop talking,” Jack insisted, suddenly noticing the creep of blood seeping up the crisp white fabric of his son’s collar – slowly, but steadily…  His breath caught.  No – that was gaining speed.  It was coming from under his shirt – not leftover arterial spray from the girl he’d been trying to save. 

            The girl who…  He’d actually lost track of.  But he could see a line of ambulances up ahead now, one of them already pulling away from the curb with lights and siren up, so that was probably answer enough. 

            “Someone needs to take charge of the nameless empath,” Jack snapped, feeling the last threads of his patience fray.  He thought he might remember Jake and even Des talking about a woman named Helena, but he wasn’t sure, and he was truly beyond caring right now.  He was getting in that fucking ambulance with his son, and he didn’t need the extra weight. 

            The kid blinked huge, liquid brown eyes at him.  Almost as bad as Yasa.  He clearly knew how to weaponize the damn things.  When he only stared back, unimpressed, an impish grin rose up to accompany the Bambi impression.  “I’m Rhett.” 

            He was just about ready to fling the brat in any convenient direction.  “Time to fuck off, Rhett.  Lin?” 

            Mai headed straight to an ambulance with a medic standing by a waiting gurney, announcing, “Five shots to the upper left chest from the same sniper, high caliber.” 

            “Conscious?” the man demanded. 

            The second door flew open and Jack reflexively looked up… and stared at Relena. 

            She looked like utter shit. 

            “Oh,” Rhett breathed – half wonder, half exhalation. 

            “I’m going to stand you up,” Mai murmured, and his attention snapped back in that direction.  There were three medics now, and once they confirmed that he could keep his feet, for all that he shuddered, they made quick work of his coat… 

            But the suit blazer got stuck. 

            The folded shirt collar against the nape of his neck was almost entirely crimson, now. 

            “Shears,” one of the female medics decided. 

            “You’ll need to go between the layers,” Relena announced, stepping close enough to trace a line through the air roughly over his spine.  “There are three sections that overlap, I-”  She cut herself off abruptly, taking a deep breath.  “And they look like they’ve twisted into each other.  I don’t know…” 

            “I got this,” the same woman announced easily, and knelt to start cutting from the cuff up, along the seam. 

            Meanwhile, the first medic pulled his own scissors.  “Sorry for the draft,” he muttered conversationally, and snipped at his waistline.  Jake coughed out a short laugh as his pants hit the ground, the gun hidden at his waist clattering with the fall.  The medic blinked down at it – and at the oversized tactical knife on one thigh and second gun on the opposite ankle – before shrugging and starting to slice up the front of his button-up, ignoring the armored undershirt for the moment.  He did let out a short, incredulous laugh as he spotted the shoulder holster, though.  “Got enough of those?”  

            Jake coughed again.  “Gave two up when I dropped the uniform,” he countered with a wheeze. 

            “Huh.  Okay, let’s sit before we fall down, come on…”  He made an annoyed noise as a layer of the suit jacket flapped into his face when the other medic changed angles to dodge an additional plate, but he rucked the undershirt up before he and the third medic eased him onto the gurney.  “Major, you got his gear?” 

            “I do,” Relena interjected. 

            “I’ve got it,” Vaughn argued, coming out of nowhere, but with a bag, so… 

            The first medic didn’t wait for them to argue about it, tugging at the too tight undershirt once before making a face and crouching slightly to slide a hand up and under the front of it – nodding when his gloved hand came back out dry.  “No exit wound,” he announced clinically.  Then he swept the same hand under again, over the low back this time… 

            Crimson pooled and dripped. 

            Fuck! 

            “Okay!” he barked, pulling out his scissors again and slashing through Jake’s right sleeve to the elbow.  “Margie, I want us rolling in under three!  Greta, you’re going to finish getting that off and I’ll get an IV on the way.”  Turning back to Relena, he offered her a serious yet earnest look.  “We’re heading straight to Hildegard – the trauma teams are already together.  We’ve got him.” 

            That was a dismissal if he’d ever heard one.  Jack shoved his empath hard in Cassidy’s direction and stepped up to the gurney.  “I’m coming.” 

            Relena’s mouth set in a firm line, and she wrapped her hand around a bar on the gurney.  “So am I.” 

            “I cannot bring your detail with me,” the medic argued immediately, expression growing flatter.  “And they’re not going to let you in the OR anyway.” 

            “I-” 

            Jake made a noise that was part rattling cough, part laugh, and before anyone could stop him he’d stood up and tugged his princess to him by the back of her neck for a bruising kiss. 

            Greta, still trying to navigate her way around the jacket's chest and shoulder junction, made an exasperated sound.  The first medic just said, “Ah.” 

            A moment later he pulled away, and nearly lost his balance.  “Go,” he rasped.  “Kick ass.  Tell me how it goes.” 

            Jack’s heart spasmed.  There was blood on Lena’s mouth.  “Sit the fuck down,” he demanded. 

            “My dad’ll keep you posted,” Jake added, half falling back on his ass.  

            Greta immediately looped a strap over his lap – which Jack appreciated in theory, for all that he didn’t see how that would keep him in place – and started rolling towards the ambulance doors.  Still, he wasn’t going to question the professionals.  “I will,” he reassured Relena instead, keeping pace with the medic. 

            Jake looked directly at Greta and pointed in his direction.  “I pass out?  He’s got power of attorney.” 

            “Stop talking,” Jack hissed, then looked back over his shoulder to see the princess still standing there.  “Lena, go.”  Just because someone had stopped shooting for now didn’t mean she should be out in the open. 

            The princess made a noise halfway between a groan and a sob, then pressed a hand to her mouth before raising it in farewell – the red smear on her fingers a mockery of lipstick.  “Don’t die,” she ordered.  “I’ll be there when you wake up.” 

            Jake’s smile as they lifted him up was absolute.  “See you then.” 

-

***

-

Amsterdam, Netherlands – New Renew

            His friend didn’t acknowledge him when he came into the room… but given what Melissa had said, he wasn’t surprised.  Duo had always carried an odd sort of… duality, in heart as well as name.  Cheerful but precise, candid but haunted, powerful but subtle, in all the ways that counted.  It only made sense that the coin flipped the opposite way too.  Broken, but calm.  Jaded, but ready to bleed out for someone in need. 

            Devastated, but stable. 

            “I feel like this is where I suggest we have a drink,” Quatre announced.  “But neither of us are into that.” 

            Nothing. 

            “I was surprised when Heero took to it,” he continued.  “I thought that…  Well, especially that first year after Libra, he clung to every ounce of control he could.  I thought it was just who he was; not a coping mechanism.  I think part of it is that Lucrezia was the one to introduce him to alcohol, but…  Looking back, I think I saw him relax once the entire time I knew him before 198, and even then…  I don’t think he remembered how.  Lu says he once told her he couldn’t remember what facial expressions meant most of the time, when he first met us.”  Which was disturbing to consider as a concept, but… also explained more than he was comfortable acknowledging. 

            One upside of this nightmare, at least, was the way so many people were speaking up – it was easier to find the relevant details he’d promised Lucrezia he was going to look for the last time they’d talked about this.  He had a list of names now, along with all their obituaries – the only ones to live past the morning of Operation M’s launch were Dekim and J.  Odin had been right about that, at least. 

            Quatre just wished he didn’t now understand why mentioning ‘the medical team’ had set off something like panic in his stoic friend.  None of his estimations had come close to reality.  And even then, Odin hadn’t… 

-

            ‘The medical team…  I’m not sure they would have stopped.  Not after a year of… me.  People… don’t do things like that for an entire year then pretend it never happened.’ 

-

            He had worried about their next victim; his concern that they might still be alive hadn’t focused on himself.  Quatre couldn’t decide if that was a way of thinking he’d settled on in order to handle what was happening to him, or if Odin had always been wired that way, but… 

            Well, it made all the ‘hero’ puns that were making such a huge comeback more fitting, he supposed. 

            “I always thought he was proud of it,” Duo finally muttered.  “The ‘no emotion, no task beyond me’ shit.  I thought he was just that kind of arrogant; like he wanted to show everyone else up.” 

            Quatre considered.  “He is that,” he decided.  “Arrogant, I mean.  And proud.  He likes being the best – he even likes having people defer to him.”  His dynamic with everyone in Rubato was fascinating, and he expected it was even more interesting with the Sigma interns.  “Just… not so much on the emotional front.” 

            “I defined him by it.” 

            Ah.  “You also stopped and patched things back up,” he reminded him.  You’re not an abuser in this scenario. 

            He was fairly sure saying that aloud would not help, though. 

            “I missed it entirely,” Duo continued, curling in on himself, fists clenched in his lap.  “He’d…  Fuck, Cat.  He’s said a lot of shit about it to me point blank, and I didn’t fucking notice!  I read the whole fucking thing because I was trying to find what he’d…  He told me someone had broken his legs before, and I thought if I could just…  I thought I could wrap my head around it, if I put the pieces together.  But I don’t know which time he meant!  And that was only-”  His voice cracked, and he cut himself off, reaching up one shaking hand to push his hair back out of his eyes.  “Jesus.  I don’t even know where to start.” 

            On some level, it was good to know that Odin had slowly been leaking this out on everyone, not just Lu, Howard, and himself – it made it easier to believe that it would’ve come out soon anyway, though ideally with some modicum of privacy or decency instead of the current public free-for-all. 

            But that didn’t make anything about this situation good.  Even once it all cooled down… it was a matter of public domain now.  No one was ever going to forget about it, no matter what he did for the rest of his life.  He was going to have to own it. 

            It was the main reason he and Mark were pushing the publicity campaign so hard.  It helped other fronts too, but…  Better to be remembered for overcoming than for being a victim.  You couldn’t have one without the other, but you could influence how strongly one was resonated with. 

            He owed Odin so much.  It was the least he could do. 

            “I could be wrong,” he began slowly, “but speaking from personal experience?  I think he liked being able to talk freely, and letting it fly over your head without judgement.”  He’d watched Odin do it enough times to others about any number of topics, and he certainly let off steam with the same tactic now and again.  As a… way to let loose, without the emotional consequences. 

            Coping mechanisms didn’t always make sense.  They just worked, or didn’t. 

            When Duo didn’t say anything in response, he added, “He’s always been more playful with you.  He’s turned into a real troll, but most of us had to earn that treatment – it’s something he only does when relaxed enough to have fun.  He only teases when he’s in a safe headspace.  I know you’ve seen that.”  As intent as he was on castigating himself right now, Duo had asked a few pointed questions about some of Odin’s mood swings after the two of them found a new rhythm.  Quatre hadn’t had half as many answers as now, but they’d talked about it. 

            They all had issues.  If anything, the current, third wave of this media extravaganza was pointing out the ways all five of them had been mistreated.  And uncomfortable as he knew that made Duo, the fact that he had yet to bring it up showed some of the solidarity they felt about the situation. 

            Grant was going to literally drive him crazy if he found someone willing to craft toy models of the gundams.  He’d been threatening to buy a 3D printer to just do it himself, but now he was trying to con someone else into it so he could spin it into a publicity stunt.  Quatre had tried to draw a line there, because this could not come back on them yet, but with Abadie’s article?  He had no idea which way was up or down. 

            There were no lines anymore.  None whatsoever.  He had no bloody idea which way this was going to go anymore.  But on the bright side, Mark seemed to, and it was all coming out rosy so far, if occasionally mortifying. 

            Adam had gotten the bright idea to start posting on the mech forums. 

            As ‘NotTrowaBarton.’ 

            Quatre really hoped he had succeeded in convincing him to at least wait until Odin was back before climbing that particular tree.  He’d made some good points and Mark loved it, but Odin was the programming guru that could make the IP untraceable.  Also, Mark insisted that the level of impact if Adam and Odin got into it in tandem would be approximately tenfold, so… 

            Honestly, once the subject came up?  He was a little surprised the two of them hadn’t already started a game like that.  It was right up their alley. 

            Maybe they’d all gotten a little too focused on hiding, these last few years.  The last few days had been just as electrifyingly exciting as they had been utter shit.  He was hoping the latter would fade out and leave the rest. 

            Duo dropped his hand back in his lap and stared up at the ceiling.  “He’s not answering his phone.” 

            “He’s avoiding everyone right now,” Quatre reminded him dryly.  “And the deadline comment isn’t nonsense – he left on Friday with the plan to work himself into the ground this next week so he could run the final tests on all the mods we need to start final production of.”  The wings were easily the most complex and would be the hardest to retrofit later, but he was finalizing the coding for Gilgamesh’s satellites too – ‘the Enkidu,’ if he was feeling poetic.  “If this media fracas hadn’t happened, he probably would have let every call go to voicemail anyway.” 

            He let out a long breath, and really considered his friend’s emotions for a moment.  He’d planned to come see him just to touch base, but…  Well, a lot of things had been stressful lately.  “Have you talked to Hilde today?” 

            Duo’s posture normalized a little as he sat back and rubbed at one eyebrow.  “Yesterday,” he corrected.  “I still want to know how Adam got her excited to go to Canada with him.” 

            “I made the decision to not ask,” Quatre admitted.  “Though it might just be as simple as extending her furlough an extra week.”  No one was inclined to call her out on it one way or another, or at least, no more than they had over her getting a tattoo and hacking off her hair during her insane Italian winter.  Which was to say that Lucrezia had clicked her tongue and shrugged over the lost opportunity, but also pulled her into a hug and told her it looked good. 

            Besides, he’d seen the mock-up of Chalkydri – no one was going to miss the commonalities between it and Lucrezia’s white Taurus from the war.  The Insurgence was in its final sprint of secrecy.  Half this pro-gundam publicity right now was being furthered by Relena if Jovi was to be believed, which boded well for the alliance Sally and Lu wanted to make… 

            Once Gilgamesh was ready, he needed to talk to Tricia.  Everything was reaching a confluence.  At this rate, he was going to run into a sister he’d never met first – especially if they talked to Relena first. 

            Duo slumped.  “I wish you guys would’ve told me where she was all this time.” 

            “Then I wish you would’ve asked,” Quatre returned pointedly.  That particular see-saw had driven Duo and Odin to the brink.  “You can’t have it both ways.” 

            He slumped further.  “Yeah.” 

            Quatre rolled his eyes and turned to go.  “Your wife is worried about you.  Try not to take everything so personally, and just talk to Odin when he’s back.  He won’t like your self-loathing any more than any pity you might feel.”  He debated for a moment, but decided to just go for it.  “Your relationship has always been about getting in the other’s face and being annoying even while you’re too impressive for the other one to ignore.”  Duo and Odin were just competitive in a way none of the rest of them cared for.  “Lean into that, talk it out, and you’ll be fine.” 

            Duo snorted.  “That simple, huh?” 

            “He’s still Heero,” Quatre pointed out drolly.  “Straight to the heart works best.” 

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***

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April 22^nd 199 – Wednesday – Night – Berlin, Germany – Hildegard Medical Center – Intensive Care Unit

            Jack sighed when his son’s phone started to ring again.  “You’re supposed to be resting,” he reminded him for what felt like the hundredth time. 

            “You aren’t any better at watching TV than I am,” Jake grumbled, digging around in his covers for the device – and grimacing even while taking purposefully slow, easy breaths. 

            Jack rolled his eyes and stood up to help.  “If it’s work, tell them to call Des,” he emphasized.  That was the only reason the other man wasn’t already here – RLTT had too many damn moving parts, and Des was the closest thing they had to an expert after Jake. 

            “Obviously.  I-  Ah!”  His sudden grin was downright manic as the screen lit up his face and he let out a disbelieving laugh.  Then he took a deep breath, winced, and tapped at it.  “I’m really hoping you decided to take a break and missed me,” he announced.  “Because even I’ve seen the footage by now, and that was not my best day.” 

            A long, slow breath came audibly through the line.  “One of my interns showed me a clip,” Junior admitted.  An intake of breath, then a hesitation…  “How bad?” 

            Jack could relate. 

            “I’m walking and talking,” Jake pointed out.  “But I don’t think I’m getting out of the ICU for the next week.  Which is annoying, but right now I suspect I’m greatly appreciating the nerve block they’re keeping on my shoulder.  Surgery and the first two waves of Remalene did wonders for my chest, but apparently my shoulder blade is in something like seven pieces.” 

            “Nine,” Jack corrected. 

            Jake frowned.  “I thought that was the number of pins.” 

            “You have fourteen fractures in one bone, but not all of them displaced, so you only needed seven pins,” Jack recited.  “I lost track of what they said about your ribs after they fished a splinter out of your lung, along with the shrapnel.  You have three nerve blocks right now, and when those wear off you might be getting an epidural, because they want to increase your Remalene and direct anesthetic is the only way to cover pain at the dose you’re already at.” 

            Jake stared at him.  “I think I must have fallen asleep at some point in this explanation,” he decided. 

            “Talking does not mean awake with you,” Jack informed him.  It never had.  “I didn’t think you heard any of it.” 

            “…Shit.”  He reached up and rubbed his right hand over his face.  “I guess ‘walking’ might have been ambitious,” he admitted, focusing back on the phone. 

            “They said the cardiac damage was superficial and might resolve within the week,” Jack added.  Remalene liked organs best, followed by bone.  “They’re less sure about the timeline on lung function.”  Mostly because there was some concern about having missed a laceration on the first pass. 

            “…So I’ve been better,” Jake summed up.  “But the last time one of these speeches went to hell they had to crack my skull open, so I’m going to take it as a win.”  Then he sighed.  “I am sending Atelier a massive bonus with my new coat order.  Ballistics came back showing that the gap between the first two shots and the following four was because she swapped clips for armor-piercing rounds.” 

            Jack closed his eyes.  Ballistics had also said that a sixth shot probably would have hit home and still had enough power to go at least partway through Noventa’s skull.  So that was something he was going to have nightmares about for, you know.  The rest of his life. 

            “You’ve got the shooter?” 

            Jake gusted out a sigh – then twitched, his eyes bugging out… but his voice barely hitched.  “No.”  He licked his lips, visibly gathering himself as he leaned back into his pillows.  “She’s a fucking ghost.  But she ditched all her equipment, and I’ve got a bystander who thinks they remember seeing a mousy cleaning lady, plus the space heart who tipped me off on her location insists that she at least thinks of herself as female.  The automatic fire that flushed Noventa into her sweet spot was a fucking automated turret she had a remote switch for, and both scenes have come back clean so far.  They’re still processing the minutia, hoping for a partial print on a bullet casing or spit or anything, but I don’t have my hopes up.” 

            Another quiet but still audible release of breath came through the line.  “The East got sick of Noventa penning them in?” 

            Jack blinked.  What? 

            “That’s our best theory,” Jake agreed.  “I’m still pissed about the security lapse, but it happened, and the fact is that she had her pick of a lot of high priority figures – she designed a trap for Noventa instead of going for gold.”  He slumped a little, making a face.  “No more open air speeches.  Or at least, no more planned ones where people know the itinerary, and I want my people running security.”  He made a sad, almost wounded noise.  “I miss Dave.  I’ve always been more of the hit and run type – he can hold a siege and make it look like a party.” 

            Odin hummed.  “I was… not asking about that.  Specifically.” 

            Jake’s smile was soft.  “Probably for the best,” he agreed.  “But I’m looking forward to having him back.”  He licked his lips again, then offered, “You could come visit.  Meet everyone.” 

            “…I don’t know.  Munich…” 

            A nurse poked her head into the room to gave her patient a smile and Jack a critical look.  “We’re forty-five minutes into quiet hours,” she reminded them pointedly. 

            “I’ll wrap this up within the next five,” Jake promised.  “Sorry.  My brother works in deep space and only just heard what happened.” 

            Her expression softened slightly, but she only nodded and closed the door again. 

            Jack shook his head.  The Sigma site was hardly deep space, but… eh.  Odin did go far out sometimes, and it was a shorter explanation than the truth. 

            “I should be back by Sunday at the latest,” Odin offered.  “You said you’d be there for a week?” 

            Jake grimaced.  “That’s the theory.  I was hoping to talk them down to less, but it’s going to depend on how the next few days go.  My body chews through Remalene like a bag of chips even when it puts me on my ass – I usually surprise doctors when it comes to recovery speed.  But this is the worst thing I’ve ever been in for, so…”  He frowned and turned to Jack.  “Where are the other nerve blocks?” 

            “Interpleural and intercostal,” he returned flatly.  “Stop moving around so much and maybe the Remalene will finish the lion share of its work there before they wear off.” 

            “And now I know why I don’t feel as bad as I did after the riot,” Jake mused.  “Great.  This is going to be fun; Remalene does not work that fast.” 

            “It doesn’t?” 

            Technically the effect worked on an exponential curve and it could, but Jack was only basing that on what the doctor had claimed earlier, not experience.  Instead of picking a fight over it, he pointed out, “You’ve never had a dose high enough to rule out opiates before now.” 

            “I have, but it was only a three day stop before I got cleared,” Jake argued.  “Which is how I know this is going to suck.” 

            “It grinds,” Junior agreed.  “Like stripping gears, and the teeth keep catching wrong and jolting the system out of alignment.” 

            He… had not needed that analogy.  Fuck. 

            “When the burn hits, you’re almost done,” he added.  “Usually.” 

            Jack squeezed his eyes shut.  “Please tell me you read this somewhere.” 

            There was only the briefest hesitation, short enough that he wasn’t sure if he imagined it.  “I used to read a lot of chart notes,” he agreed.  “It mostly makes sense, when you think about what’s happening.”  There was a longer pause, then, “I’m going to go.  Maybe I’ll be home by Saturday.  The projections aren’t bad.” 

            Jack swallowed.  “Okay.  I’ll catch you later.”  He’d probably head home in a few minutes and try to get some sleep.  The doctor had said he was mostly sure they were out of the danger zone on surgeries now, so maybe he could even bring his kid something homemade – though the cafeteria fare wasn’t so bad as he’d worried. 

            A longer hesitation this time, enough that he thought maybe Junior had just hung up – he did that – before he heard a small, hesitant, “Ahni?” 

            His gut dropped out.  He hadn’t heard that in… fifteen years? 

            Jake looked like he was about to cry.  “Yeah?” 

            Odin gusted out a deep breath, and this time his voice showed an aching sort of frustration.  “I wasn’t-  That’s right?”  He growled.  “That’s stupid.  Why would I call you that?” 

            Jake closed his eyes and went limp against his pillows.  “You were tiny and stubborn and liked butchering languages into each other,” he offered.  “And it was close enough to ‘aniki’ that Odin stopped trying to correct you.” 

            It had also been stinking cute, if concerning when it was one of the only things the boy said in mixed company. 

            Junior growled again and hung up. 

            …Honestly, Jack thought that had gone pretty well. 

            “Fuck.” 

            At least, from a given perspective?  “He called,” he reminded his oldest. 

            “Does he usually lie for you when you ask him nicely?” 

            Yeah…  “Not always?”  While Odin was, on average, a terrible liar, it could also be legitimately hard to tell.  On this subject, though… perspective was going to hurt, but it might help too.  “Remalene rarely leaves scars.  Given all the marks on your brother, I’m less concerned about him having taken the wonder drug without decent painkillers than I am relieved that he’s had some quality medical care.” 

            Personally, he’d never taken the stuff – when he’d been young and stupid he hadn’t had access, and after coming to earth, he’d never been able to afford it.  If something happened to him now he supposed he’d learn more about it, but honestly?  Greater pain for a faster healing time sounded like a fair trade-off. 

            Jake had just gone through something that on a normal scale would see him hospitalized for a minimum of two months, with full recovery on the outside of one year – if a full recovery was even possible.  Instead, he was going to be bedridden for maybe ten days, wear a sling for another two to three weeks, and probably be back in shape before June was out. 

            And he was bitching about it. 

            “Fuck.”  It was quieter this time, more downtrodden. 

            “He called you,” Jack repeated.  “He still doesn’t initiate contact with me even by text, and he called you without prompting.  Stop freaking out.  You already knew he’s been through some shit, remember?”  He let out a groan as he stood.  “I’m going to go before your nurse comes back to kick me out.  Is it okay if I visit tomorrow?” 

            Jake sighed.  “If you want.  You don’t have to.” 

            If his kid wanted company and he couldn’t be here, Des was ready to catch a train.  Relena wouldn’t be back until Friday; even if they were ready to be open about their relationship, yesterday morning had been an absolute clusterfuck and his future daughter-in-law stood at the head of the Accords.  If she didn’t steer, the whole ship might sink. 

            And stuck in a bed with one arm tied to your chest was not the best time to introduce yourself to society as an up and coming power.  Though he supposed the sacrifice play Jake had made yesterday would make for powerful rhetoric down the line. 

            “I’ll let you know either way,” he decided, reaching out to grasp one knee in something approaching an embrace before heading for the door.  “Good night.” 

            He took the train because it was close and he hadn’t gone home last night, though really… it probably would have taken about the same amount of time to walk.  It would have been about an hour, but between the junctions and waiting for the right line, it was almost as long.  Most of the shopfronts were dark by the time he stepped into the garage, but the corner store kept late hours, so it wasn’t just him and the streetlamps. 

            He was glad that their houseguests had left before everything went down, though; it might have been a mess otherwise.  There had been something about a hot spring mentioned, but he’d made a point of not paying much attention.  Not that he hadn’t caught details he didn’t need, but… 

            It was eerie, how the pieces slipped together but still left so much missing.  He was… mostly sure that there had been Hilde Schbeiker sightings while she was apparently locked away inside the Italian cordon.  He’d made a point of not minding any of the news outlets except for what Des told him he should check for nearly seven years now, but you couldn’t help but overhear things.  And he followed anything put out by both Lena and Rubato now too, so… 

            Things were getting interesting.  He just wish it didn’t also involve the ‘my kid’s in the ICU’ brand of interesting.  He’d known about the original Operation M shit for long enough that he’d mostly forgotten it wasn’t common knowledge, and the rest…  Well, no one needed to tell him that Dekim had been a piece of shit.  He’d known that since before Odin pissed him off in 175. 

            He was surprised to find a couple lights on when he came in, but Audi coming around the corner a moment later cleared that up well enough.  “Hey,” he greeted, about to ask her who all was here, but…  She looked a little rough.  “Are you okay?” 

            She just stared at him for a long moment in a dissecting way that was eerily familiar, in a boogey-man sort of way.  Which wasn’t a first, exactly, but…  “Audi?” 

            The girl apparently came to a decision of some kind, and crossed her arms.  “I need your help.” 

            …He had the sinking feeling this wasn’t going to end well.  “Let’s hear it.” 

-

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Chapter Text

Enigma

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April 24^th 199 – Thursday – Munich, Germany – Sarracenia

            Relena took a controlled breath, eyes flitting over the documents.  “Do you think it’s feasible?” 

            BJ mostly looked frustrated.  “Entirely,” he returned.  “Beautifully, even.  Which is why I don’t like it.” 

            “I suppose, for now, it doesn’t particularly matter who,” the princess returned evenly.  “As much as I’d like to know, the waves are all I need.  Sylvia was determined to keep her own counsel before she went into her last surgery, and I’m not interrupting her convalescence without solid answers.”  She tucked a lock of hair behind one ear, studying the second set of graphs.  “I like these numbers.” 

            “Luke Levenstein is something of a magician, it seems,” the spymaster mused, mouth quirking up on one side.  “Which matches well enough if I’ve got his number right and we’re dealing with Mark Hottenstein.  A lot of records from North America are missing, but the firm he worked with longest was known for running several major elections, and he was more discreetly known as something of a fixer for soiled reputations in the celebrity crowd.”  He shrugged.  “Though I might not be any further even with official records; it’s a subtle business.” 

            Mai lifted her brows – coming from BJ, that was damn high praise all around. 

            Relena seemed to think the same, given her subtle smile – she wasn’t smiling for much more than cameras the last few days, so Mai would take it.  “Planning a recruitment scheme?” 

            BJ rolled his eyes.  “He’s the king of his castle over there, and if the results are anything to go by, working like a madman.  Much as I would like to work with him, it’s off the table until your future brother-in-law enters the fold – and then it would be a cooperative effort, not a recruitment.”  He tapped a folder thoughtfully.  “I do feel as though I should mention, however, that Mitchell’s favorite journalist has been entertaining a Rubato rep on the regular since before the infamous autobiography, and Petrovitch’s visits have only increased since.  While it might be personal or unrelated, I’m not a big believer of coincidence.” 

            Relena looked thoughtful.  “I like that too,” she mused. 

            “It bodes well,” he agreed.  “But we already knew Rubato favors Mitchell, even if they’re on the fence about Soleil.  Now that he’s created his own political sphere and is coming back to the fore, they might be willing to deal with him directly.” 

            The princess’ mouth twisted wryly.  “The one good thing about Tuesday morning is the added leverage,” she agreed. 

            That was one way to put it.  Mai had been witness to the latest phone call with Relena’s brother, and while it hadn’t been the loudest yet, it had certainly come close. 

            Relena had made a strong case for the whole scenario happening because Accords security was scattered, disorganized, and understaffed – all of which was true.  Their shooter had played merry hell with the gaps between each represented power’s team.  If it had been handled on a united front, she would, at minimum, only have been able to manage one of her two vantage points. 

            If Lin or Mitchell had been running the show, they would’ve either kept the damn scene safe or relocated entirely due to the staffing shortage – a shortage which, due to the disorganized nature of how Shiavonne had organized security, had not been recognized until after the fact.  This should have been prevented, damn it.  The fact that it was entirely within the preventable range, even at the same park, was what made it burn all the worse. 

            When Milliardo tried to make the point that Relena should know after Amsterdam that open air speeches were stupid, it had started going downhill fast – Relena had said something saccharine and sharp about not being a despot who could negate her hostess’ plans without hard evidence.  Then had come the accusations that the man was happy to see her fiancé hospitalized, or at the very least, not upset, which had him backpedaling until she quoted one of the earlier post-engagement conversations, at which point he had loudly apologized in a blanket way and immediately changed the subject. 

            Mai would say he was learning a lot about managing female relatives in general, if not for how deftly Relena had then proceeded to manipulate him.  Now the talks with Mitchell had been moved up to next week, and he’d even conceded to offering a temporary amnesty for visitation.  A base in eastern Europe that had been minimally staffed was currently being emptied as a place for the brigadier’s forces to legally set up in while the negotiations were ongoing, and he had promised to direct his people to handle the Libramentum situation more aggressively. 

            At least for the moment, they were the media favorite for the shooting – which made sense, but also still felt too direct, in her opinion.  The zealous faction had shown thoroughly alarming competence on a number of fronts in the past that matched up well enough, and held no love for Sylvia…  But unless they wanted to blame the noblewoman for Relena’s increased association with the rest of the Romefeller families associated with the Accorded Nations, it seemed a bit much – too specific. 

            True, it was easy to make the argument that Relena had been actively chased out of the firing line with the first feint of violence – the competence their shooter showed otherwise implied that the low aim on the automated turret had been intentional.  But there had been other officials and nobles on the stage with far murkier histories than Sylvia to make an example of, and their shooter hadn’t even attempted to go for a double – she’d spent all her ammo trying to hammer through Jake. 

            From beginning to end, this trap had been designed specifically for her. 

            More than a few voices had cropped up suggesting it was a family issue; old Ventei had certainly earned the Noventas more than a few blood feuds from vicious parties before Yuy offed him at New Edwards.  Hell, Jake and BJ had a list more than one typed page long of people they’d already known about that hated anyone carrying the Noventa name.  Sylvia was literally one of the children BJ had set his career on fire for back when he spied for the Anti-Alliance Resistance Movement, because someone in power decided certain families should be burned out root and stem.  Searching out the motives from that pool would be a needle in a haystack. 

            But honestly, the timing was suspect – there had been better opportunities to go after the young woman, even with the top notch security she employed.  If the sniper had been less skilled, less methodical, Mai might believe it was a matter of known opportunity versus finding a gap in routine – and there was still an okay chance of that, depending on where the bitch was based, or how big her organization was.  Someone with talent and an old grudge might just wait for the right opportunity to fall into their lap, and their shooter had faded out far too seamlessly to not be damn familiar with the Berlin area, and… 

            She hated to say it, but knowing it had been a woman more than quadrupled their suspect pool, both due to population factors and the fact that if it was personal?  It was very possible that the grudge could be one only she had survived to remember, and they’d never find the motive.  That said, personally?  She was on BJ’s team; this had the feel of a professional, which made her far more inclined to think the issue originated in the east.  Not that that limited their suspect pool by much, but it at least made it feasible.  Additionally, the timing of it… 

            Sylvia was at the heart of a lot of projects these days, enough that it was difficult to say which – if not several at once – might have pissed off their eastern neighbors.  And since Sylvia only delegated the essentials and insisted on keeping a personal touch on anything that publicly bore her name, quite a few of her projects had slid to a sudden standstill as professionals worked to salvage some part of her right hand.  If she had died outright, several of those projects would likely have been at a standstill for weeks, which made for an interesting set of possible motives. 

            Though… there had already been abundant evidence for Libramentum splinter cells, and those assholes despised the aristocracy wholesale.  Even if the pendulum idiots didn’t try to claim the shooter – and at this point, it seemed unlikely that anyone would openly claim credit – it could be an offshoot, like the secondary bomber. 

            So if nothing else, the incident in Berlin had helped speed up the Mitchell talks, and, you know.  No one was ever going to say Relena’s honeybunny was overreacting or being paranoid when he insisted on borderline psychotic security measures in the future.  Personally, she was very happy to ride the coattails of that excuse for as long as they could. 

            The last time she had tried to carry a comrade off the field, he’d died before they reached the medic.  So seeing the colonel mouth off after coming out of surgery had been nice.  A good way to… overlay the bad associations.  It would be good to see him tomorrow too, even if they were dropping a massive packet of work on his lap while they went about it. 

            It was Jake.  If the last phone conference was anything to go by, he was climbing the walls already, even with only one usable arm.  He’d probably thank them for giving him something constructive to do.  Whether he’d appreciate the plan to leave their new pet empath with him after they left again was more debatable – less because Rhett was bad company, because he wasn’t, but he seemed to have some kind of ADD.  Keeping him occupied and focused was an exercise in frustration that her ex-CO might not appreciate. 

            The idea of asking him to be part of a security team had been floated, and Delilah had laughed herself hoarse.  Not because they weren’t welcome to try, apparently, so much as she thought her nephew would wander off in pursuit of a an interesting bug he’d seen and find himself two countries over and endear himself to a waitress desperately in need of a part timer before recalling he was supposed to be doing something constructive. 

            The fact that he had argued about her still holding that against him hadn’t exactly wowed anyone.  So while he was willing to give it a try – surprising in the first place, considering, you know, empath, even without confirming that he was apparently one of the strongest ones ever – he had severe difficulties with staying on task.  Given the way he’d literally dropped everything he was holding when Dorothy came in the room to coo at her very well-concealed belly, then been positively startled when someone cleared their throat, as if confused about exactly where he was? 

            Yeah…  Rhett didn’t sit entirely within their plane of reality. 

            Still, the kid made a hell of a warning system if he was in the general vicinity of danger, even if he was almost impossible to notice once he caught a hint of it.  He wasn’t literally disappearing, cameras had no issue, but he’d happily agreed to let them experiment with the ability, and so far?  Unless you were in physical contact with him, it was literally impossible to notice him when he sent out a ‘nothing to see here’ vibe.  His ‘look at me!’ was a little easier to contend with, though the soldiers and otherwise more disciplined had an easier time shrugging it off than the rest of the staff.  Interestingly, though, anything else he tried to Push didn’t seem to come through – or only as vague suggestions.  He’d just shrugged and noted that it had always been incredibly niche that way, and Pushing was a rare enough variation of Talent that no one really knew the rules. 

            It made the fact that Robby Stanton was apparently a master of that shit somewhat terrifying.  The fact that Rhett was able to fuck with her perception at all was alarming enough, but at least that was defensive – the attention-seeking version didn’t rise her hackles.  But having her eyes slide right over him despite knowing full well he was right there?  That freaked her out.  She was glad that this iteration of space heart was rare, because she didn’t know where to start on allowing for it with security measures – at least Rhett was a wandering flower child that abhorred violence. 

            Stanton – or Wilson, whatever he preferred – was definitely not a pacifist.  He had a damn good heart and, at minimum, great taste in people, but was also perfectly capable of gutting someone and watching the light drain out of their eyes.  Which she wasn’t exactly judging him for, because she wasn’t any better, but the supernatural end of the spectrum had her second-guessing everything. 

            “How are we on today’s media minutes?” Relena asked BJ.  “We’re clear enough that I can push today – any additions or subtractions?” 

            Right, because five days later, the internet was still flipping out over the Yuy article, and far more than just BJ’s prearranged leaks had been coming up through the woodwork.  The landscape on public opinion was varying wildly, and Relena was playing into it for maximum impact.  She couldn’t go too hard or risk overturning what she’d gained from her brother… but there was a line, and she was very intentionally toeing it. 

            Personally, Mai thought it was a shame she had to turn down the gundam toy thing – even if she had sourced someone who could take the heat from doing it and offered to be seen owning one in some casual fashion. 

            Mai was also fairly sure the group she’d passed the offer along to was maybe a shell affiliate of Jake’s.  She’d absolutely dropped a donation in that direction to help get it started, and Mai felt sure that Jovi had noticed at least one of those things. 

            “We should be good,” BJ assured her. 

            “Good.”  She handed the papers back to him and stood.  “Let’s get going, shall we?” 

-

***

-

April 25^th 199 – Friday – Space, L2 Sigma Quadrant – Secondary Site

            The moment he saw his son’s face, Jack felt sure that, despite the delays he’d imposed, despite the logic, and despite trusting that Audi understood Odin best? 

            He had made a critical mistake in bringing her here. 

            There was a fire in his son’s eyes that was very new, for all that it was familiar – he’d just been too premature in thinking his youngest hadn’t inherited any of the family temper.  A thrill passed through him, adrenaline and dread… 

            …And then he realized the glare was directed entirely at Audi.  Which… was either significantly better or worse – but he couldn’t quite see which. 

            The girl didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated, at least, which he took as a good sign.  “I’m mad at you,” she declared, raising her chin.  “I have called you and messaged you and emailed you, and nothing.  You don’t get to do that!  I waited six days, and I don’t care that you had people look in on me, you are my brother and this street goes both ways!” 

            A muscle in Odin’s jaw clenched as he stood there – well, floated – with his arms crossed, staring her down. 

            The hangar around them was abandoned.  The Sigma site was big enough that it was probably excess space, but Jack honestly didn’t know enough to say.  Audi had asked for a specific senior engineer by name when they arrived – and while the man had been startled, he’d also clearly recognized her and deferred to her dismissive wave when he tried to say Jack couldn’t come into this section of the old shipyard.  Which… he didn’t entirely know what to do with.  He hadn’t realized he was restricted from anywhere here, but he wasn’t staff and had only come the once – and truthfully, he had no business faffing around the engineering equipment.  If not for their guide’s obvious hesitation, he would have just assumed it was a safety measure to keep civilians from accidently dismembering themselves. 

            Odin had already balanced himself out of reach of the upper gallery they’d come out on – technically with a slow downward drift, but small enough that it would take him an hour or more to touch down below.  Ideal construction micro grav – low enough that you could move anything to a desired position, but with enough pull that heavy equipment wouldn’t drift or bounce. 

            “Are you mad at me?” Audi demanded. 

            Odin took a slow, even breath, shoulders rising and falling in an almost relaxed way.  “I am now,” he decided. 

            “Good!  Then we’re even!  Why have you been avoiding me?” 

            His jaw clenched again.  “I’ve been busy-” 

            “No, why have you been so weird for the last month?” she demanded.  “This goes back further than distraction central!  I was waiting for you to open up – but then you decided this was a good idea instead, and it is not working, Odin!  I tried waiting, and you’ve only gotten worse.  Now we’re trying something different.  What gives?”  When he only continued staring at her balefully, she continued.  “I promised my mom-” 

            “I promised your mom I would keep you safe,” he snapped back.  “I didn’t think you needed constant supervision in order to follow the rules.” 

            “No one on your list thought it was important!” she snapped back.  “What, would you rather I came out here alone?” 

            “Yes!” 

            …Oh.  This… was at least partially about him.  Shit.  His heart sank. 

            “Well too bad!  It’s my life, and I trust him to back me up if something bad happened!” 

            Another slow inhale.  “It’s not that simple, and you know it,” he informed her coldly, fire still smoldering in his eyes. 

            Jack wanted to be offended, but mostly… he just felt downtrodden.  “I can go,” he pointed out quietly. 

            “I am not upset with you,” his son informed him immediately, gaze cooling as it flicked this way.  “And I know you would try.”  He took another deep breath, the fire replaced by something bleak.  “But you cannot keep her safe if Zechs comes for us.  You lack the leverage.” 

            …Odin had probably meant for that to mollify him, and on some level it did – but it also raised other concerns. 

            He’d known there was an issue with the Regime, and that it was significant.  But he hadn’t guessed that it was… 

            Better to check.  “It’s personal?” he clarified.  Some people threw the Peacecraft Regime leader’s name around as a term for the government body or its military as a whole, but Odin was usually more precise. 

            His son barked out a laugh.  “That’s a good word for it.  Yes.”  He offered a sharp, jagged knife of a smile.  “We didn’t part on good terms.” 

            Fuck. 

            “He took my mom!” Audi half-sobbed, the anger guttering out of her like an overflowing candle. 

            “Had her taken,” Odin corrected. 

            “She said-” 

            “She spoke in metaphor half the time.  You were upset, you didn’t ask, why would he have-” 

            “I don’t know!” she shrieked.  “But we should have made her come with us!” 

            Spoke.  Past tense.  Shit.  Whether or not Audi was hedging her terms, Odin had an opinion on this woman’s status. 

            “You know why she didn’t.  She explained.”  Then he closed his eyes, and his shoulders slumped.  “I’m trying,” he insisted. 

            “You’re running,” she argued, wiping at free-flowing tears with one hand, cheeks flushed and blotchy.  “From me!  And I don’t even know why!  You’re supposed to take me with you.” 

            Something in Odin’s face crumpled, even as he kept his eyes closed.  “You…”  His jaw clenched as he seemingly knuckled down on himself.  “It’s… you have more, now.  Choices.  It’s good.”  His next breath shuddered a little.  “I didn’t run,” he asserted.  “I just… didn’t want to talk about how much I screwed up.” 

            Audi made a gut-punched sort of sound.  “Odin-” 

            “I had options,” he insisted, overriding her.  “I was too stupid to see them, but I had options, and I-”  He cut himself off with a sharp, bitter laugh.  “I should have run.  I chose to stay.  I did it to myself.  I can’t-” 

            Audi let out an inarticulate shriek and launched herself off the railing at him like a missile.  The collision drove them meters away and down towards the lower level of the hangar, though they ran out of momentum long before a second collision became likely.  In the meantime, she’d wrapped herself around him like an overly aggressive octopus, caterwauling all the while… 

            …And his son was clinging right back, face buried in one of her shoulders. 

            Jack’s heart thumped, and he found himself at an utter fucking loss.  He had no idea what was going on beyond sheer emotional fuckall, but the last time he’d offered to leave- 

            Wait.  Were they talking about Senior?  The bad mentor?  Fuck, it could be something else entirely, it wasn’t like they fucking told him anything… 

            Clenching his own jaw, he took hold of the railing and crossed his legs, lowering himself down to the balcony floor to wait.  Occasionally snippets of the conversation would float up to him, but so much of it was lost to distance that it might as well have been gibberish. 

            “-not like that, you-” 

            “-fix it-” 

            “Ridiculous!  I can’t-” 

            “-on’t have to.  You-” 

            “-fault.” 

            “-so stupid!” 

            “-want-” 

            She was right, he decided after a while, watching them bicker and slowly spin downward, wrapped around each other in a ball of tangled limbs, never letting go no matter how their voices went up or down.  He had no idea what this was about, but clearly it was important.  He hadn’t… 

            He felt reasonably confident that Junior was mature enough to know he was in love with the woman he’d bought a ring for, to know what that level of commitment meant, but his little sister was clearly a lifeline.  And maybe that was how it was supposed to be?  He’d never really had that.  Maybe his mom, but she’d always been working, and… by the time he really understood how much she’d meant to him, she’d been dead for years.  And Des was great, but even now there was always that part of him that was waiting for the other shoe to drop – knowing it wouldn’t, but… also knowing that while he might sit high on the other man’s priority list, he’d never rank first.  Which was fine, it would honestly be weird as fuck if that wasn’t the case and he wouldn’t respect his friend even half as much as he did, but… 

            It looked nice.  Unconditional.  He… 

            It was good to see. 

            He hadn’t been able to hear anything beyond occasional hints of tone for a while by the time they pulled fully apart, and they’d reached the base level some six stories down before they lost all their intensity.  He hadn’t tried to track the time, but his knees and spine had both grown stiff by the time his son drifted back up and took hold of the handrail to arrest his motion, smoothly slinging himself into a sitting position by his side, legs dangling over the ledge.  “Hey.” 

            “Hey,” Jack returned tonelessly, feeling just… empty, maybe?  “Sorry.” 

            “Hn.  Don’t be.”  Odin sighed.  “It’s fine.” 

            “You’re upset.”  Less now than before, but- 

            Junior let out another of those short, too sharp laughs.  “I think I’ve been ‘upset’ for years,” he countered.  “Lately, it’s just getting harder to ignore.”  Slumping his shoulders, he added, “I’d rather you always listen to her than worry about how someone else will take it, even me.”  His next huff was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.  “She’s usually right – in the heart, if not always the words.  I was…”  He paused, and Jack glanced over at him in time to catch his grimace.  “I was acting like my father,” he practically spat.  “Which is to be avoided, so.”  He rolled his shoulders.  “Better to be done with it.  I’ve got better options – I shouldn’t let a lack of familiarity close them off before I even start.  That’s how you end up regretting something, and the last time…”  Another too long, too deeply controlled breath.  “I don’t want to be there again.  My father killed himself for regret, and I have his same weakness to it.  I’d rather be uncomfortable over the people I love calling me out than fall into old habits.  I finally like my life – I’m not giving it up now, when so much has gone right that nothing feels familiar anymore.  It’s just…”  He gusted out an exasperated sort of sigh.  “Stupid.” 

            A hundred different emotions churned in his chest, from the heart-wrenching mention of ‘father’ to the sick twist of wounded relief that he’d been talking about Senior, the implied suicidal inclination – but then, to have it all wrapped up in Odin’s favored childish word to dismiss a metric ton of very serious sounding issues as nonrelevant? 

            He couldn’t help it – he burst out laughing.  Then was utterly horrified, because fuck, that was not the right- 

            But then Junior was laughing too. 

            It took longer than made any kind of sense to stop, caught up by overwhelming relief more than anything else… but it was comfortable to just sit there together, after.  A little surreal, but… 

            Sometimes, everything about his youngest felt a little surreal, and he’d only been back from the dead for six months. 

            He’d only met him four months ago. 

            Looking at him now, he…  Shit.  He looked like maybe Audi hadn’t been the only one crying, but he wasn’t sure, and one session wouldn’t have made him quite so bloodshot, or put those circles under his eyes.  And his cheeks weren’t exactly hollow, but his face was a hint sharper than usual.  That… 

            Hell, he’d panicked a little, and over nothing, but that extra sharpness had been a good chunk of why he’d suddenly thought Junior might pull a Jake and turn violent.  But looking at him closer, now that he was relaxed? 

            The engineering coverall he was wearing made him practically shapeless, but he’d put money on the boy being thinner.  His hair stood on end even more than usual, and was dirty – not exactly limp with grease, but he knew his own took a while to get that look, so… 

            Audi had been on target.  He hadn’t been sleeping, hadn’t been eating, hadn’t been washing when he usually took forever in the bathroom at home… and while on some level he could put that down to this ‘deadline’ business, he also wasn’t buying it.  Not entirely, at least. 

            “What?” 

            Caught out.  “You look rough.” 

            “I’ve been working for a hundred sixty-two hours,” Odin returned flatly.  “Everyone kept pointing out every time they needed to piss off for something like I needed some kind of shepherding along until I told them to fuck off, and now they’re barely talking at all.  I was going to the commissary for dinner every night, but then my favorite intern was freaking out because his cousin got on a stage with you at the scene of an assassination, and then I realized the man down was my brother.”  One side of his mouth twisted up in a wry curl that was definitely not a smile.  “It’s been a long week.”  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  “I can’t go home until I get this done, and if it takes until Wednesday I might have to fly straight to Budapest, and I will be pissed.  That’s not how I want to start that night.  So I need to get it done, but everything conceivable keeps happening just to spite me.”  He rubbed both hands across his face.  “It’s exhausting.” 

            He looked exhausted.  “How much have you been sleeping?” he tried. 

            “Twenty-two hours.” 

            Twenty…  He felt his face drop into a disapproving glower.  Twelve times fourteen was one sixty-eight – Odin had been here for a hundred sixty-two hours.  Which meant-  “You’ve only been sleeping three hours a night?” he demanded. 

            “It’s not that regular,” his son negated. 

            …His children were both clinically insane.  In very different ways.  He almost wanted to ask what he’d done to deserve this, but also had no desire to see the itemized list. 

            He settled for giving him a flat look.  “I have so many things to say about this that I literally cannot choose.” 

            That got him bright eyes and a cackle, at least, which… while he’d prefer quality rest over shared humor, he’d take it as a starting bid. 

            To his surprise, it… worked?  “I’m getting close to critical,” Odin agreed.  “But I wanted to get through as much as I could before…”  He groaned.  “As soon as I hit my bunk they’re going to try to build without me, and the last time that happened I spent days undoing their fuckups, let alone fixing them.”  Then he made a face.  “I’ve been gone for an hour – they’ve probably already started.” 

            He wished he didn’t already know the answer to this question; he’d seen Junior shut his eyes and to all appearances immediately drop into REM in any number of unlikely places.  “Where have you been sleeping?” 

            “You don’t need a bunk to nap in zero-G.” 

            Jack groaned.  “You are the worst supervisor in existence.” 

            “I haven’t made any changes or demands on their schedules,” he argued.  “I’m just not limiting myself to them.” 

            He supposed that was something, but he’d also just confessed to only leaving the construction bay to piss and eat – and had stopped bothering with the latter.  That did things to the people working with you. 

            He also knew he wouldn’t get anywhere by pointing that out.  “If they’ve already started anyway, why not min-max and hit your bunk now?”  And he’d make sure there was something hot to eat once he woke back up – he’d probably been living off MREs, or something equivalent. 

            Odin rolled his eyes but also looked satisfied, gently pushing off to glide into a more vertical position as he stretched.  “Six hours,” he decided. 

            “Eight,” Jack countered.  He’d try for ten if he thought he had half a chance of winning.  But he also knew his youngest was of the opinion that eight hours was the perfect sweet spot for REM to deep sleep cycles, and was therefore more equipped to defend that standard.  “If they fuck something up, you’ll be topped off and two hours isn’t going to make that much difference on the revamp.” 

            Odin shrugged, setting himself in a slow spin.  “They shouldn’t screw up again,” he grumbled agreeably, facial muscles relaxing like he was just going to sleep right there.  Again.  “We’ve been over it enough.  I’m just…”  He growled and twisted forward into more of a somersault.  

            Jack watched him for a moment, but when he didn’t try to finish the statement, offered – only a little sarcastically – “Just sleep-deprived?” 

            Odin hummed, eyes closed as he tumbled gently through the air.  “Everything is annoying.” 

            “Hungry and sleep deprived,” Jack surmised. 

            “Mm.” 

            He waited for a moment… then blinked, realizing the boy’s face was going more lax.  “Do not sleep here,” he protested, never mind the how. 

            Odin blinked his eyes open.  “Mm?” 

            Fuck my life.  He was suddenly wondering if he should be grateful for how much of a shithead Jake turned into when he went without sleep – at least it forced him to learn some self-regulation, if only to keep Dave from strangling him during their teen years.  “Come on, I think I remember where your room is.”  Provided he could get back out of this mostly abandoned quadrant, which… was debatable. 

            This place was enormous.  If he understood right, large portions of Libra had been constructed here, at least in the early stages before the battleship had enough of its own bays and forges to handle its own weight.  The details of that monster’s construction were a bit murky, what with how no one had really known it had been years in the making before Tsubarov shot Une and took her collection of engineers to set up camp there – and it had been mostly done by then, parked out deep near the asteroid belt to crunch through resources as needed.  The army of Virgos and main canon that had become Libra’s hallmarks – when truthfully the ship had begun as a younger addition to or replacement for Barge – had only been started in… October, during the war? 

            Jack squinted, trying to remember the rest of the rambling he’d heard all of Odin’s baby interns spout the last time he’d swung through here.  For all that they weren’t building suits here, in his experience?  All engineers were mech heads, especially the young ones – in heart, if not expertise.  They gossiped over stats like nurses over their patients, and…  

            Hell, but Jake and Lena needed to come out soon.  Even aside from that kiss out by the ambulance, they had not been spectacularly subtle when she visited.  Not overt either, but…  Even if the EMTs had kept their mouths shut, rumors had to be circulating by now. 

            He stopped himself from reaching out to soothe the itch of his tattoo – part of convincing Audi to wait this long to come had been that he’d already had the appointment scheduled for its touch-up yesterday.  He…  

            As secretive as he’d always been about it, the fact that Jake named his do-gooder fund after Rhea had always made Jack melt a little.  She… Rhea had never really cared about people as a whole, only those close to her, but… it was an awesome thing, no matter the misrepresentation.  And she would have loved being made famous over something; would have preened over people knowing her name.  As shitty as their relationship had gotten sometimes… 

            Everyone was going to know his wife’s name soon – and be proud of it.  It made him want to sob, and he still couldn’t decide if it was out of joy or grief.  Jake was worried about how Junior might take news about Senior’s sordid history coming out, and… 

            He was all for it.  Truly. 

            But it would have been nice to not get blindsided by the subject.  

            Just… a conversation warning him.  That was all he was asking for.  Maybe even one that Jake delegated to Des.  He knew his oldest got weird as hell about the subject of his mom, practically like she’s been a god instead of a person, and…  Hell, but Jack was excited to have it out in the open. 

            But it wasn’t as though people were going to miss the fact that he was tangled up in all that history with the Lowes too.  Jake had a tendency to forget he wasn’t some kind of virgin birth.  He was getting better, but… they’d been apart for so much of their lives that Jack knew he was probably always going to be an afterthought.  And it was fine, he was perfectly willing to settle for being included at all.  But… 

            As much as Junior’s constant referral to Senior as his father made him want to retch?  Made his heart skip a fucking beat as he dropped some kind of vitriol, before his brain caught up and he remembered the kid wasn’t talking about him?  Jake’s in-and-out game of inclusion as family, while technically milder, usually left him feeling worse.  Even though it was getting better, even though the wonder of Jake actively calling him Dad was never going to get old…  The unpredictability of it made him want to hide in Junior’s shadow. 

            And then he felt like an asshole, because he knew that at least in this case, the lapse hadn’t been intentional.  Jake just hadn’t thought about it, and they were both new to this and Jake was insanely busy, but…  It still hurt. 

            As fucking awful as some of the things coming out of Junior’s mouth could get?  He always played it straight.  He wasn’t always good about picking up when people misinterpreted him, but… well, he’d been getting better about that too.  He’d done it not an hour ago, breaking out of his tiff with Audi to reassure him, then coming back after to further reinforce the fact.  There was still a lot of ground to cover, so much trust to gain, but… 

            He knew where he stood with Odin.  Sometimes it was on the very edge of a precipice that his son was literally daring him to jump off of, like the whole Hilde accusation, but he was pretty damn clear about it. 

            Though… it could stand to be a little clearer.  “I wouldn’t let anyone take Audi from me,” he pointed out quietly as they moved down the hall.  No one was nearby to hear.  “Even if you hadn’t told me she had enemies, I would never let someone take any child from me, let alone your sister.”  He hadn’t known that Audi’s troubles were with the Regime too, but… 

            Well, with all the fur flying in the aftermath of the Yuy article, as much as the pilot was being lauded?  People were largely being careful to not directly contrast him with Milliardo Peacecraft.  There was plenty being noted obliquely about how anyone else in the kid’s shoes would have probably lost it and gotten far more trigger happy than their planetary savior had, but he hadn’t heard about anyone being stupid enough to compare him to the guy who tried to end all life on earth because his home kingdom had been annexed and his sister made queen of the new empire.  It was very much a universal elephant in the room, but either someone had done it and been silenced hard, or the internet was collectively showing something approaching common sense for once. 

            Jack loved Lena; he would have loved her if the only thing she ever did in her life was make his son feel whole, but she was pretty amazing in general.  But as nice as Jack had played with her brother in order to get close to Jake again post-Fall, he’d be happy to punt the fucker out an airlock if he thought he had a chance of pulling it off. 

            Milliardo Peacecraft was a literal nightmare of a human being.  The only reason why people didn’t say so was because he held the highest position in their government – a government that, in some ways, had only been a stiff wind away from collapsing on itself from its inception, and was still the only thing keeping them from invasion or all out anarchy.  If anything, learning the breadth of horror that occurred in the Sahara had made people cling to the legitimacy of the Peacecraft Regime even more tightly, because if that was what waited for them? 

            Hell, the Dutchman was such a big deal because at the start of the Regime, everyone had been waiting for the Democratic Zone to collapse into total anarchy that the troops would have to march in on in order to restore the peace.  It had stabilized by the end of that first summer, but…  The gang culture that had developed there had been a warning knell of what could come next, if they lost what was left of society’s structure.  Even the strongest anti-Romefeller advocates had largely sat down and shut up after the first year, seeing the goddamn descent into madness in that nook of territory where Romefeller had already died out to the west – and for all that everyone liked to talk the most about the Netherlands as some kind of pit these days, it was only because no one wanted to talk about the shit in Denmark or Sweden at all. 

            He’d been avoiding politics for the last decade, but he’d also spent the last handful of days in Jake’s circle while they argued about this or that stance, and he was hardly deaf.  Not to mention the internet was still trying to explode over the Yuy thing and all the implications that could be pulled from both those facts and how other events contrasted.  Rubato was right in the thick of it too, and he’d been trying to keep up, but… 

            Maybe it was less that the internet was trying to explode so much as his head was.  It was like standing in the eye of a hurricane and trying to still catalogue everything he saw fly by. 

            Odin sighed.  “I’ve been trying to keep you from getting caught in the middle of something you can’t turn back from,” he admitted.  “It was easier to keep you close enough to stay happy but still outside the range of potential flare-ups rather than work out a protocol.  The house is one thing, because if its security is broken the situation is already dire, but she’s not supposed to be outside of specific safe zones unless it’s with one of five people.”  He grimaced.  “Six – Melissa counts too, but she and Kasey are rarely far enough apart to count separately.  The von Kolls don’t travel.” 

            Jack considered that.  He knew Audi ran off with the von Kolls, Cat, and Adam… if Odin was including himself in that number, then that left the only remaining person as the fiancée.  Which made him feel slightly better, as that was the tightest Odin’s circle got, but still stung.  “I wouldn’t choose politics over a child,” he reiterated, trying to not get more upset. 

            Odin let out a frustrated sigh.  “It’s not a trust issue,” he explained.  “It’s that all of those people are equally as screwed as she or I if it were to happen, and will have to fight for our lives – and we’re all exceptionally good at that.”  He shook his head.  “You have options, and more than that, Audi knows that, and will prioritize differently.”  He grimaced.  “It’s a situation I wanted to avoid, both for everyone’s safety and because it’s a scenario that will likely see her making a kill shot, and I’ve been trying to keep that from happening.” 

            Jack stopped in his tracks, leaning back and grabbing onto the handrail to his right, the sheer depth of that hitting him.  That… 

            “If you’re alone with my sister when someone from a lower tier comes for her, and you have a good avenue of escape, fight,” Odin continued, grabbing onto the opposite rail to arrest his momentum and turn so that they were face to face.  “Do what you have to, get out, and I will follow.” 

            He met those blue eyes, Rhea’s eyes, and only just kept himself from shaking from their intensity. 

            “But if there’s too many, or they’re Regime and already made contact with a wider net?  Play along, play dumb if you can, get out, and get me.  And I will see her free, then see you again after we have a change of regime.” 

            …Fuck. 

            “And if you can’t handle that,” his son finished, leaning close, eyes narrowed.  “Then don’t take her out of a safe zone.” 

            Jack just met him stare for stare.  Because… that was a warning.  

            But it was also permission.  Just… a validation at the same time.  And… 

            He had either just said he was willing to topple governments for the sake of his sister, or acknowledged that the end of the Peacecraft Regime was drawing near – and given his ties to the Insurgence…  

            It could really go either way. 

            He felt his breathing even back out as he realized… neither option particularly bothered him.  No one had explained why, but Des had already said Relena would see the Regime gone before the end of summer, no matter what else happened these next few months. 

            His acceptance must have been clear on his face, because Junior relaxed, leaning back as his feet touched down, losing most of his intensity.  “Not going to ask?” he mused after a moment, still a little predatory but not…in a threatening way. 

            Jack felt the urge to laugh rise again, and tamped it down.  “Why bother?” he found himself asking, feeling… looser than he had in a long time.  “It’s not going to change my answer.”  Odin and Audi were his even if the hows were murky, and his son had just laid out a plan to win a war and come home to Jack afterwards if a child he loved was threatened.  These were simple facts that he had no issue supporting.  Even aside from this conversation, Rubato was actively courting Lena and RLTT separately.  Jake and Lena wanted the Regime gone, and…  He felt fucking glorious. 

            There was no compatibility issue here.  The details were messy, but that was politics, and he didn’t actually care about those.  The boys still needed to sort out their shit with each other to their own satisfaction, but that… didn’t actually change anything. 

            Could he say any of that without risking misinterpretation? 

            He didn’t know the means Lena was toppling her brother by, and there was probably a good reason for that.  He had no interest in fucking over a complex plan, and he didn’t know enough to not trash it.  Everything to do with the Treize angle was complex, past or present.  The series of reveals on the public front to do with the upcoming royal wedding and RLTT were incomprehensible to him – he’d never had a good grasp on social bullshitting.  So… 

            Something simple.  Something true and simple and maybe even helpful, given everything he’d learned today. 

            “Your brother hates Zechs,” he admitted, the old moniker feeling foreign on his tongue after so long of making sure he didn’t misspeak and risk offending – but Odin had said Zechs earlier, and Jake had never stopped.  “Has for years.  He knows how to play him, makes an art of it sometimes, but that’s not a complication you have to worry about.”  There’d been a while that he thought Jake would stand firmly by the Regime, but that had been about the world’s economic stability, not personal loyalty.  If there had ever been any true bond between the two of them, it had snapped when the prince tried to follow through on dropping Libra – on killing Des. 

            His oldest might shed a few tears over regrets when Jack died by any circumstance, but if Des went violently?  If he’d gone down in the Fall?  His son would have gone on a rampage.  He couldn’t even be mad about it – it simply was what it was.  And even though it hadn’t happened, even if Jake had found himself in a situation where he decided he would need to fully accept and support Milliardo Peacecraft for the rest of his life?  The memory of the attempt was something that Jake would never let go of. 

            He was sure there were other reasons too.  But that alone would have been enough to make the Lightning Count acceptable collateral on the negotiation table of what was to come. 

            There was something feline and deeply reminiscent of his older brother in the languid way Odin relaxed at that news, head tipping to one side.  “Good to know.” 

            What else was easy and safe to say?  Jake was in the middle of some kind of long series of talks with Cat over email under the auspices of RLTT, and he didn’t even know the beginning gambits there, let alone the latest.  Too many landmines.  But… 

            He touched his arm without thinking, and the itch of his tattoo shifted to a soft burn. 

            Jack licked his lips, debating, but… he would have felt better with more warning, and every time the brothers talked the air was charged.  “I’m pretty sure,” entirely positive, in fact, “that some degree of Senior’s history is going to make its way into public knowledge soon.” 

            Technically, the truth had been leaked a long time ago, but only to select parties, and the issue today was a matter of not being able to unring the bell.  Senior’s profession had been a poorly kept secret among the upper echelon of OZ after he left its ranks, and the rumors had grown exponentially after Jake was accepted into the Academy.  It had been a long time since anyone had cared to talk about him, but with Jake coming into the open as the RLTT proprietor?  Left alone, it was a potential powder keg – better to light the fire under controlled circumstances and direct the angle of the burn for maximum lift.  Relena was too important of a figure to risk keeping that skeleton hiding in the closet. 

            Odin blinked, then looked thoughtful for a second… and shrugged.  “Alright.” 

            …Huh.  Jack smirked.  “Your brother’s been in a tizzy for weeks trying to figure out how to bring it up.” 

            Odin blinked again, then raised both brows in a purely judgmental expression.  “That’s stupid.” 

            Jack barked out a laugh and brought both hands up to cover his face.  When he had control of himself again, he tried to explain.  “He wants to get ahead of it and control how it comes out, manage the media spin, but was worried that it might affect you adversely.”  At Odin’s latest slow blink, he corrected, “That it might affect your career and Rubato overall adversely, at minimum.”  Odin himself kept a low profile beyond having his name on the group’s founding charter.  He was gaining a reputation in engineering circles at an alarming rate, but frankly, they were the lot who practically worshiped the Mad Five. 

            “Odin died when I was a child,” Junior reminded him, looking entirely nonplussed.  “Not to mention the fact that he was never caught out, and not even I have any idea who our targets were.”  He rolled his eyes, mouth settling into a determined line.  “My history with Odin is the least of my worries.  Tell him to feel free to use the intel however works best.  I really don’t care.”  Then he tilted his head.  “Are there any old enemies of his I should watch out for, since I am using my name these days?” 

            Eh…  “Nothing current,” he decided.  “The Bartons won’t kick a fuss now that the old man is dead, and I want to say the rest of Dekim’s colleagues from his heyday are all gone too.  But I’ll check.” 

            Junior shifted back, blinking again.  “The Bartons?” 

            Jack gave him an incredulous look, smiling a bit, waiting for the punch-line.  But…  Nothing. 

            Does he… not know? 

            That was… entirely absurd.  He’d been assuming that Junior had to have ducked and dodged like mad to avoid the megalomaniac’s influence while apparently living primarily in space and doing an engineering apprenticeship, not to mention the clandestine shit he wouldn’t currently acknowledge, but…  

            Had he avoided the noose by pure dumb luck? 

            “You’re joking,” he announced, starting to feel… a little numb. 

            But Junior was just staring at him – beginning to look a bit bewildered, if anything. 

            He licked his lips and brought a hand up to grip the top of his head, feeling a bit lost himself.  Holy shit.  Where to even start?  “Odin…  Dekim had it out for Senior since 175.  He put a hit out on him before your mom and I even got married.”  Though on so many levels, that had been genuinely hilarious – at least in the early years, all of the hit men he’d tried to hire had actually been pseudonyms Senior employed for differing factions.  It had been a little more touchy after Jake was born, when they realized the man’s hatred was only growing stronger with time, but mostly a nonpoint.  “As far as I’m aware, he never went after your mother because she married me and the Barton Foundation had a standing non-aggression pact with all three iterations of the L1 militia.  But after I got put away…” 

            Dekim might have been one of the original reasons why Senior had never left the boys with anyone, the way he had while raising Rhea.  “I don’t know when his first attempt on the two of you was, but by the time I got out of prison I know that it had happened more than once, and there were large swathes of space that Senior wouldn’t even pass through on commute, trying to avoid his influence.  Even with that…”  He swallowed.  “There was a gig I backed him on, the October before I started the custody battle,” because making the seven-year-old babysit when Senior needed cover fire was better than letting him put a gun in Jake’s hands again, “and on our way back to where the two of you were sleeping, Odin’s descrambler for nearby radios picked something up and we found a fucking sniper with a bead on your window.” 

            He didn’t know if they’d found the agent shortly into his outpost and he’d just finished setting up, annoyed the boys’ bed wasn’t in line of sight, or if he’d been lying in wait for Senior to come back – he hadn’t wasted time before blowing a hole in the guy’s head.  But the fact that Senior had only wanted to pick up and go instead of looking into it had been the final goddamn nail in the coffin of their working relationship.  He’d started pulling together resources to pin him down in court the next day. 

            Junior’s eyes were a bit wide but he didn’t say anything, so Jack continued.  “Once we separated… I didn’t know until after, but Dekim sent a fucking kill squad after me and Jake – he waited three months after I cut all ties with the militia and…  I don’t know where Odin stashed you during or if he just put a rifle in your hands, but he picked them all off before they made it through my door – left a huge goddamn mess for everyone to find the next morning.”  He clenched his jaw, remembering when he opened the front door and realized just how close it had been – not to mention the fucking nightmare in the stairwell.  “I guess that worked as deterrent long enough for Amarianna to line up her con and snatch Jake back out from under me.  The one upside of all the shit she filled his brain with was that she handled the next few attempts with equal ardor.”  Including the one in Tivoli while he was at the Noins.  “I don’t know if he finally got sick of throwing away men or she did something more insidious to make him back off from more than intermittent attempts over the next few years, but there was a price on your brother’s head with regularly updated pictures as soon as he turned nine – the last one got posted the day before that last job in 188.  Then Dekim himself came out of hiding, and…  Word is that he bragged long and hard about being the one to fire the bullet.  Took a gut shot that was sure to clip the liver and left him to bleed out.” 

            He met his son’s deep blue eyes, still wide and almost blank, remembering what Junior had said about that day.  Left him for you to find.  Before Junior came back he’d always assumed it had been the other way around, but… 

            Had Dekim really cut a deal with Senior, and agreed to stop going after the kids? 

            Had Senior been stupid or desperate enough to believe he’d actually follow through?  The fucker had been in the middle of starting a violent coup on the home colony of his daughter and only grandchild.  Dekim hadn’t cared about anyone, even blood.  He’d never retracted the contract out on Jake, just let the payment offer lapse. 

            And Junior had just been gone. 

            Jack swallowed, looking away.  “The hit on Jake expired before the new year, at least, but your brother’s always known to stay out of immediate range; just because the Foundation claimed they weren’t actively hunting anymore didn’t mean Dekim would pass up an opportunity.”  He knew Jake had palled around with Leia for a couple years as often as not after he gave up the hunt for Junior, but Dekim had fucked off by then to focus on the gundam projects, busy pretending he’d never had a daughter – and all those visits had been done under a believable pseudonym.  Not one that would have held under heavy scrutiny given Dekim’s long obsession with Senior, but either he hadn’t cared enough to look or had stopped caring about Jake completely by then. 

            He met Junior’s eyes again, and, still getting that blank stare, blew out a breath and shrugged helplessly.  “You vanished in the aftermath, and your brother spent the next year chasing any hint of a lead for where you’d gone; I didn’t even know any of it had happened until someone showed up at my door because Jake was a few days shy of being declared a missing person.”  David had been brusque, but in a business-like way, and kind enough about the whole mess despite the circumstances – and more importantly he had caught up to Jake before he disappeared into Barton-controlled territory entirely and watched his damn back.  Swallowing again, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before forcing himself to meet his son’s eyes directly and bite the bullet.  “I thought he was chasing a pipe dream,” he admitted.  “Senior’s body was left out like a taunt, with his true passport in one pocket.  When you didn’t turn up, I figured he’d taken you first, to force Senior into the right position.  Before Christmas rolled around, I’d made my peace with your ashes having long since been scattered.”  Mostly he’d just hoped it had been quick, but… Dekim. 

            He’d tried to not think too hard about it.  Then or later. 

            He looked away again, trying to gather his nerves.  Junior wasn’t the type to condemn him for that, but it still fucking hurt – the resignation as much as the angry horror, made worse by the fact that he now knew he’d given up when he should have kept going and fought to find him. 

            But he’d never even tried.  Not until the History for Tomorrow Database called and said they’d had a match. 

            He hadn’t even known Jake included his information on the contact profile. 

            “I didn’t know.” 

            Bracing himself, he straightened his shoulders and looked back at his son… and didn’t know what to make of the somewhat lost look on his face.  “None of it?” he asked, feeling a little lost himself.  Because sure, there hadn’t been a specific hit out for Junior, but a good chunk of that had probably been because no one had a picture of him.  Lu had gotten that one during the whole… anti-aircraft missile snafu he tried to not remind Des about, but Jake had kept that shit under lock and key, and no one had known to even check her suit’s security logs for a glimpse of it until after they’d IDed Senior’s corpse. 

            Junior let out a broken, incredulous sort of laugh.  “No.  Absolutely nothing.” 

            He’d realized already that his brother-in-law was more than a little fucked in the head by the time he died, but it still hit like a fucking hammer every time he turned over some new piece of evidence.  “Fuck.” 

            His child was still alive today due to sheer fucking luck.  Maybe Dekim had assumed he’d offed him during that coup and hadn’t actively been looking for him, riding the afterglow of murdering his self-assigned nemesis?  But what the everloving fuck had Senior been thinking, not even telling the kid who should be avoided? 

            His stomach sank again as something else occurred to him. 

            Junior had said Senior tried to abandon him more than once before that day.  Had he… been laying a trail to nowhere for Dekim to follow on the boy? 

            …Had he not, and been trying to abandon him in Barton territory without a single fucking clue that people wanted to hurt him? 

            Every time he thought he’d maxed out on just how much he hated Rhea’s brother, he found some new goddamn low the man had sunk to.  Just…  Fuck! 

            Why?!  If he was truly that far gone he could have just… dropped the kid on Amarianna’s doorstep, or… or anywhere other than deep in enemy territory. 

            He closed his eyes.  Jake had always insisted that Senior had been broken after the custody battle.  That he’d been growing worse every time he made contact with him after. 

            He’d never imagined it had gone this far. 

            But it had. 

            His ears were thundering, and when he reached up to rub his nose, he wasn’t too surprised to realize his cheeks were wet. 

            Junior started laughing. 

            Jack scrubbed at his eyes, trying to clear his vision, but they just kept streaming and all he could clearly make out was that Junior had his back toward the wall.  The sound was boiling out of him like a broken teakettle – full-bodied and endless and more than a little bit helpless, like he just couldn’t stop.  Which was weird, but- 

            After the first few seconds, the sound twisted.  Just as loud, but more desperate than disbelieving, until it came out almost deranged – like someone was ripping it out of him, and Jack’s eyes wouldn’t stop so he reached out blindly- 

            The way Odin clutched him back was strangely gratifying even as it made him want to shit his pants out of sheer dread.  Because Junior wasn’t shy about physical contact, but he never… not with him.  And it was as though something in the boy was broken, and he didn’t have a fucking clue where to start with this son he had no legitimate right to at all, this transient miracle of Rhea’s that he’d never been allowed to cling to, that kept threatening to disappear again and he couldn’t- 

            He couldn’t breathe. 

            He wretched, gasping for air, then flailed as the motion jarred Odin enough in the low gravity that he started to bounce away and reflexively wrapped his arms around him, not caring how awkward or maybe unwelcome or fucking weird this was.  Just… floating in a goddamn hallway on the ass end of nowhere, clutching Junior around the middle like he was a plush bear and curling in close like a child in the middle of a panic attack.  

            …Maybe that was what this was? 

            Fuck if he knew.  But Odin wasn’t trying to squirm away and the godawful insane asylum laughter was dying down to wheezes, so he just shut his eyes again and refused to think too hard about it. 

            He was here.  They… they were both here, and whatever the fuck that had been about…  They were both here, so it couldn’t be insurmountable, right?  It… 

            He didn’t know what was happening, but, you know.  He wasn’t going anywhere, so it was a moot point. 

            It was fine. 

            After what felt like forever, Odin groaned and went limp… and either made some sort of long, inarticulate sound of exhaustion or was speaking in something Jack had zero reference for. 

            Either way, he one hundred percent agreed. 

            Another long moment later, a hand tentatively settled on his head, and his son made a confused sort of noise… then sighed and hunched over to drape his head and shoulders over Jack’s upper back. 

            He almost started crying again.  This fucking kid.  Jack had his arms wrapped around him just below the sternum with his head tucked low and the rest of his body in a curl around Odin’s back until his knees came close to his head in some kind of wrestling move turned fetal position, and instead of calling him out, Junior just went with it. 

            He tried to gather himself, and didn’t think it was all that long, at least, before he managed to ask, “Are you okay?” 

            Odin didn’t answer for a long minute, and Jack found himself wishing that he knew something better to say… but he didn’t try to pull away either.  So… 

            It was enough, really.  It had to be. 

            Eventually, Odin shifted slightly, stretching, and said, “I’m tired.”  

            Of fucking course he was tired.  He’d been refusing to sleep for a week even before the emotional shitcan of a hurricane hit him today, and… Jack was tired, and it was only early afternoon on a normal schedule for him.  So… 

            …He had no idea where the hell they were.  He supposed he could start off in one direction until gravity started to ramp up and play hot/cold until he recognized something, but Odin presumably didn’t need to guess at it.  Which they both knew, so there wasn’t much point in saying it. 

            So instead he loosened his grip enough that the kid could pull away if he wanted, reaching one hand up to rub his face again – dry, but crusty from the saline – and said, “That’s relatable.” 

            Odin hummed in a neutral way and didn’t budge. 

            Fuck it.  “Lead the way, huh?”  He’d napped in his son’s ‘bunk’ – he was the boss, it was really a suite – and he could do with a kip on his couch, after all that. 

            Odin’s hum was happier this time, and as he pushed off with his toes in a gentle launch forward?  He grabbed onto Jack’s arm to keep contact. 

            So that was another thing he didn’t need to cry about.  Really. 

-

***

-

Berlin, Germany – Hildegard Medical Center – Intensive Care Unit

            “Well, the quarterly is better than I expected so far,” Jake mused, setting the papers aside and reaching up to scrub a hand over his face.  “I’m not going to complain.  Da Capo is still waiting until they get more meaningful statistics on the agricolonies before making their next move, but the Lotus integration there has been smooth enough so far.”  One shoulder shifted as if he was going to shrug, then abruptly stilled as he aborted the motion and leaned back into his pillows instead.  “The media angle is something I have next to no experience with, but I like what I’ve been seeing.  The forums in particular are a little wild.” 

            “The speculation is getting a little intense,” BJ agreed.  “But at this point, no one is trying to tamp it back down – I think the Regime is hoping it’ll just run its course.  Neither Yuy or Barton are current figures, so I think they’re hoping to just let it burn itself out.” 

            “Do you have a plan to elongate it?”  Jake made a face, hand still over his eyes.  “Not that we need to if it’s not helpful, but the spin has been good so far.” 

            “One or two,” BJ admitted.  “But I think I’d rather take the cue on that from the Revenants, given what else Lluvia has implied.” 

            The hand dropped, and Jake blinked a few times as if to clear his head.  “Oh?” 

            Relena stepped close to him again and ran her fingers through his hair.  She’d backed off because he couldn’t seem to concentrate with her so close right now and they’d needed to finish sorting this out, but they were in the final set and she’d wanted to say this one personally.  Still…  “Are you okay?” 

            He leaned into the touch as she scraped her nails along his scalp.  “I’ve been better,” he admitted.  “I think I get why Junior made the gears analogy, but I mostly feel like something is trying to chew on me.  Really slowly.  Constantly.  I’m going a little bit insane.” 

            She bit her lip.  “I don’t remember that.” 

            His grin was wry.  “Apparently only a small percent of the population notices the feeling at normal doses – and everyone feels it systemically at higher ones, even with full nerve blocks.  It’s limited there, but… something about the block handling the pain from the damage, but the drug is in the bloodstream?”  He groaned softly through his teeth.  “I feel like I’m going to vibrate right out of my skin.  If anything, I almost want to have them stop renewing the blocks because it feels so lopsided I want to shake like a dog, but I got a lecture about ethics and not trying to be Heero Yuy when I suggested it.”  He grimaced.  “I’m shedding like a lizard and I talked a nurse into helping me shave before you got here because it was insane.” 

            “I did notice your hair is longer,” she admitted, pulling lightly as she carded her fingers through it – he hummed happily in response.  It hadn’t occurred to her that facial hair would respond to the Remalene the same way, but… well it should have.  She wanted to say he had nearly two inches of grow-out, but they hadn’t been outside as much lately, and she couldn’t remember how dark his roots had been before the shooting.  They never stayed dark for long, and even the newest growth was still blonde, if only just.  His hair was generally so sun sensitive that even at the scalp, it wasn’t so dark as now. 

            “My hair is also driving me crazy,” he admitted, eyes closed as he dropped more of his weight into her hand.  “I feel like I could lose a small army in it, or at least a handful of spare change.  It has a fucking life of its own.” 

            Relena bit her lip, trying to reign in her smile.  “I think I might like it,” she offered.  “It has character.” 

            “I love you, but I am cutting it as soon as enough Remalene is out of my system as to make it not an act of futility.  I have a mullet.” 

            He… did, actually.  Smiling more openly, she reached back and carded her fingers through that too and he practically purred.  “The mullet goes,” she agreed.  “But I’m going to play with it until then.” 

            “Mm.”  He seemed to think about that for a moment before dropping the subject.  “What happened with Lluvia?” 

            She opted to not stop her ministrations.  “I point blank told him I wasn’t entirely comfortable with building off someone else’s trauma for my own benefit,” she explained.  “He said he agreed that doing so without permission was highly unethical – then immediately moved on to how they thought they might escalate the current online dialogue into relevancy in order to establish a set of rules or boundaries for prisoners of war through an Accords ratified document.”  Though frankly, she’d been horrified when she realized that the last one of those on record only had signatories from a quarter of the countries now laying claim to the Accords. 

            She’d known people were doing horrible things during the war, but… she’d thought they were breaking the law to do so. 

            Jake’s eyes looked sharp, finally.  “So they are claiming contact.” 

            “The phrase ‘we’re trying to make something good come out of it’ was said more than once,” BJ noted, flipping through a new folder without looking up.  “As well as ‘it might as well be worth something.’  Whether these are assumptions or quotes is difficult to say.  The extent of just what is being thrown about is…”  He wrinkled his nose.  “Dirty.” 

            Her fiancé narrowed his eyes at the man.  “And you still don’t want me to read this?” 

            “The summaries that I know you did read are more than sufficient without punishing yourself to no gain,” BJ insisted, looking up to fix him with a determined glare.  “I wish I hadn’t.  So long as it didn’t cause damage beyond Remalene’s scope, consider it done.”  His mouth twisted.  “They didn’t rape him.  Those are about the only highlights.  Knowing the minutia isn’t going to help anyone.” 

            “I read the main article for tone,” Jake defended.  “I trusted you about the rest, didn’t I?” 

            “Please continue to do so,” his suspicious glower shifted to Relena.  “Both of you.” 

            “I have no interest and have said as much, publicly and repeatedly,” she reminded him.  “Even if I was intent on it, I find it easier to deliver the right tone when I’m not lying, and I stand by what I said.  Heero always struck me as a private person – it’s cruel for it to have come out like this.  I think it’s bad enough when this sort of information is released posthumously, and Heero is only what, eighteen?”  She shook her head.  “If I see him again and he says something, that’s one thing, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s none of my business.” 

            BJ sighed.  “I wish more people had that dignity.  The darker end of the web is discussing the feasibility and odds of some of the shit he survived.  Some psycho is going to try replicating it, and I don’t even want to imagine the fallout.” 

            He’d brought up this point already, and they’d at least talked about some possible ways to allay the worst, if not solve the issue of base stupidity.  “Have you had any luck on the team of physicians?”  If they could push the angle of how detrimental it had truly been- 

            “None that have made it all the way through and spoken to me again,” he replied grimly.  “But it hasn’t been a full week since the article appeared, so I’m not too concerned.  Someone will want to take a stand on a soapbox against this – they just have to gather their nerves first.”  He shrugged, selecting five distinct sheets from his folder that were heavier, with a different heft than the rest.  “Leia still isn’t talking to anyone other than her baby daddy, and I’m going to treat her as standard for this – not that we could rely on her in this case either, as she’s currently persona non grata.”  Coming closer, he held out the sheets – the photographs? – out for Jake to peruse.  “In unrelated news, however, I saved the best for last.” 

            Relena blinked, then frowned down at the picture of… Hilde?  It was one of the most recent shots, taken in northern Italy.  “You didn’t mention anything to me,” she noted, shifting away from Jake enough that he could take them from the other man without stretching. 

            “You’re only going to care about this because he might, so I thought you could share,” BJ offered in a dry tone, setting aside the folder he’d pulled the photographs from and starting to tap at his tablet again.  “Something about the most recent images of Schbeiker bothered me as soon as they came out, but I wasn’t sure why until I spent far too much time pawing through old footage last night.” 

            She considered that, looking over Jake’s shoulders as he flipped through the pages.  All were of Hilde, all but the most recent taken from fairly low resolution surveillance cameras.  She tended to smile as if she knew someone was watching, but… Well, that had seemed to be a core part of her personality even back when they had first met on Libra.  Several were face on, but one was from the back, and two from the side – and other than the latest, it was two or three pictures per page. 

            Jake said it first.  “Okay, I’ll bite.  I’d say there are some minor differences, but I’m mostly sure this one is from 196, and she’s Relena’s age.  It’s hard to tell without a stricter perspective, but I’d expect some increased height at least.  What am I missing?” 

            “Nothing, yet,” BJ returned smugly, handing over the tablet.  “But let’s see if you can catch what everyone else has missed.  These are some of the closest analogues I could find for camera angle and position.  You’ve been looking at subtle details – look again.” 

            Jake gave him a dubious look, but handed Relena the photographs… then grunted in frustration when he realized he couldn’t hold it and navigate with only one hand.  He started to scoot further upright and raise one knee to balance it against, but BJ had taken the moment with his hands free to bring the bedside tray around the left side so they could prop the slate on its stand.  “Thanks.” 

            “Look through once, then side by side,” BJ insisted. 

            At first, Relena truly didn’t follow.  The resolution on the tablet photos were all frustratingly low, but it was all very similar.  Even the outfit was nearly identical from one shot to the next, excepting the Italian picture.  She was about ready to shrug and ask for a more straightforward explanation when Jake tapped one of the printouts.  She frowned and focused harder on it, then the tablet photo he had drawn up… and blinked.  “Is she twisting?”  It didn’t look like it, but how else would you explain- 

            “No, she’s not.  Look at the rest of her body, in both.”  He looked up at BJ.  “What’s the time difference between these?” 

            “Two weeks,” BJ returned, looking smug.  “And before you ask – I have more pictures showing the first proportion returning at a later date.” 

            Jake let out a low, delighted laugh.  “How did you catch that?” he demanded. 

            “Subconscious niggle, followed by the fact that they’ve used this tactic elsewhere already – or technically, after they’d been doing this a long while.  Heavyarms.  Check back against the sunglasses one.” 

            “What am I seeing?” Relena demanded, not enjoying being left outside the loop. 

            “The distance from elbow to hip jumps from this picture compared to this one, then goes back,” Jake explained, laughter coloring his voice.  “Here, look: the outfit masks the difference somewhat and their height is the same or close enough to not make a difference, but her,” he stabbed at the physical photo, “torso is longer, or at least, her natural waist is lower.  She’s not twisting – this woman’s elbow just doesn’t come as close to her hip as this one’s, and… shit, but their reach is different too.” 

            “The full footage is long gone,” BJ added, reaching over to flick through the tablet’s pictures until he settled on the one where the Insurgence agent was wearing a ridiculously large pair of sunglasses.  It was taken from an angle, more profile than anything.  “So I don’t know if they got an image of her lower face at some point and dismissed it because they had better ones of Hilde’s face, but look – the jawline is sharper here, and the cheekbone is partially hidden, but different.  I think there’s a difference in shoulder width too, but that jacket conceals it.”  He leaned back, shaking his head.  “It’s subtle, the two of them have very similar builds and they’ve done a damn fine job of obscuring any disparities, but the Regime’s version of ‘Hilde’ is distinctly two separate women.”  He reached forward to gesture at the tablet photo again.  “And like I said, the video is long gone, but whoever analyzed it noted that Chang was far more deferential to her on this run that they usually see – Schbeiker and Chang have a history of literally bickering in the middle of a fucking hallway like the three stooges, I swear to God.  And I can’t lock down every incident to one or the other, in part because they either haven’t kept all the files or someone was erasing them out of the Regime database, but at least in 196?  There’s a definite skill gap between them, with her,” he gestured to the tablet again, “coming in first place by a mile.” 

            Jake just laughed again, bringing one fist up to his mouth.  “Holy shit.” 

            “The sunglasses incident was the closest she ever comes to showing her face,” the spymaster continued, “and even then, I don’t have much.  She’s good.  But given how smoothly she slips in and out of place with Chang, they train together.”  His lips twisted into a smug smirk.  “I might even wager that she’s his boss.” 

            Oh!  Relena looked again, but, well… the picture was just as grainy as before.  If this was her future sister-in-law, it wasn’t much to go off of – aside from general badassery, of course. 

            Mm.  It was still nice to have something to reference, though.  Even if they were wrong, it was a decent placeholder. 

            Jake laughed harder, and didn’t seem to care even as he grimaced, dropping his fist to his chest and pressing hard – but his face was nearly incandescent with joy.  “BJ!” he exclaimed.  “You’re being nice to me?” 

            “Get well soon, shithead.  It won’t last.” 

            Jake only laughed harder. 

-

***

-

Paris, France

            “Prisbrey, you’ve got a call on line three!” 

            Shel slumped, willing herself to not groan out loud.  It was literally fifteen minutes to quitting time, and she had her hands full already.  She wanted to holler something back about having voicemail for a reason, but…. 

            Well, she wasn’t the only one fifteen minutes from heading out the door, and there was no reason to be a bitch about it.  Someone had asked for her, either by name or article – and that could be dross or jewels.  Most of this sort of call had been bullshit or things she couldn’t use since her big break on Brigadier Mitchell, but you never knew.  And just because her favorite leprechaun was giving her all sorts of interesting morsels didn’t mean she had any intention of depending on him. 

            She picked up the phone.  “Rachelle Prisbrey speaking,” she greeted, not making an effort to be perky; she wasn’t in the mood.  Not that she let her tone drag either – maybe let them think she was a little bit tired, if not spun out.  It was the end of the work day. 

            “Hello, Ms. Prisbrey,” a relatively deep, cheerful voice greeted.  “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time?  I could call back later, but I was unsure about how to reach you over the weekend, and Monday seemed like short notice.” 

            Huh.  Either reception had made a pointed comment before transferring the call, or more likely, he’d had to argue against being shunted to her voicemail.  Possibly called back after being shunted to said voicemail and pushed. 

            That… could still go in any direction, really.  But she was glad she hadn’t snapped at whoever was manning the desk today – they’d had a few new hires lately, and she couldn’t seem to keep track of the rota of names.  Too many part-timers. 

            “Well, you’ve got me on the phone now,” she returned, smirking a little.  “Nice lead with the urgency to spark my interest.  May I ask who I’m talking to?” 

            He laughed, the sound just a touch wicked, like a naughty schoolboy caught out.  “My name is David Mitchell.”  He made an amused sort of hum when she didn’t immediately respond, then added, “I could add the titles, but I think you actually wrote out a couple I’d forgotten over the years, and I’m not in the mood to embarrass myself.  Thanks again, by the way.” 

            …Shit.  She hadn’t said anything yet because her mind was racing.  Her first, visceral response was a jolt of panic – but no, the brigadier’s amnesty had been officially granted at… something like noon today?  And of course, he’d have had all sorts of correspondence to immediately tend to, but… 

            Her heart damn near skipped a beat.  The Accords negotiations with the one-time Strike Force was slated to begin in Berlin on Tuesday.  If- 

            “I’m aware that it isn’t strictly your scene,” he continued in a conversational tone.  “But with the limb you went out on for me, I thought an invite to the press section was the least I could offer.”  He made a thoughtful, mildly frustrated sound.  “It… probably would have been a lot harder to get to this point without your article, and taken a lot longer to boot.  If you were looking into an in for that genre, I figured this might be a decent leg up.” 

            Shel licked her lips.  He wasn’t entirely wrong, exactly, but he wasn’t quite right, either.  That said, especially given what Ardith had begun sending her way… whatever the borders on her genre that she’d had last month?  This was the flavor she was gunning for anymore, for all that she hadn’t sorted out her endgame. 

            It would continue to dovetail neatly into the intrigue she was getting otherwise too. 

            But Mitchell was known for being friendly and talkative, and she had him to herself for a minute, all of his own volition.  “And if I said the negotiations weren’t up my alley?” she asked curiously.  They were, but truthfully, if she went, a lot of her focus would be on the human angle, keying in on the speakers at the event, instead of a strict recitation of the points covered.  That didn’t make it any less worthwhile – plenty of others would be focused on the nuts and bolts of the talks. 

            She wanted a better idea of where he stood though, and he wasn’t the type to be offended by this kind of probing. 

            “Hmm.  Well, I’d still invite you to come out this way if you wanted an interview,” he decided.  “I know I confirmed the broad strokes of a lot of your claims when I went public, but if someone wants to know the details of what went on since, I figured you deserved first dibs.  People are going to ask, and I have no intention of hiding more than what is strictly necessary to keep people safe.”  Another thoughtful noise came through the line.  “After that… well, I don’t know the exact timeline, but by the time the negotiations are through I suspect RLTT should be ready to make a big announcement or two.” 

            Her heart sped up as adrenaline kicked in, because oh, but that was a neat trick.  Claiming to know the RLTT proprietor was a bold move, though difficult to prove or disprove in either direction, so possibly safe.  “Is that so?” 

            He chuckled a little, clearly reading into what she hadn’t said.  “Who do you think floated me after I went off the reservation?  Well, starting in March, anyway, after tempers had cooled and I’d already gotten a ways downstream on shit creek.  He’s got a thing about respecting neutral ground, even when the legalities are touchy – it was like Peacemillion on steroids.” 

            “So you’re a candidate now too?” she tested, even as that felt… wrong. 

            “No.”  Then, just as she’d taken a breath to say something sarcastic and cutting, he added, “Just an old friend in need.” 

            …Motherfucker.  “Is that so?” she found herself repeating, throat suddenly far too dry. 

            “It wasn’t really under RLTT auspices,” he admitted.  “That has too much political clout to not get messy.  But he’s not quite ready to put his personal name out there yet, and I don’t have another easy way to reference him to you, so… yeah.” 

            And there was that word that Ardith likes to throw around – yet.  Not that there hadn’t been a few glimpses and suggestions in the last six months or so suggesting this direction, but the brigadier was in a talkative mood, and she might as well see what she could get.  “He’s planning on going public, then?”  The idea had been bounced around a few times, particularly after Relena’s projects kept expanding into other realms with tertiary involvement like the Pacific Reclamation, and the way she stayed close with the Lotus candidate.  Not to mention the stir after she had made the arguable slip about the proprietor being a… man… that she knew… 

            No…  She wanted to gasp and cackle at the idea, and she knew it had been thrown around a bit, but it wasn’t a theory she’d bothered to invest much in, given the shadowy nature of the person behind RLTT.  But… 

            It checked off a lot of the boxes rather neatly, looking back.  A connection through Mitchell as well was something of a surprise, but… well, he had worked with Relena for a long while, been to and from her little German estate frequently even since starting the legal version of the Strike Force, and if anyone knew the secrets of the princess’ love life, it would be her Guard.  Even if it was an entirely loveless marriage of convenience, they would know, and Mitchell would have had an in, and- 

            “Let’s just say he’s aware that he can’t stay anonymous if he wants to marry royalty.” 

            Jackpot!  At least, so long as this wasn’t an elaborate ruse – but the truth would out soon enough if this didn’t hold water.  She wasn’t the type to publish on one man’s word alone; there would be a lot of research and hopefully an interview or two before she went anywhere with that. 

            “That does seem like a necessary step,” she acknowledged cooly.  She might be a goddamn maelstrom under her skin right now, but he didn’t need to know that.  “I don’t suppose there’s an option number three on the table, where I accept your invitation for all of the above?”  Again, he didn’t seem the type to restrict access, but better to clarify.  For all that she had researched him and written what was essentially an abbreviated biography on the man, people could surprise you. 

            She would pick if she had to – though at this exact moment, she wasn’t sure which.  She might need to write out a list of pros and cons.  But between either option and the facts Rubato was feeding her? 

            “I don’t see why you can’t have your cake and eat it too,” the man returned agreeably.  “If you give me your email, I’ll send along the paperwork and details for your pass.  And if you’ve got a pen handy, I’ll give you my personal number now that it’s online again.  I’d rather you didn’t clutter it, I prefer email, but it’s good to have if any issues come up.” 

            “That sounds excellent,” she decided, snatching up a pen.  “You first.” 

            It took another minute to exchange contact info, and goodbyes went quickly enough… and she found herself staring up in dismay at the clock, realizing that not even ten minutes had passed. 

            Less than ten minutes, for her world to go topsy turvy again – and in all the best ways.  Rearranging her overarching plans for the next week would take a bit of finagling, but… she felt confident that she could maintain both pipelines. 

            She liked Ardith, and she liked what work had been implied thus far.  She was very interested.  But she also liked to stack her deck when possible, and for all that the man might be annoyed when he found out she’d run after a bigger story, he would also get over it.  And anyway, the last time she’d done that, he’d only wanted to snuggle in closer. 

            Rubato and the princess are already negotiating secrets, with the Insurgence an unspoken elephant in the room while no one trusts each other enough to make waves.  RLTT is actively trying to seduce Stanton into a stronger alliance.  Mitchell and Relena both know that Stanton founded Rubato and have pointedly made friendly overtures. 

            And now Mitchell is claiming a personal connection to RLTT… and also claiming that the man behind RLTT is Relena’s mysterious fiancé. 

            …There were entirely too many Rs in that mix.  But aside from the consonance, that last statement clicked in neatly for both logic and completion.  It could still be a bogus feint, but the possibility was very interesting, and the proof could very well be in Berlin. 

            …Fuck, but housing was going to cost her an arm and a leg at this point; she might have to suck up the extra hours and commute all the way out from freaking Potsdam.  This was the opportunity of a lifetime. 

            If I get Josey on board, it’ll be cheaper.  She usually wanted Josey along for the ride for anything with major travel to it anyway, both for security and to man a camera, if the occasion was right.  Shel preferred most of her work to be written, but she wasn’t half bad at the reporter on scene schtick when needed.  And she could probably get the company to foot the bill for lodging, if she did at least half of this under the company’s title.  Her boss was cool with letting her freelance when the urge took her, but the Strike Force negotiations were a hell of a big ticket.  Karter Danser’s agency, while technically international in its scope, was far from being the big kid on the playground. 

            This… could be more than just Rachelle’s big break. 

            Not bothering to pack up her things – she was going to be here late after that conversation – she stood and headed for Karter’s office.  If she wasn’t still in, then Shel had a few phone calls to make. 

-

***

-

April 26^th 199 – Sunday – Space, L2 Sigma Quadrant – Secondary Site

            “Oh, hey!  Jack, right?” 

            Jack turned back, about to go left from the rec space and found… the blonde intern that had ‘adopted’ his son on the last visit.  What was his name?  “Hey.”  The irrational annoyance he felt for the boy faded a little in the face of how uncollected the young engineer looked – a bit sallow, and definitely nervous, when he’d been all smooth confidence before. 

            The fact that Odin happily let everyone but him claim him as family at the drop of a hat still stung a bit, but it was hardly this punk’s fault.  And, well… they were working on that. 

            The kid made some kind of nonsense gesture with one hand low, wrist clasped in his other hand – precise enough that it looked like something for the deaf, but also foreign to Jack and looking entirely absentminded, even reflexive.  “I wanted to…”  He made a face.  “I only got the barebones,” he announced apropos of nothing.  “I’m mostly out of the loop up here.  But whatever was going on physically, Rhett would have been lost to that crowd.  So I wanted to thank you, and see if you knew how he was doing.”  Then he grimaced again.  “If he didn’t just, like, vanish into the ether as soon as the crisis was over, in which case we’re going to have to start checking coed parties or something.  His phone is still off, which means he lost it again, and while Aunt Lily told everyone he was fine, she also buried him up to his neck in sand once in an effort not to lose him, he drives her up the wall half the time, and-” 

            He said more, but Jack was no longer listening as the pieces clicked together.  Odin had said something about an intern’s cousin, but he’d more or less dismissed it as the least important part of the conversation.  Cousins.  And since the empath had insisted on coming to the hospital with Relena after Jake was safely ensconced in the ICU, he’d gotten a little more background. 

            They… looked nothing alike.  Well, almost nothing.  The line of the nose was probably the same, at least for the most part, but Rhett was the epitome of the Columbian buccaneers he’d briefly run with in his youth except with far more of a tan – as difficult to pin an actual ethnicity on as Mailin, if only because Jack could see at least five possibilities.  This one was significantly taller, fair and blonde, lanky while the kid in Germany had been more solid and compact – muscular, for all that it had quickly become obvious that it was all from sport and he had no idea how to even throw a punch.  They both had brown eyes, but they weren’t an obviously related shade. 

            More importantly, though, Cassidy had confirmed that Rhett was a Winner.  The little shit had been very quick to point out that no he wasn’t, because ‘my mom ditched that name long before it went out of style’ but he was part of the brood.  Not the inheriting line, but- 

            He looked around to be sure, but it was off hours and no one was nearby to eavesdrop.  Still, he took two quick steps closer before quietly demanding, “You’re Winner?” 

            The kid’s mouth twisted.  “Cavanaugh,” he corrected.  “My mom used the last name McCall for years before she got with my dad, same as Aunt Jolene went by Ellwood before she met Rhett’s dad.  Only the first three daughters finished childhood under the name Winner, even before the family break-up.”  He shrugged.  “I was two when my uncle was born; Rhett wasn’t even two months old.  Everyone’s broods lived by degrees of separation for as long as I can remember, though the Stahls are… some of the most free spirited.” 

            Jack snorted.  “That’s a word for it.” 

            The boy grinned.  “Rhett’s the worst of the lot, but little Tavi isn’t shaping up to be much calmer; her empathy is just as off kilter too.  I think my aunt is mostly taking solace in how Anelisa and Irina came out mostly normal, but Uncle Ced thrives on the chaos.  Last I heard, he was busy playing granddad to the passel of orphans Tamelia adopted post-Fall and is reveling in it.”  His smile turned a little bit sad.  “Makes me wonder how different things could have been if my granddad was a bit more like him.  The way my aunts talk, as pissed as he was when Zayeed broke up the family?  He was thrilled to suddenly gain three daughters out of the deal, even if Camille and Tamelia insisted they were too old for adoption.  He’s still the ‘dad,’ you know?”  He shrugged.  “And I love my dad to pieces too, even when he drives me crazy.”  He reached up and touched one earring, looking a little chagrined.  “He would have been pissed if he knew how bad I was when I got here.  He can be a ball of stress, but mostly because he’s trying to look out for me.”  He met Jack’s gaze again and shrugged.  “We can’t all be like Rhett – I can’t just ‘ride the wave.’  I was trying to tough it out, but… before Odin helped me out, I was probably going to have to give up my spot.  Too many people died here.  It hurts.” 

            Another piece of the puzzle clicked together, even as he felt like he was missing something – he hadn’t realized this one was an empath too… and that earring looked just like Odin’s.  Which… didn’t really explain much, but was a starting point?  “He gave you that?” 

            The boy looked bemused, but nodded.  “And a few other things – I’m one of only six space hearts that only interact through inanimate objects.  Put us in the right conditions and most can do a bit of the normal version, but…”  He shrugged.  “There’s a reason my dad tries to wrap me up in cotton wool, given a chance.  Traveling has always been risky, but suddenly I, like… just have a cure, and he didn’t want to make a thing of it.  So…”  He shrugged again.  “Even if Odin wasn’t my boss, I’d still owe him.  And from what he said, I’m not the first space heart he’s helped out.  I don’t know how he is in real-time, but based on his imprint?  He's one hell of an empathic ground.” 

            Something else clicked.  “You’re why Rhett was in Berlin,” Jack realized. 

            Cavanaugh held out both hands in a defensive gesture.  “I signed, like, five NDAs,” he protested.  “All I said is that there was someone he might find interesting that lived part-time in Berlin.  In retrospect, I should have known better, but I thought that meant he’d bug me for the next few months until I found an opportunity to mention someone maybe asking for help – not that he’d chase it down with both hands.  He’s been living in a tent on a beach for the last year.  He’s not…  No one tracks Rhett’s mind, okay?  It’s half the reason his blog is so popular.  He's basically a celebrity in the empath community, and he does just about everything you might imagine a movie star might get up to.  He has… no brakes.”  He took in a sharp breath through his nose.  “Try not to judge the rest of us by him.  I love my cousins, but he’s…” 

            “A bit touched?” Jack offered. 

            “I feel bad for saying this, but yes,” Cavanaugh agreed, looking relieved and chagrined at the same time.  “He’s okay?  Aunt Lily wouldn’t lie, exactly, but she’s not exactly… a patient person.” 

            He still hadn’t ever met this infamous Delilah that sometimes went by Lily, but sure, whatever.  “Last I heard, he was trying to camp out in my older son’s hospital room,” he admitted.  “Which is being encouraged since he’s the one who caught the sniper, but when asked, just said something about playing with volume.”  He was mostly sure that was a reference to what the kid had been going on about when insisting that he and Jake were both ‘loud,’ but Cassidy had been entirely bemused when he relayed it.  He debated, then shrugged.  “I have no idea whether or not he’ll still be there when we go to visit, but it’s a possibility.”  In theory, they were heading home tomorrow, and Jake still wasn’t slated to be released until Wednesday at the soonest. 

            Most of the nervous tension fell out of Cavanaugh at that, and he offered Jack a relieved smile.  “Okay, cool.  Thank-you.”  Then he bit his lip, looking hesitant.  “He seems…  Calmer, since you got here.” 

            It was Jack’s turn to grimace this time.  “He started sleeping again,” he corrected.  “It does wonders.” 

            “Sure, but… you know, he’s smiling again.  He and the other big-wigs are still mostly focused on their side-project that’s classified up the wazoo, but…  Like, either it’s you showing up, or it’s going really well over there?”  He shrugged.  “Maybe both?  We’re all pulling long hours with the new demands coming down from the Regime, but he’s way more relaxed than even before he started to buckle down last week.” 

            Jack gave the kid a skeptical look, but shrugged instead of arguing the point.  Whatever Audi had been up in arms about had been going on since the end of March at least, and so far as he could tell, Odin was the same as before he’d left for space last week. 

            Or, well… as good as he was before Hilde Schbeiker invaded his house.  Not that Jack had particularly minded her, but Odin seemed to think she was the most annoying person in existence – even while he laughed at her jokes and she was still enough of a friend that she had free leave to crash on his couch whenever.  Or the guestroom Adam had laid claim to, at least.  Because that was apparently happening.  Though the whole Canada thing was still defying all explanation.  He’d even tried to ask Odin about that again, but his son had just shrugged and given some line about not holding his breath over it. 

            …Actually, the fact that she was apparently Kasey’s ex explained a lot of their interaction.  She had the same manic energy as the Dutchman, without any of the comfort the boys somehow took from each other’s personal space – he didn’t remember the word Anne had used anymore. 

            “Anyway, like I said, thanks.  Rhett has no problem hiding from predators, but a crowd turning on him is one of his worst nightmares.  The last time he was somewhere public when a happy event turned ugly, he wouldn’t talk for five days, and I’m guessing that didn’t happen because he grabbed onto you.  So… I’m sorry if he did anything embarrassing, but seriously.  Thank-you.” 

            “It… really wasn’t a big deal,” Jack decided, starting to feel a bit awkward.  “He seemed like a sweet kid.  If I see him, I’ll let him know you’ve been trying to get in touch.” 

            Cavanaugh tipped his head to one side, looking… slightly cynical, but mostly intrigued.  “Most people don’t like being Pushed.” 

            The capital in the word came through loud and clear, but Jack just rolled his eyes.  “It was benign,” he pointed out.  “And that shit’s temporary anyway.”  It didn’t feel appropriate to point out that Cat made Rhett look about as harmless as a newborn kitten.  He got the feeling that Cat hadn’t been registered, since it was a voluntary ‘for science!’ kind of thing, and… 

            Well, both his kids were anti-Regime at this point, and he wasn’t going to be talking about any information that might give up valuable intelligence – especially since technically, anything his boys and their friends were doing might very well count as some kind of treason. 

            Whatever Odin had behind closed doors up here?  Classified or whatever they wanted to call it, he felt reasonably sure it was something for the Insurgence, not the Regime. 

            And he was not telling a goddamn soul. 

            Cavanaugh was still eyeing him thoughtfully, but with less cynicism this time.  “Huh.” 

            He rolled his eyes.  “What?” 

            The kid smirked.  “Nothing, just… nature over nurture, huh?  When I hear back from Rhett, I’m asking him what you Millers feel like too.  I’m always on a hell of a time lapse, and even then, I pick up the average.  Call me curious.” 

            Jack rolled his eyes.  Whatever.  Rhett was a nice enough brat that maybe he’d get something better than ‘a volcano’ this time.  “You do that,” he decided, and turned back around to head to the commissary.  He’d extracted a promise from his son to eat at regular times again, which he’d mostly held to – made easier by the fact that despite Odin’s misgivings, apparently the other engineers had done swimmingly when he finally removed himself from the damn construction bay.  “Catch you later, Cavanaugh.” 

            “It’s Tay!” 

            “Catch you later, Tay,” he repeated in the same tone without looking back, and smirked when the empath laughed good-naturedly.  Maybe it was a young friendship yet, but that one didn’t seem like a bad friend to have. 

            Bonus points for the fact that the Winners were definitely not pro-Regime.  The Soleil end of things was fuzzy, but this wasn’t a bad start, especially since ‘Aunt Lily’ was in Jake’s camp.  That might even make for some neat overlying crossroads down the line.  But for now? 

            Junior’s camp was way more vulnerable than Jake’s and far more cautious for it.  His oldest could stand to earn the trust the old-fashioned way – it would make for a better foundation.  In the meanwhile, he would just be content with far less stress. 

-

***

-

April 27^th 199 – Monday – Canada

            Hilde eyed the digital map layout for a long moment before turning and looking at him.  “You’re kidding.” 

            It would probably be easier to answer that question if he knew exactly which part of this endeavor she was questioning, so Adam just grinned and gestured back at the map.  “That’s what I’ve got.” 

            “I thought you said you’ve been at this for a while now,” she insisted.  “And this is helter skelter as fuck!  What have you even been doing?” 

            He blinked a few times, trying to… Oh.  Tapping a few buttons he pulled up the second overlay and added it – he’d been trying to show her what was finished, not the overall scope. 

            She kept up the level look.  “And this is…?” 

            “Blue is where I’ve already canvassed,” he explained.  “I’m not trying to cover the entire country.”  He tapped another filter to increase transparency so that the areas that overlapped shone purple, which…  I should have started with this.  The red versus blue made everything much clearer. 

            She still looked unimpressed.  “Okay… why did you choose these areas, exactly?” 

            He refused to grimace.  “There are no records,” he insisted.  “I tried to find those first, but Tsubarov’s originals are all either gone or in the Regime’s safekeeping, and the American offices I tried had already been ransacked.”  Whether by looters looking for anything of value to sell or burn as fuel or by Regime staff erasing all possible paper trails, it was hard to say. 

            “So, what, you picked places based on geographic likelihood?”  When he give her a dirty look, Hilde rolled her eyes.  “Okay, what, then?  I’m in the dark here.  My next suggestion is a map on the wall and darts, seriously.” 

            “I have better grouping than that,” he pointed out dryly.  His sister was a professional, and demanded certain standards. 

            He also hadn’t been able to let Mariemaia be better than him at it.  He had standards. 

            “Blindfolded dart throwing, then,” she suggested with a smirk. 

            “Still better grouping.” 

            “I could spin you around a few times first.” 

            Now he was getting distracted.  “If I still get a bullseye on three out of five, do I get a prize?” 

            The spark in her eyes and sly smirk said he just might, but what she said was, “We did that already.  Focus.” 

            Mm, it had been a fun couple of weeks.  First at Odin’s, then at the abandoned old lodge with natural hot springs he’d found on his second run through here.  He would have thought the place would be occupied, but on second guess, the surrounding area was too much of a frozen wasteland for someone to have turned it into their outpost; not enough hunting or farmability to make it sustainable.  It had been a nice place to help Hilde reset her brain, especially after the story about Heero had made her even more awkward around Jack than she’d started. 

            And he’d certainly enjoyed recalibrating her expectations.  But part of the agreement for the hot spring getaway was that she help him for a couple weeks in turn, because it was cold and miserable out here, and while it had been uneventful so far, he was going to need backup when he finally found a factory.  If it had happened while he had Marie with him, he would’ve had to walk and come back later, but with Hilde, they could at least scout it. 

            …Marie might have been able to scout just fine, if from a defended position.  He wasn’t sure if Odin would string him up for it or not, though, so he’d decided to put off the decision until it was relevant, and in the end he hadn’t had to consider it.  Which… given how edgy Odin had been lately, was probably a good thing.

            He wasn’t exactly… surprised about the article?  Like, it was shitty but… honestly explained a lot.  Like…. At least a third of the guy’s neuroses.  …Or just a quarter? 

            …Which actually wasn’t all that much.  Hm. 

            Oh well.  Odin was just… Odin.  He was probably annoyed that people were making a big deal about it. 

            Focus.  “Doll development was just as touchy a subject before they were introduced as a mainstream option as they were after Libra,” he explained.  “And while a few suit assembly lines in Africa got altered to make them after Treize threw his hissy fit, the majority of Tsubarov’s R&D was done out here.  All of the first waves of dolls we saw in the war came out of Canada, for all that the sites themselves were classified.  Tsubarov had permission to pursue the line of thinking from the Alliance higher ups, so satellite surveillance wasn’t an issue, but they were all intentionally in the middle of nowhere.” 

            Hilde just tapped a finger on her thigh, nodding even as she pointedly drawled out, “Canada.” 

            Adam rolled his eyes.  “Most of Canada was never considered habitable,” he pointed out.  “It’s only gotten worse.  Point is, before Tsubarov and Une butted heads, especially after he came up to the lunar base and started heckling her over every difference of opinion.” 

            “Une was a nasty bitch,” Hilde reminded him bluntly. 

            He felt an urge to point out that, while both of them had technically worked under Colonel Une, he was at least mostly sure he’d only done so as a cover – Hilde had gotten swept up in the woman’s propaganda. 

            Bad idea.  He was trying to finish his point.  “Anyway, the point is that they played nice on the surface, but hated each other’s guts and were diametrically opposed on every point but base cruelty.  So while they told Romefeller that everything was great, they were also running some major corporate-style espionage on each other, and there was this map-” 

            “Oh, fucking hell,” Hilde spluttered.  “We’re trying to recreate something based on your memory?” 

            “My memory is hit or miss, not patently faulty,” Adam protested. 

            “You’ve been canvassing some serious acreage for months now, and you’re telling me-” 

            “The map wasn’t exact or complete, just areas Une thought Tsubarov had interests in,” he argued.  “And I’ve found two doll factories, but one was decommissioned due to what looked like structural damage, and the other was picked clean of all supplies.”  He shook his head.  “I found what was left of a town that wasn’t on any of the old maps, that might’ve served as a base for personnel working on his projects.”  He wasn’t completely empty-handed, he just hadn’t found what he was actually looking for yet. 

            And the small but empty assembly line that looked barren made him really think he was getting close to one that was in use.  It was too neatly done; definitely not by vandals. 

            “Anyway, after what I’ve already been through, I think our next best bet is here.”  He gestured at the area he wanted to focus this trip. 

            “Joy.” 

            He threw her a sideways look.  “I explained what this was going to be before you agreed to come,” he reminded her. 

            She shrugged, but her smirk was definitely amused, which…  Oh.  “You just told me to focus,” he pointed out.  Not that he was adverse, but- 

            Hilde shrugged again, breezily announced, “Phrasing,” and came closer to rest her hands on the edge of the display table and peer closer at it.  “Which end did you want to start at?” 

            Adam watched her for a moment longer, but… no, she was actually trying this time.  Looking back to the display, he tapped a different tab to bring up a more topographical map of the area.  “Here’s what I was thinking, at least to start with.” 

-

***

-

April 28^th 199 – Tuesday – Southern Sudan – Blue Nile Base

            “And that’s a wrap,” Lucrezia decided, hands on her hips.  “Everyone that I pulled aside, I want you in the sims for at least two hours in the morning, ideally three.  We need to get this ironed out.  Otherwise, good job today!  Get some rest!  See you again for more war games at 1100 tomorrow.” 

            She waited until the last stragglers had left before relaxing her posture and giving into the urge to wipe sweat-slick hair back out of her face.  She’d been in a near-life cockpit simulator for… fuck, it was after eight.  Almost ten hours.  Not all of it had been active ‘battle’ per se and she’d grabbed a sandwich at some point, but the time added up, as did the heat of a small space. 

            Her gundam would have better environmental controls – but she really hoped she never needed to sit in the cockpit for nine hours straight. 

            She needed a bath, a muscle relaxer, and some decent sleep.  She’d been staging her pilots through the war games in tiers, back to back classes going over drills and tactics, letting them have an hour or two out before cycling back in, trying to polish out their rough spots.  And they were a good set down here, but they needed to be able to work together with more synchronicity…  So maybe it was just as well that Odin hadn’t made another peep in the last nine days. 

            She couldn’t even blame him – she was doing the same shit, just with a better veneer.  She had seriously debated blowing her fucking cover last week.  But unlike in Amsterdam, there was actual security in the public spaces of Berlin right now, and she didn’t even know which hospital Jake had been taken to.  The city had two level one trauma centers, and given how severe Noventa’s case had looked, they might have sent an ambulance to each.  Maybe if she’d been home she would have had a chance at gauging it, but… 

            She hadn’t heard about what happened until hours later, and she’d been in southern France – with Audi.  And even if she’d been okay with the idea of taking the girl straight back to the house and running reconnaissance, there was a decent chance that she might take every risk only to find out he’d already been transferred out, and…  She hated it, but there hadn’t been any fucking point, and trying would have carried an extremely high risk of exposing herself for zero gain.  The broadcast that clued her in had been of a red-eyed, visibly angry Relena informing a reporter that no, there had been no fatalities, so… 

            She was so sick of this cloak and dagger shit.  It had been fun for a while, but had long since gone stale.  She wanted her family back, she wanted to stop doing the long distance relationship shit, she wanted to not have restrictions on when she could go home because Odin was… 

            Odin was picking up the pieces of his shattered life with both hands and frantically trying to figure out how to stitch them back into a whole.  He’d told her that she was probably the only thing he didn’t second-guess anymore, and she was game for being an anchor while he figured himself out.  She knew he was trying, there was just…. a lot going on right now. 

            And he kept putting his own fucking health, mental or otherwise, on the backburner in order to finish shit they needed for the war effort, so she wasn’t going to piss all over the shitty situation with the biodad just because she was stressed out.  The fact that she’d only just realized this habit of putting himself at the bottom of every priority list wasn’t a new habit didn’t make it any less real of an issue.  Whether or not he’d wanted to explain what had happened to him in 194, everyone and their fucking cousin’s cousin knew now, and…  Honestly?  Even if he’d been trying to save her feelings over that last brief phone call, and was truthfully an utter wreck?  He was still pulling off functional, which was far better than she’d done over realizing her longtime crush was a genocidal sociopath. 

            So he could have whatever he needed, and everyone else could just deal – including her. 

            She needed a bath, a muscle relaxer, and some decent sleep.  However, since Odin had correctly gauged the fact that there was a shortage of bathtubs at this base last summer, it was going to be a shower, a drink, and… probably staring at the ceiling for a while, but the sleep would hit eventually.  The quality was debatable, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

            Sally had offered to scribe something if she thought it would help.  Lu mostly thought Sally looked like she needed a sleep aid and had said as much, but if she didn’t settle her brain out soon she might have to rescind the snarky response. 

            Her best friend kept blaming herself for missing it; something about his scans from that first time the two of them had met.  Apparently she thought he’d been through the ringer, but she’d thought it had been, like, two or three major traumas with high Remalene doses over the last year with minimal recovery time between, not… 

            Trying to convince a sobbing physician that she shouldn’t feel bad for not jumping to the conclusion of ‘chronic torture with significant intent towards body modification’ hadn’t really gotten anywhere.  They’d both just ended up crying.  And drinking.  And crying some more.  And sharing another bottle.  Then being hungover as hell because they kept fucking bursting out into tears again. 

            Sally was an amazing friend, but they really needed to never sink to that low again.  They enabled the shit out of each other. 

            …God, but I really hope there’s never something to be that sad about again.  Not in the same way, at least.  Grief was a different sort of bitch that always waited in the wings no matter what, and… 

            She missed him.  But damn it, there was a reason he was up in space right now anyway, and if she wanted to see her family before June, it had to get done.  If the East was getting bold enough to plan out tricky assassinations, the tide was truly closing in, and they needed the gundams. 

            He had promised he would be back in time for their date.  That was enough. 

            She unlocked the door to her room and headed straight for the attached bathroom to turn on the shower before pulling her shirt and bra off with a few jerky motions.  Pants went next… and she groaned when all the shit she had in her pockets spilled everywhere.  Damn it. 

            There was a part of her that seriously debated leaving it all on the floor to figure out later.  But then everything would be damp, and the water wasn’t warm yet anyway – she wanted some steam.  So she shoved the nozzle to full heat and stooped to gather everything up in a bundle before taking two steps back… into… 

            Odin was standing near the door, like he’d either just come in or been standing out of sight the whole time, looking bemused. 

            Well, then.  That was a nice surprise. 

            She smirked at him, feeling mischievous, and watched his eyes dilate in response… and dropped the pile of clothes on the floor to stride back into the bathroom. 

-

***

-

            The shower was fantastic.    

            Curled up in bed now, sated and limbs feeling impossibly heavy, Odin pressed his nose to Lucrezia's skin and just breathed… 

            This was the same.  He had hoped it would be, had mostly believed it would be – but with the way Howard’s people had changed after the news came in?  After Audi ripped into him to help him sort the pieces out so he felt less empty…  

            There was something deeply reassuring about the way Lucrezia just smiled and reeled him into oblivion.  Something utterly fulfilling in the trust she still offered up without hesitation, in the surrender and pleasure and sheer satisfaction he felt every time she…  Mm. 

            He had half a mind to see how long he could keep her on that edge, just making those damn sounds.  She was always so impatient, he’d probably have to tie her down, but she’d been enthusiastic enough about that so far that it was definitely worth a try. 

            He tightened his arms around her, pressing his mouth to the side of her neck with a hum.  He was utterly exhausted and had been since before she’d waltzed away in nothing but her underwear, but they would have all Saturday to themselves.  And in the meantime… 

            In the meantime, the comfort of this wasn’t about the sex.  Not really.  That had sated something and made him let go a little more, had chewed away the rest of the nervous energy haunting her form, but this…  It was so much more than that. 

            Lucrezia hummed back in a happy way and tried to wriggle closer – she couldn’t, there was no space left to find, but it felt nice anyway and he appreciated the sentiment, and… this.  This contentment, this unassuming trust, was what he wanted for the rest of their lives.  “I love you.” 

            Still inadequate, but she still preferred that phrase over anything else he’d come up with. 

            The ring wouldn’t be back in the shop until Thursday – though the jeweler had sent him in process images when he made a nuisance of himself, and at this point it was just the final curing process of the nanocoating causing the delay.  If he’d been able to pick it up any sooner, he would have gone home with Jack and Audi and gathered everything he needed so they could just head to Budapest from here.  He’d considered calling her and just trying to talk once he had a more reliable connection and privacy – it would have been the more efficient option, to be sure.  But… 

            In the end, it had been very simple.  He’d informed Marie that yes, he was ditching her intentionally, and asked her to mind Jack and please stay in the house while the city had so much foreign traffic.  Then he’d taken a separate shuttle down from Sigma to drop directly to Africa instead of Europe.  Because he’d wanted to. 

            She had whooped cheerfully and made flappy hand motions for him to get lost, so he figured it was fine. 

            Lucrezia turned in his arms to face him and smiled brilliantly, pulling him into a brief kiss before returning the phrase.  “I love you too.”  Then she laid her head on his arm and watched him for a long, thoughtful moment before admitting, “You look better than I had worried.” 

            He was fairly certain that if Jack ever got bored of security work, he could be some kind of fitness supervisor or life coach.  He wasn’t sure he’d ever eaten so regularly or had such a balanced diet as these last few days – though based on some of the flak Marie had given him, he likely deserved the treatment.  But there was also… 

            Maybe he had been stupid or closed-minded, after the sector collapse in 194.  He’d certainly been depressed, those days before the retraining began.  When he’d been able to think at all, he’d been scrabbling for a way to balance the debt of innocent lives and failing before spiraling back down into the dark.  But at the same time? 

            J had always kept a closed system, his own security within whatever bounds the Barton Foundation offered.  He’d been letting Odin design and run the details of it for years by the time that mission came around, adding intricacies and redundancies for practice if nothing else, something to fiddle with when he got bored.  He had always adhered to his father’s rules about no photography, even for records, and J hadn’t minded.  And there had been no breach of their loop; it was a boundary that the Bartons had accepted in the face of their results. 

            The day of that collapse, when they’d had to take the dog away and drag him out of the ruins?  That would have been the first time Dekim ever saw him, instead of reading a statistical report.  If what Jack said was true, and the man certainly seemed confident… 

            The retraining had never been about him.  Not really. 

            The realization was as liberating as it was devastating. 

            He still had no fucking idea how to feel about it. 

            But if it had never been about him, then… it had just been Dekim playing the part of a cruel god from one of those garbage old literature books he was working his way through.  Arbitrary violence on a convenient target, not… 

            He had fucked up on L3-X18999.  But the retraining hadn’t happened because of that. 

            Which meant it really wasn’t his fault. 

            If Dekim Barton had been such a threat as Jack seemed to believe, then even if Odin had wanted to die?  Why hadn’t he at least been sure to take the sadist with him? 

            Having been that far gone himself, he felt that that line of priority really should have been within his father’s capabilities. 

            He still couldn’t decide if it was better or worse, to think of it as something that had been done to him, rather than a brutality he had been part of.  He’d realized he hadn’t deserved it a while ago, but this… felt different.  A victim, instead of a participant.  It didn’t change anything, but… he was quickly discovering that it somehow made it all easier to conceptualize? 

            Marie had wasted no time in putting herself in his shoes, demanding to know if, had she been a Wing candidate and it had happened to her, if he would think it was her fault – and he had wanted to scream.  Because he was so glad Marie showed little interest in suits, she… 

            Marie would have made a damn good candidate, if they were the same age.  And her insistence that there was no innate difference in how either of them might be was treated was… horrifying.  Logical, and it didn’t feel the same, but no, even if she had caused the same sector collapse, she wouldn’t… 

            If he didn’t want that to ever happen to anyone, didn’t think anyone deserved it, then that had to include him too.  It just… hurt more to think about it that way than it did to just accept it. 

            …Emotions were stupid.  It still felt like it was his own fucking fault, even if it had been wrong.  So while he’d agreed that blaming himself for the retraining was wrong, he’d mostly done it because it made sense despite his lack of belief, and tried to at least stop fixating on it.  Sometimes he needed to just… let something sit in the back of his mind for a while before he could deal with it.  He was allowed to sit on the fence and acknowledge both arguments for as long as he wanted before making a decision.  He needed that space.  It was why, more and more, he wasn’t sure he could ever take orders again.  It just got too cluttered, he couldn’t prioritize with… it didn’t… 

            It just wasn’t safe for him.  He’d tried to explain to Lucrezia a while ago how he needed to avoid certain ways of thinking, of trusting someone more than his own mind, of letting something fester into regret.  They led down dangerous paths that he didn’t want anymore.  He liked the connections he’d made, the stupid silly things he’d picked up or figured out just because he could, instead of for any reason, and… 

            He could love his father and think he was shit at the job at the same time.  Life was full of contradictory truths, especially when it came to emotions and relationships.  If he could miss his father and want to scream at him at the same time, he was pretty sure he was allowed to blame himself for the retraining while acknowledging it was a grossly inaccurate summation of what had happened.  These things just happened sometimes.  It was complicated, and the longer he sat on emotions, generally speaking, the more sense they made when he tried to acknowledge them again, so…  He’d figured it was fine. 

            He probably would have been content to continue sitting on that fence for a damn long time if Jack hadn’t gone and… set the whole thing on fire.  And cried over the ashes. 

            Now he couldn’t quite figure out what he was feeling about the retraining at all, but it wasn’t grossly negative, so… 

            His life was really fucking weird right now.  

            “I think,” he decided after a long minute – a minute where Lucrezia just waited patiently, which was so…  He paused to take a quick kiss in thanks.  “I think I might be better than I have in a long time.” 

            He was a fucking mess.  But he also felt pretty good.  It was a new balance that he didn’t even vaguely understand just yet, but… maybe an improvement? 

            He was mostly sure he wasn’t going to lose Jack after all.  Not that he was eager to explore that, he’d seen how much he had said sunk in like a knife, and this new flavor of bond was all sorts of fascinating that he didn’t know how to define let alone stress, but…  He thought it would hold?  It was nice to have Jack not treat him any differently or give him weird looks the way Howard’s team at Sigma and a fair number of the people he’d run into on his way to Lucrezia’s room had.  It would happen eventually, but maybe spreading some of his crap out would just… mellow it, a bit? 

            If it didn’t, then the only consequence was a couple more weeks of guilt-free time before the next blow. 

            And if he wasn’t losing Jack, then maybe…? 

            When he tried to focus too much on his brother, though, he either wanted to start laughing again or just… lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling to acclimate.  And the last time he’d done that, he’d been there for hours. 

            Marie had been surprisingly cool about it, and joined in.  Jack had been less so, but by the time he found them, his thoughts had mostly started to make sense again, so he hadn’t bothered to explain. 

            He hadn’t bothered trying to normalize anything with Howard’s team after Marie came beyond being thrilled that the prototype was done and they were confident about future alterations.  Marie’d claimed she had handled it, and no one was avoiding him by the time he left, so… mostly back to normal there too. 

            Marie also wanted him to start talking to Anne – which, at this point, he didn’t care, so sure. 

            …He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Moira cry, though.  Jack had been bad enough, and Jack still didn’t know. 

            But at least he didn’t have to tell Moira.  As crappy as it was, he’d take that silver lining. 

            “You do?” 

            Odin felt his mouth twist.  “I wasn’t lying when I said the worst part was watching everyone react when I’d mention something,” he reminded her, lifting a hand to brush a lock of damp hair away from her face.  Shrugging a little, he added, “With it coming out the way it did, at least I never have to tell anyone about it.” 

            That at least, truly was freeing.  He was less sure about the rest, but the next time someone asked him what was wrong, he could just say a word or two and they’d stop bothering him. 

            Very convenient. 

            Lucrezia started to snicker, seemingly in spite of herself.  “Odin, no.  That’s not how that works.” 

            “It’s a working hypothesis,” he argued, grinning back.  “We’ll see.” 

            “That’s not healthy!” she protested, for all that there was still amusement shining in her eyes. 

            He blinked, realizing- “I didn’t mean never talk about it.”  He understood the basics of therapy, he’d done at least the beginning of it with Leia.  “I just mean that… everyone already knows.  I don’t have to explain it.”  He’d wanted Leia back so fiercely these past months because he didn’t want to hurt someone new with everything that was him, didn’t like seeing the joy leech out of their eyes, not…  If everyone already knew, that made their attitude about it not his fault, and therefore not his problem. 

            And Lucrezia wasn’t suddenly treating him like he was broken.  Which was great, because he was broken, and she probably knew it better than anyone but Marie, but she wanted him anyway and that made all the difference. 

            So what if maybe he’d taken the easy road by waiting out everyone freaking out about it?  If he pointed that out to any of his friends, the way he had Lucrezia, he was mostly sure they’d tell him he’d earned it. 

            Well, everyone except Marie, but she was Marie. 

            He’d needed that.  He’d just… forgotten why, for a little while. 

            Smoothing his free hand down her arm, he decided to prove the point.  She had told him last week that she only read the summary, but had likely been told excerpts since – and he still had his phone off, completely avoiding the internet as a whole for now.  So maybe she already knew, but maybe not, and…  He gripped her around the upper arm solidly, but only applied enough pressure to get her attention instead of causing pain.  “At the beginning, I still questioned things,” he admitted.  “J had told me it was meant to help make me better, to fix something broken in me, and I wanted that more than anything, but-”  But it hadn’t made sense.  J had raised him after Odin to always question, to look for alternate solutions – it was how they’d stumbled their way into the alternate joint configuration.  They’d question, and try something, and J would find some gap in his education and toss a book and computer program at him to tinker with until he got it, and then they’d do it again and- 

            “But?” 

            Right.  “When I mouthed off, one of them would grab me here, like this,” he briefly clenched a moment for emphasis, but still below her bruising threshold- “and slam my head into a wall until I stopped fighting back.” 

            And he had fought back, at first.  He’d actually grown a lot that year, he was fairly sure, because he remembered them being a lot bigger at the start than the end.  But even if he’d eventually stopped talking at all beyond confirmations…  

            That first time, he’d given back far more than he got, even if he was concussed and insensate by the end. 

            They’d started finding shortcuts around his defenses, after that.  Ones he was fairly sure they’d kept using even after he’d given in. 

            Sometimes, it was like looking back through a fog.  He’d think he remembered all of it, but then something would tip off a memory, and more would flow. 

            He almost wanted to read the damn article himself to see what he’d missed, but… also really didn’t.  As twisted up as his early memories were, at least there was something to find when he tried to nail down the flaws in those.  Though he’d gasped when he finally realized why the one that bothered him so much when he was teaching Marie to shoot was wrong. 

            His father had been behind him, guiding him, but he was also lecturing him, standing ahead and to one side, in line of sight.  He’d thought it was gibberish, corrupted files tossed into a stack and melded back together the way people described dreams. 

            But he had been young, small, and Odin so big, back then. 

            And the hands bracing his own, the shoulders framing his?  They were only a little bigger than his own. 

            He’d written his brother out of his memories somehow.  Which was stupid, but emotions, so eh.  Apparently that was a thing that could happen – not that that realization was at all comforting. 

            He wanted to see him again.  In person.  Maybe more of what was missing would click together, and it would stop hurting so much. 

            “That’s why the bruises bothered you so much,” Lucrezia murmured, studying his face. 

            “I didn’t even think about it until I saw them on you,” he agreed.  It wasn’t quite the same, Lucrezia’s arm wasn’t so small compared to their hands as his had been, but it had been enough to send him right back into that dissociative pit he was growing to hate – the framing he still reverted to when he got too surprised. 

            He made a face and tried again, because while it technically was an explanation, it wasn’t where he wanted to leave it either.  “I don’t…”  She’d made it very clear how she actively enjoyed his strength.  He knew at least some of that was from what the medical team had done during the retraining, though he wasn’t clear on how much – he’d seen the difference of statistics in his chart and known the increase wasn’t natural, but hadn’t had a solid comparison otherwise.  “I don’t want to be in that headspace with you,” he offered after a moment of struggling to find a better way to put it.  “In a battle it’s fine, it makes Zero easy, and… but not with you.  Not with friends.  I fall into it sometimes and it’s… not good.”  Maybe talking to Anne would give him some better words for all of this, but for now, he was trying to make a point.  “Little things tip into it sometimes.”  All the time. 

            Though… less since the article had come out? 

            …That might have more to do with minimizing all his interactions than any actual change.  Maybe. 

            Lucrezia hummed, reaching out a hand to run it up and down his side in a soothing motion.  “I’d rather know when it happens.  Whatever’s going on at the time.” 

            If he was entirely honest, he suspected one of the reasons things ran so quickly into sex between them was because nothing from that led back to the retraining.  Despite the sheer physicality of it, his mind was so full of her that there were no alternate roads to brood through – even the bruising issue had been a next day problem.  Even thinking about her that way usually dissolved it into nothing, because there was no room left for anything else when that particular hunger hit.  “It doesn’t happen very often around you.” 

            “Then I’d like to know when it’s cropped up with other people,” she persisted.  “Talking will help.” 

            “I don’t want to waste what time we get together on that,” he negated.  “There’s not enough.” 

            She managed to look pleased and exasperated at the same time.  “You have to talk to someone,” she argued. 

            Ah.  “Anne is camping out at our house and telecommuting all her sessions until I show up and ‘get over myself.’”  Though to be fair, those were Marie’s words, not Anne’s.  Whatever he said, Moira’s daughter had decided she was his sister, and apparently that meant she and Marie could team up and conspire to entrap him when he misbehaved. 

            He was mostly bemused, but honestly a little curious about how exactly that was supposed to work.  But he’d already agreed to talk to Anne, so he supposed that counted in their favor, even if he hadn’t really fought them on the issue. 

            Lucrezia blinked a few times in surprise, then offered him a truly bright smile.  “Oh!   Okay.” 

            He frowned.  “What?” 

            Her grin turned a little bit silly, maybe even abashed, but stayed just as bright.  “I thought you’d dig in your heels.” 

            This seemed to be a recurring assumption.  “I’ve had therapy before,” he noted.  “It got cut short, but-  Almost everyone in Rubato does some form of therapy.”  Then he rolled his eyes, because honestly, this kept happening, and it was Lucrezia.  She might actually know.  “Why does everyone think I’m going to be a dick about it?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

            She collapsed into giggles instead of answering, tucking her face into his chest, and he found himself smiling and pulling her in tighter again, bringing the blanket higher up to cover their shoulders. 

            Tomorrow, he needed to head back to Berlin and finish getting everything together for Friday.  He’d check in on Marie and maybe help her pick which of the higher math courses she wanted to try next, then go see his brother before he went back to Munich.  After that he had the weekend to look forward to, and the rest… 

            He closed his eyes, glad the main light was already out in favor of the soft battery-powered lamp he’d dropped on her desk.  Lucrezia didn’t sleep well in full light, and he just wanted to sink into the heavy weight of his body right now and let it drag him under instead of planning when to wake.  He had wanted to be here… and so he was. 

            He’d figure the rest out later. 

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Chapter Text

Mediation

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Song spoiler mentioned in the beginning notes (because you evidently can't put a hyperlink in those) is here.  But again, I seriously recommend you wait until said scene and it pops up in the text as the same blue underlined bit.  Or skip it entirely, as you like.  

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April 28^th 199 – Tuesday – Berlin, Germany – Executive Suite of Hotel Ensō Berlin

            Jovi grinned at the familiar face when the guardsman opened the door, for all that it wasn’t the one he’d been hoping for.  “Hey, Kansas.  Did I pick the wrong door?” 

            The captain gave him a dryly amused look that reminded him of Stefan in a nostalgic way – that didn’t hurt this time, thankfully.  

            The hits of grief he used to get from that look were mostly faded now, though they still came at odd moments.  It was little things, sometimes… but it was also good to see that Stefan had had surviving relatives.  He’d hoped he might, and… that had to be enough, now. 

            He liked Cassidy Foreman.  Smart, same wickedly dry humor as his cousin, very capable in the field, and he had a deep sense of loyalty.  He tended to be quiet, but the fact that he was originally one of Relena’s and only on loan to Mitchell for the Strike Force had raised the princess higher in his books, that first meeting.  She’d held up against his best hopes since then too, but you could tell a lot about a person by who they surrounded themselves with – and so far as he'd seen, the Guard were all damn good people. 

            “You do realize we have this whole wing tapped?” Cassidy pointed out.  “And I saw you knock on two other doors already?” 

            His grin widened.  “I do now,” he offered, filing the fact away.  While the thought had occurred to him, he hadn’t given it serious consideration – he was a regular visitor now, and carried no threats.  Odin level of security paranoia when away from home?  Check.  Not really a surprise, especially since Foreman had said they were all trained up by Odin’s big brother.  While the two of them hadn’t known each other for the majority of their lives, he’d already seen quite a bit of circumstantial evidence showing how relevant those shared years had been. 

            Quatre had not been impressed when Jovi compared the younger Miller to him.  Though it had admittedly been less in a ‘I don’t believe you, take this seriously’ fashion and more of a ‘fuck my life’ way.  Which was adorable in a ‘I want to ruffle your hair’ way, but also true enough to be entirely unhelpful. 

            He was still circling around the Miller issue, but so far?  Relena had been just unhelpful enough in that arena, even while she opened the floodgates on others, to show a strong loyalty to the man.  The reason for the bond could go in any number of directions, some more interesting than others, but it was significant. 

            He had a favorite theory, but it had no real backing yet, and his gut sense of things was off by miles a good eighty percent of the time.  But… if the connection was romantic, wouldn’t that be an interesting solution to all their problems? 

            Well, for a lot of them anyway.  It didn’t answer every question – and in fact raised a few more instead – and there were some major roadblocks on that pathway that made it unlikely, which was why it was a pet theory and not something he’d mentioned to anyone else.  But half the fun of watching drama unfold was dreaming up all the weird ways it could go. 

            The retired colonel was still hospitalized and would be for days yet, however – Jovi wasn’t here for him.  “Is Razo in?” he asked instead.  Not that he minded seeing the princess and her people, but he’d come for his friend – and maybe David too, if the man was feeling chatty.  He wouldn’t turn a blind eye to work if it fell in his lap, but he hadn’t arrived with politics in mind. 

            Cassidy waved him in as he took a few steps back and, predictably, pointed to the side where two women stood – he recognized one, though he didn’t know her name, but the other wasn’t familiar.  They were quick, thorough, and entirely professional about frisking him – part of the normal routine of visiting the princess – and he didn’t fuss over them wanting to check out his bag and keep his phone.  That was all pretty standard procedure. 

            He knew the ladies wouldn’t care to talk, so he took the opportunity to look around instead.  The suite was nice – very classy and modern, with a bit of an Asian tilt – but still a significant downgrade from the usual.  Which was expected, honestly – Sarracenia was something else entirely.  And they were here to work.  While he hadn’t been privy to the opening day of the Mitchell negotiations and the news had yet to release anything on it, most of this hotel was filled with delegates, quite a few of them mingling in the public spaces downstairs… and the overall mood was promising.  No one upset, overall ranging from neutral to bored. 

            No one looked excited either, but…  Well, he was under the impression that very little was generally accomplished on day one of these things, so that probably didn’t mean anything? 

            Still, he didn’t think it could hurt to ask the question he’d been turning over since the official announcement of the first meeting came out.  Meeting Cassidy’s eyes, he admitted, “I’m surprised you guys didn’t get the talks moved to Munich.”  The princess’ compound to the south was technically more centrally located for others to arrange travel for, and after the disaster last week, no one would be able to deny her if Relena tried putting any weight behind the motion. 

            Captain Foreman shrugged.  “The security gaps have been closed, and this allows Duchess Shiavonne to regain her lost grace.  It’s as good a place as any other.” 

            Both true.  But he couldn’t help but wonder how much of their willingness to stay put might relate to Miller not being cleared for transfer.  Whatever flavor of relationship lay between him and the princess, it was close-knit. 

            Not that he would get anywhere from poking at that particular curiosity – at least not now, with Kansas.  “I suppose it is,” he returned agreeably.  He wouldn’t prod at Razo either, out of respect for his choices, but Dave was fair game… and the princess sometimes gave him a clue or two, intentionally or otherwise. 

            At least a few of the ideas he’d tossed around were probably false trails, though, either of his own making or hers.  He liked people, and they liked him back – but he wasn’t always good at guessing motives or teasing out the right meanings, at least on the first try.  He just listened and kept at it, and always enjoyed the process – and people had a way of picking up on the last part, which made them enjoy his company even more, and want to keep talking. 

            People were the best kind of puzzle; too complicated to understand the whole of often as not, but fascinating every step of the way.  Sometimes it took him a while, but he got to the bottom of their wants and needs eventually, and everyone involved was somehow his friend by the end of it.  Even when they moved on, they remembered him fondly, and that worked well when he needed to network. 

            When he was younger, he’d mostly networked by accident – then later, as a sort of plan against a rainy day.  He’d long since decided it was the key to how to live a good life, riding the back and forth.  When the sky rained fire in the Fall, he’d cashed in quite a bit of that karma trying to get his extended family sorted – if a freaking battleship almost ending all life on earth wasn’t the time to pull out all the stops, you were delusional.  But then… 

            Well.  Then Cambyses came, and it all went down the drain anyway, no matter what he tried.  Shit happened, whatever contingency you tried to plan for.  Sometimes you skated it, and sometimes you crashed. 

            Thing was, nobody could stay in the wreckage forever, and despite everything… he still liked people.  He’d found a hard limit and an inner steel for dealing with those only out to cause pain, who wanted to destroy instead of protect, but… maybe that was for the best.  His instructors had always said it was lucky he fell in the middle of the talent range – not good enough to put in a suit, but too talented of a fixed wing pilot to waste on the ground – because they’d thought him too soft for infantry.  ‘Too interested in finding a third option in the middle of a fight,’ they’d said, convinced his distraction or cumulative angst over perceived failure in the face of victory would see him dead, and he hadn’t argued… 

            But he had disproved it, in the end.  Not out of any desire but survival, but…  He’d been so glad to find Robby.  He hadn’t been sure until the statistics started pouring out after everything was cleared and the terraforming started, he’d stopped paying attention to the calendar almost as soon as the Regime rose and he’d signed his enlistment confirmation, focused on not thinking about how little time he had to get his sisters and their kids figured out before he had to leave, just trying to get all his ducks in a row… 

            But apparently he’d been in one of the original areas Cambyses took over, the first spring after the Fall.  Him and Nick both, not that they’d really interacted before Robby took them both in from separate camps.  Jovi had been passed around between so many camps before Robby that he’d lost count, always considered an asset, but one that never quite fit in.  Almost a luck charm or mascot with his ‘golden retriever for life’ personality, but not quite enough of a boon to mind giving up for a more worthwhile advantage. 

            Quatre had been the first person in nearly a year that had treated him like more than a thing.  As more than a tool, or at best, a pet to be favored or disposed of at a whim. 

            He’d… forgotten that he wasn’t.  For a little while. 

            He really wanted to talk to Odin – had hoped to catch him today, but Audi said he’d dropped her with Jack and bailed to go get some R&R with Lu before facing the music, which was totally fair.  But… he’d read the file.  And while the methods had been different – the ‘retraining’ had been a far more personalized hell than the Iron Ghetto, worse in some ways even while it looked far better in others… 

            The people who had hurt Odin had done their best to turn him into a thing too.  And that… was relatable.  Both of them had found ways to claw back out of the mire, and considering how different the two of them were, he figured the goals and maybe even methods had differed too, but… it still might be nice to talk about it.  Odin was weird, but that didn’t make him bad company. 

            In the end of the day, no matter where he was or what he was doing?  Jovi had found he still liked people – and the more complicated they were, the more he was drawn to them.  He liked problems. 

            Sometimes untangling a person’s knotted web of grief and anxiety was the only thing that made him feel like he was worth anything.  Those were bad days.  But they had a way of leading back in to more and more good ones, as the universe passed back some of what you gave, and…  

            While terrible things happened, life didn’t have to be about those terrible things. 

            He’d just been declared acceptably clean of weaponry – not that they were stupid enough to leave him unwatched, they knew he was a vet even before Cambyses turned him into a living weapon – when Dave came around the corner, a bounce in his step jostling his signature curls that he’d let grow a little long.  “Jovi!” 

            “Dave!” he called back just as happily, and met him in the middle for the offered hug – he’d always liked that Mitchell wasn’t stingy about that sort of thing.  “Good to see you on the other side of the treason charge!” 

            “Eh, glad it didn’t take me as long as I’d worried it might,” Dave returned, squeezing tight and slapping his back once before backing off.  “I heard you and yours might have had a hand in that?” 

            Ah, he’d half expected the question, if not right out the gate.  “Prisbrey is a friend, but she actually blew off the tips we were offering her to write up your article,” he admitted, tucking his hands in his pockets.  “She’s an even closer friend now for having done it, but you got that on your own merit.”  He pursed his lips, then tugged on one ear, turning his head first to the left, then right.  It was probably safe to talk freely given what Cassidy had said about them having the whole wing, but… 

            “That’s good to know,” Dave returned, giving him a thumb’s up before going on to prove the point.  “Especially since I know you lot were aware Lena and I had some behind the scenes shit going on.  Her acting solo means the dominoes fell right without a helping hand, which is nice.” 

            Jovi grinned, appreciating the notion.  “We did turn her onto the bullshit the Regime was trying to pull on Cambyses vets afterward,” he admitted.  “And that was before she knew all but two of our founders came from the desert, and she still seems to like us.  So.”  He shrugged.  Ardith had warned him that Shel was here for the talks, but they’d decided they wouldn’t poke their noses into her business these next two weeks unless something emergent came up – she wasn’t a member, and she certainly didn’t have to be at their beck and call.  “Shel is good people.  Treat her well, mm?” 

            “That’s the plan,” Dave returned agreeably, taking the hinted threat in stride.  “You guys willing to talk to me openly, now that I’ve told Treize to mind his own business?” 

            He bit back a laugh, feeling his grin widen.  You don’t waste time, do you?  “Mm, probably,” he returned noncommittally.  In truth, they were only a month or two out from talking to Treize via the Winner connection, but he didn’t need to give them that edge.  “Let’s see how the negotiations pan out, huh?  By the end of that you’re likely to be Relena’s again anyway, as I understand it.”  The ‘and we do like her’ was also left hanging, but he felt it was well understood at this point. 

            “Eh, true enough.  The Accorded Nations standing as a power in their own right is the end goal, and that’s… synonymous, I think.” 

            He’d guessed as much at this point, but it was nice of him to drop another clue.  Real friendly-like.  “Then we can sort it out later,” he assured.  “I’m not here on business anyway.  Where’s Razo?” 

            The door opened behind him, and Jovi turned in time to see Cassidy grinning at Razo, one hand still raised to knock.  His long hair was halfway dried, but still wet enough to make it clear he was fresh from the shower.  “Really, Kansas?” 

            “Have to get my kicks somehow,” the captain replied drolly.  “At least until the regular program comes back on.” 

            “Promises, promises,” Dave argued, grinning.  “I’ve been here an hour, and nothing yet.  Maybe he doesn’t care.” 

            About to open his mouth to ask, Jovi paused as Relena came around the corner, a smirk on her lips as she settled her hands on either hip.  “If he doesn’t, it will be a welcome show of restraint that he has thus far lacked,” she announced.  Shaking her head, she dusted imaginary lint off her skirt and strode over to offer him a hand.  “Always a pleasure, Jovi.  Is this a social visit, or does something need my attention?” 

            “Purely social,” he assured as he shook, appreciating her forthright nature.  “How tight of a leash are your borrowed men on tonight?” 

            She grimaced as she took a step back for sake of propriety.  “Technically they have the run of the town, but I would appreciate it if no one went too far just yet.  Everyone is still settling into the new peace.”  She shrugged one shoulder.  “I was hoping we might take advantage of the facilities and have drinks and dinner at the restaurant here this evening.  It will help smooth things over that little bit further – and you’re more than welcome to join, Jovi.  But if not here, I would prefer you hold off on being seen with them in public until at least tomorrow, ideally Friday or later.” 

            He only thought about the implications for a moment.  “Dinner here sounds great.”  Ardith had mentioned Prisbrey gushing about this place when she found out Mitchell’s invitation to the press section included room and board, and people noticing him at the same table as Mitchell and the princess would only do good things for Rubato’s reputation, both now and after shit hit the fan. 

            Besides, he was leaving town on Thursday.  Maybe he’d be back before the negotiations got sorted, but he might as well take what he could get in the meantime.  The future was never a guarantee. 

            Relena’s lady major came back around the same corner Relena and Dave had, interestingly not in uniform, followed quickly by Major Sobrie, who pointedly was.  Any mystery he wanted to ponder there was quickly solved as Mailin wrapped a possessive arm around Dave’s back, and… right, that was a thing, wasn’t it?  Or at least, it had been… but he’d thought it was a one-off?  Which, whatever, but… 

            He focused on Relena.  “Won’t that imply more friendliness between your factions than you want to have come across for the past few months?” 

            Mai answered instead.  “It might, but I’m a known harlot,” she informed him brightly, grinning and leaning back when Dave dropped his face to her neck, giving him better access.  “And in the meantime, this rumor will give him some protection from worse.”  Then she laughed and slapped playfully at her date, twisting away.  “Dinner first!” 

            “That’s a first,” Lin announced, looking dryly amused. 

            “I have to spice it up and keep people on their toes somehow.” 

            Still feeling like he was missing something, Jovi pointedly met Relena’s eyes.  “Rumors?” 

            The look she gave him was mildly exasperated.  “Dorothy.” 

            Oh, right.  He had heard something about the Romefeller Heiress being knocked up this afternoon, but honestly hadn’t cared.  “That’s an issue?” 

            “I’m fairly certain people are going to try and make it one,” she agreed.  “I would love it if they didn’t, but nearly every man with easy access to her last fall is going to fall under suspicion, at least until they realize she used to party till sunrise for four or more nights week.  I can protect my household well enough and she’ll handle hers, but David is in limbo.  Despite the dates not matching, people are stupid and might try to imply one of his visits lines up, especially since he took furlough without notice a few times.”  She rolled her eyes.  “An accusation wouldn’t hold water if someone tried to pull it apart, but I’d rather avoid the drama, and Mai decided she wasn’t getting enough attention.” 

            He blinked.  “Last fall?”  He’d assumed-

            “She is almost eight months along, yes,” Relena agreed, her smile in place, but tone flattening into something closer to irritation.  “I found out right before my little meltdown in France.  It should be noted that Dorothy will do as she likes, when she likes, without much thought to anyone’s opinion on it.”  She sighed.  “And she is not coming out tonight for the same reason Mai is putting on her show.” 

            “If it’s a show, I get to charge!” 

            “Save it for the bedroom, major,” Relena snapped back, eyes narrowed… at least until she rolled them.  “Or at least David’s suite, but warn people before you start shit this time.” 

            Jovi raised his brows.  Not that he minded, but usually the princess was a little more prim and proper than this, at least in front of him.  He didn’t think he’d ever heard her curse. 

            He couldn’t help himself.  “This time?” 

            The glint in Relena’s eyes was deeply amused, even as the rest of her expression read exasperation.  “Strip poker.  In the dining room.” 

            “That was Dorothy,” Mai immediately argued.  “I just helped it along.” 

            “You turned porn on in the movie theater and set up a camera before bolting to see who would show.” 

            “The numbers were honestly lower than I anticipated.” 

            “I-” 

            “I promise to not embarrass you in public,” Mai interrupted, using one finger to cross her heart.  “I’ll be a perfect lady tonight, and keep it behind closed doors.”  She shrugged.  “The house is different and you know it.” 

            Relena let out a soft breath, but she was smiling as she nodded.  “It is, but I appreciate the oath.” 

            “We’re still waiting,” Cassidy announced in a bored tone.  “For night shift, if nothing else.” 

            “The reservations are for fifteen minutes out,” Relena continued.  “If he keeps it together for another ten minutes, I’ll leave my phone behind and deal with any fallout afterwards.”  She frowned, leaning back on one heel to call around the corner.  “Hayden?  Could you let the restaurant know we added one to our party?  They said they were using the largest table already and asked if I needed more spots, it shouldn’t be any trouble, but-” 

            “I got it,” someone, presumably Hayden, called back. 

            Hmm.  He didn’t think he’d ever met that one.  Or any of the night shift, actually, and probably half the day, so…  Eh.  There had to be a decently large pool if everyone wanted to sleep and take vacation. 

            “How’s your version of heroing been, then?” Razo asked as he came to stand by him.  “Mine’s getting old.” 

            Despite this being a recurring conversation for them over the last several phone calls before the Strike Force cut communications, Jovi’s mind immediately flew back to Odin, and he grimaced.  “Certainly better than some.” 

            Razo, unsurprisingly, didn’t miss a beat.  “The Yuy thing is chewing on you?”  He didn’t sound surprised, exactly, but… well, except the part where he did?  “I thought Rubato had their hands all over that.” 

            Jovi grimaced again, but… eh, if someone was eavesdropping, he’d implied enough of a relation already that he wouldn’t face recompense for confirmation.  “Him telling us to milk it doesn’t make me like the process,” he explained.  “There’s a reason I turned down interviews about my time in Africa, and he likes his business shared even less than I do.  It doesn’t matter how much utility we’re making of it now – that’s just about damage control.  If he’d had any say before it got blasted over the internet, it would’ve stayed buried.” 

            “He is well, though?” 

            Damn it.  He’d known better, and this was fine, but he still steeled himself before meeting Relena’s gaze again.  “I haven’t seen him in months,” he temporized.  “But I was in the room when Luke called him for his stance on how to handle the spin on Abadie’s article, and he basically told us that our panic over old news was not his problem before giving us a blank check to ‘make it worth something’ and hanging up.”  He rolled his eyes.  “He’s hard to read in person let alone over an audio-only line, so I don’t really know, but he at least says he’s fine.”  He’d see for himself tomorrow, or Friday at the latest, but he certainly wasn’t going to spill the beans on that. 

            All the same, he and Relena’s people had been carefully tiptoeing around the fact that he was in contact for the last week, and it had been a likely suggestion before that, as soon as Odin owned up to their involvement in the Bianchi business – back in January.  Openly admitting the connection would win him some favor to earn intel back with, and the only downside was that they might try asking questions he would have to refuse to answer.  Relena, at least in this small of a group, was not interested in hanging him out to dry for the sake of a rumor he could easily lie about.  With a mixed audience he was less sure about how she might triage, but here… 

            Damn it all, but he was trying to build a bridge – and if she did turn around and try to fuck him over, they had the foundations down for going public.  Soon, it wouldn’t matter if she blew the whistle or they pulled back the curtain.  At the very least, this media extravaganza shit on Odin has been helpful on that front.  They were spinning him up into a larger than life hero instead of letting everyone keep him purely in martyr territory, and riding on that momentum was going to make the rest of their campaign a lot easier. 

            He sighed.  “I stand by everything I’ve pushed publicly and I do consider him a friend, but no one would be happy about having their dirty laundry outed like that, even when none of the blame falls on him.  We’re making the best of a poor situation.” 

            Thankfully, instead of pressing, she only stared at him hard for a long moment as if trying to decide if he was being truthful – then nodded and let out a sigh.  “I don’t know that this makes anything better or worse,” she admitted, “but technically the secret was outed nearly two years ago, when the Barton Foundation dumped Dekim’s personal files into the Regime’s database as part of their recompense for his coup attempt.  As I understand it, the files were poorly organized and not well-marked, but…”  She gave a tired sort of shrug.  “Anyone who found the back door into the mainframe could have read them.  There is evidence that the majority of the intel in that database was farmed by multiple parties before the hole was found – copies therefore existed in multiple places even before someone was crass enough to blast it over social media.” 

            Which means it was always a matter of how and when, not if.  Jovi closed his eyes, debating… then shook his head.  Not my problem.  “I don’t know if that’s better or worse either, but I’ll pass it along the grapevine.”  Otherwise, the implication…  “You already knew.”  It wasn’t a question. 

            The smile she offered him was distinctly melancholy.  “My head of intelligence gave me the rough shape of it in January, around the same time he realized Heavyarms now has multiple pilots – right before pointing out that statistics suggest Heero Yuy was in control when my brother tried to pick a fight with China by attacking the Insurgence’s Sudanese base.”  Her mouth flattened.  “It made a number of events during the war make more sense, even as they hurt all the deeper.” 

            …Oh boy.  He made sure to keep his breathing steady, and only offered a wry smile.  “Does your brother know he faced Yuy in Sudan?”  He’d seen the mech forums that kept the gundam statistics under a sticky with a running compare and contrast after Adam had suggested playing around on them.  They were old and a bit buried, but he knew what she was probably referencing, and there wasn’t much point in denying it.  Relena already knew he was connected to the Insurgence. 

            A wry curl touched the corner of Relena’s mouth as she tipped her head to the side thoughtfully.  “Oh, I suppose he might have noticed?  But then again, maybe not – I’ve made a habit of stealing his more intelligent staff.  I haven’t bothered trying to tell him how to do his job in some time now.” 

            “I distinctly remember you telling him how to mitigate the Italian fallout,” Cassidy pointed out dryly. 

            “I was in the middle of goading him into letting me lay claim to an independent army,” she returned, tone shifting to something distinctly sardonic.  “Besides, all I said was for him to keep letting it fall on Lee, which he was going to do anyway.  He only listens to me when I feed his ego first.” 

            “He listened well enough last week,” Mai offered. 

            Relena gave Jovi a long-suffering look.  “He only listens to me when I feed his ego or screech like a banshee,” she amended.  “It’s a balancing act I’m not particularly fond of, but have nevertheless been forced to navigate.”  She shrugged again.  “And in any case, the results are still minimal enough that he barely affords me any breathing room.  I have my independence in large part because the man thinks I’m busy playing up an international country club – I intend to have the Accords on solid foundations by the time it sinks through his skull that I’m not coming back.  I’m done trying to plug holes in his sinking ship.” 

            Mm.  Despite managing to not outright say anything discreetly treasonous that could be quoted against her?  That little tirade, complete with the snippets from the Guard, painted an interesting picture.  A pleasant one, truthfully, though he wasn’t sure how far he should trust it.  So he’d leave that for now, let it ferment in his mind so he could poke holes in it later, and take advantage of the mood for a few clarifications of his own.  “How long have you known about the hole in the Regime’s mainframe security?” 

            She didn’t even hesitate, though her smile turned conspiratorial.  “I only found out when the Regime did, last November – but the hacker who placed it in February of 196 found the resulting hullabaloo downright hysterical.  He was a mole that built it as a ‘fuck you’ to my brother and a red herring against Treize loyalists that had access to alternate routes of information trade, and had assumed someone found and quietly patched it up within a few months of its creation.” 

            Now that information, if true, was more than worth anything he’d let slip today.  “One of Treize’s huh?” 

            That smile, while still conspiratorial, gained an edge.  “You already knew I stole people from Treize as well as my brother.”  Her tone, if anything, was admonishing.  “I may share a number of dreams with my allies, but I’m far from the only one that takes issue with the methods Khushrenada has shown a preference for.  While I understand that they may have been necessary in the past, the point of these last few years has been to make something better, and he has habits that need curbing.  A significant part of his acceptance into the Soleil triad were a series of checks and balances on his behavior – and while I am hopeful, we are still waiting to see if they hold water.  Quite a number of people are done giving him significant power over their lives.” 

            “That’s probably the nicest way I’ve heard anyone say it,” Dave announced, coming over to stand between her and Razo.  “He screwed the pooch as many times as he stood victorious during the war, and I kept with him after mostly due to a lack of better options.”  He shrugged.  “Prisbrey laid out my perspective remarkably well for someone who’d never actually met me.” 

            “Except for the part where you told Treize to go fuck himself?” Jovi pointed out.  Because they’d as good as told Jack and Odin that there were friendly auspices there. 

            “I mean, I politely told him to go fuck himself?  I can be friends with a guy without kowtowing to him.  He needs someone to tell him to go sit on his thumb when he’s taken a wrong turn.  Jake deserted in 191 so he could do it without fear of repercussion when he disagreed with something his Excellency wanted done, and they still hiss and spit at each other like cats over where lines should be drawn.  There’s a good reason Jake ghosted everyone for the first six months of the war – I only found out why last Christmas and I’m still pissed, so, you know.  Problems.” 

            Jovi raised his brows, entirely unsure of what to do with that.  There were a lot of interesting facts buried in those statements he would like to take the time to tease out, but he didn’t want to misstep in what was beginning to look like a quagmire.  Build a bridge, he reminded himself.  Drop the Treize issue until I can get Quatre’s take on it.  Whether or not their claims were accurate, it would go a long way towards explaining how and why the Winner women had gotten mixed up with Khushrenada.  At least in part – his friend had made a few only half-joking comments that the Soleil situation might be as simple as him gaining a new brother-in-law, which… well, that was a lazy sort of solution that they wouldn’t get any evidence for or against at this stage, so they mostly just kept it on a shelf. 

            Either he’d hesitated too long or Relena was just feeling chatty.  “For what it’s worth, I also consider Heero a friend.  I’m not asking for any kind of trust I have yet to earn, but…  I was happy to take his actions in Sudan last summer as a proof of life.  At this point, the only one of the five we have no confirmation on is Quatre.” 

            Oh, and isn’t that a beautifully leading hook of a statement?  He gave her his best smile, more than entertained enough to make it true even as adrenaline shivered under his skin.  He was not commenting on that, because literally any answer would lead straight into a trap he was not prepared for – though he felt like he should maybe go shake Adam and see what relevant facts fell out of his pockets like loose change.  Because damn it all, while Adam had a face that blended into most crowds, OZ had never lost his recruitment photo and he kept pretending like that wasn’t a problem. 

            “I haven’t seen or heard from Trowa since 197,” Dave admitted, almost as if he could hear his thoughts.  “It was only a chance meeting in the first place, and while he technically left a line of contact open, the domain on the email he gave me expired before the year was out, and he never reestablished contact again.”  He shrugged.  “Given the Heavyarms situation and the way Po has steered clear of anything vaguely smelling of Treize, we assumed he stopped freelancing and was never going to reach back again.” 

            Jovi just kept smiling – because while he understood the logic, he was doing his damndest to not laugh out loud.  The very concept of Adam settling down and following someone else’s rules was fucking hilarious.  Though at least this bit of intel about contacting Treize was old enough to be mostly obsolete, and would hopefully give Mark less of a hernia when he passed it along. 

            Thankfully, before they could tempt him with some other leading tasty tidbit or he had to say something like ‘no comment,’ Relena’s cell phone started to ring. 

            Everyone’s stance immediately changed, tipping in her direction as she fished it out of her purse and eyed the screen with pursed lips.  “I’ll need a moment,” she announced, turning away from them and wrapping one arm around herself as she tapped the connect.  “Hello, Brother.  I trust you’re well?” 

            It was muffled and slightly garbled, but Jovi still managed to make out part of the man’s sneering response.  “-ry to tell me you had no idea?” 

            Relena’s hand dropped down to her hip, feet planted in a posture that men everywhere knew was best to avoid.  “Thank-you, I’m doing very well indeed.”  She started walking away, towards the rest of the suite behind that corner.  “My knowledge has very little to do with her choices – I should think you might remember that from when she still worked for you.” 

            Jovi blinked and otherwise managed to not visibly start when Cassidy opened the doors again for a group of men in black Regime uniforms to file in, chattering easily with each other.  Night shift, right.  All new faces to him. 

            “That mode of thought is both severely outdated and irrelevant, and the fact that you brought it up makes me a little ashamed for you, if I’m honest.” 

            Dave chuckled, low and deep in his throat with one hand over his mouth to muffle the noise – Relena spun around and pointed at him with a warning look belied by the smirk she wore. 

            Jovi found himself smirking too, crossing his arms and settling his weight back on his heels.  The dynamic on each of his visits before had been tight and informal, often a bit teasing, but never so playful as he was seeing today.  And it wasn’t a one-off or directed to a specific person – this was just… them being more relaxed in front of him.  Maybe Mitchell being present helped shape it into this, but… 

            This wasn’t just a group of people who worked together – they were all friends.  Maybe not full equals, but this wasn’t unlike the Rubato guys hanging out while waiting for something to start. 

            It was relieving, even as it failed to surprise him – whether because he’d already known what lay beneath the veneer they allowed him to see, or at seeing it in the first place. 

            Relena had gone back to the corner and was now standing on the border, leaning in like she was gesturing to someone.  And he heard her voice but didn’t make out the words as Cassidy nudged him with an elbow.  “Don’t suppose you know if Jack is back in town yet?” 

            Right, because that was the other end of the confusion over Jake Miller.  “He either is or will be soon, but I’m pretty sure he’s jet-lagged,” he offered.  And babysitting.  Not that Audi strictly needed someone watching over her at all times, but there had been some level of drama between Quatre and Odin over the phone about that.  Jovi had never really thought about how the kid didn’t go anywhere unless it was with a select set of people, but apparently Jack had recently made the list and Quatre was even more exasperated than usual.  “I don’t keep close track of Da Capo assignments,” he pointed out.  “I don’t know when he’s next expected to ship out.”  Technically he’d been on something like family emergency leave for the past week anyway, but that was a bunch of HR talk that Raphael handled, not him. 

            And technically, both of the man’s sons had been going through serious crises, so accidentally or not, Jack had fully covered his bases on that one? 

            Then he frowned.  “You have his number,” he pointed out, starting to feel weird about the question. 

            Cassidy made some weird gesture with both hands which… was surprising to not recognize, because really, Quatre’s version of hand-talk was extensive as hell.  “The Millers are awkward, and they’re trying to do better but are both bad at it.  Jake texted a few times, then decided he was being a needy nuisance because he’s cooped up in a hospital bed and can’t sprint a few miles to wear down his anxiety, so I thought I’d circle around and try some damage control.  I thought I might poke at the old man, but while that’s helpful if he’s nearby and can come visit, it’ll just make him feel shitty if he’s far off with bad reception.” 

            That… was actually a little sweet. 

            Dave made a thoughtful noise, even as he grimaced.  “Jake’s always more morose on medical leave,” he agreed.  “Are they at least letting him pace?” 

            “Not since they realized he was hiding how much it hurt,” Lin negated, shaking his head.  “It was a complex enough break that they’re worried he’ll pop the new seams holding all the pieces of his shoulder blade together if he moves too much, and he can’t have surgery again unless his levels drop significantly.  So he’s back on bedrest.” 

            Having recently read a ton about Remalene treatment as an attempt to get his head back on straight after going through Odin’s torture file… that sounded brutal.  Not that he was surprised; the specifics hadn’t been released on the extent of either Noventa or the younger Miller’s injuries, but he’d seen the footage.  That, and today made a week that the man had been in the ICU, which implied worse. 

            They tended to get all cagey when he tried to broach the subject of the retired colonel, and the man himself had avoided him on enough of his visits that he didn’t think he’d be welcome in a hospital room.  Still, he was opening his mouth to ask about just how bad it was when Relena’s sharp laugh cut him off. 

            “That’s why you felt the need to call?  Are you sure?  I’ll give you one chance to backpedal, Milliardo.  I understand that it’s early there.” 

            Her voice was just as sharp as the laugh, vicious in a way he’d only seen that day in France when she tore into Minister Merriweather, but far stronger; she wasn’t chasing the edge of a collapse today.  Peripherally, he noticed the attention of everyone else in the room shifting the same way, drawn to a single point – it was in moments like these that you could feel that magnetic pull the princess carried, the same as anyone who had ever seen Treize at a speech described.  Even if he’d had no interest in what was going on, his attention would have snapped her way. 

            He saw the flare of her skirt as she pivoted, mostly out of view but still just barely around the corner, not truly trying for privacy.  “Milliardo,” she crooned, sugary sweet and venom rolled into one.  “If that was why, rest assured – I wouldn’t have bothered with an engagement while I waited for you to get your head out of your ass.  I would have married him, then sent you an announcement.  No.” 

            Mai let out a quiet but entirely delighted cackle, while Lin pressed a hand over his eyes and one of the night guardsman groaned out, “He didn’t.” 

            Jovi was pretty damn sure the prince had asked if she was pregnant, though.  She’d mentioned the man wasn’t happy about the match, but if he was grabbing at that kind of straw?  “I didn’t realize it was this bad,” he found himself muttering. 

            “This is actually pretty tame,” Cassidy informed him nonchalantly, hands in his pockets. 

            “No one’s screaming at each other yet,” Mai agreed cheerfully. 

            “No,” Relena decided, in answer to something none of them could hear.  “I’m not, but I’m also done with this conversation.  I stand by what I said before.  Goodbye, Milliardo.”  A moment later she was striding back into view, spots of color high on her cheeks but otherwise appearing unaffected as she held out her phone to the captain that had come in with night shift.  “If he calls back, mute it – I don’t want to risk him making a scene at dinner.  If we weren’t always at risk for an emergency, I’d turn it off altogether.” 

            “You got it,” the man returned, thinking for a moment before holding it out for the lieutenant that had followed him in.  “Boonen, you heard the lady, yes?  I’m on point tonight.” 

            “Yes sir.” 

            “We’re a little early, but I say we head down now,” Relena announced, picking an elegant sweater that matched the rest of her outfit up off an armchair and pulling it on.  “I feel a need to stop at the bar and walk around sipping something obviously alcoholic before I have to field any more stupid questions.” 

            That would kill two birds with one stone, Jovi realized, a grin creeping back up… and joined the crowd as they bustled out. 

-

***

-

Canada

            “Am I good or am I good?” Hilde demanded, crossing her arms.  “Not even two full days in and we’re hitting paydirt.  You should’ve waited for me to even start.” 

            “So you could have scouted all the same areas I still would have hit first and gotten despondent?” Adam returned dryly, uploading the changes Hilde had mapped to the main display… and grimacing.  “Eh.  We need to circle around.” 

            She narrowed her eyes at him.  “If we have a diameter, why waste the time?  Just do the math.” 

            “You’re showing your roots,” he argued.  “Math isn’t always the answer.” 

            “And what are you, immune to spaceborn foibles?” 

            “I’m mostly sure I didn’t go to space until the nineties,” he returned.  Not that he really remembered enough to claim either origin, honestly, but at least for this, he knew he was right.  “A hot spot could be a live plant, but alternately?  We were just at a hot spring.” 

            That made her pause.  “You think we’re on a volcano?” 

            …He had literally never gone to school, why did he know more about geology than her?  Did they just… class that as nonrelevant information for the spaceborn?  “Almost half of this continent has some variant of volcano.  Where did you think mountains came from?”  She just stared at him – and actually, that wasn’t relevant, so after covering his face with one hand for a moment, he tried again.  “The Fall was so bad as it was because it set off a couple volcanos in the ring of fire, and however dormant people say they are, volcanos set each other off.  There was a psychotic chain reaction happening through Asia and both Americas for months.  Theoretically, that should be over with.  But no, you never know when they’re going to wake up.”  He shrugged.  “And an early sign, at least with all this ice, might be that an area is getting a little too warm.” 

            “…And people willingly live near these things.” 

            He rolled his eyes, gesturing out the windshield at the snow.  “Not here.” 

            “No, but, like, in general?” 

            “…It is literally part of how land is made, so yes.”  And there were the underwater ones too, but he didn’t think pointing that out that was going to help head her off on whatever issue she’d struck now. 

            Hilde was still giving him a narrow-eyed look.  “The earthborn are fucking crazy.” 

            …Yeah, there was nothing he could do with that.  After all, they were… but so was everyone else? 

            Taking a deep breath, he opted to sidestep the issue rather than agree.  “It’s tedious, but our best bet is to map out the border of the hot zone and see what that tells us, then scout inwards from there.”  He grimaced.  “But the need to keep an eye out for surveillance is stronger than ever, so it’s not going to be as fast.”  If this was a plant and they tripped some kind of security net, they were so isolated that he wasn’t entirely sure they would make it out. 

            Hilde considered the map, them grimaced and nodded.  “Slow and steady it is, then.” 

-

***

-

April 30^th 199 – Thursday – Berlin, Germany – The Berlin House

            Marie rubbed at her eyes.  “You really think so?” 

            Anne, warm and calm as ever, rubbed her shoulder as she nodded, pushing the box of tissues closer.  “Your mother certainly believed it, and she’s our expert on these things.  All we have is a lack of information; I would defer to her judgement.  If the Regime knew their information network was compromised, it would make sense if they were careful about handling such a valuable hostage.” 

            “But Odin-” 

            “Odin handles loss by finding ways to move on in spite of it and refusing to lean back, because he can’t afford the pain if he wants to stay on his feet,” Anne argued.  “It makes him resilient as hell, but it’s a loner mindset that doesn’t really suit his lifestyle anymore.  He’s jumping to conclusions because he can’t find a way to fix the problem, so he classed it as ‘unfixable’ – especially since she forbade him from even attempting, and he feels bound by that promise.  Your mom is the pro on the political arrangement here, so I say we trust her expertise.  Until we have proof otherwise, she’s alive but under lock and key.  The fact that no one countered the Board saying she died in 194 when they responded to the retraining article is particularly promising, in my opinion.  If she was no longer useful, the Regime could have thrown egg on the Foundation’s face for lying, because we know they have proof that she faked her death.  If she was actually dead, they could have released something about it with whatever narrative they wanted, to put a better collar on the Board.” 

            Marie sniffed, made a face, and grabbed a few tissues to wipe her nose.  “I guess that makes sense.” 

            Anne gave her a wryly amused look.  “Odin is the last person you should rely on for political acumen.” 

            She groaned at that because oh my God, wasn’t that the truth… and sighed.  Or tried to, at least, because it made her half choke and then spend a while blowing her nose… 

            Crying sucked.  Maybe it was healing or relieving or whatever, she did usually feel better after, but she still hated doing it. 

            Anne didn’t push her to talk, or act bored or fidget with her things while Marie gathered her thoughts, which was nice.  She felt a little unsure, but…  Well, Anne and the rest of the Sronas did know, and she felt a bit silly for forgetting she did have someone other than Odin to talk to about her mom.  Like, technically there was Adam too, but he’d never met her mom, and…  Adam was more of a ‘do things’ person than a talker. 

            So it felt kinda bratty so say it, but…  Odin and Anne both said that you shouldn’t apologize for feelings, and that sometimes they made no sense.  “I just feel like there’s nobody other than him to talk to about any of this,” she admitted. 

            Instead of looking annoyed or offended, Moira’s daughter just nodded thoughtfully.  “Well, we disproved that at least a bit today – but I know we’re not close.  You can always reach out to me, but you might want to consider telling someone else.” 

            She… hadn’t gotten around to talking to Odin about that yet.  She’d meant to, but after their fight in the hangar, he’d been… different.  Not as sad, but… spacey in a way he hadn’t really been since they first met – like, the mental version of someone being overwhelmed and not knowing what to do with their hands.  And he’d been so upset when Adam recognized her, even though he was literally one of his best friends… 

            “Odin says that the more people who know, the more likely it is to get out,” she explained dully, recalling his explanation when she’d asked about his reaction when they first went to the circus. 

            Anne nodded thoughtfully.  “That’s true,” she acknowledged.  “But there’s a certain danger involved in them not knowing enough to shield or protect you if it came down to it too.” 

            Marie frowned, turning that over.  “I guess.”  But since no one but Adam had recognized her since before they found her mom… not the best argument for convincing her brother. 

            “Also, it’s your life, and sometimes quality of life depends on a little bit of risk.  I’m not suggesting you shout it from the mountaintops, and if accidental exposure is a concern, by all means, don’t tell Rubato as a whole – that’s a lot of moving parts.  But what would be the downside of, say, Quatre knowing?  He’s everyone’s secret keeper these days – there’s no way he’s going to slip up.”  She shrugged a little.  “I don’t know if Duo would appreciate knowing more secrets than absolutely necessary, he gets anxious about that sort of thing, but why not Lu?”  Letting out a short chuckle, Anne admitted, “To be perfectly honest, I thought Quatre and Lu did know.  The two of them are both of your closest confidants, and I don’t understand why it hasn’t been brought up.” 

            Marie bit at her lip, because Anne wasn’t wrong, exactly, but…  “Odin only found out about the empathy after he looked up his fingerprints, and tries to not put more on Cat’s shoulders than he has to,” she explained.  “Like… he feels really bad about some of the things he put him through after the Fall, and he doesn’t avoid him over it, but… he mitigates, I guess?”  She made a face.  “Though some of that is probably also because Cat was all ‘We need to avoid this Jake Miller person until we know more’ and then Odin, like… decided to not mention when he started talking to him.  I completely get why, Quatre can get bossy and he tries to control everything if you let him, and it’s Odin’s family, so not really his business, but, like… I feel like this one is going to explode in our faces a little.” 

            Anne raised her eyebrows.  “Okay, I’m going to bring that one up with him too, but did you notice how much of what you just said relates to you?”  When Marie hesitated, she continued.  “We’re talking about your life and your family.  If you decide to tell someone, even if he gets frustrated about it, Odin can’t exactly call you out.  He is literally doing the exact same thing.” 

            That… was true.  Huh.  At the same time, though?  “What about the exploding in my face part?” 

            “A life with no risk at all is worth very little,” Anne told her, sounding as if she was quoting something.  “Every interaction with another person requires a leap of faith.  All we can do is stack the odds in our favor and plan for the possible fallout.  Choosing to never jump will see you stagnate in misery, and then eventually you’ll jump anyway out of desperation with no planning whatsoever.  It’s better to be smart about it.” 

            Huh.  As crazy as that sounded, it also… made sense? 

            “What’s his excuse for the love of his life?” Anne asked in a droll voice. 

            Marie grinned at that, thinking… and coming up blank.  “I think he’s just decided he’s never telling anyone,” she decided.  “That, and they get… distracted.”  She found herself blushing a little, but mostly rolling her eyes. 

            Like… sex was a thing people did.  And she figured it was going to be a thing she would be interested in eventually.  But while she was happy that Odin was happy, she didn’t really get it.  And was mostly glad?  Because while her mom had always made it clear she had no regrets, having a baby at fourteen sounded horrible.  So just… no. 

            Also, the whole process sounded gross, so the feelings leading up to the act were going to have to be pretty freaking spectacular to make her even go near it.  Just… ew. 

            Anne just smirked, shaking her head almost indulgently.  “They certainly do.  Mm.”  Then she shrugged.  “My take-home here is that the ball is in your court – and whether you want to ask permission or forgiveness, I don’t see a problem occurring.  Just take your time to be sure you feel comfortable with it first.”  Then her eyes narrowed.  “Though I strongly recommend easing up on how much you use Jack as a lever – I don’t know if you realize just how hard that is on them.” 

            “They’re doing way better,” she protested. 

            “Yes, but you gambled and they’re a bit raw for it.  I’m not saying don’t, just to give them a chance to cool down a bit.” 

            Okay, that was probably fair, what with the whole… 

            Suddenly the tears were back, and her next breath shuddered.  “I can’t believe he thought it was his fault,” she gasped. 

            Anne slumped a little, looking tired.  “The one thing he’s had control of in his life is himself, and he copes through affirmation.  When they took even that away, he had to rationalize it somehow or break irreparably.  It’s more common than you think.” 

            “It sucks,” she half-sobbed, scrubbing at her eyes again. 

            “Yeah, it does.”  Anne reached out again, rubbing a soothing palm over her back.  “But he’s already circling it; he’ll get there.  Don’t try and force it now that he’s picked up his feet again.  It’s a process.” 

            Marie just nodded, pressing her hands to her eyes and trying to steady out her breathing… partly because she was really sick of crying, but also because Quatre was supposed to come in soon.  And she wasn’t ever going to try and suppress all her feelings down for an empath, but she didn’t need to be rude either. 

            It was one thing if she was legit upset and needed help.  Quatre liked helping.  But there wasn’t anything left to try and fix.  This was just… aftershocks. 

            Again, Anne waited until she had a decent grip on herself, just being patient and present, and it helped her feel like less like a baby throwing a tantrum by the time she was okay again.  Then, instead of commenting on it or offering another consolation, she changed the subject.  “Are you set for the weekend, or do you still need to throw a few things in a bag?” 

            Marie sniffed one last time, grabbing a tissue to wipe at her face and grimacing at how little it helped.  Ugh.  Gross.  “I’m good,” she assured, gesturing to the bags waiting by the door.  It was more than what they’d traveled with before striking rich, but not by much – the biggest difference was that Odin’s bag wasn’t a standard duffle anymore, to account for the suits.  And she had ended up getting a dress too when she and Lu went shopping, so that was in the garment portion of his case to keep it from wrinkling too much.  Sitting up straighter, she stared up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to get a full handle on herself, before meeting the woman’s eyes.  “You’re coming too, right?” 

            “Yep.  Matt’s dropping our little monster with my folks right around now, and he’ll meet us there.  Then when the weekend’s up, we’re going back to our normal lives in Essen.  But I’m only a call away, alright?  Or you can always come visit, with or without Odin.”  She clasped her shoulder again.  “Odin isn’t the only one who forgets he has a support network, you know?”  She grinned.  “I know all these boys have their flashy ways, but seriously, a little bit of normal can be nice sometimes too.”  When Marie only laughed and nodded, Anne stood.  “Come on, then.  Let’s get washed up before Quatre comes in and starts wondering what’s taking your brother so long.” 

            Marie groaned, but followed.  “Are we telling him?  Or making Odin handle his own mess?” 

            “I hadn’t decided,” Anne admitted cheerfully.  “If he really wanted to keep his best friend from finding out what he was up to, he’d be trying harder.  Let’s play it by ear and see what happens.” 

            Marie giggled a little, feeling a bit helpless but also…  “Give him a taste of his own medicine, you mean?” 

            “Either he’ll appreciate it at face value, or he’ll have to acknowledge why other people get frustrated with him,” Anne agreed.  “But either way, he’ll have earned it, mm?” 

            Marie couldn’t help but laugh harder, trying to rub the crust out of her eyes even as she followed her over to the bathroom.  Because that… was so true. 

-

***

-

Berlin, Germany – Hildegard Medical Center – Intensive Care Unit

            “Well, I suppose I’d better go get food,” David decided, standing up and stretching.  It might be a two hour recess from the talks, but he’d already burned thirty minutes of it.  “Any preferences?” 

            Jake snorted, reaching out and grabbing his arm.  “That you order it from here.  I haven’t seen you in months and I’m trapped besides.  If the hotel is even half as nice as you keep suggesting, I’m about ready to AMA and camp out in a recliner.” 

            David smirked and shook his head, sitting back down – sliding his arm loosely through his friend’s grip until they could clasp hands instead.  “You only have two more days,” he reminded him.  “They’re the experts for a reason.”  You’re still in the fucking ICU.  That goddamn vid of his best friend taking five rifle rounds was going to haunt him for years – only the fact that he’d rolled over and screamed afterwards had kept him from damning every security protocol they’d put in place and calling Relena directly.  “You can handle two more days.” 

            “I am locked in a glass box with strangers touching me every hour,” Jake growled.  “I have one arm strapped to my chest, I can’t feel my left side or my legs, and I am completely unarmed.  I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this helpless.” 

            That… was valid, actually.  David grimaced.  Unfortunately, there was still a good reason he hadn’t been moved to a normal ward yet. 

            “At least at the hotel, I would have the Guard,” Jake continued.  “I wouldn’t be doing anything different.  At this point, I’d be willing to hire a nurse and stay in a damn wheelchair.  I still think the epidural was excessive, but I will concede it and stay immobilized if they will let me go.” 

            “Jake, not even I believe you’d stay in a damn chair,” he protested, squeezing his hand once to try and soften the blow of his words.  As secure a facility as Hildegard was, he completely understood the creeping anxiety about security, even before getting into the privacy issue – but there was a reason they’d settled on the limited measures they had in place.  Even injured, he was far less of a target than Relena – and technically, Jake was enough of a no-name that any midway security measures would draw the same level of attention as if Relena had officially set up camp here.  The local police had beefed up surveillance in the entire neighborhood and the hospital itself had bumped up to their highest alert level, but going further than that… 

            There was a certain safety in being a nobody, and the empath playing some sort of video game on the sleeper sofa by the window was a hell of an asset, especially since the nurses almost never seemed to see him.  If no one knew you were important, they didn’t plot against you.  And this… was probably one of the last times Jake was going to be able to hide in plain sight.  In some ways, it was a final boon before he shot his anonymity to hell. 

            “At least wait for the results from today’s tests before you start pushing to leave again,” he suggested.  “That’s the final factor on if you need another dose, right?  If the fragments are all fused and you can tolerate letting the epidural run dry, you can just get your blood checked until you’re clear of the toxicity.”  If the new joins in the bone were still flexible, he could end up needing to go back under the knife, and he might end up hospitalized for a month under worse conditions. 

            Personally, he’d stay put in the damn bed if he couldn’t have painkillers for a simple fracture.  But he’d seen Jake run on a broken leg before – then try to keep going despite getting two bullets in his gut after that.  As much as the asshole whined, he could be a fucking juggernaut when he got stubborn about something. 

            This really wasn’t something he needed to get stubborn about.  Unfortunately, considering the almost crazed look in the younger man’s eyes?  They were definitely heading in that direction. 

            Before he could think up another argument, he caught motion from the corner of his eye and turned.  Rhett had dropped his feet off the opposite end of his couch, handheld game system held limply in one hand as he sat up straight, eyes focused on the middle distance. 

            Dave’s stomach dropped.  “Stahl?”  Low risk wasn’t no risk, and he might have tipped the scales by coming here himself.  I should have brought back-up.  It was supposed to be a social call in full daylight, everyone knew he was friends with Jake and it shouldn’t have caused any ripples, but- 

            “Jack’s back,” Rhett announced, standing in a deeply relaxed, almost boneless sort of way, as if he was drugged. 

            Jake perked up, which was something of a miracle on its own, really.  “Cool.”  Then he looked at the empath and frowned.  “Rhett?” 

            “I need to go find someone,” he decided.  “I’ll wait until your dad’s here, I needed to say something, but… then…”  He tipped his head, staring at the wall like it held all the secrets of the universe.  “Maybe?” 

            Uh… huh.  He’d been warned that this guy was a bit weird, but this was pushing it.

            And yet Jake was smiling?  “That much of an impression, huh?” his friend asked, looking satisfied. 

            David frowned.  “Jake?” 

            “My dad said they might swing by after their errands, if they had time,” his friend explained.  He looked like he’d be vibrating if he had control of more of his body. 

            They.  His own heartrate picked up. 

            Obviously he’d never been half as invested in Junior as Jake, but he had spent a not insignificant amount of his life looking for him – first during that crazy year after he went missing, then intermittently since, when one or both of them stumbled across an idea that had a chance of bearing fruit.  Whether or not they got along, it would be gratifying to meet the guy at least once. 

            And from what they knew so far?  He might be really good company. 

            “Is he loud too?” Jake asked. 

            Rhett blinked once, then twice, before turning wide eyes on the colonel.  “What?” 

            Jake blinked back, then bit his lip.  “Are you okay?” 

            Rhett jerked his head to one side in a quick motion like he was trying to dislodge something, blinking again, before asking, “You ever stand on a beach and stare out at the ocean long enough to feel empty and small, but almost one with the universe?  And it’s not until you reach solid ground again that you realize you’re half deaf from the noise of the crashing surf?  But instead of worrying about it, all you want to do is go back?” 

            …That sounded deeply overwhelming. 

            Jake pulled his hand away – Dave hadn’t realized he was still holding it – to rub at his mouth thoughtfully.  “So… pinnacle Taoism, sort of thing?” 

            “That’s… not a bad way to put it,” Rhett decided.  “Except loud.  And that doesn’t cover the riptides or anything else lurking.  He’s as complex as anyone else, but it’s all under.”  He tipped his head, not unlike a dog trying to zero in on a specific sound.  “Though right now, that’s… excited, happy, maybe even exultant… a little apprehensive too, but…”  He focused back on Jake and grinned.  “If you’re a cell phone playing music on full blast right next to my ear, he’s like standing next to the biggest subwoofer at a concert – except it’s so much white noise that it cancels out to be virtually silent.  Wow.”  Then he started to laugh.  “That’s your brother?” 

            Jake just smiled, looking as thrilled as Rhett.  “I guess we’ll know in a few minutes.”  Then he shook his head.  “I’m still surprised you are okay with me.” 

            “Yeah, I’m really not sure what that’s about,” Rhett admitted.  “But I can’t do anything about the blacklisting beyond suggest that someone look into it.  They don’t listen to me – I’m far enough off standard that the community alternately treats me like a god or pariah, not a respectable reference.” 

            “That… sounds like an experience,” David decided, not really sure what to do with the statement. 

            Rhett just smirked.  “They care; they even get upset when I go off grid for too long.  But while everyone wants to know what I think, and some people try to follow my advice or even come learn from me sometimes?  Most space hearts think I’m crazy.  Though the fact that my little sister keeps a similar philosophy and is coming to terms with a less extreme lifestyle is making a lot of people reconsider it.” 

            David blinked.  “And what lifestyle is that?” 

            Rhett grinned.  “I am an emotional communist,” he announced proudly, his smile edged with arrogant pride.  “What’s yours is mine, I pay it back twofold, and you can’t stop me.”  He shrugged.  “I haven’t come across anyone unhappy with the arrangement so far.  I find what I like and mirror it back, and people are into it.” 

            He considered that.  “Seems reasonable.” 

            “Yeah, but the other space hearts get hung up on the idea that I let other people take the lead, as if I’m giving up my sense of self-agency.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Like choosing to go along isn’t a decision, seriously.  They can stay holed up in isolation if they want – I’d rather take what humanity has to offer instead of being scared away by the fact that no one’s perfect.  It’s less about trying to stay in your own head than it is about finding people you want to live with – and isn’t that the same goal as anyone?  The isolationists are miserable right up until they find their exception to orbit around, and we’re social enough just as a species that we all go looking for some kind of companionship eventually – even if it’s only from a dog.”  He shrugged.  “I just have a better feedback system than everyone else that lets me cheat and skip all the typical steps where I’m insecure about it.” 

            Huh.  “That sounds pretty cool, honestly.” 

            “Right?  They all just get hung up on getting hurt.  Like normal people don’t hurt each other all the time just as bad; the only difference is that they can do it to a space heart on accident, instead of in a relationship with consent.  Like, seriously, as much as I support the movement and awareness in general, I don’t know if the way they coddle people is really for the best.  Life hurts sometimes – you have to find ways to deal and move on.  I wish they focused half as much on that part as they did on promoting safe spaces.  Isolation is a stopgap, not a solution.” 

            “I think I’d get pretty hung up on the lack of consent,” Jake countered, grimacing.  “I mean, I know how messed up my head can be, even while I’m good at keeping people from realizing it.  There’s a reason I never tried to argue my case when I got blacklisted.” 

            Rhett eyed him for a long moment, then shook his head.  “I have no idea.  I’m not the best judge, but I’m not getting anything that would even put you on a yellow listing, let alone the orange you’ve got.  They’ll have the reasoning and descriptions tucked away somewhere, but they don’t give out that kind of personal information without permission or a major incident.”  At their looks of confusion, he grinned and offered, “Yeah, there’s a whole rating system.  Yellows are volatile hotspot types that have proven to be regular but intermittently problematic, but orange is the first instance where someone might take the steps you described – dangerous the majority of the time, but not malicious.  You might’ve just toned down from it.  Red implies crippling depression or sheer malevolence, but might pass by societal standards because some people have twisted brains but don’t follow through.” 

            Jake looked thoughtful.  “So the assassin was red?” 

            Rhett grimaced.  “No.  When people phase in and out of sheer malice and null without warning, that’s usually a result of military training – that or you’ve found a legit psycho.”  He scrunched his nose.  “It’s different.  A lot of cops and soldiers will come off  like they’re batshit during a dangerous situation because they ride the thrill of adrenaline in order to get by – but conversely, you’ll feel someone get pissed off and fall into an utterly murderous rage, only to handle it by beating up a punching bag or tearing somebody a new one in all caps on an internet forum.  We have no context for what they do with the emotions unless they’re standing in front of us, the same as anyone else. 

            “I thought we had a dangerous situation last week for three reasons: the setting was both political and controversial, I’m good with direction and distance, and I didn’t think anyone was supposed to be there.  By the time I was trying to get your attention, I’d run through a ton of scenarios and settled on the idea that what I was picking up was either a lady bodyguard that was deeply annoyed with what a coworker said over radio, since she was alone – or an assassin.  There was no downside if I alerted you to one of your own people in a mood, so I acted on it.”  He shrugged.  “I had enough real-life context to fill in the gaps. 

             “The fact is, we feel emotion, not intent, and we wouldn’t be people if we didn’t have internal drama.  Space hearts are not lie detectors, and we can’t tell the difference between a murderer flying into a rage and a woman who, in the moment, wants to strangle her husband but will never do it.  We can’t read thoughts.  Though the fact that our assassin felt righteously vindicated rage and was deeply satisfied is something I usually see from soldiers…”  He grimaced again.  “And also irritated employees doing some serious malicious compliance.  I didn’t know – I made an educated guess that turned out to be right.  We are members of a warring society that institutionally trains teenagers en masse to fall into certain mindsets in order to commit severe violence, which makes danger a serious possibility. In the end of the day, I’d rather be embarrassed over revealing someone filling their bully’s shampoo with glue than face the guilt of a ‘what if’ for the rest of my life. 

            “Anyway, everyone has outlier moods and moments – the classifications are meant to cover long-term status, the mental state people are in eighty percent or more of the time, not the variations.” 

            David raised a brow as he gave Jake a look.  “And you were depressed and blaming yourself for every bad thing that happened to you while convincing everyone around you nothing was wrong for the last decade.” 

            Rhett blinked, then raised his brows when Jake shrugged and looked away instead of refuting it.  “…Yeah, major depression with violent angles thrown in from your profession would get you an orange rating, if it lasted long enough.  And even if it was really bad, they don’t usually rate anyone under twenty as a red.”  Then he tipped his head, looking thoughtful.  “So, like… you met your girl and went and got happy?” 

            “Something like that,” Jake grumbled, still looking down. 

            “He was also blaming both himself and their dad for his brother’s death, and apparently he’s alive, which helps,” Dave added. 

            Rhett started to nod, then blinked a few times and narrowed his eyes.  “Wait, you said… how old were you when you got blacklisted, again?” 

            “Twelve.” 

            “…Huh.  You might be the youngest person to ever make the list.” 

            Jake sighed.  “Yeah, that was implied at the time.” 

            “Most twelve-year-olds don’t go on epic quests across space after spending a year doing black book investigations to root out corruption in the most powerful organization on Earth,” Dave pointed out wryly.  “Though we picked that back up again for a few years after giving up the chase.”  He had been eighteen when he and Jake started investigations, and had still been considered young for it.  No shortage of people who hadn’t actually known Treize’s young foster brother had thought it was some coded way to save face without losing rank while he got stuck babysitting the pre-teen.  

            Of course, none of them had had any idea how unstoppable the kid was, even at eleven. 

            He damn near jumped when a deep voice chimed in.  “I think I mostly stopped doing investigative work by twelve.  I stayed closer to home after that, with a few exceptions.” 

            Jake straightened up, grinning broadly.  “Yeah?” 

            The dark-haired twenty-something nodded as he came through the doorway, and that face…  Even if Dave hadn’t seen the picture from the day Senior died recently, he would’ve gotten some serious déjà vu from that mix of Asian and white on the backdrop of blue eyes.  While a lot of L1 was a hybrid of the two ethnicities, not many were combined so strikingly; Jake could mostly pass for white until he tanned or did something to accent the ever-so-slight cant to his eyes.  Jack showed their Greek blood the strongest, for all that he had enough Asian features to confuse anyone trying to codify him.  Meanwhile, despite looking a lot like his father, the jawline all three of them shared was about the only Greek that Junior had gotten.  Instead, it was like he'd somehow spliced together the best available features of their Finnish and Japanese lines near exclusively, until he looked like something that stepped off the screen of an anime. 

            Well, except for the height.  He looked like he was wearing boots with those jeans, and he was still short – five foot five at the most. 

            “Not about corruption, though,” Junior continued.  Then he tipped his head, mouth pursed.  “Not directly, at least.  More… problem-solving.  Finding people we took issue with who had things we needed, and deciding what to do about it.” 

            Jake blinked.  “Like…  Odin’s methods?” 

            Junior shrugged.  “A couple times, when the problems were particularly nasty.  It was left to my discretion.”  One shoulder came up in an awkward shrug.  “After a big business or arms dealer passes a certain peak of power, it’s pretty rare to not find drugs, sweatshops, and human trafficking.  Drugs on their own, I don’t really care, but they never happen in a vacuum, and…”  That shoulder came up in another shrug.  “Some things shouldn’t be walked away from.  So long as I accomplished what he sent me out for, my mentor left the method to me.”  Both shoulders came up this time, before the young man settled back on his heels, relaxing somewhat.  “By 192, we were more focused on advancing the tech than clearing out bad business or gathering materials.  I went out a few times those later years, but not nearly as much.” 

            Huh.  “So the Bianchi situation wasn’t all that far out of your field,” Dave summed up. 

            “It had been a while, but sure.”  Those sharp eyes fixed on him – darker than Jake’s dusky sapphire, but still just blue enough to never get described as anything else.  Twilight blue, came a whisper from an old art lesson.  “Mitchell, right?” 

            “I’ll answer to it,” he agreed.  Plenty of people straight up forgot it wasn’t his first name – but this was Jake’s brother, and therefore family.  He stood up and held out a hand.  “I prefer Dave, though.” 

            The returning handshake was firm.  “Odin.” 

            He supposed that was a directive to not call him Junior.  Nodding, he shifted to the side to wave a hello at Jack and free up the space closest to Jake…  

            Only to have the brothers stare at each other as if unsure what the next step was. 

            Damn it.  He cringed a little at Jack, slumping his shoulders in an attempt at commiseration, because at this rate one of them was going to have to- 

            “You brought it, right?” Jake demanded, an impish grin in place.  “How’d it turn out?” 

            Huh.  Maybe not. 

            Odin, for his part, smirked back and dug in his pocket for a small pouch.  “Just in time,” he agreed, handing it over for inspection. 

            Jack shifted a little restlessly, so David stepped back a few paces to look around, debating…  Huh.  He felt like he’d forgotten something.  The old man had tentatively stepped forward when he moved back, though, so Dave waved him in – he’d more or less figured that Jake’s brother would rather not have a stranger standing elbow to elbow with him.  He was curious about the details of the engagement, however, and Jake would’ve told him to get lost already if he didn’t want his company, so he made his way around to the opposite side of the bed, further from the windows. 

            The style of the ring Jake pulled out of the bag looked delicate in an almost ethereal way.  A triangular stone was set in such a way that it seemed to float, with sinuous lines of a bright chrome metal almost seeming to flow away from it – it was shiny enough that there might have been diamonds involved there, but he couldn’t be sure without getting up in Jake’s face.  The sides of the band were open and twisted against the rest into something reminiscent of but not quite an infinity symbol.  Very airy and minimal.  Nice.  About to make a compliment to that effect, he hesitated when his friend twisted it around and he realized the bottom of the ring was set with a thin rectangular diamond that also looked like it was held in place by magic instead of physics, which…  Wait, no, that didn’t make sense. 

            “This can’t be a dual tension setting,” Jake mumbled, sounding deeply distracted. 

            “The tanzanite has a unique mount,” Odin agreed, looking pleased.  “It’s just well hidden.  It’s a soft enough stone that she was able to drill it, then the follow-up treatment and nanocoating shored the stone’s integrity back up.  The palmar diamond is tension set, and the others are more traditional.” 

            “It came out even better than I imagined,” Jake mused, though… he looked a little troubled as he met Dave’s eyes?  All the same, his smile was genuine enough as he held it out for closer inspection.  “Can you see?” 

            He glanced at Odin to make sure it was okay before he took it to hold up to the sunlight streaming in.  Yes, there were tiny diamonds embedded along the upper part of the band, adding more texture along the swooping curves twisting fluidly away from the main stone.  But… he’d thought tanzanites were blue?  And this one looked mostly blue at first, but up close it was a vivid sort of indigo that refracted at least five different shades of rich purple. 

            His breath caught, unexpected emotion flooding him as he realized what had unsettled Jake. 

            Lena’s ring was very different from this.  Hers almost looked like spun lace turned metal, with diamonds sprinkled throughout like drops of dew caught in a spider’s web, the whorls of the designs a layered symbolism that only Jake fully understood.  It looked as intricate as a snowflake under a microscope, but made from an unbreakable marriage of two discreet metals weaving together.  It was insanely complex and gorgeous without being gaudy; a good analogy of her and Jake’s relationship. 

            This one, while far less involved, was also one of the most elegant rings he’d ever seen.  The bold lines of it reminded him of calligraphy, flowing organically in a deceptively simple style that had to have been damn hard to cast in metal.  Those bands of chrome were nearly flush with the large stone as they swept past it, but even as he looked for the setting with what Odin had said in mind, he couldn’t see it – it still looked precariously balanced, as did the long, flat diamond on the other side, light shining all the way through.  The abstract, asymmetrical pattern of the metal reminded him a little of the more fanciful handguards he’d seen on rapiers, and that struck a chord too.  Which… 

            He’d think he was just being a nostalgic sop if it weren’t for the glimmer of confusion in Jake’s eye.  Because this…  As much as Lena’s ring represented her and Jake?  This, to him, summed up Lu.  He was probably reading too much into it, but the coloring, the style, the grace of it? 

            …They didn’t know what Lu was up to these days.  With how she’d always insisted on staying at the academy instead of taking missions, had quit OZ with every intention of becoming a homemaker, even before getting into how utterly fucking depressed she’d been during the war?  They’d all just assumed she’d gone civilian. 

            But…  What if she hadn’t?  It was a hell of a leap, but- 

            Junior’s voice broke his train of thought.  “Is there any particular reason everyone’s ignoring you?” 

            What? 

            Looking entirely amused, Odin reached across the bed to pluck the ring out of his fingers and- 

            He felt like something in his brain broke, pulse spiking as Rhett was suddenly right there at the foot of the bed. 

            The empath only smiled as he inspected the ring himself, looking impressed – though maybe not about the jewelry.  “Would you believe me if I said you’re the first person to ever see through that?” 

            Odin’s returning look was skeptical.  “No.” 

            “I turn invisible,” Rhett insisted, looking giddy.  “People even forget that I never left.” 

            Jake’s brother looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh.  “That’s stupid.” 

            “You know, it really is.  And yet, I’ve learned to not question it.”  He held out the ring for Junior to take back.  “You love her.”  It wasn’t a question. 

            Odin opted to close his fingers over it instead of looking away from the space heart to take the silk bag back from Jake.  His smile was bemused – as if he wasn’t entirely sure what he was playing along with, but thought it looked interesting.  “Yes.” 

            Rhett nodded assertively.  “You have a feedback loop,” he explained.  “Not a fragile one either – looks permanent, despite the fact that no one else is in it right now.”  He tipped his head to one side, looking fascinated as he stared into the middle distance at something the rest of them couldn’t see.  “It’s unusual.” 

            Jack shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable.  “Ah, that might not-” 

            But Odin let out a short, delighted laugh, cutting him off.  “My lady has a minor Talent,” he agreed.  Turning towards his father, he added, “Cat’s mentioned it a few times, but he can only sense it when it’s active.”  He shrugged.  “And I’m functionally immune, so it only works one way.” 

            Jack relaxed.  “Ah.  Sorry, I just know that Cat…”  He trailed off. 

            Odin just shrugged, turning back to Rhett.  “My best friend uses me as a filter,” he explained.  “Anchors and cycles through to dampen his field.  But since I can’t feel it and don’t otherwise enforce it, his ties are temporary strings that break every time he switches anchors, not a bond.” 

            “Bonds require a lot of affirmation from both sides, physical and otherwise,” Rhett agreed.  “Most empaths develop one with their spouse eventually, but unless you’ve got a specialist, it can take years.” 

            Empath.  Dave felt relieved and let down all at once as that dashed his theory before it could finish getting out of the water.  Lu was earthborn, so there went that idea.  He found himself meeting eyes with Jake and sharing a chagrined look. 

            Odin was smiling in a secretly pleased way.  “Specialist,” he confirmed. 

            Rhett hummed happily.  “Lucky,” he decided. 

            Odin shrugged again, though he still looked deeply satisfied.  “It’s a mild ability,” he insisted.  “Most of the time even she can’t access ours, and when Cat’s pointed out that she is, she hasn’t been able to distinguish what’s hers or mine – though that might have to do with us already being in sync at the time?  She has a few other bonds, but even when Cat can read something through them, she either doesn’t notice or thinks she had a mood swing.  There’ve been exceptions, but they’re rare.” 

            The empath looked a little surprised by the information, then thoughtful.  “I usually can’t pick up familial bonds,” he admitted.  “The flavor’s too different – they just feel like anchors when active, and look the same as the leftover cobwebs of an old anchor when dormant.  Hm.”  He shrugged.  “Not my specialty, I guess.” 

            “Taylor said you were more of a generalist,” Odin agreed.  “Though…”  He glanced back at the rest of them, looking skeptical.  “You really couldn’t see him?” 

            “He does it often enough that I’ve stopped jumping,” Jack announced dryly. 

            “You know me?” Rhett demanded, sounding delighted. 

            Odin was nonplussed.  “You were on TV with Jack while my brother was being shot, and Taylor is my best intern.  Yes.” 

            Jake settled on a more pertinent question, all things considered.  “What does ‘functionally immune’ mean?” 

            Junior’s smirk was a little dark this time, smugly self-satisfied.  “Empathic influence relies on active pressure from the space heart,” he explained.  “Unless he does something to convince his target to tie the association to a memory of the event and essentially trick them into thinking that way long-term, the Pushed emotions fade as soon as the space heart loses focus.  But it also relies on him being powerful enough to overwhelm and replace the native emotions in the first place.”  He tipped his head to one side the same way Jake did when considering a new idea.  “Though maybe something more subtle requires less strength?  I don’t know.  He said it’s easier the more you ‘set the stage’ so people fall into the assumptions you want them to make even before the Push.” 

            “Yeah, but I don’t try that hard,” Rhett argued.  “So I can guess, but!  Did this Cat guy say why it doesn’t work on you?  It sounds like you let him test it.” 

            That darkly pleased smirk came back.  “Something about trying to push back the tide.” 

            Great.  Yet another grossly overwhelming analogy, if also a cool one.  This seemed to be a theme. 

            Rhett grinned.  “That sounds accurate, honestly.  Huh.” 

            “Nice to know there’s a workaround, even if it’s unique,” Jake mused.  “His disappearing act has had my old team scrambling for contingency plans without much success.  Someone watching him through a camera at a distance isn’t affected, but even being told where he is doesn’t keep your eyes from sliding right off him.  It’s a proximity issue.” 

            “But too small of an instance to be useful in general,” Dave decided.  Offering Junior a smile, he added, “But a hell of a boon for you.” 

            Odin just hummed thoughtfully.  “It is, and it isn’t,” he argued.  “I like it, but it’s automatic to the point that it serves as a singular type of blindfold.  I don’t have control of it, with shades in between – I miss things.”  He hesitated, glancing at his brother, then met David’s eyes.  “It’s also not unique.  Though we’re not sure if it’s a natural outlier or more… experience-based.” 

            Jake shifted.  “If it can be learned-” 

            “No.” 

            David took in the closed-off body language and circled to the other side of the issue for insight.  After all, Odin had looked at him before admitting it, as if it was something or someone he thought would be recognized.  Making sure to keep his tone friendly, he asked, “Who else has immunity?” 

            There was something almost thankful or at least relieved in Odin’s eyes as he looked back in his direction.  “Cory di Gallo.” 

            Immediately, an image came to mind of the too skinny, blonde thirteen-year-old he’d found in the Sahara last June.  Cor Accardi now, and being doted on by all of the Revenants according to Jack, but the most haunting thing about the kid hadn’t been the whipcord muscle on his otherwise bony frame, or even his bright fascination with things that should have been standard. 

            No, the thing he still had nightmares about was the blank, flat look in his eyes, even as he proved competent in practically every task put in front of him.  The startlingly functional, walking form of catatonia had been disturbing as hell. 

            “It could be innate,” Odin offered, opening his hand and focusing on the details of the engagement ring there instead of meeting his eyes.  “Certain types are likely to attract empathic attention in any population.  Cat and I met by chance, but he plucked Cory out of a crowd because he makes emotive white noise.  There’s a selection bias at work.” 

            It could.  But the fact that Odin didn’t want to look at him or Jake while pointing it out said plenty about where he placed his own bets. 

            Jake bit the bullet on this one.  “But you don’t think it is.” 

            Odin released a long, slow breath through his nose before closing his fingers around the ring again and jamming his hands in his pockets.  “It could go either way,” he deferred.  “Neither of us knew any space hearts before Cat, and there’s nothing documented about the phenomena.  We don’t have enough data to make a conclusion.” 

            Left unsaid, however, was the fact that there apparently was enough data to suggest it was a trauma response – especially given the way Jack’s face tightened up at the non-answer.  He was harping on about abuse markers, wasn’t he? 

            Meanwhile, there was nothing to be gained from ratcheting the room’s tension higher, so he opted to redirect the conversation before it got any worse.  Taking the jeweler’s bag back from Jake, he gestured with it, smiling, as he offered it to Junior.  “You got a plan for how you’re going to do it?”  Jerking a thumb back to Jake, he added, “This one went for a beach.” 

            Odin blinked, and then the self-assured smirk came back as he flicked his gaze back at his brother.  “In February?” 

            “Southern hemisphere,” Jake explained, obviously working to put in the extra effort for the subject change, and mostly succeeding.  “It was a nice vacation.” 

            “Hn.”  He thought about that, then the wickedly amused smirk made another return.  “I’ll tell you after,” he decided. 

            Jake snorted.  “You can’t think I’m going to try to crash it – not like this.”  He gestured at his tied up arm. 

            Odin didn’t relent.  “Security is going to be bad enough as it is,” he argued blandly.  “I’m heading out tomorrow.  You can wait.” 

            Rhett butted back in then, grabbing the rail at the foot of the bed and leaning in to get everyone’s attention.  “You know what can’t wait, though?  Food.”  He reached out and poked David in the shoulder with one finger.  “Weren’t you talking about that earlier?  I thought this was your lunch recess.” 

            Point.  And anyway, if alcohol was life’s social lubrication, food tended to level up friendships.  “He’s not wrong.”  Turning his gaze back on Junior, he noted, “You’re the local – what place would you recommend we order from?” 

-

***

-

Dublin, Ireland – Trinity College Campus

            “Look, it’s fine, we’ll figure it out when we get there,” Skye reassured.  “I’ll spot you.” 

            “You guys literally asked me to handle one thing about this trip,” Nick stressed. 

            “And now I get to make jokes that you had to come up with ways to make sure I wasn’t going to bail on you again,” his friend returned with a grin, picking up Nick’s duffel and slinging it over one shoulder.  “Seriously, no one will care – we’ll go shopping as soon as we land, and then you’ll still get all night to kick back and all Friday to do your thing.  No big deal.” 

            He closed his eyes, knowing his jaw was clenched but refusing to grind his teeth.  Because he knew Skye meant well, but… 

            He had been the one to make the offer of some candid shots for the romantic occasion, honestly not expecting Yuy to take him up on it, but thrilled anyway – if a little thrown by the ‘Can you do Friday?’ with all of three days notice.  But he didn’t have class on Friday and it wasn’t a big deal to miss this afternoon’s lecture – he’d checked, and his professor waved him off with a reminder about the essay due next week.  Cat had been quick to say that they’d handle the details so long as he brought himself and any gear he wanted, and then Skye had turned up yesterday just about bouncing off the walls with a tourist trap to-do list from either heaven or hell. 

            Apparently Budapest was known for both its architecture and its hot springs.  And evidently the solution for ‘How do we let notoriously famous people do semi-public social shit and relax without worrying about discovery?’ involved everyone in the group going to the same place to act as both gatekeeper and smokescreen.  Somehow this had devolved into booking an entire wing of a swanky hotel and reserving the place’s equally swanky spa for the entire weekend under the guise of some kind of company vacation or conference.  People from the Insurgence were coming too – and all the extra bodies were as much security if something did go wrong… while still also being free access to a lavish long weekend, courtesy of one incognito Quatre Winner. 

            The full extent of it had been in the works for about a month now, even if his own addition was new – they had enough space that adding another person was more of a help than a hindrance.  The trip had originally centered on the May Day Affairs Festival that was more of a fancy dance hall than anything, but the nearby safehouses weren’t exactly romantic – and after Odin’s dad had snuck up on him, the guy was more paranoid than ever.  Besides, no one was complaining about the impromptu vacation.  The way Cat said, it, Odin hadn’t realized the city was known for its public baths when he insisted on the location, but hot water was literally one of his favorite things to indulge in, and it hadn’t taken long for everyone to start pulling out the stops until they’d come up with this semi-ridiculous event surrounding the man’s proposal. 

            And that was before any of them knew about the whole ‘retraining’ thing.  Honestly, the general mood was relief that they already had a plan in place to let the guy relax in peace after the media shitstorm of the last week.  There probably would have been some awkward overtures that Odin attempted to dodge entirely when his friends tried to do something similarly nice as a ‘Oh, hey, we just remembered you got really fucked up while repeatedly saving the world a few years back – have a drink on me?’  Because apparently the name of the game with their literal hero was ‘If you pay any more attention to me than normal, I’m leaving.’ 

            But if it was part of the overly extravagant event he’d been plotting out for his girl?  It was all above board.  Everyone had decided to take advantage of that with prejudice. 

            The problem he was having was that while he’d cleared out his closet when he left Cardiff, the only formalwear he’d bothered to keep was the suit he’d inherited from his father, since it had always been big anyway.  But he hadn’t tried putting it on until a niggling doubt hit him this morning and…  He’d known he was taller than before he left for Africa, but hadn’t acknowledged just how different his body was in terms of muscle mass.  He’d mostly been living out of polyester and denim that had some stretch – not wool. 

            Skye was right that it was fine, and they could get some slacks and a button-up off the rack somewhere.  He was embarrassed over flubbing the issue at the last minute, it made him feel like a flake, but the issue was that the fucking suit was one of the only things he had left from his dad, and he’d always assumed he’d wear it for the more important formalities in his life, as a way to carry on the ghost.  And maybe it could be altered, but…  He hadn’t realized he’d gotten taller than his dad.  His memories of the man were fuzzy, but that just… made him want to scream. 

            It was… way more than he wanted to unpack right now. 

            Skye was watching him now, waiting for him to say what was on his mind or move on… and Nick gritted his teeth, picking the hanger back up from the bed and pivoting to hang the suit back up.  I’m being stupid.  It was a bit of cloth, not a real keepsake, and he could figure it out later.  “Let’s go,” he decided, picking up his backpack and camera bag.  People had been complaining endlessly about delays on the ports and going through customs this week, and if the bureaucratic hellscape that was the airport during his last trip was any indication, they were going to need the extra time. 

            Skye stared at him for another long moment… then dropped the suitcase and pulled the suit back off the rack, undoing the zipper and shoving it in without any care or ceremony. 

            His stomach ached.  “Skye-” 

            “Fancy hotels often mean fancy tailors on call,” his friend informed him without looking up.  “Whether or not you wear it, they’ll be able to figure out if it can be fixed.  What does it hurt to ask?” 

            My pride.  Though that wasn’t strictly accurate either, and he didn’t really need to say it.  “Yeah, okay.”  Whether or not it was pointless, it didn’t hurt anything to bring it.  “Let’s get out of here.” 

-

***

-

Berlin, Germany – Hildegard Medical Center – Main Entrance

            The courier offered them an awkward grin when his son raised one hand in greeting.  “Name on the order?” 

            “Odin.” 

            She relaxed a little, even as she set her large, insulated bag down on the sidewalk to open the zipper.  “Your ID really says that?” she asked skeptically.  The first things she pulled out, thankfully, were two paper bags with the restaurant’s logo instead of the delivery service, which she promptly unfolded and starting to set cartons into. 

            That’s a nice little extra, Jack decided.  They’d both come down because he’d remembered that this delivery service didn’t give their carriers away, and between the five of them, they’d ordered enough that without one it would’ve been tricky for one person to carry.  Someone was thinking ahead.  Then again, with how many diplomats were in the city right now, it made sense – all the tourists must be keeping the restaurant business at a full sprint, right now. 

            “Last time I checked,” Odin agreed, swiping through his phone to show the restaurant’s order confirmation and holding it out to her for inspection. 

            “Alright then,” the woman returned agreeably, shaking her head as she continued repacking their lunch, though her eyes settled on Jack.  Clearly seeing the relation, she sarcastically suggested, “What does that make you, Bor?” 

            He snorted, amused in spite of himself.  “I think Bor was more a concept of a mountain than a character,” he argued.  “Anything more is Hollywood, not culture.  Besides, he gets that from his mom’s side.”  Not that the Lowes had done it for cultural reasons.  So far as his brother-in-law had ever explained, their mother had just wanted to name her kids after gods – Rhea, after all, was a Greek goddess, not Norse. 

            In any case, after his wife heard out his argument that middle names were for family, she’d decided to name both their sons after her brother.  Jake had always just made a habit of excluding his middle name on paperwork to the point that most didn’t think he had one, because as long as he’d been on his own, association with his uncle had been dangerous. If he hadn’t been pulling Des’s leg, Jake had literally never said the man’s name for more than ten solid years.  The habit of compulsively concealing details about his uncle was something he still struggled with, despite actively working to break it. 

            He probably would have been more offended by the double usage over honoring someone in his family if she hadn’t also named Junior after him.  Though in practice, that was weird enough that he wished she’d picked a different J name for a second boy instead, like they’d talked about before finding out more children would be a bad idea. 

            “As it goes,” the courier returned cheerfully, finishing her repackaging and handing Odin a receipt – while his son tucked that away, Jack preemptively picked up both bags by the handles.  “Have a good day!” 

            Since he’d opted to play pack mule, Odin stepped back to open the door – security had had them in view the whole while, so they shouldn’t have to go through the checkpoints again.  “What was that about?” 

            Seeing as Audi had been able to list off the names of all the movies Odin had seen on her fingers, he wasn’t surprised.  “Pop culture nonsense,” he reassured.  “Bunch of movies – they’re okay, I guess, but I don’t know that they’re worth the time sink.”  He shrugged.  “Bunch of comic book fantasy – superheroes, saving the world, Batman gambit sort of logic that can’t hold up to common sense but somehow devastates everyone anyway.”  Bit of a brightly playful version of things his family had lived through too much of a grittier version of to much appreciate, he figured. 

            That said, he had followed the reference.  So maybe that was a good example of what pop culture was?  He shrugged.  “Your brother’s partial to Váli,” he admitted.  Not that he’d heard of him using it as a handle in a long time, and it might be categorized as adolescent embarrassment now – especially given the whole ‘born for the purpose of avenging his brother’s death’ thing – but it could spark another safely neutral conversation between the boys.  The Norse stories were completely batshit, but that was what made them interesting.  “Anyway, if you-” 

            He cut himself off as Odin’s body language abruptly shifted, taking on that dangerous stillness Senior had instilled in both his sons.  Keeping it casual, he made himself startle slightly before shifting the takeout bag in his right hand to his left and pivoting, like he thought he’d dropped something and was looking for it. It gave him a moment to scan the hospital lobby for the issue.  The staff here took safety very seriously, and while he assumed Odin was still armed, he wasn’t, and would be more inclined to handle an issue by kicking a fuss for the security guards to notice.  He’d already clocked one in sight, quietly chatting with one of the ladies manning the desk, and knew from previous visits that others wouldn’t be far – every time he’d come by, they’d managed an impressive balance between casually present and thoroughly prepared.  If he was still looking for security work, he’d be inclined to see if they had an opening. 

            Odin’s attention had been caught by a man in his mid to late twenties wearing jeans and a t-shirt under his open coat.  Not staff.  Good.  Or at least, not on duty – presumably, there were locker rooms where he might have left scrubs or a uniform, but he didn’t have a satchel, and most people carried something to and from work.  Caucasian, fairly nondescript features, midrange brown hair and eyes… not someone he would be able to pick out of a crowd again, probably.  No, the only thing to draw the eye, aside from his son’s attention now, was the wide-eyed shock in his expression, and… a tremor? 

            Oh, shit.  That was some kind of recognition.  Recognition and fear, and something more nebulous, which… 

            His son was just staring at the guy, cool and calm and utterly still, ready to explode into action but refusing to make the first move.  This was not a good place, for a multitude of reasons.  Jake was still admitted.  A revelation of some kind of anti-Regime sentiment here could- 

            The stranger’s stance firmed up as he reached some kind of decision, straightening, and Jack was just about ready to drop the food and cause some kind of scene to distract from Odin making an exit when instead of hollering or moving towards violence?  The guy looked Odin straight in the face, gave a firmly respectful nod, and strode for the door. 

            His son just watched him go, seemingly stunned. 

            …What the fuck just happened?  Obviously, a lack of confrontation was good, but- 

            “I’m leaving.” 

            His heartrate rocketed up as his kid met his eyes, thinking of all the things he could be meaning.  “Are you-” 

            “Just catching an earlier flight,” he reassured, keeping his language oblique.  “It’s… probably fine.”  He grimaced, shaking his head.  “I need to go.” 

            And suddenly, inexplicably, Rhett was there – had probably been there all along and seen everything, damn it all.  Might as well make use of him.  The way Tay had said it, the kid probably felt like he owed him something anyway.  “Is he going to cause problems?” he demanded. 

            “Context,” the kid reminded him, looking uncertain.  “But grateful people are usually only an issue if they’re mobbing you?”  Then his eyes darted to the side, and he reached out to Odin with a grin.  “Want a hand?” 

            And just as abruptly as the empath appeared, they both vanished. 

            No one in the lobby seemed to notice anything had happened.  And since the cameras would presumably show Rhett taking Odin’s hand or shoulder and them walking out…  Theoretically, everything was fine. 

            He just… needed to make up an excuse about an emergency that made him have to leave abruptly.  Ideally something about Audi; some kind of perceived emergency he could laughingly debunk as thirteen-year-old histrionics later. 

            He took the stairwell, and moved slowly to gather his thoughts.  Whatever that had been…  Rhett didn’t know, Odin wasn’t sharing, and even if he was right, people changed their minds – and people recognized the similarity between their faces nine times out of ten.  The smart thing would be to also leave today, and not come back – better if Jake was out too, since he’d never been covert about who he was visiting.  If Rhett didn’t come back…  They had only agreed to not giving Jake a guard or two because Rhett was here, and guards now would draw unwanted attention. 

            And he couldn’t tell Jake why leaving was a really good idea.  Fuck.  His oldest was going to be upset about his brother bailing even with a decent excuse, and Jack was going to have to nudge him in the right direction without being obvious, which wasn’t exactly in his toolbox. 

            What the fuck had that even been about? 

-

***

-

Berlin, Germany

            “Do we have a destination in mind or…?” 

            “Away,” Odin muttered.  He was heading in the direction of home for now, but had no intention of taking a virtual stranger there, as much as he appreciated the shielding.  Without it, he’d figured he would grab a medical mask on his way out, the way Lucrezia often played it, and proceed to get on and off the transit system for a while, losing any possible tails while coming up with a better plan. 

            It had been so long since someone had recognized him that, despite the altered picture on his passports, despite the things he’d said, he’d mostly stopped believing it would happen again.  Honestly, not that many people had ever seen him in action, and the majority of those were either allies or dead.  He hadn’t recognized the stranger – he’d just known what that kind of focus and body language meant, and… 

            That had never happened before.  People yelled, took a shot at him, or ran.  Some of his allies came in closer for a real greeting.  But the stranger, presumably some soldier he’d encountered but left alive during the war, had just acknowledged him and gone back to his own business. 

            It was a nice idea, but far too alien and good to be true to trust.  And besides, even if Rhett had read that right, what if he changed his mind? 

            I should have grabbed a mask anyway.  If he’d been thinking beyond making sure Jack didn’t panic and set off a different chain of events, he would have – but when the older man’s eyes suddenly slid away from him and he realized Rhett could extend his field to others, he’d gone back to basic imperatives and opted to just get out.  He’d never made a habit of wandering around town before – the soldier could be a local, and he… had no way of finding out. 

            As terrible as this felt, though… it had actually gone pretty well?  Far better than he had begun planning for, once he noticed the attention. 

            …Why did he nod at me? 

            Quatre whipped around the corner ahead of them, pointedly wearing a mask, eyes narrowed, and demanded, “What’s the damage?” 

            Oh.  He’d felt it.  “Theoretically, none.” 

            “You were at the hospital,” his friend returned as he came closer, sounding aggrieved.  “Did you see him?” 

            “I freaked out after that,” he pointed out.  He liked his brother.  “That went great.  Separate issue.” 

            Quatre rolled his eyes, flipping his hands out in an aggravated gesture.  “‘Great,’ he says.  Lovely.  Were you ever going to tell me you decided to do this?” 

            “I mostly thought you’d find out before I made a decision.”  He was honestly surprised it had taken this long. 

            Quatre just stared at him for a long moment, probably parsing through his emotions – and with half his face covered, Odin couldn’t… he hadn’t realized just how much of facial expression was done with the mouth.  But he wasn’t sorry, just… worried about the consequences?  The only thing he might’ve done differently was wear a mask himself, maybe right from the outset, but… 

            If he hadn’t been recognized, he’d still be at the hospital.  Given where they were now, Quatre had been on his way before his emotions bottomed out in the lobby – Marie or Anne had probably said something.  He wasn’t sure if his friend would have thrown caution to the wind and come in after him or just waited outside for this confrontation, but it had been coming either way. 

            After a long moment, Quatre sighed, though his posture remained fully upright.  “I don’t understand why you went behind my back on this,” he finally admitted. 

            Fair.  “I didn’t want to have to dodge your attempts to stop me.” 

            Quatre threw up his hands.  “When have I ever tried to stop you from doing anything?!” he demanded.  “I might have tried to talk you out of it, but there wouldn’t have been any dodging!  I’m not your keeper, Odin.  If I’d known you were going for it despite the risks, I would’ve supported you.”  He clenched his hands into fists.  “This isn’t an ‘us and them.’  You are my friend and you’re allowed to tell me to buzz off.  If you wanted to prioritize your family, all you had to do was say so, and I would have helped.” 

            …Oh.  Had he… really been thinking about it that way?  Like…  “I didn’t think about it,” he admitted.  He just hadn’t wanted to annoy the other man with it, because… 

            There wasn’t a reason, actually.  It had just felt more comfortable.  Less… dangerous. 

            Emotions were such bullshit sometimes. 

            Quatre’s eyes were narrowed, but from the way he took his next deep breath, it was with upset, not anger.  “I am never going to penalize you for not conforming to what I suggest we do.  I do not give you orders.” 

            He went a little cold as that… really struck home.  Because he hadn’t realized he’d been acting that way, but… Quatre had admitted to reading the whole file on the retraining. And the phrasing… 

            “I know that,” he agreed quietly, the depth of his shit striking him once again.  Because he’d known Quatre would get over it, that his friend would follow his lead if he pushed, but… 

            It had been easier to not think about it. 

            Bad habits.  Maybe a little bit was that he wanted to figure it out on his own without Quatre’s interference – Marie meddled more than enough – but…  He could have just said that, and his friend would have respected it.  He’d chosen to sidestep any involvement at all because… 

            It felt safer?  But it wasn’t. 

            Because it was more familiar? 

            …He’d been so convinced Marie didn’t really need him anymore that he’d been ready to walk away at the slightest provocation.  Which was wretched to realize, because he hadn’t thought that way at the time, but…  Is that how it started, with Odin?  Doubt and mistakes and… trauma building up until you try to leave your child in the middle of a war zone because you think he’ll be better off there than whatever you can offer?  He hadn’t gotten anywhere near that point, and at least he’d been building Marie a comprehensive support structure as he did it, but…  

            It had been the same shit.  Less extreme, but the same fucking path.  And he needed to not follow it, because he did not want to be the same as his father. 

            But apparently he was letting other shit he’d been through dictate his life too, and he needed to get ahead of that.  “I’m sorry.”  Not for following his heart, but for the way he’d sidelined his friends while going about it. 

            As far as he made it from the retraining and the war, from the ways his father had screwed him up as a child without knowing any better, there was always so much further to go.  It was exhausting. 

            But worth it.  He didn’t want to carry Odin’s regrets.  Life was complicated enough without resenting the perspective his childhood had foisted him into – he could change how he handled things.  He didn’t have to be a product of what happened to him so long as he still chose what he wanted and refused to let the obstacles bog him down. 

            “This is the biggest trip I’ve had since that time I tried acid,” Rhett announced.  “You’re both in full reverb here – I’ve never had another space heart anchor on someone I was already holding.  Dude.  Is this what a feedback loop feels like?” 

            Quatre shifted his gaze over to the other empath.  “I wouldn’t know.”  After another moment of consideration, he held out a hand to shake.  “Cat Wilson.” 

            Their new friend took it happily.  “Rhett Stahl.” 

            Quatre blinked, visibly startled.  “Wait.  Really?” 

            Rhett’s smile widened into a delighted grin.  “You’ve heard of me?” 

            Quatre let out short, disbelieving laugh.  “We’ve spoken over the forums a few times,” he agreed.  “Not since 194, and not about anything memorable, but… yes.” 

            “Did I help you at all?” 

            Quatre tucked his chin slightly to one side in a motion Odin almost recognized, but the mask hid so much.  “Only insofar as alternate context expands your view,” he admitted.  “I haven’t looked in on the community since then – too busy with all the ways my life collapsed around me since, especially with how my own abilities mutated under pressure.” 

            Rhett’s face lit up with curiosity.  “See, that sounds like an excellent reason to reach out to the community,” he argued.  “The scientific inquiry end is the highlight of what they do, as far as I’m concerned.”  He pursed his lips thoughtfully.  “When you say ‘mutate’ do you mean late growth, or change?” 

            This looked like it was going to take a while, and Odin really wasn’t in the mood to stand out in the open.  “Are we still invisible?” he asked.  He wasn’t actually taking an earlier flight, but he hadn’t told Jack he was planning to go today either, so saying it had been an automatic sort of misdirect – he had just been using his time… unwisely. 

            Or maybe efficiently?  Burning it up to the last minute, instead of maintaining a buffer. 

            Quatre frowned.  “Is that what this is?” 

            “Give or take,” Rhett hedged.  “I missed exactly when you anchored, and only realized you’d done it when he reacted to you.  But the anchor would have looped you into the field before it could Push.”  He shook his head.  “That’s some crazy range.  I can feel people about a mile out, but I usually have to touch a person to make an anchor.”

            “My range makes no sense,” Quatre agreed dryly.  “It varies dramatically by individual.”  He met Odin’s eyes, then pulled out his phone and started to tap out a message.  “Jovi was with me when I felt you panic – he drove, and I had him let me out once we were close.  He can pick us up.” 

            Huh.  “Was that panic?” he asked.  From the way everyone always talked about the emotion, he wouldn’t have guessed. 

            “As close as you get, before you drop into action,” Quatre agreed in a dry tone.  “Who were you worrying about protecting?” 

            “Jack.”  He wasn’t sure if ‘protecting’ was the right word, but…  It wasn’t wrong?  For a long moment he’d thought the stranger was going to yell something about gundams, the way so many idiots had during the war.  And while he no longer thought the news would break the relationship, he still wasn’t looking forward to it. 

            He’d become aware of just how much it was going to hurt the man.  His brother too.  The retraining hitting the news, while simplifying matters now, would probably only make that blow worse when it came, and…  Unlike the last week, he was probably going to have to be present to witness it. 

            Quatre quirked one eyebrow at him.  “We’re close to that point of no return we talked about.  It might be time to bring him all the way in, if you’re that sure.” 

            He was, but he also still didn’t want to.  “Maybe,” he hedged. 

            Despite only being able to see his eyes, Quatre clearly looked unimpressed – likely seeing right through him.  “And where does Jake Miller fall on that same scale?” 

            “…Close.”  Probably about the same if he went with his instincts, but there was an element of danger there that he was… perilously close to disregarding?  But willing to acknowledge that might not be the best idea he’d ever had. 

            He’d promised Lucrezia he would at least try to be less stupid about danger. 

            A dark sedan from Rubato’s motor pool turned the corner from the direction Quatre had come, Jovi behind the wheel, and Odin, still facing Quatre directly, slid his eyes meaningfully to Rhett.  He didn’t particularly care whether the empath that had latched onto Jack during the shooting stayed or came along; given the way he and Quatre had immediately become comfortable, he would defer to him on this. 

            Everyone kept insisting the whole point of this weekend was that he not worry about anything.  Technically that was only supposed to start when they reached Budapest, but this bled through enough that he had no problem with dropping the responsibility back in Quatre’s lap. 

            Rhett sucked in a breath, looking disoriented for a long moment as Quatre leaned away from them and held out a hand for Jovi to notice them – breaking the shield, maybe?  A moment later, he turned his attention back on Odin.  “How much did he see that might be damaging if it got out?” his friend asked in the Arabic.  

            He’d been in the lobby for the whole thing, so…  “The same as Jack,” he returned in the same language. 

            “He would have gotten more from it than him,” Quatre mused. 

            “He said what he felt out loud, so it’s probably equal,” Odin argued.  “Someone recognized me.” 

            Quatre stiffened, then demanded, “How is that ‘no damage?’” 

            “He nodded at me and left without causing trouble.” 

            Quatre took a deep breath in through his nose, gestured for Jovi to wait as he pulled up to the curb, and zeroed in on Rhett, demanding, “The other person in the confrontation, what was he feeling?” 

            The other empath took it in stride, though there was a new wariness in his expression.  “Surprise and fear that bordered on shock, that resolved into awe and a gratefulness that bordered on reverence.  Respect, if we want to simplify it.”  He shrugged, crossing his arms.  “I don’t know enough of what it was about to say more, but like I told Jack, it didn’t feel problematic.” 

            Quatre raised both brows as he turned his gaze back to Odin.  “Did he say anything?” 

            “No, just walked out like nothing had happened.” 

            He turned back to Rhett.  “No fear or anticipation as he left?  Excitement, even?” 

            The other man frowned.  “No.” 

            Both brows went up again as he turned back to Odin.  “That’s a nice change.” 

            “I don’t know what to do with it,” Odin admitted. 

            “If we’ve done our homework right, it should be a continuing shift of sentiment.” 

            That… made no sense.  “What?” 

            Quatre smiled, broadly enough that he could see the change in his eyes.  “When the weekend’s over, you need to spend some time online – ideally with Adam too, once he’s back.  That blank check you wrote on public opinion is bearing fruit.”  Then he turned back to Rhett.  “I’m open to exchanging numbers, but this is where we part ways,” he decided. 

            Rhett narrowed his eyes for a moment like he was going to argue, then glanced back at Odin before resettling his weight.  “Both of your numbers,” he negotiated.  “You’re in my tier if not higher, something I wasn’t sure would happen this generation, and you,” he nodded at Odin, “might be the key to figuring out a few things about empathy I’ve been trying to pick apart for years.” 

            Quatre glanced his way to check for a negation, then inclined his head.  “Acceptable.  But you don’t post or talk about what you find unless we agree,” he added. 

            “That’s common courtesy,” Rhett agreed.  “I would’ve done that anyway.  Sure.”  When Quatre held out a hand expectantly, he dug out a phone and unlocked it before passing it over. 

            “No one’s going to answer you this weekend,” Quatre continued as he programmed the numbers in.  “And we travel frequently.  We’ve started negotiations with the princess’s faction, but it’s not stable yet.  So I would appreciate you not interfering there, but am aware that you’re at least partially tangled already.” 

            Rhett grimaced, though there was a stubborn gleam in his eyes.  “I can limit that, but I not disassociate.  It’s bigger than just me.” 

            “I’m not asking you to,” Quatre clarified.  “Just limit how much you rock the boat while the rest of us get our footing.  We’re aiming for an alliance, but we need to finish sorting a few things out first.” 

            “We?” 

            Quatre quirked one eyebrow again, somehow looking skeptical this time.  “Revenant Rubato.” 

            Rhett blinked a few times, looking startled.  “Wait, really?” 

            Odin was mostly sure Quatre was smirking as he handed the phone back.  “Who did you think you were talking to?” 

            “Him?”  He pointed at Odin.  “Jake’s brother who feels like nothing I’ve ever even heard described, and the best friend that he mentioned was an empath?” 

            Quatre considered him for a moment, probably doing something far more in depth than what it looked like, then hummed.  “How refreshing,” he decided.  “All true.  But yes – Rubato.”  Walking around the car to open the front passenger door, he added, “Don’t follow.  I’ll know.” 

            Rhett chuffed out an incredulous sort of sound, but waved back when Odin raised a hand to him as he opened the back door and slid in behind Jovi… and tucked his hands in his pockets to watch them drive away. 

-

***

-

Canada

            “Alright, pay up.” 

            “We didn’t make a bet,” Adam reminded her, considering the drone footage.  Definitely an active plant.  Technically, from what they had this could still be a remote but legal assembly line for suits, not dolls… but that he would be willing to bet on. 

            Not that Hilde would take it. 

            “So what now?  More surveillance and finding a clear route in?” 

            Technically, yes, but…  “I’d rather be more specialized for insertion,” he admitted.  It needed to be done subtly, but he wanted a better fallback, and more firepower than the little skiff they’d been operating out of – more people.  While the two of them could probably pull it off, they might also die and reception was so dead out here that no one would even know where to find the bodies.  “Let’s mark it and get out of here,” he decided.  “Come back with a bigger team and better equipment.”  Maybe there wouldn’t be aggressive surveillance systems leading into the complex, but he wouldn’t know until he tripped them, and his infiltrations mostly focused on the human element – given the miniscule margin for error, he’d rather have an expert on the case now that he'd covered the grunt work of proving it wasn’t an impossibly long shot. 

            Howard might have everyone he needed, or he might have to call up some agents from Sally – but even coming back, the next part of this job really wasn’t his speed.  It might be best to pass it off entirely, and only come back on it if someone made a good case for it – or if, after infiltration, they didn’t have the exact location of any additional sites.  He had the trawling through tundra down enough at this point that he was probably fastest if more needed to be done…  But they were probably in the clear. 

            “Let’s get out of here and regroup,” he decided.  Sliding his gaze back over to Hilde, he added, “You needed to get back on the sims, right?  Deathscythe Hell is supposed to be done at the end of the month.”  Or something like that – he didn’t have the exact dates. 

            She crunched her nose.  “Yeah I do.” 

            Adam frowned.  “What?” 

            Hilde shook her head, mouth twisted.  “It’s a completely different beast compared to the modded Heavyarms.  I’m going to try, but my first run with its ghost was… not good.  The scythe is a fucking nightmare, but even if they just attached a beam saber, I don’t…”  She sighed.  “I need to try,” she agreed. 

            …That’s promising.  Though he supposed they had started construction after Hilde got trapped in Italy, and might have been jumping to conclusions – that, and Duo had a way of overestimating the people he was close to.  Hm. 

            Either way, not his problem.  She’d learn, or she’d do something else in the coming conflict. 

            For now, it was time to go. 

-

***

-

Berlin, Germany – Executive Suite of Hotel Ensō Berlin

            “I’ll make the Monday session,” Sylvia announced, voice taut. 

            Relena frowned, and no wonder – Jake was supposed to still be in the hospital, but even while his injuries had been critical, he hadn’t been in danger of losing a limb.  “Are you sure you don’t want to assign a proxy?” she suggested.  “If the treatment- ” 

            “It’s going to be what it will be, at this point,” the other noblewoman countered, sounding determined despite the sour note tucked away in her tone. 

            Relena obviously heard the same, and asked the question Lin had focused on.  “Were they able to save it?” 

            Sylvia let out an irritated sigh.  “We rescued more than estimated, but still less than I hoped for,” she explained.  “The vascular compromise damned two fingers and a third of my palm before I made it to the first surgery, and there’s a decent chance I’ll lose more tissue before it stabilizes – but only time will tell.  I might be better off with a full prosthetic in the end, they were able to salvage all the nerves for good control, but I’m putting that decision off until we have a better idea of what I do still have.  For now, I need to become left-handed.  My handwriting is atrocious.” 

            Lin grimaced; he hadn’t even known there were such things as partial hand prosthetics.  Though admittedly, the first image that came to mind was the fucking claw Dr J had been so infamous for, which… anything had to be better than that, right? 

            Given how rampant the Yuy article still was, there would, unfortunately, be no way people wouldn’t suggest that once Noventa was back on scene.  Hopefully her prosthetic would be nice enough that they could draw a sharp contrast between them. 

            “Jake will be out by then, yes?  We’ll make matching bookends – despite the lack of shoulder damage, my life is easier right now when I can rest my lower arm in an extended sling.” 

            “He’s out now, if still on full bedrest,” Relena admitted.  “Our new empath friend got distracted by something shiny and disappeared, and his imaging was stable, so he’s camping out in a recliner right now.”  Bringing the phone down to press against her chest, she called out, “Are you regretting your decisions yet?” 

            “No!” 

            Rolling her eyes, Relena brought the receiver back up to her mouth.  “He’s decided he needs to suffer,” she continued.  “His father tagged along to baby him through it.  I haven’t decided if it’s a bonding experience or a powder keg.” 

            “He should only need this much help for a few more days,” Jack pointed out, voice carefully bland.  “I can leave if everyone wants to be an assh-” 

            “Jack, I greatly appreciate you, please stay,” Lin interrupted, walking away from the princess.  While the hospital was arguably the best treatment plan, they had been relying on Stahl for security, and so long as Jake wasn’t going to rebreak something, the issue was only about him being a grouch once the nerve blocks wore off tomorrow.  So long as the elder Miller was here – far more armed and dangerous than any middle-aged non-soldier really ought to be, but that family, seriously – Lin didn’t need to account for extra rotations in managing Jake on top of everything else they had going on. 

            If it did turn into a pending explosion, Jack could go, and he’d figure it out.  But they’d been doing better, and Lin didn’t think it would come to that. 

            “I meant what I said before too,” Jake muttered.  “Thank you.” 

            “For once, you are not the one being an asshat,” Jack returned just as quietly.  Then, with a smirk, he added, “At least not yet.” 

            “Nurse comes by for a blood draw in the morning,” Jake reminded him. 

            “And you probably won’t be cleared for meds until Saturday.” 

            “Historically, it’ll be tomorrow afternoon at worst, and the doctor even agreed.” 

            Personally, Lin was impressed they’d arranged for continued care under the same provider and a courier phlebotomist despite the AMA.  In his experience, signing one of those made medical professionals wash their hands of you.  They might have gone out of their way to psych up the danger concerns and imply he’s a high roller.  The doctor he’d gotten the paperwork from was one of the ones who had seen Relena sitting on the edge of the colonel’s bed, and they obviously already had concerns about assassination running. 

            While Lin understood Jake wanting to come back into the fold as soon as possible, he also really wished he hadn’t pushed the envelope over something nonessential.  However much he dismissed the pain issue right now, none of them had any real idea of what he was going to be facing tomorrow.  As nonchalant as Jake seemed to be about it, the rest of them were barely holding off panic, particularly Relena. 

            The room’s line started ringing, and Relena went about wrapping up her call as Hayden answered… and blinked a few times.  “Yes.  Of course, thank you for checking.  Send him up.”  Noticing everyone staring at him as he hung up, Polanski rubbed awkwardly at the back of his head.  “Uh.  So that whole thing about Stahl going missing?  No one told his aunts about that yet, right?” 

            “I’m still mostly sure he decided to stalk my brother,” Jake pointed out.  “Delilah warned us that he was likely to wander.” 

            “He wandered back?” Lin confirmed, getting a nod from Hayden, and… resisting the urge to sigh. 

            Well, it was too late to take Jake back to the hospital, probably.  Not that it made this any less frustrating. 

            “Junior was leaving town this afternoon,” Jack pointed out.  “That was the whole issue his sister was having.  And if he didn’t want me going, he wouldn’t have had a problem ditching a tagalong.” 

            David nodded.  “Especially considering the whole immunity angle.” 

            Fair enough.  Though really, if nothing else, that little tidbit made Junior’s partnership with Robby Stanton far less intimidating.  Jack had told them it was peer relationship and Jovi had confirmed the two of them were the originators of the Revenants no matter how many extras they had included as ‘founders’ but it was nice to know it couldn’t all be run by space heart games. 

            Which… was horribly discriminatory and literally not how the abilities worked, he knew that, but the knee jerk reaction and fears were still a little hard to swallow back down sometimes. 

            In any case, it was only a few more minutes before the empath was in front of them again, not looking nearly as sheepish as he should have.  “Hey!” 

            “You have this thing,” Lin reminded him, keeping his tone flat, “called a phone.” 

            “I maybe had a fit of paranoia and traded it away,” the guy returned, meeting his eyes.  “I need to go buy a new one.”  When they all just stared at him, he shrugged.  “I’m mostly sure that was stupid, but, you know.  Gut feelings.  I don’t suppose any of you know a guy named Cat Wilson?” 

-

***

-

May 1^st 199 – Friday – Budapest, Hungary

            Quatre leaned against a pillar at the edge of the balcony, reveling in the roil of the crowd.  Usually feeling this many people at once was a more chaotic experience – that or they gained enough of a mob mentality that they blurred into a strangely singular organism despite all the moving parts.  And the dance hall had a bit of the latter, but very few had fallen into it.  Instead, everyone here was just… caught in the joy of the moment.  Individually.  It was like staring into a rainbow disco ball of sheer happiness: layers of faceted light refracting in too many directions to follow to their end destination, but all bright. 

            As much as he usually reveled in accomplishment, in doing something better and faster than someone else?  More days like today were worth pursuing.  They’d lounged in more pools than he’d bothered to keep track of, wandered in and out of saunas, and eaten light delicacies, the majority of his friends all simply existing together in a state of relaxation.  With such a firm read on the room, even Odin had been convinced to get a massage – though that was also through some form of peer pressure.  Audi and the older women hadn’t stayed half as long, off to more focused primping, but they seemed equally pleased as the rest, and… 

            It was lovely, really.  Part of him wished the day would never end, even as it was now long after sunset.  And maybe this particular outing was on the extravagant end, but he thought he understood the elements of it enough to recapture it in a more succinct form later. 

            For now, he was enjoying the show.  Plenty of people were whirling around the dance floor, a chaos of dancers from all backgrounds finding their favorite rhythms in response to the electroswing beat.  Lu, it turned out, really enjoyed swing dancing – though everyone kept switching styles by the song, and she had grown increasingly thrilled as Odin showed off his lessons.  Everyone had taken a turn on the floor, himself no exception, but while there had been breaks to drink and catch their breath, Odin had clearly made the right choice of venue because all Lu wanted to do was keep dancing.  While far from the most talented dancers tonight, not least because they were still picking up each other’s rhythm and quirks, they’d certainly been noticed – in part because they were improving at a prodigious rate, but also because they rarely took a break. 

            There was a purely aesthetic appeal too.  Odin was all fluid motion, so much slower than what Quatre was used to seeing from him, but that only highlighted the finesse behind each transition – he caught the eye.  Though personally, Quatre was impressed he hadn’t ditched his hat somewhere at this point, given the sweat his friend had worked up.  Then again, after what happened yesterday he’d almost gone the route some of their fellow patrons had taken and glued on a domino mask – but his lady had provided the fedora as a compromise she preferred.  Especially since it turned out he knew how to shift or gesture with it as part of a dance – that had been about when Quatre decided to stop anchoring on Odin until the weekend was up. 

            Despite both claiming they couldn’t pick up on their feedback loop, they used it, and Lu had… an appetite.  So far as he could tell, they were both just so into each other that they missed the subliminal hints in favor of the physical. 

            That, and his own Talent had always been so strong that he couldn’t pass it off as something else unless he felt particularly delusional.  Lucrezia’s gift was so delicate and ephemeral that she likely could have gone her whole life thinking she had a good sense of intuition and high emotional intelligence.  In part because she did have those – she just also had an extra spark that occasionally gave her a hint more.  Though given the fact that she only formed bonds with people she felt extremely close to and they only worked rarely with erratic results at best…  Honestly, it was more of a bragging right than an actual ability. 

            Most of the earthborn Talents he’d observed seemed to be that way, for all that his friend was the only one he’d gone out of his way to interview so far.  If he did get back into the community it might be an interesting topic to pursue, once things cooled down again on the global front.  He was curious to see which way the research would point. 

            Liquidly dripping silver drew his eye back to the couple again, as they swayed, and he smirked, feeling more than a few people snap their attention that way.  The long silvery chains looped through Lu's ears and hair swayed and spun as much as the layers of her skirt, inevitably drawing attention back to her again and again, and she cut a striking figure tonight even aside from that.  Her dark blue dress left her back largely exposed, and the draped front made up for the lack of fabric elsewhere in layers of draped folds making a low cowlneck; the skirt was asymmetric and layered in such a way that it clung over her hips and hung close to her body when still, but whipped about in multiple directions with every pivot on the dance floor.  Some kind of metallic thread was worked through the cloth that gave the fabric an impression of stars in a midnight sky – though subtly enough that the effect only came into being when she spun. 

            Between that gentle shimmer, the jewelry, and her laughing, near constant motion, as if she’d been born to dance, someone might mistake her for a dark deity there to revel in a pagan holiday most had forgotten before vanishing into the morning dew.  Art in motion.  By the visuals, Odin was practically a shadow leading her along, not a person in his own right. 

            He was looking forward to Nick’s pictures.  If his friend managed to capture even part of the night’s mood, it was time well spent.  Printing them would be a poor idea for now, but the gundams would be done soon.  When even Odin was beginning to chafe at the secrecy their lives had fallen into you knew it was time to find an out. 

            Not long now.  Howard projected them at three weeks, and Odin was matching that – though only because it gave him additional time for testing.  Apparently he thought assembly could be finished in five days, but was inclined to further finesse them so long as he didn’t have anything to attach the wings and mods to.  The prototype he’d been feverishly working on was now back at the dark site, having the final kinks worked out of it by Howard.  Realistically, something was likely still going to cause a delay and push them back another week or two, which was probably fine, but… 

            He felt like they were running out of time, and couldn’t decide if it was intuition or paranoia – though the doll problem was a hell of a sword of Damocles.  Whether or not she knew about that, Relena reportedly was done with the Regime, which was good – he liked the shape of the Accords so far, as did Sally.  But Noventa’s assassination attempt last week, whether it came from the East or elsewhere, was a concerning harbinger.  As prepared as Sally wanted and tried so hard to be, they weren’t omniscient – the fact that they couldn’t pin down the assassin’s motive made that clear as day. 

            They would be unprepared for something.  That was how it always went.  The only reason they were still procrastinating at this point was because Odin’s fortune had given them access to an overwhelming advantage too valuable to risk squandering.  Once the conflict began, they would have to adapt on the fly – and frankly, he would rather do so with the Accords’ support. 

            There was a secret just barely out of his reach when it came to weaving that possibility into reality.  He’d passed enough emails back and forth with the RLTT proprietor now to be sure he was dealing with a singular person, not a board or committee – and despite Odin’s initial reservations, he liked what he’d put together about the man.  He did what he thought was right, and didn’t let anyone or anything get in the way – Quatre could relate.  The fact that he’d continued to support Brigadier Mitchell after his fallout with the Regime, despite putting a lot of people’s backs up, actually firmed up his own opinion of RLTT.  The affluent will behind the fund rang true for how his own family operated, preferring secrecy and competence over fame – though he was genuinely curious about the hints the man had dropped about going public. 

            He hadn’t known enough about the Tomorrow Today Fund to consider it until after the fact, but Rubato resembled RLTT significantly.  The scale was the most dramatic difference, but that was likely due to both manpower and funding – while RLTT was certainly very well endowed, he doubted it was on the same scale as Odin – or if it was, he rarely flaunted it.  Additionally, from what the proprietor confirmed in their letters, all of his projects had functioned with only one or two hands on the wheel, often while the man himself maintained a separate career – Rubato could pull off massive ventures because there were over thirty of them to manage the various businesses top-down, full-time.  And if he considered the earlier projects under the perspective of a learning curve, especially since the man had professed to having no formal schooling in business?  Even if their goals didn’t align – and they very obviously did – this was someone he’d like to know. 

            Which brought them back to the issue of secrets and the current catch twenty-two he found himself in.  No one wanted to take that first step into the limelight – though apparently that was changing, since RLTT had practically said his own public reveal was pending, if somewhat delayed by current events.  If he was serious… that might be the best olive branch they would get, and he would be a fool to pass it up.  The R.L. Tomorrow Today Fund was becoming synonymous with ‘Relena’ anymore, and that also looked like an intentional move, not an inference, which… 

            That was his personal breaking point, he decided.  He could be wrong, but he felt like everything else could very well hinge around that truth, especially if that was RLTT’s ring on Relena’s finger.  But while he could draw up the likelihood and deviations of everyone near the woman with those facts in mind, he didn’t like any of his suspects enough to commit to the idea. 

            Jake Miller clearly had the money know-how to pull the role off given the way he’d worked Odin’s accounts – seemingly as a bizarre sort of shrine or memorial to the dead – but too many counter arguments could be made against him.  While he could have any amount of cash flow from the same source as his brother, separate or siphoned long before Quatre had access to the records – or even from his rumored black book work for the Khushrenadas – the level of finesse shown in RLTT from its earliest days…  Jake had been twelve when the Fund began its first project.  That and, from what he’d picked up through Jack and the speculation weaving through both public and private sectors, the younger Miller had literally been a missing person for most of that year, trying to find Odin.  While technically feasible – in that he could have been orchestrating from a distance, not to mention how much Quatre knew he or even Audi could compute financials at that age – Miller hadn’t had the education to back the theory.  He’d clearly learned in the intervening years, but it didn’t fit the timeline. 

            Additionally, while reports on the now retired colonel varied dramatically between ‘feral,’ ‘lethal,’ and ‘infiltrator,’ his records were too damned erratic to make sense of – and Quatre had dubbed him as too dangerous to feel out personally without considerable preparation.  Of course, his best friend had apparently thrown that out the window without consequences; and the history of espionage made all ‘official records’ of the man suspect, so he might just have to dismiss his research on that front entirely.  It was very possible, especially if he had any of Odin’s same skill with computers, that the younger Miller had fabricated the majority of his findings. 

            But even if his education was fabricated and he had somehow been able to pull off RLTT from the start, Jack was a puzzle piece that made the rest look impossible.  Because as troubled as the relationship felt even from the outset…  Jack Miller was still Jake’s father, and the older man’s living situation before Odin took charge was fucking abysmal.  Maybe his own troubles with his father paled in comparison to whatever was going on there, but he couldn’t imagine having regular free access to RLTT’s pocketbook while also letting even a hated relative edge that close to homelessness.  It left a bad taste in his mouth. 

            Alternately, Miller was still clearly an integral part of Relena’s household despite his retirement, and any notions that he was training his replacement had long since expired.  If he didn’t have anything to do with RLTT, it was possible that he had some planned role in a more advanced version of the Accords when it rose into a true government – or that he was a standing ambassador for Treize.  Or it was possible that Quatre was missing the intel that would explain some other perfectly valid reason for the man’s continued presence in her court. 

            But he didn’t have any other decent candidates for RLTT or the fiancé in what was visible in Relena’s court.  Also, the sheer level of dysfunction in what he did know about the Miller-Lowe family tree might surpass what he could comprehend when it came down to family and priorities. 

            So he had quite a few really suspicious puzzle pieces all pointing to Miller, but still couldn’t figure out how to twist them into a recognizable picture – probably because he was missing at least a quarter of the facts and could only overcome so much by making intuitive leaps.  Which also meant that he was missing enough pieces to have reached entirely false conclusions. 

            It was deeply frustrating, especially since Jovi was mostly convinced that the ‘erratic’ part of Miller’s personality was only a mask designed to draw attention away from his true actions. 

            It was, again, relatable. 

            He caught a familiar soul's recognition and happy focus from his right, and turned to see Audi making her way along the mezzanine, holding two cups.  He raised a brow at her, a little surprised to see her on her own.  Everyone had been taking turns playing chaperone, as one form of deterrent or another, because Audi didn’t look thirteen, especially in the classy cocktail dress and low heels Lu had helped her pick out.  Enough people were drinking tonight to raise concerns – though less because she couldn’t handle a man unaware of how close he edged to pedophilia so much as none of them wanted to deal with the inevitable scene when she broke his hand. 

            She rolled her eyes, but shifted to look back and raise one of the glasses in a ‘cheers’ motion to… Skye, over on the stairs. 

            Right.  Evidently, this was a handoff. 

            “Give me a break,” she teased, handing him a cup of something pale and fizzy…  Ooh, soda.  The bar had been crowded enough that he hadn’t bothered with the line, instead opting for the bottles of water settled in ice chests around the venue.  “It’s crowded enough down there that I thought I might miss it, and you looked like you had a good view.” 

            Not a bad point, he mused, looking back down.  He’d been distracted enough with his thoughts and the mood of the place that he’d lost track of the music.  Listening now, he recognized the current song as a popular one with a distinctly romantic vein, but nothing else came to mind.  “Did he end up picking a sequence?” 

            Audi shook her head.  “He wanted to see what she liked best first.  This one’s the signal for six romantic ones of the right genre in a row, though, and I picked three for the mix after we’d been here for a bit – DJ’s choice on the others.” 

            Quatre nodded.  “That’s a good way to do it.”  Nothing too precisely planned meant more opportunity to improvise, and left room for a short break if they’d run themselves ragged with poor timing.  As it was, he had no doubt that even with all the PT today and actually taking his meds tonight, Odin was going to have an impressive limp tomorrow.  But he’s not flagging yet.  The scattered timing also gave Nick more opportunities for candid shots without penning him into a box.  “How heavily did you have to bribe him?” he asked curiously. 

            “She didn’t want extra payment at all,” Audi informed him primly, looking smug.  “She was thrilled to be involved.  But I’m a lady, and I make a point of tipping well.” 

            Quatre smiled, appreciating that on all fronts.  “That’s a good policy,” he agreed. 

            She nodded, a little solemn, if in a thoughtful way.  “My mom always insisted it was important,” she admitted.  “But I saw it from the other end, growing up, and…  It’s different if you can’t.  But if it’s an option, rewards shouldn’t just end with school, you know?  It helps people, in their hearts as much as the money end.  Enough people live hand to mouth that extra money is always appreciated, but the thought is usually what makes a difference, you know?” 

            He nodded, enjoying the earnest goodwill coming from her as much as the concept.  “My sisters taught me similarly,” he agreed. 

            She shifted, becoming slightly apprehensive, but not… in a bad way?  “Do you miss them?” 

            Ah, nerves.  They hadn’t covered this sort of topic before.  “Sometimes,” he admitted.  “But the way I grew up, it was months before I would see one of them again, so it doesn’t feel as disconnected as you might expect.”  He sighed.  “My father passed me between them as a convenience, but I could always tell they wanted me there, so the weight of that didn’t sink home until I was about your age.  He and I were never close, but my sisters had elaborate games and arguments over who got to take me home for how long and when.  Really, they and their husbands were the ones who raised me.”  He considered her pent up curiosity that verged on excitement for a moment before making a face.  “I’m pretty sure one of them tried talking my father into letting her raise me entirely – and then he didn’t let me see her again for over a year.  That was the first time I ever felt unwanted, and it took some of the shine off my charmed life, for all that I grew past it.  I think I might miss her most; she never expected anything of me.  She genuinely only ever wanted to see me happy.” 

            Tamelia had been the first he sought out after Sanc, though Camille would have been next even if she hadn’t been down the street at the time.  They didn’t live all that close to each other, but Camille traveled a wide circuit and the two of them had always been close.  He remembered something being said about how they were raised together, which had originally struck him as an odd thing to say, but…  They’d probably been around Audi’s age when their mom died and everyone scattered.  They must have meant they stayed together after. 

            When he did go back to his sisters, he hoped the fact that he was now the de facto head of both the family and Winner Corp would mean someone finally spilled the damn tea on just what had happened.  A single woman’s death, no matter how beloved, did not explain his shattered family, let alone all the secrecy wound through it. 

            “Was your dad… bad?” 

            He watched Odin and Lu dance for a long moment, thinking about it.  “Not intentionally,” he decided.  “But the older I got, the more I realized I didn’t really know him, despite the edge a space heart gives you.  He was… distant.  By the time I stopped trying and-” he waggled his fingers with an awkward grimace, because he was not saying anything about a gundam here, “he was angry with me so often that I almost wanted him to do something terrible.  To break the cycle, if nothing else.  But I think he meant well.  He was just… broken somehow, by losing my mother.”  That was what his sisters claimed, at least. 

            He’d never been able to decide if it was true or just a pretty lie he wouldn’t be able to disprove. 

            Audi hummed.  “My grandfather was always distant,” she offered.  “I never had a dad, and both he and my uncle…  I think I was four when I realized they were always angry with my mom because of me.  And my uncle always played with me, spoiled me every chance he got, but we didn’t…  They were both always away doing ‘something important,’ you know?  And when I was little, I used to think they’d get over it eventually, because I thought they loved me even if they didn’t get along with my mom… and I think my uncle maybe did?”  She sighed, the uncertainty in her soul weighing into melancholy – but in an old and tired way, not current upset.  “But they also… didn’t really care, if that makes any sense.” 

            He stared at her incredulously.  “Why would they be angry because of a toddler?” 

            Her mood turned bubbly with nervous humor, and she set her cup down and gave him a sheepish shrug.  “My mom was my age when she got pregnant,” she admitted.  “Big scandal, you know?” 

            That… usually came with implications that made him more upset that someone had blamed this woman.  “If she wasn’t-” 

            She’d clearly had this conversation before, because she cut him off before he could finish asking the awkward question.  “No, not like that.  Mom always said it was more ‘kids being stupid’ but, like…  I got the sex talk really young.  Because as much as my mom loves me, that’s… really stupid, you know?”  She shook her head, melancholic acceptance blending with curiosity and longing.  “She still loves my dad; can’t stand to talk about him at all.  She never let her family find out who he was, but by the time she thought I was old enough to keep the secret…  Well, he died at Libra.” 

            He blinked a few times, sorting through the contradictory emotions that… he supposed mostly made sense, given the complexity of all that.  Eventually he settled on the trite response; he could add on it, but certain things should be said.  “I’m sorry.” 

            Audi shrugged a little.  “Thanks.  But a lot of girls lost their dads there, you know?  And I know he loved me – she says they used to exchange letters, and that I met him once, when I was really little.”  She sighed.  “My grandfather was just…. really terrible.” 

            That was a good enough lead in for what he’d wanted to say – because if it really had been a case of ‘kids being stupid,’ Romeo and Juliet laws protected her father from statutory rape charges, no matter how furious her mother’s family might have been.  He could see Audi’s mother holding out for a few years out of paranoia if her father terrified her, but if she’d been fourteen when she had the baby, she would have been twenty-four when Libra fell. 

            That didn’t compute.  And didn’t Odin say that Audi’s mother was a physician?  That didn’t translate into stupidity. 

            “How terrible?”  She’d used past tense already, so it wasn’t a current issue, but- 

            A bubble burst, and he grit his teeth as a helpless sort of grief mixed with indignant anger and righteous stubbornness washed over him.  Audi took a deep breath, clenching her hands into fists at her sides and looking up with a determined set to her jaw… and despite the suddenness of the onslaught, it felt worn and faded too, like a worry stone with a hollow rubbed into its center.  It didn’t last.  He gave her a moment, but when she didn’t look down for ten seconds he quietly prompted, “Audi?” 

            She groaned in frustration, pressing her palms to her eyes before bringing her head back to a more neutral position.  “I’m gonna wreck my make-up,” she whined. 

            Ah.  Definitely okay then, though there was still the almost nervous anticipation humming through her.  “I’m sure we can fix it,” he offered, for all that he wouldn’t know the first step of how. 

            “It’s so dumb,” she insisted, starting to hunch over.  “I seriously just-”  Then she abruptly cut herself off, uncertainty swamping her.  She stiffened, but before he could ask, it erupted into giddy, incredulous disbelief and she dropped her hands to stand up straight, eyes wide.  “Oh my God, she didn’t!” 

            He had no idea what the abrupt change was about this time.  “What?” 

            She started giggling hard, wiping at her eyes, and insisted, “I swear, this isn’t one of the songs I picked, okay?  But if he doesn’t run with it, I’m going to do something totally obnoxious to him.” 

            The music?  He blinked, focusing on the female vocals, but before he could make out the words he effectively got punched in the face by sheer glee – from a number of sources, but Lu in particular, the loop through Odin active and serving as an amp so it was practically a beacon as she let out a loud, utterly delighted laugh.  Odin’s hat obscured his face from here, but he felt bemused, maybe a little exasperated… but mostly pleased with himself. 

            More or less how he always felt when he realized he’d made his lady happy, really. 

            Quatre didn’t recognize the lyrics, though it seemed slower than what Lu had responded to most all night – and as happy as she and Audi were over it, he found himself wondering if Odin was going to improvise entirely.  “Does he know the song?” he tried. 

            “To fight the rising odds?” 

            “Dude, I found just about every hero related song there is when Jack first started getting him into music, just to make him laugh.  And that was before the last two weeks.”  She pouted, stepping closer and leaning both hands on the balcony rail to peer down at them.  “He’s totally going to think I put the DJ up to it, though.” 

            “Late at night, I toss and I turn, and I dream of what I need…” 

            He was about to make some comment about an obligatory slow dance when the music abruptly shifted into something much higher in energy, and Odin immediately spun his date into a furiously fast tempo, her laugh still ringing out. 

            “I need a hero! I’m holding out for a hero ‘till the end of the night!” 

            Quatre started laughing himself, giving Audi a sideways glance.  “I’m not sure I believe you’re innocent on this one,” he decided.  Listening to more of the song as the couple moved aggressively enough around the floor that others were giving them more space than before, a few stopping to watch, he added, “It’s a little too on the nose.” 

            “Like anyone’s going to think too hard about it,” Audi argued.  “It’s old but keeps getting remade, and it got a huge popularity bump these last two weeks.”  She tipped her nose up in the air.  “Since it wasn’t me, and it’s your publicity campaign that gave the song a resurgence, I blame you.” 

            He laughed again, rolling his eyes.  Honestly…  That popularity gambit was going far more successfully than he had imagined.  And Odin still didn’t seem to know about it, which only made him want to laugh harder.  So instead of arguing he shrugged, focusing on his friends below for a long minute, buoyed by their joy.  Though…  “If they weren’t pilots, they’d probably be falling down dizzy by now.”  The speed at which they were whirling was giving them space enough to work with – especially as a few people noticed Nick stepping in with a camera and guessed some sort of event was happening. 

            Audi just hummed back at him, watching the scene with a dreamy heart. 

            He smirked and let it lie, leaning back to watch himself – this was the cumulative point of today, after all.  There were a few whoops and whistles as they executed a complicated looking dip, the first time they’d slowed at all from the start, before diving back into it. 

            This was a good crowd – quite a number of the people here were classically trained to the point that he assumed there was a significant percentage of nobility present, but none of them carried the typical arrogance he would have expected from a formal event.  Everyone was here to have fun without recognition whatever their walk of life, and he could feel it. 

            For one night at least, no one was worrying about politics or saving face, content to just be.  It was addictive. 

            The song started to wind down into slower repetitions of the chorus, and as the final chords sounded, Odin swept down to one knee.  Exclamations and gasps sounded from the audience, turning into laughter as there was no presentation or clear attempt to ask the question, the man instead simply sliding the ring he pulled out of one pocket onto her hand – but more than a few people clapped when her response was to tug him back to his feet for a kiss.  Equally presumptive and wordless.  It suited, really. 

            Then again, this was take two.  Despite all the crap everyone had given him for getting ahead of himself the first time, though, no one could say he hadn’t put in the effort today. 

            Audi sighed as a slower song came on and the couple settled into a much more sedate dance.  Standing back up straight, she turned to lean a hip against the railing instead, complaining, “She didn’t even look at it.” 

            Personally, he thought that was half the reason why so many of their watchers were so charmed by the display.  Aloud, he noted, “She has time.” 

            “I guess,” the girl returned begrudgingly, picking her cup back off the railing. 

            He shrugged and took a sip from his own, debating how much longer everyone would want to stay.  Depending on the mood, he might hang back until closing… but if everyone else was tired, he likely would be too, just from immersion. 

            He pursed his lips as the girl’s melancholy rose up again, remembering their previous topic.  Not sure if she really wanted to get back into it or not, he asked, “Are you okay?” 

            “Oh, yeah,” she mumbled unconvincingly.  “Just… he really is a hero, you know?  Not just for the pun.  He found me because I ran away from my grandfather, and… anyone else would’ve either taken me back or given me to the authorities.  And he offered to do the latter, but as soon as he knew who I was and what I was running from, there wasn’t any question.  He just… made it his job to keep me safe.  I don’t think he had any intention of trying to teach me at first, but I was bored and he was so cool, and…”  She sniffed, then made an annoyed noise, shaking her head as if to ward off the emotions – though it was less sadness and more that she was overwhelmed, this time.  “Anybody else in his shoes would’ve been happy to get rid of me, I think.  I didn’t know half the reasons why at first, and he’s never brought it up, but…  With everything that happened to him, he shouldn’t have wanted me, you know?  But we’re family now, and it just is.” 

            Quatre considered that.  He’d certainly been surprised his friend had slowed down and calmed enough to be willing to look after a child when he first found out, but that didn’t sound like what she meant.  Not to mention the fact that the girl had certainly not slowed Heero down; if anything, she drove him higher.  He thought about making a listening sort of noise and letting her continue, but her confidence was rarely this shaken, and she’d been talking leadingly enough that she might be waiting for a real question in the first place.  “Why would you think that?”  When she didn’t answer that, and instead even refused to look at him, he frowned.  “Audi?” 

            Her emotions settled into something closer to resolve, shoulders settling into a line.  She still didn’t look at him, however, as she said, “I prefer Marie.” 

            He blinked, considering that.  The way she said, it, the name sounded nearly identical.  The M was an addition, but the way they rolled the D in ‘Audi’ was already with that distinct L1 combination of R, L, and D – what he assumed was a written R didn’t sound different, with the faintly Italian accent you saw so much of in L3.  In any case, the cadence of how she said it was the same as before.  “Okay.”  He might have guessed, given the fact that she’d been going by an M name when he met her, but it didn’t particularly stand out. 

            The nervous excitement from before came back full force, for all that you wouldn’t be able to tell by her face, and she took a pointed look around to make sure no one was close enough to eavesdrop before meeting his eyes.  “It’s short for Mariemaia.” 

            He just… stared.  The words made sense, but didn’t compute into something meaningful.  “Oh.” 

            She gave him a skeptical look.  “Yeah.  I didn’t…”  She brought her free hand up to push through her loosely curled hair.  “I knew my grandfather was bad, I ran away because I could tell I was just his latest toy that he’d found a convenient use for, but I didn’t…  I knew Odin had been in the program, he told me the same day he found me, after I said my name, but he never told me about…”  She made a shaky, flippant gesture.  “You know?  He just kept me safe, chased off people we found following me and helped me find my mom, but we were family by then, and…”  She sniffed.  “I think he told her?  They talked a lot while he was down from the surgeries to fix his leg, and they didn’t let me listen to a lot of it.  But I asked him last week, and he said… that even if I’d been a total brat, he wouldn’t have left another kid with my grandfather, you know?”  She growled, sniffling again.  “And it keeps making me want to cry all the time.” 

            Clinically, he started rearranging all the facts in the new, correct pattern, and snorted out a laugh as he realized… she had told him she was due to inherit a fortune, one time.  He’d thought it was some kind of inside joke with the way Odin laughed about it, but… 

            Mariemaia Barton was being raised by Heero Yuy.  Obviously they weren’t going to tell anyone for a while, but… all the work of the last two weeks could do a lot to recoup the losses the Barton Foundation took too, given the flipped context.  She could make good use of that when the time came. 

            For now though, she was still his best friend’s little sister – honestly, the details only made Odin’s life weirder, rather than reflecting anything on her.  Precocious as she was, as brilliant as she was growing to be, Marie was still a child.  But… yeah, Odin had taken in his abuser’s grandchild and done right by her, which was… huge.  The man would never think of it that way himself, but as Marie said, it went a long way to even further show his true colors. 

            She’s going to be one of my business partners someday.  He’d already considered the idea likely, though he’d been under the impression it would be through Odin’s holdings after he retracted his own claws to prevent conflict of interest when he went back to Winner Corp, but…  She was the future head of the Barton Foundation.  Poor Odin is going to have to find someone else to manage his money.  Then again, maybe that had been part of why he was initially so bullheaded about it.  Between the three of them, they had control of three major powers in space – or at least, Da Capo would be a major power eventually, once it built itself up more. 

            That… left a great deal of interesting opportunities for the future. 

            Sighing, he set his cup on the railing and reached out to pull her into a hug.  He wanted to tease her about how he should have realized he was training his competition, but she felt fragile right now and this was calmer.  She seemed to appreciate it. 

            Glancing back down at Odin, he resisted the urge to shake his head.  Revelations aside, he could get the details later, once the weekend was up.  Nothing had changed. 

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***

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May 2^nd 199 – Saturday – Berlin, Germany – Executive Suite of Hotel Ensō Berlin

            “It’s fine,” Jake insisted, chuckling as he leaned back into his fiancée’s side.  “I get it, but I wish everyone would stop making such a big deal out of this.” 

            “You almost died,” Relena reminded him, though without any heat.  Instead, she opted to reach up and comb her fingers through his hair, pressing her mouth against the side of his head. 

            “That was last week,” he argued cheerfully.  “And also not what I was talking about.  As irritating as the live Remalene felt, it also kept the nerves too busy to let much else through so long as I stayed still.  It was a long way from the worst I’ve ever felt, and now I have dissociative painkillers again, so seriously.  I’m fine.” 

            Personally, Jack couldn’t decide if that was better or on the same level as ‘It’s just pain.’  As glad as he was that none of his fears about assisting his son out of the hospital ahead of schedule had materialized, he also knew how skewed perspective could get. 

            He checked his phone again, despite not having felt it vibrate.  As much as everyone here was enjoying their late breakfast and lazy morning out of the public eye, now that Jake was back on standard medical care he didn’t figure he’d be able to stay much longer.  Though for once, he wasn’t sure if that would be because Jake would grow distant enough that it hurt, or if he would just feel awkward enough to jettison himself.  He’d thought about going home once his son got cleared for meds last night, but he’d also known the house would be empty, and that… 

            Odin had let him know he was in the clear after leaving town on Thursday, and Jack had known to not expect anything from him yesterday.  But despite how welcoming Jake and Lena’s household was going out of their way to be, he still felt cut adrift.  He’d already gone ahead and emailed Raphael to check that there weren’t any projects on hold by him dealing with family stuff, half looking for an excuse to bolt because the sheer anxiety of the situation was eating away at him.  Then, while waiting for a response back – one that was probably delayed because he thought Raph was also in Budapest and possibly sleeping off a hangover – he’d given into the urge to text Odin a quick, ‘How’d it go?’ before he could second-guess himself.  He had no reason to think it hadn’t gone well, but… 

            At this point, he was willing to acknowledge that he was just seeking some kind of external reassurance that, despite knowing it was okay, someone else agreed that everything was not in fact fucked. 

            His heart leapt in his chest when he saw the ellipses pop up in the chat showing that his son was writing something – though he started stewing more than being excited when it seemed to take a while.  He’d never caught an incoming message like this, but he’d seen how fast Odin texted in general.  As soon as he started to think something really had gone wrong, though, an image came through, and he grinned so hard his face hurt. 

            It was clearly a selfie shot, if a neatly anonymous one.  A woman’s hand rested on a naked male chest, wearing the engagement ring. 

            He shook his head a little, leaning back.  That was plenty an answer.  They either hadn’t gotten out of bed yet despite the late hour, or had gotten back in.  Either way they were happy, and he wasn’t going to bug them for the rest of the weekend. 

            Rhett sat down next to him, looking bright-eyed, and Jack rolled his eyes and showed him the screen.  The kid was kind enough to just smile and nod, happy to share in the moment instead of making a scene of it.  And… it was nice to have someone else sitting on the neutral fence to share it with.  As much as Cat had apparently spooked the other space heart, he’d also impressed the hell out of him – something about being thrilled to no longer be the biggest fish?  And that was before getting into the fact that his younger son was basically catnip for empaths. 

            Not that there was anything incriminating about the photo – he could show Jake.  But his oldest could also interact with his brother properly and earn it himself.  They’d probably do better if he didn’t try to hold their hands through it at this point. 

            Though, watching him and Lena be carefully lovey without doing anything egregious in company... it might not hurt to nudge a little.  The layers of secrecy between his boys was the real barrier, and the hospital staff had to be starting rumors by now, intentionally or otherwise.  “How much longer until you two go public?”  The shitshow from the press about Dorothy’s pregnancy had hardcore restarted all the speculation about Relena’s engagement. 

            Finding out Jake’s ‘Lena’ was Relena might go a long way towards melting Odin and Rubato’s disposition in general. 

            Jake sighed, pulling away from Relena.  “RLTT goes first,” he pointed out.  “Which, ideally, is as soon as I can go on camera and be charming without any major tells for pain.”  He made a face.  “Which means I should have brought up the issue with Senior the other day at the hospital, but I procrastinated and then he left, so…  I guess I’m going to have to do that over the phone.” 

            Oh.  He’d forgotten that he hadn’t told Jake about that conversation at the Sigma site.  So much of it wasn’t up for discussion that it had been easy to table, but he’d also maybe dropped the ball a bit.  “Ah, I actually asked him about that last week?” he admitted, chagrinned. 

            Jake’s eyes rounded but he didn’t otherwise react, which was probably a good sign.  “Yeah?” 

            Jack could feel the stares of the rest of the Guard as he laughed a little helplessly, running a hand over his head.  “I mean, I posited it as a theoretical of Senior’s history becoming known, and he shrugged it off entirely?  When I pointed out that you were worried about it, he made fun of you and argued that he was too young when Senior died for anything the man did to fall back on him.” 

            “…He called me stupid, didn’t he?” 

            Jack just laughed, not bothering to confirm.  “I think he appreciated the warning, but made it clear that he doesn’t care.”  Had said it was the least of his problems, but considering what had happened in the hospital lobby two days ago, he was not letting that suggestion into the open. 

            Jake made a rude noise but otherwise relaxed, leaning back into the couch he was on with a small wince.  “Depending on how I do over the next few days, then, I might try an interview to bring RLTT out of the dark as soon as Friday,” he decided. 

            “It might to best to wait until the final decision about David is reached and publicized,” Relena countered.  “Instead of muddying the waters.” 

            Jake grimaced.  “Or that.  Listen to the person not on opiates, please.” 

            “I thought you were happy about the opiates,” Cassidy teased. 

            “It’s a really unhealthy, love-hate relationship,” Jake snarked back, grinning even as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the couch cushions.  “Very abusive.  I’ve already packed my bags and am looking for a convenient escape.  I’m worth more than that, you know?” 

            “Jake,” Relena growled warningly, though her eyes were lit with amusement. 

            He leaned over enough to touch foreheads with her.  “Sometimes, it’s laugh or cry,” he reminded her.  “I’m getting there, I promise.” 

            Relena sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, then made a face when her phone began to ring. 

            Jake only smiled though, slowly pulling away and settling into the couch cushions.  “Duty calls,” he offered. 

            Jack debated if that was his cue, especially once Relena had pulled the device out and was frowning at the screen.  Unknown caller, or just someone she didn’t expect?  Instead of handing it off the way he’d seen her do a number of times already, however, she answered.  “Hello?”  Her frown deepened.  “Yes, speaking.  Is Ava alright?”  Eyes flashing, she made a sharp gesture to her guards that Jack couldn’t follow, even as she pulled the phone further away from her ear and tapped the volume rocker.  Across the room, Jack was still too far to make anything out, but Jake had already sat up with a wince and was leaning in, expression going distressingly blank. 

            This… was starting to feel alarming. 

            “Of course I do,” Relena announced calmly, though her politician’s face was firmly in place.  “This is my personal number.”  There was a longer pause this time.  “I see.  Well, you certainly have my attention.  May I know exactly whom I am speaking to?”  She listened for a while, brow raising, before simply saying.  “Ah.”  Her chest rose and fell with a heavy but silent sigh before she announced, “I’m going to need to verify this information before we talk further.  Is that acceptable?”  She listened to the response, before saying, “Of course.  And I would expect the same in turn.”  Her tone hardened.  “You have me at a disadvantage.  While I do appreciate the overture in reaching out to me directly and will do my best to forestall hasty action, you cannot think me happy about your methods and claim to still understand my ideals, Sir.  Yes.  Give me two hours.  Goodbye.” 

            One of the men Jack had seen around Sarracenia with some frequency but had never caught the name of was the first to say something.  “Relena?” 

            “That,” she announced in a clipped tone, “was General Devin Fosse of Libramentum.”  She turned hard eyes on the man.  “He claims to have completed a full takeover of the British Isles.” 

            Oh shit. 

            “Whether or not that is entirely true,” Relena continued, eyes still boring into the man, “he has quite a number of Romefeller hostages, as they were sure to keep the main populace out of the conflict.”  She pursed her lips.  “And they would like to ransom them for a seat and equitable terms on the Board of the Accorded Nations.” 

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Chapter Text

Dominion

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May 3^rd 199 – Sunday – Amsterdam, Netherlands – Hell’s Crossing – Residential Rooftop

            Melissa let out a deep sigh when she spotted him, playing up her exasperation to get a rise out of her husband. 

            Unfortunately, it didn’t work. 

            She doubted very much that he had missed her somehow, even brooding as he was, but she still made a point of stepping loudly and approaching from an angle that would show motion in his peripheral vision.  When she’d reached his side without getting a reaction, she sighed again and dropped her head against his shoulder, staring out into the morning light. 

            Staring west.  They couldn’t see the water from here, let alone where all the trouble was, but it wasn’t hard to guess where Duo’s mind was. 

            “The army isn’t mobilizing,” she reminded him, crossing her arms to tuck her fingers in her armpits.  I should have worn a coat.  “They just confirmed it over the web again, officially.  Whether it’s because of how much face they lost over Italy or by how much more thoroughly it was done, the Regime is willing to negotiate this time.” 

            Duo growled.  “They’re negotiating because these guys got the Accords involved before the Regime managed to get its pants on,” he countered.  “They’re going along with it because they can’t afford the backlash if they tried to bite back after her releases yesterday.” 

            “So Relena saved the day yet again,” Melissa suggested tiredly. 

            “Because they were smart enough to involve her first,” he argued.  “And smooth enough to get it done before anyone noticed.  I can’t even figure how.  And now that they’re touting themselves as an expansion of us, all buddy-buddy?  If they hold onto what they’ve taken, it’s going to be because they’re that good, and with only a short channel between them and Regime territory…  If it can be retaken, it will, whatever the delays – but ‘Liss, if they’re good enough to hold it?  That makes them a threat the Regime can’t ignore.”  He made a mad gesture towards the west.  “And they’re right fucking there.” 

            Melissa sighed.  There wasn’t much she could say to that beyond pointing out that Belgium was still a ways south – it was either going to hold, or it wouldn’t make a difference.  “What if their claims hold water?” she suggested instead.  “They didn’t kill off the aristocrats – and the general public didn’t even know until they saw the news yesterday.”  And despite the talk about hostages that the Accords had immediately honed in on, Libramentum hadn’t actually removed all the aristocrats from power. 

            Their invasion had been surgical in that they had only destroyed military sites – for all that they had pursued those with prejudice.  Quite a few of the more powerful nobles in Britain had already been in Germany for the Strike Force talks, but the remaining landed nobility and their families had – supposedly – been quietly rounded up and taken to a safehouse of some sort, largely unharmed.  Meanwhile, the more borderline industry-rich aristocrats had been let be. 

            Libramentum evidently took issue with the ruling system, not capitalism.  There had been a few implications too that they weren’t even trying to kick the nobles out – they didn’t want a family line to have automatic power in the government, or the right to collect taxes. 

            It… honestly didn’t sound too bad? 

            Duo gusted out a deep sigh.  “If half the shit we’re hearing is true, then they’re competent as hell,” he decided.  “I just can’t figure out if that’s a good thing or a bad one.”  He shifted his weight, shrinking into the collar of his coat a bit, so his next words came out muffled.  “Even if it all clears without any fighting, it opens a can of worms.  Who’s next?  If the Regime is forced to let this slide, they’re going to be on a hair-trigger for anything else.” 

            Melissa sighed and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face against his chest.  “Don’t borrow trouble.” 

            “This doesn’t fit the bill for my friends’ talk about an invasion,” he immediately argued, body still tense.  “It’s too small.  This is either a prelude or completely un-fucking-related!  And when your enemy is floundering, dealing with civil war shit, it’s a great time to hit.  And now these guys are right in our backyard.” 

            “Stop borrowing trouble!” she insisted, letting go of him to reach up and grab the lapels of his coat, tugging him down so he had to meet her eyes.  “You’re out,” she reminded him.  “You wanted to be out.  You trust your friends.  Focus on what you’ve built and let them handle what they have.” 

            His eyes were a little wild, maybe a little bit lost, as he finally seemed to see her.  “I…  Right.  You’re right.”  He let out a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her.  After taking a few more deep breaths, he quietly admitted, “It just feels too much like the war again.  Rock and a hard place and no good options – no middle ground.” 

            “We made the middle ground,” she reminded him, content to keep her arms wrapped around his neck.  He wasn’t much taller than her, and she was mostly sure they’d both stopped growing – she hoped so, at least.  It was comfortable, like this.  Amsterdam may have started as a no man’s land after Libra fell, but this last year or so, ever since the opening of the northwest border?  The Netherlands as a whole, despite its close location to the empire’s capital, had the most neutral politics you could get outside Africa.  Once you added in all the influence from RLTT and Rubato taking hold over the last six months, it wasn’t even all that chaotic anymore – not exactly ‘good’ neutral, but no longer ‘watch your back’ neutral. 

            “Yeah, maybe,” Duo returned noncommittally.  “I just wish it felt less like I was waiting for someone to come set it on fire.” 

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***

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Szczecin, Poland

            “Frankly brilliant,” Quatre continued, taking a step back from the projection to get a better look at it, bringing one hand up to his chin.  “The coordination to pull it off must have been on par with the opening moves of Operation Daybreak, if on a far smaller scale – not to mention the impression everyone had that the bulk of Libramentum’s power was more focal to the Iberian Peninsula.  I want to say one of three things is happening: either the group is far more segmented than anyone has guessed and the southern aspect is under different management, they’ve undergone an internal change of power, or their questionable operations in the south have been a constructed façade.”  He pursed his lips.  “Given the precision described about the original attack on Brussels eighteen months ago, I’m inclined to say it’s the first or third option, possibly a combination.”  He shook his head.  “But given the damage to the satellite net, it’s also hard to confirm their claims of sea supremacy.” 

            Lu grimaced and didn’t disagree.  Though, having been a part of Daybreak?  “OZ did it without breaking the Alliance infrastructure,” she pointed out. 

            He quirked an eyebrow without looking up from the map.  “You also couldn’t hold onto what you’d taken for more than a few months,” he countered.  “Depending on the details, they might.” 

            Ouch.  Not wrong, and pointedly one of the reasons she hadn’t originally been all for the plan – but her career had been in literal ashes by then and it had been a now or never sort of decision.  That and… whatever had come after, the whole point of Daybreak had been to remove the Alliance from power, and it had worked.  The problems had come from underestimating the sleeping power of Romefeller after removing their favorite tool – and then in underestimating just how much insane zealotry might spring out of the woodwork in retaliation. 

            So no, she didn’t regret Daybreak, even when he framed it like that.  It had probably still been the best way to begin breaking the stranglehold of power reaching through from the worst blocs of Romefeller – it just hadn’t been enough.  As badly as the war had ended, they had accomplished something before Libra fell, and Relena’s Accords were busy proving that point by the day. 

            It was just that, like last time, other underdogs were trying to steal the show – and they’d learned the hard way after Treize’s party splintered into a thousand fragments that too many cooks tended to spoil the pot. 

            Sally’s voice came through the speaker – and despite the communications issues they’d already begun noticing, the connection was smooth enough for now that it sounded like her friend stood just behind her.  “How much can we confirm about their troop placements?” 

            Quatre began to pace in a slow circle around their projected map of Britain and its surrounding waters.  “They claimed the Regime military resources placed there near wholesale, from what we can see,” he began.  “We have minimal evidence of collateral caused by fighting in the current satellite view, though I worry about what that meant tactically.  There are a far greater number of Aries and Tauruses than before, though they could be amplifying that number by keeping empty hangars – they knew when the next wave of imaging would come by.  Similarly, there’s enough oceanic activity to suggest they might truly have the complete marine supremacy they’re claiming.  Pisces and Cancer suits have been sighted, but the window was too short to gain anything meaningful on how many are deployed or stored out of view. 

            “Mm.”  He shrugged.  “That’s all I can give you for now.  We’ll know more based on how they negotiate and what they give away at the table – or if they wipe out any more waves of satellites.  But unless this is a colossal bluff, they would need a veritable army of seafaring suits to keep their prize – and by all accounts, they at least believe they can pull it off.”  He frowned.  “Depending on how that pans out, I’m worried they might look west – we have an agricolony northwest of the Hebrides.  Security there is designed against thieves and saboteurs, not conquest, and there’s no easy solution to change that.” 

            “And the satellite compromise?” Sally pressed.  “How bad is ‘bad?’” 

            “Heero is still putting together the details,” Lucrezia returned.  Her fiancé’s code name felt incredibly foreign in her mouth, but this was an op, not their personal lives.  “He wanted to run scenarios before quantifying it better.” 

            Sally growled.  “They’re still physically there,” she insisted.  “Someone would have noticed earlier otherwise!  Even with the speed involved-” 

            Quatre interrupted her.  “They completely fried the circuitry,” he negated.  “Heero thinks it was a virus given the wide net on a  tight window, but none of them are responding to any input, and the Sweepers picked a few up on the next cycle – the antennae are mostly intact, but the platters are slag.  We might see some variation that gives us better clues on the mechanism as they pick up the rest, but too much has to be replaced to justify calling it a ‘repair.’”  He ran a hand through his hair, tousling it as he dragged it back – he’d let someone talk him into cutting it to collar length on Friday and was obviously still getting used to not pulling it back.  “We’re not getting them back on any kind of meaningful timeframe.  Heero’s working on the delivery mechanism, but that’s mostly about seeing if we can stop it from happening again.  Everyone has gotten enough in the habit of not trusting the imaging that I’m surprised they went so far, but with it already compromising our phone integrity, I wonder how much the regular cell companies are hurting.  For now, let’s just say that more waves of the same would make the next few months interesting.” 

            Lucrezia rolled her eyes, amused even as she winced.  At a minimum, it would be disruptive.  At the worst…  Well, it was maybe a good thing that between her, Quatre, Rashid, and Abdul, they could run independent armies with intermittent communication, if it came to it.  The decentralized way they’d had to grow their troops under Zechs’ nose had at least prepared them for that eventuality. 

            She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.  For now, she was at least glad that, wild as he was, Adam had decided against taking risks last week.  He and Hilde had been far more on their own than they could have realized.  She’d put together a new team that was currently on their way to infiltrate the doll factory, but…

            Hell, but Hilde and Adam had been in the middle of a complete communications blackout – the only reason they hadn’t known was because they hadn’t tried to reach back.  If something had happened to the two of them, Lucrezia might not have known something was wrong until another week had passed.  As it was, she’d been worried enough over the British news and network hit that Hilde had been a bit bewildered over Lu’s emotional greeting on her arrival back here. 

            Though now Lucrezia was finding herself more and more upset in a different way, after getting the girl back in the sims. 

            It had made sense to bring her here, where she and Odin had installed top tier tech, to get Hilde through a crash course on Deathscythe.  And it still made sense.  But while she was improving… 

            An extra week would not have made enough of a difference, she reminded herself yet again.  After Italy, Hilde had needed some downtime – she’d been just about ready to explode.  Extending that to two weeks had been a no-brainer when she realized just how badly the winter quarantine had shaken her protégé.  The young woman freshly back from North America was herself again, as much as she would ever be. 

            But Deathscythe was starting to look like a waste.  At minimum, she’d already sent Howard a message saying they were going to need a saber option… and the stealth jammers weren’t going to be a factor. 

            And that was if they could get her back to pace on where she had been skill-wise before the quarantine in the next month. 

            Three weeks to deadline, then another for delivery.  It was enough.  They’d get somewhere in the next month. 

            It just might not be pretty. 

            “I’m less concerned about intermittent communication losses than the potential for further visual losses on the eastern border,” she admitted.  They could co-opt or build more satellites and cell towers quickly, and make do with a limited net if need be.  Lost time couldn’t be replaced if they missed the opening moves from the East. 

            “The visual network was already heavily compromised,” Quatre countered. 

            “But we could tell when it was being spoofed if not what the truth was, and it was still something they were wary of,” she argued.  “Deterrent counts, even when it’s suspect.”  As glad as she was to see David squirm back out of his treason charge, she was also going to miss having him loom near the border.  For all she knew, the East was already pushing the line now that he’d set up a more permanent base for his troops and come west to play politics.

            She hadn’t been paying enough attention to the talks to know where they were at with all that, honestly.  The writing on the wall was clear enough about what was going to happen – hopefully this new shit with the Isles would speed the process up instead of stalling it out, but those politics did need to get sorted to everyone’s satisfaction if they wanted something stable. 

            Sally sighed.  “Keep me posted as you learn more, please.” 

            “We’ll get more if Jovi can tell Relena you are asking,” Quatre reminded her, crossing his arms. 

            “You could tell her you want to know, if you’re so comfortable,” the doctor returned, not missing a beat.  Quatre’s eyes slid to one side in serious contemplation, and Sally, hilariously, somehow read his lack of immediate response correctly, adding, “We want to negotiate from a position of power, remember?” 

            Lu rolled her eyes.  “Like Libramentum?” she asked scornfully.  Not that she really disagreed with the argument, but she was tired of it anyway. 

            “To be fair, it doesn’t look too bad for them at the moment,” Quatre pointed out. 

            “Let them be the trailblazers.  I’d rather come around the back with a better hand, especially if this spins out violently.  So long as Marquise is still the one in power, Relena’s group of officials is only as effective as the puppet democracy the Alliance kept for show-and-tell.  If she hasn’t moved against him yet it’s because she can’t, and if we have to fish her out of the ruins of her brother’s latest massacre to rebuild over the ashes of another war, I want everyone else still unsure of what we’ve got up our sleeves.”  She sighed.  “I’ll talk to you later.” 

            Lucrezia sighed too as the line disconnected, setting her hands on her hips and looking over the map again.  Honestly…  “How much of this is conjecture?” 

            Quatre raised his brows, lifting one hand to his chin.  “More than I like, but less than you’re thinking,” he suggested.  “Less guesswork, more statistics from microsamples of data.” 

            …Great.  She couldn’t do anything helpful with that.  Odin was buried in code and more statistics and Hilde was bashing her way back through drills that would only frustrate her if she tried supervising right now… but she needed something productive to do.  “Can we map out where to commission additional cell towers, if we lose more satellites?” 

            Quatre shrugged.  “There’s not much point right now, but-”  He cut himself off, blinking, then frowned.  “Hm.”  Focusing back on her with a critical expression, he asked, “Do you need to work out of this site, or was this just a decent meeting point?” 

            Her eyes narrowed.  While the DPS system here was technically better than what she had at other bases, Hilde was rough enough that pushing that angle was more wishful thinking than anything.  “Are you kicking me out?” 

            His expression turned wry.  “I feel less bad about telling Hilde to wear a mask or stay in a specific set of rooms than I do you,” he offered.  “I could just lock her in the basement – her fits of pique are contradictory enough that they make me want to laugh more than anything.  But my life will be easier if I don’t have to worry about who my guest might see – I’m mostly sure he does part-time work with Relena’s court, and he’s not known for keeping his mouth shut.” 

            She rolled her eyes again, but smiled as she shook her head.  “You could have said you were expecting company before I tried to set up shop,” she pointed out, already debating which base would be best. 

Prague was probably easiest – while they didn’t keep suits there, the sims were just one tier below those installed here. 

            Also?  It was far more central than the Carpathian or Blue Nile sites if they needed to switch things up.  Enough that she shouldn’t get severely disconnected if things changed abruptly and the network issues grew worse. 

            Sally will also calm down a bit with her favorite chicks home to roost, she mused.  At least until they knew what was going to happen with the British takeover. 

            It was Quatre’s turn to roll his eyes, even as he pulled out his phone and started tapping at the screen.  “Expectation implies a plan.”  Bringing it up to one ear, he added, “We’re at a standstill on this anyway.”  Then, his attention flicking away, he announced, “Hey, what are you doing?”  A pause, as he raised his eyebrows at her, giving her a bemused smile as he said, “Yeah?” 

            Mm, better to go find Odin and Audi before trying to dig Hilde out.  They’d only been here for a couple hours – she hadn’t unpacked anything, for all that her bag was up in the suite Odin had staked out the last time they stayed here.  Glancing around the room, she picked up her messenger bag and started looking around for anything she’d scattered while they brainstormed. 

            Quatre gestured to dismiss the holographic map and raise the lights back to a normal setting.  “Sure, let’s do it.  Are you walking, or did you need an address for a cab?” 

***

            “Are you walking, or did you need an address for a cab?” 

            “I mean, I’m not in Berlin right now,” Rhett admitted, his excitement at not being the one to reach out first dampening.  “But I can get there in a couple hours.”  It had been a while since anyone had come to talk to him about empathy, and it had literally never been with someone he might consider an equal.  The majority of space hearts, he’d found, only wanted to experiment far enough to find a comfortable space instead of seeing what they could do with it. 

            He’d texted a few times after picking up a new phone, but since the weekend was still on, he hadn’t expected to hear back any time soon, if at all.  With Odin in the mix, Cat – Robby fucking Stanton, wasn’t that a trip? – had been difficult to read, but he’d liked what he’d picked up, even as the other man’s confident power had initially scared the shit out of him. 

            Surfing had scared him senseless at first too – the best things in life usually came after admitting you didn’t have all the control, in his experience.  Once you learned the rules of the game and got comfortable with the chaos, the real fun started. 

            He’d stopped screwing around after taking up with the Millers – he’d bummed around Germany for a couple weeks before the assassination attempt, but had already been thinking it was probably time to move on, at least on the macroscale.  The people around here had a lot less to work with and a lot more to lose, which made for less fun overall.  With the Millers heading south again and everything in Berlin currently in political limbo, he’d decided to catch a train north to surprise Priya.  He hadn’t seen her in almost two years, after all, and she was right there. 

            On the other hand, he could pick up with his favorite pseudo-cousin – what else could you call your aunt that was only three months older than you? – any time.  He’d be willing to rent or even buy a car to get back in touch with Cat.  There was a platter of sheer opportunity there that he couldn’t even find the edges of. 

            Besides – since he’d wanted to surprise her, Priya didn’t know he was here yet, so she wouldn’t feel let down about him ditching. 

            A low laugh came through the line.  “Rhett, I know you’re in Poland.  I called because you’re in my radius.”