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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?” 

-

***

-

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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