Legacy 4/14
Posted: Mon May 02, 2005 5:30 pm
Heero could not have been more surprised by the way this meeting was turning out than if Relena had announced plans to sprout bird wings from her back and fly under her own power from here to L1.
The moment he walked into the room she'd gestured him and Trowa to a chair and starts out with a very blunt "this may seem a little unusual for a second date, but I want to meet your parents." Meaning that she'd wanted to meet with Lady Une in person as soon as humanly possible on a matter of very grave importance for all concerned. She needed to know not just the strengths in numbers of the Preventors but also the strength of the Preventors leadership and that was not something she would get by hearing about the Lady from either of them or even by talking to her over the vid-link (which she did not have access to). Midii needed to take the Lady's measure face to face. Of course, he had already intended to ask for an invitation but since things were going his way anyway he wasn't going tell her that. Cautious was the way to play the game.
Her second in command clearly wasn't happy about it, and in his position Heero wouldn't have been either; after all Miss Une had known the two of them as Preventor Agents for roughly three hours the previous evening, that wasn't very much time to make an impression. Inviting their leader and whatever other friends she might decide to bring along was a rather risky move; they might just bring enough of a force to usurp her position and take over.
Since she had no way of knowing that such a scenario wouldn't be the case Heero had to wonder if perhaps Midii Une wasn't being a little too trusting. Then again, she was keeping the details of why she wanted to meet with Lady Une under tight wraps, so perhaps trusting wasn't a word that could apply to the little missie. Heero could hazard a guess that it had to do with the messenger who had come speeding into camp like his ass was on fire earlier that day. He felt that if it had been a matter involving the Raiders or some form of natural disaster Miss Une would have sent her Homeguard out or handled the matter herself. Which only left Sacred Omega. Well, it left a lot of things, but Sacred Omega was foremost on his mind. Something had to have changed; her body posture said she was feeling a little worried and her manner was just on the edge of distracted, as if she were trying to think of ten different things at once. He'd seen Quatre get that look when he was planning a very big strategy.
"She's planning something," Trowa mouthed to him, knowing fully well that Heero could read lips. Miss Une was looking over at her partner who had just said something. "I would guess that it's something big, but she's really worried."
Heero nodded. That confirmed it; Midii Une was officially planning something. The sooner the Lady arrived here, the sooner they might know what that something was.
* * *
It was late in the night, almost midnight, and Midii was still wide awake in her tent poring over the maps of her country and the latest report from her scouts. She had sent out an entire detatchment of her Homeguard that afternoon on the fastest transports she had available to run to all the sectors and tell the Havens Coordinators therein that there would be a meeting roughly the day after tomorrow and they needed to be there or else things would go badly. Now she was worrying over whether they would have the facilities to accomodate this meeting of hers at this Haven which was already burdened with nearly a hundred unexpected guests.
The storm that was said to be on the way still hadn't struck, and that worried her. On top of all the other worries she was harboring at the moment, what was one more really? Raiders, refugees, Homeguard, foul weather and a Sacred Omega that was currently well on its way to arming itself well enough to wage war on a small country, namely *her* smal country; if things could possibly get worse she really didn't want to know. For the hundredth time that day she looked over the map of her tiny country with anxious eyes.
How was she going to do it? How was she ever going to pull off moving well over forty thousand refugees from all over the place to one centralized location in the amount of time she had before they became fully oppeational; plus pull off negotiations with the Preventors? She wasn't a saint for crying outloud! She hadn't really even asked for this position; she had just sort of gotten it by default because no one else was doing anything. If not her then who? Someone with less ethics? Someone who wouldn't care how many lives were spent as long as thier objectives were reached? No, she couldn't allow that. The blood of her fighters was as precious to her as her own blood; any lost fighter on her Homeguard could mean the difference between a victory and a defeat. Defeat was not an option; it hadn't been an option with the Alliance, it wasn't an option with the Raiders and it couldn't be an option with Sacred Omega.
She still wasn't entirely certain that it was possible to pull off what she had in mind no matter how confidently she reassured her second in command. With thirty-three sectors in Belterre, and at least five Havens within each sector that was one hundred sixty five at least; the maximum capacity for each Haven was three hundred... she added the numbers up in her head. Almost fifty thousand at the minimum. She turned to her map and counted out all of the Havens to get a more accurate picture of how many people she would be dealing with. There were two hundred and twenty seven Havens in all; oh, so it was on average about seven Havens per sector. Three hundred people each; that came out to sixty-eight thousand and one hundred. Add on the staff of Coordinators and sub-Coordinators at fifteen heads per Haven and it brought the total to over seven thousand. She felt a dull throb start to form just behind her right eye. Right at that moment it seemed like an impossible number. How was she going to get that enormous an amount of people to quietly pack up their things and sneak off to the capitol without being seen and have them all there within a week and a half so she could have her Homeguard begin building defenses around the city she planned to take over? It was impossible, there was no way they could make it within that time frame. But the stark cold fact of the matter was that they had to... there was no other choice.
<Job had it easy,> she thought.
Underneath all of these other worries was one worry she dared not worry about because if she did she knew she'd get so distracted she wouldn't be able to concentrate on her Herculean tasks. Nanashi, or Trowa Barton as he had decided to name himself... why Trowa Barton though? It was a rather obvious name, just like Heero Yuy was an obvious name. Maybe nameless soldiers had taken to choosing obvious names.
She shook her head. She couldn't afford to think about him right now, but her thoughts refused to listen to her stubborn common sense. She couldn't help thinking about him; the fact that he was in her camp right then at that very moment made her feel nervous, more than nervous... it made her feel that creeping almost ever-present sense of guilt that silently dogged her footsteps. And whenever he was in the same room with her she felt hyper-aware of his presence. She felt she covered it well but when he was sitting there looking at her with those peircing green eyes of his... it just made her feel... intensely self-conscious. She'd always thought that the saying "I could feel his eyes on me" was just a saying but now she knew better; it was true, it was like an actual physical sensation all along her skin. It felt like his gaze was trying to bore a hole right through body and read the contents of her soul within.
And the fact that the two of them had an unfortunate history didn't help matters any either. Everytime he walked into the meeting with her the "white elephant" walked right in along with him; not a real elephant of course but with the nearness of the circus he certainly could bring an elephant in with him if he'd cared to, that is if he could get it to fit inside her tent which really wasn't likely... Where was she going with this?
<There!> she scolded herself. <You think about him for even a moment and your mind starts babbling!> She really had to get a grip.
He made her feel nervous and a little ashamed because they had this big terrible uncomfortable subject between them that neither of them openly mentioned and he kept hinting at and she kept trying to ignore and it was really hanging over the both of their heads like the sword of Damocles. She caused the death of all of his comrades, she'd become his friend and then betrayed him. She knew he had to hate her for it and she wanted to be able to hate him for hating her but she couldn't because she didn't blame him for hating her because she hated herself for what she'd done. And that was the center of it all; she couldn't forgive herself and she desperately wanted to, so she went through her life feeling horrible and trying to push that feeling away by trying to atone for what she done in her own mind... but no accomplishment however great made the guilt go away. Now that Nanashi/Trowa was in a place where his eyes bore into her and he reminded her every other minute of this horrible thing she had done to him that she just couldn't shake she felt worse and worse.
Damn. It was one big mess. The truth was she still cared about him. She wanted to make things better between them but how did someone make amends for something like that? She was too ashamed to talk to him openly, and she didn't know what she could possibly say to make up for it. "I'm sorry," seemed inadequate and it changed nothing. There was nothing she could do that would fix what she'd done to him; there was nothing she could say that would possibly make it right. So every time she saw him she just felt absolutely terrible. He was right there! The least she could do was say something.
<Coward,> she berated herself. <Weak, selfish; no good!>
The few times she'd found a mirror to look in, Midii never saw a good or noble person looking back at her. All the rest of Homeguard and the people she tried so hard to protect thought she was some kind of holy saint; but that was because they didn't know what she was truly like inside. They didn't know the horrible thing she carried with her the she felt ashamed of. They didn't know that she was afraid, and that she was too weak and scared to tell the one she cared about how she felt. All they saw was the brave, honest, feirce, proud and noble woman she tried to project. They all saw Number One; protector of the defenseless, leader of Homeguard, scourge of the Alliance (and anyone else who came into Belterre with the intention of waging war on her home ground). They saw the woman who put their lives and safety above her own, they saw the woman who would face fire, darkness, and death to protect her precious homeland. They saw what they needed to see, but she knew the truth about herself; she was a liar, and a betrayer, and someone who didn't deserve to live. She wasn't brave or noble or honest, she only wished she was.
She tried hard to be that good person who was honest with others and who could face down any hardship or task without batting an eye, who never lost confidence, who was always strong and steady but she knew the truth. She saw the truth about herself in the way she fought. She never engaged the enemy forces head on but always from the shadows; she'd had all of her Homeguard trained in skirmishing instead of open combat so that she wouldn't have to risk them as often. She had her fighters sabotage the enemy weapons and machinery, scatter their supplies and make them unusable, destoy what minor outposts and enemy structures they could without getting caught and then, only when the enemy was crippled and demoralized, did they dare attack. Or, if she had to run a defensive tactic she always made sure she had more numbers that she expected her opponent to have and she fought where the terrain could favor her and her tactics were always of a boom-surprise nature. She often felt proud of what she and her Homeguard had been able to accomplish with what little they had, but then there were times like this when she started thinking about it, and it all suddenly seemed very cowardly to her.
<Feh! I think too much,> she thought, turning back to her map. She roughly shook herself out of her melancholy mood. Thinking about Nanashi and everything that had happened always caused all of her old doubts and insecurities to show up univited and wreck her self-confidence party. Right then she couldn't afford to thow herself a pity party, she had a lot of people who were counting on her and she needed to be the kind of woman they could count on.
<Okay, listen up Midii because I'm only going to say this once,> she thought sternly at herself, straightening her spine and frowning for good measure. <As the leader of Homeguard you have to be stronger than all of your own weaknesses. If you don't like something about yourself then change it, if you think you're a coward about something then face it; but don't wallow in misery and self-doubt, because you've got a lot bigger things to worry about. You don't gain or change anything by running away.>
There! Pep-talk over with. She felt better. Confidence restored and all of that. The moster was back in the closet for now but she knew deep down that it would be back out again once the lights were off to prey on her in her weaker moments. But for the next few days she intended to keep herself so busy that she didn't have time for weak moments. Having an impossible task to occupy her time would likely ensure it too. But first... perhaps she should stop running away and finally face what was bothering her so much. Nanashi and the whole issue with him was a chink in her armor large enough to drive a mobile suit through and she needed to get it out in the open and resolved for better or worse before she tried to take on the monumental task of setting things up for this massive migration of hers. If she wasn't at the top of her game then everything stood a real chance of falling apart, and she had too many people counting on her to let that happen.
* * *
Trowa couldn't sleep. On the nearby pallet in the tent platform they'd been assigned along with about five others Cathy slept the sleep of the just, sound as a rock. Trowa sighed, the hard wood of the platform beneath him softened only by a thin foam mat didn't bother him for he'd slept on worse back in his lifetime as a soldeir and his body was more accusomed to that than the softness of a bed. His sleeping accomodations didn't bother him, the thoughts whirling around in his head did.
Midii Une; his old arch nemesis if he'd ever had such a thing. It was an unexpected and unpleasant surprise to be faced with her again so suddenly. Over the years his mind had gradually painted her into this looming specter made of all of the things that were bad in the enemies he'd faced; that they were selfish, that they often killed without remorse, that they would lie, trick and manipulate people to get their way. She was the enemy and he'd felt justified in disliking her now. But his hazy memories were reminding him that he hadn't hated her then; in fact, he hadn't really cared one way or the other. He'd mourned the loss of the Captain, the only real father figure he'd ever had as a nameless boy-soldier, but he hadn't been angry then. So what had changed?
If he didn't hate her back then, why did he hate her now? If he wasn't angry back then why was he so angry with her now? She wasn't the evil villainess his mind had built up over time; casual observation told him this, but he somehow refused to hear it. It was like something in him wanted to be angry with her!
He didn't understand it, but he felt it. It was like a snake made of hot, slow burning coals coiled around inside his stomach. He was genuinely angry with her and he wanted her to know that he was angry. Like some demon possesed him, he needled her at every opportunity during the meetings she had requested of them. It was hard to tell whether she was affected by it or not because she'd been treating them both with unwavering respectful politeness throughout the meetings they'd had. He could read that she was worried, but that could be attributed to whatever it was that had made her need to meet with Lady Une so quickly and suddenly. He didn't want her worried, he wanted her aware that he was displeased. He wanted her to stop treating him as if he was merely some casual stranger she had no connection whatsoever with.
There was a small part of him that was appalled at his behavior and his apparent desire to poke and prod at her until she reacted, that whispered the word "persecution" into his conscience, he was wondering what was happening to him. He'd never been vengeful before, but the fact that she treated him and Yuy on the same level even after all that she had been through with him really irked him badly.
She wasn't a villainess, but perversely he wanted her to be. She had been irritatingly honest and frustratingly fair in her dealings with them and the people they traveled with. She had rescued the circus civilians when it would have been easier for hir if she had ignored them, she had given them all shelter when she could have sent them on their way through possibly dangerous territory, she had asked her people to feed them even when her own people's resources were stretched thin. And that was just the way she treated strangers in general, the way she'd treated himself and Heero as emissaries of the Preventos Agency had been annoyingly above reproach. She had not withheld information from them when she could very easily have done so, her questions when she asked them had been more along the lines of broad general inquiries concerning their chain of command and the way they worked insted of specific inquiries about their strengths and weaknesses, and she never reprimanded or even indicated the slightest degree of upset no matter how he probed her.
Then there was that Michael Bryson character. Trowa liked him even less than he disliked Midii. He was cocky, and not in a way that was disarming. He was too familiar with his commanding officer and Midii let him be! She treated him like a spoilt, favored firstborn son; she indulged his casual treatment of her, humored his stupid witty remarks and ignored his cavalier behavior. There was an obvious bond of affection between the two of them, and the guy always seemed to be handling her. It wasn't in a loverly fashion, but he often put his hand on her shoulder or squeezed her arm and she'd just look at him with silent thanks. Trowa felt threatened by him somehow; well not overtly threatened, Trowa was a Gundam pilot and it was hard to feel overtly threatened by a person he could probably snap in half without having to use his mobile suit. But nevertheless Trowa disliked Bryson immediately and intensely. He would definately bear watching in the future. His thoughts were chasing themselves in circles around his head; he needed to get out for some fresh air.
Outside, the air was cool and heavy with the scent of rain, and the vague chill nip in the air was a portent that winter was not far off for this country. He wandered aimlessly around the Haven. Up on the watchtowers Homeguard members vigilantly manned their posts, searching for any sign of trouble in the nearby area. The fires in the fire-pits were banked for the night and all but one or two of the tent-platforms around the pits were dark with sleeping inhabitants. There was a bad storm expected in the area very soon, and since the circus' trailers and rigs that had been left behind in the flood and retreived later were still being maintenended by the Homeguard's mechanics they were likely going to be stuck in this place along with everyone else when it blew through. Perhaps he was only restless. He continued wandering around the camp.
During his stay there for the past day or so he'd gathered that Highground Haven had been moved very recently due to flooding; despite that fact the place was still sturdy, well fortified, and neat and sanitary. Trowa recognized that it was also made almost entirely of things scavenged from the military. Given what Midii had said about the mobile suits being "requisitioned" by force from the Alliance military it came as no surprise that the rest of the stuff that kept all of the refugees fed, watered, sheltered, and sanitized also came from the military. If there was one thing the military was good at it was producing tough, durable, dependable, and useful objects that could take a beating and keep on coming back for more. The cook-tents and portable heating surfaces within were standard military feild issue, as were the mess-tents, the portable showering units that had been erected near the water purifying tanks were also the collapsable affairs the military favored, and the main command tent that the Coordinator lived and worked in was a model H307 Wetdog, seven feet high at the apex fiteen feet by twenty feet in length and width. Most of the other tent platforms in the place were a combination of hand built wood frames serving as the walls and floors with military heavy canvas stretched overtop as a roof. This place, despite its fortified walls and sturdy wood tent platforms, was only temporary. It was like a little purgatory where the refugees were waiting until it was safe enough for them to move on with thier real lives and begin rebuilding. It was also highly mobile; he wasn't sure if that was because they'd recently had to move due to flooding and they hadn't gotten a chance to settle in like they wanted to or if all Havens were built as temporary bivouacs and they were all that mobile.
Maybe this place was getting on his nerves too. He'd been raised a soldier from as far back as he could remember which meant that he had spent just about his entire life in military structures just like this. Now that he was no longer needed very much as a soldier, he was rather proud of his civilianhood. Sure, he still traveled around in a tent; but it was a colorful tent and in it he did his job and brought laughter and smiles to young faces. Maybe being stuck back in a drab rather hopeless looking military environment was reminding him of the kinds of things he'd rather forget. Like his past.
He looked over at the large tent just to the fore of the tents where the Homeguard fighters, mechanics and support team resided (which was also right in front of their precious few beat-up old mobile suits) that Midii had held her meetings with Heero and himself in. The light was still on. Silluetted against the cloth of the canvas by a lantern on the inside he could see her form still bent over a table. He watched her shadow massage its temple like she had a headache. She was planning something, that much he knew; but he got the feeling she didn't actually hold out much hope about it becomeing a reality.
<In a place like this, I'll bet it's hard for anyone to hope to make much of anything a reality,> he thought. The surroundings were utilitarian and drab, a mix of greys and browns that seemed to seep into each other lifelessly. It was utterly cheerless, with a rather "Welcome to the Apocalypse" feel to it, like in all those old moveis where the world has ended and the last few desperate humans are banded together and struggling to exist.
Midii's shadow stretched her arms far above her head and arched her back against the back of her folding chair then rose and shrunk her way toward the exit of the tent. She didn't notice him as she emerged, rubbing one eye tiredly. Geez, she looked... careworn. It wasn't the well-worn state of her clothing or even the painfully thin form of her frame that bespoke not enough meals all the time. It was something about her face, her eyes perhaps; they looked shadowed. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in her grey canvas parka that was only about three sizes too big for her. She looked up at the dark night sky and inhaled deeply.
"Winter is coming," he read on her lips. Her eyes grew even more worried. "What bad timing."
<Bad timing?> he thought. <What's badly timed?>
Midii walked over to a large plastic bin at the base of one of the cook tents nearby and opened the lid, extracting a canteen and a thin package of some kind of food. More military rations. She slouched down on top of the box after she replaced the lid and tore open the contents of the package then opened the canteen. Some midnight snack; plain water and those hard crackers that came with the Meals Ready to Eat that even most soldiers wouldn't touch unless they were desperate. The crackers went by a variety of mocking and descriptive nicknames; roof shingles, floor tiles, bricks and hard tack among them. It must be an aqquired taste. he looked around him again. And he would bet that the situation in this place had been desperate enough quite a few times for some people to aqquire it whether they liked it or not.
She looked around, her eyes scanning about habitually, and she looked surprised when she spotted him leaning casually against the leg of a mobile suit observing her. She averted her eyes and ducked her head down, looking for all the world like she was... afraid of him? Hn. Odd, she hadn't acted like this when they'd been confronted with each other during the meeting in her tent. She'd been polite, but all business; calm, professional, and utterly unruffled. Now she looked embarrased and hesitant. She glanced off to one side, indecision written on her face; then snuck another glance at him. Trowa remained unchanged, not even the wind ruffled at his hair.
Midii changed her position, unbending her legs in preparation to get up from the top of the box she sat on. She was looking away again, clearly debating with herself. Trowa remained there, watching her. A few moments later she snuck another glance at him, then looked down again and hesitantly rose to her feet. She was clearly thinking about approaching him and trying to gauge whether she should or not. She looked over at him, and then looked down, then a few seconds later she flicked another glance back at him.
<Make up your mind,> he thought irritatedly. He wasn't sure whether he wanted her to or not; as long as she stood there in indecision he had the option of walking away without having to talk to her but if she came over he might be forced to interact with her. he'd move, but Trowa didn't feel like moving righ then. He'd come out for fresh air and this particular spot was... better than the one twenty feet away in the other direction and out of her eyeshot.
She glanced at him once again and took a hesitant step in his direction. When he didn't twitch a muscle she took another step. She was like a shy forest creature tring to guage whether a new comer to her lands was going to attack her for food or not. She did have remarkably doe-like eyes; large and round and full of that hunted animal look, that please don't hurt me because I can't defend myself look. That look that had gotten him to take her in, he reminded himself of that. But he still didn't feel like moving, the air was remarkably good in that spot he had found. She seemed to gather her courage and walked over in his direction in earnest, her booted footsteps firm on the gravel paths that were what this Haven had for roads.
Midii reached his side.
"Good evening," she greeted sombrely.
Trowa nodded silently in return. Great, she was going to make with the small talk. Trowa hated small talk. Why couldn't people just say what they had come to say right off the bat without having to inquire about his health, the health of his family, and a comment or two on the weather?
"I hadn't expected to find you out this late but since you're here and we're alone I wanted to talk with you," she said. Trowa gave no sign of surprise but he was a little surprised; it wasn't often that someone was that straightforward.
"About what?" he replied at last.
"Us. That. You know," she said. Trowa nodded, he knew. There was a long silent moment. At last she moistened her lips and said
"There's nothing I can say that will make it better. There's nothing I can do that will give you back the lives of your comrades..."
There was a moment of silence again where Midii couldn't go on and Trowa paused to analyze her words and tone. She hadn't rehearsed what she was going to say, but her words were sincere and possibly straight from the heart. Supposing she had one of course. With difficulty she took a deep breath and went on.
"If it's at all possible, I'd like to try to make amends with you," she said. He studied her face from beneath his hair; she looked nervous, guilty, and a little hopeful. Trowa didn't know what o say, so as usual he said nothing.
"Er... Well, I know this seems a little sudden and maybe several years too late but... I-I just want you to know that, I ah..." she trailed off, looking down and away. Taking another breath she visibly steeled herself, raised her face to meet his gaze squarely and continued.
"I know I can't change the past, but I can shape the present and perhaps create the future. I don't want to repeat my mistakes, so I'm asking if there's a chance that you can... that you can forgive me. I wan't to be your friend. I want to help you."
<Forget the past?> he thought. <Not possible. If you can't change it, then why bother?>
Trowa stood leaning casually against the leg of the beaten-up mobile suit with his arms crossed and his expression as closed and inscrutable as ever, his cool gaze picking her apart molecule by molecule. Then he abruptly changed positions, moving with the ease of a hunting predator, he suddenly stood before her. He'd always been a little taller than she, but now he positively towered over her, his shadow darkened her pale features. Maybe it was just that there wasn't very much to her; Midii was wraith-like thin, a whisp of a woman, but she stood there unafraid. She met his eyes without hiding, her expression was both open and stubborn, and perhaps a little defiant. Trowa advanced until they were inches apart. He looked down at her and dropped his mask of harmlessness, letting her see and remember the deadly creature he could be. He had the vague satisfaction and disappointment of seeing a tiny drop of fear creep into her eyes. He brushed past her with his hands in his pockets and walked back to his tent without another word. He wasn't certain exactly what kind of message Midii would have gotten out of that moment in reply to what she'd hoped; he wasn't even certain what he'd meant to say.
But in that moment where he'd had her entire being captured to his hand, he could have sworn he'd felt his heart beat oddly.
* * * * *
Next time on Legacy: In which Lady Une and Number One of Homeguard have a meeting?..
"We've arrived," Wufei announced blandly as he expertly brough the chopper down for a smooth landing.
"This is the place?" Lady Une inquired looking out of her window at the sight of a steel reinforced sandbag wall with metal siding planted on it for extra sheilding. Manned watchtowers rose above the walls, giving the place more the look of a fortified fortress than a meeting place for peacful negotations.
"These are coordinates Heero gave us," Wufei replied, his voice stiff with dignity.
"Its certainly very..." Une trailed off.
Lady Une gets several very unpleasant surprises??
"We're being attacked!"
"Attacked?!" Une said in alarm. "By who?"
"Sacred Omega. They've found the weapons cache. We're fighting them off but they've already destroyed half of out munitions and suits!"
And Trowa and Midii have a not-fight.
"You're going to hurt yourself," he pursued. His voice sounded closer.
"If I were it would have happened by now," she replied, not sparing him a single glance. "This isn't anything I'm not accustomed to. I may pilot a mobile suit when the need calls for it, but that doesn't mean pushing buttons and pulling joysticks are my most strenuous activities."