August 20, 2000
Rating: Mature audience only, please...
Pairings: 1+2+5, 3+4, 6+9, S+11
Warnings: *Yaoi* and *Yuri* themes. Sappy in some parts. *Angst* in other areas. Strong language at unexpected turns. Pregola--pregnant g-boys! Major confusion! Out of control characters... I think that pretty much covers it! ^_^;;
Feedback: C&C is always welcomed and adored.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters belong to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency and are only being used for non-profit entertainment purposes. References to printed texts, films, sitcoms, musical pieces, and/or other fanfictions don't belong to me either.
Notes: "Oh Baby, Baby" is in approximately 203 AC, placing the boys at ~23-24 years of age.
The plot has grown even move complex--and they said it couldn't be done! ^_^;;
Hiroshima received a phone call from a Mr. Richard Garret (any guess as to who *he* is?). We also learned that Hiro's mother was killed right in front of her along with her cousin, the original Heero Yuy. Hiroshima Jackson has not only a connection to the five scientists who built the gundams, but also to the five young men who piloted them. And now she's in control of the child Wufei will carry.
The office wasn't extravagant, not by any means, though it wasn't spartan, either. No, indeed, it was elegance delivered with comfort. The three walls displayed a painting each. In the one corner was a large potted plant. Against the one wall was a knickknack table, a clear vase sprouting fresh rose blooms at its center, a picture frame flanking each end. One frame showed a girl--perhaps only fourteen--with dark wavy red hair spilling around her pixie-face and shoulders, disappearing behind her; her large china-blue eyes sparkled and her shell-pink lips smiled; her peaches-and-cream complexion showed not a hint of blemish; her slender hands cupped her chin and cheeks as she posed for the camera. The other frame showed a young woman in her late twenties, in a preventer uniform. She leaned slightly to the left, one hand curled under her chin as she smiled, her grey eyes focusing on something beyond the camera lens.
Hanging above the roses was an oil painting of two mobile suits in the heat of battle, one a metallic red, the other a blend of blinding white, red, and blue. The caption at the bottom of the portrait read: The Fight for Peace.
On the opposite wall was a portrait of a woman, the head of the Preventers. The tag read "Lady Anne, May 197AC". A love seat pressed against the wall beneath the portrait.
The fourth wall was made completely of glass, overlooking the city outside. Before the glass wall was a large desk of deep mahogany; two armchairs were positioned before the desk. The desk was piled with important-looking paperwork, but no one sat in the plush chair behind it.
In fact, the large office looked empty upon first entering. That is, unless you were to look directly to your right. Then you would see a young woman--little difference from the portrait painted six years earlier. She stood, still as a statue, before the third painting in the room, hugging herself as she studied the faces immortalized forever upon the canvas.
It was the largest painting. It had to be, for it's canvas displayed over thousands of faces--a memorial to those who fought the battle for peace, and to those who gave their lives in that battle. The Oz soldiers, the Alliance members, members of the White Fang, and the innocents who were caught in the crossfire. Faces of all who had died, faces of all who had fought. And she could name every one.
The portrait looked almost surreal, intriguing, captivating. You could stare at it for hours and not see every detail there to be found... Three colonies drifted in a sea of stars; the three colonies that were no more. Faces stared out from every window; faces of the dead, of the innocents. Across the stretch of space, scenes played out--scenes of various places... New Edwards... Lake Victoria... Siberia... Antarctica... San Francisco... Versailles... Soldiers in different uniforms standing side-by-side in a way they never had in life. Most were dead, now, these soldiers. Some had survived the war and tried to live normal lives... but most were dead.
Her eyes fell upon peasants working in a field. Dead. All of them were now dead. Innocents. Innocents who had died needlessly. Destroyed by a war for peace. And in the background of this sea of dead faces, stood seven remarkable mobile suits, guardians of the people, the innocents... and defenders of the peace... Tallgeese, WingZero, DeathScythe Hell, HeavyArms, SandRock, ShenLong, and Epyon.
Seven faces were imposed over the facemasks of the mobile suits. Faces of the brave men who held their lives as sacrifice to pilot those suits...
Hands rested on her shoulders, adding to the weight of the world she felt was already there. "Lady, you worry," a cultured voice said softly.
"Hai," she replied, in equal tones. A scent of roses drifted past her, and her milk-chocolate brown eyes fluttered shut. "I worry." She sighed and pulled away, turning towards her desk. "I was not expecting you back so soon, Zechs."
The platinum blond man grinned wolfishly. "Mission complete, Lady. I shall have the report to you by the morning."
"No need to rush, no need to rush," she murmured. "So, I take it that it was a success?"
He nodded, studying her closely. "I just wanted to stop by and let you know the fire's out, before heading home. I thought I'd take Kit and Noin out to dinner and--what's wrong?"
"Mm." Une sat down at the large desk--seeming to disappear behind it. "Noin's out with Sally on business," she told him. "Kit was staying with me, until Dorothy came to get her. I think she said something about a zoo or a circus or something like that opening on L3..."
"L3?" Zechs shook his head. "I think my daughter has more frequent-flyer mileage than I do..."
Une smiled. "Despite all of Dorothy's complaints about children, she does love them."
"Hn. She loves to spoil them and then return them to their parents so *we* get to tell her 'no' and deal with her temper-tantrums," Zechs grumped. He deposited himself in one of the armchairs--since he didn't have anyplace to get to anytime soon anymore he might as well stay and chat. No sense in rushing home to an empty house.
She shot him an amused look. "You mean you've actually told that child 'no'?"
He glared, poutingly. "Yes." The tone was that that bespoke "no duh". "We *have* tried to discipline her..."
"Have any suggestions?" She sounded defeatedly tired.
"Problems?"
"Mariemeia just entered another school this week," Une informed him.
"And...?"
"I received a call from the headmistress today, asking that I please remove her." She groaned an pillowed her head on her arms in a very unprofessional-like manner. "I know she's a teenager now and exploring her independence, and I've *tried* to be supportive... but twenty-eight schools in less than two years is..."
"Another fight?"
"The woman didn't say, though I can only imagine..." Another groan immerged.
"Thank God I'm only dealing with the terrible two's and not the terrible teens," Zechs commiserated.
Une looked up with a glare. And then her face fell into a pathetic frown again before it fell to her arms. "I'm a pathetic excuse for a parent," she groaned. "I've failed Trieze; I've failed Mariemeia; I've--"
"You know, I don't think I've ever heard you whine before, Lady Une," Zechs said with a bemused smile.
She looked up again, glaring again. "Just you wait, Zechs Marquis. Just you wait until *your* daughter's an out-of-control teenager..."
Zechs was still smiling. "Why wait? The child's out of control now. I blame it on her mother's influence."
"And what influence would that be?" Noin asked as she followed Sally into the office. "The doorman told me you were here," she answered his unspoken question, depositing herself on his lap.
"Back so soon?" Une asked, clearly surprised.
"Yep." Sally tossed her a folder. "Guess who's on the Behenna Satellite right now."
"I'll give you a hint, they travel in a pack of five," Noin said, leaning back and covering Zechs's hands with hers over her stomach.
"The boys?" the lady asked, startled.
Both women nodded. "Doc said that whatever the two in charge told them, it wasn't the truth, and apparently, they're believing it."
"So... it's true..."
"What? What's true?" Zechs asked, looking from one woman to another.
"I told Doc we'd send Nita to her," Sally continued. "There are some files that she thinks are important."
Lady Une pressed a fist to her lips, mind racing. "Ochenta Behr is out right now on personal leave."
"She's our best hacker right now," Sally pressed.
Their eyes met, held.
"Heero..."
"That's what *I* said," Noin pointed out.
"Doce said one of the boy's volunteered..."
"Will someone *please* explain to me what you three are *talking* about?!" Zechs burst.
"Sally and I just got back from the Behenna Satellite, located in the L2-colonies. It's funded by WIE, which isn't really too unusual, considering how much business Quatre's moved into the area in the last five years. What *is* unusual is the manner of research we think is going on there. Apparently, someone's trying to create a genetically advanced human being dubbed 'the perfect human'. A person with above-normal strength, endurance, dexterity, immunity, and intelligence. Doce Behr is on site there, but there are some high security files that she can't get into. *That's* what we're talking about."
Zechs stared at his wife, blinked, and then, "Oh."
They were quiet for a moment, and then Zechs spoke up again. "So, basically what you're saying is they're trying to create another Heero Yuy."
She'd stared out the window, watching the shuttle take off. He hadn't noticed. She hadn't expected him to. She'd watched as it disembarked from the satellite-docking bay, as it taxied out, as it's thrusters flared to life and it flew away.
She felt torn.
She didn't know what to think, what to feel. To be honest, she hadn't known for a long, long time now.
In what seemed like an eternity...
Hiro...
Hiro...
Hiroshima...
It was all her fault...
That's why she hated her... she did. She hated her... She...
~~~***~~~"I love you," the small blonde girl whispered shyly, cuddling up into the older woman's arms.
"Iie. Don't say that. You'll only regret it later," the older woman whispered back.
"No." She sat up, her large teal eyes sparkling with in inner light held by only the young. "No, I won't *ever* regret it, Hiro!"
The Japanese woman wore a sad smile on her red lips. "Yes. Yes you will, my dear. I could only give you heartache and trouble, Fatina. I am not fit to receive or give love. Please do not waste your love upon me."
The young girl buried herself against the older woman. "I don't care what you say," her voice drifted up. "I'll love you forever!"
~~~***~~~
...Hated her...
Fatina Winner reached up and wiped the tear from her eye. Staring at it as though it were a foreign thing.
Hiroshima Jackson had been locked inside her laboratory for a solid fourteen hours before she dragged herself back to her apartment.
"Computer, play messages," she said wearily as she shook her long black hair free from its loose bun.
"One new message," the computer intoned before sounding a tone. "'Hello? This call is for Ms. Jackson. My name is Kasey Forrester and I'm calling to ask if you have any donations for the Children-War-Victims Fund. I can call back at another--" The voice toned out.
Hiroshima let up her finger on the delete key and turned for her bedroom.
"I have nothing to give," she said to no one.
~~~~~~She ran ahead of him, laughing freely as her young legs and arms pumped. She felt a tug on one of her long pigtails, but before she could escape, his legs tangled with hers and they tumbled to the ground in a giggling, gasping heap.
"Unfair!" she cried, gasping. "You cheated!"
"Uh uh! No I didn't!" he gasped back. "It's not my fault your legs are so long!"
"You tripped me purposely!"
He smiled wickedly. "No. I. Didn't!" He was up and running before she could scramble to catch up. He reached the tree and was scooting up its twisted trunk in seconds.
"Oooh! Heero Yuy, you cheat!"
He stuck his tongue out at her and laughed, his laughter reaching his rich brown eyes. "Ya gotta think quick to keep up with me, Shima!"
She scrambled up the trunk and climbed out onto a limb near his. "I just gotta think sneaky," she retorted, pillowing her cheek on folded arms and kicking her legs back lazily as she stared out at the field below.
They were quiet for several minutes, each child lost in his or her own thoughts.
"Hey, Heero?" Hiroshima asked after a while.
"Yeah?"
"Whaddaya want to be when you're grown up?"
The boy pushed up into a sitting position and leaned back against the tree trunk. "Oh, I don't know. I guess I'd like to be a doctor like your dad..." He looked down at her. "Why? Whadda *you* gonna be?"
"I was thinking I'd like to be a stateswoman like Mama," she answered, still kicking her legs freely. "I think it would be neat to get to travel all over Earth and even all the different colonies..."
"Yeah," he agreed, following her gaze up into the darkening sky. "I guess that would be pretty neat..."
~~~~~~
Her alarm went off, startling Hiroshima into wakefulness. She stared at the blinking, screeching box before picking it up and throwing it forcefully across the room.
"Dammit," she whispered hoarsely, burying her face in her hands as she worked the knots from her throat and the tears from her eyes. "Dammit, dammit, dammit. Why now? Why now?"
She packed her bags carefully, folding each article of clothing precisely, just as her mother had taught her. It didn't take her long--she'd done the procedure more times than she cared to admit. She took the one picture frame she carried with her to each place she went and wrapped it in one of her sweaters, trying bravely not to cry.
She'd returned her uniform earlier that day. Now she was dressed in a simple yellow-flowered long skirt with a matching yellow blouse. Her long, dark red hair was pulled back from her face, clipped tightly at her nape, the wavy lengths left to fall free against her back. Her large cornflower-blue eyes were red and burning. A testament to the tears she hadn't been able to prevent.
'You really shouldn't have done that,' she chided herself. 'Why'd you have to loose your temper like that? You have no one to blame but yourself. Mama's going to be terribly upset now. This is the third school in two months--and this time you didn't even last a week!'
Her hands fisted around an innocent blouse that had the misfortune to be in her hands at the time, wrinkling it terribly.
'You're a failure, Mariemeia Barton Khushrenda Une. You don't even deserve to use that name. Any of them. They all hold more honor than you could ever possess!'
Her head dropped to her chest and her shoulders shook with dry sobs. Her legs gave out beneath her and she slid to the floor.
"What's wrong with me?" she cried softly to no one.
********** End of "Oh Baby, Baby" Part Ten **********
Andrea Readwolf
Please send comments to: andrea_readwolf@hotmail.com