14-Jun-2000
Hi hi! First off, *major* thanks to Marsh, whose late-night chat with me helped me greatly in dealing with my blocks and in brainstorming past the iffy parts... Hugs, hunie! ^_^ Also, thank you again to everyone who has replied to BrPr. (isn't that an awful abbreviation? -_-;) I appreciate all the feedback so much! ~TB
Title: Breaking Predestination 7/?
Author: TB
Archive: yes please GW Addiction
Category: AU, some yaoi
Pairing(s): R+1, 2x1, 5xSally, 4x3, etc
Rating: R
Warnings: language
Spoilers: yes
Notes: this takes place in AC 202. The series and EW
are considered canon for the fic. I am borrowing all
the spacey and military-ish stuff from Star Trek.
Feedback: please, thanks in advance! ^_^
Disclaimers: I neither own nor profit by GW and the
characters.
Maxwell placed his hands on the railing, and leaned over it to stare down at the ballroom floor that was two stories below. It was an excellent view of where he recalled the platform to have been placed.
He heard Hirde's soft steps on the stairs, and mutely beckoned for her to join him. She slid an arm around his waist, and stared down at floor. "Nice," she noted after a moment.
He hugged her close against his side, feeling very old. "Yes. Perfect, actually. I'll be able to see Relena, no matter where she is on the stage."
"Heero will insist on being right at her side, you know."
"Mm. Probably--but he wasn't on stage the first time, and I have an idea as to why. You know Relena; she's careful about details and image. She's a politician. She has to be." He grimaced. "Heero's image is violence. Saviour of the Earth or not, he's still the direct opposite of the ideals of total pacifism, and Relena won't have him on a stage where he can be associated with her in public."
"Duo?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think we've done the right thing? Coming back here? Is it really our place to decide the fate of billions of people?"
"It's a war," Maxwell said softly. "We make those kinds of decisions every day. And yes. I do believe that we're justified."
Hirde nodded. She leaned her head on his chest, staring out over the rail at the ballroom. "Three weeks," she whispered. "What the hell are we going to do for three weeks?"
"Everything in our power."
In reality, the time passed quickly.
Quatre and Zechs arrived well into the night, and retired immediately to beds that Relena's staff of hundreds hurried to prepare for them. Trowa Barton and the rest of the Preventers followed the next morning, exhausted from non-stop flights all over the globe and from the colonies. Only a short period of time was allotted for rest, as Relena ignorantly went about her daily routine, meetings and brunches and conferences and teas and peace rallies and dinners and late-night Earth-Sphere State Policy discussions with other delegates via video communications. When everyone was once again fresh and ready, they met in a large sitting room to talk business.
Maxwell had acquired a set of blueprints and several snapshots of the ballroom. He used these to demonstrate as he spoke, aided by his second in command.
"Relena rose to give her speech while her mother was still speaking at the podium, here. At this point, witnesses remember that the gunman began moving toward the platform." Hirde illustrated the movement with a slender finger, traveling up the blue-print. "By the time the Queen reached the microphone, our killer was standing here. He took a gun from his boot, and fired at Relena from less than ten feet away. The first bullet punctured her left breast, and the second bullet entered her right temple."
"The gunman was good," Maxwell noted. "He went for the heart first; and if that hadn't killed her, a bullet in the brain would have. Relena didn't have a chance."
Heero said, "What if someone was on stage with her?"
"And took the bullets *for* her, you mean?" Maxwell shook his head. "There was no one near her. Her mother was already returning to her seat, and everyone else anywhere nearby was sitting too far away to run to her."
Zechs spoke. "So, we put someone on stage. Why make the same mistakes twice?"
"We've already thought of that," Wufei replied. Known for his skill with eluding, and creating, air-tight security, Chang was playing an active role in planning. "We want to have as many people up there who are trained in defending others as possible. Zechs, as her brother, you have a reason to be up there. Noin as well, as she is his date. That's two... and it's *my* opinion that we can talk Relena into allowing Heero on stage as well." He looked pointedly at Maxwell, who was already shaking his head.
"She won't bait," he repeated. "You think nobody tried to talk her into it the first time?"
"That's the point," Trowa observed quietly. "This *isn't* the first time."
Hirde slammed a fist into her palm. "In point of fact, it *is*. We came *back* to the first time! Don't you understand that?"
"That's not what I meant," the elegant circus performer replied. His tone was conciliatory, but not apologetic. "It's not the first time, really, because we have a tremendous advantage. Foreknowledge. Who really cares if Relena doesn't want Heero on the stage? We agree with whatever protest she makes, and then when her speech is going to start, we put him on the platform anyway."
"I'd rather have him in the crowd," Maxwell interrupted. "Heero's the strongest of all of us. He could be planted near the assassin, and might have a chance of taking him out before the bloke ever gets a shot off."
The talks continued like that. Everyone had an opinion, and everyone wanted to be heard. The Captain maintained control for only so long before frayed tempers snapped completely. Therefore, recesses were frequent.
It was during one of those recesses that Maxwell had a moment to greet his old comrades, Quatre Winner and Trowa Barton. The two younger men were sitting on a couch during the lunch break, holding coffee cups and talking softly. Maxwell approached them, then hesitated. Trowa was the first to notice him.
"Duo," he greeted the man, and stood to hold out his hand. Smiling a little, they shook.
Quatre took the two steps across the intervening space, and stood as high as his lesser height would allow him; then he embraced Maxwell tightly, without even a word. Maxwell held him back just as hard.
"I'm glad to see you both," the Captain murmured, reluctantly releasing the blonde Arabian and pulling up a chair to the couch so he could sit and face them. "It's been too long, in my time."
"I heard the story from Zechs," Quatre told him. "And Trowa from Lady Une. It's truly amazing, Duo."
"I would have said 'hellish'--but then, I'm on a different end of it than you." Maxwell managed a small laugh. "Though to tell you the truth, being here with all of you, it's helping. Gives a middle-aged, exhausted front-liner some hope."
"What's it like, having your own ship?" Trowa asked politely.
The grin that answered was real, and quite reminiscent of the Duo Maxwell they'd all known, not the 'middle-aged, exhausted front-liner' who was so foreign. "It's the most beautiful thing in the world, Tro. Better even than a Gundam."
"I'm surprised you didn't call it Shinigami."
Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "You haven't heard? I called her Angel, instead."
"Appropriate," Quatre murmured, finally breaking his troubled silence. Maxwell's dark violet gaze turned to him, and he flushed.
Maxwell said, "Shai told me that he saw you."
"I didn't know, Duo."
"I know you didn't." The Captain seemed a little at a loss. Finally he heaved a sigh. "You understand why I can't tell you? It's not that I think you couldn't handle it--and I owe it to Winn. He's been like a son to me, more than a 'nephew'. And he's a damn fine officer. But Quatre, the time line--"
Quatre nodded, though his eyes were downcast. "I understand, Duo. It's just painful to think--the way he looked at me, Duo, it was the worst expression I've ever seen in my life. It was the way I used to look at *my* father... "
Maxwell opened his mouth to reply--and was interrupted by Une, who had come up behind him and touched his shoulder. "Captain, we're about to get started."
Maxwell threw a frustrated, but helpless look at Quatre. "Later," he said. "I promise." He stood, and followed Une back to the large square table where their plans were spread out.
Trowa touched Quatre's hand, and then they joined the crowd at the table.
"I want to have everyone's stations decided on, mapped out, and written as Gospel before this celebration," Maxwell announced some time later. "Zechs, toss me that marker." The Captain uncapped the black felt-tip and began to draw x's on a large blow up blue print of the ballroom. "Wufei and Sally will be stationed here, on the far left of the platform. When the assassin makes his move, I want you to encourage the crowd to fall to the floor and keep their heads covered. You men in the Manguagac Corps--Rashid, Abdul, and Khalid--" Maxwell drew three large x's at the wide, ten-foot tall double doors. "You'll be best here, to prevent anyone from leaving. Trowa and Quatre will leave as soon as the crowd moves into the ballroom and see to it that every other exit is closed and barred. They'll signal you when it's done." More x's appeared as the Captain continued to outline the plan they'd hammered out painfully. "Zechs, you and Noin will be on the stage. Relena has graciously granted permission for your presence, I hear--" He half-smiled. "I also hear that she became rather mushy on you, Zechs, when you asked to bring a date."
The tall blonde made a face, and for a moment, laughter lightened the tension in the room.
When the amusement had died down, the Captain moved on. "Miss Dorothy Catalonia, who couldn't be here this morning due to her physical therapy appointment, has volunteered her help as well, via Sally--" He nodded to the Preventer doctor. "She'll be on the second level, here--" he marked an x-- "There's an elevator, which will be easier on her, and which she'll shut down as soon as she's up there. She'll make her way to this balcony here, which overlooks the stage at an angle. If it's necessary, she'll have a good shot at anyone attacking the Queen. I'll be in this balcony opposite Dorothy's, for the same reason. My eyes are starting to go a little, but I'm still the best distance marksman. Hirde will moving about the room, checking on each of you, but when Relena's speech starts, she'll be here along the right wall, assisting Wufei and Sally in controlling the crowd.
"Lastly--Heero, I want you in the crowd, right here." Maxwell chose the spot right beside a magnet representing the assassin.
Heero shook his head. "I want to be on the stage."
"And *I* want you in the crowd," Maxwell retorted, his voice like a steel-edged whip. Heero looked at him, surprised and silent. "Heero, we do this right--and right is *my* way. I've listened to your arguments and I've dismissed them. Neutralizing the assassin is far more important than you earning a few more holes in your back when you jump in the way of the bullets. Don't you want that man alive, and want answers from him? You can, and you will, do it my way. You're the only one I trust to do this." His eyes still held Heero with what was clearly expectance of obedience.
Hirde softened the command with quiet reason. "Heero, this part is almost as important as saving Relena's life. We explained that the assassin killed himself before anyone could reach him--what we haven't mentioned yet was that the way he did so was to ingest cyanide. We didn't have any body to examine, any clues whatsoever to determine where'd he come from or who sent him. If we had known who he was with all those years before, who wanted Relena dead and who was intending to start a war--then we wouldn't be here right now, asking you to do this."
Reluctantly, Heero nodded.
Maxwell capped his marker. "Everyone understand? Then get out. Go relax. Sleep off the tension, charm a feast out of the kitchens, take a long walk in the moonlight. Tomorrow is yours to do whatever you want with. After tomorrow, though, you're mine again. We are going to *practise.* I want to know how long it takes to complete every step, and then I want to do it over and over again until you can move faster than you think. Are we clear?"
Sally murmured, "Aye aye, Captain."
Maxwell cracked a grin. "Sorry," he apologised. "But seriously. Relax. It's the last chance we'll have for a while."
End Part 7
(:./erin/break7)
