20-Sep-2000

Title: The Longest Dream, Part 8
Author: Hope of Dawn
Feedback: C&C appreciated!
Archive: GW Addiction at http://www.geocities.com/fenris_wolf0
Legal stuff: None of these characters are mine. Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency, among others--Xenogears belongs to Squaresoft. For time-wasting purposes only and not for profit, so don't sue, 'kay?
Writer's Notes: Wanted some backstory on Xenogears? Here ya go. Not that it isn't obvious, but SPOILER alert for Xenogears. (But then, if you were bothered by spoilers, you probably wouldn't be reading this anyway!)
Warnings: slight AU, X-over, shonen-ai, language, violence. And in this part--ANGST!!!

The Longest Dream by Hope of Dawn

Part Eight

Past the darkened corridors of a sand-buried desert base, a brown-haired young man rolled and tossed on his bunk. Whispering incoherent murmurs in a language long dead, Fei slept restlessly as puzzle-pieces of memory shifted and merged, urged on by a flickering spark of a child-that-was, demanding recognition.

Fei woke in a breathless rush, curling inward and reaching instinctively for Elly's comforting warmth. Then he groaned, remembering, as searching hands slid over cool sheets devoid of any scent but his own. Elly was hundreds of miles away--doing what she could in Nisan. While he--he was in Aveh.

He scrubbed at his face roughly, as if to eradicate the last chilling touch of dream-memories. This one hadn't been so bad, as dreams go--mostly coherent, if childish in its perceptions. However, there was a disturbing echo behind the child's remembrance of a mother's comfort--a faint intangibility of fire and screaming, the lingering acrid scent of burning flesh. Fei slumped forward, face in his hands in a rare moment of self-indulgence--then flung the covers aside vehemently.

Alone, he could deal with his fear, the weakness--his inability to accept what his dreams showed him. But not well. He needed Elly, her insight, her clear-eyed compassion--and that aid was most of a nation away. Exactly what *was* he doing in Aveh? It's not like Bart really needed him here, after all. . .and the Doc certainly had things well in hand with those five resurrected pilots.

The pilots. Yet another puzzle--one that seemed to only make his nightmares worse. With a faint exasperated sigh, he swung his legs out of the bed. Grabbing the tunic he'd left tossed over a chair just a few hours ago, Fei stepped out into the quiet corridor. Walking and thinking at night had become almost second nature to him these days, so much so that he knew most of the night watch by name. Even insomnia was better than the alternative.

For with the alternative--namely, sleep--the memories of the people he had once been surfaced from the depths of his subconscious, called by the power of the Contact. By turns sad and sweet, humdrum and horrifying--those fragmented whispers from the past never failed to disturb his rest--and his mind. It wasn't so much that they scared him. After facing Deus itself, Fei doubted that there was much left in the world that could. No, what disturbed him was the familiarity in those dreams; the tenuous, clinging siren's call of the past that, no matter how ancient the memory, had a familiar thread. Each of those now-dead people had been, in one essential way, *himself*--born over and over for the Wave Existence's purposes. With the recognition of that fact lurked Fei's greatest fear: that those memories would overwhelm him, rewrite his mind like a computer, and turn him into nothing but a hollow shell filled with the unfulfilled hopes and passions of people long dead.

Most people would have laughed at the possibility of such a thing. But then, most people had never carried their own worst enemy inside their own mind. After Miang, and Grahf--and most especially, Id--Fei had been taught with an exacting precision exactly how fragile his mind really was.

Pacing restlessly down the night-dimmed corridors, he headed instinctively to the hangar. At this time of night--the witching hour of early morning--even Bart's devoted mechanics would have turned in. The next shift wouldn't start for another two hours. That was just fine by him. The last thing he needed right now was to have his ear talked off by yet another overzealous mechanic spouting statistics and engineering-techno-babble about his Gear. For some reason, Xenogears never failed to fascinate them. Fei smirked to himself, nodding a casual greeting to the two yawning guards on duty as he entered the hangar. Probably because Xenogears was the biggest enigma an engineer could hope for in a Gear.

Footsteps echoing slightly in the darkened cavern of the hangar, Fei passed by the other Gears. Their distinctive silhouettes were easy to identify in the dark as he passed--Bart's feather-crested Brigandier; the hovering winged form of Emeralda's Crescens; the heavily-caped figure of Renmazuo, as dignified as Billy himself. Xenogears, if anything, was even easier to spot. Even without the distinctive mental touch of acknowledgement, his Gear's sharply angled, spiky-winged silhouette stood out sharply to his night-accustomed eyes, barely confined as it was in its docking bay.

Stopping in front of the gleaming white bulk of his Gear, he leaned his forehead wearily against the chilly metal. "What a mess, eh, Xeno? All I wanted was a little peace and quiet--but I guess that's too much for someone like me to expect, huh?"

The mental touch never changed, its tone patient and waiting as Xenogears listened to its pilot.

"And those five pilots. What are we supposed to tell them? It was hard enough for us to find out the truth, and we already knew how messed up this world was. What are we supposed to say that would make them understand everything that's happened?"

Abruptly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled upward. With the suddenness of overstretched nerves and trained instinct, he realized he wasn't alone with his Gear--that there was another person behind him, listening to his midnight confessions. Angry and defensive, he spun around to face the intruder.

The dark-haired pilot--Wufei--put his hands up in a reassuring gesture. Fei relaxed as he recognized the other boy, barefoot and clad in a loose white tunic and trousers. Fei rubbed a hand against his neck, embarrassed, as he tried to slow his thumping heart. "Sorry 'bout that. I didn't hear you come in."

"Apology accepted. It wasn't my intention to disturb your meditations, but a certain individual--" his dark gaze slid sideways, "--insisted."

"Nah, I wasn't meditat--wait a minute." Fei stopped in the middle of an embarrassed reply. "You guys can understand Lambspeak?"

Wufei nodded, his words accented with an odd, staccato cadence. "Not as well as I would like, I am afraid--but enough for communication." He lifted an eyebrow at the dumbfounded look on Fei's face. "Is it really that unexpected? What else could we have occupied ourselves with for the last month and a half?"

"Uh-huh." Fei tried to look unimpressed--and failed miserably. "Well, that's rather--incredible.

"Aren't we just?" replied a thickly accented, drawling voice. The wiry form of the braided pilot--Duo, if Fei remembered correctly--dropped out from the shadows behind the Gear, the white slash of his impish grin gleaming. "Glad I'm not the only one who talks to my Gundam."

"Huh?" Fei cocked his head, puzzled, stray wisps of bang falling into his eyes. "Oh yeah--Gundams--your Gears." He returned the slightly smaller teen's smile with a rather sheepish one of his own. "Well, you see. . ."

"Hey, hey--no need to explain," Duo remarked, cutting off the embarrassed martial artist. "I'm pretty sure we all do it--well, except for Trowa, maybe. Hell, even Mr. Justice here talked to his 'Nataku'. Right, man?"

The black-haired pilot rolled his eyes. "Maxwell. . . ."

Duo grinned. "Yeeeeesss. . .?"

"You talk too much." Wufei's tone was resignedly amused.

"Hey, I'm just overcompensating for the rest of ya, that's all!" Duo replied cheekily, sliding around a wingtip extension in an overly-exaggerated attempt to stay out of reach. "So, this is your Mobile--your Gear, huh? Pret-ty funky looking!"

Fei looked pleadingly at the other, seemingly-calmer pilot for help. "Funky?"

"He likes your Gear," Wufei clarified dryly.

"Oh. Thanks--I think," Fei said wryly, keeping a wary eye on the braided boy as he darted around Xenogears' shadowed feet. "Um--don't take this the wrong way or anything, but. . .aren't you guys still supposed to be in sickbay?"

"Most likely," Wufei agreed. "However, overprotective doctors notwithstanding, we are all recovered, or nearly so."

"Yeah. And if you think I'm gonna let some strange guys put their paws all over my aibou, you've got another think coming." Duo walked up to them again, hands shoved in his pockets. Fei was mildly disconcerted by the fact he couldn't hear the pilot's approach even if he tried. Duo smirked as he saw the incomprehension on the Fei's face. "We came out to check on our Gund--Gears."

"As well as to find some answers." Heero--the pilot that seemed to be the closest to the energetic Duo, walked openly up to their little group, footsteps echoing slightly in the raftered vastness of the hangar. The other two remaining pilots (it took a moment for Fei to remember their names--Trowa and Quatre) also walked out of the dimness, slightly behind and to the right. Most likely from the area where their Gears had been docked.

Heero's shuttered, implacable expression did not change as he joined them. Fei knew he was capable of gentleness and emotion--he'd certainly displayed it in the earlier sickbay debacle. But right now, it was very hard to remember that. All that seemed to show in *this* Heero was an almost frightening determination; his muscular body, clad in the dark pants and sleeveless shirt he'd been found in, nearly vibrated with intensity. Heero spoke again, voice softened only slightly in deference to the darkness.

"Answers you just admitted that you have. Correct?"

Fei suppressed the urge to maneuver into a better position, as if he was facing a sparring opponent. Blowing upwardly at his bangs in exasperation, he leaned against a gleaming white lower wing of his Gear. Peace and quiet, he reflected sardonically to himself. Apparently not.

"You have *no* idea what you're asking."

"Perhaps not," Quatre spoke for the first time. His voice wavered with a certain unnamed emotion. "But don't you see? That's part of the problem. You will have to tell us eventually--and we've seen enough to know that something must have gone very awry in our. . .sleep. Please. Tell us what could have possibly happened to change the world into something so completely--" he paused slightly. "--alien." His plea struck to the bone, thrumming painful chords.

Fei closed his eyes. "Certainly don't pull your punches, do you?" He opened his eyes, taking in the stoic faces of these five ancient strangers. "Doc is gonna kill me for this but--why not. You're right--we were going to have to tell you eventually anyway." He ignored the errant small voice in his mind that wondered mockingly if they'd handle the truth better than he had.

He took a deep breath. "Okay. There's something you need to know right off. You already know how we found you, still in suspended animation. What we haven't told you is how long you were down there." He shifted uncomfortably--then let the bombshell drop. "You see--you've been asleep for over ten thousand years."

The words dropped into the sudden silence like stones.

He watched his feet intently as he continued; coward that he was, he didn't want to see the pain on their faces. "I'm sorry I can't give you a more exact number--you see, nobody really knows. All we know is that about ten thousand years ago, a ship full of colonists--the Eldridge--was taken over by the self-aware, planet-killing weapon it was transporting. This weapon managed to take over the ship as it was passing by this planet. It--the ship's captain self-destructed the Eldridge, trying to destroy the weapon in the process." Dimly, screams and fire echoed behind his eyes, mingled with the wails of a lost child.

"He failed." Fei's voice was flat. "The colonists died, the ship blew up and fell into the atmosphere--but the weapon managed to survive. Along with one other--a young boy."

He rubbed a hand against his forehead. "Much of its motivations are still unclear to us--but this weapon-organism was apparently heavily damaged in the explosion. In order to repair itself, it needed replacement parts in enormous quantities. So it set about creating them with the only raw materials available to it. Humans. The weapon created the first humans on this planet--a woman and thirteen men, who ruled unopposed for thousands of years. Their purpose--their programming, I guess--was to propagate humanity, breeding it to the weapon's specifications."

"What specifications?" Quatre's question was barely audible.

Fei sighed. "Genetic alterations--ultimately designed to aid in the weapon's resurrection. The woman was immortal. She became known as Miang. The men eventually were called Emperor Cain and the Gazel Ministry. They ruled until about two years ago. The weapon--was only known to us as Deus. Our God."

He began to pace back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. "And that's not all. Deus wasn't the only entity trapped on that ship; there was another. You see, the colony ship was enormous--it carried thousands of people, and required vast amounts of energy to maintain. Somehow, the people that had created Deus had also managed to tap into another, higher dimension. A dimension of energy, where everything existed only as waves. They drew a--" he struggled in vain for an appropriate name, "Being out of that fourth dimension, and trapped it in a reactor--a Zohar Modifier--in this dimension. By doing that, the Eldridge was assured of an inexhaustible and abundant energy supply. In turn, when Deus struck, it connected with the Modifier, which was all the power it needed. But what neither they nor Deus understood was that the Being--the Wave Existence--was alive and aware in its own way. It wanted to be free, to return home. So, when Deus destroyed the Eldridge and worked its plans on the planet, the Wave Existence also set its own plans in motion. It embraced and protected the single survivor of the Eldridge--the young boy, and placed the majority of its power inside him, locking it out of Deus' reach. That boy's desperate wish for a mother also caused the Wave Existence to create a woman--Elhaym. She and Miang, created by Deus, were like two sides of a coin, or two halves of a whole. A whole that was the mother of humanity."

"I'm not going to bore you with the details. Suffice to say that both of these 'Gods' worked with and against each other for the next few thousand years. Humanity went on--not knowing that they'd been transplanted for this purpose. Knowledge was gained and lost. Civilizations rose and fell." He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. "Even I--even the Doc doesn't know all the twists and turns that happened in those ten thousand years. Much of our history has been lost, you see. We do know that there were wars, and revolutions--disasters and disease. Like a vicious cycle, really. . .every time human civilization gained a foothold or two, it seemed as if something new came along to try and wipe us out. Our own self-destructiveness coming through, maybe." He shrugged. "Hell, maybe it was the planet itself. After all, it's not like we belonged here."

Heero's emotionless voice broke through Fei's despairing tones. "How did humankind survive, then?"

Fei turned back to the stoic pilot. "If I had to guess--I'd say Deus. It needed us--it couldn't afford to have us destroyed. At least--not until *it* was ready. And it wasn't ready until two years ago."

"Is that why you have this base, and the soldiers. . .?" Because you're fighting against Deus?" asked Quatre softly.

Fei gave a harsh bark of laughter. "This? Hardly. This is just to deal with the aftermath. We defeated Deus, you see. We learned about its ten thousand year-old plan. We learned about the Wave Existence. We watched our friends and loved ones and fellow humans die screaming--culled as useless by its 'Angel' killing machines. Or we watched them mutate into *things* that weren't even human, just. . .spare parts for Deus." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "We fucked up; we learned things too late, stumbling and fumbling down roads laid out for us before we were even born! And in the end, we just fought, and fought, and kept fighting until we got our chance. Then we--I killed Deus."

He scrubbed his hands roughly over his face, trying to push back the memories. "I killed Deus, we freed the Wave Existence--we even managed to come out of the whole bloody, convoluted mess alive." He chuckled harshly. "And you want to know what's really funny? That's why you're in a fortified base right now, surrounded by a guerrilla army. Because without Deus--the world fell apart. Humanity--we *Lambs* had been guided for so long by Deus' servants that we don't know how to live on our own. We don't know how to hold things together on our own. It's not something we were *designed* for!"

There was a quiet touch on his shoulder--tentative, comforting. Fei looked down into Quatre's sea-blue eyes, relaxing infinitesimally as he felt the compassion in them. He'd almost forgotten the warmth of another's touch, of someone who wasn't Elly touching him kindly and without fear.

His shoulders slumped slightly--then straightened. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get--" He stopped. . .started again. "Well. You asked. There's more details, of course--but that would take days. And we--well." He turned away, no longer able to bear the five pale faces that stared at him in varying degrees of shock and heart-wrenching dismay. "I'm sorry. I can't--I have to be alone for awhile."

He walked away from the five ancient Gundam pilots, from Xenogears, keenly aware of the cowardice of his flight. Elly would have stayed--would have known what to say to lessen their pain. She should have been the one to tell them.

Not him--a half-mad Contact who had outlived his purpose.

But then, perhaps it was fitting that he be the bearer of bad news. After all, what other purpose would there be for the man destined to kill God?

End Part Eight

(:./hope/dream8)