13-Jun-2000
Title: Breaking Predestination 6/?
Author: TB
Archive: Yes please GW Addiction
Catagory: AU, some yaoi
Pairing(s): R+1, 2x1, 5xSally (and others)
Rating: R
Warnings: language
Spoilers: yes
Notes: Thank you everyone for the wonderful responses
you have given me on this fic. It's so encouraging!
Hugs! The series and EW are canon for this fic, which
takes place in AC 202. This part is not nearly as well
written as the other parts, but it's a necessary
transition. It was the best I could do, I chewed it
over long enough -_-; I'm really not good at the
"meanwhile" stuff. Sigh...
Feedback: please and thanks in advance! ^_^
Disclaimers: I neither own nor profit by GW, because
it doesn't belong to me and appears likely to stay
that way, at least for the near future (like my life).
It was quieter in the cramped corner that Shai Winner led Quatre to, away from the bulk of the repairs. A young ensign occupied the small space, working on something delicate and metallic, but he quickly vacated when he saw the two men coming. Quatre glanced around, but he wasn't really seeing anything. He was unable to focus his mind on *anything* but the fact that this young man--this was his son.
Shai sat slowly on top of an uncluttered storage crate, leaving Quatre standing. His expression was that of someone who had done everything he could to prepare himself for such a moment--and still found that the actual event far surpassed his expectations.
Quatre drew a deep breath. "I don't understand," he murmured. He knew his eyes were wild, and he shook his head. "You... you look exactly the way I did when I was your age, so there's no denying that you are--related--to me. But I don't understand. There's no way I could have had a child, because I'm--" He bit his lip.
"Living with Trowa," Shai supplied. He ran a hand through his sweaty blonde hair. "Yes. I know. Since the Eve war. Happily ever after."
Quatre shook his head again, not to deny that, but to express his shock.
"Dad." Shai bit his lip. "I haven't seen you in years," he muttered. "Not even--not even over an email or-- I missed you. I wanted Captain Maxwell to let me go to Earth, to see you."
"I don't even know what to call you... " The hurt he sensed from the younger man, rolling off him in waves, made him ache. But he didn't move. He hadn't gotten *any* preparation.
"Shai. My name is Shai. It's Hebrew, for 'gift.'" The Lieutenant Commander suddenly laughed harshly. "Mom's gift. Your nightmare."
Instinctively he wanted to soothe, to heal. He reached out and grabbed the grease-stained fist that had clenched on the bony knee. "That can't be true," he insisted. "I don't--I don't know what could possibly happen to make me feel that way about my own--my own child."
"Bullshit," Shai spat, pulling away. "Uncle Duo was right. This was a bad idea."
"Uncle Duo?" Quatre was momentarily distracted. "What--"
"Leave me alone. Just--go." The boy stood. "I have work to do. I don't have time to sit here and patch up a future that's never going to happen! Do whatever it was you came up here to do--and do it as far away from me as possible!" And then he was gone.
Quatre, stunned beyond coherent thought, stared blankly.
Later, as he took his place beside Zechs and silently joined in the conversation the one-time heir to Sank was engaged in, he tried to push away the raging emotions and answerless questions that threatened to overwhelm him. Already his encounter with his future son seemed surreal.
"We've been in every major battle in the last two years," an older woman was saying to Zechs, her hands busy with some kind of hand-held computer. "It's tearing Angel apart, but we haven't lost many people. Our Captain is the best in the fleet. He can be kind of goofy sometimes; though after a few months you start to realise that's just his way of dealing with the responsibility. That's what makes him the best, you know, he takes responsibility for every action and every crewmember, and he sees that if he wants it done, it gets done right. And Commander Schbeiker is brilliant, just brilliant. The President herself asked Commander to be on the Council as the head of the war tactics committee, which is quite an honour, but she turned down the position so she could stay with Angel. You wait months to get transferred to a ship like Angel. Years."
Zechs was listening closely, trying to separate fact from hero-worship in the woman's ramble. It was hard to judge, but the crewman seemed so genuinely proud of her ship and its history that he was beginning to conclude that everything he'd heard from Maxwell was, indeed, fact. Everyone else that he'd talked to earlier had been either too busy or too hostile to speak to him. This woman was the first to be truly open with him.
Quatre stirred. "Could you tell us why your ship was damaged so badly in the last battle?"
"She's not as bad off as she looks. Winn'll have her up and kicking in maybe twenty days, not that it matters one way or another, if the Captain's plan works. But Winn insists on it, and it's the right thing to do. We owe that much to the old girl." She sobered. Then she peered at Quatre, and her eyes widened. "Hey, you look a lot like Winn--"
"Yes," the Arabian interrupted. "I know." He turned to Zechs. "Do you have what you need?" he asked tightly.
Zechs looked at him, surprised by the tension in the other man's face; then he nodded slowly. "Let's contact the shuttle pilot and tell him we're ready to leave, then."
"The fit is close enough." Maxwell shifted his shoulders under the sturdy leather of a Preventer's jacket, examining himself in the mirror as he absently tucked his braid inside the collar. "Thanks," he added.
Hirde seconded that, running a hand over the crisp short-sleeved gray shirt she now wore as though it had been a long time since she'd worn anything of that quality. It probably *had* been, Sally mused, as she chucked the boxes that had contained the spare uniforms into the nearest waste bin.
Wufei helped Maxwell with the various straps and buttons meant to hold finger-tip sized microphones, guns, knives, identification, or snack bars as the situation dictated, tucking here and removing bits there with cool efficiency. "You keep yourself fit," he noted. "It was hard to tell with your old clothes."
"Never seen a desk in my life," the Captain joked half-heartedly. "Chang, that tickles like all hell. Please stop. It's going to be very undignified if I shriek like a little girl."
Wufei grinned, and teasingly poked long slender fingers at the sensitive spot again. "I think it would be funny to hear you squeal, *Captain*!"
"You always did have a perverse sense of humour," Maxwell retorted.
Hirde was shaking her head, but amusement crinkled the skin around her eyes. To Sally, she murmured, "It means so much to him that you two have accepted us so easily."
"Like I already said--what's not to accept?" Sally was thoughtful. "I wish you would tell us more about your time," she mused. "It sounds like we could learn a lot from you."
Hirde's eyes shadowed. "No," she replied firmly. "We already told you. We have to preserve your time line as much as we can. If we tell you too much about yourselves, the way you are in *our* time, it might influence your actions now. The same goes for letting strangers work on Angel, helping with the repairs. She's an old ship, but she's got some very futuristic parts. We can't chance some intelligent engineer making a few guesses and suddenly springing a highly advanced weapons system on the world. We'd just be unleashing an entirely different demon."
"Then it seems to me that you took a real chance, jumping time," the Chinese woman noted carefully. "People will ask questions. Zechs is up on the satellite now, digging around. Someone might let a detail slip--and between us all, even if your plan succeeds and nothing comes of our knowledge for years--some day, the secret to time travel might come out. It could fall into irresponsible hands."
"No." Hirde shook her head immediately. "No one will know any of the details about jumping time. Only Duo read all of Dr. J's notes, and I'm the only other person in Space who knows how Duo made the jump. Not even our crew knows. Duo emptied the bridge before he entered the commands into the computer, and the first thing he did when we made it to your space was to erase the past hour from the computer's memory banks."
Maxwell put a hand on Sally's shoulder. "You two done? We have a plane to catch."
Hirde smiled at him. "Let's get going."
"Agreed," a slighly nasal voice stated flatly from the door. Maxwell's spine stiffened, and by the time he faced Heero, his expression was once again neutral, and his eyes didn't quite manage to meet the younger man's. Sally, surprised by that reaction, wondered what in hell had passed between those two.
"You're late," Heero said. "Hurry up."
"We're right behind you." Maxwell made to follow him, and Hirde fell into step with him, glaring at Heero's back as he stalked off. Shrugging, Wufei slid his arm around his wife's waist, and together they trailed the other pair a few steps behind.
"It's going to be a long three weeks," Wufei muttered to her.
This confirmed something for Sally. "You're suspicious, too."
"I'd be a fool if I weren't." Wufei shrugged, uncomfortable discussing the ex-pilot turned incomprehensible time traveler. He hugged Sally a little closer to his hip; then he frowned. "Are you getting fat?" He looked down at her thickening waistline as if trying to measure her.
"Ah--when we get to Sank and have a few free minutes, we might discuss that."
Une slid into the open seat beside Noin in the car that awaited them in Sank's major airport, and nodded her greeting to the Captain and his Commander where they sat facing the two women. "Sorry I missed you earlier," she apologised. "It was hectic getting out this morning. I'd intended to fly with you, but wasn't able to get away in time."
"No apologies necessary. It's the privilege of responsibility to be late--and ride in a private jet occassionally." Maxwell offered a smile.
The hum of the engine covered the small talk for a while after the car started and took them off. The Captain and Commander both appeared to be suffering the affects of atmospheric travel--unadjusted gravity, the chill air of Sank's northern clime, and jet lag all combined to bring bruised shadows under tired eyes, and a certain drag in their movement. Both of the officers seemed content to stare out their windows at the scenery. Noin, having caught some rest on the plane, was wide awake; she tilted her head toward Une to speak in an undertone. "Zechs and Quatre Winner will be joining us in Sank. Zechs dropped a few hints about what he saw up there--it seems like the Angel-5 crew is hostile to outsiders. Zechs doesn't believe it's anything more than a reaction to stress, but it did impede his inquiries."
"Trowa Barton has been appraised of the situation and will also join us." Une contributed the results of her own late-night efforts. "A few other trust-worthy hands are coming with him to help. I called Sank's capitol from the jet, letting them know we're coming. We've been offered rooms in the Peacecraft estate. I accepted. It's just become that much easier to keep an eye on Relena."
Noin nodded. "Good. I'd hate to see this fail. I don't think those two and that rickety ship they came on could make another jump if we didn't get it right the first time."
"Lucrezia," Une began, then paused. "Lucrezia--I find myself with so many questions. I wonder how I can command when I can't even sort through all my own insecurities."
Noin laid her hand on Une's knee, but then decided to push the bounds of the formality of their working relationship, and took the other woman's hand instead, squeezing tightly. "That's what your friends are for," she said, smiling. "We're here to help you, to hold up you if you need it, to listen, and above all, to support you."
Une stared at her. Then, with sudden strength, her hand in Noin's squeezed back. "Thank you, Lucrezia."
Perhaps a half hour had passed before Maxwell broke the silence. "When we get there, I'd like to take a look around immediately. The complex was remodeled in 210, and I want to be familiar with the place. Especially the ballroom in the East Annex."
"That's where it happened?" Une asked.
"Mmm." The Captain carefully stretched long legs out in front of him. "I know there will be time later on to do all our looking--but I'd like to remind you of the first request I made of you. Relena absolutely must *not* know of our presence here."
That idea lasted all of five minutes. Relena was waiting for them--or more precisely, for Heero--on the front drive, hapless butler and a host of other servants in tow.
The car containing the Captain and Une was the last of three. Heero had had the misfortune of being the first to step foot out of his vehicle, and thus was trapped into a welcome from Relena that should probably have been private. The young Queen had approached him and lifted a hand to brush hair out of his eyes, a soft smile lighting up her severe expression. The Preventers and their staff, as well as Relena's, were all uncomfortably attempting not to look.
Maxwell took one glance, and stiffened as though he'd been shot. Hirde scowled.
The silence drew out interminably, until Relena finally came to herself. She stepped back from Heero, blushing slightly; he made a soft sound and turned to introduce the others. Relena was very warm in her greetings. It would have been inevitable that she would notice the Captain, as his height and bearing made him a striking figure--except for the fact that by the time Heero got to Maxwell, he and Hirde were gone.
Relena folded her hands demurely before her. "Well," she said. "Tell me what brings Earth's primary defenders to Sank?"
End Part 6
(:./erin/break6)
