Chapter Five

By Aryn

The light over head the hospital gurney glared down on the bright white sheets. The gurney seemed to glow under the harsh white light, giving off enough light to brighten the dark operating room. Two hands were laid on the side of the gurney as a doctor leaned over the bed.

Long, reddish-brown hair had been tied back at the nape of her slender neck and stood out in contrast to the teal scrubs. Her head was bowed as she braced herself on her slim arms. Her keen blue eyes were closed, unaware of the large wet splotches that were dropped onto the pristine sheets.

She didn’t know Relena personally, but she did know of her and what the girl stood for. She knew how Milliardo, she mentally stopped herself. She knew how Zechs had gone to great lengths to protect his younger sister. Relena had always stood for peace. She had been the only person that Tionne had known to hold onto the views of pacifism so tightly. Relena would be greatly missed.

She may not have known Relena, but she had known Noin. A strong woman with undaunted courage, Tionne had always held her in high respect. Noin had proven her loyalty, strength and sense of command countless times over on the battlefield. And those qualities had only been carried over into her personal life and marriage to Zechs. Now, she was just another friend that Tionne had lost due to war.

Then there was Mariemaia. Tionne’s shoulders trembled. The girl was eleven years old. But that wasn’t the only thing that made her death the most tragic. Aside from Tionne, Mariemaia was the only Khushrenada left. Leia was the first one of the family to die, which only lead to a long string of family deaths. After Leia, Dermail was killed in the line of duty, shortly followed by Tionne’s brother Treize. Marimaia’s grandfather, Dekim Barton died a year later. Tionne had believed that the deaths had ended with Dekim.

She was wrong.

And now, she was forced into grieving once more. She took some relief in the fact that she was the last Khushrenada. She had no one left to grieve for. Or perhaps that could change as well.

"Dr. Khushrenada?"

She raised her head. "I wanted to be alone."

"I understand that ma’am, but there’s someone here to see you."

"Who?"

A smooth feminine voice responded. "A friend."

"Colonel Une."

The other woman came to stand by Tionne. "Please, drop all the formalities. We are nothing more than two friends that have lost loved ones once more."

"I’m sorry, but habits are hard to break."

"I understand."

"Mariemaia was very close to you." Tionne said in measured tones. "She admired you. She wanted to be a Preventer when she became old enough."

"I think she would have made a fine one."

Both women were silent for a few minutes. Une laid a hand on Tionne’s arm.

"The services will be tomorrow. The sooner they’re over…"

"The sooner the strike back can proceed."

Une removed her hand. She had forgotten that even though Tionne wasn’t directly involved in the wars, she had worked with Treize. She knew how war was fought. Tionne turned her head slightly towards Une’s direction.

"How is Zechs doing?"

Une sighed. "I haven’t seen him. He’s off, alone. And I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not."

Tionne didn’t say anything else and Une got the impression that she wasn’t going to. Silently, the Preventer leader stepped out of the spotlight of the operation light and retreated into the shadows, shutting the door with a soft click. Tionne smoothed the sheets absently, wiping the tears that had fell onto the fabric. She had grieved. She had cried and now life had to go on once more. She would cry again, of course, she was human, but the initial shock was over. She had to be strong. She was a Khushrenada.

Standing up and straightening her back, she reached up and switched the light off.

Quatre wandered down the empty halls of the school, his footsteps echoing off the harsh white walls. A bell rang, springing the students that were inside the classroom walls into action. Soon, they flooded the hallway, pushing and shoving their way towards the weekend. A few paused to give a greeting to Quatre. But all the sounds fell on deaf ears.

He stopped at the door of a classroom where junior high students filed out with their miniature violin cases. Quatre forced himself to smile as they went past him and greeted him with smiles. He had come into the class multiple times to play the violin with their teacher, give demos and twice actually teach. Once the last student had left, he stepped into the room and shut the door.

A frail looking woman was sitting at the desk, going through a stack of papers. Her ebony hair had been cut short and her green eyes were focused on her work. Quatre saw the bottle of the aspirin lying out on the desk and frowned.

"Gabi?"

She looked up, slightly startled. A wide smile broke out across her face. "Quatre, I didn’t even hear you come in." Then she caught his serious look. "What is it?"

"Are your hands hurting again?"

"Not too bad." She picked up the bottle and dropped it into a desk drawer. But when she saw that the problem wasn’t the pain in her hands, that sinking feeling hit her again. "What happened?"

Quatre bowed his head. "There’s been an assassination."

"What?"

"Relena Peacecraft, Lucrezia Peacecraft and Mariemaia Khushrenada were all shot and killed early this morning."

Gabi remained seated at her desk, too shocked to move. She had never met Relena or any of the others that Quatre had fought with during the war. But she definitely knew of them. This was a serious political blow to the colonies and Earth, one she wasn’t sure they would ever really recover from. She looked up at Quatre and found his eyes still closed and his head still bowed. This had come as a personal blow as well. Getting up from her chair, she forced her legs into working. Gently she put her arms around him and he offered no resistance. She had known him for eight months now but felt like it had been her whole life. She knew he wouldn’t cry in front her, and definitely not at the school. She was surprised he let her hold him. But even that didn’t last long. After a few minutes he pulled back and straightened his shoulders. She still couldn’t help but think how young he still looked after everything he had been through.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" It was a weak question, but it was the best she could come up with.

"Yes, there is. I need an honest answer from you."

Gabi nodded her head for him to continue.

"Do you love me?"

The question left her startled and he immediately picked up on it.

"I’m sorry. Let me explain myself. You know who I am, and what I did. With what has happened, I’ll be called to war again."

"I thought the Gundams were destroyed."

"They were. As of now, they’re being rebuilt."

The truth of the situation hit her with such force it made the room spin. "When do you leave?"

"I’m not certain. It could be anytime. But I want to know if you love me?"

"Of course I love you. But how does that affect the war?"

"It doesn’t affect the war, it affects us. It leaves us with two choices." Quatre took both her hands in his, lacing his fingers with her slender ones. "The first choice is that you stay here and wait till the war is over. Or, we could get married now and you come with me to the Sanc Kingdom."

"Quatre,-"

"Don’t answer me now. Think about it, please."

"I think you should do some thinking about this. Do you want to marry a ruined musician?"

"Being able to read music and play an instrument doesn’t matter. I fell in love with you, not your violin."

Gabi gave him a little a smile. "I have my answer now, if you want it."

Quatre searched her eyes thoroughly, looking for any signs of doubt or misgivings. All he found was certainty. He nodded his head.

"I want to go with you."

"What about teaching?"

"The position will be quickly filled. But that’s not important. I don’t want to say good bye to you and have that be the last memory I will have."

"I could leave you a widow."

"That could be true without the war. I want to marry you."

Quatre nodded his head solemnly. "Four days. You have four days to back out of this if you want to."

"All right. The same goes for you."

Quatre brought her hands up to his lips and kissed them. "I’m not going to back out."

"Good. Neither am I."

Quatre loosened his fingers from hers and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. He grinned sheepishly.

"I don’t have a ring."

"I don’t care. I have you, that’s good enough."

His grin faded and he grew very somber. "I hope that’s good enough."

"It is for me."

Quatre leaned down and gently kissed her, pouring his relief into the kiss. Gabi had her arms around his neck, using that to keep her on balance. He hadn’t counted her answer being as sure as it was. In fact, he had thought she was going to choose to wait for him. But after feeling her in his arms now, he was glad she had made the choice she did. He couldn’t leave her now if he tried.

"I love you Gabi."

She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "And I you, Quatre."

Trowa sat by the lion’s cage and gazed up at the stars. War. He thought he had left that behind him. He closed his eyes. Apparently not. Catherine had heard the news of the assassinations and asked him if he was off to fight again. His one word response of "yes" launched her into a ranting and raving fit of how he had already done his duty and then some. It was time for him to let other people fight the war.

He opened his eyes again gazed up at the small white dots of light that winked at him. How could he not fight? He had fought in battles ever since he could remember. That was who he was. The only difference now was the fighting didn’t control his life. He knew how to live peaceable and was doing it just fine. But the call to war had been sounded, and he could not refuse it. The lion behind him stirred and began pacing his cage. Trowa sat up at looked at the creature.

"What is it?"

The animal stopped, and lowered its massive head, staring intently into the darkness. A low growl issued forth from its throat, and Trowa felt the rumble in his chest. Trowa found the line of sight to be in the direction where most of the animal food was stored.

"All right, I’ll go check it out."

Trowa made his way over to the tent and kept his senses on high alert. At first glance, there was nothing out of the norm. However, a slight noise stopped him from leaving the tent. He pulled his gun out, thankfully he never gave up the habit of carrying it.

"Who’s there?"

Nothing stirred.

"I asked who was there."

After a few seconds of silence, a tarp that was used to cover hay moved and someone stood up, pulling the material off them. The only distinguishing feature Trowa could make out was long, dark hair and a slight build.

"Who are you?"

A feminine voice answered. "Doesn’t matter."

"You’re trespassing, it does matter."

A slight sigh, like a gentle breeze, escaped her lips. "My name is Mika. And you are correct, I am trespassing."

"Why?"

"I do not have a home. It is easy to go unnoticed in a traveling troupe."

Trowa lowered his gun slightly. He didn’t sense much threat from this new person, but that didn’t always mean something. Her voice had a slight accent that he couldn’t quite place at the moment.

"Come here."

Obediently she crossed the space between and stopped under one of the floodlights that shone into the tent. Her skin was dark, permanently tan from her heritage. She was Native American.

"How did you get here?"

A slight smirk tug at her lips. "A shuttle."

Trowa deepened his frown. Her smirk disappeared.

"I’ve spent the last three years of my life traveling around the colonies. Confines of the reservation were too great for a soul like mine. And having seen all five colony clusters, I find that even space is too restraining."

Trowa pocketed his gun. "I think you’ve travel has been limited. The one thing that isn’t confining is space."

"Perhaps you are correct. However, each person has a different spirit. Some spirits craze more than others. Mine craves for wide open spaces with no boundaries."

She fixed him with a steady glare, her dark eyes glinting in the light. "Yours craves for conflict."

Trowa’s eyes narrowed. "I wouldn’t say that."

"Than what does your spirit desire?"

He found he didn’t have an answer for her. He simply didn’t know. Mika let out a slight laugh.

"It took me many years to figure out what my spirit longed for. The only way to answer the question is to be honest with yourself. Many people like to build up illusions around who they are that they live someone else’s life. You yearn for conflict so you can prove yourself valuable to others, because you do not think you are valuable to yourself. That is not a bad thing."

"You have an interesting philosophy."

Mika smiled slightly and bowed her head in gratitude.

"Do you have any belongings?"

"Just a bag."

"Bring it. I’ll give you a place to stay. I’ll be leaving soon, but you are more than welcome to stay with the troupe. As long as you don’t find the circus confining. However, you will have to work to stay here."

"I understand. I would not ask it to be otherwise."

Trowa watched her grab her a small a bag and sling it over her shoulder. Catherine was going to have fit. This was not going to go over well considering his recent call to go to war. However, Mika could help greatly in his absence.

"Hey Mika, what are your feelings about knives?"