Online, the links to the music do not work. To hear the music, click here for instructions. All credits are on the Homepage. To go to the Rhythm Emotion Hompage, click the link at the bottom of the page. To get back to the archive, press alt + Back or the back button on your toolbar. Thank You. Cyrene.







Act One: The Rhythm Emotion- Setting the Stage
Unit One: How it all began
Chapter One: Mourning and a Mystery

Silence

Darkness. Pain. The Void. No one saw the writhing figure in the engulfing darkness of the void, heard his screams of pain, regret, and confusion; or felt the weighted silence, after so long a time of hearing his tortured screams fill the darkness, as they strangely abated. He was tired, and now, after so many years of fighting, he was ready to give in. He was ready to allow himself to be one with the void, to release his grasp on what little emotions he had left, and therefore lose his humanity; and all because of one foolish, valiant, brave, reckless gesture by the one person who could ever touch him. He wanted it now, he wanted to become one with the darkness, so he wouldn’t have to feel this dull aching pain in his chest that made him want to cry the tears that he had forgotten how to shed. It was cowardice, true, but he couldn’t stand the pain, and the thing that hurt the most, was that he didn’t understand why he felt this way in the first place. Hadn’t he always said that he…

His writhing slowed to the occasional spasmodic twitch. If one looked hard enough, on his back, they would see a pair of metaphoric wings, once so beautiful. Now, however, those wings were withered and weak; the muscles having atrophied long ago. The feathers, once so white, neat, and pure, were gray, in some places black, unkempt. Scattered across the tainted feather coat, were bald spots like welts on the once soft, clean coat. Long ago, he had forgotten how to fly, as long ago, he came to depend on technology as a crutch before he ever got a chance to even spread his wings for the first time.

It was happening, he could feel it. Finally, after so many struggles, after so many close calls, he was finally letting it happen, even welcoming it. His muscles turned completely lax, and he closed his eyes wearily and waited for the darkness to swallow him up, for all eternity.


Mist

It was over. It was truly over. She was gone. Now what would they do? She was gone, and it was all his fault. He had none other than himself to blame. He had failed, and now she was gone; all his fault.

It’s all my fault. If only I hadn’t decided to pull that… and now, because of it, she’s dead. It’s all my fault. She should be here ‘now’. How could I have been so careless! It’s all my fault.

Side by side, the two men of whom she cared about the most, and the two men who cared about her the most, even if they didn’t know it, led the solemn parade through the recuperating Capitol of the Sank Kingdom. They were going to the memorial site of The Late Relena Peacecraft, Princess of the Sank Kingdom, Queen of the world, and now, a heroin who sacrificed her life for the countless millions who would have died had she not.

Each of these two blamed themselves for her death, one because he had left her, thinking she would follow his instructions and get to safety, the other because he had tried to use his trump card to win that battle, but she had anticipated his move, and therefore sacrificed herself to stop him. Behind these two were four more, all silent, all solemn, heads held high as they led the mourning followers of the princess to her memorial, where burial rites would be conducted in honor of the departed.

Behind these four followed four more, and behind them followed a line of people that just never seemed to end. The sun was out, the air was crisp, and had it been under other circumstances, it would have been a joy to be out on this day, but it was not. For the two in front, the words of the priest gave no comfort, as they were too lost in their own thoughts to even hear, and as the ceremony ended neither really seemed to notice the light rain that began to fall as the crowd dispersed.

None of them looked at each other, as the ten of them looked on in mourning for their lost friend, and ally. Soon, however, they too left, leaving one solitary figure standing before the memorial. The man turned and glanced over his shoulder at the boy, eyebrow raised in question that he still had not moved, to leave or place the roses he still held in his hands before the statue, before he gave a mental shrug and left the boy to his thoughts. He was alone now. Now, he had the privacy he needed to truly morn her departure of this world.

Picture the image of a statue of Princess Relena Peacecraft, standing about seven feet tall, on the four foot high base. The stone was white as snow, symbolizing her purity. She wore her politicians uniform, her right hand extended as if to help someone from the ground. There was nothing proud or arrogant in her stance, and her expression was soft and kind, looking at the invisible person she wished to help.

Now, picture a boy, about sixteen years of age, wearing a loose green tank top, black spandex shorts, and oversized yellow sneakers. His hair was disheveled, giving him a wild child affect. His eyes, usually so intense, were now cast downward and dark with suppressed emotion. In his hand, he held a bouquet of red roses, that threatened to fall from his almost nonexistent grasp. Picture him standing at the base of this statue, as the receiving person of her concern. The sky is dark with clouds ready to open up to shed tears for the passing of the Princess of Peace.

Now picture a man in the distance, about thirty yards away, looking on at the boy, whose stance radiated shame, remorse, and grief. The man, long platinum hair falling, unbound down his back and over his face, who lips pursed in sympathy and realization of the bond that had formed between the youths over the course of the war, even if they hadn’t realized the existence of the string that bound them. For a long time, neither man moved, but soon, the one with long platinum hair turned and left, leaving the silent figure standing before the stature, like a person awaiting judgment.

He felt cold, numb, as the void slowly ate its way up his arms and legs, moving up his torso like the caress of a snake. He looked down and was somewhat disturbed because he could not see his arms legs, or his torso. With a small sigh, he let go again, as the void reached up to his heart, swallowing the emptiness, making the hurt go away.

The void was making it’s way up his neck when he heard it, a voice, far in the distance, a whisper, too quiet to make out, but with it, it brought back memories, mainly the memory of a boy and a girl on the platform of a mobile suit, a Gundam, and the boy leaning forward, as if to kiss her, when their respective helmets halted his movement. He said some words that he couldn’t hear, couldn’t remember, and her face softened from surprise to a combination of understanding, sympathy, and something else.

Then, to they boy’s surprise, she pushed forward, wrapping her arms around him in the first embrace of his life. The two fell back on the cockpit seat, the boy completely stunned, eyes wide with shock, arms instinctively going around her loosely. Her head was on his chest, and tears were sliding down her cheeks as her mouth moved, speaking words he couldn’t remember, before she pressed closer to him, tightening her grip, and trembling slightly, more with somewhat raged breath than her silent sobs.

Slowly, his face softened and he actually returned the embrace, and stroked her back in comfort as the meaning of the words she spoke truly sunk in. After a time she pulled away, spoke a moment more, before giving him a brave smile and stepped back off the platform, still speaking, and floated to the catwalk.

Tears came to the boys eyes as the memory came back to him, and the voice continued to speak words he didn’t understand, couldn’t make out. The void slowly began to release him, as if the voice were beating it back, until it got down to his heart, at which point the pain came back with a vengeance. The voice, though gently, firmly told him something that he didn’t understand, and set the pain in his chest aflame. His face contorted in pain and he opened his mouth to release a silent scream of torture. The void engulfed the deft noise, and with that anguished cry blasted the void from his shaking form, and Heero Yuy curled up in a ball, in the void in which he had spent almost his entire life, and he cried.

How long had he been standing here? An hour. Two. More? He didn’t know, and he didn’t really care. Slowly, he walked up to the statue and slowly fell to his knees as he placed the roses at the girl’s feet. He still didn’t, couldn’t, look up into her caring eyes, couldn’t bear to see her face. Settling back on his heals, he bowed his head in respect, honor, for the Princess, shame, for himself, and in mourning.

He stayed their for a time, not noticing that his shoulders started trembling, until a warm drop of water fell on his hand, and he realized his cheeks were wet. His vision blurred, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered. She was gone, and nothing mattered. Suddenly, the pain in his chest erupted and metastasized through his body, causing him to hug himself hard, and double over with the pain so intense in a way he didn’t understand, and therefore, was unbearable. And, for the first time in his short, but pain filled life, Heero Yuy allowed the tears to fall unchecked and, knowing he was completely alone, released his grasp on control.

At the gate of the memorial ground, stood a boy underneath a black umbrella, with a long, thigh length, braid draped over his shoulder. The boy clutched the braid with his free hand in a white knuckle grip as the cry resounded against the trees, and in his own head; a cry that seemed to take forever to subside. Silently, Duo pursed his lips together, tears streaming down his cheeks, turned and, unable to bear the sound of Heero’s cries, left his partner to mourn in peace.


Velvet Tear

A few hours later saw Heero at the base of the statue, knees to his chest, in a fetal position, long since drenched by the rain that continued to pound on his unprotected form. To a casual observer, he was asleep, but to someone paying attention, his body was trembling, and to someone who listened hard enough, they would hear unmistakable sobs coming from the sixteen year old boy.

He didn’t understand why it hurt so much, she had only been the first person to ever care about him for who he was, the first person to be his friend, the first person… to ever give him a… hug. No! That didn’t matter! He was the perfect soldier. He didn’t have emotions. He never cared for her! She was a burden! She was a spoiled brat who jeopardized his mission. He should have killed her himself! So… why does it hurt so much?

Slowly, he realized that the rain had stopped, for a time anyway, and he turned onto his back to look at the gentle face of Relena Peacecraft, carved in stone. Strange, she seemed to be looking at him. Then, in the back of his mind, he registered a voice, but, for once, he didn’t care. The voice whispered in the back of his head, asking for something, but what? Why wouldn’t it just leave him alone? What did it want? Then, he looked into the eyes of the statue, and in the back of his clouded mind, understood, and let the voice have what it wanted.



Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Flash. Flash. Flash. Flash.
The high pitched sound was starting to get annoying. Someone turn it off.

Far away from any civilization, far out in the vast reaches of space, a low sound was heard. A grown, a moan, and a whimper of pain. It hurt, it hurt so much. Why? It didn’t hurt a minute ago. Slowly, like molten rock, pain burned it’s way from her shoulder, her thigh, and the back of her head, slowly consuming her, until she felt nothing but pain. She was aware of a sharp cold, like a needle, driving its way into the skin of her face. It hurt. Slowly her head began to throb, and she weakly clutched at it, only to find something around it, something hard, and cold.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, maybe to see what it was, but instantly regretted it, fighting down the intense urge to vomit. She wanted to die. Death couldn’t be worse than this. After a time, she swallowed hard, and parted her lids again, keeping them open as she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. When she finally had her stomach under control, she turned her attention to her surroundings.

Slowly, her eyes widened in shock, as she saw before her a magnificent display of stars, littered with mangled peaces of metal. She was in space. Of that she was now certain. Then, something else passed over her vision, something inside her… helmet? Something red, that was cold when it touched her face. Slowly, she raised her hand and saw, against the whiteness of her suit, that it was... blood! Her blood! Suddenly, the pain in her head exploded and fell back into merciful oblivion.

The rain has returned. In the abandoned street, a lonely figure could be seen, aimlessly wandering around the streets of the Sank Kingdom Capitol. His water darkened clothes clung to his muscular form, his unruly hair plastered itself on his face, cobalt eyes clouded with tears. He didn’t think it was possible to hurt this much. He could set his own bones, yet he couldn’t seem to ignore this aching feeling in his chest, or stop the tears from flowing over his cheeks.

So lost in his pain, Heero didn’t notice the person coming up behind him. He didn’t notice when the rain stopped pounding on his shoulders, nor the dry cloth being draped on his shoulders and wrapped around his soaked, cold torso. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She was gone, and nothing mattered.

For a long time the two just walked, Heero never taking note of his silent companion, the latter keeping silent watch over his comrade, and currently, his charge. He was taking it harder than he could have ever imagined, Heero was. Had that girl really meant so much to him? Is that why he risked everything to get her off Libra? ‘Oh Heero, you’ve got it so bad. I remember, when she sacrificed herself for our colony. I never knew how much she meant to me, means to me, until she was gone.’

They continued to walk in silence. Heero was so immersed in his pain that he didn’t notice that the no walking light was on at an intersection, and almost walked right in front of an oncoming truck. His companion, seeing this, quickly jumped forward and pulled Heero back onto the side walk, losing his footing slightly, and bringing them both down onto the cement.

That was the first time Heero was aware of his companion, and looked up, face open, eyes royally betraying his vulnerability, and gazed up at his savior like a lost child who no longer knew he was lost. “Wufei…” was all he could say when his mind finally registered who it was through the haze of pain.

Wufei looked on at the Japanese pilot, nothing but sympathy in his gaze. He gave the hurt boy a sympathetic smile, before lifting himself to his feet, to retrieve the fallen umbrella and the coat that had fallen from Heero’s shoulders. Heero made no move to get up, only watched as the Chinese boy came back up to him, and offered a hand up. Heero looked at the extended hand dumbly, his mind unable to register what it was for, only that he suddenly looked like that girl in the park.

Wufei pursed his lips, seeing the boy’s confusion, and bent down, taking his arm, and pulled him to his feet, and wrapped the coat around him again. This time he went to the effort of putting the wing pilot’s arms in the sleeves. For a time they just stood there, Heero looking out at the street, Wufei lending silent support and strength.

“Heero, listen to me.” He finally said gently. Slowly, Heero turned to look at his comrade, a silent tear rolling down his cheek as he did so. “Heero, I know your hurting, Ok. We all understand that. I more than any of them. I too, have lost someone I cared for, like you cared for her, and… I can’t promise that the pain and regret will go away, but it will get better with time. The trick is not to give into the pain and throw your life away. Relena would have wanted you to live on, and be happy.”

“I’ve failed her.” Defeat was evident in his voice.

“We all feel that there was something we could have done to prevent this Heero, but it’s not your fault. She chose to do it, no one told her to, or forced her to. It was her decision, and she was completely aware of the consequences. It is no one’s fault.”

“I should have stayed with her. I should have been the one to do it.”

“I know Heero, I know.” Wufei placed a companionable hand on the grief stricken boy’s shoulder. “Come on Heero. Let me take you back to the apartment, and I’ll make you something to eat while you dry yourself. What do you say?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Food will help with the pain. I know Heero,” Blue eyes met black in a questioning glance.

“What do you mean you know? How could you know what I feel right now?” His voice was weak, but the accusation was there all the same.
Rose
“Come on, and I’ll tell you.” He tugged gently on Heero’s shoulder and the two started back, while Wufei told his story. “Have I ever mentioned that I’m a widower?” Heero looked at him funny, but Wufei never took his solemn gaze from the ground.

“You’re married?” his tone reeked of ‘yeah right’ and ‘how stupid do you think I am’.

“Was. A long time ago, before I became a Gundam Pilot. It was an arranged marriage and to say the neither of us were pleased about it is terrific an understatement. Meiran was a warrior. Brave. Firm in her beliefs. At the time I thought she was the most conceded girl I’d ever seen in my life.” He smiled as he looked back and remember the first time he and Meiran met. “I was raised on a traditional Chinese colony, and was raised to believe that a woman’s place was in the home with the kids, not on the battlefield. I still believe that a woman’s place isn’t on the battlefield, but not as passionately as I used to. She was a lot like Duo in some ways. Very outgoing, friendly, and a bundle of energy when she wanted to be.” He chuckled at some old memory.

“I was a scholar back then, and she called me weak because she felt I should be on the battlefield with her and not with my nose in some book or another. She called herself Nataku, Chinese god of war, just to spite me.” A grin graced Wufei’s features as he remembered old memories.

“That’s why you call Shenlong Nataku, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Meiran died defending our colony. She died in my arms.” Wufei became solemn again, as memories of the pain filled day came back, “She told me that I was Nataku now. Even though we were always at each others throats the whole time we were married, I never knew just how much she meant to me until that day, when she left me, forever,” His voice wavered as he said that last word.

“So you see Heero, I know exactly what your going through.” He turned to his mourning companion. “Heero, I can’t promise that the pain will ever go away, because that would be a lie. I don’t think it will ever go away, but it will get better. You aren’t going to feel this bad forever, and, if you ever need someone to talk to, you know were to come, OK.”

For a while Heero just looked at the Chinese pilot, letting the meaning of the words he spoke sink in through his not so clouded mind before a small smile graced his solemn face. “Thank you Wufei?” Heero said and nodded, before they set off towards the pent house Zechs had kindly given them to stay in while they were here in the Sank Kingdom.



Crystal

Pain. Searing, needlelike pain. Darkness, like no darkness she had ever seen before. She had the sickening sensation of falling from an impossible height. Slowly, cautiously, she opened her eyes and was greeted by the stars that had shone upon her earlier. Occasionally, some rubble, or some blood would block out the crystal lights. She was alone. She had to find shelter, or she would surely die. Slowly, ignoring the pain that the movement caused, she rolled up and looked around. Nothing. There was nothing that she could see that could give her any form of shelter. Slowly she turned round, and she could see the earth below her. Despite the pain and the situation, she gasped and marveled at its magnificence. For a time she just floated there, gazing down upon the planet earth in all her splendor and glory.

Wait. What was that?! She thought she saw something silhouetted against the light of the earth. Squinting, she tried to make out the form she saw floating in the distance through the haze of floating debris. There! There it was again. It was there, she was sure of it. Then, for a brief second, all the debris seemed to give way to a single path that led to this enormous, humanlike form standing against the glowing earth, before the mangled pieces of metal passed by again. It was a ways off, but if she could just somehow get to it, maybe…

She had to get moving first. There was no air here, though. Nothing for her to push against. Wait. There. A piece of rubble was coming close to her, close enough to… She waited as it made it’s slow approach, slowly, gently reached out to grab it, and pushed it back behind her as soon as it was about an inch or so from her hand. Then she screamed. The debris was heavy, and it irritated her injuries to do that, but it got her moving the way she wanted to go. Again she reached out to a piece of coming debris, and pushed it back, biting against the pain it caused hard enough for her to lightly taste blood in her mouth, as she started moving faster. This, she repeated a couple of times, and spent the rest of her time trying to avoid getting hit by the metal, and for the most part was successful, but did get jarred by a larger peace that seemed to just come out of nowhere. Luckily, though, it didn’t have a significant affect on her course.

Then, after what seemed a short eternity, she heard a dull thud and was pressed against this massive, human shaped, piece of metal. The words mobile suit came to mind. Then, the image of the midsection of one of these… mobile suites, opening up, came to her. Slowly, so she wouldn’t push herself away, she scaled the side of the giant downward and soon there was nothing else to scale. By this point, she could taste the blood leaking from her tongue, as she bit down on the muscle to keep from screaming out with the pain in her body.

Slowly, she lowered herself, and saw that the… cockpit… was open and empty. Thankfully, she let herself drop to the already open platform and pushed herself inside. With a sigh of relief, she turned and sat just above the seat, and was about to reach for the restraining straps when the door suddenly closed and locked. A monitor moved in front of her vision and a hissing noise was heard. She was just about to panic when the words ‘Pressurization complete’ flashed on the screen.

‘pressurize… oh.’ She thought, before she reached up and removed the helmet. There was another hissing noise as she did so and just as the fresher air that filled the cockpit entered her lungs, the pain in her injuries ignited and fell unconscious again.


Amber

Pain. Everywhere. In everyone. In myself. I feel it. The entire city is in pain.

Patpatpattaptappatpattaptaptap

In one of the three bedrooms in the penthouse that the Gundam Pilots were staying in, a single figure sat at the window seat, staring out into the storm, listening to the soothing sound of the rain pounding firmly on the roof and on the window. It was a pleasant white noise that somehow managed to ease his mourning soul slightly. Silent tears trickled down his fare cheeks and landed on his hands. Heero was taking it very hard, Relena’s death. Wufei had finally gone out after him, if nothing else than to keep him from doing something stupid. Duo and Trowa weren’t in any real pain, neither had actually known her, maybe seeing her in passing, though they both felt her passing strongly. Wufei seemed to be feeling some old pain reawakened by these events rather than feeling anything for Relena’s passing.

Idly, he turned and found the case containing his violin leaning against the wall in the dimly lit room. After a moment, he sighed slightly and moved to retrieve his most valued physical possession, next to Sandrock. Kneeling down, he undid the clasp and liberated the simple instrument from its confines. Idly, he played with the strings, making sure they were in tune, as they always were, picked up the bow, and moved back to the window seat where he looked out into the rain for a time.

Outside, in the main room, Trowa and Duo loitered, Duo draped about one of the soft arm chares, staring up at nothing in particular, Trowa standing by the window, gazing out into the storm, when the sounds of Quatre’s violin seeped around the door and into the room.

“Huh?” Duo pushed himself up for a moment and looked at the door to Quatre’s and Trowa’s room. “Is that Quatre?”

“Yeah.” Trowa’s voice was distant, as he listened to the sorrowful sounds of the weeping instrument. The sad notes touched him in a way that nothing else could, and he felt a single tear slip down his cheek before he brushed it away. Without warning, the memory of him and Quatre in one of his families homes making music together filled his mind. That was the first time he had actually felt whole in his entire life. For the first time that void inside him that had been present, even if in the back of his mind, was filled, if for only a brief moment.

Then, slowly, that image fazed out to the image of Quatre standing before him, tears welling in his eyes. Trowa had just asked him who he was, and the small boys face shattered to shock, sorrow, grief, and an overwhelming guilt. Trowa hadn’t known why at the time, but when he saw the tears threatening to fall from those blue eyes, he could almost hear something inside him crack, something that hurt him more than he thought was possible.

“Huh.” Duo looked at his stoic companion, and, for an instant, saw past the stoic mask, saw the pain, confusion, loneliness, saw the lost child that was Trowa, who had for gotten that he was lost. He sighed, settling back to observe the tall pilot, to listen to the sound of Quatre’s violin, and to remember a time long past. His mind drifted back to when he had lost a woman whose face he could no longer remember, whose voice turned mute, whose embrace now a passing breeze in his memory. Whose life was sacrificed to save his own. He could barely even remember what she was to him.

A few minutes later, Trowa moved to one of the bags in the corner and removed a foot long case of black leather. Silently, he moved to the room he was currently sharing with Quatre and quietly opening the door, showed Quatre the case, before he nodded entered, leaving the door ajar slightly.

Duo frowned a minute before he heard the sound of a sad flute join the weeping violin. There was a flash of soundless lightening outside as the two hit a high note and suddenly Duo heard his partner’s grief stricken scream in his mind, where it didn’t seem to want to end. His eyes blurred as the cry seemed to carry on forever in his head and irritably wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve. He had to get out. There was to much pain here, too many things that inadvertently brought back memories.

With a sigh, he made his way to the roof where he listened to the pounding of rain on his umbrella and remember another rainy night, long ago, when another person who had cared about him died. He remembered the words he had told him long ago as his first friend died in his arms. He remembered how he had named himself after that friend, and how he had made a promise to a body that, despite it’s purity, could never be kept.


Interlude II

A whisper. A murmur. So Quiet. So distant, yet so close. Just loud enough to rouse her from the darkness that had engulfed her.

Feather light brushes against her skin. Pain, as something cold splashed against her face and neck. Light, bright enough to penetrate her skin to her eyes. Throbbing, like a drum inside her head. Fire, spread from her shoulder and thigh. She awoke to these sensations and more, as she slowly clawed her way back to consciousness. The voice, so soothing, gently nudged her into the waking world.

Slowly, she parted her eyelids, tears of pain clinging to her long eyelashes, and felt her hand brush against something hard nearby. Slowly, she turned her attention to her surroundings, and found that she was in a small, enclosed space, where lights bombarded her sensitive eyes. Panels on three sides of her showed her moving images of space, earth below, and passing debris, and something else… Something else was passing over the screens, but she couldn’t quite tell what. Slowly, so as not to agitate her injuries, she turned around in the… cockpit. Yes… a cockpit. She could see a seat below her now, as she pushed long hair from her view.

Slowly, memories of what had happened came back, and she realized that she was in the cockpit of a mobile suit, some semblance of shelter. Gently, she reached out and grasped the straps that floated lazily about the seat, and slowly pulled herself onto the seat, turning as she did so, so that she was seated when she made contact. Whimpering at the pain in her shoulder, she pulled the strap down and inserted it into the counterpart between her legs on the seat. Then she reached up and repeated the process with the other one, noting the cushioning on the restraints where the straps curved over her shoulders.

With a somewhat relieved sigh, she looked up at the screen again, and again saw this other red stuff floating amongst the debris. It took her only a fraction of a second to realize that it was inside the cockpit and that it was cold when in touched her. Her eyebrow furled slightly, and she removed her right glove, letting the innate object float where it will, dancing with the helmet that also drifted lazily, as she reached up to touch one of the floating marbles, unable to conceive of what they were. One of them splattered against the back of her hand and clung to the tiny hairs there.

She looked on at the small, crimson mounds with a kind of sick, distant fascination, before it finally dawned on her that it was blood. Roughly, she shook her hand to dislodge the offending liquid and looked around at the floating liquid balls around her and feeling her stomach trying to empty itself. With a slight whimper, she closed her eyes and fought for control, trying to ignore the throbbing in her head, the fire in her shoulder and leg.

After a time, she looked around again to examine the controls. To either side of the seat were a pair of joysticks, beyond them, a series of buttons on a raised, horizontal panels. Overhead, there were some more controls, and to the right, there was a largish lever that moved back and forth across the ceiling of the cockpit.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, she just stared at the lever, and barely took note of the whispering voice in the back of her head that she couldn’t understand. Then the image of a huge birdlike machine appeared in her mind, like a fighter jet, but unlike any configuration she had ever seen before. Then the image of a blue mobile suit, the one she was in, replace the image of the birdlike fighter. The lever was in the forward position at the moment. Slowly, detachedly, like she was in a trance, she looked around that the controls as the nameless voice continued to speak to her. Occasionally she would just stare incessantly at a particular button or control, and an image would appear to her. Consciously, she didn’t put the image and the control together but unconsciously she did, with the help of the voice.

Then, she stared at an object protruding from the side of the base for the controls. Another image came to her, of a hand reaching out and pulled the object from it’s confines, and she did the same. She soon found her self holding a long, slim object with a red button on the end. Then she gasped, and sat bold upright, eyes wide, staring at something far away and long ago.
Pax Deorum
A boy in a green tank top emerged from the cockpit of a suit… this suit. “Mission Accepted.” He said, then held the longish object out in front of him and pressed the red button with his thumb. A moment later, liquid fire could be seen inside the suit through the cracks in the armor, and a high pitched whine filled the otherwise silent, but electric air. Then, in a flash of white light, the Mobile suit exploded with the boy still on it, making no move to get off. The last thing she saw was the boy lying on the ground, blood pooling around him, eyes wide and empty, breath almost none existent.
Exile
As the image of the boy lying in a pool of blood faded from her mind, she slumped against the seat, and slowly lifted the detonator within her sight. For a time she just stared dumbly at it, letting the impact of its function wash over her. After a moment she pursed her lips and replaced it in its confines, before turning her gaze to the view screens before her. She didn’t even notice that the voice had stopped speaking to her.

According to the screens she was in orbit around earth. So… what now? Idly she reached up and retrieved the floating glove from the air and replaced it over her hand, as she mulled over her options. As her senses focused more on the present, she saw this tiny flash coming from her lap and looked down to find where it was coming from. What she found was a small box strapped to her waist with a single light on the top blinking. Frowning slightly, she reached for it but couldn’t pull it off her waist. After a moment of mild struggle, she shrugged and left it where it was. Again… what now?

She had to go somewhere. She couldn’t just continue to float around up here. Where should she go? She winced as the pain in her head made itself known again but ignored it. She had a vague notion that there were populated aria’s in space, but didn’t know were to find them and so decided that earth was the logical choice. She took a deep breath and was just reaching for the two control sticks on either side of the seat when a beeping made itself known in the small space. She turned to the side viewer and saw a huge piece of mass coming right towards her, or… was she moving towards it.
Rhythm Emotion
Yes, she was moving towards it, and fast. Her eyes slowly widened in horror as it’s shadow slowly overcame the enormous mobile suit and continued to get ever larger. You could see whites all the way around her eyes. Then, the whispering voice in the back of her head began to speak to her again and her eyes slowly became distant, her face hardened, and she firmly grasped the two control sticks.

She pressed one of the buttons on the stick, pulled the stick back, and watched as the suit sped up and over the huge mass of metal. She just thought she had cleared it when she was suddenly jerked back and the suit began careening out of control towards the earth below. She gritted her teeth and wiped the blood away from her eyes as the cockpit suddenly started getting very hot and she heard a roaring sound outside. She was entering the atmosphere and if she didn’t get the suit under control soon then she would be burnt to a crisp.

She heard the voice speaking louder to her but she still couldn’t begin to understand what it was saying, and began pulling the control sticks this way and that, placing her feet on the foot panels and pressing various of those to try and stop the out of control vessel. Sweat lifted from her skin as she continued to struggle with the massive machine. A part of her watched this distantly, wondering how she was able to do this as she had almost no idea of what she was doing.

Soon, luckily, she was able to get it under control, but the heat was becoming unbearable, the roaring outside becoming deafening. As if of a will of it’s own, one hand reached to one of the side panels and pressed a couple buttons while the other reached to the top of the cockpit to pull the large lever back. The temperature lessened almost immediately, but she also had almost no control of the suit for a few moments, before she could move the sticks around again, finding that this time she had more control than before.

The suit began to tremble violently, and she squinted her eyes against the pain and against the liquid that was flying back at her now or streaking across the controls. A growl was heard from her throat as she was jerked around in the cockpit. Then, as suddenly as it came, the jerking stopped, and the suit calmed. She looked out around the suit and found herself surrounded by clouds and below her was land and ocean instead of debris and earth.

With a heaved sigh she slumped against the seat again, hardly noticing the blood and sweat that streaked down her face and stained her suit. It was over. She was alive. A chuckle escaped her throat which soon grew to a hysterical laughter that resounded in the cockpit of the suit for some time. It was over. She was alive. She had made it to the earth. Everything would be alright now.


Exile
In the Home of the Peacecraft Family, in a darkened room, a cool breeze passed through the open window, carrying the scent of a forest after the rain. Sitting on the King sized bed was a man with long platinum hair draped over his back like a cape, hunched over a dark-haired woman who knelt on the floor before him. Each of these two hugged the other, shedding silent tears for the brave, strong willed girl to whom they had both become attached during the last war.

Miliardo clung to she who had stood by him, even when they were enemies, like a man would cling to a rope that would save him from the dark waters that threatened to swallow him. Slowly, he rocked them both, in desperation, and in comfort for his partner. He could never forgive himself for the atrocity that he had committed. Never. He was surprised though, that no one as yet, had blamed him for her death. It was his fault. His and his alone. His sister was dead because of him. Never. Never would he be able to rid himself of the shame and guilt he felt this day.

In a room below sat two silent women, sipping tea and staring at nothing in particular. Words weren’t adequate or appropriate at a time like this, so they just sat there and remember the Princess of Peace in her prime, and how her sacrifice had saved millions of lives. If truth be told, neither would have expected anything less from her. She was as pure, as she was strong. A Gundam Pilot on the battlefield of politics. Also the two contemplated how they would go about healing after that war, and how best to go about fulfilling the princess’ dream a total pacifism.

In a pent house in the Sank Kingdom Capitol, in a room with an open window, sat two boys, each holding an instrument, playing a sad, mournful song that went on and on. Their music was heard throughout the temporary stay of the Gundam pilots, and pierced right to each of their souls.

Trowa did his best to keep up with Quatre, to accent his melody as best he could. The boy looked almost relived and certainly grateful when he had asked if the Arabian wanted a partner. Now, the tall pilot watched his partners face, watched as moonlight tears fell over his creamlike skin, and wondered if it was just the boy’s Kokoro no Uchuu or if he truly hurt so much over the princess’ death. He wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but restrained himself, sensing that he was doing the greatest good already.

In a spare room in the penthouse, all the furniture had been pushed against the wall and a Chinese boy, wearing white robes, danced a kata of remembrance. She truly was as strong as they, in her own way, and he respected that. She fought on what was a more proper battle ground than they, and she was to be remember as such, a warrior who died saving the lives of others. He allowed the kata to fall into the rhythm of the song Quatre and Trowa were playing. He didn’t blink back the tears that the song evoked from his soul. He had shed tears for Treize Kushrenada, he should shed tears for Relena Peacecraft as well.

On the roof of the apartment building, a boy stood clad in black, leaning against the railing and looking out at the stars above, listening the soul touching song that drifted from Quatre’s open window. He just stood there and let his mind wander back to the few times he had met the girl. The day he had decided to play the hero and save her from the boy in the green tank top that had pointed a gun at her head. Of the times she had followed him and Heero to one of the schools they were staying at, just so she could keep an eye on the antisocial boy that wanted to kill her.

He was snapped back to reality when a shooting star shot across his vision. It was beautiful. And there, in the night, he made a wish upon that star, and somehow felt it would come true. And then, the sun peaked up over the eastern horizon and he suddenly didn’t feel as weighed down as he had.

In a dark bedroom, a plate of food went untouched and cold. A soft breeze ran across the green tank top that was casually thrown over the back of a chair, played with the now dry bangs of a sixteen year old boy wearing only a pair of black spandex shorts, sprawled on the bed. His eyes were wet, and occasionally a tear would slide past his temple. He couldn’t understand why it hurt so much, and his mind kept going back to the day before when Relena had pushed him onto the seat of Wing Zero and had hugged him, thanking him for everything she had done for him. That was the first hug he could ever remember having in his life.

Another tear spilled from his cobalt eyes, bare and vulnerable, slipping over his temple as he rolled off the damp bed and moved to the open window, hardly noticing the chill as the breeze dried the remaining water on his bare skin, and straddled the sill. For a time he just gazed out at the Sank Kingdom, at her Kingdom, and saw, in the distance, the remains of some buildings destroyed when Roamafeller attacked, and remember how he had not been here to help her, but instead going off to fight with her brother. Another tear rolled down and leapt from his chin to his hand and lap, soaking into the still damp fabric of his shorts.

With a silent sigh, he looked up just in time to see a shooting star streak across the sky and down past the horizon. His eyes lingered on that spot for a moment, before Turing to see the sun peak over the eastern horizon.

And as the sunlight glinted off the buildings and trees shimmering with rain water, each of these people heard an almost muted whisper in the back of their heads and they all knew that, one way or another, things would be alright in the end. They knew that somehow, if only in their hearts, Relena Peacecraft would live on forever, and so would her dream.


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