Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Devil's Due ❯ - 16 - ( Chapter 16 )

— 16 —

November 25, A.C. 204. Airport. 9 pm

"Here," Jordan muttered, passing Xane some discs as they sat in the terminal. "This is that language thing I told you about yesterday."

"All right," Xane muttered, taking the things and pulling up his laptop case. "I'll work on it during the flight, huh?"

"Sound plan," Jor agreed, glancing to his watch. "You'll have eighteen hours to kill and since you'll be getting there at eight in the morning you might take some of that time out to sleep."

"I'll figure it out," Xane shook his head. "Skipping time zones sucks."

"Get used to it," Jor retorted.

"You're one to talk, you have an hour's commute to the only other place you go."

Jordan gave him another look.

The guy grinned slightly, looking around to see who was near. No one was in the immediate vicinity, so he leaned over against Jor's shoulder with a sigh. "I did it."

"Did it?" Jor asked, considering that. "Did what?"

"I...broke up with James," the spy explained.

Jordan blinked at that, then pulled back slightly to consider his friend before smiling slightly. "He'll be okay...and remember, I'm here so you have someone to come home to."

"I was with him for three years," Xane grumbled, grabbing a handful of Jor's jacket with one hand. He was studying the guy's boots. "Don't be so cavalier about it."

"You did it for the best," Jor reassured him, resting his own hand on the other's a moment. "It's gonna be hard, I'm sure...but he has his friends and you have yours. You two haven't really gotten along since we met...don't dwell, huh?"

"I guess," Xane agreed, still studying his superior's boots.

"Oi," Jor muttered, looking to the people moving into the area. Xane sat up properly as a pair of elderly Asians moved toward them arguing about if they should sit and wait or go look at the shops. The woman was noting that there were only two guys there, which meant the flight was a ways off yet anyway, so she should go look for her...

A now-boarding call came over the loudspeakers, which kept Jordan from hearing what she was trying to get, and he smiled down at his second.

"How many languages is that disc?" Xane muttered, pulling his laptop case onto his lap again and starting to pull the machine out.

"Asian," Jor returned. "Most of them, but not dialects. Just focus on the Mandarin for now. I wish I could have gotten this for you months ago, but I don't think that far ahead. I'll get more of them together for all of you, that way we don't have the language issue anymore. I should have started this right off. I'm going to with the babies."

"Don't they speak a fair range?" Xane muttered, looking to his friend as the disc loaded into the machine.

"In the same respect that you five speak a fair range, yes," Jor agreed. "Unfortunately, getting taught the main languages of the land isn't a fad anymore. Street urchins and emotionless weapons have to make do with their native tongue."

That got him a look, though it was an amused one.

"I'm gonna get out of here before someone sees me who shouldn't," Jor added. "I haven't heard of any mixed contacts, but that doesn't mean anything until the fat lady sings."

"Turn on Jeabble at eleven," Xane suggested. He was reading the end-user agreement. "There's a fat chick named Shiane who sings."

Jor snorted, running his hand briefly through the guy's hair before starting away. "Take care of yourself and remember the check in times."

Xane met his eyes, then smiled slightly and nodded, watching as the guy walked away. He pulled out his headphones from the case and plugged them in, glancing to the older couple who were still discussing whatever they had been. He put one earbud in and tucked the other around his ear so he could still hear, then focused on the beginning steps of the program.

Hopefully he'd be able to speak it before he got there, but understanding would suffice. Understanding would be a definite first step.

- -

November 26, A.C. 204. Airport. 5 pm

Raul sighed as he moved across the airport toward the luggage area. He wasn't fond of defeat in any form, so his complete failure in two missions in a row was weighing him down heavily. He was happy that he at least had friends on base that he'd be able to spend time with for a week, and Jordan would be able to tell him the actual status of all his comrades. Actually, he also had the new recruits...hopefully that would be a good point, too...he wanted to try to help Wufei while he was at it.

He wasn't sure how long he'd get to stay on the base, but he had plans for what he did manage to pull off.

But where was Jor?

He slowed at the area the man had been waiting before–the man had a lovely tendency to be consistent...but he wasn't...

"Yo," Barton called, waving a hand at him. "Over here."

"Barton?" Raul asked, moving closer to him and looking around. "Where's Maxwell?"

"His wife is having a mental breakdown and he had to run home to her before the nice men in white jackets showed up. You're damn lucky I was at the Rest when Shin called."

"Is she all right?" Raul asked quickly.

Trowa blinked at him, then grinned slightly. "Right, sarcasm doesn't work..."

"What?"

Trowa grinned at him and gestured with his head for the guy to follow. "She's not really having a mental breakdown, but it was pointed out to her earlier this week that she can get pregnant. She was raised in Angels, and that means that most children are accidents. Being able to plan it is terrifying to her...and I guess she and Jor gave it a try a night or so ago and she was having issues."

Raul blinked at the man, wondering about that.

"Mm, Yuy got married Saturday, right? He got back from honeymoon on Tuesday and the good doctor has a suspicious mind and decided with some infallible loop of logic that a paternity test for Chip was in order–this is where the infallible part comes in. Yuy is Chip's father."

Raul stopped to stare at him.

"We all did that, too," Barton noted in amusement. "They're in a state of lover's bliss so complete that you can see her in his eyes when he's a mile away from her...it's kinda sickening, but I'm not entirely sure if it's jealousy or normal revulsion for love-birds."

Raul grinned, moving to catch up again. "So...back to Chai. Is she all right?"

"Ooh, do you have a crush?" the man teased pleasantly.

"She's not really...bad?" Raul decided to ignore the jibes. He might actually get something useful from the man.

Trowa sniggered and shrugged, pointing out a bag. "That yours?"

"That's...huge...floral...print," Raul couldn't help but respond as he stared at the thing. "It would belong to some little old lady or a woman in her thirties who's all prim and proper."

"Or a younger woman who's deathly embarrassed that she had to borrow it," Tro returned with a shrug. "I was just asking."

Raul blinked at him.

"How about that one?" the guy added, pointing at a brilliantly purple bag that almost seemed to glow.

"Uh...no," Raul muttered. He almost gave the guy a description of his bag, but then realized that Barton was just being obnoxious. He didn't care what bag was really Raul's, and even if it were explained he'd play the game up.

"That's gotta be it," the man added as a beaten up and patched black bag slid against the railing. The thing looked ready to burst open.

"Oh yeah," Raul agreed, rolling his eyes slightly. "Finest Italian leather, hand-crafted by child-labor."

Trowa blinked at him.

"My bag," Raul noted very calmly, "is a mid-sized black suit-case. There are no distinguishing features about it, and it's damned common."

As he'd assumed, every strange bag that slid down the shoot had to be his. Trowa asked repeatedly that simple question that was most definitely designed to irritate the fuck out of him...until his bag did slide down.

Raul stepped forward, noting a pink one following. "That one's gotta be yours," he muttered, nodding at it as he pulled his off.

"Ooh, yeah," Trowa agreed...gathering the thing off the line. "Let's go..."

Raul stared at him as he started...to...walk away. He followed hesitantly, looking around to see if the true owner would notice or not, and started feeling pangs of guilty panic when Trowa headed for the exit with the thing.

"Barton," he hissed, moving forward.

"Oh, calm down," Trowa retorted, though he looked highly amused. He stopped an airport worker then, looking embarrassed. "Excuse me...I feel like an ass...but...this isn't our bag," he indicated the thing. "I forgot we left our pink one at home this trip and only just realized he had ours...I'm so sorry, but..."

The man blinked at him before looking to Raul. The spy was sort of sad that he'd mastered the expressionless response...because he knew the expression was neither confirmation nor denial.

"I feel...I just feel like an ass," Barton repeated, rolling the bag forward. "We have a ride to catch, and I just can't bear taking this back to the terminal...I'm so sorry..." he looked accusingly to Raul.

"Come on, Baby," Raul retorted, rolling his eyes. "I told you to stay with me."

"The last time you said that..." Barton started.

"It woulda..."

"All right!" the worker interrupted quickly, taking the bag from Trowa. "I can take it back...just be more careful next time..."

"Thank you so much," Trowa gushed as he all but fled.

"You are the king of pointless shit," Raul informed him.

"You're the one who confused me, Baby," Trowa retorted...and led the way from the building.

- -

November 29, A.C. 204. Sion, Switzerland. 5 pm

Judas was damn tired. He moved across his hotel room and dropped heavily onto his mattress, listening to the voices around him talking.

He wanted to stop hearing German...he really really did.

Someone laughed raucously a room over, and he heard a more nervous twitter from someone else.

Great, just what he wanted to hear...

He rolled over onto his side staring across the small room. It was smaller than his apartment, though it didn't have a kitchenette. The lights were a nasty yellow that suggested they'd been cheap, and the tv looked like it was about to explode internally. He clicked that on, noting that the noise level around him wasn't quieting...and switching it to English.

It was probably a stupid idea to do it, but hearing the language was almost refreshing. He made sure to keep it low as he focused on it, taking that moment to turn off his brain.

The pounding on his door made him jump hard.

"What?" he called irritably, using the remote to flick the language over to German.

"Open up, Dead," Alek commanded. "I got some beers."

At least Aleksander wasn't entirely insane.

Judas sighed and climbed off his bed, moving tiredly toward the door and flicking the light on.

"You going to bed already?" the man asked happily, leading the way in with a rather large box of beer and Victor on his heels...and Rasmus...and Kiel. "Shit, man, it's early."

"I'm tired of so many people," he noted half-pointedly. It was lost on the group, though, because they were all Brantley's lackies, meaning that they numbered him amongst themselves so comments like this meant everyone around them.

"Shit, you're tellin' me," Ras agreed, pounding on the wall. "Keep it down over there!"

"Fuck you!" the deeper voice retorted.

"You're already busy," Kiel noted...and they all laughed wickedly.

Judas shut the door, moving to drop on his mattress as the group of them looked interestedly at the television and started to spread out across the room. "Give me one," he suggested, extending his hand.

Alek broke the box opened and passed him a can, then started handing them out. "Cards or darts?"

"Not enough room for darts in this damn place," Victor grumbled, shaking his head. "We play cards, it's not for cash."

"Smokes?" Kiel offered, digging into his pocket for his pack.

"Dead doesn't smoke," Ras reminded him with a roll of the eyes.

"I like to run fast and far," Judas informed him pointedly. "Screw cards, let's pretend we care about the rest of the world for a while."

"Porn?" Alek sat up happily to look them all over.

They all gave him a very level look.

"It's the only thing worth watching, what?" he asked, nonplussed.

Judas laughed and rolled his eyes, turning up the news a click. "The world isn't flat, huh?"

"Isn't it?" Victor asked happily. "I don't believe you. My ancestors sailed off the edge of the world."

"Which...is...why you're here...now," Kiel agreed, giving him a confused look.

Victor grinned back, half-toasting him with his can. "Exactly."

Judas smiled slightly as he drank more of his own can. Really, he didn't mind the group of them so much, it was just the fact that he was completely double-crossing them that had him wary of them. Aside from their black-market business...the whole working for a drug-lord thing...they weren't bad guys.

That wasn't entirely true, but they were entertaining enough to sit around with...so he'd pretend it was true until he couldn't anymore.

Rose colored glasses, right? Make everything pretty in pink.

...even the nasty ass beer.