Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Restless Peace ❯ Fragments ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: See previous part(s). I do not own Aux Champs-Elysees.

Pairings: 1xRP, 3xMU, 4xDC

Period: February 22, 197 to February 28, 197

 

 

Restless Peace: Fragments

 

“Either war is obsolete or men are.”—R. Buckminster Fuller

“I love my past. I love my present. I'm not ashamed of what I've had, and I'm not sad because I have it no longer.”—Colette

 

22 February AC 197—Apartment 215, Hiedra Verde Apartment Complex, Colony V-7629, L-1 Colony Cluster

Heero packed the last of his things. After a week and a half of having that damn cold, he was finally better and he was able to leave home and return to Preventers' Headquarters. He could finally be some help. Wufei was getting the car. Laraine was hovering over him, keeping him nearby as long as she could. She was a tad annoying, but he kept his tongue silent, knowing her good intentions. He had confessed about being a Preventer then hinted at his Gundam past, but she still treated him as a dependent child at times.

“Now, be sure to bundle up down there,” she reminded him, “I don't want you to come home with another nasty virus. If you do come back with one, I'm going to have to kill you. Then I'll have to go and visit that little girl friend of yours and have a talk with her about how she takes care of you.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he answered with a slight smile, zipping up his suitcase, “I'll be fine. I've survived this long.” She gave him a patronizing smile and kissed his forehead, wishing him good luck. He took it and joined Wufei outside getting into the car.

“Are you ready, Xiao Yuy,” Wufei questioned in a teasing tone. Heero grunted as he sat in the car, not responding to the insult. He tried to get comfortable in the car, but it was hard to get comfortable on an ice cube.

“You going to be quiet the entire trip?” Wufei continued his inquiring while he turned up the heat on the car. He let out a small sigh as the warm air caressed his frozen cheeks and stiff fingers. “I'll take that as a yes,” he sniffed. “You know, you've missed out on the new rookies. Une has been making everyone teach them. On our days off we've been grading tests and reviewing grades and examinations.”

Heero chuckled, “So she has you working for free?” He smirked. He was a bit irritated with his half a month absence from work, so he was happy to hear of the misery those who were able to work.

“Do you want to tell Une no?” countered Wufei. When Heero shook his head, he continued, “While we're on the clock, she has us infiltrate the classes to observe the students. She even has spies in some of the classes.”

“Spies?”

“When people fill out the application, she makes some of the people go back and take the recruit courses when they qualify to become an agent without it. She pulls them aside and has them make reports to give to various agents,” he explained, “I've had to go around grabbing reports from the little snitches with Trowa for nearly a month now!” Heero noticed that Wufei took an extra turn to make the trip to the airport longer. His cheeks went from rosy pink to their normal pale color as the air in the car became sauna temperature sans any of the moisture in the air. Heero was sure one of them would wind up with a nosebleed before the end of the car ride. “Furthermore, Duo has been goofing off all week long with his new `special friend,' Sally's shadow Joelle Something, but I told Une he'd be the perfect baby-sitter for Mariemaia,” he grinned wickedly as he took the back of his hand and wiped away a bit of blood from his nose.

“Have Duo baby-sit her?” Heero asked, unbuckling as they parked in the spaceport parking lot. He grabbed his bags.

“Yes, that's right,” nodded Wufei, “And Mariemaia's quite excited.”

“Oh? Why?”

“It's every young girl's dream: a twelve hour marathon of Midnight Cherubs' concerts and music videos,” Wufei was grinning.

 

22 February AC 197—Preventers' Headquarters, Paris, former France

“You're the purpose for my life

The reason I open my eyes

You gave me such good—” sang the vocalist, Van, of Midnight Cherubs. Teen TV was airing their recent tour of Asia, and Mariemaia had the large television in the Agents' Lounge tuned into the concert. She watched it closely, staying enough away to please her mother. Duo stared at the screen numbly. He was unofficially baby-sitting the girl. He forgot now why he was.

“He's gorgeous,” sighed Mariemaia. Duo had never seen or heard her like this, and the tone freaked out him. She continued, “Mom is getting me tickets for his concert here. It's his last one before the band takes a break and goes home. I'm going to get front row seats and backstage passes.”

“Nice,” he commented as he lazily slouched on the couch while his mind slowly ate itself as he kept watching the band and listening to the sugary lyrics and music. He wanted to turn his head, to do paperwork—anything!—but something about the concert hypnotized him. Out of the corner of his right eye, he spied Wufei heading for the lounge after returning with Heero. He turned his head to greet his friend and welcome someone to share his torment, but Wufei stopped short at the entrance to the lounge, saw what was on the television, and quickly, silently, made his escape before the girl spotted him. Duo hated him.

“I wish you could come,” inform Mariemaia, oblivious to Duo's scowl and pain, “but I'm sure my mother will only be able to get two or three tickets.”

“Darn,” he said flatly, cleaning his language for her ears. Mariemaia kept on bouncing to the melody. Duo still did not see what captivated her. A few well choreographed moves and the girls in the crowd went wild. The volume went from deafening to ear-bursting, and this was only through the television. He thanked God he was not there in person. He would just have to meet his own maker if he were there. Surely a Gundam pilot could not survive a bullet to the head. Heero would probably let him experiment with the idea. He would just have to say the right things to him.

“What's your favorite song of theirs?” Mariemaia asked suddenly.

“Uh…Backyard Surprise?” he answered thrown off guard. She giggled.

“That one's so silly, though,” she explained, “Dekim only knew that song. He didn't know any others. He wouldn't let me listen to them either. He said they were stupid, so I had to sneak in their CDs and have friends tape their concerts. He kept going on and on about being ruler of the world.”

Duo nodded, “That sounds like Dekim Barton.”

“But now he's dead,” she said simply, “so I can listen to them and watch them whenever I want now.” She smirked. “And soon I'll get to meet Van, the love of my life.”

“How old is Van?” Duo wondered.

“Fifteen,” she informed, “He'll be sixteen in a few months.”

“Woo hoo,” he said, not amused. Joelle walked into the lounge and told Duo Lady Une wanted him to give him a report. Duo jumped up elatedly and bolted out of the door before he could Mariemaia whine.

 

24 February AC 197—Le manoir de la famille d'Une, Perpignan, Province of le Languedoc, former France

Trowa dribbled the ball and evaded Luc and Thayer as they attempted to steal it. With no one to stop him, he sank the ball in the net for his twentieth, and last, goal. The boys groaned as he allowed himself a small victory smile. He fished the ball out of the net and inquired if the boys wanted to try another go at it. As they discussed the futility of this, hand on their hips, he dribbled the ball some more amusing himself by seeing different tricks he could do with it.

“Trowa, let's just play football some other time,” Thayer suggested as he heaved.

“Oui, we're very tired,” Luc told him, sitting on the grass. His brother joined him. Deciding to correspond, he squatted down with the ball between his knees. He squirted water into his mouth while the boys drenched themselves with theirs, mouths open. They rested on the ground then sat right up as the cold earth from a recent rare frost touched their wet backs.

“Let's just go inside,” requested Thayer, his teeth chattering a little from his wet skin exposed to the cool air. Luc agreed, and they went inside.

“I told you that you'd warm up if you played some football outside,” smiled Caroline, Luc and Thayer's mother. Though the normal temperature for the day was around 16 °Celsius, today it was only 9 °C. Thayer had been restless and had started annoying all in his path, and Luc had started fighting with Luc then anyone else who mildly irritated him, so Caroline volunteered Midii's boyfriend to work out some of their energy.

“Have some cookies,” offered Caroline. The boys, all three, attacked the cookie plate and almost knocked her over. Caroline laughed it off though. “Oh, Trowa, your work called.”

“Preventers? Was it Une?”

“No, the circus,” Caroline informed, “Some woman named Catherine is missing. Do you know her? Are you two close?” She thought she was teasing Trowa, but he had a haunted look in his eyes. “Trowa? Is something wrong?”

“Yes, it is,” he muttered, “I have to get back, sorry.” He put on his jacket and grabbed his papers and wallet. He got in his rented car and drove off, buckling as he went down the road. Though his outward appearance betrayed nothing, his insides were a mess. He was calm normally, even in situations like these. However, he was not the same since the war. Perhaps that was not such a bad thing. Butterflies banged against his stomach walls and threatened to fly out, taking his brunch along with them. He focused on the road ahead, and he forced himself to keep his mind off what could be happening to Catherine, why someone would take her, and where she could be. His breathing had become regular once more by the time he reached the last light before the circus grounds.

“Who's Catherine?” asked a voice from behind. Trowa turned around with the reflexes of a Gundam pilot.

“Luc? Thayer? What are you two doing back there?” he asked. He faced forward again in time to see the light change.

“We were getting our things out of the back when you got in and drove off,” explained Luc, “We barely had time to close our doors and buckle up.”

“We would have gotten out, but you drove off too fast. You almost drove over our feet,” furthered Thayer, “Then we thought you were too upset to talk, so we decided to hold off questions until you calmed down.” Both boys looked slightly pale after watching a former Gundam pilot and Oz soldier go through the shock of missing his sister.

“She's my sister…and I'm sorry,” he apologized. “I didn't realize you two were back there.”

“You must have been pretty messed up. You notice every little thing usually,” observed Thayer. The boys then became distracted with the circus and the life surrounding it. Trowa stormed to the manager's office the second the engine cut off.

 

“You think he's noticed he left us again?” asked Thayer, conversing in English to prevent their countrymen, who were there for odd jobs, from comprehending and eavesdropping. The war might be over, but spies still lurked searching for those with the right price.

“No. He didn't notice we were lying in the car,” replied Luc, in English as well, “That Catherine woman's put him in a weird mood.”

“Do you really think Catherine's his sister?”

“I suppose it's possible,” Luc admitted, “Midii said he got hurt very badly in the war and some girl took care of him and nursed him back to health. Maybe it was she.” They shrugged and wandered through the grounds.

“Hey, a little kitten!” exclaimed Thayer as he bent down, scooping up the kitten in his arms. “Should we look for its owner?”

“No,” Luc answered quickly. “Fine, let's go look for him,” he conceded from his brother's look.

“Merci,” thanked Thayer, scratching behind the cat's ears. The little ball of fluff purred loudly and contently.

“Excusez-moi, monsieur,” requested Thayer as he approached one of the hands for the circus, “Ce chat est-il le votre?”

“Non, il n'est pas le mien,” the man replied with a shake of the head.

“Savez-vous a qui est le chat?” he inquired.

“Non, pardon,” replied the man, “S'il te plait, excuse-moi.” He hurried off to help some of his comrades.

“That was strange,” said Thayer. Luc nodded in agreement.

“If no one claims him, let's keep him,” suggested Luc.

“Sounds great,” grinned Thayer. He observed Luc's worried and contemplative face.

“Qu'est-ce que c'est ca?” His brother pointed to some strange leaves on the ground a few meters away.

 

“Where is she?” demanded Trowa, though he knew he could not get an answer.

“If I knew, I would have her for you,” answered the manager, “Now, some of the girls and others are coming in. You can interrogate them if you wish, but I do hope you go easy on them.” He looked just as upset as Trowa. Only fifteen showed up in Manager's office.

“Well, when was the last time you saw her?” demanded Trowa. He was furious fore everyone not knowing, and guilty for not being there for her.

“She went to bed early last night, but she was gone this morning when I came to get her for breakfast,” cried Marina Alekseevich Karenina, acrobat and friend of Catherine. “There wasn't a note, so I called you right after I made sure she wasn't in someone else's trailer. I tried her digital, but no one answered.” The young woman seemed near tears and kept wringing her hands.

“Anything else?” he asked. Fifteen solemn heads shook, gazing at the floor to avoid eye contact with him. “Okay.” He stepped outside and headed to Cathy's trailer. Inside, everything was just as she kept it: fairly neat but with magazines left in odd places and clothes strewn about the place. He was inspecting the bedroom when he heard a familiar scream. It was then he remembered: the boys! He went to the source and found Luc and Thayer gawking at the ground a bundle of fur in Thayer's arms.

“What is it?” he raised his voice slightly as a crowd started to form. Luc pointed downward, into a ditch.

“Une femme!” he cried, “Est-ce Catherine?” Trowa gazed down and saw an unconscious and dirty, but unbeaten and fully clothed, Catherine.

“Oui, c'est Catherine. C'est ma soeur,” he answered in his small amount of French.

 

25 February AC 197—Une's Private Office, Preventers' Headquarters, Paris, former France

“What…are you saying?” Mariemaia managed to stammer out, “You have connections, right?”

“Honey, the tickets have been sold out for months,” sympathized Lady, “I have tickets, but they just can't take tickets away from people who already bought them. Front row seats are reserved for family members of the band and contest winners anyway. Van's people say they have enough people coming backstage already, and they would not really want another one. I'm sorry, dear, but I'll just have to wait for them to come through next time.”

“But that could be a year!” whined Mariemaia, “Dekim wouldn't let me have any fun! And now I'm being punished. It's not fair.” She felt a pout coming on, or maybe that was wrathful rage. Her fists clenched at her sides and tears came to her eyes, but whether temper tantrum or weep, Lady never discovered which would come. Mariemaia grabbed a magazine and flipped through the pages intently. After a few seconds of speed reading, she grabbed the remote control fiercely and put on Teen TV. She watched carefully, and her eyes lit up as she saw something.

“What is it?” her mother asked. The girl was making little jumps and hops where she stood with a large grin on her face. Her periwinkle eyes twinkled, and a giggle escaped her mouth. “Marie, care to tell me what is happening?”

“I found a way to get front row tickets and backstage passes,” she giggled then added, “Without using your `influence' on anyone!”

 

25 February AC 197—Le Gymnase de la Gymnastique Feerique, Perpignan, Province of le Languedoc, former France

Midii bent over into a backbend. After stretching her muscles a sufficient amount, she kicked her leg over her body and noticed the expression on the man's face. She let a smirk inside herself then leapt into a round-off back handspring landing. Then a quick turn and stretch of the legs, and she jumped into a front handspring, then a front tuck. She lost her balance on the landing and went into a clumsy back walkover to save herself from falling, landing it in a slow, controlled left split. She put an arm up as if she meant to do it all, and the man clapped smiling.

“Bravo!” he grinned, “That was great. You're a wonderful gymnast.” He stood and strode onto the spring floor then helped her up, taking her in his arms and twirling her around as she giggled. “You should be a professional.”

“There's no one paying for a gymnast these days,” she informed relaxing in his arms. “Though, it would be nice, a lot nicer than being a spy.” She chuckled as she spotted Amato rolling over a large, cylinder shaped mat in an attempt to learn his front walkover. The man turned and smiled, saying he should go and help the boy. He set her down on the floor again and walked to the boy.

“Hey, Amato,” he greeted and squat to his level, “What are you doing, mate?”

“Trying to do a flip,” he answered. The man chuckled and got the boy onto his feet again.

“Ton anglais est tres bien, Amato. Comment l'apprends-tu?” asked the man of Amato's good English.

“Midii m'apprend. Elle est bonne maitresse,” Amato replied with a grin, relieved at speaking French once more. “Pourquoi es-tu ici, Seymour? Depuis combien de temps restes-tu?” His cousin was here, and he did not want to get his hopes up for a long visit if he was only staying for a week.

“Je ne sais pas,” his cousin answered truthfully, “I'm here to take Midii's place. She's heading back to her apartment in space, so I'm here to watch you and your brothers, oh, and to help your parents while she's gone.”

“Midii, elle me quitte?” Amato's lip quivered. Seymour realised at once his mistake and instantly regretted it. He attempted to take back his statement, but it was too late. The lad ran toward his older sister in a fit.

“You want me to what?” Midii was asking as the boy ran into her legs, burying his face into the backs of her knees as he wailed incoherently. The girl to whom she had been speaking glanced at the little boy then back at Midii.

“Just talk to her, please,” requested the schoolgirl, “Trowa will be able to tell me back at headquarters. I really need this.” She gave a pleading sign then quickly left for her ride. After she was out of sight, Midii turned and crouched to Amato, taking him in her arms. She rubbed his back and assured him everything was fine. When the blubbering ended, she inquired as to what had caused the interruption.

Amato hiccupped, “Seymour me dit que tu me quittes. Quittes-tu? Pourquoi?”

Midii sighed, “Oui, je quitte mais notre cousin stupide ne sait pas fermer la bouche.” She glared at her cousin for leaking the information prematurely.

“Prends-moi avec toi,” he begged. He clung in hopes of never letting go. She held him tightly, swaying slightly. Seymour gave her an apologetic look and claimed he thought Amato and the boys knew already. She shook her head in an irritated manner but said nothing. She took a seat and sang part of an old song with Amato. It seemed to calm him, but he refused to let go of her.

 

Aux Champs-Elysees

Aux Champs-Elysees

Au soleil, sous la pluie

A midi ou a minuit

Il y a tout ce que vous voulez

Aux Champs-Elysees

 

“Now, it won't be so bad without me, will it? You'll have Maman and Papa here, and Luc and Thayer will look after you, too,” she tried to reason with him, “Seymour will take very good care of you. I promise.”

“It's not the same, Midii,” he insisted, “Je t'aime. Je t'aime! Je ne les aime pas. Je t'aime souvent!” He sniffed and buried his face in her chest.

“You don't mean that,” she insisted, “You love everyone, not just me.” He shook his head clinging desperately. “Amato, I can't take you with me. It's not safe, and you'll be so bored on the trip.”

“I don't care.”

“I won't have time for you up there,” she continued, “It's better for you here. It won't be that bad.”

“Yes it will,” he persisted, “Please, I want to go with you. Please, please.” He gave his best begging, eyes wide and watery, lip quivering. He even gave a little sniffle here and there. Midii sighed and surrendered.

 

26 February AC 197—Le Petit Cafe Velours Rouge, New Port City, former Cinq Kingdom

“Where's your fiance?” inquired Relena as she stirred the cinnamon stick in her hot chocolate.

“Oh, I think he's in China picking up some instruments personally. He collects them from all around the world and loves learning to play them,” Dorothy responded then sipped her coffee.

“I thought pregnant women weren't supposed to drink caffeine or hot drinks,” Relena commented, concerned.

Dorothy, now slightly pudgy, gave her a mild, annoyed glare. “I'm fine,” she insisted bitterly, “One cup won't kill me or the baby. Besides, Quatre has finally left my side, so I think I deserve a treat without hearing someone else lecturing me ON MY OWN PREGNANCY!”

Relena nodded quietly, almost meekly. She decided now was not the best time to ask about mood swings. She sipped the hot chocolate and searched the room for something at which to gaze instead of the irate woman in front of her.

“Is everyone okay? I heard someone yelling,” the polite waitress investigated.

“You'd be yelling, too, if you were growing a person inside of you, but everyone—none who've actually had a child, mind you—like you don't know how,” Dorothy seethed, but then she abruptly sniffed and her face fell as it relaxed. “And everyone whispers behind your back about how no one has survived giving birth like this, but they all say you'll survive to your face. And”—sniff—“And you don't want to die a teenager, and your-your”—another sniff—“fiance keeps having secretive meetings with his uncles, refusing to tell you what they say. And even though he annoys you to no end about the pregnancy and you want to rip his head off”—quiet cry—“he left you when you need him most!” The expectant mother stood and strode to the restroom, another tear escaping her eyes with each step. Relena and the waitress glanced at each other bewildered. Relena hurried after her friend leaving the plush surroundings of the restaurant. The confused waitress gathered the small plate empty of everything save crumbs of the little pastries on which the friends had dined. She gave one last worried look at the restroom door before walking across the red carpet and through the red cushioned, old fashioned chairs and tables with burgundy tablecloths.

Opening the door to the restroom, Dorothy was quite visible and stuck out in the place. As if trying to contrast to the darker red decor of the dining area, the restroom was a light pink, almost rosy. Pink carnations rested in pink water in clear vases on the sinks and small tables. Strawberries on vines adorned the walls. Two cushioned benches and several cushioned chairs, all soft pink, were there for the patrons of the cafe. Amidst the bubble of pink, a platinum blonde showed very plainly. Dorothy's hair covered her entire body and shook with each weep. Relena rushed over to her friend, taking her in her arms and reassured her of everything.

“Solo deseo mi madre,” sobbed Dorothy, “Ahora la necesito. ¡La necesito! No puedo hacerlo. No puedo dar a luz a este bebe. Necesito mi madre— ¡mi mama! ¿Donde esta ella? ¿Donde esta? Tambien, ¿donde esta Quatre? ¡El debe estar aqui conmigo!” She sobbed.

“It'll be okay,” assured Relena as she held and rocked her frightened friend. She did not understand most of what the girl had said. Her sobbing muffled a lot of the words anyway, and Relena barely knew Spanish. She could only pick out the words for mother and Quatre.

“Gracias, Senorita Relena,” Dorothy sniffed as the sobbing quieted. Relena understood that much of Spanish.

“De rien, Mademoiselle Dorothée,” replied Relena in the only other language in which she was fluent. The two girls smiled at each other.

 

28 February AC 197—Preventers' Shuttle A87, just outside L-1 Space

“Whither ye take me?” asked the old man. Duo rolled his eyes. “Boy, thou shouldst have respect for thine elders and answer me without such mockery.”

“We're going to Earth,” he said with a tired voice, then teased, “Ye knoweth the biggeth blue orb in thy skyeth?”

The man regarded him with a tightly shut jaw and his head held high, “Thou dost not know thy tongue, thine own mother tongue!”

“Yeah, sure,” the youth rolled his eyes, “Hey! Heero! Ya got anything?”

“Negative,” replied the other youth from the cockpit. The older gentleman gave a “humph” as he settled into his seat. “Stay with the old man.”—“Ye do not trust me? Ye impugn my dignity.”—“I don't want him touching anything.”

Duo sat opposite the man, “So why were you alone on that colony? Where's your family?”

“I was once a professor at a very prestigious university-colony,” he informed with pride, “I taught the history of the English language and became fascinated by the language, so I started speaking in one of the time periods.”

“What university?” asked Duo, not too interested in the language section of this tale.

“L5X-720”

Duo let out a low whistle. L5X-720 was quite expensive and extremely hard into which to get admitted. Though it had an actual name, Sprengelmeyer, everyone called it by its colony number because the entire colony was the university campus.

“Yes, I know.”

“Why'd you leave? Surely you got enough money.”

“I refused to conform to Alliance curriculum. They fain I would teach English's dominance over other languages. I was labelled a security risk and sent to the prison colony where ye found me.”

“What happened to the others?”

“When Oz and the Gundams started rebelling, guards left to fight and only the minimal amount of food was sent, but the guards still had their fill, giving us whatever was leftover. I saw many starve to death during the weeks with not even a scrap.” Duo tightened his fists. “With only a minimum of guards, we were allowed to roam the colony at will. Where would we go? They had already stripped the place of any tangible weapon for the war effort. They did not mind if we wandered to the other side where there were no guards. We were not their responsibility.

“Going to the Other Side was dangerous. One was never called when the guards gave out food. Once one was on the other side, he had to be sure to find enough food, for when he got back, giving out food could be done, and one never knew when the next time would be. Many people stayed near the guards and only ventured a mile or two when hunger overcame them.

“Oz came and took over after a time. I was on the Other Side then, and most of what happened was relayed to me days, maybe even weeks, later. There was only a slight difference with these new captors. They reviewed our cases one by one and slowly released each one. While we waited for freedom, we were treated the same way: minimum guards, minimum food. The guards stayed the same but with different names and bodies. The `new' guards ate their fill and gave us scraps.

“There was a young soldier whom I befriended. He had gone to school with my daughter, and his older sister took one of my classes, years ago. He said his sister called me a slave driver but that she enjoyed the class and learned a lot.” He smiled, eyes glazed as he remembered it all. “The family had fallen on hard times, so he joined Oz to help pay for bills, and hopefully enough on the side for him to go to college once he finished his duty. I taught as much as I could in our meetings, and he informed me of outside news as well as giving me half of his meals. He nil would have a meal while others starved, so he did what he could. Back then, people were released weekly. One day he got his orders and left. He never returned. I overheard the guards say he was in a battle with rebels and a Gundam killed him as he tried to escape or to leave.” Duo felt sick. It was one thing to destroy an enemy's mindless, faceless drones; it was another to hear the story, even a brief one, of the drone he or his comrades killed. “I suppose that is what happens in war, though. I never much cared for it.

“Towards the end of the year, it had to have been around Christmas since the computer on the colony still generated British seasons, there were not many prisoners left. Eventually it was just me and the guards. They told me they could not find any record of my crime, or even any record of my person! They said they could not release me on my word, for I could be a murderer—a murderer! Pray, tell me, do I strike thee as a murderer?” Duo shook his head numbly. “A few guards stayed with me, pretending to watch me. Less and less food came, and I stopped trying to get even a morsel from the brutes. I left them and headed to the Other Side. I stayed there and gathered my food from the fields. The colony still generated rain, day, and night, and the guards could not care less what happened to me. I suppose they were picked up to fight in the war, or perhaps they just left on their own conviction. Either way, I came back to the Side one day—for new clothes—and discovered I was alone on the colony. It seemed they had been gone for a few weeks, maybe a month or two.” The ship jerked.

“What is that?” screeched the man bracing himself. Duo stood when it was safe to do so.

“Heero?” he called as he dashed to the cockpit, “What the hell was that?”

“Someone's trying to highjack us,” Heero called back so that the man could hear.

 

**Translation Notes**

French:

Excusez-moi, monsieur, ce chat est-il le votre? —Excuse me, sir, does this cat belong to you?

Non, il n'est pas le mien—No, he is not mine

Savez-vous a qui est le chat? —Do you know to whom he belongs?

Non, pardon, s'il te plait, excuse-moi—No, I'm sorry, please, excuse me

Qu'est-ce que c'est ca? —What's that?

C'est ma soeur—That's my sister

Le Gymnase de la Gymnastique Feerique—The Gym of Fairy Gymnastics

Ton anglais est tres bien, Amato—Your English is very good, Amato

Comment l'apprends-tu? —How did you learn it?

Midii m'apprend. Elle est bonne maitresse—Midii taught me. She's a good teacher

Pourquoi es-tu ici, Seymour? —Why are you here, Seymour?

Depuis combien de temps restes-tu? —How long are you here?

Je ne sais pas—I don't know

Midii, elle me quitte? —Midii, she is leaving me?

Seymour me dit que tu me quittes—Seymour told me that you're leaving me

Quittes-tu? Pourquoi? —Are you leaving? Why?

Oui, je quitte mais notre cousin stupide ne sait pas fermer la bouche—Yes, I am leaving, but our cousin does not know how to shut his mouth

Prends-moi avec toi—Take me with you

Maman—Mommy

Papa—Daddy

Je t'aime. Je t'aime!—I love you. I love you!

Je ne les aime pas—I don't love them

Je t'aime souvent!—I only love you!

Le Petit Cafe Velours Rouge—The Little Red Velvet Café

De rien, Mademoiselle Dorothée—You're welcome, Miss Dorothy

Spanish:

Solo deseo mi madre—I just want my mother

Ahora la necesito—I need her now

¡La necesito!—I need her!

No puedo hacerlo—I can't do it

No puedo dar a luz a este bebe—I can't have this baby (or “I can't give birth to this baby”)

Necesito mi madre—I need my mother

¡mi mama!—my mom! Or my mama!

¿Donde esta ella?—Where is she?

¿Donde esta?—Where is she?

Tambien, ¿donde esta Quatre?—Also, where is Quatre?

¡El debe estar aqui conmigo!—He should be here with me!

Gracias, Senorita Relena—Thank you, Miss Relena

Other:

Xiao Yuy—Little Yuy (Chinese)

16 °C—60.8 °F

9 °C—48.2 °F

Whither—To where (archaism)

Fain—To want to (archaism)

Nil—Not to want to (archaism)