Merc

Whew, been a while. Sorry, sometimes its really hard to get "in character" to write this fic.
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There were two flight model Ares chasing down the shuttle, but they were clumsy, following too close. The engines were putting out a lot of smoke from the damage that was forcing the shuttle to the ground. It was bad for the shuttle, but good for me. The smoke kept my emergence from the cargo hold a secret until my bullets cut the two Ares in half, turning them into floating fireballs.

Heavyarms fell fast towards the ground, I kicked in my thrusters just enough to prevent any damage from landing, but used the momentum to slide across the ice, a moving, unpredictable target. The gat ripped through four suits on the line before they got a shot off, and I turned, bringing the heavy gun and its shield to protect the chest as I shot at the line behind me, three more suits down. The gat came back around and took out one of the carriers flying overhead before they could release any more back up troops.

Tracer rounds lit up my screens, flying past the head of Heavyarms, so I turned, opened the chest panels and watched three more suits disintegrate before my eyes. With the lines gone, my attention was brought to the command of the outfit. There were three Leos in a stagger formation with a flight-model Ares set up behind; that was the man giving the orders.

He was the one heard over the comms unit fishing for information about Zechs. He was the one sending other soldiers in to attack their own brethren for his own advancement. This man was using Oz soldiers to attack other Oz soldiers to gain power and favor amongst Romefeller by defaming one of its top officers. But to do that, he had to survive.

So he set back, sending others to die before my bullets.

This man was single-handedly causing a civil war within the Oz ranks, sending his own men off to kill or be killed by Zech and his followers. It would mean less members of the hated organization for me to cut through. It should have amused me.

But it didn’t.

It pissed me off. I don’t remember being so angry before. My teeth clenched at his cowardice, his greed. He stepped on the backs of his subordinates, uncaring. How easily it could have been me, thrown against a superior opponent with inadequate weapons and a commanding officer who didn’t give a rat’s ass about my chances against the enemy.

The defenders no longer existed in my mind; I was completely focused on him. The Leos, went up in flames as I emptied the gatling gun into their suits. A quick, fiery death was the best I could do for them, a show of respect.

But him.

I flipped the switch to release the heavy gun. My mind was still concentrating on the mission first and foremost. “The gundam will be used as an excuse to attack the colonies, so I can’t have anyone report back that it was seen here.” That was my excuse.

It let me give way to the rage that boiled within me. I released the switchblade hit my thrusters on full, closing fast. I felt his fear as a physical blow to my stomach as I slashed across the chest of the Ares. The cockpit wasn’t touched, but the wiring that connected the propulsion system should have been severed.

No power to the flight pack, no commands to the legs, no thrusters…no escape.

The gun fell from trembling hands in the same gesture that he had ignored from Lieutenant Noin as the suit crumpled before me, hit its knees and fell into the snow. Surrendered without anything resembling a fight. He would have demoted any subordinates with public humiliation and constant ridicule if they had acted the same, but no, he could beg for his life without repercussions. Coward. He was defeated before he even got a shot off. I let him have a second to think he might live for another day. The cockpit still sent commands to the arms, that was not among the propulsion drive, so the man in the suit tried to army crawl away, dragging the suit’s belly across the snow like the snake that he is.

I felt my lip pull up in a sneer, and I was bored with his incompetence. “Those who have laid eyes on a Gundam shall not live. Those were the orders I was given.”

Raising the knife, I prepared for the final strike of this battle. Distantly, I registered the Lieutenant’s cockpit opening, but it was no threat to me. I hit the thrusters and jumped, keeping the legs of Heavyarms away from the only functional component of the damaged suit, and spun. The knife became like a helicopter’s blade, slicing through the back of the suit with every turn. Artistic and deadly, and completely unsatisfactory.

The fact that my blade cut him into ribbons, did nothing to dull the unrest within me. He wasn’t my commander, I was within my given orders, but every part of my body was tensed. Turmoil raged within me. But the only person I could effectively take it out on was beyond dead.

Bastard.

In an instant, all the suits I had just annihilated flashed before my mind. How was I any different from them just a few years ago? Fighting amongst my merc unit under men who’s main objective was completing a mission to receive the latest payoff. At least these soldiers fought for something they believed in. The citizens of earth thought Oz was a just organization.

But I fought for the colonies who considered Oz a tyrannical leader, the suppressor of freedom.

I was born and raised on the earth, but for a twist of fate, one of those fireballs could have been me. How was I any different? Any better? One man against twenty, why was I the one who survived to fight again?

Fighting, constantly fighting. Battles and wars and endless, endless fighting.

Sharp pains echoed up my hand, and I realized I was gripping the controls with all my strength, all the unrest spilling out of my body because I was unable to show it across my face, unable to express it any other way.

I had been gripping the controller far too hard for far too long, and my fingers couldn’t release it. I had to reach over with my other hand and peel the fingers away one by one. “Damn it.” I gripped my wrist and held my hand to my chest, trying to ease the pain. “Why do I have to keep fighting like this?”

This was my life; the only thing I knew was battle. I should feel pride in my abilities to survive against such odds, to be that much closer to my objective of bringing down Oz. But I didn’t. All the turmoil drained out of me as I focused on the physical pain.

I didn’t want to think anymore; completely drained, all I felt was numb and tired. I was so tired. My arms felt like lead as I unfastened the harness, opened the cockpit door, and stepped out, still clutching my hand to my chest, protectively. But my legs weren’t cooperating.

Slow and sluggish, my body wasn’t responding as it should, and I only got one leg underneath me to cushion my landing on the snow. My legs crumpled beneath me; on my knees in the snow, I was now in the very same position of the man I had just killed. Irony.

I tried to stand too soon, tried to lift my body out of the damned position, feeling karma laughing its ass off at me when my struggles just pitched me forward. Face first into the snow, just like the Ares had when I cut its strings.

“Hey are you alright?” The Lieutenants voice sounded concerned, but all I heard was mockery. I could hear the voice of the dead inspector laughing, and I came the closest I ever have to asking for help.

“My name is Trowa, Lieutanant. I need a favor of you. Reload the explosives for Heero Yuy.” I couldn’t do it myself. I didn’t have the resources needed, and right now, I couldn’t even bring myself to stand. But I gave her my name, or as close as I had to one. It was a symbol of my debt to her, and it grated against my every nerve.

But I wouldn’t give him an unloaded weapon, even if it meant lifting the damn armory myself.

“Forget that.” Her teeth were clenched, I could hear it in the inflection of her voice. “Stop worrying about that right now! You need to start thinking about your own welfare.” She sounded like she genuinely cared.

Bullshit.

I took a deep breath, and lifted myself from the ground. This battle was no different than any other. I had defeated greater odds, been broken and bleeding after fights and had less trouble walking away. I would not crawl away from the scene. I would sooner eat the barrel of my gun and paint the snow red.

I lifted my head as best as I could after being on my knees in front of an enemy, and walked off without a glance back. The crunch of her boots in the snow told me she was following behind as I made my way back to the smoking shuttle. I climbed in and found a seat in the cockpit, arms crossed over my chest as the Oz mechanics and engineers patched the shuttle to the best of their ability so we could continue our journey.

Movement out of the window caught my eye, and I turned to see Heero’s silhouette against the gray winter’s sky.

We arrived at Barclay base late in the evening. As Heero and I stepped off the shuttle, there were others waiting for us. A tall man with obnoxiously long, platinum blond hair was in the forefront. He wore a mask that hid the top half of his face, and he was very obviously one used to giving orders. This was Marquis, no one else would be allowed such breaks in uniform.

I found the physical manifestation of a mask amusing when compared to the emotionless shroud Heero and I both hid behind. But then again, I wore a clown’s mask as well.

Ozzies unloaded Heavyarms as Noin introduced Heero and myself to Colonel Zechs, by name. Debt or not, I regretted telling her now. The Colonel had not earned the knowledge, and she obviously didn’t understand the gesture to tell so freely. But then again, her obsessive behavior towards Zechs meant she would have no secrets from him if he only asked.

I was irritated.

“I am Zechs Marquis.” He stood right before Heero as the icy breeze bit at my cheeks.

“Are we supposed to shake hands now?” My voice was as cold as the air that surrounded us.

He froze, posture becoming more rigid than his military dictates. “No. Its fine.”

The two opponents just stood there and stared at each other for several minutes. Finally, Zechs turned. “Follow me.”

Zechs led us into a bunker. All others but the two top officers left as we walked down a long hallway, flanked by Noin and following long blond hair. As the Ozzies polished boots echoed off the concrete walls, the Colonel spoke again, a combination of a poor attempt at small talk and a military interrogation. “Heero Yuy, huh? That’s the same name of the leader who kept the space colonies together. Is that your real name?”

“Is that your real name that you’re using?” Heero never even looked at him as he shot down the question.

I hid the smirk that wanted to surface on my face at Heero’s response.

“Forgive me. I suppose there’s no sense in our using names from this point on.” Zechs continued walking.

Names. Easily fabricated, easily changed. There really was no point. Names were a luxury that soldiers didn’t need. The enemy knowing my name meant little to me personally. They could track the name back to the Barton Foundation, but what of that to me? My funds would not be cut off as I had learned to siphon off a little allowance from my enemy when needed.

And Heero’s name was just a tribute, a sign of where he was from, who he was fighting for. It was in honor of a hero of the colonies. Zechs knowing his name meant only the fulfillment of the purpose of Heero assuming that name in the first place.

In all of this, the only one who had a true need to hide his name from others, was the only one who hadn’t, Quatre Raberba Winner. The Winner family was a very old family that owned several resource satellites that funded, supplied, and transported amongst all of the L4 district. The family practically owned that sector.

The enemy knowing that name could mean disaster. Quatre had a large family, any one of them could be targeted, or the resource satellites owned by the family could be threatened. It would not be hard to find leverage over him just by knowing his name. But the bright-eyed boy was so trusting, so desperate to find a common bond with others that he threw his name around carelessly to those who have done nothing to have earned his trust, like me.

My thoughts stayed on my self-proclaimed friend as Zechs continued talking, telling us to make ourselves at home on the base. The man must have had a sense of humor, because there was no way in hell I was going to be anywhere close to comfortable in the bowels of an Oz base.

Large, double doors opened into a suit bay. I felt my eyes widen as they landed on a ghost. Heero’s suit, the one I watched explode with my very eyes stood before us looking brand new. They even put a fresh coat of paint across it.

The tension in Heero’s body left, awe colored his voice. “My mobile suit…”

“Do you like it?” Marquis’ voice brought the tension back instantly, but his eyes were still glued to the suit he called Wing.

Footsteps echoed from the depths of the bay, running towards us, and my hand, discretely, rested on my hidden gun. A young man in the olive drab jumpsuit of an engineer made himself a part of our little party. “Colonel Zechs! The repairs to gundam 01 have been completed. The only thing left are the operational adjustments.”

“I’ll introduce you. This is Meiser, in charge of restoring your gundam.”

The man was young, enthusiasm bleed from his voice as he spoke. “A pleasure. All that’s left is adjusting the cockpit to suit yourself.”

“Meiser is young but his skills are top class.” And he works for me...Zechs didn’t come right out and say it, but it didn’t matter, I heard it just the same. Zechs chest expanded, pride making him puff up slightly. Arrogant and prideful. This man was very good, and he knew it. Others knew it as well, so they flocked to him to worship at his feet. But that pride would be his downfall one day.

Needless to say, I wasn’t impressed. He might be better than me, he might not. But when push comes to shove on the battlefield. I know my strengths, and I know his weakness. And I can use it to my advantage. He knows nothing of me or my fighting style, and I intend to keep it that way as much as possible.

“When can we start?” Apparently, Heero wasn’t impressed either, ignoring the servant staff of the Colonel and getting right down to why he came in the first place.

“How does tomorrow morning sound?” Back to business.

“That’s fine.”

But Noin decided she wasn’t satisfied with the way the conversation was ending. “Heero Yuy, isn’t there something you’re forgetting to say to Colonel Zechs?”

“I will thank him, but in my own way. I’ll kill Zechs, that’s how I’ll show my gratitude.” Heero’s voice was calm, and I watched shock and fear cross the Lieutenant’s face. She truly doesn’t understand the mindset of those she surrounds herself with.

Noin huffed in response, but Zechs mouth curled just the slightest bit; he was excited by the prospect.

And the pit of my stomach dropped out. I had hoped I was wrong, but Heero’s comment
drove home how right I was. He would thank Zechs by offering him the death that they both wanted. This duel was exactly as Heero said it was finishing things between them, but this finish was a finale.

A fight to the death, but this time, the winner was the one who died. Completely backwards, but they both wanted it so badly. Why?!

“I’ve never shaken hands with anyone before.” Heero’s voice was uncertain, a slight tremble echoing in the vast bay as he offered his hand to Zechs.

It was an agreement. A fight to the death where both were seeking the honor of dying to a worthy opponent. An honorable death, it made my stomach turn. Heero travelled halfway across the world to find someone willing and able to kill him. I knew it with every fiber of my being, but I was still desperately trying to believe that Heero was not actively trying to die. That he would fight to survive, that what he told me, about finishing what was started, that he would kill Zechs, was true.

But I knew that was not the case even then.

Heero got to work immediately, entering his cockpit and making the necessary adjustments. Knowing him, he was also running a full diagnostic scan, checking the programs they used to replace the monitoring system in the original suit. All the important components, programs, everything would have been destroyed with the self detonation. I’m assuming they copied the programs in the Leo Prototype and inputted it into 01. I hoped, for Heero’s welfare, the two programs are similar.

I stood there, leaning against the door of the cargo bay, for hours as he inspected the workings of the cockpit. We had been left alone for the most part, but eventually, Meiser came back in. He walked up to me, eyes trained on the cockpit and the boy in it. “He doesn’t trust me, does he?”

Did he expect me to console him? Tell him he did a fabulous job, and that even though he was an enemy, we were willing to put our lives in his hands? Well, maybe Heero was, but I sure as hell wouldn’t. But at the same time, I remembered the thankless job of being a mechanic to suit pilots. Maybe I’m going soft. “Its not that. He just doesn’t want anyone touching his mobile suit.”

“But still…” The engineer was well aware that any work that needed to be done would be done quicker with more than one set of hands, and Meiser was eager to help. He wanted to learn from us, we who daily dealt with mecha that were far advanced to anything he had even dreamed of. The closest being the Leo Prototype, which had to have been the base design for the gundams, but it was an original. It had been tweaked and improved before becoming the suits we manned.

But neither Heero nor I were really the teaching kind.

Heero stepped out of the cockpit then, a hand gripping the toeloop line slowly lowering him to the bay floor. “The self-detonation device isn’t connected.”

“Colonel Zechs said you won’t be needing it.”

“Zechs had regrets after their last showdown, so this time he wanted to make sure the fight lasts longer.” I watched as Heero walked over to Heavyarms, looking up appraisingly. “Aren’t you gonna fight in your own mobile suit?” I knew the answer before I asked it.

“I think I’ll use yours after all.” He didn’t look back at me, still focused on Heavyarms.

“How come?”

He looked over his shoulder, glancing at me. “All of this generousity is blurring the focus on fighting.”

I felt my brows furrow just a bit, confused. “I can’t see that being an issue with you.”

“No, I’m talking about him.” Heero brought his hand up, clenching his fist, tightening the muscles of his arm. Red had seeped through the bandages on his left arm again, blood seeping out of the re-opened wound, yet again.

“You’re strong. You really are.” He wanted no advantage coming into this. He was injured, working in a suit he had never used before, but he would give himself no advantage. Fighting in a suit that Zechs had repaired might make the Colonel go easy on him in the duel, and Heero would have none of it, no chance of soft treatment.

He switched his focus over to my suit and began making adjustments once again. I went back to my position of holding up the doorframe. Hours passed by, and I kept waiting for him to ask for help. I knew he wouldn’t, but I had hoped he would. It was my suit, I knew it better than he did; the intelligent thing to do would be to incorporate me into his repair plans.

But he didn’t. Heero’s focus was undivided, so I stood back and watched. Hours passed as I watched him climb from one limb to another, checking every inch of Heavyarms for damage or inconsistencies. As time went by, his movements got slower and more uncoordinated. Fatigue was weighing him down, but he still refused to ask for help. When his fingers fumbled causing him to drop the screwdriver he was holding, I decided I wasn’t waiting for permission anymore.

I shifted my weight off the wall and took a few steps forward.

He noticed the movement. “What time is it?” He was grasping his left arm again; he hadn’t let me re-bandage it, nor had he stopped to do so himself.

I glanced at my watch. “2:32 a.m. I’ll take over.”

“I appreciate it.” He made his way down to me, nodding as he walked by. He couldn’t even stand up straight, he had been bent over for so long, the muscles didn’t want to let him straighten back up. He headed back to quarters to get a few hours of rest as I sat down to finish the alterations.

I had hoped his left arm would have healed more before he did battle again, but having reopened the wound several times, the damage is probably worse off now than the original injury. He wouldn’t be able to handle the weight of the left arm; no matter how determined he is, the strength wouldn’t last.

The left hand and arm of my suit had been designed to be capable of hand to hand combat after the ammo ran out. But Heero would not have the strength to pull the weight of the heavy gun, the shield, plus the heavily armored arm and hand. I had seen Heero and Zechs fight before. I knew enough of his fighting style to know what needed to be done.

The fact that Heero hadn’t done it meant he was going to try to conform to my fighting style in a life or death duel. He was strong-willed, with all the disadvantages he had set up for himself in this battle, he wasn’t giving himself much of a chance.

Screw that. I removed the arm from my suit, took the beam saber from 01, and that became Heavyarms’ new light-weight arm. I found the thought amusing on a superficial level, but deeper within me, I was worried about what tomorrow may bring.

I didn’t want to watch Heero die, but he seemed pretty determined to make me do it.

At 0900 Heero and Zechs faced off on a plane of snow and ice. I watched from the Oz command tower amongst Oz officers. The foremost part of my brain was watching the strategies as the two battled. Both fired shots off, both parties missed. They were fast, reaction times almost instantaneous, no bullet was going to penetrate their defenses like this; both could see the tracer rounds coming and had time to get out of the way.

Heero caught on and began hiding his presence by shooting into a nearby hillside. It caused an avalanche that kicked up enough snow to mask his heat signature, and Zechs was caught out, looking for him.

But Heero never took the shot. He only used the gatling gun to shoot up another hillside to continue hiding amongst the snow. With a soldier as skilled as Zechs, its only going to work once. True to form, the second time Heero tried it, the Colonel found him and took a chunk out of Heavyarms’ armor, knocking Heero off balance. Another shot sent my suit to the ground.

I stopped watching at that point. I knew the ending already. Heero had the shot; and he didn’t take it.

All the Ozzies were avidly watching the display of skills between these two top warriors, but I walked towards the back of the command tower and leaned against the paneling, waiting for what I knew was coming.

“We’re nearing three hours since the start of the battle.” One of the Oz members spoke up, and my irritation hit its peak.

“That’s long time for a meaningless battle.” My words had the effect I had intended.

“Meaningless?! What do you mean meaningless?” Lieutenant Noin was too opinionated to be a good officer. She had good instincts for battle, but her opinion could get in the way in a dirty fight. And people tend to play dirty when their lives are at stake.

“Am I wrong? I don’t know the details, but Oz is after you people. What’s the point of two sides with a mutual enemy fighting each other out here? You think it’s the pilots’ fate? That’s stupid.” My mind was racing. Why were they fighting each other? It was a pointless battle.

Maybe the pilot of 05 was right. Maybe there needs to be some reasoning behind ones actions in battle. I fought because I was ordered to do so. But even when those orders ceased to come, I still fought. Oz is an organization that should be stopped, their ruthless threat of destroying the colonies, and millions of people, simply to incapacitate five enemies that they were incapable of defeating proved that to me.

I would fight Oz with everything I was. For the first time in my life, I realized what it meant to have a purpose in battle, only to be thoroughly confused by the path another soldier was taking.

“You might have a point. But they’ve been out to kill each other for a while now, so naturally they believe it is some kind of fate. This battle will go on until they both realize it is meaningless.”

“Are people trying to stop time in order to find themselves? Enemies are necessary. That’s the soldier’s fate.” Finding meaning in battle, finding meaning in life, it was all pointless if it interfered with the way you lived your life, completely pointless if your life ended because you were too busy debating on the meaning behind it.

Looking for meaning while you were fighting was a good way to wind up dead. Then it didn’t matter anymore.

“No. A soldier will be rejuvenated when he finds someone to protect. Sometimes that takes time.” She sounded like Cathy, but her logic was incomplete. A soldier finds someone to protect, fights to protect that someone, dies in attempt, then someone else steps up to avenge the death of that someone. There are always enemies, whether you fight to protect someone or not.

“Right now we’ve lost sight of how to protect the colonies. We really can’t afford to be wasting time here. I’ll make sure there won’t be any interruptions so they can get this over with.” Heero and I needed to leave, there was still a mission waiting to be completed. And Heero was overlooking that.

“You mean the search party? But, Trowa, how are you going to fight them?”

“I’ll just have Heero return my favor.” I walked out of the command tower and made my way to Wing.

I suited up, and made my way to the perimeter between the direction of the enemy and the deathmatch behind me. I took out sporadic, individual Ares searching for Zechs and his followers, but eventually the search party started getting more intense. Wing’s beam cannon was doing well to take out all those looking in this direction.

My brows furrowed as a civilian shuttle approached. It was flanked by two Ares, trying to force it down. I took out the Ares easily enough, but I was still debating what to do with the shuttle. Was it a ploy?

“Heero?” I female voice echoed through my cockpit. A girl, a girl who recognized Heero’s suit, knew his name. It must have been the girl he told me about. Then one he couldn’t kill.

“He’s fighting just up ahead. What are you doing here?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m going to make him stop fighting with Zechs. There is no meaning to this battle.” There was strength in her voice. She was a fool to interfere with two men locked in battle, but she had strength.

And again with the search for meaning. It was all getting so tiring. If she could stop it, more power to her. “I understand, then you’d better hurry. The search party is becoming more aggressive.”

I let her through and continued with my task. It didn’t take long before carriers lit up my screens. Thirty carriers. The suits within could number up to one hundred. It was time to end this.

I had heard the communications between the girl, Relena Peacecraft, and the others. I didn’t think there were any of the monarchy left, but apparently there were two. Zechs Marquis was a cover identity for Milliardo Peacecraft, the eldest son. And the girl, she had a letter from Marshall Noventa’s wife.

It was a bit scary how well she had tracked our movements.

But she had succeeded, and at least caused a brief reprieve in the battle, long enough for me to catch their attention. As soon as I made my presence known, the carriers dropped low enough to be seen through the cloud cover.

“Do you read me, Heero and Zechs? There are thirty suits in flight, one hundred if they unload all Ares suits from the carriers. We should be able to handle thirty each easily.”

“No, wait!” Zech’s voice held some urgency. “I’ll attract them all myself. Glory to all the Colonies!” Before we could say otherwise, he took off, diving directly into the thick of the suits.

“No! Zechs!” Heero actually yelled at him. I wondered if it was frustration at another unfinished battle or at the fact that he may have to find another worthy opponent to try for death again.

“Heero, we’ll meet again to continue our battle.” Zech’s parting words probably offered little comfort to the boy who thought he’d be dead by now.

I dropped Wing right next to Heavyarms. “He’ll be one tough guy to fight from now on.” We owed him. He was distracted the troops to cover our retreat, distracting them so that Oz would have no solid proof that we were here. The colonies were still being threatened by Oz, if we were caught, retaliation against the colonies was a very real possibility.

But he had taken our cause for his own, if only briefly.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Heero’s voice brought me back to myself.

I still didn’t like him. He was an arrogant prick, aristocracy dripping from everything he did. But he treated his subordinates with respect, that was more than I expected from him. He disguised our retreat, letting himself get captured to keep secret our presence in the area. And no, I had not forgotten that he was the one who let me retreat with Heero’s broken body encased in Heavyarms’ hand.

Yes, he was a man to be respected, but I didn’t trust him.

Quick escape needed, I entered the command for Wing to transform into flight mode, and hovered for just an instant. Heero hit the thrusters and grabbed hold at the base, and full speed ahead, off we went, him along for the ride due to the fact that he had been fighting for well over four hours. He was most definitely short on fuel.

When we had gotten far enough away, and in an area where we could hide the suits, we landed.

There was quite a bit to be done. My suit was thrashed, so much damage to be repaired. Heero needed his beam saber back. I needed to reload my ammo, so much to be done. All because of Yuy’s need to end it all.

I wasn’t as irritated as I had been, but I had something to say. As soon as Heero dropped from his cockpit, I was waiting for him.

He looked confused for an instant before I let my hand fly, punching him square in the jaw and knocking him to the ground.
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Not beta'd, sorry for any mistakes. I'll do some editing tomorrow, along with review responses. This chapter was much longer than it was supposed to be, I knew where I wanted to start and where I wanted to end, but the middle kept growing and growing.

I really stressed about the emotions in this chapter, I hope they weren't too jumbled. I mean, they're meant to be somewhat jumbled and contradictory at this point because Trowa's not certain of what he's going through, but I don't want it to be too confusing for the reader, either. Ugh, I hope I didn't lose ya. Hope you liked the newest addition.

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