Take Me With You

by delatrose

Summary:

In which Garma has at least one degree of self-preservation. The rest is probably just good luck.

Notes:

hi. whew. i'm finally doing this.

so this is something i've been working on for the past 3/4 months, it's mostly (mostly) complete except for editing and like 5 unwritten chapters but it's definitely the longest thing i've ever written and i've put so much love and heart and soul into it in so many ways. this is not the first time i've attempted to write something like this (not by a long-shot) but it is the first time i've written enough in one to consider posting it.

n e way, this is a fic that i, for the longest time, called my garma lives au so i mean. i think we can all figure out where its going. i hope you like ocs they're an intimate part of this story and i love them desperately. there might actually be 47/49 chapters depending on how i do the last few but 48 is what's currently planned and i'll try to update once a week within my saturday

one last thing, and this is a little silly, but i have songs to go w/ pretty much every chapter lol. this chapter's song is the change by evanescence

this will be the longest an i hope, ty for reading it if you did and pls enjoy!

Chapter 1: End of the Beginning

Something was off. The way Char had been acting since they’d entered battle had been very strange with all his posturing and insistence on him staying in the ship despite also assuring him this would be a grand victory that gave him more recognition. All he wanted was a little more freedom in pursuing his romantic interest, that’s it. And he was especially excited when the chance to earn such a thing was offered to him by his romantic interest himself, but he just couldn’t kick this odd feeling.

They also still hadn’t found the Trojan Horse yet despite following Char’s exact instructions and he was starting to wonder if that had something to do with it so he opened his comms to a member of his crew.

“Shana, get our jumpsuits, we’re going out,” Garma called not to his second in command but instead his most trusted crew member. People always harped on about how he kept them by his side despite them not having the rank but he couldn’t help but favor them for some reason.

“But, sir, Captain Char advised us not to go out in the ship,” his lieutenant captain said after hearing his command.

“And who says we’re going out in the ship?” he returned cheekily.

“Sir?” Shana added over the comm.

“Don’t worry, just get the suits and boosters,” he reassured them. He silenced the channel and turned to his crew on the bridge. “I am going to check something, I will be in contact with you all and Captain Char but do everything you can to make sure he does not know I’ve left, that is an order.”

“Sir, where are you going? Where’s the Trojan Horse?” A crew member asked.

“That is exactly what I’m going to find out. Don’t worry, I’ll find out exactly where that damn ship is,” he replied.

“You told us not to tell Captain Char, do you not trust him? Is he giving us bad directions?”

“Sabotage? Is he sabotaging us?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Captain Char would never betray us!”

“He’s right, Char would never do anything like that,” Garma interrupted before the accusations could escalate. He didn’t know if he believed his own words at this point but he had to look like he did to take control of his soldiers. “He is my dearest friend and I know him better than any of you, if anything like that were to be on his mind, I would know. He is simply busy with the battle at the moment and cannot give proper directions, so I am going out myself. We can’t always rely on Captain Char to do all our work for us, can we?”

There was vague chatter across the bridge as everyone considered what he’d said and Garma hoped, for all of their sake, that his little speech had been enough. Soon after, they all turned to him and saluted. Inwardly, he sighed but didn’t allow his change in demeanor to show on his face.

“I’m glad we’ve all agreed,” he said with a smile.

“Your suit?” a short, stout soldier with red hair in a tight bun and a stern face said from behind him.

“Thank you, Shana,” he said as he stepped down from his command. “Soldiers, it’s our time to shine!”

They saluted him one more time with looks of determination on their faces and he nodded back, not certain of their success, but willing to bet everything on the wonderful soldiers under his command.

Once outside the bridge, he changed his comms to have easy access to a private line with Shana and Char and an open line to the speakers on the bridge so that it could at least seem like he was there from his voice. As he met Shana by the airlock, Char contacted him through the private channel.

“Char? Is something wrong?” He asked, putting a finger to the front of his helmet to silence Shana who’s hand was on the airlock command panel.

“Did something happen on the bridge? They won’t let me patch through a visual,” Char asked, his voice steady as always.

“Ah, yes, it’s fine. The ship was scratched by some debris and it messed up the video feeds but everything else is fine.” The lie came to him easily, he’d been giving excuses like that to Kycilia and Gihren for years but it kind of hurt to have to lie to Char like this. Their last fight had been after he’d lied to Char and afterwards he’d promised himself he would never do it again but this was… a strange circumstance. “We’re still looking for the Trojan Horse, do you have any new information for us?”

“Hm, don’t worry Garma, it’ll pass behind you soon, keep going as you are.”

“Roger,” he copied and turned off the channel, giving Shana the signal to open the airlock. He narrowed his eyes and put his hand to his forehead to run it through his hair but hit the glass and internally laughed at his own foolishness. It was just that that transmission had perfectly displayed what was so suspicious about Char’s behavior. Normally, he’d ask fifty million questions about the amount of damage to the ship then tell him to send some out to inspect the damage. Instead, he’d gotten a “hm” and a quick change of topic. Garma had no idea what was going on but he was determined to figure it out as he flew behind his ship in search of the Trojan Horse.

“I have told Captain Char that an asteroid has scraped the ship and that is why visuals are impaired at the moment. Please keep this in mind for any future communications,” he explained after he’d turned his comms back to the bridge.

“Roger, sir,” bridge copied. He kept the bridge comm open and communicated with Shana through hand signals as he directed his crew in their search.

He was so divided between searching and giving commands that he didn’t notice Shana motioning for him to look to the front of the ship until they physically turned him towards it. Coming up from below them was the Trojan Horse and Garma’s eyes widened in disbelief as he heard his crew all yelling and asking him what to do over the line. But he couldn’t answer, could only watched on in complete shock as his ship was blasted by the Trojan Horse at full force and it sat there, defenseless as it took the blows at point blank.

Char’s comm opened suddenly and all he heard was laughter from the other side.

“Char! What have you done!” Char had given them bad directions is what he’d done, there was no way he wouldn’t have known about the location of the Trojan Horse and yet he had led them right into the mouth of it. He’d tricked them! And Garma was supposed to be on that ship, Char had been so adamant about him staying there. As the pieces came together, he realized Char had been trying to kill him and he heard the pulsing of his heart. He was supposed to be dying right now. “Char!”

“You were a good partner, but your father’s the one to blame here. I’m sorry, Garma, blame it only on the misfortune of your birth,” Char replied cruelly. No coherent thoughts passed through Garma’s head as he scrambled to get back to the bridge, Shana holding him to their chest. Tears filled his helmet as he cried, struggling against their grip.

“Char! You tricked me, Char! Char, I l-”

“Sir-”

“Love you. I love you why would you do this to me, Char!” he ended screaming, unable to hold back as despair overtook him. He broke down, sobbing and wailing as his body went limp in Shana’s arms.

“Sir, I’m sorry.” He barely heard the words over his tears, a deep sadness overtaking him as his body relaxed and went deathly still. He felt like he was falling into a deep, dark pit, the world pushing itself away from him as his reasons for living all seemed to fade from existence. He wasn’t thinking of anything, couldn’t really, and he wondered if there was anything to think about anymore. He was a failure and had been betrayed by the person closest to him. Hard as he’d tried, everything had still gone to shit.

Shana had apparently boosted them over to a random space junk because he felt her put him down against something hard. He looked blankly out to the stars, not exactly seeing them but feeling almost as if he was among them instead. Like at any moment he could dissolve into nothingness and become one with the universe. He wanted it, wanted to escape the endless despair that seemed to be pooling deep within his heart as he realized just how far he’d fallen. He’d given up everything to be closer to Char, had ostracized his family and taken illegal measures to secure his place next to Char, all for… this.

He felt helpless lying there, unable to move, just pathetically motionless like he was incapacitated or something. He’d been this close to redeeming himself in his family’s eyes only to prove that he was nothing more than a poor judge of character, and worse than that, a useless failure. He’d never been able to succeed at anything once in his life, always the pitiful one of the Zabi family.

The thought kept rolling over in his head that he should be dead, he ought to be dead, there might not be anything better than being dead at this point. Maybe he should go and see if his ship was still exploding and jump into one of the explosions. But it didn’t change the fact that the person he’d loved most in the world had tried to kill him. The person he’d trusted more than anyone, though obviously not enough. If he’d trusted him more, he might be dead right now but, perhaps thankfully, he knew Char too well instead.

And it had gotten all his men killed. His soldiers, the people fighting for him. The ones who trusted him with their whole lives. And he got to live despite being the main target of the assassination attempt. What kind of commander did that make him? The worst kind: a failure. The words ‘pathetic’ and ‘failure’ shot through his mind like daggers to the heart as he looked over at Shana who sat beside him with confusion and loss in her eyes. He winced and looked away, unable to handle the stress of deciding what they were supposed to do now.

In the end, Shana might have been the worst person to have with him if this sort of thing was to happen, they weren’t a high-ranking officer for a reason. It had always seemed that they relied too much on their commanders, taking orders and never really voicing a thought of their own. Of course, that was perfect for a low-ranking soldier, but when you were a lieutenant expected to make decisions on your own and command your men it wasn’t really ideal. He hadn’t minded this aspect of them before, they were always very willing to listen to him vent and rant about whatever problem he was having. They weren’t exactly a ‘yes’ man, but they never really voiced their opinions either so no one really knew exactly what was going on inside there.

Now that he couldn’t think of a single leaderly thing to say with his misery overtaking him, he realized that they wouldn’t know what to do and would probably just stay on this asteroid until he could at least think of something they should do but they both might be dead before that. In that case maybe it was best that he brought Shana.

“Sir,” they called. He looked over at them again and groaned when he saw that look again.

“Fine, fine.” He couldn’t actually die now, he supposed. He still had to prove himself, even if he’d had a setback this major. Though he wasn’t really capable of doing anything so grand and thought-consuming at the moment, he could at least get himself off this damn rock. “Have you set the boosters toward the sun?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We will wait for them to recharge for now. Do you know the allegiance of the nearest colony?” They didn’t respond which suggested it was still under Federation control. “Goddammit, we’ll have to change suits then and find a way to sneak in. As is, my face is instantly recognizable so you’ll have to… Shana, do you have a knife?”

“Yes, sir.” He put out his hand towards them and waited for the knife to be put in his hand. They handed their knife to him and he immediately brought it to his hair. “Sir!”

“Let me do this, Shana, it will make me less recognizable and we—" They took the knife out of his hand and started cutting it off themself. He smiled softly, they were really too good for him. He sat there pliantly as they carefully cut off his hair, there was no way they could make it completely even with just that knife but it would at least lower his recognizability. “Maybe we could get some dye for the rest on the colony. I’ve always wanted to try out black.”

They said nothing as they finished, not a knick to his scalp, but he understood them perfectly. They dyed their own hair so how could they not be excited to watch him dye his? They were his number one style guide at any point in time so they were always excited to try new things with him, even if that meant going into hiding while he recovered from his disgrace.

“But we don’t have any money,” he said with a frown and saw Shana smirk out of the corner of his eye. “Shana! You sly girl! Leading the prince of Zeon to a life of crime!”

Shana just shrugged with that same smirk and went to check the charge on their boosters.

“Shana, I wish I wasn’t so stupid.” They said nothing as they came back around, sitting next to him so he could lay his head on their shoulder. “I don’t know what to do now, all I wanted was…” He remembered waking up next to Char, the distinctly peaceful feeling he got looking over at his resting face and the feeling that he just wanted to wake up like that forever, no matter if it had only happened once so far, that one time had been enough to convince him of its importance in his heart.

But now it would never happen again. Never, not in a million years.

Chapter 2: In Time

Summary:

The start of Char and Garma's relationship.

Notes:

get fucking boned my dudes (2/17/2020)

the song i have for this chapter are because the night by patti smith and with that, please enjoy!

“Something’s wrong with this clasp, Char, come here,” he whines in a panic and, unexpectedly, Char comes over and grabs his shoulders, quickly stopping his fruitless struggle.

“Don’t worry, Garma, relax.” Char strokes his shoulders gently, trying to ease his nerves but having him so close, their faces inches apart and their legs just barely brushing only makes him more nervous. He’d really been trying these past few years to keep his stupid crush in check but then Char always had to do something like this, taking the clasp he’d been struggling with and easily sliding them together to make his struggle seem pitiful.

“But Ch—” He’s immediately silenced with both lips and shock as Char kisses him, taking away the space between them and sealing their lips together as Garma had dreamed of for so many nights, lying in bed and cursing his younger self for thinking rooming together was a good idea.

As soon as he realizes what was happening he melts into it, wrapping his arms around Char’s neck and opening his mouth to allow him in further. Char’s hands on his button moved down to his chest, grasping his vest and pulling him closer as their mouths moved against each other.

There’s a knock at the door and Char instantly pulls away, leaving a completely ruffled Garma behind as he tries to process what exactly had just happened. He turns away from the door and feels at his lips, the sensation of Char against him still at the forefront of his mind. He could hardly believe that what he’d wanted and pined for for so long had finally happened that his brain seemed to be shorting out.

“Garma!” He jumps and turns around, facing a smirking Char who’s stood alone in the doorway. Garma quickly perks up again and fumbles to the door. As he stands beside Char, he puts his hand on Garma’s shoulder once again. “It’ll be just like the training exercise. You’ve got this, I believe in you.” He comes in closer and whispers directly into Garma’s ear, the warm breath making him shiver slightly. “And if you’d like we can do more of that later.”

Garma looks back at him, his eyes bright and he nods excitedly. Char smirks at him and presses one last kiss to his ear before pushing Garma off to his duty. Tripping slightly, he ran off to where he and Char had planned, feeling a new sense of confidence as he went to lead his troops in revolution.

But he never came back. And Garma stared up at the ceiling for hours, waiting, but he didn’t see Char again after the parade. He found out the next day that it was because Char had gotten expelled and it dampened his enthusiasm for the celebration of his and Char’s unmitigated success. If Char wasn’t here then what was the point of even celebrating?

Of course his family was fighting about the whole incident without him, as they always did, leaving him on the outside because he was too gentle or some stupid thing like that. It’s not that he didn’t feel awkward in there but he genuinely wished he’d be given the opportunity to change that discomfort. How was he supposed to be of any help to anyone if he wasn’t allowed to adapt and change? Char had always encouraged him and helped him create the change he wished to see in himself but now he was gone, banished off to some place far away where Garma might never see him again. And the way they had parted… he could still feel Char on his lips.

However, it seemed he’d underestimated Char as only a couple months later he received a message under the guise of one of their mining operations on Earth and he instantly knew who it was. After reading the missive about fifteen times, he finally replied in a playfully unobservant way, pretending as if he was just responding to some mistakenly-sent message from an earthnoid whose status was way below him. They roleplayed like this back and forth, Garma telling him all his trials and tribulations that began after graduation and Char replying with encouragement or some promise to take him away from there.

It always seemed to spark some image in his mind of him and Char leaving it all behind and just exploring the Earthsphere with Char. He feels so trapped in the Zabi palace, rules and expectations suffocating him at nearly every turn. Some part of him tells him he’ll earn that freedom if he works hard enough but his mood still gets visibly better every time he receives one of Char’s missives. His father asks if there is someone special and his sister warns him not to forget their mission. He still isn’t completely sure what the mission was since everyone only ever told him half the story but he’s sure he’ll never let himself forget.

Two years pass like that and, by the end of it, Garma’s heart has grown so fond he thinks he could maybe even call his feelings for Char love, if only he knew how Char felt as well. It was odd but he could never really feel his love returned though Char had made it clear they were in that kind of relationship. Perhaps it was just that he couldn’t admit it, but maybe he was also only doing this out of pity. Char had never once seemed to pity him but he couldn’t get the fear out of his head that Char felt differently from how he acted.

“You know, Garma, you really should come and see our facility, and the new models, we call them Zakus,” Dozle said to him while he was visiting for dinner one night.

“Hm,” he replied, staring absently at his food and only half-listening to his brother prattle on about combat abilities and improved motion on his mobile suits or whatever they were.

“And our new pilot, he’s finally called in on that old debt from back at you two’s rebellion, Char-”

“Char? Char Aznable?” Garma repeated, finally looking at Dozle with wide eyes as he felt his pulse rise at the name.

“Yes,” he replied slowly, “Char Aznable. He’s the most capable pilot we’ve had yet…” That certainly sounded like his Char. “Garma—”

“May I visit your facility?” he asked with a pleading look on his face.

“Garma—”

“Please? I would love to come and look at your Zakus I’m really interested in them. Please?” he begged, leaning far over the table and almost getting food on his uniform.

“Of course! If it’s the Zakus you’re interested in, I’d love for you to see them!” his brother agreed readily and Garma smirked to himself at his little game. He had little interest in Zakus or mobile suits or anything like that but if he could trick his brother into letting him see Char then it would definitely be worth it.

A week later, with no correspondence to Char, he showed up with his loyal group of guards to Dozle’s mobile suit facility. He could barely contain his excitement and was sure he was talking about five decibels higher than he usually did but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Sir,” they all turned to the sound of the new voice as they walked the floor where all the mobile suits were stored for work. Garma’s eyes widened and his breath stopped as he took in the source of the voice, immediately making eye contact with Char through his mask. “Oh, apologies, our guest is here, I’ll see myself out.”

“Why?” Garma interjected before Char could back off completely.

“Garma—”

“He should be able to ask his question if he has one,” Garma said, using his most authoritative voice.

“Garma, that’s not—”

“Not what? Did you tell him he couldn’t interrupt? He’s my friend and I don’t mind at all, you know.”

“I know, Garma, but—”

“I would like it very much if he accompanied us, in fact, didn’t you say he’s your ace pilot? For your fresh new Zaku? Who would be better to tell me about it than the one who drives it?” Dozle sighed and reluctantly allowed Char to follow them around.

As soon as they got to the big red mobile suit at the end, Garma knew immediately it was Char’s. It fit him almost too perfectly. He smirked the entire time they were talking about it and always asked Char to confirm or deny what they said about it, if only to annoy the people who’d built it. Then his brother demanded a fly test of it after seeing his genuine interest and they all went to the launch viewing platform as Char climbed in.

“It really is very fun to watch,” he commented as he watched the suit go into its launch sequence, moving swiftly across the platform. Beside him, Dozle explained everything that was happening but he only listened half-heartedly, a majority of his focus on the suit as it launched out of the space doors and began to fly in the monitors around them. It was entrancing, how Char moved across the sky as if he had complete control of everything around him. The way he moved this huge suit as if it was nothing, becoming one with it and guiding it across the vast expanse of stars like this was what he was born to do.

“Garma? Gar—”

“Huh?” he asked, turning back to his brother quickly, that dazed look still on his face.

“So you like it?” Dozle asked, a wide grin on his face. Garma could only nod slowly, watching the mobile suit come back in for a landing out of the corner of his eye. He had to find a way to ditch his guards.

“I’m tired, may I stay here for the night and we can finish the tour tomorrow?” he asked, interrupting some rant Dozle had been going on again. To make his case more believable, he started to yawn and stretched his arms above his head.

“Yes, of course, Garma, anything for you. I’ll have a room set up immediately,” Dozle said, pushing some of his men off to do just that. He sat and talked with his brother until the room was ready, nodding as groups of pilots walked past them and looking for Char who seemed to be surrounded by scientists. Popular as ever, Garma thought as he grinned to himself.

“Sir,” one of his guards said as he went off to his room.

“Yes?” he answered as if he didn’t know exactly what they were going to say.

“It’s the end of our day and we’d like to go home, if that’s all right with you?” they asked.

“Of course,” he replied with a kind smile. “I don’t know why you even came with me, it’s just Dozle’s place, I’m sure I’m in no danger here.” They gave him an odd look and walked away until only one was left.

“I’ll stay,” the one left said and he smiled at them. They were quite new but the two of them had immediately hit it off and since they didn’t talk much he felt like he could trust them with his secret.

“Shana, thank you. Please, come with me for a second.” He ushered them into his room with him and quickly closed the door behind him. “Okay, would you be willing to work for me?”

“I do,” they replied, furrowing their brow.

“Well, currently you work for the Zabis, but would you work for me? Exclusively.” Their brow unfurrowed and they gave him a small but conspiratory smile.

“I do,” they repeated. His eyes widened and he smiled back at them.

“Excellent. Now, can you keep a secret?” They gave him another smile and made a zipping motion across their lips. “Wonderful. Well, I have this plan…”

They worked it out so that Shana would go out and find Char’s room and come back to him with the location then he would wear their helmet to hide his hair and sneak over to him for a surprise visit while Shana stood by his door, pretending he was asleep inside. Shana went back out and he waited patiently until they came back, thinking and bristling with excitement as he thought about what might happen tonight. He didn’t really care what it was, talking or sex or maybe even both but just the idea of seeing Char, and being alone with him after so long pulled at his heart. He threw himself back on his bed and thought of the man he had fallen in love with, feeling his heart clench in his chest remembering the letters the two of them had exchanged.

A little anxiety mixed with the excitement as well, the conclusion he’d recently reached that he loved Char worming its way to the top of his mind. The fear that he was the only one who felt that way plaguing his mind. Yes, their letters had been heartfelt but it was never anything that serious. Somehow it always felt only just outside of platonic and not nearly the kind of love that Garma decided he felt. Maybe he was thinking about it too much but he couldn’t really help it, everything was always like that with Char.

His mind went back to that day, the day of the rebellion when Char first kissed him, the solid feeling of him against his chest and the warmth of his breath against his ear as he realized his crush may not be one-sided. At first he’d been afraid that Char was just playing with him or maybe that it was all pity but as time went on and he kept on getting those letters, some spark of hope began to blossom within him.

Soon, Shana came back with the room number and Garma slipped back out with the helmet on. It was a little big for him so he couldn’t quite see out of it and instead stared at the ground and nodded whenever he saw another body floating back towards him.

“Hello there, soldier.” He froze at the voice and looked up, his helmet falling back slightly as he met Char’s masked face, his usual smirk plastered on his face as if he was teasing Garma despite not actually saying anything.

“Going somewhere?” Garma returned.

“Hm, just looking for you,” he said and Garma frowned.

“Shana just came and asked you, didn’t they?”

“Your guard? Indeed.” Garma groaned and started going back to his room, Char following right behind him. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Not really, I guess, but I wanted it to be a surprise.” Char chuckled and Garma could feel the familiar sound rippling through him, instantly relaxing him.

“There wasn’t much of a chance of that.”

“Maybe, but I can still try,” he returned, not looking back lest he lose his disguise. “Also you should get in front because I genuinely cannot see a thing.” He stopped and let Char hop in the lead though he quickly stopped again and Garma ran into him.

“We were here already,” Char said amusedly.

“Oh. Well...”

“You can’t see.”

“Exactly,” he huffed. He heard the sound of a door unlocking and was quickly pulled inside, the door shutting behind him. He started taking off his helmet but Char stopped him with a light tap to his hand and then crowded against him so his back was pressed against the door. “Char…”

Once again, Char cut him off with a kiss and though he couldn’t see him at all, he melted into it albeit awkwardly since the helmet made it hard to get very close.

“It would work well if it was the right size helmet,” Char complained. Garma tilted back the helmet so he could look up at Char with narrowed eyes. “It’s an observation. I wear my uniform most of the time, can’t I make observations?”

“Only if you kiss me properly,” he counters with a pout.

“When did you get so cocky?” Char asks with a smirk as he places a small peck on Garma’s lips. Garma follows him in an attempt to get more but is denied with a finger.

“It’s your fault, isn’t it? You’re the one who helped me become like this, who built me into the Zabi man I was always supposed to be.” He looks up into the mask of the man he loves, trying not to let his emotions show just like Char does. He’s pretty sure he’s failed as the finger against his lips presses harder and the smirk slips off Char’s face. Garma’s anxiety reaches a peak and he almost turns away before Char catches him with a hand to his cheek.

“Garma.” He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Char, his lips wobbling pathetically as he regrets his entire existence. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“No!” His eyes open instantly in alarm but when he see Char’s face again he pushes his face further into the hand on his cheek hand out of shame. “It’s not that, it’s just…”

“You think something like that would worry me?” Char chuckles lightly. But he’s still frozen, wary of himself and his seemingly fatal attraction to the man in front of him. It had all seemed so distant through those letters but now that they were facing each other he couldn’t help the adrenaline pumping through him and locking down his joints.

But he shouldn’t be frozen, he’s stronger than this, isn’t he? He shouldn’t be so flimsy and weak-willed in front of this man, whether his family approved or not, whether his love was reciprocated or not, he should just enjoy this, shouldn’t he? He should be allowed to have some fun.

“Garma, I’m not going to do anything you don’t want,” Char whispers into his ear and it finally breaks something in him. Against the warmth of his palm and the soft feeling of breath against his ear he turns quickly, clumsily knocking his face against Char’s.

“Sorry-” Again he’s shut up with a kiss, Char capturing whatever nonsense rambling he’d been about to spew and sealing it away between his lips. Since he’d been the one to ask for a proper kiss in the first place, there was no way he was going to pull away now and he relaxes under Char’s movements as he tries his best to follow him. Though he still felt quite sloppy in comparison, that was just to be expected of Char at this point and he smiled against his lips.

“What?” Char asked when he felt the smile.

“Just wondering how you’re so good at everything,” he replied. Char smirked back against him but never gave an answer, lifting him up off his feet instead. Garma squeaked as he was carried over to the bed and dropped onto it, his eyes wide as he watched Char bend down to the ground.

“Are you staying the night?” he asked as he took off Garma’s boots.

“I was planning on it, I do not think there will be many chances like this soon.”

“Hm, you might be right,” Char replied as he came back up and kissed him again. Garma quite liked the new position and to show his appreciation he wrapped his arms around Char’s neck and opened his mouth, allowing Char inside. He moaned softly as Char’s hands fell to his waist and drew small circles against the tips of his hip bones, pushing his coat up and making the soft fabric of his shirt rub up against his skin. It was slowly pulled from his pants as the hands rubbed higher and higher until he felt something warm and rough against his skin. He gasped, shivering as those hands moved underneath his custom-made military jacket. Another moan fluttered out of him as his shirt was hitched up to his stomach and Char’s thumbs dipped right under his belt, skating across the planes of his abdomen.

Char’s mouth moved away from his own, kissing just at the corner of his lips then down the edge of his jawline until he was just below his ear and nipped at it. Garma squirmed a bit to find the perfect spot between the two sensations but, seeing his struggle, Char smirked and clamped his hands down on his hips.

“Better?” Char asked cheekily as he licked up the shell of his ear. Garma couldn’t help but whine as those firm hands found the fly of his pants and unclasped it with practised ease. Char’s ear was right beside Garma’s mouth so he called his name into it and was rewarded with the second clasp coming undone as Char’s other hand cupped him lightly from the outside.

“Char,” he whispered reverently, thrusting upwards gently to try and feel more of his hand.

“Patience, Garma,” Char reprimanded lightly, taking his hand away. Garma pouted but Char just shifted him further onto the bed so he was in a more comfortable position. Garma pushed himself the rest of the way up so his head was on the pillow and propped himself up on his elbows to watch Char undo the clasps on his own jacket, the whiteness of his shirt peeking out from beneath the dark green.

Garma watched carefully as the odd headgear Char had acquired at their rebellion was slowly removed and his hair fluffed out around his blue eyes. He had, of course, seen Char’s full face before but from this position it felt a million times more intimate. Their eyes connected as Char undid the buttons on his shirt and Garma felt himself drifting closer, mesmerized by the reveal of skin and the brightness of Char’s eyes. When he realized what Garma was doing, Char pushed him back, quickly kicking off his shoes and climbing back on top of him.

Garma grabbed the edges of his shirt and kissed him harshly, his hands sliding inside the half-unbuttoned fabric to feel the hard planes of his chest before rising up to his hair and grasping the soft strands desperately.

“Char,” he whispered against his partner’s lips. He felt like he should try to say something else but nothing came to mind so he could only repeat Char’s name over and over as soft kisses were pressed to his lips and the rest of his uniform was taken off. Since his shirt had already been untucked it was much easier to pull off though he got stuck a little in his rush to get it off his arms. Char chuckled at him and helped tug the sleeves off before putting his hands on Garma’s body, feeling up his sides and flicking his thumbs over his nipples. He keened at that, pressing his body up into Char’s hands.

“Sensitive?” Char teased and Garma had the mind to glare at him but his hands went down to the hem of his pants again and this time he pushed down, sliding his pants beneath his fingers as he removed the clothing. He pushed up into the hands, feeling them slide down his legs and carefully slip each leg off. Char looked up at him from between his legs and he whined softly, feeling emotions flow through him as he imagined a future where he saw this regularly. It was hard, but he wanted it more than anything. He could feel the desperation showing on his face but he couldn’t hide it anymore.

“Char.” Once again he said his name but as he held out his hand to pull his love back up, the look in Char’s eyes was incomprehensible. He was so overwhelmed with his desperation that he felt tears welling in his eyes and Char quickly came and kissed them away.

“Crybaby Garma, what’s wrong?” he asked softly. Garma couldn’t possibly answer, still unsure how Char felt about him, if it was just pity or obligation or whatever it was that Char always had on his mind but he couldn’t say something so serious and ridiculous at such an important moment. So instead, he grabbed Char’s face and kissed him soundly, immediately shoving his tongue in to distract them both from what had just happened.

Char seemed amenable to the idea as he took initiative from there and once again kissed down the side of his face to his now-free neck, nipping a bit as he got close to his collarbone. Garma didn’t mind if he left marks, it wasn’t as if he ever wore anything without a high collar anyway. And maybe there was even some part of him that wanted that, something to prove their time together existed, that this speechlessness under Char’s hands was real. He almost felt too good under his ministrations, especially as those hands moved further south and brushed the hem of his underwear.

Garma whined softly as he jerked up into the touch, opening his eyes to see Char’s blond hair right in front of him. He brought his hands up to run through it, tired of clinging to the sheets like some useless idiot. He really loved Char’s hair, always soft since the first time when he’d accidentally touched it to now as he messed it up as much as he possibly could, feeling the waves drift between his fingers as he massaged and pulled it every which way.

His underwear was pushed down and when Char finally touched him directly, Garma’s hands grasped at the hair in them. He thought Char might reprimand him for that but he just pressed down harder, his fingers slipping between his folds and just brushing his clit. The reaction caused a sort of domino effect of Garma pulling harder and Char fluttering his fingers across his clit with as much restraint as he could muster before Garma used his grip to pull Char’s head from his chest.

“Char, look at me,” he called, his mouth staying open as he panted softly. The look in Char’s eyes was still indecipherable but he surged up to kiss him all the same.

“You’re crying again.” Garma tensed immediately and wiped at his eyes, feeling the tell-tale wetness of tears.

“I don’t know why,” he replied as Char moved away from him for a second, reaching for the nightstand.

“It happens.” Char kissed his forehead as he returned, something else in his hands that Garma couldn’t quite see. Then he hissed in discomfort as Char’s fingers covered in something cool and almost liquid in consistency pressed lightly just above his hole. He knew it was just lube but he wondered why Char was using it, surely he didn’t think they’d be going that far yet. Though he didn’t mind being fingered since he did that to himself pretty regularly, he wasn’t ready for anything more than that at all. The hands pulled away again and he suddenly panicked. With the way Char had been treating him, he had assumed they’d had the same idea but now he wasn’t sure.

“Ah, are you—” He stopped himself when he felt just the fingers again. This time the lube was warm against his clit and he forgot his complaints as he was stroked smoothly. The fingers went a little further south once again but this time Char made a point to move up so Garma could see everything that was happening.

When he was sure it was just fingers, Garma spread his legs wider, inviting him in. Char’s other hand came back up to stimulate his clit and he allowed himself to fall into sensation, stopping all thought while Char fingered him. He could feel moans bubbling out of him at an alarming frequency as he grasped at the sheets and Char’s fingers plunged deeper inside him, hitting just the right place and sending him closer and closer to orgasm.

“Char, I’m—” He forced his mouth shut, still having enough mind not to admit anything reckless as the feeling overwhelmed him. Once again, he felt tears forming in his eyes but this time he let them go as his breaths quickened and he came to the precipice, his orgasm flowing across Char’s hand.

Garma looked up at Char with all the adoration he held within him clear on his face and it was returned with such cool indifference that it made his heart sink to his feet, his bright euphoria dampened by cold reality. He shouldn’t expect Char to love him, in fact he shouldn’t expect anything at all and perhaps that was the truth of the world but it didn’t stop him from yearning. He could at least try, right?

Char still treated him with caution, like he was some porcelain doll, cleaning him off and putting him under the covers before straightening his own clothes and going back out with one last kiss to Garma’s forehead. Garma watched the door close with sadness in his heart, a deep longing overtaking him and making him shiver at the sudden coldness of the fitted sheet underneath him. There was something so lonely about the chill of it against his skin after such a heated moment.

He got no sleep after that, his thoughts and dreams keeping him from such peace. He wondered if Char had even come, probably not since he hadn’t changed pants before going back out. He’d been so caught up in himself that he hadn’t even bothered to pay attention. Oh, how useless he felt. He berated himself for being such an inconsiderate partner and promised that next time, and there would be a next time he was certain, he would be more prepared and wouldn’t leave Char disappointed.

A few hours later, there was a knock at the door and he panicked before a soft “Sir?” came from the doorway and he got up instantly, pulling his coat back on and sliding on his slacks with urgency before greeting Shana at the door.

“Shana. Why are you here?” he asked, his shoes still off.

“Sir,” they said simply and Garma sighed.

“You’re right, of course, it would be bad if I got caught and, god, what a walk of shame. Is it safe now?” They nodded and he ran back to get his shoes before looking either way out the door. At one end of the hallway was Char and his eyes widened.

“Leaving so soon?” Char asked slyly as he zips up to him on a handrail.

“Ah, well, it would be bad if Dozle came to my room in the morning and I was not there,” he explained in a panic.

“Well don’t go without saying goodbye,” Char said as he floated up to them. He put an arm around his back and Garma tensed immediately, reminded of the night Char had proposed their rebellion. He had no idea what Char would do this time so he was completely surprised when he just openly kissed him, in the middle of the hallway, in front of Shana. He should probably be worried about them being in such a public place but he couldn’t bring himself to really care as Char invaded his mouth once again and he slumped against the arm holding his back.

“See you later?” Char whispered against his lips and he nodded quickly, trying to bring back his senses. Remembering his promise to himself earlier, he pressed one last kiss to Char’s lips in return before slipping out of his arms and looking at the floor as he floated off. His face was a red mess he was sure of it.

Back in his own room he found he couldn’t sleep for the exact opposite reason. How was it that Char could always keep him on his toes? He smiled, his head full of hope again as he wondered if there had been cameras in the hallway and thinking maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they were caught.

“Garma?” his brother’s voice sounded from the door, cautious as always when dealing with his finicky little brother. Garma turned over and got up, slowly padding to the door with slight irritation. He was ready for whatever punishment he was going to receive for his misconduct.

“What?” he demanded as he opened the door. Dozle smiled at him anxiously, tapping his fingers together.

“Can I come in?” he asked and Garma stepped to the side, letting him in the room and closing the door behind him with a glare to all the onlookers. He and his brother stood together in silence for about a minute before Dozle finally picked up the courage to talk. “Well, some of the men saw you being... very close with Lieutenant Char earlier and I just thought we might talk about why it’s bad to get close to someone… like him.”

“Like him?” Garma repeated.

“Yes, like him. He is, for one thing, a soldier. We are on the brink of war, Garma, and in war soldiers lives are all forfeit—”

“So, what? You think he’s going to die then? You think just because he’s a soldier he’ll allow himself to die? You obviously don’t know him as well as I do,” he rejected. He watched his brother struggle to keep in his temper for a second and glared at him.

“Garma, I know what he’s capable of as a soldier. I’ve been watching him since the two of you were in school. I know he’s incredible but that still doesn’t eliminate the chances that—”

“Just watching him from afar doesn’t count. I was his roommate, we spent all our time together. He’s my best friend, brother,” he pleaded, hoping to appeal to his brother’s love for him. “And I’m going to be a soldier too, aren’t I? Don’t I face the same chances? If I’m the failure of the Zabis like they say doesn’t that make my chances even higher? If you believe in me, you have to believe in him as well.”

Dozle seemed at a loss for words, his mouth working as he tried to find a way to combat his younger brother’s determination. Feeling as if he’d won, Garma applauded himself internally while keeping the innocent look on his face. He would find a way to be with Char if he had to fight the entire Zeon army, including his own family.

Notes:

"sensitive?" just makes me laugh every time i see it. how cliche

but what is he thinking? it's might not be what you think at first. but it's not what garma thinks either

i was incredibly nervous about posting this i'll admit (i had to listen to some fusion to calm myself down) and i hope it does not make anyone dislike my story but if you did enjoy it please leave comments and kudos!!

Chapter 3: Trickery

Summary:

Garma makes a couple mistakes but none of them are things he understands as mistakes or really registers at all

Notes:

im a little early (for me) but i'm also ahead on my editing so :) i was even going to post it even earlier but i've recently become v picky about taking passive voice out of my writing so i re-edited it and delayed myself

i'll probably post another tomorrow as well but these two are kinda long esp together so def a week wait after that. to soak it in i guess. there won't be any more of that nastiness like i said last chapter but there will be some allusions to some things. dont ask me about ranks i did my best

today's got two songs: precious by depeche mode and good enough by evanescence

Garma is furious. Absolutely furious. He stomps out of the Zabi meeting hall and mutters to himself about how ridiculous it all was. Staff Headquarters? How was he supposed to move up at all from Staff Headquarters? How would that get him closer to Char all the way out in space?

Over and over the words his father had said during the battle of Loum echoed in his head “some people were meant to die”. Who were they to say he wasn’t one of them? Why was he so much better than everyone else that he couldn’t go out and risk his life for promotions just like they did? But more importantly, why did Char have to be? Why did they all just assume Char would die so easily? It made him want to shout from the rooftops, to make sure they all knew just how far he would go to keep Char safe and that they should never doubt either of them.

“Dozle—” he announces himself as he entered his brother’s quarters, pushing both doors open and pushing his hair from his face as he strode in the large room.

“Ah, Garma, how was the assignment?” his brother asks, standing behind his heavily pregnant wife as she makes dinner.

“Will you be having dinner with us, Garma?” Zenna asks with a smile. He nods in answer and glares at his brother as he walks over to the dinner table.

“Staff Headquarters,” he says haughtily.

“Staff Headquarters? That’s not bad…” Dozle replies to test the waters.

“Not bad!?” he protests. “It’s terrible! How am I supposed to—” he stops himself, remembering even Dozle had also told him not to get too attached to Char and possibly even knew of their relationship— he’d never gotten in trouble for it so he couldn’t be certain they’d seen their hallway kiss but he should still be cautious of it. “How am I supposed to gain rank at the Staff Headquarters? I need to be on the field, I have to feel like I’m doing something to help the effort. I do not want to be the useless Zabi whose only accomplishment was being born a Zabi.”

Dozle sits across from him and sighs.

“And I assume you want me to help in some way?” he asks, leaning his head into his hand as Zenna brings over their meals. “Zenna, darling, where’s yours?”

“I’ve gotten a sudden craving for carrots so I’m going to chop some up for myself. You two enjoy your meal,” she replies, kissing his temple.

“Don’t eat too few,” he says with a frown.

“Of course not, dearest, Mineva and I will stay strong just for you,” she promises. Garma almost wants to gag at how they act around each other but he controls himself so it’s easier to get Dozle on his side.

“Ah, that’s my girls!” he praises as he picks up his fork. Garma watches with a pleading look on his face, not wanting to touch his food until he’s talked with his brother. “Garma, what’s wrong?”

“Well, you have authority, they would listen to you wouldn’t they?” he asks.

“What do you want, promotions? Rank?” He needs time. Something to give him some way to get closer to Char. It would mean nothing if it didn’t come from his own accomplishments, there was no way he could win Char’s affections otherwise. The man lived for battle, if Garma could prove himself on the battlefield then there was no way Char wouldn’t completely fall for him. He was halfway there, he just had to get a little closer.

“It does not mean anything if I can’t earn it myself, weren’t you listening? What I need is an opportunity, some way to prove myself,” he asks. Tears fell from his eyes as Dozle looked him over contemplatively.

“What if I could get you involved in the clean-up at Loum?” Garma immediately perks up, wiping off his tears and leaning over the table towards his brother.

“Really? You could get me there?” he asks excitedly, clasping his hands together.

“I’ll see what I can do, Garma,” Dozle says, rubbing the back of his head with an awkward smile.

~

“Char,” he calls out, seeing him surrounded by women and feeling slightly annoyed for some reason. He pushes through the crowd as Char looks over at him and smirks, the people surrounding him dispersing upon seeing who he is and for once he’s thankful of his family’s status.

“Garma, you seem to be doing well,” Char comments.

“Thank you, I am,” he responds idly, trying his best to pretend his heart isn’t racing in his chest. “Congratulations on your success at Loum, I’ll be joining the ground forces in eradicating the enemy from the entirety of the colony.”

“Oh?” Feeling petulant and slightly overwhelmed with the grandeur of the atmosphere, he pouts and crosses his arms at the comment.

“You don’t think I can do it, do you?” he says as he raises an eyebrow. It takes all his composure to not run out of the party as the amount of people watching them slowly gets to him and doubt about his own abilities creeps into his mind under their stares.

“No, not at all! I’m sure you’re capable, but it’s dangerous, isn’t it?” His anxiety deflates and his eyes widen momentarily before he’s flooded with happiness. Of course Char doesn’t doubt him, he was only concerned for his well-being! That’s normal! That’s good! He really should try to doubt Char less, it always makes him feel so foolish.

“Well, of course it is, this is the military. Though I thank you for your concern, I can handle myself,” he responds diplomatically. Already aware of their proximity, Garma pushes a hand through his bangs and averts his eyes as Char hums and takes a step closer to him. He tries not to focus on the fact that they are now within touching distance and instead swirls his drink around in its glass.

“I also thought you would want to be in the space force,” Char says more quietly. The people around them continue to look between the two of them, whispering to each other as their positions shy just short of too close to each other. Sure they’re pushing the limits of what’s considered appropriate, he clenches his hand into a fist so he doesn’t just absolutely destroy his hair.

“I do regret my decision somewhat, it was made at a very fragile time,” he replies just as quietly. That ‘fragile time’ was the month after he’d graduated before Char had sent him his first letter and he’d wanted nothing but to sulk on his own.

“Is that so? I know someone in a similar position,” he says with a hint of a smile. Garma’s eyes widen again, wondering what Char is hinting at and if it’s really okay to discuss it so openly.

“Do you? That’s a shame for them, regret is not an enviable emotion.”

“Indeed, would you like to talk about it more elsewhere?” Char suggests. Garma looks at him coolly and nods. Inside his heart is pounding against his chest at the thought of being alone with Char again.

“I do need a bit of a break,” he agrees. Char smiles at him and puts a steady hand against his back as he leads him through the crowd. The entirety of Garma’s world shrinks to that warm hand as he walks out a side door of the ballroom into a much smaller sitting room. Inside, he lets his composure flow out of him and sighs as his shoulders fall into a more relaxed position.

“Better?” Char asks as he comes up behind him. Garma turns quickly, almost hitting Char in his urgency. Char quickly dodges him, however, and smirks at him as Garma takes another deep breath.

“Better. I’m sorry, I’m still not completely used to being stared at like that. Sure, I got a lot at school but that was…” The level of pressure was different now, the amount of people looking up to him and the price of failure was much, much higher now. He couldn’t afford to.

Char puts a hand on his shoulder and he raises his head from the ground so he can look into Char’s mask. He wishes Char would take the mask off again but it’s unlikely since the ball is still going on right outside. Instead, he looks into the eyeholes and tries to picture him just as he had been at their meeting a few months ago.

“He’s the General above me,” Char says, taking Garma out of his reverie.

“Huh?” he responds haplessly. Char smiles at him with amusement and rubs his thumb into Garma’s shoulder as Garma tries to figure out what Char’s referencing.

“The one who regrets his decision? In the space force, Garma, do you understand what I’m getting at?”

“Oh. Right.” He really had meant to talk about just that, hadn’t he? It was somehow disappointing.

“Garma, I don’t think you get what I’m saying.”

“What?” Char sighs with amusement and shook his head.

“He works one step above me, with me frequently, but he would prefer to be in the ground forces while you want to move up and also be in space. Do you get it yet?” Char explains, putting his free hand on Garma’s other shoulder and joining them behind his neck. Garma puts his hands on Char’s waist and thinks about it for a bit, having trouble concentrating on anything other than Char at the moment.

“Wait— a switch?” he exclaims as he finally figures it out, pulled violently out of his stupor at his revelation. These ideas of Char’s always seemed to get him in trouble. “How would that work? That goes against so many regulations and my family would…”

“Garma, does it matter what your family thinks? They all think I’m going to die, anyway,” he says nonchalantly and Garma’s so surprised by the words that his hands fall from Char’s waist.

“H— How do you know that?” he replies softly.

“Although I’m a good soldier, I know they don’t really trust me. Especially when it comes to you, it’s not hard to figure out why. I got quite the lecture for our little stunt in the hallway,” he says with a light smirk.

“You did?” Garma asks, his eyes wide.

“I bet you just got a little warning from Dozle, didn’t you?” Not even that. He’s furious with his brother, this is exactly why no one took him seriously. If he couldn’t be disciplined like any normal soldiers then what was even the point of being in the military?

“I—” he turns away, suddenly embarrassed by Char’s poor treatment at the hands of his family.

“Don’t worry about it,” Char says, bringing one of his hands up to Garma’s cheek and turning him back to face him. Garma’s breath catches as he sees how close they are now, Char’s lips hovering just a few inches from his own. He closes his eyes, offering himself up and Char takes it after a moment’s hesitation, kissing him softly. Much more softly than he probably ever had and Garma gasps at the feeling but Char doesn’t push, just keeps it slow and gentle as his hand cups his face.

It went on like that until Garma lost track of time, the world once again shrinking down to just him and Char. It really doesn’t matter what his family thinks, does it? Nothing matters other than being with Char. As long as that was the goal, he’d do anything.

“I’ll do it,” he says against Char’s mouth. “It might take some work but I’m going to do it.” Char smiles and kisses him once more before responding.

“I know you can,” he replies and continues kissing Garma.

A month later he was a General just like the man Char told him about and he’d been talking with the man to get the transfer ready. Dozle told him he was soon going to give Char a new ship and though they were currently in peace talks, neither side seemed to be winding down. If anything, the tension that filled the air around the topic of war was getting stronger and stronger. He wasn’t exactly sure what would happen but he knew that if treaty negotiations collapsed, he would get to go out in space and be near Char again very soon.

As it was, however, the hurried pace of the treaty talk allowed him some space to slip between the lines. While the rest of his family was worried about what would happen in all the different ways they did, he quietly went under the radar and forged the approval on his transfer request. Of course, even with how busy they were, none of his family would so much as touch a transfer request with his name on it so he went under their noses, sneaking into Dozle’s office in the middle of the night and putting his official seal on the papers. He scanned them and sent them to Staff Headquarters before shredding them and leaving again as quietly as he could.

He almost got caught on his way out as a guard stopped him but he was able to make the excuse of getting something for his brother while he took care of Zenna who was having trouble with the baby. He didn’t really know much about pregnancy so he couldn’t give any specifics but the guard didn’t seem to either so he was let go, sighing in relief as he walked back to his own room.

He flopped down on his bed and smiled at the dark ceiling as pure giddiness overtook him. Soon he’d be in space and he could visit Char whenever he wanted. He could make the flimsiest excuse just to go on Char’s ship and no one would be able to say anything. He’d be able to watch him fly across the cosmos, maybe even join him if he wanted. He’d had no interest in it before, but as soon as he’d seen Char fly in that mobile suit he’d known he wanted to as well. To go above and beyond with Char right by his side was all he wanted and it felt like there was no better way to do that than in a mobile suit. He would probably never want to be a full-time pilot, but just the idea of that freedom really called to him deep inside.

He took a deep breath as a smile spread across his face and pictured Char above him, smiling back at him. Soon, he thought as he reached out to touch the figment of his imagination, cupping Char’s cheek as if it were real. Soon.

Soon was a week later as he snuck onto a ship and met the General he was replacing, giving him only a handshake as they passed like two strangers in the night. His personal entourage came in close behind him, only following as they knew how, and the doors of the ship closed, leaving them all in darkness.

Garma clenched his first tightly as he tried to hold back his excitement, his heart thrumming in his chest and his mind talking at him a mile a minute. It wasn’t as if it was even saying anything important, just repeating Char’s name over and over again in his head.

He almost couldn’t believe what he’d done. Kycilia would be furious. But somehow that made him even more excited, the idea of finally being free from their control to some degree. Even if he were punished, he’s sure they wouldn’t deny him if he begged enough, especially since the papers had already gone through. They’d be mad at him, for sure, but he wouldn’t lose them completely. It’d just give him some space to become his own man.

They stepped off of the transport ship into the Gwazine that he would be directing on a daily basis. Char had recently been given a new ship by his brother so he would likely be there but they could visit him later. For now, however, he could only get his ship into order and brief his crewman about their new command. Tomorrow, he would ship off and greet everyone of his captains personally, making sure to go to Char’s ship last so he could spend however long he wanted there.

Thus, the next day he politely made his way through the captains of his legion, greeting them cordially and reassuring them he would not change their lives too much while he thought of nothing other than Char and that he’d be seeing him soon.

“Char,” he greets as he finally makes his way onto the bridge of his friend’s ship. Char turns around quickly, surprise obvious in his stance. Garma’s entourage comes in behind him and he’s sure he sees the ghost of a smile on Char’s face.

“Garma,” he replies with an amused lilt to his voice. “I assume congratulations are in order?”

“Indeed they are,” Garma says with a smirk as he comes to stand directly in front of Char. His new group of guards, Shana the only returning member, stand a few feet behind him, watching on.

“General Garma? What are you doing in space?” one of Char’s crew asks. Garma looks around Char to the bridge of the ship where all of Char’s men had started turning towards them.

“I’ve been transferred to your legion and will be taking over for your current general,” Garma reports. “I hope we may find success together.”

The crew instantly starts chatting among themselves for a few seconds before Char clears his throat and they all stand at attention. Shana watches over the crowd but keeps Char and Garma in their peripheral.

“Yes, sir,” the crew responds resoundingly. Garma smiles kindly at them all as Char grabs his wrist and whispers something in his ear. Garma nods in response to whatever he’d said and the two of them smirk at each other. Shana is the only one who knows everything that goes on between those two since Garma always came to them to vent his frustrations. As such, it was safe to say they didn’t trust Char one bit but still supported Garma in his pursuance of the relationship.

“Good, I will be briefing Captain Char in his quarters so please do not disturb us unless it is urgent,” Garma commands. Shana watches carefully as Char lets go of Garma’s wrist and they all given an affirmative as the two of them walk back into the bowels of the ship.

“Why do they need to go back to Captain Char’s quarters for a briefing?” one crewmember asks once the two of them had disappeared. Shana was sure they knew why but there was no way they’d tell these leeches. Even the rest of Garma’s personal guard worked for Kycilia first and foremost. When they found out she was against this transfer, they would either tell her everything or be disposed of, just as the last group had been for leaving Garma alone at Dozle’s factory.

“I don’t know… he hasn’t done this on any of the other ships,” Lilah answers as she frowns towards the hallway they’d disappeared into.

“I know why,” Senika, the most annoying new guard, replies with a smirk. “And you’ll have to trust my word on this, but I think the two of them are in that kind of relationship.”

“What the hell does that mean, you idiot, do you really think they would have sex right now? In the middle of his introductions?” Pol, the last of the new guard . Shana’s almost certain that’s exactly what they’re doing but says nothing as they continue arguing.

“Yeah, I don’t think Captain Char’s that kind of person…” the crewmember who’d brought the topic up replies.

“Oh, get over yourselves, Char Aznable is definitely that kind of person and dearest Lord Garma is an absolutely hopeless cause to his charms. Did you see the way they looked at each other? There is no way it’s anything else,” Senika continues.

“You’re absolutely insane, no fucking way,” Pol denies again.

“Shana? You’re closest to our lovely General, do you have any insight?”

“As if they’ll say anything, they hardly talk in the first place, they’d more likely punch me in the face.” Shana actually did want to and resisted only because it would upset Garma. So, instead of answering, they just gave Senika and Pol a withering look that told them how right Pol was.

“Ugh, fine, we’ll just have to do a bit of spying then, won’t we?” Senika says mysteriously as he starts walking in the direction from which Garma and Char left. “Anyone who wants to find out the truth behind their relationship, follow me!” A surprising amount of people followed him, only Lilah and a few of the bridge crew staying behind. Shana, of course, followed to make sure the group didn’t make too much trouble as they quietly walked down the tight hallway.

“Wait— I hear something in this room,” a bridge crewman whispers loudly as they passs a utility closet. The group stops and Senika pushes his way up to the front, pressing his ear against the door to hear inside. A feral smirk crosses his face and Pol pushes over to press his own ear against the door. He snarls angrily and reaches into his pocket, likely sending Senika money on his phone.

Shana can barely hear anything from their position but they really prefer it that way. Spying on them was such an invasion of privacy and Garma was sure to be embarrassed, but Senika doesn’t really give Shana a choice as he pulled them towards the door.

“I bet you knew,” he whispers harshly into their ear. Shana rolls their eyes as they overhear the end of whatever is happening in there.

“It was kind of gross that you ate it, though,” Garma’s muffled voice comes from the other side of the door. Shana instantly regrets not staying with Lilah, they may admire Garma but really had no interest in this side of his life.

“Not as bad as I thought it would be,” Char’s voice replies as the eavesdropping group listens intently, some almost standing on top of each other to get closer.

“You thought about it?” Shana feels their heart break, knowing exactly how Garma was feeling at that moment. He was desperately in love with the mobile suit pilot so knowing he was being thought of probably made him incredibly happy. However, for Shana, who didn’t trust that those feelings were returned in the slightest, it felt like carrying a heavy burden. They were happy to listen to him complain and gush as much as he wanted, but they wished they could somehow help him in some other way, they just weren’t sure how.

“We should probably address our audience now, though,” Char says casually. Beside him, Senika stiffens but Shana had known they would get caught so they just stand up straight and wait for the two to come out.

“Eh? Audience?” Garma asks, sounding as if he was coming closer to the door. It slowly opens and Char appears first, a neutral expression on his face. When he sees Shana, he gives them a small smirk and Shana nods solemnly in return. Garma, however, is instantly red in the face as he sees the crowd outside waiting for him. Char pats his back soothingly and whispers to him again as Garma tries to soothe his anxious blush.

“Senika, Pol, how dare you eavesdrop when I told you specifically not to bother us unless it was an emergency,” Garma scolds.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Senika and Pol reply simultaneously as Char leads his men back to the bridge unpunished.

“And Shana, I’m sure you only came along to keep them in line so thank you but next time please stop them first,” Garma says.

“Yes, sir,” Shana replies. Garma sighs and shakes his head as he leads them back to the bridge. If only they had a little more authority, Shana could easily move up the ranks but as it is they’re stuck here with him for some unknown reason. They walk back to the bridge of the ship where Char’s crew has all moved back into position and he stands next to Dren in the captain’s seat as he prepares to give them a speech.

“If there is even one word of this on any ship other than this one, Kycilia will have your head. I do not personally mind the gossip but my sister is vehemently against this relationship and considers anything said about it slander so please take caution,” he advises the crew of Char’s ship. They all look sufficiently scared and he sighs in exhaustion. If only he had their approval then none of this would even be necessary.

His comm buzzes and when he presses the button to answer the call his ears sre immediately assaulted with his lieutenant captain’s panicked voice.

“Sir! General Garma! Please return to the ship, please, Lord Degwin is on the line and he’s…” the voice quiets to a whisper, “he’s very, very mad. I don’t know how to deal with him, sir, there was the speech yesterday and now the war’s started again and he’s… he’s just very mad.”

Garma’s frozen in fear, his eyes as wide as they can be as he stares at a random blank spot on the floor. Speech? What speech? The war had started again? What? None of it made any sense. Wasn’t yesterday supposed to be the day they signed the treaty? Had it gone that poorly? Sure, he’d expected it to fall through at some point, but before it had even been signed?

“Garma,” Char calls, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looks back desperately, knowing his panic is written across his whole body. But as he looks into his beloved’s mask, Char’s perpetual calm seems to penetrate his anxiety and he takes a deep breath to relax himself.

“You’re right,” he says softly.

“And stand up for your decisions,” Char finishes with a squeeze to his shoulder.

“I’m my own man now,” he replies with a firm nod. He looks back again and Char smirks at him. He smiles in return and Char squeezes his shoulder one last time before letting go. “We are going back now.”

His guards followed him obediently, only Shana nodding a polite goodbye to Char as they passed him.

“Thank you all for your time here, may we meet again soon,” Garma announces as he stands at the threshold of the bridge. The crewman all stood to salute him with a “yes, sir” and, with another kind smile, Garma bows his head and turns to leave.

~

“I can’t believe my own son, my favorite son, would do something so disrespectful,” his father says forcefully, the edges of his anger showing through his shaking shoulders and gravelly voice. Garma stands alone in front of him, his hands clasped at his stomach and his head bowed. The ceilings tower over him and his father is sat in his throne a couple feet off the ground, Gucci standing right behind him with a single eye open to watch the spectacle.

“I know, Father, I’ve abused my position and—”

“And we’re at war! Did you pay any attention to the treaty signing? Or were you too involved in your own little world to notice just how quickly things change. Garma, you’ve got to have some perspective. Doing something so dangerous at a time like this is— I don’t know how I should punish you. This is a very serious crime you have committed, you understand that normally I would have you court martialed, right?”

“I understand, Father,” he says, bowing his head further. His father stands and Gucci guides him towards him as Garma lifts his head. For some reason he remembers a time when he was the only aid his father required and frowns at the new attendant. He knew it was because he’d grown up and there were more important things for him to do but he still missed those simpler times.

“Do you? Do you really understand the gravity of all that has happened since yesterday and how you, with your schemes, have thrown a wrench in it? I would never allow my precious son to be thrown in prison—”

Thank you, Father,” Garma rejoices, lifting his father’s hand and pressing gentle kisses to the back of it. “I am so very grateful—”

“However,” Garma freezes at the growled word, “I am considering putting you under house arrest for the foreseeable future.” Garma stiffened at the end of the sentence, dropping his father’s hand as his face twisted in disgust.

“House arrest!? That’s—”

“Not something you get to decide. You are still such a child despite having grown so much, it would be good for you to—”

“Father,” a third, much sharper voice calls. Garma’s eyes widen in panic as Kycilia steps out from the curtains behind his father’s throne.

“Kycilia, do you have something to add to this?” his father asks without turning around.

“Indeed I do,” she says, narrowing her eyes at Garma who is now completely frozen. “In fact, I ask that I be allowed to handle Garma’s punishment. I am not as biased as you and will dole out a more just punishment.”

Garma looks back and forth between his father and Kycilia nervously, his clean-cut nails digging into his palm as he holds his hand back from his hair and his father seems to consider Kycilia’s request. Garma has no idea what to expect from Kycilia’s punishment, no idea what she would think best in this situation. Demotion, expulsion from the military, perhaps something completely unfathomable to him. She was always so unpredictable despite having been the main source of his punishments throughout his life.

“As long as he is not put in prison, I think I shall agree with whatever you see fit,” his father says with a nod.

“Of course,” she says slyly. She motions for Garma to follow her as she walks towards the door and Garma timidly looks back at his father as he does so. His father nods at him and holds out his arm for Gucci to take as he walks back to his throne.

He follows Kycilia down the tall, dark hallway, his head bowed as he watches one his feet fall one in front of the other rather than stare at his sister’s shoulders. This was somehow more terrifying than his father’s wrath, that was quick and easily identifiable but with Kycilia… he still had no idea what to think. She pushes the door open to a room and walks inside as he follows quickly behind her.

He closes the door behind the both of them and when he turns back to her she’s smirking at him. Suddenly petrified, he plasters himself against the door, shrinking down so he’s almost on his knees as she walks up to him again.

“I know why you did this, Garma,” she says calmly. Garma gulps, certain she knows everything ever. “That Char boy is very good at his job, that’s for sure, but I’m not certain he can be trusted.”

“Trusted?” he asks shakily.

“Yes, I don’t know if I trust him with my darling little brother, it feels as if he’s trying to drive a wedge between our family,” she continues, turning to walk back to the center of the room.

“A wedge?” He starts to stand up off the door, curious what she’s getting at. It’s odd, but now that they’re alone he finds himself less afraid of her

“Normally, I would be very proud of you for doing this. You’ve showed some real bravery in disobeying such a high authority, more than I thought you had in you. However…”

“However?” The pounding of his heart takes on a different tune as she glosses over the word “proud” and he thinks it’s all he’s ever wanted to hear from her.

“You must not forget our goal.” She’s said this before, when he was getting his letters from Char.

“I… don’t know what our goal is,” he admits quietly. She comes up to him, smiling more gently than she has in years, and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“The Zabi family has one goal and one goal only in this war and every war after it and that goal is the empowerment of the Zabi family. Nothing can get in our way, nothing should ever try to tear us apart. Every member of the Zabi family lives for themselves and their family only, you are no exception to this.” She lifts her hand and turns away again. “As such, to patch up the hole we may have opened trying to keep you from this man we don’t entirely trust, we shall allow you to continue as you are for now.”

“Really?” he says, instantly brightening as he smiles at his sister’s back.

“Yes, you will be punished after this war reaches its conclusion but for now I will only increase your surveillance and forbid you from making your relationship public. Otherwise, you have my blessing,” she says.

“Thank you, Kycilia, oh, thank you so much!” He runs up to her and almost hugs her before remembering their positions and stops right behind her. She looks over her shoulder as he salutes her and a small smile graces her face.

“Prove yourself loyal to our goal and you might find yourself with no punishment at all,” she says as she dismisses him and he turns to leave the room, bristling with excitement.

Feeling triumphant, he immediately contacts Char and tells him he won’t be punished right now because he’s needed for the extended war effort. Something keeps him from telling Char the whole truth, he’s not sure what, maybe he’ll tell him someday. But either way, the next month is like a golden age. He sees Char at least once a week if not more— one slow week they see each other every single day— and he can feel something in their relationship has changed, something good. Char can barely keep his hands off him and Garma even manages to sway him into coming to a party that Char most certainly did not want to attend just to keep him company— it’s not like he wanted to attend either. Of course, they both quickly get tired of the party and end up making out in some empty room again.

“Char,” he says breathlessly as Char teases his neck. He’s in heaven at the moment despite knowing his clothes are getting wrinkled from where Char has pulled his coat out of his pants and is grasping his hips. Char nips at his skin and he keens as he pushes up into him, feeling Char’s full hardness against him. For sure, there’s no way heaven could be better. “I’m so glad Kycilia gave us her blessing,” he says absently.

Everything stops in an instant. Char pulls away from him and Garma opens his eyes in confusion, instantly met with a look of disgust from Char.

“What’s wrong?” Garma asks as Char backs away from him slowly.

“What was that about Kycilia?” Char asks in return.

“She gave us her blessing to continue our relationship,” he replies easily. Char frowns after that and Garma’s only more confused. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Why do we need her blessing?” Char spits back.

“Well, why not? She’s my family after all,” he says with a pout. He knew that he probably hadn’t picked the best time to tell him, it was more of a slip of the tongue than a purposeful conversation starter, but he still felt it didn’t warrant the level of anger he saw in Char’s twisted mouth at that moment.

“Why not? Because you’re your own man now, aren’t you? Why do you need her telling you what you can and can’t do?” Garma frowns more as he looks down from Char’s face and the words Kycilia had said earlier ran through his head.

“She was right, wasn’t she?” he asks quietly. “You’re trying to drive a wedge between me and my family.” Char stares at him coldly.

“So what if I am?” Garma’s blood runs cold as he stares into Char mask, devoid of any emotion. He feels so much in that moment, an intense wave of dread crashing over him as he realizes there might be no going back from this. That he might really have to choose between Char and his family. He’d been so sure they could both live together peacefully after his talk with Kycilia, it was his family that had been so against their relationship in the first place. But here was Char saying that he didn’t want Garma to be with his family. He loved them both equally, they both had top billing in his heart and he’d never thought to put one over the other so how was he supposed to choose?

“Why? Why can’t we just coexist? Why can’t I have you both?” he asks desperately, feeling tears prick in his eyes as he’s unable to hold back the well of emotion rising in him anymore. Char doesn’t answer and Garma can’t bring himself to look at him, slowly sliding down to the floor and putting his head in his hands.

“You lied to me about why you were let go, didn’t you?” This time it’s Garma who doesn’t answer as he cries quietly at Char’s feet. “It wasn't just because they couldn't afford not to lose you, was it?"

Garma still doesn't answer, now ashamed of himself for not telling the truth that one time. He wondered if things would be different if he had just said it then. Would things be better? Would they be worse? Well, there probably wasn't anything worse than this.

"Kycilia said it was to mend the hole she'd made trying to keep me away from you, I… I don't know why I lied, I shouldn't have but I didn't think it would be such a big deal. I'm sorry…" He and Char sit in silence for a while and Garma eventually stops crying and stands up again, leaning against the wall, still unable to even look at Char.

"Crybaby Garma," Char says softly as he comes back up to him and wipes a thumb under his eye. He presses his forehead to Garma’s temple, his hand holding his cheek as he moves Garma’s face towards his own. "I'm sorry."

Char kisses him softly and Garma feels relief flow through him as he returns the kiss desperately. He doesn’t want to seem weak but he can’t really help it as he pushes up into Char, needing to feel him, needing to feel that he’s still loved despite his mistake. But Char willingly obliges him, his lips moving against Garma’s slowly as if appreciating every inch of them with the utmost care.

"Stay with me?" Char asks after they’ve kissed for a little while.

"Stay with you?" Garma's not quite sure what that means so he looks up into Char's eyes and they’re filled with an emotion he's never seen before.

"For the night, we've never just slept together, have we? Stay with me tonight. We might never get a chance like this again," Char explains. Garma feels his heart skip a beat at the odd smile on Char’s face. He doesn’t know if he agrees that they’ll never get this chance again but Char has never offered anything like this either. They always part ways after finishing whatever they were doing that day and had never actually just lay together.

Garma nods and Char presses another kiss to his lips before pulling away completely.

“We should probably get back before we’re missed, shouldn’t we?” Char says as he moves to help Garma tuck his coat back into his pants.

“I’m pretty sure it’s too late for that,” Garma replies with a smile. Char smirks back and leads him to the door.

They spent the rest of the party away from each other to dispel suspicion in the other officers, Garma sticking almost religiously to his brother’s side and Char spending a good deal of time at the bar as he usually did.

But as it was ending they met up again, taking the same ship back to Garma’s Gwazine and sneaking through the quiet ship together back to Garma’s quarters. He only had a single bed but Char didn’t seem to mind and just pulled Garma against him when he tried to cautiously position himself around him. Garma turns over so he’s facing Char, pressing his hands against Char’s chest as Char wraps his arms around Garma’s neck and kisses his forehead.

“Is it too warm?” Char asks.

“No,” he replies softly, he had already turned the air conditioning up for that exact reason.

“Good.” Char’s looking at him in that weird way again and he wonders if it’s love. Content to believe that, he smiles as his eyes fall heavy with sleep, exhausted from the party earlier. Char’s legs tangle with his own as he drifts off and the last thing he can remember thinking is how lucky he must be to be loved back by the people he loves.

Notes:

fuck gucci. i hope you enjoyed kudos and comments appreciated ♥

Chapter 4: Back to the Beginning

Summary:

Garma and Shana recuperate after Char's betrayal.

Notes:

i. love nero. with all my heart and soul. i love her more than anything i love nero i love nero aaaaaaa. i also love shana and claude. but nero.

bit of a time jump back to after char's tried to kill garma, dealing with the aftermath and all

this is a day late but i uploaded on friday too so you cant say anything about it. also its almost 13k words so.

today's songs are i know it's over by the smiths and my heart is broken by evanescence

Shana had finally pulled him out of his slump, or at least enough to get him boosting over to the next colony as he muddled through more and more thoughts. He’d mostly become stuck on why Char did it, their relationship had been going quite smoothly in his opinion, he’d even thought Char was starting to open up to him more. That had taken some work, it really had, but it didn’t even seem to matter since he had then attempted to murder him. “Blame it on the misfortune of your birth” he’d said. What did that even mean? What did his birth have to do with anything?

Was Char actually anti-Zeon? Had he really been hiding his true intentions for so long? Or had he just decided he didn’t like the way Zeon operated after joining? If so why hadn’t he just told him? Garma would have been eager to hear his… friend’s thoughts on the war. He’d have been ecstatic to hear him talk about anything personal at all, if he were honest. But that reasoning didn’t make sense to him either, Char had always had his head in the war, a champion pilot with a great head for strategy, he didn’t seem to think about anything but war and… things. He suddenly felt like he didn’t know anything about Char after all.

It really felt like there was still something missing to explain what the “misfortune of his birth” meant. Because he was a Zabi, specifically, or something else? What could Char possibly have against his family? Sure, he’d said he’d been trying to drive a wedge between him and his family but Garma had assumed it was for both their benefit rather than just Char’s.

None of it really made sense to him, however, so he tried to think about what he was going to do now rather than dwell on this impenetrable mystery for too long. It wasn’t that he really wanted to hide from his family but he also didn’t want to go back, his shame had overwhelmed him so much that now he’d decided maybe in hiding he could figure out why he’d had to die.

He saw the port into the colony and waved back at Shana, beckoning them to the side of it with him. They watched from behind the agricultural sector, looking for a way in before Shana started to go off towards one side of the colony. Figuring they had a plan, he followed them to a wall beside a small walk-on. He waited as Shana peered around the side, checking for people coming onto the walk-on. When the coast seemed clear, they pulled Garma along behind them onto the walk-on and hurried into the door, closing it behind the two of them.

Shana checked if the coast was clear and Garma watched on in bewilderment, having never seen this side of them. They really knew exactly what to do and how to infiltrate this place without him having to say a word. Not that he was really in the right mindset to lead them along, just thinking about it sent anxiety bubbling up in his head as everything prepared to boil over again. Maybe he wasn’t sitting on the floor and sobbing for now, but he truly was worthless and likely only a burden on Shana who treated him so well in these dark times.

Shana held a hand up to stop him from following them and Garma quietly obeyed, placing a hand on the wall to stop himself from floating any farther as Shana disappeared behind the wall. He heard some grunts and groans and an alarmed “Hey!” before everything seemed to quiet down very quickly. Shana soon came back with two port worker uniforms and Garma just stared at her in shock.

They gave him an unamused look and it was only when they started taking off his suit that he realized why. He quickly pulled their hands away and started taking his suit off on his own. They both quietly undressed, slipping into the new clothes as quickly as they could in the middle of the hallway. Once finished, Shana threw their normal suits out of the door where they’d come in from the outside, presumably in a way that wouldn’t drift into the port.

Garma pulled down the hat Shana had given him so it covered some of his face and the two of them walked down the hallway, looking for a way out. Garma lead the way but Shana pulled him in the right direction when they saw a door that someone had just come out of. They passed the person quickly, making sure to look at the wall absently as they crossed paths before slipping out of the door behind them.

Not taking much time to gauge their surroundings in the wide and open port, he and Shana quickly headed to the docking bay, sneaking behind some inspection groups as they looked through packages being shipped out and staying on the sidelines so they wouldn’t be noticed. They eventually got to the locker rooms for the workers after only a few close calls, mostly Garma responding to workers calling out someone other than him. Shana immediately began breaking into one of the lockers and Garma stood there uselessly as they broke the law to help him.

He supposed he had already broken a good deal of laws, the first in dropping a colony on the earth, he hadn’t heard much about the plan except from Dozle but apparently it had gone horribly awry since no one would talk about it afterwards. Sometimes he felt like he should try and do more to contribute to the political scene of the war but he was already so swamped giving out orders and concentrating on the military portion of the war that he just hadn’t had the time to really look into it. Then again, maybe if he’d been less of a failure he could’ve paid attention to all of it just like Gihren and Kycilia were able to do. Once again, he got stuck in a cycle of calling himself pathetic and a failure, the words sounding exactly like they were coming from his older siblings’ mouths as they circled his mind.

Shana handed him some clothes that looked like they probably fit him and when he looked up he noticed they were from a completely different locker from the one Shana had originally opened. Shana had already changed clothes while he was listening to his insecurities so he quickly took what was handed to him and changed again as Shana waited with their back turned. She had also found a pair of sunglasses so he could disguise his face and he slipped them on with a distinctly ironic feeling as he remembered how Char used to wear them back at the academy.

After he’d finished, the two of them snuck out of the locker room and headed to the exit, barely making it past security as they looked down awkwardly at the ground. They then had to sneak out a side door right at the end after someone saw them wearing their own clothes and chased them down a hallway for a couple minutes. After that they hid out in an alley in town for about an hour, Garma sitting and sulking as Shana sat diligently beside him, thinking about whatever it was that went on in their brain.

In the end, it could’ve been worse but Garma could see in the distance all the ways it could be better and he longed for them desperately while they seemed so far out of his reach. All he could do now was pointlessly grab at the air between them, all potential lost in the vastness of space.

~

After they were sure their surroundings were clear, he and Shana left the alley and went searching for a place to stay. They went from door to door, asking if they could stay the night and getting rejected every time.

“Hello,” Garma says after Shana knocks on a door and a nerdy-looking teenager with glasses and a sweater vest opens it, “we were mugged and lost our luggage and money and were just wondering if we could stay here until we find them?”

“Oh! Of course! Come in, make yourselves at home!” the boy replies happily and ushers them inside. He didn’t ask any questions, just pushed them through the door and told them to take their shoes off. They did as he asked and, besides theirs, there were four pairs of shoes, the last a haphazardly shucked pair of raggedy sneakers then a neatly set pair of loafers then two very formal pairs of shoes that appeared slightly dusty. The house itself was just as neat as the boy, the shoes in the door seemed to be the only dusty objects in the entire house if the light yellow paint gave away as much as it appeared to.

The boy leads them into an equally neat living room, the TV on and playing some Federation newscast about the recent fights on Side 7.

“Oh, shut up you propagandous hag, what do you know?” An unseen voice complains from the couch.

“Nero, we have company, please keep your temper in check,” the boy calls and a small hand appears over the top of the couch, giving them a thumbs up. “Thank you. Sorry about Nero, she’s my little sister and she can be a bit opinionated at times, you know fourteen year-olds.”

Slightly perplexed, Garma nods slowly. By that logic, this boy should be equally as “opinionated” as her since he didn’t seem that much older.

“Oh! Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Claude Hallyday and over on the couch is my sister, Nero. And you are?” Claude asks imploringly, his wide eyes peering up at him from behind wire-framed glasses. Garma panics for a second, knowing he shouldn’t reveal his true identity and instead picks the first name that came to his head.

“Seche. I’m Seche Rhode and this is my cousin, Shana Rhode,” he introduces, pointing at his companion who bowed their head politely. Rhode was, of course, Shana’s actual last name but Seche was something he’d picked at random. He knew an elder gentleman by the name and he’d always thought it was kind of pretty despite taking Garma as his preferred name.

“Oh! Cousins! It’s so nice to see extended family travelling together, you’ll have to share a bed here though, I hope you won’t mind? There’s also the couch if that’s not the case.”

“Couch—” “We don’t mind—” Shana and he contradict simultaneously. Claude looks between the two of them with confusion, wringing his hands slowly as if expecting conflict. Shooting him an apologetic smile, Garma turns Shana around and bends their heads together so they can talk it out.

“Look, it’s fine I’ve shared—”

“No,” they deny.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” They don’t answer but the anxious look on their face answers all his questions. “I’ll take the couch then—”

“No,” they deny again.

“I mean I think we’d both prefer the bed but it really doesn’t bother me to—”

“No.”

“Shana, is it because it’s me?” He almost mentions his position but he doesn’t know whether or not Claude or Nero could hear them and that would certainly be suspicious.

“Yes, sir,” they confirmed.

“I understand, Shana, whatever you want,” he replies with a sigh and turns back to Claude who’s still watching them nervously. “Would it be okay if I took the bed and Shana took the couch?”

“Oh! Yes, that’s fine, I guess, we have extra blankets and I hope one side of the master bed’s pillows will work?” Claude asks tepidly.

“That’s fine,” he replies, still a little miffed at Shana. He understood that his position made him seem somewhat alien to the rest of his soldiers but he really wished it wasn’t like that, not that he wanted to be treated like a normal soldier but it was good the way Char had treated him, acknowledging his superiority while also treating him as a person. Something tugged at his heart at the thought of Char again and he realized he missed him, desperately so. He wished he could be here with Char instead, that it had been literally anyone else who had betrayed him other than the person he loved more than anything else.

“Great! We’ll set that up for you whenever you’re ready, Nero will just have to stick to her lightscreen from then on, okay, Nero?” he calls out to the couch again. Another thumbs up is sent over the top. “Good. Now, would you like some tea?”

“That’s fine,” Garma manages, fighting back the frustration that was currently overtaking him. Instead, he tries to focus on their surroundings, thinking maybe he could get a better understanding of their political affiliation through the decor. Even if they were on a Federation colony, that didn’t necessarily mean they were loyal to the Federation. From Nero’s earlier exclamation, he imagined this household might have a bit of a complicated relationship with them.

The dining room was somehow larger than the kitchen which looked rather cramped where it lay on a small strip of floor divided by an island with three barstools on the side facing the dining room. The table in the dining room was rather small with only four chairs and took up less than half of the room while the other side of the room had a desk sat up against a window with prints and paintings surrounding it on all sides. The desk itself was incredibly neat, unlike most artists’ stations, with a sketchpad hidden neatly underneath and a cup of pristine brushes and pens beside the tableau screen. There was art all over the walls with a large variety in quality and style, the most intriguing a medium-sized painting of a Zaku hanging right behind the dining table where some might put a picture of whatever deity they served.

He and Shana sat quietly and waited as Claude prepared them tea, Garma taking a further inventory of the house. The whole place, and especially the kitchen, was extremely neat as if they had a maid coming around despite not looking as if they could afford one. The only slightly messy place in the kitchen was the front of the refrigerator which was covered in small drawings and pictures like most refrigerators were. He noticed the same theme of Zakus across the refrigerator as well, including a picture of Claude and a man and woman he didn’t recognize standing at the foot of one with a pilot he only barely recognized as being in the same fleet as him. Beneath that was a small sticky note with rather nice drawing of a Zaku standing on a Federation flag that said “disobey the machine.”

Slightly perplexed, he tried to find more messages like this but sadly all there was were little doodles of other things and sticky notes with little messages like “Claude believes in you!” and programs for science fairs.

“Here you go!” Garma is pulled out of his investigation as Claude places two cups in front of them, pouring the tea from the kettle into each one slowly.

“Thank you,” Garma replies solemnly as he takes his cup. Shana nods in thanks and takes their cup, softly blowing on it. Garma personally preferred coffee and Shana didn’t like either but politeness had been ingrained in them both from a young age so they slowly sipped on their tea. “Your house is very clean.”

“Thank you! I do all the cleaning myself since Nero is busy with school and stuff, besides she always makes more of a mess every time she tries,” Claude replies cheerily. Garma wonders how a person could possibly be this chipper when faced with two complete, possibly dangerous strangers barging unexpectedly into their house.

“All by yourself? Do your parents not help?”

“Ah, no, they haven’t been home much since the war started. Not soldiers, just work for a diplomat, so since the war started they’ve been going from colony to colony and working on peace with Zeon, you know.” Garma nods slowly, that certainly explained some things, like the picture with the Zaku, but it also left so many things unanswered.

“How old are you?” He had to be out of primary education if he had the time to do all this cleaning but he still looked like a teenager so Garma couldn’t quite place him.

“Ah, seventeen, but I dropped out of school for various reasons. We live fine, though, with our parents income and mine from my commissions.” Claude replies, clearly anticipating his next two questions. Confused, Garma opens his mouth to ask another question but he is interrupted by a girl with bright eyes and short, dark hair sliding into the kitchen’s entryway.

“Hey!” the girl, probably Nero, calls. She also had a nerdy appearance but in an entirely different way from Claude and his soft blue sweater vest. She wore a partially tucked “Graham Science and Tech Convention” t-shirt and raggedy, knee-length khaki shorts. “Why are you still wearing sunglasses?”

“I have a photosensitivity,” Garma replies, Char’s lie slipping out of him easily. Nero shrugs and continues with her important announcement.

“Whatever. Guess what, Claude! Guess what!” she yells excitedly, bouncing into the kitchen.

“What is it, Nero?” Claude replies softly.

“Garma Zabi is dead!” she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air as she stops at the end of the island.

“Nero—” Claude attempts but Nero ignores him this time, continuing on her triumphant rant.

“What? It’s the first Zabi casualty, we should have a party or something! Huzzah! The great reign of Zeon might soon come to an end! Even though it was that useless prince they got rid of, it’s a start! Imagine if it had been Gihren! Or Kycilia! The war would be over! God, I wish they’d put themselves in that much danger. Death to all Zabis!” Garma stares absently at his cup, feeling somehow incapable of crying despite the desperate need to he feels inside. Shana stands using the bathroom as an excuse to get out and leaves him alone again. “Useless Garma” was a term he was incredibly used to hearing but for some reason it seemed to stick harder now, clinging to his back like a tick and sucking out his life force.

“Nero! Not in front of the guests! What have I told you about talking politics in front of people you don’t know!” Claude reprimands though his voice definitely isn’t sharp enough to make her actually feel guilty.

Garma purses his lips and thinks that if he really wanted to get her to stop he ought to punish her more harshly, she’d never actually learn otherwise. Of course, his family had been very harsh with him as well and he’d never learned anything from it, obviously. No matter how much Kycilia yelled at him, perhaps he was just always meant to be a failure.

“Fine, fine, whatever. Party poopers,” she concedes as she walks out again, presumably to watch the news of his death unfold. Some masochistic part of him wants to join her, just to see how they were portraying his death and if they saw any connection with Char. Probably not, but he wanted to see that stupid masked face again, god help him. The idea of having to pretend he was happy about his own death and watching them all just make fun of him and celebrate that he was gone, however, kept him in his seat.

“I’m sorry about that, she can be so thoughtless sometimes. I hope you’ll stay despite that,” Claude apologized with a pathetic smile.

“It’s fine,” Garma says lowly, looking down at his half-empty teacup. Shana came back from the bathroom and didn’t look as if they’d been crying so he excused himself, hoping he would come out looking the same way.

In the bathroom, he immediately sank to the floor with his back against the pristine wall and buried his head in his knees as tears poured out of his eyes from underneath slightly skewed glasses.

“Stupid Garma. Stupid, useless Garma. No one took you seriously in life and now they’ll just laugh at your pathetic death. You can’t do anything right, can you, you pathetic excuse for a Zabi.” His hood and sunglasses fall off as he shakes his head against his knees but he doesn’t pay them any mind in his agony. “They were all right about you all along. Prove yourself? What a joke. You’re a disgusting excuse for a Zabi and a disgusting piece of Zabi scum.”

In saying that, he suddenly realized all his problems were because he was a Zabi. He had to prove himself because he was a Zabi, Char tried to kill him because he was a Zabi, and now people celebrated his death because he was a Zabi. But that wasn’t his fault, was it? He couldn’t help what family he’d been born in, could he? “Blame it on the misfortune of your birth,” just made him wish he’d never been born. If he hadn’t been born, if he hadn’t been a Zabi, if they’d never gained power, none of this ever would have happened. Maybe he should just give the people what they wanted, should just crawl into a small ship and drive it into the atmosphere and—

“Mister Seche?” He realized the voice had been calling him for a bit now and looked up abruptly as Claude opened the door. “Sorry, Shana told me to just come in if you didn’t answer immediately—”

When Claude just froze in the doorway as they made eye contact, he looked up into the suddenly bright bathroom lights and realized his sunglasses had fallen off he panicked, searching for them frantically. They are put back on his face by Claude who smiles awkwardly when Garma looks up at him in bewilderment. Again, he finds himself wondering how the boy can possibly be so calm at finding out he had a supposedly-dead enemy general as his guest.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” Claude reassures as he stands again. “This may seem like a pro-Federation house because of what Nero said but we’re both actually pretty neutral on the conflict. I don’t particularly care either way and Nero hates both sides but I’m not going to just force you to go back to Zeon if you don’t want to. I had kind of assumed your side already anyway, I mean I didn’t think you’d be, well, you but it was pretty obvious otherwise. You’re still welcome to stay and— ah, if you want we have clippers to make your cut more even.”

Garma stares up at him in surprise, unable to process what he’s said for a second. Claude still seems unsure, fidgeting with his hands and looking down to the side again and again as if Garma would smite him where he knelt.

“Do you have dye as well?” he asks absently. Claude instantly nods, moving to open a drawer under the sink.

“I think the only color that would work without bleach is the black but it’s plant-based so it doesn’t have any metals that could hurt your hair, I’ve heard how much you love it—”

“Yes, that’s wonderful,” he says as he stood up next to Claude, leaning over him to take a look at the tube in his hand. Claude stumbles backwards when he does that and Garma catches him with a concerned frown. After standing the younger boy more upright, he moves back to seem less threatening. “You don’t need to worry, I will not hurt you.”

“No! No, it’s not that, I’m just— um, not used to people up that close, sorry. Anyway, you stay in here while I assure Shana you’re ok and then I’ll get to work on your hair, okay?” Garma nods quietly and sits on the toilet as he waits patiently for Claude to return, knocking his head every time those ridiculous thoughts enter his brain again. He didn’t actually want any of that, he knew that and the logical part of his brain told him that, sounding very smart as it did so, but it didn’t stop the stupid little worries from entering his mind every time he gave himself even a moment of rest.

But what else could he do here? What could he do besides rest? He didn’t want to face the world yet, that wasn’t an option, but he had to get himself out of this cycle of thinking and remembering. He needed to do something to make himself better, something that would really prove to them that he was worth something when he went back, that he was able to pick himself up again and wouldn’t fall prey to these irrational thoughts. Come what may, he would prove himself. To his family, to Char, to himself, to everyone.

Claude comes back with clippers, a cape, a stool, and a new spectator.

“Hello, Shana, sorry for worrying you but you don’t need to anymore. I am not that fragile and I will not be brought down by someone like Char. My rebound will be greater than anything he’s ever accomplished, you can believe that!” he announces triumphantly.

“Yes, sir.” they reply with a relieved smile

“And thank you, Shana, you are a truly wonderful companion.” They turn away and Garma sees a hint of a blush on their cheeks. “Ah! You’re blushing! Shana is blushing, Claude, look at them!” Shana turns away more as they blush harder and Claude laughs awkwardly at his antics.

“You really should sit down so we can get started,” Claude says, opening the stool and pushing him onto it.

“You really are a sweet child, Claude,” Garma sighs as he sits down. “Why do you have all of these things, anyway?”

“Ah, our family cuts each other’s hair, Nero tries very hard to get mine right to get it right but I’m afraid it’s still not like how our parents do it,” Claude explains as he drapes the cape over Garma’s shoulders.

“I see, it still looks very nice though, doesn’t it Shana?” he asks.

“Y— You don’t— you don’t need to say things like that—” Shana nods with an amused smile and Claude instantly shuts up as his cheeks flame darker. Garma laughs at the flustered noises coming from the adorable teenager as he grumbled and began shaving. Garma knew he was overacting this persona just a little bit but he still worried those thoughts would come back if he didn’t keep himself preoccupied so, as usual, he overdid everything.

The people usually loved it, though, no one thought to look past his shining exterior to see the anxiety he so desperately tried to hide behind it. The only one other than his father and Dozle who had expressed concern for him had been Char but it was probably best not to dwell on that. He was strong, he was resilient, he had gotten this far and like he’d told Shana, he wouldn’t let something like this bring him down. Perhaps becoming greater than Char was a little much but he could at least start by doing something to get back on his family’s good side.

The sound of the clippers startled him somewhat and he clenched his fists as he prepared himself to say goodbye to his precious hair. Earlier when he’d been in a sort of panic, he hadn’t truly realized what he’d done but now that he’d mostly come back to his senses it was really starting to dawn on him that it was really gone.Though he appreciated Claude straightening out the mess he’d made, it was still so hard to feel those clippers getting so close to his beloved hair, his fists clenching in his lap as the low buzz arced over his ears.

To calm himself, he thought about how quickly his hair grew, it was so fast he got it cut at least once a month if not more. Certainly it wouldn’t take too long to grow back. Dyeing it didn’t bother him, he’d wanted to for a while— and he cursed the color it was naturally for being so iconic— but he did wish he’d been able to do it under better circumstances. As Claude turned off the razor, he wondered what he would do now instead of twirling his hair… what could possibly replace that?

But he doesn’t have any more time to think about it as he feels the cool dye being rubbed against his scalp and shivers slightly.

“Sorry, I should have warned you it would be cold,” Claude apologizes.

“It’s fine.”

“Do you want to dye your eyebrows as well? Just so it looks more like your real hair color.”

“A wonderful idea Claude, I would like that very much,” he replies calmly. He felt like he was mourning. Perhaps he was, since he had supposedly died, he might be mourning his own death. He did feel a little dead inside.

Shana and Claude left the room while the dye set in his hair, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He felt like he should be mad, he should be raging, frothing with fury and fighting against the man who had betrayed him so, but there was this sort of numbness that overtook him as he waited for the dye to set in. He didn’t know if he’d be able to overcome this darkness growing in his heart but he hoped soon he could at least learn to ignore it, even if it did take him over sometimes like now, maybe if he ignored it enough it might just go away.

Looking up at the ceiling, he wondered how Shana was doing, thought of them sitting on the couch with their arms crossed and pouting angrily at the projector wall as the Feddies celebrated his death. The image brought a smile to his face and he rejoiced in the fact that he could still smile naturally. But despite the funny image, he was still worried about Shana. Did they really want to be here? Were they just following him out of obligation because of his position? If that was the case, he’d rather they leave, he didn’t want to be the cause of their unhappiness.

Soon, Claude came back in and told him it was time for him to shower so he stood slowly and started taking off his clothes while Claude went on about how to take this shower.

“And make sure to—” Claude stops abruptly and Garma looks over his shoulder at him to see a bright blush blooming on his face as he stands frozen, staring at Garma’s back. Confused, Garma sets his shirt on the ground and walks over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking him lightly.

“Claude?” he questions and the boy splutters back to life, stammering over his words and muttering something about stopping once the clumps were out before knocking his hand off and rushing out of the room. Looking at his hand and frowning, Garma wondered if he’d done something wrong but shook it off with a sigh as he started taking off his pants.

He came out about an hour later, his short little hairs and eyebrows dyed a dark black. There was definitely a certain sadness about losing his hair but as he rubbed against his head and felt the fuzziness of the buzzed little stubs he couldn’t be too upset. Hopefully he’d be ready to go home once it had grown back and he’d never have to do this again.

“It looks good! But don’t touch it too much, you’ll rub the dye out,” Claude advises as he walks back in, quickly slapping the hand out of his hair. Garma pouts but keeps his hands by his side, that was definitely going to be hard for him. “You also shouldn’t wash it for the next couple days to let the dye set in.”

“Where are my glasses?” he asks as he followed Claude back to the living room.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that, Nero is terrible with faces, even if your face is plastered all over the TV for days, she could look between you and the TV and not see the resemblance,” Claude says, giving him a placating smile. Garma doesn’t say anything in response, still unsure but willing to trust him for now.

Besides, even if Claude was lying and Nero did report him to Federation authorities, did it really even matter? He was only asking the world to destroy him at this point, begging for his own death with his every inaction so what was the point in trying to stop that more than he was?

Shana and Nero were sitting on the couch in the living room and Garma immediately went to the recliner beside it, feeling its fluffy seat hold him carefully, inviting him deeper inside. He wouldn’t lean back, no way, but the call to relax was certainly strong. Nero gave him an odd look then smirked as she turned away and he wondered exactly what had gone through her mind. She didn’t seem too concerned by whatever it was but she had obviously noticed something about him.

“Any more news?” he asks calmly.

“Mm, apparently dearest Garma’s ship exploded in a fight by the next colony over, there weren’t any survivors on the ship but Aznable’s ship was nearby and managed to escape. I think he’ll probably be quarantined for a while after this, huh?” she asks, turning to him.

“Most definitely,” he agrees. She smiles at him and turns back to the projector screen.

“I’m thinking Gihren will try and use his funeral for propaganda, though, poor guy,” she continues, quickly going back to the topic of Garma’s death. But Garma’s completely stunned by the comment, why on earth would he do that? Gihren was his brother, of course he would acknowledge the seriousness of the situation and reduce his propaganda to speak with his grief instead. And even if he wanted to give such a speech, surely father wouldn’t allow that.

“What? Why would he do that? They’re brothers,” he objects.

“Gihren doesn’t seem like the type to care about his family if you ask me, especially someone as lacking as Garma. I think he’s only keeping the rest of them alive as a pretense, tbh, they’re only holding him back except Kycilia. Especially Degwin, oh, he’d get rid of Degwin in an instant I just know it.” Garma frowns at her, suddenly very interested in her opinions. Was his brother really like that? Had he really been so blind towards his family?

“Why do you think that? Don’t you just watch the Federation news? There is so much propaganda in those broadcasts, how do you know it’s not just what they want you to see?” Nero snorts at his questions.

“I don’t just watch Feddie news. I put a block on the signal transmitter so I could get Zeon channels too and, trust me, there’s just as much propaganda there.” He narrows his eyes at her, confused as to how the block worked but more interested in what she thought of both channels.

“So you got your opinions on the Zabi family from there?” She nods. He realizes maybe he shouldn’t ask about that too much or she might become suspicious and instead focuses on the stations instead. “And what’s the difference between the two stations? What’s watching them both like?”

“Well, they’re more similar than you’d think. Gihren loves the sound of his own voice and is always talking about newtypes and supremacy and a bunch of bullshit but they both have that us versus them mentality that really gets us nowhere. The Feddies want you to think they care about the colonies, but you can tell their priorities lie with the richest ones and even when they’re advocating the protection of Earth they’ll literally forget about impoverished countries that have been hit worst by the war and just talk about Australia all day.”

“Supremacy?”

“Oh, yeah, Gihren and his shitty newtype theory interpretations where like all spacenoids are newtypes or something and since newtypes are “more evolved” than oldtypes they have to conquer all the earthnoids and overtake them. Like he even knows how evolution works,” Nero scoffs.

“But isn’t it just a war for independence? To get the rights the spacenoids deserve?” he asks. That’s what he’d been fighting for. Or, well, it had been before the treaty when he lost sight of his purpose in his attempt to prove himself to Kycilia, he supposed. But the more Nero talked, the more he doubted himself and his original intentions.

“Tch, you fall for that bullshit? The only part of the war that’s been for independence was at the very start with Garma’s little rebellion, after that Gihren’s just been using his—”

“I’m glad to see you two are getting along now!” Claude interrupts, coming in from the kitchen. “But I think that’s enough politics for now, don’t you? How about dinner? Are you two hungry?”

“That would be nice,” Garma answers for him and Shana.

“Sure, what do you want to watch instead?” Nero asks as she picks up the remote.

“Whatever you want,” he says as Claude goes back to the kitchen. Nero changed the channel to some science program and randomly commented on things they got wrong or expand on topics they only covered briefly.

This fourteen year-old was really very smart, he realized as she explained in exact detail how Minovsky particles drove mobile suits and then went on to talk about what better things they could be used for other than war. She told the two of them about all the machines she’d made and said she’d show them her workshop in the backyard after dinner, confident they’d love it. Garma was sure Shana would.

Claude brought dinner into the living room and they all ate in the living room, Garma and Shana mostly just listening to the conversations that passed between Claude and Nero. Claude tried to involve him a couple of times but he never really had any interest in whatever art or engineering thing they were talking about. Instead, he stared at the projector wall that was playing the weather station and wondered if they liked nature programs, or maybe horror movies? But Claude didn’t seem like the type to enjoy the latter of those and he was just a guest so he shouldn’t impose too much.

“So what do you like to do for fun, Seche?” Claude asks him about halfway through the meal. Garma thinks about it and comes up empty. Sure, he’d had a couple of hobbies when he was young but since he’d entered highschool, it had been work, work, war. He’d never really had time to explore his own interests.

“I watch… or maybe watched horror movies and nature docs with my… ex, I guess.” Claude looks like he regrets asking the question. He doesn’t mind though, it’s something the two of them had been doing since the beginning of their friendship. Even if the memories all seem bittersweet now, it’s not something that’s completely ruined for him.

“You got a partner with that haircut?” Nero asks bluntly. Claude turns to her and gasps, looking like he wants to scold her but just glaring at her instead.

“More like I lost him because of it,” he replies.

“Wow, what a shitty boyfriend,” Nero says.

“You can say that again,” he mumbles. Nero smirks at him like she knows something he doesn’t and he looks at her with narrowed eyes again, mouthing “what?” She shakes her head with amusement and he just stares on at her bemusedly.

“I’m sorry about your break up… is there any way we can help?” Claude asks. Garma immediately turns to him and feels a certain fondness blossom in his heart at the genuine concern on his face.

“Making new memories is always the best way to cover up old ones,” Nero says through a mouthful of food.

“Nero, don’t speak with your mouth full. But that’s a wonderful idea! I’m sure we can find some kind of nature documentary we can watch together, we have tons we used to watch with our parents.” He gives himself a pat on the back for knowing Claude would hate horror movies.

“I don’t see why not,” he acquiesces with a shrug. Nero picks up a controller and types a number on the pad until a bunch of docuseries about the ocean popped up on the screen.

“Oh, this one’s my favorite! Father and I watch it all the time,” Claude exclaims as Nero selected something about seals. They watch it and comment on the movie together for about two more hours until the sky is fully dark and Claude decides it’s time for them all to go to bed. He brings down a pillow and blanket from the room Garma was staying in for Shana, hurriedly going in and out as Garma changed into the pajamas he’d given him.

“Seche?” Claude calls from the door as Garma is about to slip under the covers.

“Yes?” he answers after taking a second to remember that was the name he was going by.

“I was… you can talk to me about it if you need, I know its hard but my mother says talking it out is always good and sometimes it’s easier with someone you don’t really know. Not as much pressure and all that, you know.” Garma stares at him in shock for a bit. “Sorry if I’m being too forward, I’ve just been in a similar situation so I’m kind of… I know how you feel.”

“No… I appreciate it I’ve just never really done that before.”

“Eh? Done what?”

“...Talked to someone like that. Well, I guess I kind of did with my ex but he just… I don’t know, he seemed to understand me in a way no one else did so when I complained about things he’d tell me exactly what I wanted to hear. Or I guess that’s what I thought. He probably really did understand it’s just that he didn’t actually… care like I thought he did.” Garma pauses as he thinks over what he said and laughs derisively at his own stupidity. “Never mind, I’m being ridiculous.”

“No! That’s… that’s completely understandable and you’re not being ridiculous at all. It’s hard when your trust is betrayed like that, you don’t know what to think of the person who betrayed you anymore and the image of the person you once loved is destroyed forever but you still wonder if they’re there.” Claude closes the door behind him and walks further into the room.

“Yeah… yeah, that’s exactly it. I want him back, I just want the man I knew back but thinking about it I don’t even know if he really existed or if I was just making him up in my head and I’m so confused as to why he betrayed me, it’s not even my fault! It’s not my fault I’m a Zabi! I didn’t even want my family to come into power! I would have preferred it if we just stayed like we were before forever. No pressure, no fame, no money, Kycilia was always proud of me back then and Gihren loved me, I was sure of it. I…”

“I knew Nero talking about your family like that would be hard on you… I’m sorry, I should have stopped her sooner,” Claude says as he comes up to sit on the end of the bed. Garma sits beside him and looks down at the floor, ashamed.

“No… I needed to hear that. I needed to know those things. If I just keep on going in blind like I did before I’ll only put myself into more situations like with Char— ah. I said his name…”

“I had pretty much already guessed that’s who it was,” Claude replies amusedly. “Did he…”

“He tricked me and led my ship straight into the Trojan Horse, leading me to what he thought was my death but I was already off the ship. I hadn’t thought it was anything bad, but I thought something was off about him so I left the ship to look for the Trojan Horse and survived… it was only odd because he kept on insisting I ‘stay safe’ on the Gwazine instead of going into my smaller ship like I wanted to. Usually he’d encourage me to go out, saying it would help me prove myself like I so desperately wanted but now I don’t even know if that was because… I don’t know.” He puts his head in his hands and shakes it, almost running his hands through his stubby hair before remembering Claude had told him not to.

“It’s not your fault, he was the person who tricked you and it’s not your fault for not seeing it, it’s his fault for tricking you. Bad people exist and you can’t be blamed for their existence, sometimes all we can do is move on and learn from our experiences.” Claude calmly puts a hand on his back, steady as it lies still between his shoulder blades.

“I feel like I should be mad at him and I mean I was, I was raging and sobbing and inconsolable at first but now… now it just feels useless. I had been doing everything for him, had gone against my family, gone against the rules of the military, made myself a better person, or so I thought… I’m not sure who I am anymore. When he tried to kill me he said it was because of my family and I didn’t know what that meant not until I started talking to Nero and now I think maybe he was right. Maybe I did deserve to die. How many terrible things have I done? How many have I endorsed? I don’t even know anything about my own family.”

“Not any more than he’s done. He’s not in any position to judge you or your wrong-doings, you can’t let his opinions or vengeance or whatever it is he has against your family drag you down, that’s his problem. It’s your family and your life, only you can judge it and only you know how to make it right,” Claude says with a bright smile. Garma wonders if he realizes the scope that he was talking about was much larger than something he could really decide for himself but he lets it go with a sigh.

He did have to admit it felt good to get that off his chest, like a weight had been lifted off of him but it was also a little tiring to have someone respond to him like that. Of course, he always talked to Shana or Char whenever he had even the smallest problem but that was so different from this. Claude telling him such kind things and making him feel like he was truly cared for, he realized Char had never done anything like that and while he knew Shana cared, they couldn’t offer him advice and though that wasn’t really their fault, he’d still felt like something was missing.

Perhaps it was a little odd to take advice from someone younger than him but then again he really felt like a child sometimes, like he hadn’t learned enough or somehow matured enough and was lacking in some way that everyone else his age had already figured out. But he tried not to linger on that and bid Claude good night as he snuggled himself under the covers.

It was impossible. Sleep evaded him and he lingered on so many things until he felt like he might go mad so he got up and looked for something to do. He felt like maybe he shouldn’t take a snack since he was a guest at this house and watching something on TV might make too much noise but he found a collection of data pods on a shelf and took a few. Shana was still asleep on the sofa as he turned on the projector but they were the heaviest sleeper he knew so he wasn’t concerned that he might wake them up. He sat in the big recliner and turned on one of the pods, using Nero’s controller to navigate through the pages as he sorted through pod after pod.

The first one he opened was a bunch of engineering and mechanics stuff and he rolled his eyes at the predictability of it. The next few were also things he definitely wasn’t interested in, mostly physics, but then he got to something on earthsphere law and he sat there reading the whole thing until the sun rose. He didn’t know why he read so much of it but what had originally gotten his attention was the mention of beetles since the first document was a proposal on the preservation of certain types of beetles. It was an odd thing but reading through them all he noticed that all the language was so Earth specific and he wondered how the colonies fit in. Of course, this pod seemed to contain mostly environmental laws and the environments of colonies were definitely different from Earth but he was still curious about the laws that applied out here. It was definitely different for different colonies, he knew most of Zeon’s laws by heart, but those had to be different from Federation controlled colonies.

But that really was difficult then, wasn’t it? If so many different laws applied to all these different colonies, how were they supposed to work together? They had to, the Earth laws were all so very Earth-specific but if the Federation tried to apply those laws to the colonies, would that even work? You couldn’t just try to force something to work in other places just because it worked in one, there were even regional laws on Earth for places with different needs. Then again, the people of the colonies all face similar problems since they lived in completely human-controlled environments. But—

“The hell are you doing up so early?” He jumps at the sound of Nero’s voice. “And why are you reading… Federation laws on the use of barley for distillment?” She looks at him like she can’t believe he was reading something so ridiculous.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replies. The two of them stare at each other for a bit before Nero shrugs it off and sits on the arm of the couch, positioning herself so she isn’t in Shana’s way.

“Whatcha thinkin bout?” she asks.

“The differences in law between the colonies and Earth and what’s different out of necessity and what’s just pointless differentiation that drives the colonies farther apart in their fight for recognition by the Federation.”

“Well, the Federation certainly recognizes the colonies.”

“As creators of profit, not places where people live.” He sighs as he flips back to some proposal for changes to a bill on overfishing. “Their society on Earth is so enviable, their economies the perfect mix and everyone is treated as an earthnoid, equal in every right. Even the poorer people are guaranteed housing and healthcare, I just wish it could be the same in the colonies.”

“I think you have a bit of a skewed perspective of Earth, it’s not everything you think it is,” Nero says as she stands up and walks over to the pod shelf. “Here are some things you might be interested in, it’s not law documents like those but they’re works sort of like Deikun’s. You know, political writing against the state from the view of politicians who say they speak for the people and all that. And you don’t have to read on the big projector either. Here,” she hands him a small block and he turns it around a bit, “the button’s on the top,” he finds it and almost drops the machine when it pops open into a solid, white screen. “Have you never seen one of these?”

“No…” he says cautiously.

“It’s called a lightscreen, and you just tap the datapod against it,” she does just that and he sees a circle appear on the screen, “and it registers all the data in it onto the device so you can read it on this little screen. Mine’s a little different from all the others because I like to experiment but if you have any questions or its not working I’m here.” The title page of the book loads on to the screen and he swipes to go from page to page. “This one is like… most of the works of this guy and then this one is this environmental writer— since you seem to like that stuff— and this one is a much older guy from before colonies even existed…” she explains all the data pods she gave him like that and he listens intently.

“And if I want to talk about what I read?” he asks once she had finished.

“You come to me, of course. I’ll just be over here watching the news,” she says as she takes headphones out of the box on the coffee table and turns the projector back to the television. He nods and starts reading the books she lent him.

They sat like that until Claude came in and then Nero went into the kitchen to bother Claude about breakfast, leaving him and the still-sleeping Shana on their own. They woke up only a few minutes later and Garma watched them stretch awake.

“How was the couch?” he asks once they seemed awake. They shrug noncommittally.

“You?”

“I did not sleep a wink,” he says, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

“Sir,” they admonish.

“I know, I know, but you don’t need to worry about me. While we are here, you should get Nero to show you her workshop, you’ve always been interested in that sort of thing, haven’t you?” Shana gives him an apprehensive look. “Oh, come on, what’s the harm?”

“Okay,” they sighs. Garma nods succinctly and goes back to his book.

“Did we have these back at home?” he asks them. He hands Shana the lightscreen and they look it over.

“No…” they answer, going off the page with his book and seeing what else it did.

“Ah, I don’t know how to get back,” he says with a frown. They instantly brought the book back up and showed him how to get in and out. “You are so good at these things, Shana.”

“Have you guys really never seen those?” Nero asks as she walks back in with two plates in her hands, giving one to Shana as she sat down next to him.

“No, I think most of our colony’s tech development has been very… military focused for the past decade or so.” Shana hands him back the lightscreen as they start eating their breakfast.

“So you guys are from Side Three? Knew it.”

“Nero! It’s not polite to guess at your guests’ personal lives like that!” Claude reprimands as he brings in two more plates.

“It’s just where they’re from, it’s not like they’re actually Zeon here to spy on us that’d be kind of stupid, wouldn’t it? Like we’d probably be the worst to spy on.”

“You assume Zeon would know who is the best to spy on,” Garma adds cheekily. Nero stares at him with wide eyes.

“So you really are Zeon, then? Are you here to kidnap me and use my brilliant mind for your new mobile suits? Because you’ll have to kill me before that happens.” Claude gives him his plate and smiles at him apologetically.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s conceited to make such assumptions of your own intelligence?” Garma asks.

“A thousand times,” Claude and Nero reply simultaneously. Garma sighs and shakes his head, taking a bite of a strawberry as Nero immediately finds some other topic to go on about.

~

Just a few days later it was apparently the scheduled time for his funeral. Nero had specifically said she wasn’t planning on watching it but there it was on the screen, taking over the broadcast of the show they’d been watching before. He couldn’t bear to look at the projection, his own face staring back at him so proud and ridiculous it was absolutely shameful. How could he have ever been so happy to be such a fool?

It was his brother speaking, giving some speech and he tried not to listen, somehow knowing it would be exactly like Nero said. He wanted to put on some kind of music over it but he couldn’t get himself to stop listening for some reason, his breath measured with every word.

“Seche, are you okay?” He’s brought out of his thoughts by Claude’s voice, soft and full of concern. His head jerks in Claude’s direction and he shrugs off the hand on his shoulder as he’s shot back into the present.

“You were right,” he whispers.

“What?” Claude asks for clarification even though Garma wasn’t talking to him.

“You were right, Nero,” he says slightly louder.

“Nero was… oh.”

“Told you, man doesn’t give a flying fuck about his family. Next is probably his dad,” she postulates.

“What do you mean?” His palms are sweating and his breath is coming in too shallow as she reveals her theory. The more he came back to reality, the less he liked it.

“What I mean is that he’s probably going to try to get his dad killed next,” she says dully, as if this didn’t matter at all. As if a man killing his own family was the dryest news she’d ever heard.

“Next? You think he had something to do with this death?” he accuses, his heart racing. He feels almost deranged, like he could just explode at any moment but she just glances at him coolly.

“Yeah, I do.” He stands, rubbing his stubbly head in frustration and trying, but failing, to keep in any sounds of frustration.

“You’re wrong! He had nothing to do with this! He may not… he may not be the best brother but he wouldn’t do something like that, he wouldn’t!” he yells frantically, marching out of the room immediately after his outburst with hot tears burning down his face.

He lies down on his bed and cries, his tears creating wet puddles on the sheets around him so he has to keep tossing and turning to find new, dry places. He can’t seem to calm down, nervous jitters making their way across his body as he went numb to the world around him.

When he wakes up, he’s under Shana’s blanket from downstairs and they sit beside him, looking solemnly down at their hands in their lap. He’s glad it’s them and not Claude, he doesn’t have the energy to talk about all that and he was certain Claude would try to.

“Shana,” he whispers. They turned to look at him and smiled kindly at his stained face. “Can you pass me the tissues?”

They did exactly as asked, he would have done it himself but his body felt like lead, weighed down by his brother’s callous treatment of his death and Nero’s speculations. He was tired, stupidly so. What on earth had he done to become so tired? It was pathetic, there was no excuse for this. Even if the world thought he was dead and he felt like he could no longer trust anyone, this was no way to behave.

If his family were so untrustworthy, if Char had tried to kill him because of that, shouldn’t he be trying to find out why? He should be informed of these things, he should know more than he did. Why did he know so little? His family always treated him like he was as useless as everyone said, they never put any faith in him or told him anything important. Instead they’d tried to hide him away on Earth where he would never know anything and just uselessly command troops for god knows what reason. Had he ever even questioned why they had troops on Earth? It was ridiculous, his own naivete.

No one could stay like this, no one could live like this. The only reason he was alive in the first place was because of some small bit of suspicion on his own part. If that was why he was alive, shouldn’t he embrace that? Maybe he should become like Char, cold and calculating and never letting anyone into his heart.

“Shana, do you think I can become heartless?” he asks randomly.

“No,” they reply simply.

“It’s because I’m too much of a child, isn’t it?” he says with a derisive huff. “I’m too innocent and naive and I never think about anything before I do it. I’m powerless and useless and just absolustely idiotic.”

“No, kind.”

“Kind?” Shana sits and thinks for a bit before putting out a hand.

“Lightscreen,” they demand. Garma sits up and pulls Nero’s lightscreen out of his back pocket, handing it to Shana. They sit there and type something for a while, thinking quite a bit as they try to put their thoughts into words. Garma watches with wide eyes, they had never done something like this. They pause for a while, looking it over a few more times before handing the lightscreen back to him.

“Heartless people r not kind, kindness good, become kind,” the note reads. He laughs lightly and puts the lightscreen down again.

“My father always told me I had the kindest heart of the Zabis but I’m not sure I ever believed him. Me? Kind? I’m just soft, pliable, naive. Kind people don’t fight in wars, they fight against them.”

“They do,” Shana counters.

“What? Kind people do fight in wars? What kind of wars do kind people fight in?”

“Just wars.” He looks at them with a furrowed brow. He thought he had been fighting a just war, but Nero obviously thought differently. What made a war just? How could you tell when a war became unjust? Did fighting for a just cause in an unjust war count? How did kindness figure into all of this?

“I’m going to rest a bit more, tell Nero to be ready for some questions when I come back down,” he commandes, pulling the blanket back over his shoulders and laying down on his side again.

“Yes, sir,” they say with a smirk. He watches them leave with a pensive frown, promising to himself that he would figure out what it all meant.

~

He had his talk with Nero and she told him all about the war from a civilian’s perspective. The truth about the colony drop horrified him beyond imagination, the idea that Dozle had been the cause of billions of deaths and had come home that night as if nothing had happened… he really was starting to lose faith in his own family he could hardly believe his own ears. Was that the goal that Kycilia had told him about? Did that really empower his family? He didn’t understand how that worked, using the lives of innocent people to create some sense of “empowerment”. Garma certainly didn’t feel empowered knowing these things, he only felt sick to his stomach.

He’d heard most of the Anti-Federation propaganda before but from Nero’s mouth it sounded less like propaganda and more like a cry for help as she explained the way they ignored civilians on colonies and used their homes as indiscriminate battlegrounds while spending billions to protect large industrial conglomerates that operated out here. He also hadn’t known that the soldiers of White Base, as she called the Trojan Horse, were almost all children taken from Side Seven after Char’s battle for the Gundam. Nero admitted that she’d learned that part from somewhere other than the news but it still kept her up at night thinking that what happened there could happen to her own colony.

Despite all their fears, the days went on as if they had little to worry about, Nero went back to school soon after they’d arrived while Claude stayed with them, cleaning and drawing everyday. Shana spent most of their days out in Nero’s workshop (which was really more like a tool shed), tinkering with this and that while Garma sat inside and read various things from what was apparently the Hallyday siblings’ parent’s datapod collection. He would write down notes and think about the things he’d read, taking the pieces he liked or didn’t and talking to Nero about them when she got home.

Nero seemed to absolutely adore having them there, constantly bouncing all over the place and talking rapid fire about anything and everything they wanted to know. For the first time in his life, really, Garma found he enjoyed listening to her, found that he almost never wanted to interrupt her and instead took everything she said with the utmost seriousness. It made him realize that he’d perhaps been a bit selfish in the past, always forcing his own problems onto others and never actually listening to what they told him instead.

Claude was much quieter but his presence was just as enlightening, he came to Garma’s room nearly every night and they would talk about this and that, mostly divulging their troubles and life stories. Claude semed to give the best advice, possibly because he didn’t just agree with everything Garma said and actively called him out when he was being too negative or pulling himself further into his hole. He also shared his own life experiences which was such a novel concept in Garma’s eyes. Learning that Claude had left school because of bullying and that he often had those same feelings of uselessness really helped Garma feel less alone and forged a deep connection between them.

It was so nice to be by their sides, living each day with genuine excitement for whatever new things he learned about the two siblings, that he rarely even thought about Char or his family or the struggles of his old life. It wasn’t ever a distant memory and he definitely had times of weakness, but he could feel himself getting stronger with every day that passed.

But the more time he spent there, the more he wondered how long he had. How long until he had to go back? How long until Nero found out who he really was? He feared that day with all his being. He didn’t understand this feeling until about three weeks in when he suddenly realized he didn’t want to go back. He enjoyed it here, he felt happy here, way happier than he’d ever felt back with his family and Zeon. He could tell now that Shana did too. Was it so wrong of him to want to be happy? To leave his family behind for his own sake? From what he’d talked about with Nero he began to see how truly awful the war they were waging was. From Claude he felt he didn’t owe them anything, he learned he could live his life however he pleased. But he still felt guilt. So much guilt.

About a month into their stay, he was reading a book on the history of the Roman Empire and he put down the light screen he’d used nearly everyday since he’d arrived and went into the kitchen to grab a snack. On his way out, he saw Claude sitting at his desk, drawing away as he usually did and thought that he hadn’t taken enough interest in his work so Garma went over and stood over him as he colored in what appeared to be a rainbow Zaku.

“Is this your design for the next model?” Garma says as he bends down closer to look at it. Claude jumps and drops his pencil at the motion so Garma immediately backs up again, his eyes wide.

“Uh, well, it’s more… I send our parents one of these every month, they only send a message back every other month or so because they’re so busy but they always love them so I just keep on making new ones. I think it’s a good way to test the limits of my creativity, too! To see how many of the same thing can I make while making it slightly different every time,” Claude explains. Garma hums in understanding and stands over him to watch for a while longer.

“Why Zakus?”

“Hm, well, I mostly just like how they look. It wasn’t something I really thought I was good at drawing so at first it was mostly just practice but now I just think their little faces and skirts are kinda cute.” Garma looks over the metallic, rainbow kilt, the rectangular tube mouth, and the big purple eye that seemed to look back at him.

“I see what you mean,” he replies, “yours especially.” Garma smiles playfully as a blush rises on Claude’s cheeks. It was very easy to make Claude blush and it was so cute too, like a child being praised by their idol. “You should design a Zaku for Garma Zabi’s personal use,” he suggests playfully.

“Ah…” Claude says and the blush on his face grows harsher as he brings his hands to his face.

“What? Are you hurt?” he moves closer but Claude shakes his head wildly and he backs off again, slightly perturbed.

“No I just… it’s embarrassing.”

“You can tell me, whatever it is I’m sure I won’t mind,” Garma reassures. Claude sighs and takes the Zaku he’s currently drawing off the screen, looking through his folder labelled “Zakus” until he finds something that caught Garma’s eye immediately.

“It’s…” Purple. Very purple, and sleek. Sleeker than any Zaku he’d ever seen but with larger feet as if it was meant for zipping around space. A sword like the Gundam’s was tied to its waist and its hands were large but nimble somehow like his own though more exaggerated.

His breath slows as he looks it over, excitement slowly building in him as he stares at the drawing of his own deepest desire. He hadn’t exactly understood it until this very moment but now he realized this was what he had wanted back then. The prestige of being a pilot, the stability of their position. If he could become a pilot like Char was then he would have everyone’s attention, they would have to look up to him and acknowledge him as he made a name for himself.

“Would you send it to me?” he asks Claude.

“Yes, I— I’d like to make some edits first but, um, I’d love for you to have it! Do you… do you like it?” he asks hesitantly.

“Claude,” he says, smiling down at his younger friend, “I love it.” Claude’s face lights up and he goes back to work immediately, his focus changed in a millisecond as he stared at his lightscreen with a goofy smile.

Garma goes back to the living room and looks through all the datapods, picking out his favorites and putting them to one side. For some reason seeing that drawing helped him make up his mind. That wasn’t what he wanted anymore, not the drawing, but the idea. The idea of piloting a mobile suit and leading his troops into military victory no longer appealed to him, it only made him feel regret for what he’d done in the past. If he felt that poorly about what he’d wanted so much back with his family, was it really any question as to whether he wanted to go back or not?

A notification pops up on his screen telling him he has a new message from Claude and he navigates back to his messageboard to find the edited image, now with a little version of himself standing on the shoulder, one arm propped up against the head as he looks down at nothing, smiling only to himself. He saves it onto Nero’s lightscreen since he doesn’t have one of his own, even if he doesn’t want to go back, he still treasures Claude’s art.

He jumps at the sound of the front door slamming open and suddenly Nero is running past him yelling.

“Evacuation! Evacuation!” she shouts, hitting the top of his head as she ran past him to the kitchen to warn Claude and Shana. Alarmed, he immediately closes the lightscreen and stands up. He has no idea what to do, having never been told the evacuation procedures nor did he know what to bring with him, if anything so he just stood there clutching the lightscreen and bouncing anxiously as he waits for Shana, Claude, and Nero.

“Seche, you ready?” Nero says as she returns with Claude and Shana behind her, putting on a jacket that had been slung over her chair in the dining room.

“I guess?” he replies nervously.

“Good enough, let’s go!” Suddenly the ground beneath them shakes after an explosion and they all stop for a second, fear permeating the air as they all realize just how serious this is.

“It’ll be fine if we all just stick together, okay?” Claude assures, pushing Nero and Garma towards the door. Shana follows closely behind them, looking back constantly and acting as their guard from the action happening in the opposite direction.

“Ah, I left the datapods I hadn’t downloaded back at the house—” Garma realizes when they were about three blocks from the house, suddenly understanding they might not be able to go back.

“Who cares, come on!” Nero yells.

“I’ll go,” Shana says and turns around.

“No, Shana! Nero’s right, we have to stay together!” Garma calls but they had already started running back. “Shana!”

“Whatever, we have to go, come on!” Nero grabs his hand and pulls him along.

“Shana!” he yells as he runs along awkwardly, looking back while they disappeared down Claude and Nero’s street.

“They’ll be back, I’m sure of it! Don’t worry, they’re stronger than any of us!” Claude reassures brightly. How he’s able to keep so cheery in such situations, Garma still has no idea but he nods and keeps running forward.

They ran and ran, looking for a bus or something to take them to the emergency vault but they never found one.

“Is that…” Garma turns around and sees Claude standing about twenty feet behind them, in the middle of the road, looking up at the sky. Garma follows his gaze and his throat closes in panic. A Zaku.

“Claude!” he yells, stopping at the corner of a house. Nero stops as well but he couldn’t look at her, terror filling his lungs as Claude stood frozen, looking up at the machine he had called cute earlier that day. “Claude!”

The Zaku turns to them, seemingly hearing Garma’s cry, it’s big eye looking around until it trains directly on them.

“It’s a Zaku, Garma! Look, it’s a Zaku!” Claude calls back, excitement bubbling over. “I’ve never seen one in action, I can’t believe this! I’m so lucky!”

“Claude!” he cries again, watching as the beam rifle charges, a large bolt of light blindingly bright inside the large cannon. Suddenly he’s in the yard of the house he and Nero had been near. “Claude!” he screams uselessly as his young friend is obliterated in a bright flash of light.

His body goes limp again and he’s pulled into a broken window by Nero, tears streaming down his face.

“You’re fucking heavy, idiot, help a little bit,” she reprimands, pushing him against the wall beneath the window as they wait for the Zaku to pass them.

“He’s… dead…”

“That’s what happens to morons with no sense of self-preservation,” she retorts. Suddenly he’s angry.

“And here you were talking about how my family didn’t care about each other, how can you say that! Your brother just died! He died and you did nothing! How can you live with yourself?” How could he live with himself either? He’d also just stood there and pathetically watched as Claude died. He was older than Nero, shouldn’t he be more prepared? Shouldn’t he have been the one to do something?

“Shut the fuck up, fucking asshole. Shut the fuck up, shut up! Claude is dead, there’s nothing we can do, he’s an idiot and he would have wanted us to live. He would have preferred himself to die than all three of us go out together. This is war, don’t you understand that? That fucking Zaku doesn’t give a shit about any of us and he’s just going to kill every little “Feddie” he can get his big, circular eye on. It’s not… we can’t…” She slumps against the wall, looking absolutely defeated. Her head drops down to stare at her lap, her arms lax as they hang over her knees and Garma swears he sees small drops rolling down her cheeks as he huddles next to her.

They wait for the other Zaku to pass silently, hoping their shouting match hadn’t given up their position. Ten minutes and quite a few explosions later, Garma peaks out the broken window to look for any mobile suits. The coast appears clear so he stands and marches out of the house.

“Hey!” Nero calls after him but he continues, walking out of the house and into the street.. “Are you an idiot? Hey! Where the fuck are you going?”

“I’m going home.”

Notes:

im sorry for my terrible zaku design im so bad at descriptions but i tried v_v. i wanted it to somewhat look like the shen hu knighmare frame but who knows if i got that across sdjfldkfd

if you're wondering about claude... the answer is yes. the answer is also yes if you're wondering about shana.

is this a cliffhanger? i guess. i'll give you 6 days to ruminate on it i suppose

i almost forgot this but here's a small explanation on garma's like pseudonym (seche rhode) bc that will be important in the future (not the meaning just the name)

it's based on the flower azalea! its a member of the rhododendron family thus rhode and the word azalea itself means "dry" in greek so i just took the feminine form of the word dry in french and voilà c'est sèche (w/o the accent bc typing it that many times would have been annoying and its the feminine form just bc sec is boring and doesn't fit him imo)

but why azaleas? well, partially just bc it was azalea season when i started writing this but also as i started researching their meaning i found a lot of similarities to how i view garma's story. in victorian times they were highly associated with both temperance and death, and giving someone azaleas in a black vase was considered a death threat bc they are poisonous. in china and eastern asia they're often associated with homesickness or a longing to return to a place you once belonged. however, the most modern interpretations are developing/fragile love and caring for yourself and your family.

i feel like a lot of these have a good deal to do with how i interpret garma's character and i've really come to love the name as i've written the story... i hope you like this little tidbit!

Chapter 5: Nero

Summary:

Nero and Garma's escape.

Notes:

nero ;-;

hello and welcome to this chapter. i dont have much to say about it except i love nero. so.

this week's song is somewhere i belong by linkin park bc im a fool for them

with that, please enjoy!

“Shitty Zabi heir,” he hears Nero mumble as he walks out to the middle of the street.

“What?” he asks, completely bewildered.

“You. Garma Zabi. Shitty Zabi heir who can’t make up his damn mind. Hasn’t everything you’ve read this month made any difference? Hasn’t Claude’s little talks helped you sort out your thoughts? Here I thought you were coming around to it all but you still want to go back? After learning the truth about Zeon? About the colony drop? About the war? You still want to support them?” She yells at him. The wind whips her hair about as she stands in the front yard of the house, fists clenched as she stares at the ground. Garma watched her as his heart beats wildly. She knew. He had no idea when she’d found out, how long she’d known his identity, but his head spun as he tried to process everything she said and the tumbling emotions inside him.

“I have to, it’s—”

“Let me guess, you’re trying to convince yourself that you only thought these things because you were depressed, because your great love betrayed you wanted to kill yourself and now that you don’t everything that changed about you while you were in that hole is fake? Is that what you think?” A boom sounds off somewhere near them and he quickly grabs her, running into the house again as another Zaku approached their street.

“No, that’s not what I… it’s impossible, isn’t it? I can’t fight against it can I? No one would believe me, no matter what I did to try and prove to them, no matter how I tried to stop the war or talk them out of it, it’s impossible. I might as well just accept my destiny and go back to them,” he explains as he holds her head to his chest so they both fit under the window.

“That’s the most amount of bullshit you’ve ever said which is a miracle because you once tried to convince me that your brother couldn’t be blamed for the outcome of the colony drop. Incredible, truly,” she spits, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I’m useless… I’m useless and Claude is dead and Shana probably is too and I couldn’t save either of them… I should just go back, it’ll be better that way and Char… he’ll finally get what he deserves.”

“Oh my god,” Nero groans and pushes herself out of his arms. Garma just looks down and sulks for a second longer before the world goes black.

He groans as he blinks awake again. Then he quickly jumps up as his consciousness returns to him, remembering what had happened.

“Wha—” he starts as he looks around and sees he’s in an infirmary, with white curtains hanging around him and Nero leaning against the end of his bed, chewing gum and flipping through her lightscreen with a smirk. “You.”

“Me,” she replies smugly. He glares at her, she’d ruined his plan. He could admit it was a shitty plan, but couldn’t he just be allowed to suffer?

“Why?”

“Letting you go back would’ve been against everything I stand for. Your ex meeting his downfall and Zeon gaining you instead would only boost their morale. Nobody likes your ex and everybody likes you and all they have is morale, even their big shitty robots get worse with each generation. I think it’s a pretty good trick to end the war, don’t you?” She gives him a big, shit-eating grin and all he can do is sigh.

“Where are we?”

“A ship to Earth. They’re relocating us to someplace that’s safe apparently. Like there’s anywhere that’s safe. Saying a place is safe is like begging Zeon to come and attack it,” she says.

“Hm,” he agrees quietly. She comes and sits down next to him on the bed, kicking her feet up and nudging him over so she can lay back and stare at the ceiling. He vaguely wonders how she’d gotten him here but he was here, wasn’t he? So none of that really mattered.

“I don’t think it would go like you expect,” she says. He doesn’t ask her what she means, knowing she’ll continue anyway. “Your brother’s using your death to his advantage, if you went back he’d probably say you’re an imposter and find a way to get you killed. Would probably get your ex to do it somehow, the irony would be funny to him. Then your ex would probably kill both your sister and brother or your sister would kill your brother and your ex would kill your sister. Something like that, right?”

“What if I want to die.” He can’t process what she was saying but what he got out of it was that Char would actually kill him in her little scenario. He was fine with that, maybe it was even better like that.

“Back on this again, hm? Get over yourself, plenty of people want to die.” He doesn’t want to talk anymore, just wants to slide back under the thin sheets and black out again. Claude was dead and he’d become a failure again. Maybe it was boring to hear over and over but it was all he’d ever known himself to be so it was hard for him to change those thoughts. “Our parents are dead.”

He looks up suddenly, staring at Nero with wide eyes. He’d certainly guessed that, wondered where they were or why they never called but it felt insensitive to ask so he never had.

“They were killed on their way to Earth in the diplomat’s ship two weeks after the colony drop. I was home the day the letter came telling us we had been put under the custody of the diplomat our parents worked under and I burned it to make sure Claude would never see it. We’d only met the diplomat a couple of times, I think he felt awkward about it so he just sent Claude emails every few months and helped me keep up the ruse that our parents were still alive until the Side Seven thing. After that, he asked us to come live with him because he was scared we’d get taken in like those kids on White Base. But I told him not to worry since the Federation doesn’t have a military presence in Side Five. In reality, I just knew that if we did that Claude came to know the truth...”

“That’s—”

“Terrible, I know. But the worst part is that somehow it’s a relief, I’m relieved that my own brother is dead so I don’t have to keep this secret all to myself. How awful is that?” She laughs derisively at herself as she flings an arm over her face to hide herself from the world. “God his life was so sad. I thought about that all the time and I tried, I really tried to be the best I could for him but I don’t think I was ever really good enough. He envied my freedom, I envied his ignorance, it was just too dysfunctional to ever work. But we still tried.” Garma stares at her, not knowing what to say. He feels somewhat similar about his own familial situation and he wonders if relief was what Gihren felt at the time of his death.

“I think all deaths are relieving in some ways, people just get stuck on the guilt for feeling relieved,” he replies. Guilt was something he knew well and if he was honest with himself he also felt somewhat relieved at Claude’s death. But he knew they would both still be guilt-ridden for a while now. In that case, it was good they at least they had each other.

Nero’s head turns against his shoulder and her hands come up around his arm like he was a stuffed animal.

“Tired?” he asks as he looks down at her and she nods against his arm.

“Too many people talked to me while you were asleep, I had to do everything, you know,” she quips sleepily.

“Well you are the one who knocked me out.”

“Well I wouldn’t have had to knock you out if you weren’t such an idiot.”

“Touché,” he says and she closes her eyes. Quietly, he stares at the partitioning curtain as he feels her breathing slow.

He missed Shana painfully, in his mind he could imagine them walking between those curtains and calling him “Sir” while holding a tray of food because he was starving and they always seemed to know exactly what he needed. Of course, since they were gone, he should probably go get his own food but he couldn’t move right now or else he’d disturb Nero who was a very light sleeper. That she was asleep now showed how tired she must be. But sleep never found him and instead he sat there pondering through his life and the things that he’d done.

Truly, he was an irredeemable person, wasn’t he? Letting Shana go, watching Claude die, and the likely millions of others whose deaths he’d commanded in the name of war. Not to mention the Isle of Iffish, Claude had said he couldn’t be blamed for it but he couldn’t help but feel complicit somehow. If only he hadn’t been so stuck in his own agenda he would have been able to talk Dozle out of it, even if Gihren wouldn’t listen, Dozle always did. Dozle would have listened to him, he should have tried to talk him out of it but he had been so caught up in things that didn’t even matter he’d let billions of people die. If that wasn’t irredeemable then what was?

The burden of being a Zabi felt so heavy on his shoulders, he almost wanted to toss it off. Forget his past and completely reinvent himself so that no one would ever know Garma Zabi had lived. But that wouldn’t be fair, would it? That he got to live scott-free while all those people whose deaths he’d aided in were still dead and their families still mourned them. The thought made him nauseous, the image of Claude’s body evaporating playing over and over again in his mind. He clenched his fist and grit his teeth as he tried to get over himself. This was just something he’d have to live with from now on, this guilt and disgust with himself.

But he didn’t want to just give up either, Nero was right when she said plenty of people wanted to die but what did that really change about the world? Giving up benefitted no one, contributed nothing to the world. He could die, surely he could, but if he did that the result would be the same as if he’d created a new identity, wouldn’t it? He’d get to escape and leave the world without paying for his actions or helping the world he’d hurt. He didn’t want that.

He wanted to repent, felt like he needed to for all the things he’d done, and that could only be accomplished through his own actions but the question was: how?

“Time for a check up! Oh—” A nurse walks in through the curtain, pushing a cart and looking down at the two of them. “Well, it’s the opposite this time, isn’t it? You’re awake and she’s asleep, how fortuitous! She never told me your name, so would you be so kind to as to give it to me, as well as your relationship to your little friend?”

“Ah, I’m Seche Rhode and Nero is my cousin,” he explains deftly. She brings the cart over to his side of the bed and smiles widely down at him. It was a little creepy but he does his best to smile back.

“I see, now Seche, I need to give you a check up but we are running out of space on this ship and need you two to stay in this bed until we arrive on Earth, if it doesn’t bother you?” she asks as she gets out a stethoscope.

“No, of course not,” he replies. They were both currently on the bed and he doubted he would get any sleep before they arrived at Earth anyway.

“Good. Sorry for the inconvenience, now if you could please try to turn around so your legs hang off the bed?” she asks with that same creepy smile. He slowly takes his arm out from Nero’s grip and extrapolates himself from her. The nurse then checked him for head trauma and a couple other things before giving a clean bill of health with another eery smile.

“And dinner will be brought out within the hour!” she says as she leaves them alone again, jostling her cart from its tight position. Garma turns back to sit with his legs on the bed but the motion he must have pushed Nero too much as she stirs in her sleep. Pausing for only a second, he more cautiously places his left arm in a position he hoped wouldn’t bother her but it was fruitless as she started blinking blearily.

“The nurse come by yet?” she asks as she wakes up, closing her eyes again almost as soon as she’d opened them.

“She just left,” he replies.

“Was it the creepy one?”

“Yes,” he answers with an amused smile. She huffs tiredly and starts to sit up with her eyes still closed.

“Good thing I missed her, then.” They sit side by side in the bed and he can’t really see her anymore so he just looks forward at his feet poking up from under the thin sheet. “You good?”

“Yes, I am now fully recovered from my Nero-induced trauma,” he replies. She elbows him and he smiles at his own little joke as she grumbled some more about how stupid he was “wanting to die or some shit.”

They sit together in silence as Garma tries to think about whether or not to broach the subject of what had happened and what they would do next.

“So what’s next?” she asks randomly as he overthinks. He looks down at her in confusion, he had no idea what was next, that’s almost exactly what he’d wanted to ask her. She rolls her eyes. “God, fine, I’ll do everything, as usual. Anyway, we gotta get out of this place they’re taking us but we don’t have any money, are you gonna get a job? I should probably tell the Commodore I’m okay and that I have a ‘trustworthy adult’ with me.”

“Why the air quotes?” he asks sadly. She just gives him a look and he realizes it was probably because he’d tried to leave and that was fair. “I won’t do that again.”

“I’m sure,” she says sarcastically. “Now, job. You. Ever had one?”

“Like…”

“Like in retail or something.”

“No…”

“Didn’t think so,” she sighs. “We can probably survive on whatever the Diplomat gives us and our refugee stipend for a while but if we live past two months in this place I’m pretty sure we’ll want to leave it for good and then you’ll need a job. I think I’m still too young to get one though.” She went over plans and told him how to get a job and what they should do and it made his head spin that while he’d been having such esoteric thoughts she’d been actually thinking about what they should do to survive in such a practical way. He really wished he could be more helpful to her but he had no idea how any of this worked.

“Do you think you’ll be able to live as Seche?” she asks and it feels so much more abstract than what they’d just been talking about that he has to ask her to say it again. She does and he thinks about it for a second, wondering

“I… I do not want to run from my past. I think trying to forget what I’ve done is cowardly, masking myself in ignorance just does not work anymore,” he responds eventually.

“I agree. I think it’ll be a necessary burden to act as him for a bit, but forgetting yourself completely is out of the question,” she says with a sagely nod. He’d never really talked with her about these kind of things but she also hadn’t known who he was back then and he wondered if she’d be amenable to them now.

“I would like to repent for my actions but I’m not sure how, what can I do to make up for the bad things I’ve done?” he asks, testing the waters.

“Oh that’s simple, just do as many good things as you can.” Why did both these siblings always give such simple answers to such complex problems.

“Is it really that simple? How can I possibly do enough good things to make up for the terrible things I’ve contributed to? The deaths I’ve caused, the people I’ve displaced?”

“Maybe you can’t, but it doesn’t hurt to try, does it?” He looks at her with a million questions, wondering if she knows how much she sounds like Claude. She probably doesn’t want to hear that though.

“...At my funeral I asked Shana if I should become a heartless person and they told me to become kind instead, does that have something to do with it?”

“Wow, they really said that? They can really get a lot across in two words can’t they? But yeah, just become kind, I think kind people live happier lives anyway. Like Claude,” she concludes.

“You think Claude was happy?” he asks.

“Happy as he could be, happier than most people.” She seems as if she doesn’t want to continue with the topic so he went back.

“How do I become kind?”

“I wouldn’t know, but I think the more you care about people the kinder you become. How many people do you care about?” He has to think about it for a bit, he still cared for Kycilia and his father. Gihren was out of the question and he wished he could care about Dozle but he just couldn’t find it in himself to do so. He cared about two dead people and Nero so that made the total… three? That didn’t feel like a lot.

“Not many,” he replies.

“But do you care about the future? The people who’ll live after you?” He’d never really thought about it and he sat there, stumped, as he considered his emotions towards society as a whole. “I think, once you care about society and our future, you’re already halfway there because then the people you care about are endless, right?”

“But then how is that only halfway?”

“Well, caring about a few people close to you will build your kindness even further. It’s like… like they’re the test variables and you apply what you’ve learned from them to become even kinder to the general population, right?” she ponders. He has to laugh at her scientific analysis of people’s emotions but it did make sense.

“That would be nice, to find people who could teach you kindness,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. “But then you have to put that kindness into action and create good things in the world, right? What does that look like?”

“Whatever you want it to, I guess. You’ve been reading all those laws and stuff, right? Maybe you could like write policies or something, right? Spacenoid rights and all that but like actually instead of whatever the hell Gihren’s doing.”

“That could work...” he comments as he thinks about it. “I have been thinking that there are a lot of discrepancies in the Federation’s laws that make them almost impossible to apply to the colonies and also a lot of laws that could be made in order to protect the colonies from wandering merchants and large corporations.”

He went on about the laws he could make and Nero debated with him about the importance of them and how it should all be interpreted and things started feeling normal again. He wondered if they could keep it like this, if he could forget that Claude and Shana existed and just take care of Nero now, forgetting this terrible thing had even happened to them. He could still be kind despite forgetting that, couldn’t he? He wanted to but he didn’t think he could, if not for his own sake then for Nero’s.

There wasn’t much he knew about the world, he saw that now, but he knew he wanted to keep Nero from harm as well as he could and make it so that neither of them ever had to see that kind of violence again. He’d never liked violence much in the first place, and now that he’d seen it so up close and personal he was sure he never wanted to see any of it ever again. He’d be happiest just to live peacefully with Nero as he anonymously wrote policy for places all across the earthsphere. Nero could build her little machines and program her lightscreen to do anything she wanted as she went to the best schools they could afford. Eventually he’d stop dyeing his hair and people would think that he’d started dyeing it. It would be kind, it would be nice.

They got to earth a few hours later, or maybe it was a few days, he couldn’t really be bothered to care. He’d worried that they wouldn’t let him in or believe his story about being Nero’s cousin since Seche Rhode wasn’t actually a person who existed in any records but Nero told him they didn’t care enough to check, so they told them he’d been visiting from another colony and they got through with just one triumphantly raised eyebrow from Nero.

Their room was small and dingy despite being in a very recent development and it made Garma wonder how fast mold could grow and if it was somehow faster on Earth. But they did each have a bed so at least it was something, they just had to hope they didn’t get sick. Their few belongings fit in the tiny closet that was afforded to them but there was nowhere to cook or eat so he figured there must be some kind of cafeteria that they would have to eat in instead. Overall it was a dump and Garma was almost hesitant to even sit anywhere, having been so used to Claude’s cleanliness and the Zabi wealth.

Routine came quickly, however, as Nero taught him how to look for a job and they picked up their meals from a nearby convenience store, eating them together on their beds at the same time everyday. There was a small school, but Nero said it was way overcrowded with about fifty students in just one class. The town was isolated and jointly used for injured and recovering soldiers, the main focus of the town was the large hospital in the center. It lay underneath a protective bubble to stop possible Zeon attacks, a new idea that had been implemented in a couple places on Earth, mostly in refugee camps but it felt absolutely pointless to Garma. If Zeon could sneak into literally any colony out in space then who was to say they couldn’t do the same on Earth?

“Do you ever want your lightscreen back?” he asks Nero one day as they ate dinner. Sure, it was his only source of entertainment while Nero could just go to the scrapyard and find endless hours of fun but it was hers in the first place and although he’d sort of commandeered it he still felt he should offer.

“That’s got that picture Claude drew of you, right?” she asks and he nods. “Then it’s yours now.”

“Really? Because of that picture?”

“Well, I don’t want some picture of a Zaku on my lightscreen and you can just buy me a new one when you get a job anyway.” He knows they’re much more expensive than any job down here could pay for but he sighs and nods again. If that’s how she felt then there was little he could do to change her mind. She looked tired anyway, perhaps this hadn’t been the best time to ask.

“Beep! Beep! Beep!” Comes an alarm in the hallway and then it’s in their room as well. It sounds almost like a fire alarm but slightly different.

“The chemical detector?” Garma asks, immediately going to the closet where their gas masks are. He grabs them both and chucks one to Nero as he puts on his own. “This is against the treaty!” he grumbles as they grab their things again and head to the evacuation area.

“I don’t think Zeon cares much about the treaty, they’ll do anything to win, they might just start with the nuclear stuff and colony dropping again soon, who knows.” Garma frowns at the breathless tone to Nero’s voice but pulls her along behind him as he runs through the crowds of people. “Seche…”

“Nero? Are you okay?” he asks hurriedly, stopping to check behind him. She looks absolutely wasted, her eyes drooping and her breathing heavy as she stops running, unable to keep up anymore.

“I think there’s… a leak in my mask…” she pants and he immediately starts taking off his own mask but she puts a hand over his face to keep it on. “Too… late…”

“Nero, please, please let me, please,” he pleads, holding the wrist of her hand that’s pressed against his mask as tears bubble in his eyes.

“Garma… live, please. For me, live and become kind… it’s too late for me but you still have your heart, and that new big brain of yours.” She smiles at her own joke and just like that her hand goes limp and her eyes close, the smile still on her face.

“I promise, Nero,” he says softly. At this point he’s completely numb and tears are falling from his eyes, blurring his vision of Nero’s face but he can’t feel them, can’t feel what’s making them obscure his world.

“Sir,” comes a voice behind him. He doesn’t look back but he recognizes the voice of the creepy nurse, her voice no longer cheery. “Sir, you have to keep moving.”

“I don’t care,” he whispers.

“Sir, the mask will run out of air soon, please,” she pleads, shaking his shoulder now. “She’s gone, sir, you have to let her go.”

“Fine. Then I’m going home,” he bites out. He doesn’t know why but suddenly he’s angry. His home had broken the treaty, had killed the three people closest to him, had even killed him and didn’t give a single fuck about anyone other than themselves. It was stupid. Bullshit, really, that they got to just wage war and destroy lives like this and all the Federation did was apologize and put survivors in shitty little towns that got gassed so easily.

Garma handed Nero’s body to the nurse and marched off through the houses to where he was sure the Zeon were invading their little bubble. He pat the lightscreen in his pocket, his only memory of the two who had so drastically changed his life in so little time. And Shana… they would live on in his promise to Nero, his kindness devoted to the two of them. To all three of them, the ones who had taught him the true meaning of the word.

Notes:

nero T-T

i'm so sorry darling... it had to be done... you were too strong for the world

please leave comments or kudos if you can, comments fill my heart with joy no matter what they say. also if you comment it boosts my ability to edit so i can post more like last week. i'm thinking w/ this next chapter i might post mid-week if i can bc i feel bad leaving you on these kinds of things two weeks in a row... i promise it gets happier!!! eventually.

Chapter 6: Alone

Summary:

Garma faces the wrath of the universe head on

Notes:

the chapter summary isn't exactly accurate but i thought it sounded cool uhhhhhh but i love this chapter for multiple reasons. there's not really any dialogue and it's pretty much just action bc garma is, ofc, by himself now. but anyway, this is the first time in a reeeeaaallllyyy long time i've written something w/o dialogue bc it's where i'm most comfortable. and i like it for that.

the other reason i like is bc. well. it's just kind of fun. short and sweet and i like violence v_v

today's song is force by superfly

He approached the edge of the dome, hiding behind houses and darting between them to look for the Zeon forces outside. He quickly found a couple soldiers behind a house, in their normal suits to protect them from the gas, and plotted out his attack. Shana wasn’t here this time so he’d have to rely on his own skill but since he’d recently gotten his first T shot in almost two months (it had been a hassle but the creepy nurse had finally given in) he was feeling much more fit to the task than he had been after their close brush with death.

He knew he had the upper-hand with a surprise attack and it didn’t appear as if any other Zeon were near them so he picked up a piece of rebar on the ground near him and snuck up as close as he could get before running up and smacking one on the back of the head with the metal. Blood sprayed across the inside of his helmet and the other guy panicked, making angry squawking noises as Garma turned to him. The guy tried to punch him but he dodged and whirled the rebar around like a bat, hitting the man in the stomach as he spun, his foot lifting between the soldier’s legs to kick him in the crotch while he was at top momentum then watched him go down in a less bloody way.

Then he worried he may have gone too hard on the first guy and bent down to check if he was dead, the blood in his helmet making him frown. He still had a pulse and Garma sighed in relief as he took off the second guy’s helmet and hit his head against the pavement to make sure he was passed out. It was a stupid thing to be worried about since they were both going to die in the gas anyway, but that was their own fault for putting it here in the first place.

He dragged the bodies inside a house nearby and rid them both of their normal suits, a terrible feeling of justice running through him knowing that they were both doomed to the same fate they had given Nero. Some part of him almost wanted to put the helmet he wasn’t stealing back on but he knew Nero would probably want him to get some kind of vengeance for her and Claude so this would have to do.

Checking the air filter in his helmet and seeing it near clean, he slipped off his mask and quickly replaced it with the helmet, locking it into his suit. He didn’t know how he would get off the planet but he felt like he had to, the only way he could contribute to the war and stay undercover was in space. This time, however, he wasn’t going to help either side “win” the war, he was just going to try and stop it. He had no idea how he was going to do that either but he figured there must be something he could do and the best way to figure out what was probably to go back to space

For now, he just kept searching for the rest of the Zeon invasion force, no longer hiding behind houses since he was now sufficiently disguised as one of them. He found them only a couple blocks from the first two and, since there weren’t many, he easily slipped through them and got to a ship that would likely take him back to the nearest Zeon base and from there he could probably do the same for a ship to Side 3 or something. It was all a long shot but he didn’t really have another choice so he snuck onto the ship and hid in a supply closet as he waited for it to take off.

But as he sat in the darkness, thoughts wormed their way into his brain no matter how hard he tried to banish them. His thoughts were almost rarely good, especially since he’d been enrolled in the military academy and after that only when he’d thought about Char, but now even those thoughts were tainted. He couldn’t think of his family, that was no good either, couldn’t think of Shana or Nero or Claude, couldn’t think about Char… what could he think about? What good was there in his life?

He was alone. No one to help him, no one to guide him or even just support him or be his friend. He was truly alone.

Without a good thought in his head, he remembered his promise to Nero. To be kind, to make the world a better place in his own way. But how could he do that when he felt so bitter? How could he possibly be kind when all he felt was this negativity enclosing his every thought?

“That’s the point,” the Nero in his head said. The point? The point of what? Was the point of being kind really to have all this sadness and anger weighing you down? No, his mind objected, the point was to be kind in spite of it. To find yourself in the darkness and continue giving the world your best self no matter what it throws at you.

Garma had never been the type to give up easily, always struggling against his fate of being the useless Zabi and trying to prove himself in whatever way he could. Maybe this was another one of those times when he needed to do that. But now the enemy was himself. He was fighting against himself. That seemed a little unintuitive but he wasn’t really used to the whole “introspection” thing that Claude had insisted he try out.

“It’s good for when you don’t know what to think, just sit back and think your thoughts. Make decisions on which you like and which you don’t then keep building until it’s all exactly how you want it.” He remembered Claude’s smile at the time that he said that and thought that he truly was the kindest person Garma had ever met. Garma’s life had been filled with so many people willing to just toss aside all emotions in order to complete their goals that he had, without even realizing it, attempted to do the same. And look where that got him, sitting alone in a utility closet.

Perhaps it was time for him to change, perhaps he should do some introspection and rearrange these negative thoughts, turn them into something useful.

It was maybe a little odd to make such an important decision in a place like this but it wasn’t like he had anything else to do. He felt the engine of the ship turn on and lift up into a hover as an odd combination of nervousness and determination overtook him. He was going to do this. He was going to survive and leave all of this a kinder person.

Notes:

next chapter will introduce a new part of the series which is my extras that are kind of... things idk if they should be canon or not but just ideas i had for ficlets. most of them can kind of be read sans this actual story and they range in tone but its just some more fun i had lol

i hope you enjoyed this chapter, kudos and comments are always appreciated!

Chapter 7: Sayla

Summary:

Garma makes a new friend?

Notes:

did you really think i would allow him to be alone forever??? not a chance.

he's useless when he's by himself.

but i really love sayla she's my second favorite character after charma (you'll never make me choose one over the other) and if you can't tell from my other series i love the two of them as friends... side 3 buddies ;-;

i hope you enjoy her coming in as much as i do, today's song is sacrilege by yeah yeah yeahs

“Freeze!” Garma stops walking but turns his head slightly to get a look at the person telling him to stop. “Don’t move.” The barrel of a gun is pressed against the back of his skull and he instantly freezes, instead trying to understand the person through their voice. It was sharp and slightly high-pitch, like a teenage girl but with a level of authority. “I know who you are.”

“You—” he was panicking now and, without really thinking about it, he swivels around to address his assailant. The girl was the same age as he’d predicted, blonde, and wearing a Federation Uniform. As she sees his face, her eyes widen in surprise and she drops the gun.

“I was right! It really is you!” she exclaims. And then lower, “Garma Zabi!” She seems somehow familiar but he can’t quite place where from and narrows his eyes at her as he tries to figure it out. But besides that, there was another thing that bothered him about her.

“How did you get a gun into Side Six?” he asks, looking down at the gun she appears to have forgotten now. It was still close enough to her that if anything happened, she could definitely pick it up faster than he could but he felt some relief in it being away from his head.

“How did you get on Side Six?” she asks back as if she can’t believe that’s what he's worried about. He shrugs in answer since it was also a mystery to him. “But never mind that, how are you even alive? Why haven’t you gone back to the Zabis? What happened to your hair?”

“Don’t mention the hair part I’m still sore about that one…” he says softly, sighing before he continues. “I am alive only because of a few mistakes I made and I haven’t gone back to the Zabis because I do not agree with them anymore.”

“Mistakes? Did you fake your death to run away or did you attempt to kill yourself and fail?” she asks. He probably shouldn’t tell such important details to some stranger with a gun but she also might pick it up again if he ran so he stayed put and answered her questions.

“Neither, my closest friend tried to kill me and I accidentally lived through it. Sort of,” he replies nervously. Her eyes widen and he sees a smile briefly flicker across her face before it settles into a frown as she whispers something to herself.

“Casval…” Casval? He only just heard the word so he could be wrong but he could have sworn that was what she said. Now he frowns as well, his brow furrowing in confusion as he looks her over once more. She’s blonde, has a soft face, and a somewhat regal disposition. She seems strong and resilient while also managing to be rather delicate in her mannerisms, a terrifying juxtaposition that somehow reminds him of Char. Looking at her, he thinks of a funeral. He’s been to many funerals and she reminds him of one in particular and he’s trying to pinpoint which.

“You!” She jumps as he yells the word. The alley they were in was quiet so he immediately tones it down but he couldn’t help himself as he finally understood where he recognizes her from. “I know who you are as well! Artesia, you have grown up so much since I last saw you and… Casval… he’s… ah.”

If this girl was Artesia and she’d had that reaction… well, no, it could’ve just been that she’d thought Casval was involved and didn’t think it was Char, he had only said his “closest friend” rather than acknowledging who that best friend was but it was still very suspect. Casval was supposed to be dead but if she really was Artesia, she’d likely have a shrewd mind when it came to these kinds of things. So, if she’d found out that Casval was still alive somehow, she’d probably be able to read the writing on the wall and… Char Aznable was Casval Rem Deikun.

He laughs derisively at himself. No wonder he’d been drawn to him, Kycilia had always told him to be more like Casval and he had always wanted to be his friend growing up but then his father had died and they’d gone off somewhere and he’d never really understood what happened but apparently some people thought his family had killed the Deikun patriarch and… ah.

Garma laughs harder, a feeling of stupidity rising up from deep within himself. That’s what it had been? The entire time? Char had just been getting closer to him to kill him? That’s why he’d been trying to tear him from his family? What idiots. What fools. The both of them, Char for failing to kill him and never telling him the truth, and himself for failing to notice. But Char was definitely the bigger fool, just by virtue of being himself, really.

“Are you all right?” Artesia asks him as he starts wheezing in between bouts of laughter. He probably wasn’t, food was hard to come by in the weeks he’d been on Dren’s ship and it was always very cold at night in whatever closet he’d decided was safest to sleep in, so he might actually be sick.

“I’m fine,” he replies, coughing as he tries to calm himself down. She frowns at him but says nothing as he sits on the ground, covered in dirt. “I had been looking for the reason why Char tried to kill me, but this is slightly unbelievable.”

“If you tell someone I’ll track you down and actually kill you,” she says back.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, as if they would even believe me.”

“You really haven’t gone back to them?” she asks. He nods and looks down past his knees. “I can kind of tell,” she says as she picks up the gun again and sits next to him, placing it on the ground furthest from him.

“What does that mean?” he asks with a pout. She smiles genuinely at him and he’s surprised by the kindness in it.

“Ah, just the… lack of hygiene, I guess,” she says with a small laugh.

“It’s not my fault, I don’t have any money,” he replies indignantly. She laughs a little harder and he feels some odd nostalgia pass through him. It wasn’t as if he’d really known the Deikun children well, but he always wished he had. But it always seemed to come back to that sort of question, didn’t it? What if Zeon had never died? What if he’d never grown up? What if he’d been able to please his family? What if he’d left his family like Char wanted? What if he’d saved his friends… it was all so pointless. Even trying to figure out why Char had tried to kill him, the answer was so disappointing.

“What’s he like now?” Artesia asks after they sat there quietly for a bit. “Casval.”

“It’s difficult to explain,” he says, biting his lip. “But I am probably the one who knew him best despite feeling like I never knew him at all. We were together, I loved him and I thought maybe he loved me too, but I guess not. He betrayed me and left me alone, I have no one now.”

“He does that a lot,” Artesia says, glaring down at the ground with tears coming out of her eyes. “He probably said some stupidly overdramatic thing as he left you too, didn’t he?”

“He did,” he remembers sadly, trying not to let his own tears flow. “He was strong and supportive, always encouraging me and playing into my naivete. But sometimes he smiled when I laughed and the way he looked at me… I could never really tell what he was thinking but I was always sure it was of me.”

“I always knew there was something inside him,” Artesia adds with a nod. “He’s so passionate and dedicated but also selfish and untrusting, he doesn’t even trust me. That’s why he left me, he doesn’t think I can help him, he told me to go back because he doesn’t trust me not because of some stupid, self-satisfying belief that I’ll be safer if I don’t help him.”

Garma sits and thinks about what she’s saying as Artesia continues crying, her tears seeming more angry than sad.

“You want revenge for your father, don’t you?” She looks up at him. “And you think my family killed him.”

“Did they not?”

“I do not know,” he whispers, feeling somehow disappointed in himself for not being able to give a better answer. “None of them ever let me in on those sorts of things and they always blew off the rumors that they had as if they were fake. They constantly filled my head with lies and I couldn’t see them for what they were until I left and now that I know everything I can’t go back.”

Artesia just nods, wiping the tears from her face.

“I just want it to all be over, if I’m honest. I just want to go back to medical training and live the life I had before, working in a way I found helpful to society. Nothing I’m doing now feels helpful, it just feels as if I’m making things worse but I can’t leave White Base, I can’t. If Casval wanted my help with our vengeance, I’d surely help him but, at this point, I’d rather just have my brother back.” He let her lean her head against his shoulder and strokes her hair softly.

“I understand that, I understand that more than anything,” he comforts as she started crying again, this time her tears more sad than angry. Garma realizes they are both in similar positions, with Char and their desire for everything to be over. They were both children raised to fight for warmongers they couldn’t understand and denied peace at every opportunity. He leans back against her and lets his own tears fall as they sit together in silence.

“That was actually pretty nice,” she says after a few minutes. “Despite the fact that we’re definitely more dirty than before, you’re surprisingly good at comforting people, mister Zabi heir.”

“I’m not sure what I did, but if you feel better, I’m glad,” he replies. “And I do not think I’ll be any kind of Zabi heir anytime soon.”

“I hope not,” she says with a smile. “But if you’re not going back to your family, what are you going to do?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to figure out some way to contribute to ending the war but I’m not sure how to do that without picking a side and, I’ll be honest, I still have a vehement distaste for the Federation,” he explains.

“What have you been doing?”

“Wandering around from ship to ship, trying not to get caught, and thinking too much,” he replies sadly. She sighs as she stands up and brushes herself off, Garma following her example soon after.

“Surely you can think of something to do,” she says as she looks back at him. Garma looks down and shakes his head ashamedly. He just feels so useless by himself, every plan that comes to his head seems completely ridiculous the more he thinks about it so none of them ever lead to him actually doing anything. “Nothing? I promise not to judge you, and I’ll help too if you want.”

“You’ll help me?” he exclaims, staring at her in shock. She nods. “But why would you trust me? You don’t know if I’ve actually been in secret contact with them and am just deep undercover—”

“One, as if your father would let you go undercover. Two, if you are it’s just been compromised so I hold that over you and you hold my position over me. Fair?”

“That is very fair,” he agrees quietly. “I think… I might have one idea.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Well, first of all, Char’s ship is in port here so I’m probably going to try and sneak onto it before it leaves because my last ship left port just a few hours before yours got here so I’m a little stranded but his ship has orders to follow yours—”

“White Base will probably also follow his ship,” she adds.

“Good. Then we can sort of lead them around each other, don’t you think? Keep the Federation’s precious Gundam and Zeon’s star Red Comet from combat,” he explains. Her face lit up and she smiles at him as she nods in agreement.

“I like that idea,” she says. “And how will we plan this out? I’m a fighter pilot mostly now but I still work comms sometimes, if you have access to a radio we could work something out.”

“I do, my lightscreen has radio functionality so I can access it whenever I want,” he replies.

“On a lightscreen? They don’t even make those on Side Three, do they?”

“I have connections,” he says shortly, still a little sore about Nero’s death. Artesia seems to understand it’s something he doesn’t want to talk about and changes the topic.

They talked and made plans together until Artesia told him she had to go back and he was alone again. He felt happy, incredibly happy that he had made such a connection in such odd circumstances but it was perhaps that it was because of such odd circumstances that he’d made it at all. He walked out of the alley a few minutes after her, since most of the soldiers went back to the ship at night, the security would likely be more lax and it’d be easier to sneak onto Char’s ship. Garma did worry about getting caught, especially on Char’s ship, but he supposed he didn’t really he had a choice.

There was still some desire, deep in his heart, to just stay here and live out the rest of his life on the peaceful Side 6, but the rest of his heart tugged at his body, unwilling to stay silent as everything went up in flames around him. It wasn’t kind to hide, it wasn’t kind to ignore injustice and brutality. So he wouldn’t.

Notes:

i hope that you like how i'm changing garma's character, i think it's a necessity for him to become his own person if he's to survive the one year war and i also like to think his own person is very kind but also pragmatic, that he sees the world in this ideal state but knows that it's going to take a lot to get there. i mostly make this sort of assumption bc he's a libra rather than anything in the actual uc but. the only evidence of what he could become should he live past that point in 0079 is just gihren's greed and while it's a nice addition it also just feels flimsy, since it's a game about gihren, all his actions are framed in regards to how they affect gihren rather than what garma himself is thinking as he makes them. so, i really wanted to explore his character and that's mostly why i wrote this!

anyway, it's going to continue on in this direction with some tests and challenges to his developing ideology along the way, so i hope you enjoy it! kudos and comments are appreciated and since i haven't said it in a while, you can also find me as @delatrose on twitter and @mechaking on tumblr.

Chapter 8: Trust

Summary:

Sayla comes to terms with some things.

Notes:

SAYLA CHAPTER!!!!!!! my girl... it feels so organic posting this so soon after her birthday (9/12). note it is mostly from her pov

part of me wants to write her entire sidestory in this universe but i dont have the time nor passion atm. but i do have a cat on one of my arms making it v hard to type so who's the real winner?

anyway, today's song is policy of truth by depeche mode. enjoy!

“So you want to be involved in perimeter checks?” Bright asks.

“Yes, since I’ve been moving to a more combat-heavy position, it would be useful for me to contribute as much as the others do,” Sayla explains, her posture tall and her voice confident. She knows if she wants to see this through then she can’t show an ounce of weakness.

“That’s… a good idea, thank you for thinking so proactively,” he compliments. Her eyes widen in surprise but she doesn’t say anything to show her disbelief.

“Thank you, Lieutenant, I promise to continue doing so.”

“Good, good. We will put you in at the next planning meeting on Monday at fourteen hundred if all goes well,” Bright says and turns back to the front of the ship.

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” she says politely and turns to go back to her position. Mirai smiles and mouths her congratulations as she passes by. Sayla winks back and sits at the comms desk, immediately checking her and Garma’s frequency. She sends a single tick through to confirm the success of the first part of their plan.

It’s still very tentative on her part as she isn’t entirely sure whether or not she can trust the Zabi prince but he also had leverage over her and Char that hadn’t yet come to light so it was hard to say where they stood. Garma had never really seemed like the most intelligent Zabi anyway, so it was hard to imagine he could make up an elaborate scheme like this but it could also just be the work of Gihren. Either way, she would act like she completely trusted him until he proved himself one way or the other just because she was curious. Maybe it was fatigue, but she wanted the war to end and, even if it meant putting her trust in someone who was connected to her father’s death, she would do anything to help it end sooner.

They put her on perimeter checks on Tuesdays and she sent Garma the time and coordinates of their meeting. It was kind of funny that they didn’t even bother checking her transmissions. It was as if they trusted her completely but that also saddened her a bit since she knew it was likely because they were such a short-handed crew of amateurs. The sooner the war ended, the fewer of these children would die and the sooner she could go back to saving lives rather than taking them. And maybe her idiot brother would finish off the rest of the Zabis in the meantime.

But that was the question, wasn’t it? Did he know? That Garma was alive? Something about Garma’s reaction to her slip of the tongue made her think he didn’t. It was all such an odd situation, sometimes she wondered if she should do the same as her brother had. Not going as far as abusing his romantic intentions as Garma had insinuated Char had but earning his trust only to betray him again. It wasn’t just her brother who had a vendetta against the Zabis, he was just in a much better place to pursue such a quest.

It felt a little far, though, using someone like that. She didn’t think she would ever want to do something like that and this little Zabi seemed too insignificant to waste the effort on. Was her brother really that far gone? That he would fake something as deep as that? Though she couldn’t be certain exactly how deep it was Garma seemed devastated by it, it still felt like too much just to get close enough to kill him. Loss pounded at the back of her skull and threatened to give her a headache just thinking about. She was worried, genuinely, that he had lost his way, that he no longer cared about their family and was just doing whatever came first to his mind.

On Tuesday she went out to do her perimeter check and stopped her ship where the edge of her radar met the ship’s, the place she and Garma had decided to meet up. She didn’t see Garma yet but he also didn’t have a ship so it made sense. She watched her radar for him and sighed in relief when a small blip appeared inside it after only a few minutes. She popped open the top of her fighter and climbed out to look around, seeing a small green dot in the distance slowly getting bigger as the blip on her radar approached the ship.

“Hurry up! I’m on a tight schedule!” she calls out to the dot.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! I have to get back before my air filter clogs up so I’m on borrowed time as well!” Garma calls back, his voice loud for how far he was.

“How fast does that booster go?”

“Not as fast as Federation ones somehow,” he replies and she sees the little jets pushing him forward consistently as he approached.

“And how do you know that?” she asks with a raised brow.

“We used them back at the academy,” he answers, coming up to float in front of her. “The ones Zeon uses now are different, designed by their own scientists so you’d think they’d be better since Zeon are spacenoids and also have the technology to create so many Zakus but the way things are managed is a mess, I’ve been listening in on their conversations and it’s just absolutely atrocious.”

“You sure do talk a lot, huh,” she replies, giving him an amused look. He frowns back at her. “It’s not bad, just reminds me of something.”

“Of what?”

“I’m not sure yet, I’ll tell you when I think of it.” Now he gives her the same look she’d given him and she just smiles in return. “Now, to business.”

“Business,” Garma repeats with a quick nod. “I successfully moved to Char’s ship—”

“If you hadn’t you’d be dead,” she reminds him softly.

“Well, that’s fair, but the main point is that I’m not and that my situation is actually much more precarious now. If Char even glimpses my face I am certain he will recognize me and I will either be killed, forced to leave, or worst: outed.” She sees him shiver at the prospect and it reminds her that he’d lived a very sheltered life before his graduation. Like her and Char, he must also take comfort in hiding from the world after having such a shocking experience.

“But do you know where they are? And where they’re going? White base is just kind of looking for them right now after what happened at Side Six. If we can divert their course away from Char’s ship then we’ll avoid confrontation,” she relays looking at Garma who appears to be biting his lip as he thinks about what she’d said. “What?”

“Well, I was thinking, what does that solve?” he explains, looking down. She narrows her eyes at him and he immediately put his hands out to pacify her. “You have every right to be suspicious of me right now, but let me explain.”

“Go on,” she says as she crosses her arms.

“Well, it’s just that even if we stop them from fighting now, if we only lead them in circles around each other, how does that solve anything? The war will still go on, people around us will still die and they might even get frustrated and you might get discharged for misconduct. So I was thinking, what if we just destroyed Zeon’s equipment instead?” he suggests. She looks him over and thinks about it. It would make it harder to fight and the constant drain of supplies would be hard for the financial backers of the war to keep up with, especially on Zeon’s side.

“And what’s your plan?”

“Well, I can sabotage Zakus and destroy ammo. Maybe even steal a ship or two if I can, there are lots of things like that I can do.”

“That doesn’t seem too awful…” she ponders with her chin in her hand. Garma looks up at her and she swears there are sparkles in his eyes as she thinks it over some more. She’s a little surprised that he could think of this much on his own but if he were working for Zeon, he probably would have stuck with the other plan which was, admittedly, much worse. However, he could also be using her to get her to destroy Federation supplies. Of course, he also hadn’t demanded she return the favor, hadn’t even asked for White Base’s specific location. Either way, she’d need solid proof that he was doing as he’d said he would before she did the same on any Federation ship.

“I’ll believe you for now and sabotage some of the Federation supplies as well,” she lies. He smiles brightly and almost looks like he’s going to hug her but stops himself halfway through, turning away shyly instead.

“Thank you, I felt so lost all by myself but knowing that I’m not completely alone gives me the strength to carry on. It may not be a lot to you, but it is to me.” A smile crosses her face and she wonders, if his family hadn’t murdered hers, if they could have maybe been friends growing up. He was cute and always spoke so openly, she felt like she wanted to be his friend now. But who was to say they couldn’t be friends?

“Of course, it means a lot to me, too,” she says, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him in for the hug he’d denied himself earlier. She didn’t know what she’d been looking for in him but with this visit, most of her distrust had seemed to fade to a small, constantly vigilant part of her brain that sounded suspiciously like Casval.

“But no sabotaging food supplies or things for the soldiers,” Garma adds as he pulls himself out of the hug.

“Absolutely not, that would only make things worse for the soldiers rather than trouble the higher-ups,” Sayla agrees.

“And you are almost all children on your ship… it feels so sad to me.” Sayla looks down and back at her ship as she sighs. She didn’t like it much either, but she felt she had to stay with them.

“It is hard, but we’ve all become so close, they’re like my family I have to stay and protect them. Amuro and Kai and Fraw Bow are so young, I’ve been all on my own for so long but they aren’t used to such harsh conditions. I wouldn’t mind sabotaging the fighter of that blond asshole who joined us recently but other than him, we’re all very close. It’s hard to think we could lose any of them at any time…” Garma listens patiently and nods along with her rant, an empathetic look on his face.

“I understand, it’s so hard to lose people you care for. Let’s try and help this war come to a close as quickly as we can, hm?” he says with a bright smile that only just betrays the sadness he must really feel. She smiles sadly back and they discuss the supply rosters on both their ships.

“We’re heading to a little colony called Texas, now, should be there soon,” Garma relays after they’d talked a bit longer.

“Texas?” she asks with wide eyes.

“Yes, do you know it?”

“That’s where Casval and I lived for a while before he became Char,” she explains. Were their graves still there? She’d heard after the Battle of Loum it had become an uninhabited wasteland but certainly they wouldn’t just tear down graves for no reason? But it was impossible to tell with Zeon, anything could have happened.

“Oh, I see… does it bring bad memories?”

“I suppose, but I wish I could visit under better circumstances. It would be nice to be able to put flowers by my mother’s and adoptive father’s graves,” she says wistfully.

“I’m sure they know you’re thinking about them whether or not you put flowers on their graves,” Garma reassures and she smiles at him.

“You’re right, we should look into the future now, shouldn’t we? That’s where our lives are.” He gives her a dazzling smile and nods succinctly.

They say goodbye to each other with one last hug and Garma boosts off as she gets back in her fighter, more secure in her place in the world than she had been before.

She never told the crew that Char’s ship was at Texas, but as Garma had semi-predicted they found out anyway. He was probably right that trying to divert the courses of two dueling ships in a war that had thousands of others but as he didn’t know anything other than making war she didn’t know anything other than healing people. As much as Jimba Ral had tried to teach them all the politics and tactics of war, it had never really reached her. Sure, she was becoming used to it but that didn’t mean she wanted to actively try and become better. Whatever talent she had in the art of war was purely subconscious.

Just as it was impossible to avoid this war completely, it also seemed impossible for her not to meet her brother, a tradition that returned on the surface of Texas. She glares up at her brother as he approached her on the back of a horse, she remembers when they’d learned to ride together and her heart swells with sadness.

“Casval,” she calls bitterly.

“Artesia, I thought I told you to leave the military and now you’re an officer?”

~

Garma dodges into a corner as a couple of soldiers come out of a room, trying to listen to their conversation before they discover half of the armory has been sabotaged as he’d just spent the past thirty minutes discharging the beam rifles and throwing their bullets out into space.

“I heard they’d slowed production,” one of them says.

“What? Why?” the other exclaims.

“Apparently Lord Degwin’s so upset over Lord Garma’s death he wants the whole war to end or something,” the other said bitterly. Garma had to put his hand over his mouth in order to hide his gasp. His father would really do that for him? Stopping the war now would definitely mean Zeon’s defeat and that would mean they’d all be taken as war criminals…. He almost wanted to cry but he had to keep listening.

“That’s ridiculous, doesn’t he know what’ll happen if he does that? We’ll all go and join his little idiot son,” the second protests.

“Yeah, but I don’t think Lord Gihren’ll let him. The production’s still going, just slower now.”

“At least one of our leaders has some sense about him. So where was that damn thing anyway? It must be huge by now.” Garma feels like he should know what they’re talking about but whatever it is completely slips his mind as they continue their conversation.

“Ah, yeah, it’s over by A Baoa Qu, right? It’s supposed to be a secret but I don’t doubt the Feddies’ll find it soon, it’s too big to hide now.” Too big to hide? A Baoa Qu? What? Completely bemused, he stares open-mouthed at the ground and tries to think of what’s at A Baoa Qu. It’s right at the tip of his tongue but somehow he can’t find it.

“I bet— hey! These rifles are completely depleted!” Garma takes that as his cue to leave and boosts out of the corridor out to the airlock again before taking out his lightscreen to contact Sayla.

~

“You’re lying. If you were really trying to avenge father, you would have killed Degwin, not Garma. He had nothing to do with any of this—”

“Why do you care about—”

“I know you’re trying to do this all on your own but you can’t just help create some self-important world ruled over by newtypes,” she cries, tears rolling down her face.

“I’m Char Aznable, a man who has abandoned his past—” Sayla stares at him in confusion as his comm beeps and he puts it up to his ear. “I’m busy—”

“Sir, someone drained all the beam—” Another beep interrupts that communication.

“Sir, there’s been an unauthorized use of the airlock on the portside—”

The third interruption comes from Sayla’s own radio which beeps in morse code as she smiles to herself. Garma.

“I’m sorry, brother, I’m afraid I have to cut this meeting short. I have something much more pressing to attend to,” she says as she wipes the tears from her eyes and turns the engine of her vehicle back on.

“Artesia, do you have something to do with—” She hits the gas and speeds off, not listening to what her ridiculous brother says anymore. He doesn’t seem to understand that even if he says he doesn’t want to build country of newtypes, he still supported it’s production by continuing to fight for Zeon. No matter if he was just trying to kill Zabis, fighting for Zeon meant supporting everything they stood for, which was the opposite of what their father wanted.

Once back on the ship, she sends Garma a signal saying she’d gotten his confirmation message. Then she taps out a set of coordinates in reply to suggest a place for them to meet. Amuro was still in the middle of battle and it didn’t seem as if they needed her in a fighter yet so hopefully no one would notice she was gone as she put on her normal suit and strapped a booster to her back.

This time when she got to the meeting place, Garma was already there hovering upside down with his arms crossed as he slowly spun in circles.

“What on earth are you doing?” she asks with amusement as she boosts up to him. He jumps a little bit and turns to her, his face pinched.

“In space the blood doesn’t flow to your head if you’re upside down so it’s kind of fun to do this and look at the world in a new way,” he explains. She laughs at him and shakes her head.

“I think I’ve got it now,” she says.

“Got what?”

“What you remind me of.” His eyes widen and he turns right-way up.

“What is it?” he demands, excitement tinting his voice and solidifying the connection in her head as she laughs again.

“You remind me of a poodle.”

“Like the dog?” She nods.

“What if I called you Garmadoodle? Like a mix of your name and poodle, and then if we’re ever in public I can just call you doodle and no one would know it was you. Like my name, Sayla.” She has to admit it’s fun to think about a life after the war, somewhere they could call each other so casually.

“You’re so kind, Artesia, but I sort of already have a name like that…” he says with a frown.

“Oh?”

“Seche Rhode, I used it when I was in hiding on Side Seven and at the refugee camp,” he explains.

“That’s a very pretty name and it also suits you but… what if I called you that just as a way to reference your birth name. Unless you want to drop that completely—”

“No! I love that! I’ve got to come up with one for you as well, now…” she laughs to herself as he puzzles it out. “You remind me of a… golden retriever.”

“Oh! That’s my favorite dog,” she exclaims.

“Then I’ll call you goldie,” he continues pensively, “it fits because of your hair.” She can’t help but burst out laughing as he smiled kindly at her.

“I was right to think we would have been friends if we’d stayed on Side Three,” she says when she’d calmed down.

“Really?” he asks with wide eyes. She nods as she smiles back at him.

“What was your hiding name again?”

“Seche Rhode.”

“That’s very pretty, did you choose it?” He nods. “How?”

“Well, Rhode was the last name of a friend I was travelling with and Seche I came up with on the spot so I guess I didn’t really choose it,” he explains.

“And where’s your friend?” She regrets asking the question as soon as it’s left her mouth, she should’ve known since the friend wasn’t with him that they must have parted. Garma’s face is drawn tight with grief as he appears to ponder the fate of his friend. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that, I know what it’s like to lose someone.”

“It was all my fault… they went back to get something just because I mentioned I left it and then I never saw them again. I’m so… selfish.” He starts crying and Sayla goes up to him, gathering him in her arms. Patting his back as he let it out. “They were always there for me, all throughout the Char thing and after that and then I couldn’t stop them. I let them just die for me, I couldn’t stop them…”

She feels tears pouring out of her own eyes as she thinks about the people she’s lost as well and she cries into his shoulder until they’re just a couple of sobbing messes in the middle of space.

“Speaking of Char, I saw him earlier,” she says once they’ve both calmed down. Garma groans in annoyance and she laughs. “Yes, that’s exactly how I felt too. He doesn’t ever make any sense. I love him so much but I… I hate him too. I hate how he’s always looking down on me and thinks he knows better when nothing he ever does or says makes any sense, he’s so… urgh.”

“I think I understand that… I used to think he was so perfect and I really looked up to him and listened to everything he said but looking back on it, it’s all a load of bull, isn’t it?”

“Exactly! He thinks he knows everything but none of it lines up, all his logic is so faulty you can barely make an argument against it because it never made any sense in the first place. He just pisses me off so much, I swear. ‘Go home, Artesia’ ‘Stop fighting, Artesia’ as if he knows what’s best for me when he can’t even get his stupid priorities straight on what he’s trying to do. God, I hate him,” she rants, clenching Garma’s head against her chest.

“Artesia, I can’t breathe,” Garma whispers hoarsely. She instantly lets go as she realizes just how tightly she’s holding him and he takes a deep breath as he slowly floats away.

“Sorry,” she says.

“It’s understandable though, I hate him as well,” he sighs. He looks down pensively as he drifts sideways, seeming more sad than angry. “But after everything I still find that I… miss him sometimes. It’s stupid, ridiculous, even. I mean he tried to kill me, our entire relationship was a ruse, he probably doesn’t even care anymore, he probably never did but I still think about him… I wonder if maybe he regrets it, or maybe he did care about me. I hate myself for it but I…”

He seems to be talking to himself mostly, still getting farther and farther from her as he talks and Sayla has to boost over to hear what he says.

“Garma,” she calls and he startles out of his thoughts. “No one can say whether you forgive him or not besides yourself. Even if he does regret it, that doesn’t mean he’s worthy of your love. Only you can determine what you want to do.” She grabs his arm to stop him from drifting away and smiles kindly. He still has tears in his eyes but they stay held by his eyelashes. “I think we’re all just… lost a little bit. Hopefully someday we can find ourselves, though Char might need a little help.”

“You’re right, Artesia,” he agrees as he looks down with a sad smile. “Do you think we can bring him back? I want to see Char as you knew him,” he asks.

“I think so, he just needs to feel the pain of my hand probably.”

“You’re going to slap him?” he asks, surprised.

“If he ever says some stupid thing like he did today, you bet I will.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that, then.” She looks at him with doubt. Maybe she did just want to slap her brother a little bit now and for no immediate reason but Garma’s defense of him confuses her. Was he really defending him? Or was he against the idea of her slapping anyone?

Whichever it was, she really hopes they both make it out of this war alive if only so they could use their nicknames in casual conversation.

“I need to get back now,” she says as she turns around. “Where are you going now?”

“There’s a transport ship that will pass near here soon, I’m getting on that to see if I can take one of their ships and maybe disable some mobile suits before they’re even put to use.”

“Good luck and stay safe,” she cautions before boosting off. He salutes her and she returns it as they fly away from each other. She would probably have some explaining to do when she got back to White Base but at least felt less alone with her secret.

Notes:

garma's assumptions of what char would do if he caught him are always funny to me, none of the things he think would happen would but it still wouldn't be great. it's a complicated situation but there's something else that garma needs to do instead.

next chapter should be fun! there's a lot of things that happen and god i need to edit more im getting so down to the wire aaaaaa

Chapter 9: The Mysterious Ship Thief

Summary:

Garma's rude now >:3

Notes:

foul language? in my garma? it's more likely than you think.

the next couple chapters will be rather hopeful, i think the last two have been as well but these are just sort of building up to other things. fulfillment of hope? big let downs? both? we'll see.

today's song is night flight by perfume

“Shit. Fuck.” Alarms blare around him as he runs through the docking bay, looking for the ship he’d activated. He hides behind the wheels of a Luggun as two soldiers walk past him.

“How the fuck did they get in? Did one of our men betray us?” one asks, the other following short behind her.

“I don’t know, ma’am, none of the crew seem to be gone and we found everyone in the control room knocked out after the alarm sounded. It seems one of them hit the button but was knocked out soon after,” he reports. It was good he’d hid then, if there was suspicion around the crew then they’d definitely notice he didn’t belong even if he was in one of their normal suits.

“Seems like an amateur if you ask me,” Garma frowns at the comment but can’t hear any of the rest of the conversation as they get too far away and the alarm drowns them out. He looks out for anyone else and when he sees no one around him, he gets back out from underneath the ship and taps the door real quick to see if it opens. To his surprise it pops open and he gasps.

“It’s A23! That’s the ship that was activated!” Garma freezes in panic for a second as the soldiers that had been floating away from him turn around but as soon as they make eye contact he hops in the ship.

“Hey!” one calls as he closes the door but this time he didn’t freeze and looked across the panel of buttons as he tried to remember which one turned it on. This plane is rather different from any he’s been in but he quickly recognizes the ignition and presses the button as soldiers run towards him.

“Fuck, shit, fuck,” he curses as he pushes the accelerator, scraping the plane beside him as he pulls out of the parking spot, turning onto the runway just a bit early. From his periphery he sees some soldiers rushing to activate the mobile suits and hits the booster as his craft struggles against his sharp turn. They aren’t trying to get in his way, seeming to understand he wouldn’t stop for anyone and instead prepare to launch out after him and blow him up away from all the other ships. Like hell he’d let that happen.

He hits the thrusters and presses the button taking him out of runway mode as he breaches the space doors and makes it past the first obstacle. He sighs in relief as he’s finally made it into the openness of space; even though this is where the real fight began it was nice to have more maneuverability. He turns haphazardly, trying to be unpredictable as he dodges bullets from the three other ships that had followed him out. They’re still working on launching the mobile suits and he has to hope he can escape before those come out as well.

They zip around him and he shoots back on occasion but he can’t hit them either, feeling as though he’s somehow missing on purpose as his beams shoot just past the front of a ship. Finally, he feels something graze his wing just above his thrusters and he tilts just a bit but only for a second before he blasts off again, going as fast as he can to escape.

It isn’t enough, however, and two of them quickly catch up to him. He hasn’t been in nearly enough chases to be able to navigate this and curses himself for thinking he could do as much as Artesia can. If he doesn’t get out of here or destroy the other ships soon he’s going to have to face the mobile suits, dooming himself to either capture or explosion, most likely the latter.

But then a new ship, coming seemingly out of nowhere pulls up behind the others and shoots them down. Garma gasps and stops driving for a second, forgetting there’s still a third ship. He squints to see who’s in the cockpit but it’s too far away so he sits there in confusion for a bit before he sees the third ship flying in his rescuer’s blind spot right towards him.

“Sir,” he suddenly hears over his comm. It’s a voice he’d long thought dead that reaches his ears and he gasps again before thrusting upwards and dodging the ship that was coming between them.

“Shana!” he cries, tears filling his eyes as he realizes that his dear friend is still alive. “Shana! You’re alive!”

“Yes,” they reply in a very Shana-like manner. He would have started having a breakdown right then and there if his life wasn’t in mortal danger. But Shana’s alive, he couldn’t die now. Shana’s alive!

He spins in circles around him, confusing his opponent and dizzying himself, but he can live through it, Shana’s alive. His pursuant can’t follow him and slows down in order to get his aim, leaving him more open to Shana’s attack and they obliterate him as well.

“Shana! We did it!” he calls.

“Go,” they reply.

“Right, you’re following me?”

“Yes.” He smiles and looks at the screen showing his rearview. Shana’s there but he also sees the silhouette of a mobile suit coming their way so he boosts off, sure they would follow behind him.

They both have to go at full speed for another hour before they finally lose the rest of Zeon’s forces in their twisting and turning. Garma slows down his thrusters since he’s almost out of power and will have to turn towards the sun soon to recharge them. Until then he putters along at half speed, putting his comms back on and just talking and talking at Shana as they listened quietly with only the occasional “Sir” or “I’m glad”.

“Shana, you know I’m so glad you are alive I was so worried I was completely alone I was really considering going back even though I’d promised Nero, I thought maybe there was some way I could destroy them from the inside but that’s… that does not seem possible. So I’m glad you are alive and I’m so happy I met Artesia again. I’m sure you’ll love her! I mean, she is Char’s sister but—”

“Sir,” they interject doubtfully.

"I know, I know. You’ll just have to trust me. They’ve had a long time apart and are on opposite sides now. Anyway, we should get to the meeting point in about two hours and I’ll have to call her an hour before that. You should probably talk to her then, she’s very suspicious. Rightly so, I suppose, but I think I’ve gained her trust, she gave me a nickname recently.”

“Nickname?”

“Mh! Yeah, Garmadoodle because she says I’m like a poodle. It’s a little embarrassing but—” he hears Shana snort a laugh on the other end of the line and his eyes widen as he draws in a breath. “Ah! I told you you’d like her! I’m sure you two will get along wonderfully if you think that’s funny.”

“I’m sure,” Shana adds with an amused smile. Garma smiles back, relief flowing through him at the feeling of having his dear friend next to him again. They continue on in relative silence, Garma only speaking up whenever he notices an abnormality among the stars and Shana only commenting when he spoke up.

An hour later, he comms Artesia and, using her nickname, tells her their situation.

“I was rescued by an old friend—”

“An old friend? Like from… you know?”

“Well, yes, but they are good, I promise. Do you remember when I told you about that person who had helped me escape but that I thought was dead?”

“Yeah.”

“Well it’s them.”

“So they broke off with you?”

“Yes.”

“How are they alive?”

“I haven’t had the chance to ask but they are, well, you will see.”

“Seche?”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! They are the most trustworthy person I know, even more so than myself!” She pauses for a minute before sighing and giving her final decision.

“I’ll trust you for now but if I sense any hostility from them I won’t hesitate.”

“Understood.”

“See you in an hour,” she finishes and hangs up immediately.

“Ah, that Artesia, she really is something you know? So capable and strong, dedicated and concerned…”

“Sir,” Shana warns. Garma can’t help but snicker at the glare they shoot him, tired of his prodding. But despite his trying to butter up Artesia, they seem more relaxed than he’s ever seen them. Perhaps they are just as happy to see him as he is to see them but perhaps they had also done some growing up of their own in their intermittent period. He smiles at the thought and, seeing they’re fully charged again, hit his thrusters, they’ll have to go faster if they want to make the meeting point on time.

Despite his worries, they are actually a little early and sit at the designated coordinates by a large, run-down satellite that seems to have come out of use at least two centuries ago. As he parks his fighter, he gets out to look at it, moving carefully around the gigantic relic. These things had always been dangerous in his eyes, the stories of big chunks of space junk like this colliding with colonies had run rampant in his childhood so he couldn’t help but feel wary around them.

But with modern technology it should be easy enough to clean the remaining debris up, so why didn’t they? People always told him that it was just part of the dangers of living in space but it never made any sense to him. Wasn’t that just an excuse? Weren’t they playing straight into the Federation’s hands? Letting them control the narrative and go lax on something they could easily fix?

He didn’t dare try to push it, unsure how stable the framework was. Despite the fact that technically it should be unchanged since its release into space, there had been stranger things that had happened. When he was in middle school, there had even been a rumor going around that there was a piece of space junk that had been infested with a new species of bacteria living out in space. It seems impossible to him even now but he wonders if there was any way to verify that story, or if it really had just been some story the kids on the playground had made up.

“Sir,” Shana calls from behind him and he suddenly remembers they’re alive so he turns and rushes over to them, boosting into a hug as Shana opens their arms despite looking slightly bemused.

“You are real! You are really real!” he says excitedly, patting up their arms to make triple sure he wasn’t just hallucinating.

“Yes, sir,” they reply, a hint of a smile in their voice.

“Shana, I missed you so much, I’m so glad Shana I…” he breaks with a sob, letting his tears out again as Shana wrap their hands around his shoulders. He weeps into his helmet, his tears gathering just on his tear ducts so he shakes his head to get them out of his eyes.

Shana pats his head gently as he cries. It’s not just because he found them again but also a release of all the things he’d experienced since their absence. Claude and Nero’s death, the realization that he’d done so many terrible things, his promise to Nero, all of it came bubbling up to the surface as the person he’d started his journey with is finally in front of him again. He realizes they’ve probably had their own journey and he desperately wanted to hear about it.

“Shana, so much has happened since you left… I just want to go home but I don’t know where it is anymore. I thought it could be with Nero and Claude but now…” He trails off, staring out over Shana’s shoulder as he wonders what’s to become of him. What is he supposed to do now? What is he supposed to do when the war is over? What could he do to keep his promise? How was he supposed to do anything as himself?

“Wait,” Shana says as they pull out of the hug, turning back to their own ship.

“Shana?” he watches curiously, following them as they dig through some things in the cockpit. They finally pull out a bag and push it onto him, gesturing for him to open it. He does, pulling apart the velcro and gasping when he sees what’s inside. “Shana, is this…”

They nod vigorously.

“Shana…” He feels like he’s going to cry again. It’s his datapods, the ones he’d set aside just before the attack on Side 5. He takes one out, a history book on the Mali empire and looks it over with an odd sense of nostalgia. It’s only been a little over two months since he left Zeon but so much had happened in that time that it almost felt like a lifetime ago. He supposes it was, in a way, since he had been so incredibly close to dying at that time. But he didn’t, and that’s all that mattered now. The rest he could figure out as it happened.

“This is your savior?” Surprised by the new voice, he turns and sees Sayla floating over towards them, her ship just a little behind her.

“Artesia!” he calls. “ Yes, this is my savior, their name is Shana. They don’t talk much but are still very expressive in their own way.”

Sayla makes her way over to Shana and holds out her hand, Shana takes it and shakes it firmly. Once they let go, Sayla starts making hand symbols at Shana. Both Garma and Shana stare at her in confusion, Shana’s brow furrowed as she stares at the hands.

“Sign language?" She asks, making another hand symbol. Shana looks away awkwardly and Sayla's brow furrows. "Do you not understand it?”

“I don’t think they do…” Garma says and Shana nods in confirmation.

“Oh. I thought that’s what you meant when you said they were still expressive. I was kind of surprised you knew it too but I guess I shouldn’t be, Garmadoodle.” He thinks over her statement, piecing it together a bit before it hits him.

“You mean it’s a way for them to communicate non-verbally?” he asks.

“Yeah, sign language, have you never heard of it?” He doesn’t think he has, actually, so he shakes his head. “Have you, Shana?”

“No learn,” they reply as they nod their head to say they knew of it but had never learned it.

“Do you want to learn?” Shana’s eyes seem to widen and they nod. Sayla smiles back. “Great! I’ve always wanted someone to talk with in it. I’d love to teach you once the war’s over.”

“You two seem to be getting on pretty quickly,” Garma says, eyeing the two suspiciously. He really had thought Sayla would be more distrusting like she’d been with him.

“Well, they aren’t a Zabi, are they?” she points out. Garma scoffs and pouts angrily at her.

“I see how it is,” he huffs and the other two laugh at him softly. He lets go of his pretense with a smile, genuinely happy that his friends have taken to each other so easily. “So, Shana, would you like to join us? We’re trying to destroy military supplies on both sides of the war to perhaps help the war end more quickly.”

“Oh! Wait, if you want to help, I have another idea!” Sayla exclaims. Shana nods enthusiastically and Sayla smiles kindly back. “It would work out for both me teaching you and getting a spy in the Federation ranks. But I told them I was going on a perimeter check so if I brought you back and said you were a Zeon soldier I’d captured along the perimeter it wouldn’t seem too off, especially since we’re due for an attack soon?”

“Shana, did you take out the tracker?” Beside him, Shana holds up a small cube with a bulb on top that’s smashed to bits. “Ah, good, then yes, you should.”

“Great. Shana, I’ll take you back and you can try to explain that we are going to be attacked. If we really do get attacked after that, they’ll believe you’re on our side. And then we can use our new Zeon ship to make them think they’ve turned against themselves!”

“Wait, you mean Shana’s ship, right? I’d kind of like to keep mine…” Garma says, quietly pushing himself back towards his own Luggun.

“Of course I mean theirs, this is your new home, Garma, I wouldn’t take that from you,” she says with a kind smile. He can feel excitement race through him at the prospect, after a whole month he’ll finally have a stable place to sleep. “Also, Garma, I recently came across a way to get you an archive of info from the Federation, do you want it?”

“Yes! Yes, please, god, this is the best day ever. First I get a new home and then I meet Shana again and I’m being given new archives? Oh, and I have a place to store the datapods you gave me, Shana!” There is plenty of storage space in the cockpit of the Luggun, and tons of digital storage space too. Sure, he’ll be sleeping sitting up most of the time, but it’s better than sneaking around Zeon ships and sleeping in utility closets.

“I’ll bring you all your copies at our next meeting, and maybe a pillow too,” Sayla says with a poke to his shoulder.

“Artesia, you’re my savior,” he gushes as he pokes her right back, knowing his smile is probably making him look like a mad man. She chuckles at his enthusiasm though he can’t really help it, the mere concept of a pillow nearly brings tears to his eyes.

“All right, we should probably get a move on before your tails come and check the area out. Your thrusters fully charged?” Garma hops back in the cockpit of his ship and checks his thrusters, giving her a thumbs up when he sees they are. “Good, now get out of here as quick as you can.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a salute. “And good luck you two.” They salute him back and he turns on his thrusters, watching them through his rear camera feed as he speeds away. He smiles as they turn to each other, Sayla likely explaining her plan in more detail and Shana nodding along. They really do make a pair. He just hopes they can all stay together once everything is over.

Notes:

did you really think i would let shana die? did you really?? if you did, you're a fool. in greek plays they never show death on stage bc it would upset dionysus, but this is not a greek play, unless you see someone die they are not dead. that's a thing in cinema, right?

anyway, i love them and i have a whole thing planned for them that i'll probably never write. anyway. why does garma not know sign language exists? well, he's been a bit of a self-absorbed person up until this point and considering his families view on things i doubt they are too eager to teach him about people with disabilities so. yeah. he's not exactly "woke" about it as they say

Chapter 10: The Time To Grow

Summary:

A mid-war idea for a post-war era

Notes:

this chapter is short but sweet. like i think it's cute and i love the ending especially

today's song is ray gun by the bird and the bee!! this is also just kind of a song i associate heavily with gundam in general? idk i find it v applicable to a lot of characters and series

“I really am terrible at all this fighting stuff, aren’t I?” he asks Shana and Sayla at their usual meeting. Shana immediately excuses themself to go do something else by pointing out behind them at nothing in particular and Sayla looks like she wishes she could do the same.

“Well, more or less,” she answers with a reluctant frown and he just sighs as he pops open the top of his Luggun. “You’re really good at escape though, you’ve become pretty much a pro in the past month!”

“Thank you, Artesia, but it doesn’t bother me, I think I might prefer it that way, actually. I don’t much like violence anymore,” he says as he gets back in the cockpit.

“Well, that’s probably for the best. I think the war is probably coming to a close soon, anyway,” Sayla says with a sad smile. “At least, it really feels like we’re all running on our last legs and we can always dream that’ll stop them, right?”

“Yes, we can,” he replies softly. Shana comes back up behind Sayla and tells her something in sign language. Sayla softly corrects their hands and smiles when they make a mistake but Shana doesn’t seem as upset by their failures as they used to. They seem much more confident since the started their lessons with Sayla and though Garma still doesn’t know much of it, he hopes to learn after the war finished. Knowing he won’t understand anything they said he turns to his datapods, flipping through with boredom as he picks out which to read next.

“Hey!” He quickly turns back as Sayla calls him. “Shana and I have an idea.”

“An idea?”

“Yeah, those datapods, they’re full of like laws and political theory books, right?” she asks and he nods. “Well, how do you feel about treaties?”

“Treaties? They are a necessity of peace and often negotiated with the benefit going to the winning side which is not the most sustainable of practices in my—”

“What do you think about writing treaties?”

“Writing?”

“Yeah, like you writing a treaty,” she says, faking exasperation. “You’re not actually a poodle, are you? Even they would probably get what I’m saying.” He gives her a look and he takes a deep breath as he thinks about it.

“I think… I think I can at least try,” he says, glaring pensively at his datapods. The idea of writing a peace treaty is bewildering. The idea of writing a treaty is so hopeful, something that supposes the end of war is near, that peace is immenent. But, as he said, treaties are so rarely fair, and if he could write his own, he’d be able to add his own element of kindness to something that was usually so bleak and one-sided. “But I doubt they would take it seriously unless I told them who I was and I’m still not certain I can handle that kind of press yet.”

“Well, I’m Artesia Som Deikun and I can certainly handle it but don’t worry about that side of it anyway, Shana and I have a plan.” He raises a brow at them but Sayla just puts her hands out to stop him from objecting. “Just trust us, okay?”

“If you say so,” he sighs and closes the top of his fighter. Sayla slaps the top and smiles down at him, Shana giving him a thumbs up from behind her before the two of them go back to their own ship and fly away again. Garma sits there for a few more seconds, lightly tapping his thrusters as he considers what writing a treaty would mean.

It’s likely exactly what Nero had wanted from him, to create new legislation that would bring more kindness to the world. He’d never written anything quite this complicated. Though he’d done very well in the political writing classes he’d taken and had been practicing his writing even more since he’d left Zeon but that wasn’t really comparable to a formal treaty. It was a lot to ask for and he still wasn’t that sure of himself and whether or not the things he wanted and believed in were any good. Some part of him still believed that everyone would only look at him with pity and say he just shouldn’t try so hard and it tore him up inside.

But Nero had believed in him, and so did Claude and Sayla and Shana. He had even stolen this ship against all odds. The last thing didn’t have much to do with political writing but it did show that he had the ability to do things he’d never thought possible and also that with his friends supporting him, he might really be capable of anything. And if Shana and Sayla thought he could do this, then who was to say he couldn’t? No one who mattered anyway.

“Ship, open my notes log,” he orders and starts talking off ideas for his treaty as he sails through space, hoping that maybe someday his dream of an ideal world might pay off.

Notes:

the power of FRIENDSHIP

i just think it's cute and sweet and this is how i feel about my friends so im ;-;

Chapter 11: Reunion

Summary:

Si c'est aideu vous voulez, alors c'est adieu vous obtenez

Notes:

do you like charma? have been thinking there's not enough charma in this story so far? well. im about to ruin your whole world (jk). what happens after this chapter is a mystery that i'll reveal in the next chapter. but don't think we're anywhere /near/ finished. the amount of chapters has not yet changed...

anyway, this is one of my favorite chapters and i have been waiting for it for a while. i consider it a sort of second birthday present that's definitely. better than my other one. at least for garma anyway lmao

today's song is mourir d'aimer by charles aznavour which i HIGHLY recommend you listen to while reading this, the pacing and feeling just match so perfectly imo (but maybe it's just bc i think about it while listening to the song so it matches in my head lol) anyway here's a yt link in case you want to go a long https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=5gr2IuNqlHI (just remove the space before com idk if theyll let me put actual links and i dont want to chance it v_v)

The battlefield is a mess, with both Federation and Zeon ships going down all around him as he boosts across the area of open of carnage. A Baoa Qu is still standing but it’s hard to tell how long it will last at the rate things are going.

“Shana! Sayla!” he yells across the battle, dodging and weaving between stray beams and mobile suits, the dead bodies and wreckage that float by in the most gruesome image of war weighing heavy on his mind. He searches desperately for Shana and Artesia, the only two he has left in the world but only finds a ghost of his past, the Chimera which, no doubt, holds his sister and possibly even Char if he’s still under her command.

Still searching, he calls their names more quietly so he’s not noticed as he boosts to the front of the ship but as he approaches the hull, he finds exactly what he’d been dreading. There’s that familiar red normal suit drifting through space, a beam rifle over his shoulder. Helpless in his shock, tears pour out of his eyes as he drifts closer and closer to the man who killed him. He’s only a few feet away when he sees exactly what’s happening. Kycilia is sat in the command chair, currently unaware of Char inching closer to her with the safety of his blaster off as he aims it directly at her.

Garma boosts behind him, tears still soaking his normal suit, only just hearing what he says as Kycilia notices him and his finger moves over the trigger.

"Garma, I'm sending your sister to join you. Consider this my farewell gift.”

“As if I want any of that!” Garma yells, hugging him from behind and turning him around so the beam from the gun hits the ship next to them instead. They’re pushed away by the force of the blast and end up floating away from the Chimera, Garma continuing to hold Char against himself for no reason he understands. Still crying, he leans his head against Char’s shoulder and grips his chest tighter to try and calm himself down. Char puts his hands over his and leans the top of his mask against his in an odd sign of affection that Garma wasn’t expecting.

“Crybaby Garma,” he teases.

“Shut up.” Char laughs softly and Garma feels the strangest he’s ever felt, something he couldn’t describe if given a billion new adjectives. It’s more bad than good but he wants to sink into it and stay there forever.

“You’re not dead, I’m glad.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be, what if I seek revenge against you in the future?”

“Maybe that’s what I want.” It’s not at all the answer he’d expected and he’s shocked into silence for a moment before he gathers himself.

“That’s pathetic.” He wouldn’t ever go for revenge anyway, doesn’t want to face his problems that head on. Then again that’s also pretty pathetic, isn’t it? Char seems to understand him and tilts his head so they can look each other in the eye.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” Garma doesn’t answer the obvious question and just keeps staring into Char’s eyes. “I know it won’t mean enough for forgiveness but I’m sorry, I really am. I regretted it the moment it happened.”

“It isn’t enough,” he answers timidly. “Because I’m still not sure how to feel. That our entire relationship was a ruse, that everything you did was just to get closer to killing me, that you’re really my childhood friend whose father was possibly killed by my family. I don’t even know if they did it, Char, I was the same age as you. No one ever told me about anything like that. I was the weakest Zabi and you took advantage of that. Even if you regret it, was killing me even worth anything?” He isn’t entirely aware of what he’s saying, his mind blank as he sends his plea into those blue eyes.

“Garma, I…” Char looks away and Garma sighs deeply.

“I was so… I lo— I thought you… I can’t believe my own stupidity.” He gathers himself once more and begins to push off of Char.

“Garma—” Char tries to grab his hand again but he shakes it off and boosts away from him.

“If it’s farewell you want, then farewell you get.” He turns around and goes off to look for Sayla and Shana again, this time feeling a lot more lost and not calling out their names as he slowly shifts through the turmoil, the battle dying around him.

“Garma!” He’s suddenly tackled by a mass of blonde hair and he instantly freezes before realizing it’s just Artesia and relaxing again. “Garma? Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, you ran into him, didn’t you?” He nods against Artesia’s shoulder, tears flowing once again as it all catches up with him. Artesia hugs him and rubs his back as he cried, letting his sobs out against her. They stay together like that for god knows how long and he could’ve sworn she cried as well but he was so caught up in his own grief he couldn’t be sure.

“Shana found Kycilia escaping and captured her, she’s under our control and we can use her as a negotiating chip for the colonies in the upcoming peace treaties,” Artesia tells him after a while of sitting in silence.

“That’s fine— wait, what!?”

Notes:

i almost had like a panic attack yesterday bc some ass made a gif of that kycilia scene with the wrong quote and i was like "FUCK I HAVE THE WRONG QUOTE THE WHOLE CHAPTER IS RUINED" but i was right and they were wrong and haha fuck you (sorry jk). like legit i reference the quote late as well i was so concerned i know it doesn't matter and also i can make him say w/e i want but god. the poetry.

garma said i wear the sunglasses in this relationship now 😎 2cool4u

Chapter 12: Retirement

Summary:

Char and Garma celebrate a life well-lived.

Story spoilers ahead!!

Notes:

spoilers? for the entire story? it's more likely than you think.

if you dislike it, you can go ahead and skip this chapter, but i think it's a nice little break and a good intro to the next part. to me, a story is not about it's end, but rather the journey you took to get there! i hope this chapter will relieve you and also get you excited for what happens next! if not, i'm sorry! i promise there are no more chapters like this.

also: FUCK a full frontal

today's song is road to nowhere by talking heads! my favorite band after perfume lol

Garma wakes to the sun in his eyes and instantly shields himself with his arm and sits up, trying his best not to wake the man beside him. However, it seems he had already been awake since as soon as he makes a move to get up, an arm is slapped over his torso.

“Ow, Char,” he complains half-heartedly.

“Leaving without a good morning kiss?” his husband asks, turning over and snaking his arms around Garma’s waist. Not as strong as he used to be, Garma can only lower himself back to the bed and face Char.

“Char, my breath is terrible,” he replies with a laugh.

“We’ll see about that.” Char pecks a kiss to his smiling lips and with a sigh he opens his mouth. It really does taste awful and from the way Char recurls almost instantly, he knows it isn’t just him.

“I told you,” he teases, rubbing his nose against Char’s.

“Go brush your teeth, old man,” Char chastises, bringing a hand up to his cheek.

“Then let me get up, old man,” he retorts. But instead of letting him go, Char pushes the hand up through his hair and brings Garma’s head down to his chest, cupping it gently.

“Hm, just a little more. We don’t have to do anything for a while so let me enjoy this.” Garma smiles softly and snuggles into his husband’s pajama shirt, wrapping his arms around Char’s hips. It’s true, they don’t have anywhere to be, they could just lay here forever if they wanted. No one cares what two old men did with their time on some backwater colony, especially when their adopted children ran the world with such distinction.

“Mineva’s speech is later today and the rest are coming over to watch, we should get up in time for that at least.”

“We will, stop worrying so much.”

“Well I do also have the tomatoes to harvest and that melon was looking pretty ripe, who knows what will happen if we leave it out too long…”

“Fine, up, we’re getting up,” Char acquiesces, sitting up and letting go of Garma. Disappointed despite being the one to push him away, Garma falls back on the bed and looks pathetically up at Char. “What?”

“I think my arthritis is acting up, can my big, strong husband carry me to the bathroom?” Char sighs with a laugh, shaking his head as he walks to the other side of the bed. Garma reaches up and is lifted into Char’s arms. “Thank you, darling.”

Char presses a kiss to his forehead and carries him to the bathroom. Though he’d made it seem like a joke, his knees really are in pain and he grunts softly in discomfort as he trieds to adjust himself in Char’s arms. Char sits him down on his stool in the bathtub and grabs his toothbrush and toothpaste from the sink, untwisting the toothpaste cap and setting them both where he can reach easily. He helps Garma undress and folds his clothes as he takes them off, putting them by the sink.

“Is there anything else my liege requires?” Char asks as he turns on the shower and gives him the handle.

“That’s all for now, your services are greatly appreciated, sir Casval.” He takes Char’s hand and kisses it before shooing him off to make breakfast.

He sits in the dark tub, letting the water rain down on him as he thinks about his life and contemplates everything that had led him to this moment, both here and across the earthsphere. So much hard work to get this far and here he was with grey hair sitting on a chair in a bathtub cleaning himself while the love of his life made breakfast in their kitchen in the middle of nowhere.

For having started off his life with a dying mother as the most disappointing member of his well-accomplished family, what he’d managed to do wasn’t too shabby. Of course, what he’d done probably wasn’t anything they’d approve of much but somehow the thought only made him more proud of himself. He’d helped to build a more tolerant world, one both spacenoids and the few, straggling earthnoids could be proud of. A unified world with a growing number of newtypes who were allowed to do whatever they pleased and were no longer seen solely as weapons.

It wasn’t a world without problems, but it was getting closer and closer as they continued closing the gap between the powers on earth and in the colonies as his supposedly idealistic vision was carried out through the generations after him. Mineva ran the political world, taking his place as the leader of the United Colonies, Kamille contributed greatly to the leaps and bounds of the medical field, Angelo lead his own cultural revolution in the arts sector, all of them contributed positively to society and there wasn’t much more a father could ask for, was there?

He smiles softly into the spray of the shower as he washes his hair, thinking of his lovely children and the new little family he’s built over the years. Even Amuro, whom he’d detested at first, had somehow become like a little brother to him. When he thinks back on his family of birth, the Zabis who raised him and shown him exactly who not to be, his feelings are still complex but he doesn’t miss them anymore, at least. He knows that their deaths had been deserved and that it’s probably better they are no longer around.

It had taken him a long time to admit things like that, to come to terms with his past and who he was and is as a human being but as he uses the leverage bar to lift himself up and get out of the tub he can finally admit that he’s happy, and happy to be himself.

He dries himself off and shakes his hair, so perfectly silver and still there against all odds, until his neck hurts and he uses the blow dryer instead. After finishing his hair and hygiene routine, he puts on the simple, black outfit Char had picked out for him slowly in the comforting darkness of the room. His husband knows his taste so well, he thinks as he looked at himself in the mirror, slicking down the folds of his shirt and straightening out the edges of his skirt to make himself presentable for any company that might drop by to watch the speech with them.

In the kitchen, the smell of french toast wafts through the air as Char stands by the stove over a frying pan, raspberries and chopped strawberries on the cutting board next to him. Garma smiles and walks up behind his husband, wrapping his arms around him and nestling his head against his shoulder blade.

“Can I get that kiss now?” Char asks and Garma chuckles as he stands up to kiss his cheek. Char turns slightly so their lips meet in a soft caress and Garma smiles dopily against his husband’s mouth.

“Do you think Angelo will come over to watch the speech with us?” he asks.

“I think Angelo will be the first to arrive, if he allowed Amuro and Shana to get here before him he’d consider it a personal failure.”

“So Artesia won’t be coming, then?”

“She’s still at that conference with Kamille on Side Six, isn’t she?” Char says and, knowing he’s right, Garma responds with a disappointed hum.

Garma sits at the table as Char takes the toast out of the toaster oven and put their eggs on a plate, placing the toast on top of the egg and then arranging the fruits over the toast so it makes a perfect pyramid. Garma watches the plate come over to him hungrily and smiles fiendishly as it’s set in front of him.

“Thank you, Char,” he says before picking up his knife, cutting a piece, and sticking it in his mouth. “Delicious as always.”

“It’s my duty to serve my prince—”

“Oh, stop that, you rotten knight,” Garma scolds his smirking husband as he sits across from him. He knows when his husband is teasing him and this is a perfect example as his husband sat down across from him. Char smiled at him from across the table, poking his nose with his fork before starting on his own food.

The two of them sit and chat about the news, their garden, and have a pseudo-debate about the state of mobile suits in daily use as they eat their breakfast. After breakfast, they head out to the garden, Char picks weeds from one side as Garma tends to the roses on another.

“Char, come and look at this! And get the camera,” Garma says as he finds a perfect purple bloom. There are quite a few flowers he wants pictures of before he cuts them for their vase but this one is so beautiful that he can’t wait another second for fear of it. Char runs back to the house and returns with his lightscreen, snapping about five pictures of the flower from different angles before Garma cuts it off, giving it to Char so he can place it in its own special vase.

At the end of their daily garden tending, Char has a basket full of fruits and vegetables and Garma a vase worth of various flowers. They work together to carry the melon that had matured overnight inside, both laughing about how Angelo would probably be annoyed they hadn’t waited for his help.

After that, they sit together on their loveseat and watch some old show on the projector as they wait for their family to arrive. Curled up by Char’s side, laughing and talking, he knows that he’s been allowed the perfect life after all. He knows many still don’t think he deserves it but

“You got the melon without me!” Angelo says as he bursts in the door. Char and Garma give each other knowing looks, Char looking pleadingly back at their son as Garma breaks down into quiet laughter about exactly how right they’d been.

“We can still do some things ourselves, Angelo,” Char calls. They hears the sounds of Angelo’s partner hauling in their luggage behind him as Angelo comes over and flops on the couch, giving the two of them a disdainful look.

“Yes, but you have to think of father’s joints. Did you take your medicine this morning, father?” Angelo asks.

“Of course, Angelo, I take it everyday,” Garma replies seamlessly. Angelo gives him a look but says nothing otherwise as he stands again to help his partner bring in their stuff. “How long are you staying this time?” It isn’t unusual for Angelo to show up and stay for a month without notice so Garma has to ask with the amount of luggage Juan is bringing in.

“I’m staying a couple of months, Juan is going back next week. He has a showing in Side Five then so I’m staying until that’s over,” he replies as he drags in a turquoise case.

“Amuro’s here,” Juan calls from the door and soon behind him comes Amuro’s balding head. Garma smirks with his own head full of hair and Char, predicting his train of thought, pinches his side.

“Don’t you two look cozy!” Beltorchika greets from behind him. His mood instantly brightening, Garma stands to give her a hug.

“Beltorchika, darling, how have you been?” he greets after kissing each of her cheeks. She returns the greeting and he walks her over to the couch to sit next to Amuro.

“Angelo staying a while?” Amuro asks as he puts his arm around Beltorchika.

“As usual,” Char replies as he gets up to make tea. Garma sits on the loveseat again and makes conversation with their guests, talking about the speech and the events that had led up to it as they waited for Shana to arrive. It isn’t unusual for people to come to their place for holidays or something since they live on a colony that’s nice but out of the way so there’s fewer tourists and more space to put bedrooms for every child, grandchild, and friend that passed through for a visit.

Finally, an hour later, Shana and Fa come through the door, Kamille and Fa’s children right behind them, talking up a storm about some new craze that had recently taken over the younger generation. Shana, looking exhausted, plops down on the armchair as Fa greets each and every one of them with a hug, her younger child doing the same. The older child, almost twenty-three now, watches her younger sister wearily and asks her why she’s always like that. The younger sister just pouts and hugs her big sister who sighs in resignation and hugs her sister back.

Once greetings had all been finished, they sit around the projector wall and talk in hushed voices as Char turns to the site where Mineva’s speech would be broadcast to the colonies. With Char sitting beside him, he watches the screen intensely as the opening began and the horns blare, announcing the leader of the United Colonies was making her entrance. Char squeezes his hand and he squeezes back, highly anticipating the announcement he’d been working for since the day he died.

Notes:

you may have noticed that i did update the tags to include kamille/fa but not amuro/beltorchika. if you are wondering why this is it's bc i see them more as like close, long-term best friends who rely on each other often and were dating at one point but broke up and remained close afterwards! as such, they are not, actually, technically, a couple in this story? so i didn't tag it lol. but you may interpret it that way if you like, do what you want! i just felt bad maybe tricking fans of the ship into reading this non-relationship fic of them

i hope you enjoyed this! writing cute things is fun sometimes

Chapter 13: Treaties

Summary:

Garma and Sayla begin their new life together.

Notes:

back to the normal timeline...

sorry this is soooo late!!! i was watching zeta, ive been v busy, and also it's a... difficult chapter. there's a lot of new ideas and concepts introduced so i wanted to make super super sure i was getting everything across as i meant to. as such, this chapter is v heavy in the politics division and Most of the rest of the story is as well... ngl. if you're reading this to get away from the politics of gundam you came to the wrong goddamn place. i love gundam politics more than anything.

there is so much new stuff in here. literally so much. ty for your patience. also some of the formatting of this part isn't exactly how i'd like but i guess i'll deal w/ it -_-

today's song is it's only life by the shins (it was originally something else but i was listening to my garma playlist and this came up and it felt perfect in the moment)

“Artesia! We can’t just use her as a hostage! They want to kill her!”

“It’s too late, we can’t go back now that we’ve told them we have her. And if we keep this up for too long they’ll look into you and they might… Garma, I’m sorry, we have to do this. If you want to keep everything you’ve put in your treaty and secure your new identity, this is what we have to do. We don’t have any other option.”

“But she’s my sister! How would you feel if Char used you as a bargaining chip? Has he done that? I wouldn’t be surprised. But I’m not Casval, I won’t abandon her when she needs me.”

“Actually, he hasn’t done that yet, but I’m also not Kycilia Zabi and haven’t been complicit in at least ten war crimes, so I don’t really think it’s comparable. And yes, I know you’ve been complicit in just as many but at least you’re trying to make up for it now,” she acquiesces when he opens his mouth to protest. “At least you’re fighting for peace and working to make things right. Don’t you want what’s right? Don’t you want peace? This is the only way, Garma, sometimes you have to make sacrifices.”

“You think I haven’t made sacrifices? I have made sacrifices! I lost every other member of my family and two children I cherished with all my heart, the closest friends I’ve ever had. So excuse me if I want to save this one person. Yes, I know she isn’t the best person but I care about her and if I can just convince her—”

“Convince her? Of what? To change her basic nature? She told us she helped that man give the speech that lengthened the war, she wanted it to continue, she still profits off its continuation by you standing here and fighting for her. Yes, you have both done bad things but yours were from ignorance, she willfully instigates worse and worse things while you try to make up for the bad you’ve done. Either way, we are representing the colonies, we speak for them because we have her and me, no other reason. If we didn’t have her as our hostage, they wouldn’t even listen to us. Garma, you’ve got to accept this.” Garma looks down at his feet, not really thinking about what she’s said.

“I don’t care, I still love her and I refuse to give her up.” Artesia glares at him as he stands and leaves the room.

“Where are you going?” she demands as he grabs his bag and heads to the door.

“Library,” he replies petulantly.

“You can’t just walk away from— Ugh!” she huffs angrily as he continues to ignore her, sitting by the door and slipping on his shoes. “Fine! Do whatever you want, see if I care!”

“I will,” he retorts as he walks out the door, slamming it behind him. He sighs, immediately deflating as he turns to adjust the strap of his bag and starts walking in the direction of the train station. He’s never actually been to this library, though he’s been meaning to go, this is his first day of freedom since they’d come here. But he’d looked up the address yesterday so he’s sure he can find it without too much stress. The reason he hadn’t gone yet is that he’d been detained in Artesia’s house for the past week while she sorted things out with the Federation and got them to consider their proposal for a peace treaty. It had been a long week of fighting on both their ends but, honestly, at this point he was about to give in and bargain off his sister despite what he told Artesia. If even the name Artesia som Deikun couldn’t get past their upturned noses then he really didn’t see how much choice he had.

While Artesia was off being gallant and incredible, Garma had studied policy in the house the whole week, writing up draft after draft for a peace treaty that would not only guarantee the continued freedom of Zeon but also prevent their previously occupied colonies from feeling the brunt of resentment held by the Federation since they wouldn’t be able to do anything against Zeon itself. He turns on his music and takes out Nero’s lightscreen, looking up the train schedules as he stands outside the station.

They had moved to this small town outside of Rome almost immediately after the armistice had been signed, into a country house made of stones which Artesia had just raved over while showing him the house for the first time. Since then he’d only really seen them through windows while cleaning. Shana had not returned yet, they’re with Kycilia, as they are the only one he and Artesia trust to keep her prisoner while they wade through the muddy waters of Federation bureaucracy. But he was going to the actual city for his library trip. It was only about a ten-minute bus trip and they would likely have many more collections there than in the decrepit library they had just outside the main square of their town.

It was odd to be here, really, so many areas around them had been so heavily impacted by the war and disease was rampant in the region, but this town was relatively quiet. He assumed that was why Artesia had chosen it, since it was a ways away from the hospital where she interned, it must be part of her endeavor to find some semblance of peace. He wouldn’t personally mind living in the actual city, he had always wondered what it would be like to live in an apartment of his own. In fact, what he wanted to do most was travel. Whether across Earth or space, he felt some urge deep inside himself to explore the new world afforded to him in his freedom from his family.

But that wasn’t really possible now either, was it? Now he was trapped in a different prison, one of his own creation. He had made poor decisions, and his poor decisions had ruined the lives of millions, perhaps even billions. So now he had to repay his debt to society and compensate for his own guilt over his actions. Not really a physical prison, but a prison nonetheless. And he’s determined to break out of this one as well. Even if he can’t reverse the damage he’s done, he can at least try to make sure something so awful as that never happens again and heal some of the damage the One Year War and his family had wrought.

The train pulls up and he gets on, only two others already on as everyone else is likely celebrating the end of the war and the soldiers’ return at home. The countryside passes quickly, too quickly to really see any of it, and soon he’s in the city, gazing longingly at the tall buildings. It makes him sad, somehow, thinking that he was supposed to have been here on Earth, that he should have been part of this place’s destruction. But the man who had taken his place had failed, forgetting this city and focusing on White Base as it terrorized his home party and he was glad of it. Perhaps his stupidity had had some benefit.

But that’s a ridiculous thought, no matter what was destroyed, something had still been destroyed. The more he thought about it, the more he saw the other’s side. Yes, she was his sister, the one who had raised him and taught him exactly who to be, but was that really worth everything she’d done wrong? He thought of the countryside, the forests that used to exist around this city and the ones that likely used to exist in America which were now all but gone due to the massive battles that had happened there.

But he is here. He’s lost his family, his lover, his friends; almost everything a person could possibly lose and he’d lost it. Yet he’s still here, on Earth with Artesia and Shana by his side, supporting his whole. He’s grateful to them, he truly is, but the idea of bartering with the Federation over his sister’s life is just repugnant to him at the deepest level. He knows every point against her is accurate and he believes in them himself, but if he can’t say he at least tried to save her, had he really been worthy of the love his family raised him with? Was he really worthy of being here at all?

It really threw him asunder, thinking like that, because he’d accidentally said something like that to Artesia earlier this week and she had asked him what about his upbringing had said his family loved him. That simple question had left him speechless and unable to answer but when he thought about it, when he really thought about it, he still couldn’t find an answer. Gihren had used him, Dozle apparently forgot about him, his father idolized him, and Kycilia… he was beginning to wonder if she ever really cared about him.

This was the worst time to be thinking about these kinds of things as well, when he’s trying to make such an important decision. He wants to believe in some aspect of his family, the only thing he’s had to guide him up until this point. It’s too soon, now, while he’s still trying to come to terms with the bad his family’s done and the bad they will continue to do if allowed to survive. He’d always wanted to prove himself to his sister, but now that he has the power to do so, he doesn’t want it. He never wanted this kind of power.

If that’s the case, maybe it’s a sign that he was never meant to have what he’d always wanted, maybe he just wasn’t meant to be a leader, meant to make the harsh decisions that came with being a leader. If he’s this incapable of succumbing to such an easy solution, what would he do when faced with things where the solution was more difficult? Would he just go along with what others wanted as he had before? Never speaking his mind and only trying to fit in as well as he could. What kind of leader was that? A useless one. One he never wanted to be.

Maybe it is a sign that he would never be the leader he’d always wanted to be, but maybe it also means that he should change what he wants to fit with the person he can feel himself becoming. He had done so many things he’d never thought himself capable of during the war and he feels as though he had changed so much, some for better and some for worse, it would be sad to let that all fade to dust now that the war is over. It doesn’t really improve his mood and he still doesn’t know what to expect from his future but if he takes this as a learning experience then perhaps someday he’ll be the leader he’s meant to be. The train pulls into the station in Rome, more people getting in than were currently on as he gets off.

He can’t say he feels particularly uplifted by any of his thoughts at the moment but he’ll still dedicate all of his time to them, they’re really the only things he’s living for at this point anyway. The only person he can see in the library is the curator who seems asleep behind her desk, the helper and cleaner bots moving around and working in her stead. Somewhat grateful, he quietly sneaks over to the archives and searches for books on laws in the colonies.

“Hello, how may we help you today?” Garma jumps at the sound of a bot behind him, the datapod he’s holding falling out of his hands.

“Ah, um, sorry, I am just looking for information on laws regarding death sentencing? Specifically in the colonies?” The bot motions for him to give it the datapod in his hand and he plugs it into the designated spot and watches as it shucks off the pod’s old information and searches for something relevant to his question to put back on it.

“I have found eight titles you may be interested in. Would you like a room to go over them in?” the bot says after a few seconds.

“Yes, please.”

“We will need your card information and then we can reserve the room for you for as long as you like.” Card information? He doesn’t have anything like that.

“Is it, um, possible to get a card at this time?” he asks.

“Yes, of course. Here is the sign up sheet if you do not already have a card.” A keyboard is untucked from the robot’s body and the screen above it shows an entry for name, address, pad ID, and age. A million thoughts run through his head as he stares at the form.

“Why does it ask for your age?”

“Some books in our library are restricted by age so we must ask this question. None of your books were and that is why you were not asked earlier.”

“Who sees this information?”

“Library card information is shared with the library database and those who wish to access it.”

“So… anyone? Anyone in the world who wants to see my card info could see it?”

“Yes.” Panicking slightly, he looks around for the curator or someone who could give more specific answers.

“May I speak to the curator?” he asks warily.

“Of course.” The robot leads him to the front desk and taps on the wood. “Curator, someone is here with a question for you.”

“Huh— wha—” The curator springs up from her sleep, almost knocking into the table and just barely sweeping her knee past the edge. Garma backs away instinctively, used to the loud table slams Dozle made when he was angry and fully expecting everything to fall off but is completely surprised when nothing moves. “Watch and learn, kid,” the curator says with an amused smile. “That’s years of practice figuring out just how far I need to be from the desk to not bump into it but close enough to grab it if I start falling back.”

Slightly impressed but mostly just baffled, he nods blankly as she gathers herself and stretches a bit.

“What do you need, kid?” she asks gruffly.

“Um, well, I was just wondering if it’s absolutely necessary to put in my information in order to get a room and if so, if it is at all possible to get my information to be private so that anyone who wants to can’t just come and look at it.”

“You done something bad, kid?” Garma immediately freezes and stares at her with terror. She sighs and rolls her head, obviously used to that reaction. “It’s a joke. Anyway, look, no one comes around here and looks at these records, last time someone did was thirty years ago looking for some murderer or something so as long as you haven’t killed anyone and come here looking up books on how to kill people or bury bodies, you should be fine.”

“I—” He wants to protest, he really does, but he also just wants to end this conversation. There are a million ways this could backfire on him, especially if word ever got out about Garma Zabi being alive or anything about his identity of Seche got revealed. He’ll just have to do a bit of lying and cover up so that the information about himself would be too diffuse to make any actual correlation between the two names. Even so, there’s still one major problem— “What if you don’t have any documents from Earth?”

“You mean like if you’re a spacenoid? Honey, that doesn’t matter, the machine doesn’t back it up to the government database, it’s our own private one. We couldn’t even tell if you gave us a fake name or not.”

At that he perks up and immediately writes Sayla Mass, after Artesia’s pseudonym, and Artesia’s address (which is technically also his, just not legally), briefly apologizing to her in his head before scanning his lightscreen above the form. Artesia had told him that the Federation was going to help her keep her identity a secret, likely for their own benefit, and Bright Noa was going to support the treaty publicly in her stead. So the two wouldn’t be associated and putting her name here would be a good cover since it was known she lived in the area and anyone looking at it wouldn’t think of him at all.

“Thank you, Sayla, your card has been created. Please follow me to your private room.” Garma graciously nods to the curator and follows the bot to the back of the library where the private rooms are housed. The bot turns right at a fork and goes to the fourth room down before stopping. “This is your room, 138, please note you may stay as long as you like, but check out when you leave. If you have any other questions, please press the button on the left side of the door. Here is your datapod.”

“Thank you,” he replies, taking the offered datapod from the bot’s open compartment. The bot whizzes away and he opens the door to his room, peering inside before entering. It’s slightly cramped with a table and two chairs in the middle, a projector screen on one wall, and a stylus attached to the bottom of it. He enters, sits in the chair facing the projector screen and projects the datapod onto it. Connecting his lightscreen to the datapod, he scrolls through the books and what he finds surprises him greatly.

Four out of the eight books he’d been given were written by none other than Zeon Zum Deikun, his dearest friend’s father and his father’s dearest friend. He’d heard much of Deikun’s theory growing up, his theories on newtypes and his belief in everlasting peace that would be created when they took over space. His father had always spoken of Deikun with such a fond expression that he still finds it hard to believe he had anything to do with his murder. Of course, it really did seem like something Kycilia or Gihren would do it but it’s still… hard for him to accept.

But it isn’t his own personal conflict with the author that’s at the source of his confusion. Instead he feels he should ask the curator about it so he leaves his room and goes back to the front desk.

“I thought Deikun’s books were banned?” he asks her and she turns away from her computer to smirk at him over the rim of her glasses.

“Technically, they are, but has anyone come by to collect them? No. They don’t really do that down here, nobody really thinks an earthnoid would read all that stuff and become the next Gihren Zabi. Don’t think anyone on Earth would actually care enough about spacenoid rights. They have taken them out of all the colony libraries, though, that’s for sure. Even taking them off his namesake colony as we speak, getting it all out before the peace treaty makes them independent again,” she explains. He twitches at the last part of the explanation, annoyance running through him at his own inability to quicken the process.

“But couldn’t a spacenoid come here, read them, and then go back and start a new revolution?” he asks.

“Well, technically they could, but the legal immigration process is ridiculous for spacenoids and they probably wouldn’t have time to go back to space especially after the war, they’re really gonna put all that motion on lockdown it seems.” Garma frowns at this.

“But you’re letting me read this?” Still smirking, she shrugs.

“Do whatever you want, it’s none of my business what an earthnoid does with Deikun’s books.” She winks at him and turns back to her computer as realization dawns on him. She’s telling him to act as if he’s an earthnoid to get past the Federation’s feelers. Seche as an earthnoid… the idea has traction. People might listen to his voice more since he would seem to have less of a personal bias and respect him more because he was an ‘elite’. Of course he had met a few spacenoids who detested all earthnoids vehemently and would never take him seriously if he were one but that was a small minority and most would welcome an earthnoid’s help as long as it was help.

With this in mind, he went back to his room and looked through Deikun’s books for anything that might help him. Opening his treaty draft on the other half of the screen, he looks for clauses and laws that could save Kycilia’s life with some smooth references and legalese while simultaneously looking more in-depth into the colonies’ legal history. There’s one book in particular that interests him: Deikun’s “On Death and Prison in the Colonies” in which he went into detail describing the Federation’s use of penal colonies in space as the ultimate way to get rid of unwanted populations and their nearly lawless beginnings to the use of capitalist expansion as a peacemaker to the exaggerated military force used after the riots against such expansion in his own home colony, Munzo. He’d known that his own grandparents had been political dissidents, outcast to the colonies when the Federation no longer found use for them, but to see that the problem is as widespread than he’d previously thought quite shocking.

There is, however, one chapter that particularly catches his interest and it’s on the death penalty and its history in the Federation. From what he can gather from the text, the death penalty had been outlawed across the Federation before the colonies had even been built. But because of the wording of the law that had banned it, the same protections often did not apply to the citizens of the colonies. And so people who gained citizenship in the colonies were allowed to be sentenced to death, which lead to the citizenship process for the colonies becoming very easy as many countries scrambled to get their prisoners out there and dispose of them in a quiet, unobserved manner.

And, because of the lawlessness of the early times— but also partially as a measure of comfort for those subjected to the sentence— the new drugs administered in lethal injection had been created by a doctor on the colonies who had originally moved there to protest the lack of legislation regarding the issue. So not only were they speeding up the process for colony citizenship in order to be allowed to execute them quicker, they were also using the lawlessness of the colonies in order to create new ways to make the atrocities they committed seem more ethical and to justify their actions back on earth.

Outraged and wondering how anyone could possibly be overlooking this, he opens up a popular blogging website and sets up an account. As soon as he has a page up and running, he begins making his first post, before even putting up a description of who he was or a title or anything he typed away angrily.

Thank you, friends, for giving me the opportunity to address you today. As you may know, the discussion of a peace treaty between the Earth Federation and the Principality of Zeon is currently ongoing and one of the major contributors is Artesia Som Deikun herself, who has captured Kycilia Zabi and is working to create a treaty that is fair and just for both sides. However, I am becoming increasingly uncertain that any such thing could ever be achieved with how the two systems are set up in the first place.

How can anyone possibly believe the colonies are treated equally and that any sort of uprising is unjustified when the only people we are legally allowed to kill are spacenoids? How can we, as earthnoids, dare proclaim our superiority and place our rights above theirs in such an insidious way. The ideology that sent people to space in the first place was one of optimism and discovery, a hopeful belief in the vitality of humanity that was believed to be the beginning of a prosperous new age, but what did we do? We sent the people we consider least human out there, putting them through lawlessness and dehumanization in hopes of discarding them all while pretending to wish nothing but peace for them. We abandoned them and now we treat them as less than us, creating a society where they call us ‘elites’ simply for the “privilege” of living on Earth.

And then we kill them, tell them they are not allowed to live for the crime of being a spacenoid. It may not seem that way to us, we justify it by saying they broke the law, but in a society where only spacenoids are given this punishment, what other way are they supposed to take it? What more could we possibly do to subjugate them than to threaten them with the punishment of death and send as many prisoners there as we can to instill this fear further into them? How are they supposed to believe in equality then?

It has recently come to my attention that most young spacenoids do not even know of this discrepancy in laws, but the fear is still ingrained into them from an early age. They are only told not to get in the Federation’s way. Do not get put in prison, they could kill you. Even your fellow spacenoids could kill you, controlled by the Federation’s brainwashing and told to believe that it is only for the best as they desperately wish to become earthnoid elites themselves. This is the childhood of a spacenoid so described to me by a friend who looked at me in shock when I told him earthnoids could not be sentenced to death.

This disparity, this lack of communication between earthnoids and spacenoids leads to such disgraceful empires as Zeon, proclaiming themselves better than earthnoids without a single ounce of understanding of Zeon Zum Deikun’s actual words, perverting his ideology to the opposite extreme, creating war and chaos wherever they roam. To prevent such totalitarian and, frankly, fascist uprisings in the future, we must face these inequalities between our societies and try to overcome them.

All that being said, I do not believe Kycilia Zabi should be put to death. As someone very close to the treaty creation and her captors, I find it absolutely abhorrent that we assume, despite her atrocities and the crimes she has committed, that we should go so far as to take her life. The things she has done are indeed terrible and the war she and the other Zabis have waged will leave our society a mess for quite a while, but by killing her and claiming ourselves righteous for doing so we are only adding to the legacy of this injustice. Perhaps she deserves to die, but that is not the point. The point is that the history of inequality between the Federation and the colonies must end and that sentencing Kycilia Zabi to death will only further this exploitation. That is why I will fight for her right to live until I have no options left, I hope to have these negotiations over with by the end of this week and if I see no other recourse, I will of course choose the rights of the colonies over that of a single person. But I will continue fighting until that moment comes.

I’m not exactly certain what I’ll get out of this, if anything, just know this is my thought process in making the decisions I make. Apologies if it bothers any of you and know that I truly wish to get this rotten affair over with as quickly as possible.

After publishing his rant, he goes back to work, not really expecting anyone to pay attention to it. He’s a very new user so it isn’t likely to gain any sort of traction within the community but as he attempts to continue his work, notifications keep popping up at the bottom of the screen, telling him about comments on his post.

He’s able to ignore it for about two hours until it finally eats away at his sanity and he has no choice but to check out what ruckus the people are making over his silly post.

Zeon-Immune: if you want to get it over with just give her to the feddies already lol saves us spacenoids a lot of trouble

Galahaunt: the spacenoids are not nearly as oppressed as you make them seem… i hope if you’re really working on the treaty that you’ll realize this but i agree with you that zeon shouldn’t have rights

Tenkaippin: How do we know youre one of her captors?

Hirarin: who would publicly lie about that dumbass

Tenkaippin: Hey! You dont know! People do stupid shit all the time!

merry-go-round: people looking for attention lol

Tenkaippin: Exactly!

Hirarin: so they go and lie about holding the world’s most wanted criminal captive? ridiculous

merry-go-round: i’ve seen weirder

Suisei: What punishment would you suggest instead of death? What is equally fitting of punishing someone who has caused such distress?

Lily: how does that work exactly? how can the law exist here but not in the colonies?

And so on and so on for over three hundred total comments on his post. Eyes wide in astonishment, he thinks of how to best respond to each comment, though some he can’t find an answer to. He stares at Galahaunt’s comment for about five minutes before shaking his head and deciding to pretend he hasn’t seen it while Suisei’s pulls at the exact spot where he feels he’s lacking, beckoning him back despite not knowing the answer.

Seche in reply to Zeon-Immune: Perhaps you are correct and this is not the time to be making this stand but when else can one hope to make as profound an impact? I sincerely wish I could allow myself to just give her over as well, but this conundrum holds me back.

Seche in reply to Lily: The law and the privileges it provides extends only to official members of the Federation, which the colonies are not. The colonies are subjects of the Federation not proper members and thus they are not privy to the same rights as the rest of the Federation.

Seche in reply to bunches: Haha! Thank you! I had only just graduated high school before the war began, so I can’t say what my profession is? Or was, really. I’m perhaps just unemployed at the moment. During the war, however, I was many things including ship thief (only from Zeon) and refugee.

Seche in reply to carl: Yes, I have lived in the colonies before. I went to school there! I assume this is a nice question and not a thinly-veiled attempt at trolling? :3c

Continuing until he had answered all he was able to at the moment. He had had fun going through and replying and getting into conversations with everyone, hearing everyone’s opinions and having debates with some of them. He feels as though he’s learned a lot, especially since his world had been so secluded before. He’s never really been on these types of websites or really on the internet much at all and most of his opinions from up to this point have been founded through his family, Artesia, and some books on law and politics. And, of course, himself, though he could feel he was definitely still building that aspect of his mind.

But Suisei’s question… he still doesn’t know how to answer that. There are plenty of comments under it— none of which Suisei has responded to— that attempt to answer his question but Garma finds himself thinking none of them are any good. None of them make sense and it somehow makes him doubt himself. Is there really no other way? Would his sister really only be able to pay for her crimes through death?

He twirls his hair through his finger as he considers the question, slowly becoming more and more anxious as he thinks about it. This is easily be something other politicians could ask him, it’s a simple question he should definitely know the answer to but he’s stuck. Frustrated, he stares at the wall for who knows how long before running his hands through his hair until he couldn’t think at all. The same words repeat over and over in his head as he stands and starts pacing around the room, absolutely ruining his hair.

“Doodle—” He freezes and turns his chair to the door and sees Artesia looking back at him, equally frozen. “What’s wrong?”

“Goldie, I can’t figure it out.” Pathetically, he repeats the words that have been running through his head for the past five minutes. She frowns at him and walks over, closing the door behind her.

“Doodle,” she sighs as she takes his hands down from his hair, putting them on his lap and straightening the stray hairs his ruffling had moved out of place. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten so mad, I do know what it’s like to lose your family and I’m going to try and consider your feelings more in the future.”

She holds his face in her hands, trying to smile up at him but he turns away, shrugging out of her hold. She looks concerned and he feels a sting of guilt so he turns away even more.

“Thank you, but I don’t know if it even matters anymore,” he says solemnly.

“What?” Her voice is soft but confused.

“How is she supposed to be punished?” he asks. “If she doesn’t die, how is she supposed to be punished? Jail isn’t enough and solitary confinement is just cruel, everything else seems near torture except community service which one she would never agree to and two wouldn’t change her. Is death really the most humane option? To just end her life instead of making her live and suffer until she dies early anyway?”

Artesia looks at him with pity, not attempting to touch him again but holding her hand out to ask for his lightscreen. He hands it to her and watches quietly as she reads the blog post and its comments, ending back where he’d left it on Suisei’s comment. She reads all the replies and seems to think it all over for a minute before turning back to him. He stares back at her blankly, his eyes red from the tears that had silently been falling the whole time Artesia had been looking at it all.

“First of all, I’m glad you made that post and that blog, I think it will be healthy for you to have somewhere to discuss your opinions with others. Second, please stay safe and be careful with the information you disclose, I wouldn’t reveal anymore about yourself than you already have. Third, I can’t answer your question. I’m sorry to say that this is a choice only you can make but I will say that I don’t think solitary is as bad as you’re making it seem. However, I doubt they’d let her do that because she has already helped someone escape from Federation solitary so she knows her way around. It’s difficult, I know.” When she finishes, she hands the lightscreen back to him and stands, going back to the door

He follows her quietly, wiping his eyes though he knows he can’t make it look like he hasn’t been crying. They return the datapods to the front desk and thank the curator on the way out, quiet as they walk home. When they get back to the house, Artesia starts making dinner and though he tries to help, she pushes him away, telling him to turn on the projector in the living room instead.

“As a treat,” she says as she sets a large bowl of ice cream, topped with decorations and syrup, on the coffee table in front of him. “Want to watch a movie?”

He nods as she sits beside him with her own bowl of ice cream in her lap, absently staring at the empty screen in front of him as he picks up the bowl.

“Horror?” she asks.

“You know it.” He smiles at her and she smiles back as she turns on the next movie in their watchlist.

Notes:

ty for reading!! i might also skip next week but dw!!! it's for a fun halloween surprise full of... you know ;)

after this you may think that last chapter seems impossible but i promise we will get there, we are only on chapter 13 after all. there is so much more and we are really only just starting the full story!!! i sometimes think of the chapters before this as intro and now we are reaching the meat of the story. well. yeah okay i guess that works, this is fanfic so i suppose it doesn't really matter.

lastly, if you dislike my addition of the internet to the gundam world i don't really care but i get annoyed that it's not there even in later iterations this is my personal beef with the franchise that i've decided to challenge so. sorry if you dislike it but im passionate. maybe it's in unicorn and i just didn't notice and maybe it's in thunderbolt but i haven't watched that yet but from what i know there isn't really an internet type system. i could rewatch unicorn to try and figure it out but i dont want to torture myself like that

Chapter 14: Suisei

Summary:

Garma has a talk with a stranger on the internet

Notes:

in this chapter we bring back my favorite character in all of gundam. can you guess who? :3c

...that's right! lucifer the cat!

but seriously, i did bring him back and it's bc my friend found out there was a cat w/ the same name as them in gundam and wanted it to come back (i love my friends and cannot say no to them)

im so glad i was able to upload this today i have had a bad evening so this is something to pick my spirits up... i consider this an early chapter since i wasn't planning to upload this week bc of the halloween oneshot! i hope you liked it! if you haven't read it yet and you are 18+ and enjoy vampires then you should! it's kind of silly and overdramatic but i enjoy it lol

this week's song is suisei by tofubeats bc it's the inspiration for the un and nothing else (if you're thinking char that's a different suisei! ...or is it?)

He doesn’t answer Suisei’s comment for another week, giving himself time to think it over alongside the treaty that needs to be finished in two weeks since it’s a possible caveat to the whole thing.

It isn’t that he can’t answer the question it’s just that the answer is hard to find— well maybe he just can’t answer it. He can’t be perfect, can’t know everything! Even something so important is just… out of his reach. That’s it, yes, it’s out of his reach, he has no part in what will happen to her as long as she doesn’t die it’s all fine. But she has to die at some point, that’s only natural. How can he compromise? The death penalty could easily be swapped for a much slower method of killing, so where is the limit that tells him when it’s not death by the Federation? But if he says no death penalty or torture, that just brings up more questions. What counts as torture? Are different things counted as torture for spacenoids and earthnoids?

His mind is a mess as he stares at the blank direct message block he’d opened at the bottom of his screen. Perhaps Suisei could help him? Perhaps admitting his own ignorance was the way? That could lead to the other to thinking he was an idiot but as long as he wasn’t actually on the board that wouldn’t hurt. However, even if he was on the board, it could help if he looked like he was willing to compromise or listen to his superiors. Overall, it’s a very hard line to walk, something he’s done often but never correctly.

Sighing, he holds his fingers over the keyboard for a second before beginning to type.

Seche: Suisei, I must admit your question from last time has me quite stumped. The punishment she deserves is unknown to me. She does deserve to be punished and quite harshly I believe but I cannot think of how. Do you have any ideas?

He has no expectations that Suisei’s reply would come instantly, it was in fact highly unlikely, so to pass the time he gets up to make coffee immediately after pressing send. When he comes back to check on his computer again, however, he finds that a response has already appeared.

Suisei: I don’t have any ideas either

Suisei: I’m more wondering what exactly it is that you want to achieve by allowing her to live

Suisei: After reading your post I find myself agreeing with some of your points though I must admit I still think she deserves to die, just not by the Federation. And I find the conundrum of the whole treaty quite interesting, I’ve been following it closely so I’m interested in hearing the thoughts of someone so closely involved in the process

Excited by the chance to clear his position and talk with someone in such a personal way about his beliefs, Garma eagerly sets his mug down next to him and begins typing.

Seche: I feel differently regarding whether or not she should die but I understand where you’re coming from. It’s as if there’s this small part of me that thinks there’s nothing else she deserves more while the majority of me screams against it, warning me of all the reasons it’s wrong. I started wondering, is killing one person really worth all the billions she killed? How will her death make up for the deaths she caused? Then, of course, because of the reasons I posted about earlier and lastly… it just might be a little personal, just maybe.

Suisei: I kind of figured it might be, it is to me as well. It’s good to see you’ve thought about it so much, many of us have had quite a bit of pain brought to us by the Zabis, but I can see your point that just killing Kycilia wouldn’t remedy those wounds

Seche: Exactly! It’s a process, we must work continuously to help relieve our wounds and those of people hurt like us. It can’t just be solved by one person’s death as everyone seems to think. The problems that caused the Zabis to take power won’t go away just because you got rid of their effects. I believe that it is the basis of humanity, to want to grow and become better. Though there are still Zabi supporters and people like them who exist in our great world, I believe that if we work harder and put our talents together to create a better world, then we truly can make one! :)

Suisei: You’re so positive about this, Seche

Suisei: I think a lot of people see her death as a step towards progress, a sign of killing the evil that pervades our world but I also feel as thought that doesn’t create any real change

Suisei: Symbolism is so flimsy, just look at how the Zabis used Zeon Deikun’s name to take over humanity when all he wanted was to create a peaceful society

Seche: Suisei, have you been reading my posts as I make my way through Deikun’s literature or were you also taught his philosophy as a child?

Suisei: A little of both

Suisei: You were taught his philosophy as a child?

Seche: Ah, perhaps I should not have revealed that (I have been advised by my cowriter to keep some things about me a secret) but, yes, I was. We had a lot of family out in the colonies so my father kept very up-to-date on it and was always preaching about how wonderful he was.

Suisei: I have a similar experience, I believe

Seche: Oh? It’s nice to meet someone so similar through such a means, it’s a weird existence to live.

Seche: But in regards to your stance on symbolism, I think at this point I may have to give up my fight for her life, they really are so vehement about it but I will not hand her over until I’ve guaranteed the right of peace from Federation soldiers to the citizens of every colony.

Suisei: That’s very admirable, it must be hard to hold her hostage

Seche: Thank you, it really is, for the personal reasons I mentioned earlier.

Suisei: I can imagine

Garma sits back and smiles at his lightscreen as there’s a pause in the conversation. He doesn’t know why but he feels like this person really understands how he feels but not why he feels that way. Maybe it’s the reference to Char in his username but it’s unhealthy to imagine he’s talking to someone he’s so recently dumped. And highly unlikely. Laughing lightly at himself, he turns back to the conversation.

Suisei: Do you think she has the ability to be redeemed?

He frowns at this and Lucifer the Second— the cat Artesia had picked up in Rome a couple days ago— jumps onto the couch next to him, rubbing her little head against his arm.

“Hi, Junior,” he greets as he pats her back. She settles down with her back against him, a weighty comfort in case he gets too lost in the conversation.

Seche: Redemption? I think that is probably something you as a person have to pursue rather than have the ability to gain.

Suisei: Perhaps, but does she deserve to be redeemed, would any of the Zabis? If the things they did were so awful, should they and the people who supported them deserve to be redeemed

Seche: The entirety of Zeon?

Suisei: No, not the people or the lower soldiers but the leaders, the high-ranking officers. There are of course issues with the lower soldiers as well but I feel the officers would be seen as less worthy

Seche: Well, I would say that everyone who has done bad things could be worthy of redemption. Of course, I hope they can, I have done some not great things myself. But I wonder if you mean personal redemption of public redemption?

Suisei: What is the difference?

Seche: Personal redemption is something you pursue for yourself while public redemption is something that other people give to you. I assume you mean public redemption seeing as you mentioned how others would see officers as less worthy?

Suisei: I suppose

Seche: Well I don’t think it’s up to the person themselves. They can try and pursue a path they think might redeem them but in that case, forgiveness and redemption are in the eyes of the person/people who has been wronged. However, the case with Kycilia is simple, she would not choose to do anything that could redeem herself in the eyes of others, she doesn’t think she needs to. Sees nothing wrong with her actions. I dearly wish she would, but sadly I do not think it is possible.

Suisei: You have a lot of thoughts on this

Seche: I was by myself for a majority of the last couple months of the war so I had much time to think about these things…

Suisei: I don’t envy you, I’m currently in a similar situation.

Suisei: And your thoughts on personal redemption? Not in the context of Kycilia but in general

Seche: I’m sorry to hear about you being in a similar situation, I don’t wish loneliness on even my greatest enemies. And, as for personal redemption, well, that’s much more complicated, isn’t it? I think, with public redemption, if a person doesn’t forgive you, you can just move on, you did your best but with personal redemption the only one you’re battling is yourself so it’s harder to escape, isn’t it?

Suisei: Indeed

Seche: But I think the first step is just admitting you’ve done something wrong. To feel shame for something you’ve done and the next step is to forgive yourself. Doing things that go against the wrong you’ve done often helps in this process, but that doesn’t mean it’s an easy one. I don’t really think one is deserving of redemption of any kind if they don’t attempt to right their wrongs. But I’m afraid I haven’t worked out what happens after that.

Suisei: You don’t have to

Suisei: But by your logic, if someone regrets what they’ve done and tries to make things better, they are deserving of redemption

Seche: Essentially, yes.

Garma waits a bit for the next response, he isn’t really sure what to say after that but it seems as though Suisei is gathering their thoughts or maybe processing their answer so he lets them have the time until eventually they start typing again.

Suisei: I see… I don’t know if I agree with you but I treasure your response

Garma feels as though he has to say something to that, it’s odd but they almost sound as if they are looking for redemption themself. Perhaps they are reformed Zeon? If so, Garma hopes that he can help them stay reformed, wants to somehow help this person reach the redemption they searched for. If he himself is still not redeemed in his own eyes, helping other people reach the same goal certainly couldn’t hurt his own chances, could it?

Seche: I’m glad, I hope we can both find answers to these questions, sometimes things take time but we are all working towards being our best selves! :)

He doesn’t get a reply to that and worries about whether he said the right thing or not in the back of his mind until the next day when he makes another post. The very first comment is from Suisei and it makes him laugh more genuinely than he has in over a year.

“Hey, Garma, want to go out for coffee?” Artesia asks from behind him, already putting on her coat to go out.

“I think you already know the answer,” he replies with a smirk. She comes up behind him and ruffles his hair. “Hey!”

“I sure do,” she says with a wink as she goes to the door and he straightens out the strands she’d mussed up. “Lucifer, watch over the house.” The black cat yells at Garma as he stands up and he pats her little head then joins Artesia, putting on his own coat as well.

“Be back later, Junior!”

Notes:

it's a different suisei but the same char (you'll figure out what i mean later) ...or is it? nah, just kidding it's him i think that much is obvious. it's the dramatic irony that (i hope) makes it more interesting than just leaving you out in the cold on these things

the formatting on these sorts of chapters still annoys me but dw there aren't that many lmao (none for 3 more chapters!!!)

i hope you enjoyed! i think it's been a while since i asked (sorry if it hasn't) but kudos and comments are always appreciated no matter what you say

Chapter 15: Death's Burden

Summary:

Garma begins the process of moving on.

Notes:

garma... slut (no there is no sexual acts in this chapter)

now that i have posted this i am going to go write something cute and sweet with garma and char at a winter lodge bc it's cold and im feeling it. might not actually write it might just cry about it but what you get is what you get

today's song is informal empire by world order

The treaty was signed. There’s no looking back now, everything has been decided. Shana had handed the Federation the coordinates to Kycilia’s ship and is currently returning to Earth. Nothing else can be done.

Signing his sister’s death certificate had been much easier than he’d thought it would but all it leaves him with now is guilt, pounding guilt that wars with the reason in the back of his head all day and night. He hasn’t slept since that day, memories of his childhood and worries that it was never as good as he remembers it screaming at him every time he closed his eyes. He rubs at his temples, feeling a headache coming on and thinking maybe he needs a change of pace from the dullness of the library. It’s a good place for work and studying but when he’s so easily distracted like this there’s no way he’ll get anything done.

He stands and goes up to the front desk, leaving most of his things in the room in a mess on the table. Of course he’d clean them up if the librarian wouldn’t let him reserve the room but he was really hoping she would so he could get right back to work after his break. He’d probably just go and people watch somewhere for a while anyway.

“Miss Domona,” he greets, walking up to the librarian with a sense of discomfort. He’s been here almost everyday since his first trip and waves to her nearly every time he leaves but she still scares him a bit. She just has that kind of aura.

“Seche,” she returns with a lazy smirk. “You got some kind of question?”

“Well,” he starts, then looks around a bit and pushes a hand through his hair as his nerves get to him.

“Get on with it, kid.”

“Well, I’m wondering if you would maybe let me reserve the room I’m in while I go out for a bit?” he asks, keeping his hand at the point where his hair meets his neck and flicking his fingers through the edges.

“Like go out of the library?” she asks.

“Yes,” he replies awkwardly. She looked him over a couple times and he fixed his bangs again, straightening the edges of his hair as she considered his question.

“Kid, we don’t usually do that…” his heart drops instantly and he looks at the ground “...but I’ll make an exception for you just because you’re cute.” His heart flies again and his smile grows as he leans over the desk with stars in his eyes.

“Thank you thank you thank you, oh, thank you so much,” he gushes and grabs her hands. She seems surprised but smiles in amusement as he bounces them up and down before kissing her ringed finger. “And if you really do think I am cute, you are very much welcome at my place anytime,” he says with a wink.

“You’re way too young for me, kid, but I appreciate the offer,” she chuckles, shooing him off. He laughs as well, waving goodbye and leaving the library much happier than he had been sitting in that chair with nothing to think about but his sister.

He’s never really walked around the city that much, just gone from his house to the library and back so he doesn’t really know anything about it but it seems easy enough to navigate. He walks down to the end of the road the library’s on, approaching the walls that hold the water back from the city and looks down into the river. Being on Earth really is fun for things like this, the nature and the way humans tried so innovatively to combat it. He wonders if there are any fish below the surface of the water but it’s unlikely, this body of water had been polluted out of life centuries ago.

Earth is also sad like that, the presence of life that no longer exists impacting the way one views the planet at every turn. Of course, there are efforts to stop human’s destruction of such beautiful natural resources like the lake just outside his and Artesia’s town but even those still get so much runoff pollution from the farms around them that the efforts to combat it are rendered moot. He sighs and climbs back over the dike to the street, looking around for somewhere to go. On one side of the intersection is a bar and on the other a coffee shop, a couple other stores are just beyond them but he heads straight to the coffee shop since he hasn’t been to one in ages.

It’s a cute place, tall windows accented by wood panels with tiered lace curtains hanging at about table height. The gold lettering on the windows announces the place as “Cafe Marchette” and the hours on the door tell him the place has only just opened from lunch. The only people inside are two employees at the counter and one customer sat in a booth near the front. The fabric covering the seats is white with the same lace pattern on the windows acting as a cover. He pushes the door open and a bell rings above him, causing everyone inside to look up at him.

“Welcome!” one of the employees greets happily, coming up to stand behind the register. He walks up and talks to her, asking about options. There isn’t a line and no one comes in while he’s talking so he’s able to go on for a while, eventually moving on to more casual conversation as soon as he gets a handle on what they have and what he wants. They also have some pastries, brought in fresh from the bakery next door, the barista tells him, and he almost gets one but he doesn’t know if he’ll want to be here long enough to eat it.

When he’s finished becoming friends with the barista, he sits at the window and stares out at the people and buildings beyond the little shop while he waits for his drink. There’s a gym across the street and he looks at it longingly as he thinks he should probably try to go. He wasn’t able to keep up his physique during the war but it would be such a shame if he let his body go completely to waste. He wants to go after his coffee but there’s a sign on the door that says “Membership Only” and he doesn’t know if Artesia has the money for it. Well, they can look it up later.

His drink is brought over and he thanks the barista with a smile as she goes back behind the counter. He takes a sip and finds it a little too sweet but good otherwise so he agrees with himself to come back again whenever he feels the need for a break. The staff seems friendly, it’s not far from his library, and it’s certainly good for people watching.

The rhythm of the crowds outside gains traction as everyone comes off their lunch break, one person leaving his vision as three more begin to cross the other way and he sits there, slowly sipping his coffee as they pass by and tries not to think about that thing again. It’s futile, however, and his mind quickly goes back to the people whose deaths he’d had a hand in. Kycilia is one of his three people. One of those three people he’d counted as someone he cared about, who could help him be kind, but here he was sentencing her to death. Was that really kind? There were precious few people he loved and now he was sending one to be killed? It seems inconsolable.

But she isn’t kind, in fact she’s quite literally the opposite of kind. Getting rid of her would open up more places for kindness in the world. Even in his own childhood, hearing Sayla tell him about her parents and adoptive father, he feels such envy. It only reaffirms his earlier thoughts. That despite how he’d always seen his sister as the only kind presence in his life, she had actually hurt him more than helped him. But he finds it more uplifting now, the relief of having to fight for her life pushed off his shoulders.

As Nero had, he feels guilt as well, but he hopes to let go of it someday, to be able to pursue a life beyond his past and beyond the ideals his sister had forced down his throat. Afterall, how could the ideal Zabi man ever hope to make any positive impact on society? Those ideals of power and strength that had only brought destruction and despair. He has no desire to get rid of the name he was born with so instead he wants to change what the ideal Zabi man is, to be himself and to project that as what it really means to be a Zabi. Maybe he isn’t powerful or strong in the typical sense, but he’s begun to see through Artesia, Nero, and everyone else, that perhaps he has a strength of his own. If he does what he wants and brings his own sense of strength and kindness to the world, perhaps he might be happier and so might everyone else.

He has to get rid of the old ways to go on with the new. His sister is simply stuck in an era that no longer exists and if she can’t change with the times then she should be destroyed along with her old mindset. That’s simply the way of the world, despite how much it hurt his heart.

Shana is also quite in support of her execution and since they’ve seen his sister the most since her capture, he trusts their judgement. It’s the most he can do for someone who has sacrificed so much of their life for him.

He’s almost afraid to admit it but that’s it. There’s no more to it. It’s deserved and he can only fight so he doesn’t deserve the same.

After he finishes his drink, he goes back to the library and then home and talks with Sayla about the gym membership and the next day they get one for all three of them. His life easily falls back into routine despite what seemed to be that point of no return. Library, coffee shop, library, gym, home. Everyday. He comes back bored to tears but he has no idea what else he can do that won’t bring too much attention to himself.

Sometimes he stares at the bar across the street from the coffee shop and wonders what it would be like to go in there but he still isn’t sure he’s ready for a new relationship. The pain of Char’s betrayal still stings sharp at his heart and he doesn’t think he can give himself away so soon after seeing him again. He can’t let go of their reunion and he desperately wants to believe that Char regrets it, that Char had at least cared for him in some capacity and realized that he’d done wrong. And maybe he even hopes that he’ll change. He knows it’s ridiculous but he still wants Char in his life, even if they’re just friends, it would be nice to have his old friend back.

One day he falls asleep in his room at the library— so used to working hard, he doesn’t even realize he’s tired— and is woken up by a library bot who tells him it’s closing time. He looks down at his lightscreen and sees it’s an hour after that bar had opened. Maybe he could go, even if he doesn’t want a relationship there’s still sex and bars like that were usually full of people looking for just that.

Now determined to let himself have some fun, he leaves the library and walks down to the end of the street where, sure enough, the lights on the bar are on and people crowd in front of it. He waits about ten minutes to get in, feeling slightly out of place in his usual library attire but it isn’t as if he’s planned this at all. He’s never actually been to a bar so when he gets in he just sits at the bar and orders a drink that he quietly sips at while waiting for something to happen.

“You mind if I buy you another?” Garma jumps slightly as he turns towards the new voice. The man behind him is handsome, his hair black and his face sweet but obviously assessing him.

“Of course,” he replies easily, offering him the seat next to him. The man gets him another drink and they talk as he drinks slowly, sure not to get himself drunk in case he decides he wants to leave.

“Hm, I came here on a whim so it’s kind of—”

“I can tell from the outfit,” the man says, poking at his collar. Somehow it only makes him more aware of what he’s become. He used to dress so well no one would be able to tell when he’d come from the library or a formal ball, but now he just has some frumpy sweater Artesia gave him and a pair of ill-fitting pants like some kind of sad cat man.

“Yeah,” he chuckles awkwardly, “it’s not really, you know, it’s just what I normally wear and I’m usually holed up in a library, so…”

“Library? You work there?” Perhaps the man has the hots for librarians as the mention of them makes him lean in closer. Garma doesn’t move at all, allowing the man into his personal space without a second thought.

“Ah, no, it’s just the best place for me to do my work.”

“Freelancer?”

“Of a sort,” he answers, looking away demurely. He doesn’t really think he’d answer that if he could. “Look, you don’t need to know what I do for a living, I’m not looking for something that… long-term.”

The man’s smile turns absolutely devilish but Garma looks on as if he’s unaffected, taking the last sip of his drink as casually as he’d sip too-sweet coffee.

“Neither am I, do you wanna get out of here?” he asks as Garma sets his glass down. Genuinely, he’d tired of the conversation long so he’s been waiting on this question.

“I would not mind it,” he says and stands abruptly, grabbing the man’s hand and dragging him out of the establishment.

Notes:

sad cat man is something i added tonight in my editing bc i sat and hugged my cat as i cried earlier today and i wanted to project on him just a little bit (a little bit LMAO)

I REALLY HOPE I DIDNT REPEAT TOO MUCH FROM TREATIES HERE.... i went back and read some of it to compare and it felt different. more decisive and all but i still worry...

Chapter 16: Kycilia

Summary:

Garma goes to Kycilia's execution.

Notes:

hello!!! sorry it has been a while, hasn't it? i've been swamped w/ school and other stuff but now that that's over i suppose i should get back to work. i did write a p long replacement chapter for that thing i was complaining about last time... go a little carried away ngl but its good

this chapter is fun but it is also where the major character death warning comes into play. although the character herself hasn't physically been in the story much, her presence is there and this will actually depict her execution so this is a warning for that!! (not a beheading or anything too grisly but it's still... a death shown on screen). also warning if you have a problem w/ needles i added that tag as well

today's song is

“Seche!” He recognizes the voice immediately and quickly turns to look behind himself. Sure enough, there’s that blond hair and the old masked face, now covered by a new pair of sunglasses instead of the silver visor from before. “Ah, so it is you.”

“What do you want?” Garma asks petulantly. He’s not surprised that Char has figured out Seche’s real identity but he’s still annoyed.

“I just wanted to come to the execution of the woman you stopped me from killing, is that so hard to believe? I find it more intriguing that you’re here, after trying so hard to stop this, Seche.” Garma sends him a glare through his own sunglasses but it has no effect on his demeanor. “I’ve been following your work for a while now.”

“Have you?” he grits out. It really isn’t the best timing to see him again. Even though he wouldn’t mind creating a new bond with him at some point, doing so at his sister’s execution is less than ideal.

“Yes, you may be hiding behind Artesia’s name but I can tell you do most of the work, otherwise it wouldn’t have taken so long for this to happen, would it?” Char asks, sending him a smirk. It takes everything he has in him to not punch the man next to him. To think that he can possibly be so cocky on such a day.

“Perhaps, but it was all for naught anyway, wasn’t it?” He looks up at the sky, dark as the scheduled rain threatens to begin its fall upon them. It’s somehow calming, he’s always liked the dark, and especially the rain, but Char’s bright presence next to him seems to counterbalance his natural calm.

“Hm, I wouldn’t say that,” Char ponders. “You still successfully negotiated peace in a war you essentially lost while somehow making things better for the colonies, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and I had to use my sister as a hostage for all that only to lose her in the process.”

“Sometimes sacrifices are needed,” he replies more solemnly.

“You would say that, since you tried to kill us both,” Garma says with a derisive laugh.

“Garma… I feel as though we got off on the wrong foot—”

“You think?” Char’s breath catches as if he has something to say but has stopped himself and thinks about what to say next instead. It’s odd but his mood seems to shift rapidly in the time he takes to consider, his eyes settling on the ground and any trace of the smirk he’d had before disappearing.

“I… lied when I said I’d come to see Kycilia’s death earlier. I just knew that this would be the only place I could catch you and—”

“You could have looked up your sister’s address, I do live with her, you know.”

“I didn’t know that, actually. But even if I had, would you have opened the door? Or would Artesia really let me in?” She wouldn’t have, he’s right there at least.

“But why do you want to see me again? Farewell means farewell, doesn’t it? I thought you’d be happy to be rid of my burden.” Char frowns at him and pauses again. Garma wonders if he’s hit the nail right on the head or if there really is some other reason he’s decided to come to this event.

“I’m working on something you might be intere—” The doors to the prison interrupt him, opening with a loud clang as the announcement system ushers all the spectators for Kycilia Zabi’s execution inside.

The place is dull and drab just like every other prison on earth and, for some reason, Garma thinks that maybe he should’ve just let Char kill her if it meant she won’t have to die in such an awful place as this. The walls are made of concrete blocks, all painted grey and the lights are blinding to look at but seem old and dim from across the room, flickering on and off like they’re trying to make you feel ill just from being in here.

Something pushes him closer to Char, perhaps the ridiculous notion that being near someone you know during hard times can be a source of comfort, but he doesn’t think he’ll get much comfort from Char. He’d tried to ask Artesia to come, but he could see how much she didn’t want to go despite her awkward apologies. And with everything he’d put her through in the past couple months, he couldn’t bear to guilt her into something like this. So he sucks it up and sits beside Char when they reach the benches centered across the room from a large glass pane that didn’t look like it’d been cleaned in decades. Behind the glass is a small room with a chair, adorned with leather straps on the arms and a small machine on the back.

The door in the room opens and Garma freezes as his sister is led into the room by two guards, her hair down and messy and the bags under her eyes obvious even from this far away. Her eyes immediately go to Char, glaring at him though it doesn’t hold nearly the same bite as it used to and Garma feels his heart clench. He quickly grabs Char’s hand and squeezes tightly to push down the fear his sister’s bedraggled appearance causes in him. This sight has finally convinced him that this is really happening, he’s really going to watch his sister die.

Kycilia’s eyes lock on the movement and then rise to look at the person who made it, instantly widening as she realizes exactly who she’s looking at. Garma’s suddenly glad he’s holding Char’s hand because he pulls him back down when he tries to stand, eager for a real reunion with his sister. But that isn’t what this is and he watches on in horror, squeezing Char’s hand desperately as they strap his sister into the chair and turn on the machine that raises the needle to her skin.

Garma loosens his grip and feels Char give a small squeeze back as tears prick in his eyes and the needle is inserted into her skin. She smiles at him from her seat as the syringe is pushed down and the chemicals enter her system. He smiles back through his tears, knowing she’s already dead but feeling as if he should still attempt to comfort her and make sure she knows he’s okay. But he can’t, and she’ll never know. Maybe she never even cared.

The small crowd around them begins to stand as the announcements usher them out again. It was a short and unceremonious affair but so long and torturous in his own head and he genuinely couldn’t tell how long they’d been there, hours or seconds. He can’t tell why he finds that so disappointing.

Char squeezes his hand again and he stands slowly, hiding his face behind Char’s shoulders as they hurry out with the rest of the crowd. He doesn’t know where to go after leaving the prison, but he doesn’t really care either, so he lets Char lead him through the city as he clings on to his familiarity.

“Char, what do I do? My family is all gone, the war is over, all the treaties have been signed, and I feel like I’ve lost all purpose, what do I do now?” Char doesn’t reply, just squeezes his hand and pulls him into a store.

“What would you like?” he asks. Garma, glasses messy from the tears he’s spilled, looks up at what seems to be a menu but he can’t read any of it. Char notices and takes off the sunglasses for him, cleaning them off without letting go of his hand. He looks at the menu once more and nothing really pulls him but on one side of the restaurant, there’s a freezer, filled with drinks, yogurt, and ice cream. He looks through the glass frame and one corner catches his eye, the bright yellow, green, and orange packaging reminding him of something he’d had years ago.

“Fly Pop,” he whispers, reading the container. It’s not his favorite but it doesn’t appear as though they have that so it’ll have to do, he’s rather curious about it anyway since he didn’t think they were made anymore. He picks it up from the back corner, only a couple are left and he looks it over as he turns around.

“Anything else?” Char asks him. Feeling somehow like a child, he shakes his head and walks back beside Char.

“Are you getting anything?” Garma asks when they go through the register and only get the ice cream.

“I’m not very hungry at the moment,” Char replies, looking at his treat. Their hands are still connected and, despite feeling completely ridiculous, Garma doesn’t want to let go. They sit down at a table and he opens the Fly Pop and begins licking it slowly, somewhat hesitant to eat but not knowing what else to do.

He looks at Char and for the first time he notices the man honestly doesn’t look much better than himself, especially for someone leaving their archenemy’s execution. He still has his sunglasses on but now Garma can see past them and Char’s just staring absently at the wall, the bags under his eyes visible only to the person who’d taught him to use concealer. It wasn’t like him at all. He was always focused on something, whether it be revenge or piloting his mobile suit, Char Aznable was always focused on something. But now, he realizes that even the Char in the prison courtyard had been unfocused and hazy.

“You don’t know either, do you?” he asks and Char side eyes him from behind his sunglasses. “What to do now.”

“Not really,” Char responds honestly. Feeling something odd on his hand, Garma looks down and sees that Char has started drawing random patterns with his thumb.

“There’s got to be something out there, we can’t just stay broken like this. If we only ever feel alive during war, then what’s the point of life, why do we struggle for peace if it leaves us like this? What is even the point of war then? If you can’t come back from it? If there is no return?” Char simply hums in response. “I think… I think there has to be something, there has to be more we can do, maybe something we can live for. But what is it?”

“A good question.” Garma doesn’t know how to respond to that so he just bites into his ice cream, taking the limited thoughts he can process at that moment and using them to stop the parts that are melting from dripping all over the table. His face is sticky and he knows he probably looks ridiculous but he honestly can’t care at all, he hasn’t had this much fun since he was a child. As he wipes his mouth for about the fifth time, he sees something out of the corner of his eye and looks over at Char who’s smiling at him again.

“What?” he asks. He can’t be annoyed that he’s being made fun of because he’s just doing whatever and this is Char, king of teasing him, so instead he just gives him a pout that he hopes conveys how much he doesn’t care.

“Nothing,” Char says, still with that teasing smile. Garma just shoots him one more look and goes back to his ice cream. “Do you want your hand back?” he asks as he watches Garma struggle to one-handedly clean up his mess.

“I’m fine without it.” If he’s honest with himself, the hand is really helping him not think about what just happened. He’d rarely held his sister’s hand, or anyone else’s until Char came along and now he just finds himself regretting having never opened up them more. But would that have helped at all? Would he have been able to win their love by showing them his own? He should have at least tried. Now, he’s just the man who profited off his family’s death, no better than the man who now holds his hand. Perhaps that’s why it’s so comforting.

“I assume you heard that speech my brother gave at… at the funeral?” he asks as he licks the last ice cream off his fingers. Char answers with a slow nod. “I felt so awful hearing that. It was like my own brother didn’t even care, like he was using me for his own gain. I hated it, I couldn’t stand thinking about how little I meant to them, knowing that I was only a tool to them. But here I am doing the same thing, a traitor to my own family.”

Char doesn’t have an answer for that either. He’s probably glad she’s dead anyway, probably happy to see the family that had destroyed his in pieces. Garma slowly pulls his hand away from Char’s as he remembers his place and suddenly feels the grave realization of what’s going to happen next falling over him. He isn’t supposed to be here, not with Char and not sitting here playing with his food like some spoiled child. He has work to do. He has legislation to write. People’s rights to fight for.

He can’t do anything but that, why should he be doing anything other than that? Why had he even come here today? Why should he even care about someone who had helped destroy so much of humanity? It’s all pointless, every single emotion he has won’t help him do anything, wallowing in self-pity will get him nowhere. He has things to do and no time to waste.

“Excuse me,” he says and stands, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to leave the restaurant, Char, and literally anything else in the world. Char stands, moving out of the way politely and Garma bursts out of the booth, running away as fast as he can.

“Seche!” he hears behind him but he doesn’t look back, just keeps running. He knows if Char’s chasing him he’ll eventually be caught but his panic keeps him from slowing down. He can’t see anything, can’t feel anything, and has no idea where he’s going but he runs and runs until his arm is grabbed and he turns quickly. “Seche.”

Char looks at him from behind his blank sunglasses and Garma stares back with panic in his eyes, heart pounding wildly against his ribcage as he looks around and sees the scene he’s created. Everyone is standing in a circle around the two of them, staring and whispering as he feels suddenly blinded. He gasps as he realizes his sunglasses seem to have fallen off at some point so he’s totally exposed and dread seeps further into him. Still not thinking straight, he crushes himself against Char in an attempt to hide his face.

“I know you want to leave, but I have one last thing to tell you, about the reason I wanted to meet you today. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m hoping you’ll help me with her,” Char tells him softly, wrapping an arm around his back to make it look like they’re just making up after a spat.

“Her?” he asks, still pressing his forehead into Char’s shoulder.

“Your niece, she’s alive.” Mineva? Mineva’s alive? Garma immediately perks up, staring up at Char’s veiled face with wide eyes. “I’m in with the remnants of our old loyalties and they have her. I’m currently in the process of trying to get her in my care because I’m afraid that her current caretakers are a little too stuck in the past, but I hope to put her in your care once I’ve gotten her out.”

“I…” he’s shocked, genuinely. Both that Mineva is alive and that Char wants him to have her. His immediate feeling is excitement that some small part of his family is still alive. That excitement morphs into planning as he thinks of how to raise her and move on from the past and then on to the inkling feeling that nothing this good could ever possibly happen. Can he be a better family to her than his family had been to him? Can it even be true? Wariness and anticipation war in his mind as he takes a step away from Char.

“How am I supposed to know you’re telling the truth?” he asks. Char immediately reaches into his pocket, pulls out a phone, and scrolls to a picture of himself holding a child, her red hair standing bright against the blue sky as she sits atop his shoulder with a big smile on her face. Garma had only seen his niece a couple of times before his death but he has no doubts that it’s her in the pictures.

“If you want to exchange contact info, I’m doing everything I can to get her under my care and we'll work together once I have her.” Garma nods as he navigates to a space on the phone where he can type it up. “This is on a private network so as long as you are too I can send you more verification if you need.”

“I am,” he replies as he gives Char his phone back.

“And here, you can have these back,” Char says, handing him his sunglasses. Garma takes his glasses back and slips them on so he can become anonymous again.

“I do see why you wear a mask all the time now, it really does provide some odd feeling of security,” he comments. The scene they had made seems to have passed on and they stare at each other for a moment before starting to move again

“Just don’t get too attached to it or you might lose yourself as well,” Char cautions as he begins to walk backwards away from him. Garma waves goodbye and Char throws a hand up in return and turns around, mixing in with the crowd as he leaves.

Garma stands there for a minute before feeling a vibrating sensation in his pocket. He opens his lightscreen and sees the image Char had shown him earlier but with himself cropped out and Mineva full and center, smiling widely at him. Garma smiles for the first time all day as he sets the picture as his background then looks up, feeling that promised rain fall on his cheeks and closes his eyes as he finally finds a purpose. Redemption may be decades away, but in the mean time he’ll do it all for Mineva. For her future.

Notes:

me: i think im making garma cry too much
me: immediately makes him cry again

i just think it's cute... also i am heavily influenced by gundam san sdkljf;df. i did, however, cut a scene in which he cries for the second time in one chapter so like you're welcome

since it has been a while: reminder to leave kudos and comments (i will love you) also that you can find me on twt @ delatrose and tumblr @ mechaking

fly pops arent a thing i just made it up but its essentially a push-up bc i wanted one when i was writing this

Chapter 17: A New Start

Summary:

Sayla investigates Char's offer

Notes:

hello!! sorry it's been a while again. i'm not a big fan of the holidays and i've somehow found myself even more entangled with my family than usual which is quite unpleasant so. that's all i have to say, and it's rather funny given the subject of this chapter

(i think it's admirable to love one's blood relations it's just... not for me)

i really like this chapter a lot i think it's very sweet and i love exploring sayla and char's relationship post-war bc i was really bummed they didn't become closer in canon... also very mad that sayla just wasn't in zeta like at all (tho i know why, it can still annoy me). i also love the kind of things i put in here it really lines up w/ what i have next even tho i wrote that not knowing what was in this chapter??? i just have like a very linear thought process sometimes i guess idk how it happened

i also rewrote an entire chapter into something WILDLY different (and about 4k words longer) and that's honestly the main reason this is late bc i wanted to finish the second draft of that first (usually i post third drafts, today's is a fourth)

this chapter's song is don't ask me by okgo. probably my favorite song by them? i just think it's funny lol

“It’s a shit idea.”

“Well, you don’t know for sure, do you? What if he really does have Mineva? What if he really is trying to give her to me? What am I supposed to say? No? To my only family?” Garma’s head is swivelled to the back side of the couch where Sayla stands, staring at him firmly as he pleads his case for what’s possibly the most awful idea she’s ever heard.

“Not to your family, to Casval. Even if he does have Mineva and even if he does want to give her to you, there’s still two problems.”

“What?”

“One, how are you going to keep the secret that someone else has an entire child, the Karns would search all over for her and you’d get caught. Two, it’s Casval. Go ahead if you want your identity exposed, if you think Casval can keep you safe from his and your old regime, then go ahead.” She sees Garma freeze and instantly his mood turns, his head dropping as his face goes gaunt. “Garma—”

“My only family. I’ve lost them all, surely you know how that feels?” She sighs and rolls her eyes. This again? She’s trying to be understanding but he always says things in the most insensitive way.

“This is a terrible time to bring that up. Besides, we can be your family, me and Shana. Aren’t we good enough?” She asks, pointing to herself and Shana who’s sat at the table in the kitchen

“Of course you’re good enough, but this isn’t about family like that, this is about… the greater sense of family, the power, the name.” Garma motions back desperately but she can only sigh again and shake her head.

“What does that matter if you’re Seche Rhode?” she asks. “Just leave the Zabi name behind.”

“I am not you or Char. I cannot just leave it all behind like that, become a completely different person and forget my past exists… I can’t just become Seche. I don’t mean that in a bad way, I know you both had your difficulties but I… I carry so much guilt for being a Zabi, for knowing what my family did but I cannot hide from it, I can’t run away. I have to face my shame and prove to myself that I am still a good person despite it. And Mineva is… she carries that same burden even if she does not understand it yet.”

Sayla stares at him in shock for a second, he has never said anything about not wanting to become Seche. Of course, he’d never seemed too gungho about it, but no one ever is and he had seemed to take it all in pretty good stride, but then again he had also taken her by surprise with the pragmatic idealism of his treaty. Maybe she has underestimated him, maybe she is still seeing him as that pampered prince she’d heard so much about when he truly is becoming his own man. Maybe he’d always been that man and she’d ignored it because of his name. Sayla smiles in amusement at his defiant frown and shakes her head.

“Fine, I’ll talk with him,” she relents. “We’re going to make sure you’re not outed before you’re good and ready.” He instantly jumps up to hug her and she laughs as she returns the hug.

“Thank you Artesia, thank you so much. I wouldn’t be able to do anything without you, you are my rock, my anchor,” he gushes as he squeezes her.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re going to suffocate me, Garma.”

“Oh, sorry,” he says and quickly backs away. “And sorry for mentioning your family earlier, too. You’re right, it was inappropriate.”

“You’re an odd person, you know?”

“You are too, Artesia,” he counters as he turns around and plops back onto the sofa.

“Touché. Now give me Casval’s number. The two of us are going to have a little sibling chat and I’ll warn him to keep his paws off my little Garma,” she threatens at the absent Casval.

“I can defend myself,” Garma says with a pout as she rounds the couch and sits next to him. She puts her arm out behind his head and lifts her foot up over her knee to get comfortable, opening her lightscreen to an empty contact page.

“I believe you, it’s Char I don’t trust.”

“But if I can protect myself then why would you need to worry about him?” Garma asks, looking over at her in confusion.

“Oh, Garma,” she sighs, patting his head with a smile. “Give me his contact info.” He hesitantly takes out his lightscreen and opens a contact named “Precious Niece” with a picture of a small red-haired girl smiling as she’s being held by someone who’s been cropped out of the image.

“Here,” he says as he hands it to her. She takes it and puts it out a ways from her face, trying to figure the contact out.

“This is Casval?” Garma turns and gives her a withering look, sitting up over the couch. He zooms out on the contact photo and she sees the blond hair and her brother’s stupid face. She huffs a laugh and adds the info to her own lightscreen.

“I am going to the library, if you need me just send a message,” Garma says as he takes his back.

“Have fun,” she says as she watches him take his bag and leave. She has a feeling she knows what he’s going to research but she keeps her thoughts to herself as she opens a chat with her new contact. As she does, Shana moves to sit beside her on the couch, patiently watching in Garma’s place.

This is Sayla, got your number from a friend of mine

As she waits, Shana moves to sit beside her on the couch, patiently watching alongside her. Sayla smiles over at them and pats their head the same way she had Garma but keeps her arm on top of Shana’s shoulder as they inch closer.

Artesia. I assume it’s Garma who gave you my ID

She gives Shana a look and it’s returned triple-fold, making her snicker. Shana’s definitely dealt with Casval’s bullshit up close more recently than her and they are not nearly as patient as she is.

Don’t use our names so casually when I might be on a public network >:(

My apologies, are you on a private network

Yeah

Then, Artesia, may I assume it was Garma who gave you my ID

She glares at her screen and tries to convince herself she’s doing this for Garma’s sake. But what he’d ever seen in her idiot brother? She has no idea.

Why are you like this. Yes. I want to talk about this thing with Mineva that you told Garma about

Of course

And I want to do it in person

Why in person

I don’t trust you and I want to show you my sincerity in person so you don’t doubt it

It’s not entirely false but she also just wants to see her brother and there’s no way she can let him know that. It’s their first meeting since the end of the war and some part of her is desperate to reconnect with her own family despite her reservations about them. Maybe Garma’s rubbed off on her too much.

I am free tomorrow if you are as well

What time

Lunch at 12?

Meet me in front of Giulia’s, I’ll get the reservation

Understood

Assuming the conversation is over at that, she closes the tab and turns the TV on to some show she doesn’t really pay attention to as she thinks of ways this meeting could go down. After a bit, Shana signs a couple reassurances to her and she smiles, placing her hand delicately over theirs.

“Thank you, Shana,” she says and sees a small blush form on their cheeks. Suddenly hit with an idea, Sayla grasps the hand in hers and completely forgets about the TV behind her. “Okay, time for the next lesson.”

~

Sayla sits clicking her nails against the table and staring at the crowd in the restaurant as she waits for her late brother to meet her for lunch inside of Giulia’s at 12:30 p.m.

“Sayla,” a voice calls and she’s so lost in a stupor that she jumps, glaring at her brother as he walked up to the table. It’s odd to hear Casval call her that but she supposes she should get used to it if they’re going to be meeting in public like this.

“You’re late,” she says and he shrugs nonchalantly in reply. Rolling her eyes as he sits opposite her, she smiles at the waiter as she comes to take their drinks.

“My friend is an idiot,” she starts as soon as the waiter has left them alone with their drinks. Casval’s eyebrows rise from under his glasses and he takes a sip of his coffee. “He shouldn’t trust you, he’s just stupid and desperate.”

“He’s always been like that,” Casval comments and she glares at him.

“I only get to say that because I actually love him. Yes, he’s an idiot and yes I think he’s a little pathetic for how much he trusts you after what you’ve done to him but I love him. As odd as it sounds, he has become like family in these past few months. At first I was only helping him because i just found him so absolutely pathetic but as I’ve come to know him I’ve seen how much of a good person he is against all odds and I love him for that.” She points her fork at him threateningly as she talks,.

“I understand that, but I really do have her. You shouldn’t trust me, you’re right, but I’m not doing this for his sake, I’m doing it for hers,” Casval points out, poking his spoon at her in a less threatening way. Sayla lowers her fork with narrowed eyes. “You should understand why I’d want her away from the environment she’s in now.”

“I do. But why him? Of all people? The one you did that to? For all you know he’s just the same as the people she’s with now.”

“I’ve been following Seche’s blog since the end of the war, granted I didn’t know it was him at first but it became obvious pretty quick. Even if I was using him, I still came to know him pretty well and everything he says in that blog is just so him and uses the exact same manner of speach that it was easy enough to figure out.” Sayla opens her mouth to voice concern but Casval continues. “Don’t worry, no one alive knows him as well as I do. But I like Seche.”

Remembering what Garma had said earlier, she thinks over what he’s said as the waiter comes to take their orders.

“He’s not Seche. Seche is just… useful for now, that’s it,” she explains once the man has left. His feelings felt noble to her, and she was proud of him for not turning a blind eye to the bad he’d helped create.

“So when it’s not useful he’ll go back to his old self?” Casval scoffs. Again, she pauses as she tries to figure out how to explain this in a way that does the situation justice.

“No, he is who he is at all times, it’s just that he takes on the role of Seche in order to keep a low profile.”

“He’s doing a wonderful job of that.” There’s definitely sarcasm to his tone but she supposes it’s warranted, it’s not as if Seche Rhode is an obscure persona anymore.

“Well, we both know he’s the sort of person who just attracts a spotlight, it’s not like he can really help it. But the anonymity gives him some relief.” Her brother only hums in answer and she glares, still not understanding what he’s trying to get out of this. “You… I don’t get you. Is it guilt? Is that it?”

“Maybe.” Sayla sighs and sits back, rubbing her temples. It’s obvious he won’t tell her so she might as well give up and go to the main point of this meeting.

“Whatever your reasoning, I can’t stop this from happening. I get the feeling if I say no, my friend will just go along with it anyway and I definitely don’t trust you not to fuck things up if I don’t interfere,” she explains.

“Understandable.” She gives him an odd look at the quick agreement but continues.

“Anyway, how are you going to protect him from them?”

“There is a nurse among them who is completely loyal to our friend’s name and not at all to their cause, in fact she dislikes how they treat her more than I do. I’m going to make her the only nurse and rent her and the girl an apartment in this city then send her to our friend when he starts taking care of her. She’ll back up my lie, bring her to her own apartment when they try to visit the child, and help him care for her.” Sayla doesn’t like the way he calls Garma ‘our friend’ as if her brother is also his friend but she has to admit, if the nurse is trustworthy then it isn’t a bad plan. She’s still a little concerned that the Karns could plan a surprise visit and ruin everything but she also can’t see a better option and, as she said earlier, Garma will do this whether she approves or not.

“Won’t she have the same opinions as the last family?”

“Not really, she was our niece’s mother’s friend first and she was… a good person, despite her marriage.”

“She’s dead? When did she die?”

“A month ago, cancer.”

“Cancer?”

“Brain. It wasn’t noticed until after the war and it was too late by that point. She was a friend of ours in the academy.”

“And she married him? Wasn’t she a lot younger than him?”

“A bit. Five years difference.”

“And wasn’t he your superintendent at the time?” Entranced, she sits with her head on her hands, curious about the drama of the other side of the war.

“Then he— thank you.” He’s interrupted by the food and the two of them start eating before gossiping some more and slowly falling into a more casual conversation. She still has a few concerns about her Garma to discuss with him, but the more she talks with him, the more she realizes how much she missed her brother. It’s stupid how he always manages to find out exactly what will make someone forget their original intentions. Truly a master of manipulation.

They stand up to leave after Casval insists he should pay for her and walk to the exit together in placid silence.

“I still don’t like this. Any of it. But I’m going to support my friend in any way I can,” she says after they’ve left the building.

“I understand, it’s not ideal for me either.” He offers her his arm to hold but she declines, pushing it down again.

“And if you so much as lay a finger on him I’ll—”

“Might be too late for that.”

“Castrate you. I’m going to castrate you, Casval. What did you do to him?” she continues sharply.

“I held his hand at the execution, he seemed out of it so I was trying to ground him.”

“Oh, well, that’s—” She finds herself conflicted at the way he says it. His voice sounds genuine and physical affection is always a good way to ground Garma but she still has concerns about all of it. “Don’t try to get him to fall in love with you again, he’s been through enough.” She sees him flinch slightly at the word love and wonders if maybe she’s finally gotten through to him.

“Understood,” he agrees solemnly.

“Good. I’m going this way,” she says, pointing down a corner. Casval nods and they starts walking in opposite directions before she realizes something. “Casval,” she calls and he turns back to her, “we should do this again sometime.”

“Whenever you want,” he replies with a small smile.

Notes:

you will be happy to know after this there is only one more chapter w/ text speech 😎

that chapter i cut out? yeah it was almost entirely text speech and i hated it. it felt so fucking cheap (no offense to those who make chat room stories or w/e, you do the world a solid, just not m cup of tea). what i replaced it with? rich, tender goodness. be prepared for two very long chapters in the coming weeks...

i hope you enjoyed! pls leave kudos or comment if you want i really appreciate it!

Chapter 18: Mineva

Summary:

Garma reconnects.

Notes:

hello!!! ty for waiting!!!!!! this took so long bc it was one of the first chapters i wrote so it didnt really fit w/ what i wanted anymore so i had to edit a BUNCH (i think it was orginially 8k words and now it is 10k lmao) also this is my last semester of uni so i have to focus so i dont have to spend more money...

welcome to the cringe show i love to be cringey and create cringe products in the name of fun.

today's song is uhhhh colors by flow bc thats what just started playing in my ears also the nurse in this was almost named nunnally so like. ahaha oops

Garma sits on a bench in the middle of some park Char had picked as their meeting place, waiting with his headphones in as a political show plays on his lightscreen. One leg propped over the bench, he sits leaned forward in one of his nicest outfits with his chin in hand looking deep in thought, his sunglasses securely in tact. His appearance could not be farther from the truth, however, as he watches some children feeding geese bread and wonders if he should tell them bread is bad for geese as two old men yell at each other about him in his ears.

This particular yelling match is about his gender. It’s perhaps the most ridiculous argument that has sprung up out of the whole “who is Seche Rhode?” debate that has been going on ever since his proposals and legislation had become popular among colony reformers. It isn’t that he’s some kind of public figure now, but having his pseudonym on a treaty that ended the most egregious war in human history certainly gave him some renown.

Thankfully, his true identity hasn’t been exposed yet, but in the six months since Kycilia’s execution he’s been building his new identity as Seche Rhode, an earthnoid fighting for spacenoid rights, across all sorts of official and unofficial sources. Soon after the treaty came out and people began to wonder who had written it, they’d found his blog and it’s popularity exploded almost over night. Where, in the weeks before the treaty had been signed, it’d been a small community of maybe one to two hundred returning members, it’s now populated by hundreds of thousands of people commenting on his posts and asking for his services writing legislation. He’s even had to hire moderators for the website since he can no longer keep up with everything going on. But he still keeps to his own ideology he’d built, only changing his views when he finds something he genuinely thinks is a good idea

It’s hard keeping up appearances without accidentally revealing himself but, so far, he’s managed to keep them guessing at every turn so he doesn’t think he’s doing too bad, he can still go out in public without concern at least. Like today, sitting in this busy park as he waits for his perpetually late ex to show up.

The reason for today’s meeting is Mineva, it’s not as if he really has any other reason to see Char after all. After months of silence, Char had finally contacted him again saying she was on Earth with him and that Garma would be able to take her home with him. Char’s going to take him to her in person rather than give him the address over text which makes sense to him, although only a little bit.

It’s been an hour since their pre-arranged meeting time when he feels a small tap on his shoulder.

“Finally,” he complains, turning to Char as he looks down at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You still know how to make yourself seen, don’t you?” Char teases.

“What does that mean?” he asks with a pout but Char just shakes his head with a laugh.

“Sorry I’m late, there were some last minute details to work out.”

“I don’t mind, there was something amusing on anyway.” He puts down his sunhat and stands up next to Char. Unsure where they’re going, he lets Char lead the way, walking beside him and standing next to him as if they were the friends they’d been back at the Academy.

“Amusing?”

“Yes, yes, have you heard the whole debate on my gender?” Char nods with a sigh.

“I don’t pay attention to it but I’ve seen it mentioned.”

“It really has become a thing now, hasn’t it? At first everyone thought I was a woman because I was working with Artesia and they said I tried to save Kycilia because I thought she was some kind of female power symbol, whatever that means. However, recently I accidentally referred to myself as a man in a blog post which I edited out pretty quickly but some people still saw it apparently. There was a whole uproar about it. It’s not as if I don’t state my pronouns, isn’t that enough? But people really still can’t accept th— hmm?” Char pulls on his sleeve discretely and Garma looks up at him curiously. He’s looking straight ahead, lips pursed and shoulders tense.

“We’re being followed. Don’t worry, it won't interfere with anything, we just need to wait for them to pass you as a non-threat and then they’ll leave and we can go to our destination.” Garma is incredibly suspicious of everything he’s saying but he keeps his thoughts to himself and nods obediently, letting Char wrap their arms together as if they’re a couple on a date.

“So they’re still suspicious of you, then?” he whispers into Char’s ear with a smile like it’s a dirty secret.

“Not in the way you think,” Char huffs.

“Oh?”

“Haman has a crush on me,” he replies sullenly and Garma can’t help laughing at his misery. “I told her I was going on a date today so she probably sent this guy after me to see how serious it is.”

“Serves you right! You go around romancing everyone you meet and someday it’s going to get you in a scary situation!” He grins wickedly at Char through his sunglasses and squeezes his arm playfully.

“I didn’t even romance her.” Garma doesn’t think he’s ever seen Char pout but his face at the moment is probably as close to it as he gets and it’s incredibly amusing. Can he tease Char now? Does he have that ability? If so, he might have reasons other than Mineva to see his old friend.

“You’re just that naturally charming, all the girls come flocking to you whether you like it or not.” Char hums in amusement and Garma immediately knows what he’s thinking. “Do not say what you are thinking,” he reprimands with a pointed glare. He sees Char smirk in response and huffs in annoyance. “It's only an act anyway, if they knew the real you they'd be turned off in an instant.”

“Would they, now?”

“Well they would be dead so it’s hard to say if you can be turned off when you’re dead but if you can then yes, they would.” Beside him, Char laughs lowly and squeezes his arm back.

“I suppose I am that sort of person,” he says and though he tries to pass it off as a neutral comment there are waves of sadness radiating off of him.

“Well, everyone can change, can’t they? I mean, at least, I think I’m a very different person now.”

“Hm, maybe a little.”

“Hey!”

“But similar in all the best possible ways,” Garma looks up into his kind smile, an oddity for sure. Confusion fills his heart once more as he struggles to reconcile it with the fact that this is the man who tried to kill him.

“So where are we going?” he asks, trying to think of anything else to get his mind off this conflicting sensation.

“There’s a very nice aquarium a few blocks from here we could go to,” Char suggests. Garma gasps, pulling on Char’s arm in excitement.

“An aquarium? I haven’t been to one in years!” Garma breaks their arm hold and grabs Char’s hand instead. “This way, right?”

“Yeah, it’s just down this street for three blocks then take a left, it should be visible from the street.”

“Right on, then!” he replies cheerily and drags Char behind him as he races down the street. “This place is huge!” Garma exclaims, stopping a block down from the aquarium. Char was right, the sign sticks out almost into the street like it was an old movie theatre now painted with various sea creatures, advertisements for the animals inside lining the whole block around it. “I practically live here, how haven’t I heard of it before?”

“Probably too stuck in the library to notice,” Char teases.

“I’ll have you know I spend most of my day at the library or a cafe, thank you very much,” he retorts, poking Char’s chest playfully.

“So you write your legislation and blog posts in a busy coffee shop where anyone could look over your shoulder and see what you’re doing at any moment?”

“...I never thought of that.” Char laughs at him again as they get their tickets. Garma feels particularly bashful at that realization, he really doesn’t want anyone to find the person Seche is in real life. Even if it isn’t his true identity, he fears that if they look too close they’ll easily see the flaws in it and figure out he’s actually a Zabi. Then he’ll get the same treatment as Kycilia. No matter how much work he’s done for peace and cooperation up until now, a Zabi is a Zabi in the eyes of the Federation and with as little power as he has now there’s no way he’ll be able to defend himself from their wrath.

“Don’t worry too much, people don’t usually read the entire screen when peeking,” Char assures him, though it might be more of a warning. “They’d probably see a bunch of lingo and turn away but you should still try and sit in corners and against walls if you’re going to be in public that much. I know you’d hate to be shut in your house but you need to be more cautious.” Char gets very serious by the end of his speech and Garma feels sufficiently reprimanded.

“I know.” Char seems to want to say more but instead just shakes his head as they walk in. “I guess maybe I am still naïve in that way. I want to believe in the good of people, and that everyone thinks of others before doing something rash but I guess that’s not always the case.”

“How so?”

“Well, what I would do if I saw some mysterious figure typing something up on a popular blog is think ‘oh, wow, so that’s who it is’ and move on but I think you’re right that many people might have more sinister thoughts so I really should… think more, suspect more.”

“I wouldn’t say suspect, just caution. You’re not naïve, just kind-hearted.” Garma doesn’t look at him though he knows they are supposed to appear to be on a date. The topic of conversation drudges up too many conflicting feelings for him so he turns and presses his face into Char’s arm, rubbing against it in what would hopefully look like a cute gesture to everyone else but is really just him trying to get rid of his frustration. Char seems to understand and smiles down at him.

“I think it really is easier to understand others more than yourself— fish!” He’s distracted from what he’d been about to say by the deep blue that suddenly surrounds them as they walk into the main hall of the aquarium, large fish swimming all around the tunnel that leads to the other exhibits. In his excitement, he lets go of Char’s hand and stands at the very edge of the glass, gazing up in wonder as fish swim all around the tube. A shark goes underneath him and he jumps away from the large shadow that passes underneath him, falling into Char’s arms.

He slowly removes himself from Char as he looks down at the shark and takes his time to observe how it swims, shaking its tail and gently curving across the large tank as little remoras attach themselves to its side, cleaning its skin. There had always been some part of him that loved nature. He’s always so fascinated by everything it does and the way things just happened without the consciousness of a brain. Maybe he just envies its ability to make something so complex look so easy but whatever it is, coming to places like this is always something he appreciates.

“What if there were a colony like this?” he ponders out loud.

“A colony?”

“Mh, we could create a colony that imitates what the sea used to be. It’s like an aquarium, but at a much larger scale and you could go around it in like tubes or submarines or whatever and see what the sea is really like. The scale would improve the lives of the animals and it would be accessible to those living outside of Earth.”

“It would help with the conservation effort as well,” Char agrees.

“Exactly! I have been thinking about those sorts of things a lot recently,” he says as a school of spadefish pass by.

“So I’ve seen.” Garma spins on his heel towards Char, his eyes wide at the implication.

“You read my blog? Wait, are you—”

“Suisei is my signature.”

“I should have known,” he says with a pout. Suisei is still one of his biggest commenters and replies to nearly every post he makes. Since their first interaction, the two of them have had many conversations about the fate of humanity and how the colonies should defend themselves against the Federation. He feels that the two of them are pretty close, though Suisei does come across as a bit of a nihilist at times. “Wait, you’ve been on the site since before Kycilia, is that how you…”

Char laughs at him in that way that says he’s teasing him and Garma huffs and walks off down the tunnel by himself.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t sure it was you but I had my guesses and I went there to find out the truth.” Char catches up with him easily and grabs his arm, slowly sliding their hands back together as he smiles at him. Garma looks at him and sees that although Char is smiling, it doesn’t seem to reach his eyes so Garma squeezes his hand. “I was so happy it was you, that meeting you again wasn’t just a hallucination.”

He freezes, the memories of their first meeting after his death rushing through his head as the deep despair of everything before it comes back again. It isn’t that Char himself is a trigger for all of that, it’s more that any thoughts of the war send him into this state. Shana can hardly even mention Nero or Claude without him falling silent, and it had only gotten worse since Kycilia’s death. He used to be able to deal with it, he could even find inspiration from his experiences but somehow that one thing had put it all into perspective.

His main source of inspiration these days is Mineva. He spends his time reading countless child-rearing books and thinking about holding her in his arms, wondering when he’ll get the chance to implement these things. Politics is enjoyable and he He felt that if he had somewhere slightly less depressing to focus his energy he might be able to move past this, and even do his more depressing work better. He loved to imagine a day where he could think of the people he’d lost with nothing but fondness in his heart.

“Seche?” Char whispers, quiet with the hope no one will hear but still cautious enough to use his fake name. Garma envies his caution but knows it’s from years on the run and a broken childhood, as he’d found out with Artesia who’d been the one to teach him how to hide his identity. “I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“No, it’s… Suisei is a pretty negative person, is the real one like that, too?” he asks instead. Char is never rude, but he can get a little over-dramatic and morose at times so he has to wonder if it’s a trait of Char himself or just an online persona.

“I would never lie to you, not anymore.” Garma doesn’t believe that for a second but he supposes he has the answer to his question in the most roundabout way possible.

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” he asks as they stop in front of a coral reef tank. These tanks have always been so pretty to him. But sad as well, a reminder of Earth’s fragility. He thinks about how places like this don’t exist in the wild anymore. Their loss made even worse by the destruction his family had caused. Is he to bare that burden? He can’t help but think he could’ve done something about it even though he’d had no knowledge of the event beforehand. He hadn’t said anything afterwards and it was his family, he should have known he should have… he doesn’t even know anymore.

“Is that really something you should be asking me?”

“I’m asking because it’s you, silly. You and Sayla are… you’d know better than anyone else, wouldn’t you?” He walks up to the glass, Char’s hand still in his, and presses them both against the thick screen, watching the fish swim away around them. “I can’t walk blindly into everything like I used to, I have to consider my status and the things I’ve done. How the things I will do might affect people.”

“If that’s the case, I think you’re certainly different.” One fish, a little larger than the others, hasn’t run away from their hands and even as Garma drags the hands right in front of it, it stubbornly refuses to move.

“Different? How so?” He watches the fish standing still in front of them, stuffing down the tears that threaten to rise in his eyes. He’s already cried once in front of Char since the war, he doesn’t want the man to think he’s weak. It’s not as if he hasn’t gotten used to it, he hides his pain from Artesia and Shana as well. It would be better if no one saw how weak he still is.

“It’s hard to explain. You seem stronger, more confident in yourself. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard you have ideas that are your own and the ideas themselves are different. They hold so much of you but it doesn’t feel reminiscent of your family at all. That’s all I know how to say.” As Char finishes, the fish swims away and Garma pulls away as well, turning back towards him.

“It’s more than you usually say.” The words have actually shaken him to his core though he dare not let anyone see it. Over Char’s shoulder he meets gazes with a small child and suddenly remembers that they are surrounded by people. It was like this last time too, in Char’s presence he can’t help but forget about the world around him. But now that he’s remembered it, he can feel the oppression of the intensifying crowd assaulting him from every angle.

He squeezes Char’s hand and looks up at him imploringly. Char responds with a questioning hum and he pulls him away from the tank, out of the crowd, and into a family restroom where the two of them can be alone.

“Sorry, the crowd was getting to me. It’s probably better we discuss such things in private anyway, isn’t it?" he says once he's locked the door behind them.

"Maybe," Char replies, standing awkwardly in the middle of the stall. It's almost cute and he relaxes instantly. The situation is actually kind of amusing now that he has more room to think about it. Two people in sunglasses in a dark aquarium whispering to each other then walking into the only restroom large enough for two adults, their tail must be having a hell of a time.

"I… Do you want to stay here until the person following us leaves? Otherwise we might be here all day," Garma suggests.

"We won't get to finish the aquarium,” he declines immediately, then seems to think about it for a second. “But we can come again, with Mineva next time,” he says, trying to sit on top of the sink.

“I’d love to,” he says, feeling his heart fill with excitement as a smile spreads across his face. Any other time they came they wouldn’t have to fear someone following them and they could bring Mineva! It would be wonderful with just the three of them. But at his agreement, Char's hand slips and he almost falls to the ground, catching himself with his other hand. Startled, Garma stands frozen at the image of the man whose poise he'd envied so much falling so ungracefully. And then he laughs internally; he really is cute, isn't he.

"It seems you're different as well," he comments as Char gives up and just leans against it instead.

"Maybe." There's a terse level to his voice that Garma identifies as embarrassment and he puts his hand over his mouth to hide the laughter he can no longer suppress.

Twenty minutes later, they walk out and check for their tail. When they know the coast is clear, he follows Char to an apartment a little further out from the center of the city They don’t talk much on the way back, both standing peacefully in each other’s company in the elevator before Garma decides to explain why he really dragged Char in that bathroom.

“I’m tired, Char.”

“Right now or in general?” He frowns as he thinks it over

“Both? I don’t want to fight, I don’t want violence, I don’t want war. I just want to live peacefully but with my past, my conscious won’t let me. Ignorance can’t make up for the families I’ve displaced and the lives I’ve taken nor can it bring back the planet I half destroyed. But I want to stop anything like that from happening again, I want peace.”

“I’d agree but I don’t know how to live without violence, it’s all I’ve ever known.” The elevator doors open and he lets Char lead the way out as he grins at his back.

“Maybe it was, but if it’s still true, why would you invite me and Mineva to the Aquarium again?” Char stops at a door and gives him a look over the top of his sunglasses.

“Prepare yourself,” he warns, ignoring the insinuation as he inserts the key into the lock. Garma listens for the sound of the door unlocking as he wonders what on Earth he should be preparing himself for. As soon as the door is unlocked, it opens without Char having to touch it, pulled straight in as the two of them are greeted by a portly older woman with a sweet but stern face.

“Lord Char, you’ve returned!” Lord Char? Bizarre. “Princess Mineva has been exceptional in your absence, a true heir to the Zabi name. I’m sure she will grow up to be just as brilliant as the late Kycilia.” The nurse gushes.

“Yes, of course she will, Aceri, I would expect nothing less. Thank you for your hard work.” Char looks over at him and he straightens his shirt as the nurse’s gaze turns to him as well.

“Oh? And who is this? Your friend?” Garma takes a deep breath and removes his sunglasses at Char’s directing nod. The recognition is instant and Aceri gasps, her free hand automatically covering her mouth as Char pushes all of them inside for their little reunion.

“Prince Garma! Oh, Prince Garma, I’m so glad to see you alive! I knew Lord Char would never let you die!” As much as hearing her call Char a lord had seemed bizarre, hearing himself be referred to as a prince throws him completely off-balance. Despite that, he only gives Char a quick glare at the comment about his death and says nothing to dissuade the woman’s rambling. “But why did you disappear? Where did you go? Zeon has a very nice new leader in the form of Maharaja Karn. They would very much like to see you again, I’m sure of it.”

“I have been doing some things of my own, Miss Aceri and I don’t know how much I care for the new management if I am being honest.”

“...Prince Garma doesn’t trust the Karns?” Nervously, he nods, wondering if maybe he’s said the wrong thing. He looks to Char for reassurance but the ass just smirks at him. “I knew it! I knew there was something wrong with it all! As if anyone but a Zabi could lead Zeon! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

Surprised stiff, Garma stares at her with wide eyes before a smile spreads across his lips and he walks up to grab Aceri’s hand.

“There’s a little more to it than that, I apologize for lying to you, but I did not return for a… few reasons. It has been a difficult time, but I am working to a point where I can once again serve my people as dutifully as they deserve. For now, however, we’ve got to keep the Karns away from Mineva, do you understand?”

“I do,” she says with pursed lips and a fierce nod. “I’m not the biggest fan of how they treat her anyway, it’s not what Zenna would have wanted. So cold and emotionless.”

“Cold…” He remembers his own childhood, locked away in a giant house by himself with tutors coming in and out like faithless lovers. “Yes, I think I understand, and I thank you for treating her kindly.”

“With kindness is the only correct way to raise a child, no need to thank me for doing my job.” Garma can see why Char chose this woman to be the in-between for Mineva and Haman. She easily hid the fact that she doesn’t like the Karns but is also devoted to lacing love into a tough situation. He brings her hand up to his lips and gently kisses the back of it, smiling up at her flushed face.

“There goes Prince Garma again,” Char says, jealousy in his voice.

“Problem, Aznable?”

“How come I never get the prince treatment?” Char asks with a flat look.

“You have to earn it first,” he replies with a cheeky smile. “Aceri has done us a great service watching over Mineva in our absence so I must thank her properly.”

“Oh, thank you Prince Garma, it is an honor to be allowed to care for our dearest Princess,” Aceri says quickly, stumbling over her words as she bows deeply to him. Garma smiles kindly at her despite feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the gratuitous respect. It’s fine when Char does it because he knows he’s only teasing him but he doesn’t feel worthy of taking on such an important title so seriously.

“Thank you, may I see Mineva?” Nodding, Aceri immediately stands and goes into the other room, coming out with a hobbling little redhead, holding her hands as she leads the barely year-old Mineva over to where Garma and Char stand. Feeling tears rush to his eyes, Garma gets down on one knee and she instantly toddles over to him.

“Gama!!” she squeals and he almost sobs he’s so overwhelmed with emotion. That she’s here, that she remembers him despite how long it’s been, that she’s happy to see him at all. He hugs her tight and picks her up as he stands again.

“How have you been, darling? You couldn’t talk last time we met, could you?” Mineva shakes her tiny head and presses it against his shoulder, hugging him back.

“Aceri, Garma will be taking Mineva with him today and from now on you’ll be going to his place to take care of her but this must remain a secret, the Karns cannot know,” Char tells her. Garma watches the interaction from the side of Mineva’s head, holding her as she babbles mindlessly into his ear. He’s almost sure he’s holding her correctly but he really will need Aceri’s help if he’s going to take care of her properly.

“Yes, of course, Zenna would have liked it that way, I think. She never was too fond of the idea of us nurses doing all the work,” Aceri agrees before turning back to Garma and Mineva. “Oh, Prince Garma, you’re holding her so wonderfully, have you held her before?”

“No, but I did some reading before I came,” he explains as he bounces his niece gently.

“Oh! Prince Garma! Truly you are a prodigy! Don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything you need to know from now on, and soon you won’t even need little old me. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No…” Garma says slowly as he shoots Char a panicked glance and the man shrugs unhelpfully at him as Aceri pushes him out the door. “But I do live with a… sort of couple.”

“Sort of?” Char and Aceri ask at the same time, stopping in the hallway.

“Well, they both say they’ve talked about it but that neither of them are quite ready to be in such an intense relationship after they’ve just settled into our new home. I think it’s more on Sayla’s side but I can never be sure,” he answers truthfully. Mineva sucks her thumb diligently as she stares up at him absently, looking like she’s listening though there’s no way she understands what’s being said. Garma smiles down at her and she smiles back, giggling playfully as she leans back in his arms.

“Well, that’s no matter! Maybe someday you’ll settle down, but having a good group of friends is just as good,” she says cheerily and goes back inside, looking as though she’s forgotten something.

“Who?” Char asks as soon as they’re alone

“Why should I tell you?” Garma retorts.

“She’s my sister, of course I’m curious. And I’m worried that you think she’s hesitant to be in a relationship,” Char says, his brow furrowed.

“Well, you know them well, I’ll say that. And war is hard on people! Not everyone can just immediately go back to their old lives and Artesia hadn’t even…” He trails off as he sees Aceri come back with a stroller.

“Just so you don’t have to carry her the whole time, your highness,” Aceri suggests. Garma thanks her and the four of them make their way back to his house where Sayla and Shana are waiting to greet them. Char shoots him a look when he realizes who he’d been talking about but Garma doesn’t even acknowledge him, laughing with the pair as Aceri tells them a silly story about Mineva.

~

It’s only two days later that he’s in the kitchen, preparing Mineva’s food as Aceri had told him and reading through the late night comments on his last blog post that he comes across something that somehow feels like the beginning of the end.

Suisei: Seche, you never cease to amaze me, if only we met I’m sure I would do just about anything for you ;)

He has to laugh at such typical behavior from his online compatriot, getting into a heated debate and then ending it with blatant flirting. Garma had gone to sleep before he’d been able to read the reply and it left him a little sad that the conversation had moved on so much that now he probably wouldn’t get to respond with his usual vague acceptance. But he feels a little odd responding now that he knows it’s Char anyway so maybe it’s for the best.

Hindsight: dude, don’t flirt with her, haven’t you heard? she’s in a relationship.

That one is odd, however. Though he had never disclosed his gender, nearly everyone on his blog called him by gender neutral pronouns, as he’d asked them to. Only he had ever accidentally referred to himself as male and immediately after no one had brought it up on the site itself. And a relationship? Him? Where had anyone gotten that idea?

Suisei: Oh? And where did you hear that?

Hindsight: yesterday’s look, they had some high profile bodyguard on for an interview. here, starts at 5:28

Garma quickly clicks on the link and puts in his headphones, immediately skipping to 5:28.

“Hello, and welcome back, Herz Kiel,” the announcer introduces. Herz Kiel is such an obviously fake name that he almost scoffs but holds back to listen instead.

“Glad to be back, Finn,” says a distorted voice.

“So you’re working for some old Zeon supporters now, aren’t you?”

“Indeed I am, Finn.”

“And what’s life like stuck in the loss?”

“Well, a lot different than you think. Someone my boss had me tail recently went on a date with Seche Rhode.”

“Seche Rhode? You saw Seche Rhode? How do you know it was them?”

“Oh, the one I was tailing definitely knew I was there but he didn’t know what I looked like so I was able to get pretty close and heard most of their conversations, it’s definitely her.”

“Her?”

“Yeah, no need for that debate anymore, Seche is a woman, a bit masculine but still very elegant and cute. She’s like a princess, I swear I fell in love with her. She has this sparkling aura just like you’d expect and the man she was with isn’t any good. What I would have done if I wasn’t on the job...”

“Slow down, Herz, she listens to the podcast, you don’t want to intimidate her, huh?” Finn jokes, sounding as if he’s stifling laughter.

“Ah, don’t think I have a chance anyway. Way out of my league and definitely in deep with that guy I saw her with. They barely let go of each other the entire time and the date ended with a quickie in the bathroom. There’s no way I’ll get in between that.” The two of them laugh and Garma, completely disgusted, rips out his headphones with a short yell of frustration. He runs his hands through his hair as he paces nervously across the kitchen, thinking of what each individual statement could mean for his anonymity and then putting them together in the bigger picture.

“Gama.” He stops in the middle of the kitchen, his eyes wide and hysterical, and looks to baby Mineva who stares back at him with tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Neva, Neva don’t cry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Here, eat your food, I’ll help you.” He tries to feed her, putting a bowl in front of her, but she pushes it away, spilling the food he’d just made all over both of them and the floor. At this point he’s just about to start crying but he can’t, for Mineva’s sake. So he picks her up and takes her to the bathroom, takes off both their clothes, and turns on the tap to start up a bath. Thankfully he’s already taken a shower and he needed to give Mineva a bath anyway so it isn’t too awful. He’ll worry about the mess on the floor later.

Sighing, he carries Mineva back with him to the kitchen and picks up his lightscreen, turns it back on and throws their clothes in the washer. He sets Mineva on the counter and wipes the food off of her face as he scrolls to Shana’s number and sends them a text asking if they were busy and only a few seconds later they reply with their customary “yes”. As soon as he’s read the message, however, he gets a call from Char and hesitantly answers.

“Garma, are you okay?” Comes Char’s deep voice from the other end of the line. Stressed out of his mind and starting to nurse a headache, Garma really doesn’t want to have to deal with how he’s supposed to treat Char right now so instead of thinking about it too much he just says the first thing that comes to his mind.

“It’s whatever,” he sighs, picking Mineva back up and resting the lightscreen on her stomach and his arm as he walks back to the bathroom.

“Herz was fired, Maharaja instantly knew who it was and said his presence put Neo-Zeon in danger and banished him.” Garma hums absently as he feels the heat of the water and turns the spout down a bit. “I apologize for pulling you into this, I’m sure most people will dismiss it.”

“Hm, probably, but I’ll make a post about it anyway,” he replies as he places Mineva in the tub. She giggles and splashes a bit as he turns off the tap, smiling down at her.

“I… Garma, are you okay? I know this kind of thing is hard for you.” Char is using this soft, worried voice that he’s never heard before and it just kind of pisses him off, thinking about how he can suddenly be so genuine which only means he must not have cared before. But if that’s true, how can he trust the sincerity now? His head spins at all the possibilities.

“I’m fine,” he snaps. “I just need to take a bath with Mineva and everything will be washed away.”

“...If you say so,” Char says and Garma swears he almost sounds demure which was just about the most bizarre thing he’d ever thought. “You should stay in the house for a bit though, just to be safe. I know Artesia’s out of town so I can come over if you need company.”

He gives Mineva a bemused look as he lathers her in soap and she giggles loudly.

“How do you know Artesia’s out of town?”

“She hasn’t told you? We’ve been getting lunch together almost every Friday for the past few months.” Friday was Artesia’s least busy day so that makes sense but ‘for the past few months’? And he knew nothing? He knows Artesia is probably trying not to worry him or had forgotten but it’s still…

“Do whatever you want,” he sighs. Char hangs up without so much as a goodbye and Garma raises his eyebrows at how completely expected that is. Some part of him wants Char to come over but he also feels like isolating himself since that’s what seems to be happening anyway. House arrest. Again. He hates it. He slips in the bath, puts Mineva in his lap, and lays his head back against the wall as she plays with his hands.

“Mineva, what are we going to do now? I was hoping to show you my favorite places today and get some research on taking care of you done. I guess I could just go online but it’s not the same, Neva, the library! The cafe! The park!”

“Uncoo,” she coos happily.

“Yes, I know it doesn’t technically matter but it’s just something I do… something that makes me feel useful. I feel so useless stuck in this house writing stupid blog posts and trying to cover for my dumb mistake of letting Char take me on a stupid date just so… just so… I don’t even know why now. Why do I even try, Neva?”

“Shaaa!!” she yells, yanking on his hand. He smiles down at her, taking both her hands and waving them up in the air to stretch her arms.

“Yes, Char, your other stupid uncle. Bad man, robot man, has no emotions and only somewhat sentient AI. Stupid uncle.”

“Shuuupi,” she says and giggles, splashing around in the water on her own. Garma joins her laughter and splashes his own hands in the water, making sure not to get any on either of their faces.

“You are such a good girl, Neva, so cute,” he praises. They play together in the bath for a while longer and he forgets all about his problems in the warmth of her laughter. Seeing her smile brings something he hasn’t felt in so long to the forefront of his mind again, something kind of like hope, probably. He isn’t really sure anymore, but in her eyes he can see the future, something he can actively mold and shape. He’s determined to be the best for her, to do everything he can to make her into a wonderful person and make the world a good place for her to live. As he sets her back in her highchair and walks back to the laundry, he promises to himself that he will do everything he possibly can to make sure he achieves these goals.

To do that, however, he’ll need to do more work, get out of the house again, learn more from Aceri, and just generally get his life in order which most certainly won’t be an easy task. And almost none of which he can start on while under house arrest. Here he can only hope he won’t mess anything up permanently. But it also won’t help to just sit and worry so he gets a mop and starts cleaning up the mess he’s made after giving Mineva a new bowl of food which she eats happily.

Once the floor is clean, he feels refreshed and takes a deep breath, inhaling the fresh scent that makes him feel like he can face the world again. He smiles at Mineva as she copies him then reaches out to be taken from her high chair. He picks her up easily and places her on the rug in the living room which is filled with her toys. Lucifer comes over to join them, strutting up to Mineva straight from her nap in Sayla’s room and rubbing her face against the small child on the rug. Mineva laughs and softly slaps the cat on the back. Lucifer flops on top of her blocks and he watches them play with a smile.

Certain those two will be able to entertain each other for a while, he sits on the couch so he can watch them and babble with Mineva if she wants. He opens up his lightscreen and flips to his blog, checking the responses to the podcast he'd been too upset to check earlier. His community server is abuzz with the news and fifty different channels were talking about it, his mods had even created an entire new channel called “Look” just to talk about it.

He runs a hand through his hair and pouts at the screen as he scrolls up to the top of the channel, opening a second tab for his DMs which are flooded with his mods begging for help so he can easily assess the damage on both sides.

GIN: seche? what should we say to this? I know it’s probably a lot right now but it would really help us if you’d make a post on the podcast

bunches: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH

Turpentine: If I have to ban another goddamn fool calling you by the wrong pronouns I swear to god I will shut down the server myself.

Turpentine and bunches’ responses make him laugh but he decides to reply to all of the concerns in the mod chat, the typing that had been furiously going on stopping as soon as they saw his name pop up in the chat bar.

Seche: I apologize for my delay, as you all know I recently had a new addition to my life (not a romantic partner) so I have been rather busy but I promise I am just about to make a post on this topic on my blog so please look out for that and link it when it is posted, GIN. Turpentine, thank you for your service, and bunches please hang in there. If any of you still have questions after my post or run into any problems later on, please let me know privately and I’ll address it.

bunches: SECHE!!!!!! i luv u i hope u are ok

Turpentine: Oh thank fuck you’re back I was literally about to explode.

KEN: seche i hope youre doing alright, all the love w/ you <3

GIN: thank you, I’m sure a lot of the talk will die down after that

Lily: thank you!! good luck, Seche!!!

Smiling down at their responses, anxiety somewhat relieved, he goes back to the Look channel and begins reading some of the responses, seeing a lot of Turpentine’s ban work appearing throughout the thread. Most of the comments were in defense of him with only a few people pondering his identity and blowing everything out of proportion. In fact, even though the server is much smaller than the blog, it seemed they had gathered en masse to discuss how much of an ass Herz and Finn are making the discussion of it on the site seem puny in comparison.

Zeon-Immune: it’s not like the Look is known for good content, anyway, that they’d stoop so low against someone just trying to make an anonymous living is predictable

die feddie bastards: well but it’s still like not cool and that fuckin herz guy what the hell is his damage anyway revealing such weird information

war=death: SERIOUSLY like revealing a prominent political figure had a quickie in a public bathroom is such a fucking bizarre thing to talk about I really didn’t believe much he said after that skdlfdsf

carl: they really should just respect people’s privacy

char aznable’s ahegao face: Hell Yea carl fuckin damn straight

That person’s username always makes him laugh and he’s pretty active so people always call him Char but now that he knows Suisei is the living, breathing Char Aznable, it makes him laugh even harder at the annoyed face his ex must make every time they call someone who's not himself by his own name. He laughs so hard at the image that Lucifer jumps up next to him and Mineva starts laughing beside him. He turns to her with a smile, stretching out his hand and letting her hold it a bit, using his other hand to pet Lucifer as the cat curls against his side. But he soon realizes he has to face his fears and actually make the post he'd promised Gin. Dropping Mineva's hand, he opens up an empty text post and sighs as he starts typing.

Hello friends and followers, I realize that recently there has been a bit of an upset in our community due to an episode of a podcast called “Looking Deeper”, often nicknamed “The Look”. Now, some of you may have never heard of this podcast or not listened to this episode or any episode but I wish to address the situation either way. In the episode, a man who called himself ‘Herz’ said that he saw me on a date with a man and “confirmed” I am a woman and went on to say some other inappropriate things regarding my personal life. I will not confirm nor deny any of these things. Instead, I will address them in the way I feel most appropriate.

Nothing Herz said matters. Whether I am a woman or not, whether I am in any kind of relationship or not, none of that matters in the slightest, except that it does. You all know that I have been very obstinate about keeping my appearance and person a secret from both you and the general public for various reasons and I do not take kindly to people intruding in my personal life. Whether they are true or not, I consider the things he said a very grave offense against my anonymity and while I laughed for a while at debates on my gender and such, if it is going to pull out people like this who pretend to know me for the shock factor then I can no longer laugh at it and must condemn the actions of such people.

As such, I would like for all of you to go on as if none of this has happened. The Look channel in the server will be deleted as I would like no more conversations on this to occur, I will send an email to Finn asking him to take the podcast down, and will not be answering any questions regarding what was stated on the show. As my dear followers, I expect you all to be capable of respecting my and your fellow followers’ privacy. Please continue to address me as you have before and pay no attention to those who disrespect my wishes on this matter.

Satisfied with his post, he sends it and immediately copies the link into the mod chat, watching as Gin posts it to the announcements channel of the general server and quietly awaits responses from the mods and community.

Lily: well said, seche!! you are such a good leader

bunches: seche is the best we luv u no matter what

Turpentine: Look are all a bunch of bitches can we please close their entire website?

KEN: i have to agree -_-

GIN: don’t be hasty, I’m sure they’ll get themselves shut down eventually

He smiles at the chat and goes back to the post, looking at the comments as they pop up in real time.

Sands of Time: I’m sorry you had to go through this, Seche. All the love.

kiev: the look needs to be shut down, can you tell finn that in your email

Hindsight: sorry for bringing it up, seche, i didn’t know it would be so bad.

Looking at the apology of the person who had originally sent the link he feels a little bad and replies.

Seche: Don’t worry about it! You did not make the episode and, as they say, hindsight is 20/20!

char aznable’s ahegao face: lol seche comin in hot with the dad jokes

Lily: we really shouldn’t allow you to have that un on the main website so you keep yourself in check, bud

char aznable’s ahegao face: awwww lily you love me admit it <3

Lily: … <3

Suisei: Please make him change his name

Seche: Oh? Suisei? You have something against Char?

Suisei: Seche

udon: eh??? suisei doesn’t like char?? funny bc you have the same outlook on life lol

Suisei: Too far, udon

Sands of Time: Also their name is part of the whole Red Comet pseudonym so I’d say they’re more likely a Char stan if anything

char aznable’s ahegao face: LMAO char stan takes themself too seriously more at 11

Garma is a veritable mess of laughter when he hears a knock on his door.

“Give me a second!” he calls. Recovering from his fit, he walks to the door to open it and promptly starts laughing again when he sees Char standing there with a couple grocery bags and an absolutely pitiful look on his face. Garma lets him in and closes the door behind him, clutching his stomach as he doubles over.

“Garma,” Char says with a pout. Garma laughs harder, pointing vigorously at Char as he remembers char aznable’s ahegao face’s last comment and that none of them knew they were talking to the real Char Aznable and how right they still were. “And here I brought you your favorite ice cream to try and cheer you up.”

“What? Ice cream? Gimme,” Garma demands, immediately sitting up and reaching for Char’s bag. Char keeps the bag out of his reach as he grabs at it from the floor.

“Not until you make… that person change their username on the main site.”

“Oh? And not on the server?”

“The server can’t be seen by the general public and I don’t want random people thinking about… that. Besides, if either of us are going to… do that it’s definitely you,” Char says awkwardly, obviously trying to avoid that one word.

“Say ahegao once and I’ll make you a mod on the server and the website.” Char gives him a pleading look but he just stares back with anticipation, making sure his eyes are as big and sparkly as possible. Reluctantly, Char sighs and hands him his ice cream.

“...Ahegao,” he says softly and Garma immediately falls into another fit of laughter, clutching his ice cream to his stomach.

“Gama!” Mineva calls and he tries to calm himself down as Char goes over to her.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, really, it’s too much,” he explains as Char picks up Mineva and holds her on his hip.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing better, whether you’re laughing at me or anyone else,” Char replies as Mineva pulls off his glasses. “Hey, now.”

“She wants to wear them, let her.” Garma looks up at them from the floor, laying sideways with his head propped up on his hand. Char puts his glasses on Mineva and she looks around in wonder, shaking them around til they almost fall on the floor, still way too big for her. But Char catches them on the way down and he and Garma share a look of amusement. Char puts his glasses on the counter and Garma takes his prize out of the bag. He’s shocked to find it really is his absolute favorite type of ice cream. He had discovered the brand while with Char so if anyone should remember it would be him but he's still amazed.

“Is that not your favorite anymore? Should I have gotten the fly pop instead?” Char asks when he sees his confounded face.

“No… it is.” His mood instantly plummets as he thinks of their past again. “Did you ever… did you really care for me? At all? Was it all just a game?”

“It’s difficult," Char responds. "I don’t really know how I felt back then and it was all drowned out after I thought I killed you. I can’t explain it but I’d rather focus on now, anyway.”

“You say that, but how can I trust the current you when the past you did all that? How do you expect me to trust you’re any different now?” Char doesn’t seem to have an answer for that and instead sits in front of him, placing Mineva between them.

“I think we should be friends,” Char says and Garma raises his eyebrows. He’d been about to say that himself. “I don’t want you to think I just want to get… back together with you. I’m not in the right mindset for anything like that and I’m sure you aren’t either. I don’t know who I am any better than you do, I can’t tell you if I’d betray you or not again.”

“I… agree wholeheartedly. I feel like I’m growing into myself and I think if we can be friends then maybe we can help each other grow. We both know each other’s absolute worst sides so we can maybe… keep each other in check? Or, like, talk about things.”

“Like we do as Seche and Suisei?”

“Yeah! But just… more, I guess? I will definitely expect you to tell me more about your life than you used to, I have become quite curious from the little Artesia’s told me about your childhood. I know it might be hard because it’s me but I’m not really…”

“You weren’t involved in any of it, I know, Artesia’s already scolded me for that. I can definitely try to be more… open, but I’ll probably keep flirting with you on the forum,” he says with a smirk.

“I’m more than okay with that, I thrive under that kind of attention,” he says, returning the smirk.

“Of course you do.” Char rolls his eyes with an amused smile and Garma returns it, happy they’ve returned to friendly banter so easily.

“But we should also make our intentions transparent. We can’t lie to each other no matter how much we want to and we have to realize it will take time to repair the distrust between us.” Char nods in agreement. “Currently, my intentions are to try and be your friend and see what kind of person you are now.

“Mine are the same,” Char responds. Garma gives him a once over, noting his eyes that look at Mineva between them and the way he sits with one knee up and the other crossed in, Lucifer the Second stretched out on top of it. His arms are hung over his legs, casually scratching Junior’s chin as she purrs and he seems so different from their days at the academy. There's a certain relief to his posture, like he’s lost a burden, but a different sort of tension as though he’s gained another. That probably made sense given what he’d heard had gone on during the war.

“It’s a shame Lalah is gone,” he mentions casually and Char freezes. Keeping an eye on him, Garma continues, “I did not know her well but I know she was very important to you.”

“She was,” Char replies simply.

“I wish I could have gotten to know her, I think we would have been good friends.” Char simply hums and stands, walking over to the kitchen and getting Garma a spoon for his ice cream with Lucifer in his arms.

“Gama,” Mineva calls to him, interrupting the awkward silence that had arisen after his statement. He turns to her in surprise and smiles down as she babbles at him, nodding along.

“She’s warmed up to you so quickly,” Char says as he hands him the spoon.

“I’m sure it’s because you warmed her up to me first, isn’t it?” Char sits back down in front of him and hands him his spoon. Lucifer the Second immediately climbs back into Char’s lap and he smiles down at her “I’m sure you showed her pictures of me to warm her up to us, Sayla came around panicked that she didn’t have any pictures of us a while back. At first I wondered why she cared but now that I know the two of you are in cahoots I’m sure that was the reason, was it not?”

“Caught red-handed,” Char admits with a chuckle. Garma opens his ice cream and Mineva immediately crawls up onto his lap, Lucifer hopping up close behind her to sniff. While Lucifer sniffs the food and runs back to Char again, Mineva demands to be fed upon seeing the sweet treat. Obligingly, Garma gives her a couple spoonfuls before eating any himself. Now Char is watching the two of them carefully as he attempts to eat and dodges Mineva’s wandering hands.

“I think there’s more to it, though, she’s not like this with Artesia or Shana, is she?” Char comments.

“Well, that’s because of the blood tie, isn’t it? I think, despite how much I’ve come to disapprove of my family, that I care for her more because we have that connection, that bond of blood.”

“In more ways than one.”

“Exactly. I feel… relieved by her presence. To know that not everything the Zabis created is terrible, that’s there’s still some hope for those of us who share the name. I won’t put too much pressure on her to be perfect, but raising her to be better than her father is certainly my goal, I think.” Char hums and looks down at Junior in his lap.

“I think I can agree with that, it shouldn’t be too hard,” he replies.

“Exactly. I think, even if no one ever knows I’m Garma Zabi, and no one ever knows she’s Mineva Zabi, that we can be happy just knowing that our family is no longer what it used to be.” Char nods and Garma watches him play absently with Junior, anxiety on his mind. “And Char?”

“Hm?” his friend looks up, his brow furrowed.

“Will you help me? I don’t think I can possibly do this alone, I want you and Artesia to be a part of our life so I don’t fall prey to my old mentality again and ruin her future. I’d love to think I would never do that again but I still don’t… trust myself completely.”

“I’d be happy to,” Char says as his brow unfurrows and a crooked smile sneaks its way onto his face.

“Thank you,” Garma sighs in relief.

“Of course, I think just by asking for that you’re a million times more trustworthy than me. I said I can’t imagine anyone else raising her and I really meant that. You’ll prove yourself a good person, you’ll see.” He eats another spoonful of ice cream as he ponders Char’s praise, he doesn’t think he deserves it but he won’t question it either when Char sounds so genuine.

Two hours and an empty tub of ice cream later, he’s completely forgotten about the morning’s incident as he plays with Mineva and talks with Char about politics and daily goings on and whatever else pops up. When Shana comes home from work and finds him with his legs laid across Char’s lap, Mineva asleep in his own lap, and nature documentaries playing quietly in the background, Garma could’ve sworn they almost fainted. Char smiles at him and he smiles back at their reaction and suddenly he feels like maybe his life isn’t a mistake.

Notes:

yep, this one's going in my cringe compilation

anyway, char's ahegao face came from a friend's discord name which was "junkrat's canon ahegao face" for like the longest time (as i was writing this too, showing just how old it is) and i mean char doesnt have one canonically but my theory is that the only reason for that is that we'd never shut up about it and nerdboys would say it diminishes his character or "goes too far" or some bullshit.

anyway, if you liked this chapter, expect more of similar things in the future BUT no more webspeak the cringe demon is finally gone 😭

by similar things i do mean chapters where char, garma, and mineva are the primary characters. i dont mean to shaft sayla and shana but they wont appear for a bit i apologize... their story is something i've thought of making into a sidestory of sorts but i have so many ideas and so much im doing that i can never get far in it

Chapter 19: Cabin

Summary:

Garma and Char go on vacation.

Notes:

aaaaaaaaaa hello :3

this is probably very quick update from me i know, i had been planning on doing it this weekend but i really like this chapter so i wanted to share it with you all!! i hope you love it as much as i do!!!!

it's actually one of the more recent chapters i've written, a replacement for a chapter i really didn't like. i think it was written sometime in november? idr but i've been in love w/ it since. if you are confused by some of the stuff i talk about im sorry i tried not to get too involved in env sci particulars but sometimes i just cannot help it!! it's my life!!!!

the song for this chapter is soft & warm by voxtrot and also this mv!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3nH0K56P-94 (its my fav ever and, yes, its also a naruto op)

“I’m taking Mineva to Norway,” Garma tells him one day. It comes out of nowhere, really, and he’s slightly taken aback by the declaration.

“Norway?” Garma makes an affirmative noise. “When?”

“In a couple days. We booked a cabin about a week ago, I wouldn’t have told you at all but since you’re coming back around the same time, I thought you might be concerned if you didn’t know.” He barely holds back a laugh, of course he wasn’t going to tell him. That’s just like Garma. “You can come if you like? There’s two rooms, one with a queen and one with two full beds.”

“I don’t see what else I could do, other than sit in an empty apartment for a week,” he agrees nonchalantly.

“Char… we didn’t want to bother you with it.”

“I’m not upset you didn’t tell me, I’m just not sure why you’d even go to Norway.”

“Well, we’re going because I told Mineva about snow and she wanted to see it and then I realized I’ve never seen it and neither has Aceri so we thought we might see some there. We figure while we’re stuck on Earth for a bit it can’t hurt to explore.”

“And you just want to get out of the house, don’t you?”

“Perhaps.” He does laugh at that, chuckling as he hears Garma huff over the other end of the line. “Laugh all you want, but you’re free to do whatever you like. You don’t even have to come to Earth if you don’t want to.”

“I do, I do. And I’m already at re-entry so it’d be a waste to go back now and miss out on the chance to see snow.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice and he’s sure Garma hears it from the second soft huff from the other end of the line.

“You’ve already seen snow, haven’t you?” Char hums absently.

“Probably not like you’re thinking,” he answers. The snow he’s seen has always been filled with ash, such a well-conserved area like Norway wouldn’t be the same. They probably still have that pristine white snow Garma’s imagining, even before the evacuation the country had a lot more environmental protections than the rest of the world.

“I see… well, in that case I insist you come so that we can discuss the impact of conservation efforts such as those in Norway in person.”

“I don’t have a choice anymore?”

“Absolutely not. You must come to Norway and you must experience the things I’ve been telling you about, it’s imperative to the Cause.” The Cause refers to Garma’s persistent belief that the natural environment of Earth must be restored after humanity vacates it, at least as much as it can be. Char has to admit he doesn’t entirely understand what that means but Garma reads scientific journals religiously and has even sent him some that he has yet to read. He’s passionate about it and Char will support the cause just for that, his friend needs something to keep him going.

“If you insist.” He hears Garma sigh happily through the phone.

“Then we will see you soon?”

“See you soon,” he affirms and Garma hangs up. As the line dies, Char puts down his lightscreen and cracks his neck, stiff from the flight in. They’ll land soon and then he’ll go back to the apartment where Aceri lives full-time as he and Mineva run back and forth. According to Aceri, Mineva spends most nights with Garma and maybe two a week with her but when Char comes back she always demands to stay there and stands by his bedside at night, tugging on his sheets until he lets her stay.

“She really just likes being with you, I can’t explain it. Children like who they like,” Aceri had said when he asked her why she did that. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the gesture, he just doesn’t understand what the child sees in him.

The ship lands steadily and he stands, lifting his small bag that’s probably not enough for going to Norway for a week. It’s fine, however, since Garma will probably get excited at the idea of taking him shopping for warmer clothes. Whatever he gets he can just leave at the apartment too it’s not as if anyone on Axis knows what he’s doing. They’ll probably be suspicious of him being gone a couple days longer than usual but he spaces out his visits enough so he doesn’t raise their suspicions too much.

“Same time as usual?” the pilot asks. It’s a private ship from Axis and the pilot is, like Aceri and Garma, one of the few people he genuinely trusts. How he’s come to trust Garma is an odd thing, but he just doesn’t seem like the kind of person to lie. He never has.

“No, a few extra days, I’ll tell you when I know exactly how many,” he replies.

“Yes, sir.” He steps off the plane and is in an empty field. Landing away from an airport is a necessary precaution for multiple reasons but it’s not far away and he’s walked through the countryside like this many times in his visits so he knows how to act nonchalant.

From the field, it takes twenty minutes to reach the small, privately-owned airport right next to the train station that will take him to Rome. He buys a ticket to the stop closest to his apartment and stands for a few minutes before the train comes. It’s late, that’s just how Italian trains are, but he was also late, just slightly less so to make up for the wait. It’s an hour from there to his stop and then another twenty minute walk to his apartment until Mineva is jumping into his arms and calling his name.

“Uncle Cha!” she yells, flinging herself off of Aceri and into Char’s legs. Surprised by the suddenness, he stands in the half-open doorway with his hands in the air. As he realizes it’s her, he bends down and ruffles her hair so that it’s out of place. She giggles and lets go so she can bounce around happily at his feet. “Uncle Cha! Uncle Cha! Uncle Cha!”

He watches her dance with a smile before picking her up and turning to Aceri.

“I assume Garma has told you I’m coming too?” she nods in answer as he adjusts Mineva in his arms “How many days before we leave? I need to tell Bahn when to pick me up.”

“We should be going the day after tomorrow and we’ll stay seven days so I’d say ten so you can have a day to get back,” she replies thoughtfully. He nods and Mineva slaps his shoulder.

“Uncle Cha go with us?”she asks.

“I’m going with you, Neva,” he answers and she pushes her forehead into his, giggling excitedly against him. “How have you been?”

“Good! Uncle take me to libary and read and tell story and go to pak and! And I count to twenty!”

“Twenty?” He’s genuinely surprised, the last time he was here had been only four months ago and she could barely get to five.

“Mineva is a very fast learner, she has done wonderfully in her lessons and loves playing with the other children in the park. She has even made a few friends, though we know it’s hard for her to bring them here—”

“She can go over to theirs, can’t she?” Aceri stops with wide eyes then shakes her head.

“That’s what I said! But Prince Garma and Miss Sayla were paranoid about this and that—”

“Me? Paranoid?” A new voice asks and they both turn to see Garma standing in the still-open door wearing a comfy but sophisticated turtleneck and holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. Mineva starts bouncing in his arms at the sight of her uncle.

“Lord Garma, you are… a bit…”

“I can’t deny it,” he sighs as he walks in and closes the door behind himself. “I’m not used to hiding like this and I can’t say it’s something I really enjoy.” But it’s necessary, are the words left silent between them. Necessary so the Federation doesn’t imprison him, and so the last two Zabis don’t get caught up in Axis.

“I understand that, but Captain Char says it would be fine if Mineva went to her friend’s houses,” Aceri pleads.

“Does he?” Garma turns to him with a raised eyebrow that seems to wither Aceri as she watches them.

“If Aceri goes with her I don’t see the problem,” Char replies with a shrug.

“I see... if that’s the case, then go ahead and finish the plans you were making before,” Garma orders. Aceri nods and hurries out of the room to do whatever it is Garma had told her not to do. It’s so odd, to see how one word from him can change Garma’s opinion so quickly.

“Keeping her from her friends, really?” Char asks.

“I don’t know, I just worry constantly. I know it’s not healthy, for either of us, but I can’t stop.” He looks down as if he’s ashamed of himself and Char supposes that feeling must be pretty constant in his life these days. It’s not something he doesn’t understand. Mineva looks from one of her uncles to the other from her perch on Char’s arm as he walks closer to Garma and puts his empty hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I think a break will be good for you, push you out of this mindset and give you some freedom.” A break sounds like something he could use as well, people have always been his weak point and taking a step away from society sounds almost too pleasing. Away from Axis too, from the responsibility and doubt of trying to come to terms with his new life there.

“I’m glad you’re coming with us,” Garma says, smiling up at him as he places a hand over the one on his shoulder. It makes him uneasy somehow. The feeling isn’t new but he’s more curious about it now than he has been before. It’s like being on the edge of something, a cliff that’s so high he can’t see what’s at the bottom. He’s rarely the type to fear cliff-diving but something keeps him from it. “Do you have proper clothes for the trip? It’s much colder in Norway than I would assume you’ve felt before.”

Char smiles as he shakes his head and Garma’s eyes light up, he’s so predictable.

Two days and three new coats later, he’s on another plane. This time his destination is Sweden. But it’s a relatively empty plane since not many people live in Sweden and even fewer live in Norway. Zero, to be specific. The country of Norway has no permanent residents. Neither does Iceland, but the evacuation of Norway had been a much more controversial ordeal. A good portion of the controversy had been from other countries intruding into national affairs but within Norway itself the decision had been pretty unanimous. About fifteen people had refused to leave but most moved as soon as they realized everyone else really wasn’t coming back. The last resident of the country had died there fifteen years ago, alone in the house where she’d grown up.

Now, it’s home to the northern nomadic Sami and about a hundred cabins that people can rent and stay in for up to a month. There are no other accommodations other than the cabins themselves and each one is miles from another. It’s an isolated paradise and an experiment to see what an Earth without humans would look like. The politics of the experiment haven’t been an issue in the near-twenty years since other world leaders realized the Norwegians wouldn’t be going back but it’s still not something you should mention in polite company. The concept of the experiment sits heavily on earthnoids’ hearts but it makes him smirk in triumph.

What would happen if humans left the Earth? How would civilian areas decay and what would happen to the cities they abandoned? How would nature rebound? How could humans interact with a more wild Earth? He doesn’t think they need to, that they should just leave the Earth completely and never look back, but it’s still an interesting thought. If the Earthsphere were to grow to the point where no human lived on Earth, going back for research purposes was certainly something that could be considered but Garma understands that concept much better than he does.

They land about ten miles from the Norwegian border and a caravan takes them from the airport to the border. No plane is allowed in the country’s airspace so you have to enter through the checkpoints in Sweden where you can rent supplies and buy food since there aren’t any stores inside. Soon they’re on a solar-powered trolley through the countryside towards the city formerly known as Bergen. Their lodge is a few miles from the edges of the city, in the forests near a fjorden whose name he doesn’t know how to pronounce.

Although snow is not currently falling, it covers the ground generously and Mineva is glued to the window, standing up and watching the world whip by. Then she turns to Garma and pulls at his hand. He picks her up and puts her in his lap, listening to her excited squeals and answering her silly questions about snow and the country they’re in. Char watches on fondly as he tells her the story of some old Nordic king, her eyes growing in size as he goes on.

“Prince Garma, did you check the hours of sunlight for our trip? It’s quite… dark,” Aceri asks just after the story’s been completed.

“Yes, we should get about six hours a day at this time of year. We should leave the trolley out when we see it rise today and tomorrow we can go to the city,” Garma explains.

“Of course, sir.” Char can tell from his pained smile that Garma’s still uncomfortable with being called Prince but he makes no comment about it as they reach their destination and the trolley stops at the destined coordinates.

“Good, we can use this time to set up for the week,” Garma orders and steps gently out of the trolley onto the snow below with Mineva in his arms. Char follows him and quietly helps take the bags out of the car, walking what he’s given to Aceri who takes them inside the house.

“You sure have this planned, don’t you, Seche?” Calling him the name is a bit of a test, but he’s also become rather used to calling him that so it slips out pretty naturally. Garma shoots him an odd look, not the glare he’d been expecting but something more along the lines of disappointment.

“Of course I am, why would I not be? I’ve been wanting to do this for years.”

“Really? And here I thought it was a spur of the moment thing,” Char says.

“Well, the trip itself was rather spur of the moment, but the desire was not,” Garma says, handing him a comforter for each arm.

“I see that.” He smiles at Garma and turns to the door. He’s waiting for Garma to correct him, to tell him it’s okay for him to call him by his real name in such an isolated place but nothing comes from the man as he stops Mineva from trying to pick up something too heavy for her. So he walks away, over to Aceri, to give him some space to think about this strange feeling.

“He’s had quite a struggle with that name, you know,” Aceri whispers conspiratorially as he hands her a comforter.

“Oh?”

“Yes, he thought he should take it on for a while, the burden of the Zabi name is very heavy on him, but that’s exactly why he kept it. He thinks leaving it behind is unfair to the people who have been hurt by it.” It feels somehow like a dig at himself, as if Garma’s taunting him with his strength but that’s more his own fault than Garma’s. What’s he going to do? Ask Garma to start calling him Casval again? The thought sends shivers down his spine.

“How do you know this?” he asks. Seeing as she calls him Prince Garma, he doubts he would actually tell her any of this. She smiles and leans a bit closer.

“I overheard him and Miss Sayla talking about it one night, don’t tell him I told you.” She winks and happily carries the sheets inside, looking like she’s just saved the world from sure destruction.

It would be easier for him if Garma gave up the Zabi name, he could forget his quarrel with the Zabis and move on but he somehow thinks he’d miss it too. Garma… such a familiar name that he’s known only in the simplest times of his life. But that’s inseparable from the Zabi part, the part that raised him, that created his own trauma. How can he reconcile the two? Maybe he could marry him, that would give him a different name.

Garma gives him a questioning look as he laughs at his own ridiculous idea and Char shakes his head in dismissal. He doesn’t bring up the topic again for the rest of the unpacking, instead considering it in his own head. If he doesn’t overcome his own issues first, he knows there’s little way to avoid confrontation with Garma and at the moment that’s the last thing he wants. Especially since he’s just signed himself up for an entire week in the middle of nowhere with him.

Once they’ve all settled in, the sun has come up and Mineva runs out to the snow, falling into it face-first as she stumbles across soft ground.

“Neva!” Garma calls as he rushes over and flips her over. She laughs up at her uncle as she slaps the snow around her and Char watches a relieved smile spread across Garma’s face with a distant sort of feeling. Although he’s here, he doesn’t feel like a part of the group at all. Even Aceri reluctantly goes to join them in making snow angels while he stands off to the side and watches, afraid to involve himself too deeply. He knows he’s supposed to be Garma’s friend but he still doesn’t know his own boundaries in that, considering what he’s done. And why he's even being allowed this privileged look into their lives. Garma seems genuinely excited to have him here but he doesn’t understand it. It's tricky to try and get involved, the fear of eventual rejection and his own mind keeping him from enjoying this down time.

The sun is shining and there are few clouds but it’s still bitterly cold, more cold than he’s ever been. The air cuts at his lungs, crisp and clear in a way that’s probably not accessible anywhere else on the planet. It seems as though a lack of humanity really can do wonders on a place, the dirty grey snow he’s experienced before can’t even begin to compare to the way this shimmers on the ground, a pure white blanket over the Earth below him. Logistics still evade him but he might be beginning to understand the feelings behind Garma’s cause.

“Char!” He looks over suddenly, seeing Garma treading awkwardly over to him. Laughing to himself at how stupid his friend looks, he goes to met him halfway. “Help us build a snowman!”

As Garma reaches him, he trips and stumbles into him with a loopy smile then grabs his hand and pulls him so he’s stumbling equally as awkward back to Aceri and Mineva.

“A snowman?” he asks.

“Do you know what they are?” Garma replies as they stop in front of the other two.

“Of course I do.”

“Well I didn’t,” Garma says with a pout. “I only learned recently, so will you please help us oh one who is wise in the Earth-snow knowledge.” His eyes shine softly and he holds Char’s hands in his own. They’re somehow warm despite his lack of gloves and he sighs in defeat. As if he’s able to say no to Garma, as if he even wants to.

“I dislike being known as someone who knows a lot about Earth but I’ll help,” he concedes easily, a small smile edging its way onto his face.

He shows them how to start start a snowball and rolls it around until it's large enough to be the base, Mineva trying to "help" but mainly just getting in the way as three year-olds are want to do. Garma makes the second part and then Aceri constructs the head, picking it up and placing it on top. She stands back and her and Mineva look to Garma for approval. Char follows their lead and looks at Garma whose head is in his hand as if he's inspecting it thoroughly.

“Char, give me your glasses,” Garma demands. Char narrows his eyes at him but slides the glasses off his face and hands them to Garma, squinting even more in the sudden brightness of the sun. Garma inspects his face for a second and turns back to the snowman. “You look better without them anyways. Here,” he steps forward and settles the sunglasses over the makeshift nose of the snowman, “it’s you!”

The smile he’s been trying to hide the whole time finally spreads across his face as he looks at it. Aceri and Mineva gasp and Aceri rushes inside to get more of his clothes to put on the sculpture. Garma turns and smiles back at him, so happy with this silly little tribute that Char wonders how he ever doubted him.

“We have to make you as well now, don’t we?”

“Me?” Garma asks, his eyes going wide.

“Uncoo! Uncoo!” Mineva chants, jumping at his feet. Not giving him much choice, Char starts packing another snowball and rolling it along the ground.

“Well, if we’re doing me as well we have to do everyone,” Garma accedes with his hands on his hips.

“Me too! Me too!”

“You too,” Garma assures with a nod and Mineva does a little happy dance. Garma copies her and they look ridiculous but it’s the happiest Char has ever seen him. As Char continues his rolling the two laugh and Garma tries to teach his niece some other dance that she fails at and falls down into the snow again. This time, Garma falls with her and the two of them laugh as they roll around on the ground.

Three hours later they have four snowmen, all decked out in each of their clothing. They had tried to make Mineva a small one to match her size but she insisted she be the same size as them and is now stuck awkwardly between her two uncles after they’d had to add more to the one they’d already started. They’re probably not the best snowmen the world has ever produced but what can you expect from three adults who have never seen snow and a toddler hellbent on her own definition of perfection.

But they’re cute. Lop-sided and lumpy, but still cute. When he looks at them from a distance, Garma at his side, he feels a little proud of them. It’s something he built with people he cares about and it feels nice, it feels comfortable. Seeing his own snowman with Garma’s strikes some kind of chord in him, makes him feel like a part of something.

“They’re lovely,” Garma says.

“The best snowmen ever made,” Aceri adds with a succinct nod.

“Oh, Aceri, I wouldn’t say that.”

“No, she’s right,” Char affirms. Garma looks up at him with wide eyes. He has something sappy at the tip of his tongue but there’s no way he could ever actually say it.

“Best eva!” Mineva cheers, jumping up and down with her fists pumping the air.

“Well if everyone agrees, then I don’t see how they’re not,” Garma concedes with a defeated chuckle. Just over the trees, the sun is starting to fall and he and Garma watch together quietly as it begins to set while Aceri and Mineva continue playing in the snow.

When it’s dark enough that they can barely see their little toddler, they head back inside and Aceri makes a hot chocolate recipe that she says is a family specialty of hers. Although he and Garma exchange disbelieving looks, it is quite delicious and Mineva is just a bundle of energy after finishing hers. Once again, she insisted on having the same size as everyone else which they all knew would be a mistake from the beginning.

They play tag and hide and seek inside until she tuckers herself out, flopping down on the couch in front of the fireplace that has been Char tending. She lays herself across Garma’s lap as he tells her a story and asks who she’d like to sleep with when it’s obvious she can’t stay awake any longer.

“More hot chocolate Aceri?” she asks.

“Of course, darling,” Aceri agrees.

“Aceri! Aceri! Aceri!” she demands, moving over to Aceri’s lap. Aceri smiles and picks her up, bouncing her gently as she walks her over to the larger bedroom.

“Looks like we’ll share the other room tonight,” Garma says from the couch. Char turns from his fire and admires how the light falls on his friend, casting a gentle glow over his frame as he stares vacantly at it.

“What time is it?”

“Only seven thirty,” Garma responds as he looks over at the clock on the wall. Early, too early for either of them to go to bed though Garma’s probably more used to it with Mineva. But Char wants to stay up later and hopes Garma does too. He wants more of his company, especially now that they're alone. “I’ve got a deck of cards if you want to play some.”

“What games do you know?” he asks, throwing one last log on the fire. When this goes out, it’ll probably be time to leave.

“Not many. Do you know peanut butter?” Garma asks as Char sits on the other side of the couch.

“You mean bullshit?”

“Watch your language!” Garma scolds. “Mineva might still be up.”

“The door’s closed and you curse around her all the time anyway,” Char contradicts and Garma rolls his eyes with a smile.

“Whatever, but if she starts saying it after this trip I’m blaming you.”

“As if you won’t be the one screaming it halfway through,” Char says. What Garma is thinking suggesting this game when he’s such a terrible liar and Char is such a good one is beyond him. But he’s not going to point that out.

“We’ll see about that!” Garma says with a pre-emptive victory smirk.

Char’s right, of course, and an hour later Garma’s hissing “bullshit” angrily through his teeth as he takes another twenty cards from the center. It’s a long game with only two people and they only get through two rounds before the fire goes out and they can barely see each other, much less make out their cards.

Garma’s hand searches out to take the cards from him and their fingers brush as they rejoin the two halves of the deck. The hand lingers on his own for some kind of purchase in the darkness and Char freezes as he wills his body away from the instinctual movement of dropping the cards and entwining their fingers. Garma’s skin is just as warm as it was earlier and he wants more. It’s not something he can decide on his own but he just wants it so much. And Garma doesn’t seem to notice anything. He’s always like this, oblivious and a touchy person by nature. Of course Char is as well, but now the emotions behind their contact don’t seem to match.

So he pulls away, using the excuse of cleaning out the burned remains of the logs to get away from the dicey situation.

They go to bed after cleaning up and he lays awake in his bed as Garma sleeps peacefully in his own. He wants to hold him again and he reaches out his arm, remembering the night when Lalah had told him he might get the chance to redeem himself. She’s here with him now, isn’t she? He’s in the Earthsphere so if he calls out to her, she should answer, shouldn’t she? Char closes his eyes, letting Garma’s purple head leave his sight only momentarily as he calls out for his dearest friend.

“Good evening, Colonel,” Lalah responds happily. “You haven’t called me to talk about this issue yet, I’m a little surprised.”

“This issue?” he asks internally.

“Well, General Garma is right here, isn’t he? So I assume this is about him,” she says back. She’s right, he’s never talked to her about him. It didn’t feel right, asking her about this issue when she still had feelings for him. “Colonel, you don’t need to pity me so much. I’m happy for you, I want you to move on.”

“Move on?”

“I’ve found peace here, I don’t mind any of the things that happened in my life and I don’t want you to linger on them in my absence. I think it’s good to investigate whatever feelings you have for General Garma, I told you you might get the chance to redeem yourself.” He can feel the warmth of her aura around him now and it puts his mind at ease. There’s no way he’ll give up his vengeance for her but the burden of her love is something he does wish he could let go of.

“Hm, you did. But I… how do I investigate? What does that mean? What am I looking for?” he asks. He realizes all he’s done so far is ask about his own problems but once he’s gotten her opinion on the situation he’ll ask about her well-being.

“You’re looking for what your feelings are and how you investigate that is by doing what you want. Don’t push him into anything but if you feel like doing something, do it! You’ll lead yourself to your answer eventually.”

“I want to hold him again,” he thinks pathetically. The hand he had put out earlier grasps at nothing, wishing he could erase the space between them.

“I have faith in you, Colonel,” she replies steadily.

“Thank you, Lalah," he thinks with a smile. He doesn't have more to ask about that at the moment so he begins his check-in with her instead. "How have you been?”

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” She laughs and they talk for hours. He still wonders why he could never love her as she loved him. Is he broken? Incapable of love? No, he loves her, he knows he loves her and he loves Artesia and his mother and… well, that’s it really. But isn’t that enough? To know he can love them all in the same way is spectacular. He shouldn’t need more than that. But he does.

The next morning he’s barely gotten any sleep but that’s not unusual. He’s used to working a full day with even just two hours of sleep.

“Hot coco! Hot coco!” Mineva chants excitedly from her booster seat, pounding her fists on the little table in front.

“Not until later, darling,” Aceri denies. Mineva pouts and widens her eyes like she does when she wants Garma to pick her up but the same tricks don’t work on Aceri. “You’ll tucker yourself out and we’ve got a long day ahead of us. No.”

“Uncooooo!!” she cries and Garma comes over and kisses her head.

“It’s Aceri’s hot chocolate, I can’t force her to make it,” he responds. Then she turns to Char at the other end of the table but he just shrugs, unwilling to put himself against either of the other two. After being denied by all three adults, Mineva resigns herself to her fate and begins stabbing her peas with her tiny, plastic fork.

Their long day will be going down to Bergen and traversing through the abandoned city in awe of the changes it’s undergone since the evacuation. Garma’s particularly excited about it, speculating what kind of wildlife they’ll see and how the streets have broken up, if there’ll be any trees growing or decomposition in the buildings themselves. He describes it as a crumbling world of humanity overtaken by the natural order and Char feels his own interests piqued by the idea so he listens to him intently as they head out to the trolley.

The trolley hovers above the ground as they pass over unpaved land, between trees and over snow patches with ease until the reach the nearest satellite city full of broken down houses and overgrown lawns covered in snow. They might be on a road now, based on the fact that there are no houses in their path, but it’s not visible under the near foot of snow covering the ground. As they near the city, the buildings get taller and taller and more intact. It makes sense, considering the city is made of less decomposable material, but there are still signs of decay across the landscape. Overgrown trees in parks crack the sidewalks around them and snowy vines climb up the sides of buildings, pulling themselves into small cuts in the barriers between windows and exaggerating the shattered patterns around them.

They stop the trolley a few minutes into the city as Mineva demands to be let out and she immediately starts running awkwardly on the snowshoes they had forced on her earlier as Aceri chases after her. Garma laughs at them as they run away but stays behind with Char who is the last to get out. He's staring out at something, Char's not exactly sure what, but he seems preoccupied with whatever it is so Char goes over to a six-story building to inspect it.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Garma asks and he turns back to see his friend walking up to the same building behind him with a smile.

“It looks like it’ll all fall apart at any moment,” he responds, touching the corner beam of the building. There are cracks in the concrete and he feels like if he pushes hard enough he might be able to make it all come crashing down. It’s a heady sense of power and he has to hold himself back from giving it a good shove, only because he doesn’t know how it would crumble or where Aceri and Mineva are.

“It will, someday. Deterioration is a process but if you leave something alone long enough it will begin whether you want it to or not.”

“Then why do you think we need to keep supporting the Earth after everyone’s left it? Can’t we let it recycle everything back around as it always does?”

“Well, it might, eventually. But there’s so much humans have done to damage the planet, things we can’t even see, that lengthen the process. Evolution doesn’t happen overnight and if we can’t clean up at least some of the mess we’ve made then it will take millenia for nature to rebound and become as diverse as it once was. There are different types of human interference in nature and though it's often bad, sometimes it can be good as well. The preservation of endangered species and landscapes, the recreation of ones we’ve lost, and the cleaning of waste that has accrued on the land’s surface are all things we do that help the Earth.”

“It seems like every type of ‘good’ human interference is to mitigate the bad humans have done.”

“Perhaps,” Garma says with a rueful smile. “But it’s necessary. It doesn’t even have to be humans that do the regulation. We can set up monitoring sites and use mobile suits run on sustainable energy sources to facilitate whatever cleaning needs to be done. There’s just so much knowledge here that we can use to help boost the quality of life on colonies and improve our own technology. But despite that, the number one thing that ruins our ability to utilise this knowledge is ourselves. Living on this planet only causes further destruction to ourselves and the environment we depend on so vitally. We want the same thing, Char. Even if we have different reasons for wanting it, the conclusion is the same.”

“What about what you’re doing now is helping you achieve what’s necessary?” he asks. He understands the importance of improving the quality of life on colonies but sometimes it all just feels so slow to him. Garma becomes more awkward at the question, as if he knows what he wants to say but doesn’t want to say it, looking at the ground and kicking up the snow at his feet.

“I… don’t know,” he says after about a minute of silence. “I have a plan and it all makes sense in my head but it’s been so hard to convince myself I’m capable of it.” He laughs awkwardly and fidgets with his hands, antsy like he wants to leave the conversation.

“What worries you?” Whatever his plan, Char has little doubt he’ll be able to complete it, but that doesn't mean he can't try to help it on a little bit.

“I just… after Kycilia I realized that I can’t change everyone’s mind and for someone so important to me to be so lost that I can’t save them from themselves I worry I’ll be unable to complete my goals when faced with the will of complete strangers. Can a few pretty words and a polite smile really change anything?” No, it won’t. But Garma knows that. He hasn’t just been saying pretty words and not a single person outside their small, protective circle has seen his polite smile. He’s found work with politicians across the Earthsphere, helping write legislation and speeches and coaching upstarts into leaders. It’s only been two years but he’s become more than some random blogger spouting idealistic rhetoric with no actual work to back himself up.

“Do you remember that offer you told me about a couple weeks ago?” Char asks.

“The one with the people trying to work on banning the death penalty?” He nods in confirmation.

“I think you should accept it. It’s something you’re passionate about and you’ll give good insight because of your personal experiences with the topic,” he explains. Garma looks into his eyes and Char feels pulled into the contact, hoping that somehow his sincerity is felt across it. Whether the legislation is passed or not doesn’t bother him, they’ve already helped him finish his vengeance so he has no real opinion on the topic but it really would be good for Garma.

“I suppose… it’s just hard to think about sometimes. I want to be able to give it my all and with what’s happened, I…” Garma trails off, staring out at the city solemnly.

“How are you holding up?” he asks after a moment of silence.

“Pretending to care?” Garma replies sardonically. It’s to be expected, it’s not as if they agree on the subject at hand and he’s never been very genuine with this person he calls his friend.

“I know it seems unlikely given our history but I do care about your well-being. Just because we have different feelings on the topic doesn’t mean I can’t worry about how it’s affecting you.” Garma turns away as Char walks towards him, staring absently at the snow-covered street.

“I don’t know how to talk about it, don’t know what I’m feeling or how I’m supposed to describe it. It’s too much, it’s all-encompassing. I feel like I have to try to be happy whereas it used to just be my normal state of being. I don’t feel normal, I feel wrong, and to change that I always have to add something. It’s not as if I can’t be how I used to be but now I have to do something more so I don’t fall back into this stupor. It’s not… fun.” That’s the last thing he wanted to hear. Char knows this feeling, knows it very well, he can barely remember a time when he didn’t feel this way. But that chipper, energetic Garma feels this same apathy is devastating, and the plea on Garma’s face as he looks back up at him chills him to his core.

“How can I help?” There’s no one way to get rid of these feelings and, depending on what Garma wants, he’s not certain he has the ability to help but he offers anyway. They’re stood only a few inches apart from each other now and it takes all of Char’s willpower not to grab his hand and try to squeeze all these feelings out of him through it.

“Stay.” Garma’s head falls on his shoulder and turns to look up at him with these sad, pathetic eyes that catch him in their net. How he would if he could.

“Garma, I can’t—”

“I know, I don’t mean forever. Just now, just as Suisei, just when you can. I… feel comfortable around you. Like I don’t have to be perfect, like I can be myself. You’re the…” He trails off, probably thinking about what he wants to say. Whatever it is, Char isn’t sure he’s ready to hear it anyway.

Garma turns his face back into his shoulder, covering his mouth as if to say he doesn’t know what more to say and Char feels slightly relieved. He wraps his arms around the body against his and squeezes it tight. It’s a comfortable feeling, being with Garma. He’s someone who’s seen his absolute worst side as well. A side that’s likely worse than anything Garma could hope to be. But he’s still here, still asking Char to comfort him despite the pain he’s caused him.

“I’m glad, I feel similarly,” he responds. It’s only when Garma rips himself off of Char’s shoulder to look at him with wide, sparkling eyes full of awe that Char realizes how much he’s just revealed. If it gets this reaction out of him, he might have to say these kinds of things more often, he thinks as the shocked expression drifts into a content smile. He has the sudden urge to kiss him and wonders if Garma feels the same, his hands clenching in Char’s coat as he stares up at him almost expectantly.

Either way, he’s too cute to resist like this and Char feels himself falling into it. As if pulled by some force beyond his control he slips into the comfort of his old flame’s lips. Garma tugs him closer and he knows it’s probably a bad idea but he’s missed this so much that he moves with the motion. He’s dreamed of it for years and now it’s actually happening, the feeling of Garma’s chapped lips pushing up into him a reminder of just how real it is. He wishes he could stay like this forever, wants to hold onto Garma forever and never let go. Not again.

Their lips move together in a way that’s practiced but not tired. Garma’s lips part just when he expects them to and his tongue finds all the right spots like muscle memory. But it’s better, the weight of his revenge no longer hangs over him like a shadow. No, despite keeping his family name, he knows this Garma is not a Zabi as he’s known them. And it’s freeing to understand, freeing to kiss him without the weight of their past. The contrast of the bitter cold around them and the warmth between them fills his head with so much air that it almost feels as if he’s floating, as if the two of them could begin to rise up off the ground at any moment. Like balloons they would drift together, strings entangled until they hit the ceiling of the world.

Does he deserve this? He’s not sure, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when Garma’s right here, body against his own as soft puffs of condensed breath mix with his own. Garma is here, now. He’s not dead and he’s not angry, he’s just here.

“It’s too soon,” Garma says as he stops for air. Char’s heart falls but he’s right, it is too soon. For both of them. They’re in transitory stages of their life and starting a relationship now might hinder their progress.

“I know.”

“I— I— Someday. Someday I’ll be ready but I’m not. Not now.”

“I understand. Take all the time you need. You don’t ever have to forgive me if that’s what you want.” Garma opens his mouth to object but Char continues. “But what if we just pretend? What if we use this week and pretend that we are ready. We don’t have to forget, just pretend. Like a holiday from our thoughts.”

“I don’t know… I like the idea but I’ve been…” he pauses and looks down at his hands. “The thing is that I want to think, I want to grieve. I want to let myself be sad. Back home I tell myself over and over that I shouldn’t, that she was a bad person and that I’m bad for feeling sad over her death and everything else that’s happened but I’m still… I can’t help it. And I want to feel it. I want to let it out and let it go but I can’t because— because—”

Tears stream down his face and Char takes a deep breath before moving his hands to Garma’s head and pushing it down against his chest. He can feel Garma nuzzle into it gently and he closes his eyes as he holds him so close the world might mistake them for one person. And Garma cries, he can feel it against the fabric of his coat and he can hear it in the muffled sobs that he’s trying to keep down. Char pats his head gently and looks at the ruined city around them, thinking about nothing in particular.

Seeing this decay and thinking about the people who’ve left, he thinks he might finally understand Garma’s cause. He’s a people person, he cares about people and he cares about making their lives better, that’s the basis of it all. He thinks about what’s best for humanity as it is, rather than what they’ll become unlike Char. He smirks to himself at the uniquely oldtype perspective. It’s somehow funny that people tout Seche as this blindly optimistic, over-the-top idealist when in reality, Garma is just a person who wants to help people.

But even with that it still feels like he’s only hit the tip of the iceberg, and he wants to know more. He wants to understand Garma and learn his ins and outs and everything he loves and everything he hates and… it might go a little beyond his political agenda. It’s confusing and terrifying and he doesn’t quite know what to make of it but something tells him it’s what he’s feared all along. That this silly, ridiculous oldtype has found his way into his heart that’s as bleak as the landscape around them and revived a sense of hope he’d thought had been gone forever.

He can tell when Garma’s stopped crying as the tension falls out of his frame and he stands a bit taller, preparing to face the world—or at least Aceri and Mineva—again. His height is perfect for Char’s shoulder and he leans down against it once more, turning to smile up at Char with glistening cheeks and puffy eyes.

“Thank you,” he says softly. The smile feels like one he’s seen before but not one he’s ever appreciated, so he takes the time to admire it now. His heart clenches in his chest at the sight and he’s glad he’s not wearing his sunglasses so he can see the true depth of those gentle eyes as they pierce through his soul.

Is this love? Some feeling pulses through him as he looks at the relieved face of the man leaning against him and he’s not quite sure what it is but he thinks it might be. That airiness, this strike to his heart, they all sound like things Lalah told him she felt around him and though he’d felt deeply about her, he could never understand what it meant as she described those sensations. Maybe he should ask her to explain it again to see if it adds up.

“It’s my pleasure,” he replies and Garma pulls back, smirking up at him.

“I’m sure it is,” Garma teases, poking lightly at his chest as he pulls away.

“Not like that,” he says as he rolls his eyes. The teasing is new, for sure, but he’s found he kind of likes it. Just as he likes everything about the new Garma, he already misses his warmth. But Garma just laughs it off and wipes the tear streaks off his face, backing up further as they hear Mineva pouncing across the snow.

“Uncooooo!!” she yells as she sees them around the building, Aceri close behind. Garma kneels and opens his arms to welcome her into them but as she begins running across the snow she trips again. The three adults laugh at her silliness and she flops over with a giggle as Garma steps cautiously through the powdery snow to pick her up.

They spend the rest of the daylight hours traversing the city, looking around empty storefronts and pondering whether it would be too dangerous to try and go up the stairs of a highrise. After about five minutes of griping, Aceri eventually convinces the rest of them not to when the concrete begins to give way under the weight of Char’s foot. Garma instantly pulls him back and they leave in a hurry, the sun beginning to set as they exit the building.

As their six hours of daylight reach their conclusion, they drive back to the cabin through the hills and forests, watching the sunset through the trees. The orange hues of the low sun sparkle a soft lavender against the untouched snow and cast dark shadows on the trees that stand between the two. As Char looks at Garma’s half-lit face, slightly red from the cold wind blowing against them, he doesn’t think he’s ever looked this relaxed, even while sleeping.

Back at the cabin, the fire roars in front of them as Aceri knits and Char and Garma sit next to each other with Mineva between them and cups of hot chocolate in their hands. They’re sat much closer than last night and Char has his arm draped behind Garma’s head as Mineva sits tucked away in the small space between them as if she’s using their bodies as heaters. Char watches her blow at her drink and slowly lifts his gaze to Garma’s face, seeing that relaxed expression again.

He wonders what it’s for, the beauty of nature? Perhaps not since they’re inside now and it’s still there. Instead it seems more like relief, from a burden that’s been lifted off his shoulders.

When they go to bed again, Mineva goes back with Aceri and Char once again stares longingly at the empty bed next to him while Garma buttons up his pajamas. The floor creaks softly as Garma walks over and Char waits to watch him to climb into bed with mostly closed eyes but the image never comes. He doesn’t understand why until he feels the sheet behind him lift, cold air sinking into him before being quickly displaced by the heat of Garma’s body as he lays down behind him.

“We’ll pretend,” Garma whispers, slinking his arms around Char’s waist and nuzzling into his neck, “but we’ll promise to forget about it after this week. No sex and Aceri cannot know.”

“Not Mineva?” he asks and feels Garma smirk into his neck. God, the feeling is incredible, to be in bed with this man and to feel him surrounding his being, his hands rubbing softly against his stomach and his chest pressed against his back. The bed is full-size so technically they can sleep on it without being so close but he doesn’t want to let go of the heady feeling this gives him.

“Mineva will think as she wishes, we can’t stop her from being a little sleuth,” Garma responds. Char turns over in his arms and looks at the man holding him. He’s smiling that same relaxed smile and squeezes his waist gently as Char nestles his head against his chest. From here, he can smell the freshness of his post-shower skin and the gentle lavender of his body wash through the fabric of his pajamas.

“Those terms are agreeable,” he answers to the earlier request. He’d rather not be bothered about it from the rest of Axis since Aceri would definitely let something like that slip while meeting with Bahn and sex is also far beyond what he wants right now. If they get another chance at this, he’d rather take it slow. “But can I kiss you?”

“Of course,” Garma whispers and inhales sharply as Char presses his lips into his chest as soon as permission has been granted. He brings his arms around Garma’s hips so they’re holding each other and places kiss after kiss into the fabric that separates their skin. He could melt into this warmth, could sink into the comfort of the man who’s holding him and stay there forever. So much so that he almost lets it slip, those three little words that tell him everything he needs to know.

Sleep comes easily to them both and when he awakes he feels more rested than he has in years, but there’s something odd between him and Garma, a smaller warmth in the shape of an awkward ball dividing them. He opens his eyes and looks down to a little head full of red hair then back to Garma whose nose is crinkled amusement. Char smiles at him and pats Mineva’s small head. She squirms and snuggles closer to him as Garma leans over her to give him a good morning kiss.

They spend the rest of the week exploring the wilderness and debating politics, much to Aceri's chagrin. But behind the watchful nanny's back, they steal kisses and sleep in the same bed, talking and laughing and holding each other until morning. After that first morning, Garma initiates what feels like a countless more kisses and each one feels just like spring in the bitter winter that surrounds them, filling him with hope even after they’ve gone back to their usual lives.

Once the holiday is over, he and Garma return to their customary method of communication over the web and it’s easy to feel as if the trip never even happened, easier still with how busy life at Axis is. He wonders if it’s as easy for Garma who has so little to fill his time. Though he fulfills the request to forget, the feeling lingers on deep inside him, like a sweet secret he ponders only when he gets a moment to himself.

Whether they’ll get to a place where they can actually be together is unknown for the moment but their friendship is still the light of his life. He loves his friend, he’s not afraid to admit it anymore. And there’s some comfort in knowing his own emotions. It’s easier to accept them knowing they’re unreciprocated, there’s no worry of failure in a one-sided love. But it’s perhaps why he stays away more than he should, eight months is much longer than they usually go without seeing each other in person but he hopes Garma understands, hopes he hasn’t begun to sow the seeds of doubt back into their relationship with his absence. If so, he only has himself to blame.

Notes:

soft...

im sorry if the ending is rushed its just so long i didn't want to extend it too much w/ a bunch of nonsense about what more they did. better to get straight to the ambiguity than play w/ you more.

considering lalah... i had wondered how i would involve her in this if i ever wrote from char's perspective and then cda was just like "char just fuckin talks to her whenever, you know how it is" like first of all no i do not but also??? ok sure i guess. maybe he's not actually having a convo w/ her and newtype bs is fake and he's slowly going insane in his loneliness but then again maybe it's real? up to you

there's so much i want to say regarding this chapter!!! i love it!!!!!! anyway, sorry if my insistence on developing garma's politics got in the way of the gay but this IS gundam fanfic... ty for reading!!

Chapter 20: The Tail with Eyes

Summary:

Garma: Exposed

Notes:

if you think the chapter summary is referring to nudity you have a long wait coming! but anyway, this is an… odd chapter… i’ve always wondered what life is like from the perspective of a cishet man (not true) so this was surprisingly fun to write

warnings for transphobia/misgendering? i mean it’s not on purpose but it’s still very frustrating even if it isn’t lol maybe this is just a lesson for why you shouldn’t misgender trans people irl if this makes you as uncomfy as it makes me

today’s song is private eyes by hall & oates bc its the first thing i thought of just now lol

besides all that, i am currently looking for a beta! if you have no interest in this, you can skip ahead to the story. but if you have any interest at all, please consider it!

personally i want a beta to just look over grammar and typos to see if there’s something i’ve missed or a sentence i left half-finished (happens) at the end of my own personal editing. i tend to enjoy doing the style and content editing myself so it wont be required but you can give suggestions if you wish! (i will decide whether to follow them or not tho)

i won’t require too much of you if you don’t want but im just tired of re-reading my fics and seeing just little things i forgot since i work like an insane person (constantly skipping around and forgetting what i was originally doing)

It’s so stupid that Haman just can’t seem to make up her damn mind. Does she want to hire him or not? One day she’ll give him a mission and then a week later, when he’s already set out all his hooks, she’ll call him and cancel. Every damn time.

Now that her father’s dead, he’s certain it has something to do with that dickhead Char Aznable but there’s no way he can prove that without spying on Haman herself which is reckless endangerment of his favorite job outlet. Without her he’ll have to go back to the Feddies and god they’re so boring. But it still isn’t fair, that damned red comet or whatever gets every woman imaginable and doesn’t seem to give a fuck about any of them. What do they even see in him? Even Seche, perfect and logical Seche, had somehow fallen for his non-existent charms.

Just yesterday he’d spotted the two of them out and about on the town looking like they were having a jolly old time window shopping at some fancy place. They weren’t arm-in-arm like they had been on that stupid date but every cell in his body had rebelled whenever they smiled at each other. He hadn’t been able to follow them that day, he has no doubt he would’ve been spotted by Aznable who’s the most annoyingly alert person he’s ever met, but a few days before that he’d seen Seche walk into the cafe he’s currently sat in, so he’d come here to wait for her. Not to talk, just to watch. Like he always does.

So what if he has a bit of an obsession, it’s not like he has anything else to do since Haman can’t decide if she wants him to work for her or not. No, he can only sit here and wait for his clients to contact him and what better way to pass the time than watching a pretty girl have a sip of coffee.

But as for his obsession, it’d started after he’d scouted out Aznable and Seche’s date. Seche had instantly come out and denounced everything he’d said but he knew it was Seche Rhode he’d seen, there’s no other explanation. He’d made an account on her website so he could be updated whenever she posted and watched her interactions with fans and friends alike quietly through the sidelines. Although he disagrees with almost all of her opinions, he has to admit she’s very charming and he understands why people gravitate towards her.

So he did some digging into Seche Rhode and didn’t find much. There was a record of her with some kid named Nero Hallyday in a refugee city that said she was from Side Seven but there were no records of such a person being born on Side Seven, or anywhere else really. The only recorded “Rhode” family he’d found were from Side Three, most of them dead before the war and a couple during. But he’d looked into it more when he recognized Seche walking with someone he knew from the records: Shana Rhode. Shana had been a subordinate of Garma Zabi’s during the war, one of his first, and they also died with him. At least, supposedly, but there he had seen them, alive and well and untouched by the Federation. None of it makes any sense.

The Shana mystery is when he’d started following Seche. The first few times he’d just seen her randomly and usually alone, excluding the times he’d seen her with Char or Shana and some girl from White Base. But other than that one hiccup in the beginning, he hadn’t been actively tailing her until a week ago and that’s why this is the first time he’s been to this coffeeshop.

He waits with his coffee in his hands in hopes that Seche will walk through the door at any moment. Finally, after an hour and a half, he’s rewarded for his patience with that short, black hair tinted slightly purple as if she’d tried to put dye on top of unbleached hair. She seems much more casual today than usual, in tight black pants, a loose black shirt slipped off on one shoulder and tucked in at the waist, and a knee-length black jacket. And those sunglasses she never takes off.

But there’s something else that seems off besides just the unusually casual clothing. There’s something pulling at her arm and his eyes grow wide as she pulls that something up above the wall outside the shop. There’s a flash of red hair and then a small girl is in Seche’s arms and he freezes.

That’s Mineva Zabi. There’s no way it’s not. He can’t see their faces very clearly through the glass but it can’t be anyone but Seche Rhode, carrying Mineva Zabi. With her relationship to Aznable it seems… but what is their relationship? He’s seen Seche at a bar he himself frequents (for other reasons) about once a week and she always seems to leave with a different person so he’d assumed Aznable had rejected her and Seche, being the kind person she is, had offered to stay friends. But if she’s taking care of Mineva… why would she take care of Mineva? Would she really go that far for someone who had rejected her?

Mineva Lao Zabi had been put into Char Aznable’s care after he deferred a promotion from Maharaja to Natalie Bianchi, it was his only request. He had also been adamant about who her nurse was, insisting Aceri Bahn would raise her properly as a Zabi despite also saying he would take her to live on Earth. It had always puzzled him why he would take her to Earth, he was a proud spacenoid and hated being chained down to the planet but he had rejected any offer of help in raising her other than Aceri and insisted that she stay in this city in an apartment he rented and stayed in on occasion. He had even made it so Haman could only visit the child at set times.

Yet here’s Seche Rhode, an anonymous political celebrity with a specifically anti-Zeon stance, walking around with her in broad daylight and smiling at her like she’s the most wonderful child in the world.

Maybe she doesn’t know? Maybe Aznable had lied to her about the child’s identity? But why would Aznable allow Mineva out without Aceri whom he seemed to trust completely with the child’s care? What is their relationship?

“Seche! Neva!” the barista at the front calls as they walk into the shop. Neva? A stupid nickname. But it only strengthens his belief that Seche knows exactly who she’s taking care of.

“Guin, hello,” came Seche’s deep voice.

“Hi Guin!” No doubt is left in his mind that this small child is in fact the heir to Zeon, Mineva Lao Zabi. He’s overheard Haman watching videos of the child who’s name she cherished so much before and the two voices are exactly the same.

“Uncle, Uncle! Tiramisu!” Mineva demands in a very un-Zabi like way. Wait— Uncle? Why does she call Seche uncle? Had he been wrong? Had he really been so wrong? Seche had been designated female on the report from the refugee city and she’s so pretty as well… it doesn’t make any sense.

“Neva, the last time I got you tiramisu you hated it,” her “Uncle” scolds but he’s too busy spiralling to really pay attention to their meaningless conversation anymore. The only man he’s ever thought was pretty had been… no. Absolutely not. It couldn’t be. There’s no way.

“But Uncle Seche! I like it now! Pretty! Pretty!” Taking out his lightscreen, he looks up a picture of the Zabi family and zooms in on Garma’s face then looks back surreptitiously. The same round face, the same sharp chin, and even the same graceful smile. His gut clenches at the thought. Perhaps Seche wears sunglasses for something other than photosensitivity.

“Okay, fine,” Seche sighs as Herz mind reels behind them. His hunches had yet to be wrong but if this one proves to be right… the implications of it all are far beyond him. Garma Zabi is alive. Just that might give Haman a panic attack. Garma Zabi is alive and posing as Seche Rhode, a supposed earthnoid and political activist with an anti-Zeon stance who’d written the treaty that had led to the death of his own sister, Kycilia Zabi. With all of that Haman would probably need to be hospitalized.

But the benefits to himself are astounding. Something like this might even make the Federation interesting and Haman would definitely rely on him more if this panned out, he might never be out of a job. But even better than that is that damned Char Aznable would definitely get his just desserts for keeping such a secret from Haman. Oh, he’s in deep shit now.

“Seche” and Mineva sit in the corner of the room with their backs to the wall but he has cameras on all sides of his jacket for situations just like this. He turns on his back camera and opens up the feed on his lightscreen, seeing the two of them just to the side. He adjusts his chair an inch so he can see them straight on and turns his screen onto the privacy setting so no one can see what he’s doing. He takes pictures as the two of them eat, taking note of everything Mineva does that Haman would hate.

One thing is for sure, he’s going to need more than just a hunch to confirm this theory.

~

Garma Zabi is disgustingly beautiful. He hates himself for ever letting the thought cross his mind because now he can’t stop thinking about it. Woman or man, he‘s someone who fits the very definition of elegance despite no longer being associated with any Zabi title. Neither he nor Mineva act at all like a Zabi should but they’re all the more entrancing for it.

Garma is nervous, an air of anxiety following him everywhere he goes, but it doesn’t stop him from being exceedingly charming as well. He seems to dazzle nearly everyone he meets and can hold a conversation with anyone for at least an hour, but also gets frustrated easily and seems to give up almost daily, though he always bounces back.

Mineva is horrible. Maybe even a demon child, hyperactive and just an absolute mess but somehow sweet about it. She had once gotten herself completely covered in mud after jumping around in a puddle but when she looked over at her uncle she seemed like an angel. A very dirty angel. She’s always insistent on everything going her way but stops immediately if she sees her uncle struggling, always listening to him and everything he says as if the world revolves around him alone.

Together they’re a bizarre pair but also so striking that he has no idea how no one else has noticed them before. Maybe they had but the two remaining Zabis are very isolated, as if they live inside a bubble that’s accessible only to a select few and thus trying to penetrate into their lives is nearly impossible. He supposes it makes sense given that they are living in complete secrecy but it’s tragic as well. Lonesome together in a world that hates who they are and how they live.

He’s come to this conclusion after about eight more months of observation. The first week, they’d all disappeared with Aznable and it was rather suspicious, to the point that he wondered if maybe Aznable had just went and offed the two remaining Zabis. But they fortunately returned, with Aznable, so he could only assume nothing horrible had gone wrong and they had just had a fun little vacation in… Norway, of all places. After that little blip in his radar Aznable unfortunately stayed a few days longer, as always a pest in his side. In fact, in those few days he couldn’t seem to leave the older Zabi alone. It was almost like he was the one who had been rejected which would be hilarious if true. Imagine being the most sought after man, someone all the women loved but still unable to get the one person you loved. Ridiculous!

During Aznable’s visit, he’d once again tried to find more about Seche Rhode instead, but it really was a dead end after the refugee papers. They even ended at that one town when it was gassed by Zeon, saying that “she” had been presumed dead. But since literally no other Seche Rhode existed in the entire earthsphere that couldn’t possibly be true. The next time “they” appeared was when Bright Noa announced he had documentation of the real Artesia Som Deikun serving on White Base and declared his support for a treaty written by her and someone named “Seche Rhode”, who didn’t actually exist according to official documentation. Of course, according to official documentation, Artesia Som Deikun was also dead, but none of that had even mattered since they also had a live feed of their little group holding Kycilia Zabi prisoner.

What he’d really learned looking into all that is how shitty the documentation of spacenoids under Federation control is.

Foregoing all that, he’d started looking into Shana Rhode instead. Shana was an illusory figure as well though their documentation was much clearer than the previous two. They had been proclaimed dead by Zeon after presumably dying in the explosion of Garma Zabi’s ship but then had reappeared on White Base saying they had been out of the ship looking for the “Trojan Horse’s” position when it exploded. It was a flimsy story but their detainment of Kycilia Zabi had earned them great respect in the EFSF so no one really questioned it.

But it made him wonder, was Shana’s story true? Were they simply out of the ship looking for White Base when it had exploded? Why would they be doing that? The mobile suits should have been enough to spot White Base although it had been hidden in a way that they couldn’t have seen either, according to Aznable’s recount of the situation. Shana had publicly agreed with him but never confirmed it was the cause of their Captain’s death.

Everyone else assumed that wasn’t included because Shana only talked in sign language and there was no doubt towards Garma Zabi’s death at the time but he’d watched recordings of the interview too many times to ignore the slip. They only avoided the topic of the youngest Zabi’s death about every five seconds so how could they possibly confirm or deny anything? As someone who believes Garma Zabi to be alive, he has a hard time seeing how anyone else hasn’t come to the same conclusion after watching that.

But that’s also speculation and completely useless towards his case. The real treasure trove of his investigation came after Char left.

He has picture after picture of the Zabi heirs, with Shana, with the other White Base Girl, even two with Char on his last day. He has a series of photos of Garma’s hair going more and more purple before he dyed it black again. A few of him and Mineva playing together in the park, some with Nurse Aceri chatting with him as he held Mineva. But at the top of his collection: a video of Garma dropping his sunglasses. He’d gone home later and compared the video to one of Garma and it was perfect. An exact match. Five facial identification programs confirmed it.

The second and most exciting piece of evidence he’d accrued when he’d gone to the library where Garma spent most of his days and asked one of the bots for the public records of anyone named Seche who had ever used the library. Seche Rhode had, obviously, used a pseudonym since he wasn’t on the list but it wasn’t hard to find his records since he just used the name of the girl he lived with. He’d added no information other than his name and address to the card but Herz already knew all the other information he could’ve added so it didn’t matter. All he cared about was what he’d checked out and where he might be so he could spy on him from the next room.

The room next to his target’s was open and he went in, set up his equipment to record everything he said, and sat absolutely still in his chair for at least two hours before it happened.

“Goddammit, Garma, that’s no good for anyone,” had come the soft mutter from the other side of the wall and he stopped the recording right then and there. Smiling fiendishly, he had stood and left.

Now back in his long term hotel room, he ponders who to call first: the Federation or Neo-Zeon. He has no personal loyalty to either of them but he’s kind of curious how the Federation doesn’t know this already. Of course if they find out, they might lock his up before he has the chance to see what Haman says but there’s also the chance they have a juicy reason they haven’t already.

The screen of his computer sits open on a folder full of pictures and audio which he’s run through the cleaning cleaning software he created himself as his hand hovers over the first button of his contact in the Federation.

“Herz,” that dull voice answers.

“Ulvain, how’s it hangin’?”

“What information do you have for us?” he asks, ignoring his polite attempt at conversation. He shrugs and tells them everything he knows, as he sends them his evidence folder. “Seche Rhode is Garma Zabi… we had our suspicions. Thank you for confirming them.”

“Sure thing, my guy, what’ll happen to him?” He’s starting to get bored, this is how it always is with them.

“You still have contact with Neo-Zeon, don’t you?”

“That I do,” he says, staring at his fingernails.

“Tell them about this turn of events and try to convince them to take him in if you can.”

“What!?” he whisper-yells, immediately sitting up straight. “Why!?”

“We cannot touch Seche Rhode, even if he is Garma Zabi, he’s too popular with the public. They wouldn’t believe us no matter how much evidence we piled against him, and there are many members of the council who like him as well. If he’s captured by Neo-Zeon we can blame them and use his own power to unsettle the colonies further. It’ll be good for both sides.”

Herz sits there with his mouth agape, he had always known the Feddies were capable of such trickery but he never thought he’d get to play a part in it. A smile slowly spreads across his lips as he leans towards his computer.

“And how much do I get paid for keeping this little secret between the two of us?” he asks.

“Check your bank account tomorrow, I’m sure you’ll find the amount suitable.” He’s sure he will.

“You got it, boss.” The other end hangs up first and he opens up Haman’s contact next.

“Haman,” he greets as he enters a video chat.

“Herz. What is it this time? Something more about Seche Rhode?” she asks, sounding completely done with anything regarding the internet political sensation.

“Well, sort of…”

Notes:

anyways fuck cda

i’ve only read the synopsis but this is my tribute to fuck cda. if you have no idea what im referring to, or who natalie bianchi is, you are lucky. so fucking lucky. i hate living with this knowledge. but i’ve been thinking recently about how it’s almost always been people coming onto char rather than him actually making the first move so i thought it was time he pined a bit. since lalah is just his mom and all.

i thought this chapter would be nice and refreshing, see how things are from the outside! even if it is an asshole telling you, i think it is fun to find out. next chapter we will be back to garma's perspective and we'll stay there for quiiiiiite a while

ulvain is actually the name of the character who keeps watch over garma while he’s a pow in the extended version of steel type deikuns so i thought it only fair to actually mention him in an actual published story. dont think too much about that sentence.

Chapter 21: Captured

Summary:

Garma visits home.

Notes:

hello. what a world we live in!

im posting today bc it has been exactly a year since i started watching the origin and thus is the anniversary of my gundam!!! lucky that was so close to the actual 40th anniversary, right?

today's song is are you with me by stars i hope you enjoy!

“Hey,” Garma calls as someone roughly bumps into him and doesn’t back off. But after he’s called attention to the incident he gasps as he feels something hard and tubular press against his back. Quickly understanding it’s a gun, he stops in panic.

“Keep walking,” a gruff voice commands him. He tries to turn back but can only move his head a couple of inches before the gun is pushed further into his back so he starts walking again, clutching Mineva’s hand tightly.

“Uncle?” she questions, looking up at him.

“It’s okay, sweetie, just keep walking,” he says with a placating smile. She nods slowly, obviously seeing through his attempt at a calm guise and starts to turn back as well but the gun is pressed further into his back as soon as she starts. “And don’t look back, okay?” She quickly turns her head back around and nods obediently despite the fear in her eyes.

“Elegant and cute, hm? I’ve used those words on only two people in my entire life but who would’ve thought they’re the same person, right, Seche? Or should I say… Garma Zabi.” He glares out of the corner of his eye despite not being able to see the man in his periphery. So this is Herz, truly a despicable piece of human being. “Of course when I called Garma that it was out of mockery but look at what a fun little celebrity you’ve been able to build playing around like this.”

“That’s just your own misogyny talking, I have always been like this and I’m still very much the same person. Don’t talk about people as if you know their personal history. And thank you for the compliment,” he retorts. The man laughs lightly but says nothing more as he pushes them into a car, where another man sits with another gun pointed at them.

“Uncle Garma!” Mineva cries, clinging to his leg. He presses her closer to him as he slowly gets in the car at Herz’s instruction, lifting her into his lap as he sits down. She clings to him and he strokes her hair slowly as tears fall from her eyes and she stares at the gun pointed directly at her face.

“It’s okay, Neva, we’ll be fine. Aunt Shana or Uncle Char will come and help us, I’m sure,” he assures.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that second person,” Herz chuckles as he starts the car. Garma lifts his head to glare at the man as the car jerks into motion. “Aznable’s in just as much trouble as you are for this little stunt, didn’t you know? Haman figures he also had a part in hiding you during the war.”

“That’s just ridiculous,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Does she really think me so incompetent as to be unable to hide myself after my very public death?” Herz laughs again and Garma glares harder. They don’t talk anymore for the rest of the ride and the second man never introduces himself but Mineva does calm down after a bit. Her tears turn into glares the longer they sit in the car and, if not for her uncle’s hold on her, looks as if she’d try and pull the gun out of the man’s hand.

Garma recognizes where they’re going only after he starts seeing signs for the airport. He's never been this way, never been many ways in this city at all actually. Just to the library, grocery store, park, and coffee shop. He’s known there has to be an airport and spaceport near the city since it’s so big but it had never actually occurred to him to go there. It isn’t like he has the papers to travel anywhere anyway. Considering that, he wonders how the men hope to get him past security but his question is soon answered as they drive past what appears to be the public port down to a less-crowded private port.

“Be a good boy and do what we say, okay?” Herz warns and because of that he almost “accidentally” steps on the man’s foot but this ass would probably see it as being on purpose no matter what and he doesn’t want to cause anything that might scare Mineva more. But he does glare again as he steps out.

The man attempts to take his arm just as he’d taken Char’s on their “date” but Garma easily shakes him off and the gun is quickly put back against him as he’s lead to a shuttle. A shuttle means he’ll be going to space and space means Sayla can’t reach him easily leaving him possibly stranded up with Neo-Zeon. If Char is also in trouble he might also be where Garma is headed, he just has to hope he won’t be betrayed again.

Fear settles over him at the thought that the Char he’s come to know isn’t the real Char either. He’s so different from how he used to be, so much more open and honest but what if that’s also a ruse? What if he’s just being played again? It’s been eight months since he’s seen the man, who’s to say he hasn’t gone back to his old ways? That the face he wears online isn’t who he truly is?

“Package is in the ship, we are ready for takeoff,” the man who isn’t Herz says into a radio as Herz sits across from them and he finally gets a look at the man’s face. He isn’t unattractive, per se, but you couldn’t really call him attractive either. At least, not to Garma, anyway. His face was round and his nose small, the dimples were cute, though, he had to admit. He very much looked like someone who would jump at the idea of working for Zeon, a mean-streak hidden underneath his soft features. The man smirks at him and he glares back, holding Mineva’s hand tightly in his.

“Hmph, so I’m really not good enough for the perfect little Prince Garma,” he scoffs. Garma doesn’t respond, just keeps on glaring. “But Char Aznable is? That complete prick? He’s such an emotionless douchebag who doesn’t give a shit about anything. Half the time it feels like he’s trying to kill himself with all the stupid missions he takes.”

“Maybe we have that in common, then,” Garma growls lowly. The ship starts to shake as the launch process begins and Mineva grasps his hand tightly. He squeezes back, looking down at her reassuringly. “Besides, who ever said he was good enough for me either? Perhaps I agree with you on all those points.”

“But you still sucked him off in a public bathroom?” he spits. Garma, seeing where the sentence was headed, quickly covers Mineva’s ears before she could hear such foul language then glares back at him.

“Don’t you dare talk about such things in front of Mineva. I doubt Haman would be very happy if she knew you were exposing her to your depraved mind,” he reprimands. He isn’t sure how else to get out of this without mentioning her but it seems to work as the man shrinks back in his seat a little. “Hasn’t she already fired you once? How are you even still working for her?”

“Hm, well, she let me back once I told her I had her sweet little Zabi Prince and Princess in my sights,” he says with a smirk towards Mineva. She cowers nearer to Garma who wraps his arms around her from around the armrest.

“Don’t call us that.” He’s really reaching the point where he gets out of his chair and absolutely beats this fool. There’s little chance he’d actually get shot, Haman would kill him on sight if what Char told him was true.

“Herz,” the other man says, coming back as the shuttle seems to finish takeoff. It also

“Fine, whatever.” Herz gets up and goes to the front of the ship as the other man replaces his position in front of Garma and Mineva silently. Garma finds he likes this man much better, his silence somehow comforting compared to Herz’s vitriolic attacks.

“Uncle Garma, where are we? Who are they? Why was he so mean?” Mineva questions a couple minutes after Herz has left. Garma eyes the man across from him who nods, giving him clearance to explain.

“These men are from the same place as Char, do you remember where you lived back before you came to be with me?” She pauses nods. “We’re going back there. And he was just mean because he’s an asshole.”

The man across from them snorts at that and Mineva looks over at him, her eyes full of curiosity again.

“Are you… the same?” Garma smiles at her prudent avoidance of the word asshole. She’s very good with boundaries, always knowing when to use what words or which names, though when she’s particularly upset she’ll still call him Garma like she had earlier.

“No, my lady, not everyone who works for Neo-Zeon is like him. He’s an independent contractor we hire so he’s a bit rough around the edges, apologies,” the man replies graciously.

“But you still pointed a gun directly at her head?” Garma counters. The man looks sufficiently ashamed and Garma glares at him for good measure.

“My sincerest apologies for that, my lord, I wanted to go a less violent route but—”

“You think your apologies can suffice? You think I will not see your actions as the will of Neo-Zeon? Have you forgotten your basic gun training? Never, ever point a gun at something you are not one hundred percent ready to destroy. But you, Neo-Zeon… even my father’s Zeon, you are all so willfully violent that you’ve forgotten the importance of human life. I doubt this will be the last time a gun is pointed at me or my Mineva in the course of our visit,” he rages.

“Lord Garma, the point of this is not a visit—”

“Ah, yes, of course it’s not. Instead, you would like to kidnap me and my precious Mineva in order to force us to lead your ridiculous outfit of ragtag politicians and militants. I will refuse no matter what. I will continue running until you have beaten and broken me, and what good would I be as a leader then?”

“My lord, as much as it hurts me to say, you are not the one Haman wishes to lead Neo-Zeon.” His tone is placating but Garma just stares at him in shock. The implications are obvious. He immediately grabs Mineva and lifts her into his lap, securing her in his arms as tight as he can.

“Uncle Garma?” she questions as she looks up at him. He squeezes her reassuringly and she puts her little hands around his, simultaneously reassuring him.

“Absolutely not. Never. Never in a million years will I let you people so much as touch her. You’ll have to kill me.”

“Lord Garma—”

“No.”

“No,” Mineva repeats, glaring at the man. He takes a deep breath and looks out the window before opening his mouth to speak again but Garma interrupts him.

“I know what it’s like to be raised as a Zabi. I know how cold it is, how desolate. She is a child and she is deserving of love—”

“You speak as if Lady Haman doesn’t love her, which I assure you isn’t tr—”

“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. It’s taken me years to understand that what people like her give is not love. And, in fact, I’m still working on understanding it. But I have learned that no human who believes in the same system of rearing as my family did understands what love is. The constant pressure, the fear, the anguish— that isn’t love. I love Mineva, and I would never want to see her suffer like I did. I don’t want her to worry about whether I love her or not. I want her to know.” He squeezes her tight and the man glares at him then sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Lord Garma, you have to understand this isn’t a choice you’re being given. You will give her to us.” The man’s tone is now one of warning but he’s underestimated Garma’s will. Unable to continue this pointless argument, Garma closes his eyes and bends down to kiss the top of Mineva’s head. It’s better to save his energy for the real fight, against Haman.

“Uncle Garma, you’re giving me away?” she asks.

“I’m not.”

“Oh. Why’d say that?”

“Because he believes himself infallible when in actuality his entire organization is weak and defenseless without us,” he answers with a glare in the man’s direction. The man glares back but says nothing. Mineva thinks about it for a bit.

“What infallb mean?” she asks after her pause. He smiles down at her and answers all her questions about words until their shuttle slows and Herz comes back, gun raised again. Garma smirks at the man as he’s proven right and carries Mineva out at Herz’s directions.

They move onto a small, Gwazine class ship through a connecting bridge and Mineva looks around at space through the glass of the tunnel.

“Uncle Garma! We’re in space?” she asks excitedly, bouncing in his arms.

“We are, you haven’t been out here since you could see the stars, have you?” he says, stopping for a second to let her gaze at the bright dots in the sky.

“Don’t stop,” Herz commands, and Garma reluctantly pulls away, apologizing to Mineva and promising her she’ll be able look more later. If they escape there isn’t much chance they’ll be able to go back and live with Sayla or Shana and since he knows no one else on Earth they’ll probably get stuck in space somehow. There will be plenty of time for star-gazing then.

They walk onto the ship and are led to the largest room onboard, the bright light inside contrasting horribly with the darkness of the hallways. It’s elegantly decorated, seeming very much inspired by the old Zabi design style. He’d never really found many issues with his family’s housing before but now he purses his lips as he looks around. It’s too much. There’s a definite balance between opulence and simplicity and this place seems to have thrown out the whole scale with the amount of money it must have taken to make this single room. The molding seems to be dusted in actual gold and the throne at the back looks exactly like his father’s but smaller. It’s absolutely bizarre and almost makes him want to throw up.

Char stands near the back of the room but is so far that Garma can’t really see his expression even though he isn’t wearing his glasses. But in front of him is Haman who looks very pleased with herself.

“Lord Garma, welcome back,” she announces as the unnamed man closes the door behind them. There are only two guards in the room and they step in front of the door as soon as it closes. It would be easy to get past them if things went south but Haman and Char are the bigger obstacles. He still can’t be certain Char is on his side so it’s best to assume the worst for now.

“Thank you, Haman, you have grown quite a bit since the last time I saw you,” he greets with a polite bow. Mineva turns away from his shoulder and looks at the two in the back with a frown.

“Uncle Char?” she questions, her eyes wide as she stares at him. Char just bows his head quietly, his face now visible but still as indecipherable as it used to be. Garma simply nods in return, attempting to mask his face in the same way. There’s little chance he hasn’t failed the hurt he feels is plain as day.

“You are still a bit young to be running the entirety of Neo-Zeon, though, aren’t you?”

“Are you saying I am unfit for the position?” she returns with a raised eyebrow.

“Not at all, just that someone of your age who is still figuring out who they are should be doing that rather than leading an attempt at a nation.” She glares at him.

“And how would you know so much about this?”

“I have been reading a lot of parenting books,” he hitches Mineva up in his arm as he feels her slipping, “for Mineva. I do not want to raise her as my family raised me.”

“Oh? And why not?”

“I do not believe it is a suitable environment to develop a kind and good person. My Mineva is smart and very strong-willed but she is also kind and will always help those in need, this is how I have raised her and I do not want to see it changed for the sake of some ridiculous notion of power or whatever it is your group wishes to achieve.”

“Helping those in need will get her nowhere in the world, only trampled upon by those with more power. You should encourage her other attributes instead, she’ll get farther that way,” Haman counters. Garma rolls his eyes as Mineva looks back and forth between the two of them.

“As if it matters how far she gets. Just like you, this sort of power should not just be thrust upon her and leave her floundering if she’s unable to withstand the pressure. Perhaps she will be able to bear it but you cannot expect every child to just be born with the military prowess of my family. It is against my will to resurrect that sort of dynasty. In fact, I would like to abolish the idea of any and all dynasties at all. A person should not have to rely on being born into a certain family in order to get anywhere and children born into those certain families should not be doomed to the same fate as the rest of their families,” he announces. Mineva stares up at him in wonder and he could swear Char is smirking in the background. Haman, however, has her lips pursed in displeasure as she glares at him.

“Be that as it may,” she starts, acid dripping from her voice, “she is not yours to raise. Mineva Lao Zabi belongs to Neo-Zeon and as such will be cared for in the way that we see fit. You may have some say in her raising if you stay and help us resurrect the Zabi line but no matter what, we have the final say.”

Now it’s Garma’s turn to glare at her and he stands his ground as one of the guards comes up to take Mineva from him.

“Uncle Garma!” she yells, grasping his shirt until it feels like it’s about to tear as the man fruitlessly tries to pull her out of his grasp.

“Pitiful,” Haman spits. “Guard, stop. I can’t stand to see our future leader act so childishly.” That whole statement is such a mess that he doesn’t have time to unpack so he just glares at her again. “Lord Garma, can’t we negotiate? Will you really refuse your destiny so vehemently?”

“My destiny was to die so, yes, I will,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

“What was that?” she asks.

“My destiny is not what you think it is, it never was and it never will be. I will not hand over my precious niece to lead your supremacist militia no matter what,” he says instead. He sees her mouth the words “supremacist militia” back to herself as she huffs angrily.

“Fine, If you are unwilling to hand our leader over to us, Lord Garma, and help us revive your family, we’ll still get Lady Mineva from you, one way or another. She will be taught to be the perfect leader, the likes of which an oldtype such as yourself could never hope to be.”

Notes:

bit of a cliffhanger? hopefully i'll update soon right? right...

Chapter 22: Decisions

Summary:

Char changes the course of Garma's life for the third (or maybe fourth?) time

Notes:

hello!!! yes its been a while, no it wasn't bc of quarantine... or was it? really I've just been distracted 😅

this is a fav chapter of mine i adore it and reading back over for the final edit tugged at my heart it did.

today's song is you wont let me by rachael yamagata

“Fine, even if you are unwilling to hand our leader over to us, Lord Garma, and help us revive your family, we’ll still get Lady Mineva from you, one way or another. She will be taught to be the perfect leader, the likes of which an oldtype such as yourself could never hope to be.”

“Never, you’ll never have her,” he hisses and turns to run when he is captured by the two guards at the door again. He struggles fruitlessly against them until they point a gun at him and, for Mineva’s sake, he gives up. She looks up at him, a soft whine coming out of her and tears welling up in her eyes.

“Uncle,” she cries.

“It’s okay Mineva, don’t cry, I’ve got you,” he soothes, kissing her forehead and accidentally bumping his cheek against the barrel of the gun. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Char walk up beside him but he doesn’t look up at him. He’s still prepared for the worst.

“Char,” Haman repeats, “you and Lady Mineva are close, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Char replies in a monotone voice. Desperate tears form in Garma’s eyes as he realizes history is likely repeating himself and he’s probably about to be betrayed again. He won’t give his Mineva up, even if she uses Char against him.

“Uncle! Uncle!” Mineva cries, her whining voice turning into sobs as she realizes Garma is crying as well.

“So if you took her would she stop crying?”

“Most likely.” Cold fear fills Garma and he squeezes Mineva against his chest, falling boneless against the two guards that hold him up.

“Then if you wish to prove yourself to us again, bring her back to me,” Haman directs. He still doesn’t look up as he hears Char’s boots tap against the floor, coming closer and closer until they’re them directly in front of him. He stares at them hopelessly, he doesn’t want to have to be torn again, doesn’t want to tear Mineva away from her other uncle. They are close, Haman is right, and Garma doesn’t want his niece’s trust in him to be broken as well but perhaps Char is just that type of person.

“Garma, don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Char’s voice says softly. Garma finally looks up at him, fat and angry tears rolling down his face as he glares as much as he’s able up into those emotionless blue eyes. He misses the way they smiled at him on occasion, wonders if those were ever real smiles. “Well, if you must.”

Garma holds the crying Mineva’s head against his chest as Char reaches down, but instead of grabbing Mineva, he takes the barrel of the gun pointed at Garma’s cheek and wrenches it out of the guard’s hand. Shocked, Garma holds Mineva even more tightly to his chest as Char flips the gun and shoots both guards before the other can even aim his gun.

“Run, Garma,” Char says coldly. Garma sits frozen for a second, staring up at the man he’d thought would betray him again only seconds ago before he nods and picks up the second guard’s gun with the hand that’s not holding Mineva. He holds Mineva from her bottom as they run and hopes that she’ll keep her head pressed against his chest so she doesn’t see the dead bodies on the ground below her. He can still feel her crying against him but there isn’t much he can do about it at the moment so he hitches her up closer so that maybe she’ll feel a little more steady despite their haphazard surroundings.

“CHAR AZNABLE!” Haman yells as he exits the room, shooting the guard outside and accidentally hitting his stomach. He’d meant to hit something non-vital but with as much disruption as they are bound to cause, a bullet to the stomach will likely kill him before he can get proper medical treatment for it.

“Uncle?” Mineva asks, tilting her head up to look at Garma as they run through the hallways, alarms blaring around them.

“It’s okay, don’t worry Neva, Uncle Garma has you, everything will be okay, just keep your head down and don’t say a word, all right?” he says, smiling down at her. Her lips wobble as she looks up at him and immediately clings to his shirt, stuffing her head against him so he doesn’t have to. “That’s my girl.”

They run and run as he shoots officer after officer. He knows it’s ridiculous but he feels awful hearing each blast of his gun and watching each man fall in his periphery as the noise slows in his ringing eardrums. They are bad, they will do bad things if they continue living, he shouldn’t feel bad about killing bad people. But there’s still that little voice sewing doubt in the back of his mind that asks him “but are they?” every time his gun fires. He knows his judgment is bad and knows he’s made mistakes in the past, but he can’t afford to think about that right now, not while he’s running from his past allies with his and Mineva’s lives at stake.

He stops once they reach the docking bay, hopping into a good hiding place near the back and looking out for something that could aid in their escape. He sees a ship with an open cockpit near the gate and observes a suitable route to get past the soldiers in the port. He can’t possibly kill all of them or any, really, if they want to get to that ship and there are quite a few since this is probably where they expect him to go. He suddenly wishes he could turn invisible. Were there newtypes that could turn invisible? It’s a ridiculous thought and he quickly shakes it out of his head, using the passing of a couple of guards to sneak behind a different box. From there, he quickly runs behind the closest ship and does that over and again until he reaches the one that’s open, climbing in and laying on his back in the cockpit.

“Unc—” He puts a finger over Mineva’s lips and holds her down, the gun in his hand pressed barrel sideways against the back of her head so that it’s faced away from her but still easily accessible in case anyone finds them. He’s whispering reassurances into Mineva’s hair when he receives a comm request from Char.

“Char?” he questions after opening the line.

“Has she seen anything?” So he’s worried about that too. Feeling relief and warmth fill his heart, he smiles and presses a kiss to the top of Mineva’s head.

“Have you seen anything?” he asks her. She shakes her head against his chest and somehow he feels calmer than he has in four years. Char is on his side and he’s in space with his true family, perhaps he’s in a bit of a bind, but what more could he ask for now? Maybe Sayla and Shana, but otherwise it’s perfect. “She hasn’t.”

“And are you okay? I noticed some dead guards on my way to the docking bay and Artesia told me you were...” He immediately freezes again, he knows Char is only showing genuine concern for him and he tries to stuff down his anxiety with the sweet thought that Char really does care about his well-being but it’s blocked out by the lingering sight of bodies floating past him and the sounds of gunshots blasting against his ears.

“I’m fine,” he grits out.

“Gar—”

“We’re in the second to last ship in the docking bay, the door is open.” On the other side, he hears a couple of shots from the direction he’d come out from and where Char was likely to appear from soon as well. He tenses before taking a deep breath that stutters through his rib cage and it whisps out of his mouth much more gently than it’d come in.

“We’re talking later but go ahead and turn the engine on, I’m almost there.”

“Roger,” he says and ends the line. He sits Mineva in the middle console, behind the gear. “Stay here, all right? Uncle Char will be here soon and we will all leave together, does that sound good?”

Looking terrified out of her mind, Mineva nods quickly. There still isn’t much he can do to comfort her except get them out, and though it saddens him to see her like this, it does keep her quiet so he turns to the controls to try and figure out how to turn the ship on. Thankfully for him, it's almost exactly like the old Zeon ships so figuring out how it all works is relatively easy. He waits until he sees the airlock begin to open before he hits the ignition and sits upright in his chair, hearing yelling and shooting right outside the door right as Char quickly climbs in.

“Go, Garma, go!” he orders as he slides into the passenger seat and Garma quickly complies, closing the door and driving out to the launchpad. The gate starts closing again just as they get out of their parking spot and Garma haphazardly turns onto the launchpad, throwing all three of them to his side and almost making them go off the side as Char catches Mineva who falls against Garma in a way that makes it harder for him to steer.

As he nears the edge of the platform, the launchpad starts to slip back in and he frantically hits all the buttons to launch, jolting the ship forward and throwing his head into the dash. He's at least aware of the buttons he should and shouldn’t push so, very awkwardly, they're able to get flat in the air and boost away from the ship. It’s a quick escape, thankfully, as the Gwazine doesn’t seem to be fully prepared for an attack. He’s not even sure what this particular ship’s fighting capabilities are anyway. Likely better than a Luggun but definitely faster, he observes as they zip away.

“I thought you used to steal ships from Zeon?” Char teases as they leave the Neo-Zeon ship in the dust, but Garma doesn't give him the satisfaction of reacting like he’s expected to, turning the sentiment back on him instead.

“A lot of history being repeated today, isn’t there?” Char’s face immediately falls and Garma feels equally guilty and smug for his comment.

“Garma, I’m sorry, I couldn’t see any other way to make sure you didn’t let her look up without alerting them I had something else planned,” he explains.

“I know, thank you," Garma retracts as he sighs. "I wouldn’t have been able to escape without you and then I’d be either brainwashed or dead so I am quite glad history has not fully repeated itself. Did you kill her?”

“Haman?” He nods. “No, I just shot her shoulder so she should be out of commission for a while.” Garma huffs as he turns off the main booster and sets the alternate to the highest speed.

“You should have killed her,” he says. It feels odd that he’s on this side now. Normally it would be Char advocating for someone’s death, but he despises the way she looked down on him and that his family’s empire continues to exist. As if reminding him he can’t run away from the foolishness of his past.

“She could be useful in the future.” Garma frowns towards the dashboard, tapping his fingers against the steering control in apprehension.

“How on earth could she be useful? She has always found me pathetic, and now she hates you as well. What use could she have for us?”

“Killing her wouldn’t have scattered her forces, she’s got supporters in every government on Earth and in the colonies, someone could easily take her place and the next one might actively try to find us—”

“Like she won’t do that too. We’re going to be hunted, Char, no matter what,” Garma insists.

“Well, maybe, but she’s more predictable than anyone who could take her place. She works only for Neo-Zeon and is a devout Zabi follower. If another leader emerged they might try to get help from the Federation or try to kill you and Mineva. Haman won’t let the two of you be killed no matter what, anyone who does will face her wrath and she’s feared greatly by all of Neo-Zeon. Even if she thinks you’re pathetic, you’re still a Zabi and she could never let harm come to you. No one else puts as much faith in you, or in Neo-Zeon, as she does. As such, with her in charge, we won’t have to worry about dying as much nor the Federation coming after us in cooperation with Neo-Zeon. It’s safer this way.”

Garma stares at Char for a while, completely taken aback by the concrete explanation he’d received. Char has never told him anything so forward in his life.

“That’s… fair,” he says once he’s overcome his shock, turning back to the steering control and checking the radar for any incoming threats. “How come you’ve never explained something like that to me, you’re very good at it.”

“Too much effort.” Of course.

“Ah, apologies, I’ll work on developing your special newtype sensing abilities so you never have to explain anything ever again,” he sarcastises.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Char responds with a nod. Although his voice doesn’t betray it, Garma instinctively knows he’s being teased and throws Char a glare, receiving an amused shrug in return before they settle into silence.

Garma looks down at Mineva to see she’s already asleep in Char’s lap even though they’ve only been off the launchpad about five minutes. She must be exhausted after everything that happened so he keeps her in his peripheral as he focuses back on his escape. She snuggles in close to Char’s leg like it’s a pillow and Char strokes her hair gently as he stares out the side absently. The sight makes his heart ache and the tenderness pulls at him as he desperately tries to shut the feeling off, telling himself this is no reason to just give his heart to the man who had crushed it in the first place.

“What do you want the world to look like?” he asks. Char seems to contemplate it, humming softly and smiling. He’s still not wearing any sort of mask and Garma can see how it reaches his eyes, just like he’d wished for earlier.

“Give me a timeline,” he replies.

“Within your lifetime.”

“That’s not very long, is it?” It’s a joke but Garma can only frown with concern as he remembers Herz saying Char seemed to take missions that might get him killed often. Perhaps he shouldn’t, but he worries about him. They’re friends now, and if his friend is hurting then he’d like to help. He’d never noticed these sort of feelings in him before, perhaps because Char hadn’t had them, or maybe he’d just been too self-absorbed to see them. Either way, although some parts worry him, it’s comforting to see this vulnerability.

“Well, say you live to ninety, what would you want the world to look like at the time you died?” Char thinks about what he’s asked for a while again.

“I genuinely don’t know. It’s difficult to imagine what advances will be made and how things will grow throughout time,” Char answers truthfully. It’s a very pragmatic answer and not at all what he’d been expecting.

“Then forget all of that, it’s an ideal, what is your ideal world?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had one of those,” he says as the smile begins to slip away again. Garma almost wishes he could take the question back but he still wants to know the answer. “I tried once and it all came falling down around me when I met you and Artesia again. It was a stupid ideal anyway. But now I really don’t know how I feel about anything. I suppose I should try and follow my father's ideals but you seem to have a better grasp on them than I do.”

He's surprised by the admission, so much so that it takes him a bit to think of a reply. It doesn't feel like it could possibly be true, after all, he'd only studied the texts for about three years now, Char had lived them his whole life. Instead, he opts to ignore the compliment, at least he thinks it's a compliment, and talks about his own ideals instead.

"I… have this idea of peace in my head. I'm not certain it's attainable, but I have an image of this ideal world that I'd just adore to see in person. And I have a plan to get there, everything I’d like to do and every change I want to happen, all laid out perfectly in my head.” Char smiles at him and chuckles lightly.

“You’ve always been like that, in one way or another, I used to think it was naive but I’m starting to see the charm.” There's something that irks him about the comment, perhaps it's the callous way he calls attention to his deepest insecurity, or perhaps it’s that Char is the one calling it out.

“I was naive, though, I wouldn’t have trusted you if I wasn’t. I would have seen through everything you and my family were pulling over on me and known or thought ahead or tried to do something, I— never mind. What’s done is done. I’m not stupid enough to think I can just forgive you for everything I’ve been through but I’m… I can’t change who I was when it happened.” He sighs and takes the moment of silence that happens after his admission to feel the hollow metal control stick in his hand. He feels some connection to its lack of center, it’s not flimsy like it would break if you pushed just an inch too hard but it lacks the inner wiring of the console below it. It’s the wiring that controls which way the ship will turn, not the hollow tube he holds and it’s him that controls the wiring. Whichever way you look at it, he had been powerless, controlled on either side by forces he didn’t understand.

“I’m glad, I like that person.” Of course Char likes that person. That pathetic pawn he’d decided was unnecessary and attempted to dispose of so spectacularly, of course he likes that fool.

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” he forces out, staring absently at his own hands as thoughts swirl in his head. He’s trying hard not to lash out, he knows anger won’t help him here but there’s little more he’d like to do right now than scream in frustration.

“I understand that, but it wasn’t just me. Other people liked that person too, many others. You’re likable and that’s not something to be looked down on. Being different from the rest of the Zabis isn’t necessarily a bad thing.” He glares at Char, feeling his anger beginning to bubble out of his mouth.

“As if you didn’t exploit everything about that and use it to your advantage,” he hisses lowly, trying his best not to wake up Mineva. “Just like Gihren, just like everyone else in my life. You don’t get to just sit back and list the things you admire about me when you yourself used those exact things to completely tear me up inside. You used me, you ruined my life, you tried to kill me!”

“I know. I’m sorry.” There isn’t anything more he can say, is there? Garma wouldn’t take it if he tried to explain himself, wouldn’t believe him if he said he’d never do it again, and wouldn’t accept any more pleasantries.

“Apology accepted.” It’s not forgiveness for their entire past, just for their recent situation, and Char knows that if the guilt emanating off his slouched shoulders is anything to go by. They sit in silence again, Garma watching Char out of the corner of his eye as he sulks and strokes Mineva’s hair. It’s harder when Char is here, as if he puts all his problems into perspective and lays them out in front of him like a surgeon laying out their tools. He feels dissected, open, vulnerable, as if Char could just take one of his sharpest fears and stab him through the heart at any moment.

It’s not fun to think about and perhaps even more depressing to think that Char may have already done those things. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be relieved or terrified that Char is on his side again but he really wants to get over this fear he has, wants to be able to trust him again. He can tell Char is trying but it just makes him feel as if he’s falling behind again, as if Char’s progress somehow belittles his own. It’s stupid and selfish and he knows that, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling this way.

“About the bodies…” Char says in an attempt to start the conversation up again. Garma shouldn’t be surprised since Char said they would talk about it later but he still is and almost throws the ship to the side in a panic. He manages to control himself enough so the jerky turn isn’t large enough to wake Mineva but he knows he’s shown Char his cards now and that likely means there’s little chance he’ll give up the topic.

“No.”

“Garma, you need to talk about it. If it’s not with me then I can get Artesia on th—”

“No! Don’t you dare,” he hisses, glaring out the window.

“If you don’t want me to tell Artesia then I’m here, I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to, just tell me what’s going on. Get it off your chest.” It’s a mistake but Garma peers over at Char and, as expected, his face is still without a mask, looking at Garma with those eyes he can never seem to resist. Perhaps Char is giving him the chance he wants anyway, to begin to trust him again. He’d asked his question and worried about Char so maybe now he should let Char do the same.

“Fine,” he accedes before taking a breath to collect his thoughts. “I just don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. I don’t trust any of my choices and I can’t see how any of this will lead me to the world I’ve idealized. It’s just… the death I’ve seen and the things I’ve experienced make me feel as if I never want to hurt another person, but I keep being told that in order to reach my dream I have to keep doing that and I… I don’t trust myself to know when I’m just being ignorant again.”

Char doesn’t respond immediately, instead he looks up through the roof window and Garma follows, looking out at all the stars and space that surrounds them. It’s dark and empty and he’s always thought that it was rather imposing, this vast expanse, so impenetrable and deep that he never thought he’d understand it. But having spent so many years on Earth, he now finds that he had missed the stars and that the comforting arms of space surround him more kindly than they used to. It’s a new feeling, but it certainly feels like home

“Then don’t,” Char says simply. Somehow it reminds him of how Claude gave advice. “If you don’t want to hurt people, then don’t. People make things more complicated than they really are but if you don’t want to hurt people in order to rebuild trust in yourself, then don’t. What the world is telling you isn’t what you should listen to. You will get there no matter what you do, as long as you keep yourself together.”

“That’s a very idealistic statement, coming from you,” Garma comments as he looks back at Char. A small smile appears on Char’s face and he finds he can’t look away, his mind running through the fifty million possibilities of what that smile could mean.

“Maybe.”

Notes:

i really love the idea that haman wont let char wear his sunglasses lmao it makes him so fun to play with, but don't think he'll be sans mask forever!! its going to come back ofc it is. also #DoneWithYourShit garma is a mood tbh. i hope i can edit the next chapter soon!! ty for reading pls comment and kudos if you wish!!!

Chapter 23: The Plan

Summary:

Garma tells Char his ideals.

Notes:

Hi there I'm not dead :)

...but I have forgotten a lot about the Gundam Universe so sorry if I get something wrong lol

maybe cheesily deep but this week's song is here :P https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Jtpf8N5IDE

“You know, you never asked what my plan was,” Garma comments, seemingly out of nowhere, as he and Char sit in the dining area of their relatively new ship. It’s a tight space with barely enough room for the three of them to live in and only one bedroom with two beds they have to share and a tiny bathroom that only one person can squeeze into at a time. But the past five months have been quite difficult all around since they’ve been running and hiding from Haman at every turn. Even when buying this ship they’d had to leave in a hurry because someone had noticed them just a little too much after a strand of his hair had fallen out from beneath the deep blue scarf he wore on his head.

“Hm, you’re right,” Char replies absently.

“Is that all? I’m right? Aren’t you curious about what I’m going to do to try and change the world?” he questions further.

“Is it important?” Char asks as he stands, floating the short distance to the kitchenette and turning on the coffee maker.

“Is it important!?” he bites back. “You’ll just follow me without knowing what I want to do?” Garma retorts suspiciously. Char shrugs as he takes two coffee mugs from the cabinet, both cheap and black like nearly everything they own now. Buying a spaceship capable of housing three people wasn’t cheap and neither of them are exactly rolling in money, so everything in their little ship was bought at thrift prices or had gone “missing” from its place of origin. “Why?”

“Everything you’ve done so far has amazed me so I’m always wondering what you’ll do next, it’s very fun, these little surprises you come up with.” Garma watches with narrowed eyes as Char opens the refrigerator to look for the creamer.

“I want to unite the colonies.” The statement garners little reaction from Char other than a raised eyebrow, which somehow only infuriates him more.

“Oh?” The milk carton is pushed over to him, floating in the air before he grabs it to put it down on the table despite his temptation to squeeze it all over the place in his annoyance.

“The Federation managed to unite Earth despite its many differences and cultures, why can’t we do the same in the colonies? If we can get the leaders and representatives of all the colonies to unite against the Federation of their own free will, imagine the power we’ll wield over them. I don’t think we should necessarily go to war against the Federation or try to dissolve it, but just creating a unifying force between the colonies will allow us to fight for the rights we deserve,” he rants. “And if that doesn’t work, of course we’ll have no choice but to revolt. But unlike Zeon’s revolt, this will be an amalgamation of a united force, something more comparable to the Federation itself. Quite unlike what we did back in school.”

“Is that all?” Char turns back towards him, carrying two coffee cups full of black liquid with transparent caps to keep the drink inside.

“No,” he replies sadly. “But it’s probably all I’ll get done within my lifetime. Then I’ll write a book about the rest of it and leave it up to the next generation.”

“It’s a lofty goal all the same,” Char says, handing him his coffee.

“Perhaps,” he replies, gazing at Char over the top of his cup and watching intently for a reaction as the man pours creamer into the small opening in the cap.

“I like it,” he says simply. Still suspicious, Garma takes a sip of his coffee before continuing his explanation.

“But I hope it doesn’t come to that, what I’d prefer is to fight on a political battlefield. I don’t even think complete independence is necessary for now if we can secure more rights for the colonies within the bounds of the Federation. Getting every colony recognized as a full and legitimate member of the Federation would definitely be a primary goal. It would also make the colonies seem like a more viable place to live and possibly increase immigration from Earth into space. Thus, giving us more power to finally declare full independence when the time comes. I don’t think it’s exactly what the spacenoid independence movement had in mind before but I think in some ways it’s easier than having each individual colony fighting for themselves. If, instead, we can work together, think of the new ways we can support each other. It’s not guaranteed peace but it’s something close to it.”

“And what of newtypes?” Char asks and Garma smiles at him, glad to see he’s finally interested enough to ask questions.

“Well, of course you know I believe that the War and the way Zeon treated its newtypes, including its Newtype Division, only further perpetuated the idea that newtypes are useful as tools rather than meaningful as fellow human beings. And since more and more spacenoids are becoming or being born as newtypes, they must not be treated as some sort of abstract concept, or worse, seen only as weapons... Char, I feel like I’ve said this before,” he complains half-heartedly, a smile in his eyes as he pouts over the steam from his cup.

“I know, I’m just double-checking,” Char replies patiently, smiling as well though he still seems a bit off with the way his eyes peer listlessly into Garma’s dark, swirling drink. There was definitely more to the question than Char was letting on but Garma can’t even begin to guess at what he meant.

“Char,” Char hums in acknowledgment, “I am including you in that as well, you know.”

“I assumed as much.”

“Not just— What I mean is that I want newtypes to be able to see themselves as something other than weapons as well. I want them to see a life beyond conflict, if you catch my drift.”

“I… do.” Char doesn’t say anymore and Garma watches him drink with concern, twirling his bangs as he considers whether to push the subject or move on. In the end, he decides it’s still a bit too soon and finds more aspects of his plan to expand on.

“And I have other ideas as well, for Earth itself and the reclamation of land for nature after more people have left, but I think that might be somewhat beyond my capabilities. I’m not a scientist.” He shakes his head in dismissal, keeping his hand in his hair as he ponders a life that could have been.

“If it’s you, it can happen,” Char replies, a touch of his usual self-congratulatory attitude returning to his face.

“If it’s me?”

“Yes, even if you aren’t a scientist, the entire movement would need a leader, wouldn’t it? People need someone to embody an ideal and you are perfect, no one understands your vision better than you and you’ve already made such progress with your policy writing and peacemaking.” Char points his half-empty coffee cup at him like it’s supposed to prove his point.

“If this were to become as large-scale a movement as I’d like, whatever leader they have would have to be democratically elected. I won’t force myself into the position, but if I’m chosen I would happily lead them and get out of this life on the run. Unlike you, I’ve found that living my life in constant fear doesn’t suit me.” Char brings the cup back up to his lips and takes a sip, leaving Garma feeling somehow triumphant.

“I wouldn’t follow them unless it was you.” Char doesn’t look at him as he says it, staring directly opposite of him and it raises Garma’s suspicion about what prompted the sentiment.

“Is that guilt talking?”

“No, not guilt, just admiration. You don’t see how much hope the name Seche gives to those in the colonies and what your policies mean to them, but just the idea that an earthnoid cares so much about them is incredible. I don’t think I’m the only one who feels this way,” he explains. Despite the loud thump his heart gives at the genuine acknowledgement in Char’s voice, he can’t help but doubt himself.

“But I’m not an earthnoid, I’m not Seche. Whatever fantasy they’ve built of me will come tumbling down whenever they find out my true identity,” he argues. It’s something he’s thought about more than once, and the prospect of coming out is terribly daunting… it may truly be the biggest battle of his life even though he’s lived his life in the middle of conflict.

“Maybe a little, but I think you underestimate not only yourself but also the people who admire you. Whoever you are, results can’t be argued with. You’ve brought up legal discrepancy after discrepancy and not only have you brought people’s attention to them, but you’ve fought to get them changed to the point that people have actually started to do just that. You’re well-thought-of despite the many who see you as a simple idealist and your policy writing is trusted as a standard among the colonies. No matter Garma or Seche, it’s still you who’s done these things. So, no, I’m not following you because of guilt but because it feels right now like you’re the only person who could actually bring about the change you talk about.”

“Char… I want to believe I’m that person, that I’m capable of leading like you believe I can but writing a few bills and proposals doesn’t nearly correlate to leading a political movement, much less a union of the proportion I’d like to see.” Garma still feels like he doesn’t completely understand what Char’s saying but he’ll let him go on, if not only for the small boost it’s providing his ego at the moment.

“Well, the AEUG exists doesn’t it? And they were inspired by your proposals, so if that kind of organization can begin to make waves, then maybe you can lead it and grow your own movement from it. There’s no way they’ll be able to turn down the person who inspired them.”

“Maybe, but I don’t like how militaristic they are,” he contradicts again. He might be going a little hard but he wants to be completely sold on something as serious as this before he even attempts it.

“Only in defense, and if you want to change that then you can but it’s still important to have a military. If the AEUG becomes the military division of your union then that’s just what it is, it’s still important.”

“Perhaps but, again, Anti-Earth Union Group? I don’t want to be known as someone who is anti-Earth and I am not very happy people took my work as something working against the Earth. I know it may just be a symbolic name but the symbolism is…”

“It’s just a name, and if you are the leader you can have them change their name to anything you want.” Garma purses his lips and looks down at his cup, finishing it with a long sip before speaking again. It’s a difficult decision but it does feel like a good idea. From what Char has told him about the group before it doesn’t seem nearly as bad as his questions have made it out to be, so he thinks it might not be bad to at least try.

“Then how do you propose we go about making me the head of the AEUG, oh great Casval Rem Deikun?” he asks softly, watching carefully as Char’s eyes widen at the name. Garma smiles and laughs softly, standing to wash out his empty cup as Char collects himself. “We’re out of sugar, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Char responds distantly.

“We should make a stop soon then, I need to pick up my T too.” Char hums in agreement and hands his cup to Garma to wash as well.

“Uncle, stop! Stop!” They turn to see Mineva in the doorway, bouncing up and down as she looks between them with a wide smile. Char reacts quickly as she pushes off the ground and floats into his arms. “Do I get a treat? How long we stay? Stop! Stop!”

“I’m sure Uncle Garma will get you a treat, Neva, don’t worry.” Garma shoots Char a pleading look at the promise but only receives an amused smile in return as Mineva pushes off him and climbs onto Garma’s back, asking what kind of treat she can get. He smiles obligingly at her and promises to get her whatever she wants as he thinks about Char’s offer. Somewhere deep inside him, Char’s words inspire him. He knows he shouldn’t let himself get too taken away by it all but he can’t help the courage that’s starting to rise up in him again. Looking over at Char, a certain fondness passes through him at the silly smirk on his friend’s face.

It’s been five months since they started living together and despite the sometimes brutal arguments they have, he doesn’t regret a single second of it. They are both growing, that much is obvious, and he’s glad they can do it together.

Notes:

wooooo

i honestly thought i'd want to change more here seeing as I wrote this so long ago but it really isn't as bad as I thought? i felt like it kinda convinced my current self of my past self's beliefs lol

Chapter 24: Side 3 Takeover

Summary:

Char and Garma take a trip home.

Notes:

hello!! this is technically halfway through the story, isnt it? well... maybe a little bit lol maybe i should start writing the other half now...

i really love the concept of this chapter but im not the happiest with it in execution, i hope you all can still enjoy it tho! i stayed up til like one a.m. editing it last night lol

also!! i may or may not have an extra coming out of this chapter... i havent read it in a long time tho so im not sure of the quality... which is why its a maybe

today's song is another charles aznavour special, la boheme (forgive my lack of accents...)

Char left the ship three hours ago and Garma is starting to worry. It usually only takes an hour to get what they need but they’ve landed on Side Three today and Char warned him it might take longer with the precautions he’d be taking. Despite that, three hours is too long. Garma brushes his hair back and wraps the scarf Char had bought him a while back around his head. He grabs his sunglasses and slides on a jacket as he opens the door to his and Mineva’s room.

“Uncle Garma?” Mineva asks with a yawn as she stretches out on the bed. “Is Uncle Char back?”

“No, Neva, he’s not back yet but I’m going out to look for him so stay here, ok?” he tells her as he comes up beside her and kisses the top of her head.

“‘K,” she replies sleepily.

“Good girl, you know the drill, right? Don’t open the door for anyone and—”

“I know, I know,” she interrupts, snuggling into the pillow. He smiles at her and walks back out of the room, putting on the glasses as he opens the ship hatch.

About five steps from the ship he realizes why it’s taking so long and fear strikes at his heart as he sees a man in full Zeon regalia walking openly in the streets. Quickly, he pulls his covering down so not a strand of his hair can be seen and pushes up his sunglasses in an effort to hide himself. It appears as though Neo-Zeon’s influence has finally taken back Munzo and as he sneaks around he sees people giving each other little salutes in greeting and murmuring “Sieg Zeon” in parting. He walks the streets as if he belongs here despite his fears, straightening his back and looking forward to give off the air of confidence expected by men of Zeon. Though he’s sure his attempt is shoddy, the streets are busy enough that no one really takes notice.

Besides that first man he’d seen, the influence is subtle but distinct, small insignias and flags in marketplaces, a picture of Gihren in the back of a merchant’s shop. He wonders if it really is so widespread or if he’s just hyper-aware of it because of his own experience. He still sees Federation soldiers walking the streets as usual but he thinks the looks they get are a lot more menacing than on other colonies. Either way, the tension he feels just walking through the marketplace is concerning.

He looks down alleys and streets, eventually finding his way to the sketchier parts of the marketplace in search of Char. Softly, he calls “Suisei” to get his attention in the less-crowded streets, in case his friend is hiding out in some cove or storefront he can’t see. He passes an elderly lady selling gun parts and he feels like she sees right through his disguise so he freezes for a second.

“Sieg Zeon,” she greets with a nod. Mouth open, he fights for the words that will bring the least attention to himself.

“Sieg Zeon,” comes a voice beside him instead. He jumps at its closeness, turning to find familiar fuffy blond hair beside him. Relief floods his body and soul as he looks down to check if Char has the groceries. Four bags full of semi-fresh fruits and vegetable, sugar, spices, and coffee rest below his prescription and he sighs before turning back to the woman.

“Sieg Zeon,” he replies as well, putting his arm in Char’s. The old woman smiles but says nothing more as the two of them stand in front of her small shop, pretending to take in the merchandise while they discuss their situation in hushed voices. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry, I’m sure you’ve noticed but there’s something going on here and I had to investigate a little,” Char explains.

“Well why didn’t you tell me that!?” he admonishes, pinching Char’s side lightly. Char frowns at him and Garma can tell he’s contemplating pinching him back but makes the right decision to keep his hands to himself.

“I’m pretty sure Haman’s got all transmissions around here under tight watch, I overheard two of her soldiers talking about comm duty,” he whispers instead, his eye on the older woman who just smiles and nods at them.

“Her influence is that wide?” he asks with wide eyes. Not only does she have her ow soldiers supplanted in the colony, but they can monitor all technological communication? If that’s the case, they might not be able to come back to Side Three at all anymore.

“She has control of the entire underground, nowhere is safe on this colony anymore.” Garma gives the old woman a similar look but she speaks up in her own defense before too much suspicion is built up against her.

“Oh, I’ve been thinking of moving to Side Four these days,” she comments casually as if they’d been having a conversation with each other all along. “I hear there’s a big market for antiques there and none of my parts work with these modern guns.”

“There is, we’ve recently been there ourselves and the market is quite large and much less constricting than the Federation’s hold on this place,” Char responds.

“I’m sure it is.” With a smile, she closes her eyes and seems to nod off. Char turns to him again with a much more serious face, so close that Garma almost pulls back as his heart leaps in his chest.

“Now that we’re together it’s going to be much harder to get out of here, we’ll have to rush but we also can’t stand out too much. The Neo-Zeon soldiers here don’t wear uniforms and blend right in with the civilians so if we don’t want to get caught we have to be extra vigilant,” Char warns. Garma suddenly realizes that he’s only made things harder for Char by pushing them together but he’s also unwilling to let him go back alone.

“Sorry for coming to look for you, I was just worried—”

“It’s okay, I’m glad you did. I might have gotten lost in my investigation if I hadn’t seen you,” Char comforts, giving him a softer smile. Butterflies fly around his stomach as he stares past Char’s sunglasses, feeling as though he’s losing himself in his friend’s eyes. Realizing he actually might if he continues, he quickly turns away and begins pulling Char out of the stand behind him.

They make their way back to the more crowded streets and try to blend in, walking along behind others and only going in front of them when they slowed down but never pushing anyone out of the way or walking too fast. He has to let go of Char’s arm when the crowds grow thicker and slips their hands together instead, wary of the bags Char carries as he leads them single-file through the throngs of people.

In front of them, he sees the first man he’d seen as he got out of the ship, the one in full Zeon regalia, walking towards them. The man suddenly seizes up as he looks in their direction and Garma panics. Hadn’t Char said the soldiers weren’t wearing uniforms? Did that man recognize them? He squeezes Char’s hand and tries to turn off to an alleyway but there’s a shout from just behind and as he moves back he runs right into a Federation soldier, his glasses falling off in their collision.

“Apologies,” the soldier says as Garma looks for his glasses and covers his eyes frantically. He sees out of his periphery that another soldier had run off, probably to chase out the man in the Zeon uniform.

“It’s fine,” he says hurriedly as he finds his glasses and quickly puts them on. He stands and smiles at the soldier. Against all odds, the soldier’s eyes fill with recognition and Garma quickly grabs Char’s hand and runs down the alley he’d been turning towards

“Hey, wait!” the soldier calls after them. “Halt!”

“Looks like we’ve been found out,” Char comments unhelpfully as he lets go of Garma’s hand so they can both run away at full speed.

“You think!? Why didn’t you say the Federation soldiers had been turned too!?” he yells as Char catches up to him.

“It’s been three hours, Garma, I can’t know everything,” Char retorts.

“Well— ugh! Just run!” He rolls his eyes at the feeling of Char smirking over his shoulder and can practically hear the “witty” comment he wants to make.

When Garma looks behind them and sees no soldier chasing him, he realizes they’re either running into a trap at the port or that back-up has been called in and they may currently be surrounded. Whatever the case may be, he turns a corner and slows to a halt so the two of them can discuss finding another way back to the ship. Realizing something, he takes two of Char’s bags so they each hold two. He probably should’ve done that earlier if Char trying to hide his breathlessness was any indication but he had been trying to think of a way to escape.

“I will not think less of you for being out of breath after running half a mile with four grocery bags, you know,” he admonishes lightly. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Can we really make one?” Char huffs with a hand against the wall as he stops to rest. “They’re probably looking for our ship at the port and have the port entrances locked down. Even if they haven’t surrounded us, there’s no way we can get out unnoticed and Mineva’s in the ship so we’ve got to hurry. There will likely be a scene once we’ve reached the port but don’t worry I’ve brought my gun.”

Something about the port entrances sparks a memory in his mind, a deep-seated childhood memory he’d likely pushed away to forget the fondness he once held for his family. Only now that it’s useful does he see fit to recall such details.

“I agree, mostly, but you forget we used to live here, and that Kycilia used to be in charge of the port. I know all the entrances, even a few that no Federation soldiers do. For the benefit of Zeon, you see,” he counters. Char’s eyes widen behind his glasses and now it’s Garma’s turn to smirk. “Follow me.”

He jogs back and follows the old path to the one port entrance Kycilia told him never to share with anyone. He would go there often in his younger years, watching them perform illicit transactions or just admiring some breakdown of the postal service while pretending to do his homework under the watchful eye of his older sister. It was the best place to be as a curious middle schooler. He shakes off his nostalgia as he remembers they’re on the run for their lives.

“Lucky,” Char says as they come up to the abandoned-looking entrance. Vines grow up along the stairs to a door that is coated in dust and he’s relieved to realize it must have come out of use after the beginning of the war. “Rather romantic as well. Did you ever bring some lucky boy up here?”

“As if I ever had time for that,” he huffs as he begins carefully climbing the stairs. The truth is that he’d tried but everyone was so scared of his family they didn’t dare touch him. Char had been the first to break that spell.

“Oh? Not a single one? Kycilia watching too closely?” Char teases, following behind him. Getting slightly annoyed, he turns back to glare at Char.

“You do know you were my first kiss, right?” he says tersely. Char seems properly ashamed, looking down at his feet as if he’s suddenly realized how rickety the stairs are. Garma sighs and opens the door. It leads into a small hallway that appears to have no exit but he knows there’s an invisible eye scanner on the ceiling that opens the door to Kycilia’s backroom if you look straight into it. Hopefully the scanner still works since it obviously hasn’t been maintained in several years. He walks along the hallway, looking up against the right wall with his eyes wide open. Char watches him from the door as he paces back and forth fruitlessly and he knows he must look like an idiot but Char makes no smart comment or funny look and instead stares at him absently as if he’s deep in thought.

Briefly, he wonders if he’s hurt Char but he’s not given time to dwell on it as he hears the tell-tale sound of the eye-scanner and gasps as the hidden door opens. He smiles widely at Char who grins in return as they walk into the now open room. They rush through and the next scanner is easy to find as its unhidden right above the door. He stands underneath it while the door creaks open to reveal a hallway in the commercial wing of the port. From here on out, they’re on their own but at least it seems there isn’t too much security on this side of the port yet. There’s bound to be tons in the private wing where they had landed.

“Run,” Char says and takes off. Spluttering uselessly, Garma watches him run for a second before chasing after him. He supposes there isn’t really a better plan for the situation at hand but he’s still surprised that Char is just making a run for it without even asking Garma if he has any other tricks up his sleeve. He doesn’t, but he would like to have been asked.

They catch a few confused glances and as they’re running he realizes not all the Federation soldiers are on the same page. Either they hadn’t gotten the message yet or not all of the soldiers had been converted to Neo-Zeon’s side. He feels his curiosity growing as he wonders what exactly is going on in this colony. Contrasting that heavily, they pass into the private port which is filled to the brim with Federation soldiers who all seem to be searching for them. There’s no sneaking here. Char motions for him to stay in the entrance as a guard passes and, of course, sees them. Garma watches frozen as Char takes his gun out of his boot and shoots the man’s leg. The fallen guard yells for back-up into his comm while Char and Garma run off and Garma tries to chase the image of the bloody leg out of his mind.

They manage to dodge and weave bullets as they run to the ship, Char turning back to shoot in retaliation every now and then. Not wanting to see the potential carnage, Garma doesn’t look back and only takes Char’s directions on how to move.

“Garma!” Char calls in a panic and Garma turns at the sheer terror in his voice, just in time to see Char jump behind him before falling backward into him. Garma catches him, dropping his groceries in the process. There’s blood on his shoulder and Garma instantly freezes.

“You’ve been hit,” he whispers distantly. “It’s all my fault…”

“Garma, go, I’m fine,” Char says as he pushes him away, clutching his own arm. Pulling himself up, Garma takes the gun Char had dropped, picks up three bags in one hand, and shoots at the groups approaching them from either side. They are thankfully at the ship next to their own and can easily cross over the ship in between them but they’ll have to go on top if they want to avoid the guards. Jumping up, Garma keeps shooting at both groups as he helps Char up. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to miss or hit the guards but sees some stoop to the ground and just prays there won’t be any more deaths on his hand.

They jump off down the other side and run to their ship’s door. He hits the button to unlock it with the butt of his gun and Char opens the door with his good arm. He runs inside first, dropping his bags just inside the door and going straight into the cockpit. Bullets pelt the sides of their ship so he hits the acceleration as soon as Char’s pulled up the hatch again, pulling out of the parking spot and racing to the takeoff platform.

“Are you okay?” he calls out as he blasts out of the port.

“I’m fine, it’s just my arm,” Char calls back.

“Just your arm!? Char! You can still bleed out!” he yells in panic.

“I know, I know, I’ll call Artesia and everything will be fine,” Char assures in what he probably thinks is a calming voice. Garma, however, isn’t calmed at all as he mutters to himself about reckless idiots and continues dodging bullets and beams. Now that he’s on the ship, he has no guns so all he can do is evade. They’d tried to find a ship with guns but all of them had either been quarantined for Federation military use only, were much too big for their purposes, or just completely out of their budget.

“Uncle Garma? Is Uncle Char back?” Mineva says sleepily as she walks into the cockpit and Garma really hopes Char will be able to deal with her because he’s this close to either escaping or getting the ship blown up and he can’t deal with her at the moment.

“Hey, Neva. Yes, I’m back. Can you go call Auntie Artesia for me? And don’t bother Uncle Garma, he’s very busy.” Relief flows through him as he manages to get further from the ships after them and maneuvers into a hiding spot that will allow him to lose them completely.

“Sharp turn incoming!” he yells as he nears a large cargo ship going the opposite direction of them.

“Neva! Hold on tight,” Char calls behind him. He hopes to god she follows the directions as he swings out and takes a sharp U-turn so he’s on the other side of the ship going slowly beside it for a while until he sees another large ship coming in and moves to get behind that one. He passes in between different ships for another five minutes before steadying the ship beside a huge cruiser and following their path away from the colony.

As soon as he can’t see any Federation ships, he turns away from it and boosts into the vastness of space. From what he knows there aren’t any colonies in this direction and as long as the earth doesn’t get in the way of their solar panels, they should be fine for a while so he puts it on autopilot, setting the booster to go off in ten minutes to get them a safe distance from Side Three. Finally feeling his anxiety lessen, he lays back in his chair and sighs before remembering Char’s situation.

“Char!” he calls, jumping from his chair to go and check on him.

“We safe?” he asks and Garma nods in confirmation, surveying Char. He’s laid back in a chair beside the dining table, bloody forceps in his hand and a paper towel on the table. The towel is also soaked with blood, a small metal bullet in the middle of it. He then turns to the wound itself and is unable to turn away. The pink muscle is exposed underneath the red slit in his skin, it doesn’t seem too deep but it still makes him cringe with regret. If only he had realized sooner, dodged faster— no, it’s pointless to dwell on things that have already happened. He can only hope to avoid these mistakes in the future.

“Ah! Garma, you’re back.” He starts at the sound of Artesia’s voice coming through the lightscreen, still staring at the open wound in Char’s arm. “He’s gotten the bullet out now, thankfully it didn’t shatter. I wish I could give him stitches but I can’t leave right now and, no offense Garma, but I don’t think you can. Instead, you can just wrap a cloth tightly but not constricting around the wound and give him some painkillers, four hundred milligrams of ibuprofen with food. It might take a while to heal.”

“I don’t ne—”

“Force them down his throat if you have to,” she orders.

“Understood,” Garma agrees meekly.

“All right, you two, please try not to get shot again!” Artesia warns politely as she hangs up.

“I’m sorry,” Char says as soon as she’s off the line. Garma’s eyes rise to his face and see a deep sincerity to the apology. He sighs and turns to go get the cloth but Mineva hands it to him before he even stands.

“Ah, thank you, Neva.” She nods excitedly and sits down next to them, staring at the wound as he begins wrapping the bandage. “Why? You haven’t done anything wrong, this bullet almost hit me, didn’t it? I should be the one saying sorry to you for being such a poor shot in defense of you after you risked your life for me.”

“I did do something wrong. I didn’t tell you what I was doing again and I’m the only reason we were in that situation in the first place. If I’d come back to drop off the groceries and told you the situation this could have…” Char trails off and Garma’s eyebrows knit as he pulls harshly against the bandage to keep it as tight as necessary. Char hisses in pain against the force but he keeps going as Artesia told him.

“Well it’s understandable, I felt myself drawn to the mystery of what’s happening there as well. And if Neo-Zeon is monitoring all their communications I can understand why you didn’t call. If you’d come back and told me the situation, I probably would have wanted to join you anyway and then it would have ended the same way.”

“Maybe,” Char replies like it’s the end of the conversation even though he looks like he has more to say. Garma finds himself wondering if maybe he’d been right when he thought he’d hurt Char in some way. It’s a little stupid, maybe, since he should probably be more wary of Char hurting him but those fears had long since dissipated in their time together here. Mineva is sat between them, listening intently to the conversation but he doesn’t really see a reason to kick her out just yet.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, Char, please?” he pleads as he sticks the pin in to finish tying up the bandage. He feels around Char’s arm to make sure it’s bandaged properly and Char watches mutely, hopefully deciding whether or not to share his mind. Garma doesn’t expect a direct response but anything would be good, really.

“You were my first kiss as well,” he finally responds. Slightly taken aback by the statement, Garma stops with his hands gently grasping the arm and looks at Char. His eyes are unobscured by his sunglasses and stare back at him with something he can’t quite name.

“Oh.” He’s not sure how to react at first, not sure what Char is looking for. “I suppose that makes sense, looking back. You never really settled in one place long enough to make those sorts of relationships, did you?” Char shakes his head and a soft smile forms on his face, somewhat reminding him of the one he’d been given years ago at their reunion. It tugs on his heart in the same way but Char breaks the tension by flinging his head back and sighing wistfully.

“Would you tell me about your time during the war?” Char asks suddenly. Garma sits back and lets go of Char’s arm, looking over at Mineva who’s still watching them with great interest. “You don’t have to.”

“No, it’s probably time you both heard,” he sighs. Char gives Mineva a glance and smirks at her like the two had been conspiring to get him to tell this story. Smiling her wide, toothy smile, she scoots over closer to her other uncle so that the two of them can listen together. Garma runs a hand through his hair and ponders how he should start.

He begins by talking about his sadness after Char’s betrayal, not mentioning Char’s name and lightening the story a bit for Mineva’s sake. He can tell Char knows he’s doing it, however, as his face turns away. But he won’t comment on it. The point isn’t to shame him, just to inform him. And he asked for this anyway. Afterward, he talks about meeting Nero and Claude and how they had helped them but doesn’t mention that they died, he still has trouble thinking about it. And he feels their absence heavy on his heart every day.

From there, he talks about the refugee city and then sneaking onto a Zeon ship and his ridiculous little plot with Artesia. Mineva claps excitedly at the mention of her aunt and attempts to press the button to call her again before Garma and Char stop her, laughing as they each hold one of her little hands. Then he details his reunion with Shana and the end of the war as he fruitlessly fought against something much bigger than himself.

“...It was a little ridiculous, but it was all I had.” He looks down at his thumbs that twiddle and Char places a hand on his shoulder. Garma looks over at him and smiles with relief, his shoulders dropping slightly. “And it was a lonely time, I don’t think I’ve ever been so alone in my life. I had thought I’d known loneliness sitting in the libraries of my childhood home but nothing could compare to the vast expanses of space, the long gaps between any change in the vision outside my window. It was lonely, but somehow so incredibly freeing. I could just go and go and go forever and maybe I’d die and maybe I’d find someone to love but either way, I was sure that I existed and that I was myself. I didn’t particularly like myself, but I knew at that point that I had to at least learn to try.

“It was terrifying at first, all the way until I left Earth again but since then I’ve come to understand what space means to me. After these experiences, I don’t think Earth could ever be somewhere I come home to. It’s like being caged again, like being inside the walls of my childhood home. The gravity pulls at me and it has Kycilia’s voice, it beckons me back to a period worse than that loneliness. Because at least in my loneliness, though I was hopeless and lost, I was free. Free of my family, free of society, free of obligation, free of everything but myself. So to cure my loneliness and find myself again, I looked for myself. I read and I studied books on law and thought about what I wanted, how I thought things should be. It was really only a month but to me, it was like a century.”

He opens his mouth to say more but he’s not sure what else to say, he’s not entirely sure what he’s just said in the first place. It’s as if as soon as he’d said it, it had immediately left his mind and he couldn’t recall what he’d said. Despite his own internal confusion, Char and Mineva look up at him in something akin to awe and he turns to blush.

“Uncle Garma tells the best stories!” Mineva says, startling both him and Char as she grabs his hand and puts herself in his lap. Garma laughs and pulls her in close, pressing a kiss to the back of her head before turning to Char who has that enigmatic smile on his face again. His hand had slipped off Garma’s shoulder at some point during his little rant and though his eyes are on Garma, his mind seems to drift off as he continues smiling. Garma always finds himself entranced by that smile and he watches intently, taking in the warmth of his mouth and the distance of his eyes, full of emotions that he doesn’t have the strength to communicate.

“You were with Lalah after I died, weren’t you?” He asks, hoping that maybe since he’s revealed so much about himself, Char will give him even the smallest glimpse into his own mindset from that turbulent time.

“Hm, not all the time. She was also a soldier and they were very interested in her abilities just as I was so I didn’t actually get to see her often but she was still… like Claude was to you I imagine. She always saw right through me but she still went along with everything I said. I’ll never understand why she was like that but I don’t…” Char trails off and looks over to him and Mineva who both watch him with wide eyes. “What?”

“Uncle Char’s stories are good too!!” Mineva cheers, pounding her fists into her legs.

“I still feel like Lalah and I would get along,” Garma ponders, his head bouncing on top of Mineva’s.

“She would think you’re stupid and naive,” Char shoots down. Garma pouts. “She did think that, actually.”

“Well, yeah, because I was! She was right! But now we could have coffee and chat shit about you or discuss the world or something.” Char laughs at him and he pouts again. “What?”

“Nothing, I just feel like if you’re going to do that you would need me as a mediator. She’s not nearly as idealistic as you. Rather fatalist, actually.”

“That sounds fun, though! I love debating people, you know,” he prods. Char is opening up to him about her and he loves it, he’s always wanted to hear more about her. But it seems like that’s all he’ll get for now as Char just chuckles lowly in response. “I really do wish I could have met her.”

“And I wish I could have met Claude and Nero,” Char replies. Garma thinks about the five of them all together and what his two little friends would have thought of Char. As he imagines Nero’s reaction to Char he almost cringes visibly.

“I think I can see what you mean about Lalah now,” he acquiesces. Char laughs some more and Mineva joins in, giggling and bouncing in his lap. Garma smiles at the two of them, thinking that they make quite the pair. It’s perhaps an odd time for such a realization but he decides right then that he really is glad Char has entered his life again, if not only to give him Mineva but also to be his friend again. Even if he is quite different than he had been during their days at the academy— which, he supposes, is probably a good thing— there’s this innate feeling that pulls him towards Char. He isn’t quite sure what it is, but around Char, he just feels less lonely.

“Neva, can you go to your room for a bit? Uncle Garma and I need to talk about adult stuff,” Char requests. Confused, he lets go of Mineva and watches as she obediently walks back to their room.

“What’s wrong?” he asks as soon as the door closes.

“Nothing, I just wanted to see how you’re holding up, I know that scene outside was hard on you.” Garma’s eyes widen in surprise at the kind words and he’s glad that Char had sent Mineva out.

“It’s not… I know violence is necessary sometimes, I am not so idealistic that I’m blind to such realities of the world,” Garma defends.

“I know, I’m not saying that. But you don’t have to be the one to inflict it, I’m not blind. I could see the way you were trying not to hit anyone and the pain in your eyes when you did. Just because violence is necessary doesn’t mean you have to be the one to do it. I would willingly—”

“I don’t want you to either!” he interrupts, trying his best to keep his voice down. “I know you don’t mind violence, I know you think you’re only useful in times of war, I know how little you think of yourself. But what if I want more than that for you? What if I want you to be happy as well? It’s so unfair how you just go on and on about how you’ll protect me when part of what’s hurting me is seeing you sacrifice yourself and then presuming it’ll help me feel better somehow. It makes me miss when you didn’t care about me at all.” Char can’t look at him as Garma runs his hands through his hair, messing it up thoroughly.

“I’m sorry,” he says simply. Garma can feel there’s more to it but he doubts he’ll get any more answers right now.

“I know.”

“I wish I knew…” That definitely isn’t the sort of sentence Char will be able to finish on his own but Garma’s pretty sure he knows where it was going anyway.

“I know.” He takes Char’s hand in his, looking over the back and stroking it softly with his thumb. “Just realize that even if you hate yourself, I do not. If I can find value in your being here, I am sure you can as well.” He brings the hand up to his lips and kisses it softly. “And while I do appreciate your concern, I can deal with it on my own.”

“Okay, but if you ever—”

“Of course I’ll come to you, who else would I go to? You know Artesia would just send me to a shrink,” he jokes. Char huffs a laugh as Garma stands up again and goes to check on Mineva. At the door, he turns back to Char and sees him poking at his wound over the bandage. He smiles fondly as Char pokes just a little too hard and hisses in pain, thinking that maybe he should have poked it as well.

Notes:

i think they should’ve kissed in that little corridor but honestly there’s so many times they should’ve kissed honestly. The fools. Though the corridor would have been my pick if i were to have them kiss anywhere, just bc the tension of running and memories of the past filling their heads. The missed opportunities of their youth. Char could say “Do you have time now?” and then pin him against the wall and Garma’s romantic fantasies would come true it’d be sweet v_v

^old a/n from the google doc, a reference to that extra i mentioned earlier^

new a/n is that sayla's pain killer prescription is from personal experience LMAO wish i couldve written a more descriptive scene for that but it didnt fit in the story... why do i always do this to myself. i just love medicine :)

Chapter 25: Political Victories

Summary:

Garma celebrates being charismatic and Char tries to have feelings

Notes:

expect nothing ToT

“It passed!” Garma cheers as he walks out of his room, holding up his lightscreen. He’s quiet though bristling with excitement since Mineva is in the middle of her nap and he wouldn’t dare wake her.

“Which one?”

“The most important one, Char, the one about the death penalty? The one you got me started on?” he says with a pointed look in Char’s direction.

“I don’t know, I think the one about the sea grass is pretty important too,” Char refutes. Garma has to think about it for a second before getting back on his roll.

“Well, it is. But it’s not the death penalty, the thing I have been fighting for since I started fighting, is it?” he replies with a slight pout. “I really do hope things go well for the sea grass too, though.”

“I do too, and congratulations on banning the death penalty, now no one is allowed to die.” Garma stops his pondering and looks more closely at Char who stands by the window, staring out at the moon which they’re currently passing. Garma walks over to him and leans against the window, taking in his visage as they stand together. There’s always a certain melancholy to Char as if the ghosts of his past are all hidden deep within his eyes and follow him everywhere he looks.

“Well, Kycilia still should have died,” he acquiesces, “and I think she still would have with this law. War criminals do fall under the exclusion particle. I am not foolish enough to think something like that will never happen again nor do I think there is never a time when execution is necessary but it’s…”

“I know, Garma, I’ve heard this rant many times before but it’s exactly the problem,” Char says and turns to him.

“The problem?” His brow furrows as he tries to decipher Char’s face.

“What about you? What will happen when you appear to the public again?” Garma’s eyes widen again as he realizes he hasn’t even considered his own position as a runaway war criminal. Char doesn’t seem particularly sad, rather, as he always is, depressed with a hint of anger at the edges of his posture.

“Whatever happens, happens. If the people decide that I am not suited to be among them and that I have not done enough to make up for my crimes, then it is their decision. If they decide that I must die then I will go without objection. I have done everything I can but if that is not enough, then it is not enough.” Char glances at him once more before looking out again.

“So you wouldn’t fight?”

“Well, I have been fighting, haven’t I? With every policy I make, with every attempt to educate the world and share my opinions, that is my fight. Perhaps there is no violence, perhaps the struggle isn’t as clear to the eye, but it’s there and it is just as intense as any military battle,” he explains.

“I suppose I still don’t see how you can really get things done if you don’t use any kind of force. It’d be nice to believe that things will just fall into place peacefully but I don’t know how you’ll make the broad headway that ought to be made without brute strength. There’s no way to fight against something so large with something so small,” Char argues back.

“You are right, it is impossible to create true change one hundred percent peacefully when you are coming at it from a place of less power, as we both should know from our youth, but temperance is needed to make sure you do not go too far. It’s about strategy, not brute force. Have patience and perseverance and the things you believe in will come to fruition.” Char smirks at him and Garma has to hold back a blush at the pride in those eyes.

“You’ve gotten so good with words, my prince,” he says with only a hint of amusement. Garma stands up a bit straighter and gives his best prince impression.

“It should be expected for someone who writes laws for a living,” he says and flicks a hand through his hair. Char chuckles lightly at him and turns back to stare out of the window.

“The moon would be a nice place to live, wouldn’t it?” Char starts randomly.

“The moon?”

“It would be nice to go out and look up at space whenever you wanted, I think. I don’t know if settling down is possible for someone like me but if it was, I think I’d settle on the moon.”

“It’s also close to the EFSF bases so you could keep an eye on them,” Garma adds and Char smiles absently as he nods in agreement.

“That too.”

“I didn’t know you thought about this kind of thing, I must say I am interested to hear your thoughts,” he says with his own smile, bending down so he can put his elbow on the sill and lay his head against his hand. Char just kind of looks at him in surprise as Garma urges him on with a nod. Garma thinks he sees the traces of a blush on his cheeks as Char swallows and looks away to explain his plans.

“Well, it’s just with Mineva I want her to have a better childhood than I did but I won’t leave her either so I started to realize that meant that I would also have to become… better? Not better but supportive, live in a way that supports her and because of that I was thinking that we— I mean I—”

“I do not like the bubble cities,” Garma interrupts, seeing how much Char is struggling.

“Bubble cities?”

“On the moon, they live in bubble cities. It reminds me of the refugee city, I do not like it.”

“So you—”

“You think I’ll let you take Mineva by yourself? If you live in a bubble city on the moon with her then I will too and I don’t like bubble cities,” Garma explains, then pauses a moment to think about the other aspects of his plan. “Though I do agree with you on the part about seeing space, I quite like that aspect of it.” He looks at Char out of the corner of his eye and this time he’s sure there’s a blush along his pretty cheekbones. He smirks to himself at his own triumph, it’s probably the first time but he hopes it won’t be the last.

“So what do you suggest, then?” he asks quietly, sounding slightly embarrassed.

“I quite like this place, you know? Just traveling around space but having a big enough place to live normally. I mean it might do to live on a very small colony, there are quite a few in Side Five I hear, and keep this ship just to go out whenever we like but I want the option to go out and explore easily. I spent so much of my life contained in one colony and look at what kind of person that made me. Mineva should be a citizen of the Earthsphere, not just whatever colony she lives on.”

“On a small colony you can always see space at night; the windows are so close,” Char adds.

“Exactly! It’s like living on a big ship like this, and there would be children for Mineva to play with and she can go to school and—”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, we’re still in the present,” Char teases. Garma is brought back to reality with the gentle reminder and looks down sadly. Right, they’re still on the run and they will be until Neo-Zeon is defeated which they can’t even attempt to do until he gets in good graces with the AEUG which Char is still figuring out.

“Right. Well, at least we will know what we are going to do when we get there now,” he says sullenly. There’s an odd feeling in his heart, making these sorts of plans. A nostalgia of sorts, from the days when he and Char would send each other letters and he would dream of traveling the world with him. Perhaps that dream might actually come true.

“Just as long as you don’t let the Federation kill you,” Char says with a similar tone. Garma looks over to see him gazing out again so he brings the hand not holding his own head up to Char’s chin and turns him so they face each other.

“You hate the Zabis so much that you tried to kill us all, and yet you still haven’t killed me.” He smiles at Char as he says this, his eyes not fully able to make contact even though he can feel eyes drilling into his slightly lowered gaze. “I think if I can convince you my life is worth living, then I can convince them as well. Until then, I’ll just keep fighting.” He pokes his thumb into the bottom of Char’s cheek and makes eye contact to wink at him before standing up again. Char doesn’t speak for a while as Garma goes back to the hull of the ship and checks the navigation, hands shaking as his nerves finally get the better of him.

“So, how do you think oldtypes like to celebrate their political victories?” Char asks as he enters the cockpit and leans against the back of Garma’s chair, a solid five minutes after Garma had left him by that window. Garma smirks and continues checking the ship’s systems.

“Well, as an oldtype myself I have quite a lot of knowledge on the topic,” he replies cheekily.

“Oh?”

“Hm, yes, I believe that there are many oldtypes who enjoy a specific brand of ice cream as a celebration for just about anything.” He looks up at Char with feigned innocence and Char smiles down at him, shaking his head with amusement.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he replies as he goes back to the kitchen to make dinner. Garma smiles to himself as he watches the radar and thinks of the life they could have together, Shana and Sayla as their neighbors and he and Char as… Well, it’s the future, it doesn’t have to all be planned out like Char said.

His brow narrows as a blip appears on the radar and he turns the ship to go around it but as he slowly speeds up in that direction, more blips come onto the screen from all directions.

“Char!” he calls. “We have a problem!”

Notes:

im sorry lol

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Take Me With You Series