Part Eleven
I really wish I had my old journal. I wish I knew if it was handwritten or on here. Then again, I just wish I remembered the first fifteen years of my life. I would settle for that. So I’m sitting here staring at this blank screen, wondering what to say. I feel like I should be explaining who I am or something. Then again, it’s my journal, so why bother? Not to mention that since I don’t remember who I am, explaining this would be difficult.
Let me sum up: I woke up in the hospital over a week ago with absolutely no memory of who I am, a splitting headache, and broken ribs. The man who is apparently my legal guardian, Treize, explained that my mobile suit malfunctioned during battle and, not only injured me substantially, but apparently fried my brain as well.
My roommate and apparently partner is a Chinese boy named Xiaolung. He’s lost his memory as well, only he’s taking it with far more of an attitude than I am. Treize said that the mobile suit hooked directly into our brain somehow, and the malfunction is what caused the memory loss. Apparently both our Gundams had this system.
Which brings me to another point: apparently we’re Gundam pilots. Somehow this doesn’t surprise me. Treize says we’re the best pilots that OZ has. He would know, he’s the head of the entire organization. This would explain why he’s spending so much time on us. Him and his - how shall I put this? - assistant, Une. Don’t get me wrong, I like her, though she’s crabby and pleasant by turns. I wouldn’t want her for an enemy, that’s for certain. Whether or not she and Treize have anything going on outside the office remains to be seen.
Hm. I sound like a gossiping teenager. So, we start classes the day after tomorrow. I’m anxious to get out of this room. I’m beginning to feel claustrophobic. And the hospital food leaves something to be desired. Also, I’m bored out of my skull. Thank God this laptop has pinball and solitare, that’s all I can say. At this point, even classes would be a welcome change of pace.
****
I have had enough. I want to get out of here. I’m twitching, I swear. If I have to read one more word of Chinese philosophy, my head will explode. I feel bad after all the trouble Une went to in order to get the books for me, but I’m ready to burn them all. I hate hospitals. I hate forced inactivity. I hate everything.
I can tell I wasn’t a sedentary person by nature.
****
So, life sucks.
Quatre and Wu have been brainwashed, I know it. They’d never just switch sides like that. I mean, really. And Trowa and Heero are taking this way too calmly. I’d think Trowa at least would be worried! Not Mr. Face-of-Steel, of course not.
So now I’m in a pissy mood. And I’ve been in one for days. I think Heero’s getting kinda worried. That’s kind of funny, in a twisted way. I betcha he’d be more worried if he knew I’d barely slept on top of everything else. But how can I sleep with Q and Wu off in the clutches of the Ozzies? And Heero keeps looking at me funny. Like I’m supposed to be pleased about this or something.
Anyway, Trowa said he’d try to figure out what the hell was going on and he’d get back to this. I’m so mad that my hair is knotting just thinking about it. I want to know what’s going on! I hate not knowing what’s going on.
Ack. I need sugar.
****
Duo has had about twelve cups of coffee, and I think every single one had about three spoonfuls of sugar. Apparently he was trying to cheer himself up, and it worked. Though he’s now driving me crazy with dancing around the room, I’d far prefer that than what he’s been like for the past week and a half.
“Neee, Heero . . .” He’s bounced off the wall and is coming back at me. What did I do to deserve this?
“Hn.” We have fallen back into our old roles with relative ease.
“I’m sorry for being such a pissant this past week,” Duo apologizes, not sounding sorry at all. He sounds cheerful. Almost too cheerful. It’s rather unnerving. I wish he’d make up his mind.
“Hn,” I say again. I know better than to try asking what was bothering him again. I might lose my head this time.
“Are you typing what I’m saying again?” Duo asks.
I don’t dignify that with a response at all.
“You are absolutely no fun at all, Heero Yuy,” Duo says. He proclaims this as if he’s damning me to Hell. I think he fails to understand that he’s hardly any fun, either.
****
I’m attempting to not be nervous.
Quatre and Wufei start classes tomorrow, and somehow I’m not looking forward to finding out what’s going on. I have a feeling that I’m not going to like it. So I’m trying to prepare myself for the worst now. But I have to wonder what would really be worse. Would it be worse to find out that Quatre and Wufei really have been brainwashed, the way Duo keeps insisting, or that they’ve turned traitor?
It’s a difficult choice to make. I think brainwashed might actually be better. At least that way, we may be able to get them back.
I miss Quatre, though I don’t want to admit it. Why is it that everything in my life that might be good goes wrong somehow? And why must I be so self-pitying? I’ll find out what happened and we’ll do our best to fix it. There’s certainly no point in agonizing over it in my journal.
Which must be why I’m sitting here.
****
The physics of aerodynamics had never really been an interesting topic, and Rigel found his eyes glazing about five minutes into class. He didn’t know when he had learned all this, but he was sure that he’d learned it somewhere before. He glanced over at Xiaolung to see his roommate doodling absently in the margins of his notebook.
They weren’t the only ones in the class who were bored. Rigel glanced to his left and saw, two seats over, a young man about his age with a similarly uninterested look on his face. Well, from what Rigel could see of his face. He had a very impressive set of bangs. The young man glanced over at him and Rigel quickly looked down at his notebook, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks.
Trowa, for his part, was puzzled. If Quatre was still on their side, he’d probably be trying to surreptitiously get his attention. If not, he’d probably have gone to let someone know who he was by now. The fact that the blonde boy kept staring and then looking down at his desk and blushing was . . . strange. It was almost as if they’d never met before, and the other pilot was shyly interested. In fact, it did remind Trowa of when they’d first met.
He spent the rest of class trying to catch Quatre’s eye and wondering how he was going to go talk to them without looking suspicious.
In the end, the other pilot solved the problem quite nicely for him by walking over when class was dismissed. “Um, hi.” Rigel smiled disarmingly. “My name’s Rigel. I’m new.”
Trowa just blinked for a minute, then came to his sense. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Trowa. Trowa Barton.”
“How long have you been here?” Rigel asked.
“I just started about a month ago,” Trowa said.
“So you’re new too!” Rigel grinned.
“Yeah,” Trowa said, then tried to think of something else to say.
At this point, Xiaolung walked over. “Rigel, if you don’t cease and desist your drooling, we’ll be late to our next class.”
Rigel turned a brilliant shade of red. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a jerk?”
“Probably, but I don’t remember,” Xiaolung retorted. “I’m going. If you’re late, you can explain it to Une.” With that, he turned and walked out of the room.
“He’s a bit, um . . . cranky,” Rigel explained, still blushing.
“I can see that,” Trowa replied.
“It comes of having been in a hospital for weeks,” Rigel said with a sigh. “Though I don’t see why he’s cranky and I’m not.”
“Were you injured?” Finally, some explanations, Trowa thought.
Rigel’s face darkened. “Yeah. We were hurt in battle. In our mobile suits. Our brains got fried somehow.”
“How so?” Trowa asked, confused.
“Well, we don’t remember anything,” Rigel said. “Total blank. I mean, I could have already known you and it wouldn’t make any difference.”
Trowa nodded. I can see that. “Oh.”
“Yeah, it does kind of suck,” Rigel said. “But it’s nice to have met you!”
Again, Trowa thought. “What are you doing for lunch?”
Rigel grinned and blushed. “Nothing yet . . .”
“I could show you around, if you like,” Trowa offered. “After you eat.”
“Sure.” Rigel lowered his eyes shyly. “I have to go . . . Xiaolung wasn’t kidding when he said I’d be late. I’ll see you at lunch?”
“Yeah,” Trowa said, watching Rigel back away. “See you there.”
****
Treize walked into the self-defense class about a half hour after it started. In an effort to not draw attention to himself, he had changed into a normal suit. He was well aware that his OZ uniform was designed to awe and impress, but that didn’t make it any more attractive. And contrary to what people might think, it wasn’t very comfortable either.
Xiaolung was in the middle of tossing another student around as if he were a toothpick. Treize grimaced and walked over to the instructor. “I thought I told you to take it easy on them?”
“I did,” the instructor said. “We started them on the beginners. That - ” He motioned to the unfortunate young man sprawled on the floor - “is one of my best students. I don’t think Xiaolung moved more than an arm. Besides, he told me to stop humoring him.”
Treize paused. “I can see Xiaolung doing that.”
“Rigel was perfectly happy to be humored,” the instructor said with a nod. “Though he did proceed to make his way through the ranks pretty effectively.”
At this point, the students had noticed he was there. A low buzz was going through the room. Treize looked at them. “Don’t let me interrupt class. I just needed to have a word with the instructor.”
“Treize-sama is observing us today,” the instructor added.
“Oh, great,” several students muttered.
“It’s not a pop quiz, stop worrying.” Treize walked over to one of the chairs in the corner and sat down. He realized fairly quickly that there was absolutely no reason for either of the Gundam pilots to be in this class. Oh well, a little late for that now.
“Xiaolung, that’s enough for today. You’ve beaten three quarters of your classmates. Sit down.”
Xiaolung made a face.
“Tomorrow we’ll see if you remember how to use weapons. Don’t grin like that.” The instructor looked around. “You either, Rigel. Both of you . . . take a time out.”
Xiaolung dropped onto one of the benches. “This class is boring,” he muttered.
“Just because you’re great at this doesn’t mean we all are,” someone replied.
Xiaolung paused. “Hardly my fault.”
Rigel sat next to him. “Yeah, we didn’t know we could do any of this stuff. Maybe we’ll just move to a higher class.” He glanced at Treize.
“Ano, Rigel, there is no higher class,” the instructor said.
“Oh.” Rigel at least had the good grace to be embarrassed.
“You could be instructors,” Treize said.
“I’ll pass, thanks,” Xiaolung said.
Class resumed. Treize walked over to them. “How are you two settling in?”
“Just fine, thanks,” Rigel said.
“Just because you already have a date - ” Xiaolung began.
“Well, maybe if you weren’t so standoffish - ”
“If you call being standoffish not making eyes at any cute boy or girl that happens to walk by - ”
“He was making eyes at me first!”
Treize coughed delicately, reminding the other two of his presence. Rigel turned pink. Xiaolung smirked.
“So, ano, what are we doing about this class?” Rigel asked, changing the subject hastily.
“I take it that you wouldn’t be interested in instructing?” Treize asked.
Rigel shrugged.
“Not really,” Xiaolung said.
“Then I think I’ll just keep you here until you’re sure you’ve remembered everything you can do,” Treize decided. “We’ll see what happens after that.”
“When do we get to our Gundams?” Xiaolung asked.
“Well,” Treize said, “we’re having new ones built.”
“Oh,” Rigel said. “I take it the old ones didn’t hold up in the battle so well?”
Well, one was stolen and I had to give one to Zechs to keep him happy . . . “No. Not really. And besides, we still don’t know what caused the original malfunction. So we thought it would be a good idea to just build new ones. For now, you’ll be training in Leos.”
Xiaolung made a face.
“Your first class is tomorrow. And I’m sure you’ll do fine.” He understated the case remarkably.
Rigel tried not to snicker.
“All right, you know you’ll do fine. Have you made any . . . friends?”
“Rigel has,” Xiaolung said.
“Shut up,” Rigel said, blushing.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Treize said. “Anyway, I have to get going. I think I have a lunch meeting.” He paused. “I’m not sure. Une will know. If I’m late, she’ll have my head.”
“Don’t let that onna order you around,” Xiaolung said strictly.
“I’d like to see you try to stop her,” Treize said calmly.
Xiaolung considered this. “Valid point.”
****
“So do you like it here?” Trowa sat down next to Rigel and handed him a plate of food. Rigel smiled his thanks.
“Yeah, it’s pretty nice so far,” Rigel said.
Xiaolung plopped into the chair next to Rigel.
“Not a word out of you,” Rigel said sternly before Xiaolung could even open his mouth.
“I didn’t say a thing.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I’m not responsible for what you think I’m thinking.”
“What?” Rigel tried to process. “Shut up!”
Trowa blinked. Didn’t Duo . . . say that? “So what do you do for fun?” Trowa was inexperienced at shameless flirting, but the large blue eyes staring at him made it easier.
“I think I used to play a musical instrument,” Rigel said. “I’ll have to check into that, because I don’t remember.”
“Really? What instrument?”
“Violin . . . I think.”
Trowa reached out and took his hand, causing Rigel to turn an even brighter shade of red. “Yes, you did.”
“How can you tell?”
Trowa pointed at his fingers. “You have calluses. Only violin players get them there.”
“Oh . . .” Rigel stared up at him, not pulling his hand away.
“Do you two mind? I’m trying to eat,” Xiaolung interrupted.
“Yes, I mind.” Rigel shot Xiaolung a dirty look, but pulled his hand back. “How did you know that?”
“I have a wealth of useless knowledge,” Trowa replied. “Also, I used to . . . know someone . . . who played the violin. We used to play duets together.”
“What do you play?” Rigel asked.
“Flute.”
“You should play with me sometime!” Rigel said with a grin. “You know, after I find a violin.”
Trowa half-smiled. “Sure.”
“Hey, what happened to your friend? Who played the violin, I mean.”
Trowa paused. “I’m not sure. But I think it’s pretty safe to say that he’s dead.”
“Oh.” Rigel’s face fell. “Sorry. Was it . . . in the war?”
“Yeah,” Trowa said.
Rigel made a weird face and looked down at his food.
“What’s wrong?” Trowa asked.
“Déjŕ vu,” Rigel said matter-of-factly. “We’re learning to ignore it. It happens about eight times an hour. It’s like our brain is remembering, but not telling us.”
“Oh,” Trowa said. He was saved from having to reply further when Xiaolung interrupted.
“We only have a half hour before our next class. Were you going to show us around?”
“Sure,” Trowa replied.
****
To: 01@colony.net 02@colony.net
From: 03@colony.net
Re: Quatre and Wufei
We have a problem. A BIG problem. Quatre and Wufei are working for Treize. Duo, sit down and stop screaming. There is an explanation, and it’s not really their fault. Somehow in the process of their capture from White Fang, their memories were erased. Apparently when they regained consciousness, they were told that they had been soldiers for OZ the entire time. And they really don’t remember anything. Also I’ve been verifying this in the medical reports.
They still know how to fight and most likely how to use mobile suits, and their personalities seem intact (Quatre is still using phrases he picked up from Duo), but they don’t remember anything. And yes, I’m very sure.
Any ideas? I for one am at a loss.
Trowa
****
“Man, how did he know I was gonna stand up and start screaming?” Duo asked, pacing around the room.
“Because you’re a bundle of overworked nerve endings?” Heero suggested. When Duo turned to look at him, he shrugged. “Just a guess.”
“Well, we have to do something about this,” Duo said. “I mean, really. Can we reverse it or anything?”
“Hn,” Heero replied. “Doubtful. We don’t even know for certain how it was done, if it was an accident or not.”
“Come on, what are the odds that both of them lost their memories?” Duo protested.
Heero’s eyes crossed.
“Don’t give me numbers, you . . . you mathematical weirdo.” Duo rolled his eyes. “It comes down to slim to none. This was no accident. We have to get them out of there.”
“If we kidnap them, we become the enemy,” Heero replied. “And from the way Trowa was talking, I don’t think there’s any way to persuade them.”
Duo flopped onto his bed with a strangled moan. “Well, at least they don’t have Gundams.”
Heero tapped absently at his computer. “I’m sure OZ means to take care of that.”
“Don’t know how they would,” Duo replied. “Mine and Wu’s are safe with Howard, Q’s is with Rashid . . . where did Trowa leave his?”
“I don’t know, but he didn’t seem worried about it.”
“Then let’s assume he had a good place for it,” Duo said. “Which only leaves Zero, which you haven’t even piloted yet, and Howard still has that, too. And it leaves OZ with only one. So what the hell are we doing sitting on our asses?! Why don’t we kick some OZ ass before they get Q and Wu into mobile suits?”
“Because we don’t have information,” Heero said.
“Wasn’t that the point of Trowa infiltrating in the first place?” Duo asked skeptically.
Heero paused. “Yes. Good point. I’ll ask him in my reply to his email.”
“Good,” Duo said. “Damn, I can’t wait to get back to work.”
****
To: 03@colony.net
From: 01@colony.net
Re: Re: Quatre and Wufei
Duo and I don’t really have any ideas on what to do about Quatre and Wufei. All we can really suggest is that you attempt to get close to them, so, if the opportunity arises, you’ll be near them. Try not to look suspicious, obviously. Other than that, we were curious as to whether or not you’ve found any reliable information. We’d like to get back to work. Is this a viable option?
Heero
****
To: 01@colony.net 02@colony.net
From: 03@colony.net
Re: Re: Re: Quatre and Wufei
Ryoukai. Is dating suspicious? I’ll work on getting information for you.
Trowa
****
To: 03@colony.net
From: 02@colony.net
Re: I knew you had a sense of humor!!
Really, I did. But, um, dating’s okay, as long as you don’t mean both of them. That would look a little weird.
Duo
****
To: 02@colony.net
From: 03@colony.net
Re: My sense of humor
Maxwell, if you want something to blow up, I suggest that you don’t mock me.
Trowa
****