This is the fourth or fifth draft of this fic. Mainly, I got tired of every "Pilot captured by OZ fic" tending towards a NC 17 rating and being entirely for the glorification of a rape scene. (There are exceptions to the rule. Check out Bound by CleverYoungTheif. ) I challenged myself to write a fic with that theme, and still remain at a pg rating. I couldn't stick to that rating restriction, once I began, but I stayed at R, and it's a pretty mild R at that.

Yes there is rape, at least mentioned. No, I don't go in depth. I don't even dote on the subject. Please read and review, I'm still unsure If I succeeded with this fic. (Though I'm quite proud of it anyway. )

Peace, Love and Anarchy!

~The Elemental

Lesser Evils.

I don't know the details of the battle, I spent most of my time patching up the wounded in the infirmary, but from the reports floating around at the time I could piece together a pretty clear image.

The Gundams had showed up, attacking our supply ships, then the satellite itself. We had decided to test out our new Mobile Dolls and sent them out to face Gundams 01 and 02, along with fifty odd soldiers in Taurus suits.

From the reports coming in, the mobile dolls were useless, and the Gundams had almost completely obliterated our force. Somehow, one of the soldiers managed to hack into the Doll's systems and sent them to self-detonate directly after attaching onto the Gundams.

Surprisingly, the plan worked, and though 01 managed to escape, we caught 02 before he could get away.

Of course I was happy. OZ wanted those pilots dead, and with good reason. They were the main threat to achieving our goals. I was there (along with every other soldier who could escape his post) to see them drag the pilot of the black Gundam from the cockpit.

That had shocked me for a moment. It was the first time I had ever laid eyes on a Gundam pilot, and I had expected more, much more. Not some scrawny kid dressed like a priest with a braid down to his butt. Especially not some kid struggling to stand as Sergeant Wauri dragged him across the docking bay and off to interrogation, broken and bleeding. I wouldn't have believed he was even a Gundam pilot at all if I hadn't seen the look on his face. He was belligerent; the only emotions to show on his face were hate and defiance, without a single scrap of fear.

Sergeant Wauri called me in halfway through the interrogation. I was one of the few medics on board, and I was the only one free to do what he needed. I was shocked at the state I found the kid in. He'd been tied to a chair with industrial wire, the same wire wound around his wrists, instead of the usual restraints. Seeing my inquisitive look, the Sergeant smugly explained.

"Our 'boy wonder' here destroyed our supply ship. Along with weapons and ammunition, it also carried the restraints we needed to replace. Seeing as we're out, I thought this would work as well, better even." He backhanded the pilot, causing his head to roll back with a very audible snap, before it returned to hang, chin pointed to the floor. "This way, if he tries to escape, he'll die from the loss of blood before he can remove the wire. It's rather sharp."

Wauri's grin was sardonic, and I had to agree. The Gundam pilots were dangerous; everyone knew they tended to break out if you gave them the smallest chance. The wire had been a great idea, but still…

The pilot was in terrible shape, worse than when he'd been forced from his Gundam. His right eye was swollen shut and trickled blood, already turning a sickly purple colour. There were other bruises on his face, smaller, but there nonetheless, and from the way the pilot fought the urge to cringe when he moved, I was willing to bet my next pay he had a few broken ribs.

The bastard deserved it, after all he'd done…But still…

"He won't answer my questions…In fact, he's been quite rude…" Wauri's smile broadened and I wondered what these pilots were made of, not for the first time. No one had ever kept their mouth shut in one of the Sergeant's infamous interrogations, no one. And yet this pilot, this boy had, though the price was obvious.

"I think a few days rotting in a cell might change his mind. OZ wants him dead as soon as I get some answers, so…" Wauri stepped past me and placed his head centimeters from the boy's. In response, the pilot raised his head to meet the sergeant's eyes. "All you have to do is tell me what I want to know, and I'll make sure you die clean……Of course, it would improve morale around here if I pushed you out of an air dock…."

"Fuck…You…"

Wauri shrugged and stood to leave. "It's your choice." Turning to me he added: "Patch him up enough so he won't die 'till we want him to, but don't make him too comfortable."

I saluted: there was no chance of that. "Yes Sergeant."

"The guards outside will take him to holding cell 3 when you finish."

"Yes sergeant."

Wauri left, shutting the door behind him.

I approached the pilot, examining his injuries. That eye is going to have to be taped up, and the lacerations on his hands too… I reached to tap on his ribs, none too gently, and fought a smile. You could be the world's greatest soldier, but no one can hide that kind of pain: The boy flinched. They're broken, though none have punctured his lung... still they're going to have to be taped…unfortunately…

I cut through the wire that held him to the chair, leaving the wire that held his hands behind his back; I wasn't stupid. The pilot glared at me as I unbuttoned shirt he was wearing; at least the strange top was easy to remove, which made my task that much easier. I pulled the shirt back over his shoulders to hang on his arms as they rested behind him.

"What's your name kid?" I doubted he'd answer, he hadn't said a word to Wauri except 'fuck you', but I thought I'd make the effort. The pilot said nothing, simply glared as I cleaned and bandaged his eye.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do much more than glare, and when I applied the necessary pressure to his ribs, he promptly passed out.

Too bad, I was hoping he would have felt me set the bones. He deserved it…But still…

*********************

"I'll get that report to you first thing tomorrow, Lieutenant."

"Call me Casilla, please. And how about that report over dinner, my quarters, doctor?"

I smiled. "I would love to. And call me Houma, everyone else does."

"Alright, I'll see you then, Houma."

I nodded and left sick bay, heading to my quarters, fully intending to work on my report, but in order to do so I had to pass the holding cells in section 22.

I passed the empty cells without notice, but stopped as I heard something hit the ground, hard. Glancing around, I realized where the sounds were coming from and looked through the small window set into the door of cell 3. Soldiers I didn't recognize were in there with the pilot, one practically on top of kid, the others beating the shit out him, laughing and jeering all the way.

He didn't make a sound, pilot 02 I mean. His head snapped back with every hit or thrust, and the kick to his ribs sent the air from his lungs in a gasp, but he didn't cry out, didn't say a word. They claimed 'revenge' for lost friends, family and loved ones, yet his eyes were vacant, distant throughout. I could see he had fought at first, but the wires that held him restrained cut through his shirt and wrists. He was lying in a pool of his own blood.

I turned away. It wasn't any of my business, had nothing to do with me….But still….

**********************

The report was all but done, I just needed to get my datapad I'd left back in the infirmary- It had the crew manifest on it. Casilla smiled as I entered and I nodded, grabbing the pad then heading back out. As much as I'd love the distraction she'd provide, I knew I wouldn't get the rest of my work done in time for tomorrow if I fooled around.

So totally lost in thought, I didn't see the soldiers emerge from the cell until I bumped into one of them, who was it? Oh yes: "Private Taylor is it?"

"What? Oh, sorry doc. Didn't see you there." He turned and punched in the code to lock the door behind his friends. "Sorry about that, we were just interrogating the pilot." To their credit, all three managed to keep their faces completely straight while they faced me

"Did he tell you anything?" I played along. It wasn't my business, after all.

"Not a thing. We have to report in, may we…?"

"Dismissed."

They saluted in unison and left, laughing only when they turned the corner to the mess hall.

I debated with myself, whether to continue on or not, but despite my arguments, I turned and looked in on the pilot through the miniscule window.

He was lying on his side. I knew that he wasn't going to be able to lie comfortably on his stomach or his back for some time, though surprisingly, I wasn't very happy at the thought. The pool of blood was gone, and his clothes had been replaced, so that it seemed like nothing had happened, except maybe the pilot had tried to escape and had cut himself on the wires in the attempt.

Good, maybe he'd die from the loss of blood. He was a Gundam pilot; he'd killed so many he deserved whatever he got. After all, if I listed the people I had lost in this war I'd be calling names for an hour. My family was gone because of them, my friends, the man who taught me to love medicine…

I continued to convince myself that this kid, this boy, deserved whatever fate he received. Hell, he had the audacity to refuse Sergeant Wauri, and he thought himself too good to even react when the soldiers…But still….

My train of thought ended as I saw him move, his knees rising to his bandaged chest, curling up into a fetal ball, arms strapped firmly to his side and hands tied behind his back.

And I watched in wonder, hate, and amazement as pilot 02, this Gundam pilot, murderer…No, this kid, cried softly and silently, unable to even wipe the water from his eyes.

I turned and left the cell behind me. Like hell it wasn't my business! I stormed to my room and dropped my pad, grabbing a small box as I stormed out again, heading straight back to the cell. Punching the numbers in that would unlock the door, my mind raced. I had lost almost everyone I had cared about; given almost everything to attain the goals of OZ. Surely I deserved 'revenge' as well.

The pilot cringed as I slammed the door behind me, vainly blinking away at the tears. I ignored them. I dropped my box at my feet and stood looming over him. "On your stomach."

He didn't move, though his eyes closed in defeat. I fought the urge to kick him over, remembering the broken ribs that could puncture a lung at any time. OZ wanted him alive still…

I knelt down near his shoulders, "Fine, we'll do it the hard way." and reached over and roughly grabbed his shoulder, pulling it and forcing him to roll onto his stomach as I had asked. Ordered.

I grimaced as the movement re-opened the wounds across his back and upper arms, in seconds he was once again lying in a growing pool of blood. It was then I reached for the small box I'd grabbed on my way out, all the while my mind fighting against itself.

He deserved it, he is a Gundam pilot, a murderer, your enemy. He should die.

I shook my head at the thought. He was my enemy, a Gundam pilot and murderer of my friends and family, yet the voice in the back of my head repeated for the millionth time, the one thought I would never finish, until now.

He deserved to die yes. But still….

No one deserves this.

There, I'd finished the thought. And as I reached into my med kit I realized how true it was. There were some lines you didn't cross, and I'd just found one of them.

I cut the wire that had pinned his arms to his sides and has caused the wounds on his back to begin with, all the while leaving his wrists bound. I wasn't stupid- He may have been weak from the loss of blood, but he was still a Gundam pilot. His head turned to look at me as I pulled out the bloody wires that had become embedded in his back.

"What?"

"Don't even think this means I like you. I'm a doctor, and no one deserves this. Even if you're a Gundam pilot." I worked quickly, soon the wires were gone and I managed to pull his shredded shirt back once again, exposing the wounds afresh.

The tape around his middle had prevented the wires from harming his mid-section, but his back was a mass of angry, long gashes that stretched from one shoulder to the other, criss-crossing and generally leaving his back a bloody mess. I cleaned the wounds as best I could without being able to stitch them closed, and began to apply gauze pads in hopes the bleeding would stop. I was concentrating so hard on doing the job right in such poor lighting I didn't even hear the kid at first. He coughed weakly, then spoke louder.

"Just leave me…I'm dying. Let me do it in peace…"

"OZ wants you alive, and until that order changes I'm keeping you alive."

"Please." He broke into another fit of coughing.

I blinked. This I certainly hadn't expected. He was just a kid, yet to accept death like this…I shook my head. He was a Gundam pilot, I had to remind myself of that. "You're not going to die. Not today, anyway." The bandages had been placed, the bleeding stopped. Hopefully he hadn't lost too much blood. I replaced his shirt and stood to leave. "I'm not tying you back up with the wire, though I'm leaving your hands. You're worth more to OZ alive right now." I grabbed my kit and opened the door.

"…Thanks…."

I left without another word, locking the door behind me, then headed to my room, my mind reeling.

The nerve of him, to thank me! He must have been stupid, unless it was the lack of blood making him delusional. I wanted him dead, didn't I?

**************************************

I avoided the cell blocks for the next few days, taking the long way back to my room. Wauri questioned me about the pilot's wounds and subsequent bandages, and seeing no reason to hide the truth I told him how the kid had got them.

"He's alive as per your orders, and I'll keep him that way until they change, sir." Considering the sergeant's reaction to the news, I began to assume it was a normal occurrence for prisoners. Wauri wasn't exactly upset about it, only angry they had almost killed pilot 02 and hadn't gotten any answers from him.

I avoided the cells, not wanting to see what might be happening, what was probably happening, but I could still hear about it.

I picked at my tray, my appetite long gone. Private Taylor and his friends, plus others, were 'discussing' the kid, in graphic detail. My already sick stomach dropped to the floor when I recognized another voice, booming as it joined the conversation. Sergeant Wauri…He spoke to Taylor for a few seconds, then pulled him away from the group, closer to me. I could hear the hushed speech.

"I've heard that Treize is being forced down."

"That's impossible!"

"No, he's opposing the mobile dolls and wants to stop using them. It's unofficial, but I've heard he's already resigned. "

"Damn bureaucrats. What do they know anyway?"

"Got me. But from what I can tell, OZ is splitting, with the Treize faction already springing up on Earth. Are you with me?"

"To support Treize? Of course!"

Wauri's voice dropped even lower. "I had an idea."

"What?"

"Say we join the Treize faction. We've got one of the Gundam pilots here, right?"

"We kill him for an example? Great idea!"

"Yes, but I had a better one. We say we killed him."

"But…?"

"Listen, we say we killed him."

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh……"

I could practically see Taylor's grin behind me as I shuddered. The situation just kept deteriorating… I quietly stood and left, leaving my tray at the door as I headed to the auxiliary comm station. I needed to send out a message, whether I liked it or not. I just hoped there'd be someone to hear it, and soon…

************************

"Quatre, we have to go back for him. It's a security risk to begin with." Heero's hands flew across the console in front of him, deftly flying the shuttle through the asteroid belt they'd hidden inside. Quatre's eyes were glued to the monitor in front of him, fingers pounding on the keyboard.

"I know Heero, but until I can figure out a blind spot in their sensors, we can't even get close. And Duo may…"

"Be dead? I know Quatre, I heard their transmission to OZ too, remember? But I don't think they've killed him yet, they've kept radio silence since Treize stepped down yesterday. And since they haven't made any announcements…"

"You figure they're fighting to keep control of the satellite. And Duo's caught up in the middle of it."

"Whoever gains control will want to kill him to show their loyalty to their faction. We've got to get in there."

"I'm trying, but it's- Ah! I've got something!" Heero was immediately standing behind Quatre, hovering by the boy's shoulder.

"What?"

The petite Arabian pointed to the schematics on the screen in front of him. "You know they don't have much shielding…"

"But their armored hull plating makes up for that."

"Exactly, but in some places, the armor is so thick it partially blinds their sensors, and here…" Quatre pointed to a position just below the main engines. "They're blind. And it's big enough to hide this shuttle in."

"But would the engines effect the shuttle?"

"I don't know, I'm running an analysis right now…No, the radiation is minimal….That's strange…"

"What is it?"

Quatre frowned in concentration as his fingers pick up speed. "I'm reading a signal hidden through the engine output, it's faint, but it might be a message."

"Duo."

"He may have found a way to send something out, hidden from OZ. Hold on a sec, I'll try to decode it."

Quatre felt Heero's hands tighten around the back of his chair as he hurried to decrypt the message. "I think I've got it, though he didn't use any of his normal scrambling codes…" Quatre frowned as the message crackled to life over the com.

Attention. I'm calling from the defense satellite G7. We have the Gundam pilot 02 in our possession. I'm certain if you've found this message you're looking for him, considering this the one blind spot on our sensors. The situation on board is deteriorating, and while there is no love lost between OZ and the Gundams, no one deserves this…If you want to get him out of here, you're going to have to hurry while the factions are still fighting. I just hope this message reaches someone who cares.

"The message just repeats from there. Heero? Heero?" Quatre tuned to face the pilot, who was already sitting at his console, starting the ignition sequence. "Heero?"

"We're going to get him. Now." The thrusters roared to life and they were soon flying at top speed through the asteroid belt and out into free space.

"Heero-

"I'll get us there, you figure out a way to approach undetected." His voice had returned to his ever-constant monotone.

"Alright." Quatre turned his attention back to the schematics. Undetected…Undetected……Come on, you can think of something…

********************************

I rushed down the hall, silently wishing the damn alarms would stop ringing. It wasn't like we didn't know there was a war going on.

Well, it wasn't so much a war as it was a skirmish. The Treize faction had disappeared into the bowels of the satellite, and really hadn't been seen, but everyone was worried of when they might launch their attack. There were just too many uncertainties.

Unconsciously, my hand went to my side, to confirm that my gun was still where I had left it, holstered at my hip. I stopped inside the infirmary- it was empty: Casilla had joined the Treize forces, unfortunately. But I had other things to worry about. Since there hadn't been any trouble from space, I realized there wasn't much chance one of the Gundam pilots would hear my message in time. So I was left with two options, and my decision wasn't easy.

I headed down to the cellblocks, hoping, for some strange reason, that the pilot was still alive. I turned the corner, but immediately jumped back. Sergeant Wauri and Private Taylor were fighting with the locks, trying to force the door open. They didn't know I had changed the combination once they had turned traitors. And no cell we would put a Gundam pilot in could be broken open. We all heard approaching footsteps, and Wauri and Taylor both took off down the corridor. I waited, and saw Major Ng walk down the hall and turn the corner towards the quarters, with a beautiful private latched onto his arm, giggling.

You almost wouldn't think our lives were in danger. Idiots. When they were out of sight, I approached the cell, not bothering to look through the window. It had been sealed shut.

Unlocking the door, I stared in shock at the sight before me. The kid was naked- they hadn't even bothered to dress him when they finished. The cell stank of blood and filth, and of things unmentionable. The kid was either dead or unconscious, and I was glad. He shouldn't have to go through this; Gundam pilot of not. I did my best for him, when I realized he was still breathing, then left before he awoke. It seemed like my decision had been made for me.

**************************

"I'll take Zero out and attack, while you find a way to get inside." Quatre nodded as Heero headed to the back of the shuttle.

"Be careful- Hold on! I'm getting another message, same scrambling frequency. Live this time- audio only."

"Play it." Heero was once again standing at Quatre's side.

I know you're there, I'm using the reflection you're giving me from the engine exhaust to pinpoint your position. Are you a Gundam pilot? Respond.

"Heero?" Quatre was well aware this could be a trap, but it was Heero's call.

"Open a channel."

"This is pilot 01 responding. Did you send a message before?"

Yes, I did. I don't have much time- All Hell's broken loose onboard; the Treize faction has finally surfaced, and they're trying to take over the satellite. I need you to provide a distraction, attack the satellite, and I'll get pilot 02 out in an escape pod. Can you do that?

Quatre's voice rang out, causing Heero to grimace. He had hoped to keep the soldier in the dark as to how many pilots were here.

"Why are you helping us?"

I don't know. I don't agree with your methods, but right now I like OZ's even less. You're simply the lesser of two evils. Will you do this?

"How can we trust you? All you have to do is give 02 to the faction you support, and they'll kill him. You have no reason to help us." Quatre's voice was piercing, barely noticing Heero's hands literally crushing the back of his chair in their grip.

Believe me, there are some things worse than death. I said it before, Gundam pilot or not, no one deserves that. There's fighting outside this room, I've got to go, or they'll find me. Will you do this?

Heero was already halfway into 01, pulling his helmet on as he went. Quatre answered.

"We'll do it."

Give me ten minutes after you start the attack to get him into an escape pod. Watch for it. Houma out.

Quatre blinked in surprise as he heard Heero's Gundam leave the shuttle, ready to attack. Houma? He told us his name. I wonder why…

************************

I smashed my palm against my head as I ran down the hall, narrowly avoiding the myriad of fighting breaking out before me. Idiot! You told them your name- why? I grabbed a suit from a locker and waited for the coast to clear before I unlocked the door to cell 3 for the last time. The kid was awake, thankfully, and I quickly sat him up on his knees.

"Look kid, you've got two choices, and you're going to have to decide quick. I'm going to cut your wires and get you into this pressure suit so no one will recognize you. Now here's the decision. You can let me help you get out of here and back with your friends…" The floor shock as 01 began to attack the satellite. Our weapons were useless against it; everyone was trying to stay alive and stay in power, no one had enough time to stage any sort of defense. "…And your friends are doing a pretty good job at causing a distraction. Or I can free you, you can kill me, and you can try to escape while this satellite falls apart around you." I reached over and with one swift movement, slashed through the wires that had bound his wrists for all this time. "It's your call." I waited as this kid's violet eyes stared into my face for a seeming eternity.

"Why?"

"Don't even think this is because I like you. I just don't want you at the mercy of whoever wins. Like I told your friends, the lesser of two evils. Now, decide!"

He coughed, and pale hands reached for the helmet to the suit I'd brought. "Let's get out of here."

"Good." I nodded and proceeded to help him into the pressure suit, his ribs making it hard for him to move, or breathe. Setting the helmet on his head I helped him stand, pulling one arm over my shoulder for support. "Let's go."

*******************

Pilot 02, or 'the kid' as I'd christened him, hobbled down the hall, leaning on me almost completely for support. His breathing was ragged and I could hear the suppressed gasps of pain coming from the helmet, but didn't complain. We had other things to worry about.

We'd stopped at a weapons locker and traded in my pistol for a semi-automatic. I'd debated on giving the kid anything, but he proved he could shoot with only one arm, so I relented. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised- I wouldn't doubt that any of those pilots could handle a firearm properly no matter what condition they were in.

Now I was glad as a group of soldiers appeared around a corner and started firing- the kid had already picked off two before I managed to drag him to an alcove out of the way. Firing back, I recognized the white strips of cloth tied around our assailant's forearms- The Treize Faction. Smiling slightly, despite the grim situation, I quickly cleaned out the hallway.

"Why…are you smiling?"

I hefted the kid's arm around my shoulder once again, throwing an arm around his waist and heading down the smoke-filled hallway, staggering as another blast rocked the station. "Because no one's bothered to check on you, so they don't know you're missing. We might just make it after all, if you friend leaves enough of the station intact for the escape hatches to work. I told him ten minutes, so we've got about four to get to the dock. It's just around this corner."

"Friends?"

"Don't know who- Gundam pilots, that's all. There were two when I hailed them, but there could have been more…" I glanced out a viewport and whistled. Gundam 01, in all its militaristic glory, was systematically attacking the station and fending off half a dozen mobile suits, the dolls hanging lifelessly in space around them- it must have destroyed the control section, rendering the dolls useless without any commands. "It's Gundam 01, if that helps you any."

I couldn't see the kid's face, but to this day I swear he smiled, picking up his pace slightly as we approached the corner. "It does… thanks."

"Yeah yeah…." We turned the corner and were met with yet another group, white fabric around their biceps. "Shit."

I pulled back, dragging the kid behind the wall with me and began to fire, kid copying my movements seconds later.

There were more soldiers this time, Wauri and Taylor among them. We kept them from approaching, but they were in our way- it was a stalemate. Worse was Wauri's question moments later as I continued to shoot. "That's Houma- who's with him?"

I crossed my fingers as I laid a stream of bullets across their heads. Only two ducked- Four down…Six to go…

A chorus of voices told the group that nobody knew, and I half-sighed in relief, until the next statement turned my blood cold. "He's got a big braid- who's got hair like that?"

I shot the soldier, but already saw the recognition in Taylor's face as he ducked behind a bulkhead, pulling Wauri with him. "It's that god-damned Gundam pilot! Houma's got the Gundam pilot!"

The swearing from their side matched my mood as I struggled to find some form of plan- We were running out of time. A light tap on my shoulder had me pull back from the corner. "Yeah kid?"

He'd removed the helmet, and was grimacing, though there was a slight glint in his violet eyes. He held out his hand.

A grenade.

"I thought…" He coughed and gasped in pain as his ribs constricted. "This might be useful."

I stared at him for a moment, before nodding and accepting the explosive. "Thanks kid- get that helmet back on." Pulling the archaic tab- you'd think we'd have discovered a better way of doing things by now- I lobbed the thing in a low ark, it setting down inches from the bulkhead where Wauri and Taylor were hiding.

Sometimes revenge could be sweet.

Coughing as I helped the kid over the wreckage and towards the docking doors, we both fell as another blast tore through the ship, rolling out of the way as part of the ceiling came down in a mass of twisted metal and wiring. Searching around, I sighed in relief as I saw the kid struggle to his feet; he was ok.

The doors to the docking bay wouldn't open when I entered the code. I groaned; it must have been that last shot by 01, and struggled to force the doors apart. The kid couldn't help, but he grabbed a fallen beam and jammed it between the doors once I'd created an opening, forcing them to remain open.

I nodded my thanks and helped him into the hatch-lined room, pointing as we walked. "Last pod to the left. I already programmed it to head straight away from the fighting. They should pick you up as soon as possible. I'll- Look Out!"

Another blast shook the room and I pushed the kid forward as the ceiling came down, sparks flying as twisted beams, sheet metal and razor-sharp wires poured down from above. My world went black.

******************

I blinked spots from my vision as I struggled to see- I hadn't been out long. Trying to push myself up from the floor, I realized my legs were trapped. Damn it. I couldn't see the kid though; he wasn't lying anywhere, and he'd been in front of me when everything came down, so he must have made it to the pod.

I wasn't exactly happy, though I wasn't upset. He was a soldier- it would have been nice for him to try to help me, but it would have been incredibly stupid. It was too dangerous to remain onboard a damaged ship.

Halfheartedly I struggled to work my way out of the wreckage, but stopped as a wave of pain sent me gasping for air. I was pinned from the knees down and couldn't feel anything unless I moved; all in all, a bad sign. Carefully attempting to turn enough to see how I was trapped without passing out, a harsh voice and grunt of effort drifted over from my right.

"It would probably help…if you stayed still…for a bit…"

My jaw hit the floor, literally; my upper body just gave out and I fell the small distance I'd propped myself up to. The kid was there, just to my side, jamming a beam into the wreckage and levering things off the pile on top of me. The pressure, the only thing I could feel, was already lessening. My mind screamed for an answer I couldn't provide: What the hell was he doing? Any soldier knew what was called for in this kind of situation. He should have left: Every part of my being was shouting at this total breach of conduct. And the miniscule remainder was left to wonder why.

I asked. Face red with pain, grunting with effort and pain, the kid didn't answer, or simply didn't hear. Swallowing, I filled my lungs and steadied myself on my arm, turning my upper body to its side.

"You've got to get out. It's not safe, and your friends are waiting: Get going, don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

"Yeah, right….Just give a minute- If I get rid *grunt* of this…Can you move?"

He was gasping, cherry-face contorted in barely-contained pain. Putting my weight fully on my lower arms, I found I could pull myself forward, inches at a time. Nodding to him- It hurt too much to speak- I slowly inched forward, moving as quickly as I could. By the time I was out the kid was already beside me, helping me stand, much as I had for him minutes before.

We would have made a comic pair, had the circumstances been different: Alone, neither of would have been able to walk, but together, leaning against each other, we slowly made our way to the last hatch on the left. I let the kid in and turned towards the pod on the right.

"Where are you going?"

"Just hit the button at your side and you'll launch. I'm grabbing another pod, I'd rather avoid your friends."

"Yeah. *Grimace* Thanks."

"Whatever."

I took another step and collapsed- shit, I'd have to drag myself to that damned pod, my legs just refused to move anymore. The ship shook again and an alarm blared. There was an explosion, and I flew back a foot or so into the corner where a pod and the wall met. Sticky wetness trickled down my scalp. What? Raising a hand, it came away a deep crimson colour- blood. I heard a groan; not human, but of metal slowly being crushed. Horrified, I looked up to see the far wall buckling- in less than a minute it would collapse, and this room would be a vacuum. It would take me about a minute and a half, probably more, to crawl to the escape pod. I could have used the one behind me, but it had already launched- I'd heard the kid smash the button right before the explosion. Not that it mattered much anyway; my motor skills had ceased in that last blast. I could barely move.

Carefully leaning my injured head against the wall behind me, I sighed. I had always hoped I'd die in some sort of worthy battle, or at least not meaninglessly, but it seemed I was doomed to asphyxiate, it the radiation didn't kill me first.

Strong hands grabbed my shoulders and dragged me, up and over the small ramp to a hatch and pulled me into a pod. My eyes caught the back of a suit and a ridiculously long braid as the kid- damn him- slammed a fist into the large red 'launch' button on the wall. The doors shut with a hiss of compressing air and the pod shook as it launched, the tiny computer screen already reading information and plotting a course. The kid sighed and sat back, gingerly settling himself in the least painful position he could. I didn't doubt his body was a mass of bruises- I knew mine was.

I pulled back as well, giving both him and myself some much-needed room: the pods were designed for two to three people, so it wasn't too crowded, though that said nothing for comfort.

We sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, before I finally sighed loudly and fixed the kid with a glare. "Why'd you save me?"

He blinked: Obviously his mind had been somewhere else. Shaking his head, his eyes were questioning. "What?"

"You know. Why did you stay behind to help me when I was trapped? It was stupid and senseless- I'm your enemy for pete's sake! Military procedure dictates you should have escaped. And you helped me again, instead of leaving. Why?"

The kid blinked, the shook his head. "Contrary to OZ's belief, I'm not a cold-blooded killer."

"You wouldn't be killing me, you'd be saving yourself!" I fought to make him understand- he had to understand. "Are you stupid? You should have left me. And you didn't do anything but prolong my life for a few minutes." I couldn't explain why, but I needed him to agree with me.

"What are you talking about? You're hurt, but you aren't going to die from those kinds of injuries." The kid wasn't angry; in fact he seemed curious, but tired. He sighed and I felt another wave on irrational anger hit me. Biting it back until I knew I could keep my voice under control, I met his eyes squarely.

"The moment your friends pick us up, I'll be shot. If by chance OZ picks us up, we'll probably both be shot. So again, why did you save me?"

There was a long pause, punctured only by our labored breathing. The kid had long ago broken eye contact, staring at the small screen that was our only link to the world outside. Already something large was moving towards us- a ship. If it was an OZ carrier, the kid was dead. If it was the Gundam pilots, I was.

I waited, already knowing the kid's answer to my query. I wasn't afraid of dying, though it wasn't because of any form of bravery. I had simply seen enough death in my life that it failed to do anything anymore. What I was upset about, if you want to call it that, was how I would die- in a heap inside of an escape pod, instead of going down with the rest of my men on our ship. Neither death was pretty, but at least one held a little decency.

The kid let out a tiny sigh, almost as though he'd been holding his breath the entire time.

"You must think we're monsters."

I looked over to him, questioning. His eyes met my own, brows slightly furrowed. There was such sadness there, but anger also. I couldn't understand why . . . Thinking back to his question, I shrugged and looked away. I really wasn't in the mood to debate ethics.

"God . . . I knew the propaganda was bad, but this? Look at me. Look at me." I turned my head and met his eyes. "I'm human. Not a robot, not a machine, human. Just like you. I fight, I bleed, and I'll die, just like you. And Goddamnit I'm not some heartless soldier. None of us pilots are. We feel. We're fighting for what's right, what we believe is right, just like you are for OZ. Maybe we know a little more, but that's because we aren't fed the dribble they've been giving you. Our info's uncensored." He sighed again, blowing air through his teeth as he bushed his bangs back. "Look...I don't remember if you told me, but what's your name?"

It didn't matter now. "Houma."

"Alright, look Houma. I'm guessing that's of the guys moving to pick us up now. I give you my word, we aren't going to kill you."

I could believe that not everything I'd heard about the pilots was true. I didn't know the kid well at all, but he didn't seem the type to slit your throat while you weren't looking. If you were looking, maybe. Not that it changed things in the least. Even if he had given his word.

I half-smiled, half-grimaced at that. A Gundam pilot's word. If any of my shipmates had survived to hear that, they would have laughed themselves silly. "If I'm getting a say in the matter, I'd rather die."

The pod shook- something had latched on. I figured we'd be inside the ship in a minute or two. The confusion that crossed the kid's face could have been funny, had the situation been different. "I don't understand."

"Look kid, given the options, I'd rather die right away than be held for information. At least being shot is painless."

There was shock, then disgust, crossing the kid's features this time. Now it was my turn to be confused. "Houma, we aren't OZ. We don't torture people for information, no matter how badly we need it. There's always other sources- it's just one line we don't cross."

"Maybe, but if you don't mind, I won't hold my breath."

The kid grimaced. "There's no convincing you, is there?"

I was spared an answer when the pod lurched to the side, sending the both of us flying in what little room we had. When the blasted thing finally came to rest, I was half-supporting, half-trapped under the kid, whose face was white from pain. My hands were firmly around his shoulders, propping him up to keep him from smashing his ribs again. Carefully pushing him back as I sat up myself, I realized we were finally inside, though where was still anyone's guess. Grabbing a pistol from the weapons locker jammed under what were supposed to be seats, I slid one arm under the kid's shoulders and around his back, smashing the black 'release' button with the butt of the gun. The doors hissed open and I took a deep breath, pulling myself and the kid up by hanging onto the doorframe. Half-leaning against it, I kept the kid back slightly as I surveyed outside.

It was a simple docking bay, nothing to differentiate it from an OZ or Gundam bay, save that there were no soldiers, just two figures a dozen feet in front of the pod, both armed. The lighting was poor, but they weren't very big. Probably the pilots I'd spoken with, though I had to be sure. "Kid?"

"Hard to tell, but Quatre, Heero? That you?"

The two figures stepped forward, the light still casting shadows, but now there weren't any doubts. A petite, pale blond with large eyes clutched a semi-automatic, still leveled at me. The other, slightly larger, was well built and darker, with a head of unruly dark brown hair. His hands held a pistol, which was aimed expertly at my head. I had no doubts that he could hit me with one shot.

Realizing there was little I could do, I ignored them as best I could while I tried to help the kid out of the pod. Without the ramp, it was a foot or so down, not very far, but almost impossible considering our conditions. Needless to say, our attempt had us both falling, me immediately dropping the gun and grabbing the kid, knowing a fall on his side would break a rib, and probably puncture his lung.

We both sat up, the kid with only a little help, footsteps telling me someone was approaching. Pale hands came into view, gently lifting the kid. It was the blond.

"Watch his ribs."

The odd look in his blue eyes had me immediately regretting the words, knowing exactly how stupid they must have sounded, coming from an enemy's mouth. The blond led the kid off into the shadows, and I leaned against the bulk of the pod, head and body screaming in pain. Looking at the other, who still stood with his pistol, almost made me smile. It was pretty obvious I wasn't a threat.

"If you're going to shoot me, at least be decent and do it now, so I can get some rest." I closed my eyes. Screw all this eyes-wide-open to face death crap. I was tired. I waited, far longer than it should have taken to shoot me, and finally opened my eyes. The pilot was studying me. Seeming to come to a conclusion, he stalked forward, gun still raised.

Stopping directly in front of me, the gun leveled at my forehead, he glared. I would have glared, wanted to glare, but it just wasn't possible. I barely had the strength to blink. We waited, in this stalemate of sorts, until I thought I was going to grab his hand and pull the damned trigger myself. Just as I began to debate doing so, the gun lowered, then disappeared behind his back. He extended a hand to help me up, not a word spoken. More than a little shocked, I figure I did the only reasonable thing I could do at the time, as beaten and bruised as I was:

I fainted.

****************************

I floated in nothingness for what seemed like forever before I made my way back inside my own skull, woken by the sounds of voices. Nonsense drifting through my brain, nothing really making sense, though I could hear everything clearly.

"…hit sector G5, but their sensors must have found me, or maybe a random suit. Either way….."

"…message was hidden…….rushed out right away, strangely enough…"

"…why Yuy, you'd almost think you were worried…and speaking about…."

"….don't know. Did a good job patching me up though. Doctor?…….can't do…."

"…till he wakes up. We'll know then…….been more careful…."

When I began to piece together the words and sentences, and make sense of them, I gave the obligatory groan to let the speakers know I was awake.

There were footsteps, a distance away, and I opened my eyes to a low metal ceiling. I was lying on a small cot, worked directly into the bulkhead. Wanting to get a better look at my surroundings, I tried to sit up, only to find I could only move my head- I'd been strapped to the cot.

Fear began to tear at my throat as I fought to keep my breathing calm. I could move my legs slightly, but they'd both been put in splints of some kind, so movement there wasn't an option. There was a leather strap across my chest, two smaller ones around my wrists. I was trapped.

A face came into view- the dark-haired pilot- and I tensed, every muscle in my body trying to flee. Biting my cheek so hard it bled, I brought myself under control and stared at a space a foot off from the pilot's head, avoiding his eyes. Once was enough- they were brimming with the kind of cold fire you have nightmares about: one glance and all you want to do was run. Unfortunately, that just wasn't possible.

Waiting for him to speak, though he didn't, another face came into view over his shoulder: The kid. Now I had the energy to glare, and I did. He knew this would happen, word or no. The least he could have done was kill me himself.

Even as I thought it I knew I was asking too much. They'd want me alive, to find as much about OZ as they could. I wouldn't tell them though: Helping the kid didn't mean I'd betray my comrades any more that I already had. At least I'd die with a clear conscience.

If the kid even noticed my glare, he ignored it. "Hey Houma, glad you're awake. Got a question for ya."

"No."

The kid blinked, though the other seemed unfazed. A second later the blond came into view at his other shoulder, all three looking at me like I was some kind of science experiment on display.

"Actually, I just wanted to-"

"No. I'm not giving you any information on OZ, so don't bother asking. I helped you because what was happening wasn't right. That doesn't mean I'll betray my people to you."

The kid and the blond blinked, the remaining pilot crossing his arms over his chest. The blond was about to speak when the kid interrupted him, smiling and shaking his head. "Actually, Houma," He drawled "I wanted to know if we could trust you enough to lose the restraints. And the only OZ info we want is whether you want us to drop you off at a base, or if you'd rather a colony."

It was my turn to blink. "What?"

The kid's smile broadened as he turned to the others. "Told you, takes a bit for some things to sink in. You might as well work on repairing Zero's damage from the fight, Heero. Me and Quatre'll look after Houma here."

The mentioned pilot glanced at me once again, the grunted and left, heading off towards what I assumed was the docking bay.

"So, can we trust you to keep away from the weapons lockers and the communications panels?"

They waited as I fought to bring my brain to terms with their request. What was going on? Finally, I looked from the kid's violet eyes to the blond's cadmium blue, both radiating something I couldn't place. Relaxing and unclenching hands I hadn't even realized were in fists, I nodded. "You have my word."

Nodding, he quickly removed the restraints and helped be sit up, my legs protesting the whole way. Massaging my wrists, I met violet eyes with my own. "I seem to be asking this a lot lately, but why?"

Shaking his head, the kid smiled almost sadly. "I told you already. We're human, not cold-blooded killers. You saved my life more than once on that station, I'm just repaying the favour."

"I don't think I'll ever understand you kid."

"Duo. It's Duo. And this is Quatre. Mr. Mono-syllabic over there is Heero. And don't worry, no one understands me. It's part of the fun."

Shaking his head, the blond- Quatre, offered me an arm. "You're probably hungry. We don't have much, but Duo can probably whip up something edible." The kid, Duo I reminded myself, smiled at the mention of his name, already rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "I am feeling a bit peckish myself."

"Duo, you're always hungry."

"Considering they didn't feed me over there…." Duo colored, avoiding my gaze, as I did the same. Sensing the tension, Quatre cleared his throat.

"We'd better head to the kitchen now, while the ship isn't moving. You'll have an easier time moving this way."

I nodded and allowed him to guide me through the ship. "How long was I out?"

"Less than a day. Duo didn't wake up long before you did. Careful of those cables."

I stepped over the snaking wires. "I can't believe you're up and walking."

Duo shrugged. "I heal fast, or work through the pain. I don't have much choice."

I was beginning to see what he meant. We stepped into what Duo called the kitchen, but had I just seen it on it's own, that would have been the last thing I would have called it. The kitchen wasn't more than an area built into one of the bulkheads, a small refrigerator set in one corner, a tiny card table in the other. Along one wall was a counter with a lone, empty sink, a microwave that looked a decade old, and a small cupboard hanging underneath. I'd seen better conditions in prison camps, though at least here was clean.

Undeterred, Duo immediately made his way to the fridge, pulling rations and packages from it's depths. Quatre sat me at the card table, which I realized must have served as their dining table, if they even got the chance to sit down.

Head stuck in the fridge, Duo sounded a little tinny as his voice carried. "We've got some leftover stew, sandwich stuff, some blue cheese….wait, it's just cheese that's turned blue. Damn. Oh! Jackpot! OZ rations. Something I know you can stomach." He turned and faced me, holding two tin-wrapped packages I was quite familiar with. "What will it be? Meatloaf and mashed potatoes, or grilled chicken with veggies?"

I blinked. Offering OZ rations? "Chicken?"

"Alright. I'll take the meatloaf. Ah, a home-cooked meal. It's nice to eat real food again."

He unwrapped the packages and set them inside the microwave, taping the door shut- the handle had been broken off some time ago- and setting it on 'high'. As he began to pull the materials from the fridge for a sandwich, my mind tried to piece together everything I'd just been inadvertently told.

Like how the kid could call dehydrated rations 'real food', and how happy he was when he found the OZ packets. I'd always believed the pilots were being supported by the extremists, but looking at the tiny fridge and broken microwave, maybe this wasn't the case. The ship wasn't in the greatest shape either, exposed wiring from where metal had been stripped and scavenged- to repair their Gundams or other parts of the ship? - Were everywhere.

A steaming plate dropped in front of me interrupted my thoughts, Duo smiling as he handed me a knife and fork. Plate in one hand, sandwich in the other, he nodded over to the side. "I'm going to take the sandwich to Heero, or he'll never eat. I'll probably eat there too. Do you mind?"

Wondering if the question was directed at me, I heard Quatre's reply and decided it wasn't. "Go on, we'll be fine. Make sure Heero eats though."

"I will. Thanks." Duo disappeared, and I wondered about the small smile that played across Quatre's lips before he turned to face me. "Food alright?"

"It's fine. Thanks." I ate carefully, Quatre studying me, though I didn't really mind. I'd probably do the same in his position. As the silence stretched longer, I cleared my throat, trying to find something to talk about. "How'd you get OZ rations anyway?"

Quatre smiled, though it wasn't happy. "We got lucky: That supply ship we hit when Duo was captured had food units, rations, as well as the equipment we needed."

I felt uneasy, talking about OZ raids like this, but at least he was truthful, not concealing anything. "Aa." Was all I could manage.

"Can I ask you why?" Quatre interpreted the look in my eyes and elaborated. "Why you helped Duo, and us."

There was a pause, a long one as I debated, and Quatre looked like he figured I wouldn't answer, but finally I launched into the narrative of the past week or so, starting with the raid on a supply ship by Gundams 01 and 02.

*****************

"You sure this is where you want us to let you off?"

"Yeah, here's good." I stood at the main hatch of the ship, dressed in my brown OZ fatigues and white shirt, having tossed everything else. I wasn't an OZ soldier anymore.

"What will you do?" Large blue eyes I'd come to know belonged to one of the strongest, smartest tacticians ever looked almost worried as Quatre handed me a small bag.

"It's a small outpost, they're always looking for doctors at these places. And OZ'll leave me alone, if they even think I'm alive."

The dark one, pilot 01- Heero- opened the hatch. "Don't betray us."

I nodded. "I'd ask the same."

"Hn."

I stepped onto the ramp. "Hey Houma? Good luck."

I nodded to the kid, his face serious for the moment. "Yeah, well, it still doesn't mean I like you."

He smiled. "I get that a lot. Thanks."

I stepped fully off the ramp and watched the hatch rise again, rockets soon roaring to life as the ship once again left for space. Shaking my head, I began to make my way towards the city.

I might never understand the pilots, or why they fought. And I'd probably regret helping the kid one day. But I'd learned a lot. At least I'd seen the enemy I fought, and understood, at least a bit, about who they were. More than most soldiers could say, I figured.

I guess peace is just a relative thing. The same goes for war. But at least now, when I see new reports of the fighting, I don't blindly believe what I'm hearing. Those pilots have the strength to end this war- I just wonder if the word will be ready when they do.

**************************

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I am the Breeze of Wisdom, I am the Wind of Insanity.

~The Elemental