I don't own Gundam Seed or Seed Destiny or any of the characters therein. They probably belong to some guy over in Japan. I own only my original ideas and the designs for my original MS's and Ships.

Any resemblance to any other story/fic/whatever is purely coincidental. No disrespect is intended, I swear. Also the Action/Adventure part of the fic will be upcoming. . . eventually. Three more chapters tops. Unless my muse insists otherwise.

Oh and the orphanage thing got scrapped. To quote Colonel Jack O'Neill: "You know how I feel about clichés." The orphanage idea was waaaayyy too cliché.

Chapter II

New Beginnings

She was back at the hospital again. This time for her . . . had it really been a month since she woke up? She shook her head. Somehow, it didn't seem nearly that long. She'd been so busy! When she woke up she hadn't remembered anything about her life. She had lots of general knowledge, but no specific memories. She spoke excellent English and Japanese, but she didn't remember any of the Kingdoms' primary languages. She'd had to relearn them before she could start school. Luckily it hadn't taken very long for her to remember them. Trying to get back into a life she couldn't recall was difficult, and the classes she was taking were from a very wide array of disciplines. Her foster parents had been nervous when she decided to take Calculus, A.P. History, and A.P. Government along with all of her other requirements, but she wasn't finding them very difficult. She'd even had time to continue her study of other languages. Oh well gotta go in and let them poke and prod me for a bit, maybe examine the scars, she thinks, reaching up and running her fingers over first her right scar and then the left one in a gesture that had become a nervous habit after several weeks. The first scar began just below the right eye and continued on a slightly downward curve to the point of her right jaw, the other began at her left temple and proceeded up and across to the center of her forehead right at the hairline, After that, they admit that there's nothing wrong with me and I can get back to learning Mandarin.

XXXXX

"I cannot believe how quickly she's acclimated," her foster mother admitted to the neurologist after her new daughter left the office. "I wouldn't know what to do if something like that happened to me, but Red, that's what everyone calls her, she just shrugs it off and gets down to work!" She says, pride obvious in her voice alongside . . . trepidation?

"I sense a 'But . . . ' coming soon," the doctor says to the girl, Red's, foster mom.

"She's got so much ability! If I didn't know better, I'd swear that she was a coordinator! I mean one day last week she was bored, so on one of her trips through the living room, she sees my father's old Stradivarius violin. She stares at it for a while and then goes to the computer, gets online, and looks up several instructional videos. Then an hour and a half later I come back from the store and she's playing that violin like a performer in a symphony! I just feel so inadequate! What can I hope to teach her?"

The doctor, understanding her feelings of inadequacy tries to offer her some support, after all, the Skjornig's were good people. "Right now the most important thing you can do is give her a family. Be there for her. She doesn't remember her old family, so you and your husband are all she has. Just give her your support with whatever she decides to do."

She smiles a bit blearily, "Thanks Doctor Garner, I'm glad to have that off of my chest,"

"No problem Marie," the doc says with a smile. "My only other suggestion is to go buy a good dictionary. Red uses some really obscure polysyllabic words,"

XXXXX

"I don't even like asking her! I mean, just look at what happened to her at Jachin! Can we, in good conscious, even try?" one of the officers asks the other two military men in his office.

"It's damn distasteful, I agree, but we're officers of the Royal Army. The Kingdom needs her, and occasionally we are forced to do some damn distasteful things to serve our country," the second, a tall, bald man with a gray beard says.

The first speaker is still unconvinced, but before he can begin to argue again the room's third occupant speaks up. "Come on Sven! She's probably the strongest newtype in existence, and she's certainly the best we have, memory or not. We need her abilities to help with the science! Its not like we're going to shove her into a cockpit and throw her into the fighting!"

The first man, Sven, is silent for a long time. So long that the others are almost to the point of starting up again when he finally opens his mouth. "Very well make it so, but no coercion! If she says 'no' then that's it, and you make do with the two coordinator newtypes." The other two military men glance at each other, and then turn to their superior and salute before leaving the office to start the process.

XXXXX

(near the end of the school year)

"Come on, Red! It's just a little help with homework!" one of her friends, Aymee, a fairly short blond with blue eyes pleads.

"Yeah!" the other, a brunette named Kelli even taller than her foster-dad Ivan, interjects, "and Mr. Sukoyev even said we could work together!"

"Did you also see the look he shot me when he said it?" she jumped in before the pleading could continue.

"What look? Aymee and Kelli asked simultaneously.

Red sighs in exasperation, "The if-you-give-your-friends-any-unfair-help-I-will-hunt-you-down-and-kill-you-violently look," At their heartbroken expressions she adds, "Besides, you aren't learning anything when you get me spouting off answers for you. A little suffering now will preclude a murder investigation after school's out," at their befuddled expressions she concludes, "After your parents shoot you for failing all of your finals!"

Despite her definite refusal, the pleading continues for the remainder of the walk to her house. However, when they arrive, there are a pair of unmarked black sedans parked in the driveway. A ball of ice seems to form in her stomach at the sight and she tenses as her eyes squint in sudden concentration. Her friends words trail off as she stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk. Aymee opens her mouth, but, "Wha-?" is all she manages to get out before Red cuts her off.

"Two black cars in my driveway. This is an abnormal occurrence. Something's up," Red says counting the points off on her fingers. "Go home. Assuming they aren't here to kidnap me or something I'll call you later."

Aymee and Kelli are dumbfounded by the sudden change in their friend's mood, but her last statement shakes them out of their paralysis. "If somebody's after you, you can't go in there!" Kelli says.

Red just shakes her head. "They wouldn't be parked out front if they were setting a trap. That's just obvious, and they should know that they can't force me to do something that I don't want to do. They must want something from me, so they won't harm me. I'll call you," she says as she starts, carefully, for the front door of her house putting everything else out of her mind and concentrating only on what's going on around her.

The blinds were open the way Marie always left them when they had company. No obvious damage around the door. No forced entry. So far so good. Door closed, not locked, good. No signs of a struggle. Entryway clear. Extra coats in the closet. So, they were welcomed. Smell. Mulled cider? Someone they want to impress? Conjecture, but valid conjecture nonetheless. With the realization that her foster parents aren't in danger, she relaxes.

As she walks into the sitting room, she looks straight at the "visitor's chairs" as her foster mom calls them and asks the two men in suits sitting there, "So, government or private sector, and what project do you want me for?" Their astonished looks are actually quite satisfying.

XXXXX

General Arvid Erlender was used to being in control. He liked being in control. When you were in control, you could guide the round pegs into the round holes, the square pegs into the square holes, and the funky star-shaped pegs into the funky star-shaped holes. Most of the time, you could even do while keeping the pegs totally oblivious to the fact that they were being moved. And with a single sentence a teenage girl has taken his entire plan, the pretty, prepared speech, the degree of intimidation inherent as a person categorizes their sins, wondering which was bad enough to come to their country's attention, even the slightly overstated cliché closing line always some variation of "Your country needs you!" turned it upside down, and shaken it soundly for good measure. He abruptly realizes that his jaw is hanging slightly slack and closes it, recalculating what to say on the fly. After a moment, he decides on the simple truth.

"A bit of both actually. I'm the governmental slash military liaison officer to Fjærinnlemmet, the Kingdom's number one R and D company, and we want your help with the Scandinavian Kingdom's G.U.N.D.A.M. development project, program Guilty Spark. Not as a member of the military," he continues quickly to reassure suddenly nervous parents, the girl herself is apparently unaffected, "but as a civilian consultant."

"I don't know anything about how to build a mobile suit," she says, not in protest. Her tone of voice makes it obvious that she s merely stating a fact.

"We're aware of that, and it isn't a problem," Arvid gives her a we-know-how-fast-you-learn look before moving on. "Now the monetary compensation for this endeavor is not inconsiderable, but somehow I doubt that the amount of money you could make from us will be a major motivating factor for you, so I'll throw you a different carrot. You will be one of three people working with our most experienced techs. You will be one of the first to do what we're doing, and perhaps even more tellingly, you might actually find it difficult." The general can tell that this point has made an impact. The girl's head turns to the side and she cocks an eyebrow in an "I'm listening" gesture. "You'll be a bit isolated, from everyone here so it'll be a lot like starting over again." Red looks at him with concern at this announcement. "The lab is near Visby on the island of Gotland in the Baltic Sea."

"When would I be able to come back?" Red asks. Arvid takes this as a good sign.

"You'd have holidays and certainly some vacation time. You should be able to make a trip home for a weekend every couple of months, twelve weeks at the outside. You'll be able to correspond freely with family and friends, so long as you don't mind your mail being read. It's not that we think you're a security risk, but we've got to be certain that no one accidentally lets something slip," This statement also earned him a nod and a response.

"I can't promise you anything right now. Give me a few hours to think." The general is tempted to continue, but, realizing the futility of such an action, forbears.

"Alright, here's a card," he says as he extends the piece of cardstock. "Call us when you decide," After a few minutes of pleasantries, he and his aide bow out, collecting the four man guard detail on the way. All in all Arvid thinks, that didn't go badly.

XXXXX

Red was withdrawn for the rest of the night. She ate very little at the dinner table, and retired to bed far earlier than usual. But sleep eluded her, and for the first time, she cursed her quick neural process. She simply couldn't stop her mind's chaotic dance. Should she, or shouldn't she? There were so many reasons to go either way. She'd finally managed to surround herself with a group of friends, she was making a life for herself here. She loved her foster parents deeply and she was grateful to them for being there for her. But she wouldn't even be alive now if it wasn't for the neurologists. They had labored above and beyond the call of duty to save her when they didn't even know who she was. When they weren't even sure she was a citizen of the Kingdom. And that was the rub. They had helped her when they had no compelling reason to do so. She wasn't a nut when it came to honor, but she knew that she had an obligation to the people of the Kingdom. She would do what she could to help. She reached over to her nightstand and picked up the phone.

XXXXX

The general's cell phone rang, waking him from a deep sleep. Once, twice. On the third ring, he managed to get to it. "Hello?" he asked the person on the other end, preparing to rip their head off for anything less than a national disaster.

"General, I'm sorry, I didn't realize it had gotten so late," Or the girl, the girl could have interrupted him in a meeting with half the world's leaders and he'd have taken the call.

"Odd hours come with the job," he responds after clearing his throat. "I assume that you've decided on an answer?" he asked/stated, hoping for the sake of his country that it was the one he wanted.

"Yes, I have. I'll do it. I owe the Kingdom a debt, and I will repay it," she said firmly and it was all he could do not to shout in triumph.

"I'll get with my office in the morning. We'll send someone to pick you up in a few days." He paused for a minute. "I know you're giving up a lot to do this for us, and I will be the first, though not the last, to tell you, thanks," he says and hangs up before returning to bed to salvage what sleep he can before morning, a smile on his face.

XXXXX

The flight from had Oslo touched down on the runway at Visby at precisely 1534 hours military time. I can't believe that it's been less than a week since that meeting. The week had flown by with truly distressing speed. It seemed that she'd barely had time to say goodbye and pack before she was being whisked off to the airport. And now she was starting over. Again. It was not something she was looking forward to. Ordering her mind not to concentrate on the negatives, Red looks out the window beside her. Pretty. Kinda similar to Oslo, but different too. Warmer. More animals. Greener. Milder climate? The facility was really isolated. They'd gotten on the road by 1600 and according to the military escort they were making good time, but two hours was still a long time to spend in a vehicle, especially when the roads were . . . less than ideal. She really didn't want to ask, but the wait was driving her nuts. After a few more minutes, she succumbed to the temptation, "How much farther is it?"

The military driver just smiled. "Don't worry ma'am, the entrance is just ahead," Sure enough, when the car rounded the next bend there was a checkpoint set up across the road. After the guards had examined their credentials and checked them off on at least three separate lists they were passed through. Now the roads were much better, but they only had to drive for four or five more minutes before they stopped beside a rather small cluster of buildings. It really didn't look like a top secret R and D facility.

"Well ma'am welcome to the Granger Observation Facility, home of Project Gustavus, Project Archimedes, and Project Guilty Spark.

XXXXX

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