Chapter 5

Lockon Stratos was twenty-four years old, fresh from the isle of Ireland, and employed in something vaguely foreign affairs and negotiations. 'It's like volunteer work," he explained. "Except paid, kind of."

"Then it wouldn't be volunteer work, sir."

"Exactly." He winked, and Ruho was puzzled. "Top secret stuff, sorry, but if I ever get the okay to tell, you'll be the first person I call. That is, if—I had your phone number?"

"I see," Ruho said.

Lockon waited for a brief moment, before saying, a little awkward, "That was a hint, by the way. I was, uh, asking for your phone number."

She blinked at him slowly. "Oh, I see. I'm sorry." She reached into a pocket, fumbling for a scrap of paper, when Lockon said hurriedly, "Wait, you don't have to—" and he pressed his hand against hers and she looked up.

"I mean, later," He added, a little fumbled with his words, but still smiling. His eyes weren't completely green, she noticed, but mostly green, with a hint of blue that she would have to search for to see. It made them look softer. "We just met, after all. Got to convince you that I'm not evil. Or married. No wedding ring tucked my pocket or anything"

"Ah," Ruho said. "If you would like, sir."

He was what people would call a ladies' man, she supposed, with a sort of flirting unsubtle enough that even she could tell what it was—and unsubtle wasn't good, she remembered from what she had been told, it meant too much effort and too little experience, but Lockon was easy and casual and earnest all at once, and in a way, that was something charming by itself.

He took her to a nearby coffee shop and tucked her in a small corner booth before walking over to the line. The air was cold outside and the shop was crowded, so Ruho scrunched herself in her booth and checked her email—one from Graham about a mandatory meeting at four today, ("very important , don't skip") and another message from Howard Mason, asking if she had seen his spare glasses (she had, yesterday afternoon on a table in the cafeteria, before Sergeant Robert Parkson accidentally knocked them to the ground and Second Lieutenant Ariel Lin accidentally stepped on them with her size 9 standard issued military training boots).

Lockon came back five minutes later with a cup of coffee and a large mug of something brown and steaming and foamy. "Hot chocolate." He said, placing the mug down in front of her. "You look like you need some warming up," expect she didn't need warming up, so she said her thanks and stared at it as he sat down in the chair across from her.

"So Ruho," he said. "That's enough sordid details of my life. What do you do for a living?"

"I serve in the Union military," she told him. "As a pilot."

"Oh, wow." He tilted his head, his smile widening. "Hey, I can see that. Kicking ass and taking names. You'd look cute doing it too. Your commander's a lucky man. Or woman, I guess," he added as an afterthought. He shrugged. "Hey, I could handle being jealous of a woman, if it's for you."

"It's alright, sir. He's male."

"No, actually, I don't think that's consoling at all," Lockon frowned, propping his chin on his palm.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stratos."

He chuckled. "No, no, don't worry about it. And call me Lockon." he added, except first-name basis wasn't something she did, so she didn't.

He kept her for another half hour, talking. Or, Lockon talked, and Ruho listened and sometimes furrowed her eyebrows, confused because they always confused her, before nodding anyway. After the strangest story, something about misunderstandings, Lockon's phone buzzed in his pocket. He grimaced when he checked the caller I.D. "Gotta answer this, sorry," and stepped outside to take the call. He came back ten minutes later, embarrassed. "Sorry, some business came up. I have to go."

"It's perfectly fine." Ruho said, standing up.

"Also," He said quickly. "I know we just met, but I kind of enjoyed myself. Can I maybe call you out again sometime?"

"If you'd like."

"Well," He said reasonably. "I did ask," and then grinned like he'd like nothing more.

She gave him her number, and they stepped outside into the crowded sidewalk and the cold air. They walked the short distance to Lockon's car, where Lockon stopped and began rummaging for his keys. "You don't need a ride back, do you? I've still got some time."

"No thank you." Ruho said. "I take the bus."

He winced. "Hey now, being rejected by a lady in favor of public transport, that's a little—" He trailed off, resigned, and ran a hand through his hair. "I—could've lived without that."

"I apologize, Mr. Stratos."

But Lockon only laughed and unlocked and opened the car door. He was one foot in when he paused, and turned back slightly. "It's—peaceful here, isn't it?"

"Here—?" Ruho repeated. Confused, because there was this monument two blocks down south, and it wasn't something a peaceful place would have. Crime rates were high, and people were angry. But suddenly there was something wistful in his face, in the green-blue of his eyes and the curve of his mouth, and perhaps he saw something that she didn't in this distorted capital. So she nodded, obligingly, almost, and said "Yes, I suppose it is."

"It's a strange world," he said, gentle. "A little dangerous too, and you being the military and all. Be careful out there, alright?"

"Thank you," Ruho said. "You as well, Mr. Stratos."

Lockon smiled. He had this expression that she didn't know what to make of, something longing and distant and familiar, and long after he had left, Ruho was sitting in her bus and watching the scenery and letting it bother her a little. She saved his number. It seemed like the polite thing to do.

"You alright there?"

Graham didn't answer, and Billy watched him for a moment. He didn't ask again.

Exhaling slowly, Graham leaned back in his chair and pressed a hand to his mouth as he watched the video on his laptop screen. It was a news clip from last week, footage of an elegant, sharply dressed man and a young woman with dark hair and concentrated eyes, both surrounded by diplomats and the flash of cameras. The anchorwoman identified them as U.N. envoy Alejandro Corner and First Princess of Azadistan Marina Ismail.

Azadistan, the Kingdom of Azadistan, a Middle Eastern constitutional monarchy currently experiencing political and economic unrest. According to the reports, it was a violent and volatile country—the government itself was divided between the reformist and the conservative party. Their parliament was more of a battleground than anything, nothing even close to civilized.

Still, they maintained an uneasy status quo over the years, disturbed and dangerous, but ultimately not enough for their attention.

Then the Union offered a helping hand, "The U.N. has approved of the measures. The Union is scheduled to begin sending engineers to help with Azadistan's solar energy development. Given the state of the country, 700 troops will be accompanying them," and everything happened too fast.

Foreigners in their holy land, solar energy, and then the kidnapping of conservative leader Massoud Rachmadi—possibly not even by the reformists, intel said, but good luck convincing them of that, because the conservatives lost it. The country turned into a warzone overnight. The Union declared a congressional resolution to deploy even more troops to quell the violence. Up to 200 additional troops were scheduled to be sent to Azadistan within the next five days, stationed there for an indefinite time, but not to return until hostile forces have been subdued and the monarchy was restored to a balanced state.

Of course, they counted on—help, he could call it, from Celestial Being. That was why the Anti-Gundam unit, his own squad, was being deployed, to help with the fighting of course, but even more so, to fight the Gundams when they showed up, because they will, because they may be on the same side and they may be doing good, but it was their very existence that was unacceptable and nothing they do will change that.

The funny thing was the Union probably predicted all this. It was distasteful stuff. Not enough to make Graham's fists clench—he wasn't really that sentimental—but there were things the Union did that Graham did not like. The manipulating and the politics, and the fact that he answered to them.

Still, he was his country's soldier. So he finished his coffee, which tasted like Styrofoam, and read his orders, broke the contents down, searched up background information, and put together a Powerpoint, which he disliked, but it was useful for debriefings because he was the only one on the squad who paid to any attention to overseas news.

"Katagiri." He said when he was done. It was half past three. Billy looked up from his computer. "You have time for drinks tonight?"

Billy half-smiled at him, at the sudden request. "On a weekday, Graham?"

"Humor me." He replied.

Billy frowned, and glanced at his screen. He was probably swamped, so Graham was about to say forget it when Billy sighed and shrugged. "Yeah, sure. I have time."

Graham paused, and nodded. "Seven, then." He said, closing his laptop and shoving it into his bag. Then, after a moment, "Thanks."

"Of course." Billy said, and returned to his work.

The meeting was nondescript, nothing Ruho didn't have already, and it ended in half an hour. She was standing up, finishing the last touches to her notes, when Billy called over to her. "Miss Watase, do you have a moment?"

"Yes, sir. Do you need anything?"

"Professor Eifman wanted to see you." Billy said. "He didn't mention what for, but he should be up in the lab right now. The one near the hangers. You know where it is?"

"I do, sir. Thank you for informing me."

Billy smiled, a bit awkwardly, before he walked over to Graham, who had been waiting for him by the door. Graham gave her a tired nod, before they left the room.

Ruho made her way to the lab, which was almost across the building. The entrance was a small door tucked in the crevice of the wall, which she had passed at least twice before she found it. She wiped her I.D. card through the lock, which clicked green. The door slid open, a draft of cold air blowing in her face as she stepped inside. It was mostly dark inside, with some light coming from the computer screens. The air conditioner hummed steadily in the corner, turned down extra low to keep the machines from overheating. She scanned the room for Eifman, but it was clustered with assortments of tools and technologies, hard to get a proper view of anything more than five feet away without some complicated device blocking the way.

"Professor Eifman?" She called.

There was no answer. Ruho made her way through the lab until she found what looked like the professor's work desk. It was unoccupied, but his computer screen was on, a myriad of words and diagrams crammed in the open window. She leaned forward, unsure if she was allowed to read it, but a little curious nonetheless.

"The fuselage is almost certainly powered by particle decay, due to their long operations time, which hints at the possibility of self-sufficient energy.

Particle decay, if condensed properly, can generate enough energy to fuel the Gundam's propulsion power. Given the reaction energy required, the subatomic particle must be a composite, and of sufficient mass. To condense and produce decayed particles quickly enough, topological defects are a viable solution. However, the conditions to replicate such effects are near impossible to find on Earth. They require a more gaseous environment, such as—"

Ruho drew back, disappointed. It was his research on the Gundam's engine, she was fairly certain. Beyond that, she didn't know what to make of it, too many terminologies and jargons, but he shouldn't leave this sort of information unattended, so she logged it off and turned off the monitor. The desk was dirty, once she bothered to notice it, and that wasn't good, because Eifman was elderly. He wouldn't do well in an unsanitary environment. So she found a trash can out in the hallway and pulled it inside. She threw away the litter, empty Styrofoam cups and food wrappers and such, and she considered throwing away some papers too, but she didn't know which ones were important and which weren't, so she didn't touch those. There was thick dust buildup from where she moved the clutter, so she pulled out a handkerchief and wiped that away too.

The door opened four minutes later, and Ruho stood up from her seat as Eifman walked in, the tap tap of his walking cane accompanying his footsteps.

"Good afternoon, Professor Eifman," Ruho said.

"Miss Watase," He said, tired. "I'm terribly sorry for making you wait so long. I was called in for a last minute meeting. It was longer than I anticipated."

"It isn't a problem, sir."

"Yes, I—" His voice trailed off as he sat down at his desk.

"Is there something wrong, sir?" Ruho asked uncertainly.

Eifman looked at her, puzzled, and then at her, then at her gloved hands which were soiled from the dust. She'd have to get a new pair. Then he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Thank you."

"Not at all, sir."

Setting down his cane, Eifman sat down in his office chair and turned on his monitor again and began typing. The windows and tabs flickered as he sifted through them, searching for something in particular, she assumed. Ruho waited. She didn't know what he wanted with her, but she trusted that it was something worth noting, if it was enough to concern him.

They hadn't met often, but Ruho knew very well of Ralph Eifman's well-recognized status in the field of mobile suit technology. In person, he was a rational man with an elegant demeanor and a gravelly voice that seemed both rough and patient, which Ruho found a little calming. She didn't talk with him much, no more than the others, but he was the lead developer of the Flag, which she found to be much more maneuverable than the older models, and she was very grateful for that.

"Sit down, will you?" He gestured to a spare chair, so she pulled it over and sat down.

"Fine sir."

He nodded absentmindedly. "Have you become used to things around here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Your first mission is coming up," Eifman said. "Are you nervous?"

Nervous? Ruho turned the word around in her head for a bit. "I suppose, sir," she said, slowly. "It is a very important assignment, and I'd like to succeed, if possible."

Eifman turned to look at her, his gaze mild but even. "You're being modest, Miss Watase," he said. "I saw your first spar with Lieutenant Aker. You're an extremely talented pilot."

"Thank you, sir," Ruho said, hesitant, because it was a compliment, but somehow he didn't seem pleased by her answer. She wondered just where the conversation was heading, but it was probably impolite to ask, so she didn't.

He continued asking her these questions, small whimsical questions, everyday sort of questions. She was twenty-three years old, she trained in her spare time, and she didn't watch TV so she didn't have a favorite show. Hobbies? She wasn't sure what counted as one, so she couldn't rightly say, but guns, perhaps. She knew them like they were a part of her. She enjoyed the familiarity of every little part, the protectiveness of their weight and the cleanness of its bullets.

"And do you like using them?"

There was a slight edge in his voice that hadn't been there for the others, she could tell, and she answered carefully, "I'm not sure, sir. I never thought about it. I do practice often. They're very efficient."

"Is that so," Eifman said, slowly. He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, before he said congenially, "Thank you, Miss Watase. That would be all."

Ruho was startled. "Pardon me, sir?"

"I was curious about you," He replied. "Quite a few people are, you know."

Ruho shifted her posture uncomfortably. "I, um, I didn't know, sir. But if I'm glad if I could be of help."

"You have," Eifman replied, politely. "Very much."

And then it dawned on her that Eifman had evaluated her. She didn't know why—not many people showed interest in her—but he had, and it, it disturbed her a little. There were things about her that he wasn't supposed to know, that nobody was supposed to know. They had told her to be secretive, and that's what she had been doing, as hard as she could. His questions had been harmless. Her answers had been harmless. Ruho looked down, her breath stilled, and then back up at him. "Did you—" Her voice trembling a little, and she forced it steady before saying, "Did you find what you were looking for, sir?"

Eifman's eyes met hers, and he gave one, small nod. "Good day, Miss Watase."

Billy dug through his coat pocket for his card, but the door opened before he could find it, and Ruho stepped out of the lab and almost bumped into him. He moved aside before she did, and she blinked before lifting her head. "Hello, Mr. Katagiri."

"You're still here?" He asked, and Ruho gave a shrug, her shoulders slumping limply. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes sir."

His eyes lingered on her face, but her expression was neutral as usual, nothing to be found there, so when she said "I'll be taking my leave, sir" he said "Yeah, sure," and Ruho bowed and left without another word. He watched her retreating back until she turned a corner before he walked into the lab. He found Eifman at his desk, working on his laptop as usual.

"Strange girl, that one," he said as Billy approached him.

Billy frowned. "Sir?"

"Lieutenant Aker would do well to keep an eye on her," Eifman said. "She won't be doing it for herself, of that I'm certain."

"You seem awfully distracted."

Ruho jerked out of her thoughts, startled. "Excuse me, Ma'am?"

Sarah watched her worriedly through the screen, but when Ruho met her eye, she smiled brightly. "Did something happen?"

"It's nothing, Ms. Kobayashi. I apologize for not paying attention."

"Distracted by your commanding officer, perhaps?" She said slyly, and Ruho looked at her, bewildered, until she added, "I saw a picture of him. He's gorgeous."

"I see," Ruho said. "Shall I pass your compliments to him, Ma'am?"

"I'm married, dear, remember?" Sarah told her, world-weary. "Then again, I suppose that doesn't stop some people. Anyway, it's time to send in your report. Can you get that to me by tomorrow?"

Ruho nodded, touching the side of her head with her hand. "Yes, Ma'am. And I apologize if I blinked too much."

"Nonsense. You never blink, sweetie. Frankly, I wonder how you do it," Sarah sighed, before saying, in a low voice, "One more thing. You've received your mission orders, right?" Ruho nodded, and she continued. "The current analgesics you're on are too strong for—I mean, they lower your reaction time by almost twelve percent. If it were mock fights like before, against a normal mobile suit, it wouldn't problem. But you know, it's, it's not. So," Her voice drifted away.

Ruho gaze faltered. "Then I—" She said, a little shaky. Her hand trailed to her stomach. "Then I have to stop taking them, Ma'am?"

"You'll have to use paracetamol," she said gently. "I know it's not as helpful, but the side effects won't be as sleep-inducing. In this case we really can't be too careful. You've seen the footage of those Gundams. Fighting half-delirious like you always do, it won't cut it."

Ruho looked away. "Yes, I understand, Ms. Kobayashi."

Sarah was quiet. "Are you sure you're alright?" She asked again.

Ruho didn't answer. Sarah didn't either, and after a minute, she smiled weakly, murmured a small 'good luck' and hung up.

Ruho sat there for minutes, not quite panicking, because she knew pain, and she knew what it was going to be like and there was no reason to dwell on it. But she wanted to brace herself. So she did, and once the tremor in her hand faded, she stood up and began to work.

The analgesics she took were powerful. Even with the machines, she needed a seventeen hour flush period for the substance to be completely removed from her bloodstream, so she hooked the dialyzer onto her arm and readied her bags and equipment and prepared her report as she waited.

They had insisted on monitoring her, so before she left Japan, they had installed a camera inside her left eye, easily unnoticeable. Ruho didn't mind it. So as Sarah asked, she reached into her digital files and withdrew the last two weeks' worth of video footage. She compressed it into a smaller file and sealed it with an encrypted password and sent it to both Russell and Sarah's emails with the week number and date labeled as its title.

After four hours of waiting, her hands were shaking again, for different reasons. Her vision was faltering. She could feel the effects of the drugs slip away from her body, and it was almost more tiring than painful. She tried to remember the last time she had slept, and couldn't.

So she slept.

In the morning, Ruho woke up with a splitting headache and a pain in her stomach that felt like knives. Everything was harsh and bright and she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe, and she found herself rolling onto her side and gasping like she had swallowed shattered glass. It took her thirty-two seconds to calm down and focus, and when she did she closed her eyes and took slow shuddering breaths until the feeling dulled to a throb. She took a shot of anti-withdrawal medicine and three pills, even though these kinds didn't really work until six or seven, and went into the bathroom and rinsed off the cold sweat on her skin. The pain burned with the slightest movement, but once the headache receded, the world seemed clearer somehow. Sharper.

Her phone rang, and she waited for a few seconds, not trusting herself to speak steadily, before she answered. "Hello, Lieutenant?"

"We're departing in an hour," Graham's voice said. "You ready?"

"An hour, sir?" Ruho repeated, bewildered. She looked at the time and made an almost desperate sound.

"Ruho? What's wrong? You there?"

"That's—I, I mean," She hurried grabbed her jacket and overnight bag. "Yes sir, I'll—I'll be there momentarily." She pulled on her jacket, zipping it sloppily as she opened the door with her elbow. The background noise on the other end was loud, industrial. He was already at the hanger. When Ruho stumbled out of her quarters she pushed the wretched pain aside and began to run.

A/n: I wonder if I should put a warning for substance abuse in the first chapter. Hope that doesn't turn anyone off, but it's going to be a bit of an issue later on. Anyhow, to answer most of the reviews (of which there were many, anon reviewers too, thank you all so much!), yes, Lockon has arrived! It only took four chapters too, which was not what I was expecting but it works. And he was so fun to write, so instead of a throwaway mention like I originally intended, I decided to give him some more dialogue in this chapter. It's completely aimless, but the entire story is pretty aimless, at least for season one, so why not. He'll show up later, because I only get half the story with him, might as well cram it in.

In other news, Graham is attempting to stay relevant in his own story, Ruho is confused for 99% of the chapter/her life/the whole story, and Professor Eifman gets a totally random psychoanalysis scene. Not that he was ever a major character, but I was very fond of him. The chapter was a little info-dumpy. But the next one is on Azadistan, where Ruho tries to be productive while half-dying.

Reviews are always appreciated. I hope you enjoyed!