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The Lifestream

Gundam Wing

Fire ~ 1

~~~~~~~~~

Stalking out of the meeting was not, Aya realized in retrospect, the most intelligent thing to do. But like many of his realizations about bad decisions, it came too late. He could have just sat there, held his peace, accepted or declined his part of the mission. Nothing out of the ordinary that way. He could have just been his temperamental self and no one would have questioned it.

Instead he'd let his feet lead, like some impetuous teenager, afraid of being grounded for staying out too late on a school night.

Stupid. Worse, stupid and irresponsible. He had knowledge of their enemy's activity, knowledge he should have shared. Knowledge that, kept secret, could cost them all.

Stopping at a street corner, he checked his random travel and his dark train of thought. Worst case scenario. He was good at those. Far too good for his own sanity sometimes. Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair and waited for the light to change.

Instinct, or his empty stomach, had led him to the cafe district. The bitter aroma of coffee drifted heavy on the air, along with the warm soft scent of freshly baked bread. It was early yet, still breakfast time for most of the city. He might as well eat. Following his nose -- seeking coffee -- he crossed the street and headed into one of the smaller coffee shops. It was a bright, sunny day, rather painfully bright, after last night's cleansing rain, but the coffee shop was blessedly dim despite having a large sliding glass window fronting on the street.

His eyes adjusted as he made his way into the long, narrow shop. One cluster of tables occupied the area to the left of the doors, in front of the window. A long counter ran down the left as well, displaying an assortment of desserts and snack foods in glass cases. More tables occupied the middle of the room, and a series of four person booths lined the right wall. A door at the back led to the washrooms and the kitchen.

Most of the tables were full, clusters of people chatting animatedly over coffee and breakfast. No one paid any attention to him; no heads rose to check over the new arrival as the bell above the door jangled. He rather liked that, he decided. There was a lot of implicit trust here, and that was refreshing.

He ordered a coffee, inquired about breakfast, and ended up with a breakfast fajita; eggs, green peppers, mushrooms, and cheese all wrapped in a warm flour tortilla. Despite being alone, he settled himself in a four-person booth. No one seemed to particularly mind, and his sore ass still needed the comfort of a padded bench. Grabbing a newspaper, he spread it out over the table, idly skimming the headlines.

It wasn't enough to distract him from his earlier dark thoughts. He ate rather too quickly, inhaled the first mug of coffee and fetched a second one, which he tried to enjoy. But his mind kept replaying scenes from last night, and early this morning.

What really annoyed him was that Yohji had had to haul him out of the shower. And behind that lazy playboy veneer was a mind that was entirely too quick. Yohji very likely would have guessed what had happened, even if not with whom.

Which brought him back, once again, to the harsh fact of what he'd done.

He had -- twice now -- betrayed his teammates. Once by giving in to Schuldich, and twice by staying silent. He should have spoken up and confirmed Schuldich's presence in the area. He was putting the others' lives at risk by remaining silent. But he couldn't... wouldn't explain. Not when the questions would probe something personal. So illicit.

Something he never should have done in the first place!

Burying his face in his hands, he massaged his temples. There was a chance, small though it may be, that he was making too much of this. His teammates knew him as moody, prone to sudden decisive action, likely to deal with things first and explain himself later, if at all. His leaving, by itself, was no big deal. But Yohji had seen....

That was what he was really afraid of, Aya realized, dropping his hands and picking up his mug again. He was afraid of Yohji confronting him. Afraid of what thoughts those damnable sunglasses were hiding.

"Uhm, are you about done here?"

The voice -- bright, cheery, and very obviously neither Schuldich nor Yohji -- was an almost welcome intrusion. Aya looked up quickly, turning a scowl into a hesitant half-smile and shrugged. "Yeah, I'm done," he said, collecting his plate and mug.

"Thanks, man."

Aya nodded, already dismissing the beaming young man from his mind. Carrying his dishes up to the counter, he placed them with the small collection of mugs already there and turned to leave. Sunlight hit him like a wall as he crossed the small room and stepped out onto the street. Digging through his pockets again still failed to turn up a pair of sunglasses, so he made his next stop a convenience store where he picked up a cheap pair.

There was little point in just wandering the city, Aya mused, walking slowly back the way he'd come. He wasn't about to go back to the flower shop, though. Too many questions again. Or worse, Yohji's silence and the damning darkness of his glasses. No, the flower shop was definitely out. But if they were busy in the shop, he might be able to slip into the apartment and pick up a few things. If he was going to avoid his teammates all day, he might as well put his time to good use and do some scouting. He hadn't actually said he wouldn't participate in this mission. Daylight should be a safe enough time to do a casual reconnaissance of Takatori's warehouse.

Decision made, he moved purposefully toward home. If only everything else was as easily resolved....

~*~*~

The thing about covert warehouses, he mused hours later, was that they somehow all managed to look slightly abandoned and disused, despite the fact that things had to be moving in and out of them by night. Maybe there was a "Warehouses for Villains 101" available by mail order. Or something. Setting down his binoculars, Aya snorted and inch-wormed his way backwards from the edge of the roof. As ridiculous as it sounded, he'd yet to see one of Takatori's warehouses break the disused look rule book.

His mood had improved the longer he'd been out here, quietly observing the complete and utter lack of comings and goings. The warehouse had remained as dusty, disused, and dark as it had been when he'd first arrived. It was almost eerie how unnaturally still this area was, given the rackett and bustle he'd passed through on the way here. He wasn't complaining, though. He'd had time to find all the windows, doors, fire escapes, and other possible entry/exit points on the building, to photograph and map them, and to determine where snipers or other nasty surprises were likely to be hiding. But as the day dragged on into evening and shadows began to distort the view and toy with his imagination, he began to miss the infrequent quiet comments from Bombay in the earpiece he wasn't wearing, and the comfort of knowing the others were out there -- somewhere -- to back him up. Not that he expected trouble, but Schwartz had a way of popping out of the woodwork....

Shaking his head, Aya quickly packed up his gear and made his way down the fire escape. It was rusty, creaky, unstable, and looked ready to lurch out from under his feet at any given moment. Kind of like his rationality, he thought, smiling thinly. But it had held his weight on the way up, and it was conveniently on the far side of this building -- yet another abandoned warehouse -- from the Takatori warehouse, hiding his movements from any prying eyes. Of course if the people watching him were prone to sneaking about on rooftops, like he was, they'd probably already tagged him. So long as they didn't decide to put a bullet through him for his efforts, he wasn't inclined to go looking for any watchdogs.

It was good to be doing something useful, Aya thought, letting himself drop lightly from the last rung of the fire escape ladder that ended some four or five feet above the ground. Too many flowers and not enough hunting made for a bored and reckless Aya. He'd managed to accomplish something here today, and the fact that it would surprise the hell out of his teammates only improved his mood. Maybe it'd even shut Yohji up for a while.

Moving at an even pace, as if he had every right to be here, Aya made his way through the maze of empty buildings, back to the narrow alley where he'd left his car. As he pulled the dark, mottled camouflage tarp off the white Porsche, his stomach rumbled. Time to treat himself to dinner and then head back to the apartment with his findings. Or maybe he'd catch a movie first, as a distraction. Folding the tarp into a quasi-neat bundle, he opened the car door and tossed it onto the back seat. That would give Yohji time to get ready for clubbing and head out before Aya got home. Even with a mission assigned, there was no reason for Yohji to break his Friday night bar hopping routine. Sliding into the driver's seat, Aya closed the door behind him as he reached under the seat to pull out his PocketPC. Taking the memory card from his camera, he slipped it into the PC's slot and quickly uploaded all the pictures to Omi's web server. With a few taps of the stylus, he added a ReadMe note for Bombay, then shut down the PC and stowed all his gear.

The longer it was before he had to talk to Yohji, the better it would be for everyone, Aya decided. Starting the car, he shifted into first gear and let it roll quietly out of the shadowed alley.

~*~*~

"Aya-kun!"

Omi's voice was not the greeting Aya particularly wanted. His key wasn't even free of the lock yet. Aya winced, nodding to Omi as he wrested the door from the boy's grasp and yanked his key free.

"Konbanwa," he muttered, slipping his keys into his pocket and attempting to edge past Omi.

"I got the files you uploaded, boy, you were busy today!"

It took Aya a moment to pick the individual words out of the breathless rush of Omi's excitement. "Saa, are you going to let me in?" he asked, frowning down at the shorter boy.

Omi flushed pink, but practically jumped out of the way. "Gomen nasai! It's just that we thought you weren't going to help with this mission, what with the way you left and all and then you went and did all that --"

"Close the door, Omi," Aya said, shrugging his jacket off.

"Sorry, sorry." Hastily Omi closed and re-locked the door. He shadowed Aya, bouncing along behind him as Aya headed for the kitchen. "If you'd only told us you were going to do all that then Yohji wouldn't have had to go out tonight."

"Ah," Aya murmured, opening one of the cupboards and grabbing a glass. He turned on the tap, let the water run for a moment, and stuck the glass under the tap all before the implication of Omi's words caught up with him. "Yohji didn't just... go out?" he asked, turning to frown at Omi.

Omi blinked at him, momentarily wordless. "Well, you know, Yohji doesn't al~ways go out --"

Aya raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. Raising his glass, he sipped at the water and waited for Omi to continue.

"-- But since we thought you weren't in on this mission, and someone needed to do the reconnaissance --"

There was a cold feeling settling into Aya's stomach that had nothing to do with the water he was drinking. Lowering the glass, he set it on the counter and folded his arms across his chest.

"-- So Yohji went to see if he could confirm what Persia said about Schwartz being in the area."

If Aya had been the type to swear, he would have let loose with a string of obscenities strong enough to blister the air. Instead, he just reached up to rub at the frown crease in his forehead and said quietly, "He said that? That was his reason for going out tonight?" He should have come home sooner, should have caught Yohji. Shouldn't have walked out of the meeting this morning. Shouldn't have stalked out into the rain the night before. How far back did he have to go before he could erase this path and forge a new one?

The sight of Omi's round blue eyes staring back at him, blank and clueless, made him want to shake the words out of the boy. "Omi..." he growled.

"Anou, he didn't say that... but he did say after you left that he'd do recon.... Why? What's wrong? Is he in danger?"

The most annoying thing about Omi, Aya decided again as he ground his teeth together, was the boy's ability to flip-flop between oblivious and insightful. "Aren't we always?" he muttered.

"Well, yeah, but --"

Aya shook his head. "Rhetorical, Omi." Stepping around the younger boy, he headed for the stairs. He made it as far as the third step before Omi spoke up again.

"Aren't you going to go look for him?"

Pausing, he half-turned to face Omi. "Why?" he asked quietly.

"Well, you thought... that is... maybe he is in danger... and if he is...."

He could just see it: any moment now Omi would start wringing his hands in distress, like the motherly figure he always seemed to be, intentionally or no. "Omi-kun. It's late. Go to bed. Yohji's a big boy, he can take care of himself." Without waiting for an answer, he turned away and took the stairs two at a time. Even without looking back, he knew Omi was still standing there, at the foot of the stairs, worry hanging heavy on his young shoulders.

Shaking his head, Aya stepped into his bedroom and closed the door firmly behind him. Yohji could take care of himself. If not....

He didn't want to think about "if not." He just wanted some real sleep, uninterrupted by teammates or missions.

But even in the dark and quiet of his own room, sleep was a long time coming.

~*~*~

Slumping against the rough brick wall, Yohji waited for his body to decide if it was done expunging the contents of his stomach. He was quite acutely aware of both the texture of the wall through the thin fabric of his shirt, and the continued rumblings of things best left unmentioned in his digestive system. The air outside was several degrees cooler than inside the bar, meaning that the sweat he'd broken out in was now evaporating quite nicely and leaving him with what was threatening to become more than a surface chill. His mind chewed over these details, reiterating what it thought were pertinent points -- such as the foul, almost hairy, taste in the back of his throat, and the particularly damp and cold spots in his armpits -- and leaving him blessedly, obsessively, stuck in the moment. Past and future had no particular meaning, which was just fine by Yohji.

And by focusing on the moment, on the simple details of movement, he managed to get himself inside, and into the bathroom without being sick again. Cold water helped steady him immensely, and even the slightly grimy texture of the porcelain sink was more pleasant to his palms than the outside wall had been.

He rinsed out his mouth, washed his face, and studied his reflection in the mirror for a moment. The dark lenses of his glasses stared back at him, blank, featureless, inscrutable. Nothing betrayed how badly he'd been shaken tonight. But the more he felt like himself, the more memories, words, began to scuttle around his head, reminding him of things he just wanted the darkness to swallow.

There was only one way to erase tonight, and he wasn't gonna find it in the men's room.

Digging through his pockets, he found his cigarettes and lighter and quickly lit up. Smoking was a temporary, familiar crutch, and he inhaled deeply as he made his way out into the hallway. Cigarette smoke was good, but there were other kinds of smoke that would be better, and he frowned faintly, slipping from the moment to consider how he might acquire something.

"Rough night, handsome?" a voice purred, surprisingly close to his ear.

Yohji glanced quickly along the dimly lit hallway, cursing the habit that made him push his glasses further up his nose. "You could call it that," he replied, glad that his tone was at least a reasonable facsimile of its usual suaveness.

"I have something that might fix that," the voice added in a smoky bar singer's drawl.

He turned to his right, found a young woman leaning casually against the wall, and gave her the once over. There was a bottle of some clear, faintly peach-tinted drink dangling from between her left thumb and forefinger. Her right hand held a cigarette near her painted lips, as if she'd just taken a drag.

Yohji licked his lips, eyes locked onto the bottle. "I just bet you do," he murmured. Forcing his eyes away from the sweet liquor, he smiled at the woman. "My night is definitely looking up," he said.

She smiled, flicking ash from the end of her burning cigarette. "Let's take this party somewhere more private then, cowboy."

He tipped an invisible hat to her and offered her his arm, which she accepted with a mocking smile. Sure it was cheesy as hell to play the chivalrous gent, but that's what nights like this were about. Things you would never do in the daylight. Things you would never remember in the daylight, though they might burn like fire in the night.