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(no subject)

Who: Quatre, Edgeworth
What: A virus strikes! Quatre and Edgeworth are forced to stay within proximity of each other, lest they become terribly ill.
Where: The Maganac's village and base of operations.
When: Some random point in time.
Warnings: None!

The sun peaked through the curtains of the window, slowly bathing the small bedroom in light. It was a quiet morning; the only sounds that could be heard were those of men and women setting up shops at the market down the hill, and those were only faint echos at best.

It was a day to sleep in--not that Quatre normally did. There was something about this place, though, something peaceful and safe. Everyone knew who he was, just as they did nearly everywhere he went these days, but the Maganac Corps were like family, and so was everyone in the village by proxy. He could forget about politics and disarmament, at least for a moment, which was why--when a sliver of sunlight positioned itself directly over his face--the young man simply winced and rolled over with nothing more than a groan.

He could afford a moment more.

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[Quatre watches him for a moment; he meant it when he said he wouldn't ask questions, though it doesn't stop his curiosity, especially when the reaction was so great. However,Edgeworth isn't the first person he's met with a strong phobia, and so, after a moment, he respectfully nods.]

Let me know if that changes.

[Without further ado, he presses the call button on the elevator again.]

[True to his word, Winner lets the incident pass without question. Edgeworth gives him a nod, relieved but also a bit concerned. Now he has to worry not just about keeping himself composed on the outside but on the inside as well. He struggles to quell his gratitude to the boy as well as the fear that's creeping back up on him as the elevator slowly descends.]

[Quatre remains silent, keeping his gaze away from Edgeworth out of courtesy. Instead, he watches the elevator as it comes to a stop before them and opens with the sound of grinding metal. Quatre boards, waiting for the man to do the same.]

[Edgeworth follows with no hesitation this time, determined to minimize the embarrassment of this whole incident as much as he possibly can. He turns to face forward, intending to spend the duration of the elevator ride focused on the incredible hangar laid out before them--all the activity, people moving between the machines like studious ants at work. Some of the fear still grips his chest and holds his tongue, but he's moderately successful at keeping it off his face.]

[Quatre glances at Edgeworth to see him looking out at the hangar. Stepping forward for a better look himself, he uses the opportunity to break the silence and to--hopefully--help put the past few minutes behind them.]

It used to be much busier than this.

[He starts a bit at the movement but recovers quickly, glances at the boy.] There's not much need for activity on a military base in peace time.

[He smiles, although there's a hint of sadness Edgeworth may or may not pick up on. Not everyone is happy with the prospect of peace, as certain recent events have shown Quatre.

Still, it's nothing like it was before.]

I'm thankful for that.

[Edgeworth is too caught up in controlling his own feelings to notice that the boy's response isn't quite as joyful as one might expect. He keeps his eyes fixed on the workers.] What comes next for you?

[keeps his eyes there, as well] Well... Right now, we're working with the ESUN--ah, that is, the Earth Sphere Unified Nation--to tear down mobile suit factories throughout Earth and space. It's... going to be an ongoing process, for a while.

[distractedly] Ah... And the suits themselves?

Destroyed. Or re-purposed, in some cases.

[The elevator shudders to a stop, and the doors open to the platform. From here, they're able to see Sandrock waist-high, leaving about twenty more feet towering above them. The platform covers the perimeter of the hangar and branches off at either side of each mobile suit; the sides are then connected by an open catwalk about five feet in front of the mobile suits, though it's placed noticeably further away from the Gundam.]

[The shuddering sends a jolt through Edgeworth's chest. It's all he can do to resist stumbling out of the elevator the moment the doors open, and he can't stop the wave of relief that washes over him as his feet touch the platform. He stands there for a moment, breathing heavily. Looking out on the hangar is no longer an effective distraction--he's not at all comfortable with heights either--so he turns his gaze on the massive robot instead.]

[It's truly a remarkable technological achievement. Even without seeing it in action that much is clear. The advances that would be necessary to make a robot in human form move, let alone move quickly and adroitly enough to fight, were impressive enough, but on such a scale...]

Yours is among those slated for destruction?

[Edgeworth's anxiety is, of course, palpable, but Quatre remains true to his word and says nothing; he now has an inkling that it's related to heights, however.

As he heads towards the catwalk, a red panel on Sandrock's abdomen opens like a draw bridge, stopping precisely in front of the catwalk. A metal door then opens to reveal the cockpit inside, likely just as cramped as Edgeworth was imagining.

Quatre slows to a stop before he reaches the panel, looking up at the expressionless face of his mobile suit like one would look at an old friend before a long goodbye.]

I don't know, yet. I've been in discussion with the other Gundam pilots, but we haven't come to a final decision.

[Edgeworth's stomach sinks when he catches a look inside the cockpit. He makes no move towards it yet, focusing instead on the odd moment that seems to pass between the boy and his Gundam. There's an obvious attachment there. He should have expected as much, but still, it's difficult for him to reconcile with the loathsome taint that all weapons hold for him.]

Hm. What options exist for repurposing...something like this?

[He turns back to Edgeworth.]

For something like the Gundams in particular? [a small, somewhat wry smile] Not many. They were, after all, created for a very specific purpose.

[That stirred something that had been lurking in the back of his mind since they entered the hangar. He remembered then what Winner's predecessor had claimed was the Gundams' original purpose: indiscriminate slaughter. He stared up at the robot's expressionless face, feeling as though his guts were suddenly doused in ice water.]

Your predecessor indicated they were already re-purposed, in a sense. Strategic military use, while not necessarily desirable, is still a far cry from outright genocide.

[The response catches Quatre off guard. While the Gundams' original purpose isn't a secret among many of the circles he travels in, it isn't common knowledge to most people. That Edgeworth knows is another, surreal reminder that there are people who have interacted with another version of him, who may know certain things about him and his world.

There's no reason to keep secrets anymore, but it is something he's going to have to get used to.]

Yes... Well... [He looks to Sandrock again, then hops from the catwalk onto the platform leading to the cockpit.] They were built for destruction. In that sense, nothing changed. They're still a symbol of war.

[Edgeworth stops at the catwalk, staunchly keeping his eyes off the ground far below.]

Symbols have a tendency to become far more dangerous than the objects they grow from.

[As he says it he sees both truths in the statement. In peace time, the real danger of this thing lies in its symbolism and not its neutral parts. Hesitantly, he follows Winner onto the platform. He can't keep the fear from flaring again, but this time the height and the cramped cockpit ahead are solely to blame.]

[And when those objects are dangerous themselves, it leaves few options for their future, Quatre mentally adds, though he only nods in response. The eventual destruction of the Gundams seems inevitable to him, given the political climate and the current needs of society; he's certain the others have come to the same conclusion. It's only a matter of time before their mere existence becomes a threat to peace.

It hurts, but it's necessary.

Keeping his thoughts to himself, he takes the only available seat, leaving standing room for Edgeworth on either side. He smiles apologetically.]

Sorry for the lack of room. You can sit once I have the computer running.

[Whatever blood is left in Edgeworth's face finally drains. Hoping against hope that running the computer won't necessitate closing the door, he carefully takes his place on the boy's right side. He has to hunch his shoulders uncomfortably to get in.]

[In response to the man's rising panic, Quatre casts a sideways glance at him. Perhaps it isn't the height (or at least not exclusively) that he finds so distressing.

To give fair warning--and an out, if Edgeworth wishes--Quatre lets him know:]

I'll have to close the door now.

[Edgeworth's jaw clenches, but he nods stiffly at the boy. He casts one last longing look at the world outside then starts exploring the cockpit with his eyes, hoping the myriad screens and panels will provide some distraction for him to focus on.]

[With the press of a button, the door closes smoothly, revealing two widescreen monitors. Darkness lasts for only a moment, before the power kicks on with a whir of electricity. The screens--four of them in total, with the other two on either side of the cockpit--flicker to life, although only the two in front display what appears to be a web browser. (The side screens afford a live view of the hangar outside.)

Quatre pulls up the community and then stands, stepping aside as well as he can in such a cramped space. At least he doesn't have to hunch.

He smiles and inclines his head, indicating that Edgeworth should sit.]

[Despite all his mental preparation, when the darkness descends panic comes too close to overtaking him. Edgeworth clenches his fingers on the edge of the boy's seat, breathing so heavily that he's sure the sound is filling the entire cabin.]

[Then there is light shocking his sight, and on either side they're treated to views of the people moving around the hangar below them. It's enough to pull him back from the brink (though not nearly as far back as he would have preferred). He stares at one of the hangar images, wrestling his vital signs back into more reasonable levels, until Winner's movement draws his attention. Words still won't come to him, but he gives the boy an awkward nod and hesitantly settles into the seat he vacated.]

[Quatre hopes that sitting, as well as being given a view of the hangar, will help to alleviate the feeling of being closed in.

He gestures to the controls then, both to explain and in an effort to occupy the man's mind.]

There are scroll buttons on the armrests, as well as touch pads. If you need to type something, press that, [he points to a yellow button] and the keyboard panel will open.

Edited 2012-08-20 02:14 (UTC)