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"Alternative Directions: Options "Written By: Karina Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the lovely
boys and their girls in the series. Wish I did. Please don't sue me.
I haven't even got a brass razoo to give you. Rating: Deffinately PG in Australia, at the moment,
but probably safer to say R for later chapters. Not sure about international
ratings Warnings: It will be 6x2, even though it does
not start out that way. After all, Zechs and Duo never met in Gundam
Wing and only spoke briefly over a com line in Endless Waltz. I've
tried to keep them in character as I saw them in the series. A bit
of language creeping in under stressful conditions. Pairings: eventual 6x2, past 2xH, 2+H,6x9, 1+R
Summary: Directions is set post Endless Waltz
and roughly 2 years have passed. Zechs and Noin are on Mars and Duo,
after spending some time with Hilde in a relationship leaves L2 to
join Preventers. Hilde was not happy about his decision. I guess enough
said. Here t'is, and I hope you like it. This is also AU for the standard
setting, as well as the series and Endless Waltz. Spoilers: Gundam Wing Series and Endless Waltz Many thanks to Dulin for volunteering to beta this. //... // thoughts
"Alternative Directions: Options"
Mars Colony Base Dome 2nd March AC 198 Time: 02:12 [approx Sanc time 00:02] Giles “You worry too much.” Merquise sighed and with extreme care not to displace the equipment on the bed eased himself a little higher before lying back against the pillows once more. //I worry too much? God, give me strength. I’ll do the man in before this is over. How the fuck can you be so calm and collected after all the shit we have had to deal with and now we finally face Simpson?// He shook his head mindful to watch what he was doing. He had no intention of taking himself out of the picture because he was careless and stuck himself on one of those tranquilizer darts any more than he intended Merquise stick himself with one. The only person he wanted to see injected by the little darts was that hulking bully of a Commander. //Gah, will you listen to yourself you idiot? Simpson seems to comport himself in a more civilized manner than those Sleeper bastards. I’d prefer to see those murdering creeps strung up by their ankles and roasting over hot coals not enjoying an enforced forty winks.// “Well if I don’t who will? Certainly not you when it comes to preserving your own hide. Just curl your fingers into a half fist for me …” Bandaged fingers curled easily enough and he knew that Merquise would have sufficient freedom of movement to enable him to act without undue hindrance. In what was to come they would need every advantage they could get. “Okay, that should do for placement. Reasonably comfortable?” He ran his thumb over the layers of bandaging trying to feel for any folds that might place too much pressure on tender burns and possibly produce deeper wounds than already marked the man. He would not feel better about this idiocy until it was all over and by some miracle Merquise came from this free and with no more serious injuries than he already claimed. He knew he was thinking like a stylus stuck in a groove, perpetually on a loop but he could not help it. Until it was over and he knew the outcome he would rehash constantly the pros and cons of the situation. “As comfortable as it is likely to get. Stop fussing.” //You don’t fool me. You’re good at covering it but I can tell. You are worried but determined not to show it and I know where that comes from too. You were an officer and it was not your place to give in to or look your fear in the sight of your subordinates. Showing fear wasn’t the way to inspire confidence in your men.// He continued to lightly run his fingertips over first the palm and then the back of the hand seeking some fault in the bandaging and acknowledging finally that his work was as good as he was capable of producing. All he could do was hope it would hold up to the test ahead of them … if, that was, they could sucker Simpson into closing with Merquise. “You have to keep some movement in that hand and while it is tight I don’t think it will do any harm to the burns and it will not allow for shift. Let me get the cover off …” With feigned casualness he carefully removed the plastic cover to the darts one at the time and even placed one of the darts inside the tube in readiness for those few seconds they would have to dart Simpson before he settled back a little and gave the man some respite from his close proximity. How long did they have? It had to be soon now. Minutes or seconds? With a low sigh he eyed the small assortment of darts and shrugged. He was not exactly thrilled to have some of them uncapped and loose on the bed. In the heat of the confrontation it was possible that Merquise might end up sticking himself with one but they had to be there, available for use if he needed to reload and there would be no time for uncapping more darts. The whole confrontation was going to be over in seconds, one way or the other and they did not have the luxury of asking Simpson to hold up a sec while they popped the cap on a dart. //God. Listen to me.// He would worry himself into an early grave. His mother, in long ago days, had said that he had a habit of worrying over nothing. Not even she could say this was nothing but he could not contain his fear that all was going to go to hell very quickly. Simpson would take one look at Merquise and pounce. The fight would have been one to watch if Merquise was up to it but in his present condition it was no contest. Yet they hoped to win. Simpson would not consider this fight fair and in normal circumstances neither would Zechs. “Okay. Just be bloody careful not to stick yourself. How fast can you aim and fire that thing?” He flicked a finger at the tube watching as Zechs used his good hand to lightly run a finger over the surface. He resisted the urge to comment as Zechs checked the placement of the dart in the tube with a deft touch. He didn’t know if Merquise believed the warning he had given him on the consequences should he receive even a mild dose of the sedative. The doctor had been quite explicit but Zechs had been unconscious at the time and he could only hope Merquise had confidence in him. If the man thought he was losing his nerve he might take chances they could not afford. Though Merquise said nothing in reply to his question he did offer a small and somewhat sneaky looking grin that did nothing to soothe Giles nerves. He took the smile to mean that he could use it very quickly indeed but being party to the plan that grin was no help at all. Simpson could shoot to wound or perform any one of a dozen actions that would end the hope of tranquilizing him from a distance and Merquise had no intention of killing if it was at all possible. Their hope did not lie with the shuriken or the dart in the tube and he was still uncertain why he had permitted Merquise to convince him that this was the best course of action open to them. //Anyone would think he’s the one with the Psi gift to ‘suggest’, not me. I’m a bloody fool to have agreed to this but it’s too late now. My only hope if it turns sour is for me to use my ability when things quiet down to earn my freedom and work to get him out of Simpson’s influence. If they believe I’m a doctor it will be that much easier to convince them I am harmless.// He reached to take the bandaged hand again and with a small tug tighten the last wrapping and secure the loose end of the bandage with a clip. “Okay, I’ll just secure the end of the bandage …” The crash of the door striking the wall under the barrage of a heavily booted foot spun him from his task and there was no more time to bemoan everything coming to the showdown in this most unsuitable of places. Simpson was framed in the doorway and he almost glowed with satisfaction as his eyes lighted on Merquise. “Merquise!” Satisfaction fairly oozed from his voice and he bared his teeth in a feral grin that caused something deep inside Giles to clench in fear. That smile reminded him of a man who had been in his platoon in long ago days who had ultimately coughed out his life on desert sands. The feral grin of a berserker who quickly lost all fear for himself and dived into conflict intent on causing as much mayhem as possible faced him from across the room. “On the floor! On the floor now!” Everyone around him was moving in slow motion. Movement was unreal and sound was distorted to the point where he could barely understand what the tech was shouting. Sound and vision seemed unreliable as one minute Simpson was standing in the doorway and the next second he seemed to be halfway across the room with Frazier on his heels. There was no more time to think, only time to react. He sincerely doubted that Zechs was going to have the time to raise the blowpipe to his mouth before Simpson would be on him. He was almost surprised to feel the cool metal of the kidney dish in his hand but the coldness of the metal and the faint sound of the caltrops sliding within the dish reminded him of his part in this drama. He was to scatter the caltrops in the hope that Simpson or Frazier might step on one of them and be slowed down. Gundanium barbs should make an impression even on the heavy footwear the ESUN agents were sporting. For an instant he glanced down, a reflex to ensure the caltrops were in the dish and as he did so he noted Zechs’ fingertips just reaching the tube but he was not the only one to notice that movement. Simpson’s low growl was warning enough he knew about the darts and Giles feared that while the man had avoided shooting either of them thus far that reserve was now gone. Simpson was above all a survivalist. It was amazing just what you could do if you thought your life hung in the balance. How the big man could move so far so fast was beyond him but suddenly he was there, across the bed from them and in mid air having taken a giant leap to reach them. His momentum was carrying him into Merquise with an irresistible force and his arms were closing around Zechs even as his body slammed into the Prince. The bed rocked to the impact and jumped sideways and slammed into Giles’ legs knocking him off balance and backwards against the chair he had been seated in just seconds before. Too quick for him to react. Everything was happening too fast. Simpson had one arm wrapped around Marquise’s shoulders and a meaty paw clasped firmly to his upper arm as his weight carried them both off the bed which rocked dangerously and almost overturned from the force of his assault. Giles was suddenly fighting the chair moving behind him, off balance and with aching thighs from the impact of the bed and then the chair overturned with a metallic clatter further upsetting his balance. The Blue Squad Commander was grinning, a feral and not very pleasant expression as he exulted at his success at reaching his prey, his free hand latching securely around Marquise right wrist and forcing that hand up and away from any of the now flying items that had been thrown from their place on the bed. With that action, the securing by Simpson of Merquise’s one usable hand, Giles experienced a sense of deep satisfaction and relief. Simpson had ignored the man’s bandaged left hand choosing to set him off balance and immobilize the hand capable of wielding a weapon leaving Merquise with little option in the way of attack. Then he was going down with them, caught under the two big men and hindered by the overturned chair he knew he was not going to get clear of them and he experienced an instant of panic. There was still Frazier waiting to be dealt with and he was going to be trapped and helpless. As he felt himself falling he flailed uselessly for balance and the kidney dish shot out of his suddenly fumbling fingers and the caltrops sailed into the air. There was no time to even curse or hope that Frazier would be slowed by stepping on one of the metal barbs but just before he hit the floor he caught a glimpse of a shape filling the doorway behind Frazier. He thrust out an arm behind him and managed to throw the chair out of the way and there was not even time to be relieved he was not going to be tangled with it and do more damage to himself. Then there was the stunning impact against the metal floor and he thought he was going to black out from the intense pain as both big men landed across his legs just as he recognized the man hesitating in the doorway. Despite the burning in his ribs jarred mercilessly by the impact with the metal floor and the thrashing of the men struggling against each other pinning him to the floor there was no hesitation in Giles. The tech was shouting something the pain drowned out and Frazier was striding forward with his gun drawn and clearly intent on securing the situation. Fighting against the urge to pass out and be blissfully unaware of the pain he was experiencing he fought for consciousness determined to see this through. He was not inclined now to pass out and miss their victory because with Polnar standing in the doorway he knew with a warm glow of satisfaction that they had won. He struggled to lift his head from the floor and noted Simpson’s victorious grin and the ruddy flush of his skin against the paleness fast creeping over the pale golden skin of the man he held in a vice like grip. Zechs had to be experiencing waves of agony from his shoulder as Simpson had made no effort to cushion their landing and Giles was fairly certain that Zechs had landed on his injured shoulder. His right hand was immobilized by Simpson’s strong grip but his left hand was free and was pressed to the Commanders shoulder and even as he watched Giles saw the satisfaction appear in crystal blue eyes that were hard and brittle with the fire of a warrior who knew victory was his. “Got you, you bastard!” Simpson’s deep toned snarl freed him from the momentary stasis that had held him and time began to run normally once again. A smile just as feral as Simpson’s had been earlier spread over his face and he felt the unique warmth of satisfaction that eased the pain from abused ribs and bruised hip and thighs. Victory must still be secured so that it could not be doubted. There was still much to do. He might be caught under the two men, a situation that neither he nor Zechs had considered in their plotting but there was the bonus he had not dared entertain in their scenarios of this confrontation. He had not dared include his partner appearing on the scene to take down Frazier and grant them the full victory against Blue Squad. -------------------------------- Polnar
He watched with widening eyes as Giles stumbled, set off balance by the force of Simpson’s charge and the bed was shifted sideways rocking into him with a force that made him wince in sympathy. The man stepped back once, twice, trying to steady himself but there was a chair near him and he stumbled into it, fighting it for a moment and then it overturned and impacted the floor knocking hard into Giles’ legs and almost taking him down. The impact did shake him enough that he lost the small kidney dish he had been holding and it went flying toward Frazier as he was knocked back further by the two big men tumbling from the bed. //Shit!// It was obvious that Giles was not going to manage to get out of the way in time to avoid going down under Merquise and Simpson. In front of him, striding across the room with gun drawn and shouting something that sounded like ‘Freeze’ was Frazier and he was intent on the tangle of bodies. He could not reach Simpson before he took out Merquise by rendering him unconscious which he surely would do to gain total control of the situation but he could reach the tech who was intent on Giles, gun raised to threaten him though Frazier seemed reluctant to fire. Though the tech was shouting at Giles to freeze and intent on securing him he could see that Giles was not going to have a chance to obey the man’s instructions as he flailed helplessly under the two men and he only hoped the tech was clear headed enough to realize it. Simpson’s self satisfied snarl blended into the tech’s shouted demand and mixed with the shout that came from his partner and it took him a precious moment to sort out the different voices and understand what it was Giles was bellowing at him. “Got you, you bastard!” Simpson’s snarl was full of satisfaction. “Freeze!” The tech shouting a useless repeated demand and Polnar suspected Frazier was a little out of the zone, hyped to a hair trigger and trying not to make a fatal mistake with his commander otherwise engaged. He also suspected that the tech had not seen much hand to hand action and doubted that he realized he had unexpected and unwanted company so close to him. “Chris, get Frazier! Frazier!” His partner’s urgent command finally resolved itself from meaningless noise into intelligible words. Somewhere amidst the ruckus of overturning furniture, shouts and screams, in some remote corner of his awareness he registered the smallest of noises, a faint metallic sound as he launched himself at the tech’s back. A small metallic tinkling that he ignored in the heat of the moment in favor of taking action against the distracted technician. Simpson’s voice, that low satisfied growl filled him with a furious rage. Raydon had sent him here to stop just this kind of event from happening and he was not going to fail his commander. Raydon had given him a home and a reason to live and he was damned if he was going to have the likes of Simpson threaten the security of the Stations. Why Giles wanted him to tackle the tech and not take on the Commander while he was distracted he would figure out later. It had been trained into him and others like him who worked with the Gifted on a regular basis to trust their judgment. Usually such calls were well thought out and proved the difference between success and failure in a mission. If Giles considered Frazier to be the bigger risk here then he would trust the call even though he thought Simpson to be the greater threat. //If I go down to Simpson because of this decision I’ll be pissed.// If it all fell apart then later, after he somehow managed to pulled all of their collective asses out of the fire, he would have a few choice words to say to his partner but for now he would trust in the skills of the Gifted. His hands closed on the tech’s shoulders and he felt the man stiffen in reaction but it was too late. Frazier didn’t stand a chance of avoiding him. He outweighed the tech and had no trouble using his greater weight to take the man down. Frazier could not have sensed his presence as he landed on the man’s shoulders and swept his feet out from under him and Polnar drove the man down hard. They impacted on the metal floor and under him the tech stiffened and the air whooshed out of his lungs and he set himself to secure a decent grip, expecting Frazier to turn on him and retaliate. Knowing too well the reputation of Blue Squad he expected to find his hands full with a clawing spitting lion intent on tearing him apart. The low gurgling sound the tech made startled him and the man’s body jerked then Frazier started to scream, a sound of abject agony and he began thrashing, each movement only drawing a louder and more ragged scream. Everything shifted suddenly, became surreal. He could not understand the tech’s reaction to being taken down. Frazier’s gun had sailed clear of all the protagonists and at least he did not have to worry about Simpson getting his hands on the weapon, not that the man looked to be in a hurry to release Merquise. Frazier was jerking under him, his fingers grasping at air, opening and closing sporadically as he seemed to be trying to dig his way through the floor. Had their impact broken his ribs? Did the tech have such a low pain tolerance? Confused, he nevertheless grappled with the man who strangely enough seemed unconcerned with his presence and continued to thrash on the floor, screaming. He could see beads of perspiration breaking out on his face and forehead and there was a wild berserk look in his eyes. With Frazier ignoring him in favor of his hysterics Polnar spared a glance for the other participants in the drama, seeking some sign that either Giles or Merquise had somehow managed to contain if not outright subdue Simpson. At any second he fully expected to get the heavy boot of the Commander in his back and he raised his head to stare at the tangle of bodies near him. Other than Frazier’s screams the room seemed to have gone unnaturally quiet. “Christ.” Carter’s low whistle was barely audible over the screams of the tech and he felt an immense sense of relief that the man had turned up. With Carter’s arrival he would have help to take on Simpson. He would feel better if Barker also was present but he and Carter would just have to manage. “Get off him if you don’t want Merquise’s neck broken!” Simpson hissed. Giles lay on the bottom of the tangle, his hips and legs caught under Merquise. The Lightning Count’s long frame was stretched out on his back, head and shoulders on the floor with Simpson’s full weight lying over him. The ESUN agent was snarling his teeth bared in a feral grimace and his left arm was extended to full stretch, his fingers wrapped securely around the right wrist of Marquise and anchoring his hand and arm firmly to the floor. His full body weight was holding Merquise to Giles’ thighs and legs effectively anchoring both men under him. From where he lay on the tech Polnar could clearly see the pressure of Simpson’s grip forcing Marquise to keep that arm at full stretch and Simpson was lying almost nose to nose with the man though the Commander’s head was tilted now and his eyes were fastened on Frazier’s screaming form. It was not a comfortable glare that centered on him but he held his ground, seeking some sign from Giles that he might follow. Merquise’s left hand was pressed to Simpson’s right shoulder, his fingers curled and locked onto the Commander’s shoulder in what looked to be a powerful grip. On closer observation however Polnar had to doubt that the man’s grip was more than an inconvenience to Simpson considering the heavy bandaging on that hand. Indeed the blonde did not seem to be even trying to push Simpson’s weight from him and that did not bode well for keeping control of Simpson when the man rushed him. What he found odd was that Merquise seemed preternaturally calm. He knew that some men fell to pieces in combat while others engaged in fury and still others became cold and clear headed. He supposed that the legendary Lightning Count was one of those always cool, calm and collected officers he had been told were the most dangerous fighters on the battlefield. From the heavy bandaging on his arm and the heavier strapping of his left shoulder Merquise had seen more than his share of action this day. He was bathed in sweat and there was a tightness to his face and especially around his mouth and eyes that suggested he was in a great deal of pain. What was disconcerting was that the cold crystal blue eyes were focused on the glowering face of the man hanging inches over his own but Merquise was smiling and it was not a pretty smile. Simpson must have caught the look on his face because the Commander glanced quickly at the man under him and their eyes locked. Those fine lips drew back into a satisfied smile and Polnar noted the shudder that rippled through Simpson and the flicker in his eyes that suggested he suspected he did not have as complete control of the situation as he had assumed. “I win.” Marquise voice, a husky purr positively oozed satisfaction. Polnar watched as Simpson’s face clouded with a moment’s confusion and Giles heartfelt sigh of relief was audible in a momentary lull between Frazier’s screams. Simpson seemed to falter, the long arm holding Merquise wrist to the floor trembled as though to a sudden weakness and he tried to rise from the prone form. His knees slipped and his feet scrambled for purchase on the floor and his arms collapsed under him, dropping him onto Merquise once again. “You bastard.” a hiss and there was a growing slur to his words. “What … did … did … you …” Marquise wrenched his arm up from the floor, shook off Simpson’s suddenly weak fingers and patted the agent on the cheek. “Enjoy your nap.” Giles sat up slowly, easing himself in such a way that Polnar guessed he had taken at least some heavy bruising in the fall and from the way he wrapped an arm around his chest he wondered if he might not have broken a rib or two. Grunting, Giles ignored the wavering Simpson and reached to steady himself by taking a firm grip on the Commander’s combat fatigues. “Hey, Chris, how you doin’? You might want to get off of Frazier. I think he might have a serious problem.” Carter was moving past him intending to deal with Simpson from the grim look on his face but at Giles’ warning he paused and turned to Polnar instead who eased off the moaning tech. The insane screaming had given way to low moans interspersed with sobs by now and he did not respond as Carter knelt beside him. “Giles … Simpson?” He needed to be assured that the Commander was out of the action. “Don’t worry about him.” There was a hitch in the man’s voice that betrayed his pain but he insisted on grinning as though he had not a care in the world. “He’s out for a few hours at least. Frazier is the one who will need attention.” A loud thumping drew all eyes up to the grill in the ceiling and Barker’s voice filled the room. “Get those two in restraints now and someone get the fucking vent cover off!” Barker’s voice only added to his lingering confusion … too much had happened too quickly for him to process and Polnar hesitated before sitting back from Frazier. The tech made no effort to move and moaned, his struggles now merely shudders. Just beyond arms reach of him Giles flashed him a pained smile and a thumbs up and Merquise dropped his head back to the floor as though he could no longer hold his own weight. Simpson seemed to deflate and collapsed over Merquise and his breathing evened out rapidly. //That was way too weird. What the hell happened?// He had been in the room, he had witnessed it all and he still had no understanding of what had taken out both men. Simpson had gone down far too easily and he needed to understand what was happening. He scrubbed at his face for a moment, trying to sort out the impressions. The first thing he needed to do was assure himself that the Gifted member of their partnership was alright. “Haydon? You okay?” Carter reached out a steadying hand as he eased back from Frazier, the pilot reaching to press sensitive fingers to the man’s pulse point. Across from him Giles wriggled himself into a position where he could reach Merquise and set a careful hand to his hip and above him he could just make out Barker’s face pressed to the grill above them and Polnar wondered just how much of the room the Preventer could see. “Carter! Polnar! One of you bastards … report!” Carter flashed him a grin as he changed his grip on the tech, feeling for broken bones in his arms and legs. He motioned toward the grill above them with a negligent flip of his fingers and turned his attention to the task at hand. “Commander Simpson appears to be unconscious and Frazier is injured.” Polnar called up to Barker using the brief progress report to steady himself. “The situation is contained.” //Though how the hell it became contained escapes me just now. How Frazier got in this condition is beyond me and I’m the one who took him down. I don’t understand.// Giles managed to gain enough movement to place his fingers at Simpson’s throat and read his pulse. “I think you had best send for a medic urgently for the tech. I believe Frazier may have fallen on a caltrop and if that is the case he will need surgery. How urgently depends on where he took it.” Polnar blinked and met Carter’s gaze. The pilot was frowning and mouthed ‘Caltrop?’ to which Polnar could only shrug in confusion. He’d never heard of caltrops before. He changed his position to help Carter shift the tech. Giles had managed to push ineffectually at Simpson before giving up with a sigh and inclined his head to better observe Merquise who seemed to be engaged in some deeply measured breathing technique. “You don’t look so good.” “I think the bastard managed to dislocate my shoulder.” The husky rumble was almost lost in a shrill scream from Frazier as Carter and Polnar gently turned the tech to his back and both men gaped at the pool of blood that had been hidden by the tech’s body. Frazier had his hands clutched to his belly and his fingers were red with blood and Polnar gently pried the man’s hands from his blood stained abdomen. “What the fuck are caltrops?” Carter demanded as he tore at the bloodied fatigues. “Barbed and razor sharp chunks of metal mostly used against cavalry troops and sometimes foot soldiers during the early old calendar wars. In this case the caltrops are made of Gundanium scrap.” Giles looked up from Merquise and winced as Carter drew a knife from Frazier’s belt and sliced open his shirt. “Shit. Nasty bloody things not intended … Well, its done. He’s going to need surgery to remove it. Keep him as quiet and still as possible. I have no doubt that his insides are being sliced every time he moves.” “Gundanium?” Carter pulled apart the sliced shirt and the colour drained from him at sight of the jagged hole in the man’s gut. “Shit. God, he’s bleeding like a stuck pig!” “I wouldn’t try fishing for it if I was you. Leave that to the professionals.” Giles leaned back setting his hands to the floor behind him and bracing his arms to take his weight. “Get some medics in here. There are pads and bandages to help control the blood flow in the cupboard over there and a com over there on the wall but that may not be working given the sabotage to the systems.” Polnar clambered to his feet and rummaging quickly through the indicated cupboard chose some absorbent bandages and returned to Carter, handing him the supplies before trying the com. He snorted in disgust and shook his head. “Com’s down.” “Keep him as still as possible.” Giles watched Carter apply the bandages trying to clean up the wound enough to determine the extent of the damage. “Chris, could you possibly get these two off of me? They are not exactly light weight, you know, and mind where you put your feet. There are more of those caltrops around. I dropped the tray so I have no idea where they ended up. There may be some tranquilizer darts around too." //Caltrops? Darts? I think I missed a lot and why didn’t he mention the floor’s a bloody mine field before now?// “You said tranquilizers? Is that how you took Simpson out? You darted him before I got here?” Giles snorted softly and reached to carefully grasp Merquise’s left hand turning the heavily bandaged hand palm upwards and spread the limp fingers gently. Marquise stiffened and his lips thinned in reaction but he made no protest. “Actually Simpson did it himself when he closed to melee.” Polnar picked his way carefully across the floor making certain that his footing was secure to kneel beside Giles and lean forward over Merquise and Simpson. He watched as Giles gently began to unravel the bandaging, unwrapping the thick layer and paused to indicate the tiny needle point of the dart protruding from the folds. He remembered the smile on Merquise’s face as Simpson had landed on him and the Lightning Count’s hand pressed firmly to the Commander’s shoulder. It seemed that Merquise and Giles had been able to handle Blue Squad without much in the way of assistance. “We need to get the dart out of the bandaging before someone gets jabbed by accident. There may still be enough of the drug as a residue to cause a problem and we can’t afford to have Zechs be the one to get jabbed by mistake. He can’t have any more medication for a while.’ Polnar arched an eyebrow in query and found himself subjected to scrutiny from ice blue eyes that watched him with an intensity he found disturbing. He noted Giles lightly touch the upper arm of the man and Merquise nodded briefly to him but those eyes never left him and he had the uncomfortable impression it was only the presence of Giles that ensured his safety. “Be nice, Zechs.” Giles chuckled and continued to unravel the bandage. “Chris Polnar, His Royal Highness Prince Milliardo Peacecraft more commonly known as Zechs Merquise. Zechs, this is my partner. You can trust him.” The intensity in those eyes seemed to increase for a moment and then ease. A soft grunt of what he assumed was acknowledgement of the introduction and the blond head dropped to the floor. “Pleasure. Get that bastard off me would you?” The low rumble of his voice was almost a surprise and the shudder as Giles moved his arm suggested that his earlier assessment of his injuries might have been accurate. “Not good.” Giles muttered. “I hope that shoulder’s not dislocated.” Polnar glanced at Frazier as he moved around Simpson and grasped the big man by the belt. “I’ll get Simpson out of the way and see if I can’t find some of the medical staff. Frazier looks to be in a bad way.” “If somebody does not make a move to get this fucking grill out of my way …!” Barker’s snarl from the vent drew all eyes upward. “Eagle, they are a little busy just now.” Merquise voice rumbled through the room. t.b.c.
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