|
"Baby Series 3"Written By: Karina Rating: PG Spoilers: None Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing or the Characters from the series but the baby is mine. Pairing: Milliardo Notes: Challenge 128. Baby Series 3 #155. Takes
place at approximately the same time as The Box and Burn Just As Bright. Many thanks to ShenLong for her work betaing
this fic.
Bones, Muscles And Bitter Weather "Achoo!" Milliardo sniffed, the explosive sneeze having rattled his sinuses. A quick pocket search produced a tissue, scrunched and practically useless but he used it anyway, looking around for a bin and finding one near a heavily draped window. He had moved his backside with a fair turn of speed, deciding the longer he waited around the more of an advantage he offered his pursuers. He wanted to give them a good run but still succeed in outrunning them and reaching the kitchen safely. One must not for an instant forget that they were Gundam pilots. Brilliant intellectually and with skills his father had never had to contend with in his day. But then Milliardo had skills his father had never contemplated and he was not about to make it easy for anyone to catch him. He had considered dumping the tracer but the thought of Pagan in full Hunter rant put him off that idea. He had to trust that security would not reveal his position. Pagan knew how the runs worked and he trusted the old man would orchestrate the affair fairly. If Milliardo wished to elude Maxwell and Chang he would need to exercise a decent turn of speed and give his natural cunning free licence. Wondering if he might not be coming down with a cold, Milliardo stepped up to the curtained window and drew aside the drape to look outside. The snow was lit by starlight, but it was a startlingly clear night. The stars crisp and diamond like in the midnight heavens, no clouds but his bones suggested there would be a change in the weather and Sanc would endure a little more snow. He kept it quiet but Pagan at least knew one of the reasons he found it so hard to sleep during the long winter nights. He refused to burn the fire in his room all night and the palace was so hard to keep warm. His body, while still the body of a young man in his prime, was not as sound as once it was. Bones and muscles protested the bitter weather, old injuries acting up at the slightest change, hours in advance of the change. One did not survive the destruction of a space fortress, or fight in a superior mobile suit without incurring serious injury. Injuries that hurt in other ways after their initial healing. He refused to become dependant on pain killers. The pain was just another part of his past he would endure in silence and move beyond. His doctors had informed him, as he grew older, that the pain would become a constant, felt all year to varying degrees. Changes in the weather would, eventually, have him reaching for pain meds, but that was for later. Years in the future. It was just another part of the price he had been willing to pay to see the constant wars end. Nothing good ever came without a price.
~ * ~ |
