Cracked Reflections 3/5+ Epilogue & Prologue
        Baby
Rating: R
Series: Gundam Wing
Genre: AU/Angst
Pairings: 1x2x1 (background), 3+4+3 (suggested), 5xMerian
Spoilers: Yes, but only of you can recognize the changes. (Can't say more or I'll ruin the story.)
Warnings: (Het, Yaoi, Death, Angst, AU (in a weird way), Violence, Suggested NCS, Prostitution, Suicide, Drugs, Bastardized Quatre (I think...), Language, and Generalized Freaky Things
By Moon Faery
Archived: (eventually at) Moon Faery's Garden (https://www.angelfire.com/anime4/moon_faerys_garden/); FFN (http://www.fanfiction.net); Kiss of Death [my new site!] (https://www.angelfire.com/gundam/kissofdeath/);

Disclaimer: A statement created solely to save one's ass from becoming lawn for the proverbial legal mower. I do not own Gundam Wing, nor does anyone I know own it. However, this story line and plot are MINE. (Holds fic close to her.) Grrrr....

Author Notes: Trowa. Was. HARD. >.< I have NEVER in my LIFE done a Trowa-centric fic. (for various reasons, the big one being that he reminds me a little too much of myself for comfort. ^^;;) I've done 3x4x3, but those are almost always Quatre-oriented, and I've used Trowa as a prop-character, but never really used him in a meaningful way. So if this part sucks, it's entirely my fault. ^^;;

*** September 19 AC 188 ***

Reilly curled up on the window seat, staring at the lush gardens just beyond the glass. His auburn hair fell over his vibrantly green eyes as he relaxed, making him reach up irritably to brush the annoying locks away. Behind him, life in the Sanc Kingdom castle continued as usual.

"Your Majesty, please reconsider," someone pleaded. Reilly turned to look curiously as him mother followed the King of Sanc out of a room. He shrugged and turned back the window, eyes following their reflections in the glass. "I'm needed here, you can't just send your top advisor away because of a hunch!"

Peacecraft shook his head sadly, smoothing down his white-blonde beard. He looked down at the much younger woman paternally, icy blue eyes soft. "Eleina, I need you and your husband alive," he explained gently, placing once large hand on her shoulder. "Not dead from some assassin's knife."

"Heero Yuy is a pacifist!" Eleina argued forcefully, glaring up at the king. "He wouldn't order anyone killed!"

Peacecraft shook his head. "I wish I could believe you, I truly do. But he's ambitious, and ambitious men are dangerous."

"But ambitious pacifists aren't!" she yelled, dark hair falling into her green-gold eyes as she shook her head forcefully. "You both have the same goals, why aren't you working together?"

Reilly shook his head, snorting softly.

"You know, don't you, son?" the old king asked suddenly, turning to pierce the child with a knowing stare. He walked over to the window seat, sitting himself down beside the boy. Eleina followed with a grimace of distaste.

"Yes sir," Reilly told the man he had always considered his father. "You both want total pacifism, but you realize that the people will have to want it too before it'll work." He bit his lip, eyes narrowing in thought. "But that other man... Heero Yuy, he wants to force it on everybody, and that'll just make people want war more than ever."

The king smiled and ruffled the boy's cinnamon hair. "And that's why you'll be the next king, after me," he said proudly, grinning down at Reilly. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

Eleina frowned slightly at her son, fighting the urge to be proud that someone like his Majesty had chosen him to marry the Princess Relena and be king. 'It will only make him egotistical,' she reasoned, completely missing the slightly sad look Reilly cast at her. "But he was only repeating what you said!" she protested, crossing her arms and glaring at the pair.

"Exactly," Peacecraft said, standing up. "If Milliardo showed even some of the intelligence Reilly has, or even wanted the position, he'd be the next in line to be King. But Reilly here was able to repeat my words almost exactly, and understand them." He smiled sadly, staring Eleina down. "In a way that his mother doesn't."

"You're Majesty-" Eleina began hotly.

"No more." The Peacecraft said, holding up his hand for silence. In spite of herself, Eleina obeyed. "I want you and Reilly gone from the kingdom, to the palace in the Swiss Alps, within two weeks." He turned on his heel and marched away.

"What about Relena?" Eleina shouted after him. "Doesn't she deserve a chance to grow up with the man she's going to marry?"

Peacecraft turned slightly, smiling cheerlessly. "At this sad point in history, my dear, I fear that she will not be given the chance to grow up at all."

*** 3 weeks later ***

"Reilly, I wish you'd talk to me," Eleina scolded her son mildly, holding him in her lap as they were driven through the scenic mountains of Switzerland. "You've barely said anything since we left."

Reilly turned to eyes his mother ruefully. "I want to go home," he told her, blinking back tears.

"Oh, honey," she sighed, holding him tightly to. "We'll go home just as soon as we can, I promise." She kissed the top of his head, noticing that he almost didn't fit in her lap anymore. "The-" she was suddenly thrown against the side of the limo as a loud explosion ripped through the air. Instinctively, she curled around her son, who whimpered and clung to her.

The car flew through the air as another explosion hit it. Metal screeched in protest as it hit the guard rail. Reilly tumbled out of him mother's grip and rolled across the seat, his head cracking loudly against the window, which cracked, a faint smear of blood trickling down to the armrest.

"Reilly!" Eleina screamed, feeling herself start to loose her grip on the seat. In mid fall she managed to twist her body around and avoid landing on her unconscious son. Something snapped in her shoulder, sending slashes of pain through her body. The car rocked again, tilting over the side of the mountain. As gravity finally took sway over the battered vehicle, Eleina curled around Reilly's body. She pulled him close, shutting her eyes and kissing his bloody forehead.

'God, if you're up there, save my baby' she prayed as the car finished going over the cliff and began to tumble and roll. Something smashed through the windshield, sending glass shards everywhere. Something burned across her face and throat, and then...

*** AC 188 (Exact day unknown) ***

"He's coming around!"

"Poor kid, bein' nearly blown ta ity-bits like tha'."

"Sshh, Soren, he's awake."

Sleepy green eyes opened warily, wincing as the light tried to pierce his skull. The small boy, slender boy tried to sit up, but was pushed back down into soft sheets.

"Good mornin', bairn," a smiling woman with soft brown eyes told him. reaching down to brush his bangs out of his eyes, and out from under the bandage on his head. "And how would ye be doin' this fine mornin'?"

The child groaned, shutting his eyes tightly. "I feel horrible," he managed to whisper through a painfully dry throat.

Someone chuckled deeply. "You should kid. Not to many people survive a wreck like that and live to tell about it." A huge man with a bristling orange-red beard and a pair of pigtails entered his line of sight. It was hard to see his lips behind the beard, but the invalid child was sure that he was smiling.

"I- I did?" he asked, turning his head to look at the man more squarely. It was a bad idea, since it sent the room spinning around him. The child clenched his eyes shut and groaned, trying not to throw up.

Someone began to wipe his face down with a cool, damp cloth. "No sudden moves, wee one," the woman told him gently, her soft Scottish burr soothing the spin down to a mild twisting. "Tis a grand knock on the head ye got in that tumble."

"Wh- what happened?" he asked, looking up at the two people.

The big man looked slightly worried. "We were hoping you could tell us that," he answered. "And maybe your name while we were at it."

The boy frowned, resisting the urge to shake his head. "I don't know..." he said slowly. "I don't remember."

*** AC 194 ***

"Bairn, ye're too young ta be after a leavin' the nest," Kara told him, following the boy out the door, brown eyes glimmering with tears.

The tall, slender boy called Bairn shook his head and turned to look at her from beneath his auburn hair. "Kara, I..." He gave the woman a rib-cracking hug. "You- This all... It's been great, but I have things to do."

Kara clung to him, tears wetting the front of his shirt. "Ye'll leave an ol' widdow alone ta rot," she accused him. "And all jus' so ye c'n follow a dream ye ain't had in years!"

"You know that isn't it," he told her softly, smoothing down her curly brown hair, which was liberally streaked with silver. "People need me, you saw the telecasts too. They're ruining lives, out there in the real world. I can't just sit by and watch."

"I know tha', child, but I don't have'ta like 'er," she sobbed, looking up at the son she had never had. "Will ye at least tell yer Da what ye're about doin'?"

He nodded hesitantly. "Yes, I will."

She kissed him on the cheek. "Then I'll leave the two of ye alone," she whispered, letting go of his shirt and dashing back into the house.

Bairn turned hesitant green eyes to the small mound of upturned earth across the yard. He hadn't visited it since they had laid Soren to rest. The man had been a father to him, and the thought of never seeing his large, weathered face framed by two braids, or helping him chop wood, or turning sideways to slip past his wide frame in a narrow space... It left an empty spot inside of him, like not even the loss of his memories had caused. When he saw the telecast of what was happening on the outside, beyond the woods and mountains, he thought he'd found something to fill that place where Soren had resided. But now, after watching Kara's face crumple, he wasn't so sure.

With a heavy heart, he forced himself to walk up to the grave, eyes sliding over the rough headstone without really reading the words crudely chiseled into its surface. "Hello, Da," he began, kneeling down to play with the grass. "You always said that I should do what my dreams tells me... So I am. I'm leaving. An entire kingdom was just slaughtered, and I wasn't there to help." He took a breath, smiling slightly. "Ma thought I should tell you where I'm going, though I don't know why." Overhead, a bird twittered. "Watch her for me, you're the only thing she's got left now."

Bairn stood and shouldered his pack. "I love you, Da. Maybe one day I'll come back here and tell you about what I did." He walked off down the dirt road.

*** AC 198 ***

Bairn knocked on the heavy wooden door, not even waiting for an answer before he walked into the room. Inside was nearly pitch black, but he made no attempt to turn on a light.

"I'm surprised you knew how to find me," a deep, cultured voice told him from the shadows. Boots clicked on the stone flooring as someone stepped forward, his outline barely visible in the darkness. "Not everyone has the skill to even attempt such a feat."

"You're the one who had Heero Yuy killed."

The man chuckled warmly. "And how do you come to that conclusion?"

"Your organization is the only one that hasn't claimed credit for it," Bairn answered dryly. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, emerald eyes sliding closed. "That's how I came to that conclusion."

There was a pause, and then a slow clapping sound filled the room, bouncing off the walls. "Impressive, young sir. How may I help you?"

Bairn smiled slightly. "You trained Killer. I want you to train me."

Shocked silence filled the room. "You wish to be an assassin?" the man asked finally, voice sounding strained. "You're too old to ever reach Killer's skill level, and you know how his story ended."

He nodded, even though the man in the darkness couldn't see the movement. "I know."

"Why?"

The question was so unexpected that Bairn's eyes flew open and he looked up, staring straight into the lightless room. "To do something."

"Normally, I would say no, but you..." For the first time since he'd entered the room, Bairn heard emotion in the man's voice. "You remind me of someone. Third door down the hall, marked with red."

Bairn nodded and turned to leave. He paused, hand hovering over the door knob. "What should I call you, sir?"

"I no longer have a name, but I used to be called Trieze."

He smiled and began to open the door. "Thank you, Trieze. You may call me Wanderer."

*** August 12 AC 200 ***

Bairn, or Wanderer as he was now called, stood as the judge called his name. "Reilly Fannon, alias Bairn Than, alias Wanderer, you pled guilty to the premeditated murder of one Quatre Raberba Winner." The judge eyed Wanderer of over the rims of his glasses sternly. "Son, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

The guilty man bowed his head in thought, his hair casting a shadow over his face. For a second his lips twitched, and he looked up. "I wish he hadn't deserved to die," he stated calmly, green eyes placid and a small smile playing on his lips. He seemed to radiate calm, the soul-deep satisfaction of a person who is prepared and waiting for a fate they already know. "And I wish I had the chance to change the world again."

The judge leaned forward, brows furrowing. "Son, you know what your sentence is going to be, don't you?" At Wanderer's nod, he continued. "So why didn't you plea bargain?"

"Because I value some things more than my life," the auburn-haired boy replied softly.

The silence in the courtroom was deafening, something almost unnatural for a room filled with reporters and camera-seekers.

The judge smiled slightly, looking down at the papers in his hand. "If you were my own boy, I'd be proud of you," he murmured so quietly that even the court reporter didn't hear it. Wander smiled and bowed his head. "Reilly Fannon, because of the crimes you have freely admitted to commiting, I am forced to sentence you to execution by lethal injection, effective immediately."

The bailiffs walked up to the defendent's stand, faces flatly expressionless.

"Wait!" someone called from the back of the courtroom. "Your Honor, may I speak with Mr. Fannon before he goes?"

The judge looked startled, as did everyone else in the room. "Miss Winner, as the sister of the victim, I see no reason not to let you speak with him."

Iria smiled sadly and bowed her head. "Thank you, your Honor."

Everyone scattered around Wanderer as the sister of his murder victim moved towards him. The bailiffs looked at the judge uncertainly, stepping back when he nodded at them.

The blonde Winner daughter, the only surviving heir of the Winner financial empire, took a single step forward and wrapped her arms around the man who killed her brother in cold blood. Tears poured down her cheeks. Wanderer did his best to hug back, but was restrained by his handcuffs.

"Thank you," she whispered brokenly into his shoulder. "Thank you."

The tall, green-eyed killer bent his head down to whisper in her ear. "You're welcome." His face went blank as he stepped back, the only thing marring it with emotion was the small half smile. That smile stayed on his lips, even as he was led out of the courtroom.
***

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