Flight 👀
WIP from a multi-chapter Gundam Wing fic that I will be carrying on my back forever like Atlas... :'D (Rating: general, CW: none)
The little car was given a rigorous inspection, the remainder of its contents confiscated, and soon they were escorted down streets lined with barricades and soldiers, past rows of tanks, and beneath the long shadow of a mechanical giant that stood with its back to the sun.
Then they were on an overpass, leaving the capital city of Havreneuf, of what was now the former Sanc Kingdom.
The city looked the same as it always had, except unexpected parts of it were missing, as if a child had reached down with a clumsy fist and torn out sections of a model, knocking things flat that were in its way, and muddying the sunset with dirty fingers.
The skyline was different now– there had been a palace up on that hill, backed by white cliffs. It had watched over the ships coming in from the western sea to port, and the squares of red-roofed houses, and the church steeples. Its garden had been full of tulips.
Milliardo watched it scroll past in the distance, smoke darkening the sky long after it left the frame of his window. Before Sanc disappeared from view completely, he saw it: hazy as a faraway windmill on a still day, passing so much slower than the nearby buildings, one of the bipedal metal dreadnaughts stood, bathed in the last long arms of daylight. It was motionless, its single eye reflecting brilliant, liquid gold, and nothing troubled it.
“Mobile suits here too, huh,” the man said warily, “no surprise, I guess. Must’ve learned how good they are at scaring people back in the Colonies.”
“Hey,” the woman turned in her seat and gave him a reassuring nod, one arm behind the driver’s headrest. “We did it. Everything’s going to be okay.”
The man looked over his shoulder with his broad, American smile. “You did great, kid. You did everything right. We’re going to get you somewhere safe now, you’ve got some good people looking out for you.”
“--ill I s-- hhy s-hhist-r?” he tried to ask. He was handed a bottle of water.
“Oh, sweetheart. No. I’m sorry,” the woman’s face creased, “not for a while. But she’s safe. She’s safe. We got word from Marena and Pagan. They made it out. We won’t be able to contact them again for a while, but she’s going to be alright, and so are you.”
The sun disappeared over the horizon. Headlights switched on.
“You can take the hair off now, if you want. It’s going to be a long drive– try to get some sleep.”
He slid the wig and hat off his head. How was he meant to sleep? He was a piano wire ready to snap. But he did anyway. He must have, because he did not remember anything else of that journey, only his arrival at their destination, several countries and a lifetime away.
