Yzak was sitting at the desk in his hotel room when the buzzer on his door interrupted the silence. He slumped over the polished wood surface and his hands flew to his temples.

It had barely been twelve hours since the Council meeting ended the evening before, and twice various committee members had interrupted Yzak with information about random proceedings. He hadn’t managed to secure himself a decent night’s sleep, and now his buzzer was sounding again? The throb behind his eyes increased.

“Yzak?” came a muffled female voice from outside.

Yzak felt his stomach churn. Shiho Hahnenfuss, Dearka Elsman’s chosen defense.

All at once, the things he had been trying to block out since his Council debut came charging back to the forefront of his mind. The paperwork on the desk before him blurred, no longer of any consequence, no longer worthy of providing a cheap distraction from that which drove a stake into his gut and made him ache with guilt and terror. He released a groan that he did not bother stifling, ignoring the knock that came after Shiho’s persistent ringing of the buzzer.

“I heard that groan,” Shiho said coolly. “Are you coming to the door?”

Not now…. He couldn’t bear to let anxiety begin to eat at him again, at least not until he’d had enough sleep to think things over….

“I came on official orders. And I’m armed with a standard firearm.” The statement from beyond his door was impassive. “If you continue to delay me in my duties, I can fire on the keypad to short out your locking mechanism and let myself in by force….”

Yzak moved to the door and flung it open with a bang.

“You have the patience of a rabbit in heat, Hahnenfuss.” He made sure to scowl, even though doing so worsened his headache.

Shiho chose not to respond. Instead, she fixed him with a stare until he moved aside, and then she strode to his desk and plunked down a heavy volume that she’d been carrying under her arm. “Do you know what that is?”

Yzak examined the green and gold binding of the tome from where he still stood at his door.

Shiho didn’t wait for him to hazard a guess. “It’s the research I’ve been doing since oh-two-hundred hours this morning. Ali Kassim of the Council made a personal trip to the barracks directly after the meeting last night, to inform me that I’d need to familiarize myself with the Legislative branch of the PLANT Archives.” Yzak took in her ice-cool exterior with little expression. “That branch is not here on Aprilius One; it’s on October Four. I followed orders and immediately took a shuttle there and back. I had to find your new location this morning when I learned the Council had transferred you out of the barracks and into their hotel space. I’ve been up all night running around, and the only thing I’ve managed to learn is that I’ve been assigned to defend detainee Dearka Elsman at your proposal.” Though her facial features barely shifted, Yzak could sense ire hot as magma. “I’m an elite mobile suit pilot; the battlefield is what I know best, not politics. You’d have had better luck requesting someone like Heine to do your dirty work if you wanted a multi-talented Red. But it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Yzak waited. If she wanted to blow hot air, he would let her. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes while she ranted.

“Yzak Joule, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I may gut you.”

It was the first time Yzak had heard Shiho speak a threat, and the nonchalant manner in which she delivered it made the silver head wonder if he had cause to worry.

Yzak closed his door and made his way back into the room. Shiho claimed she had no head for politics, but she had given him cause to believe otherwise when they’d begun exchanging conversation. Had Yzak misjudged her potential? He looked again at the huge book atop his desk.

Impossible; he couldn’t be wrong. Shiho must certainly be capable, even if she didn’t believe it… no, she had to be capable of acting as Dearka’s defender, or everything would be lost.

“I really wish you’d say something.” But there was no intonation suggesting that Shiho truly wanted to dissect an explanation. Her long night’s work appeared to take its toll on her right there in his room; she plunked into Yzak’s desk chair and removed a pair of glasses from her eyes. Yzak had not noticed that she was wearing them, and in the moment she paused to fold them neatly and tuck them into her breast pocket, Yzak ran an internal search for all the painful remarks that he could fire at her for being impatient, and for worsening his headache. But when he opened his mouth, no insults came out.

Instead, he found himself referring to their mess hall conversation. “What happened to your idea about acting like teammates? ‘We don’t have to be friends,’ you said, but you wanted us to maintain some sort of connection. You thought it was inefficient and inappropriate for me to act alone. You wanted to know more about the Council.” Yzak sank onto the corner of the bed he had not slept in, vaguely aware of the fact that Shiho had gone still in her chair. “So, now’s your chance. Make good on all your fancy talk, Hahnenfuss.” He wanted nothing more than to lie down and bury his face in the pillows, but he maintained his control.

“I did suggest that I might support you,” Shiho said after a moment of reflection. “And I meant it. But I meant for the sake of ZAFT, not for your own personal gain. Trying so hard to ensure Dearka a defense makes me think your concern over the case comes from personal emotions, instead of out of a true desire to see justice. In your position, you should be accepting that your old teammate is a criminal.”

Yzak did not know whether to be exasperated or amused. “You think emotions only cripple, Hahnenfuss?” He sneered. “What does that make you, then? An unfeeling killing machine? If there are others in ZAFT who think that way, it’s no wonder the Naturals feel threatened by us.”

Shiho colored. “You’re changing the context. I’m talking about this trial, nothing more. It should be about the PLANTs and ZAFT, not just Dearka Elsman. If you only care about getting him cleared, and if you chose me because you thought another elite could understand him enough to get him cleared, then I can’t agree with your stance. This wasn’t what I had in mind when I suggested I’d become your ally.” She frowned, and Yzak nearly laughed at the realization that the only reason she might still agree to help him after such a proclamation was because the Council had already ordered her to.

“Then walk away right now, Hahnenfuss,” he dared her, “because I can’t claim not to care about Dearka’s freedom, and I also have a desire to see justice in the PLANTs. Your problem is that you can’t fathom how a man can host a harmony of objectives at once while staying true to all of them. You’re too narrow minded.”

Shiho’s lips formed a thin line from her spot at his desk. She scrutinized his paperweight, then the pen by its side, then the shiny wood surface. At last her eyes strayed to his paper documents with the official Council seal.

“I don’t wish to argue,” she said after an eternity, looking suddenly blank and demure again.

Yzak smiled bitterly to find himself proven correct. Shiho Hahnenfuss would submit to her orders. It was too easy, so contemptible the way she could fire herself up and radiate potential… only to snap back onto her puppet strings before she could spring free. But Yzak realized that this trait in her was the one he had been counting on. Infuriating though she was, Shiho was not a bad soldier or a bad person, and he needed her.

“I’ll carry out this duty to the best of my ability. I’d like a thorough briefing first, however.”

“Fair enough,” Yzak said from the bed, after considering her for a further instant. He wondered what she was really like behind her rigid wall of protocol, but then dismissed the question. At least he had ensured that her talents would be at his disposal for the duration of the trial….

“The trial was scheduled for quite early in the morning in one week’s time,” he told her, “but Andres agreed to try to get it moved to an afternoon three days after that instead. If he succeeds, we’ll have one week and three days.”

“What, that soon?” Shiho exploded. “And on top of normal duty?”

Yzak swept his silvery bangs aside and motioned to a disc beside the computer. “I spent the first half of last night reviewing and further compiling a timeline of events as they took place, using field reports, ship logs, and personal accounts — video and audio included where available.” Shiho slid the disc into the drive. “My own information is there as well. All of Elsman’s actions, and his words in conversations with me between now and the time he was listed as MIA have been outlined, to the best of my ability, without bias, and with evidence when possible, as was ordered of me by the Council. Since the day I brought Dearka back, an evidence and research team has been working to double-check the claims in that document to prove that none of it is false. They’ll check my additional references, but his betrayal is clear enough from the data they had before I got involved.” Such words already tasted sour. “You’ll have a tough time with the defense. Everything will move quickly once the Judicial Committee organizes itself in accordance with the new data. It’s your job to help Dearka justify his actions so he doesn’t get punished.”

Shiho began to scroll through the file more quickly. “So, they had you compile evidence against your own friend. Who’s running the actual prosecution?”

Yzak felt an iron clamp squeeze the beat from his heart. “I am.”

Shiho faltered. She worked her jaw as if to express some response, then brushed a hand over the track pad and continued to scroll through the document instead. Her gaze was dark and intent. Yzak stared grimly at the palms of his hands. It was a long while before Shiho next spoke.

“If you’re prosecuting… that means the two of us will have to act as opponents before the Council when it’s time to present our cases.”

“Brilliant deduction,” Yzak snapped.

“I thought asking me to defend Dearka was like making an alliance with me. Not setting us up to oppose each other.”

“Again, your inability to comprehend things like the harmonious or contradictory qualities of people’s ideas and goals makes me rather sick. You’re helping my cause by standing against me. For love of ZAFT — grasp the concept.”

To Shiho’s credit, she recovered quickly once she moved past her initial frown of skepticism. She took her glasses back out and began to scan the list of information in earnest. Yzak remained silent, examining her profile as she worked. He had not yet told her the worst part of the arrangement, of the chips that had been laid on the table. He had not told her that the gamble she would be making in agreeing to undertake this task was a gamble for a human life.

Shiho had one hand on the track pad and the other fisted in her long chestnut hair. Most of it had fallen loose from her ponytail and she twisted a chunk of strands aimlessly, squinting through her glasses at the text presented on the screen.

“Yzak,” she said, just as the silver head had begun to contemplate allowing her to stay while he got back to work himself, “If I fail against you in court and Dearka is proven guilty of all these listed crimes, his penalty is death.”

So, she had scanned the contents of the document and weighed the accusations against what she had learned of punishment at the Legislative branch, and had come to the conclusion herself. Yzak forced himself to breath deeply before answering her.

“That’s right, Hahnenfuss. He’ll be executed in cold blood, and under ZAFT regulation and PLANT law, it will be nothing less than what he deserves.” The voice that he spoke in sounded chillier, more ruthless to himself than his voice had ever seemed, even in times of great anger or vengeance.

Shiho Hahnenfuss did not turn around. “Knowing that, you still trust me to take up Dearka’s defense?” Yzak noted that this time, she didn’t question his desire for Dearka to be freed.

“Don’t be stupid, Hahnenfuss. You’re still here in my room, aren’t you?”

The brunette smiled grimly. “I won’t be for much longer. It will seem far too suspicious for us to consult each other after this initial exchange period.”

“Then make sure not to screw up after you leave.”

There was a pause. Then Shiho took hold of her law book and rose. “I suppose this means I’ll finally be meeting the Buster pilot I’ve heard so much about. But….” She hesitated.

“Spit it out and don’t waste time.”

Shiho placed her free hand on her hip. “I think he ought to hear about his sentence from you. My… sympathies… would seem largely detached and unconsoling in comparison to what you might say to him.”

Yzak’s heart skipped another beat. Go back to the holding chambers and face Dearka? Immediately, Yzak wanted to be sick. He had promised to stand by the blond until the end, but to go to him merely to tell him that he was to die, and that Yzak was to be the one raining the bullets down himself…. He must have made some small strangled noise, for Shiho spoke quickly.

“If it’s too hard, I suppose I can certainly manage to—”

“No,” Yzak said sharply. He leaned back on the bed for support, but his voice grew stronger. “No, Hahnenfuss. I myself will take that responsibility.” He waited, heart thumping, and she moved toward the door.

They crossed gazes.

“See you at the trial, then,” Shiho said.

— x —

Long before he gained clearance for a visit and stepped into the transport shuttle that would take him to Dearka, Yzak decided that he would not go in uniform. He shed the colored scarf, the navy pants, the sweeping jacket. All of it, stripped off, and then he showered and faced his closet. He still had to look presentable — he was a member of the Council, after all — but he didn’t want to wear anything official. It would only link him to the system that had assigned Dearka his sentence. And so, for this grim and pivotal day in his military career in which he would tell his best friend that he’d chosen the side that condemned him, Yzak refused the association. He couldn’t bear the thought of appearing before Dearka, a grim reaper in dark robes of Council. Or worse, in the blood red of ZAFT elite.

He had recently sent for his personal effects, and he now perused his alternate options. He selected a pair of khakis, a white collared button down, and a navy blue pullover sweater to wear atop the ensemble. He envied the female population for being able to waste hours getting dressed. Yzak would have given anything to postpone the inevitable for himself and for Dearka.

As it was, it took him five minutes. Fate drew closer quickly.

He denied himself the release of fidgeting on the transport shuttle.

He glared daggers at the guard outside the holding chamber when he was asked when the detainee would be “out of the way.”

He stepped for the second time into Dearka’s drab cell, every nerve in him alight with foreboding.

Dearka was standing. “I thought it might be you.”

Yzak kept his face void of emotion. Dearka had predicted his arrival?How had Dearka been so sure that he would come? Yzak scanned the blond’s figure, surprised to see that Dearka sported a plain white T-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. The bruises and scratches blushed only faintly across his skin now, and there was not a speck of dirt on him.

Dearka noticed Yzak’s bafflement despite the attempt to hide it. “Apparently, the Chairman gave permission for me to get a hold of some of my old things. My dad sent for them. No one’s beaten on me lately, either. Or, should I say… I haven’t launched any attacks on other people first.” Dearka’s deeply tanned features split into a grin.

Yzak cleared his throat, taken aback, but not about to make a production of it. Instead, he chose to analyze Dearka’s news. Had Dearka’s treatment become kinder thanks to Durandal’s quiet meddling? “I came to tell you that your trial is soon,” he said.

Dearka was still grinning. “I figured.”

Yzak’s discomfort broke appearances at last. “You’re acting funny, Elsman. Why the hell are you smiling like that?” Dearka’s cheerful expression only grew, and Yzak felt his stomach respond with a jolt.

“Because I’m glad to see you. I’ve been so deprived of human contact lately that even a sourpuss like you is a welcome distraction. In fact, I think an Yzak Joule to keep things interesting is exactly what I’ve been waiting for.”

Yzak stared for a moment, but an instant later a flush of anger and shame scorched his cheeks and he spun away, uncertain of the situation yet again. Dearka was glad to see him? The old, playful Dearka from the Le Creuset team shined through more than ever in that grin, but Yzak could not allow himself to cave to it. He was to be Dearka’s condemner, and he needed to relate that news like a professional instead of dance around it, falling prey to the easy banter.

“Quit fucking around, Elsman. The Council has determined your sentence. You won’t like it. I know I don’t.”

A pout. “Aw, Councilman Joule, don’t be like that.” Dearka reached over to tug at Yzak’s sweater with two fingers, the picture of childish pleading, and Yzak lost his temper.

“Paws off me, Elsman.” He spun around to swat Dearka’s hand away. Dearka caught his wrist, chuckling. Yzak ignored the touch long enough to vent his spleen. “No matter what happens to you, you’ll never grow up, will you? Are you ever going to regret the things you’ve done?” He tried to wrench his hand from Dearka’s grip when he was finished, but the blond refused to let go.

“So much drama,” Dearka tisked, looking him over with an eye jokingly skeptical. “You’re like a pop star in the limelight, throwing a temper tantrum for publicity.”

Yzak was perplexed out of his anger for a glimmer of an instant. Why was Dearka acting so strangely?

Dearka finally dropped his wrist. “Maybe you’re like Lacus Clyne. That might not be terrifically entertaining, though. Her songs are these boring ballads…. Personally, I think she’d have more listeners if she amped up the sound and wore a skimpier outfit. About the only one who never agreed with me on that was Nicol.” Now Dearka was making a show of scratching his head in thought.

Yzak fumed. “Elsman, if you don’t tell me what the hell you’re on about….”

“See?” Dearka said. “You’re a natural at the drama queen routine. Wait — make that a Coordinator.” But suddenly Dearka’s face was serious, and there was a flash of something hidden in his eyes as he finished the statement.

The meaning began to sink in as Yzak stood there fuming; as comprehension increased, his outrage diminished. He made sense of it incrementally. Why Dearka was acting so unnaturally. Why he’d changed the subject when Yzak had begun to speak about the Council. His mindless blathering about pop stars. Yzak’s gaze lifted to meet that of his companion, and understanding coalesced there.

Dearka didn’t want to hear about the trial. He was trying to waylay conversation about it. In his eyes materialized a plea: Just a moment more, without having to know….

Yzak stiffened, willing himself not to immediately cave to Dearka’s unspoken request. Neither of them wanted to face it, but they’d have to. There passed a moment of silence. Dearka, in contrast to the silver head’s unease, appeared to relax; tension ran out of his shoulders upon recognition that his message had been understood. But did he think the quiet meant Yzak had agreed not to deal him the blow just yet? Yzak’s lips pursed. He had delayed enough already, and every second of dragging it out would hurt Dearka more…. The blond made his way to the rickety chair with the missing rung and sank into it. Yzak watched him, half expecting to see Dearka revert back into the brooding, careless captive that he’d been the first time Yzak had paid him a visit.

But a smirk still played about the edges of Dearka’s lips. “So, did you bring me anything good?”

“D-don’t be dumb, Elsman,” Yzak responded, caught off guard. “Like what?”

“Like… a snack. They only feed me ration bars.” Now Dearka’s smile was positively uninhibited. It quirked his whole mouth into a crescent that was somehow beautiful despite the dispirit that radiated in his body language. Yzak’s insides churned.

“I swear you exist just to make me angry, Elsman.” But anger was not what coursed through him.

“Someone has to pose some sort of challenge to you. I mean, if they keep letting you climb the ladder so easily, you’ll be Chairman next.”

Yzak swallowed. What he felt was appreciation, perhaps for Dearka’s humor after all the seriousness of his Council meetings. A longing for things to return to their norm. Desire for Dearka’s safety.

Things that would never be again unless Yzak could manage some professionalism in the face of despair, some gumption in order to keep moving.

“Will you let me tell you your sentence now?” That Dearka had tried so hard to ease the tension only made Yzak feel guilty, helpless, less considerate in comparison. He wanted to get it over with, to go do something that would truly help Dearka, like study more about court procedures. Like escape from the visceral effects Dearka’s presence had on him, the emotions that tripped Yzak up and rendered him incompetent.

Dearka leaned back in his chair, and that smile… it shifted again, this time to something achingly glamorous. Resigned and sedate and arresting. “They’re going to execute me, aren’t they, Yzak?”

Shock slid like the blades of ice skates down Yzak’s nervous system. Dearka had already guessed? Yzak had not prepared for anything like this.

He should have told Dearka the second the sentence had become official, not waited until Shiho Hahnenfuss had prodded him into it, not let Dearka banter him into procrastination…. How long, then, had Dearka been mulling over his own end here in captivity, with no one to confirm or deny that it was coming, or to sympathize? Yzak averted his eyes, while the headache from earlier spread again like an acid leak around his cranium.

“Yzak, are you all right?”

Yzak released a single hoarse laugh. All right? Here Dearka Elsman sat in lock-up, a carcass on a spit, waiting for the fire to be ignited beneath him and scorch him to hell, and he wanted to know if Yzak was all right. The silver head went weak on his feet. Oh God, how had he managed to fail Dearka so badly?

“Maybe you should take the chair.” And suddenly Dearka’s warm firm hands were guiding him over by the shoulders. Yzak allowed himself to be led. “You haven’t slept,” Dearka observed.

Yzak glared daggers at him, though the act took some effort. “Neither have you.”

“Try sleeping on a concrete floor without a standard-issue sleeping bag.”

“Try getting calls from the Council at four a.m. while you’re busy figuring out how to save the life of a rebellious teammate.” Yzak immediately snapped his mouth shut. The remark had been uncalled for, and he wished he hadn’t said it, but a sharp tongue was his only savior when the rest of him went numb. And was the term teammate even applicable any more?

Dearka sighed, and when Yzak glanced up, the only thing left on Dearka’s face was apology, which was somehow worse than his too-consenting smile.

“It’s a little ironic, isn’t it?” the tanned male said.

Yzak dropped his head into his hands — pressed his fingers hard against the ridge of his scar to distract himself from feeling too much misery. “What is?”

“I’ve finally reached a place where I can see the big picture clearly,” Dearka said, “and before I get to make anything of it, I could be dead, with no one to blame but myself.” There came a dry little chuckle. “I fucked up, even after you agreed to make a defense for me.”

“I won’t be making your defense, Dearka,” Yzak said, keeping his hands over his face and speaking to his palms to mask the tremor in his voice. He heard Dearka turn towards him. “I’ll be running your prosecution.” Something burning and wet hit his hand. His eyes stung and he blinked rapidly.

Dearka’s response was a long time in coming, and when it came it was toneless. “So you’re in charge of bringing the suit against me.” It was not an open protest.

At that, the tears began to flow in earnest. Dearka’s acceptance made it far too real. Yzak choked on his own breath and fought himself wildly. This was not the time to break down. He still had so much to do to try to make things right….

“Yzak, it’s okay.” Warm voice again suddenly, like taking off wet snowy clothes before a hearth. “You’re on the Council now; things were bound to end up different than anyone expected. It’s okay.”

Yzak’s shoulders were quaking with the effort it took to fend off his sobs. No, it wasn’t okay. Why couldn’t Dearka at least get angry — yell and accuse Yzak of failure the way anyone else would? The way he himself wanted to? Why did Dearka have to be so understanding? Damn it, damn it….

Dearka’s footsteps came closer, and shortly thereafter Yzak felt his silver hair brushed aside and his face lifted. He dropped his hands. “Wh—”

“Listen to me,” Dearka said. “If you blame yourself, then this whole situation becomes even more of a waste. I understand the consequences of my actions, and for a long time now I’ve been ready to face them. You’re a better soldier than I ever was, Yzak, and the PLANTs need you now to find the line between peace and another war. Maybe I’m not supposed to be part of that future. It doesn’t matter.” Dearka’s words were firm. “You can’t give up. You said that to me before, right? You can’t dodge your responsibility by giving up, or even thinking for a second that you won’t succeed.”

Yzak jerked away from Dearka’s hands. “If I take the floor against you, I’ll be fighting your acquittal with all the strength I have, and you won’t stand a chance!”

A flicker of that same fatalistic grin. “Obviously not. Tap into that vindictive righteousness of yours before a court and I’m a goner. It’s not hard to see that.”

“You idiot — that’s not the p—” But Dearka had bent down to lay a chaste kiss on the crown of his head. Yzak froze, thunderstruck.

Dearka smirked when it became apparent that he was not going to be clouted for his insolence. “Don’t say I never thanked you for anything, Joule.”

Was this Dearka’s goodbye?

For a moment Yzak’s emotions went haywire. Then one rose up above the others, a power surge like a thruster being forced to maximum. He fixed Dearka with a black look and a furious crimson flush. “You just kissed me like some stupid girl, you jackass!”

The hint of amusement on Dearka’s features fled at the statement. He seemed to realize that he’d forfeited his manliness for the next year and a half.

Or the rest of his remaining lifespan. Whichever came first. Yzak tried not to panic.

“Don’t ever do that again, Elsman. Ever. Or I will rip your liver into indistinguishable ribbons.”

Dearka swallowed visibly. “Right. Such close camaraderie is not appropriate between two men of military standing. Understood.”

Then his lips twitched at the corners.

It was ludicrous. All of it.

Yzak would have snorted outright, if he didn’t still have moisture collecting at his lashes. “I won’t be back to see you,” he said, at last fighting down his torrent of heartache to assume the military crispness that was natural and comforting. Had Dearka’s affection calmed him? “Our interaction won’t be tolerated again from now on. Someone else will be put in charge of your detainment. I shouldn’t even be here today, but the Chairman allowed it specially, do you understand?” Dearka nodded, and Yzak thought again of the Council. Would any of them be as suspicious of his motives as Shiho? “I won’t be going easy on you, Elsman.”

Dearka rolled his shoulders and looked at the barred window on the door. “You’re not the worst thing that could kill me, Yzak.”

Yzak rose slowly, unable to reply. Dearka traced his path to the exit. There was no ceremony to be made of the departure. Nothing further to say until Dearka’s fate was sealed for certain. Maybe there was hope, a light, something bright shining in their future that they could still grasp. Yzak inhaled and gripped the doorknob.

“Yzak,” Dearka said. “It’s your first time doing something official for the Supreme Council. Good luck.”

Yzak battled back the ache that crushed him when he heard Dearka’s words. “Thank you,” he replied, although more for the sake of speaking to Dearka one more time than for acknowledging his own potential. He swung the door open and left at a brisk clip, stiff with purpose. The guard called something to him, but Yzak didn’t hear it. He shot for the double arches and the anonymity of the crowded pedestrian walkway.

The moisture was back in his eyes.

Author Note: I think my true writer colors show through in this chapter, guys. (cough)angst and questionable moments of intimacy(cough)

No, but seriously, wanna know something hysterical? Originally in this chapter, I had a hidden camera/microphone in Dearka’s cell. Dearka wasn’t going to bother mentioning it when Yzak showed up, but when Yzak started badmouthing the Council’s decisions, well… Dearka didn’t want Yzak to get in trouble when the people on the other side of the camera heard him. So there was this whole scene where Dearka was trying to convey that they were being monitored, without mentioning it outright, you know? Hilarity ensued. Yzak got pissed, but eventually he figured out what was going on. As for who would have installed the camera and been watching on the other end… I figure it would have been Durandal. Yeah, in my head he’s THAT creepy.

Now you can probably see why I cut the whole scene and rearranged things. Mass hilarity (bordering on CRACK) doesn’t really fit into this fanfic. I think my idea might work better in its own little oneshot some day. Ahahaha.

Drop a review! This chapter was more emotional and less focused on politics than the others, so I’d like to know how I did. Personally, I’m thinking it’s not my best chapter somehow, but I’ll let you people tell me.