AN: The beginning is another memory/dream like those Noin has had over the course of The Lilac Princess & Still Grows the Lila

AN: The beginning is another memory/dream like those Noin has had over the course of The Lilac Princess & Still Grows the Lilac. It's supposed to be in italics, but I've had trouble with the formatting as I upload, so the dream sequence is marked with asterisks (*) just in case. Caro=dear (Italian), Aisai=beloved (Japanese).

Still Grows the Lilac

Part II of The Lilac Princess

Chapter 10

In the Paths of Our Fathers

*** "Il mare mi mette inquietudine."

"Yes, my love, the sea makes me restless, too."

"Then why, do you suppose, we spend so much time out here staring at it?"

Deep, sonorous laughter erupted from the man by her side, the sound drifting away with the ocean breeze. It was a lovely day, despite the autumn chill, which lent the salt air a crispness that she found invigorating. Despite the weather, she had chosen to go without her shoes and reveled in the feeling of damp, cool sand between her toes. The temperature began to fall as the sun met the horizon and steadily sank beneath. The day would have been absolutely perfect had it not been the last they were to spend together for some time. As the sky darkened and the color drained from the view, the couple began walking back towards a small house nestled among the sand and rocks. The man reached over and grasped her hand, giving it a squeeze as they topped the small incline and reached the home's drive.

"When will you return, caro?"

"Soon, aisai, soon..."

The last words fade into the sound of the wind, echoing slightly before disappearing completely. Suddenly the simple domestic scene morphed into a darkened maze of rooms, people moving about and speaking with muted voices. Activity surrounded her, though she could only sense it as it was too dark to see. The girl, however, felt stiff and cold. She couldn't move, couldn't see, and couldn’t speak. Even with the bustle around her she felt alone. A familiar loneliness swelled in her heart as the other people moved about, oblivious to her presence. Soon, though, she felt something change. A voice speaking to her, distant and quiet, but familiar.

"Are you there?"

"I thought you weren't coming back."

"Me, too. They kept me longer this time."

"Did it...did it hurt again?"

"Yes."

The boy's reply was very faint, weakened by the memory of pain. She wanted to say something to make the boy feel better, but she was interrupted by a sudden scurry of activity. People moved about them, some stopping nearby and talking about what was to be done about them, some making loud noises as they rushed past. A man stopped and she felt herself being moved. The man spoke quickly, yet in a low, almost soothing voice. Unlike the others, the man was speaking directly to her and then to the boy. She strained to make out what he was saying but most was lost to her. It sounded as though he were speaking through something, a glass or door perhaps, and his words were muffled. She tried to speak to him, to ask him to talk louder but they were moving again. The voices around her got louder, but more incoherent. The loud roar of machinery suddenly sprang up. Screams, popping sounds, loud crashing noises. One solitary scream and then the sound of glass shattering. She was falling...falling...***

Lucretzia Noin woke with a start, her dream momentarily muddling her thoughts. After several moments, Noin remembered where she was, who she was, and the circumstances that brought her back to her childhood home. More precisely, the sofa in the front room of Signore Lipari's house in Livorno, Italy.

True to her word, Noin had arranged to attend the funeral of Paolo's father, but had decided to stay a little longer. She was being sent to sniper training school in St. Petersburg, but was not required to report for several weeks. Still a little uncertain about her new assignment, Noin decided to make use of a massive accumulation of leave time and remain in Livorno until then. The Lipari family had generously offered her a place to stay while she was visiting and the young woman was thrilled to stay in the house she once shared with her foster grandmother and her best friend. At least she had been thrilled at first.

Over the few weeks she stayed in Livorno, Noin's dreams had returned. Being so near the sea for such an extended period of time usually had that affect on her. Initially, there were only a few snippets of half‑remembered images, but the longer she stayed in Livorno, the more time she spent at the shore, the more defined and troubling the dreams became. The dreams always seemed to have two parts. The beginning of the dream consisted mainly of small, eventless moments in the lives of the same man and woman. She could never see their faces, just the vague impression of their surroundings. The beach, primarily, at sunrise, sunset, a starlit sky in winter.

"When will you return? Soon..."

It always ended with the same conversation. As the dream became more frequent, Noin tried to concentrate on the couple, to see something beyond the vague outline of two adults. Sometimes she could almost make out the man's eyes‑‑deep blue, slightly almond shaped‑-but just as she thought a clear image might emerge, the scene abruptly changed.

The second half of the dream was decidedly more disturbing. She was wrapped in darkness, floating, surrounded by people who could not hear her. The boy was there, almost always, but they were separated at some point and the entire dream came to a crashing halt with a scream and the sound of glass breaking. The sensation of falling was usually the last thing Noin felt before she was wrenched back to consciousness. Thankfully she did not scream when she awoke, so the Lipari's had no idea that her sleep was troubled.

In the daylight, Noin pretended everything was fine, that she was enjoying her vacation despite the tragic circumstances that brought her home. She spent most of her time with Paolo, helping him take care of the various and sundry tasks that unfortunately followed a loved one's death. His mother had passed away when he was much younger, so there was no one left to live in their grand house or to take charge of its contents. Paolo decided to close the house and donate it to the local church. He kept family photos and some items of sentimental value, but by and large, his family’s many antiques and fine art were given to his neighbors or sold and the proceeds given to charity.

His father's share of the business was signed over to his partner of twenty years, which surprised Noin a great deal. It was always assumed that Paolo would take his father's place one day. True, his father's death had been unexpected but the eventuality had been planned for. The young woman remembered the conversation she had with her longtime friend at the Noventa's ball. He had asked her advice about duty versus calling. Now, she understood what he was trying to say. Most of it anyway. Noin had the feeling Paolo was deciding more than just whether or not to follow in his father’s footsteps.

She got the answer to her question the day before she was scheduled to leave for St. Petersburg. Paolo had been rather stoic all day, speaking little, being polite but not as animated. He was still mourning his father’s death and had his good days as wells as bad. Today was a bad day. It broke Noin's heart to see her friend in such pain, but what worried her more was the contemplative air about the young man. He was still trying to come to a decision and it was obvious to Noin, if no one else, that what ever he was trying to decide would affect Paolo's life dramatically.

They sat on the retaining wall that led to the old fort where the children of Livorno had played for centuries. Several youngsters were scurrying about, all caught up in the imaginings of childhood that adults never seemed to understand. The group finally ran off down the beach, laughing joyfully and leaving the two young adults alone. Noin looked over at Paolo’s hunched form.

“Paolo?”

The young man looked up, staring intently at a very worried Noin before smiling sadly and taking her hand.

“Lucretzia, do you remember the conversation we had the night I told you about my father?”

“Yes, of course.”

She looked at him closely as Paolo cast his eyes down, absently rubbing the back of her hand as he began to speak again.

“You didn’t understand it.”

“Not really, no...but if you want to talk again...”

“I do,” he interrupted quickly, “but I need to say something first.”

“All right.” Noin was beginning to feel a little uneasy, but she remained silent and gave her friend the chance to voice his thoughts in his own time.

“I enjoyed our time in Rome very much, you know. It was nice to be able to see you almost every day. I was always fond of you, but I grew to care for you very much in those few months.”

“Me, too,” Noin began quietly. She intended to continue, to express how much she cared for Paolo as a friend, but he once again interrupted.

“You know, I was serious...about almost asking you to stay. It was something I thought of a great deal. The idea that you and I would...” he paused and sighed, smiling faintly as he looked up at the young woman next to him. Noin was beginning to feel rather nervous. She was beginning to feel as though a question were coming next. A very important, life-changing question. One that she was not prepared for.

A year ago, such a question might have been welcomed. Not that she would have said yes, necessarily, but it would have been welcomed just the same, but she had changed so much since then. She no longer felt grounded. She lacked direction. Most importantly, her feelings for Zechs had deepened considerably since then.

“Lucretzia?”

The young woman jerked at Paolo’s concerned voice, “I’m sorry, go on.”

“I was saying I have thought a great deal about callings and duty in the past few weeks and I think I know the difference now...and there is a very great difference...”

"Paolo...what are you trying to say?"

He smiled and draped an arm around Noin, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "I'm trying to say that I've made an important decision about my life and you are the first one to hear it...Lucretzia, I've decided to study for the priesthood."

Noin blinked. She didn’t gasp, she didn’t speak. She just blinked.

"Lucretzia? I'm sorry...I didn't think it would startle you so much..."

"It's just that I thought you were going to...that you were..."

"You thought I was going to ask you to marry me."

Noin simply nodded, blushing at her presumption.

"I thought about it. That's what I was trying so hard to decide. I've always felt this pull to...I'm not certain I can say exactly...that I was being called, as you would say, but at the same time I thought I had a duty to my family‑‑to my father-‑to carry on the family name....to marry, to have children, to carry on in his footsteps. When you and I were dating, I felt that all of those things were what I wanted and I wanted them with you, but I realize now that I was not meant for that life any more than you were meant to be a housewife."

Noin stared at him a few moments more as his revelation sank in. A priest. That was unexpected, but not at all unwelcome. She smiled and caught Paolo in a tight hug. Paolo obviously was not expecting her warm response and let out a squeak of surprise. Noin laughed as she pulled away.

"A priest, huh? Hearts are breaking all over Livorno, you know that don't you?"

"I'm more concerned about the heart in front of me."

Paolo's earnest concern touched Noin. He was such a kind young man, full of such wonderful compassion. She was surprised it hadn't occurred to her sooner. Paolo would make a perfect priest, even if he was a hunk. At least there would be no shortage of young girls attending his services. She smiled and patted his cheek.

"This heart is just fine, my dear friend. I’m happy for you, Paolo."

The young man wrapped her in a warm embrace and whispered, “It was a close call you know. You are the only person who could have changed my mind about this.”

“I’m glad you found your path.”

“So am I.” He pulled away and stood, pulling Noin to her feet and escorting her back down the beach. “I know you will find what you are looking for too, Lucretzia. You have a good heart, you just have to trust your instincts.”

Noin laughed lightly. “Someone else told me that a long time ago...I suppose I should work on that.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Commander walked along the catwalk towards the open target range below. The St. Petersburg base housed one of the most detailed and difficult sniper training ranges in the world. Within the vast warehouses located along the complex, were recreations of every conceivable environment from a suburban street to an inner city slum, each vignette designed to mimic any possible distraction. Sniper training was top secret, the candidates identified by rank and serial number only, no names. Even the instructors were referred to by rank only. The best assassins in OZ were trained at that base and their record of success spoke of the quality of training.

The staff was divided into three sections. The first was assigned to train very young candidates, recruited from the Specials by the age of twelve. The second group of instructors taught advanced technique to civilian recruits directly from Romefellar and the third group—commanded by the Commander—trained line officers who were reassigned to his division. Aside from teaching the most advanced candidates, the Commander was in charge of the assignment of graduates and served as their contact for new missions. The day before, he sent off a new crop of charming, skilled shootists into the world. Today, he began training a new batch.

The Commander came to a stop above his three new trainees and their supervisor, Lieutenant Colonel Une. No, he reminded himself, here she was just Colonel. The young officer was briefing the new applicants on the finer points of their little “school.” Two looked fascinated but the third looked rather annoyed. Her back turned at the moment, but the Commander could tell by her posture that she was unhappy by either her new job or her new teacher. He suspected the latter. Une finally decided to take the three on a tour of the first firing range and they turned to follow. It was then that the Commander got his first glimpse of the young woman.

Raven hair, violet eyes, aristocratic nose. It was definitely her. It had been many years since the Commander had last seen the girl, but there was no mistaking who she was. The only one not accounted for. The others had all died or at least been recovered. All except one girl. She had grown considerably, her hair was too short and she was quite a bit thinner than he expected her to be, but there she was. She had been given up for dead, but deep down, he had never been able to accept that. He always held out the hope that, she, if no one else, had survived the incident near the Cinq border.

It was all the Commander could do not to gasp at the discovery. Thankfully the group was walking below and had not noticed him. The man had enough time to get over the shock of seeing the girl again before he joined them. He approached them cautiously being careful to keep his expression taut and his voice even. He made a concerted effort not to stare at the girl, for fear of drawing attention to either of them, but it was difficult. Twelve years was a long time.

She had no idea who he was of course. There was no way she could know that he had seen her when she was young, that it was he had witnessed the incident that separated her from the others. He doubted she had any memory of that time what so ever, but particularly of him or his colleagues. The Commander was quite fascinated, a rare emotion for him. She had spent twelve years alone, yet here she was under his tutelage. The irony was too much even for his highly developed sense of humor.

The course lasted six weeks. Six weeks of twelve hour training sessions, playing and replaying literally hundreds of scenarios. Rooftops, alleyways, churches, balconies and crowds. The new candidates worked through every situation the Commander could think of and each passed with flying colors. The lieutenant in particular had a remarkable eye. She broke the record for distance accuracy, a fact that seemed to displease the former record holder, Colonel Une.

The session finally reached its conclusion and all that remained was the assignment of codenames and the first task to be set. Each young woman received her name and orders privately from the Commander, the times, dates and objectives varying from agent to agent. Though she didn’t know it, the lieutenant was the first scheduled to complete her task. Her target, General Diego O’Neguil, a high-ranking Alliance official. She received her orders verbally and the Commander noted a subtle change in the girl’s expression before she saluted and left. It was fleeting, passing over her face too quickly for him to make sense of it, but the man decided to let it slide…for the moment. Instead, he sent her on her way with a stiff salute.

Later that night, after the new graduates were safely retired for the night, the Commander sat at the computer in his quarters and made a call. The screen remained blank for several moments at the introductory message made its way through the dense atmosphere of earth, through the blackness of space and arrived at its final destination, L1. The static cleared, the screen flickered and finally an image emerged. The Commander felt himself stiffen at the sight, as he always did. Never mind that he had known the doctor for twenty years. The sight of that prosthetic claw, the mechanical eyes...the Commander could not seem to grow accustomed to the doctor's appearance in spite of the fact that the Commander had looked little better when they first met.

"Commander," the old man croaked, "you are a little late reporting in tonight."

"My apologies, doctor. It's been a busy day."

"Really? Does that mean we have any hopeful candidates?"

The Commander hesitated, his thoughts naturally turning to a certain young lady, but decided it would not be to his benefit to reveal her existence to the doctor. Not just yet, in any case. Besides which, he was supposed to be looking for suitable candidates among the new recruits, preferably those under the age of 12, not trying to locate the missing ones.

"No," the Commander replied evenly, "no new candidates for the program."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

General Diego O’Neguil.

The Commander continued to speak, but Noin all but tuned him out after hearing the details of her objective. What a word. Objective. It made it sound like she was playing chess or trying to solve a complex mathematical problem. It sounded so normal and bland. Perhaps that was why they used words like “shootist” and “objective.” Blowing a hole through someone from a comfortable distance just didn’t sound as professional as “neutralize.” Noin decided to set that thought aside for the moment and turned her attention back to the Commander.

Over her six weeks training, she had caught the man staring at her a few times. At first, she thought he might have taken an interest in her on an unprofessional level, but she realized immediately that the look he gave her was not untoward. Rather, he seemed to be studying her. Perhaps, she reasoned, he was simply impressed with her performance. She had always been a good shot, it was one of the areas in which she excelled. Even Zechs couldn’t match her at a target range. She had the gnawing feeling, though that the Commander’s interest reached beyond that. The idea that she might be recruited to some assignment more harrowing than sniper made her blood run cold. Noin had yet to decide whether or not she could actually go through with her present assignment, let alone move on to anything more nefarious.

The Commander dismissed Noin and she started for her quarters. Once she was clear of his view, Noin stopped and watched the Commander through the plexi window to his office. It was her turn to study him. He was obviously a seasoned officer, a member of Romefellar by the looks of his regalia, but she had no idea as to his identity. In the past six weeks, the Commander had drilled she and her two classmates on a variety of techniques and skills necessary to become a successful sniper. Observation was the most important ability. As she stood watching the Commander, Noin put every lesson to good use.

He was in his late forties, she surmised, but it was difficult to tell. His closely-cropped hair was almost completely white, showing only hints of its former brown hue. His posture was straight and he was in impressive shape, but his face did show the signs of middle age. The latter observation wasn’t necessarily completely accurate. Walking behind the man during a previous lesson, Noin had noted several thin scars behind the Commander’s ears, a sure sign of cosmetic surgery. Whether that surgery was to correct some deformity or simply to change his appearance was impossible to tell, but his features had been altered, that much was certain. His eyes troubled the young woman the most. They were an odd shade of brown, too dark. It occurred to her that the Commander might wear colored contacts. It would explain the unnatural shade and it also made sense if one assumed the man was trying to alter his appearance for some reason. Of course, his life was about deception, so it made sense that he might alter his appearance regularly.

The mystery of the Commander was put aside, however, as Noin’s assignment took precedence in her troubled mind. She dressed in civilian clothes, a sweater set and plain jeans with sneakers. Noin arrived at her destination at precisely the proper time and immediately made her way to the roof of a small office building overlooking a nearby park. The General was to speak that day, extol the virtues of Alliance domination. Order out of chaos and all that rot.

No one questioned the young woman as she casually strolled through the crowd and started up the stairwell. To the casual observer the lieutenant appeared to be a college student. Adding to the affect, she carried a large gym bag to conceal the dismantled sniper rifle she was to use to fulfill her first assignment. The weapon she would use to commit her first true murder. Assassination, neutralize, sanitize. The common euphemisms played across her mind in a constant stream as she took up position. They all meant the same thing. Murder. She had killed in battle, but that was different somehow. More honorable, if death in any form could be called honorable. This was a calculated, well-planned murder.

As Noin looked through her scope at the man who was responsible for the death of so many innocents, her mind began to wander. She had a perfect shot, could complete the mission and leave within a few minutes, but she could not seem to concentrate on the task at hand. Perhaps O’Neguil deserved to die. Hadn’t she prayed for as much when she first joined OZ? That all of the evil men responsible for the deaths of her friends be made to pay? This was her chance to deliver justice. She would be the avenging angel of Cinq. She would draw blood for Katrina, the king, Captain Damon…

The thought of Damon made Noin close her eyes in shame. What would he think of her now? He had died to protect the Peacecrafts. He sacrificed himself readily without taking the lives of his enemies. Not one single Alliance soldier died by his hands. Noin opened her eyes, a sudden cold anger spreading through her body. The Alliance had no qualms about slaughtering an unarmed man. They had no sense of honor, no creeds other than to control through fear. Perhaps it was time they tasted some terror themselves.

Three shots rang out. Confusion ensued. Noin calmly dismantled her weapon and packed it in the gym bag she carried. She exited the room quickly, but strolled down the hall leisurely, blending in with other patrons and slipping outside undetected. As she stepped out onto the street, she was met with a crush of people all looking towards the black cars speeding past, escorted by a line of Alliance military transports. As the middle car passed, Noin caught a glimpse of the occupants.

Among his advisors and other lap-dogs sat O’Neguil, looking incredibly furious. His uniform cap was nowhere to be found. The general probably didn’t bother to notice where it fell after Noin shot it off his head, not that he had time to retrieve it anyway. After all, the first shot was quickly followed by two subsequent bullets burning through each of the general’s elaborate gold epaulettes. It was a statement, vindictive perhaps, but effective. Noin shot the Alliance insignia and the symbol of the General’s high rank right off his body, but left the bloated bastard perfectly unharmed. He was still alive, but when the shock wore off, his humiliation would be worth the risk she took in letting him live.

She could have killed him, taken revenge for Cinq, for Katrina, for Damon, but she didn’t. Killing him in such a cowardly manner only brought her down to his level and she would never allow herself to become like General O’Neguil. Someday she would have the chance to defeat him in an honest battle. For now, it was enough to let him know that he was vulnerable, that she could get him any time she liked. She wondered how well he would sleep after that.

As Noin headed bact to St.Petersburg to face a reprimand, she found herself feeling eerily calm. She just kicked the hell out of her career, ruined her chances for ever being allowed to pilot again, yet she was not as upset as she expected. Life was full of choices and consequences, she decided. The key was to make the choice you could live with and be willing to accept the consequences. Noin chose to keep her soul. If that meant trading her career, so be it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Commander left orders that he was to be informed the moment that “Themis” returned to the training facility. When he received word, the Commander followed the young woman to the gym, but chose not to disturb her quite yet. Instead, he stood in the shadows and watched as she pummeled the poor punching bag in front of her. It was already common knowledge that she had failed in her mission. Even as she boarded the plane to return to St. Petersburg, news of the unsuccessful attempt on the Alliance Commander’s life had hit the news. He knew, as the media did not, that the attempted hit was not a failure so much as a deliberate miss. She could have made that shot in her sleep. The girl simply chose not to become what OZ wanted—an emotionless killer.

The Commander smiled to himself. Themis. Her code name amused him somewhat, not for the word itself but because she had been assigned a code name in the first place. After all, they had given an alias to a woman who was already known by an alias, but he was the only one who got the joke. Of course no one else, including perhaps the girl herself, knew that “Lucretzia Noin” was not the girl’s true name. She had no name.

The lieutenant had been unable to bring herself to perform her duties. Her punishment was still uncertain, but the Commander was certain it would be severe if Une had anything to say about it. Aneke Une, better known to him by her code name, Gaia. Their first successful graduate. She had been a failure in the eyes of some, but for the most part her ability to completely cut off her emotions and perform her duties without hesitation was well worth the side effects of her early training. True, her softer persona did occasionally make problems with her more militaristic side, but those episodes were few and far between. Hardly worth noting.

“Dismissed, lieutenant!”

Noin turned calmly on her heal and left a very furious Lady Une to her own curses. “That went well,” the lieuteant commented to herself sarcastically as she returned to her quarters. Noin knew Une would be the one to ball her out after her botched mission and had been well prepared. The young officer had endured dozens of such dressing-downs in her cadet days and expected no less from Lady than a royal cussing. Extra points for the rude gestures. Overall an A+ for effort and quality browbeating. Nice to know the Lady had not lost her touch.

Nor had she lost that wicked backhand. Noin rubbed her cheek, amazed that she had been able to hold her own temper when the colonel struck. Another time and another place, Noin decided. Today she had barely managed to keep her soul out of Hell. Getting bitch-slapped by Une didn’t seem so bad, but she was rather wound up. She wasn’t angry exactly, definitely not afraid of Une, but she was just…something. She needed to move, to release some pent up energy. Noin made a quick stop at her quarters then headed for the gym. Maybe a few rounds with the punching bag would help take her mind off of her impending banishment.

Noin’s punishment was to be an insignificant desk job at an insignificant administration post at an insignificant base somewhere south of nowhere. It was the OZ equivalent of purgatory. Remove file from drawer, stamp with red ink, place file in new drawer. Repeat. Permanent limbo with only one way out. Quit OZ all together. Was that a real option? Noin wasn’t certain, but she knew without doubt that she could not spend the rest of her life pushing papers from one desk to the other. One thing was certain. She would never be allowed in battle again. She ruined her only chance to be part of the liberation, to make a real difference in the world all because she didn't have the guts to shoot some child murderer.

Well, what to do then? She once again entertained the thought of leaving the military, but to what end? Noin realized now that she had no place to go. When she was twelve that didn't matter, or more correctly, she believed in the possibility that there was a place for her somewhere if she was patient enough to wait for it. Such a place did not exist for her. There was nowhere to go and she felt like a sap for letting herself think otherwise for so long. Noin had no purpose. That was the worst part. She had believed in OZ, in Treize and his plan for the salvation of the world, perhaps she still did to an extent, but she would not sacrifice her own soul to be part of that. Maybe it was necessary for people like Une and the other assassins to exist. Maybe their place in Treize's schemes was crucial to the liberation of the world, but Noin could not bring herself to be part of something so morally repugnant. The ends do not justify the means. Might does not make right. A benevolent government built on blood and duplicity could not be truly peaceful.

“Take that Uney Buns,” Noin grunted as she delivered another roundhouse kick to the sawdust filled bag hanging in front of her. It was almost one o’clock in the morning, but she was still in the gym trying to work out some frustration. It hadn’t done much good at first until she got the idea to pretend the bag was Lady Une. Punching and kicking that bag suddenly became very fulfilling. After about a half hour, she became aware of another presence in the gym. She was being watched.

Noin spun around, fists raised and prepared to confront her audience. Upon seeing her peeping-tom, Noin dropped her fists.

"Commander?"

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Themis, but I wanted to make certain you were all right.”

“I failed. I’m being kicked into Admin Hell. Yeah, I’m just peachy, sir.”

The Commander smiled faintly at the girl’s uncharacteristic show of disrespect, but did not comment on it. “Then you have decided not to pursue this avenue within OZ.”

“Chose is the wrong word…yeah, you’re right…I guess you could say I chose not to become an assassin…and please stop calling me Themis.”

The Commander nodded. “So what will you do now?”

The lieutenant laughed wryly, “I suppose I’ll wither in a file room somewhere or…”

“Or quit.”

The young woman looked up at him. “You think I should be kicked out.”

"On the contrary. I think you still have a great deal to offer OZ, lieutenant. As a teacher."

"Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach. Is that what you're saying?"

"More like, those who can, make better teachers. I called the commandant at Lake Victoria Academy a little while ago and he informed me of a new position. What do you say to becoming an instructor at LVA?"

There was a long pause, during which time, the girl’s eyes narrowed and her jaw set suspiciously. "Why are you helping me?"

The question was asked rather abruptly as well as with some measure of annoyance and mistrust. She stood there with her taped hands firmly planted on her hips, feet apart and body rigid. Defiance oozed from every pore. She had been pulled around on strings once too often and she had enough. The man felt a sudden resurgence of pride as he regarded the girl. Ironic, he thought, considering she turned out to be the exact opposite of what was intended. She was supposed to be cold, ruthless and unprincipled. No pesky ideals tainting her mind, only the desire to follow orders as efficiently as possible, but here the girl stood, all moral outrage and honorable intent. She was as noble as...

The Commander stopped himself before he completed the thought. Thinking of the past in such a way did him no good so he decided to let it go. The present was what mattered and at that moment, he had an angry young woman staring him down. One wrong answer from him and the girl would be lost to him forever.

"I wouldn't say I'm helping you, lieutenant, so much as I'm helping the future. OZ needs brave young soldiers, yes, but those soldiers need to be the best at what they do. Fanatic devotion to an ideal has its place, but if the soldiers can't fight, then we have no chance."

Noin still regarded him suspiciously. The Commander smiled wryly at the girl's reaction. He would expect no less. If she accepted his help too quickly, it would have been quite disappointing.

The young officer sat on the edge of her bunk and ran her fingertips over the top of the intricately designed lid. She found out a few years ago that the box was an antique handcrafted in Russia a century before. Even in its damaged state it was quite valuable. She had fended off several insistent antique shop owners already, but Noin refused to part with it under any circumstances. Its value for her was much more personal. She opened the lid and, as was her normal reaction on the rare times she deigned to open the precious box, she winced.

In the corner of the box was a small cylinder with a key. She had not had the heart to fix the music works since Lady Une had broken it six years prior. Noin wasn’t sure why, exactly, just that she could not bear to be reminded of some things and fixing the music box would serve as a constant reminder of a time that was lost forever.

The young woman’s gaze fell onto the contents of the box. It was full of small nick-knacks, scraps of paper, small mementos of a girl’s life. Nestled among the other items was a small stuffed bear, well worn by the constant love of two children.

“Hello Mr. Boo-Bear,” Noin whispered with a smile, “How are you today?”

Her fingers gently traced the outline of the toy’s snout as she fondly remembered all of the nights she fell asleep with that small bear clutched tightly against her chest. It was amazing how such a small item could bring such comfort, but that is exactly what Mr. Boo-Bear gave her. A sense of comfort and reliability. Even at the advanced age of 18, Noin drew comfort from the simple fact that the toy was safely resting in her treasure box along with her other most prized possessions.

Underneath the bear lay all manner of trinkets and letters, all of which served to tell the story of her life. An ornate perfume bottle, dutifully refilled when she had the money and could locate the expensive lilac fragrance. A small rock painted with the image of a horse--the knight from the make-shift chess set she and Zechs made when they were eight. A prayer card from Marguerite, a handwritten recipe from Ingrid. At the very bottom lay a small book, now no bigger than the palm of her hand. She plucked the tiny volume from its resting place and gingerly opened the cover.

“ ‘To Lucretzia,” Noin read out loud wistfully, “from her friend Damon upon the occasion of her sixth birthday’...Captain Damon...”

If there was one person she would want to make proud more than any other it would be Damon Pallidino. He had only been in her life a short time-- little more than a year--but he had a resounding impact on her life. He was the first grown-up she trusted enough to tell of her dreams. He had been understanding, sympathetic, never judgmental. Captain Damon had been as close to a father as she could imagine and a very good one at that.

It had been Noin’s wish when she was small to grow up just like him, to follow him into the Imperial Guards and spend her life defending the Peacecraft family, but that proved to be beyond her reach, just like so many of her other dreams. Her chances of following in his footsteps died with him and their adopted homeland, just as her dream of exploring space or becoming an astronomer died when she was forced into an Alliance orphanage.

Her life had taken such drastic turns since the fall of Cinq. It had never occurred to her back then that she would be a soldier. She hated uniforms, they frightened her. Any sort of uniform reminded her of those first few terrifying hours after she woke up. Running, hiding, hunger, fatigue, destruction, shouting, smoke and pain. Those were the things soldiers brought to the world and now she was one of them.

Granted, the decision had not been hers initially, but she had the opportunity to leave many times, and she still she stayed. Was it because she truly felt that fighting was the only way to prevent another child from going hungry and cold? Or was it simply that she did not feel as though she could do anything else at this point? Did she believe in OZ or not? At that moment she had no answer.

Maybe she could answer that question eventually. In the meantime, she needed a place to think. A place away from the battles in which she could not join, away from the nausea of diplomacy and subterfuge of Treize’s politics. Lake Victoria wasn’t completely removed from the fray, but it was as far as she could get without resigning her commission. She boarded the plane the next day and landed in Africa six hours later.

The moment she stepped onto the tarmac, Noin was overcome with a sense of nostalgia. Her days at the academy had not been all fun and games, but she had enjoyed her studies and been allowed the opportunity to spend time with her best friend. Indeed, if it had not been for the Academy, she might not ever have found Zechs again. She owed this place something. She was grateful for the chance to study, to grow strong and independent. Whatever else could be said about the Specials, her training had given her a sense of confidence she had not had as a small child. Before coming to Lake Victoria, she had measured herself by those around her. Was she as kind as Marguerite, as fast as Zechs? Her training here had given her much more than she realized. She judged herself according to her own goals and standards, which in many ways were stricter than OZ but dictated by her own conscience.

A young cadet trotted up to the lieutenant as she stood gazing at the base. He was obviously a first year, given his small size and apple-cheeked complexion. The boy saluted and breathlessly asked, “Lieutenant Noin?”

“Yes, cadet...?”

“Wylocek, ma’am. I’m here to escort you to the commandant’s office.”

“No need, Wylocek. I could find my way there in my sleep.”

She moved to pick up her bags as she spoke but noted that the young cadet looked a little flustered. Noin smiled. He had been sent to retrieve her. Those were his orders. Having his mission tell him he wasn’t needed was evidently disconcerting. She had forgotten what it was like to be a new cadet.

“Could you help me with my bags, cadet?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The boy replied in enthusiastic relief and grabbed a large duffle bag. As they made their way across the quad, the cadet began to chatter in nervous excitement.

“It’s a real pleasure to meet you, lieutenant. Gosh, I never thought I’d get to meet the Lieutenant Noin.”

“You’ve heard of me?” Noin asked in surprise.

“Of course! Everyone knows about you. Next to Lieutenant Merquise, you’re the highest ranking graduate in the history of LVA. You’re one of the best suit pilots that ever lived, even His Excellency says so!”

“Does he?” Noin asked tolerantly. The boy was very eager indeed.

“Yes ma’am. Not that I’ve ever actually met His Excellency, but I hear the instructors say that all the time. They all like to brag that they taught you everything you know...” The boy suddenly paused in his monologue and blushed, obviously embarrassed by the break in protocol. “I’m...uh...sorry ma’am, I shouldn’t have...”

Noin dismissed his apology as unnecessary. Instead, she asked him how he liked the Academy and what he planned to do upon graduation. Wylocek replied that he hoped to be a pilot but his real goal was to go to space. He had dreamed about that since he was a little boy and the idea of visiting one of the colonies was thrilling. Noin smiled as she listened, remembering her own childish glee at the possibility of seeing space for the first time. She had to admit. That glee had not lessened as she grew.

Upon arrival at the commandant’s office, the lieutenant sent her bags with Wylocek and met with her new boss. While she was at LVA, she was to be a flight instructor. Her secondary duty would be teaching classes in the astrophysics department. In addition, she would participate in the operation of the suit manufacturing plant that had recently been set up on the base to build the new class of space suits. All of which interested Noin a great deal. This assignment might not be such a bad post after all. She would have the opportunity to develop new suits as well as teach bright young recruits such as Wylocek.

Noin spent the next few days getting settled in and Monday of the following week she reported to the practice hanger for her class. She stood in front of a row of second years, all fresh-faced and eager, and began her first lesson. The lieutenant wasn’t exactly certain how to begin. Should she tell them how important pilots were to the Specials? How it felt to fly faster than sound or to float weightless in space? She could simply begin by impressing a sense of honor and duty upon them to reinforce the idea that, as pilots, they were held to a higher standard. No. Maybe it would be best to start simple.

"Hello. My name is Instructor Noin and I'm going to teach you how to fly."

==================== End Chapter 10 =====================

I hope this chapter made sense. I have only edited it a couple of times, so if anything is confusing or unclear, please let me know. I really wanted to get it posted, so it might not be as good as other chapters. Sorry if it sucks.

See? Sniper training did lead to a teaching position at Lake Victoria Academy, albeit in a round‑about way. Brownie points to everyone who figures out the significance of the codenames given to Une and Noin. For future reference, "The Commander" I introduced in this chapter will be important much later (probably in the sequel), so remember him and don’t jump to conclusions about his identity just yet. Before anyone asks, NO, he is NOT Damon. Captain Damon is really dead.

I might not be able to update for a few weeks, so please bear with me and know I am working on it diligently. I have no intention of ever abandoning this fic, even if it seems that way between updates. Heck, I’ve spent an entire year on this already. No way I’m giving up now! Chapter 11 picks up with the series time line, so those chapters should be easier.

Disclaimer: This fic is for entertainment purposes only. Gundam Wing is owned by Bandai, Sotsu Agency, and Sunrise. No copyright infringement is intended. I just like playing with the poor souls in Gundam Wing....dance puppets, dance!