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Amuro opened the door.
"Amuro," said Char.
Amuro shut the door.
Char wasn't going to leave, of course. Amuro knew that well enough. Char would just stand out there like a sad, wet puppy waiting to be let in from the rain. He knew this because he knew Char very well, but even if he didn't, he could hear his thoughts and the footfalls those thoughts left behind as they flitted along Char's neurons. Amuro had been experiencing an odd feeling of foreboding most of the day, and now he knew exactly why.
Amuro would have to deal with Char eventually. He wasn't going to go away. A part of him thought he should deal with him now rather than later... just get it over with. But the bigger and somewhat meaner part of him wanted to make him wait. So he did. He went around his business and pretended that Char wasn't standing on his doorstep transmitting annoying mental vibes in his general direction. Char, it seemed, knew exactly the sort of game Amuro was playing, and was willing to play it too.
Neither of them was going to budge, and they both knew it. This had been a stalemate from the start.
Amuro paused after a few moments and considered his rival. There was one thing he could know for sure, he decided, and that was that so long as he had Char within his sight, it would make it much more difficult for Char to go out and cause problems.
Amuro sighed. Was reining Char in really a part of public duty, now?
But there was something else, too. Something that he didn't want to admit, but couldn't ultimately deny. Because his thoughts were as open to Char as Char's were to him. And they both, for some delirious reason, were always glad to see the other.
Amuro cursed under his breath and went back over to the door. He opened it. Char was waiting for him.
He was glad to see him.
“Amuro,” said Char.
“Char,” said Amuro.
Whatever they actually said aloud hardly mattered. Their thoughts slotted together like eager puzzle pieces, the way they always seemed to when they were together. Amuro didn't have to ask why Char was here. Why wouldn't he be here? Where else was he supposed to go, if not for the one person who would tolerate him?
Amuro sighed. “Come in,” he said finally.
Char let himself in. He was dressed in a long coat, which was kind of ridiculous, Amuro thought, because the skies were clear and it was warm that day in Wyoming. But he looked good in his tan coat and dark shades, Amuro had to concede.
Amuro shut the door behind Char, then turned around. Char didn't appear to be making any attempt to remove his coat. Instead, he looked around at their surroundings as though apprising it. How could he act like everything was fine? “You really left Kamille like that, you know,” Amuro said finally. “Fa was asking for you. Why won't you at least visit?”
He knew the answer before the words left his mouth. **I can't look him in the eyes, Amuro, and neither can you.**
It hurt, but it was true. He didn't know if he could bear it.
Char turned to him suddenly. “I heard some rumors. You won't be staying here long, will you?”
“No. They decided they want me in the fight against Neo-Zeon,” said Amuro.
“Once a pilot, always a pilot, Amuro Ray,” said Char.
It was the type of statement Amuro might have taken as an insult, except for the fact that Char was saying it and he could read Char's intent. In the end, what were either of them but pilots? What were they but fodder, raised to sacrifice themselves to the iron gods of war?
“Well, what about you?” Amuro said suddenly. “Why are you here?”
**Because I like being around you**, was the honest answer, zapped directly into Amuro's brain as plain as though Char had said it aloud. Char, however, opted to say something else aloud. “I'm going to be honest. I want to lie low for a day or two while I think about something. Here is as good a place as any. Tactically, it seems like one of the last places anyone would look for me.”
"Tactically my ass,” muttered Amuro. He thought that Amuro's house was probably actually the first place most people would guess if they were looking for Char right now. But whatever. "I'm leaving in a few days anyway. So stay as long as you want," he said. Char staying in his house was not exactly his first preference here, but he also knew Char would not change his mind, so it was better to just accept it now.
Char, rather annoyingly, was now proceeding to go through Amuro's drawers. Whatever. Amuro turned to leave the room, but then Char spoke up. "So You'll go to space to fight Neo-Zeon but not to join me.”
This again? “It's not about what I wanted to do, it's about what I could do,” said Amuro. “They're letting me go to space now, so I'll go to space now. Maybe you should join up? I thought you liked space.”
“I don't like this war, Amuro,” said Char. He finally took off his coat and tossed it on the nearest table, then went and sat on the couch.
Amuro went and sat down with him. At least they were having a conversation. That was a good sign. “You aren't thinking about newtypes again, are you?” he said. He was just making small talk; he didn't need to ask. His own mental channels were tuned closely enough to Char's to know that he was almost always thinking about newtypes.
“Perfect communication,” said Char. He didn't have to clarify any further. Amuro knew exactly what he was talking about.
Char was talking about them. He was talking about the way they'd managed to rip open time and space and make a crystal clear connection at A Baoa Qu, somehow managing to x-ray their souls onto the other's. It was a sensation that Amuro had never felt before, and that he didn't think he could ever quite feel again. Not even Lalah...
...
The name hung in the air like a ghost between the two men before finally dissipating.
“I don't think that's going to work,” Amuro said.
“Has it not already worked?” Char asked. Again, there was the unspoken between us.
Amuro still wasn't convinced. “We have something...” he said, then paused, because he wasn't sure how to word it. But his thoughts poured into Char's brain, filling up all the corners like water in a maze, and getting the point across for him. **We have something special. No one else has this.**
**How do you know?** was the returning thought, quick and intimate. **I don't think we can know. We have to try.**
**I just know**, Amuro thought, but as soon as he said it, he realized that it sounded stupid. So he finally conceded. “Maybe, but it's still... how do you propose to go about doing all of this?”
“I want your help,” said Char, without missing a beat.
“I'm not helping whatever bullshit plan you're coming up with,” Amuro said. “I'm tired of that life. I'm going back to war in a few days. Maybe I'll die. Maybe then I won't have to worry about all of this anymore.”
“It's tempting, thoughts like those,” Char admitted. “But can men like us truly ever die? We may just be cursed to live like this.”
“Why do you always have to talk like that?” Amuro said.
Char ignored him. “We can end all war, forever, when all of humanity are newtypes,” he said.
Amuro was, as always when he thought about this kind of thing, skeptical. It all seemed like much too big of a project for one man, and beyond that, he knew Char. He knew that if Char started trying to change the world, he wouldn't be able to stop, regardless of how quickly he inevitably sent the project careening out of control.
Well, Amuro didn't want to think of that right now, and he didn't particularly want Char thinking about it, either. Char was more fun when he wasn't trying to turn into his late father. “Would you like a drink?” he asked.
“I would, actually,” said Char.
The perks of living in a government mansion. Amuro tapped a few buttons on a tablet, and that was all that had to be done for a butler to arrive on scene with wine and glasses. They were served, and Amuro and Char cheered each other before drinking.
“You're not truly happy here, are you, Amuro?” Char asked between sips.
“You're astute,” Amuro replied sarcastically. “I'll be glad to be out in space again.”
And there was that damned nagging coming from Char's brain. **You wouldn't come to space with me? Why not?** It was a childish thing for him to be stuck on, but then, many of Char's thoughts were rather childish before they could be filtered through his much more measured speech, and Amuro found himself understanding it. When he and Char had merged their souls, it had left an empty hole behind in each of them. That hole was only ever truly filled when they were in close proximity to each other, like this. Amuro truly hated to admit that it was relaxing to be so near to Char... but it was the truth. So of course Char felt similarly. Of course he wanted Amuro to come to space with him. Of course he wanted that feeling to be present at all times.
But what would they do together? They couldn't just be together, could they? Men had expectations laid on them. He and Char were no exception.
A clock on a mantle ticked slowly and the two of them sipped at their wine. They were content just to be in the same room, their thoughts comfortably swirling together. Amuro felt himself getting tipsy, his vision starting to swirl a bit. “Amuro,” said Char. He sounded alarmed. Amuro wasn't sure why. He was so comfortable...
...when Amuro came to with a start a few seconds later, he was in Char's arms. They were both still on the couch. “What...?” Amuro murmured.
“You passed out asleep for a few seconds,” Char said. There was a smile in his voice and that annoyed Amuro.
“Ugh,” said Amuro. He sat up straight, embarrassed.
“Have you not been sleeping?”
“Mind your own business,” said Amuro, but he was pretty sure that Char could read right through him. No, he hadn't been sleeping. He was a mess. And it was because...
“Kamille,” said Char softly.
“I keep seeing him in my head when I try to sleep,” said Amuro. “I hate this war. I hate newtype theory. I know you think it's going to save us all but don't you think it's ruining us too?” He took another sip of wine, clearing out his glass.
Char sighed. “It's going to keep happening unless we do something,” he said. “Or there will keep being more Kamilles.”
Amuro didn't want to believe it, but he was starting to.
Char finished his drink, then stood up. “Do you have an extra room?”
“Are you for real? You show up at my place without asking, and then ask if I have an extra room?” Amuro sputtered out.
“You do, don't you,” said Char.
“Yes, it's at the end of the hall,” Amuro conceded.
"I'm going to retire for the night," said Char. "I suggest you do the same. You look like you could use it."
"Maybe," Amuro mumbled, not appreciative of being told what to do.
Char headed off, and Amuro watched him go. Then he went to bed himself, because as much as he hated to admit it, he was exhausted.
He didn't have any nightmares that night and found rest easy, because his thoughts were filled with warm memories of Char's - Casval's - childhood, a mental link that was easy to hold open through the night. It was like leaving the bedroom door open when you were safe and with family.
Amuro felt different than he usually did when he woke up the next morning - unusually comfortable and relaxed - and it took him a moment to remember why. Right, Char was there in the same building. Amuro's mind didn't feel like it was aching for a missing piece the way it did so often these days.
He wasn't sure what Char was doing. He didn't seem to be asleep. If you were a newtype, you could learn to tell when another newtype was dreaming. Their thought-trails became less steady and more erratic, and communication with them became difficult. But Char's thoughts were measured, and he didn't seem to be asleep. He must have been awake, then. What was he doing?
Amuro could have just asked, mentally, or dug around a bit in his psyche to figure it out, but now he was curious and he got up and exited his bedroom.
Char Aznable was, in fact, rummaging through Amuro's fridge. He was also wearing pajamas and a robe, and between this and his messy bedhair, he was a complete disaster. Amuro actually found this somewhat endearing, but that was quickly drowned out by his annoyance. He didn't actually care about the food itself, of course. He was provided with as much as he wanted, and then some. But it was the principle of the thing!
“Can you get out of my fridge?” Amuro asked.
“They really give you everything they want here, don't they?” Char mused as he ignored Amuro and continued to push things around. “You can't possibly like that.”
“Who cares if I like it or not? I'm leaving soon anyway. And didn't I say to get out of my fridge?”
Char finally closed the fridge, but he then proceeded to start making himself some coffee. He'd apparently well acquainted himself with his surroundings already.
Amuro sighed and decided to let him be, heading into the bathroom and taking a shower. The water ran across his skin, cool and refreshing, and Amuro once again found himself wondering about this predicament that he was in. Of all people, and at all times, why did Char have to show up now? Every time he showed up, Amuro found himself feeling a way that he didn't know how to describe. And it was a pain in the ass, honestly.
After showering and dressing, Amuro wandered back out into the living area. “You missed a call,” Char said casually, as though he lived there and was happily married to Amuro.
Amuro ignored him but checked the phone. It was a call from Karaba, probably confirming that they would send him off to help AEUG shortly. He'd been looking forward to it, since it would give him something to do, but now it just annoyed him. Nothing Karaba or the AEUG could do seemed to be as important as...
...as what? As Char? As keeping Char out of trouble?
...sure, that sounded like a good enough reason to be annoyed. He couldn't believe Char, just showing up and forcing Amuro to keep him from doing anything stupid.
“Why are you here, anyway?” Amuro asked him. “You can’t just be hanging out. Even though that sure is what it looks like you’re doing.” It was true. Char was currently casually sitting on a chair, looking wistfully out the window, mug of coffee in hand. His golden hair was tousled from sleep, and he was entirely too damn pretty.
“I just need somewhere to think for a few days,” said Char. “Don’t you ever just need to think, Amuro?”
Unfortunately it was a compelling argument. Amuro was more than familiar with the need to get away from everyone and everything. “Well, whatever.” Amuro looked back over at the phone. He probably should call them back…
Char picked up on Amuro's thoughtwaves. “What if instead of going to join up with the AEUG, you and I went and worked to bring all of humanity to space. You know you are a talented newtype. We can do something amazing together, Amuro.” Char always got especially focused when he talked about this kind of thing. All his ideas came together into a point at the very front of his mind, and that point was aimed directly at Amuro’s soul. Char’s imagination often meandered about in childish ways, which Amuro always suspected was at least part of why he wasn’t the greatest of newtypes, but when he was very determined, you’d know it. And currently, he was very determined.
“No,” Amuro said, although it was shockingly diffcult to say with Char’s thought-spear pointed directly at him. “I’ve already told you no,” he said again, mostly for his own benefit rather than Char’s. Then he decided to return Karaba’s phone call so he wouldn’t have to think about Char for a moment.
The chat with Karaba went about as Amuro expected. They finalized some dates and times, and discussed important people who Amuro would have to meet up with. Amuro was scheduled to ship out in two days. He was used to this sort of military bureaucracy talk, but he never did find himself comfortable with it.
He hung up and realized that Char had left the room, so Amuro took the opportunity to make himself a quick breakfast and a coffee. Right as he was finishing eating, Char showed up. He had apparently just finished taking a shower, and now was very obnoxiously wearing nothing but a robe. At least it was tied in the middle. Thank God. “How did the call go?” Char asked.
“Why are you acting like we’re married?” Amuro retorted. “It’s none of your business.”
“We’re newtypes. We shouldn’t be afraid to share things with each other. That sort of thinking will only lead to more confusion and war.”
Does he ever shut up, Amuro thought, putting his mug in the sink.
**I heard that**.
"You know, you're not going to convince me," said Amuro, suddenly more annoyed at Char than usual. And honestly, he was always pretty annoyed with him as a baseline.
"We'll see," said Char.
"Do you see this as a game?" Amuro quirked an eyebrow, amused.
"No. It's quite serious. I do see you as a very smart person, however." His physical voice trailed off so his mental one could reach out, soft and probing, feeling Amuro's thoughts to see where he stood on all of this. The sensation always felt so thrilling, as though something was petting the animal that was his soul, and Amuro couldn't bring himself to dislike it all that much.
He realized what Char was trying to say. He truly thought he could pull Amuro around to his point of view. It wasn't just flattery, either - although he knew that Char was perfectly capable of that. But with their minds so closely connected like this, Amuro was able to feel that no, Char was being completely earnest here.
So he sighed. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not smart enough, I suppose,” he said. “I just don't see how it can be done. It's too big of an undertaking. I'm done running fools' errands. But I mean, if anyone can do it, you probably can, right? But I have other things going on in my life to worry about.”
Amuro was no longer sure if he was saying all this aloud or if he was mentally transmitting it to Char. Either way, once he'd said his piece, Char nodded and left the room.
Awkward. Amuro decided to get his mind off of the whole conversation by focusing on packing and making final preparations for setting out on military leave. He probably could have delegated a good chunk of it to servants, but he liked to maintain his independence as much as he could. The whole process took a few hours, and Amuro half-expected to see Char again when he went out to the dining area to get lunch, but he was apparently sequestered in his guest room.
Feeling restless - partially because Char was nearby, always at the edge of his thoughts both literally and figuratively - and partially because there wasn't much else to do except wait to ship out, Amuro tried to occupy the rest of his time with reading and watching the news. He was rarely allowed to leave and head out into town, so he was used to staying indoors and amusing himself, but the time seemed to drag on even longer than usual today.
What was Char even doing? Amuro hated how his thoughts kept turning to that. In a way, he couldn't help it. He could feel Char's mental presence. He didn't want to prod him at all. He could have; he could have just walked right into Char's thoughts and began poking around. But he didn't, because that seemed... impolite? No, that was the wrong word.
Desperate. It seemed desperate.
Embarrassed, Amuro tried to reorient his thoughts before Char caught onto them. But he kept thinking about him. Char was the one person in the world who he thought could probably fully understand him - not just because of their shared newtype bond, but because of their shared history as well. They both knew what it meant to be an ace pilot. They both knew what it meant to feel the weights of so many souls depending on them. And they both knew what is was like to lose Lalah.
Lalah... thinking of her for too long was probably a bad idea. Whenever Amuro remembered her, she seemed to spark something like a fire inside of him, and all his thoughts began to whirl out of control. Thoughts about her were always especially loud and potent, and left Amuro feeling vulnerable, like he was screaming aloud his deepest feelings and couldn't stop.
And that's when Char showed up.
Because of course he could hear Amuro's mental grief.
And of course he immediately decided to make it worse.
“We can make Lalah's death mean something -” Char began, and Amuro punched him in the jaw.
Taken off guard, Char fell backwards onto the carpet. He gathered himself, not seeming any worse for wear or even particularly shocked. If anything, he was pleased.
That just made Amuro even angrier. “You used Lalah and you know it,” he said. “You blame me for her death, but she was only there because of you. Nothing is going to bring her back. And nothing is going to bring back any of those cyber-newtypes that poor Kamille had to watch die. If you keep messing around with newtype theory, more people are going to die.”
Char was standing again by the time Amuro finished. His hair was a bit tousled. “Come with me,” he said then, and headed into the guest room. Amuro followed. Inside, where Char had isolated himself most of the day, were several dozens of books and video recordings on newtype theory. A video of Zeon Zum Deikun talking was currently playing on a large screen. Amuro had only seen the man in pictures before, and seeing him move and speak was uncanny. He had sharp, almond eyes, like Char.
Before Amuro could ask why he was here, Char told him. Mentally. **I'm not giving up on this. There has to be a way.**
“You can't be your father,” Amuro replied out loud, because he thought that saying the words gave them more weight. “I know we were all counting on you for Dakar, and that worked, but...”
"If it worked once, then it can work again," said Char. "I know I can do it. But I want your help."
"You're not getting my help." Amuro turned to leave. This conversation was going nowhere.
"Then don't help. Just come with me."
Amuro paused.
"Come with me," said Char again, and his voice was breathless. "Because you want to come with me."
It took Amuro a moment to orient himself in newtype space, but he was there, suddenly, drifting through the clouds of Char's thoughts as though he were a tiny feather. Char loved him. This was a fact, it was right there, plain as day, etched in synapse-clouds. But Char hated him, too. That was equally plain. Char seemed to feel every emotion for Amuro, but Amuro understood, because he felt that way, too. He loved Char and hated Char and wished he could be with him forever and wished he didn't exist, all at the same time.
"Char," he said, as he floated in dreamscapes, because he didn't know what else to say.
"Amuro," said Char. Amuro could sort of see and hear him. A vague, soft outline of him was almost visible between the colors and sounds of their combined, swirling thoughts.
He wanted to ask what Char wanted, but he didn't, because he already knew. He and Char seemed to will themselves to drift to each other, although Amuro didn't think this was accomplished visually so much as it was by feeling. The vague outline of Char took the vague outline of Amuro's hand. There were sparks of static between them.
Amuro could no longer truly tell what was going on, nor did he particularly care. Desire ran through him like he was a live wire. He understood what Char wanted, because he wanted the same thing.
Char was his. The fierce Red Comet belonged to him and him alone. Amuro reached up with an electric finger and touched the scar on Char's forehead. He'd given that to him, a permanent reminder that he was his. He drifted closer and pressed his dream-lips to that scar, filling it with tenderness and war and hatred and loss and deep amounts of respect.
Char's own consciousness was a growing storm beneath him, finally transforming into a wave cresting and devouring him. Amuro felt naked and bare as Char found that part of Amuro that he had kept hidden away for years: a matching scar on his own right shoulder. Because he couldn't claim the Red Comet without the Red Comet staking his equal claim on the White Devil.
Amuro felt sparking flame over that scar, and then up onto his neck. He felt, more than heard, Char breathing into his ear. "You're mine."
Always had been, always would be. It was a foregone conclusion that Amuro had long made peace with. And Amuro made sure that Char knew he was his, in return, devouring him with dream-teeth, his own consciousness suddenly feral and possessive as it ripped through Char's dream-self, like a tiger's fangs biting into dissipating clouds.
But then something happened. The strange colors and sounds of newtype space blinked out of existence one by one, and Amuro tasted skin and salt and felt something warm and heavy against him.
He and Char were back in reality, half undressed on the bed.
Not that either was particularly keen to stop what had already begun to unravel. They'd been kissing each other desperately, each knowing they really couldn't have whatever this was for very long and determined to make it last. So they kept going. Amuro tangled his fingers in Char's silky gold hair, and Char dug his own grip into Amuro's back. Their consciousness was anchored back in reality, but the mental feedback loop did not stop. **You're mine. I need you. Don't leave me.**
Amuro wanted to promise he wouldn't, but the more he and Char frantically kissed, the more he realized that he couldn't be what Char wanted. What was he supposed to do? Play consort while Char ran off and worked on whatever pet project he currently invested in? He wouldn't be happy. Nor did he think Char would be happy so long as he was pushing himself to do the impossible.
Amuro pulled away. He noticed that he had lost his shirt in... whatever all this was. He had no idea if he'd pulled it off himself or if Char had done it. It did explain how he'd noticed the shoulder scar, though.
Feeling overwhelmed and a little embarrassed about it all now, Amuro moved to leave, but Char grabbed his arm. “Stay with me,” he said.
“I can't,” said Amuro, pain in his voice. It would just make it all hurt more when they inevitably had to part again.
He pulled his shirt on and left the room.
He half expected Char to follow him, but he didn't. Amuro was grateful for that, because he thought he probably would have caved if Char tried to make a move again. Feeling restless and frustrated, he went outside and sat on a chair on the porch. It was breezy and it felt nice. He leaned back and sighed and let himself relax as best as he could, focusing on clearing his mind and trying not to think about anything in particular. He saw a bird flying off in the distance. It might have been a swan.
About an hour later, Amuro heard a sound behind him. He turned around. Char was standing at the door, and he was dressed in his long coat and sunglasses, and looked very much like he did when he'd first arrived the previous day.
Amuro didn't have to ask to know he was leaving. He could feel those melancholy thoughts as Char shed them in real time, like dead leaves falling from a tree. Amuro stood up. He looked at Char, and Char looked at him.
“What are you going to do now?” Amuro asked.
“I have more research to do,” said Char plainly. “You're leaving in a few days, so there's no point to me staying here.”
Amuro didn't like knowing he was leaving, but what was he supposed to do about it? Char was right, there was no reason for him to stay.
A strange, dark feeling like a raincloud that he couldn't shake off settled itself on top of Amuro. Somehow, he felt deep inside of himself that a great wheel was turning and he wouldn't be the same again.
“I'd ask you one more time, but I know you'll say no,” said Char.
“I can't enable whatever you're going to try to do next,” said Amuro.
Char nodded. “Then I suppose this is farewell, Amuro Ray.”
“I guess so,” said Amuro.
They were quiet for a moment, neither wanting to be the one to pull themselves away from the other and break the mind-link. But Char finally did it, wordlessly walking down the path and into town. He took his thoughts with him, ripping himself out of Amuro's mind and leaving it half-void.
They wouldn't see each other again for a few years.