IV. [Mylene]

 
          She'd always hated doing laundry, but there was something truly pathetic about the dirty mountains of clothing and sheets lying about on the floor, as if a massacre of cloth had taken place. She wondered how Basara had taken care of himself before the band.
          Most of the windows of the house were dark when she arrived back home, pulling the convertible in and parking it in the circle drive. She didn't mind living by herself; she had done it since she had joined the band, and it was pleasant. But she wouldn't mind having someone to talk to, besides Guvava. Talking to a pet didn't cure loneliness, and she hated talking on the phone.
          She needed a real, live person to talk to.
          Gamlin was a good listener, but she hated wasting his time, although he swore over and over that it wasn't a waste of time when he was spending time with her. Poor guy. He was swamped with overwork and rookie pilots and superior officers clamoring at him from all sides, and the less he was stuck with her rambling, the better.
          He really was in love with her. That was the sad part. Sweet, but sad, because even during the height of their romantic fling during the Protodeviln war, she had never really known what she wanted. She had been fourteen, and he hardly that much older, two children thrown into the midst of something they didn't understand. Basara had been a child too, now that she thought about it, but in her mind he had always been a child.
          Perhaps he was finally growing up, and that was what was happening.
          Sighing, she flicked on the light in her bedroom, pushing up the window to let the cool evening breeze in. A squeaking noise to the left caught her attention, and she froze before she realized it was just Guvava, curled up in a ball on the couch and emitting what she supposed passed for snores among animals of his kind.
          Reaching over, she stroked his fur with her fingers lightly, once, twice, and the squeaking rose in pitch, then dropped as she moved away, sat down at her desk and clicked on the desk lamp.
          Letters. One, two, six. University letters, from universities all over the Cities and various planets. Gamlin would stare wide-eyed at her, if he saw these, ask her what she was thinking. Basara would have a fit, then sneer and say she'd never get into any university. She was too dumb.
          Which was precisely why she hadn't told either of them what she wanted to do with her life.
          Ray knew. She had talked it over with him several months before, after a band practice in which she and Basara had another of their minor spats over some chord or other, Basara had left in a huff, and Veffidas had gone on some errands. Ray was perceptive, she knew that, but she never knew exactly how perceptive he really was.
          "So what's going on, Mylene?" he'd said, dropping down beside her, keyboard in his lap. She'd sighed.
          "Nothing."
          "How are those admissions letters going?"
          Her jaw had dropped as she stared at him speechless for a moment. "How-how did you know?"
          He had smiled his secret smile and began buffing his keyboard. "I have my connections."
          "You've been talking to my father again, haven't you?"
          "Perhaps."
          She sighed, ready to give him a sharp retort, then wondered what the point of that was. He wasn't Basara, and he wouldn't laugh at her. "Well…you know. What do you think?"
          "About you trying to get into university? I think it's a great chance for a girl like you. You're smart, Mylene."
          That had brought a faint blush to her cheeks. "Not really. I didn't really go to high school. I was too busy being in a band."
          "I know. Your parents home-schooled you, right?
          She shrugged. "You can call it that. I had tutors, but they always left after a couple of weeks. I was never home enough to get any kind of regular schooling…most classes I took by correspondence."
          "How were your grades?"
          She shrugged again. "Decent. Why do you want to know?"
          "It takes a lot more than grades to get into college. Admissions boards want well-rounded students, and you're certainly well-rounded."
          "That's the problem," she said sourly. "I...I just…I don't want to get into some university just because I'm Max and Milia Jenius' daughter. I want to get in because of what I've done, not because they're famous and the university wants to make a name for itself."
          "That'll be hard to do," he said softly. "Most universities do want to make a name for themselves."
          "Yeah." Her shoulders slumped, defeated. "That's what I thought. I don't know if I want to do this anymore."
          "Yes you do."
          She narrowed her eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
          "I know you, Mylene. Pretty well, I'd like to think. When you make up your mind to do something, you do it with all your heart. You're like Basara."
          She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "You're both passionate, idealistic people. You give yourselves to something so totally that you don't care if it hurts you. Am I making sense?"
          Ray, quiet, stoic, laidback Ray, lecturing her on her own personality. But strangely, she didn't mind. "Yeah. I guess."
          "I get frustrated with you two sometimes because you are so much alike. You both believe you're right, and you won't see anyone else's point of view. At least back in the beginning. You two are visionaries. You have dreams. You want to leave legacies behind, for others to follow.
          "Yeah," she said again. "I guess."
          "Basara-" he stopped. She knew what he was going to say.
          "You've noticed it too?"
          "I don't know what happened," he said quietly. "All of a sudden…the passion isn't there anymore." He looked at her suddenly, eyes intense. "Basara let his dream, his vision, slip away. I don't want that to happen to you, Mylene."
          She tried to laugh. "I don't know if going to university is much of a dream, Ray. Not much of a legacy to leave behind, is it?"
          He set his keyboard down gently, coming to sit beside her. "That's just it, Mylene. You've made your legacy. You were a vital part of Sound Force during the war. You've created timeless music that people will be talking about for generations to come. If this could go on forever, believe me, I would never want it to end. But you know what, Mylene? Everything comes to an end someday, and you've got to move on."
          In his eyes she could see the shadow of the life he left behind; Akiko and Stephen and the pilot's life he had loved so much. "I left one way of life to come to the next, he said quietly. At first I wasn't sure if I could do it, but I had a vision, and I let that vision carry me. That vision was Basara."
          "Basara?"
          "Basara had a vision, too," Ray said, looking at his big hands. "But he's headstrong and he's proud and he's stubborn. I'd hoped he would have grown up a little more by now, but he's too stubborn to see his own faults."
          "You're telling me!" she cut in, a little annoyed.
          Ray smiled sadly. "Basara fulfilled his dream a long time ago, but he doesn't know how to let it go. He wants it to go on, but he knows it's over. And he can't accept that."
          "Ray…what was Basara's dream?"
          He glanced at her, surprised. "You still don't know?"
          "I was young," she replied. "I didn't understand him. I still don't."
          "Basara's dream…"Ray's voice became muted, distant. "How should I put this?"
          She laid one hand on his thick, muscular shoulder, waiting.
          "Basara's dream - his vision - was love."
          She blinked. That was not at all what she had been expecting. "Eh?"
          "Not just romantic love," Ray said. "That's actually the one kind of love I think that he doesn't understand. His love…he's a passionate man, like I said earlier. He loves too fiercely and then he gets hurt."
          "Basara?" She could hear the incredulity in her own voice. "I don't think he knows what the word 'hurt' means!"
          "He knows. Why do you think he writes the kinds of songs he does? Basara had a vision for the people - no, for the galaxy - and he put his heart and soul into bringing that vision to the hearts of everyone in the Macross 7 fleet, and beyond. Even to the Protodeviln."
          She was silent. "I...think I realized that at the very end," she said. "But that was so long ago..."
          "He found love in his music, and he put everything he had into it…but along the way he forgot why he was doing it. After the war...he lost something."
          "I don't understand. What did he lose, Ray?"
          "I wish I could explain it. I'm not Basara…the best way I can put it is that he's lost his first love, but believes he can bring that love back. If he tries hard enough."
          "But he lost it before! And he went searching, and he found it again!" She felt her fists clench against her thighs. "Why can't he do that? He can go look, can't he? Or he could ask us…right?" Her shoulders slumped. "I…I'd do anything…to…"
          "Basara's grown up, Mylene. Just as you have. He's too old to go running after it anymore."
          "I know," she said softly. "It's just easier...to pretend...to be the little girl he remembers me as. I was so comfortable in that role, and then I had to go grow up. Life isn't fair sometimes."
          Ray put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I know you had that dream, Mylene, but the fact that you're looking into something new is an indication that you're moving on. You've grown up, as you said. You've left your legacy, just as Basara has left his, and I just hope Basara has the sense to see it."
          "Can't you talk to him? He listens to you."
          Ray shook his head. "Sometimes. But I hardly know him anymore. Now, he hears, but he doesn't listen. He just doesn't argue back."
          She smiled a little. "I suppose."
          "If the university is the path you want to follow, Mylene, I'm behind you all the way. All I hope is that your new dream will come true just as happily as your old one did."
          She gave him a watery smile. "I hope you're right."
          "Oh, and Mylene?"
          There was something in his voice that made her frown at him, and he was looking at her with an expression in his eyes that made her cringe, like when she was in trouble with her father. "Ray?"
          "Just make sure that you're doing this for yourself. Don't do it because you want to run away."
          "That's ridiculous! What would I be running away from?"
          "I think you know," Ray said.
          She didn't say anything as he picked up his keyboard case and departed, leaving her sitting alone on the floor hugging her bass, staring at the wall. I think you know.
          Was she simply running away from Basara, the Basara she didn't know anymore? They'd both had dreams, like Ray said, but she hadn't been sure if he was right. If the old one had even come true yet. And if it hadn't, how could she move on to a new one?
          Now, looking at the piles of acceptance letters on her desk, she still wasn't sure. Most every university she had submitted an application for had sent back an acceptance, that they would be "delighted" for her to attend the university. It wasn't a form letter. It was a letter for her alone, Mylene Flare Jenius, daughter of Captain Maximillian Jenius and Mayor Milia Jenius, bassist of band Fire Bomber, former member of Sound Force. If it was a legend she wanted, she had certainly earned the right to carve her name next to the names of her parents in the grand scheme of legends.
          What had Lynn Minmay seen in her music? What made her go on? What happened to her after she decided that the dream was over?
          One more recording, and then it was over. She supposed it was sort of an absurdly fitting ending, that the recording that they had been working on the other day before Basara had gone home was the last recording needed for the album. The Best of Fire Bomber, Ray wanted to title it, though if she had had a say in things, she would have entitled it The Last Album. Or maybe, The Legacy.
          Again, Ray knew. She knew that this would be their last album, and she could see the sadness in his eyes whenever they practiced, after that conversation in the empty room. He knew she was leaving them, and he knew that Basara had already gone. She hoped he could find a new dream.
          She hadn't told Veffidas, but she didn't think the drummer would be surprised when she announced it. Veffidas was accepting, silent and waiting. She had no doubt that she would be able to continue quite well on her own.
          She didn't want to tell Basara.
          Even thinking about telling him brought a deep wrenching hollowness to her stomach that she didn't understand. She fought it. It was good that she was getting away from him at last. She wasn't running away, she was just doing what she should have done long ago and moved on. His influence over the past few years couldn't be counted as positive at all, and she was getting ideas into her head. That was all. She wouldn't really miss anything about him. Well, she'd miss the arguments, she supposed, and she would miss the way his hair always stood straight up, especially in the mornings when she would make fun of him, and she would miss the weird way he always tuned his guitar, and the quiet passion in his voice when he sang one of his songs, and the way their voices blended so well and then the way he would smile at her sometimes after a successful recording or concert and she would smile back.
          Hell, what was she talking about? She would miss him terribly.
          His smile lit up her world in a way that Gamlin's never did. She would tell herself otherwise, time and again when she and Gamlin would go out on dates and he would smile at her in that cute, shy way of his, and she would feel that little glow deep in her heart. But Basara's smile was powerful, infectious, full of hidden meaning and the same passion that he sang with.
          Everything about him had been passionate, and that was what she missed most of all.
          She had no delusions about what would happen if she quit. When she quit. Basara would refuse to talk to her. He would be furious. Then he would be despondent. Then he would shrug his shoulders and say, to hell with it, we'll just find another bassist. Mylene was never that good anyway.
          And then he would forget about her.
          It hurt inside, to know that he was the kind of person who was capable of something like that even through all they'd shared together. As if their music and all its power had meant nothing to him. It hurt to even think about it, and she pushed the pile of letters away, feeling the tears rise in her eyes again. Angry, she scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. She would not cry. She was eighteen years old and she had never cried over a man, and she was not about to start now.
          Don't do it because you want to run away.
          I really really like you, Gamlin-san...but I like Basara just as much. I'm sorry...
          She fumbled in her pocket for a tissue and her fingers met something crumpled. The song. She had almost forgotten about it.
          Bringing it out, she looked at it in the light of the desk lamp. It looked the same as it had under the moonlight, wrinkled, messy.
          Everything was a mess these days, even the music that the band made together. A cycle of entropy.
          Her guitar was in the corner, where she had left it after a half-hearted practice session the other afternoon. She really didn't have the energy to practice anymore. Every strum of the guitar, every plucking of a string reminded her of what, of who she was about to lose. She picked it up, feeling the familiar, worn wood under her fingers. She had debated getting a new one, but with being about to leave and go off to college, it was a moot point now. She wasn't nearly as good on the guitar as Basara was, obviously, but he had suffered to teach her the basics and she had picked up everything else on her own.
          She ran her fingers over the strings, gaining a bit of peace from the soothing notes that followed her fingers in a ripple. Struck the first few chords.

          Mimi o sumaseba kasuka ni kikoeru darou
          Hora ano koe
          Kotoba nan ka ja tsutae rarenai nani ka
          Itsumo kanjiru are wa tenshi no koe

          It really was a beautiful song. She would miss the singing, she knew. She loved to sing.

          Melody wa kieru yami ni shimi komu you ni
          Echo nokoshite
          Shizuka ni oriteku deep blue no aurora ni
          Ore mo utau ze

          Tomorrow. Tomorrow they would give the recording another try again, because it was Monday and Basara was feeling better. She had stopped by Ray's apartment afterwards and they had gone over the song order for the album, fitting in tracks just they way they liked it, because they knew Basara wouldn't care. Neither of them spoke of the fact that this would be the last time.

          Shinjite ita mono ga aru
          Baka da to iwareta keredo
          Kawara nakatta
          Ano hi no yume

          She wondered what had possessed her to put those words in there…about dreams and believing and music. She supposed that going to the university was a good dream in itself, but it hardly deserved a song. She wondered if she should talk to Ray again.
          Her parents were proud of her. It was one thing they agreed on now, that their daughter had made a good choice to attend college. She was growing up, and it was time to put childish things behind, her mother said. No matter to the fact that she and the rest of Sound Force had saved Macross 7; she was still a child in their eyes.
          She would always be a child to everyone except for Gamlin and perhaps Ray.
          Even to Basara…
          The next few chords sounded angry and she forced her fingers to calm, strummed for a moment, trying to think of the words to put to the melody that she knew was right.

          Angel voice mitsuketa no sa
          Chiheisen no mukou ni
          Kirari hikatta
          Omae no sugata wa yume janakatta

          She didn't know what Basara was to her anymore, but she knew it wasn't right, to leave him. To leave him like this…there was something missing.
          Your voice…that's what this song is about. It's not your song, Basara. It's my song. Your voice is the angel voice.

          Nagare nagarete yukou
          Itsuka mata aou ze

          I'll finish the song for you, Basara.

          The guitar was a living thing in her hands, moving out of her will now and writing the melodies into the air.

          My last gift to you…a song. I think you'll like this one.

          Hitomi tojireba
          Itsumo kokoro no naka ni hibiku
          Angel voice

 
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