Last Man Standing

Guel Jeturk comes to some realizations.

This G-Witch fanfic is heavily inspired by (and makes reference to) Benjanun Sriduangkaew’s Snow White Wakes to Spring, so it’s going to make the most sense if you have read that work (please do, it’s quite amazing).

The contents of this work follow a Post-Series Guel Jeturk going into the office and having a frustrating, enlightening conversation.

I apologize if there are some errors in grammar or editing or if this thing is too dialogue heavy or has an awkward flow: Inspiration struck hard and fast, this is my first fanfic, I only had a few hours to write and publish this thing, and I am primarily a playwright. Thank you and I hope you enjoy.

“Guel? Get up, you’ve got an early meeting scheduled for today.” The knocking continued. Much as we wished otherwise, no amount of ignoring it could ever make it stop.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m up.” He heard Lauda on the other side of his bedroom door finally walk away. I could steal just a couple moments of sleep. He threw off his sheets. It would be easy. Slowly he sat up and furtively scooted out of his bed. Guel’s path to his closet was hardly a direct one. Piles of dirty clothes made a straight line inconvenient, and he made a habit of not turning on the lights whenever possible. Guel operated on a juvenile belief that his room wasn’t as much of a travesty if he couldn’t see it. He had sworn in the past up and down to his brother that he would get around to cleaning it when he had the time and energy. While he would find the time, the energy would elude him. His duties in leading Jeturk and the stress and strain resulting from it left him quite lethargic. Or at least, that is what he blamed it on. He had brought almost all of it unto himself, to be fair. While the sudden end of the Benerit Group was not his fault, the death of his Father and Lauda’s disastrous and short term as CEO most certainly were. Thinking about his father, Vim Jeturk, was difficult. It was no secret that Vim’s high expectations of consistent excellence strained their relationship to the breaking point. Before Asticassia though, things were different.

When Lauda first came home Vim did right by them. He couldn’t spare time for them often, but he tried to make it count. He didn’t really ‘push’ them into their fields of study either, not at first. Guel just gravitated towards being in the cockpit. Lauda meanwhile versed himself in the technical aspects hoping to keep his brother safe. It wasn’t a problem until Vim realized that Guel could be a contender. That he could be the Holder. It was on rare occasions that the brothers heard so much as a word about their grandfather. Their first impressions of him being based entirely picture of an old man in a suit with a large, well-groomed mustache. As time wore on however, Vim would occasionally open in bits and snippets. Moments of happiness between father and grandfather were seemingly relegated to when Vim was in his youth. As a young adult whatever agency or individuality he had was suppressed — he was expected to be an extension, a successor, and nothing more. History repeating. For his part, Guel swore he would break the cycle. All it would take was simply not to have children.

“Guel?”

“Hmn?” The haze on Guel’s eyes faded away.

“I said you’re going to be late.”

“Right.” Guel found himself clean and dressed, with a full stomach heading out the door. His mornings as of late happened around him. He’d get caught up in a thought and suddenly catch himself already in his office most days. At first it was distressing. Now, it was simply routine.

“Say Hi to Petra for me.”
“Of course.” His brother replied. Guel had ordered Lauda -as both older sibling and as direct superior- to take some extended time off. Ostensibly it was so he could be there for Petra as she went through rehabilitation. The real reason, of course, was to repay him for the hell that Guel had put him through. Though Guel had promised to rely on and trust his brother, the scars and guilt from Asticassia still lingered. It was a burden time would never ease and that he had zero intention of sharing.

Though it now shook him, Guel was used to fighting in a Mobile Suit. He was not, however, used to fighting in a boardroom. The shakeups Jeturk Heavy Machinery suffered left a lot of executives and directors on edge and desperate. A state which was not helped by Guel’s sharp pivot away from military assets — instead focusing output mainly on industrial-use mobile suits, or security at the absolute most. Promises were exchanged, threats were exchanged, proposals were exchanged… all things which the matured Jeturk recognized as being no-less deadly that the beams he was more intimately familiar with. With an agreement to greenlight development on a heavy lifting platform, Guel was finally able to retreat to his office. These days, he welcomed the mind-numbing safety of paperwork and spreadsheets. For the first twenty minutes, at least. The elysian peace of the work melted away until all the was left was the tedium. Time became meaningless in how infinitely it seemed to drag on. And so Guel fell once again into the cycle of longing for either the hellscape of corporate politics, or the hellscape of numbers and reports.

“5 Has done it again!” In barged Elan Ceres. Always without warning.

“What has Eleanor done again this time?”

“What else? Made an unauthorized public appearance.” Guel rubbed his temples.

“I fail to understand what the issue is here.”

“How would you explain the fact there is a female Guel running around?” Guel felt something in his heart turn.

“I don’t know Elan. That’s probably something I would have considered before commissioning body doubles.”

“How were we supposed to know there would be gender incongruity down the line?”

“Maybe try getting volunteers for the job?” Elan’s mouth started to open once again. “Actual volunteers, Ceres.” Elan tightened his boyish jaw. Guel sighed. At least it’s not paperwork. “I know you are not looking for it, but I say you just ignore it. There are a lot of people in the world. Everyone’s bound to have a doppelganger or three.” Elan sneered.

“That could work… if only she hadn’t kept the surname.” The condescension of this man.

“Look, I don’t know how to explain to you that you cannot micromanage peoples lives, so the only advice I can give is that trying too hard to course correct here is only going to bite you in the ass. Hard.”

“Things would have been much simpler if she just… stayed out of urban areas.”

“And if someone out hiking got a good look at her? Would you rather there be an urban legend of a Lady Ceres living in Earth’s forests?”

“Please don’t make jokes. This is a serious matter.”

“You could just pass her off as a twin sister, you know.” Oh please. Not both of them. Not today. Secelia Dote walked into Guel’s now cramped office. A few short years ago, the three of them being together in the same room would only happen if said room were the Dueling Committee Lounge. Corporate shakeups, however, have made once rare sights painfully more common. Elan was a fat cat, pampered and pompous. Secelia was a cunning thing, always knowing exactly what buttons to press. Guel, naturally, was their favorite mouse.

“Please, like anyone would buy that.”

“You’d be surprised” Guel spoke from a place of confidence. “Mistresses and ‘spare heirs’ are not uncommon. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone raised a clone.” Guel shot Elan a cold smile. “A twin sister secreted away due to health concerns until very recently would be a very easy cover story to sell.”

“Yeah. The only people who would try to dig deeper are cranks or weirdos. And that just buries the lede deeper for you.” Elan pondered. Then he smiles.

“That would cover things up. Plus, it would allow us to both be in public at once. And, it would give me the perfect avenue to get back at her for this…” satisfied and rubbing his chin, Elan Ceres finally left.

“Why do I feel like I’ve instigated an arms race?”

“Because you have” Secelia cooed. “But I wouldn’t worry about it. From what I understand, close brother-sister relationships usually look like that. We’re just helping them get into character.”

“I see.” Guel’s eyes returned to the spreadsheets. “Thank you for your help.”
“Oh, don’t thank me” Oh no. Oh god no, she’s smiling! “I was on my way over anyways.” She punctuated the point by sitting in a small couch Guel kept for guests. She cocked her head, resting it against her hand, her light hair curling around her fingers. The cat was ready to pounce.

“Right.”

“So, Zenelli is a woman.”
“Yes”

“And a Ceres is a woman…”

“Correct”

“Which means -depending on how we argue it- of the Benerit Big 3, you are the last Man standing.”

“And?”

“Don’t you just find that interesting?”

“Not particularly. No.”

“Doesn’t surprise you at all?”

“Not really. Shanaya always had this… edge to her. Just this feeling that she was smothering something deep down. She only really seemed alive when talking to Miorinne.” He remembered. “Or when trying to kill me. Over her.” Ms. Zenelli was also difficult to think about. Guel sympathized with her struggle, and was ultimately glad that she not only survived, but was thriving and earnestly making amends. However, attempted murder is not easily forgiven, and she still had a lot of blood on her hands. “I know some people might point out that she surrounded herself with women, but that’s not indicative of anything. I did that.”
“You sure did.”

“And as for Eleanor… I mean, I never could get a good read on Ceres but- now I know why.”

Guel observed Secelia, struggling to get any kind of read off her. She’s digging for something… Her pale eyes locked with his. A Cheshire grin crawled across her face as a hand slid into her pocket.

“Did you know the Samaya’s put on a little play a few months back? For their little school.” Secelia watched him expectedly. Guel sounded the name out.

“Oh, Suletta and Miorinne? Yes. I heard about it but I couldn’t go.” He tapped his tablet, the Inbox growing steadily. “You see how it is.”

“Shame. I couldn’t catch it live, but someone was kind enough to send me a little highlight reel. Eleanor looks so happy in that dress.” Secelia got off the couch. She then shoved her phone right in Guel’s face. “And look at how stunning she is.” Guel expected Eleanor to have the unmistakable air of someone who — at the end of the day — really did not want to be there. Instead, she seemed to be really enjoying herself. Not only did it come through even on the recording, but it was infectious. Guel’s heart was skipping beats. he was overjoyed for a woman that he barely knew. But in that happiness, there was another feeling. A tinge of an unnamed something souring it all. Her hair, makeup, and dress, far above and beyond anything one would expect for a school play for young children tied everything together. How could Eleanor have ever been anyone other than Eleanor? Guel pushed the phone away.

“Looked like fun. Shame I couldn’t go.”

“Yeah. Then again, if you could, then maybe you would have got cast. They were really struggling for actors. Apparently, they almost went with a Haro before someone stepped in last-minute.” She cackled. “Imagine, a Haro kissing Eleanor.” Guel coughed into laughter.

“Really? Well, maybe I should have made some time. Imagine the look on her face if she walked on stage and I were Prince Charming,”

“Princess”

“Huh?” Now, Guel had finally sprung the trap.

“Princess Charming.” Guel’s face burned. Secelia savored it. “They changed things around to be a bit more informative.

“Ah… I see… well then. Probably for the best I couldn’t then.” Once more, his heart sank.

“Why so disappointed?”

“Who said I was disappointed?” She gave him a look. “Alright. I am a little disappointed.”

“I’m sure you’ll get an opportunity to kiss Eleanor.” Guel rolled his eyes. “Ah, so you wanted to get all dolled up!” He exploded out of his chair.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“Careful! Not too loud now.” She put a hand on his shoulder, calming him. “You don’t want your employees to barge in here, do you? Or worse: for Elan to come back?” He held his breath. “Didn’t think so.” Guel fell back on breathing exercises. The grin on Secelia’s face dropped into a more neutral smile. An earnest smile. “You know what you said about Shanaya having this feeling of smothering something inside her?” Guel’s heart skipped. “I am seeing it, right here, and right now. You know what I am talking about.” Now, Guel avoided her gaze. “That possessiveness she had with Miorinne probably was a bit of empathy, yes. But I am also certain that a component of that was envy.” It did make sense. The two were quite similar: both were extremely intelligent, politically savvy, and had a good sense of awareness of the situation. The biggest difference beside the two — aside from birth gender — was in patience and trust. Miorinne was more than willing to play the long con, and relied on those she knew she could count on. Shanaya, on the other hand, screwed herself over by jumping the gun and taking direct intervention. Miorinne was an imperfect mirror.

“But, I’ve never envied Miorinne.”

“Probably not.” She retorted “But, I am certain you did envy Suletta.” He blinked. But, I tried to propose to her! Why the hell would I envy her, unless…

“Oh. Oh…” Things lined up, Guel’s head spun, he sat. “Secelia?”

“Hmmn?” Her lips curled fiendishly.

“Why play these games? Why not just come out with it directly?” She furrowed her brows.

“Would you have listened? You do realize how stubborn you are, right? You would have chewed me out, then stewed in it for a year, and then done nothing but torment yourself with guilt for not listening in the first place.” Tears welled up in Guel’s eyes. “Besides, If I’m going to do someone a favor, I should at the very least get so have some fun with it. It’s only fair, right?”

“Then why wait this long?”

“I was hoping that if Shayana and Eleanor made their moves first, then maybe it would get something in that head of yours spinning. Of course, it didn’t, and after a certain point pity stops being entertaining and is just… sad. Besides, it’s more fun teasing someone when they are living their best life. What are you are doing right now barely qualifies as living.” With all barriers broken, Guel finally allowed himself to sob. Secelia shuffled awkwardly. She had expected this but had not really planned for it. Tired of waiting she eventually went in for a gentle, uncomfortable hug. “Hey. I’ve… got something to show you.” Once more, she showed Guel her phone. “I know that when you are already feeling low your brain tends to not listen to the truth. So, I drew this a while back to prove to you that — if your brain ever says ‘no, you can’t’ — yes, you absolutely can make this work.” Guel looked at a rough but still quite beautiful portrait of what she would probably look like in a few months. It was distinctively her, the shaggy hair with the burst of pink at the front gave it away. Lipstick and eyeliner did a lot of work, and her features being just a hair more rounded made a mesmerizing difference. The style, it seems, was not entirely unlike what Suletta wore: though certainly a fair bit ‘rougher’ in texture. What could best be described as a shaggy bob eventually cascading into luscious volume at the back. To an extent, it felt quite familiar…

Wait…. Wait a minute.

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Eh?”

“How long have you been planning this? How old is this drawing, Secilia?” She kicked her feet playfully before answering.

“When you came back after running away. Inspiration struck me.”

“Right.” People really did love the “Bob Cut…” Accessories were minimal, as was the clothing. Rather than anything too fancy, she appeared to be wearing a very light-weight Pilot Suit. Same shade of Pink as her beloved Dilanza. The front was zipped down a fair distance. Underneath the Pilot Suit she wore a grey Crop Top, highlighting the artists’ interpretation of her rather ample chest. Well, a lot of effort went into all this. Would be a shame to waste it all. “I’m not exactly sure how to begin but, it’s not like sitting on it will do me any favors”.

“I’ve got some good news then. I have it on good authority that your Ex is now selling Endocrine implants commercially. Save for coming in for maintenance every now and then, it should regulate everything automatically.”

“That is… remarkably convenient.” Miorinne truly did think of everything.

“I’m sure Petra will vouch for GUND-ARM Inc’s reliability and safety. And as for fashion…” Here we go. “… I’ll be your tutor.” With a heavy sigh, Guel agreed. Lauda, and the rest of her closest friends from Jeturk house would easily accept this. Her main concern was some of the older, more conservative higher ups in the company proper. However, she was confident they would come to an understanding in time. If success as a businesswoman couldn’t convince them, then maybe steel on steel would. There might have been many Dilanza’s on the market, but only one of them was her brand of Pink. Guel went home with newfound confidence and life, and Secelia went home just a little bit richer after having texted “Hey, remember our bet?” to one Rouji Chante.

The next few weeks were busy for Guel, though it was a kind of busy she found enjoyable. Meetings, approvals, and paperwork felt more like tires spinning in the mud. An eternal shuffle for the sake of eternal profits. This was work towards a tangible and more immediate end. One which she knew for certain would improve her life. Of course, she was scared. Even positive change could be terrifying. Guel faced them all head on. There was however one challenge that she did not expect.

Implant installation went well, but Guel had to stay on Earth for a couple weeks just to make sure her body was accepting it well, and that the implant its self was functioning properly and efficiently. It was during one of the last nights planetside when Miorinne — in a shocking display — presented the option of dinner at a restaurant, to catch up. There was an ulterior motive at play, but Guel could not quite pinpoint what it was. Everything became abundantly clear when she saw who else was invited on this night out. Waiting at the table for them, dressed to the nines, was Shanaya Zanelli. Guel, of course, wasted no time.

“What are you doing out of your cell, murderer?”

“Spare me” Shanaya reached for a glass of wine. Of course she wouldn’t even wait. “Whatever insults you’ve got cooked up, I’ve already heard. And I’m not in the mood to waste this night answering questions anyone else could answer.” She took a long sip. “If you are going to get any enjoyment out of tonight, then I suggest just shutting up and sitting down.” Guel could feel her eye twitch. Any chance of a peaceful night disintegrated but — perhaps — it could still be an enjoyable one. Anxiously, Guel looked towards the door. Miorinne was helping her wife in, when she held her finger against her ear.

“Really? It had to happen now?” Guel was very familiar with the look on her face. “We need to go home Suletta. Your Sister is acting out again.”

“H-huh? B-But Miorinne, we just got here!”

“No time to argue.” Miorinne practically tore Suletta out of the building. The two remaining women sat there. Equally confused. They exchanged looks. They exchanged words. And, eventually — once away from prying eyes — they exchanged more intimate things. Once freed from the long-standing haze of deep-rooted self-loathing and disgust, the tension between the two shifted into something entirely unexpected. Raw, unfiltered passion. True to Miorinne’s words, there was catching up. It was an unforgettable, illuminating night, cut short by an ongoing prison sentence. Though the two could not stay together physically, they would keep in touch however they could.

Several months later, immediately following a not-inconsiderable amount of time de-tangling her immense amount of hair, the futch head of the Jeturk family sat down at her desk and activated a monitor, ready for much anticipated session of a now monthly meeting.

“I officially announce the start of the ‘Former Benerit Heiress Committee’” Guenevere Jeturk had a dopey smile on her lips. Now free from the misfortune of her birth, she could enjoy life to the fullest and of course that included being just a little bit silly.

“There must be a better name for it” mused Eleanor. Though she put up a front of disinterest and boredom, it was clear she enjoyed the community. Small as it may be.

“Probably, but where’s the fun in being serious all the time?” Guen chuckled. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine she would be here, like this, with these people. “Any luck on getting a stint outside soon?” Shanaya shook her head, her Golden locks bouncing.

“Not for a good while sadly. There’s only so much ‘community outreach’ and ‘education assistance’ programs Mrs. Samaya can propose before the officials start getting paranoid.” Her face fell. “A shame too. I was looking forward to seeing you again Guen.” Guen blushed, and sheepishly scratched the back of her head. It surprised her just what you come to realize about yourself — and others — when you’re finally in the right body. It also amazed her how much you could forgive.

“Oh, I am too. I want to see how I’m ‘catching up’ to you.” Zenelli raised an eyebrow, and Ceres covered her face. Guen knew how to be diplomatic now. She just simply opted not to.

“Well, you’ve got those GUND-ARM implants, then there’ll certainly be some developments next time I’m out.”

“Miorinne sure knows how to make an efficient product.” Eleanor chimed in, face still in palm. Guen chortled. Wait a second. Wait just a second. Oh, oh god… her face and mood plummeted.

“She played us.”

“Pardon?” Eleanor watched, concerned by the sudden shift in mood.

“Miorinne, she played us.”

“What do you mean ‘she played us’?” Shanaya demanded.

“GUND-ARM’s got a monopoly on top-of-the-line Endocrine implants.” Guen felt like a fool. Eleanor meanwhile worked her way up from a quite chortle to an unexpected, full belly guffaw, falling out of frame. Shanaya chuckled at the situation, and at her fool. Guenevere Jeturk sat there, the last to the punch. Even now, in the most intimate ways, in the most simple of joys, no matter how much she may personally win, a Samaya would always come out on top of her.