Title: Ghost Knight (1/?)
Author: Anne Khushrenada
Email: cray@syix.com
Disclaimer: I don't *sniff* own *sniff* Gundam Wing.
Warnings: Angst, maybe a little OOC (Zechs, Wufei)
Gone.
He was gone.
The words seemed to echo through Lady Une's mind, as
she watched the fiery death of the Tallgeese II- and
its pilot. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she
clenched her hands into fists, fought back the tears,
and shouted her orders, her /final/ orders, in a
voice that betrayed none of her own inner turmoil.
Then she turned away from them, away from Relena
Peacecraft, Sally Po, away from Howard and the ex-OZ
officers who had formed the Treize faction. She
turned away from them all and strode towards the
'lift, and none of them dared to call her back.
"Damn you, Treize," she whispered. And she wept,
bitter sobs shaking her body, as she slid down the
wall towards the floor. She curled there and listened
to the furious pounding of her heart, the quickness
of the breaths she drew, tasted the salt of her tears
as they touched her lips.
"Oh, Treize..."
* * *
"Where is she?"
Sally Po looked up at the sound of the vaguely
familiar voice, her hands still busy tending the last
of her own minor wounds, cuts and scrapes suffered in
the furious dash from Peacemillion to MO2.
The man standing in the doorway removed his helmet,
and Sally let out a little gasp. Zechs Merquise
brushed a strand of hair out of his eye, ice blue
eyes seeming as if he meant to look right through
her.
"Noin? She's with Relena, I think. Trying to convince
her that Heero's leaving isn't the end of the world.
But what do you care?"
Zechs shook his head. "Not Noin, Sally. Lady Une.
Where is she?"
"I don't know," Sally replied. "The OZ officers-
former OZ officers, whatever -have been kind of
keeping to themselves. Howard might know, he's been
talking with their techs. What's so important about-
?"
But Zechs had already gone, replacing his helmet as
he turned and walked away into the corridor.
To his more than slight distress, Zechs found Wufei
Chang before he found Lady Une. The Chinese boy was
seated in the middle of a deserted hallway, his
katana balanced over his knees.
"You killed him," Zechs said rather flatly. "His life
was mine to take."
Wufei looked up at him, and Zechs was surprised to
see the young man's expression was grief-stricken.
"You were too weak to kill him. You refused his
challenge. But he was determined to fight, and as I
told him, I would keep coming back until I killed
him."
"Which you've done."
"Yes," Wufei said. "And I find this victory
bittersweet." He rose smoothly to his feet. "What do
you want?"
"The same things I have always wanted. Peace for
Earth and space, even though I cannot have peace for
myself. Goodbye."
"Zechs!" Wufei called after him.
Zechs turned back, but did not speak.
"I thought you were dead," Wufei said.
"I am."
* * *
Une looked up slowly as the lift's doors opened, her
eyes taking in the red-and-black spacesuit and the
matching helmet which obscured the features of
whomever had joined her.
He knelt beside her, and removed his helmet. "Lady,"
said Zechs.
"Mister Peacecraft," Une said, in a voice that caught
in her throat.
Zechs shook his head. "Milliardo Peacecraft is as
dead as Zechs Merquise, Lady."
"Who are you, then?"
"I honestly do not know," Zechs replied. He reached
out a gloved hand to the floor beside her. "This seat
taken?"
"No," Une said. Then: "What would he think of me now,
Zechs? Am I weak, or foolish, to be crying like this
on the floor of an elevator?"
Zechs chuckled softly. "I think he might say that
while it lacked grace, allowances must be made for
the situation. Here." He produced a handkerchief and
handed it to her. "He truly could not ever judge you
harshly, Lady."
"Oh?" she asked, dabbing at her eyes with the cloth.
"He loved you, Lady. I thought- everyone knew that."
"I didn't," she said, and began to weep again. Zechs
reached out, almost hesitantly, to embrace her.
*Forgive me, old friend,* he thought, as the woman
his best friend had loved sobbed against him. *She
needs someone to cling to now who will think nothing
of this- and who will never speak of it again.*
"God," said Une. "God help me, what have I done?
Treize-"
"Would understand that those who loved him need to
cry, Lady," Zechs replied. "This may sound a bit
forward, but could I buy you a drink? I'd like to
share a few things with you, and I'm afraid I'm
incapable of doing it sober."
Une gave a shaky smile and a nod. "Treize keeps-" She
sighed. "He *kept* the officer's mess fairly well
stocked, and you know his tastes ran to the finer
things."
"Perfect," Zechs said, standing and offering her a
hand up.
* * *
"To His Excellency," Lady Une said, raising her glass
and touching it to Zechs'. "He was..."
"Beyond words, Lady," Zechs said. "To His Excellency.
My dearest friend, my worst enemy."
"To Treize," said Une softly. "Your brother, my
love."
"Ah," said Zechs with a sip of his wine. "Yes,
exactly. My brother. How did you-?"
"He told me things," Une said quietly. "Things I
don't know that he told anyone else."
"Likewise," said Zechs. "I wonder how many of the
same stories we've heard."
Une laughed softly. "Very few, I should think. There
were things he'd have told me but not you, and some
of these I will not share with you now. Likewise I am
sure the same is true for you."
"It may be," Zechs agreed.
* * *
"...and then he turned to me and said, 'My dear,
would you care to dance?' I'm a wretched dancer, and
told him so, but he didn't seem to care."
"He wouldn't," Zechs said. "And Treize had enough
grace to make up for anyone else's lack. Did you
dance with him?"
Une raised an eyebrow at him and refilled her glass
of the well-aged Merlot.
"That," she said over the rim of her glass, "is
privileged information." At Zechs' blank look she
added, "What, you think I don't know the slang terms
your generation uses these days?"
"Oh," said Zechs, a blush creeping up his cheeks.
"*Oh*. Although," he added, "if you *had*- and I'm
not asking, Lady! -you'd have been his first."
"Might one inquire- simply out of curiosity, mind-
how you know that?"
"You mean to tell me that women don't discuss these
things?" Zechs asked. "Although Treize was far more
discreet than anyone else I've ever known. It's
really a matter of a thing he said to me once, years
ago, when you first went to work for him. The day
after that assassination attempt-"
"Ah," said Une. "That I remember. Typical of
Romafeller to hire an assassin who couldn't hit the
broad side of a Leo..."
"Still, you risked your life to save his, and an hour
or so later, he was pacing around my apartment,
throwing up his hands in confusion, one moment
cursing your stupidity, the next exalting your
bravery. Then he stopped short, dropped his hands,
looked up at me and said, 'I love her.' And I said
'Really, old boy? I hadn't a clue'. I believe he
threw something at me- but that was the beginning of
it, I think."
"And what was it he said which made you believe that
I'd have been-"
"He said, that same eve, 'She will be my first, my
last, and my only- if only she would have me, Zechs'.
Treize- flirted a lot, you probably noticed. It was
something his family insisted he learn- there's an
art to it, and there was never an art that Treize
didn't excel at."
"And he'd be the first to tell you that, of course,"
Une said.
"Exactly so. He flirted a lot, charmed up the
daughters of his father's business partners, and the
wives of the Romafeller executives, but it never went
any farther beyond that, and I knew it well."
"He brought me roses the next day, after that
attempt," Une said. "At least two dozen of them. To
say thank you, he said. 'For what, sir?' I asked. 'I
was only doing my duty.' But he shook his head, and I
knew *he* knew- it had always been more than that."
"Treize was perceptive as few people are," Zechs
said. "But if you knew, and *he* knew-?"
"I believe he wanted things to be perfect, before he
said anything directly," Une replied. "He always did
think he could change the world."
"He did," Zechs said. "He changed it, and I nearly
destroyed it. That was always the difference between
us. Or one of them."
"He spoke of you on occasion," Une said. "Not only as
being one of the best soldiers serving OZ, but as the
brother he'd never had. He loved you. Your leaving OZ
tore something within him, something he wouldn't
admit, but which I clearly saw. He felt as if not
only had he betrayed you- because why else would you
have forsaken OZ? -but that he had betrayed all he
stood for."
"Even drunk, he always had to wrestle the hard
questions. He couldn't leave it to somebody else."
"What makes you think he was drunk?" Une asked.
Zechs simply tapped the bottle between them on the
table. "We were children together. He was my elder,
my protector, my mentor. I spent my childhood glued
to his shadow. I saw nearly everything."
"I would say that he was on the line between only
vaguely sober and extremely drunk. It was almost
charming in a way, though. The way he started
slurring those poetic phrases of his."
Zechs laughed. "You only find it charming because you
never had to fetch him aspirin and a basin the
morning after. Although he did have an amusing little
pout he'd wear all through those mornings..."
Une laughed softly. "I can very easily see that," she
said.
* * *
"...Treize's father said, 'Treize! Where's the
furniture gotten off to?' And Treize said, 'I'm
sorry, sir, but Milliardo and I had need of it. To
defend against the enemy, you know.' And looking
quite fearful, Treize's father said, 'Who's the
enemy, son?' And Treize said, 'Cousin Dorothy.' His
father asked who was winning, and Treize rolled his
eyes. 'We are, of course. Would you go aide Dorothy,
please? I don't believe it's fair, otherwise.' And
the old Duke did just that."
The level in the wine bottle had steadily decreased,
and was now mostly empty. Tears streamed down Lady
Une's cheeks as she laughed, and Zechs looked at the
bottle as if its decreased contents were the wine's
own fault.
"Thank you, Zechs," Une said. "For telling me these
things..."
"You are welcome, Lady. Thank you for sharing what
you did."
A discreet tapping at the door caused them both to
look up.
Dorothy Catalonia stepped into the room, her eyes
red-rimmed and puffy. "Is this a private wake," she
asked quietly, "or can anyone join?"
"Have a seat, Dorothy," Une said, rising to her feet.
"We're going to need another bottle, though..."
Author: Anne Khushrenada
Email: cray@syix.com
Disclaimer: I don't *sniff* own *sniff* Gundam Wing.
Warnings: Angst, maybe a little OOC (Zechs, Wufei)
Gone.
He was gone.
The words seemed to echo through Lady Une's mind, as
she watched the fiery death of the Tallgeese II- and
its pilot. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she
clenched her hands into fists, fought back the tears,
and shouted her orders, her /final/ orders, in a
voice that betrayed none of her own inner turmoil.
Then she turned away from them, away from Relena
Peacecraft, Sally Po, away from Howard and the ex-OZ
officers who had formed the Treize faction. She
turned away from them all and strode towards the
'lift, and none of them dared to call her back.
"Damn you, Treize," she whispered. And she wept,
bitter sobs shaking her body, as she slid down the
wall towards the floor. She curled there and listened
to the furious pounding of her heart, the quickness
of the breaths she drew, tasted the salt of her tears
as they touched her lips.
"Oh, Treize..."
* * *
"Where is she?"
Sally Po looked up at the sound of the vaguely
familiar voice, her hands still busy tending the last
of her own minor wounds, cuts and scrapes suffered in
the furious dash from Peacemillion to MO2.
The man standing in the doorway removed his helmet,
and Sally let out a little gasp. Zechs Merquise
brushed a strand of hair out of his eye, ice blue
eyes seeming as if he meant to look right through
her.
"Noin? She's with Relena, I think. Trying to convince
her that Heero's leaving isn't the end of the world.
But what do you care?"
Zechs shook his head. "Not Noin, Sally. Lady Une.
Where is she?"
"I don't know," Sally replied. "The OZ officers-
former OZ officers, whatever -have been kind of
keeping to themselves. Howard might know, he's been
talking with their techs. What's so important about-
?"
But Zechs had already gone, replacing his helmet as
he turned and walked away into the corridor.
To his more than slight distress, Zechs found Wufei
Chang before he found Lady Une. The Chinese boy was
seated in the middle of a deserted hallway, his
katana balanced over his knees.
"You killed him," Zechs said rather flatly. "His life
was mine to take."
Wufei looked up at him, and Zechs was surprised to
see the young man's expression was grief-stricken.
"You were too weak to kill him. You refused his
challenge. But he was determined to fight, and as I
told him, I would keep coming back until I killed
him."
"Which you've done."
"Yes," Wufei said. "And I find this victory
bittersweet." He rose smoothly to his feet. "What do
you want?"
"The same things I have always wanted. Peace for
Earth and space, even though I cannot have peace for
myself. Goodbye."
"Zechs!" Wufei called after him.
Zechs turned back, but did not speak.
"I thought you were dead," Wufei said.
"I am."
* * *
Une looked up slowly as the lift's doors opened, her
eyes taking in the red-and-black spacesuit and the
matching helmet which obscured the features of
whomever had joined her.
He knelt beside her, and removed his helmet. "Lady,"
said Zechs.
"Mister Peacecraft," Une said, in a voice that caught
in her throat.
Zechs shook his head. "Milliardo Peacecraft is as
dead as Zechs Merquise, Lady."
"Who are you, then?"
"I honestly do not know," Zechs replied. He reached
out a gloved hand to the floor beside her. "This seat
taken?"
"No," Une said. Then: "What would he think of me now,
Zechs? Am I weak, or foolish, to be crying like this
on the floor of an elevator?"
Zechs chuckled softly. "I think he might say that
while it lacked grace, allowances must be made for
the situation. Here." He produced a handkerchief and
handed it to her. "He truly could not ever judge you
harshly, Lady."
"Oh?" she asked, dabbing at her eyes with the cloth.
"He loved you, Lady. I thought- everyone knew that."
"I didn't," she said, and began to weep again. Zechs
reached out, almost hesitantly, to embrace her.
*Forgive me, old friend,* he thought, as the woman
his best friend had loved sobbed against him. *She
needs someone to cling to now who will think nothing
of this- and who will never speak of it again.*
"God," said Une. "God help me, what have I done?
Treize-"
"Would understand that those who loved him need to
cry, Lady," Zechs replied. "This may sound a bit
forward, but could I buy you a drink? I'd like to
share a few things with you, and I'm afraid I'm
incapable of doing it sober."
Une gave a shaky smile and a nod. "Treize keeps-" She
sighed. "He *kept* the officer's mess fairly well
stocked, and you know his tastes ran to the finer
things."
"Perfect," Zechs said, standing and offering her a
hand up.
* * *
"To His Excellency," Lady Une said, raising her glass
and touching it to Zechs'. "He was..."
"Beyond words, Lady," Zechs said. "To His Excellency.
My dearest friend, my worst enemy."
"To Treize," said Une softly. "Your brother, my
love."
"Ah," said Zechs with a sip of his wine. "Yes,
exactly. My brother. How did you-?"
"He told me things," Une said quietly. "Things I
don't know that he told anyone else."
"Likewise," said Zechs. "I wonder how many of the
same stories we've heard."
Une laughed softly. "Very few, I should think. There
were things he'd have told me but not you, and some
of these I will not share with you now. Likewise I am
sure the same is true for you."
"It may be," Zechs agreed.
* * *
"...and then he turned to me and said, 'My dear,
would you care to dance?' I'm a wretched dancer, and
told him so, but he didn't seem to care."
"He wouldn't," Zechs said. "And Treize had enough
grace to make up for anyone else's lack. Did you
dance with him?"
Une raised an eyebrow at him and refilled her glass
of the well-aged Merlot.
"That," she said over the rim of her glass, "is
privileged information." At Zechs' blank look she
added, "What, you think I don't know the slang terms
your generation uses these days?"
"Oh," said Zechs, a blush creeping up his cheeks.
"*Oh*. Although," he added, "if you *had*- and I'm
not asking, Lady! -you'd have been his first."
"Might one inquire- simply out of curiosity, mind-
how you know that?"
"You mean to tell me that women don't discuss these
things?" Zechs asked. "Although Treize was far more
discreet than anyone else I've ever known. It's
really a matter of a thing he said to me once, years
ago, when you first went to work for him. The day
after that assassination attempt-"
"Ah," said Une. "That I remember. Typical of
Romafeller to hire an assassin who couldn't hit the
broad side of a Leo..."
"Still, you risked your life to save his, and an hour
or so later, he was pacing around my apartment,
throwing up his hands in confusion, one moment
cursing your stupidity, the next exalting your
bravery. Then he stopped short, dropped his hands,
looked up at me and said, 'I love her.' And I said
'Really, old boy? I hadn't a clue'. I believe he
threw something at me- but that was the beginning of
it, I think."
"And what was it he said which made you believe that
I'd have been-"
"He said, that same eve, 'She will be my first, my
last, and my only- if only she would have me, Zechs'.
Treize- flirted a lot, you probably noticed. It was
something his family insisted he learn- there's an
art to it, and there was never an art that Treize
didn't excel at."
"And he'd be the first to tell you that, of course,"
Une said.
"Exactly so. He flirted a lot, charmed up the
daughters of his father's business partners, and the
wives of the Romafeller executives, but it never went
any farther beyond that, and I knew it well."
"He brought me roses the next day, after that
attempt," Une said. "At least two dozen of them. To
say thank you, he said. 'For what, sir?' I asked. 'I
was only doing my duty.' But he shook his head, and I
knew *he* knew- it had always been more than that."
"Treize was perceptive as few people are," Zechs
said. "But if you knew, and *he* knew-?"
"I believe he wanted things to be perfect, before he
said anything directly," Une replied. "He always did
think he could change the world."
"He did," Zechs said. "He changed it, and I nearly
destroyed it. That was always the difference between
us. Or one of them."
"He spoke of you on occasion," Une said. "Not only as
being one of the best soldiers serving OZ, but as the
brother he'd never had. He loved you. Your leaving OZ
tore something within him, something he wouldn't
admit, but which I clearly saw. He felt as if not
only had he betrayed you- because why else would you
have forsaken OZ? -but that he had betrayed all he
stood for."
"Even drunk, he always had to wrestle the hard
questions. He couldn't leave it to somebody else."
"What makes you think he was drunk?" Une asked.
Zechs simply tapped the bottle between them on the
table. "We were children together. He was my elder,
my protector, my mentor. I spent my childhood glued
to his shadow. I saw nearly everything."
"I would say that he was on the line between only
vaguely sober and extremely drunk. It was almost
charming in a way, though. The way he started
slurring those poetic phrases of his."
Zechs laughed. "You only find it charming because you
never had to fetch him aspirin and a basin the
morning after. Although he did have an amusing little
pout he'd wear all through those mornings..."
Une laughed softly. "I can very easily see that," she
said.
* * *
"...Treize's father said, 'Treize! Where's the
furniture gotten off to?' And Treize said, 'I'm
sorry, sir, but Milliardo and I had need of it. To
defend against the enemy, you know.' And looking
quite fearful, Treize's father said, 'Who's the
enemy, son?' And Treize said, 'Cousin Dorothy.' His
father asked who was winning, and Treize rolled his
eyes. 'We are, of course. Would you go aide Dorothy,
please? I don't believe it's fair, otherwise.' And
the old Duke did just that."
The level in the wine bottle had steadily decreased,
and was now mostly empty. Tears streamed down Lady
Une's cheeks as she laughed, and Zechs looked at the
bottle as if its decreased contents were the wine's
own fault.
"Thank you, Zechs," Une said. "For telling me these
things..."
"You are welcome, Lady. Thank you for sharing what
you did."
A discreet tapping at the door caused them both to
look up.
Dorothy Catalonia stepped into the room, her eyes
red-rimmed and puffy. "Is this a private wake," she
asked quietly, "or can anyone join?"
"Have a seat, Dorothy," Une said, rising to her feet.
"We're going to need another bottle, though..."
