Chapter 1 – Message in a bottle
Noin hummed softly to herself, and rotated her head, trying to work out the kink in her neck. It had been a long day, but the recent excavation was coming along nicely. The work was hard, but to actually see progress, to build something; that gave a thrill all its own.
A long figure stood before the windows, silhouetted in the faint light as she entered the common room. She frowned slightly – it was too late for most of the members of their barracks to still be awake. She would have been home hours ago, if not for the oil rupture in her suit.
The figure shifted, brushing a strand of hair over his shoulder. She smiled. He was impossible to miss. Scuffing her foot slightly (sneaking up behind either of them was not healthy), she wrapped an arm around his waist.
"What are you doing still awake?" She laid a kiss against his back. And felt the tremors running through his frame.
"Zechs?"
"Noin." His fingers wrapped around her hand and squeezed.
The frown crept back to Noin's face. "What's wrong?'
"I have to return to earth."
"Relena called again?" Noin sighed. "When do you have to leave? Did she bother to give you any warning this time?"
Zechs shook his head slightly. "It's not Relena. It's a friend. I believe she's in danger."
Friend? Aside from herself and Treize, Noin didn't remember Zechs having many friends. And female at that, a small part of her brain whispered. Sighing quietly, she tromped on that jealous little thought and tried to turn him in her arms. When he didn't budge, she slid in front of him and raised a hand to lightly touch his chin.
The bond between them had deepened over the past year since the Dekim Barton debacle. But, at times, Zechs still closed himself off, hoarding his pain – and secrets – deep inside himself. Noin figured he still did so out of habit, a desire to protect her and a need to always be in control, to keep a part of Zechs that was only Zechs. With all the masks, roles and names he'd played, often it was hard for him to discover and hold on to himself. Noin suspected this friend fell into the latter category.
"Zechs." She increased the pressure, forcing his eyes to meet hers. "When do we leave?"
He blinked, startled out of his retreat into the Lightening Count. "Noin – I don't know how long I'll need to be gone – "
"We'll need to be gone." She cut him off. "If you want me to stay behind, I will. But you don't have to do anything alone ever again. So, when do we leave?"
Zechs drew a shuddering breath and leaned his forehead against hers. His hair fell forward, curtaining them. His arms snaked around her waist, drawing her close. Noin could almost see the wall he had begun to build crumbling around them. "Thank you, " he whispered.
"We never have to be alone again, either of us. I don't plan to let you go just that easily." She softly kissed his lips and threaded her fingers through his hair, cupping the back of his head. And for one moment, the world around them ceased to exist. Then, reluctantly, she pulled back.
"So, how do you know this friend is in danger?"
Zechs' arms dropped and he turned to the end table next to them. "I actually think she might be dead. Here." He handed her a palm viewer and a data slide.
Noin took them, looking a question at Zechs. He gestured to the couch and sat. She joined him and cued the slide. The viewer flickered, and a red-headed woman with hazel eyes appeared.
"There we go," the woman on the screen leaned back contentedly and smiled. "Long time, no see Wind. But, I have kept some tabs on you, my friend. And I am immensely happy, even if it did take you long enough." The eyes sparkled as a wide grin split her face. "About damn time. I was beginning to think I needed to come there and kick your ass myself. Thank you for proving me wrong.
"Anyhow, you'll be intrigued to know that I finally ventured into town, all by my lonesome, I might add. And, whatever did I find! I came across this club; so-so drinks, but the atmosphere -! It was enough to knock off your socks. I had just a terrible time," she winked and grinned, "if you know what I mean. They gave me the name of a restaurant to check out. Apparently they specialize in after hours dinners. I just have to dig into the menu. After all, you know me. I'll let you know what I turn up. They may actually make a better stew than you.
"Oh, and of course, since I'll be in the area, I think I'll stop by that new beauty shop I spotted. Time for a new do as well." A soft beep sounded in the background. "Okay my friend. Have to go take a look at that. Stay safe – and treat that woman well. She's better than you deserve." The smile reappeared, a little softer and more sincere. "I'll try to give you an update in a couple of weeks, even if this place turns out to be a dud. Keep kickin'." She saluted the screen and the image died.
Noin lifted an eyebrow. Several questions buzzed through her mind. She seized the first. "That's a call for help?" She turned to Zechs. "So, what's the code?"
A small smile tugged at his lips. "Yes, actually. Silver's not exactly the party girl. This tells me that she's found a terrorist cell, has decided to look into them more closely, undercover, on her own. She thinks they're potentially very dangerous, maybe even more so that White Fang. And plans to give me an update in a few weeks."
Noin turned back to the smiling woman on the data pad. "Really. Then why didn't she just go to the Preventers? After all, that is why Lady Une formed them, to deal with terrorist threats."
"She was an agent with first the Alliance, then Oz, then broke away. I believe if she and Une ever come into the same room, blood will flow."
Even more interesting. The questions just kept coming. "Okay. But, still – why not turn the information she had over to the Preventers? Why investigate on her own?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. But, this message was probably her back-up, her attempt to make sure the information would get to the Preventers in case something did happen to her."
Logical. "How do you know she's in trouble?"
Zechs rubbed at his forehead. "It's date stamped six weeks ago. Apparently it was part of the shipment that accidentally went to L3 last month. According to this, if everything went as scheduled, she should have sent me another message three weeks ago. Something's wrong, Noin. I know it."
Noin met his troubled gaze. This friend meant something to him, something he hadn't told her about – until now.
"When do we leave?"
***
She rolled onto her side, head pillowed on the upper portion of the arm stretched above her. Her breath came in little sobbing gasps that she wasn't even aware of making, much less controlling. Her broken left arm, cradle against her chest, throbbed in time with her back. The rest of her cuts, bruises and aches she couldn't even catalogue anymore.
Please – to any god that will listen – let him finally lose it and kill me.
She'd almost done it today. Finally she'd taunted him enough. Finally he would draw that damn scalpel across her throat instead of her skin. But, no. At the last moment, he'd pulled back. And returned with the branding iron instead.
Groaning, she tried to move – really. Tried to get to the bed, or at least the covers trailing over the side. But her body refused. Just flat refused (traitor). Unfortunately, it didn't stop her brain from jumping all over the place like a damn frog.
Two weeks. A week? Hell, it could be a month for all she knew. When they'd discovered her, three week into her little investigation, the first thing they did was screw with her time sense; meals at random times, breaking her sleep pattern, the constant semi-gray of her cell. She'd expected it really. After all, it was the first step of any good torture/interrogator. And that bastard knows them all, she thought. Those nice first steps, all carried out to soften her up. Little did they expect she'd spill her guts within the first five minutes, without the prompting.
"Who are you working for?"
She smiled into the glare of the spotlight. "Nobody."
That earned her the first cuff upside the head. "Who are you working for?"
"I'm a freelancer."
This time she tasted blood.
"Although, I'm sure the Preventers would love to know what I know."
"Which is?"
A corner of her mouth quirked. "Treize use to dance around in women's underwear."
That earned her the first, very professional, beating. And the personal attention of him.
Ever since she'd given them the truth, lies, half-truths and outright fiction. Let them figure it out. She was pretty sure he had already. It was in his eyes. The bastard just got off on the pain.
She'd begun insulting the guards the day the broke her arm tossing her back into her cell. And taunting him seriously the day he broke out the scalpels and mild acid. So far he hadn't killed her. She just hoped – prayed – he'd do it before she was as insane as him.
The door to the cell opened, the new light bathing her only a slightly lighter shade of gray. She hadn't moved from the entrance where they'd dropped her minutes, days, hours ago.
"Time for some more fun, bitch."
Scar Eye. She knew them all by voice now. He fumbled at his belt. "My turn."
He grabbed her by the arm – the broken one, of course – hauling her upright. A small scream, all she had left really, escaped from her throat.
He met her eyes, and sneered. "Ah. Maybe not today. " He let go with a little shove. Pain blossomed where the back of her skull connected with the floor, overridden by the agony from the fresh brand.
Then blackness.
Well, what do you think so far? My first fic, playing with established characters. Please let me know, good or bad. Any and all reviews are welcome. This chapter's a little short; just think of it as an introduction – a good appetizer to warm up the palate.