Author: Rage of Blackmist (formerly known as Duchessa Ashley)
Anime Series: Gundam Wing – Endless Waltz
Couples: Zechs x Noin (mainly) w/ some other pairings
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, Endless Waltz NOR any of the characters that is associated with the aforementioned. I do own the original characters henceforth mentioned.
AN: This story was previously posted a couple years ago but I recently took it down and revised it.
Hotel Jardin de Carrejo
Logan,Colony Frega
AC 200
Bourbon: Whiskey distilled from a mash of corn, malt, rye, and aged in charred oak barrels.
Excellent Bourbon: Apparently the bottle almost empty in the hands of a nearly inebriated Lt. Zechs Merquise.
So why care?
Despite the bottle having little more than a tablespoon of liquor left in it, Zechs wasn't about to allow even the last drop of the horrid alcohol go to waste. Hell and damnination, the beverage cost him nearly a small fortune, so he figured he should be able to down it all. And just why was the war hero drinking his sorrows away? The answer suddenly came to his mind, so he tipped his head back to inspect the remaining drops of bourbon. The potent smell that drifted to his nose brought to mind the image of an old man he once knew.
Grayish-white hair with too large of glasses hung from an aristocratic nose and the smell of aged bourbon drifted from the elders lips as he spoke to a very young Millardo Peacecraft. "Your father and I used to sit here in this very room for hours at a time, young man." The respected elder said. "A good man, that father of yours was, a good man. A shame it ended they way it did." With a pause he added, "I say, boy, remember the memories." Those words were spoken so sadly they just hung in the air. Neither Zechs nor the older man made further conversation for what was said held a thousand meanings.
"Remember the memories, ha!" Zechs mumbled thinking back on what he was told.
Although, Zechs, or rather Millardo, was only just a boy when his father died, there were memories of his childhood in which he could never forget.
When he was alone and silence became overbearing, Zechs would unknowingly remember the few times when his father would sneak into the school room to watch over him. While he wasn't supposed to notice his father's presence, Zechs knew anyways. It felt different, the room did, when his father would come and sit in on the day's lessons. He'd stay to make sure all was well, that his son was receiving a proper education- or so his mother would tell him when Zechs would ask why Papa would come to the school room. Deep down in his heart he knew that his father came for other reasons, more personal reasons. His father wanted to make sure Zechs was safe and out of harms way.
Father and son were so much alike, yet so different it was frightening.
"We are not alike, father of mine!" Zechs said. He sat up suddenly, straight as a ruler. "I am not you!" Darkness entered his blue orbs casting a shadow of confused hate. Outside, the hills of Logan shook as thunder and lightening clashed. Rain poured in buckets, while the wind whipped the rain around in deadly circles. What a miserable day he thought just as a drunken hiccup escaped from his lips.
A tiny voice in Zechs' head tried to reason with him. "You are your father. You are your father." The voice haunted until Zechs could take it no longer. He tried desperately to force the chanting out of his head but that deemed impossible.
Whispering to his reflection in the window he spoke, "If I was my father, if I was him… I wouldn't be here."
And just where was here? Stuck on Colony Frega in a Level 3 hazard storm alone and desperately needing some advice. But first, he needs to sober up, which by judging from the two empty bottles and one almost empty bottle in his hands, might be a while.
Flipping the bottle upside down, his little finger made a mad plunge into the neck, scrounging around for the final drop as the liquid slowly slid down. A smirk lifted to his lips when his finger and the liquor fused, a look of pure contentment masking his sloppy unshaved face. His right eye zoomed in on the empty bottle, searching again, hoping that even the slightest amount of the liquor escaped his notice. His disappointment at not finding any became evident when the bottle went flying towards the opposite side of his room. Sharp edges of glass shattered from impact, landing dangerously about the desk and floor.
A hiccup broke through his lips followed by another and another.
Drunk! He is completely and pathetically drunk.
Naturally, the ace military fighter pilot and former Prince of Sanc convinced himself that he was slightly buzzed, but like the experts say, mirrors don't lie. Slowly he slugged his way over to the bathroom, getting the best look he could of himself in the mirror and laughed. A deep heartily laugh that penetrated the tiled walls and porcelain tub.
No, his reasons for getting drunk off of bourbon hand nothing directly to do with his father or his past. Instead, his troubles, as much as he wished them not to be, had to do with one Lucrezia Noin. Actually, his headache and drunken state had everything to do with just plain women in general. They always jump to conclusions. Damn bloody lot of them!
Just then an image of how this trip to Logan was supposed to of gone came to Zechs' mind. Crash! Another empty bottle of bourbon hit the oak door to his hotel room. Bloody everlasting hell!
Instead of shelling out a small fortune on bourbon, Zechs could be enjoying a nice peaceful dinner with his beautiful Preventer partner. Or better yet… be at this very moment lying in bed drowning himself in the soft flirtatious scent of Lucrezia Noin.
Hell and damnination! Now he was annoyed.
Lt. Zechs Merquise couldn't figure out what was more infuriating; being found in quite possibly the worst situation by his beautiful partner or knowing that despite the situation not being completely his fault, she thought otherwise.
And just what did Lt. Lucrezia Noin find herself earlier this glorious morning? Try a nearly undressed Zechs and a completely stark naked Dorothy Catalonia lounging shamelessly under his covers. Dorothy even had that wicked look of accomplishment she gets when things are going exactly as she had planned.
Poor Lucrezia, she nearly had a heart attack once that damn blonde vixen seductively started to stretch under the blankets. The look in the young lieutenant's eyes when Zechs shot her a quick glance could destroy a Gundam with one blow. Lucrezia looked hurt, as if her heart was torn out and ripped apart. Then her hurt turned into shock, shock quickly turning into anger as she diverted her eyes towards Zechs.
Looking equally shocked and mad as hell, Zechs slowly snatched the nearest available shirt and put it on, all the while Dorothy masked a calmness that'd put Relena to shame. Just what the hell was going on there?
"Dorothy, collect your things and leave." Zechs quietly yet firmly spoke, while he started to slowly walk towards Lucrezia's frozen body. Every inch he gained, she took a step back until she was pressed firmly against the wall. Her eyes grew large with uncertainty, a mound of tears starting to pile up at her lids.
When Dorothy heard her dismiss, her smirk deepened further into a satisfied smile. The smile was sketchy, almost expected, as if this tramp had hidden motives. Everyone knows that Dorothy shouldn't be taken seriously or in that same respect, should be taken cautiously. She's known to declare her enemies, usually makes a point to publicly humiliate her rivals. But what did Lucrezia do to piss off Miss. Catalonia?
Having this uncontrollable urge to run right over to that prissy blonde heiress and slap that smile right off her face fueled Lucrezia, but just as she was about to inch forward, Zechs gently took hold of her wrist. Her jaw clenched hard, annoyed that he would even dare touch her, but he didn't notice. Either that or he made it a point not to care. Is he really that annoyed that I ruined his little morning of bless?
Dorothy took five long drugging minutes to locate all her things before staggering toward the door. Those minutes, those long unbearable minutes tore at Lucrezia's heart. She never imagined having to ever be in a position like this; a position so hurtful and hateful, especially when Zechs was the one doing the hurting. Sure, being a soldier meant hard times and rough circumstances. Watching men die at the hands of other men no different from themselves, beating off rapists then tragically and unwilling watch as the victims loose their mines. She could handle that, even take control of the situation if need be but this… this betrayal is over her head.
Dorothy was no more than two feet out of the hotel room before air started to ventilate throughout Lucrezia's lungs. Zechs' too, she noticed, he was standing that close. What's going on?
They eyed each other, both feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed, but neither could find the right words to say to one another. Luckily for Lucrezia, she regained her senses and firmly shook off his death grip. He reacted by trying to catch her but she cautiously evaded his arms, stepping quickly away from him… and luckily right out the door of his hotel room.
It took a few seconds for Zechs to register that she had left. Should he go after her? God knows he needs to explain the reason behind this adulterous scene. Would she believe his rushed explanation? Should he tell her that he didn't know Dorothy was tucked away in his room, without him knowing? Would she care? Yet, as the door slammed shut, he couldn't move an inch. She'd probably reach her car before he even had the chance to put some pants on.
A loud frustrated groan fled from his lips as a shaky hand combed through his hair. Unfortunately, Lucrezia and he had just come to port early this morning after a sixteen hour shuttle ride from Madrid, Spain. Their business as head NEXC commanders for the Preventers in Colony Frega will keep them here for at least another two nights. His forehead gently slammed into the door.
Coming back to reality, Zechs stepped away from the bathroom mirror to turn on the shower faucet. Hot water hit the porcelain tub in ricocheting sounds. Hot steam began to fog up the bathroom window and mirror as he undressed, testing out the temperature of the water with his rough hands.
First, he'd take a shower. Secondly, he'd clean up the broken pieces of bottle off the floor so that the maids won't get cut. Thirdly, he'd sober up, work at his desk for a couple hours, praying the whole while that these next three days will go smoothly.
Then another image of Lucrezia came to mind.
This is going to be one long NECX assignment.
The storm had finally decided to ease up after three days of utter hell. Even though Frega is a colony, the simulated weather conditions are schedule controlled. If it is scheduled to rain, thunder and lightening, it is going to rain, thunder and lightening. The good part of controlled weather is that the weatherman is never wrong unlike most weather forecasters on Earth. One of these days, Lucrezia thought to herself, they'll get the weather right. It just might take them a few centuries before they do.
Moving away from the window and sunshine, Lucrezia looked towards her desk. Mounds of paperwork and reports littered the desk top while even more notebooks and folders covered the floor. Today was her fourth and last day in Logan. The final meeting is schedule for later that evening and she still has a load of work to do before then. But for some reason, work seemed like the last thing she wanted to waste her time doing, especially when all she had on her mind was the little episode that happened two mornings ago.
Scratch that.
After rationalizing the scene a few days ago, Lucrezia didn't believe for one second that Zechs and that bushy-eyed political devil had slept together. For one, Dorothy Catalonia is quite frankly bad meat. Why? She's a Catalonia! Really, her last name alone is all it would take for a man like Zechs to be completely turned off by her. Secondly, her actions during and after the war pretty much killed her off in the eyes of any sane human being. Save Quatre. Lucrezia suspects he pities her more than anything, but sometimes when he looks at her, pity is the farthest thing from his mind…
A chill raced down her back just thinking about Quatre and Dorothy… Yuck!
The worst part of the whole awkward situation is that he never voluntarily explained to her why she was in his room; in his bed, most importantly. Since that morning, Lucrezia thought she was doing somewhat okay. She went to the meetings, sat next to him for hours on end, even engaged in polite business conversation with him. And after the meetings were over and he still didn't make a move to explain what had happened, she held her head up high and walked back to her room. She is always and forever will be professional.
Okay, so deep down she's harboring a feeling of betrayal and rage but as long as it doesn't show on the outside, life for her was fine. If only momentarily! Flopping down onto the room's couch she skimmed a few network channels deciding on the international news channel. Unfortunately, that wasn't the best of channels to choose to watch being that a large rather unfitting image of Dorothy Catalonia appeared on the screen. The anchor woman was praising Dorothy on all her achievements with Project No Tears, an organization that specializes in finding permanent homes for orphaned children. God damn Dorothy Catalonia. Who the hell does she think she is?
"She's not even pretty!" Lucrezia said out loud to no one in particular. "Well at least not drop dead gorgeous."
Several minutes passed before a buzzing sound startled Lucrezia out of her deep thoughts. Which was probably for the better since her latest thoughts included a certain blonde haired woman in the library with the led pipe. It took her a few seconds to realize that the door was buzzing and not the phone. Just as Lucrezia turned the door handle, in sails the very woman whose picture graced the TV monitor but a few moments ago.
"Beautiful day out, isn't Lucrezia? I declare, the temperature must be nearly eighty-five degrees out." Dorothy's voice rang, as perfectly planned words came floating from her lips.
Lucrezia just stood there holding the door handle looking at Dorothy as if she was seeing things. "Miss. Catalonia?" She whispered, too surprised to speak any louder. "What are you doing here?"
"You'll have to speak up, Lucrezia, I can barely hear you."
"It's Lieutenant Noin, Miss. Catalonia. And answer the question or leave." Lucrezia nearly hissed, blood boiling in her veins. "Actually, skip the former and do the latter. Saves me the trouble of having to throw you out."
A twisted and unflattering smile lit Dorothy's face while a pink flush shadowed her checks. "Not very hospitable this morning, are you? Just as expected." Her left eyebrow shot up, slanting dangerously inward. "I thought I'd pay you a call, to ah, see how you are."
"Hn." Lucrezia snorted at first biting her tongue to hold off from saying anything else. Then she tasted blood and couldn't hold it in any longer. "A call? To see how I am?" Lucrezia repeated, amazed that this blonde had the gall enough to come seek her out. "You've got to be kidding me!" Her control snapped. Holding the door more forcefully open, hinting at Dorothy that she is not welcomed here, a sarcastic smile flashed across her face. "Get out!"
Dorothy gently slapped her fashionable walking gloves against her palm and annoyingly giggled. Her big plantation hat shadowed the right side of her face not allowing Lucrezia to see the vicious arch in the other woman's trademark eyebrows. "I'm trying to be mature about this unfortunate issue by calling on you. I can tell that you, however, wish that I'd rather leave."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're a mind reader? Because obviously you didn't hear me the few times I told you to GET OUT!"
"UH…" Dorothy sighed. "Well, I've never…"
"Yes, that's right. You've never!" Lucrezia extended her arm towards the door ushering for Dorothy to leave. "Thank you for stopping by Miss. Catalonia but no, I am not interested in hearing whatever it is you have to say."
Dorothy stood there transfixed amazed that Lucrezia was actually throwing her out. Pride swelled in her veins as she stomped to the door stopping just inches away from Lucrezia.
"He doesn't want you!" Dorothy viciously spat out glad that she was able to say what she had come here to say.
"Again, thank you for stopping by." Lucrezia countered, thus far unaffected by the blonde's remark.
"It's just eating you up inside knowing that Zechs Merquise, better yet Millardo Peacecraft, doesn't want you." Dorothy shot back. "He's powerful, influential, financially stable and for heaven sakes, he's royalty."
"I said, thank you for…"
"Oh shut up and listen…"
"…" She held her breath. This time Lucrezia's eyebrows shot up.
Dorothy looked the dark haired woman straight in the eyes. "He. Doesn't. Want. You." Looking at Lucrezia's blank stare, she smirked.
"Get out."
"It's really rather simple, Lucrezia. And honestly, this issue between the two of you is bound to come up sooner or later. Just ask him."
"GET OUT!" Lucrezia yelled, rage consuming her clear level-headed thoughts. "I WANT YOU OUT."
"My pleasure. Just remember this," Dorothy said, while walking down the hall. "You'll never have him. He's too above you. After all, you are the daughter of no one important while he's the son of a king."
"Go to hell, Dorothy Catalonia!" With that, Lucrezia slammed the door shut. She was too pissed off to cry and too hurt to feel sorry for herself. She wasn't, however, too stupid to forgot all of what Dorothy had said. "Doesn't want me, ha! I can think of two times in particular where I can prove that theory wrong."
She stomped over to the desk and flopped down, picking up a folder in the process. The best way to vent this anger is on work. She'll just work like crazy until it's time for the meeting, get that over with, and get on the first shuttle back home.
"And he isn't…" Lucrezia started to say out loud but slowly drifted off. An image of him in his monarch uniform flashed across her eyes followed by thoughts of him back at Lake Victoria. An image of Sanc Palace, of Relena, of his parents… all those images came to her mind. "My father…" she started to say in defense but froze instead. "My father…" She repeated. "He…"
Lucrezia Noin realized that she didn't have anything to say about her father. How said is that, especially since she never met the man and most certainly wouldn't meet him. Why?
Unfortunately, he died when she was only a few months old.
He was feeling like an ass again. Only this time he didn't have the excuse of being drunk to dim the light in his character. He should of explained everything to her the moment Dorothy left his room. Not that he could, mind you, because a very determined Lucrezia evaded his attention and quit the room right after Dorothy did. But still…
The migraine that took the third bottle of bourbon to get rid of was coming back.
Zechs had two and a half days to explain his actions, but like most men, he didn't. Because of his idiocy, three more feet worth of dirt was dug up from his grave making the plot even deeper. He considered calling someone for advice but thought against it immediately. The last thing he needed at this point was to get everyone else involved. He always thought himself a private man and had a few friends, mainly in Relena, Lady Une and Sally Po, but what he needs now is a stranger's opinion, preferably a woman's opinion.
He picked up the phone next to his bed on a nightstand and dialed a familiar number, one he hadn't used in years. Unfortunately, there was no answer so instead he dialed the next best thing. He called Relena. They talked for a few minutes, getting over and done with the usual questions from each other.
"Hi, how are you?"
"Good. Thank you. And yourself?"
"Good."
He then went on to explain what had happened and what he lacked to do about the problem. Several minutes and one extremely annoyed young woman later, Zechs knew what he had to do. He had to call her and explain why he never said anything the other day.
"Hello?" Her voice greeted questionably, apparently not knowing Zechs was on the other end.
"Noin…" Zechs said, getting out of bed only to step on a hidden piece of glass that he missed while cleaning a couple nights ago. Blood started to collect in a pool on the hardwood floor. "Awww…"
Surprise jarred her senses. What the hell? "Zechs?... Zechs?"
His foot stung but the injury wasn't fatal. He's suffered through worse. "Damnit!"
She paused. "Are you drunk?" Lucrezia questioned, unbelief crossing her face.
Another blasphemy escaped his lips. "No," he took a gulp "just bleeding."
"Ooo." She uttered under her breath. The want to hang up on him under-powered the need to hear whatever it is he wanted to say.
"I need to explain-" he started "-about what happened the other morning, if you'll let me." He pictured her just then, holding the phone tightly up against her ear, eyes huge and glossy, lips firm and stance solid.
"If you're trying to convince me that you didn't sleep with Dorothy, you're wasting your time." Noin remarked, her voice a little shaky. "I had myself a little conversation with her earlier this morning. I got the vibe that the scene I walked in on was planned."
He paused, a little relieved that he didn't have to do any convincing but more so annoyed at the fact that he got all worried over nothing.
"I didn't know that Dorothy was in my room." He honestly stated just for the fact.
"…" A deadly silence penetrated the room.
"We obviously didn't sleep together." Another fact!
"Obviously." Was all Lucrezia could comment back.
"You're angry." Zechs pointed out, confused. He didn't sleep with her, a fact which Lucrezia admitted she agreed too, but yet she's mad. "I should have explained sooner."
"Yes, you should have."
"You're still angry with me."
"Right again." She barked, this time a little too quickly.
A minute's worth of silence lined the air on both ends. He didn't know what to say and she had every comeback to what he did manage to say. Their conversation wasn't as he planned.
Zechs took a chance and asked, "What do you want to do about this situation?" He wasn't really asking for a response. Unfortunately, he got one.
He got a dead phone connection.
The telephone rang for several seconds, enough time that Lucrezia almost gave up, but right before the answering machine kicked on Major Sally Po answered in a gruff sleepy voice. "Po here, what could you possibly want at this ungodly hour?"
"Sally, it's Noin."
The newly appointed Chief of Surgery at Sanc Medical, financed by the Preventers, shot up from her pillow, dizziness creeping into her eyes.
"Noin, what's wrong? Are you okay?" she asked with sincere concern. "Is it Zechs?"
"No, slow down. Nothing serious is wrong." She took a deep breath to steady her worried voice.
"That's a lie, Lieutenant. I may be a doctor but I was trained first and foremost to know when someone is lying." Sally pointed out, realizing that something was definitely wrong with Lucrezia. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or do I have to pinch it out of you?"
"…" There was no response for several seconds. Sally thought that very odd.
"Noin? Are you still there?" Panic filled her body, shaky hands flinging back her duvet as she hastily got out of bed. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"
Finally, Lucrezia gathered enough courage to say what was plaguing her thoughts for the past couple of hours. "It's Zechs. I think he might be-"
Sally cut her off. "-hurt. Understood. Give me your cords, I'll send a team out to you right away."
"No, no… He's not hurt, well not seriously I don't think. He was bleeding earlier. But honestly, everything's okay, please, stop and just listen." Lucrezia chuckled. All her uneasiness started to slowly fade away.
What the hell is going on? Why is Noin acting so distance, so mysterious? Sally's patience was running thin. Something was off key. "I'm listening… Tell me what's wrong."
"It's about Zechs. I caught him with Dorothy Catalonia."
Sally gasped. "WHAT!" A screech escaped her lips as she slid onto her bedroom floor, totally in shock. Found him with Dorothy…
"I found her in his bed, Sally. I think Dorothy's up to something."