Of Saints and Soldiers: Into the Storm

by A. Ruth Howe

After the Eve Wars, a constantly displaced Zechs finds purpose in a hostile nation. Now years after the Endless Waltz, a threat rises from the very shores he sought shelter on. Zechs must take up the sword with his compatriots and fight. *Completed*

1. Prologue: The Man in the Tide

Gundam wing is not owned by me

Special thanks to the folks whose creativity made this possible. Kim, Steve, Colby, Sarah, Adam, and Amber,. Love to you all

Of Saints and Soldiers

"Who are we to decide which path is the best for all to walk? We cannot know whether it is the violent path of War that has led us to this place and time. We cannot know if Peace would have been a better choice, or if such a thing is even possible. Life is perception. Some of us will be angels; some of us will be demons; some of use will be both. In the end, it is all just a tale of saints and soldiers."

~ Analicia Delizabane

PROLOGUE

THE MAN IN THE TIDE

"What is more heartbreaking, the defeat, or the man who must bear it?"

~ Aria Delizabane

AC 195 December 26

This had happened before……

He remembered only sparingly through the shards of now broken memory flying about aimlessly in his mind, that he had been to this place before. Hadn't he? The sand beneath his fingers, the sensation of salty waves licking at his exhausted body, the feeling of death looming over him. It was all so familiar. This must be the same place.

No. No this wasn't the same. The place he had been to before had been warm. The sand beneath his aching fingertips had radiated with the heat of the summer sun. The odd sensation of warmth had risen up from the grains and melted with the wind blowing through his hair. Now his fingers felt like ice in the soggy dust of this beach, and his body utterly frozen in place. No this was definitely different.

Not that he could even remember where it was that he had ended up on that summer day so long ago. He remembered landing there, practically crashing actually. Then stumbling out of his mobile suit and falling down on the sand in exhaustion. The warmth of the place had given him comfort after the cold ordeal he had just faced. Despite losing consciousness quickly, he had felt in a detached way, he was safe.

It had been after the sea battle he fought to win his life back from the condemnation Treize Khushrenada had rendered upon him. The Chief Commander of Oz had declared that he should die as a hero to the army and that his death would serve the coming of the new era. He was hurt that his long time friend was so willing to sacrifice him in the name of a dream that he had stopped believing in. So the fleet had come. Mobile suits, submarines, air power and waterpower. All intent on killing him, Zechs Merquise.

Zechs had prevailed, though he did not even remember how, just that it had cost him. He was leaving his childhood friend behind, never again to speak or look upon Treize as he once did. The cost of his life was the comfort of an old friend. That was the day it all started. It was the day that the war was truly born in him. The war which had just ended; the war that had brought him to the cold shores that he lay upon now. Zechs had absolutely no idea how he had come to lay upon this beach, or how he had arrived back on the earth. After the final battle with Heero Yuy and the Wingzero, after he had caused the reactor to explode on the portion of Libra that was still falling to earth, he had lost consciousness.

Now, once again, he lay in the sand. He was past all physical and emotional endurance, with his freedom won but his purpose once again unclear.

The tide was starting to reach him now. The cold water licked at his legs and feet. Zechs could barley even lift his head to look around. All he felt was the cold, the chill from the water and air, and the icy feeling of defeat that lingered like a plague upon him.

He was drifting in and out of reality again, as he dug his gloved fingers into the wet sand. Almost happy for the oblivion that was soon to be coming upon him, he let out a ragged breath. He could feel the blood in his body concentrating in his major organs as the Hypothermia descended upon him. There was a peaceful slowness assailing him.

"This is how it will end for me? Father…Treize… Is this the 'Bitter End' I told Heero of?" His thoughts sounded savage as they screamed through his head. His hand clawed at the sand in defiance "NO!" Zechs rasped out weakly. "This cannot be the end."

Forcing his eyes open and lifting his head, he was struck in the face by a ferocious frigid wind and the blinding color of white all around him. Wherever he was, it was a desolate and snowy place. Zechs limbs began to stiffen and his vision blurred. He didn't want to die here. Gritting his teeth, he let his face fall back down into the sand. The water was now lapping at his entire body. He smelt the decay of the sea as the foamy water rushed up past his face.

This was it, he was going to die. Zechs could no longer rail against this fate that loomed over him like dying oak tree that had sat in the backyard of his childhood. Once again, Zechs raised his head, determined to die with his eyes open and his head up. All he saw was white everywhere. Then something odd like a red feather floating towards him. Zechs used the last of his strength and reached out towards the flying red feather, before the darkness gathered before him and covered his sight. His body went limp and his breath felt like it was pulled away from him. The last sensation he felt as he awaited the darkness to change into oblivion, was a something warm upon his brow. He believed it to be the hand of death touching him at last.

* * * * * *

There was a slight rustle in the trees as she moved beyond them, out of the shadows, to where the headstones lay. She had been careful to make sure that there was no one around. It was near dusk and cold, most people would not visit a cemetery at this time of day. However, these particular graves were the final resting-places of two particular men. Just newly erected, though the bodies of neither man actually lay beneath the sod, as they had not been found, the graves shown dully in the waning light of the setting sun.

The young woman walked silently towards the twin headstones, her long black coat flying out behind her in the strong breeze. There was a strange and solemn air about her. She was not like those women who came here to weep, nor like those men who would bow their head in reverence and respect. In some ways, one would think she had no business here, but she knew better. She had more business here than almost anyone else.

Her visit here had been strongly delayed. The blonde Romafellar child and the former Queen of the world had stood at the graves for quite sometime and had prevented her from entering her own solitary reverie. As the day had grown dark, weeping silently, the two girls had left the site together. She had made sure they did not see her, she was good at being invisible when she felt the need.

How long had she been invisible in this world now? It seemed like centuries. She had spent years being invisible to every last person on this earth and in space, save for one man, who had always seen and known her. Now that man was gone, and the pain of that knowledge attacked her at all hours of the day.

Upon reaching her destination, she knelt down in front of the two cold stones. Her dark hair was braided back and fell over one shoulder, framing a face of cold grief. She had kept her eyes downcast until she was ready to face what lay before her. Slowly, and with great strength, she looked up and her ungloved fingers shot out to trace the words engraved into the frigid marble.

TREIZE ALEXANDER KHUSHRENADA

"Our Leader, Well Loved"

AC 171 October 29 - AC 195 December 24

The wind suddenly picked up, and stung her eyes with the cold. She traced her fingers along the curve of the letter that spelt out his name. There was an ache in her jaw and she realized that she had been clenching it and grinding her teeth the whole time. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but only released a strained sigh. Well loved indeed she thought to herself, for she knew just how many people had loved him. As she lay her forehead against the freezing stone, she wondered how many of those people he loved in return.

"That Lady Une would claim that you loved all people, Perhaps she is right, I suppose we shall never truly know." Her voice was rough and carried a thick British accent that was almost surprising to her. Had it really been that long since she heard herself speak? Yes it had, for she was invisible you see, like a silent ghost.

Where are you? The question came in her mind but refused to push past her lips. Perhaps she was afraid there might be an answer to it. Her dark eyes turned heavenward and then closed in reflection. "I have kept my promise to you. I returned to you, as it was your desire. I am sorry that it was a little too late though, for you to see me. But I kept my promise" The young woman's eyes fell back on the stone and she spoke directly to the name engraved upon it.

"Will you keep your promise to me? Will you be with me now?" she shook her head silently, and a small smile assailed her pale face. "You got off easy Treize, How many times have I wished I could have found honorable escape as you have found. But now you have to stay with me" She put her hand against her heart. "Here, you will be safe here, and you are coming with me, whether you like it or not!" Deep down in the cavernous and empty regions of her soul, she knew that there was no other place Treize would have wanted to be.

The smile faded from her face and a horrible stinging feeling stabbed at her eyes. Her mouth twisted in a heartbroken snarl, the sensation of tears in her eyes had become almost unknown to her over the years. She grit her teeth and clenched her fists tightly, as a single tear broke past her defenses and made a salty trail down her cheek. Her finger lifted to her face and she held the tear in her hand. Looking at it with a fascination, she had not shed a tear for…. She did not even remember the last time.

The young woman rose from the frost-covered grass and stood, still clutching the salty droplet in her hand. Her gaze shifted to the head stone beside Treize's.

Milliardo Foster Peacecraft

AC 176 - AC 195

Nothing. She felt absolutely nothing as she gazed down at the simple memorial to the White Fang leader. She bore no sentiments of hatred, or anger towards him, nor feelings of respect and fondness. There was just a large void where emotion for that man should have been. With the ethereal grace that was her birthright, she crossed over to Milliardo's stone without even making a footprint in the frost. Her lips formed a grim line across her face and she wiped her teary hand down the letters that formed the dead man's name. An arched eyebrow raised and she lowered her eyes to the ground beneath her feet.

"You're coming with me as well, you were far too young Milliardo to meet your end." She looked fleetingly at the Treize's stone "You were both too young."

The young woman stepped back and took in the sight of the two monuments as they looked in the last light of the sun. A long and slightly trembling sigh escaped her lungs as she cleared her thoughts. She closed her eyes and took on an expression that she usually wore. The expression that was always looking forward to the horizon, and she smiled a little wickedly. Treize had always been so very fond of that expression; it had made him smile whenever he saw her wear it. Her eyes opened and looked towards the setting sun.

"Unterstutzen Sie Zur Front." She spoke the German phrase quietly and fluently.

Back to the front.

And with that, Analicia Delizabane's hands thrust into the pockets of her long black coat as she turned away from the stones and began to walk towards the exit of the cemetery.

" Adieu. Mon amour." She breathed lightly in her Isle accent. Those were the last words she spoke, and the last words she would speak for years to come. She was invisible after all, and would be silent. Others would speak for her; she need not do it herself. There was much to be done now, and she must remain in the dark of the shadows if things were to be accomplished, never to be seen, never to be heard, and never to be known. Until the time was right. With the closing of the cemetery gates behind her, the woman once called Leecy closed another chapter on her life. Another soft rustling came from the iced trees, as if there was some sort of answer to her departing presence. But Leecy did not look up from the ground as she passed from the area and disappeared into the advancing night

* * * * * *

Elizabeth Langstaff clasped her hands together tightly as she strolled down the shoreline of the white cliffs of Dover. She had come here to think, as she often did. It had actually been a nightly ritual for her and her brother to walk along the beach that was not far from the home they shared, and reflect upon the events of the day. He would tell her of his day at the Commissions Office and she would tell him of the work she did as the assistant secretary to the Lady of Dover. How Elizabeth loved walking the shores with her brother, it was one of the great pleasures of her lonely life. Now, that life was made even lonelier, and her future seemed so bleak.

Only twenty four hours ago she had learned, in the midst of a Christmas celebration at the home of the Lady Delizabane, that her brother Liam had been killed. Killed in the great Eve War battle, while fighting in space for the World Nation against the White Fang Revolutionary Force. Liam had been so very passionate about defending the Earth, and he had carried such a love for the ideals preached by the former World Nation Sovereign Queen Relena, and the now deceased Treize Khushrenada. Elizabeth had been afraid this would happen. She hated fighting and wars, but what argument could she put forth against Liam's decision to enlist and fight, when the enemy he faced wanted to destroy the Earth.

Her hands trembled and shot up to her face to repress the sobs that broke through. She couldn't stop the flow of terrible thoughts that cascaded down upon her. Was Liam afraid before it happened? Was he alone when he died? How many other Sisters, Mothers, Fathers and Brothers were grieving for lost children?

Everyone. Everyone had lost something in this war. It was made obvious by the news and by the way everyone in Dover and around the world were acting, that all people felt as though they had lost something. They were all either morning the death of their loved ones, the loss of their leader Treize, or both.

I should have been able to help…. Some way. I am so powerless. I should have helped in some way.

The grief was unbelievable as she began to realize how alone she was now. Her parents were dead, and she had no other family. The only friends she had were those she worked with. Mrs. Collins who was the chief housekeeper at the Delizabane Manor, and her benefactress the Lady Delizabane herself, were the only ones she could consider friends.

Elizabeth slowed her pace, and gazed out on the waters. The tide was coming in; she would soon have to leave before the waves came crashing against the white cliffs. She wiped her eyes and started moving towards the passage in the cliffs that would allow her back to the cliff top where her home was.

As she made her way, something caught her eye. It looked like a piece of long driftwood lying in the surf. Another twinge of pain came to her as she remembered how as a child, Liam would collect driftwood for carving. Then, the pain faded and was replaced by a rushing panic. It was not a piece of wood. It was a man! He was lying face down in the surf.

She was running towards him, her red coat fanning out behind her as she sped up to complete the distance between them. Dread spread over her body as she thought he must dead, but that feeling was thankfully extinguished when she saw the man's hand flinch and claw at the sand. But then he was still and she ran faster towards him until her lungs burned. The only thought flinging in her mind: Get him out the water before he drowns.

The water was rushing up past his face as she reached him. Touching his forehead briefly, she felt how very cold he was and believed he was probably close to death. The man was large and his wet clothes would way him down. Elizabeth was a slight creature and hoped that she had the strength to lift him to safety. Grasping his shoulder tightly, she exerted all her strength and turned him over so that his face was out of the water. The man did not move and he was so very cold. Elizabeth began to panic and her eyes darted around quickly looking for someone who might help. But there was no one to be found, as she knew there wouldn't be. She had come to these shores to be alone after all, and no one was going to take a walk along the beach on a cold winter night while the tide was coming in.

Get him out of the water her mind screamed at her. She didn't know if she could. He was would be very heavy and she was none too strong. But she had to, or he would die. You wanted to help someone girl! Well here is your chance!

She took a quick deep breath and began pulling him forward. He remained absolutely still. Elizabeth wondered if she was too late to help him. She grunted loudly, pulling as hard as she could to bring him up onto the dry sand. He was indeed a tall man, and his wet clothes made him even heavier. How would she ever get him off the beach? But she had come this far; she had now pulled him up onto the dry part of the sand. Quickly Elizabeth knelt beside him and tried to see if he was breathing. But the loud sounds of the sea made it impossible for her to hear anything from his lips. Her hands worked rapidly at unbuttoning his overcoat and then at undoing the complex trappings of his uniform jacket. A soldier? She thought fleetingly as she finally reached his bare chest.

She smoothed back her black curls and placed her ear next to his heart trying to hear or feel some indication of life. After a moment, she felt him stir. The feeling of her warm skin against his must have revived him a bit. She raised her eyes to his face and saw his eyelids open a bit and his eyes roll back into his head. A soft moan of pain pushed past his lips. Relief swept through Elizabeth as she quickly took off her red coat and wrapped around his torso. Her hands covered his neck and face, trying to warm him as best she could. Perhaps if she could revive him, she wouldn't have to carry him. Carry him where? She would have to carry him to her home. It was the only place close enough.

The man's breath became ragged. He seemed to be responding to the warmth of her skin. Elizabeth said a quick prayer of thanks.

"Its alright now sir, Don't worry, I'll get you to safety." She assured the semi-conscious man in her lightest tone. Not waiting or expecting a response from him, she pulled him up into a sitting position and wrapped her coat around him. His head rolled back. She caught it and pulled it up, letting it fall and rest against her shoulder. His long wet hair was full of sand and algae from the water. The strong scent of the sea reached her nostrils as she slung his arm over her and pushed them with all her might to a standing position. Her body shook terrible under the strain. She took a step forward and nearly fell back, but caught herself. The movement was slowly reviving the man, and by the forth step he was putting out his feet clumsily to walk instead of letting them drag.

It seemed like hours passed by as she pulled the barely living man up the steep incline of the cliff passage. She knew her body would ache tomorrow from the strain of carrying him. All the while a million questions passed through her mind Who was this man? Was he a soldier? How did he come to be in the water? The man breathed harshly and more pained moans escaped him as she reached the cottage that was home. She opened the door with some difficulty and pulled the man into her brother's bedroom. Laying him down on the bed, she noticed that he was shivering terribly. A good sign, it meant that his body was trying to fight off the cold.

Elizabeth worked quickly and divested him of his boots shirt and breeches, though she did have some trouble with the knotted lace collar at his neck. She covered him with the thick knitted blanket that was at the end of the bed and ran to the kitchen. A few moments later she returned to the shivering man's side with a large bowl of hot water and some towels. The towels were soaked in the steaming water and wrung out a bit. Elizabeth then began placing them all over his body. Over his feet, legs, torso and neck. Replacing them when they became cool, Elizabeth repeated this process for nearly forty minutes.

Then the man's trembling began to wane and his hair started to dry. Color was returning to his stark white complexion, and his fingertips were now warm to the touch. Elizabeth felt exhausted as she looked on the sleeping man. He was going to be all right.

Once again she went to the kitchen and made a hot cup of tea. She brought it in and forced him to sit up and drink some. He choked it down, coughing and gagging at first, but still remained unaware of what was going on around him. Elizabeth then brought in some warmer blankets and tucked them around him. The man sighed raggedly and she looked upon him. Despite his disheveled, near death appearance, she could see he was obviously youthful and handsome. He had a foreign look to him, Elizabeth could tell he was not of the Isle country, more likely someone from the mainland. She smiled as he stirred and turned a bit under the covers. You've done well Miss Elizabeth. She extended her hand and brushed a finger down his warming cheek. He couldn't hear her words, but perhaps this gesture would help to let him know he was safe.

Now that he was out of immediate danger, she could call the doctor to come and examine this man. She picked up the phone and began dialing the number, watching her sleeping charge all the while. Then, as she heard the phone ringing on the other end of the line, the man's eyes opened and he looked at her.

Elizabeth went white as ghost as she looked at him. The blood fled from her face and she quickly hung up the phone, nearly dropping it.

Those eyes! I know this man…. Everyone knows this man! The man's eyes closed and he fell asleep again. Elizabeth began to tremble in fear; she struggled with the reality of what has happening. The man in the bed before her, he was the one who had sworn he would destroy the earth and kill her and everyone else on the planet. He was the man who she had been so afraid of when she saw his image on the television. They had said he was evil; that he was out of his mind. That he would not stop until he had destroyed everything.

Milliardo Peacecraft, the leader of the White Fang. She had heard that he had been killed in the final battle against one of the Gundam Pilots. He had openly opposed the peaceful will of Queen Relena, his own sister! He was responsible for the death of so many people. Her brother had died fighting him and his unholy cause. The World Nation had lost their beloved leader in the fight to stop him. And worst of all…He had destroyed a large portion of the Irish coast when he ordered the giant battleship Libra to fire upon the Earth. Men, Women, Children, so many people of the Isle had died because of this man.

And here he was, lying helplessly before her. Elizabeth was frozen in shock and fear for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, new fear sprung within her as another revelation dawned on her. If she called the doctor, or told anyone, if anyone saw him, he would be a dead man. She didn't even want to think about what they would do to him. Of all places on Earth to end up, Milliardo Peacecraft had come upon the shores of the Isles. There was no place on Earth where he was more hated, no place he had injured more than the British Isles.

"Oh dear lord." Was all she could say, and Milliardo murmured something inaudible as he once again stirred in his sleep. They would tear him to pieces when they found him.

She…couldn't let that happen. Elizabeth wouldn't allow anyone to take revenge upon him. She abhorred violence and though this man had perpetuated violence through out his life, she would not allow any violent action to be taken against him if she could help it.

Elizabeth rose quickly and began pacing. What could she do then? She would have to hide him if she intended to keep him safe. At least until he was well. Even if she changed her mind and decided to be unmerciful, she would never let the wolves attack him in the helpless state he was in now.

That's it… I will keep him safe until he is strong enough to do as he wishes…After that, who knows? She couldn't think past that. Elizabeth sat down again beside the bed and stared at the sleeping would-be destroyer of the Earth.

"Yes… When you are well, we shall see what is to be done with you" she breathed. After all, would it not serve to show him, that though he deserved to be killed for his crimes, there were peaceful people on the Earth who would be merciful? No, she would not be an instrument of violence, she would instead show him the mercy that he should have shown the people of the Earth.

Elizabeth let out a sigh and sealed her vow.

* * * * * *

Pain. The pain washed over him in the swirling tempest raging around him. The pain of memories swelled and ebbed inside the black confines of his burning mind. There was pounding, clawing, screaming, and despair. At the end of his will there seemed to be a light that must have been hope, shinning just out of his reach. Lost and spinning, he plummeted from great heights and rose from great depths, to battle again and again the figure, which was before him. The thing which presented itself as his enemy, that force which was bent on destroying him, and yet through his entire struggle he could not tell who or what it was. It didn't matter in any case. It had ceased to matter long ago. He placed no importance on what it was he was fighting, so long as he fought. The struggle itself was the prize, and it was the reason he existed. The struggle was what he was. He would rise again and again from whatever depth he had fallen to, to conquer his enemy. He would fight until he surpassed and had overcome all odds. There would be no rest, no submission, no retreat until all foes were vanquished and the enemies that lingered in his dreams and memories were eliminated. That was the life he had chosen, that was the path of a warrior.

A surge of fire gripped his body and Zechs cried out against the prison of his mind. He could not wake up! Was he dead? He must be dead if he could not wake up. Dead and alone with nothing but the most horrendous memories of deeds he had done and those he had not been able to do.

Memories of that most horrible defeat, the one named Heero Yuy. He could see his enemy beating him down with the Wing Zero, destroying him, killing him. And then the great blast that sent him plummeting through space and time. Where had he come to land at the end of his great fall? Had Heero finally sent him to meet his maker? How he hated Heero Yuy and everything that the boy represented. That boy, who had destroyed his grand design, the boy who Zechs could not defeat, that boy whom Zechs' own sister loved more than him.

Zechs screamed again until his voice left him. Now lying on the threshold between light and dark, he felt as though he was drowning. Resisting the darkness, even as he reached for the light of his hope. His bloodied fingertips stretched out towards the light. It burned his eyes to look at it, but he dare not look away. If he did he would see how alone he was, how no one stood by his side any longer, not even Noin, the one who was incapable of abandoning him. Was Noin dead too? He was now reaching the end of his rope, his eyes now stinging not from the light searing his flesh, but from the tears that had long become unfamiliar to him. He could hear a voice. It was his own, screaming at him from the darkness. Screaming his failure at him.

The blood retreated from his body, spreading out around him as if some massive wound had been inflicted upon him. The salt tears mixed with his blood and he jerked his head away from the light. He closed his eyes and mind to the light of hope that he could never hope to grasp. Teeth bit into his lip drawing more blood, spilling down his chin. He clenched his hands sticky with sweat and blood into tight fists. He relaxed a moment, ready to give up, but still he heard his voice screaming the name of his failure at him. Zechs looked back at the light and found that it bore a form, the form of his hope, the form of his failure. The voice screamed the name of the light that was both what he had lived for, and what he had failed.

RELENA!……….RELENA!…

Relena! Whose name meant peace.

His sweet little sister, whom he had failed, was looking down on him with scared eyes. The sight of her fear was killing him. Let anyone but her fade away; let anyone but Relena turn to dust. ANYONE BUT HER! The entire universe could turn to ashes so long as Relena remained safe. Strange, this feeling of duty and defense he had for his baby sister had been absent from him for months now, even to the point where he was willing to fire the Libra cannon on earth even if her shuttle stood in its destructive path. A fraction of a second was spent recalling that terrifying moment where Relena stood on the brink of death, about to be sent into oblivion by him, the one person who loved her more than anyone else in the universe. Not that she would have known so by his actions towards her. Suddenly, he was feeling the attack, and his thoughts moved back to combat.

Zechs pulled himself up to face the unknown enemy attacking him once more, calling on some hidden reserve of strength. He turned from the light that was Relena and faced the force that stood between him and the darkness.

All the while there was Heero's emotionless face staring at him. Zechs charged him, as if jumping into a blazing inferno. He was engulfed in flames and intense pain. Behind him, in the light, Relena screamed and the blackness descended over him. But there, revealed in the blackness, as it could not be revealed in the light, Zechs found that the person he was fighting against was no more than himself. And still he would not submit. I WILL NEVER SUBMIT!

He was awake. Zechs' eyes cracked open and he was struck by an ache that shot through his entire body. There was a burning soreness in his throat and he knew his voice was totally inaccessible. Had he screamed in his sleep? He tried moving his limbs and was stunned by a wave of pain that flowed over him. His vision was extremely hazy, but he was aware of a soft amber light coming from his left. He turned his head to see its source. It looked as though it was a small fire burning in the hearth, but he couldn't hear any crackling. He couldn't hear anything in fact. He was also aware of the weight of blankets on top of him, and though the light and the blankets were warm he felt absolutely chilled and very weak. Where was he? How had he come to be here? He could remember nothing.

Then he felt the familiar sensation of a hand upon his brow. Only the hand felt cool against his skin, which felt as though it was on fire. Zechs turned his head with some effort, ignoring the pain that spiked through his neck with each movement. It even hurt to breathe. He saw before him a young woman with long black hair, standing over him. She was speaking, but Zechs could not make out her words. They were slow to come to him, but after concentrating a moment and orienting himself, her words broke through.

"Lie still now sir, the fever is still upon you. Try not to speak." He couldn't speak even if he should wish to. The fever had completely restricted his voice, as for her voice; it was soft and clear, though entangled with a thick British accent. Her voice seemed somehow familiar, like he had heard it in his dreams. He noted a book on the nightstand and thought that perhaps she had read to him while he slept, and her voice had penetrated his nightmare.

Zechs was slowly feeling stronger; he pulled himself up despite the woman's request that he lie still. He slowly realized as the feeling came back to his body that he wasn't wearing anything beneath these covers. His pale cheeks flushed red, for though a brave fighter, Zechs Merquise was an intensely modest man. He pulled the blankets weakly to cover as much of his bare chest as possible without seeming too shy. He was also cold from the fever's effect. His eyes darted around quickly to take in his surroundings while his vision cleared. He was not in a hospital, that much was certain. But nothing in the room that he could make out in the small light that lent any clue as to where he might be. He turned his head and found the young woman was gone. Zechs rubbed his eyes slowly and attempted to clear his aching throat, but to no avail. Seeing a glass of water on the nightstand, he quickly snatched it up and downed its cool contents. He felt so weak, as if he had not moved in years, and wondered fleetingly if he could walk in this condition. Not that he would have too. Surely there is no occasion for that, unless the room catches on fire. He thought to himself. Or unless the water he had just drank came back to haunt him. No, he felt rather safe here actually. There would be no need to escape this place for the time being; it was kind of this woman to come to his aid, however she happened to come upon him.

The woman reappeared then carrying a steaming cup of soup. She handed it to him and he ate it slowly. He glanced up to thank her, but was a bit disturbed by her expression. She seemed a tad uneasy, but he couldn't tell if it was he or something else that was making her so. He imagined it must be him. Without looking at her again he rapidly finished the soup, which eased the ache in his body within moments. The broth was effective in warming his cold extremities and soothing the soreness in his throat and chest. I needed that badly. Then Zechs cringed inwardly knowing that the soup and the water would come back to haunt him. He was probably too weak to walk and was completely nude beneath the blankets. Well, he would worry about that when the time came. He handed the cup back to the young woman and gave her a questioning look. She saw the inquiry in his expression as she took the cup back from him and responded immediately.

"My name is Elizabeth Langstaff, I found you drifting in the surf on the beach not far from here and brought you to safety. I wouldn't be surprised if you do not remember; you were quite close to death. The ocean is cold in Dover, especially in January."

Dover! Dover England. Damnation! He was in the Isle. This was not a safe place to be after all. But he quickly set aside his sudden apprehension since he could do nothing about his location at the moment. How had he ended up here?

"You have been lingering in and out of consciousness for a few days now. The fever came upon you almost immediately." The young woman tried to look less nervous. "But it is better than Hypothermia I suppose." Zechs nodded a bit, trying to put her at ease. He knew that his usual expression intimidated women quite often, he did his best not to frighten her. He couldn't tell if it was working at all, for suddenly his vision was blurring again and he felt a great heaviness in his body. No longer able to make out her features, he slowly closed his eyes, and was aware of her hands upon his shoulders guiding him back down into the bed. The covers were pulled up over his chest as exhaustion crept through his once again aching body. Elizabeth's hand was on his forehead again, a decidedly comforting sensation. He felt a sense of gratefulness as he began to slip back into his dreams.

And there in his fever maddened slumber, Heero Yuy awaited him at the head of his nightmares.

* * * * *

He awoke. It had been nearly a week since he had been fully awake enough to have his proper wits about him. The fever still clearly wracked his body; it was evident the moment he took his first conscious intake of breath. The pain was still there in his chest, but it was now more than tolerable, and could be classified as slightly bothersome.

His sickness had reduced significantly, but still remained heavy in his shoulders and joints. His skin felt clammy and sticky from sweat, he didn't smell very good either. Not that it could be helped; it is difficult to keep mindful of bathing when you are incapacitated.

There was a small draft seeping in through the window. The sun shown through the crystalline frost that clung desperately to windowpane. It reminded Zechs of Christmas mornings in his early youth, when he would awake at the first sign of the sun through the frosted windows and run to awaken his parents and celebrate the joyous day.

They were now bittersweet memories. He recalled his mother Katrina helping Relena upon her one of her first Christmas mornings, and how she had to hold him back to prevent him from tearing up his sister's presents for her in his almost maddened excitement. Relena had burst out crying when he, having lost what little patience a 6 year old has, launched himself upon the golden wrapping paper of one of Relena's present to discover the stuffed tiger inside. His father admonished him for his lack of patience and upsetting his sister; he made amends by making the little stuffed tiger come alive for the little girl's squealing amusement. So delighted was she that she stood upon shaky feet and made a stumbling journey over to him to covered his face with toddler kisses. He didn't appreciate it so much, but it had made his mother very happy and his father grin. Milliardo had received a Chessboard complete with finely carved pieces, which he was delighted with. Relena had seemed unimpressed with them as she stuck a bishop in her little mouth and substituted it for the thumb that she had leapt into the habit of sucking on. Milliardo had pulled it away from her, and distracted her from the destructive path a three-year-old often creates with more puppet shows featuring the little stuffed tiger.

It had been a wonderful Christmas. It was also his last Christmas with his family.

Zechs sighed deeply and brought himself out of memory lane. The world around him became clearer. He remembered exactly where he was now, though the pronounced pounding in his temples made it difficult to recall at first. The strength had returned to his limbs. Despite the ache that hung heavily on his body, he felt a hopeless restlessness in his muscles that would drive him mad.

He wanted to get up and walk around some. Zechs moved to get up from the bed and then paused, remembering the woman… Elizabeth she had said her name was. She might not appreciate his getting up and walking about just yet. He listened for a moment, and when the deafening roar of silence met his sensitive ears, he concluded that she was not there. Zechs took a moment longer to verify and rose from the bed, looking around for his clothes. They were no where to be found, not that he looked forward to putting on the White Fang Regalia, he had no wish to think about that or anything surrounding it.

On a chair against the wall he saw a small folded pile of clothes. After a small investigation he found them to be about his size and carefully put them on. They were not exactly something he would choose, but then he knew little about Isle fashions.

All in all, he knew very little about the Isle in general, nor did anyone he knew. This was the mysterious land that most of the world concluded to be "dangerous". Why they were dangerous, no one seemed to know. Not that it mattered at this point. The Alliance had conquered the Isle a few years ago, and OZ had followed suit by taking control of it after the coup. From what he knew the area had been classified as "Ideal for military production, the main variable being that the populace can be pacified" Treize had once commented on the latter as not being likely to happen. He obviously had more experience with the Isle and its people than Zechs. It sparked a memory in his mind; Treize had been a commander of the specials during the Rhineland war against the Alliance. The Isle forces had been strongly implemented on the side of Rhineland, He believed in fact if memory served, that the Isle served as the brains of that war, and Treize had beaten them. The victory had earned him the position as the head of OZ and the newest darling of the Romafellar Foundation. That was almost 5 years ago.

Don't think of such things, keep your mind away from it. He told himself sternly standing up and adjusting the plain white sweater that he now wore. In doing so, he took notice of some of the more domestic features of the room he was staying in. There were a good deal of pictures and awards hanging on the wall and sitting on the top of desks and dressers.

The pictures all featured a boy, and the awards bore the name Liam Langstaff. On the desk Zechs found a nicely framed photograph of Elizabeth, and was able to get a better look at her features. She had the western look about her. Large green almond shaped eyes, and pretty pale skin that seemed even lighter in contrast to her black hair. Zechs smiled slightly, he had always preferred women with dark hair, and it was so different from his own blonde visage. Her hair was tossed and curly, framing a rather innocent looking face. Elsewhere in the room was various military decorations, Zechs wondered if this was a room belonging to Elizabeth's husband, and perhaps he was away on military service.

The floorboard creaked under his bare feet as he moved about the room slowly. This house was evidently old from the color of the wanes coating and ceiling. He could smell the slight must that an old house frequently gave off. It was the scent of slowly rotting wood, almost a pleasant smell; the smell of family history.

Cautiously Zechs opened the door of the small room and listened. The door protested the opening with a long resounding creak that echoed through corridor. Silence greeted him after that and he peered out a bit farther, feeling much like a sneaking child venturing out for as midnight snack and fearful of being caught. More pictures lined this little hallway and other quaint decorations, most of which featured a smiling Elizabeth and the other young man. Zechs examined another picture that featured the young woman walking along the shoreline. Good-looking girl he concluded mentally. Zechs felt awkward to be gazing over this young woman, but his instinct told him to continue upon his inspection, for if he abstained from it, his mind would surely just plummet back into thoughts of the past. Oh God, let him go anywhere but in memory, he could not endure the memories. Live in the here and now, that will guard you best against the pain that your memories will induce.

His first thought was to lessen the burden on Elizabeth and vacate the premises as soon as possible. Though he knew that would be impossible at the moment, he was still far too weak. Even so, once he had recovered, he would have to consider where he would go. What place on this planet would be welcoming or safe? He let it go and pushed it far back past the line of present concern.

A weakness crept into his knees and he had to sit before he collapsed. He made his way down the hallway and found the main living room adjacent to the kitchen. Sitting down quickly on one of the small sofas in the living room; he took in the sight. It was warm, like the rest of the house that he had seen. Cozy and secure. There was the very minimal amount of technology in the room. Phone, television, telecommuinicator. Everything was neat, tidy, and simple. Zechs smiled, liking the house very much.

Then, when his eyes moved to the mantle above the fireplace, his blood boiled. A cold sweat broke through his skin and immediately lined his features with a layer of angry perspiration. Above the mantle with two candles burning slowly on each side in a kind of makeshift memorial, was a portrait of Treize Khushrenada.

Zechs' eyes darkened with clouded emotions and narrowed into sits in his sickly pale face as he gazed at the deceased man's portrait.

"You…." He breathed with venom, barely aware that his voice had come back to him after a week's absence. He glared daggers at the flattering visage of his former friend in his Order of the Zodiac uniform, a thousand curses running through his mind. There was a tremor building inside him, and he felt a tremendous urge to rush at the portrait and destroy it. Lest the disease of Treize infect anyone else.

So many people gone, because you had a vision. What merited the ascension of your vision and not mine? Did I dream incorrectly?

It was a question he had been asking himself for a very long time. Since the moment he knew the Cinq Kingdom had fallen for a second time he was unsure of his path. When Quinze had approached him, he jumped headlong in the direction of White Fang. This concept of destroying earth had come to him in an inflamed state of mind. Like an epiphany, he made the decision. He would be Loki; the angel of death that would cleanse humanity of the foulness war had given birth to. It was a bloody and beautiful dream. That some day children would walk in green pastures where his name was forbidden to speak. His name would represent every plague, every evil, every sin man had ever fathomed. It was a price he was willing to pay, if it meant that those people would live in a perpetual peace.

Was that dream so wrong? Could the ends not justify the means? His head hurt too much to ponder it. The anger within him began to subside. The remains of his fever and not his fury were now causing the heat in his face.

On the left side of the mantle was yet another picture of the young man. It was a duel framed picture set of fine brass. The first picture showed the young man wearing a World Nation uniform and standing tall and proud, his cap tucked under his arm. The second showed him as a small child wearing a semi-toothed grin. A smaller candle sat flickering beside the double portrait and a white lily lay beside it as well. The sight made Zechs sigh deeply. He understood what it meant.

Don't think about it now, you're not strong enough. He had to keep his mind off all of this. He faced too much already in his dreams where he could not escape. To face it in the light of day…… He was not ready.

Zechs eyes fell again on the picture of the young woman, his savior. He wasn't at all sure if he felt thankful that she had rescued him from the freezing waters. This Isle woman…. The Isle.. What a strange place. From what he had heard, everyone on this accursed island nation was stark raving mad. Hostile, to the point that they could have been considered bloodthirsty. Yet this Isle woman was nothing like that, but what did he really know of her. She had rescued him; she had been kind. It did not mean that she wasn't dangerous. Where was she anyway?

That distinct spinning feeling was slithering into his head again. His thoughts were coming in bunches now, fragmented and too difficult to concentrate on. He shook his head to clear it a tad, eyes rising to the painted noble figure of Treize set regally above the mantle. An unconscious and almost auspicious smile played upon his lips for the briefest of seconds. Slowly he rose and made his way back towards his room to rest and wait his hostess.

* * * * * * *

"No Thank you Mr. Wickfield, I will be quite well this evening I assure you" Elizabeth answered to her employer's chief advisor Bram Wickfield. The elderly quadriplegic had stopped her, as she was ready to leave the manor house for the evening to see how she was getting along and if she wanted an escort home. She was anxious to get back to her home and check on her ailing patient to see if his condition might have improved at all. Her invalid guest Milliardo Peacecraft had not left her mind for a moment the whole of the day.

Bram Wickfield was a man in his mid seventies who had once been of considerable stature. But a firearm accident some years ago had left him paralyzed from the waste down and he required a wheelchair for his mobility. Still, it did not deter him away from being a stoic and brilliant scholar as well as military tactician who had found service in educating two generations of the Delizabane family. Despite a somewhat severe exterior, Bram was a gentle and considerate man when with Elizabeth. He, like almost everyone else who knew her, was overcome by the power of her sweet and innocent charm. How strange, even with the wheelchair, he still seemed tall to Elizabeth.

"Such a good young man your brother was. A good honorable soldier, such a tragedy that we lost Liam and so many others. Yet that which does not kill us it seems………." His large brown eyes grew soft with the reverie. Elizabeth had been a servant in the household long enough to recognize the change in his eyes and discern what it meant.

"My Leecy used to say 'Life makes a great hobby out of beating us down. Such an act against us must be met with the brutal retaliation of living joyously' " His eyes glinted for a moment as they always did when he recalled the eldest daughter of Merrick Delizabane, the current Lady of Dover's father.

Leecy, or Analicia Delizabane was Aria's eldest sister, and something of a legend within the family. They always spoke of her in revered tones, even Mrs. Collins did. Elizabeth had never known her; she had died some years ago before Elizabeth had come into the service of the household. There was a large portrait of her in the main hallway, though she was only a young girl of fourteen in the picture. Bram or Aria could be seen at many times gazing at it. Bram always appeared as the grieving father when he looked upon the portrait, and Elizabeth assumed he must have viewed her as his own, for she knew the late Merrick Delizabane had not been much of a parent. He had sent both of his daughters off to war against the Alliance when they were still girls. The Alliance had taken Aria prisoner at the age of seventeen. She was released and allowed to return home when OZ took over the Alliances territories after four years of being a prisoner of war. Leecy had been captured and executed by the Alliance's Specials Force.

Elizabeth could never quite apprehend the emotion Lady Aria bore when she looked at the picture of the eldest Delizabane child. It seemed halfway between hate and love. The youngest Delizabane child Mathius' feelings were quite clear. He hated the picture and would constantly mutter curses at it when he passed by it.

Elizabeth shivered; Mathius Delizabane was a frightening young man who paid her more attention than she would have liked. He was violent and often raved like a madman when he did not get what he wanted, and one of the many things he wanted was Elizabeth. Elizabeth was thankful that she was under the protection of Lady Aria, who held tight rein over her younger brother. Still, Elizabeth avoided Mathius so as not to get herself into trouble. Mathius and his extending branch of the family, where all very dangerous people.

Elizabeth brought herself out of reflection and took in Bram's comforting expression that told her he also new the pain of lost loved ones. She placed her youthful white hand over his wrinkled gray one and smiled sweetly.

"Thank you Bram, I shall be fine tonight. There is much work from Lady Aria that will keep my attention, thank you again for your kind consideration of me."

Bram's eyes returned to their normal frame and he gave her his usually regal expression that always seemed to remind her of Captain Bligh.

"Very well then, be off with you Miss Langstaff. Go and do as our wise Leecy would advise and live joyously." Elizabeth bowed formally to the Delizabane Chief Advisor in the Japanese style that was a custom in the Delizabane household, and took her leave.

Bram smiled as he watched her go. "Stop lingering in the shadows boy, get yourself into the light" he called out.

Mathius emerged from a darkened corner, his black eyes narrowed into feline slits. Arms folded across an uniformed black jacket that was typical of all Delizabane family members. One hand played slightly with the gold decoration at his collar, the other was clenched into a fist.

"Che Bella" what a beauty was all he said. Bram eyed him closely as the younger man pulled back a thick velvet draping from the window to watch Elizabeth make her journey down the driveway.

"ITZHACK!" Mathius yelled loudly to summon his steward. A thin Jewish man, Itzhak Liebman appeared a moment later, silent and obedient to his master as always, awaiting command.

"Miss Langstaff should not be walking home alone, see to it immediately." Mathius ran a hand through his dark brown hair; his eyes smoldering as Elizabeth began to disappear from his view. Itzhak was gone within seconds. The velvet drape fell back into its elegant place when Mathius let go of it. Striding down the hall alongside Bram's wheelchair, they crossed the main hall together journeying towards the dinning room where Lady Aria would await them for supper.

"Don't speak of it Wickfield" Mathius warned when he sensed Bram about to admonish him for his venery of Elizabeth. Bram remained quiet, silently determined to keep an eye on this situation. Crossing the grand staircase, they passed by the portrait of Analicia Delizabane and Mathius looked at it for a brief second.

"Murdering bitch" he breathed not quite loud enough to be heard.

* * * * * *

She swung her arms up and down as she walked to keep the chill of the winter air from entering her limbs. The night was clear, and she was glad that she had time to purify her thoughts before coming home. It had been her first full day back at work since her brother's death and the discovery of the White Fang leader in the surf by the white cliffs.

Her thoughts had not been empty of him for a single second that day. She had been caring for him for a week now, and had not found peace for a moment. At all hours he would break from his comatose like state to scream out a throaty cry. At first it had just been random cries of pain. Then, around midnight on Wednesday, the cries took the form of a name. Relena.

Milliardo had wept and yelled out her name so many times through the frozen nights. Elizabeth could not sleep for the screams and would sit with him until all hours. The touch of her cool hand upon his burning forehead always seemed to calm him. She had slept most of the week in the chair beside his bed. Even then, his voice would penetrate her dreams. Her pity for him would swell when the fevered tears streaked down his sweaty pale cheeks. He was remorseful to say the least, as the cry of Relena echoed through the small house. It was completely evident now to Elizabeth that her mind would dwell on nothing but Milliardo Peacecraft until he left her home and life and for several weeks thereafter.

"Miss Elizabeth?" Came the deep voice that startled her out her haunted state. She turned quickly to see who her addresser was.

"Oh, its you Itzhak, you startled me." She smiled genially at him in the darkness. He made his way to her side silently and offered his arm.

"My lord instructed me to see you home safely"

Elizabeth sighed; knowing that Bram wasn't behind this, but that treacherous man Mathius. She couldn't accept this; she wouldn't risk anyone possibly seeing Milliardo.

"Tell you master thank you, but I will really will be quite fine"

"My Master knows you are an able young woman, and that no one would be foolish enough to harm you since you are under his personally protection, and that of Lady Aria, but he also reminds me that there are many rather stupid people walking about. He was quite insistent Miss Elizabeth"

Elizabeth's heart sunk, she knew she could not get out of this. Mathius was not a man who a strong person could turn down. Elizabeth knew herself to be anything but strong. Besides that Itzhak might become suspicious over her resistance. Perhaps he could take her mind off the crisis she would be going home to. Her arm hooked into the one he offered and they began walking northwards towards her home.

Nothing significant was spoken of; simple conversation was all that passed between them. Elizabeth skillfully evaded questions that might give Itzhak more knowledge of her personal life. She would give Mathius no additional information about her. Her preoccupation was obvious. Itzhak attributed it to her brother's recent death.

A forty-five minute walk brought them to the small fence that surrounded her home by the sea. Elizabeth's feet where begging to run so that she could get to the man inside. But her mind willed her to remain composed.

"We shall all miss Liam terribly," Itzhak was saying something about her brother. She nodded, pretending to listen. Her mind was clearly focused on the house and its single occupant. Elizabeth's eyes automatically traveled to the window where Milliardo would be sleeping inside. Expecting to find the window empty, she was astonished to see his face filling the small frame. Nail blues eyes looked out at her watchfully. He is awake!

To hide her surprise from Itzhak, she kissed the taller man on the cheek and thanked him for the escort. Then she dashed into the house, her red coat flying out behind her. Itzhak shook his head at the girl's odd behavior and started his way back to the manor house. Elizabeth was barely conscious of her own running as she flung open the door of his room.

Empty?

"Good evening" a somewhat raspy voice came from behind her. He was sitting in a chair by the door; her eyes had gone right past him as she burst into the room

She allowed a pleasant smile to spread across her lips "Good evening sir, I am glad to see you are awake" She attempted to bow, but was so winded by her own running that she became lightheaded an nearly lost her balance. Quickly she grabbed the frame of the doorway and caught herself. Her clumsiness brought out the comedy in her and she laughed away her lack of grace.

Milliardo returned a slight smile at the lighthearted thing before him. The sight filled Elizabeth with glee. A smile fair as day she thought to herself. She expelled the gloves from her hands and walked over to him. Zechs flinched slightly as she placed the back of her hand against his forehead to feel his temperature. He sighed almost immediately as the calming feeling of her cool skin eased the heat of his face. A moment of peace, he grasped it and shut his eyes to savor the sensation of calm.

"You are still very hot" she knelt down and examined him further. "But your eyes are looking brighter. How do you feel? "

"Hungry" he stated simply. The answer pleased her greatly; she rose and took off her long red coat. "I will make some supper for us, it won't be long." She stopped before exiting the room, deciding to give him a little test.

"What is your name?"

He was silent for a moment, debating what to say. He cleared his thick throat and spoke almost curtly.

"Foster" it was in truth his middle name, after his mother's favorite brother.

"I shall hurry your meal then Foster" she answered as she exited to the kitchen, not sure whether Milliardo had failed or passed her test.

Almost thirty minutes later, they both sat at the small table in the kitchen, Elizabeth chattered away about the weather and the seasons of the Isle. Milliardo listened politely, anxious to learn anything he could about the hostile land in which he now found himself trapped in. She asked him once if there was anyone she could call for him. He told her no, that he had no one. They had all been killed. He explained that he did not remember how he came to the shores of Dover. Just that he had been fighting in the Eve War battle and the next he knew he was in the bed she had brought to him.

"My brother also fought in that battle, he unfortunately did not survive, like so many." Elizabeth cautioned herself to be careful. This was likely a delicate subject with him, and she was still slightly frightened of him. After all, he was the devil himself to many people of this Island nation. But her curiosity of him prevailed over her cautious spirit.

"Are you from the Colonies? Were you fighting for the White Fang?" An alarm bell went off inside her mind, telling her to shut up at once. She knew the answer to this question anyway. Why was she asking it? Did she want to push him? Yes maybe she did, he had a lot to answer for. The pain of her brother's death was pushing her to push him. A small part of her that had no logic or decorum blamed him for Liam's death. She had to control herself; she would not make herself his judge and jury.

He stared down at the bowl of thick soup before him, silent for a few long moments. His eyes clouded once again.

"I fought for the White Fang" That was all, and it was the truth. He had not lied to her. Milliardo began to eat the strange soup adventurously. "What kind of soup is this?" he asked breaking the tension lingering over the table. Elizabeth smiled, glad that he had provided a path of escape from the subject of the war.

"Its called Plymouth Rock clam chowder, its an old recipe from the daughter country. Do you like it? It's always been a special favorite of mine."

"Daughter country?" His interested was piqued.

"Yes. ..Well, Daughter country and Mother country both actually."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, we of the Isle are mostly descendants of the Daughter country to the west. The Nation was spawned by England, so it is the Daughter of the Isle, but many like myself are actually descended from The Nation, so it is our mother country as well." She stopped and sipped the soup.

Zechs was confused "When you say The Nation, you mean the British Isles right?"

"No, The Nation is much greater than the Isle, it is a land to the west, the Daughter of England. You must excuse me Foster, but it is rather forbidden to speak of The Nation to a foreigner in any other terms besides the one I have used."

Zechs regarded her for a long moment. What was she talking about? These people were not very trusting it seemed. He wanted to pursue this; nothing intrigued him like a riddle or mystery.

"The West eh? perhaps you refer to the Canadian provinces of North Columbia?"

He saw her eyes darken at the mention of North Columbia. Inside he jumped, knowing that he had found something. He felt like a pirate digging in the sand for treasure and hitting something solid with his pick.

"We of the Isle do not recognize the name of North Columbia." Her voice had an edge to it.

"Then what do you call it?" he asked trapping her.

"We call it by its true name, AMERICA." Elizabeth regained herself immediately. Her eyes went down staring at her soup angrily. He had trapped her, what a shrewd and simple tactic that was.

"That is not what the rest of the world would call it. It has not gone by that name since the third Great War." A gentle smirk crossed over his face from the victory he had earned over her.

"The rest of the world is not the Isle" answered she. Zechs knew this to be true; things were obviously quite different here.

Again he offered an escape from the tension. " I see you are a fan of Dickens, I saw the book by my bedside."

Elizabeth nodded. " He is one of my favorites."

"Yes, I agree, I adore him too. Austen as well."

Elizabeth's eyes lit up "I have read everything by Austen! Do you like Hawthorne as well?"

" I am not familiar with anything by Hawthorne."

Elizabeth cursed the Entente under her breath and cleared the dishes from the table. She then sped to her room and brought back two worn novels by Nathaniel Hawthorne. "The House of Seven Gables" and "The Scarlet Letter" He looked the books over, decidedly interested. She smiled, realizing that she had found something in common with him.

They spent the next two hours talking of authors and books. Books were a passion for both of them. There was scarcely anything that Elizabeth had read that Milliardo had not, save for those authors that were American. The hour of ten drew to a close and Elizabeth could see weariness draping over her charge's body. His eyes became dull with fatigue, and she placed her hand on his brow to feel for the fever. She felt the increase in heat since last she had check him and brought him back to his room. It was strange, the past two hours she had barely been conscious of who she was talking to. Now, she found she was no longer afraid of him.

Milliardo followed her back into Liam's small bedroom. Elizabeth sifted through the drawers of one of the dressers and procured for Milliardo a pair of shorts and a white T-shirt for him to sleep in.

"Thankfully Liam, was about your size." A small wave of pain washed over her, she looked up and saw that Milliardo was smiling and holding his hands out for the clothes. He also carried with him the two books she had given him; he was planning on reading them while he was here. Elizabeth felt an odd sensation creep over her as she gazed at the man before her. He was so incredibly captivating when he smiled. Shame washed her cheeks in crimson, making her say her goodnight to him quickly.

"Wait" he stopped her before she left. She felt her breath catch in her throat, and was horrified by these new reactions to him.

"Thank you Elizabeth, for saving me." She turned and saw him smiling a full smile at her. Now, she had her composure. Elizabeth bowed to him gracefully as she had tried to do earlier in the evening when she almost fell.

"Goodnight Foster" with that she shut the door behind him. Once she reached the security of her own bedroom, her breath came back to her and her mirror revealed the scarlet upon her cheeks. Elizabeth lay back on her bed searching for calmness. It was then that an enchanting realization entered her bedazzled mind. He was the son of King Peacecraft of the Cinq kingdom. Which meant…. He is a Prince!

* * * * * * *

They learned more of each other everyday. Zechs came to see Elizabeth as a simple woman with many passions. So easy to tease and trap, yet in debate he could never claim complete victory over her, for she always had some kind of snappy come back that he could not out-do. Elizabeth came to see that Milliardo Peacecraft was not insane or the monster that the world thought him to be. He was charming and vastly intelligent. An above average man, yet still a man, not a beast. Still, there was a perpetual sad air that lingered about him. It troubled her that he could not seem to come to terms with something that haunted him. She suspected there was much that haunted him. His homeland twice in ruin, parents killed, estranged from his sister, estranged from the Earth and Outer Space, what did this man truly have to live for? Her own experience told her that Karma worked in strange ways; he would find a purpose again. Life was much like an oyster bed; one never knew where he would find a pearl.

Three weeks had passed now since the miraculous rescue of Milliardo Peacecraft by Elizabeth Langstaff. Time had seemed to stand still for the two as he recovered from the near fatal fever that had descended upon him after his deliverance from the frigid waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Zechs used his time with Elizabeth to his best advantage, and learned as much as he could about the Isle and its people. Apparently she wasn't like most the people of this nation. They loved to fight, but she was almost a pacifist. A pacifist with strings attached she had called it. Her beliefs were a mix of Peacecraft teachings and Arian Philosophy.

Arian Philosophy as she explained, was a system of beliefs that all conflict is derived from human instinct. To deny our instinct is the most capital of offenses. Even sentient beings cannot deny their instinct. She explained that this was a fairly new philosophy that had swept through the Isle culture like wildfire. Many of the nation's people believed firmly in this philosophy. She cautioned him of the highly sexual nature of the Isle people. For sexuality is as strong a human instinct as the will to fight, and a foreigner could find himself in a tense situation if he wasn't careful. Arian Philosophy had one foot in a religion of the Isle called Natural Theology. It had a very powerful root in the Delizabane family Elizabeth explained, who where the most powerful family in the Isle. It was the belief that the true laws of God are those that science proves to be true.

"We cannot move objects with our minds, but we can pick up an object and move it. That is simple physics. Therefore anything that we can physically do is lawful under God. The basic idea is that which does not violate the laws of nature is lawful under God. To go against the instinct to fight is considered by some people to be a violation of nature's law, so Arian Philosophers who are also Natural Theologians are strong advocates of war. This also makes the act of killing perfectly lawful"

"And what does this religion say about God himself? "

"Oh, that is real interesting part, Natural Theologians believe that we are God. That human beings will come to know a state of being in which they have become so advanced that they will exist as one consciousness in all time."

It sounded insane to Zechs who had been brought up as a Lutheran Christian in the Cinq Kingdom, and then as a Catholic in the Khushrenada family. No wonder these people are said to be violent, their own religion commands them to be so.

Elizabeth was however, not a Natural Theologian, nor had her brother been one. She was not typical, despite the fact that she worked for the Lady Aria Delizabane, who Zechs later learned, was the inventor of the Arian Philosophy. The name sounded familiar, and he wondered briefly if the Delizabanes, as nobility, had had any affiliation with the Romafellar foundation.

Elizabeth was renewed with someone whom she could talk to. She told "Foster" everything about the Delizabane family that she knew of. He was rather interested in the subject, and why not? They were the actual governing body of the Isle. Milliardo didn't seem to understand how, since they held no governmental positions. Economy, Elizabeth explained, was the true ruler of the Isle. She gave him a clandestine smile and told him to figure it out on his own. He was smart, she knew he would unravel the mystery.

On the third week after he had been rescued, the incident occurred. She had gone shopping in the nearby town, and brought back a national news magazine. Zechs had helped her to put away all the groceries she had bought, and promptly flew into a rage when he saw the magazine.

"GET THAT THING AWAY" he yelled in fury. Elizabeth was thunderstruck. She could not fathom what had upset him so. Then she looked at the magazine and saw that the cover featured a brown-haired woman standing beside a young girl. Upon closer inspection she recognized the young girl as Queen Relena, but didn't know the other woman.

"What is the matter with you?" She asked in a harsh tone. " It is just a magazine!"

"How could she stand with that….. She ruined it all! I would have had what I wanted if she had not interfered!" he was pacing back in forth in front of her like a lion in a cage, agitated to the point of rage.

"What are you talking about, its just Queen Relena and….." She read the name on the headline "Lady Une…Why are you so upset? We should be grateful that Queen Relena survived the war!" She was angry now, was this the monster Milliardo that they spoke of? Was he showing his true mad nature?

He was staring at the portrait of Treize above the mantle now. His hands clutched into fists, a vein stood out upon his forehead. Zechs shook his head.

"He was mine to kill, I had my shot, she took it away" With that last remark he moved towards his room, not wanting to be in that room anymore, the fury raging within him like a wild maelstrom. His hatred boiling within, he had to get out of here. He could almost hear Heero laughing at him now.

Her hand stopped him. She reached out and grabbed his shoulder to stay him. Zechs turned to look at her with his breath caught in his throat; her lips were moving, but he couldn't hear her words. The sensation that flooded over him took away his capacity to hear her. He just stared at Elizabeth; her face was flushed from the angry moment, so slight and fragile. He took a sharp intake of breath as he recognized the sensation that threatened to sweep away all his other senses.

Arousal, he had not felt it in so long, but he felt it strongly now. He was a man after all. Through out the years as a man he had beat back his desires with his other needs. His duty, his pain, his need for vengeance; they all served to stifle his desire for a woman. He didn't even know if he was a man. The need for revenge had consumed him for so long that he had remained an innocent where every other young man would have made the discovery that turned them from boy to man. Zechs had never been like the others. He had never been with a woman, but he wanted to be with one right now. He wanted to be with Elizabeth.

No, you can't, you have to get out of here as soon as you can. His senses where coming back to him. He looked into the vast expanse of Elizabeth's emerald eyes, seeing how upset she was now. No, he couldn't deal with it. Zechs turned away from her and fled out the front door.

Elizabeth stared at the spot where Milliardo had stood, lost in the tempest of her emotions. She had seen the vast pain in his eyes, and known he wasn't a monster. His rage had been born out of pain and loss and she forced herself to recall when he would scream out the name of his sister. Slowly regaining her motor skills, she picked up the magazine and read about the woman Milliardo had seemed the most upset over. She read the article, and understood.

Lady Une, Second in command to Treize Khushrenada. The article outlined how Queen Relena was working with this Lady Une to form the intelligence department for the new government. The Preventers, Lady Une would head the project and promote it terrestrially while Relena Darlian, as she was now calling herself would promote it in Outer Space.

This Lady Une, had been a Colonel under Treize, she must have done something decisive at some point in the battle. She had done something that had thrown off Milliardo's plans.

There was a wrap on the front door, and Elizabeth swore to herself. She put the magazine down and went to open the door. The scent of alcohol struck her in the face the moment the door was open. Her eyes widened with fear.

"Elizabeth, you are looking beautiful, as always" It was Mathius, and he was clearly drunk.

"Mathius, this is not a good time.."

"It never seems to be a good time for us does it" his voice was harsh as he pushed himself inside the door.

"Well, lets make it a good time my dear Miss Elizabeth, I think I have waited long enough for you to come around."

"I doubt Lady Aria would approve of this Mathius"

"Do I look as though I give a bloody fuck what my dear sister does or does not approve of. I am tired of waiting around for your good graces Elizabeth. I have been more than patient with you." He was removing his jacket lethargically. Clumsily he tossed it on the couch and began walking towards her. His mind set and his purpose here quite clear to her

Before she could call out his hand was over her mouth; his nose picking up the spicy scent of cinnamon that clung in her hair. "Don't make this difficult now." His grip was tight, far too strong for her to get away from. Her eyes were wide like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck and she trembled uncontrollably in fear. No please! She screamed inside her head as Mathius began to kiss her smooth neck. Frantically she flailed against her attacker. Mathius exerted very little strength in throwing her against the wall and pinning her there. Her nails bit into his flesh and he smirked at her as if he enjoyed the pain. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and flicked his own, bending hers in an unnatural position. She cried out in pain around the hand that covered her mouth. Again he once again began making use of his lip upon her flesh.

He was torn away from her so quickly it seemed like a flash of lighting from God had separated Elizabeth from her attacker. She dashed out the front door away from whatever was happening in the house. She heard Mathius yelp in pain. At the fence she stopped and looked back. Mathius was a crumpled mass upon the ground and Milliardo stood over him like a giant. She saw a car drive up at the same moment. It was Itzhak, who had come to warn her about Mathius and his drunken intentions. Too late.

She looked back. Milliardo had disappeared back into the house. Mathius, blood running down his face, did not move. Wordlessly, Itzhak collected his master. He gave Elizabeth a look of warning and departed.

Elizabeth staggered back into the house a trembling mass of frightened femininity. She closed the door and looked around. He was standing there by the mantle, looking at the picture of her brother. She began sobbing, holding her injured wrist.

"The strong still pray upon the weak, nothing changes." Zechs turned to face her, his nail blue eyes grave. The tears in her eyes made him double in her vision.

"So what did your brother die for Elizabeth, nothing changed. So he died for nothing. Peace is as false as it ever was I suppose. It should have been as I planned it, but then, you wouldn't be here now if it had gone that way, dear Elizabeth."

"It is as we have made it. Mistakes are ours to make, let us learn from them, it is the only way we can make ourselves strong enough." She barely got it out, her breath was coming in gasps and the tears did not stop.

Milliardo shook his head "You will never be strong enough, and you will never be merciful enough either. I have been fooling myself." The pain was evident in his body language. It was back again, right out of the nightmare. He could hear them laughing at him, Heero, Treize, Relena, Noin, all of them laughing at him and his folly. Unable to stand it he broke for the door; passed the sobbing Elizabeth, into the frigid winter air, out towards the waning lights. Where was he going? Back to the shore, where he should have died.

"MILLIARDO!" Her voice yelled out his name, his real name, like a lifeline it reached out to him. She had known the entire time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Zechs knew that she was aware of who he was all this time. He turned and saw her finally, nursing a wounded wrist and crying almost hysterically, yet still approaching him. His feet planted in the ground, refusing to be budged even as his mind screamed for him to run away from her. GO BACK TO THE SEA! Finish Heero's work. But it was too late. She had crossed the distance between them.

"You are forgiven" It was stated so ingenuously, once again, she delivered a snappy comeback that he could not out-do. That was the foundation of all of this wasn't it? That is what caused the pain. The thought that after everything, there was no single creature on Earth that would forgive him. He was so very sorry for what he had done and yet no one would forgive him. What had she just said? She was proving him wrong again. Her hands reached out and touched his stony face. The wind was tossing their hair about them. The instant her fingers touched his skin he was again possessed by sensation. His hand snatched up her own and placed it against his brow, seeking the calm that it had always brought. Her arms were coming around his shoulders now, embracing him. Knees giving way beneath him, Zechs sank down against her, letting her hands stroke and sooth him. Forgiveness, the long sought cure to the pain that refused to leave him.

Zechs lifted his lead to look at her, aware of the tears in his own eyes; he looked at her like a frightened child. Elizabeth leaned forward and kissed him lightly. He had never been kissed before. His lips were stiff and unmoving at first, but were enticed into the natural countering movement by the warmth of sensation. Not even aware of how tightly he was pressing her against him now, he continued to kiss her with increasing passion. The wind mingling her midnight hair with his sunshine locks. They broke the kiss and stared at each other for a long time. Elizabeth stood and pulled Milliardo to his feet, guiding him back inside. She took him directly to his room and sat him down on his bed. He seemed exhausted now, and laid back easily at her biding. He pulled her down with him and held her tightly against him, like he was clinging to salvation.

With his head pressed against her neck, he released the pain that he had been carrying for so long now in the form of sobs. He cried for his lost homeland, for his baby sister, for Treize, the boy who had been his friend, the one that he had been separated himself from. For his poor Noin, for the Pure-hearted Gundam pilots, for the Poor Lady Une, for the people of the Colonies, for the people of the Earth, for everyone he had ever hurt. He wept for them all. Elizabeth continued to sooth him.

After an hour of sobbing against her, he began once again to kiss her. She returned his kisses and began moving her hands over his chest. They began their explorations of each other, Milliardo discovering her to be as virgin as he. Her body fit perfectly with his and he was transformed from boy to man at last. Never having known before that he could feel such things, he was awakened to a new plane of existence.

When the moon had dragged itself across the floor to lie upon her bare back, he felt the true completion wash over him. She slept serenely against him as he kissed her hair. He whispered a small prayer of thanks, having found peace at last.

* * * * * * *

"To Live and to Love. To Fight and Die. That is the strange pattern of being."

~ Analicia Delizabane

"Ms. Noin, please." The newly appointed Vice Foreign Minister urged the raging woman beside her. Lucretzia Noin was teetering upon the brink of hysterics and seemed determined not to be soothed. The black-eyed woman eyed the brown-eyed woman who sat behind the large mahogany desk directly in front of them. Lady Une sat like a complacent statue, unmoved by Noin's ravings.

"I will do this with or without you Lady. I will find him!" Noin's eyes shot a venomous challenge to the passive lady behind the desk. It was clear that the other woman's serene countenance was infuriating Noin. Relena could feel the explosion coming.

"This is not a matter that concerns the Preventers Ms. Noin. I will not sanction you to use any of our resources to search for a man who even if he is alive, clearly does not wish to be found. I advise you, if you wish to keep your position with the Preventers, learn to separate your personal emotions from that of your professional life."

Relena winced; knowing those words would break the emotional dam inside Noin.

"ZECHS IS ALIVE YOU BITCH! HE NEEDS TO BE FOUND!" with an explosion of anger, Noin arm came sweeping down and knocked everything off of Lady Une's desk. Lady Une did not look up from her paper work, and appeared still unmoved by the outburst of Preventer Fire.

"Noin, calm down!" Relena took hold of her friend's arm trying to guide her to calmness.

"My decision stands."

"You cold hearted bitch. I can't believe fate is so cruel as to let a person like you survive the war, and let Zechs die."

Relena turned her face away; being swept away by the thoughts of the lost stranger that was her brother.

"I know it hurts Noin, but you can be strong and not upset yourself or Milliardo's sister further." Lady Une finally met Noin's now tearful eyes.

"We were not the only ones to lose someone we loved in the war Noin." Relena reminded softly. Only four months had passed since the end of the war, the death of Treize Khushrenada and Milliardo Peacecraft had been mourned in full. Now life was attempting to turn back to a semblance of normality. For some however, wounds festered, and refused to heal. So it was for Noin, who felt herself lost in the universe that appeared to be devoid of the man she loved so desperately.

Sally Po entered the room at that moment. She had been listening outside the door, and decided to intrude so that she might remove Noin from further pain.

Noin leaned against her friend's shoulder and was persuaded to be lead out of the room. As they passed by Relena, Noin stopped and gazed at her longingly.

"I see him so much when I look at you Miss Relena." Her voice was distant and heartbroken. Relena closed her eyes in obvious sorrow. Noin exited with Sally.

When the door shut, Relena turned to look at the Chief Preventer, who was kneeling to pick up the fallen items from her desk. Relena hurried to help her. Lady Une seemed completely placid, not upset at all. It puzzled Relena, who had found it impossible to keep her cool during the emotional episode.

"I was expecting this to come any day, that is why I am not upset." Lady Une answered Relena's silent question. She had such a clear and calm voice. Relena pushed her hair out of her eyes and ventured another question, trusting in Lady Une's educated guesses.

"Do you think he is alive?"

"It is entirely possible, just as much as it is possible that Mister Treize is still alive somewhere."

"Do you really believe that Treize Khushrenada could have survived."

"No I don't."

She ended the discussion on that man, not wishing to cause the Lady any pain by reminding her of the World Nation Sovereign's death.

"Noin will be all right. She needed to have that outburst. Noin always lets things fester until she cannot contain her feelings. I suppose we should be thankful that you understand about her nature. I would hate to see what might have happened if she had raged against someone who didn't understand where she was coming from Lady Une."

The two finished repairing the damaged arrangement of items upon the fine wood desk. Lady Une gave Relena a reassuring smile.

"You are indeed a fine young woman Miss Darlian, I believe your father would be so proud of you." The comment made Relena's heart lift; hoping that her father was looking down on her with pride from some distant plain. She no longer saw Lady Une as the woman who had assassinated her father. That had been some other woman, which had been Colonel Une of OZ. This woman, as she had told Relena to call her, was Anne. Relena admired Anne as much as she hated Colonel Une. Something in the fifteen-year-olds mind couldn't seem to comprehend that they were the same person. Anne's eyes were filled with kindness, where Colonel Une's had held nothing but contempt. In Relena's eyes they were two different women.

"Thank you Anne, I know Treize would have been pleased to see how you have carried on his ideal of peace." Anne smiled slightly and returned to her work. Relena excused herself. She needed a moment of solace to herself. Leaving the Preventer's headquarters the Vice Foreign Minister instructed her driver to take her to the cemetery where her brother's memorial stood. It was a wet April morning, and the ground squished under her little feet as she walked towards the granite stones. Smiling, she wiped the condensation off of her brother's headstone and spoke as if he was listening. She told him everything about her week, and how her work was going very well. How not a day went by when she didn't think of him, and that she had thought she had seen Heero two weeks ago, but was mistaken.

"I am sure Milliardo that you and my father must be laughing together to see how I blush every time I hear his name. I can't help it though; I can't explain it either. He just does something to me."

Heero…. Would she ever see the Japanese boy named Heero Yuy again? Relena put a hand through her hair that was damp from the moist air. God.. How she wanted to see him again. Relena had been lucky, Noin had lost Milliardo, Anne had lost Treize, but Heero still lived. As long as Heero was alive in this universe, she would love no other.

Her mind now clear, Relena rose and said her good byes to her brother. She was going to spend some time with her mother and some of her old Friends from the St Gabriel institute next week. After that, she was going into Outer Space to begin her duties formally as Vice Foreign Minister. Relena stopped momentarily to look out at the other tombstones.

"The price of peace was not cheap. I pray that we can keep what we have obtained."

Relena sighed, prepared to do anything to keep it.

* * * * * *

They lived a life of bliss together. Peaceful and content with each other, believing that the other's presence was all that they required to stay happy. They nurtured and grew together, changing each other's perception of life and the infinite workings of the universe. Elizabeth became bolder under the reckless influence of Milliardo Peacecraft. He in turn became more unrestricted and sensitive under Elizabeth's attentive care.

Every evening after dinner they walked the shoreline where she had found him, as she once had with Liam. Every night they made love and rediscovered each other. When the summer flowers sprung up along the cliff side, Elizabeth's petite form grew with the added weight of their expected child. Milliardo was beyond euphoria at the idea of being a father. He maintained a constant state of nervousness and excitement over it.

Elizabeth continued her work for the Delizabane family without fear of what any would think of her pregnancy. Lady Aria conveyed her congratulations and promises to help the child in any way. Mathius seemed not even to remember his attack upon Elizabeth and kept his distance from her. Milliardo taught her ways to defend herself should Mathius ever attempt to touch her again. Bram and Itzhak were very kind in keeping Mathius away from Elizabeth. Everything seemed to be working out. It appeared as though Mathius knew nothing of Milliardo, or remembered nothing from that night when he been beaten by him.

Then, in September, the dreams started. Milliardo would awaken violently in the night next to Elizabeth, sweating profusely and shaking, crying out her name in terror. He had terrible headaches during the day that never seemed to leave him. Quite often, Elizabeth would find him staring out at the cliff side in a trance like state. When she asked him what was wrong, he would only ever answer that something was coming, but not to worry, he would keep her safe.

The dreams were vivid and so very real. They featured the entire cast of his previous nightmares. All the characters from his past, the Gundam Pilots, Relena, Noin, Lady Une, and something like a shadow of Treize. It was always brutal combat, he could hear Noin calling out and telling him that she would never leave him. He could feel the guilt assail his heart at the thought of her obvious love for him. It mingled with the smell of her burning flesh. Those were the most horrible of the dreams.

The other dreams troubled him as well in way that he could only describe as 'distant'. He would see many things, Heero Yuy clutching his bloodied mid section, a little girl with raven hair and his eyes. Sometimes it all came as intense feeling instead of images. Intense burning jealousy swept over him like fire as he was continually forced to witness something he desired which belonged to another man. Intense amusement as he saw himself running away with Duo Maxwell of all people; laughing beside him as they where being chased by some obviously disgruntled figure. Uneasiness spread itself like an alarm system in his mind as Chang Wufei watched him warily.

By December, they ceased being dreams and became visions at the peak of his migraines. He saw something that he somehow knew was Tallgeese III outside a natural resource satellite. Lady Une glancing up from her desk in shock. A Japanese girl holding a child and gazing at him with great sadness. A woman with brilliant red curls and cruel eyes.

Zechs spent many hours pondering these images, determined not to disregard them. He knew something was coming. Whatever it was, he knew he had to fight it. But what of his Elizabeth, and their child? What did this all mean?

"Try not to dwell upon it Love, the answer will come to you in fullness of time as Lady Aria always says."

"Is your Lady Aria the end all be all of wisdom?" he asked with a comical expression.

"The end all be all of wisdom in the Delizabane family is not even alive. It is Lady Aria's elder sister Analicia, they all act as though she was the messiah."

"She's dead?"

"Killed in the Rhineland War, executed by the Alliance. Bram urges me that if it should be a girl, I should name her Analicia."

Zechs laughed at such an idea. He was hoping that Elizabeth would warm up to the idea of naming the child after his mother if it was a girl. Elizabeth wished to call the child Kennedy after one of the old American Presidents that the Isle people worshipped like Gods. They had yet to come to an agreement.

"I think we will know soon enough" he murmured into her ear as he let his hand fall against her stomach. She turned her head to kiss him, feeling the grand protection of his arms. Zechs sighed in contentment, then in fatigue as he felt the ache in his head begin once again.

* * * * * *

"She has rejected all offers from the Barton family." Bram Wickfield turned his wheelchair slightly towards the darkened window of the office. To his left stood a very tall woman about twenty-five. She had red hair that cascaded down the back of her black uniformed jacket. The woman was absolutely beautiful and frightening as well. She was Kateline Delizabane, first cousin of Lady Aria.

"I can't believe she is being so foolish, The Barton family could give us the opportunity we need to achieve wha-."

"We need no help from the Barton foundation. They will fail in this endeavor, as I see it, this will ultimately cut some of the competition out of the game." The eldest living Delizabane interrupted from the doorway. She made her way gracefully towards the large desk and sat behind it. Mathius, on Kateline's right, bowed to the newest and most important arrival to their little conference.

"I don't think I need to remind you how this family operates Kateline, I am the Eldest Child, I lead this family."

" The Bartons could be used. I advise you to give them the support they need for their terrestrial invasion, we can dispose of them all later." Kateline flipped her hair back and lowered her catlike eyes to the younger woman she was bound by family obligation to obey.

Lady Aria shook her head " They will destroy themselves Kateline. The Earth Sphere will be conquered by no other means than the ones we have discovered. Let them try and fail."

"I think you are taking a risk sister. What if the Barton's succeed, We will be forced to deal with them along with everything else." Mathius spoke in an agitated tone.

Aria remained serene. "They will not succeed Mathius, they are fools. Ideology is not what wins wars, we all know the true nature of war has nothing to do with what people believe in. Beliefs are transitory. Wars are always fought over the same concrete thing. That is our weapon. Let the Barton foundation do as they will. We shall remain in silence."

"I would have liked the pleasure of ripping Khushrenada's daughter apart." Said Kateline in her signature deadly tone. She folded her arms and practically pouted.

"I am sure you would, but be patient Kateline, you will have your pound of flesh."

Let us hope it is a pound of your flesh cousin the voluptuous sadist thought to herself. The discussion now ended, the conference adjourned, The house of Delizabane fell silent for the evening.

* * * * * * *

The ache was back again and this time it was terrible. The boy sat up in bed quickly thrusting his hands to the sides of his head. The images surged in as if someone had opened a floodgate in his mind. His body writhed under the tremendous pressure between his eyes and he could feel the blood begin to run down from his nose. This had been going on since the end of the war. The visions had become clearer and more painful every time. At first he had not been able to discern anything, now the bore distinct form.

Another terrible wave of pain swept through his and he rolled to the floor where he began to wretch. He felt sure he would vomit and wanted to simply get it over with. But nothing came and the pain continued. Fire was burning everything in his mind and he couldn't put it out. Nothing he did could stop the agony that now crippled him. Every pore vibrated and every muscle clenched under the physical strain of endurance. What was happening to him?

Heero could feel himself nearing the edge, soon he would be unconscious. This had occurred several times within the last few months where he would pass out from the pain. The darkness would soon be upon him. He would welcome it. Before it the blackness could give him peace one more image crossed his mind. The vision made his stomach clench and he threw up bile.

It was Relena, and she was in pain.

* * * * * * *

Red was all he could see now. It was cold, but he couldn't understand why. He thought that he must have been dreaming because everything moves slowly and randomly as it did now. There was red all over the place, red on white. What was that all about? He knew but couldn't quite remember. There was a sound, a crying sound like a baby's cry. Zechs smiled thinking of the child that Elizabeth would soon have. Where was she anyway? It is passed her time to be home?

Why are my hands red?

Zechs was in a daze as he retreated back into his mind. Slowly he became aware that he was slumoed in a corner of the bedroom. It was so cold. The fire should have been lit and he should have been sitting in the living room with Elizabeth by the Christmas tree. It was to be the first of many Christmas holidays together.

Then, he let it back in, everything that had transpired that evening. The crying was coming from Mrs. Collins. He remembered why she was crying as well. He looked at his hands stained red. How long had he been in that corner? Hesitantly, he recalled the events.

His head hurt again and it was more severe than ever before. Over the last few months it had become so bad that he would lose consciousness for hours at a time. The visions were painful and strenuous… And frightening. There were so many things that he saw and could not understand. The little girl with red hair was the most frequent image that would flash in his mind. He knew it was important, that it meant something. He had promised his worried companion that no matter what came of it she need not fear. He would keep her safe. That was not what worried him. It was what he never saw in his mind during those fits that frightened him.

He never saw Elizabeth.

It had hit him the worst this afternoon. It came suddenly and without warning. Before he knew what was happening he was on the floor and gasping for air. The pain was so intense he thought it might kill him. But the blackness came and saved him. He lay on the floor of the bedroom for a long time. During that time the accident had occurred.

It was night when he awoke. His wits were very slow to come back to him as he wiped the blood off his face from the bloody nose the fit had given him. He looked at the clock. 9:50. Where was Elizabeth? She should have been home a while ago and she would have awoken him if she had seen him. Still dazed, he started searching for her. He did not need to look long.

Blood was the first thing that he saw. It was all over the floor and trailing down towards the bedroom. At the end of the hallway, she lay in a crumpled mass, barely conscious and perhaps barely alive. He couldn't really remember the initial reaction to seeing her there half dead and bleeding. Her face was deathly pale, devoid of blood since most of it was on the ground. It was obvious where the source of the hemorrhaging was coming from. The lower half of her body was soaked.

He lifted her and she whispered almost inaudibly about a fall. She whimpered horribly in obvious pain as he brought her to the bedroom and lay her down. She was in severe danger, both she and the child. She wasn't explaining how it happened. All she would say was "No hospital." "No Doctor!" She would not risk Milliardo being found. The only person she would allow him to contact was Mrs. Collins, who came right away without question. The cries of pain began shortly after Mrs. Collins arrived. Time was moving slowly and he had no idea how much was passing. Elizabeth was in heavy labor and convulsing dramatically. Zechs stayed in the chair by her bedside and allowed her to squeeze his hand. Time did not exist anymore. There was only the intervals between her cries of pain and the beating of his own heart that might mark a passage. Then at last there was a particularly sharp cry and a resounding answer from the child.

"It's a girl"

Elizabeth was trembling and cold to the touch. Zechs was next to her watching her eyes turn glassy as she asked for the child. Mrs. Collins wrapped the infant in a white cotton blanket and rested her against her mother's chest. Elizabeth could not move her arms to hold her so Zechs had to lift them and position them correctly to support his daughter. She simply gazed down at the child as her breathing became ragged. Then she turned her eyes to Zechs, not saying a word. She didn't need to, she knew as well as he what the inevitable was.

"Its not over Milliardo, never let it be over, not for you. Promise."

He was unsure of what she meant, perhaps deep down he knew. He nodded strongly and kissed her forehead. For the next moments they just watched each other's eyes. Zechs remembered the peaceful look on her face. She was almost smiling when her eyes unfocused and saw nothing anymore. He heard Mrs. Collins start to weep as Elizabeth passed on. He didn't feel anything. All he could do was back away until he reached the corner and slumped down.

That was what had happened. That was why it was cold and his hands were red. That was why there was the sound of weeping. What was he going to do now? She was the only thing he had left and no she was gone forever. It was his fault! He promised to keep her safe. The guilt swam up upon him and he again felt the urge to go back into the sea.

It was replaced by another urge. A craving he hadn't felt in over a year. The burning desire that gotten him through every hardship he had ever had to endure. It spread through his veins like wild fire that could not be extinguished. He had to answer the desire. This is what the visions had been telling him. This was what he had to do. There was no explanation for why he had been dreaming the future even while he was awake. He couldn't think about it. All he could think on was a way to satisfy the need within him. It was his natural instinct and reaction as Zechs Merquise, and as Milliardo Peacecraft.

He had to fight.

* * * * * *

"We never live far away from death. The very act of living speaks highly of us I suppose"

~ Gabriel Khushrenada

Zechs eyes fell and took strong note of the grand ornate letter D that was welded to the front of the massive gate of the Delizabane manor house. The security around the house was practically non existent. He suspected that for one reason or another thieves had little interest in this place, or perhaps they knew better than to try. The walkway was lit with gas lamps that gave the night an eerie glow. There was a dense fog that clung to the ground and the sides of the huge house. Rain poured down in cold sheets onto the broken hearted man as he unconsciously held his newborn daughter closer under his coat. The infant wailed and whimpered as Zechs approached the front door, wondering how he would do this. Mrs. Collins had advised him through her tears about what to do with the child. She had insisted that he could not take care of it himself and that this is what Elizabeth would want. In his grief he found he had to agree. There was no way he could be a father he told himself and penance would have to be paid for being so impetuous and lustful as to cause the child's creation. Dying in battle against this newest threat to the Earth sphere might cleanse his soul of this latest error on his part that had caused the death of the person who was like salvation to him. Again he chided himself and plummeted deeper into his self-made remorse. This was HIS daughter, she was no error, but things as they were could not stand.

The child, she was so beautiful. She was HIS and now he had to part with her. It was the only thing he could do. Zechs had to fight and respond to that violent reflex that was gnawing at his insides. Milliardo had not always been such a violent person. When his family had been torn asunder and his kingdom destroyed, a disturbance had taken seed within his heart and grew as he grew. As a warrior he could only define and purify himself through battle. He fought until that disturbing voice that cried out for the avenging of the Cinq Kingdom turned silence. Yes, he was not just angry with the Alliance for being the destroyers of the Cinq Kingdom. Milliardo Peacecraft had carried with him hatred for those who he felt had let it happen.

That in his mind, was everyone.

With Elizabeth he had learned not to be angry at the universe anymore. The universe was not culpable for the fall of his kingdom. The gundam pilots, the earth, the colonies, none of them were responsible. Chiefly, Treize was not responsible either. Treize no longer seemed the anti-Christ figure that he had appeared to be before. Zechs found himself remembering how as a boy Treize had completely saved him for being destroyed with his father and mother.

Jareth Khushrenada burst into the room that was starting to smoke from the fire that was consuming the palace. Behind him was his eleven year old son who carried in his arms the wailing and frightened figure of three year old Relena Peacecraft. The six years old Prince Milliardo Peacecraft sat huddled and frightened behind the bed. Moments before he had fled from his father's office where he had seen the Alliance officers empty all of their entire clips at his mother and father. Milliardo hid behind the bed weeping and tearing at his hair frantically. He had already begun to blame himself for his parent's death and was sure that his little sister must be dead now too.

"Milliardo!.. Are you in here? Come out Boy!" There was someone at the door. Milliardo didn't answer fearing that it would be the alliance coming to get him too. No. He couldn't die here. His grief was already turning to anger and hate. The Alliance would pay. The little boy covered his frightened face in his tiny hands. He would survive this and make them pay one day.

"Milliardo! Where are you?"….He looked up, recognizing the voice and knowing that he need not fear it.

"Treize!.. I am over here!" Barely a moment went by before Treize's father had swept the trembling prince up into his arms and battled back the smoke and flames as they fled the room. Milliardo looked over Jareth's shoulder to see Treize running just behind them with his sister. She was safe; the Alliance hadn't taken her too. Many of the hallways and corridors were in flames now. The party desperately sought an exit as fire burned everywhere. Milliardo was coughing terribly now. When they finally reached a viable escape they were stopped. A man who Milliardo had seen before around the palace stopped them. There were cars waiting for them, Milliardo looked down at his sister who was trying to escape Treize's tight grasp, her small hands wringing in her elder brother's direction. He couldn't hear what they were saying, or maybe he just didn't remember it. A snatch of conversation was all that remained in his memory. Jareth and the other man arguing….

"The Alliance is everywhere….. Don't have time."

"They are coming with me… You have no claim to them Khushrenada."

"Father… Milliardo HAS to come with us….. Protect him."

"Take the girl Darlian… The Prince will stay with us."

After a pause the man gave way to Jareth and Treize. The younger Khushrenada passed Relena over to the man. Milliardo looked at her for one last time before they were both in the first car and driving off. He didn't understand what was happening at all. They were putting him in the second car now. Treize was beside him trying to comfort him as he cried without understanding. The car took off fast, leaving the burning Cinq Kingdom behind.

Yes. Treize had saved him. Elizabeth had made him remember how much Treize had meant to him. They had grown up together. The Khushrenada's had raised him, cared for him, and ultimately provided him with a means of avenging his lost homeland. But the radical ideas preached by Treize Khushrenada were not to be endured by Milliardo Peacecraft, and soon Milliardo had broken away totally with intent to kill him and his followers. The confusion of the era, the Gundam pilots and their strange effect upon him as a warrior caused him to become lost on him. In those days he had completely ceased being Milliardo Peacecraft, the lost Prince of the Cinq Kingdom, or Zechs Merquise the vengeful soldier. He became a dangerous hybrid that existed for the sole purpose to bring ultimate peace to the universe. He was the counterpart of Treize, like the opposite swaying of the pendulum. He was Milliardo Peacecraft the soldier. Now he believed that as Leader of White Fang, he had become just like Treize, just a mirror image working from the other side of the spectrum, but in enfin, no different. Two men with radical beliefs, trying to make the world conform to their vision, Treize had not survived, but Milliardo had not won either.

The unnamed child squirmed in his arms and cried as loudly as ever. Zechs had no concept of how much time had passed while he sat remembering that other night of tragedy that was so much like this night. How was he going to leave her? At some point, the answer came to him. His grim face set in resolve, marked with raindrops that were now inextinguishable from the tears; he made his way to the front door. He would fight for her, for the child and the memory of her mother. That's how he would leave her, to protect her, as he should have protected Elizabeth. To ensure her future will be free, with no one holding dominion over her, that is how he would be able to leave her and fight, and become pure again.

His hand no longer trembled as he rang the door of the Delizabane manor. While he waited breathlessly, he slowly rocked the whimpering infant.

The doors opened slowly and light poured onto the porch from inside the house. A young woman wearing a black uniform answered the door. He thought it immediately strange that anyone in this house should wear such regalia. The thought was rapidly extinguished. She stood there, tall and imposing, just simply looking at him. Her face was mysteriously familiar; her hair was the loveliest shade of red he had ever seen.

"I MUST see the Lady Delizabane." Without consideration, he allowed the desperation to creep into his words. His voice was slightly broken. The woman in black gazed at him critically, searching. Her grayish blue eyes fell onto the child in his arms, then back onto Zechs. The woman's eyes were distinctively sharp and alert, and after glancing at the rain behind him, or perhaps to see if he was alone. She stepped aside and motioned for him to come inside.

The inside of the house was warm and extremely opulent. The warmth of the house made Zechs thankful, though not for himself, but for the child. Decorated in an extravagant Victorian style, everything gleamed with gilding or the lush shine of fine wood. His eyes met with a grand staircase immediately, on either side was a marble statue of an eagle. The carpets were deep rich red and the grand lamps and chandeliers cast a golden light that made him as though he was inside an immense jewel box.

The woman allowed him a moment to adjust himself to his surroundings. Zechs noticed that she too seemed to be of the Victorian like style. As if to match her surroundings, her hair was pulled loosely and pinned high on her head, but still full and attractive. If not for the uniform she might have easily appeared like one of the lavish statues come to life. She walked down the hallway and Zechs followed her, noting now that she was not a tall women, but rather short and slight. The manner in which she held herself made her appear much taller than in reality. Her imposing disposition compensated for her lack of stature.

He was led into a very large and distinctly shaped office that was a mix of crimson and cherry wood. It was oval and official looking. A large mahogany desk sat perfectly situated in front of huge floor to ceiling windows, outside of which was a huge stone terrace. Along the right wall was a marble fireplace in which burned a comfortable flame. Above the mantle was a something like a coat of arms. It was a golden eagle with stars surrounding it. It was strange, but noble. Zechs surmised that this was the office of the Aria Delizabane. However, the office was empty except for the woman who had guided him here. He assumed he was to wait for the Lady's arrival.

The woman did not leave, but instead made her way to the drenched man. She passed him and went to the elegant sofa set behind him. Her hands sought a small velvet blue blanket that lay folded over one of the sofa's arms. She unfolded it and walked back to a confused Milliardo, then held out her arms for the child. Reluctantly, Zechs gave over his daughter to the woman who wrapped her in the blanket gently and dabbed the rain off her face. Turning with a strange grace, the red-haired woman walked to the chair behind the desk and sat down with the child. She had a fierce authority about her character, which reminded him of Noin. From the back of his mind came Elizabeth words as she described the Lady Aria Delizabane. Zechs was now in no doubt of whose company he was in. The Lady Aria is not so high and mighty that she could not answer her own door after all.

"So who might you be good sir to come to my door at a late hour bearing a newborn child?" He didn't like her tone it was almost mocking. Her eyes were now chilling and challenging. When her two bluish eyes fell on the baby, she smiled.

His chest tightened as he spoke "This is the daughter of Elizabeth Langstaff, she died giving her life."

The change in the Lady of Dover's face was immediate. She no longer bore the look of a hungry lioness. Red arched brows softened in sentimentality; it was not quite sadness but more of a disappointment. She was young, probably little more than a year or two older than Zechs, but by the look of her eyes she seemed so much older.

"I always suspected Elizabeth to be to fragile for child bearing. May she rest well." She raised her downcast eyes to take Zechs in "You are the Father I gather?"

Light blue eyes shined suddenly under his pale lashes and Zechs struggled to keep the threatening tears back. He closed his eyes and nodded Well aware that he appeared to be ashamed before the Lady; he was anything but ashamed. When he felt control blossoming within him, he reopened his eyes and found the Lady Aria had moved and was now standing directly in front him. Such stealth, he had not even heard her move. His arms ached to hold his little girl again. His breath was catching in his throat and his hands were trembling. Zechs met the eyes of Aria and was surprised by the warmth. Her hand was light and fragrant as she reached down and took hold of his frozen fingers.

She smiled. "You don't remember me do you Zechs Merquise?" She rocked the child gently. Zechs was astounded. He was prepared to be recognized as Milliardo Peacecraft even in his disheveled and drenched appearance, but never as Zechs Merquise. Who exactly was this woman? She knew him. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her long and hard. Her smile remained, waiting for him to make the connection. Yes, she was familiar, but he could not quite remember.

"Aria Cerilian Delizabane, we met December 26, AC 187 in France. The estate of Jareth Khushrenada. I wore green; you wore red. My father became enraged at my elder sister's association with your friend Treize Khushrenada and knocked her out in front of the entire Romafellar assembly before he dragged us both out by our necks. Do you remember now?" It was as blunt as that.

His eyes widened, he did indeed remember that occasion. It was a horrible spectacle. He had danced with Aria earlier in the evening and was standing with her when her father had entered and started the traumatic scene. He barely remembered Aria, but recalled her older sister more. Treize had seemed quite attached to her, he remembered seeing how his fingers tightened around hers when Gabriel Khushrenada, Treize's younger brother, had solicited her for a dance. Their father had caught a glimpse of his daughter and Treize standing together and flew into a rage. He attempted to drag her out by her hair. When she resisted he flung her against the wall and struck her hard in the face. Treize, his brother, and Zechs had all reached for their swords with the intent to stop the crazed man from assaulting his daughters. Jareth Khushrenada had stopped them from interfering. Treize had never forgiven his father, for as far as Zechs knew, he had never seen the girl again after that. He suspected that Treize might have loved Analicia Delizabane but he never knew for sure. Zechs recalled all this, and then remembered what Elizabeth had told him. The girls had been sent off to war. Aria had been taken prisoner, her elder sister had been executed, a terrible fate indeed.

Aria was much changed since then. He remembered her as a sweet and intelligent girl of fourteen. Zechs had only been twelve when he had met her. Now she was a woman, baring a battle hardened intensity. How sad, she seemed deep and ancient. Zechs looked into her eyes, seeking something he knew he would recognize. There it was; she carried within the mirror of her eyes knowledge of hell and volumes of suffering that only brutish conquest can awaken one to. It had flung her from an innocent child to something like a decaying antique of war. Lost, overrun, tortured, and silent, unwilling to speak of or give thought to the years of horror that an Alliance Prison camp undoubtedly produced. That life that must have robbed her of peace and fulfillment. She was left a product of grief and a malnourished soul. Zechs saw all of this in the span of seconds, and understood it all. She was no different from him. Like him, she had learned to become strong again.

Now the lady of Dover, regal and imperious, one would never think to consider her a victim.

"The years have indeed shaped you Lady Aria." He said finally after what seemed an eternity of contemplation that was actually only mere seconds. It was all he could think to say, believing that she would value candidness as well as politeness.

Her red lashes closed over her gray-blue eyes and she nodded with some soberness. Slowly they sought the sight of the wriggling infant in her arms.

"She does not have a name?"

"No" he had yet to give her a name. Whenever he thought of it, his mind turned to Elizabeth and the emptiness she had left inside him. A new wave of despair swept over him and he found himself staggering backwards under the weight of this gloom. He lost his equilibrium; the back of his wrist covered his eyes. Aria moved beside him and sat him down in one of the sofa chairs.

"I remember feeling your hands upon my shoulders as my father came rushing towards us. You had barely known me and still you sought to place yourself in harm's way to protect me. I never forgot that, and I never forgot you. They released me from the Nairobi base when OZ took over. I remember hearing your voice over the loud intercom. You spoke of the OZ organization giving birth to a true alliance. It was as if you had come to save me. Once again you were protecting me. I believe you draw your strength from protecting. You believe you have failed because you couldn't protect Elizabeth and you blame yourself for her death. There should be no giving up. There is still one who needs protecting Zechs. Do not fall into despair, there are many that still need protection. And for them, for her, you will be what you must be and do what you must do."

His breath was ragged, his cheeks stained again with tears. He had never cried as much as he had this past year in his life. One looking over his life and observing him over this past year would think him a sentimental fool. The tears were long over do in all actuality. Zechs turned his eyes to hers and felt ashamed for showing such weakness before her. Though, she was kind and a little more than wise.

Aria's hand was small as she pushed some of the wet strands of hair sticking away. Then it moved down, over his shoulders, arm, and took hold of his hand. She brought the infant down to him. Zechs took the child back, and his arms ceased their trembling. Her hand passed almost symbolically over in front of his eyes and drew them down to his daughter in one graceful gesture.

"Name her."

He stared at his daughter's face for a long time, then his lips parted. She had her mother's green eyes; he couldn't help but smile. His thoughts came swirling and thundering in his head, screaming for reply until at last it came to him.

" Her name is Elizabeth Foster." He looked up.

Aria was no longer there; she had once again silently moved and now stood in front of the huge windows, staring out into the night.

Her voice was deep now. "A storm is coming. It will bring the rains of destruction to the Earth Sphere. Not far away, another child is crying out in the night for her father, and acting in his name. The storm must be stopped Zechs." She turned to him, her eyes shining with strange prophecy. "There are those of us who are strong enough to protect others. Zechs, you must protect us, you must.. Prevent."

He knew exactly what she meant, and rose to stand at full height. Still the lady seemed taller than he did. She towered over him from a distance.

"Go and prevent Zechs. I will care for Elizabeth Foster in your absence. I know it is what her Mother would have wanted." She approached him. "The Earth will accept you again. I know its ways; its forgetful nature."

He understood. Pressing his lips against the warm ruddy flesh of Elizabeth's newborn skin, he silently said goodbye to his daughter.

"I will return for her." He vowed and handed her over to the red-haired noble woman. Gathering all the will he could find, he hastily departed the room with a sad determination. Never looking back, lest he should refuse this destiny, Zechs went out into the rain and night. He would travel fast to Brussels, to another Lady. She would be the one who would allow him to fight. She would forgive him, after all the world had forgiven her. Why should it not forgive him?

Through the huge office windows Aria held the child and rocked her until she fell silent. She watched as Zechs Merquise vanished into the night. Then, she smiled darkly.

So Milliardo Peacecraft left the Isle, vowing to return one day for his daughter. If he has known that on this night exactly who and what the Delizabanes were. He would never have left Elizabeth Foster with them.

The decision would haunt him for the rest of his life

End Prologue