Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. It belongs to Sunrise and Bandai. Answer to Our Lives belongs to the Backstreet Boys.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some mild language
Pairing: Zechs/Noin
Author's Note: This was originally supposed to be a sequel of sorts to Shape of My Heart. But that didn't happen. Also, it rather ran away with me but I think it was in a good way. Please let me know what you think of it.
Dedication: To Emu, she really liked this.
You see me sittin here
A smile upon my face
The time has come
But you know that it's not too late
"We leave tomorrow." He looks up, looks at her, and gives a nod. Neither can really believe it, deep down. Lake Victoria had been their home for years; it will be strange to leave it. "Are you worried?" she presses. She's sitting on the chair, smiling at him easily. There's a nervous glint to her dark eyes though and he knows it isn't caused by the sun coming through the window – even if that's what she would claim. "Zechs?"
"No…" he answers slowly. "No, I'm not worried." She nods and seems satisfied. He continues to pack his meager belongings, not looking at her. He can't look at her. She frowns at him, leaning forward to study him. He turns his back to her as he empties the top drawer of his dresser.
"Of course you aren't," she murmurs. "You're top of the class; you've got the world at your feet." He stiffens and she lets out a soft sigh. "We leave tomorrow," she repeats.
"I know Noin." She can hear the smile in his voice, the mockery in his tone. It makes her smile though. He's still the same, he's still… "Noin…I…"
"Yes?" She curses herself for sounding too eager, for looking too excited when he turns to face her again. She's leaning forward now, watching him. "What is it?"
"It's…I…"
And he's going to say it. She can see it in the way he takes a deep breath, sees it in the way he tries to meet her eyes through the dark, oversized glasses he's wearing. He's finally going to say it. She wants to urge him on, she wants to push him, but she can't. Because if she does something, says something, she's afraid it'll scare him off.
"I'll miss you," he murmurs finally. He starts to turn away but she reaches out, grasping his arm. "Noin…"
"It's okay," she reassures. She's smiling at him again, kindly and quietly – just like she always does. "It's okay," she repeats, "I'll miss you too. I'll miss you a whole lot," her voice drops to a whisper, "Milliardo." He stiffens slightly and she knows his eyes are wide behind his glasses. "We'll see each other again, won't we?"
"Yes," he answers. He reaches for her hand, squeezes it tightly. "Yes."
There's been too many things
Together we have seen
It's not that hard if we start to believe
Parties have never been her thing. Anyone at the Academy could have answered that if asked. She always found a way to skimp out on them; usually she would end up out in the fields, away from the tarmacs where the Mobile Suits were kept. Once Zechs discovered her hiding out when they were thirteen he started to join her. It became a ritual of sorts.
So she wonders why she's here now. Listening to soft orchestral music being drowned out by men talking war and ladies gossiping like schoolgirls. Elegantly dressed schoolgirls, but schoolgirls none the less. She hides a grimace with a glass of champagne and tries to imagine feet that don't ache.
"Ah, Miss Noin!" She looks up as her name is called. Treize is weaving his way through the assembled crowds, smiling charmingly at any of the women who happen to glance his way. "What a treat it is, seeing you here tonight." He clinks his champagne glass with hers. "I'm sure you know my companion…?"
She turns to the man next to him, who she hadn't taken note of on their approach. She blinks, sure that her eyes were playing a trick on her. A silver…helmet? He tilts his head and a familiar half-smile tugs at his mouth. Her eyes widen as she stares at him.
"Noin," he greets. His voice erases whatever doubts she'd had. But seriously, a silver helmet that looks rather bird-like? She'll have to talk to him about his fashion later. "How have you been?"
"Why Zechs Merquise," she drawls. She sets the flute of champagne on the table next to her and smiles. "It's been seven months and sixteen days and I haven't heard a word from you."
Her smile is still pleasant when her gloved fist connects with the left portion of his jaw. There are gasps from the ladies around her and a few muffled chuckles from the men. Zechs winces and rubs his jaw, but from what she can tell his eyes are laughing. She keeps the smile in place as she turns on her heel, exiting to the veranda. He follows slowly.
"You know what that reminded me of?" he questions quietly. She looks up from where she's leaning on the balustrade. He's smiling despite the purple bruise forming on his pale skin.
"What?" Her eyes are laughing though as he leans next to her.
"Year Three," he replies. She nods, still smiling, but not as brightly.
Year Three, they had been twelve, had just been promoted into mobile suit training and communication expertise. But she knows that's not what he's referring to. He's referring to when they were on leave in the south of France and she had punched out one of the boys because he had been torturing a stray dog. When the rest of his friends tried to jump her Zechs had joined in, on her side. It's what had turned them from rivals to friends.
"I was thinking Year Four," she comments darkly. He chuckles drily, remembering the incident.
Xavier had badgered her for a week to attend the holiday party with him. When she finally gave in and agreed he stood her up the night of the dance, leaving her alone. She had found him after, kissing one of the other girls and had beaten him up to the best of her ability. Zechs had been the one to bandage her hand and steal the ice from the infirmary for her. It's what had turned them from friends to best friends.
"I have missed you," he sighs.
"I missed you too," she agrees. Her smile widens as his arm settles around her shoulders.
And we're not gonna take anymore
Can we try to erase all the pain?
So please
She turns eighteen on August twentieth. She isn't sure if that's supposed to mean something or not, she hasn't really cared for her birthday before now. Her parents were both killed when she was six years old and her grandmother died the year she joined the Academy. She never had the big parties or the exorbitant amounts of birthday cards and gifts that the other kids got.
She remembers past birthdays, spent in a dingy dormitory with ten other girls in her year. She never told them when her birthday was, it didn't really matter since that was usually the month they were on leave to visit their families. She always opted to stay at the Academy; she had no interest in visiting a distant Aunt of her mother's that she had only met once or twice at most. Zechs usually stayed with her.
They used to celebrate by themselves. Usually it involved sneaking into the kitchen and stealing a carton of ice cream from the big freezer in back and spoons from the cabinets. Zechs usually did the distracting while she did the stealing. He was quite a good actor when it benefitted him. They would take the ice cream down to the small lake and sit out on the rocks. Zechs would provide the candles and the matches and she would laugh while he tried to light them and then grew frustrated with them.
That was the extent of their celebrating usually, at least in the beginning. Towards the end of their stay there, when she turned fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, he started leaving her gifts on the table next to her bed. She isn't sure how he managed it, but there was always at least one, sometimes two, gifts waiting to be unwrapped. He always denied it but she couldn't think of anyone else who would get her a book of old poetry one year, a sapphire necklace and earrings the next, and a set of three photo frames with a note that read For your growing collection. She had no proof but she knew it was him.
So when she wakes on her eighteenth birthday she's disappointed to see the table empty though she had expected it. Honestly, she was an Instructor now and he was a soldier stationed who-knows-where. (It had been forty-seven days since their unexpected meeting at the party.) She goes about her day as usual trying to pretend she isn't miffed that he didn't even bother to call. She reminds herself that she never cared for her birthday before, but she's eighteen now and for some reason that seems important.
When she returns to her room that night she almost gasps. On the table by her bed are a stack of wrapped gifts, a bouquet of various flowers, and a cream colored envelope with Noin written on it. She glances around suspiciously before opening the card first. It's a typical birthday card filled with well wishes and covered in a disturbing amount of glitter. At the bottom though a note is scrawled:
I'm sorry this is later than usual. You aren't in the next-building over anymore. Happy Birthday Lucrezia.
There's no signature but she hadn't expected one. She smiles and curls up under her covers, unwrapping each gift carefully.
Show me a reason
Give me a sign
Tell me the way we fall out of line
Is it today or is it tonight?
We'll find
The answer to our lives
"It's been one year and twenty-two days," she reminds him.
"Twenty-four actually, by the time we reached here." He hides a smile and awaits the punch. He's surprised when she stops a couple of feet from him looking uncertain. He has known her to be many different things, but uncertain was rarely one of them. "Noin?"
"It's good to see you again Colonel," she greets. He almost expects her to salute and she does seem to check herself. "Was your flight good?"
He stares at her incredulously for a few more seconds before he notices the eyes peering not-so-covertly from the hanger behind her. "It was well enough," he answers. She nods and he sees that her eyes are still as mischievous as usual. "Noin, I was wondering if you could be so kind as to show me to my room?"
"Of course." There's a smile in her voice and she turns on her heel, walking off toward the main building. He won't admit it but he actually has to hurry to catch up to her. "It hasn't changed much, since you were here last," she comments idly. He nods, not surprised that she's noticed him checking out the grounds. "You'll be staying in the Visitor's Quarters."
"Ah." He can remember sneaking in there when he was fifteen, just to find out what the fuss was about. Noin had been right by his side of course. It wasn't a problem until they were caught by Instructor Castleman and then there was that nasty spread of rumors about the extent of their relationship, none of which were true. "Fond memories," he comments as they enter the elevator.
She elbows him in the ribs in response.
When the doors open she leads him down the hall and opens the door to the room he's been given. He smirks as he enters and she follows, closing the door behind them. "Yes, yes, laugh it up. I know; it's the same room we were caught in." She can still remember Instructor Castleman's face when he had opened the door and seen them lounging on the bed watching television. "You know they did it on purpose."
"Of course," he chuckles. He sets his small bag down on the bed and turns to look at her. "You haven't changed."
"Neither have you. Still wearing that silly mask." She smiles and he laughs, rolling his eyes since she can't really see them. And then she's rushing over to him and he's almost prepared for the punch she's likely to throw. He's not prepared for the hug. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you too," he mumbles. Cautiously he wraps his arms around her, hugging her tightly. She smells like cucumbers and he smiles when he realizes she hasn't changed her shampoo in all the years he's known her. "I'm glad to see you Noin; I just wish it was for longer."
"You're busy," she reminds him. She knows he can see the doubt and sadness in her eyes so she tries to avert them, tries to study the oh-so fascinatingly plain walls of the room. He reaches up a hand, tilting her chin so he can study her face carefully. "Zechs…" she sighs.
He leans in then, pressing his lips to hers softly. Neither knows why. Her arms tighten around his neck as she kisses him back and they both wonder why they hadn't done this before. And then they remember: they're friends, they're soldiers, there's a war looming. Slowly she steps back and smiles, lets him know that it's okay. "Come on, you should see the new Officer's Club."
He grins. "Lead on."
This world is not at ease
We seem to hide the truth
Thinkin' there's only so much we can really do
"I hate the cold."
He's been growling and muttering to himself since they arrived in Antarctica. A vicious part of her wants to remind him that he's the one who picked this godforsaken landmass, in a base that's impression of heat was about twenty degrees above freezing. Instead she wraps her hands around the hot coffee in front of her. She wants to drink it, but her hands protest the loss of warmth.
She looks up as he crosses in front of her once more. He looks remarkably like a disgruntled polar bear. He's wearing the thick white jacket they were given upon arrival, and she knows there's at least another jacket and sweater under it. He's rubbing his gloved hands together and she smirks, shaking her head.
"I hope your Suit's heated." He looks at her in surprise and she rolls her eyes and tries to control her smile. "I doubt you have much mobility dressed as you are. You look ready to hibernate." He growls and she snickers despite her best efforts.
"Are you laughing at me?" he demands. The European accent is back, aristocratic as always. She knows he's mad but she can't stop the laughter.
"Maybe," she replies. Her eyes are laughing at him and she's happy that it's way too late for anyone else to be in the mess hall with them. "What are you going to do about it?"
He's suddenly there. His hands come down on the table across from her and he leans in, staring at her furiously through the mask. She raises an eyebrow and he lets out a frustrated growl, turning away from her and storming across to the window looking out at nothing but white.
She lets out a breath that she had been holding and stands as well. The trash can is on her way so she dumps the cup in it and stands behind him. She wonders what he sees when he stares out the window at the swirling snow. Does he see the time when they were seventeen and snuck on a carrier to France and went skiing? Does he remember them curled up in front of the fire drinking too-strong coffee and watching the blizzard outside?
Or does he remember waking at the age of six to a massacre rampaging through his country? Does he remember his home burning as he and his sister were smuggled out by Pagan? Does he remember the soldiers warming themselves with the flaming palace? She doesn't ask because she doesn't want to know.
"Do you really have to fight tomorrow?" she asks quietly. He shifts slightly, turns to look at her. She's staring out at the white landscape but her eyes have a faraway look to them.
"Noin…"
"You and your damn pride," she sneers. He looks taken aback as she turns to him. "Don't you understand?" she demands. "This is a war Zechs. I can lose you at any time, in any battle. And here you are, fighting in a battle that has no meaning except to you and the insane pilot in the hanger!"
"Noin…" he tries again. She tries to slap him but he catches her wrist. "Noin."
"I don't want to hear it Zechs, not anymore," she whispers. "I can't stand it anymore, can't you realize that? I will always stand by your side, but I'm so tired of this war. I'm tired of fighting." She stares up at him and he can see the tears in her eyes, the ones she's refusing to let fall. "Please, stop fighting."
She kisses him then. Suddenly and passionately. He releases her wrist and her hand tangles in his hair, her other hand gripping the thick jacket. His arms wrap around her as he presses her into the wall next to the window. It's desperate and hard and not at all like the previous one they shared just three months ago. Her hand moves from his shoulder to his jaw, fingertips tracing the skin there, brushing against the cold silver mask.
He pulls away and they're both gasping for air. She looks resigned and he presses a kiss to her forehead. "I can't Noin."
It's up to you and me
To face our Destiny
The jury's here so let's take the stand
She is furious. She's never felt so angry in her life, then again he's never been so stubbornly stupid and self-righteous before either. She wants to throttle him; she wants to blow him up. She wants to kiss him. She shakes her head and stands shaking with fury in Libra.
Dorothy is sitting in a high-backed chair to the right, watching her curiously. Next to her is a large window looking out to Earth. She glares at the girl and Dorothy laughs in response. "Fancy seeing you here," she calls. Her voice is laughing, her tone biting.
"I knew you weren't to be trusted," Noin growls. "You betrayed Miss Relena."
Dorothy grins slowly, hew pale eyes dance in the strange light filling the room from the window. "That may be so," she replies, "but who's the traitor now?" Noin bites back a response as Dorothy stands. "At least I did it to further my own ambition, you did it for love."
"Dorothy!" Both women jump, looking to the door in surprise. Zechs stands there, looking at Dorothy, ignoring Noin. "That's enough Dorothy."
"But Master Milliardo…"
"You are dismissed Dorothy." Her eyes narrow before her face becomes neutral once again and she sweeps from the room. They both listen to the click of the door sliding shut. Finally he turns to her. "Noin…" he sighs. He moves to her, tries to take hold of her.
She glares though and lets loose. She doesn't deny the immense satisfaction she feels when her fist connects with his cheekbone. It's so nice not having that mask in the way of things. He stumbles back and rubs at his eye, at the bruise. Her glare increases in intensity.
"You bastard," she growls. He hasn't seen her this angry since their fight at age thirteen, when they had graduated and entered Specials training. Then…then she had been furious but she hadn't been violent. Besides the punch (she was always fond of punching) to the stomach she hadn't done anything else except ignore him. He thinks the ignoring hurts worse than the punching. "You have that…that…Honestly Zechs, Dorothy Catalonia? Do you even know what you're doing anymore?"
She swings again and he lets her. He lets her fist connect with his stomach. "You've betrayed everyone Zechs."
"It's Milliardo…"
She turns from him with a frustrated yell and wraps her arms around herself. "It'll always be Zechs," she whispers. She's standing in front of the window, staring at Earth and the stars and wondering why she doesn't feel happier to be here. He shifts behind her and she remembers why. "You almost killed me." He can hear the hurt in her voice. "You disappear off the grid; you betray your sister, your ideals, and your own planet. You betrayed me."
"This is right Noin, it has to be done. There has to be peace." He reaches for her but she shies away. He watches as she wanders the room, her fingers trailing over the desk, the locked filing cabinets, the walls… "You understand that or you wouldn't be here, right now, with me."
She looks up at him and he's startled by the pain he sees in her eyes. In the turmoil reflected there from her own personal war. "Don't you get it?" she sighs. "I'm here because you're here."
And we're not gonna take anymore
Can we try to erase all the pain?
So please
Sometimes, when she's sitting in her small apartment, she wonders why she stuck by him in the end. The answers come easily as she stirs her coffee and stares into the dark depths of the liquid. They were friends, they were confidants, they were…more. It doesn't matter though because he's disappeared now and she can't find someone who doesn't want to be found. She isn't that good.
Sally tells her she's inane, thinking he's still alive. Tells her she's an idiot for still trusting him. But Sally doesn't understand, she reasons. She saw Zechs as he was in the end. She saw the man with a mask so normal no one could see through it. Despite the history books, despite the knowledge, she had no true understanding of the man behind it, no connection to the boy who had grown into him. Noin smiled again and stood, dumping the coffee into the sink when she hears the horn outside.
"You're thinking about him," Sally accuses when Noin slides into the passenger seat. Noin turns to her with a raised eyebrow and Sally shrugs. "I can tell; your eyes grow lighter or darker, depending on the memory."
"Oh, and what color are they now?" she teases. Sally pulls effortlessly into the steady stream of traffic as they head toward the Preventer building.
Sally looks at her and frowns. "Light, it's a good memory."
"You look upset," Noin replies.
"I am. He was a traitor Noin and you're reliving good memories. He tried to kill you and you still think he's good." She reaches over, touches her shoulder. "He's gone now Noin, has been for five months. You have to move on eventually."
--
She remembers Year Four fondly. Being thirteen and rebellious in a military academy had not been an easy task. But she hadn't been alone. She can remember sneaking out of the room she shared with another girl (she doesn't remember her name anymore) and meeting Zechs between the buildings. He would offer her a grin and they would creep out into the shadows, where the hyenas howled and the security lights didn't reach. It hadn't been frightening, only adventurous.
It had been a year of firsts: first holiday dance, first time being stood up, first time being kissed by Aron Callisto. The last one had earned her two weeks detention for shoving him in the lake. She likes to remember that he earned a month for kissing her in the first place. It was also the first time she had revealed her knowledge of his past and called him Milliardo to his face. It was when she promised loyalty and he smiled for the first time without over-sized sunglasses on because he knew he could trust her.
Her reverie is interrupted by a knock on her office door. She looks up to see Une's secretary looking at her from around the half-open door. "Yes?"
"Excuse me, but you have a visitor." She frowned in confusion, glancing at Sally curiously. The other woman shrugged in response from her desk on the other side of the room. Lady Une usually didn't send her secretary unless she was requesting someone personally. "Fire, Lady Une said you could use the smaller Conference Room for your meeting." The secretary ducked out and Noin reached for her jacket, shrugging it on.
"It could be Relena," Sally points out as Noin heads for the door.
"Relena usually bypasses protocol if it's one of us she wants to see," Noin reminds her.
Sally nods and waves her off. She takes the elevator to the twelfth floor and makes her way down the hall toward the smaller Conference Room. Usually this was reserved for meetings with dignitaries and had a small well-stocked refrigerator and comfortable chairs. As she nears the room she tries to suppress any feelings of hope.
Dorothy looks up as she enters the room. She looks tired and Noin eyes her with confusion. "Ah, Miss Noin, it's been awhile." She chuckles drily. "Please, be so kind as to close the door, this is a matter best left to ourselves." Noin obeys and leans against the wall across from the younger girl. "You look well."
"You too." She twists a strand of pale hair around her finger and Noin can almost imagine that same hair on someone else. She closes her eyes momentarily and forces the thoughts from her mind. "What do you want Dorothy?"
"Ah, so much for civil pleasantries," Dorothy laughs. "It's actually rather refreshing." She stands and smoothes out the peach colored skirt. "I have a message for you," she adds. She unclasps her handbag and withdraws a white envelope. Noin. She knows his handwriting anywhere. "I didn't read it so don't give me that look."
"Where did you get this?" She makes sure she doesn't snatch it. She doesn't want to be needy, doesn't want to give Dorothy the pleasure of seeing her weakness.
"He dropped it off earlier today. I told him he should see you himself but he said I had to give you this first." Her face looks as disgusted as if he'd suggested she join an Embroidery Club. "So I suppose your faith was justified, in a way." Her eyes flick to Noin's hand and she forcibly makes them stop trembling.
"Thank you Dorothy."
"Oh, don't think I've grown a conscience per se. It was simply my last act of loyalty to him." She smiled serenely as she headed to the door. "I think I shall take a nice long vacation in the country. If you do happen to see him, please inform him that I am not a carrier pigeon."
Noin sank to the floor, staring at the envelope in her hand as the door clicked shut.
Show me a reason
Give me a sign
Tell me the way we fall out of line
Is it today or is it tonight?
We'll find
The answer to our lives
The outside of the bar is old and dilapidated. Two men are slouching outside; grey smoke wreathing their heads. A bottle of cheap booze is in a paper bag by their feet. They leer at her and she glares at them as she enters the bar. Inside it's just as unbecoming as the outside. It's dark and from what she can see the tables are grimy and the floor is sticky.
Of course he would pick here to meet.
He's sitting with his back to the wall in the darkest part. She rolls her eyes as she slides into the seat across from him. He looks the same, God he looks the same. She swallows and drops her eyes to the envelope she's placed on the table between them. He reaches out and covers her hand with his. She can see faint scars marring the pale skin and her hands grow cold.
"You shouldn't have come," he sighs. She doesn't look up, fascinated with the way he's rubbing slow circles against the back of her hand with his thumb.
"You invited me."
"It was a mistake." She looks up and sees disgust on his face, but it isn't directed at her and that's what makes her hurt more. "Noin, I…"
"I know," she whispers. She turns her hands so that they're palm-to-palm. His eyes drop to where they're touching and slowly he entwines their fingers. She notices the scar by his left eye, the one that's mostly hidden by his bangs. She wants to study them closely, wants to rememorize him and see what else has changed. "But I told you during the war, and I'm telling you now. I want to be by your side."
"Can't imagine why," he scoffs.
"Can't you?" she challenges. He laughs quietly and tightens his hold on her. "You saw Dorothy." She doesn't add before me but they both know it's there.
"We had unfinished business." His eyes are hard and she doesn't want to know what it was. He saw Dorothy before he saw her and she needs to know why. But she won't ask and they both know that too. "I wasn't sure you'd see me," he adds. She raises an eyebrow and he reaches over, brushing her dark hair out of her eyes. Those same eyes close as he lightly traces warm, living fingers down her cheek. "I did try and kill you and take over the world."
"More like destroy it," she murmurs. His hand withdraws and her eyes open. "Zechs, please, let's just stop this dance. I'm tired of it."
"I am too," he admits. He releases her hand and stands. She follows suit, picking the envelope up and stuffing it in her jacket pocket. As they exit the bar he has his arm around her shoulders and she's leaning into him happily. "It won't be easy," he says slowly. They're walking down the street, back toward her apartment and she doesn't bother to question how he knows where she's living. She'd be surprised if he didn't.
"When have our lives ever been easy?" she mutters. He laughs and she hasn't heard that sound for far too long. "I want to try though," she persists.
"Good," he murmurs. He kisses her under the street lamp while they're waiting for the light to change.
So tell me why we have to cry
And not try
When there's so many
Things we can do
To help this troubled
World start anew?
"You can't just be a hermit in my apartment for the rest of your life," she accuses. He looks up from where he's stretched out on her couch watching the television. She can smell food cooking and it makes her stomach rumble happily and she remembers she didn't have lunch. "You have to do something other than lay about!"
"I cleaned," he replies. She follows his hand as it gestures to the vacuumed floors, cleaned windows, and dusted tabletops. She wants to be angry though and she knows he can tell. She kicks off her shoes and throws her jacket on his head before stalking into the bathroom.
When she finally emerges after a long hot shower he's in the kitchen taking the roast out of the oven. She notices that he's put away her shoes and hung her jacket. It makes her smile despite her mood and she slouches in her chair as she watches him work. She wonders what people would say if they learned of his more domesticated side. She also wonders what they would say if they knew he wore the too-big frilly pink apron Relena had gotten her while he cooked.
He eyes her warily as he places the sliced roast in the center of the table. "Something the matter?" he questions over his shoulder as he heads back into the small kitchen. She snorts and stabs a roast slice with her fork. "I'll take that as a yes then." He returns (minus the apron) and places the salad and potatoes on the table before sitting across from her. "What happened?"
"Will you ever go out in public? Or even let people know you're alive. Besides myself and Dorothy that is." He winces at the blonde's name and she sighs rubbing her temples. "I'm sorry."
"You aren't," he corrects. "What happened?" He reaches for his glass and takes a sip of the red wine.
"Sally wants to set me up on a date with some doctor she knows." She laughs as he chokes on the alcohol. He splutters and stares at her, his eyebrows almost in his hairline they're so high. "I told her no but that just makes her worry more. She thinks I'm being foolish, waiting around on a dead guy."
"I'm not dead," he protests.
She doesn't tell him that sometimes she doubts it. That sometimes she has to pull out the letter Dorothy delivered to her to remind herself that it's real. Or that sometimes, in the middle of the night, she curls closer to him and just listens to him breathe while she traces the thin scars that weren't on him eleven months ago.
"Yes, but no one knows that, do they? They all think I'm verging on a mental breakdown. And your sister…" she trails off as he looks at her. "Relena thinks I'm obstinate but she comes to me whenever she can so she can hear stories about you. Stories you should be telling her." He waves his hand dismissively and she bites back a retort.
"Noin, it's a roast, you don't spear it like that." She's tempted to throw the knife at him but isn't sure if she'd miss with her current feelings. Instead she pours herself a full glass of wine and drinks it all. "What do you want me to do?" he demands finally.
"I don't know, tell people you're alive," she exclaims. He gives her a look she's become accustomed to these past six months. They've had this discussion before, she knows his reasons. Knows that he'd face ridicule, possible imprisonment or exile. There's no good way for him to reappear. As much as she hates to admit it, death is seemingly the best solution. "You could tell Relena…or Une."
"I won't put them in that position. They have power, they count on votes. If it got out that they knew I was alive and didn't prosecute me their careers would be ruined." He reaches for her across the table and she takes his hand silently. "I shouldn't have done it to you, but I was selfish."
"I'd still be waiting for you," she points out. He chuckles and shakes his head. "You know it's true."
"I do." He squeezes her hand and her annoyance is forgotten. "Tell me, what do you want me to do? What is it you want?"
"I want…I don't know what I want," she laughs. She pulls away and stabs a potato viciously. "I guess I just want normalcy for once, don't you? I want to be able to walk into work and not have Sally dropping suggestions about who's available. I don't want Une or Relena looking at me with pity and understanding anymore.
"I want to not have to worry that I might slip up and admit to you being alive. I don't want to worry about being discovered and having to arrest you. I want to be able to walk down the street with you. I want to be able to drag you to those damn Preventer galas as my date so I'm not being leered at by men old enough to be my grandfather. I want the whole nine yards, a nice little house, marriage, and kids in the future." She stops when she sees his face. "What?"
"Marriage?" he questions meekly. She looks surprised and quickly runs through her rant in her head. She flushes when she realizes what she'd said. "You want marriage."
She looks indignant. "Yes. Why?"
"I just…I never thought…"
"Zechs Merquise you are dense." She flicks a potato at him and he grins at her.
"So let's do it."
"What?"
He laughs at her face and stands coming to stand next to her. She watches with an open mouth as he drops to one knee and takes her hand. "Noin, will you marry me?"
"Marry you?" she demands. "You won't even leave the apartment unless it's dead of night, how are we supposed to be married?"
He grins at her. "Noin, it's us," he laughs. "We always figure it out." He kisses her and she's smiling when they pull apart. "Are you up to it?"
"Depends," he eyes her. "When you finally come out of hiding, then I'll marry you."
"Mm?" he questions. His hands tighten on her hips and she smiles. "And what do you propose I do in this time of peace?"
"Become a Preventer of course." She pulls his mouth to hers again. "When you do that, I'll marry you." She kisses him again and they move onto dessert, leaving dinner forgotten on the table.
I need a reason,
I need a sign
There's no turning back
I'm here by your side
Is it today or maybe tonight?
We'll find the answer to our lives
"How is she?" she asks quietly.
"Stable," Une replies. She's flipping through files and looks as though she hasn't slept in days. Noin has a feeling they all look that way. She glances through the open door and sees Mariemaia asleep in the hospital bed. "She came out of surgery a few hours ago, the prognosis still looks good."
"That's good," Noin agrees. She studies the girl silently. This was her third surgery, trying to repair the damage of the coup d'état she had organized.
"So Zechs Merquise is back," Lady Une murmurs. She closes the file and looks at Noin over her glasses. Noin flushes and nods, turning back to the Head of Preventers. "How long did you know?"
"I…What makes you think I knew?"
"You weren't surprised to see him," she replies. "And it's you. You two were always...close." She offers her a slight smile. "I'm not going to arrest you for harboring a fugitive."
"You…aren't?"
"No, neither of you will be arrested." Noin stares at her incredulously. "Because of Mr. Merquise's help with the repression of the rebel forces a few weeks ago I was able to plead his case. He has been granted amnesty for his prior actions."
Noin sat down in the chair opposite Une's. "Thank you, from both of us."
"Don't mention it. Anyway, that's not what you came to see me about, is it?" Noin shakes her head and Une smiles fleetingly. "I thought so. You two are disappearing again, aren't you?"
"Relena has a project…"
"Of course she does." She sighs and removes her glasses. Noin watches as she folds them and places them in their case. "Well, I wish the two of you the best of luck. You'll always be welcome back at Preventers. We'll keep your codenames open; not that anyone could fill those names anyway."
"Thank you," she repeats, standing. "I wish you the best." She pauses to glance back into the hospital room. "And her. I wish you both the best." Une nods and smiles fleetingly before Noin turn and leaves.
--
"What did you tell them?" he asks. She opens her eyes, looking up at him. The fingers of his right hand continue to run through her hair and she tightens her grip on his left.
"Mm, nothing," she laughs. "I told Lady Une of course, but I couldn't think what to tell Sally or the others. I left her a vid-mail though, so hopefully she'll forgive me."
"So you just left?" He's suppressing his laughter, she knows it. She doesn't care though, just snuggles closer and relishes the warmth of his body and the fire they're in front of. "That isn't very Noin-like."
"No," she agrees. "I think they understand though." He nods and rests his chin on the top of her head, staring at the flames dancing behind the grate. "She wishes us well but says she's sad to see us leave. Apparently we're irreplaceable."
"We are irreplaceable," he agrees. With a sigh he shifts slowly. "We should go to bed, our shuttle leaves early."
"Ridiculously early," she adds. He smiles and tickles her side lightly. She laughs and swats his hand away. "So, how does it feel to be alive again?"
"Mm, it has its perks," he answers. She grins in response. "Noin, are you sure?"
"Zechs, if you ask me that one more time," she threatens. He laughs as he presses her to the floor, kissing her.
Show me a way
Give me a sign
Tell me the way we fall out of line
Is it today?
Is it tonight?
We'll find the answer to our lives
Relena hasn't changed much in the two years they've been gone. Her hair is still in the same general length and style as always. She's dressed in her normal tailored suit with her hair pulled back with a ribbon. Noin smiles as she watches the young Vice Foreign Minister bobbing up and down in the crowd of holiday travelers. She seems completely oblivious to her bodyguards' annoyance and the crowd of people staring at her.
"She'll get herself killed one day," Zechs mutters darkly. Noin elbows him and he almost drops their bags. She smiles at his glower.
"She takes after you," she admonishes. "Relena!" It's almost comical the way the girl swivels and the crowd's heads turn along with her. Noin smiles as Relena dashes over to them. Her security detail is cursing, she can tell. "It's good to see you again," she says. She hugs the younger girl while Zechs places their luggage on the floor.
"It's good to see you as well," she replies. She turns to her older brother and smiles. "Milliardo!" Before he can protest she's flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "It's been far too long. You're as good as Heero when it comes to keeping in touch."
"He always has been," Noin agrees. She picks up a suitcase and links her arm through Zechs'. "Come on, I hate shuttle ports."
"So are you rejoining Preventers?" Relena questions. Relena and Noin enter the car waiting outside while Zechs stows their few bags in the trunk. "Lady Une wanted me to ask that."
"I'm sure she did," Noin chuckles. She shifts as Zechs slides in next to her. "We probably will; I can't imagine working anywhere else honestly." He glances at her curiously. "Preventers."
"Ah, yes. Well, our names have been saved. I'm with Noin on this one; I can't imagine working anywhere else either." He turns to his younger sister and Noin watches as he studies her. "How are you?"
"I'm good," she answers. "I haven't had a hit put on me in almost a year – Sally says that's progress." She laughs and Noin shakes her head. Like brother, like sister, she muses silently. "How about you though? Are you happy to be back on Earth?"
"Yes." Noin rolls her eyes. He'd been ready to return to Earth a year into their stay. She'd had to remind him that it was his idea to go to Mars. It was his idea to sign up for a two year commission. "It was rather monotonous up there."
"It was different…" Noin agrees slowly. She reaches up to push her bangs aside but stops when she hears Relena's intake of breath. "Is something the matter?" She glances at her then follows her line of vision to the ring glittering on her finger. "Oh, well, that…"
"You got married without telling me?" Relena demands. She looks shocked and Noin laughs, leaning into Zechs. She can feel him tense against her. She knows he had been worried about this particular revelation; they both had been if she was honest. In fact she had rather hoped it would have occurred later on, at a time of their choosing. "This isn't funny! How long?"
"Two years last month," Zechs answers. Noin watches as the emotions flicker across Relena's face in quick succession: doubt, surprise, a flare of anger, and finally understanding.
"You were married before you left," she murmurs. She rolls her eyes and hugs them both as best she can in the backseat of a limousine. "Congratulations, but it's a bit belated."
"That's okay."
"Thank you," he replies. She senses him relax and sighs, smiling. His arm settles around her and she leans into him, listening as Relena starts up a tentative conversation with him.
Finally, she thinks, something close to normal. He squeezes her shoulders as she drifts off to sleep, almost like he can sense her thoughts. And maybe he can; they were always good at reading each other like that.