Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters belong to
the wonderfully creative people of Sunrise, Sotsu,
Bandai, et al. I don't own Treize Khushrenada or the
others, but I'd sure like to. :)
"A Family Matter"
by Anne Khushrenada
ladyune@gundamwing.net
* * *
Standing before the closed windowpanes, watching the
rain fall down upon the grounds where as children,
Dorothy and Milliardo and I once played, I wonder if
I am going to have to kill her tonight. And wonder,
too, if I shouldn't have seen this coming long ago.
Dorothy was always different. We all knew that. But
she was my beloved little cousin. I adored her, and
I'd have killed anyone who hurt her.
If I had only seen, years ago, that it was her
grandfather, my *dear* uncle, who made her much of
what she was... Dermail hurt her, time after time,
day after day, and we always believed her when she
said she'd gotten the bruises sparring. We all did
that so often that none of us could ever remember
who'd struck who, or where. But we were always so
careful not to hurt each other. I think really that
we simply did not want to see the truth. It would
have shattered the few illusions we had left of the
world then.
I think, too, that we all knew these times of peace
were fleeting. We knew it would not last very much
longer, and were determined to hold on for as long as
we could.
My father practically raised us all, because there
was no one else left. Milliardo's parents were dead,
as were Dorothy's. Mother had died in Sank when we
were all very young- died trying to save us, to
spirit us away from that place where we were all in
danger because the kingdom's enemies didn't know, nor
did they care, which two children were the Peacecraft
heirs.
Father died while I was away on campaign with
Milliardo- not in battle, but of the wasting disease
they once called cancer, which had crept up on him,
unnoticed, for years. We wept in each other's arms,
my old friend and I, because we had not made it back
in time to say goodbye.
Of all of us, it was Dorothy who we never saw cry.
Even Relena, when we were briefly reunited with her,
Relena who was always so very strong, wept for her
'Uncle' Tobias, wept so long and so hard that
Milliardo swore she would never hurt that way again.
As if he could stop it from happening again; as if
any of us could.
Relena screamed at Dorothy because she wouldn't cry.
But I understood why- she couldn't. Dermail had never
allowed her to cry, and now she was nigh incapable of
it. Instead she would lash out, with words and
sometimes with weapons, because it was the only way
she knew.
I think to myself now that not very much has changed.
But it is not true- everything has changed, and we
are poised on the brink of the same awful destruction
Sank once faced...and I will not let that happen
again. For it is my world now, not the Peacecrafts',
my family and my kingdom that is threatened, and I
will die before these beloved things are harmed.
One of us is going to have to. Weather it is me or
her, one of us will not leave this confrontation
alive. And I am sorry for that, because though I hate
her for what she's become, what she has done, she is
still my dear little cousin, and as the girl I once
knew I love her still.
She has changed, though; I must remember that. Dear
Dorothy of my childhood would not have turned against
us this way; would not have joined the White Fang
only to seduce Milliardo, and then to betray him only
because he was foolish enough to put the power in her
hands with which to do so.
But I do not blame Milliardo for this; I can't. The
ZERO system has changed him, changed him as it has
Heero Yuy, and not, I think, for the better. In a way
I blame myself for that, and, by extension, for
Dorothy's behavior as well. I never meant for
Milliardo to be exposed in any way to the ZERO
system; my old friend is fragile in ways which few
save Lucrezia Noin realize. I meant Epyon solely for
Heero's use, when we all thought Wing ZERO damaged
beyond repair. Still I forget the wizardry of the man
they call Howard, and that was my gravest mistake to
date.
My dearest old friend, my eternal friend, as I used
to say, has near to completely lost his mind- and
there is no one to blame for that save myself. I
would like to weep, but it's a luxury I cannot
afford.
"Treize." Anne's voice calls me back to the present,
and for a moment I wish that it had not. Wish, too,
that she was not here, at my side where I have always
wanted her, and yet, too close, close enough that she
could easily become a target tonight as well.
I turn slowly to face her. "Anne," I say, reaching up
a hand to brush against her cheek, as I have always
done; a soft, kind gesture which for years has said
what I myself could never give voice to. "Oh,
Anne..."
"I know," she says, and I think that she does. If
anyone could understand these terrible decisions that
rend my heart, it is her. "But what choice have you?
She cannot go on like this."
Before I have even a chance at reply- although what
on Earth I would say I hardly know -the door slams
back against its hinges, and my beautiful, lovely
daughter, Mariemaia, enters the room. She wears the
beret and cape Dekim Barton had fashioned for her,
and if it is at all possible, she looks nearly as
dangerous as her mother can be.
Her mother. Not Leia Barton, as rumors and Dekim's
lies will tell you, but my own wife, my Anne. Did you
ever wonder, why it was that we fought so hard,
fought through changing ideals and motives, going on
no matter what changed? It was all for her. Our
daughter. Anne and I were both eighteen when she was
born; too young, and we both knew it. But yet there
she was, the physical product of all we had been to
each other through most of our lives. We had always
wanted children, but meant to bring them into a
peaceful world.
Mariemaia, with a determination she would continue to
demonstrate through all the years of her life,
refused to wait. And she was so lovely when she was
born, with my hair and eyes, but Anne's features... I
would have given anything then to change the world
with a snap of my fingers, only for her. For both of
them.
Perhaps we should have been more cautious, should
have sent her away, somewhere where she would not be
in such terrible danger because of who and what her
parents were. But neither Anne nor I could bear even
the thought of it, and so we didn't. Six months we
worked from Earth, from Luxembourg alone, Anne
refusing to leave Mari, and I refusing to leave the
both of them...
And then it happened. Anne's old friend, Leia Barton,
whom we had thought we could trust- who we *did*
trust, with what was most precious, most priceless,
to us both- betrayed us. As suddenly as she had come
into our lives, our baby girl was gone.
It was clear to me that Leia had taken her to Dekim,
her father, who had long been an enemy of mine. It
must have seemed the perfect way for the Bartons to
be revenged upon the Khushrenadas. But I never
thought, not in a million years, that Leia would play
a part in it. When she and Anne became friends, in
boarding school, Leia had been estranged from her
father, and so far as we knew that had never changed.
Too late we realized our error. Dekim had our
daughter. And for all that I might have been the most
powerful man in the world, I was powerless then. I
could not find Barton, or my daughter. There was
nothing I could do, nothing that any of us could do,
until Dekim was ready to make his move, presenting
Mariemaia to the world as my daughter, my daughter
and Leia's.
She was seven then, and we had not seen her for
nearly all of those years. Yet she was unmistakable
to me, and to her mother- we knew our girl as soon as
we saw her, in Barton's uniform and following
Barton's directions. It almost broke my heart.
But my daughter, at her heart, was a Khushrenada. She
betrayed Barton just at the moment he needed her
most, and demanded of the group that had come, half
to rescue her and the other to kill her, that she be
returned to her parents. So powerful was my little
girl's presence that they could not deny her.
And so she came back to us. Foolishly, we all thought
that it had ended, when in truth it had only just
begun.
"Father," says Mariemaia, and I sweep her into my
arms, holding her, holding her mother, and wishing I
would not have to let either of them go.
"Mari," I say quietly. "Mari, listen to me. You have
done enough. I want you to go to Relena now. Go to
Sank, dear one, and I will come for you when I can."
"No," Mariemaia says flatly. "No, Father. You need me
here."
"Mari," says Anne, "Dorothy is coming as much to kill
you, as to do harm to your father. If anything were
to happen to you..."
But still our child shook her head. "Mama," she says,
"I've got to stay. It's too late. She's here."
A shudder went through me, and I drew them both close
against me. "Anne. Mari..."
"I love you," my wife says, softly. "But I will not
leave you, either. Don't ask me, please."
"You are two of the most stubborn, brilliant,
beautiful women I've ever known. Come, then. If you
won't go, if you must stay, then let us-"
"Father, *listen* to me," Mariemaia says, her voice
sharp, commanding. Yes, I think to myself, she *is*
indeed her father's daughter. "Cousin Dorothy is here
*now*. We haven't got the time."
As the door crashes open yet again, as I push Mari
behind me with one arm, draw Anne back with the
other, Dorothy Catalonia, long blonde hair streaming
out behind her like captured lightning in her wake,
strides into the room.
"I've come to kill you," she says, almost kindly. Her
voice was always at its most soft when she was
challenging someone. "Cousin."
"Dorothy, is there really any point to this?" Anne
asks her. "You could kill us all and it would change
nothing."
"Everything will change," Dorothy replies, "once I've
done away with you, and Milliardo, and even the
Princess of Sank herself, dear miss Relena."
"Milliardo loves you," I tell her, though it pains me
to say it. Even with her so far away, still I feel
Lucrezia Noin's pain, the wracking sobs that shake
her body time and again. It is my curse, always, to
know the deepest feelings of everyone, to feel them
no matter the distance between us. It is how I knew
in my heart Anne was not dead, nor Mari lost to me.
Dorothy only laughs. "Milliardo is a fool, and what
he thinks he feels for me will not last. He'll go
back to Noin, he always does. Do you think he can't
feel her, too, screaming and crying and wanting to
claw her eyes out? Eventually it will eat at him too
much, and he'll go back to her."
"Maybe not," Mariemaia says. "Milliardo is crazy now;
the ZERO system did it to him. He's crazy enough to
love you; anything's possible."
"Mari," I snap at her, although I am thinking
*Touché,* despite myself.
Dorothy looms over her, and I hold out an arm,
shielding my daughter. "Leave off, little one. You
don't want any part of this."
Mari scoffed at her. "Do you really think I don't
know you've come to kill me as much as you've come to
kill my parents? I'm a *Khushrenada,* Dorothy. I'm
going to give you a fight, any way I can."
Dorothy draws the rapier at her side- not her fencing
foil, my dear cousin has finally gotten herself a
real blade -and raises it, half salute and half
challenge. "Come, cousin," she taunts me. "Come and
meet your doom."
"Girl," I say rather flatly, my own hand wrapping
'round the hilt of my own saber, "I have been dancing
with death longer than you've been alive. If only one
of us leaves this duel alive, it will not be you." I
pause. "But I'll ask you once more. One more chance,
Dorothy. Don't make me do this."
"Are you afraid to fight me?" she asks, and I know
then that she is lost, that I *am* going to have to
kill her if I want to save everything that is
important to me. A fist of steel closes 'round my
heart. *So be it, then...*
Anne brushes against my side, and before I have even
a moment to realize what she's done, the rapier is
gone, in her hands, and she is striding towards
Dorothy, fury in her lovely brown eyes.
"Mama!" Mariemaia cries, at the same instant I
scream, "No, Anne!"
Mariemaia tries to rush after her mother, but I hold
her back, though I long to go to her aide myself. It
is too late, though, and I can do nothing save watch,
and pray.
Steel meets steel in a crash timed exactly with the
lightning from outside the window, and tears stream
down my cheeks, unnoticed, as I watch them duel. Two
women I have loved, always, my cousin and my wife,
and only one of them will survive this. I know it in
the depth of my heart, and I try to turn Mari to face
me so that she will not see, but she is rooted where
she stands, and I cannot move her.
"You're no match for me, Anne," Dorothy says as she
feints at Anne. Anne, though, sees it for what it is,
and a thin line of blood appears upon Dorothy's snow-
white sleeve. First blood is yours, my love.
Inwardly, I smile. She is beautiful to watch, my
Anne. Even in this, this aptly named dance of death.
"I wed a Khushrenada, Dorothy," Anne replies. "Do you
really think I have learned nothing of these arts of
war? No, Treize taught me well."
"Perhaps," Dorothy replies, as steel strikes steel
yet again. "But even Treize is no match for me."
"Want to bet?" Mari mutters beside me. I squeeze her
shoulder, both encouraging her and hoping that she
will stay silent, and not incur Dorothy's wraith just
yet.
"How quickly you forget, *cousin*, those duels of our
youth. Your life was mine a hundred, a thousand,
times, and yet I never took it."
"More the fool you, then," Dorothy snaps back, her
anger now channeled into a swing at Anne which
entirely misses its target, as she spins on one foot,
and is simply *not there*, dancing away from a strike
which could have ended her life.
"No," I answer. "I never wanted to hurt you, Dorothy,
only to teach you. It's a pity you never learned."
As Anne lunges at Dorothy, my cousin extends one slim
leg, and trips her. Anne falls towards the carpet
with infinite slowness, and steel flashes against her
skin, near, so near, to her heart. She screams my
name as the blade pierces her flesh, and I cannot
stay still a moment longer. Even if I die now, it
doesn't matter.
But as I move I feel something pressed into my hands-
look down to see my daughter, face a mask of rage
behind her tears, as she gives to me a blade half as
tall as she is, certainly a terrible, heavy burden
for her to have held all this time.
Two quick strides bring me up beside Dorothy, and one
swing of my sword disarms her, sends her saber
clattering to the floor. I switch the blade to my off
hand, and as my hand strikes her face, she staggers
back.
"Mari," I call out, even as I sweep both swords out
of the way, as I drop to my knees beside my wife.
"Anne... God, Anne..."
Mariemaia lifts my sword in a trembling, two-handed
grip. Her ice-blue gaze flicks to Dorothy, and
suddenly the sword in her hands is rock-steady. "One
move," she says coldly, "just one move, *cousin*."
"Treize," Anne gasps, as I lift her into my arms,
hold her, helplessly, and weep.
"Shhh, don't speak," I tell her, wondering as I do so
why it is that we always advise the dying thus.
Certainly they must have things to say, as I do.
Things they know they will never have another chance
to give voice to...
"Treize," she says again, this time with more force.
To my horror, she fumbles at her collar, parting her
blouse. At first I cannot see past the crimson that
stains her pale skin. Then, slowly, things come into
focus, and I breathe a trembling sigh of relief. Her
wound is not fatal, not yet. Dorothy's strike missed
her heart. It is painful, but not life-threatening.
Quickly I strip off my coat and shred it, tightly
binding her side. I wince with her as I tie the last
knot, then kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her lips,
her hair, my tears ones of relief now.
It is now, far too late to have been of any use, that
Anne's Preventers charge up the stairs, along the
hall, and into the room. They find us thusly, myself
clutching my injured wife, my daughter guarding
Dorothy, her young face a mask of rage. And Dorothy,
for her part, trembles and weeps, hands and long hair
hiding her face.
"Mari..." she manages to gasp out. "Treize.
Cousin.... GOD. I'm sorry. Anne..." She looks up
then, sees my tears and Anne drawing shuddering
breath after shuddering breath... "NO!!" Dorothy
screams, and she starts to rise. "No...GOD, no..."
"Dorothy," I say quietly. "Dorothy... Let her up,
Mari. It's alright."
And somehow, insane as it sounds, it is. Whatever had
changed Dorothy, turned her into someone who wanted
nothing so much as to destroy us all, is gone now.
She looks up at me, and I see clearly what is
missing, and fury again rends my heart as I realize
it. Gone now is the taint upon her eyes, the taint of
ZERO. "Damn you, Milliardo," I say, as my cousin and
daughter approach us, cautiously, as Mari throws
herself into her mother's arms, as Dorothy throws
herself into mine.
"Milliardo," I say, again cursing my old friend.
"Dorothy... tell me he didn't."
"He did," she gasps out between sobs. "Variation of
the ZERO system...mobile dolls." She blinks, looks
up, takes in the sight of the four of us, clutching
each other this way, all of us weeping and two of us
bleeding. "What the hell did I DO?"
It is Mariemaia who tells her; neither Anne nor I are
capable of it now, and Dorothy shudders. "I have
always loved to fight," she says, "you know that, all
of you. But I never meant, never wanted, to fight
this way against those who've taught me all I know. I
only wanted..." She shook her head. "Milliardo. He
cannot win a battle this way, and I wanted to help
him, wanted to be with him and fight beside him..."
"I know," Mariemaia tells her. "I think we all know."
"Your Excellency?" one of the Preventers asks, and it
takes me several very long moments to understand he
is speaking to me.
"Yes," I say, my voice rough and clouded by tears. I
clear my throat and try again. "Yes."
"Sir..." Helplessly he gestures about the room, to
the bloodstained carpet, to Anne, Dorothy, Mari...
"It's alright," I reply, as I help Anne to stand.
"Please inform Doctor Po that she's needed."
"Right away, sir," the Preventer says. He gestures
again, this time to Dorothy. "And, her, sir?"
"Leave her with us," Mariemaia replies before I have
a chance to. "She won't do any harm now."
Sally Po, when she arrives, makes quick work of
assessing injuries. Dorothy's requires stitches, and
Anne's will need surgery, but both, I am assured,
will pull through. My tourniquet, she adds, has quite
possibly saved Anne's life. Sally and the other
Preventers sweep my injured wife and cousin away,
leaving Mariemaia and I alone, to the storm and
bloodstained carpeting.
"Let's get out of here," says Mariemaia, and I carry
my daughter from the room, closing the door behind
us. Now that this crisis has passed us by, my lovely,
brave little daughter feels free to admit her fears.
"Father," she whispers against my shoulder. I stroke
her short red hair, gently.
"I know, little one. It's alright."
"Is it?" she asks. "Uncle Milliardo..."
It is the only thing she could say that would shatter
my own calm now, and I hug her a little closer. "Ah,
Mari," I say quietly. "It's not you Uncle Milliardo
that troubles me so, but the ZERO system. Such an
evil should never have been."
Mari nods solemnly. "But you mustn't blame yourself,
Father. No man is strong enough for the ZERO system.
Not even Heero Yuy."
Of course, she is right, my child. She is right.
Heero, I had thought, was capable of what was
necessary to control that system, his psyche already
so very shattered... but in truth, what had it done
to him- to him, and to my own brother? My brother, if
not by blood, then near enough?
"It must end," I tell Mariemaia, as everything so
suddenly clarifies for me. "It must end."
"Yes, Father," Mari replies. "Someday..."
I shake my head. "No, child. No. Now. It must
end...now."
* * *
Though I know she is well, waiting for word on Anne's
condition is nerve-wracking, and I pace the well-
appointed waiting room with its air of decades of
awkwardness and impatience, feeling rather impatient
myself. Mari sits still and silent in a chair, her
feet several long meters above the floor, nose buried
in a magazine of some form.
"Stop pacing, Father," Mariemaia chides softly.
"Mama's going to be fine, you said so yourself."
I kneel before her chair, take the magazine from her
hands. "I know, Mari. But seeing your mother hurt
that way..."
She nods, and drops from her chair to throw her arms
around my neck. "She's as human as you are, Father.
It's hard to remember that sometimes."
Sally steps into the waiting room, trailed
uncertainly by Dorothy. I find myself a bit uncertain
what to say to her, but Mariemaia, always so very
amazing, has no such troubles, and races to meet her.
"Cousin Dorothy!" she cries, as she throws herself
into the surprised arms of the older girl.
"Hello, Mari," Dorothy says kindly. She looks
uncertainly towards me over Mari's head, and I nod
slowly.
"Your Excellency," Sally says, to get my attention. I
look up, and nod that I am listening.
"Yes, Doctor."
"Anne's asking for you, sir. I just wanted to tell
you- she's going to be alright. She's very lucky,
though."
"Yes," I reply. "I know."
"Sir..." Sally appears hesitant, something which I
have never seen her in all the years she's served
first the Alliance, then OZ, as a medical officer.
"If I may ask, what exactly happened tonight? Anne
and Dorothy look as if they've been *dueling*, of all
things..."
I shake my head slightly. "It is a family matter,
Doctor." With a nod to Dorothy and Mariemaia, I leave
them to see to my wife.
the wonderfully creative people of Sunrise, Sotsu,
Bandai, et al. I don't own Treize Khushrenada or the
others, but I'd sure like to. :)
"A Family Matter"
by Anne Khushrenada
ladyune@gundamwing.net
* * *
Standing before the closed windowpanes, watching the
rain fall down upon the grounds where as children,
Dorothy and Milliardo and I once played, I wonder if
I am going to have to kill her tonight. And wonder,
too, if I shouldn't have seen this coming long ago.
Dorothy was always different. We all knew that. But
she was my beloved little cousin. I adored her, and
I'd have killed anyone who hurt her.
If I had only seen, years ago, that it was her
grandfather, my *dear* uncle, who made her much of
what she was... Dermail hurt her, time after time,
day after day, and we always believed her when she
said she'd gotten the bruises sparring. We all did
that so often that none of us could ever remember
who'd struck who, or where. But we were always so
careful not to hurt each other. I think really that
we simply did not want to see the truth. It would
have shattered the few illusions we had left of the
world then.
I think, too, that we all knew these times of peace
were fleeting. We knew it would not last very much
longer, and were determined to hold on for as long as
we could.
My father practically raised us all, because there
was no one else left. Milliardo's parents were dead,
as were Dorothy's. Mother had died in Sank when we
were all very young- died trying to save us, to
spirit us away from that place where we were all in
danger because the kingdom's enemies didn't know, nor
did they care, which two children were the Peacecraft
heirs.
Father died while I was away on campaign with
Milliardo- not in battle, but of the wasting disease
they once called cancer, which had crept up on him,
unnoticed, for years. We wept in each other's arms,
my old friend and I, because we had not made it back
in time to say goodbye.
Of all of us, it was Dorothy who we never saw cry.
Even Relena, when we were briefly reunited with her,
Relena who was always so very strong, wept for her
'Uncle' Tobias, wept so long and so hard that
Milliardo swore she would never hurt that way again.
As if he could stop it from happening again; as if
any of us could.
Relena screamed at Dorothy because she wouldn't cry.
But I understood why- she couldn't. Dermail had never
allowed her to cry, and now she was nigh incapable of
it. Instead she would lash out, with words and
sometimes with weapons, because it was the only way
she knew.
I think to myself now that not very much has changed.
But it is not true- everything has changed, and we
are poised on the brink of the same awful destruction
Sank once faced...and I will not let that happen
again. For it is my world now, not the Peacecrafts',
my family and my kingdom that is threatened, and I
will die before these beloved things are harmed.
One of us is going to have to. Weather it is me or
her, one of us will not leave this confrontation
alive. And I am sorry for that, because though I hate
her for what she's become, what she has done, she is
still my dear little cousin, and as the girl I once
knew I love her still.
She has changed, though; I must remember that. Dear
Dorothy of my childhood would not have turned against
us this way; would not have joined the White Fang
only to seduce Milliardo, and then to betray him only
because he was foolish enough to put the power in her
hands with which to do so.
But I do not blame Milliardo for this; I can't. The
ZERO system has changed him, changed him as it has
Heero Yuy, and not, I think, for the better. In a way
I blame myself for that, and, by extension, for
Dorothy's behavior as well. I never meant for
Milliardo to be exposed in any way to the ZERO
system; my old friend is fragile in ways which few
save Lucrezia Noin realize. I meant Epyon solely for
Heero's use, when we all thought Wing ZERO damaged
beyond repair. Still I forget the wizardry of the man
they call Howard, and that was my gravest mistake to
date.
My dearest old friend, my eternal friend, as I used
to say, has near to completely lost his mind- and
there is no one to blame for that save myself. I
would like to weep, but it's a luxury I cannot
afford.
"Treize." Anne's voice calls me back to the present,
and for a moment I wish that it had not. Wish, too,
that she was not here, at my side where I have always
wanted her, and yet, too close, close enough that she
could easily become a target tonight as well.
I turn slowly to face her. "Anne," I say, reaching up
a hand to brush against her cheek, as I have always
done; a soft, kind gesture which for years has said
what I myself could never give voice to. "Oh,
Anne..."
"I know," she says, and I think that she does. If
anyone could understand these terrible decisions that
rend my heart, it is her. "But what choice have you?
She cannot go on like this."
Before I have even a chance at reply- although what
on Earth I would say I hardly know -the door slams
back against its hinges, and my beautiful, lovely
daughter, Mariemaia, enters the room. She wears the
beret and cape Dekim Barton had fashioned for her,
and if it is at all possible, she looks nearly as
dangerous as her mother can be.
Her mother. Not Leia Barton, as rumors and Dekim's
lies will tell you, but my own wife, my Anne. Did you
ever wonder, why it was that we fought so hard,
fought through changing ideals and motives, going on
no matter what changed? It was all for her. Our
daughter. Anne and I were both eighteen when she was
born; too young, and we both knew it. But yet there
she was, the physical product of all we had been to
each other through most of our lives. We had always
wanted children, but meant to bring them into a
peaceful world.
Mariemaia, with a determination she would continue to
demonstrate through all the years of her life,
refused to wait. And she was so lovely when she was
born, with my hair and eyes, but Anne's features... I
would have given anything then to change the world
with a snap of my fingers, only for her. For both of
them.
Perhaps we should have been more cautious, should
have sent her away, somewhere where she would not be
in such terrible danger because of who and what her
parents were. But neither Anne nor I could bear even
the thought of it, and so we didn't. Six months we
worked from Earth, from Luxembourg alone, Anne
refusing to leave Mari, and I refusing to leave the
both of them...
And then it happened. Anne's old friend, Leia Barton,
whom we had thought we could trust- who we *did*
trust, with what was most precious, most priceless,
to us both- betrayed us. As suddenly as she had come
into our lives, our baby girl was gone.
It was clear to me that Leia had taken her to Dekim,
her father, who had long been an enemy of mine. It
must have seemed the perfect way for the Bartons to
be revenged upon the Khushrenadas. But I never
thought, not in a million years, that Leia would play
a part in it. When she and Anne became friends, in
boarding school, Leia had been estranged from her
father, and so far as we knew that had never changed.
Too late we realized our error. Dekim had our
daughter. And for all that I might have been the most
powerful man in the world, I was powerless then. I
could not find Barton, or my daughter. There was
nothing I could do, nothing that any of us could do,
until Dekim was ready to make his move, presenting
Mariemaia to the world as my daughter, my daughter
and Leia's.
She was seven then, and we had not seen her for
nearly all of those years. Yet she was unmistakable
to me, and to her mother- we knew our girl as soon as
we saw her, in Barton's uniform and following
Barton's directions. It almost broke my heart.
But my daughter, at her heart, was a Khushrenada. She
betrayed Barton just at the moment he needed her
most, and demanded of the group that had come, half
to rescue her and the other to kill her, that she be
returned to her parents. So powerful was my little
girl's presence that they could not deny her.
And so she came back to us. Foolishly, we all thought
that it had ended, when in truth it had only just
begun.
"Father," says Mariemaia, and I sweep her into my
arms, holding her, holding her mother, and wishing I
would not have to let either of them go.
"Mari," I say quietly. "Mari, listen to me. You have
done enough. I want you to go to Relena now. Go to
Sank, dear one, and I will come for you when I can."
"No," Mariemaia says flatly. "No, Father. You need me
here."
"Mari," says Anne, "Dorothy is coming as much to kill
you, as to do harm to your father. If anything were
to happen to you..."
But still our child shook her head. "Mama," she says,
"I've got to stay. It's too late. She's here."
A shudder went through me, and I drew them both close
against me. "Anne. Mari..."
"I love you," my wife says, softly. "But I will not
leave you, either. Don't ask me, please."
"You are two of the most stubborn, brilliant,
beautiful women I've ever known. Come, then. If you
won't go, if you must stay, then let us-"
"Father, *listen* to me," Mariemaia says, her voice
sharp, commanding. Yes, I think to myself, she *is*
indeed her father's daughter. "Cousin Dorothy is here
*now*. We haven't got the time."
As the door crashes open yet again, as I push Mari
behind me with one arm, draw Anne back with the
other, Dorothy Catalonia, long blonde hair streaming
out behind her like captured lightning in her wake,
strides into the room.
"I've come to kill you," she says, almost kindly. Her
voice was always at its most soft when she was
challenging someone. "Cousin."
"Dorothy, is there really any point to this?" Anne
asks her. "You could kill us all and it would change
nothing."
"Everything will change," Dorothy replies, "once I've
done away with you, and Milliardo, and even the
Princess of Sank herself, dear miss Relena."
"Milliardo loves you," I tell her, though it pains me
to say it. Even with her so far away, still I feel
Lucrezia Noin's pain, the wracking sobs that shake
her body time and again. It is my curse, always, to
know the deepest feelings of everyone, to feel them
no matter the distance between us. It is how I knew
in my heart Anne was not dead, nor Mari lost to me.
Dorothy only laughs. "Milliardo is a fool, and what
he thinks he feels for me will not last. He'll go
back to Noin, he always does. Do you think he can't
feel her, too, screaming and crying and wanting to
claw her eyes out? Eventually it will eat at him too
much, and he'll go back to her."
"Maybe not," Mariemaia says. "Milliardo is crazy now;
the ZERO system did it to him. He's crazy enough to
love you; anything's possible."
"Mari," I snap at her, although I am thinking
*Touché,* despite myself.
Dorothy looms over her, and I hold out an arm,
shielding my daughter. "Leave off, little one. You
don't want any part of this."
Mari scoffed at her. "Do you really think I don't
know you've come to kill me as much as you've come to
kill my parents? I'm a *Khushrenada,* Dorothy. I'm
going to give you a fight, any way I can."
Dorothy draws the rapier at her side- not her fencing
foil, my dear cousin has finally gotten herself a
real blade -and raises it, half salute and half
challenge. "Come, cousin," she taunts me. "Come and
meet your doom."
"Girl," I say rather flatly, my own hand wrapping
'round the hilt of my own saber, "I have been dancing
with death longer than you've been alive. If only one
of us leaves this duel alive, it will not be you." I
pause. "But I'll ask you once more. One more chance,
Dorothy. Don't make me do this."
"Are you afraid to fight me?" she asks, and I know
then that she is lost, that I *am* going to have to
kill her if I want to save everything that is
important to me. A fist of steel closes 'round my
heart. *So be it, then...*
Anne brushes against my side, and before I have even
a moment to realize what she's done, the rapier is
gone, in her hands, and she is striding towards
Dorothy, fury in her lovely brown eyes.
"Mama!" Mariemaia cries, at the same instant I
scream, "No, Anne!"
Mariemaia tries to rush after her mother, but I hold
her back, though I long to go to her aide myself. It
is too late, though, and I can do nothing save watch,
and pray.
Steel meets steel in a crash timed exactly with the
lightning from outside the window, and tears stream
down my cheeks, unnoticed, as I watch them duel. Two
women I have loved, always, my cousin and my wife,
and only one of them will survive this. I know it in
the depth of my heart, and I try to turn Mari to face
me so that she will not see, but she is rooted where
she stands, and I cannot move her.
"You're no match for me, Anne," Dorothy says as she
feints at Anne. Anne, though, sees it for what it is,
and a thin line of blood appears upon Dorothy's snow-
white sleeve. First blood is yours, my love.
Inwardly, I smile. She is beautiful to watch, my
Anne. Even in this, this aptly named dance of death.
"I wed a Khushrenada, Dorothy," Anne replies. "Do you
really think I have learned nothing of these arts of
war? No, Treize taught me well."
"Perhaps," Dorothy replies, as steel strikes steel
yet again. "But even Treize is no match for me."
"Want to bet?" Mari mutters beside me. I squeeze her
shoulder, both encouraging her and hoping that she
will stay silent, and not incur Dorothy's wraith just
yet.
"How quickly you forget, *cousin*, those duels of our
youth. Your life was mine a hundred, a thousand,
times, and yet I never took it."
"More the fool you, then," Dorothy snaps back, her
anger now channeled into a swing at Anne which
entirely misses its target, as she spins on one foot,
and is simply *not there*, dancing away from a strike
which could have ended her life.
"No," I answer. "I never wanted to hurt you, Dorothy,
only to teach you. It's a pity you never learned."
As Anne lunges at Dorothy, my cousin extends one slim
leg, and trips her. Anne falls towards the carpet
with infinite slowness, and steel flashes against her
skin, near, so near, to her heart. She screams my
name as the blade pierces her flesh, and I cannot
stay still a moment longer. Even if I die now, it
doesn't matter.
But as I move I feel something pressed into my hands-
look down to see my daughter, face a mask of rage
behind her tears, as she gives to me a blade half as
tall as she is, certainly a terrible, heavy burden
for her to have held all this time.
Two quick strides bring me up beside Dorothy, and one
swing of my sword disarms her, sends her saber
clattering to the floor. I switch the blade to my off
hand, and as my hand strikes her face, she staggers
back.
"Mari," I call out, even as I sweep both swords out
of the way, as I drop to my knees beside my wife.
"Anne... God, Anne..."
Mariemaia lifts my sword in a trembling, two-handed
grip. Her ice-blue gaze flicks to Dorothy, and
suddenly the sword in her hands is rock-steady. "One
move," she says coldly, "just one move, *cousin*."
"Treize," Anne gasps, as I lift her into my arms,
hold her, helplessly, and weep.
"Shhh, don't speak," I tell her, wondering as I do so
why it is that we always advise the dying thus.
Certainly they must have things to say, as I do.
Things they know they will never have another chance
to give voice to...
"Treize," she says again, this time with more force.
To my horror, she fumbles at her collar, parting her
blouse. At first I cannot see past the crimson that
stains her pale skin. Then, slowly, things come into
focus, and I breathe a trembling sigh of relief. Her
wound is not fatal, not yet. Dorothy's strike missed
her heart. It is painful, but not life-threatening.
Quickly I strip off my coat and shred it, tightly
binding her side. I wince with her as I tie the last
knot, then kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her lips,
her hair, my tears ones of relief now.
It is now, far too late to have been of any use, that
Anne's Preventers charge up the stairs, along the
hall, and into the room. They find us thusly, myself
clutching my injured wife, my daughter guarding
Dorothy, her young face a mask of rage. And Dorothy,
for her part, trembles and weeps, hands and long hair
hiding her face.
"Mari..." she manages to gasp out. "Treize.
Cousin.... GOD. I'm sorry. Anne..." She looks up
then, sees my tears and Anne drawing shuddering
breath after shuddering breath... "NO!!" Dorothy
screams, and she starts to rise. "No...GOD, no..."
"Dorothy," I say quietly. "Dorothy... Let her up,
Mari. It's alright."
And somehow, insane as it sounds, it is. Whatever had
changed Dorothy, turned her into someone who wanted
nothing so much as to destroy us all, is gone now.
She looks up at me, and I see clearly what is
missing, and fury again rends my heart as I realize
it. Gone now is the taint upon her eyes, the taint of
ZERO. "Damn you, Milliardo," I say, as my cousin and
daughter approach us, cautiously, as Mari throws
herself into her mother's arms, as Dorothy throws
herself into mine.
"Milliardo," I say, again cursing my old friend.
"Dorothy... tell me he didn't."
"He did," she gasps out between sobs. "Variation of
the ZERO system...mobile dolls." She blinks, looks
up, takes in the sight of the four of us, clutching
each other this way, all of us weeping and two of us
bleeding. "What the hell did I DO?"
It is Mariemaia who tells her; neither Anne nor I are
capable of it now, and Dorothy shudders. "I have
always loved to fight," she says, "you know that, all
of you. But I never meant, never wanted, to fight
this way against those who've taught me all I know. I
only wanted..." She shook her head. "Milliardo. He
cannot win a battle this way, and I wanted to help
him, wanted to be with him and fight beside him..."
"I know," Mariemaia tells her. "I think we all know."
"Your Excellency?" one of the Preventers asks, and it
takes me several very long moments to understand he
is speaking to me.
"Yes," I say, my voice rough and clouded by tears. I
clear my throat and try again. "Yes."
"Sir..." Helplessly he gestures about the room, to
the bloodstained carpet, to Anne, Dorothy, Mari...
"It's alright," I reply, as I help Anne to stand.
"Please inform Doctor Po that she's needed."
"Right away, sir," the Preventer says. He gestures
again, this time to Dorothy. "And, her, sir?"
"Leave her with us," Mariemaia replies before I have
a chance to. "She won't do any harm now."
Sally Po, when she arrives, makes quick work of
assessing injuries. Dorothy's requires stitches, and
Anne's will need surgery, but both, I am assured,
will pull through. My tourniquet, she adds, has quite
possibly saved Anne's life. Sally and the other
Preventers sweep my injured wife and cousin away,
leaving Mariemaia and I alone, to the storm and
bloodstained carpeting.
"Let's get out of here," says Mariemaia, and I carry
my daughter from the room, closing the door behind
us. Now that this crisis has passed us by, my lovely,
brave little daughter feels free to admit her fears.
"Father," she whispers against my shoulder. I stroke
her short red hair, gently.
"I know, little one. It's alright."
"Is it?" she asks. "Uncle Milliardo..."
It is the only thing she could say that would shatter
my own calm now, and I hug her a little closer. "Ah,
Mari," I say quietly. "It's not you Uncle Milliardo
that troubles me so, but the ZERO system. Such an
evil should never have been."
Mari nods solemnly. "But you mustn't blame yourself,
Father. No man is strong enough for the ZERO system.
Not even Heero Yuy."
Of course, she is right, my child. She is right.
Heero, I had thought, was capable of what was
necessary to control that system, his psyche already
so very shattered... but in truth, what had it done
to him- to him, and to my own brother? My brother, if
not by blood, then near enough?
"It must end," I tell Mariemaia, as everything so
suddenly clarifies for me. "It must end."
"Yes, Father," Mari replies. "Someday..."
I shake my head. "No, child. No. Now. It must
end...now."
* * *
Though I know she is well, waiting for word on Anne's
condition is nerve-wracking, and I pace the well-
appointed waiting room with its air of decades of
awkwardness and impatience, feeling rather impatient
myself. Mari sits still and silent in a chair, her
feet several long meters above the floor, nose buried
in a magazine of some form.
"Stop pacing, Father," Mariemaia chides softly.
"Mama's going to be fine, you said so yourself."
I kneel before her chair, take the magazine from her
hands. "I know, Mari. But seeing your mother hurt
that way..."
She nods, and drops from her chair to throw her arms
around my neck. "She's as human as you are, Father.
It's hard to remember that sometimes."
Sally steps into the waiting room, trailed
uncertainly by Dorothy. I find myself a bit uncertain
what to say to her, but Mariemaia, always so very
amazing, has no such troubles, and races to meet her.
"Cousin Dorothy!" she cries, as she throws herself
into the surprised arms of the older girl.
"Hello, Mari," Dorothy says kindly. She looks
uncertainly towards me over Mari's head, and I nod
slowly.
"Your Excellency," Sally says, to get my attention. I
look up, and nod that I am listening.
"Yes, Doctor."
"Anne's asking for you, sir. I just wanted to tell
you- she's going to be alright. She's very lucky,
though."
"Yes," I reply. "I know."
"Sir..." Sally appears hesitant, something which I
have never seen her in all the years she's served
first the Alliance, then OZ, as a medical officer.
"If I may ask, what exactly happened tonight? Anne
and Dorothy look as if they've been *dueling*, of all
things..."
I shake my head slightly. "It is a family matter,
Doctor." With a nod to Dorothy and Mariemaia, I leave
them to see to my wife.