Treize turned his head at Zechs's words, wondering at the mixed tones of confusion and chastisement in the pilot's voice. "I'm aware of that," the general replied, before hesitating briefly and smiling ruefully at himself. "So much for my grand strategy," he quipped. "Shall I confess that I forced the Lady to assign me this debriefing? And that I made her schedule it out of hours?"

"I knew you'd insisted upon taking the debriefing – Lady Une told me so – but I thought she'd picked the time to spite me. I haven't been off the plane more than an hour and I would have preferred to do this in the morning."

"Ah. You should blame me for the poor timing, not the Lady. I insisted and I apologise if it's causing you problems."

Zechs shook his head. "Not problems, precisely, sir. It's not important."

The older man tilted his head, analysing. "I'm sorry," he murmured after a moment or two. "You're jet lagged and I should have realised you would be. I was going to offer you a glass of wine but would you rather have coffee?"

"Actually, water. If you have it," Zechs added quickly. "I've already tried coffee and I think alcohol would just about knock me out," he explained.

"I have tonic water, if that will do?" Treize asked, waited for Zechs to nod and went to the familiar cabinet. "Sit down, will you? It's giving me neck ache looking up at you! And take off that mask!"

Surprised into chuckling, Zechs dropped down onto the couch, removing the helmet with a little sigh of relief and watched as Treize fussed with bottles and glasses.

"If we were in my rooms I could ice this for you, but alas…" the general teased as he handed one of the glasses to the blond and sat down next to him.

"This is fine, sir."

"Well, rather you than me, but each to their own."

Zechs didn't reply other than to take a sip from the glass and then scowl slightly. "You said something about a strategy, sir?"

Treize smiled. "I did, yes. Not one of my better plans it appears. You're here under rather false pretences, I'm afraid. It's not very professional of me," he admitted, "but I scheduled this meeting deliberately to force you to talk to me. I never had intention of discussing Egypt with you. It would be more than a little pointless anyway."

Zechs fixed his gaze on the floor. "I… thought that might be the case, sir. Before we talk about… other things… could I have ten minutes to discuss Egypt with you, please? It wouldn't be pointless. I don't think you realise how bad things are there and…"

"You can have as long as you like if you feel the need, Zechs. You should know that."

"Thank you, sir. I wouldn't insist but…." Zechs swallowed hard. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, sir. I know it's not what you want to hear but, quite honestly, I need help and I don't think I can afford to wait until the next debriefing to ask for it."

Treize, in the middle of leaning back against his desk, paused and stood straight again. "Oh? What makes you say that? From what I can gather you're doing a more than commendable job."

"I'm not, sir," Zechs denied, wondering what on Earth had given Treize that impression. "Before I left for Dover, sir, we were making some progress in expanding the border. Admittedly, it was slow going, but still…." He frowned. "Sometime in the months I was away the Arab Independent States have found a troop strength we never expected they could have. They're using mobile suits of a type we've never seen before and our Leo's just aren't up to it. They aren't strong enough to counter the A.I.S.'s numerical superiority. We're holding the line for now, but…."

"But not for much longer. I know, Zechs, I have been reading your reports. I didn't mean to sound as though I was dismissing your concerns for your command by saying that your debriefing wasn't necessary." Treize smiled sympathetically, and then allowed the expression to tighten a little as something occurred to him. "Why is it that you think you need help? I realise it must be an exhausting post but you've seemed to be doing quite well. Is it too much for you? Should I find a replacement for you and bring you back here?"

Zechs's head snapped up. "What? No, of course not! I didn't say the post was too much for me!"

Treize raised an eyebrow, forcing the smile down so that it was internal only. "Yes, you did. You've just told me you need help."

"I do. I can't hold the line without more troops. I know you trusted me to… but…."

"Ah, I see. You meant to say that your squadron needs help. That your squadron is under-strength for the task assigned to it. Not that you, personally, couldn't cope."

"Forgive me, sir, but… that's what I just said!" Zechs spluttered, wondering what the hell Treize was drinking to have this effect on him.

The general shook his head. "No, love, it really isn't," he said softly.

"Surely you knew what I meant?" Zechs demanded. "Or do you not trust me at all anymore?" he added quietly.

"I trust you absolutely," Treize confirmed. "And, yes, I knew what you meant. Consider this your first lesson in politics – semantics can be critically important, as we've just seen. What you intended to say and what you actually said were two completely different things. No politician who wants to survive ever lies directly but we're all very good at linguistic misdirection." The general waited a breath or two. "As you discovered with Noventa, I think."

Zechs tensed. "I don't think he had to be very good. I was just too stupid to realise what he was doing."

Treize snorted and shook his head. "Too inexperienced, yes, perhaps. You've never been stupid, Zechs. May we come back to this?"

The pilot nodded mutely, wishing with everything that he was that the subject of the Horse Guards meeting never had to be raised again.

Treize took a sip of his drink and looked at the younger man inquisitively, noting the sudden misery in every line of the blonde's body. The older man had to cringe a little at the thought that his own behaviour was at least partly responsible. "As I said," he began, forcing his mind away from that idea. "Your debriefing was mostly unnecessary. I have been reading your reports and I agree with your assessment of the situation. Your squadron won't be able to hold the line for very much longer."

"Then, you'll give me the reinforcements I need?"

"Not… precisely," Treize corrected. "When you go back at the end of the week, I'm coming with you."

"Excuse me?" Zechs asked, confused. "You're…?"

"I'm coming with you," Treize repeated. "Along with about half of our fighting strength. Your squadron will be retired from the theatre, stood down for three weeks and then sent to China."

"What?!"

"Hush," Treize interrupted. "You've been reassigned. I have a job I need you for, if you think you can stand to stay in Egypt?"

"If you want me to."

"That's good. I would hate to have to lose you when you're doing so well. You're proving to be a brilliant commander. I doubt I could find anyone else who could have held out even this long."

"I can't complete the task you assigned me and you say I'm doing well? I'd love to know how you work that out," Zechs murmured, his tone bitter. "I think you would have been better to leave me as a Captain. I don't think I'm suited to higher command."

"Such a shame that I disagree with you, then, isn't it? Or would that be fortunate for your career?" Treize got to his feet, pacing restlessly. "Twice in recent months I've asked you to take on tasks beyond the scope of your rank and your experience. Both times you've performed to your absolute best, and well beyond anything I should ever have expected of you. If you haven't succeeded in completing those tasks as they were written, the fault doesn't lie with you."

Zechs was watching the older man with something twisting in his eyes that Treize wasn't sure he wanted to understand. If the general hadn't known how ill he'd used the pilot already, he would have had clear evidence of it now – and it was no wonder that Noin had seemed to be gritting her teeth every time she'd spoken to him. She must be absolutely furious but it wasn't done to read one's Commander-in Chief a riot act.

"I thought it did," Zechs replied eventually. "And you certainly appeared to think it did last time."

"Yes, I did, and I was wrong to." Treize sighed and came to stand in front of Zechs, looking down levelly. "I can only ask you to forgive me for that."

"What am I supposed to be forgiving you for, Treize?" the younger man suddenly demanded, dropping the façade of formality he'd kept up so far. "Pointing out what I'd allowed to happen? I'm furious with myself, so I can hardly blame you for being angry with me!"

"I'm not angry with you. Myself, perhaps. Noventa and Septum, certainly. Whichever fools on L5 thought all this was good idea in the first place, but not you."

"But you should be!" Zechs insisted. "I did exactly what you'd told me not to. I let them use me and my concern for you to get their own way! I didn't listen to you when you warned me what sort of people they were and it nearly meant the deaths of all those colonists! If you hadn't stopped it…"

"Which I did. But Zechs, I never should have put you in that position in the first place. It was completely unreasonable of me to expect you to be able to stand up to Noventa!" Treize shook his head tiredly. "The man's a master politician. He's been manipulating people for almost fifty years. Ventei's the same and everyone else in that room was a pawn. They were all following a well-rehearsed script, and you didn't even have the title of the play. All things considered, you did remarkably well!"

"You didn't think that in London."

The flat, lifeless tone of Zechs's voice communicated nothing and everything to Treize about how the pilot was feeling. That the other officer was still upset and angered by their argument was obvious, but there was nothing to tell the general where in the wide range of possible emotions Zechs was falling at the moment. "I'm not particularly convinced that I was thinking, so much as reacting," Treize replied quietly. "It's no real excuse but I wasn't at my best and I'm afraid I let it get to me more than I should have. I'm aware that my behaviour was unacceptable both on a professional level and on a personal one, and that I said things you would be within your rights to be utterly infuriated with me for. I used things about you that I was told in confidence and that I knew would wound in a way I never should have."

Zechs was looking up at the older man steadily and he gave a half-hearted little shrug as Treize dropped into an expectant silence, completely lost for what to say. The general's almost dispassionate recitation was unsettling in a strange way.

Treize waited a moment or two and then dropped his eyes away from Zechs's to focus on the empty glass he still had in his hand. "As I've said," he murmured, "I can only ask you to forgive me. Only you can decide whether you can or not." The general matched Zechs's little shrug as he turned away slightly. "If you can't, then I accept that. Allow me to say good night to you now and I'll meet you at breakfast tomorrow morning to begin preparations for Egypt."

"And if I can?" Zechs asked, voice soft, knowing there was no real question about it.

Treize looked around sharply, his blue eyes flashing a little. "Then, I…" He stopped, shrugged again and smiled apologetically. "I don't know," he admitted. "I had it all planned but none of that seems important. Stay with me?" he asked.

The younger man had to smile at the touch of uncertainty in that question. Treize this off-balance and unsure of things was a rarity. It was a slightly unkind part of Zechs that found pleasure in seeing it but it was a pleasure nonetheless. "If you'd like me to," he replied.

"I'd like you to. I've missed you." The general turned back to face his pilot fully and smiled again.

"I can say the same about you," Zechs confessed, standing up so he could close the space between the two of them. "I honestly thought you'd arranged to see me so you could tell me you wanted nothing else to do with me."

"Silly of you."

"Possibly," Zechs agreed. "Are we staying here, or…?"

"I have no idea…."

Zechs chuckled softly, wondering how long it would be before one or the other of them moved. The heat and the want in Treize's eyes were only a match for those in his own, the pilot knew, yet the two of them were standing barely inches apart, gazing at each other fixedly and without either of them making any attempt to touch the other.

The younger officer reached out with one hand just as the general let his weight shift. It was enough that Zechs could catch hold of Treize and pull the older man against him, closing the gap between them.

"Mein Gott," Treize breathed, letting his forehead rest on Zechs's shoulder as his arms slipped around the pilot's waist. He sighed and it sounded almost shaky to the younger man.

"Treize?"

"Did you change your cologne?" Treize asked quietly and his breath was warm and slightly damp on the skin above the pilot's collar. "I don't think I recognise this one."

"You wouldn't. It's something Noin sent to me from L4. Do you like it?"

"It could grow on me, I suppose. It's certainly nothing like the other one," Treize noted, inhaling again slowly, familiarising himself with this new facet to the scent he identified with the younger man. The heavy smoky perfume Zechs's classmate had chosen for him was a far cry from the light, citrusy cologne's the blond seemed to lean toward himself.

"No, but I think I was tired of that one anyway," Zechs replied.

Treize nodded, deciding he liked the new scent, at least at the moment. Whatever else it was, it was certainly more seductive than the old one.

"Why are we talking about my new cologne?" Zechs asked and Treize shook his head.

"I have no idea," he murmured, brushing his lips across the soft skin of Zechs's throat.

"Oh!" the blond gasped. "Do that again, will you?"

Treize hummed an agreement, doing as he was asked and then lifting his head when Zechs's fingers caught in the neatly trimmed strands of hair at the older man's collar and tugged gently. The unspoken request was hardly difficult to understand and the general leaned in, having to tilt his head back a little as well as to one side as his mouth met Zechs's and lingered.

The kiss deepened quickly, the chaste pressure melting into the taste of the other man, layered flavours of mint tooth care products, smoky Cognac and bitter tonic water tinted with the ginger extract Treize had flavoured it with. The general's hands were tangled in Zechs's hair, petting the silky lengths as slowly as the pilot's own fingers were stroking over the clothing wrapped lithe muscle of Treize's back, digging a little when they hit the occasional point of tension.

This type of kissing – Treize had distinctly different ways of going about it, Zechs had learned, depending on the mood he was in – was a familiar cue to their bodies. Though this kiss stayed lazy where others had quickly gotten rushed and a touch desperate, the rising need eventually forced Zechs to pull his mouth away from the general's.

"Treize, here or…?" he asked again, when he'd got enough breath.

The older man shrugged, panting. "I don't know," he gasped. "When I asked you to stay I didn't mean you had to come to bed with me."

"I don't care what you meant. Answer me. Here, your rooms or mine?"

Treize just shook his head. "You decide…."

Zechs blinked. "What was in that Cognac?" he teased. "This is most unlike you."

"Is it?" Treize's expression was determinedly unconcerned. "I don't care."

"All right. Your rooms then. They're more secure and the bed's bigger. Come on."

Treize nodded, turning away from the younger man and freeing himself from the hold Zechs still had on him. "Sound enough reasoning, I suppose."

"I thought so." Zechs turned to head to the door and Treize stopped him with a touch.

"A moment, if you will. We're both a little rumpled – it wouldn't do for anyone to see us like this."

"Probably not. Not that anyone's likely to hit on the truth, but none of the reasons people could decide upon for our state would do our reputations any good," Zechs agreed.

A few seconds spent straightening ornate uniforms and smoothing mussed hair back into place left the two men looking almost as pristine as they normally did, and finally Treize pronounced himself satisfied that they'd pass inspection. "As long as we don't dawdle," he added.

"I don't think there's any danger of that, Treize," Zechs replied dryly.

The general smirked as he opened his door. "Oh, admittedly. But one never knows what will happen next. Une could be lurking just around the corner for all we know. She's been impossible enough recently without her seeing this. Lord alone knows what she'd slip into my coffee tomorrow morning!"

"Short of a love potion, nothing," Zechs snorted.

The older man shot the pilot a slightly rueful glance and shrugged. "Your coffee, then. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and all that. You aren't her favourite person at the moment, I'm afraid."

Both men absently returned the salute of the guard at the end of the corridor and turned, as in step as if they'd been on a parade field, to make their way down the flight of stairs that would take them to the sweeping lobby of the building. It was a walk they had made together dozens of times but, somehow, the tension in the air made it unfamiliar. The anticipation between them was palpable, reflected in the little glances they kept throwing one another and the casual, seemingly accidental way Treize kept brushing against Zechs as they walked.

"I'm never Une's favourite person, Treize," Zechs pointed out as they turned from the bustle of the lobby out into the courtyard.

"I know." Treize shook his head. "Can we discuss the Lady another time, please? Thoughts of her don't really go with my current mood."

Zechs smirked. "I'm glad to hear it." He turned automatically for the door that would take them into the Staff Officers Block and stopped in surprise when Treize didn't turn with him. "Where are you going?" he asked as the older man carried on walking.

Treize stopped, looked back over his shoulder and gestured imperiously for Zechs to rejoin him. "That's right, you won't know," he murmured when the blond was back at his shoulder. "I should have told you this earlier, probably, but I don't have rooms on the base anymore."

Zechs blinked. "You don't?"

"No. Working from home in London inspired me, so I bought a house."

"You… bought a house?" the pilot quizzed, taken a little aback. "You hardly need another one," he quipped. Zechs was used to Treize doing things that surprised him, but this was on a slightly different scale than he was used to.

Treize gestured with a hand, dismissing that comment, and let an impish little smile touch his lips. "I do seem to have a surfeit, I have to agree. But although the Lady agreed that my staying off base when I wasn't working would be safer, she also agreed that an hour's flight to get here each morning would prove problematic. Since that counted out the Paris apartments and I don't own anything closer I had little choice but to find somewhere new."

"Oh. Is that where we're going then?"

"If you don't mind. It needs some work still – some of the modifications I have planned are quite drastic – but the residential areas are already finished and my rooms are quite wonderfully comfortable."

Zechs shrugged. "You'll have to allow me time to sign out of the base, but of course I don't mind."

Treize smiled. "I've already taken care of that – Une marked you down originally as being seconded to my command for the duration of your stay so you will be assumed to be wherever I am." The general watched what he could see of Zechs's face beneath the mask he had replaced before leaving his commander's office, waiting for the surprise that showed to fade away before he spoke again. "And, I'm glad you don't mind. The house really is far more comfortable, and definitely more private. Always a good thing, wouldn't you agree?"

Zechs appeared to still for moment, then he nodded. "Always…"