Final chapter in this first story! Poison Two should be posted shortly.

To those of you who reviewed, thank you so much!

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"When do you leave?" Treize asked as they stepped out of the meeting room.

Zechs shivered in reaction as Treize touched him lightly in the small of his back – the first contact between them since he'd gotten out of bed. "Officially, the mission is cleared to leave from New Edwards base tomorrow at 12:00, but I'm scheduled to fly out of here at 18:30 tonight," he murmured in reply.

The general nodded. "What do you need to do before then?"

"Pack, mostly, and tie up what loose ends I can. It won't take me more than a couple of hours. I'd fly out tomorrow morning, but I need to meet my officers and ensure everything is ready."

"I understand that – you don't need to explain." Treize shot the younger man a wry grin. "Are you nervous yet?"

The blond turned his head. "Nervous, sir? Why should I be nervous?"

Treize raised his signature eyebrow. "This is your first full space assignment and your first full mission in command. You'll be on your own. It would be normal to be apprehensive."

"Actually… having complete command is one of the things I'm looking forward to most. I've never taken orders well."

Treize allowed the smirk those words provoked to come to the fore, recalling that his friend's file contained as many letters from outraged commanders protesting his complete ignorance of their orders as it did glowing missives of praise.

In the past few months, Treize had found the letters of complaint a useful guide as to which of the Specials officers needed to find other lines of work.

"I can't recall having trouble commanding you," he commented.

The dry tone to his superior's voice tipped Zechs off to the fact that his words were supposed to imply more than they said, but he chose to ignore the hidden meaning and answered seriously. "That might be because you're competent, sir. Your orders make sense."

"Ah."

Though he had intended an oblique reference to other activities, Treize could freely admit that both what he had said and what Zechs had replied were the literal truth. The younger man was the perfect subordinate, as far as the general was concerned, precisely who and what he would want at his side in battle – capable of reflexively obeying orders to the letter, but also not requiring that everything be absolutely spelt out for him. And not afraid of tweaking those orders into a more suitable form if he thought it was necessary for victory.

Treize could see, though – quite clearly – why a less confident commander, or one with a more rigid style, who perhaps didn't know and trust the younger man as he did would have trouble with him, and he was glad that this mission would make it likely that the younger man would never have to take orders from anyone but himself again.

It remained to be seen whether Zechs could hold a command of his own for any length of time.

"I'm honoured that you think so," Treize replied eventually.

Zechs looked at him sharply. "I somehow doubt that you need my opinion on the subject to be sure of that, sir. You've been commanding missions since I was a cadet."

"Yes, but it's nice to hear it." Treize paused, thinking. "May I offer you a word of advice?"

"Of course, sir."

"Before you go, find yourself two pens that work and are comfortable to hold. One to use and the other as a spare when the first inevitably breaks or gets lost."

"Sir?"

"I'm quite serious, Zechs. You're about to come face to face with more paperwork than you can imagine; you'll spend hours filling out forms and reports and there is nothing more unpleasant than trying to fly a mobile suit with pressure blisters on your hands from writing with an uncomfortable pen, and nothing more irritating than getting up early to tackle said forms only to spend an hour hunting down a pen that works."

"I… yes, sir."

Treize smiled. "Don't look so horrified – it isn't that bad."

"If you say so, sir."

The general laughed, the motion making his once-again slicked back auburn hair flash red in the sunlight streaming in from the wide windows. "Do you have time for lunch?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Come along then."

They parted after a leisurely lunch, Treize to attend another meeting, Zechs to return to his rooms and prepare, with a promise to meet again before the blond had to leave, and it was this that had the younger man knocking on the door to the elder's office just as the sun set.

"Come in!"

The pilot pushed the ornate wooden door open and crossed into the room, surprised to find the occupier not behind his desk, with its ever present piles of work, but sitting on the sofa he swore was only for the comfort of his guests, reading from a file in his lap. "Hello, Zechs, I'll be with you in a minute."

Unwilling to disturb his senior, the blond stood, waiting quietly until the older man threw the file down with a snort of disgust and then looked up at him and smiled. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, sir," Zechs replied, gesturing to the hold-all he had slung over his shoulder.

"Good. Put that thing down for now, will you? And sit down?"

"Of course, sir."

"Zechs – if you call me 'sir' again, I'm going to start calling you Milly!"

"Yes… Treize."

"Better. Would you like a drink?" The older man got to his feet as he spoke and gestured at his drinks cabinet.

"I don't think it would be a good idea."

"Fair enough. Coffee?"

Zechs shook his head. "I'm fine."

Treize nodded, pouring amber liquid into a cut crystal glass and then sipping at it before settling himself back on the settee. "So, what do you want to do for your birthday?"

Zechs looked surprised. "Sorry?"

"You haven't told me what you want to do yet. Given when this mission is supposed to end, I'll have to start organising before you're back on the planet."

"I thought… you'd already decided what I was doing?"

"Ah!" Treize shook his head. "No, I've decided what state you'll be in by the end of the night, not what we actually do. It's your birthday."

"I have… no idea. I don't pay much attention to my birthdays."

"No, neither do I, generally. But look at that performance my family insisted on a couple of years ago."

Treize's 21st birthday would, if it had been left to him, doubtless have passed by totally unnoticed by everyone save Zechs and, possibly, Lady Une, but his mother and his Uncle, Duke Dermail, had plotted behind his back and had dragged the unwilling Lieutenant-Colonel back Salzburg for a party of truly staggering proportions. Zechs hadn't been aware that his friend had so many relatives, nor knew so many officers and officials.

"Yes… that, you can most definitely avoid," he murmured.

Treize laughed. "I was hoping to have you enjoy the event, not spend half of it trying to hide." He waved a hand. "Write to me when you know, but don't take too long or I'll simply assume that you don't care and organise something myself."

The younger man cringed, and his commanding officer snorted into his drink. When he had calmed himself, he glanced at the clock on his desk and sighed. "Come here, will you? I have little enough time to do this in as it is."

Gently, he gathered the blond into his arms and kissed him, a gently fierce approach this time that left the younger man, when was released, feeling as though he had been branded.

The two officers sat, holding one another for a space of time, and then Treize sighed, kissed a length of Zechs' hair and stood up. "Come on, I'll walk down with you."

"You don't need to do that, I…"

Treize stopped his protest with a look over his shoulder as he swung his cape back into place on it. "I do. I have to give you your final orders at the very least."

It was a long walk from the general's office to the hanger where Zechs's plane was waiting for him and the Major wasn't entirely surprised that they made it in almost complete silence. Out in public as they were, they could not have said anything meaningful to each other and neither of them wished to talk about anything else.

Treize, for his part, was attempting something he had never accomplished in his life – the art of not thinking. Thinking required him to realise that once the man at his side stepped into the plane, it was a possibility that they would never see one another again. It wasn't likely, he knew that too, the man was a brilliant pilot and the mission wasn't overly dangerous, but there was still a chance, more of one than he would have liked.

His thoughts didn't show on his face and he entered the hanger looking his usual collected self. He stood back a little, allowing the blond to greet his pilot for the evening and stow his stuff away and only stepped up when the younger man came back to the door of the plane and down the steps.

Zechs snapped a salute and then waited, knowing his commanding officer was going to have something to say.

"I'll see you on Christmas Eve, yes?" the general began.

Zechs nodded. "Of course. Would I break tradition? I'll assume you'll be in Salzburg?"

"If it's possible. I'll let you know."

"Yes, sir."

The pilot, ostensibly checking his instruments, glanced up, looked between the two men standing on the steps and gave a sad smile – that they were friends was well known, but this… The general had a reputation for being heartless, but there was nothing about this quiet demand for the younger man to come home safe that was heartless. Quietly, he closed the door to the cockpit, granting them what privacy he could.

Zechs heard the door close and thought his gratitude to the young man piloting him. Gently, he reached out one hand and touched his commanding officer's shoulder. "I'll be fine, Treize."

"I know that you will. Forgive me for being… paranoid."

"It's… sweet, in its way."

They gazed at one another, smiling sadly, and then Treize stepped backward. "Ach, Gott!" White silk flashed in the dim lighting for a second as it disappeared beneath his cloak, and then reappeared to press something into the other's hands.

"What's…?"

"Your final orders for the mission… sealed until you depart New Edwards."

"Sir."

"And a letter… The first of many, I hope."

"Oh… yes. I promise."

The heavy parchment was pressed more firmly into Zechs's grasp, their fingers intertwining briefly, and then the general tore himself away and stepped off the stairs. "Go, or you'll miss your take-off time."

"Yes, sir. Two months, Treize. I promise."

"Go, Milliardo." Treize forced a smile. "And think about your birthday!"

Zechs nodded and stepped into the body of the plane, almost lost in shadow. Their eyes met for a moment more and then the steps swung up and sealed.

Treize walked backwards, giving the pilot of the plane room to fire his engines without risk of incinerating his commander, and stared at the plane until it was lost to view. Then he clasped his hands together for a brief second and closed his eyes. "Herr im Himmel, bitte wache über ihn."

Warmth at his side drew his attention and he turned to see Lady Une standing beside him. "Lady? Did something come up?"

Sympathy sparkled in gentle brown eyes. "No, sir. I thought… you might appreciate company…"

Treize forced another smile, but found that it wasn't as hard as it had been moments earlier. "Thank you, Lady, yes." He looked down at her pretty face, not bothering to work out how she knew. "Would you care for a glass of wine, Lady?"

"If you wish me to join you, sir?"

"It would be my pleasure." He offered her his arm and they left the hanger, walking slowly and talking of nothing important.

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As his plane pulled away from the ground and sought its true home in the darkened sky, Zechs relaxed in the co-pilot's seat and turned to the young man beside him. "Thank-you for that, Lieutenant…?"

"Otto, sir. It was no trouble."

"Still… it was appreciated. As was the smooth take-off."

"My pleasure, sir. We'll be about five hours reaching New Edwards, if you'd care to sleep, sir?"

"No, thank you. I believe I'll work on my correspondence."

The End

Herr im Himmel, bitte wache über ihn Him in Heaven, please watch over him.