Chapter Fourteen
Their meeting had been, without a doubt, a pleasure.
From the first mention of Zechs Merquise and his talent at the briefing the day before Treize had hoped, but never really believed, he might gain the opportunity to speak with the budding Prime talent Tsuberov was training. He could say, without hesitation after meeting Merquise, he liked what he sensed of the shy student. The clarity and strength he had detected in the young man's talent during their brief contact were matched only by his innocence, which was a curiosity in itself. No street kid should hold that unspoiled innocence; an untouched quality that was refreshing.
Still, one should, he decided, keep an open mind and remember the briefing he had been given. Merquise was not exactly a street waif, after all. The child then teenager, prior to coming to Tsuberov's elite halls, had been resident in an orphanage. While he had periodically escaped the establishment to roam and live on the streets of the city for weeks on end, he had not actually been a permanent resident of the city's slum district.
With the extent of his psychic talent, and given his wayward nature, Merquise could all too easily have become mentally unbalanced. It was good fortune, Treize was sure, which saw him escape that pitfall of his empathic telepathy. The downside of the city was not a pleasant place for a high level empath as Treize, given his line of work, could testify.
After this first contact, superficial as it had been, he knew the intricacies of Merquise's nature would take a great deal of time to explore.
At the first convenient moment he would take the time to send his initial impressions of the young man to his fellow Primes. Each and every one of them would be waiting to learn all they could of Merquise, beyond the extent of his educational standing and psychic talents evaluation. They would be relying on him and his impressions to give them the chance to consider how best to enfold Merquise into their family.
They were a family, the few who had managed to stay sane, despite the acute sensitivity of their psychic talent.
He had found more common ground amid the select Prime's circle than he shared with his blood relations. Each of them understood what it was to live locked behind shields for fear of insanity. Humans were social creatures and, with rare exceptions, invariably sought out others of their own kind. To be forced to keep a shield between oneself and the rest of humanity was no easy feat.
Physically and psychologically, humans craved to be touched and Empathic Telepaths were, despite some derogatory comments, all too human. Their talent wanted contact with others and the Primes and high level empaths craved to be bathed in the ebb and flow of emotion. Constantly keeping barriers in place was draining and left one with a real sense of segregation. Enforced isolation had never been good for the human spirit.
He suspected when Zechs Merquise had been an emergent psi he had craved the raw emotion to be found on the streets. Undoubtedly he would have needed to run periodically to the relatively quieter and safer halls of the orphanage, before his then erratic talent could overindulge and burn him out, or send him into screaming hysterics. All too often the human individual sought out the very thing that could kill or maim. With extreme mental sensitivity it was insanity that was the more common fate, though deaths had been attributed to the condition.
It would please the other Primes to share his impressions of the young talent, and in no small way would it please him to no longer be dubbed the baby of the group. That would amuse the other, older talents, when they read it from him, but since it was the truth he did not mind. There was not so many years separating him from Merquise in age, but even a few months would be sufficient to earn him the distinction of being older, and therefore not the youngest of their number to be coddled.
Merquise could well do with a little coddling, from what he sensed.
Not that he could complain about the other Primes keeping their collective 'ears' out for him. In the early days, after his studies and subsequent defiance from his family, their touch had been more than welcomed. Their presence in his awareness assured him he was not alone, and should he require assistance with the sensitivities of his talent, they would be there. Their presence was a welcome glow of warmth within his mind, day and night, and it was something he doubted he could give up. For life he was bound to them and happy to be so bonded.
It was one of the reasons he was so conscious of the state of his shields. If he did not take action to correct his current circumstances, the other Primes assuredly would. He knew what their reaction would be to his work schedule, and to the current delicate state of his shields, and no one in their right mind would want Gabriella on the war path. He loved the Gypsy Prime dearly, but she could be an unholy terror, and he was not inclined to draw her wrath needlessly.
It would be Gabriella who would come to investigate his circumstances and set matters to rights, of that he had no doubt. She had been the one to ensure he escaped the coils of his family to take his place as a Prime, free of familial chains, and able to choose where he took contract.
Merquise's hope to escape the distinction of being the baby of the Primes would be if Quatre Winner should mature to take a place amid their select group, or if another should emerge with adequate talent. If Winner's full telepathic function could be aroused and shaped to equal his already Prime level empathy, he would take his place amidst their elite group. Only then would Merquise be lucky enough to escape the well meaning babying of the older Primes. Treize, however, personally doubted Quatre would ever escape the life sentence awaiting him with Winner Enterprises.
/It is what had been intended for me, to become the corner stone of the family business and devote my life to developing it. I am doubtful Quatre could escape his conscience and training to center his life on Winner Enterprises. I'd say they conditioned him to the point he will never be free of it./
He did not envy Quatre Winner the trap encircling him. It was even doubtful he would be employed at Winner Enterprises as a Prime in his field. Admittedly he was being trained to the highest standards of psi talent, but for what purpose? Whose will would he be serving in that position? And it was doubtful they would simply forget his abilities. Quatre would be expected to milk the greatest advantage from the use of his talent to further the ambitions of the company.
His attention was dragged back to the conversation taking place around him at the Dean's attention focusing on him, and the expectation leaking through the man's shields. The Master's invitation for them to lunch with him and his teaching staff was not altogether unexpected, but Treize was not inclined to accept. In polite society it would be considered bad form to refuse the courtesy, however this was more than simply polite society they were dealing with.
He was a part of a working team, and while he might be more than aware of the correct form one should employ when dealing with such people, he could not forget they had a great deal of work to accomplish. He was, however, all too aware of the energy he had expended during his sensing of the suite, and the very real need to replace the calories used.
It had been their intention to return to the Security Office and review a new batch of video footage taken from around the dormitory and surrounding grounds, as well as review with Otto what they had gleaned thus far in the case. He had been under the impression they would eat while they watched the footage, and he was loathe to delay their itinerary any longer than they needed to.
Chang stirred, meeting his eyes and reading his reluctance to accept the invitation. He could see Wu Fei was as reluctant as he to join the teaching staff and he chose to leave the matter to Chang. His partner had a blunt but polite manner about him, which tended to put off people from protesting a refusal. He took the opportunity to shift his weight and gain a clear view of Merquise as he rejoined his companions. The braided Sweeper practically dragged the tall blonde down to sit beside him and Treize resisted the impulse to smile. He heard Chang's polite refusal to dine at this time, given the tight time schedule they were required to keep.
In fact, they did have a tight schedule. They were slated to meet with the Agencies forensic team to supervise and monitor the removal of certain marked items from the ruined suite for further investigation. Yuy and his people had agreed to have the Agency psychics further investigating some of the remnants of the suite under controlled conditions, and they had wasted no time in arranging for a forensic unit to be prepared and dispatched.
The reminder of the events of the night and the crime scene visibly disturbed the Dean, who assured them he understood perfectly the needs of the situation. He appeared unaware of the Professor who stood a little behind him, and seemed to hang on every word. Otto glared his displeasure and the Professor stepped back a little, contenting himself with staring in the direction of the students beneath the oak.
/You are a particularly sour individual and your psychic flavour is quite oily. Heavy./ Treize mused. /Not a Talent, but you are insecure enough to have yourself fitted with a neural implant. I know your sort and I am surprised to find you at a place such as Tsuberov. No doubt you know your subject, but you strike me as being rather a pain to deal with. I gather the Master of the University is not particularly enamoured of you, but why has he not told you, in polite terms, to find someone else to shadow?/
Indeed the Dean seemed set on ignoring the Professor's presence as he made his farewells, stating he needed to get on as there was an assembly to be attended following lunch and time was, indeed, marching on. With the Professor clinging to his steps like a limpet, Hargraves made his way toward the main hub of the University buildings and lunch with his staff.
Otto sighed heavily and put in a call to the cafeteria, increasing his order to be delivered to the Security Office. Clipping the radio to his belt he scowled at the two men almost out of sight and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I find I eat more than I should after dealing with fools and I've been forced to sit through one of Havers pet speeches already this morning. Lunch won't be flash, but the cafeteria does make an excellent club sandwich. The food here is designed with the calorie needs of high talent Psis in mind." Otto murmured as they resumed their course for the Security Centre. "No doubt after the work you performed this morning, you would be in need of a decent meal."
"I am certain the food here is excellent." Yuy murmured diplomatically. "We have barely an hour before the forensic team will be prepared to package and move the evidence."
"By the time we get ourselves settled lunch will have arrived." Otto assured him.
"Who is that rather obnoxious individual?" Treize scowled, turning his attention from Otto to the three students, before fixing his gaze on the approaching Security Offices.
"Professor Simon Havers. He is the head of the Mechanical Engineering Department. He has three books under his belt on the successful design of Colony architecture and teaches a number of classes here. He has no measurable psychic talent and is paranoid about psychics. Specifically telepaths. They are all employed to pick the secrets out of his head for use by his competitors." Otto grimaced. "He's a bit of a nutcase but mostly harmless."
"He appears to have a problem with one or more of the three young men behind us, now enjoying lunch." Treize prodded gently for information.
"Merquise being the chief problem, in the Professor's opinion. Their first meeting did not go well. I believe Merquise ended up calling him a 'piece of stinking dried-up dog dung' and deemed him incapable of surviving in the real world. Events have progressed steadily downhill since then. Unfortunately Mr. Maxwell also appears to have a pet dislike for the Professor, though I believe he likened him to an 'anorexic yeti'." Otto sighed but Treize caught the glint in his eye and guessed Otto's opinion of the Professor was equally low. "Both students have classes in the department and are expected to conduct themselves in a manner befitting Tsuberov's status."
"He appears to have become attached to the Master's shadow." Wu Fei observed.
"Professor Havers is not the bravest individual at Tsuberov and undoubtedly feels it is safest closest to the Dean."
Yuy watched a cluster of giggling young female students run around the corner of the building, stop in their tracks on sight of Otto and with a smart-about face, make themselves scarce.
"Can we expect interruptions during the removal of evidence?"
"The majority of classes will have resumed in an hour, and the assembly should be underway by the time the team arrives and are ready for you." Otto returned. "Although from the reports I have been receiving from my staff about what is happening in the canteen and at the cafeteria, there may be no other option than to extend the lunch break for the senior students. By mid-afternoon we should have the routine restored to order, and the displaced students's reassigned quarters. There should not be many students lingering outside and those that are should all be seniors, who know where they should not be."
/But there will be some./ Treize mused. /When you least want witnesses you can guarantee there will be people around./
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Pain.
Crawling along his nerves, creeping through his head, shooting tendrils of lightning throughout his body.
Pain must be ignored.
"The awakening pain must be experienced and endured in order to advance."
/Where is HE?/
Pain. Light pierced his eyes unkindly, spearing into his brain and generating more pain. A different kind of pain that combined with the lightning to burn him to a cinder. Not even the darkest wrap around glasses could spare him the light's effects.
Pain was insidious, crawling from every pore of his being, threatening to overpower him, to defeat him… and he could not be defeated. Would not be defeated.
He was better than the pain… Greater… Stronger.
It would be easier to deal with this pain if he did not feel the fear and worry.
/Where have they taken him? Where has he gone?/
Fear grew persistently, feeding from itself until it equalled the pain. Fear distracted him from the control he needed to maintain mastery. Fear equated to loss of control, which equated to pain, which in turn birthed fear in a never ending cycle.
Fear made each breath a living hell.
Everything good in his world had fallen to ruin.
His great expectation, his delight; his longing and desire to see perfection… had all come to nothing. Such expectation he had enjoyed.
He was gone.
Long fingers curved tightly about the bottle nestled within the pocket of his jacket. The pain was too much and he was nearly out and he must get more. The pills made the agony almost bearable. The pills would ease the knives stabbing at his skull and gain him some peace.
/Where? Why was he not there? He should have been there! He was supposed to be there./ The last thought a silent sob of anguish.
His heart's desire should have been there for him to view. To admire, to savour… to adore. The longing to worship His beauty had been growing unbearable during his long absence. To find Him gone from that safe haven when finally he had returned home…
He should have been there. The longing should have been replaced with the unspeakable pleasure of viewing His perfection.
He should have been filled with ecstasy… and instead there was all consuming pain.
/I must find HIM./
The light pierced his skull and he pressed himself deeper into the shadows, seeking to escape the stabbing brightness without actually moving. He was desperate to take another pill, to blunt the pain, to give himself some relief- but there were limits he must observe. He had already taken his quota and to take more would be to step over the safety margins drilled into him.
"It will kill to exceed the recommended dosage. You must be aware of the dangers at all times."
Despite his best intentions to stay and learn what had happened he would be driven away by the pain. The light would drive him, force him to a blessedly dark shelter, but he ached to linger, seeking the one who made the hell of his existence worth living.
Pain almost blinded his sight with electric discharges behind his eyes, spearing into his temples, grinding into the base of his skull. He must persevere, watch the strangers who trespassed on his territory and learn what they were about. The unaccustomed activity surrounding the dormitory forced him away, depriving him of the opportunity to seek out his usual haunts. He would need to go, to escape the light and soothe the pain, but if he lingered just a little longer he might yet catch a glimpse of Him.
Something terrible had happened. Something terrible had happened to HIM.
Who were these strangers who kept him from his safe, dark space? Why did they crawl like ants through a disturbed nest?
HE had vanished. HE had not been in his room, tucked safely into bed.
Was that why these strangers were present? Was that why they were here, disrupting the routine he found soothing? Did they seek the missing one he must find? Were they enemy or friend? He was blind to their thoughts with this pain and helpless to learn their plans.
Were they, He who must be adored and his friends, only late returning from their trip? Was that all that had gone wrong? Why, on the very night he had gathered his courage to touch the perfect beauty of HIM, had He not been there?
His hands were shaking and his throat parched. He ached in every fiber of his being and his head was pounding with his wildly beating pulse. He must rest. The pain was such that he could not still the tears further blurring his vision… which in turn set alight trails of fire.
Pain was insignificant against his terror.
HE must be found. Found and returned to his rightful place that He might be viewed and adored and protected.
Eyes closed he rubbed his cheek against the velvet softness of the dark red rose. His fingers trembled as he traced the perfect petals, one by one, and his nostrils flared as he drank in the heady perfume.
The roses were for Him.
Perfect roses, the darkest red, richly scented. A pale token of his undying affection. How could he see that his gift was received if he could not find HIM?
Ah, but the pain.
There was so much pain, but he had felt it's like before. It would go. With time. The pain had been bad before, when the awakening had first begun and he had thought his head must explode with it. But it had gone and left him in peace to admire the beauty of the world as he had not known it before. To see the beauty of the light surrounding Him and awaken the desire deep within, to know that beauty day and night.
It would ease.
He would seek the darkness and to sleep away the pain. Rest.
Sleep would help soothe his pain, and with it gone he would be free to find HIM and this time… Ah, this time, he would ensure his gifts were received.
When the pain left him he would ensure they had time together and he would stroke that fine jaw, kiss those lovely lips, admire the fire in perfect blue eyes. He would ensure they met and touched and… and… yes, he would touch and he could touch. He had the right to admire with his hands as much as his eyes… and worship Him with his lips…
The pain would fade and when it was gone he would set all to rights.
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All in all the day had been particularly dissatisfying.
When he had woken this morning he had been looking forward to seeing his special friend. They had a few shared classes and one of those classes was scheduled to take place that morning. He had thought they might even enjoy a shared lunch. It had come as a blow to find Quatre missing from his class, though it was something of a relief other students from the same dorm building were also absent.
Following class he had made for the cafeteria, hoping to find his friend and had been unprepared for the chaos that had once been an orderly, well-managed rotation system. The enjoyable, relaxed lunch he had been looking forward to had been anything but, and to compound matters there had been neither sight nor sound of Quatre.
Trowa Barton sighed softly and rested back against the solid trunk of the tree, watching with fascination, though no real interest, the comings and goings from the dormitory block. News of plumbing problems had filtered through the university quickly once the student body had begun to circulate, though no one could say with any certainty exactly what had occurred. Whatever it was, it was sufficient to throw the well-managed mechanics of the institute into chaos.
He bit into the high protein burger he had chosen for lunch to make as speedy a transition through the canteen as possible, chewing with relish. The only good thing he could think about eating alone, and being hidden from casual sight, was that he could make a reasonable pig of himself and take healthy bites instead of nibbling at his lunch. Picking dropped bits of salad and bun from the front of his shirt, he considered the disaster his day had become with no expenditure of effort on his part.
He had been more than disappointed not to see Quatre. He had been looking forward to the return to classes purely and simply to be with his friend once again. He grimaced at the thought. Friend. Special friend. Such words hardly described what he felt for Quatre Winner, but that was as far as he could see their relationship going, given Quatre's circumstances.
Over the break he had spent time with his family and he had enjoyed the visit, particularly the antics of his young cousin. The little redhead had regaled him with amusing anecdotes about family since his last sojourn at home. She was a delight to have around and he had not needed to pay more than lip service to the family patriarch and oldsters, who were far too busy to be concerned with a lesser cousin.
Seeing Quatre again had been what he looked forward to and he had known Quatre had not been looking forward to their parting, for all he wished to see his family. Before leaving Quatre had expressed a wish he might approach his family over where his emotions were focused and how they had grown from simple friendship to something totally different.
Trowa was fairly sure his own familial connections would not have cared if he had announced he desired to take a male lover. At least, given his young cousin's existence, he hoped they would not have protested. In fact, given the identity of the one he desired, the Barton Patriarch might well have been all for the notion.
Dekim Barton was always seeking advantageous opportunities.
Trowa was convinced it would be the Winner connection that would be the barrier to he and Quatre taking that giant step from closer than close friends, to lovers. The Winners were, after all, of Arabic descent and were Muslim, which was one of the few religions in these enlightened times not to have relaxed its attitude towards homosexual liaisons.
Even today, scientific evidence determined more than a hundred years before was discounted by the Muslim-dominated nations. The genetic mapping of the human body had identified sexual orientation was determined by the select placement of certain specific genes. Set combinations of the genes of an individual would determine if they were homosexual, heterosexual or bisexual. Some of the more moderate religions had accepted the evidence relatively quickly, but the older and more rigid churches had resisted. Some still forbade any same sex relationships, making such liaisons an unforgivable sin.
Given the Winners' L4 origins and their faith, Trowa was relatively certain what his chances of developing his association with Quatre beyond friendship would be. He was the Winner Heir and he would be absorbed into the family business with all speed as soon as his training was complete.
He would be thankful for the time they shared together and take every opportunity to savour it. He had looked forward to the tour of the colonies coming to an end for that very reason, but fortune had not favoured him. He had had no opportunity to find Quatre, nor so much as glimpse him from afar.
It was not as though it was the end of the world. There was still the remainder of the day and tomorrow and the day after…
/I'm pathetic./
Pathetic but in love. He shied from the admission, even though there were no witnesses. He had admitted to himself there was no future and he sought out distraction, unhappily aware he could go nowhere with his admission.
His thoughts of his liaison with Quatre faded as he bit into the burger and shifted his seat, leaning forward a little and to one side to watch the clean up taking place. From his perch in the oak tree growing alongside the dormitory building he had a reasonably unobstructed view of the assortment of broken and battered furnishings and general debris exiting the building.
What struck him as being curious enough to distract him from his contemplations, was the removalists method of packing. Larger pieces were wrapped in clear plastic and smaller items were packaged in an assortment of plastic bags. There appeared to be a steady stream of individuals laden with these plastic wrapped items issuing from the dorm.
Scratching the bridge of his nose slowly, a certain sign Trowa was deep in thought, his green eyes wandered from the steps fronting the dorm to the large black van the items were being stacked into. Moving van? His first assessment of what was taking place was discounted as he considered the vehicle. After a long, drawn out look, taking in the sheer size of the truck and the absence of a company insignia, his eyes slipped back to the people manhandling the objects.
They were not dressed in overalls, but in what he might have considered calling clean suits. That was not so unusual, he had watched certain relations moving in and out of the Barton main house often enough to know they wanted their goods handled in a particular manner. These people were covered in the white coveralls, hoods up and hands gloved. It was the boots in disposable water stained covers that convinced him he was not watching a cleanup crew employed to remove furniture.
/I wonder what really went on last night? Quatre might know, but where might I find him to ask?/
The sheer volume of damage told the lie for what it was. Plumbing problems did not pulverize a three seater couch, or turn a table into firewood. The furniture he could see was wet, there was no mistaking the moisture common to all the debris carried from the building. Some of the plastic bags even had pools of water forming in the base.
Finishing off his burger he edged his way along the branch to gain a clearer view, clinging tightly to the limb of the tree and peering through the foliage.
Staring at one particular bundle of plastic being carried to the van, he could see the bag was labelled and he thought the contents might have been tagged. Sitting back carefully he considered the three men following the first, each carrying a similar bundle. Each of the men moved with precision and without hesitation, entering the van in turn. He could see one placing his bundle securely into a pouch which was the exact size to comfortably fit the package. The pouch was suspended from a shelf and rack secured to the side of the van. The operative moved to a laptop set up near the doors, made an entry and jumped down, returning to the dorm. Trowa watched as each man stowed their bundles, made an entry into the laptop and followed the first into the building.
/Okay, they are not movers./ He had watched plenty of crime and investigation shows on television and he had little doubt what he was witnessing. /That has to be a professional forensic unit taking evidence from a crime scene. What the heck happened here last night? Is Quatre okay?/
If the dormitory block was considered to be unsafe the students living here would be given alternative accommodation and he wondered where Quatre would be moved to. He had chanced to overhear two teachers commenting on a projected time scale of up to four days before the building would be deemed habitable, though after seeing the amount of wreckage being moved he had to wonder about that assessment.
/Well, I don't know what happened but it was more than just a leaky pipe or two. I guess I know why they waited this long to remove the mess. They would not have wanted too many people witnessing the extent of the damage. I think it pretty obvious we have a vandal on the grounds. Tsuberov's Board of Governors won't like this at all./
With a low sigh he edged backwards, along the length of the limb, and worked his way into the fork of the tree, settling himself comfortably to work. Assured the use of his talent would not send him plummeting from his perch he took a few moments to measure his breathing and prepare. Picturing himself within a safe and warm cocoon he isolated himself from the noises of movement and the murmur of voices taking place nearby.
Recently in his studies he had learned to extend out beyond what he had thought would be his maximum range. His Long Ear talent enabled him to hear vocal conversations without the speakers being aware they were audible to any listener. At the time of his entry to Tsuberov he had had a maximum range of barely three meters. Under Tsuberov's guidance over the past two years his range had extended to over a kilometer.
He had perfected the skill of recognizing specific voices and tuning out unwanted noise, including the voices of other people surrounding his target. Now he sought one specific voice, the voice of the one he wished he could make his lover. He knew every inflection, every emotion that voice could convey. He had no doubt if Quatre was speaking he would detect the young man, provided he was within range.
"… rowa? Trowa? I don't know where you are, but I hope you are free to listen out for me. I'll try again to reach you in a half hour or so and send you a text message at the first opportunity. I so wanted to see you, Trowa but the day has been far from cooperative. I guess you have heard about… No, Duo, I'm not talking to myself. Hush will you, I'm talking to Trowa."
Trowa smirked. Trust Maxwell to interrupt a private conversation. He knew Quatre would be whispering, trying not to attract attention but Duo Maxwell had a way of interrupting even the most private conversations.
"No, Duo, I don't know if Trowa will have his 'ear' listening but I can hope, okay? Now hush up and let me talk."
The smirk became a quiet snicker and Trowa leaned back, resting his head against the tree trunk. /You tell him, lover. He'll get you back later for telling him to shut up though./
"Trowa, I hope you are listening. Something happened in the dorms overnight and we are being moved around the University grounds and … What? Oh, well I can talk as we go. Thanks Duo. I'm going to be moved to a hotel off campus for a few days, Trowa. I can't say for certain how long we will need to stay there, but we have been assured we will be back in regular classes tomorrow. I don't know if they will give us time to meet on the grounds between or after classes. I was so looking forward to seeing you again. I miss you."
A smile curved the green eyed youth's lips and he was glad there was no one around to witness his undoubtedly sappy look. The whisper might have been uttered on the far side of the University, though he suspected Quatre must be somewhere in the main cluster of buildings. His Long Ear was a useful ability and one that was sufficiently strong to permit him good prospects in the future. When his training was complete and it was time for his contract to be evaluated and finalized, he could expect a lucrative and interesting position as Clairaudient talents were not the most common of Psi's.
Law enforcement agencies, insurance companies and politicians would all be interested in acquiring a powerful clairaudient talent. Private business concerns and upmarket private detective agencies might also be interested in his skills, and there was always the Government Agencies to be considered.
He had a longer than average range on his 'ear' and since he had met the Winner heir, and marked him as special on a very personal level, he had trained himself to listen for Quatre's distinctive voice. Whether shouting from a rooftop or whispering endearments to the wind, his ability had permitted them to arrange discreet meetings on more than one occasion. Their differing timetables would normally give them little opportunity to see each other and every stolen moment was to be treasured.
"Yes, Duo, I know all that and… where has Zechs wandered off to?"
Withdrawing his contact he recalled his awareness to the warmth of the cocoon he had created within his own mind. His body would be drawing slow and deep breaths now and he sought out that inhale and exhale reflex, taking his awareness up through the layers with the inhale, once, twice…
He sighed and stirred on his perch, blinking in the bright light though it was muted by the heavy green canopy surrounding him. Quatre obviously had other concerns and would have no further opportunity to think of sending him messages on the off chance he was listening. Besides, he knew enough to tide him over until they could meet.
It was growing late and he needed to consider getting his backside out of this tree and to his next class. Having a free period directly after his lunch break had helped guarantee him an actual lunch. It had taken so long to even get something to eat, but he had a class coming up and it would not do to be late.
Tardiness was frowned upon at Tsuberov.
He had wished innumerable times he might be a full telepath as Quatre was. They could share real conversations in private with no one the wiser, but Telepathy was not his forte and he could not send a confirmation to Quatre assuring him he had heard the message. Exhaustive tests upon his entry to Tsuberov had determined there was no measurable telepathic talent, a fact which had not particularly pleased the patriarch of the Barton Family.
Tsuberov's training techniques were honing his talent to a fine edge, teaching him to extend and stabilize the contact and sensitize his mind to receive with clarity the conversations he was targeted to listen to. His lack of telepathic skill would not detract from any future employment contract, and if he should make the projected Level 8 readings he could look forward to a lucrative contract and interesting position.
/At least I'm a minor cousin, so the family should not be too picky about my choice of career. I should be free to choose the contract I find the most interesting./
As a member of the influential Barton clan he had had no difficulty in being accepted by Tsuberov University, and he could say with honesty he had enjoyed his stay at the complex. The classes were varied, the subject matter interesting and a training program had been tailored to his personal needs.
Dekim Barton had even kept an eye on his progress and at his return home, at the beginning of the break, had personally congratulated him on his development and his exemplary record at the university. As pleased as he had been by that acknowledgement he had found himself wishing he had remained anonymous, though he could not say why. Certainly the man had never done anything to him. Dekim Barton always left Trowa feeling he had dipped his hands in thick, viscid oil.
Movement at the dorm building drew his attention and he frowned, caught up by a most curious sight. With widening eyes he watched as one of the mid-sized refrigerators common to the dorm rooms floated through the door. In slow and stately fashion the refrigerator drifted down the steps followed by a short young man sporting a tight ponytail and an intent look.
/Telekinetic./
Forgetting the need to get to class he leaned forward watching the heavy unit drift over to the clean suited men following the kinetic talent down the steps. A sizable roll of heavy grade plastic wrap was produced from the group and the men unravelled a length of the plastic before moving to stand on opposing sides of the fridge.
/Well, that confirms it. If they are going to wrap the fridge it means…/
The thought trailed off and Trowa leaned forward in attentive interest. The tall redhaired figure emerging from the dorm was strikingly familiar to Trowa, though he found himself doubting what he was seeing. There was no way he would be at Tsuberov-unless whatever had happened in the dorms the night before was more than petty vandalism.
A good deal more serious.
The redhead moved to join the telekinetic and they spoke for a moment, exchanging comments with the clean-suited individuals. Trowa was tempted to initiate his talent to overhear their conversation, but at the moment his curiosity was not greater than the protocols drilled into him. Whatever was said one of the men moved to the truck and climbed inside, emerging a few seconds later, nodded and gestured behind him. The redhead and kinetic exchanged comments once more and, in doing so, the taller of the two turned to squarely face Trowa.
No, he was not mistaken.
/Treize? What…? He works for the Agency. What is he doing here?/
The man he had identified as Duke Treize Kushrenada motioned to the two clean-suited agents nearest the unit to continue and dropped his hand lightly to the shoulder of the kinetic.
/He has spoken of his partner, Wu Fei, I think he said his name was and he looks to be Chinese or Japanese. That must be him. As I recall, Treize told Mariemaia his partner was a kinetic talent./
The clean-suited agent standing closest to the oak sheltering Trowa, moved to hook his end of the plastic around the handle of the refrigerator door. With a nod to his companion he stepped aside as the other man increased the tension on the strip preparatory to enclosing the unit in a tight loop of plastic. The secured end snapped taunt with such force it pulled the handle and the door fell open.
Trowa reared back in shock and overbalanced, clutching at the branch with suddenly nerveless fingers. Emerald green eyes were wide with horror even as he felt his world tilt alarmingly. He was staring directly into the refrigerator where, folded in on himself in a position that was surely anatomically impossible, was a man.
With a startled yelp Trowa tumbled out of the tree and plummeted toward the ground.
His heart leapt into his throat and he flailed uselessly at the air as he fell, desperately clawing for some purchase on the tree, missing all but an errant leaf or two. Something with a grip like iron snared him midair, the sudden jerk as his fall was abated dragged a grunt out of him, then he was deposited gently on the ground.
Panting heavily from fright, and not all of it from the fall, Trowa had to take a minute to gather his wits enough to look about him. He found himself to be the center of attention of the cluster of men, at the center of which stood the telekinetic and Treize Kushrenada.
/Oh shit. I am in so much trouble./
After a moment Treize stepped forward, approaching him and extending a hand in offer to assist him to his feet.
"Trowa Barton. What a pleasant surprise. I did not expect to see you today." Treize murmured by way of greeting, the epitome of the perfect gentleman. "I had no idea a hiatus at Tsuberov involved the study of imitating roosting chickens. You have the squawk down rather well."
"Treize." The rather breathless whisper was all he was capable of managing as he accepted the offer of a hand up.
"Passing the time of day with the pigeons?" Treize smiled, his blue eyes twinkling with genuine amusement, before they darkened with the return of a more serious vein. "You should be at classes, should you not? Somewhere, anywhere but sitting in a tree spying on matters of no concern to you."
Oh yes, he was in trouble.
"I… have a free class and… and I often sit in the tree."
He had to come up with better than that. The fall seemed to have addled his senses.
Treize merely arched a perfect, expressive forked eyebrow, his amusement still obvious though his companion seemed rather more irritated by the intrusion.
"Why?" The shorter man was scowling at him. "This is a place for learning, not for sitting in trees and idleness."
"Trowa Barton, Chang Wu Fei. It is Fei you need to thank for rescuing you from decorating the ground in an ungainly heap." Treize smiled that oh so charming smile Trowa wished fervently he could command and turn on Quatre.
"Thank… thank you." Trowa, recalling the lessons drummed into him both at home and at Tsuberov, bent his lanky frame into a formal bow hoping the gesture would be accepted.
Chang acknowledged the courtesy with an inclination of his head and turned his attention away from the youth. Trowa followed his gaze and winced as he saw the men working on wrapping the suspended refrigerator in plastic. Sudden alarm speared through him as he recalled what had startled him enough to cause him to fall.
The unit continued to hover in the air, revolving slowly on an invisible axis as it was enveloped in the plastic sheeting. The kinetic was obviously controlling the operation and Trowa lunged forward, reaching a hand toward the man only to have Treize grasp him by the shoulder with a frown.
"Let him out!"
Trowa was near panic. They would kill the man if they did not release him with all speed.
Treize scowled and exchanged a puzzled glance with his partner before turning Trowa to face him with a firm, no nonsense pressure of his hand.
"Let who out?"
Trowa looked at the man as though he did not know him. "What? The man… the man in the fridge. You'll suffocate him if you don't let him out of there immediately!"
Chang seemed to freeze, onyx eyes widening and the fridge dropped a couple of inches, startling the men busy wrapping it into springing back in the expectation it would fall. Tightening control of his talent and firming his grasp on the unit Wu Fei directed a chilling glare at the youth he had so recently saved from at least breaking bones, if not his neck.
In order to make the catch that saved Trowa from a hard landing, it had been necessary for Wu Fei to release his hold on the refrigerator for a precious fraction of a second. He had needed to reset his control points to enable him to keep the unit suspended and make the catch, securing Trowa before he hit the ground. He had caught the refrigerator less than an inch from the ground whilst he had deposited the spy on the grass with more gentleness than he was sure the youth deserved.
"The man… in the fridge." Treize murmured. With a soft sigh he motioned toward the unit. "The fridge is empty, Trowa."
"No! No, I…" He stared at Treize, his panic rising. "There is a man in there! You have to let him out before it is too late."
Treize gently restrained Trowa, interposing his body between the fridge and the youth. "Trowa, do you honestly believe a full grown man could fit into a unit that size? He would have a problem fitting in if he was suffering dwarfism, which is the only way I imagine anybody would be able to fit with any degree of comfort."
"I never said he was comfortable!" Trowa pressed his face into his hands and steadied himself, nothing would be accomplished if he panicked and lost control.
He had to remember who he was dealing with. He had always found the Duke to be eminently sensible and fair to a fault in their past associations. Treize was a Prime, an elite telepath and empath and if he wanted to get anywhere with this before the man in the refrigerator succumbed he had to appeal to the professional, not merely to the man himself.
"Look, use your telepathy! Your empathy even. There is a man in the fridge and he's dying while we stand here and argue." He met the calm blue eyes with a scowl, but made a valiant effort to steady himself.
For a long moment those serious blue eyes watched him and then moved on to the dark eyes of his partner. The two men exchanged a long look and the kinetic sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose before nodding slightly. The Prime sighed softly and turned once again to Trowa.
"There is no man in the fridge, Trowa." Treize murmured. "I would know, don't you think, given my talent?"
"Treize, there is a man in the fridge and he will die…" He moved to step around Treize and felt the man's hand tighten on his shoulder.
He stopped abruptly at the small shake of the Duke's head and found himself staring into sad blue eyes. It was the look more than anything that broke through to him and he snapped his mouth shut, shuddering delicately.
"I see." He whispered. It was not something he had expected and he really did not want to have it confirmed, but there was no help for it. "I understand but… How? Why?"
"I can't tell you anything, Trowa, you know that." Treize spoke quietly. "I do assure you there is no one in there."
"He was the reason the dorm was evacuated this morning, wasn't he? But… I don't understand. Why evacuate everyone today? The word made the rounds yesterday there had been a death on campus. Why did you leave a body in the fridge overnight? Why wait until now to take him away? Or… has there been a second death? What is going on, Treize?"
Treize considered the youth who was a fifth cousin to his own daughter and fervently wished Trowa had not been in that tree. He had obviously not quite grasped the significance of the incident and he wished he could spare him further distress. He knew the young man was a clairaudient talent, but he had not known of this other ability. It was a talent he hoped the youth could learn to deal with, because he had no doubt why Trowa claimed there was a body, a man, in the unit.
It was a talent that was not, as many believed, common amid the psychic community. It was, unfortunately, particularly fashionable in the parlours of the idle rich and bored. Spiritualists were invariably shams, even in this enlightened age of psychic investigation. Those who truly possessed the ability to see and speak with the dead were not, as a rule, inclined to advertise their abilities. It often frightened the users so badly they blocked the talent in defense of their sanity.
Given his daughter was the child of Leia Barton he knew more than a little of the talents in the family. He had needed to know all aspects of the Barton's psychic talents and the possible talent, or talents, which might emerge when their genetics crossed with his own. The result of the crossing had been the child, Mariemaia Barton-Kushrenada and there was no projected Medium ability on her charts.
He was certain the ability to communicate with the dead had not been listed in the Barton prospectus, but there was the possibility he could gain something useful out of this complication. He had always thought Trowa to be particularly level-headed and not at all prone to flights of fancy.
Sapphire blue eyes flicked to Wu Fei and he squeezed Trowa's shoulder gently. He could sense clearly enough the confusion/alarm/fear/uncertainty/disbelief roiling within the younger man.
"Open the refrigerator, Wu Fei. Let him see."
Chang scowled, glaring at the Prime and Trowa was sure he could see wheels turning in the man's head
"Are you sure?" The kinetic growled.
"Quite sure." Treize looked to Trowa and turned him so they locked eyes, demanding his attention. "We are going to trust you and I expect you to be honest and straightforward with me. After you look inside the refrigerator we will go somewhere private and we will talk. It will be a potentially long talk and what we discuss and what you have witnessed here, will remain secret. Do you understand that? "
Trowa hesitated but whatever was happening here he would not, could not, leave without investigating. He had always been fascinated with the line of work in which Mariemaia's father found his employment. Treize had no need to work, the man was disgustingly wealthy and there were multiple family businesses continually feeding his wealth. Independently wealthy as he was Trowa knew a life of idleness simply was not in Treize's nature. The world of big business and politics bored him to tears.
Treize needed something beyond boardrooms and conferences to give him that well to do buzz of a life well-lived.
"Fine, but… my classes?"
"Open the fridge. " Chang motioned to the men standing on either side of the refrigerator who scowled at the instruction, but proceeded to unwrap the evidence. "You had best be right, Treize. As it is the Lady will rake you over the coals for this."
"It has to out eventually, Fei and I know Une will know what I have done before the hour is up. Your classes, Trowa, will be taken care of and I should not need to detain you for more than an hour or so. Wait here for a moment."
Leaving Trowa watching the unwrapping of the evidence Treize drew Chang to one side and, after initiating a telepathic scan of the area to determine if there might be other unwelcome witnesses, he decided they were reasonably safe.
"If Trowa still claims the fridge is occupied it is our best hope of learning what happened. We will need to acquire a decent Medium, one with a high rating as I believe the victim will be somewhat traumatised. He may not even realize he is dead. If the Medium can establish a good contact how better to learn who our John Doe actually was, and what happened to him?" Treize whispered to Chang. "Trowa was not listed on the Barton family registry of talent as a Medium. His listed talent is as a Clairaudient."
"How do you know him?"
"He is a Barton. My daughter's mother is Leia Barton."
"Ah, I see." It also explained why Treize was so free with touching the younger man when he rarely touched strangers. "If he is indeed a Medium talent would Tsuberov not be aware of this? Surely he was examined and tested on entry to the Institute."
"Of course he would have been and I know he was tested at Barton's compound. We still don't know enough about Psychic ability and what triggers it. Some people develop abilities later than others." Treize returned. "From memory his mother was listed as having a minor Medium's talent. She died when he was an infant and there was little about her abilities listed. What has likely happened is that none of the Barton's have a similar talent and they may not have known what to look and test for as he matured. "
"Deplorable neglect." Chang huffed. "It is a poor excuse for overlooking such a talent. Nor does it excuse the Tsuberov trainers for their laxity in failing to test for the full range of talents."
Treize rolled his eyes in exasperation, though he did admit Chang had a point, and moved to join Trowa as the last of the plastic sheeting fell from the refrigerator. One of the forensic team looked to them expectantly, and Treize rested a hand lightly on Trowa's shoulder. Chang nodded to the agent and the door was swung wide and all attention focused on Trowa who flinched under their scrutiny.
"He's dead, isn't he? And there is no body, is there?" Trowa whispered, trying not to look, his gaze focused on Treize, suddenly afraid.
He had had time to think, not much but a little, and Trowa had come to a conclusion he really was not thrilled with. It would mean at least another two years at Tsuberov if he had developed a new talent, and it might just be enough to arouse Dekim Barton's interest in his future.
"You tell me, Trowa. Is he in there?" Treize murmured.
They were waiting for him to look and he did not want to. He had to, of course. Cringing from the necessity would accomplish nothing. Taking a bracing breath he lifted his head, forcing himself to look into the eyes of death.
"Yes." A whisper. "He… he's trying to move and…"
He felt his stomach clench and shuddered, turning to look up at Treize who nodded, motioning to Chang to deal with the forensic team. Treize guided him gently a few steps away from the scene, turning him so his back was to the refrigerator.
"Seal the unit." Chang commanded. "We need it taken immediately to the laboratory. Have Samuel notified we will be requiring his services."
Treize sighed softly, studying the pale face turned up to him. "It's alright to heave, you know. Death is never pretty and it takes some getting used to."
"I'm… alright." He did not want to look again and he was incredibly thankful to feel that solid, very warm hand on his shoulders. "He… He was trying to move but… it was... He seemed unable to make his arm move… or his…"
Treize gently drew Trowa away from where the men were working, careful to keep his own body between what was going on near the van and the newly discovered Medium talent. He could leave Chang to supervise here and he would run damage control with Trowa, debriefing him as he did so.
"Death can be a disturbing thing when you are not prepared to face it. We have a number of Mediums working for us who will contact him and learn from him how he died, and what he was doing at the time of his death."
"I'm alright, really. I just need a minute." A whisper.
"Take your time. I'll get you something to drink shortly, hot and sweet. It will help."
"Who is… was… he?"
Chang considered the youth for a long moment and met the Prime's clear gaze, uncertain exactly how much they could share. He had not once considered the possibility the shade of the murder victim might inhabit the refrigerator. The very idea of it sent shudders up his spine and he was no Medium to actually see the victim. He would need to leave Treize to determine how much was safe to reveal.
"We do not know, Mr. Barton. Your unexpected presence has given us hope we will learn his identity with all speed. Thank you for your assistance."
Treize nodded briefly, considering how best to broach the subject of security to Trowa. The most effective method of ensuring no one learned of what had taken place was to establish a memory block. He could hope Trowa would not be offended at the suggestion, but in a society of telepaths it was a necessary precaution. It was possible Trowa might even want to forget what he had witnessed, in which case Treize could establish a full block on the memory. There were varying stages he might take such a block to and in the event Trowa did wish to forge, he would need to inform the Institute to retest the younger man.
Trowa might not thank him for that.
"I don't understand, Treize. Who would kill someone here of all places? And why? Why put the body in a fridge? That is just sick."
"We have only just begun our investigations into the matter. It will take time to learn what happened and why."
"It makes no sense." Trowa wiped his sweating palms on his trousers, shuddering at the memory of the figure somehow pushed into the fridge. "It's insane."
"No one ever said killers were sane, Trowa. In this line of work I have seen some things that would shock you to the core. It can be a very ugly world." Treize glanced over at his partner. "Chang, I'll take Trowa to the Security Block and talk to him there. It will be more comfortable and private."
Wu Fei nodded briefly, aware of the team waiting for him to lift the now wrapped unit into the truck. He would like to sit in on that conversation, but there were other matters to attend to, and his partner would be safe enough in the Security Offices.
"I will continue with the clean up and meet with you later. Mr. Barton." Intense dark eyes moved from his partner to lock with Trowa's rich green eyes as the youth turned to look at him. "I do not expect to field questions concerning this incident from a multitude of curious students and Masters who have learned anything from loose lips. This is a murder investigation and we need to play our cards carefully if we are to discover the killer."
Treize sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Some days Chang simply did not know when to shut up.
"Come along, Trowa. Have you seen Marie lately?"
t.b.c.
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Treize Kushrenada : Level 10 Sending/Receiving Telepath + Receiving and Projecting Empath at Level 10. Prime rated. Agency Operative contracted term of 5 years with 2 years remaining. 25yrs of age Training facility: Psychic Institute Munich Division.
Chang Wu Fei: Level 9 Telekinetic + Receiving Telepath Level 5. Agency Operative contracted term of 10 years with 8 years remaining, 22yrs of age Training facility:Psychic Institute Luxemburg Division.
Heinrich Otto: Tsuberov University Security Chief. No Psionic talent. Staff Member at Tsuberov for five years. Fitted with a Neural shield implant against telepathic intrusion. Former employment, Sanc Imperial Guard. 35 years of age.
Dean Alexander Hargraves: Dean at Tsuberov University and Parapsychic Institute. Neural Implant. Sending / Receiving Telepath Level 3
Heero Yuy: ESUN Security Agency Elite Operative. Government sanctioned Genetic enhancements performed by Romefeller Genetic Laboratory, Tokyo for adult service as Security Enhanced Operative. No Psychic Talent. Genetic induced enhancements include enhanced Strength, Hearing, Speed and Olfactory senses. Assigned regularly to liaison with The Agency's psychic agents. 21 / 22 years old
Professor Simon Havers: Professor at Tsuberov University. Head of Mechanical Engineering Department at Tsuberov. Author of three books on Colony Design. Non Psychic. Fitted with a Neural Implant. 58 years of age
Trowa Barton : Psi student, 2nd year at Tsuberov Parapsychic Investigation and University. Clairaudient ability, Level 6, projected rating L8. Unrecognized talent, Medium. 19/20 years of age
Quatre Rababer Winner: Psi student, 2nd year at Tsuberov Parapsychic Investigation and University. Current Level 5 Telepath, projected Level 7, Current Level Receiving Empath 9.3, projected Level 10, Prime. Current Sending Empath Level 2, projected Level 4. Colony of Origin, L4 Cluster 18 years of age