To: T. Khushrenada, Colonel
From: Z. Marquise, Major
20:52 UESA+1
June 21st AC 194
Good evening, Treize,
Or should that be Colonel? I don't know if I'm allowed to address you informally now.
I don't know if I'm allowed to say this to you now, either, but I am. I'd say it in person, but you haven't answered a direct call since Egypt.
It's only this:
Happy Birthday.
Zechs
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To: Z. Marquise, Major
From: T. Khushrenada, Colonel
20: 59 UESA+1
June 21st AC 194
Zechs,
Thank you.
Treize
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"Zechs?"
Zechs turned, stiffening at the voice. Blue eyes met, ignoring the swirls of the Ball around them.
Four months in Bolivia, and one email exchange. He had no clue why he'd been invited to the Ball, save that it might have been protocol.
"Your Excellency."
The salute was automatic; Treize dismissing it just as much so.
The hidden quirk of Treize's expression was not, a subtle flinch at the formal address, maybe.
"Treize," Zechs corrected, and saw warmth come back into the other man's eyes.
"Merry Christmas," Treize said softly.
The silence between them lingered. "You, too," Zechs replied.
Outside, snow fell and Zechs shivered.
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To: Z. Marquise, Major
From: T. Khushrenada, Colonel
15:32 UESA+1
Jan 22nd AC 195
Zechs,
Please see attached – ahead of the formal notification.
I need you here, now.
Treize
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Treize stared after Zechs's figure, the unspoken words on his lips dying just as the evening light was dying.
The younger man was technically ahead of his report time.
It would have been an advantage, had things gone to plan.
They hadn't.
The balance between them was gone, and his own was threatened with it.
"The colony, Colonel?" Zechs had demanded.
They'd been his first and only words. They were more than enough reminder that it was possible to feel ice-cold in a desert and that thaws didn't happen in winter.
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"What is that?"
The glow from the computer screen fought with the early spring sunshine, struggling to break through March cloud.
"What was hidden on the L5 colony," Treize answered.
Hidden by the helmet, Treize couldn't see Zechs's eyes, but he didn't need to. The man's jaw was tight.
"I don't know the suit."
Treize straightened his coat with a tug as he stood, moving away from the familiarity of the other man's body heat. "Neither do I, my friend," he said quietly. "But don't doubt it's one of a number. They're coming – we will need to be ready."
"Yes."
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"So, you want to go?"
"…. I…"
"It's written all over your face, Zechs. Shoot them down for me, my friend."
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"Thank you very much for doing this, Colonel Treize. I'm sure Zechs is very relieved!"
Treize turned his head, looking out of his window, rather than at the woman on his screen. "It's usually I who asks Zechs for a favour. Sparing Relena is the least I can do for him in return. Give my best to Zechs," he added, and winced at the momentary silence.
"Yes, Sir," Noin said firmly, and ended the call.
Treize pushed to his feet, crossing the window to open it. So, the rumors turn out to be true... A survivor among Zechs's family..." He sighed heavily. "You should have told me earlier."
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"Well, assuming that you have finally taken your revenge on the Federation... What is in your future now, Lightning Count?"
Was he mocking? Was he genuine? Zechs turned to look at Treize, his head still spinning with everything that had happened.
"I'd like to work for you for a little longer, Your Excellency."
"That's good news for me. But are you sure about that? You can take off the mask now, can't you? You have successfully taken your revenge. There's no need to keep wearing that thing."
"No, I….I'm still trying to achieve my personal revenge. Please try to understand. I must continue to wear this mask until then."
Treize smiled then, but it wasn't warm. "You really are a very dedicated man. That's why I've always trusted you, Milliardo Peacecraft."
Zechs's flinch was visible.
"Your Excellency...please..."
Treize didn't appear to care. "I hope that one day you will be able to take off that mask and be yourself."
"Yes, sir."
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The office was cold, not as Treize would usually have it, and even from the door, Zechs could see his old friend's face. The impassivity was its own answer, however much the crew chief managing him was trying to be solicitous.
"I'm sorry to put you through such discomfort, Zechs," Treize said quietly, and he might even have meant it.
"Please don't be concerned about it, Your Excellency. Treize." Time for the truth. "I was prepared for this."
A momentary pause – he'd surprised the other man after all.
Not for long. "If you will continue to lend your strength to the Romefeller Foundation, your return home will not be such a difficult thing."
What? "My strength?" What was Treize trying to do?
"The Romefeller Foundation is concerned with the Gundams, currently the strongest Mobile Suits. Would you fight against the Gundams again?"
Oh. There then was the offer.
Slowly, Zechs shook his head.
"Your Excellency, I'm sorry." Could Treize tell he meant it? Did it matter? "I don't think I wish to place myself under the authority of the Romefeller Foundation."
"What?"
So unpolished, for Treize. There was genuine shock in his voice. After everything, had he not expected this even now?
"I fought the Gundams as a matter of individual feelings, not as part of a war for Romefeller." He hesitated. "I am finished fighting the Gundams."
Another pause, and now Zechs could see the man thinking. "I see. Well then, Zechs, will you die for OZ? You'll be judged and found guilty, no doubt, and that that will be a minus for OZ, but your death could inspire many others. Perhaps even the high-ranking members of the Romefeller Foundation would be satisfied."
So many meanings and no time or space to speak clearly.
Zechs watched as Treize stood up, walking away. "The Lightning Count would become a legendary hero," he said softly. "And that would be a splendid end to him. There would be much value in your death."
He turned back, leaving them looking at one another, understanding each other for the first time in more than a year.
"If you die, you have freedom," Treize said, and oh, but Zechs could hear the hurt and the anger.
"Farewell, Zechs Marquise."
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"Treize. I can't be your friend. Farewell, Treize."
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