Moving out of the motel and checking in at the hotel was easy. A handsome couple, on their honeymoon, the newness of their marriage apparent in their movements, the way the girl looked at the boy, the gingerness that the boy was careful not in intrude into personal space. Once they entered the room, the pretenses were dropped, and both of them worked hard at breaking in, barely having time to sleep, going out rarely only for food. That was ok. After all, all such newly made couples are like that.
Only small things were different. For instance, the little barrier of pillows in the middle of the bed that had to dissassembled each morning before the chambermaids entered to clean up. The presence of two sleek laptops, so unusual on honeymoons. A hardworking couple, perhaps?
Hardworking as they were, still the players on the other side of the network was alert. It was much harder to get information. And no matter what, neither Zechs nor Noin could find any other thing to do with General O'Neguil without seriously jeopardizing their position.
Surprisingly, the military had hushed up the entire event. Hacking into the Lake Victoria System, Noin found that she was still an instructor, assigned "sick leave." Zechs read in the newspaper that the Roxenburg base incident was "a trial terrorist attack staged to test emergency defense systems." It was clear that OZ did not want the public to know that some of their members had probably rebel. That would be bad for morale, having two of their best officers court-martialed.
Yet, given that nothing had been done against them openly, they became increasingly more cautious. It wasn't like OZ to leave them alone. And there was no progress being made, even after a week of hard work. Noin watched Zech grew increasing more haggard, as he became more impassive. The earlier illness did not help. He became more distant, more formal.
Looking at the clock, it was already three. She had lost track of the time, and Zechs was always too absorbed to notice things like food. "I'm going out to get lunch," Noin murmured, before she got up.
He acknowledged briefly before turning back to the screen, eyes lighter than the colour of ice.
It was beginning to get dark at Noin walked to the usual place where she picked up sandwiches and hot tea. "It'll be just a moment," said the vendor, handing back the e-cash card. She nodded and took a seat at facing the window. Tired, she was content just listening to noises of the kitchen behind the counter, just to stare out of the window.
Randomly, she picked out details on the people walking in the park outside. A dark-haired girl, with her nurse. A elderly old man with bright blue scarf. And then a certain figure, of a certain height and of a certain face. Soldiering instincts took over as Noin froze without seeming to stop moving, and slowly stepped back into the shadows of the store, willing that man not to turn around and see her. The man, dressed in a simple blue sweater and dark khakis, sat down, with his back toward her. Noin's heart thumped hard.
General Diego O'Neguil.
A hand on her shoulder almost caused her to react. She calmed herself, before turning to smile at the vendor, with the usual bag of lunch. "Thanks," she said with a smile, head steady. Nonchalantly, her voice was even as she asked about the man in the blue sweater.
"Oh, him. You usually don't come this late, but he goes and sits there alone for a hour or two everyday of the past two months."
She thanked him for the food and left. It took all her will to walk past the behind of the bench without fault and back to the hotel.
For the next two days, Noin and Zechs observed the area regularly, first noting the park, the movement of the people, the layout of the trees. And of the man that came punctually at three to sit at the same bench.
It was perfect.
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Even Noin didn't consider that the assassin would be her, even though arguably she was the better marksman out of a MS. She understood why it had to be him. So they carefully assembled the equipment. It would actually be quite easy. Where the target sat, there was no cover. A concealed tree half way across the park provided an unparalleled vantage point. Sure, a far shot, but any of the OZ Specials cadets she trained could probably do it. And after all this was First Lieutenant Zechs Merquise.
And so they sat, in the room, waiting for the time to pass by. Tense, silent, not looking at each other.
"I have yet to ask one more thing of you. It regards Relena," he said quietly, eyes focussed on the mirror-like surface of the window, staring off into some burden of his own.
Noin was silent, watching, waiting for a cue on how to respond. "Go on," she said, in a low voice.
"If in case I am unable to make it back, " he smiled wryly, "please tell her, when she reaches a reasonable age, of our past. And...and that I love her--"
He didn't notice her startle a little, and continued, oblivious.
"-And that she needn't choose my path." Dropping his head, he stared intently at his hands. "Actually, I prefer that she remain as she is, shielded from all the blood that surrounds our family." Suddenly he whirled around to face her. "Please, promise me that you'll protect her, Noin. You're the only one I can trust with this."
"Of-of course, " she answered, refusing to look at him, refusing to let her voice wobble. And that I love her, his voice echoed dully. Stop being pathetic. Noin bit her tongue hard and smiled, hopefully not too artificially, meeting his eyes. "Of course," she repeated, more firmly. "Although I should probably not--that'll give you some incentive to make it back alive." Turning away again, she said softly, "Ms. Dorlian must love you very much, Zechs. Don't do anything rash. If you died, she would be very sad."
He gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean? I don't think Relena remembers me."
Surprised, she blurted out the first thing on her mind. "I thought that she was your girlfriend."
There was dead silence. And then Zechs started to smile. Looking away, he tried hard not to laugh. Is this what you were thinking, Noin?
"It's Relena Peacecraft by the way," he said, a teasing tone in his voice.
Noin blushed a furious red, too embaress to notice. Calmly, he noted the colour. "I'm sorry," she said, clasping her hands, "I didn't mean to pry into your personal business."
He gave up. "Relena 'Peacecraft' as in Princess Relena Peacecraft, the Marchoness of Furlsuv, or the youngest and only daughter of King Peacecraft the First, the eighth monarch of Sanq. I'll leave you to deduct the rest."
She replied in a very small voice. "Oh." And then she managed to deepen her colour. Oh no, she thought, what must he be thinking right now? What do I say next?
"Anyways," Zechs continued, straight-faced, "I'm happy that some confusion has been cleared up. If you don't mind, I'll go make some final preparations now."
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In a park, very few people look up at the infinite expanse of sky above them. Especially not on a rainy day. Also, there weren't any people. It couldn't be a better day for operations, under the guise of rain.
Noin sat on a sturdy branch, hidden from view by the foliage of the tree. Zechs stood immediately below, a smudge of shadow against the tree. Under his heavy coat there was a standard issue revolver, with a silencer. Testing it out in the sewers, the gun had made less sound than a ball hitting a rug. A dull thud, certainly not audible above the rain.
Reflexively, Zechs reached inside his coat for his pocketwatch, a black-gloved hand careless flicking the cover open. Three-fifteen.
As if on cue, General O'Neguil stepped into the park, head down because of the rain, wandered to his seat. Noin held her breath.
Zechs carefully lifted the gun out and took aim. The world slowed to a breath and the back of O'Neguil's head and then out of focus to the front sight of the gun. His pupils narrowed. Slowly, his finger depressed.
A little girl and her nurse entered the park. Despite her research, Noin had never even heard of this girl appearing at this park before. A pretty little girl, bouncing along, her nurse holding a large black umbrella over her charge. So typical nowadays-- mother too busy to care, father usually divorced with limited visiting rights...
O'Neguil stood up, and the little girl waved at him. Awkwardly, O'Neguil waved back.
And Zechs froze, an unreadible expression on his face. His gloved fist clenched around the gun.
Slowly O'Neguil smiled, carefully, as if he wasn't used to the expression, waved again. Noin's breath caught. The smile of a man, towards his daughter. Her head whipped to face Zechs. She remembered the face of the little girl whose father's life was on trial, and the words of a long dead man...
Why is it, even of the cruelest, that nobody is truly evil?
Her eyes widened. Are you going to shoot? She looked away, unable to witness the execution of the manuever. But you must, Prince Millardo Peacecraft.
But he was transfixed, watching the scene unfold before him. Suddenly his expression hardened and the trigger finger continued its motion towards. And stopped, if meeting some unknown barrier.
His words, from long ago: I admire your generosity, Cadet Lucrezia Noin. I cannot be so forgiving...
The heart is a cruel master.
The nurse, alert, frowned at the man waving at her charge. Quickly, she spun around, dragging the little girl behind her. Who was most unwilling to go. Who kept spinning around to look at her father. Who couldn't take his eyes off her.
Finally when the little girl exited the park, O'Neguil slowly walked off range. The shuffling gait of a man sore at heart.
Lowering the gun, Zechs slumped against the tree. Just as suddenly, he dropped from the tree and headed into the rain.
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When she finally found him him, Noin was almost shivering with cold. Her cold hand gripped the umbrella only reflexively.
He was sitting on a wet stone bench, oblivious to the rain or the wind or the sound of the storm-driven waves crashing on the rocks below. Silver-gold hair, drenched, hung dripping. She could not see his eyes. Stopping, Noin found she didn't know what to say.
They stayed there a while, she and he, admist the cold wind and grey sky.
Finally he spoke, his voice controlled and calm and low. "I failed, Noin." He did not turn to look at her. Leaning back suddenly, he faced the sky.
"We can try--," she faltered.
"I cannot guarantee I will be able to shoot." He raised his hands, stared at them. "It appears that I am a hypocrite after all."
"Don't say that." She paused, searching for words. "The revenge of a gentleman takes ten---"
"Sun Tzu, or Confucious," he supplied, "or another one of the great Chinese scholars. I don't remember history anymore." He stood up, stared out among the waves. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and harsh and too full of anger. "It's been more than ten years, Noin."
She thought furiously. "Your father would not have approved of the -- this action."
"He's dead. Mother's dead. Murdered, killed, passed away, whatever else you want. There's only Relena and I left. And a brief mention of the glorious Alliance victory on ten thousand dusty history books. Relena, if she wants happiness, should remain as Relena Dorlian. So there is, in essence, only the hypocritical, honourless fool that is Zechs Merquise. Peacecraft is truly dead." He paused, his voice quiet over the sound of falling rain. "I thought about that, what my father wanted, what my mother wanted. You're right. They wouldn't have sanctioned their own revenge. They wouldn't fight back to protect what rightfully they were obligated to protect. After all, my royal father was the one that so longed for peace that he renamed the family 'Peacecraft.' Oh, how my grandfather would rage. In the face of a thousand years of bloodshed my family prides itself in, a reminder that his descendants were only ever to practice 'peace craft'. He didn't realize that 'to pacify' and 'to wage war' are the same, and the meaning of 'pacify' is 'to make peace'.
He turned to face her. "I don't believe in any of it. I can't-- there is peace, and only peace for the lambs, a weak peace, a peace that only happens when there is an army to protect it, when there must be wars to protect it. To pacfiy, to make peace. Hypocrisies upon hypocrisies. One thing I admired most about father, was that he was always true to his ideals, even to the end, even to the price of sacrificing everything he held dear. 'I am not that generous.' I thought I would fight, to protect what I hold dear, because I am not like father, I cannot bow down and accept the destruction of everything for an unacchievable ideal. But I find, today, that I cannot. I am so weak such that I cannot even kill the murderer of my king and my family!"
She was silent, having no words again to answer. No words she dared speak.
Once, Noin thought, once I thought that mother was crazy, giving up her career just for the sake of marrying a strict traditionist as father. It was so passé, to give up everything you ever wanted for love, for the love of a person. I was so angry. Why can't the other make concessions? But that's not what true love is about: not you loving me, but I you. . .
Closing the umbrella, she stood in the rain. Equal. "I have no words to offer you, Zechs. Only--you are right; peace is an illusion, protected by the threat of war. Hence soldiers are at once the defender of peace and the destroyer of it. A hypocrisy...But--I care for none of that."
Noin turned away, eyes unreadable. Zechs stared at her. "Only that-- I have seen how unhappy you are, and--" she faltered, "and that I don't want you to be. . ."
Whereas I have the ability win my own races, I choose to run by your side. When I was little, my nightmare was to be forced into this position, live the same life as my mother. Now, isn't it ironic that I choose it freely. Measuring up to my own standards, I failed. But I fail gladly.
She continued: "You know, if you want me to kill O'Neguil, you only have to say. Or anything else you desire. Only say the word, and I shall do it. But-- I don't want to see you unhappy, Zechs. After all, 'isn't that what friends are for'?" The sickly phrase tumbled from her lips.
Liar, liar pants on fire. What are you doing, Noin?
"I ... I ..." she started. And then, she found, she couldn't finish the sentence.
Ti amo...
Ruthlessly she continued on, refusing to met his eyes: "... found a different way to O'Neguil. I was thinking about it as I was looking for you. I know how to crack the OZ system defenses."