---Shades Of Grey---
Chapter 4-I Claimed The Corner On Truth
**The hunt begins. Meet Lady Une. Zechs and Treize get to know each other a bit better, though Treize ends up learning there are some annoying side- effects to this relationship.**
AC 192 still, mid-evening. . .
Soldiers of Corsica Base eyed Treize with surprise, keeping a safe and respectful distance as he limped down the stairs from his plane with a massive white feline at his side. They didn't seem to know what to make of it. They seemed rather awed--or maybe that was merely Zechs's presence. The feline /was/ rather intimidating. He looked strong enough to nearly carry the man at the end of the chain-link leash.
//It's a heady brew, what Zechs has gifted me with,// Treize mused smugly, observing their reactions through the corners of his eyes. //Something like this. . . in my control. . . No, I don't control this--nobody can. But to guide it, focus it, to even just be able to call on it for aid-- that's an amazing thing!//
Ah, someone was daring to approach them, if warily, at the base of the stairs on the tarmac. Tall, dark-haired, a Germanic face set in a permanent sneer--General Septum.
Even before they reached the man, Treize could feel vibration under his handful of furry ruff. No, Zechs didn't like the man. //I can't blame you, Zechs. He gets on a lot of people's nerves. To think a soldier even dared take a bullet for him. . . I don't think I'd have bothered, myself.// But it paid to be courteous to the leader of the pro-violence faction of the Alliance anyway. . . for now. "General Septum. Good of you to meet me," Treize offered smoothly.
"You've brought a /pet/, Kushrenada?" the man snarled disbelievingly, eyeing the cat with disgust. "What is the zoo reject for? This is an investigation, not a circus."
//I'm not so sure I'll believe that, with you in charge.// Treize merely smiled slowly, sliding his hand through that silky ruff to stroke between alert ears. "Silver? He owns me more than I own him, I dare say. He wouldn't let me leave him at home, I'm afraid. . . /You/ could try convincing him otherwise--"
Silver exposed massive fangs at the general in a snarl daring just that. The surprised official jerked back a step warily.
"--but personally, I don't judge it wise to argue with six-inch claws as fast as his," Treize finished with a sly grin.
Silver's snarl slid back into hiding, though the young Oz leader could still feel the thrum of an unvoiced growl under his hand. //Yeah, Septum's voice /is/ rather annoying, isn't it, Zechs? I'm sorry, but it seems he /is/ in charge here.//
"Oh, very well. . . Lieutenant Une?" the man called to one of the soldiers lingering in the background. "Come here and take that hindering animal off his Excellency's hands so we can get down to business. . . "
Silver eyed General Septum evilly as a young woman, about Treize's own age with her hair set in a twin set of conservative buns, stepped forward with a crisp salute. "Sir," she barked smartly.
Treize shook his head with a patient sigh, looking down at Silver, who glanced back up at him curiously. //Septum. . . You /are/ an idiot. I just said he's not willing to leave me!// "Really, General Septum. . . Silver here is probably less of a hindrance than you'd suspect. Besides, as I just said--he refuses to leave me."
But the young lady had stepped forward, eyes beaming at Treize, and murmured hopefully, "I can take good care of him, Sir."
Treize snorted at her determination. //I'm sure. But he's staying with me.// "I'm certain of that. However, he won't cooperate with any of /you/, so you might end up missing a few things by trying. . . such as limbs, internal organs, liters of blood. . . Trust me, it is simply easier to let him be," he told her gently. Turning back to General Septum, he gestured with his cane. "Shall we proceed? As you say, we're wasting time."
With a sharp glare, General Septum waved Lieutenant Une away, and led the way at a pace that made Treize's bad leg ache--probably intentionally set. Lieutenant Une fell into step behind Treize and the cat, patient and quiet.
"I will show you the room in which General Catalonia was holding his morning briefing when he was killed. Lieutenant Une is in charge of the investigation, and will show you what evidence she has found so far. She will catch the killer," the German general grumbled confidently. "I trust the General of the Specials will not interfere with normal procedure in that respect?"
//Daring me to twist the rules in my favor. No, she seems sincere, and Zechs shows no signs of suspecting her of anything. . . But we'll guide her if we find anything!// "No, General Septum, I have no intention of interfering unless something requiring the help of the Specials arises in this investigation," he answered coolly, hiding a smile.
The man paused and glared pointedly at Silver, who paced leisurely at Treize's side. "I trust you won't tax our hospitality with that. . . thing, either?"
Silver laid his ears back and glared at the Alliance general sharply.
//Easy, Zechs, easy,// Treize soothed, stroking the silky fur. "Hardly. He will room with me. I assure you, he's quite a clean creature. . . " //More than some men I know. Did you wash your hair in the past year, Septum? Doesn't look like it.//
That drew a couple curious looks from both his human companions, but Treize merely smiled and kept his silence. //I hope Zechs won't mind that we bunk together.// But a glance down told him that the cat showed no reaction at all, still pacing him with soft steps. //Perhaps he has other things--even scents--on his mind. . . //
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"Well. . . Here you are. I leave you--and that /thing/--to Lieutenant Une's competent hands," General Septum grumbled, abandoning the three at a plain door that looked like any one of the half hundred they had already passed in the main building.
"Dog person," Treize muttered under his breath, watching the arrogant, snide Alliance General depart. //He doesn't /have/ to always be an ass to everyone--but he does his best anyway. God save me from more fools like him!//
Lieutenant Une opened the door and waved for Treize to precede her into the room. "Sir."
Entering, Treize looked around, Silver pausing at his side just inside the room, long fluffy tail flicking against Treize's knees. A simple conference room, half the chairs were overturned, seemingly in the haste to reach the fallen general. Blood splattered the wall and floor by the large shattered window to the center of the compound, showing the man had been shot standing-and where he bled all over the carpet after he fell. The bullet was still lodged in the wall, like a bull's-eye with the spread of blood all around.
"It struck him in the chest--a heart-shot, Sir. Dead instantly."
//A shot from outside. . . Where?// Carefully, Treize strode towards the window, watching his feet so as not to disturb anything, to stop just beyond the bloodstains. "Lieutenant Une, has the location of the shooter been identified yet?" he asked, loosing his hold on Silver so the cat could stay out of the splattering of sharp glass.
Standing by the door still, she nodded firmly. "Yes Sir. . . across the complex on the roof of the experimental suit hangar. We found shellcasings, but no fingerprints. An old make of sniper rifle, Sir."
"No gun?"
"Whoever it was, they weren't a /complete/ idiot, Sir," she answered, hints of amusement making her voice purr.
//You'd think they would clean /that/ up, though. Leaving shells is still leaving evidence. Unless they intended to confirm that as the shooter's position? Perhaps. . . a bit to the right on that roof would still have enough of an angle for the trajectory I can eyeball here. . . or the building to the left? What's that building for, I wonder? It's been ages since I've visited this base.// He was about to step closer to the window when he realized there was slack on the chain in his hand, and Treize glanced down. . . //Zechs, you'll cut your feet!//
Silver was sniffing curiously at the corner of the room, where the inner wall of the room met that holding the window. His ruff was up, almost hiding his collar, and a low thrum of a growl was just barely audible. Cautiously, Treize picked his way closer, curious. . .
The cat abruptly turned, giving Treize the softest, shortest hiss he'd ever heard.
//Did I do something wrong?// Treize froze.
Silver slowly stepped towards the window, picking his footing with the greatest care and setting each paw down delicately--shaking each after he lifted it to remove glass clinging to his fur. Moving to the window, he reared up on hind legs, front paws setting on the sill as the creature looked out.
"Sir. . . ?" Lieutenant Une watched with wonder--and the slightest frown of annoyance.
Quickly, Treize motioned her into silence. //He found something. . . // "Silver. . . ?" he asked softly, stepping closer, his foot crunching on glass as he neared the cat.
Like a whirlwind, the massive feline twisted--and leapt--at Treize, flattening him backwards--
Soft fur engulfed Treize, the weight pinning him to the carpet surprisingly light for such a massive creature, but the glass under him was uncomfortable, and Silver's move had knocked the wind clear out of Treize's lungs--
//Zechs?!?//
Glass shattered around them as another shot tore through the window!
"General!"
Lieutenant Une had jumped forward, reaching for her gun, to protect Treize at that blinding attack, but before she could even reach the man, Silver was up again, sailing over her in a single graceful bound.
Treize levered himself up on his elbows, twisting to look.
The poor woman fell backwards in surprise, and also turned to gaze after the cat's lunge.
Without pausing, Silver leapt at the door, planting clawed paws on the wall and catching the knob in his teeth, opening the door with a twist of his neck and surging out, into the hall, leaving faintly bloody prints in his wake.
"I want him /alive/, Silver!" Treize hollered after the cat, struggling to get to his feet and scrabbling wildly for his cane, cursing his lameness. //Damn it, Zechs, wait for back-up! I don't want you shot!//
Lieutenant Une lunged to his aid, helping him up into a low crouch and handing him his cane swiftly before dragging him to safety, out of view of the window. Slamming a fist onto the com by the door but still supporting Treize's weak side, she bellowed into it, "Secure the hangar--especially the roof! And if you see a cat, get the hell out of its way!"
Treize, shrugged free of her assistance and limped for the door as fast as his leg allowed, biting his lip against the pain. Without turning, he suggested to her urgently, "Not just the hangar--the buildings next to it, too!"
//Be safe, Zechs! Don't get yourself hurt--not for me, please! I'd never forgive myself--and Dorothy would /kill/ me!//
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//How dare they. . . ! How /dare/ they!//
It was a pounding litany, a snarl he couldn't voice intelligibly, driving Zechs's pounding paws as he flew down the staircase, bowling soldiers aside like jackstraws when they didn't get out of his way fast enough. Someone daring made a reach for the dangling chain, only to have it jerked out of their feeble grip by his sheer momentum--the cat never even noticed. Others heard the shouts of surprise only in time to look up and add shrills of terror before they, too, were shoved aside by the feline missile.
//He is mine--MINE! And dead soon, too!// With his blood up, surging, fueled by his rage, he had no doubts about those facts--it even drowned the pain of the small cuts in his pads, the dull burning along his left ribs. . . /His/ prey. Nobody who wanted to live would come between him and this prey! //MINE!//
The last doors were ahead, but he had a plan for dealing with them. Leaping high, he slammed both lower paws on the release-bar, letting his sheer weight and momentum send the door crashing open, then launching and twisting--
To land on his feet and resume his all-out run. With ears laid back, his air-gulping breaths hissed between bared teeth--claws were partially extended, mainly for traction on the rough asphalt of the compound grounds, seeming to spin the earth under him more than propel his body over it. Like an arrow, he tore for the building opposite the main offices.
It wasn't the hanger he was aiming for.
Diagonally through a mass of evening traffic, at that. Trucks full of troops were always on the shuffle on a base, along with supplies, equipment, and heaven knew how many officers of various ranks driving recklessly around in jeeps, hummers, or--if they were more than just officers or important visitors--limos. Sometimes with a cautious escort.
But not even traffic was going to stop him!
//Foolish-idiot-drivers--Get a damn driving license, you!--always on the gas pedals--can't drive a bloody paper plane without mishap!//
The cat darted between the wheels of a truck, just escaping having his tail flattened by the rear wheels, to pop up in front of a jeep that slammed on the brakes and almost swerved into the truck as if it preferred to crash into the truck than an animal. Another bound and he was safe from /that/ lousy driver, but in the middle of a sea of MPs on motorbikes, the owners of which who were so amazed that they craned their heads to get a second look--only for a pair of them to collide into a heap because they weren't watching where they were going!
Needless to say, Zechs got out of /that/ as fast as his legs could carry him!
//I WILL get him! He tried to hurt Treize. . . He /dared/ to try to hurt Treize!!!//
Evading another truck threatening to run him down, he darted between two more jeeps, leapt /over/ a gaping soldier on a motorbike--which sent /that/ fool into a wipe-out--and sped up in a surge to cross the final tangle of traffic ahead. . .
//He DIES for that!!!//
Traffic ahead was going to be difficult. . .
Zechs jumped into it at an angle without so much as a hesitant pause.
Tires screeched. One vehicle swerved, barely evading clipping the streak that was Zechs. An oncoming jeep slammed to a halt, digging tires into the asphalt in a desperate attempt not to hit the cat--
--The scent of burned rubber, the sound of someone's shout of horror, the driver cringing in his seat behind the wheel, expecting a heavy impact--
Zechs jumped up with all his strength!
--only to stare in awe as the massive creature landed feet-first on the hood with a metallic thump and launched over the /rest/ of the vehicle from there as if its legs were made of springs, clearing the jeep without a scratch!
And Zechs was clear, at the doors to his chosen destination.
//Idiot drivers. . . //
Coming at the entrance doors to the residence building at a slight angle, he tucked head down and struck shoulder-first, smashing the unsuspecting door clear off its hinges, only to roll and bounce back to his feet after.
Glaring around, ears laid back, he sent a couple young women in uniforms running, screaming, and no few young men, for that matter.
//Cowards! Just point me to the bloody stairs!!!//
Zechs knew what floor his target had aimed from. He had seen the faintest movement through an open window across the compound. Colorless vision he had, yes--but in return had come something else: a sensitivity to movement. Cats had, he read, a reflexive drive to chase anything that ran away. . . But in his case, he found that he could refine it, concentrate on it--or ignore it if he so chose. He had chosen to focus on it--in time to see the faint glint of distant metal, to hear the crunch of glass as Treize stepped within the man's sights. . .
//Thank God for National Geographic.// Articles on the big cats had always drawn him, and one in particular had mentioned the differences between cats and people. . . Very, very useful, for a man who had no access to the notes of the experimentation performed on him!
A gasp behind him made him turn--and he saw the stairs in time to also glimpse a soldier fleeing up them.
//Thank you!// he growled--which probably was taken the wrong way. Possibly because Zechs then surged up the staircase in the poor man's wake!
Distantly, he could hear people panicking in the rest of the building, and sirens from MPs pulling up outside. . .
Then he had reached the floor he sought.
Gathering himself, Zechs flung himself at the door with a vengeance. A plain thing, simple hinges surrendered to reveal--
Empty.
//NOOO!!!// His bellow of rage echoed throughout the building.
Furious, he stalked inside, to the window he had seen from across the compound, tail lashing as violently as a whip. Furniture, a small kitchen to one side, a bedroom tucked beside it--compact quarters. A sock on the floor suggested they had an owner. The window was wide open, shades drawn up and gently swinging. . .
He could smell gunpowder. //I was right--he shot from here!// But the gun, any shells, the shooter--they were gone. But not /quite/ completely! //I can smell him. . . Yes, a "him". I will know you when we meet again! And we WILL meet again!//
A tentative sniff at the sock, and he growled. //He's no fool. This isn't /his/ quarters. But somehow he had access. . . //
Growling, Zechs dug his talons into the cheap carpeting, resisting the urge to shred it and vent his frustrations.
//So close! I was so damn close! But I will know him again. . . // Taking a deep breath, he memorized that scent firmly. //Oh, you won't escape me. . . Not a second time!//
"Silver. . . ?" a familiar voice called distantly.
//Treize. . . // Turning his back to the window, Zechs paced back out into the hall, then towards the stairs, retracing his steps at a slower pace than his earlier mad dash. //There's nothing to see here. . . Only smell. And I know none of you can scent it.//
Clambering up the stairs breathlessly, with a worried Lieutenant Une supporting his bad side, Treize looked a bedraggled, harried mess when Zechs found them. He flowed down the steps to meet them, ignoring the increasingly-persistent ache along his ribs and sore feet, easier to notice now that his rage had cooled somewhat.
"Silver? Thank God--if that idiot shot at /me/ without hesitation, what made you think you'd be guarded against his bullets?!?" Treize admonished, glaring, fear echoing in his eyes. That fear changed to instant concern, however, as those eyes widened on the cat. "He /did/ hit you!"
//Better me than you, Treize. . . // Zechs rumbled softly in his throat, and sat neatly on the step just ahead of the man. //It can't be too bad. I don't feel weak from it, just sore.//
"Did he kill him, Sir?" Lieutenant Une asked uncertainly, eyeing the pair warily.
Treize's eyes were asking that same question, level with his own, sorrow and guilt in the Oz General's bright eyes.
Zechs shook his head in a slight negative--then laid his ears back and snarled furiously briefly, venting his anger vocally.
The subtle shift in Treize's posture was hard to catch, but Zechs's eyes didn't miss it--Treize was relieved. //For my sake. He knows--killing bothers me, for all it's appropriate here. He takes too much on his shoulders,// Zechs sighed to himself, touched nonetheless.
"You didn't catch anything. . . It's all right, Silver--you did well. You moved faster than anything else on this base," Treize murmured, reaching a hand to scratch behind Zechs's ears, as he would a housecat.
Zechs was caught off-guard by the action. Nobody had ever dared try it before this, after all. But those fingers stroking his fur, combing it. . .
//Ahhh. . . Don't stop. That feels so. . . /good/! Mmmm. . . // He couldn't help it. His eyes slid half-shut with pleasure. //Don't understand this. . . but it feels sooooo nice. . . //
"It seems he missed the culprit, Lieutenant Une. Though I'm sure he found the right location. . . "
"He's. . . an amazingly-trained animal, Sir."
//Mmmm. . . More, Treize. . . This is /soooo/ good. . . // Zechs just ignored what they were saying. A thrumming vibration filled his throat, startling even the cat himself, though the stroking was too nice to let him worry about it. //I'm. . . /purring/? Oh. . . nice. . . Mmmmmmm. . . //
"Ah. . . yes. Personally trained," Treize flung out, concocting a quick story. "Better than a guard-dog, I daresay. Smarter."
//I should hope so!// Icy blue cat-eyes opened fully at that. . . and he snorted softly.
And winked playfully at Treize before surrendering to that stroking again..
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"I assure you, Lieutenant, I can manage his injuries well enough on my own. Silver would never willingly harm me," Treize was sighing as he closed the door to his suite--ironically, in the very same building Zechs had dashed into after the unknown assassin.
Zechs yawned as he padded further into the foyer, sniffing cautiously at the air, his tail curling into fluffy question-marks. //Hmmm. . . Not too bad quarters. . . for all they likely expect me to destroy them.//
Treize limped past him, carrying a suitcase-sized first-aid kit into the bedroom, leaning heavily on his cane. Probably tired and aching. . . Not that Zechs felt much better at the moment.
Limping a bit himself, Silver padded into the bedroom after Treize, taking in with a single glance the royal-seeming curtained queen-sized bed, the rosewood furniture, the carpet he was leaving the occasionally blood- smudged paw-print on. The bathroom was his goal. //I feel like a filthy rag. . . and I'm thirsty.//
Without hesitation, he dipped a paw into the large tub to seal the bottom, then nudged the faucets on full to start filling, and took a deep breath. . .
And /changed/.
Zechs couldn't help a groan of pain as he returned to his normal self, on all fours on the soft floor mat of the bathroom, panting from the effort. //I /hate/ doing this when I'm hurt. It hurts enough to change--I don't need more pain on top of it! But I'm sick of the damn collar, and I just. . . I just want to be /me/ again. And people say hard to limp on /two/ feet--they should try limping with /four/!//
"Silver. . . ?" Treize's voice carried concern, and Zechs could hear the thump of Treize's cane, hear the man grunt from the effort of standing again.
Using the side of the tub to haul himself to sore feet, Zechs echoed that grunt. "I'm alright, Treize," he called softly, reaching up to unhitch the collar and let it clatter to the floor. "But I claim first dibs on the bath." //And you just /try/ taking that from me! I am /not/ licking my fur clean. . . That's one sick habit I'm glad to not develop!//
Treize thumped his way closer slowly. "Are you sure?" he asked cautiously. "I mean. . . do you need help? How bad is it?"
The mostly-full tub had become too appealing to resist. Zechs swung over the side and slid into the warm water with a soft, pleased sigh. //Mmmm. . . Rather like Treize's ear-scratching. Good. . . // "It's hard for me to see. . . but I've had worse, Treize. I'll need some help bandaging it later, though--it's rather awkward to wrap my own ribs."
"Hmmm," came an assenting grunt, as Treize limped into the bathroom. He paused by the door, looking intently at Zechs for a moment, as if making sure he wasn't lying about those wounds, something almost. . . possessive?. . . in those bright eyes.
Zechs sank lower into the water self-consciously, blushing. //Treize. . . Good thing you're not part-feline like me, or I'd suspect you are about to pounce! Not. . . that I'd really mind, I think. I. . . I think I like being close to you. . . having you touch me. . . as cat /or/ man, honestly. I don't /understand/ it, but I /do/ like it. . . //
"You could have been killed," Treize murmured quietly, roughly, breaking his intense gaze finally to go over to the toilette, close the lid, and seat himself on it carefully.
//That bothers you. You're upset--because I might have been hurt? Been killed? Death's not so new to me--you know that.// Zechs shook his head a bit, long hair swishing in the water behind him, and reached for a bar of soap. "I'm not so easy to pick off. I /am/ trained in that respect--it was part of the Project," he assured grimly.
Treize shook his head, as if having trouble accepting that, but unable to deny it, and sighed softly. "Well. . . What did you find? I know you noticed something in the conference room. . . "
//More than you want to know, I think.// Rubbing the bar on sore, cut hands, he began by cleaning them and his face, buying himself some time to think over what exactly to say. //He should know the truth, though some of it's conjecture and little else. . . //
Dunking his head, he came up with wet hair in his way, and swiped it aside with a hand to stare boldly into Treize's eyes. //You deserve to know, Treize. . . // "Would you call Lieutenant Shimmel a pacer by habit, Treize? You said some such a while back, I recall," he asked, to confirm his suspicions and the theory in the back of his mind.
Bright eyes narrowed at him sharply, suspiciously. "Yes--the man can't keep still when agitated. . . Rather like you, to be honest, now that you mention it."
Zechs chuckled at the thought. "No, he's no feline, that much I can tell. . . But he stood by that window for a long time during that conference. At just the right spot that, had he wished to speak to him, your uncle would have had to turn to directly face the sniper's bullet."
Treize's teeth clenched, and his brow furrowed angrily. "So you're saying Shimmel helped the assassin?" he asked with cautious stiffness, clearly not liking the idea, but not rejecting it.
//I can't confirm it, though that's what I think. And it's not a thought easily digested! Neither for me, nor you.// After a moment, Zechs shrugged a little, and set about soaping his long hair and shoulders. "There's no way to tell--it may be innocent, but it might not. But it means we can't trust him now," he pointed out. "Not until we know. . . "
". . . If Shimmel's part of it. All right, that I can accept," Treize sighed wearily, resting chin on the back of the hands on the cane. "And the assassin himself? I assume it's the same one as who shot at me."
Zechs frowned a bit, thoughtful, as he washed his arms. ///Are/ they the same person? Perhaps not. I can't tell unless I can smell the murder weapon used on General Catalonia.// "I don't know," he admitted softly. "I'd have to compare the scents from the room I smashed into with those on the evidence Lieutenant Une found. Maybe."
"Did you get a good look at who shot at me?"
"No," Zechs growled angrily, upset with himself. //So close!// "But I'll know him again. I know his scent now--he can't hide. Not on this earth!"
Chuckling at that vehemence, Treize reached forward and brushed clinging bangs from Zechs's eyes. "Oh, I don't doubt it. We'll get him. . . " But there was a slight, admonishing emphasis on the "we".
Sheepishly, Zechs smiled back at the older man, studying him, memorizing him in that--theoretically blue--uniform that fit him like a glove. . . //Treize. . . whatever would I do without you? You've put purpose back into my life. I'll do my best to keep you--if only for my own selfish need to be near you.// And blinked, head tilting a bit in puzzlement as his eyes caught something about the section of the jacket below Treize's waist. . .
"What?" Treize asked, startled and confused, looking down at his own uniform jacket, and lifting the corner. . .
White.
With a horrified expression, Treize pinched the white delicately between two fingers, holding it up for both to scrutinize.
Fluffy. White. Cat-hair.
Stunned fingers released the fluff, to float off to the floor to grow into a future dust-bunny, as Treize rose to his feet, dismay all over his face as he stared over his poor uniform. His poor /pale/ uniform!
"Cat-hair!" the dignified man exclaimed in helpless distress. "I'm /covered/ with. . . What the /hell/?!? You're SHEDDING!!!"
//Isn't that. . . normal?// Zechs could only smile in helpless amusement, and shrug a resigned apology. "Doesn't everyone?" he asked innocently. "I /do/ also cough up hairballs on occasion, but /that/, I know, isn't exactly common."
With an exasperated curse, Treize stomped towards the bedroom, brushing vainly at his uniform. At the doorway he paused, glared at Zechs, and lifted a lecturing finger, snapping, "Don't even /think/ of coughing one of those disgusting things up here!" Turning back towards the bed--and his bag of clean clothes on it--he paused a moment, then whirled on Zechs again and added sharply, "And if I see /one/, just /one/ chewed plant here, I'm trading you in for Dorothy on this venture!"
//You said nothing about clawing the furniture, though,// Zechs added silently, unable to hold back a snicker.
The blonde had to almost duck under the water to avoid the washcloth flung at him before Treize stalked out, but his snickers turned to smothered chuckles.
"Cats!" the Oz Specials General's frustrated voice flung at the uncaring walls of the suite.
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To be continued.
Chapter 4-I Claimed The Corner On Truth
**The hunt begins. Meet Lady Une. Zechs and Treize get to know each other a bit better, though Treize ends up learning there are some annoying side- effects to this relationship.**
AC 192 still, mid-evening. . .
Soldiers of Corsica Base eyed Treize with surprise, keeping a safe and respectful distance as he limped down the stairs from his plane with a massive white feline at his side. They didn't seem to know what to make of it. They seemed rather awed--or maybe that was merely Zechs's presence. The feline /was/ rather intimidating. He looked strong enough to nearly carry the man at the end of the chain-link leash.
//It's a heady brew, what Zechs has gifted me with,// Treize mused smugly, observing their reactions through the corners of his eyes. //Something like this. . . in my control. . . No, I don't control this--nobody can. But to guide it, focus it, to even just be able to call on it for aid-- that's an amazing thing!//
Ah, someone was daring to approach them, if warily, at the base of the stairs on the tarmac. Tall, dark-haired, a Germanic face set in a permanent sneer--General Septum.
Even before they reached the man, Treize could feel vibration under his handful of furry ruff. No, Zechs didn't like the man. //I can't blame you, Zechs. He gets on a lot of people's nerves. To think a soldier even dared take a bullet for him. . . I don't think I'd have bothered, myself.// But it paid to be courteous to the leader of the pro-violence faction of the Alliance anyway. . . for now. "General Septum. Good of you to meet me," Treize offered smoothly.
"You've brought a /pet/, Kushrenada?" the man snarled disbelievingly, eyeing the cat with disgust. "What is the zoo reject for? This is an investigation, not a circus."
//I'm not so sure I'll believe that, with you in charge.// Treize merely smiled slowly, sliding his hand through that silky ruff to stroke between alert ears. "Silver? He owns me more than I own him, I dare say. He wouldn't let me leave him at home, I'm afraid. . . /You/ could try convincing him otherwise--"
Silver exposed massive fangs at the general in a snarl daring just that. The surprised official jerked back a step warily.
"--but personally, I don't judge it wise to argue with six-inch claws as fast as his," Treize finished with a sly grin.
Silver's snarl slid back into hiding, though the young Oz leader could still feel the thrum of an unvoiced growl under his hand. //Yeah, Septum's voice /is/ rather annoying, isn't it, Zechs? I'm sorry, but it seems he /is/ in charge here.//
"Oh, very well. . . Lieutenant Une?" the man called to one of the soldiers lingering in the background. "Come here and take that hindering animal off his Excellency's hands so we can get down to business. . . "
Silver eyed General Septum evilly as a young woman, about Treize's own age with her hair set in a twin set of conservative buns, stepped forward with a crisp salute. "Sir," she barked smartly.
Treize shook his head with a patient sigh, looking down at Silver, who glanced back up at him curiously. //Septum. . . You /are/ an idiot. I just said he's not willing to leave me!// "Really, General Septum. . . Silver here is probably less of a hindrance than you'd suspect. Besides, as I just said--he refuses to leave me."
But the young lady had stepped forward, eyes beaming at Treize, and murmured hopefully, "I can take good care of him, Sir."
Treize snorted at her determination. //I'm sure. But he's staying with me.// "I'm certain of that. However, he won't cooperate with any of /you/, so you might end up missing a few things by trying. . . such as limbs, internal organs, liters of blood. . . Trust me, it is simply easier to let him be," he told her gently. Turning back to General Septum, he gestured with his cane. "Shall we proceed? As you say, we're wasting time."
With a sharp glare, General Septum waved Lieutenant Une away, and led the way at a pace that made Treize's bad leg ache--probably intentionally set. Lieutenant Une fell into step behind Treize and the cat, patient and quiet.
"I will show you the room in which General Catalonia was holding his morning briefing when he was killed. Lieutenant Une is in charge of the investigation, and will show you what evidence she has found so far. She will catch the killer," the German general grumbled confidently. "I trust the General of the Specials will not interfere with normal procedure in that respect?"
//Daring me to twist the rules in my favor. No, she seems sincere, and Zechs shows no signs of suspecting her of anything. . . But we'll guide her if we find anything!// "No, General Septum, I have no intention of interfering unless something requiring the help of the Specials arises in this investigation," he answered coolly, hiding a smile.
The man paused and glared pointedly at Silver, who paced leisurely at Treize's side. "I trust you won't tax our hospitality with that. . . thing, either?"
Silver laid his ears back and glared at the Alliance general sharply.
//Easy, Zechs, easy,// Treize soothed, stroking the silky fur. "Hardly. He will room with me. I assure you, he's quite a clean creature. . . " //More than some men I know. Did you wash your hair in the past year, Septum? Doesn't look like it.//
That drew a couple curious looks from both his human companions, but Treize merely smiled and kept his silence. //I hope Zechs won't mind that we bunk together.// But a glance down told him that the cat showed no reaction at all, still pacing him with soft steps. //Perhaps he has other things--even scents--on his mind. . . //
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"Well. . . Here you are. I leave you--and that /thing/--to Lieutenant Une's competent hands," General Septum grumbled, abandoning the three at a plain door that looked like any one of the half hundred they had already passed in the main building.
"Dog person," Treize muttered under his breath, watching the arrogant, snide Alliance General depart. //He doesn't /have/ to always be an ass to everyone--but he does his best anyway. God save me from more fools like him!//
Lieutenant Une opened the door and waved for Treize to precede her into the room. "Sir."
Entering, Treize looked around, Silver pausing at his side just inside the room, long fluffy tail flicking against Treize's knees. A simple conference room, half the chairs were overturned, seemingly in the haste to reach the fallen general. Blood splattered the wall and floor by the large shattered window to the center of the compound, showing the man had been shot standing-and where he bled all over the carpet after he fell. The bullet was still lodged in the wall, like a bull's-eye with the spread of blood all around.
"It struck him in the chest--a heart-shot, Sir. Dead instantly."
//A shot from outside. . . Where?// Carefully, Treize strode towards the window, watching his feet so as not to disturb anything, to stop just beyond the bloodstains. "Lieutenant Une, has the location of the shooter been identified yet?" he asked, loosing his hold on Silver so the cat could stay out of the splattering of sharp glass.
Standing by the door still, she nodded firmly. "Yes Sir. . . across the complex on the roof of the experimental suit hangar. We found shellcasings, but no fingerprints. An old make of sniper rifle, Sir."
"No gun?"
"Whoever it was, they weren't a /complete/ idiot, Sir," she answered, hints of amusement making her voice purr.
//You'd think they would clean /that/ up, though. Leaving shells is still leaving evidence. Unless they intended to confirm that as the shooter's position? Perhaps. . . a bit to the right on that roof would still have enough of an angle for the trajectory I can eyeball here. . . or the building to the left? What's that building for, I wonder? It's been ages since I've visited this base.// He was about to step closer to the window when he realized there was slack on the chain in his hand, and Treize glanced down. . . //Zechs, you'll cut your feet!//
Silver was sniffing curiously at the corner of the room, where the inner wall of the room met that holding the window. His ruff was up, almost hiding his collar, and a low thrum of a growl was just barely audible. Cautiously, Treize picked his way closer, curious. . .
The cat abruptly turned, giving Treize the softest, shortest hiss he'd ever heard.
//Did I do something wrong?// Treize froze.
Silver slowly stepped towards the window, picking his footing with the greatest care and setting each paw down delicately--shaking each after he lifted it to remove glass clinging to his fur. Moving to the window, he reared up on hind legs, front paws setting on the sill as the creature looked out.
"Sir. . . ?" Lieutenant Une watched with wonder--and the slightest frown of annoyance.
Quickly, Treize motioned her into silence. //He found something. . . // "Silver. . . ?" he asked softly, stepping closer, his foot crunching on glass as he neared the cat.
Like a whirlwind, the massive feline twisted--and leapt--at Treize, flattening him backwards--
Soft fur engulfed Treize, the weight pinning him to the carpet surprisingly light for such a massive creature, but the glass under him was uncomfortable, and Silver's move had knocked the wind clear out of Treize's lungs--
//Zechs?!?//
Glass shattered around them as another shot tore through the window!
"General!"
Lieutenant Une had jumped forward, reaching for her gun, to protect Treize at that blinding attack, but before she could even reach the man, Silver was up again, sailing over her in a single graceful bound.
Treize levered himself up on his elbows, twisting to look.
The poor woman fell backwards in surprise, and also turned to gaze after the cat's lunge.
Without pausing, Silver leapt at the door, planting clawed paws on the wall and catching the knob in his teeth, opening the door with a twist of his neck and surging out, into the hall, leaving faintly bloody prints in his wake.
"I want him /alive/, Silver!" Treize hollered after the cat, struggling to get to his feet and scrabbling wildly for his cane, cursing his lameness. //Damn it, Zechs, wait for back-up! I don't want you shot!//
Lieutenant Une lunged to his aid, helping him up into a low crouch and handing him his cane swiftly before dragging him to safety, out of view of the window. Slamming a fist onto the com by the door but still supporting Treize's weak side, she bellowed into it, "Secure the hangar--especially the roof! And if you see a cat, get the hell out of its way!"
Treize, shrugged free of her assistance and limped for the door as fast as his leg allowed, biting his lip against the pain. Without turning, he suggested to her urgently, "Not just the hangar--the buildings next to it, too!"
//Be safe, Zechs! Don't get yourself hurt--not for me, please! I'd never forgive myself--and Dorothy would /kill/ me!//
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//How dare they. . . ! How /dare/ they!//
It was a pounding litany, a snarl he couldn't voice intelligibly, driving Zechs's pounding paws as he flew down the staircase, bowling soldiers aside like jackstraws when they didn't get out of his way fast enough. Someone daring made a reach for the dangling chain, only to have it jerked out of their feeble grip by his sheer momentum--the cat never even noticed. Others heard the shouts of surprise only in time to look up and add shrills of terror before they, too, were shoved aside by the feline missile.
//He is mine--MINE! And dead soon, too!// With his blood up, surging, fueled by his rage, he had no doubts about those facts--it even drowned the pain of the small cuts in his pads, the dull burning along his left ribs. . . /His/ prey. Nobody who wanted to live would come between him and this prey! //MINE!//
The last doors were ahead, but he had a plan for dealing with them. Leaping high, he slammed both lower paws on the release-bar, letting his sheer weight and momentum send the door crashing open, then launching and twisting--
To land on his feet and resume his all-out run. With ears laid back, his air-gulping breaths hissed between bared teeth--claws were partially extended, mainly for traction on the rough asphalt of the compound grounds, seeming to spin the earth under him more than propel his body over it. Like an arrow, he tore for the building opposite the main offices.
It wasn't the hanger he was aiming for.
Diagonally through a mass of evening traffic, at that. Trucks full of troops were always on the shuffle on a base, along with supplies, equipment, and heaven knew how many officers of various ranks driving recklessly around in jeeps, hummers, or--if they were more than just officers or important visitors--limos. Sometimes with a cautious escort.
But not even traffic was going to stop him!
//Foolish-idiot-drivers--Get a damn driving license, you!--always on the gas pedals--can't drive a bloody paper plane without mishap!//
The cat darted between the wheels of a truck, just escaping having his tail flattened by the rear wheels, to pop up in front of a jeep that slammed on the brakes and almost swerved into the truck as if it preferred to crash into the truck than an animal. Another bound and he was safe from /that/ lousy driver, but in the middle of a sea of MPs on motorbikes, the owners of which who were so amazed that they craned their heads to get a second look--only for a pair of them to collide into a heap because they weren't watching where they were going!
Needless to say, Zechs got out of /that/ as fast as his legs could carry him!
//I WILL get him! He tried to hurt Treize. . . He /dared/ to try to hurt Treize!!!//
Evading another truck threatening to run him down, he darted between two more jeeps, leapt /over/ a gaping soldier on a motorbike--which sent /that/ fool into a wipe-out--and sped up in a surge to cross the final tangle of traffic ahead. . .
//He DIES for that!!!//
Traffic ahead was going to be difficult. . .
Zechs jumped into it at an angle without so much as a hesitant pause.
Tires screeched. One vehicle swerved, barely evading clipping the streak that was Zechs. An oncoming jeep slammed to a halt, digging tires into the asphalt in a desperate attempt not to hit the cat--
--The scent of burned rubber, the sound of someone's shout of horror, the driver cringing in his seat behind the wheel, expecting a heavy impact--
Zechs jumped up with all his strength!
--only to stare in awe as the massive creature landed feet-first on the hood with a metallic thump and launched over the /rest/ of the vehicle from there as if its legs were made of springs, clearing the jeep without a scratch!
And Zechs was clear, at the doors to his chosen destination.
//Idiot drivers. . . //
Coming at the entrance doors to the residence building at a slight angle, he tucked head down and struck shoulder-first, smashing the unsuspecting door clear off its hinges, only to roll and bounce back to his feet after.
Glaring around, ears laid back, he sent a couple young women in uniforms running, screaming, and no few young men, for that matter.
//Cowards! Just point me to the bloody stairs!!!//
Zechs knew what floor his target had aimed from. He had seen the faintest movement through an open window across the compound. Colorless vision he had, yes--but in return had come something else: a sensitivity to movement. Cats had, he read, a reflexive drive to chase anything that ran away. . . But in his case, he found that he could refine it, concentrate on it--or ignore it if he so chose. He had chosen to focus on it--in time to see the faint glint of distant metal, to hear the crunch of glass as Treize stepped within the man's sights. . .
//Thank God for National Geographic.// Articles on the big cats had always drawn him, and one in particular had mentioned the differences between cats and people. . . Very, very useful, for a man who had no access to the notes of the experimentation performed on him!
A gasp behind him made him turn--and he saw the stairs in time to also glimpse a soldier fleeing up them.
//Thank you!// he growled--which probably was taken the wrong way. Possibly because Zechs then surged up the staircase in the poor man's wake!
Distantly, he could hear people panicking in the rest of the building, and sirens from MPs pulling up outside. . .
Then he had reached the floor he sought.
Gathering himself, Zechs flung himself at the door with a vengeance. A plain thing, simple hinges surrendered to reveal--
Empty.
//NOOO!!!// His bellow of rage echoed throughout the building.
Furious, he stalked inside, to the window he had seen from across the compound, tail lashing as violently as a whip. Furniture, a small kitchen to one side, a bedroom tucked beside it--compact quarters. A sock on the floor suggested they had an owner. The window was wide open, shades drawn up and gently swinging. . .
He could smell gunpowder. //I was right--he shot from here!// But the gun, any shells, the shooter--they were gone. But not /quite/ completely! //I can smell him. . . Yes, a "him". I will know you when we meet again! And we WILL meet again!//
A tentative sniff at the sock, and he growled. //He's no fool. This isn't /his/ quarters. But somehow he had access. . . //
Growling, Zechs dug his talons into the cheap carpeting, resisting the urge to shred it and vent his frustrations.
//So close! I was so damn close! But I will know him again. . . // Taking a deep breath, he memorized that scent firmly. //Oh, you won't escape me. . . Not a second time!//
"Silver. . . ?" a familiar voice called distantly.
//Treize. . . // Turning his back to the window, Zechs paced back out into the hall, then towards the stairs, retracing his steps at a slower pace than his earlier mad dash. //There's nothing to see here. . . Only smell. And I know none of you can scent it.//
Clambering up the stairs breathlessly, with a worried Lieutenant Une supporting his bad side, Treize looked a bedraggled, harried mess when Zechs found them. He flowed down the steps to meet them, ignoring the increasingly-persistent ache along his ribs and sore feet, easier to notice now that his rage had cooled somewhat.
"Silver? Thank God--if that idiot shot at /me/ without hesitation, what made you think you'd be guarded against his bullets?!?" Treize admonished, glaring, fear echoing in his eyes. That fear changed to instant concern, however, as those eyes widened on the cat. "He /did/ hit you!"
//Better me than you, Treize. . . // Zechs rumbled softly in his throat, and sat neatly on the step just ahead of the man. //It can't be too bad. I don't feel weak from it, just sore.//
"Did he kill him, Sir?" Lieutenant Une asked uncertainly, eyeing the pair warily.
Treize's eyes were asking that same question, level with his own, sorrow and guilt in the Oz General's bright eyes.
Zechs shook his head in a slight negative--then laid his ears back and snarled furiously briefly, venting his anger vocally.
The subtle shift in Treize's posture was hard to catch, but Zechs's eyes didn't miss it--Treize was relieved. //For my sake. He knows--killing bothers me, for all it's appropriate here. He takes too much on his shoulders,// Zechs sighed to himself, touched nonetheless.
"You didn't catch anything. . . It's all right, Silver--you did well. You moved faster than anything else on this base," Treize murmured, reaching a hand to scratch behind Zechs's ears, as he would a housecat.
Zechs was caught off-guard by the action. Nobody had ever dared try it before this, after all. But those fingers stroking his fur, combing it. . .
//Ahhh. . . Don't stop. That feels so. . . /good/! Mmmm. . . // He couldn't help it. His eyes slid half-shut with pleasure. //Don't understand this. . . but it feels sooooo nice. . . //
"It seems he missed the culprit, Lieutenant Une. Though I'm sure he found the right location. . . "
"He's. . . an amazingly-trained animal, Sir."
//Mmmm. . . More, Treize. . . This is /soooo/ good. . . // Zechs just ignored what they were saying. A thrumming vibration filled his throat, startling even the cat himself, though the stroking was too nice to let him worry about it. //I'm. . . /purring/? Oh. . . nice. . . Mmmmmmm. . . //
"Ah. . . yes. Personally trained," Treize flung out, concocting a quick story. "Better than a guard-dog, I daresay. Smarter."
//I should hope so!// Icy blue cat-eyes opened fully at that. . . and he snorted softly.
And winked playfully at Treize before surrendering to that stroking again..
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"I assure you, Lieutenant, I can manage his injuries well enough on my own. Silver would never willingly harm me," Treize was sighing as he closed the door to his suite--ironically, in the very same building Zechs had dashed into after the unknown assassin.
Zechs yawned as he padded further into the foyer, sniffing cautiously at the air, his tail curling into fluffy question-marks. //Hmmm. . . Not too bad quarters. . . for all they likely expect me to destroy them.//
Treize limped past him, carrying a suitcase-sized first-aid kit into the bedroom, leaning heavily on his cane. Probably tired and aching. . . Not that Zechs felt much better at the moment.
Limping a bit himself, Silver padded into the bedroom after Treize, taking in with a single glance the royal-seeming curtained queen-sized bed, the rosewood furniture, the carpet he was leaving the occasionally blood- smudged paw-print on. The bathroom was his goal. //I feel like a filthy rag. . . and I'm thirsty.//
Without hesitation, he dipped a paw into the large tub to seal the bottom, then nudged the faucets on full to start filling, and took a deep breath. . .
And /changed/.
Zechs couldn't help a groan of pain as he returned to his normal self, on all fours on the soft floor mat of the bathroom, panting from the effort. //I /hate/ doing this when I'm hurt. It hurts enough to change--I don't need more pain on top of it! But I'm sick of the damn collar, and I just. . . I just want to be /me/ again. And people say hard to limp on /two/ feet--they should try limping with /four/!//
"Silver. . . ?" Treize's voice carried concern, and Zechs could hear the thump of Treize's cane, hear the man grunt from the effort of standing again.
Using the side of the tub to haul himself to sore feet, Zechs echoed that grunt. "I'm alright, Treize," he called softly, reaching up to unhitch the collar and let it clatter to the floor. "But I claim first dibs on the bath." //And you just /try/ taking that from me! I am /not/ licking my fur clean. . . That's one sick habit I'm glad to not develop!//
Treize thumped his way closer slowly. "Are you sure?" he asked cautiously. "I mean. . . do you need help? How bad is it?"
The mostly-full tub had become too appealing to resist. Zechs swung over the side and slid into the warm water with a soft, pleased sigh. //Mmmm. . . Rather like Treize's ear-scratching. Good. . . // "It's hard for me to see. . . but I've had worse, Treize. I'll need some help bandaging it later, though--it's rather awkward to wrap my own ribs."
"Hmmm," came an assenting grunt, as Treize limped into the bathroom. He paused by the door, looking intently at Zechs for a moment, as if making sure he wasn't lying about those wounds, something almost. . . possessive?. . . in those bright eyes.
Zechs sank lower into the water self-consciously, blushing. //Treize. . . Good thing you're not part-feline like me, or I'd suspect you are about to pounce! Not. . . that I'd really mind, I think. I. . . I think I like being close to you. . . having you touch me. . . as cat /or/ man, honestly. I don't /understand/ it, but I /do/ like it. . . //
"You could have been killed," Treize murmured quietly, roughly, breaking his intense gaze finally to go over to the toilette, close the lid, and seat himself on it carefully.
//That bothers you. You're upset--because I might have been hurt? Been killed? Death's not so new to me--you know that.// Zechs shook his head a bit, long hair swishing in the water behind him, and reached for a bar of soap. "I'm not so easy to pick off. I /am/ trained in that respect--it was part of the Project," he assured grimly.
Treize shook his head, as if having trouble accepting that, but unable to deny it, and sighed softly. "Well. . . What did you find? I know you noticed something in the conference room. . . "
//More than you want to know, I think.// Rubbing the bar on sore, cut hands, he began by cleaning them and his face, buying himself some time to think over what exactly to say. //He should know the truth, though some of it's conjecture and little else. . . //
Dunking his head, he came up with wet hair in his way, and swiped it aside with a hand to stare boldly into Treize's eyes. //You deserve to know, Treize. . . // "Would you call Lieutenant Shimmel a pacer by habit, Treize? You said some such a while back, I recall," he asked, to confirm his suspicions and the theory in the back of his mind.
Bright eyes narrowed at him sharply, suspiciously. "Yes--the man can't keep still when agitated. . . Rather like you, to be honest, now that you mention it."
Zechs chuckled at the thought. "No, he's no feline, that much I can tell. . . But he stood by that window for a long time during that conference. At just the right spot that, had he wished to speak to him, your uncle would have had to turn to directly face the sniper's bullet."
Treize's teeth clenched, and his brow furrowed angrily. "So you're saying Shimmel helped the assassin?" he asked with cautious stiffness, clearly not liking the idea, but not rejecting it.
//I can't confirm it, though that's what I think. And it's not a thought easily digested! Neither for me, nor you.// After a moment, Zechs shrugged a little, and set about soaping his long hair and shoulders. "There's no way to tell--it may be innocent, but it might not. But it means we can't trust him now," he pointed out. "Not until we know. . . "
". . . If Shimmel's part of it. All right, that I can accept," Treize sighed wearily, resting chin on the back of the hands on the cane. "And the assassin himself? I assume it's the same one as who shot at me."
Zechs frowned a bit, thoughtful, as he washed his arms. ///Are/ they the same person? Perhaps not. I can't tell unless I can smell the murder weapon used on General Catalonia.// "I don't know," he admitted softly. "I'd have to compare the scents from the room I smashed into with those on the evidence Lieutenant Une found. Maybe."
"Did you get a good look at who shot at me?"
"No," Zechs growled angrily, upset with himself. //So close!// "But I'll know him again. I know his scent now--he can't hide. Not on this earth!"
Chuckling at that vehemence, Treize reached forward and brushed clinging bangs from Zechs's eyes. "Oh, I don't doubt it. We'll get him. . . " But there was a slight, admonishing emphasis on the "we".
Sheepishly, Zechs smiled back at the older man, studying him, memorizing him in that--theoretically blue--uniform that fit him like a glove. . . //Treize. . . whatever would I do without you? You've put purpose back into my life. I'll do my best to keep you--if only for my own selfish need to be near you.// And blinked, head tilting a bit in puzzlement as his eyes caught something about the section of the jacket below Treize's waist. . .
"What?" Treize asked, startled and confused, looking down at his own uniform jacket, and lifting the corner. . .
White.
With a horrified expression, Treize pinched the white delicately between two fingers, holding it up for both to scrutinize.
Fluffy. White. Cat-hair.
Stunned fingers released the fluff, to float off to the floor to grow into a future dust-bunny, as Treize rose to his feet, dismay all over his face as he stared over his poor uniform. His poor /pale/ uniform!
"Cat-hair!" the dignified man exclaimed in helpless distress. "I'm /covered/ with. . . What the /hell/?!? You're SHEDDING!!!"
//Isn't that. . . normal?// Zechs could only smile in helpless amusement, and shrug a resigned apology. "Doesn't everyone?" he asked innocently. "I /do/ also cough up hairballs on occasion, but /that/, I know, isn't exactly common."
With an exasperated curse, Treize stomped towards the bedroom, brushing vainly at his uniform. At the doorway he paused, glared at Zechs, and lifted a lecturing finger, snapping, "Don't even /think/ of coughing one of those disgusting things up here!" Turning back towards the bed--and his bag of clean clothes on it--he paused a moment, then whirled on Zechs again and added sharply, "And if I see /one/, just /one/ chewed plant here, I'm trading you in for Dorothy on this venture!"
//You said nothing about clawing the furniture, though,// Zechs added silently, unable to hold back a snicker.
The blonde had to almost duck under the water to avoid the washcloth flung at him before Treize stalked out, but his snickers turned to smothered chuckles.
"Cats!" the Oz Specials General's frustrated voice flung at the uncaring walls of the suite.
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To be continued.