Title: Ghost Knight 4/?
Author: Anne Khushrenada
Disclaimers: Standard. I don't own GW, yadayadayada.
Warnings: The usual round of OOCs.
Milliardo Peacecraft looked up from his computer at
the sound of the office door creaking open, and
sighed when he saw there was no one there. "Damned
draft," he muttered.
/No, I don't think so./
Slowly a ghostly apparition faded into view, and,
with a great deal of effort, heaved the door closed
once again. "Gods, you're dense, old friend," said
the unmistakable specter of Treize Khushrenada, clad
in the familiar blue and white OZ uniform.
Milliardo sighed. "Haunting me now, Treize?"
"As if I had nothing better to do. No, old friend, I
need a favor, and you are the only one who might be
capable of taking care of it for me."
"Name it," Milliardo said. Since his friend's death,
he had thought that if anything of Treize survived
that experience, if the spirit did indeed go on to
another realm, that Treize would never have forgiven
him for his words and actions during the final days
of the war. But Treize's manner was as it would have
been years ago, when they had worked so well
together, when they had been as close as ever they'd
been in their youth.
"I went to see Lady Une the other night," Treize
said. "Actually, it may have been quite a while ago;
I don't seem to be able to keep track of time
anymore."
"She's been acting a bit- strange -for the past
month."
"Has it been that long?" Treize asked himself. "In
any case, I... Well. There's no delicate way to
phrase what I am about to say. So I will ask you
this. If you were me, if you had died, and your
Lucrezia never knew so much as the fact you loved
her, what would you do?"
"Anything I could," Milliardo said. "And whatever it
would take, to see her, to show her..." He raised his
eyebrows then, an unspoken question, and Treize
laughed.
"You know, at my heart I have always been something
of a romantic."
"I know," Milliardo said, dryly. "So...."
"I- Gods, old friend, must I spell it out for you?"
"But, you- You're dead, Treize."
The specter sighed. "Yes. I know that. A month ago, I
wasn't- quite. And I suspect my lady- with the help
of Doctor Sally Po, of course -has just discovered
the, ah, result of that interlude."
"Sally Po Chang," Milliardo corrected reflexively.
"If any woman alive could tolerate that boy, it
/would/ have been Sally," Treize replied. "But at any
rate, Death seems to be of the belief that he can
take one of my children from this world, in exchange
for making me human again for that one night. I will
do what I can to protect them, however-"
Milliardo nodded. "Lucrezia and I are already God-
parents to Mariemaia, you know."
"Yes, and you spoil her horribly."
"Someone's got to do it," Milliardo countered with a
smile. "Rest easy, my friend. Anything in my power
that I can do for your children... Hell, you don't
even need to ask. I owe you too much."
Treize nodded slowly. "Milliardo, words cannot
express my gratitude."
* * *
Lady Une returned to her office with trembling steps,
her knees shaking so hard that they barely held her
up. She did not respond to Dorothy's nod of greeting
as she passed the younger woman, but continued to the
inner office door and pulled it closed behind her.
She leaned up against the door, her whole body
shaking now. /Get ahold of yourself,/ she thought
sharply. /You're going to have to figure out how to
deal with this, and soon./
A flash of red caught her eye, and she spun towards
the desk, breath catching in her throat.
Roses. A vase full of them, long-stemmed and red. Une
took a step towards the desk, and then another.
"What-?" she began, but never finished.
Dorothy stepped into the office. "Oh. Those. I'm
sorry, Lady Une..."
"Who brought them?" Une asked.
"Nichol. He wanted to see you, but you weren't in-"
Dorothy cut herself off as Une lifted the vase from
her desk and pressed it into the other woman's hands.
"Keep them. Get rid of them, whatever. I don't care.
But get them out of my sight."
"Lady, I... Alright. I'll take care of them." With
that, Dorothy quickly departed the office, vase in
hand.
/Lovely,/ Une thought as she dropped into her chair.
/She's going to think I've lost my mind. Oh, Dorothy,
if only you knew. If only you knew./
She gazed at her reflection in the office's window
glass. She hardly looked pregnant, but Sally had said
it wouldn't be long now before she did start to show.
The unspoken thought along with that statement had
been that there was still time to abort the
pregnancy, that no one need ever know...
Une buried her head in her hands. She had never felt
more lost, more alone. But she knew the one thing she
could /not/ do was forsake this child. /Her/ child,
and, perhaps more importantly, Treize's child. And
yet, she did not know how she would ever manage
alone, without Treize.
/I need a cigarette,/ she thought. Then, with a laugh
bordering on the hysterical: /But I can't have one./
The door eased open again, and, furious, Une searched
her desk for something to throw. "Doesn't /anyone/
ever knock-?"
Milliardo Peacecraft, ignoring this, closed the door
behind him and strode towards her across the carpet.
"Dorothy called me," he said. "She told me
something's wrong."
"Oh, Milliardo," Une said quietly. "Everything's
wrong."
"I also heard," Milliardo said, "about Nichol and the
roses. I don't know what in the world he's thinking.
He means well, but- They upset you, didn't they? The
roses?"
"Yes," she said. "The roses, and... other things,
too. If only you knew, Milliardo."
Milliardo smiled. "Try me."
And, hesitantly, because he had been Treize's best
friend, and because of what they'd shared on the eve
of Treize's death, she did tell him. Not everything,
but enough. She told him of Treize's nocturnal visit,
and of Sally's revelation that she was now pregnant.
"You think me mad, don't you?" Une asked.
"No," Milliardo said, moving quickly around the desk,
hugging her close. "No, Lady, I don't think you mad."
"Why?" she asked. Une drew a deep breath. "You saw
him."
"Yes." Milliardo brushed a strand of hair back from
his face. "Don't ask me to explain it, Lady Une,
because I cannot. But I know what I saw, and felt."
"I, too," Une said. "How am I ever going to explain
this?"
"I wish I knew."
* * *
"Well?"
"Well, what?" Milliardo looked at Sally, more than a
little irritated. He did not want to be having this
conversation, but she had insisted, and Sally could
be quite forceful when she wanted to be. It was
probably, he thought, how she'd managed to survive
these years of marriage to Wufei.
"Did she say anything to you?"
"She did, but I cannot betray her confidences,"
Milliardo replied.
"Milliardo!" Sally protested.
But he shook his head. "Sally, listen to me, please.
She was my best friend's girl. He's dead, and she's
/still/ my best friend's girl. Not to mention my
girl's best friend, after you. If you want the truth,
you go and get it from her, yourself. I told Lucrezia
the same, by the way."
"I'm sure that went over well," Sally replied.
"Oh, it did."
"Milliardo- I'm not doing this to be nosy, you know.
She's hurting, and we want to help her."
"We all do," Milliardo replied. He seemed to be
looking then, not at Sally, but at something over her
shoulder and off into the distance. "Excuse me..."
* * *
Treize looked over Milliardo's shoulder as the latter
dug through old books and papers, muttering under his
breath. It was all he could do not to scream. Unable
to affect the physical world himself, and unable to
inform his old friend that he was looking in entirely
the wrong places, was incredibly frustrating.
At last Milliardo came upon the keys to the desk, and
began sifting through its contents. Treize breathed a
sigh of relief. He would find it now, he'd have to.
"Ah-hah," Milliardo said triumphantly. He scanned the
document he had found. "Is this for real, old friend?
/Of course it is, you fool,/ Treize thought sharply.
Milliardo looked up as if he'd heard something.
"What?"
Treize settled his spiritual form into a chair, and
sighed. Physically manifesting himself was beginning
to take its toll upon his energy reserves, but
sometimes there was no way around it.
/Hearing things, old boy?/ he asked silently, for
speaking mentally took far less strength than doing
so aloud.
"Treize," Milliardo said. "I seem to have found what
I'm looking for, thanks to you." He glanced again at
the document in his hands. "You really did plan
ahead, didn't you?"
/Actually, that nonsense was Father's idea. The
letter to Lady Une- which you'll find in that
document box there -was mine. You /will/ see that she
gets it, won't you?/
"Of course," Milliardo replied. "And I must admit, it
does beat telling ghost stories to everyone. Not that
they would have believed those, of course..."
Treize nodded, and then his ghostly eyes narrowed.
/Damned fool,/ he muttered to himself. /Excuse me,
old friend, but I have someone I need to haunt for a
bit./
Milliardo laughed. "Let me guess. Nichol?"
Treize shook his head. /There are those, apparently,
who never learn./
"Maybe," said Milliardo. "But even /I/ know better
than to send red roses to /your/ girl."
Treize smiled, and raised a hand in parting gesture.
/Farewell, old friend. Till we meet again. And give
her that letter!/ The specter's voice echoed as he
faded away.
Milliardo stared after him a moment, then shook his
head. /Even dead, old friend, you still manage to
make me question my sanity. Often./ He gathered up
the document he'd found, and the letter to Lady Une,
and locked up the desk before exiting the room.
A small red-haired sentry stood just outside the
door, her arms crossed. She raised an eyebrow at him,
then smiled. "Uncle Milliardo," she said. "I'd
wondered who was here."
"Just me, Mariemaia. I'm sorry I startled you. I was
looking for something among your father's things."
"Did you find it?" the girl asked.
"Yes, I think I did."
* * *
Lady Une stood before the gravesite, and sighed. "I
promised myself I wasn't going to come here anymore,"
she said softly aloud. "It didn't seem as if reliving
the past that way was doing me any good. But you've
changed everything, Treize, again, and now I hardly
know what to do." She sighed. "But in any case, I'm
sure you'll be glad to know that I've given up
smoking. Sally didn't even have to force the issue,
and I don't miss it- much."
The sound of footsteps caused her to turn, and she
breathed a little sigh of relief when she saw that it
was only Milliardo. She really wasn't in the mood to
be interrupted now by anyone else.
"I have something for you," Milliardo said, as he
produced a pair of documents.
Une shot him a questioning look as she accepted the
documents from him, but he only motioned for her to
read them. She did so, beginning with that which was
topmost.
It appeared to be a letter from Lucian Khushrenada,
Treize's father, to his son, and she scanned it with
no small amount of trepidation, feeling as if she had
intruded in a place where she did not belong. But as
she read the letter she began to feel less intrusive,
deciding that she would have liked Treize's father a
great deal. The elder Duke Khushrenada seemed to
possess a great depth of humor, but she could tell by
the way he chastised his son for having gone against
his wishes, that he had been as much a warrior as his
son, and also as dangerous.
The letter read in part:
"I still fail to see why you oppose the match with
Barton's daughter so vehemently. She's a lovely girl,
quite intelligent and charming, and she's certainly
pretty enough for you, Treize. What possible
objection could you have to this?" In the margin,
Treize had scrawled, "I don't love her, Father. What
more reason need I give?"
"In any case, your grandfather and I, having decided
that marrying her is in your best interests, have
gone ahead and given her access to the Bank. I am
given to understand she has already conceived a
child, a girl if the doctors are correct. For her
sake, can't you..." Here Treize had written,
"Scheming old bastard... And no, I can't."
"What?" Une asked Milliardo. "What's he talking
about?"
"Keep reading," said Milliardo. "You'll see."
The rest of the letter from Treize's father proved
mostly irrelevant, but the second document, which was
a letter addressed to /her/, seemed to have quite a
bit to say. Une drew a deep breath before she began
to read it.
"My dearest Lady,
It may be that you are reading this because things
have not ended as I would have wished them. Life is
ever complicated, and war is more so, I think.
It may be that you have never realized, have never
known, how very much you mean to me, Lady. If that is
the case, let me state it plainly, so that there can
be no mistake. I love you. I have loved you for
years..."
Une looked up from the letter, to find Milliardo's
ice-blue gaze upon her. She gestured to the letter,
her tone almost accusing. "Did you read any of this?"
He shook his head. "No, Lady, I didn't. I saw the
envelope had your name on it, and I brought it to
you. I wouldn't have-"
She nodded. "Good."
Her breath catching in her throat, she found she was
forced to skip several long sections. She was simply
unprepared to deal with the overwhelming emotion that
swept over her. "Treize," she whispered, heedless of
the fact that Milliardo was still there, watching
her.
"...Perhaps it is only my arrogance which assumes
that you will have any desire to know this, Lady,
but... By now you will know of my daughter,
Mariemaia, and of the way in which she was brought
into the world. And so if you will allow me this
small bit of ego, dear one..."
Before she was able to go on in her reading, a quick
gust of air swept the letter from her hands and
carried it off. Uselessly, Une reached out her hands
as if to snatch it back, but the wind danced it out
of her reach, and she sighed. Hands on her hips, she
gave the wind a reproachful look, and Milliardo had
to try very hard not to laugh.
"Do you find this amusing?" Une asked softly.
"I..." Milliardo shook his head. "You saw what he was
getting at, though, with the letter from his father.
/That/ one I've seen."
Une nodded. "Yes, I think so, but..."
"It's something the old Romafeller families did.
There was a great fear when the Alliance first began
using mobile suits for combat that some of the energy
forms used to power them would render both male and
female pilots unable to have children."
"How that must have terrified them," Une said. "The
thought that their names would not carry on..."
"Exactly," said Milliardo. "Which is why they set up
the genetic bank. Any member of the families over
eighteen, or younger if they began piloting sooner
than that, was required to make at least one
deposit."
"And the Khushrenadas-"
"Were traditionalists. Treize thought it ridiculous,
but his father was absolutely insistent."
"I see," said Lady Une. "Thank you, Milliardo."
"Don't thank /me./ Thank Lucian Khushrenada."
* * *
Mariemaia stepped into the library only recently
vacated by Milliardo Peacecraft. "Father?" she asked.
But it was clear to her that if her father's spirit
had been there, it was gone now. But spread out on
the desk was the clear trail of Milliardo's research,
including letters from her grandfather Khushrenada to
her father, referencing the Barton family and some
sort of genetic bank...
"It figures," said Mariemaia as she dropped into her
father's old desk chair. She picked up another letter
and read it slowly. "How stubborn Grandfather Lucian
was."
Beneath that letter was another, dated far more
recently and addressed to her mother. The return
address indicated it was from a woman named Linnea
Khushrenada. Curious, Mariemaia opened the envelope
and withdrew the single sheet of paper it contained.
"Dear Lady Une," she read aloud. "I am writing to you
on behalf of my family. We are cousins to Treize
Khushrenada, whom I was very close to, and we are
given to understand that you have his daughter, one
Mariemaya Barton, in your custody. I dare say, Lady,
that the girl knows me far better than she does
you..."
Mariemaia made a face at the letter. "Cousin Linnea
knows us so well she couldn't even get my name
right," she scoffed at the monogrammed, scented
stationary.
There was a second letter from Linnea, this one a bit
thicker, and Mariemaia examined this warily,
uncertain what she would find but knowing that she
would not like it much.
"Lady Une, I must insist that the child be given into
my care /immediately./ You know as well as I do that
this was her father's wish..."
Furious, Mariemaia crumpled the paper and tossed it
off to the side of the desk. "How dare she, Father?"
the girl asked aloud. "And if she's such a close
relation, how come I've never even heard of her
before?"
* * *
Treize found himself returning to the cemetery,
although he did not much care for the atmosphere
there. It served to remind him a little too much that
he was not quite alive anymore.
With a sigh he began to search for the letter which
the wind had torn from Lady Une's hands.
/And how fortunate that was,/ he thought with a
silent laugh. /Truly. Ah- there it is./ What remained
of the letter was scattered amongst a line of thorn
bushes, shredded so that whatever words it might have
once contained were now worse than illegible. Treize
nodded to himself. /Good enough./
He had realized, while watching Lady Une and
Milliardo, that things had changed far too much for
half the letter's contents to be even slightly
relevant, and that Une's reading them would serve no
purpose but to upset her. At one point in that
missive, he'd spoken of asking her to marry him.
Certainly she had suffered enough, without /that./
And his primary concern, of course, was her well-
being, and that of the children.
Not that, Treize thought with another sigh, there was
much he was truly capable of doing to protect them.
Not from forces supernatural, and there was even
/less/ he was able to do to keep them safe from the
living dangers that existed for them.
/Leave them be, Linnea,/ he thought. /Leave Mariemaia
be, and the unborn two, as well. Because I swear to
you, /cousin/, if you do not.../
* * *
Three months later
October AC 199
Lucrezia Noin caught the office door for Lady Une and
held it open, and Une, now three, almost four, months
pregnant, smiled.
"Thank you," she said, stepping into her office and
dropping her bag with a sigh upon the desktop. "Gods.
Walking that gauntlet of reporters always seems to
exhaust me, these days."
"I can't imagine why," Noin said. "Nosy fools. As if
it's any of their business how or why you became
pregnant. You'd think, from the way they act, that
none of the rest of us are, how was it Wufei put it?"
"Reproducing," Une replied with a laugh. "Of course,
/you're/ not showing yet. Although Sally is..."
"Do you suppose the difference is that Sally and I
are married? And you're-?"
"Not?" Une asked. "Maybe. But almost anything they
say or do beats that horrid rumor the tabloids
started, that I was, I believe their phrasing was,
'having the love-child of Preventer Nichol.'"
Noin laughed. "You really need to do something about
him, my friend."
"What would you suggest?" Une asked. "His latest
strategy seems to be that my children are going to
need a father. With, of course, the implication that
he's more than willing to take the job." She shook
her head. "I don't have time for this nonsense, Noin.
I've got the annual Council budget meeting in less
than three months, and Sally's already threatening to
order me to bed until the twins are born."
"Everything alright?" Noin asked with concern. Unlike
most who knew of Lady Une's pregnancy, Noin knew just
how irreplaceable the twins truly were, and how
deeply it would shatter her old friend to loose even
one of them.
"Fine," Une said. "But Sally is of the belief I work
too hard, and that it isn't good for the three of
us." She laughed. "Not that, you'll notice, /her/
pregnancy is slowing her down one bit."
"Point," said Noin. "But still, if Sally thinks you
should be careful..."
"I'm as careful as I can be without hiding in my room
for another five months, Noin."
Noin nodded, not quite accepting this, but knowing
far better than to argue with her friend about it.
Instead she decided to change the subject. "How's
Mariemaia doing with all this?"
"Mariemaia's fine," Une replied. "She's actually
attending a function with her school today, believe
it or not. They're going to observe the council
meeting."
"Are you as jealous as I am, Lady?" Noin asked.
"Be kind," Une replied with a smile. "No, I really
think her biggest problem these days is those
wretched relations of her father, who are probably
going to sue me for custody of her any day now."
Noin shook her head. "They don't really care about
her, do they?"
"Treize didn't seem to think they cared about
/anyone/ but themselves, and I've seen no reason to
doubt that." Une sighed. "That's leaving entirely
aside what they've said to me about the twins, of
course."
"Of course," said Noin.
The intercom upon the desk beeped, and Dorothy's
voice came through. "Lady Une? Preventer Chang to see
you."
"Send her in," Une said, rolling her eyes. "And so it
begins again..."
"Actually, it's Wufei. He says there's some kind of
trouble downtown..."
"The council," Une breathed. /Mariemaia!/ "Send him
in, and page Milliardo and Sally, please. Right now."
Une reached into her desk and withdrew her pistol.
Noin sighed and shook her head. "Lady Une, you can't
seriously-"
"Don't," Une cut her off, holding her voice steady by
sheer act of will alone. /Oh, Treize... not
Mariemaia, please... oh, God, no./
Wufei Chang entered the office and closed the door
behind him. "We just got a call informing us that
someone decided to bomb the council chamber while a
group of school kids were visiting it." He shook his
head. "There's no honor in that."
"No kidding," said Noin. Then, "Mariemaia was one of
those school kids."
"We'll find her, Lady, I promise you," Wufei said,
just as Sally and Milliardo entered the office at a
run.
"Yes," Une said as she stood, holstering the pistol.
"/We/ will."
And she strode from the office, calling out orders,
before any of them could voice a word of protest. As
one they looked to each other, then hurried after
her. They listened along with the rest of the
assembled Preventers as Une addressed them quickly,
laid out the situation for them, and briefed them on
the plan she and the others had come up with on the
elevator ride down from her office.
"Alright, everyone," Une concluded. "Let's go!"
As Milliardo helped her down from the chair upon
which she'd stood, he said very quietly, "You're not
going anywhere, Lady."
"The hell I'm not. That's my daughter out there,
Preventer Wind, and I will /not/ just sit here and
wait. I'm pregnant, not useless."
"Alright," said Milliardo. "Fine. You go with us, but
you don't go in."
"I see. I'll simply wait around the corner and
address the press?"
"Yes, exactly."
"I don't think so."
Une flagged down one of the Preventers rushing
towards the exits. It was, she saw with a sinking
feeling, Nichol, the last person on Earth she had any
desire to speak to. But also, the only one who
wouldn't dare to question a word she said, no matter
what it was, and she lacked the time to be picky.
Nichol would have to do.
"You," she said as if she hadn't recognized him at
all, "have the Epyon prepped before you join the
others."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Milliardo threw up his hands in disgust. /Treize,
you've got yourself one very stubborn Lady. Now stop
her before she gets herself killed!/ "Epyon?" he
asked aloud in shock. "I can say from firsthand
experience that the Zero system is the last thing you
want to be playing around with, Lady."
"I'm not playing," she said, her voice very cold. And
before he could reply she spun on her heel and raced
for the hanger.
Milliardo turned his wrath upon Nichol, who'd simply
/stood there/, not saying a word. "Don't do it," he
told the ex-OZ officer. "I'm dead serious, Nichol.
Don't."
"She gave me an order-" Nichol began.
"Look," Milliardo snapped. "You're always professing
your undying love for her, right? Well, let me ask
you this. Do you want /her/ dead? /Don't/ do it."
* * *
"Howard!"
Howard looked up at the sound of Lady Une's shout,
and sighed as he watched the pregnant head of the
Preventers race towards him. "Hey there, slow down,
Lady. What's up?"
"I need you to prep the Epyon for me, Howard. I don't
need you to think about it, or discuss it with me, I
just need you to do it. Right now."
Howard sighed. The Epyon, which they'd rebuilt to
specs after the Eve Wars, had been stripped of its
Zero system and repainted in blue on white, colors
reminiscent of the Tallgeese II, but it was still a
very dangerous Gundam, and, skilled pilot though she
was, Howard didn't think Lady Une had any business
using it in her condition. Not that, of course, it
would do any good to argue with her on the subject-
one look at her face told him that.
"What's going on?" he asked as he got to work.
"There was an explosion- a bomb, we think -at the
council meeting. Mariemaia's class was there. I've
/got/ to go, Howard, even if there isn't a damned
thing I can do."
"Alright," said Howard. "But at least let me help you
up there."
"Thank you," she said, accepting the arm he offered
her.
Une slipped into the cockpit and buckled herself in.
The straps were a little tight, but she decided they
would have to do. This wasn't her first time piloting
the refit Epyon, and she quickly scanned the displays
and readouts before her. "Okay, Howard. Looks good."
"Be careful," Howard said.
"Count on it."
Une tapped the Gundam's vidcom with the fingers of
one hand as she piloted the suit out of the hanger.
Though the Preventer teams carried only
communicators, her vidcom would connect her with them
by audio.
"Preventers, this is Epyon. Wind, Fire, do you copy?"
Noin's sigh came through loud and clear. "We hear
you, boss. You're crazy, by the way."
"Thank you, Preventer Fire. Situation."
"Not good, ma'am. The recon team says the council
chamber is mostly gone, and the survivors we've found
are very badly hurt. We need more medics. A lot of
them."
"You'll get them," Une promised. "Is there anything
else you can tell me?"
"Yeah," said Milliardo dryly. "You might suggest to
the Council at the next budget meeting that we could
/really/ use a bomb squad."
"Funny."
Une dialed up her office on the vidcom, and spoke
quickly to Dorothy. In a few short sentences she
outlined what she needed where, and Dorothy got to
work.
Before she cut the connection with Dorothy, Une heard
her assistant end her orders with the words, "And
somebody find Trowa Barton. Maybe he can talk our
fearless leader out of her Gundam."
"I don't think so, Dorothy," Une said, before she did
sever the connection.
The area around the council building resembled
nothing so much as it did a war zone, Une saw with a
shudder. The carnage became clearer and clearer as
she approached in Epyon, and she kept her hands near
the weapons controls, though she hoped she wouldn't
have to use them.
Though Howard had removed the Zero system, something
of the self-awareness of Epyon had remained. Many of
the techs had wanted to scrap it for that very
reason, but Une wouldn't hear of it. Not when she had
already proven she could handle the Gundam, even with
its unique and dangerous attributes.
Still, piloting it was no picnic, least of all now,
and she slammed a fist onto one of the armrests in
frustration. "Come on," she coaxed the Gundam.
"Treize designed you, and /I/ rebuilt you. If anyone
can pilot you..."
One of the twins kicked just then, and she gasped.
"Treize, what the hell am I doing? The others were
right. Oh, I can't, I can't..."
For just the briefest moment, she thought she felt
his hands warm upon her shoulders. His voice was
everywhere and nowhere. /Shh, Lady. It's alright. You
tried, and I have to applaud your efforts./
"T-Treize?"
/Now set this thing down before you get hurt./
"Mariemaia?" she asked, settling Epyon back on solid
ground with a small sigh of relief.
/She wasn't too badly hurt. She should be alright./
* * *
"She's crazy," Trowa Barton said as the refurbished
Epyon landed in the street alongside a line of
emergency vehicles.
"Gutsy," Duo Maxwell said. "But stupid. God, she
looks like hell."
Together Duo and Trowa raced for Epyon, scrambling up
the Gundam's exterior to look in on Lady Une.
She laughed softly at the sight of their worried
expressions. "I wish you'd all stop this. I'm
/fine./"
"If you say so," said Duo. "Listen, it's pretty bad
in there. Probably not something you should see."
Une's eyes narrowed. "There's quite a bit I've seen
already in my time."
"Duo, why don't you go find the other Preventers and
see if you can't get a status report out of them?"
Trowa suggested.
Duo nodded. "Will do. I think I'll go help the
investigators after that. We certainly blew enough
stuff up in our time to know a thing or two about
explosives."
Une smiled at that, waving aside Trowa's offer of
assistance, and using Epyon's automatic hoist cable
to lower herself to the tarmac.
"Alright," she said to Trowa. "Newsies here yet?"
"Yep," Trowa replied. "Nichol's keeping them busy
with about ten different versions of the same basic
doubletalk. I didn't know anyone could extend 'No
comment' or 'We have no new information' to such
length."
"I'm just glad to see he's proven good for something.
You didn't leave him alone up there, did you?"
"Quatre's with him, and for now, the newsies seem
happy with him and Nichol."
"I'll want to give them a statement as soon as we
know anything, though," Une said.
"Of course." He lifted the barrier tape, and led her
to a small cluster of police and emergency workers.
"Gentlemen, this is Lady Une, head of the
Preventers."
"Chief Ling," said the most senior of them, with a
nod. "It's a pleasure, although I wish we'd met under
better circumstances.
Une nodded in greeting. "How's it look?" she asked
quietly, hardly noticing when Trowa slipped off into
the crowd, as seemed to be his way.
"Not well, to be frank," said Ling. "We've got a lot
of dead diplomats, and the kids..." He shook his
head. "My son's one of them, and they haven't found
him yet..."
"We're looking, Chief," said another of the officers.
Une laid a hand on his arm. "My daughter was there,
as well..."
"Damn," said Ling. "I don't know about you, but I
can't just stand here, although that's what I'm
/supposed/ to do..."
Une nodded. "I know the feeling."
* * *
It was Trowa, joining the search teams inside the
building, who found Mariemaia. The girl was curled on
her side, bleeding from a cut on her forehead, and
her left arm hung at an unnatural angle, which told
Trowa it was broken.
"Trowa?" the little girl asked as he kneeled beside
her.
"Yes," Trowa replied. "Don't try and move your arm,
I'm fairly sure it's broken."
"The others..." Mariemaia began.
"Don't worry about them right now," Trowa said,
picking her up very carefully and moving towards the
exit.
"Trowa?"
"Yes?"
"My arm really hurts. I think- I'd like to pass out
now. Is that okay?"
"It's fine," Trowa told the already unconscious
Mariemaia.
Author: Anne Khushrenada
Disclaimers: Standard. I don't own GW, yadayadayada.
Warnings: The usual round of OOCs.
Milliardo Peacecraft looked up from his computer at
the sound of the office door creaking open, and
sighed when he saw there was no one there. "Damned
draft," he muttered.
/No, I don't think so./
Slowly a ghostly apparition faded into view, and,
with a great deal of effort, heaved the door closed
once again. "Gods, you're dense, old friend," said
the unmistakable specter of Treize Khushrenada, clad
in the familiar blue and white OZ uniform.
Milliardo sighed. "Haunting me now, Treize?"
"As if I had nothing better to do. No, old friend, I
need a favor, and you are the only one who might be
capable of taking care of it for me."
"Name it," Milliardo said. Since his friend's death,
he had thought that if anything of Treize survived
that experience, if the spirit did indeed go on to
another realm, that Treize would never have forgiven
him for his words and actions during the final days
of the war. But Treize's manner was as it would have
been years ago, when they had worked so well
together, when they had been as close as ever they'd
been in their youth.
"I went to see Lady Une the other night," Treize
said. "Actually, it may have been quite a while ago;
I don't seem to be able to keep track of time
anymore."
"She's been acting a bit- strange -for the past
month."
"Has it been that long?" Treize asked himself. "In
any case, I... Well. There's no delicate way to
phrase what I am about to say. So I will ask you
this. If you were me, if you had died, and your
Lucrezia never knew so much as the fact you loved
her, what would you do?"
"Anything I could," Milliardo said. "And whatever it
would take, to see her, to show her..." He raised his
eyebrows then, an unspoken question, and Treize
laughed.
"You know, at my heart I have always been something
of a romantic."
"I know," Milliardo said, dryly. "So...."
"I- Gods, old friend, must I spell it out for you?"
"But, you- You're dead, Treize."
The specter sighed. "Yes. I know that. A month ago, I
wasn't- quite. And I suspect my lady- with the help
of Doctor Sally Po, of course -has just discovered
the, ah, result of that interlude."
"Sally Po Chang," Milliardo corrected reflexively.
"If any woman alive could tolerate that boy, it
/would/ have been Sally," Treize replied. "But at any
rate, Death seems to be of the belief that he can
take one of my children from this world, in exchange
for making me human again for that one night. I will
do what I can to protect them, however-"
Milliardo nodded. "Lucrezia and I are already God-
parents to Mariemaia, you know."
"Yes, and you spoil her horribly."
"Someone's got to do it," Milliardo countered with a
smile. "Rest easy, my friend. Anything in my power
that I can do for your children... Hell, you don't
even need to ask. I owe you too much."
Treize nodded slowly. "Milliardo, words cannot
express my gratitude."
* * *
Lady Une returned to her office with trembling steps,
her knees shaking so hard that they barely held her
up. She did not respond to Dorothy's nod of greeting
as she passed the younger woman, but continued to the
inner office door and pulled it closed behind her.
She leaned up against the door, her whole body
shaking now. /Get ahold of yourself,/ she thought
sharply. /You're going to have to figure out how to
deal with this, and soon./
A flash of red caught her eye, and she spun towards
the desk, breath catching in her throat.
Roses. A vase full of them, long-stemmed and red. Une
took a step towards the desk, and then another.
"What-?" she began, but never finished.
Dorothy stepped into the office. "Oh. Those. I'm
sorry, Lady Une..."
"Who brought them?" Une asked.
"Nichol. He wanted to see you, but you weren't in-"
Dorothy cut herself off as Une lifted the vase from
her desk and pressed it into the other woman's hands.
"Keep them. Get rid of them, whatever. I don't care.
But get them out of my sight."
"Lady, I... Alright. I'll take care of them." With
that, Dorothy quickly departed the office, vase in
hand.
/Lovely,/ Une thought as she dropped into her chair.
/She's going to think I've lost my mind. Oh, Dorothy,
if only you knew. If only you knew./
She gazed at her reflection in the office's window
glass. She hardly looked pregnant, but Sally had said
it wouldn't be long now before she did start to show.
The unspoken thought along with that statement had
been that there was still time to abort the
pregnancy, that no one need ever know...
Une buried her head in her hands. She had never felt
more lost, more alone. But she knew the one thing she
could /not/ do was forsake this child. /Her/ child,
and, perhaps more importantly, Treize's child. And
yet, she did not know how she would ever manage
alone, without Treize.
/I need a cigarette,/ she thought. Then, with a laugh
bordering on the hysterical: /But I can't have one./
The door eased open again, and, furious, Une searched
her desk for something to throw. "Doesn't /anyone/
ever knock-?"
Milliardo Peacecraft, ignoring this, closed the door
behind him and strode towards her across the carpet.
"Dorothy called me," he said. "She told me
something's wrong."
"Oh, Milliardo," Une said quietly. "Everything's
wrong."
"I also heard," Milliardo said, "about Nichol and the
roses. I don't know what in the world he's thinking.
He means well, but- They upset you, didn't they? The
roses?"
"Yes," she said. "The roses, and... other things,
too. If only you knew, Milliardo."
Milliardo smiled. "Try me."
And, hesitantly, because he had been Treize's best
friend, and because of what they'd shared on the eve
of Treize's death, she did tell him. Not everything,
but enough. She told him of Treize's nocturnal visit,
and of Sally's revelation that she was now pregnant.
"You think me mad, don't you?" Une asked.
"No," Milliardo said, moving quickly around the desk,
hugging her close. "No, Lady, I don't think you mad."
"Why?" she asked. Une drew a deep breath. "You saw
him."
"Yes." Milliardo brushed a strand of hair back from
his face. "Don't ask me to explain it, Lady Une,
because I cannot. But I know what I saw, and felt."
"I, too," Une said. "How am I ever going to explain
this?"
"I wish I knew."
* * *
"Well?"
"Well, what?" Milliardo looked at Sally, more than a
little irritated. He did not want to be having this
conversation, but she had insisted, and Sally could
be quite forceful when she wanted to be. It was
probably, he thought, how she'd managed to survive
these years of marriage to Wufei.
"Did she say anything to you?"
"She did, but I cannot betray her confidences,"
Milliardo replied.
"Milliardo!" Sally protested.
But he shook his head. "Sally, listen to me, please.
She was my best friend's girl. He's dead, and she's
/still/ my best friend's girl. Not to mention my
girl's best friend, after you. If you want the truth,
you go and get it from her, yourself. I told Lucrezia
the same, by the way."
"I'm sure that went over well," Sally replied.
"Oh, it did."
"Milliardo- I'm not doing this to be nosy, you know.
She's hurting, and we want to help her."
"We all do," Milliardo replied. He seemed to be
looking then, not at Sally, but at something over her
shoulder and off into the distance. "Excuse me..."
* * *
Treize looked over Milliardo's shoulder as the latter
dug through old books and papers, muttering under his
breath. It was all he could do not to scream. Unable
to affect the physical world himself, and unable to
inform his old friend that he was looking in entirely
the wrong places, was incredibly frustrating.
At last Milliardo came upon the keys to the desk, and
began sifting through its contents. Treize breathed a
sigh of relief. He would find it now, he'd have to.
"Ah-hah," Milliardo said triumphantly. He scanned the
document he had found. "Is this for real, old friend?
/Of course it is, you fool,/ Treize thought sharply.
Milliardo looked up as if he'd heard something.
"What?"
Treize settled his spiritual form into a chair, and
sighed. Physically manifesting himself was beginning
to take its toll upon his energy reserves, but
sometimes there was no way around it.
/Hearing things, old boy?/ he asked silently, for
speaking mentally took far less strength than doing
so aloud.
"Treize," Milliardo said. "I seem to have found what
I'm looking for, thanks to you." He glanced again at
the document in his hands. "You really did plan
ahead, didn't you?"
/Actually, that nonsense was Father's idea. The
letter to Lady Une- which you'll find in that
document box there -was mine. You /will/ see that she
gets it, won't you?/
"Of course," Milliardo replied. "And I must admit, it
does beat telling ghost stories to everyone. Not that
they would have believed those, of course..."
Treize nodded, and then his ghostly eyes narrowed.
/Damned fool,/ he muttered to himself. /Excuse me,
old friend, but I have someone I need to haunt for a
bit./
Milliardo laughed. "Let me guess. Nichol?"
Treize shook his head. /There are those, apparently,
who never learn./
"Maybe," said Milliardo. "But even /I/ know better
than to send red roses to /your/ girl."
Treize smiled, and raised a hand in parting gesture.
/Farewell, old friend. Till we meet again. And give
her that letter!/ The specter's voice echoed as he
faded away.
Milliardo stared after him a moment, then shook his
head. /Even dead, old friend, you still manage to
make me question my sanity. Often./ He gathered up
the document he'd found, and the letter to Lady Une,
and locked up the desk before exiting the room.
A small red-haired sentry stood just outside the
door, her arms crossed. She raised an eyebrow at him,
then smiled. "Uncle Milliardo," she said. "I'd
wondered who was here."
"Just me, Mariemaia. I'm sorry I startled you. I was
looking for something among your father's things."
"Did you find it?" the girl asked.
"Yes, I think I did."
* * *
Lady Une stood before the gravesite, and sighed. "I
promised myself I wasn't going to come here anymore,"
she said softly aloud. "It didn't seem as if reliving
the past that way was doing me any good. But you've
changed everything, Treize, again, and now I hardly
know what to do." She sighed. "But in any case, I'm
sure you'll be glad to know that I've given up
smoking. Sally didn't even have to force the issue,
and I don't miss it- much."
The sound of footsteps caused her to turn, and she
breathed a little sigh of relief when she saw that it
was only Milliardo. She really wasn't in the mood to
be interrupted now by anyone else.
"I have something for you," Milliardo said, as he
produced a pair of documents.
Une shot him a questioning look as she accepted the
documents from him, but he only motioned for her to
read them. She did so, beginning with that which was
topmost.
It appeared to be a letter from Lucian Khushrenada,
Treize's father, to his son, and she scanned it with
no small amount of trepidation, feeling as if she had
intruded in a place where she did not belong. But as
she read the letter she began to feel less intrusive,
deciding that she would have liked Treize's father a
great deal. The elder Duke Khushrenada seemed to
possess a great depth of humor, but she could tell by
the way he chastised his son for having gone against
his wishes, that he had been as much a warrior as his
son, and also as dangerous.
The letter read in part:
"I still fail to see why you oppose the match with
Barton's daughter so vehemently. She's a lovely girl,
quite intelligent and charming, and she's certainly
pretty enough for you, Treize. What possible
objection could you have to this?" In the margin,
Treize had scrawled, "I don't love her, Father. What
more reason need I give?"
"In any case, your grandfather and I, having decided
that marrying her is in your best interests, have
gone ahead and given her access to the Bank. I am
given to understand she has already conceived a
child, a girl if the doctors are correct. For her
sake, can't you..." Here Treize had written,
"Scheming old bastard... And no, I can't."
"What?" Une asked Milliardo. "What's he talking
about?"
"Keep reading," said Milliardo. "You'll see."
The rest of the letter from Treize's father proved
mostly irrelevant, but the second document, which was
a letter addressed to /her/, seemed to have quite a
bit to say. Une drew a deep breath before she began
to read it.
"My dearest Lady,
It may be that you are reading this because things
have not ended as I would have wished them. Life is
ever complicated, and war is more so, I think.
It may be that you have never realized, have never
known, how very much you mean to me, Lady. If that is
the case, let me state it plainly, so that there can
be no mistake. I love you. I have loved you for
years..."
Une looked up from the letter, to find Milliardo's
ice-blue gaze upon her. She gestured to the letter,
her tone almost accusing. "Did you read any of this?"
He shook his head. "No, Lady, I didn't. I saw the
envelope had your name on it, and I brought it to
you. I wouldn't have-"
She nodded. "Good."
Her breath catching in her throat, she found she was
forced to skip several long sections. She was simply
unprepared to deal with the overwhelming emotion that
swept over her. "Treize," she whispered, heedless of
the fact that Milliardo was still there, watching
her.
"...Perhaps it is only my arrogance which assumes
that you will have any desire to know this, Lady,
but... By now you will know of my daughter,
Mariemaia, and of the way in which she was brought
into the world. And so if you will allow me this
small bit of ego, dear one..."
Before she was able to go on in her reading, a quick
gust of air swept the letter from her hands and
carried it off. Uselessly, Une reached out her hands
as if to snatch it back, but the wind danced it out
of her reach, and she sighed. Hands on her hips, she
gave the wind a reproachful look, and Milliardo had
to try very hard not to laugh.
"Do you find this amusing?" Une asked softly.
"I..." Milliardo shook his head. "You saw what he was
getting at, though, with the letter from his father.
/That/ one I've seen."
Une nodded. "Yes, I think so, but..."
"It's something the old Romafeller families did.
There was a great fear when the Alliance first began
using mobile suits for combat that some of the energy
forms used to power them would render both male and
female pilots unable to have children."
"How that must have terrified them," Une said. "The
thought that their names would not carry on..."
"Exactly," said Milliardo. "Which is why they set up
the genetic bank. Any member of the families over
eighteen, or younger if they began piloting sooner
than that, was required to make at least one
deposit."
"And the Khushrenadas-"
"Were traditionalists. Treize thought it ridiculous,
but his father was absolutely insistent."
"I see," said Lady Une. "Thank you, Milliardo."
"Don't thank /me./ Thank Lucian Khushrenada."
* * *
Mariemaia stepped into the library only recently
vacated by Milliardo Peacecraft. "Father?" she asked.
But it was clear to her that if her father's spirit
had been there, it was gone now. But spread out on
the desk was the clear trail of Milliardo's research,
including letters from her grandfather Khushrenada to
her father, referencing the Barton family and some
sort of genetic bank...
"It figures," said Mariemaia as she dropped into her
father's old desk chair. She picked up another letter
and read it slowly. "How stubborn Grandfather Lucian
was."
Beneath that letter was another, dated far more
recently and addressed to her mother. The return
address indicated it was from a woman named Linnea
Khushrenada. Curious, Mariemaia opened the envelope
and withdrew the single sheet of paper it contained.
"Dear Lady Une," she read aloud. "I am writing to you
on behalf of my family. We are cousins to Treize
Khushrenada, whom I was very close to, and we are
given to understand that you have his daughter, one
Mariemaya Barton, in your custody. I dare say, Lady,
that the girl knows me far better than she does
you..."
Mariemaia made a face at the letter. "Cousin Linnea
knows us so well she couldn't even get my name
right," she scoffed at the monogrammed, scented
stationary.
There was a second letter from Linnea, this one a bit
thicker, and Mariemaia examined this warily,
uncertain what she would find but knowing that she
would not like it much.
"Lady Une, I must insist that the child be given into
my care /immediately./ You know as well as I do that
this was her father's wish..."
Furious, Mariemaia crumpled the paper and tossed it
off to the side of the desk. "How dare she, Father?"
the girl asked aloud. "And if she's such a close
relation, how come I've never even heard of her
before?"
* * *
Treize found himself returning to the cemetery,
although he did not much care for the atmosphere
there. It served to remind him a little too much that
he was not quite alive anymore.
With a sigh he began to search for the letter which
the wind had torn from Lady Une's hands.
/And how fortunate that was,/ he thought with a
silent laugh. /Truly. Ah- there it is./ What remained
of the letter was scattered amongst a line of thorn
bushes, shredded so that whatever words it might have
once contained were now worse than illegible. Treize
nodded to himself. /Good enough./
He had realized, while watching Lady Une and
Milliardo, that things had changed far too much for
half the letter's contents to be even slightly
relevant, and that Une's reading them would serve no
purpose but to upset her. At one point in that
missive, he'd spoken of asking her to marry him.
Certainly she had suffered enough, without /that./
And his primary concern, of course, was her well-
being, and that of the children.
Not that, Treize thought with another sigh, there was
much he was truly capable of doing to protect them.
Not from forces supernatural, and there was even
/less/ he was able to do to keep them safe from the
living dangers that existed for them.
/Leave them be, Linnea,/ he thought. /Leave Mariemaia
be, and the unborn two, as well. Because I swear to
you, /cousin/, if you do not.../
* * *
Three months later
October AC 199
Lucrezia Noin caught the office door for Lady Une and
held it open, and Une, now three, almost four, months
pregnant, smiled.
"Thank you," she said, stepping into her office and
dropping her bag with a sigh upon the desktop. "Gods.
Walking that gauntlet of reporters always seems to
exhaust me, these days."
"I can't imagine why," Noin said. "Nosy fools. As if
it's any of their business how or why you became
pregnant. You'd think, from the way they act, that
none of the rest of us are, how was it Wufei put it?"
"Reproducing," Une replied with a laugh. "Of course,
/you're/ not showing yet. Although Sally is..."
"Do you suppose the difference is that Sally and I
are married? And you're-?"
"Not?" Une asked. "Maybe. But almost anything they
say or do beats that horrid rumor the tabloids
started, that I was, I believe their phrasing was,
'having the love-child of Preventer Nichol.'"
Noin laughed. "You really need to do something about
him, my friend."
"What would you suggest?" Une asked. "His latest
strategy seems to be that my children are going to
need a father. With, of course, the implication that
he's more than willing to take the job." She shook
her head. "I don't have time for this nonsense, Noin.
I've got the annual Council budget meeting in less
than three months, and Sally's already threatening to
order me to bed until the twins are born."
"Everything alright?" Noin asked with concern. Unlike
most who knew of Lady Une's pregnancy, Noin knew just
how irreplaceable the twins truly were, and how
deeply it would shatter her old friend to loose even
one of them.
"Fine," Une said. "But Sally is of the belief I work
too hard, and that it isn't good for the three of
us." She laughed. "Not that, you'll notice, /her/
pregnancy is slowing her down one bit."
"Point," said Noin. "But still, if Sally thinks you
should be careful..."
"I'm as careful as I can be without hiding in my room
for another five months, Noin."
Noin nodded, not quite accepting this, but knowing
far better than to argue with her friend about it.
Instead she decided to change the subject. "How's
Mariemaia doing with all this?"
"Mariemaia's fine," Une replied. "She's actually
attending a function with her school today, believe
it or not. They're going to observe the council
meeting."
"Are you as jealous as I am, Lady?" Noin asked.
"Be kind," Une replied with a smile. "No, I really
think her biggest problem these days is those
wretched relations of her father, who are probably
going to sue me for custody of her any day now."
Noin shook her head. "They don't really care about
her, do they?"
"Treize didn't seem to think they cared about
/anyone/ but themselves, and I've seen no reason to
doubt that." Une sighed. "That's leaving entirely
aside what they've said to me about the twins, of
course."
"Of course," said Noin.
The intercom upon the desk beeped, and Dorothy's
voice came through. "Lady Une? Preventer Chang to see
you."
"Send her in," Une said, rolling her eyes. "And so it
begins again..."
"Actually, it's Wufei. He says there's some kind of
trouble downtown..."
"The council," Une breathed. /Mariemaia!/ "Send him
in, and page Milliardo and Sally, please. Right now."
Une reached into her desk and withdrew her pistol.
Noin sighed and shook her head. "Lady Une, you can't
seriously-"
"Don't," Une cut her off, holding her voice steady by
sheer act of will alone. /Oh, Treize... not
Mariemaia, please... oh, God, no./
Wufei Chang entered the office and closed the door
behind him. "We just got a call informing us that
someone decided to bomb the council chamber while a
group of school kids were visiting it." He shook his
head. "There's no honor in that."
"No kidding," said Noin. Then, "Mariemaia was one of
those school kids."
"We'll find her, Lady, I promise you," Wufei said,
just as Sally and Milliardo entered the office at a
run.
"Yes," Une said as she stood, holstering the pistol.
"/We/ will."
And she strode from the office, calling out orders,
before any of them could voice a word of protest. As
one they looked to each other, then hurried after
her. They listened along with the rest of the
assembled Preventers as Une addressed them quickly,
laid out the situation for them, and briefed them on
the plan she and the others had come up with on the
elevator ride down from her office.
"Alright, everyone," Une concluded. "Let's go!"
As Milliardo helped her down from the chair upon
which she'd stood, he said very quietly, "You're not
going anywhere, Lady."
"The hell I'm not. That's my daughter out there,
Preventer Wind, and I will /not/ just sit here and
wait. I'm pregnant, not useless."
"Alright," said Milliardo. "Fine. You go with us, but
you don't go in."
"I see. I'll simply wait around the corner and
address the press?"
"Yes, exactly."
"I don't think so."
Une flagged down one of the Preventers rushing
towards the exits. It was, she saw with a sinking
feeling, Nichol, the last person on Earth she had any
desire to speak to. But also, the only one who
wouldn't dare to question a word she said, no matter
what it was, and she lacked the time to be picky.
Nichol would have to do.
"You," she said as if she hadn't recognized him at
all, "have the Epyon prepped before you join the
others."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Milliardo threw up his hands in disgust. /Treize,
you've got yourself one very stubborn Lady. Now stop
her before she gets herself killed!/ "Epyon?" he
asked aloud in shock. "I can say from firsthand
experience that the Zero system is the last thing you
want to be playing around with, Lady."
"I'm not playing," she said, her voice very cold. And
before he could reply she spun on her heel and raced
for the hanger.
Milliardo turned his wrath upon Nichol, who'd simply
/stood there/, not saying a word. "Don't do it," he
told the ex-OZ officer. "I'm dead serious, Nichol.
Don't."
"She gave me an order-" Nichol began.
"Look," Milliardo snapped. "You're always professing
your undying love for her, right? Well, let me ask
you this. Do you want /her/ dead? /Don't/ do it."
* * *
"Howard!"
Howard looked up at the sound of Lady Une's shout,
and sighed as he watched the pregnant head of the
Preventers race towards him. "Hey there, slow down,
Lady. What's up?"
"I need you to prep the Epyon for me, Howard. I don't
need you to think about it, or discuss it with me, I
just need you to do it. Right now."
Howard sighed. The Epyon, which they'd rebuilt to
specs after the Eve Wars, had been stripped of its
Zero system and repainted in blue on white, colors
reminiscent of the Tallgeese II, but it was still a
very dangerous Gundam, and, skilled pilot though she
was, Howard didn't think Lady Une had any business
using it in her condition. Not that, of course, it
would do any good to argue with her on the subject-
one look at her face told him that.
"What's going on?" he asked as he got to work.
"There was an explosion- a bomb, we think -at the
council meeting. Mariemaia's class was there. I've
/got/ to go, Howard, even if there isn't a damned
thing I can do."
"Alright," said Howard. "But at least let me help you
up there."
"Thank you," she said, accepting the arm he offered
her.
Une slipped into the cockpit and buckled herself in.
The straps were a little tight, but she decided they
would have to do. This wasn't her first time piloting
the refit Epyon, and she quickly scanned the displays
and readouts before her. "Okay, Howard. Looks good."
"Be careful," Howard said.
"Count on it."
Une tapped the Gundam's vidcom with the fingers of
one hand as she piloted the suit out of the hanger.
Though the Preventer teams carried only
communicators, her vidcom would connect her with them
by audio.
"Preventers, this is Epyon. Wind, Fire, do you copy?"
Noin's sigh came through loud and clear. "We hear
you, boss. You're crazy, by the way."
"Thank you, Preventer Fire. Situation."
"Not good, ma'am. The recon team says the council
chamber is mostly gone, and the survivors we've found
are very badly hurt. We need more medics. A lot of
them."
"You'll get them," Une promised. "Is there anything
else you can tell me?"
"Yeah," said Milliardo dryly. "You might suggest to
the Council at the next budget meeting that we could
/really/ use a bomb squad."
"Funny."
Une dialed up her office on the vidcom, and spoke
quickly to Dorothy. In a few short sentences she
outlined what she needed where, and Dorothy got to
work.
Before she cut the connection with Dorothy, Une heard
her assistant end her orders with the words, "And
somebody find Trowa Barton. Maybe he can talk our
fearless leader out of her Gundam."
"I don't think so, Dorothy," Une said, before she did
sever the connection.
The area around the council building resembled
nothing so much as it did a war zone, Une saw with a
shudder. The carnage became clearer and clearer as
she approached in Epyon, and she kept her hands near
the weapons controls, though she hoped she wouldn't
have to use them.
Though Howard had removed the Zero system, something
of the self-awareness of Epyon had remained. Many of
the techs had wanted to scrap it for that very
reason, but Une wouldn't hear of it. Not when she had
already proven she could handle the Gundam, even with
its unique and dangerous attributes.
Still, piloting it was no picnic, least of all now,
and she slammed a fist onto one of the armrests in
frustration. "Come on," she coaxed the Gundam.
"Treize designed you, and /I/ rebuilt you. If anyone
can pilot you..."
One of the twins kicked just then, and she gasped.
"Treize, what the hell am I doing? The others were
right. Oh, I can't, I can't..."
For just the briefest moment, she thought she felt
his hands warm upon her shoulders. His voice was
everywhere and nowhere. /Shh, Lady. It's alright. You
tried, and I have to applaud your efforts./
"T-Treize?"
/Now set this thing down before you get hurt./
"Mariemaia?" she asked, settling Epyon back on solid
ground with a small sigh of relief.
/She wasn't too badly hurt. She should be alright./
* * *
"She's crazy," Trowa Barton said as the refurbished
Epyon landed in the street alongside a line of
emergency vehicles.
"Gutsy," Duo Maxwell said. "But stupid. God, she
looks like hell."
Together Duo and Trowa raced for Epyon, scrambling up
the Gundam's exterior to look in on Lady Une.
She laughed softly at the sight of their worried
expressions. "I wish you'd all stop this. I'm
/fine./"
"If you say so," said Duo. "Listen, it's pretty bad
in there. Probably not something you should see."
Une's eyes narrowed. "There's quite a bit I've seen
already in my time."
"Duo, why don't you go find the other Preventers and
see if you can't get a status report out of them?"
Trowa suggested.
Duo nodded. "Will do. I think I'll go help the
investigators after that. We certainly blew enough
stuff up in our time to know a thing or two about
explosives."
Une smiled at that, waving aside Trowa's offer of
assistance, and using Epyon's automatic hoist cable
to lower herself to the tarmac.
"Alright," she said to Trowa. "Newsies here yet?"
"Yep," Trowa replied. "Nichol's keeping them busy
with about ten different versions of the same basic
doubletalk. I didn't know anyone could extend 'No
comment' or 'We have no new information' to such
length."
"I'm just glad to see he's proven good for something.
You didn't leave him alone up there, did you?"
"Quatre's with him, and for now, the newsies seem
happy with him and Nichol."
"I'll want to give them a statement as soon as we
know anything, though," Une said.
"Of course." He lifted the barrier tape, and led her
to a small cluster of police and emergency workers.
"Gentlemen, this is Lady Une, head of the
Preventers."
"Chief Ling," said the most senior of them, with a
nod. "It's a pleasure, although I wish we'd met under
better circumstances.
Une nodded in greeting. "How's it look?" she asked
quietly, hardly noticing when Trowa slipped off into
the crowd, as seemed to be his way.
"Not well, to be frank," said Ling. "We've got a lot
of dead diplomats, and the kids..." He shook his
head. "My son's one of them, and they haven't found
him yet..."
"We're looking, Chief," said another of the officers.
Une laid a hand on his arm. "My daughter was there,
as well..."
"Damn," said Ling. "I don't know about you, but I
can't just stand here, although that's what I'm
/supposed/ to do..."
Une nodded. "I know the feeling."
* * *
It was Trowa, joining the search teams inside the
building, who found Mariemaia. The girl was curled on
her side, bleeding from a cut on her forehead, and
her left arm hung at an unnatural angle, which told
Trowa it was broken.
"Trowa?" the little girl asked as he kneeled beside
her.
"Yes," Trowa replied. "Don't try and move your arm,
I'm fairly sure it's broken."
"The others..." Mariemaia began.
"Don't worry about them right now," Trowa said,
picking her up very carefully and moving towards the
exit.
"Trowa?"
"Yes?"
"My arm really hurts. I think- I'd like to pass out
now. Is that okay?"
"It's fine," Trowa told the already unconscious
Mariemaia.