Email: kyophile@cs.com
AN: I'm really hesitant to put this part out just because I feel that I have rushed it out because I'm happy that I received encouragement. Thank you for the feedback, it's made me promise to try and continue this. There is more thinking, unfortunately, as I'm trying to lay down more groundwork. But, I'm really struggling here. I have no idea what Zechs is going to do. You'd think I should know or something. Feedback extremely appreciated, along with some suggestions of where to head? Thank you!
She spent the rest of the night with her head between her knees, wondering again at her own weakness. One of these days, a truly through and through bad, asprining dictator with startling green eyes and black hair would appear and she would willingly follow him in his plans to take over the world. This preoccupation, this full blown obsession with all things beautiful was going to be the death of her. So far, she had eluded any serious mishaps. Except for those incidents where Zechs had briefly gone with White Fang. Those instances when she had faced him, faced the reality that he might be gone, destroying that beauty with no regards to her. Those incidents had been damaging in confidence, in stability. The times that had followed were black nightmares in her mind. And now she was unstable again. It couldn't be that he was perfect. No one was. If she looked closer tomorrow, she would find flaws. She knew it. She had to pay more attention. She raised her head and directly went back to bending over when bile rose in her throat. A slight ridge of dead skin from a scar across his shoulder, or a small frizzled hair among the straight, anything. She knew she would be able to find something. Because he was only human.
But the thought of him being perfect was not as terrifying as the fact that he was insinuating that he knew what she felt. Knew why she was staying by his side, why she was always by his side without question. He could not know. But she hadn't made it to the rank of a lieutenant by 19 by denying and blinding herself. She was perceptive and inside her heart she knew that he knew. And what of it? Why was he letting her know? What did he want? If it was reassurance, he was getting none. She couldn't even reassure herself. If it was . . .if it was some kind of cryptic warning, then . . .then she didn't know. Noin blew out three breaths in steady, slow succession before getting off of the couch.
She flicked on all of the lights in her apartment, including the lamps and the small nightlight in the hall. She opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer hidden deep behind three cartons of orange juice, and half of a lemon. Noin opened the freezer and grabbed some ice cubes. Methodically, she began to peel the skin of the lemon off using an inconvenient carving knife. It was too long, but this way, she had to concentrate more to avoid getting cut. She pretended she didn't know what she was doing, concentrating on peeling, glinting white blade against pale yellow. When she was done and was satisfied that the lemon was faultless, she flicked out the seeds. The ice cubes were beginning to run slightly, water dripping in the bowl she had set out. She sliced the lemon and dropped it into the silver mixing bowl. She made to pour in the entire bottle of beer, but then hesitated and only added in half. To placate herself further, she added more ice cubes. She covered the entire bowl in aluminum foil and let it set on the counter.
Unnerved by the silence Noin turned on the small screen in the kitchen, flipping channels until the news came on. There was another earthquake in southwestern China, where Sally was stationed at the moment. A 7.6 on the Richter scale. A series of carefully edited images moved onto the screen of rubble, empty streets, a river buried under dirt and children sitting before a skeleton of what once had been their school. Noin changed the channel when she began to think of Zechs again. The phone rang and Noin eyed it warily.
"Identify caller," Noin called out.
"Identity blocked," the voice answered. Noin reached out and answered.
"Hello."
"I imagine you're doing absolutely nothing right now." Noin blinked, reassured by the metallic tang in his voice. She glanced at the chilling bowl, drops of moisture rolling down the sides from the ice and pulled her gaze back to the screen.
"I'm watching the news. The area where Sally is in was hit by an earthquake," Noin said slickly.
"And you somehow could foresee that this would happen and ran away from me." His voice was quiet, bare, reflecting his mood. She couldn't pick out the annoyance she knew was there. Careful to keep her own voice equally unreadable, she told him that she had just finished a call to Duo, her temporary partner. "It's still early, we can go to dinner."
"Zechs, it's ten," Noin pointed out, smirking.
"You don't go to sleep until two. It's early. I'll come to pick you up. I have to talk to you," he added and her stomach twisted. "Noin."
And his tone had dropped again, the acidity missing. Noin closed her eyes, biting her lip. She had half a mind to go into her room and shoot herself now. But she knew it wasn't plausible. She needed to see him now after hearing him speak. That was how it was. Three weeks was too long. Every moment spent without him when she knew he was so near by, it had worn thin an hour ago.
"Sure." She hung up and poured out a glass of the diluted beer, putting the rest behind the orange juices, then closed the door. She took a sip, telling herself that this was watery, lemony beer and therefore the alcohol content was low. It was probably nonexistent. This was the only way she could drink any beer at all, diluted, the taste hidden by the flavor of lemons. Even though it frightened her to drink again, she had to drink once in awhile, if only to remember the taste. Noin drank it down sparingly, sip by sip as she walked to her bedroom. The cream colored tile changed into a dark green carpet, soft and new under her feet. She was only halfway done with it by the time she had dressed. He would probably take her out to his favorite restaurant, Denouement, an upscale Japanese place located about fifteen minutes from the Preventers headquarters.
Personally, she couldn't really handle raw fish. The fried shrimp was fine, but raw fish seemed an unnecessary risk for some disease. Noin ran a hand through her short hair and tossed back the rest of the drink when the doorbell rang.
~
Denouement was two stories high, the floors were waxed wood, the bar white marble and everything gleamed as if it was made of plastic. There were huge flower arrangements near the hostess station and small red leafed trees lining the waiting area. They had been waiting for around seven or eight minutes now as the restaurant would stay busy at least for another two hours. Noin sat in a low slung camel haired chair, keeping her body perfectly still, letting her tongue slide against the back of her teeth, tasting sour lime and pungent beer. Zechs sat beside her, flipping through a magazine. He had changed into a different suit, a solid blue reminding her of Heero's eyes. His hair had been pulled up into a ponytail, his face naked without the distraction of the heavy curtain of white. She glanced at him every few seconds, trying to be covert but failing horribly. She finally settled on simply staring at him, drinking in the outline of his face, the innocent, unpierced ears and the straight, unbroken line of his nose. Her own nose had the smallest bump about one quarter the way down, the consequence of a fight some time two years ago. Her nose would have healed perfectly if not for . . .for her state at that time.
From memory, she knew that his skin would be hot. His hands were large, fine, his skin unhuman in appearance because one couldn't see the web of veins beneath them. He had always been vain about his appearance to an extent, though nowhere as much as Treize. The ginger haired man went in for massages, full body scrubs, flew in specialists for the care of his hair and had to have a manicure every week. Though it sounded ridiculous, he was being keen. His kept, carefully detailed appearance was made to inspire undying confidence and have his followers believe in perfection. The cut of his uniform had been made to exploit all of his strongest points, the long, tapering gloves to encase his hands, the boots that added to his height both literally and figuratively, the cape that made his shoulders seem broader. In his presence, Treize rarely allowed Zechs to wear a cape. Their public appearances together were all cautiously staged events, always ending with Treize outshining by subduing Zechs' appearance. But those kind of anal tactics had worked. And whatever worked was not to be laughed at. But now that articulate man was gone.
She had been attracted to him for a long time. In bred charisma, with the blinding white teeth and the cultured voice. His voice had been the best thing about him, persuasive, smooth, an alto lingering in her ears hours after he had left. But he had too many flaws compared with Zechs. It seemed as he aged, he was losing his flaws, Noin thought bitterly. What was her right to chase beauty when she herself wasn't up to her own standards? Lucrezia Noin was a hypocrite. But she couldn't help herself. Just as she couldn't help but keep her eyes open, centered on Zechs, trailing over his body with too much personal satisfaction. He was glorious. The word was so absurd, the phrasing, but he was glorious. She knew because her heart squeezed in exquisite tenderness whenever she thought of him.
"Noin?"
"Mm?"
"How many hours do you think you could simply stare at me?"