That's Childish, So Childish…
Chapter Thirteen: I Wouldn't Normally Do This Kind Of Thing…
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Disclaimer—No, you /still/ can't have the fish. Besides, he's nasty and kills even pacifist fish, and is prone to suicidal actions like diving down the garbage disposal. I'm debating changing his name to Treize or Duke Dermail… The question being is it simply warlike instincts, or sheer cruelty behind his actions…?
Warnings—Minor swearing (I don't like the F-word, and besides, that's so unoriginal). Some yelling and minor violence. People get kicked in the shins. Suspicions abound. Coffee is consumed… Beware of the consequences of caffeine, mu-wah-ha-ha-ha!
The Maganacs try to get some semblance of organization going to accommodate these new guests. Treize does a bit of explaining and negotiating. Heero and Trowa arrive to stir things up again. Zechs is grounded… Well, maybe for just right now.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---
Miri stopped by the hangar on his way to the dining room. It was habit, really, to check on his suit after a battle, hurt or not, just to be sure someone was seeing to it, getting it ready for the next fight. No point making plans for future fights if your weapons were sitting out on the last battlefield, rusting!
The Tallgeese was there. One of the Maganacs must have brought it in somehow—not that starting it up and walking it in was that difficult, but by now everyone must have known how deadly the suit's G-forces were.
//Good job, Tallgeese…// the boy mused affectionately, looking up at the metallic beast from a spot by the hangar doors as Maganacs swarmed about it, priming the beam rifle, fixing damaged spots, and fine-tuning the verniers. Next to it stood Treize's Aries, slightly dwarfed by the mammoth old suit, gleaming a dull blue with two matching "racing" white stripes down the shoulders and gold accenting the top like a small crown. //You did well… and you're in good hands. I'll check on you later.//
Turning, Zechs walked on through the corridors, pace slow and weary. He felt tired and sore still… He had seen the doctor immediately, mainly at Duo's insistence, and had his hands re-bandaged and bruises treated—so he wasn't quite as sore as when he walked in. But under the ointments and salves—or whatever they smeared on him—a constant dull ache remained, waiting…
//Pain is a patient thing… I suppose I'm fated to never be painfree? Maybe even as an accountant I'd have been stuck with feeling it regularly—and guzzling Pepto-Bismol to endure the days… Ah well.// Resigned, he let his body move at its own pace. Those fast reflexes were inclined to be quite useless now—his body simply didn't want to move. It wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep until the pain went away. //But this is an important conference.//
By the time he reached the conference, it was clearly already in full- swing. He could hear their voices from down the hall…
"Okay, so essentially, we've ALL agreed that /Romefeller/ is the enemy," Duo's voice summed up wearily, finally subduing the tangled murmurs of suspicion and confusion by drowning them out.
Quieter mutterings of assent echoed him.
"We have to trust each other if we're to work together, though," Quatre piped in.
Turning into the doorway, Miri paused. Then frowned. All he could see were backs and feet. //I hate being three feet tall. You can't see squat…// For someone who used to see over everyone's heads to suddenly be relegated to a view under the table, it's a big change. And not one generally considered pleasant. //I just should be glad they didn't put me in a high-chair, I suppose!//
"Feeling all right, Zechs?" Quatre's voice offered from across the table as the shorter boy sought one of the empty chairs.
//How does he /do/ that? It's like he reads minds…// "Yes, I'm fine," Miri answered, clambering up and settling himself. And wishing he was himself again because the damn thing made him feel all the smaller Like the seat of the Tallgeese—it just wasn't designed for him, too spacious! Glaring at the table-top so uncomfortably close to his face, he added in an undertone, "Though I wish I dragged that book from the Tallgeese and kept those damn bricks strapped on."
Duo's chuckle made Zechs shift his glare across the table, but he only got a cheeky grin for his efforts.
"This is quite a new perspective of you, Zechs," Treize commented smoothly, amused. "Usually I have to talk to high, inanimate objects…"
Ice-blue eyes narrowed sharply behind the cracked mask, and the boy shifted in his seat. //THAT does it…!//
"Ouch!" The ex-Oz general jumped in surprise in his seat, reaching under the table to rub a new bruise by his kneecap. "What was /that/ for?"
Two more followed in quick succession, making Treize wince visibly and yelp. "One was for old time's sake, that was for laughing earlier, and /that/ was for taking so damn long!" //And we /still/ need to talk about certain important details concerning Romefeller that you kept from me! You /had/ to have known Duke Dermail was behind my family's massacre!//
Holding hands up in a warding-off gesture, Treize mock-cringed in his seat. "My apologies, Mi—Zechs. I would have come sooner, but Duke Dermail's soldiers turned out surprisingly loyal… Or stubborn, at least. In addition, in war it is rather difficult to drop everything at a moment's notice and join the opposition…"
//So you were forced to do some hasty reassignments… But that means you /are/ committed to this. I suppose that's good.// Miri couldn't stop the edge of his mouth from quirking slightly. "All right… I suppose you've an excuse… You could have at least set Lady Une on my trail, though."
"Lady Une?" Quatre was curious.
Treize shook his head, sighing softly. "My personal aide and righthand… man, I suppose. She hasn't Zechs's skill with mobile suits or quite as much renown in the ranks, but has a knack for getting things done—"
"In a bloody, diabolical manner that scares grown men into peeing in their pants," interjected Miri under his breath. //Like assassinating in cold blood in public locations…and coldly chasing /children/ with intent of murder!// He hadn't forgotten that Lady Une had almost shot Relena.
Rolling his eyes, Treize continued, "—when all else fails. While she has some difficulty choosing the most efficient methods, one must admit that she is quite competent… Stop looking at me like that, Zechs." Yes, Treize knew him well enough to guess the scowl mostly hidden by the mask.
//What am I, chopped liver? Who kicked Alliance ass on your behalf without leveling half the continent and destroying half of humanity in the process, hm? She's competent all right… Rather like using a nuclear bomb to clear your house of cockroaches.// The boy just made a face at the general again before pointedly looking away.
"In any case, I sent her off to deal with Tsuberov," the dignified man finished quietly. "His toys have been approved, unfortunately."
//Oh no… Those mobile doll things?// Zechs's eyes widened, and he whirled to pin a wild look on Treize. "You're kidding…" //Please tell me you are. /Please/ tell me you are. Please tell…//
The rest of the table was listening in bewildered silence and wide, interested eyes.
"No." Deadpan. Deadly serious.
//Shit.// Miri's head dropped into his hands, almost hitting the edge of the table.
"Perhaps you should explain, General Kushrenada," Rashid's quiet rumble suggested, tone recommending compliance or that other means of questioning would be invoked. "Who is Tsuberov, and what toys do you speak of?"
"Lord Tsuberov is—and I hope by now, /was/—an engineer of Romefeller's," Treize continued calmly. "Recently he—"
//Wait a minute—/was/?// "You set Lady Une on him?" Miri piped up abruptly, hopefully.
Frowning slightly at Zechs, Treize nodded slowly. "Yes." Short, clipped, and disapproving of the interruption.
//Good. For once, Lady Une's after an appropriate target that /deserves/ her worst.// Miri simply smiled until Treize looked away, and fought the urge to cheer. //Go get him, Une!//
"As I was saying, recently his latest creation has been approved: mobile dolls. Essentially, Tsuberov created a type of programmable system for mobile suits—it is supposed to save the lives of soldiers by letting them control the machines from an area beyond the battle zone. Set on a type of target, they can be given a variety of strategies, and use them independently as they compute is fit until their missions are complete… In addition, I'm told, they're supposed to have faster response-times than a typical, pilot-controlled suit would…"
"Oh damn," Duo breathed from across the table, looking stunned. "And here I thought a challenge would be just a bigger number of suits to face!"
Quatre was staring solemnly into the center of the table, and added quietly, "What are the odds any of us can face such a weapon? And how soon will such an army be completed?"
//At least they seem to realize just how bad this news is… But what /are/ we going to do? Things are likely against us as is, and this addition will /not/ help!// Miri lifted his head up a bit and contemplated his hands, bandages and all, resting on the table. //I will fight to the end, but… Well, I /was/ kind of hoping to take them—something of importance to the enemy—with me?//
Treize smiled slowly, pausing briefly—and thus drawing all eyes back to him. "Actually… According to the reaction-times we have on record concerning the pilot of Gundam 01, with your suits, you should be able to hold your own against the mobile dolls. Perhaps not so many of them as piloted suits, but then, my mass of Aries pilots and suits probably wouldn't be able to do /that/ much. And to answer your question, Mister Winner, Lady Une should be moving to prevent just that—the construction of such an army."
Rashid drummed the fingers of one hand on the table briefly, looking angry and a bit worn, but determined and glowering. "So, then… where are this engineer and your deadly aide currently?"
"Space—the moon base, to be precise."
"The colonies!!!" Duo and Quatre protested, jumping upright in their chairs.
"We have to warn them—" Quatre began.
"We have to go /up/ there and protect them!" Duo corrected urgently.
//It's a losing battle. We're up against a multi-headed hydra and we need to stab the heart, not cut off heads…// Miri sank back in his seat, barely listening to the others argue, feeling depressed. //It's just… there are too many heads. We have to stop them up there in multiple places, and down here in multiple places… There's just not enough people to guard everything! What will we sacrifice? Something will die, no matter what… They each want to protect their colony, we want to protect /our/ places here… Sanc… Luxemburg… How do you chose where to let innocent people get slaughtered?!?//
Abruptly, he murmured, "Kill the heart. This is too out of control—we have to kill the heart!"
Silence answered him, making Miri glance up in surprise through long bangs that had migrated to almost obscure the glass eyeholes.
//Why are they staring at me?//
Treize tilted his head thoughtfully, frowning slightly at Zechs as if not certain if Zechs was thinking along the lines he thought he was, and this was not a place to ask. Duo was scratching the back of his head, pensive and frustrated. Quatre appeared worried, realistic, yet hopeful and determined to succeed—even if it meant grabbing straws. Rashid seemed gloomy and growling, but intrigued.
"So we destroy Romefeller before they can put their mobile dolls to use," Rashid murmured slowly, as if tasting the idea through verbalizing it.
Treize tapped a single gloved forefinger thoughtfully on the table-top, musingly, eyes narrowed at that moving digit. "That is not as simple as it sounds. Anything that bombs them to pieces, so to speak, commits public suicide. The sentiments of earth's population would turn against such a power and rend it limb from limb—ironically for killing 'innocent' politicians only interested in talking things out. You see, Romefeller has cultivated a good image for itself—false as it is."
//Milliardo Peacecraft can stop them,// a little voice whispered in the back of Miri's head. //He could just walk in on one of their voting sessions and announce his blue blood, take a place—and adroitly turn Romefeller against Dermail…// It was a seductive whisper. One promising a power over others that was his by birthright, by verbal and mental gymnastics trained and bred into him from birth…
//NO! Stop it! I won't do it! I'm not… I'm not… I'm not a Peacecraft anymore… I /can't/ do it… I don't even know what peace /is/ anymore! I'm a soldier, just a bloody-handed murderer. How can I preach peace with red hands?!?// Rubbing his bandaged hands over his eyes under the edge of the mask, Miri took a deep breath, trying to keep from shuddering. //I can't do it…//
"None of us are politicians," Duo sighed.
//I can't do it.// The words echoed in Miri's head, rebounding with failure. So many people depending on it—/humanity/ depending on someone taking the role, and he… //I can't do it. I can't be a hypocrite like that…//
"I committed political suicide by joining you," Treize admitted quietly, though he certainly didn't sound like he regretted the move.
//Someone else has to do this… Who? WHO?// Frustrated, the boy opened his bandaged hands and stared into the polished surface of the table, at his distorted, darkened reflection…
After a moment, Quatre tried sheepishly, "I don't suppose a businessman could suffice?"
"They'll eat you alive, Quatre," Duo grumbled, shaking his head. "You're too /nice/."
"Relena…" It was the faintest of whispers, the dawn of an unwanted but possibly the only solution.
Treize arched eyebrows, almost spearing his hairline, and whirled on Zechs as if the boy had suddenly grown a pair of wings and a flaming sword. Aristocratic blue eyes softened, apologetic and uncertain for once. "Are you sure?" the ex-Oz general whispered gently into the resounding silence, arrogant pose gone.
"The Peacecraft girl?" Duo asked incredulously. "What can she do?"
Quatre reached out to grab Duo's arm and with it, the braided Gundam pilot's attention. "She can move politically. Just her name carries a lot of influence," he explained quickly, hope brightening his eyes.
"They'll attack her physically," Rashid rumbled with firm conviction. "She'd be dead after her first speech."
Without tearing his eyes from Zechs, Treize murmured, "He's right. They would not only try to kill her—but flatten Sanc as well… They did it before."
//Sanc… My people. My sister! Can I risk them all…? I need to… I need to ask her. It would be up to her. But… It's more than Sanc at stake! It's the rest of the innocent people who want peace, too! Sanc… Oh, God, Sanc in flames, again… I'm… I'm not sure I'd be able to take that again, if it happens… And Relena, if she dies…//
"Is something wrong?" Duo's whisper carried across the table, though it was directed at Quatre.
"It's something he has to decide," the blonde Gundam pilot returned quietly, patiently, concerned.
//If Relena dies… If she dies I'll drag the lot of them into Hell /with/ me! We do it. There's no other option!//
Narrowed icy eyes lifted to meet Treize's concerned ones. "If she's willing, we risk it."
The older man nodded slowly, bowing his head slightly a moment in silent sympathy and gratitude—and compassion. "Then we have to go ask her. And if she agrees, protect her and the nation from Dermail's anger."
"But… what can she accomplish in this?" Duo asked, seeming a bit confused.
Thoughtful, Quatre mused out loud, "Promoting peace… Disarmament… If she can turn parts of Romefeller against the rest, and get the people on her side, they get knocked out of power. For that, she has to demand to be a voting part of the organization… Then we can destroy what weapons remain and they can't attack anyone… It'll be over."
"You'll need me!" Zechs threw in sharply, eyes still locked on Treize's, softening to an almost pleading expression, unable to hide the hint of haunted desperation in his voice. "You'll need me—as /me/, my normal self—if nothing else, to help guard Sanc and Relena!"
//That's my condition! You agree to this condition, or I won't let any of you risk my sister. I can't afford to be less than my best! There's too much at stake!!!// But he couldn't say it. He couldn't tell them, risk them… Miri couldn't reveal his real identity.
Treize nodded—slightly to answer the unspoken plea, then more firmly. "We /do/ need every pilot in top shape… And I must admit you were a little slower than usual when I last saw you with Tallgeese, Zechs," he teased gently, arrogance seeping back into every word, a broad smirk touching his lips.
For a long moment, Miri stared at Treize, blinking… //He's trying to cheer me up…?//
"That DOES it!!!"
Abruptly, a pale whirlwind of a boy launched himself out of the chair at the man three times his size in a tackle, a move he hadn't tried since he was previously this size. Of course, Zechs had outgrown such childish reactions over ten years ago…
Miri never had, though.
Treize was completely off-guard. He only had enough time for his eyes to widen in astonishment at the abrupt attack before he did, indeed, get slammed in the chest and flung unexpectedly sideways by 60 pounds of regressed soldier.
Chairs spilled over as the pair hit the floor with a heavy thud, the general on the bottom. Protests and helpless laughter echoed back up, accompanied by the occasional shriek as one or the other managed to tickle a vulnerable spot, as Zechs proceeded to try and tickle his surprised old friend into surrender.
"Ack! How dare you treat—ha hahahaha HA—your old instructor—ha EEK hahahaha—so shamefully?" Treize's voice ended on an increasingly high pitch on the last word, quite unexpected from such a dignified figure.
"You know, I think he /is/ regressing," Quatre commented into the air thoughtfully as he and a bewildered Duo stared over the table at the tangled combatants.
Rashid lifted an eyebrow and stood over the pair on the floor, arms folded across his chest. "Which one…?" he rumbled.
"/I'll/ show you /slower/!!!"
"Er… I guess this means this conference is over?" Duo hazarded.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Everyone was exhausted. No definite plans could be agreed on—that was, /after/ Rashid broke up the tickling-match. The unanimous agreement was to hit the bunks and continue hashing things out in the morning. Or, rather, sometime the /next/ morning, as it was nearly noon when they had their conference. People wanted to rest, eat, recover, heal, think, plan… Not necessarily in that order, but all required some kind of break.
Not everyone could sleep when night came, however.
Duo stretched, yawning as he sat up in bed. //Hmmm… Missed dinner.// His stomach rumbled, constricting in sharp reminder. //Yeah, yeah, okay, I'm going. Relax there. Just be sure you'll let me sleep again after, okay?//
His stomach gurgled in what the Gundam pilot took for assent to the condition he'd set, so he stood, grabbed a few clothes and a robe, and shucked them on as he padded off to the kitchen Quatre had unwisely introduced him to the night before… and the coffee machine there.
//Coffee… I'd like that a lot. Then I want a good look about the hangers—I expect nobody'll be around, and I want to see what Treize's got with him and what their typical suits have. I don't think they'd trust me in there otherwise… and I'd sleep a lot better if I knew there was no wildly-new technology hidden from us new allies!//
But he heard voices as he drew near the kitchen. Familiar ones.
//Hmmm… They're up too? Surely they aren't conspiring… Zechs is, I think, rather firmly disillusioned with Oz. Though if they're old friends…? I wonder…// Staying in the shadows to one side of the door, he listened quietly.
Silence met Duo's surveillance.
//Oh come-on! Don't clam up right /now/!//
"You've changed, Milliardo…" A quiet observation, almost gentle.
"Treize…" Almost a plea. "Not that name. Please."
"Why not? You're free now," Treize replied quietly, interested. "You aren't even wearing the mask."
"I'd hardly be recognizable like this, Treize," Zechs responded dryly. "But… No, I'm not free yet."
"Is it because of the fighting… or your sister?"
Zechs remained quiet, refusing to answer.
A soft sigh from Treize. "You'll have to face her, you know. You are our only tie to ending this war through Sanc…"
"NO!" Denial filled that shout. Then, quieter, shaken, "Noin would help us… We can contact through her…"
"She won't listen to any pleas from me, Zechs." Treize was certain about that point. "She will know about you eventually… I am surprised Noin hasn't told her yet."
A slight growl. "Noin wouldn't betray me like that. She knows…"
"She knows you too well, yes, I've fathomed as much." Treize paused a moment, and Duo could hear the man's finger tapping again. "You can't hide forever, though. Your sister deserves to meet you at least once in person."
A long silence…
"Though perhaps not as a child," Treize added, almost as an afterthought.
"Treize…" Zechs growled warningly… an amusing sound to hear from a boy of seven.
"I'm glad to see some things about you haven't changed, my friend," Treize chuckled, clothes rustling as he shifted in his seat.
"Treize…!"
"Just what exactly /did/ they do to you? Other than the height thing," Treize added lightheartedly.
Stony silence followed for a long moment. One could feel the mood between the pair changing to an almost despairing one.
Finally, "Go away, Treize…" Toneless.
"Zechs…" Treize's voice was full of concern.
"Treize… just go away… Please." Painful.
Another long pause, in which Treize's chair scraped the floor.
Then, "I'm sorry, Milliardo…" A deep, full-hearted and sincere apology, full of understanding.
"Just go, please!" Zechs's voice hit a breaking, begging note.
Duo winced. //His memories. Treize brought back the worst ones… Just leave him alone, Treize, please?//
Treize strode out without another sound, and paused in the darkness just outside the kitchen, taking a deep breath. The man seemed concerned still, at least what Duo could tell of his slightly-slouched stance in the dim moonlight of the corridor.
Duo's belly decided to mutter a quiet but vocal complaint at that moment about the delay.
In the shadows, Duo could almost feel the older man frown… then glance his way. "Duo Maxwell… If I might borrow you for a moment…" supplied a cultured whisper.
Duo glanced back towards the kitchen, then winced as he heard something shatter against the wall. //Okay, skip the coffee for now. Go with the nice man and let Zechs have some peace to get his dignity back in… You know how he'd react to a hug, after all—probably by kneeing you in the crotch?// "Ah… sure. Let's go that way…" The braided pilot kept his voice down and prayed Zechs wouldn't hear—and throw something through the doorway.
Leading the older man down one of the various unexplored corridors, Duo sank his hands into his robe's pockets. "So… How'd you guess it was me standing right there? Stomach gave me away, right?"
"Actually, more the clothing. Few wear black in the desert." Treize chuckled faintly, but his heart didn't seem to be in it.
They walked in silence for a bit, though Duo had to lengthen his strides slightly to keep pace beside the man. //I wonder what he wants to talk about… Zechs, perhaps?//
"He's changed, and it worries me," Treize admitted finally. "I have known him since… before his family died. We've grown up together. What has happened—what /is/ happening—is destroying him."
//That's getting rather obvious.// "I know," Duo murmured. //But how much do I tell this guy? And they knew each other that long, huh? I wonder how much I can get him to tell /me/! Zechs keeps too many secrets.//
"I need to know what happened to him when he was captured."
//Now we're getting to the point… But what makes you think /you/ can understand best what's going on in that kid's head right now?// But Duo decided to be truthful—if not detailed. "We pretty much figured it all out… Just take your worst nightmare and stamp it with 'True'."
Treize's strides froze, making Duo pace a couple steps ahead before he realized what happened. "That bad?" Treize sounded like someone had socked him in the midriff.
Duo frowned at the man, and put his hands on his hips. //I want you to know the full impact—if Zechs was your friend, you'd /better/ feel guilty for not looking for him sooner! And maybe if you're feeling guilty, you'll be less of a pompous bag around the rest of us, hmmm?// Coldly, he answered, "They tortured him. Some had their fun. Then they changed him—and now he can't distance /anything/ he remembers."
Was it Duo's imagination, or did Treize actually wince and seem a lot paler right now? He sounded ill, and murmured something in a foreign language under his breath before asking, "I /am/ sorry, then… If only I'd known… No, it wouldn't have changed matters—I moved as fast as I could. He… He told you this?" The man was no longer the least bit arrogant—in fact, quite concerned and hesitant.
Shaking his head, Duo relaxed. "No… We had a local doctor look him over when he arrived—the doctor told us most of it. The rest we pieced together from his reactions to things and a disc full of research he managed to bring here with him from that… place." Duo's teeth ground the last. //I want to level that place /so/ badly right now…//
Treize stood in silence, visibly shaken at the idea.
Duo blinked at the older man's reaction, then nodded slightly to himself. //That's right… Zechs said Treize was likely their next target for imprisoning… Possibly in the same place. You were lucky, Treize… lucky that he's your friend, too.//
Footsteps interrupted the pair, echoing down the corridor.
//Who? Sounds urgent…// Duo turned towards the sound and stepped past the ex-Oz general to confront it. //Let Treize get his dignity back. I can handle things… with a gun or Gundam, if necessary!//
"Master—Master Duo? Are you…?" Abdul's voice!
"Yeah, Abdul, I'm here. Wandering in search of something to eat, you know?" On cue, Duo's belly growled. //Shut-up, you! This may be more important!// "What's up?"
"We've a transport plane coming in—nobody else's awake and I was just on my way to find Master Quatre and Rashid! They're saying they need fuel and are on their way to Congo Base…"
//Who are they? Treize's support troops?// Duo frowned. Something wasn't right. As far as he knew, nobody contacted anyone about /anything/ since the battle!
"…and they say they're transporting a mobile suit on the orders of a Colonel Zechs Merquise!" Abdul finished, anxious.
"Zechs couldn't—and /wouldn't/—give any such order—the Tallgeese is /here/!" Treize exclaimed in the shadows.
Abdul jumped a good foot and muttered something sharp and scathing that Duo didn't recognize. "Yeesh! Give a man some warning, General!"
"He's right—whoever they are, they're lying…" Duo glared into the shadows and beyond them, thinking hard. //Who could it be… And /why/? They can't be Oz… And definitely not one of this new alliance…//
"The Alliance—and Romefeller—don't know a base exists here. Only the former Alliance general who we so recently put to rest even guessed this establishment exists," murmured the older man in the shadows, as Treize calculated a few things out loud.
//Then it's not them, which leaves…// "Heero! I bet you its Heero! Ask for Trowa and have them land, Abdul! I bet you by Deathscythe that it's the pair of them in a stolen plane—they probably saw Treize's suits on the sand outside and decided to play it safe!"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -
To be continued.
Oh, side note for Maria Kushrenada, who asked about the white stripes. No White Fang exists in this yet, and I imagined more along the lines of racing stripes on a car. Besides, White Fang used kerchiefs as armbands (left arm only) to mark themselves—they didn't paint stripes on their suits. And Treize had to distinguish friend from foe somehow in this tale. Only logical to use some spare paint to mark your own (and white /is/ the Tallgeese's color). Lady Une will play more of a factor later… especially when Treize calls her up for a report… ;)
As for why Zechs jumps sometimes and not others—he jumps when unexpectedly touched. You /have/ to expect retaliation in a tickle-fight!
I'll explain in the next chapter why it takes these guys over 5 hours to get anywhere when in reality, 5+ hours sends you pretty much halfway across the world.
Chapter Thirteen: I Wouldn't Normally Do This Kind Of Thing…
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Disclaimer—No, you /still/ can't have the fish. Besides, he's nasty and kills even pacifist fish, and is prone to suicidal actions like diving down the garbage disposal. I'm debating changing his name to Treize or Duke Dermail… The question being is it simply warlike instincts, or sheer cruelty behind his actions…?
Warnings—Minor swearing (I don't like the F-word, and besides, that's so unoriginal). Some yelling and minor violence. People get kicked in the shins. Suspicions abound. Coffee is consumed… Beware of the consequences of caffeine, mu-wah-ha-ha-ha!
The Maganacs try to get some semblance of organization going to accommodate these new guests. Treize does a bit of explaining and negotiating. Heero and Trowa arrive to stir things up again. Zechs is grounded… Well, maybe for just right now.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---
Miri stopped by the hangar on his way to the dining room. It was habit, really, to check on his suit after a battle, hurt or not, just to be sure someone was seeing to it, getting it ready for the next fight. No point making plans for future fights if your weapons were sitting out on the last battlefield, rusting!
The Tallgeese was there. One of the Maganacs must have brought it in somehow—not that starting it up and walking it in was that difficult, but by now everyone must have known how deadly the suit's G-forces were.
//Good job, Tallgeese…// the boy mused affectionately, looking up at the metallic beast from a spot by the hangar doors as Maganacs swarmed about it, priming the beam rifle, fixing damaged spots, and fine-tuning the verniers. Next to it stood Treize's Aries, slightly dwarfed by the mammoth old suit, gleaming a dull blue with two matching "racing" white stripes down the shoulders and gold accenting the top like a small crown. //You did well… and you're in good hands. I'll check on you later.//
Turning, Zechs walked on through the corridors, pace slow and weary. He felt tired and sore still… He had seen the doctor immediately, mainly at Duo's insistence, and had his hands re-bandaged and bruises treated—so he wasn't quite as sore as when he walked in. But under the ointments and salves—or whatever they smeared on him—a constant dull ache remained, waiting…
//Pain is a patient thing… I suppose I'm fated to never be painfree? Maybe even as an accountant I'd have been stuck with feeling it regularly—and guzzling Pepto-Bismol to endure the days… Ah well.// Resigned, he let his body move at its own pace. Those fast reflexes were inclined to be quite useless now—his body simply didn't want to move. It wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep until the pain went away. //But this is an important conference.//
By the time he reached the conference, it was clearly already in full- swing. He could hear their voices from down the hall…
"Okay, so essentially, we've ALL agreed that /Romefeller/ is the enemy," Duo's voice summed up wearily, finally subduing the tangled murmurs of suspicion and confusion by drowning them out.
Quieter mutterings of assent echoed him.
"We have to trust each other if we're to work together, though," Quatre piped in.
Turning into the doorway, Miri paused. Then frowned. All he could see were backs and feet. //I hate being three feet tall. You can't see squat…// For someone who used to see over everyone's heads to suddenly be relegated to a view under the table, it's a big change. And not one generally considered pleasant. //I just should be glad they didn't put me in a high-chair, I suppose!//
"Feeling all right, Zechs?" Quatre's voice offered from across the table as the shorter boy sought one of the empty chairs.
//How does he /do/ that? It's like he reads minds…// "Yes, I'm fine," Miri answered, clambering up and settling himself. And wishing he was himself again because the damn thing made him feel all the smaller Like the seat of the Tallgeese—it just wasn't designed for him, too spacious! Glaring at the table-top so uncomfortably close to his face, he added in an undertone, "Though I wish I dragged that book from the Tallgeese and kept those damn bricks strapped on."
Duo's chuckle made Zechs shift his glare across the table, but he only got a cheeky grin for his efforts.
"This is quite a new perspective of you, Zechs," Treize commented smoothly, amused. "Usually I have to talk to high, inanimate objects…"
Ice-blue eyes narrowed sharply behind the cracked mask, and the boy shifted in his seat. //THAT does it…!//
"Ouch!" The ex-Oz general jumped in surprise in his seat, reaching under the table to rub a new bruise by his kneecap. "What was /that/ for?"
Two more followed in quick succession, making Treize wince visibly and yelp. "One was for old time's sake, that was for laughing earlier, and /that/ was for taking so damn long!" //And we /still/ need to talk about certain important details concerning Romefeller that you kept from me! You /had/ to have known Duke Dermail was behind my family's massacre!//
Holding hands up in a warding-off gesture, Treize mock-cringed in his seat. "My apologies, Mi—Zechs. I would have come sooner, but Duke Dermail's soldiers turned out surprisingly loyal… Or stubborn, at least. In addition, in war it is rather difficult to drop everything at a moment's notice and join the opposition…"
//So you were forced to do some hasty reassignments… But that means you /are/ committed to this. I suppose that's good.// Miri couldn't stop the edge of his mouth from quirking slightly. "All right… I suppose you've an excuse… You could have at least set Lady Une on my trail, though."
"Lady Une?" Quatre was curious.
Treize shook his head, sighing softly. "My personal aide and righthand… man, I suppose. She hasn't Zechs's skill with mobile suits or quite as much renown in the ranks, but has a knack for getting things done—"
"In a bloody, diabolical manner that scares grown men into peeing in their pants," interjected Miri under his breath. //Like assassinating in cold blood in public locations…and coldly chasing /children/ with intent of murder!// He hadn't forgotten that Lady Une had almost shot Relena.
Rolling his eyes, Treize continued, "—when all else fails. While she has some difficulty choosing the most efficient methods, one must admit that she is quite competent… Stop looking at me like that, Zechs." Yes, Treize knew him well enough to guess the scowl mostly hidden by the mask.
//What am I, chopped liver? Who kicked Alliance ass on your behalf without leveling half the continent and destroying half of humanity in the process, hm? She's competent all right… Rather like using a nuclear bomb to clear your house of cockroaches.// The boy just made a face at the general again before pointedly looking away.
"In any case, I sent her off to deal with Tsuberov," the dignified man finished quietly. "His toys have been approved, unfortunately."
//Oh no… Those mobile doll things?// Zechs's eyes widened, and he whirled to pin a wild look on Treize. "You're kidding…" //Please tell me you are. /Please/ tell me you are. Please tell…//
The rest of the table was listening in bewildered silence and wide, interested eyes.
"No." Deadpan. Deadly serious.
//Shit.// Miri's head dropped into his hands, almost hitting the edge of the table.
"Perhaps you should explain, General Kushrenada," Rashid's quiet rumble suggested, tone recommending compliance or that other means of questioning would be invoked. "Who is Tsuberov, and what toys do you speak of?"
"Lord Tsuberov is—and I hope by now, /was/—an engineer of Romefeller's," Treize continued calmly. "Recently he—"
//Wait a minute—/was/?// "You set Lady Une on him?" Miri piped up abruptly, hopefully.
Frowning slightly at Zechs, Treize nodded slowly. "Yes." Short, clipped, and disapproving of the interruption.
//Good. For once, Lady Une's after an appropriate target that /deserves/ her worst.// Miri simply smiled until Treize looked away, and fought the urge to cheer. //Go get him, Une!//
"As I was saying, recently his latest creation has been approved: mobile dolls. Essentially, Tsuberov created a type of programmable system for mobile suits—it is supposed to save the lives of soldiers by letting them control the machines from an area beyond the battle zone. Set on a type of target, they can be given a variety of strategies, and use them independently as they compute is fit until their missions are complete… In addition, I'm told, they're supposed to have faster response-times than a typical, pilot-controlled suit would…"
"Oh damn," Duo breathed from across the table, looking stunned. "And here I thought a challenge would be just a bigger number of suits to face!"
Quatre was staring solemnly into the center of the table, and added quietly, "What are the odds any of us can face such a weapon? And how soon will such an army be completed?"
//At least they seem to realize just how bad this news is… But what /are/ we going to do? Things are likely against us as is, and this addition will /not/ help!// Miri lifted his head up a bit and contemplated his hands, bandages and all, resting on the table. //I will fight to the end, but… Well, I /was/ kind of hoping to take them—something of importance to the enemy—with me?//
Treize smiled slowly, pausing briefly—and thus drawing all eyes back to him. "Actually… According to the reaction-times we have on record concerning the pilot of Gundam 01, with your suits, you should be able to hold your own against the mobile dolls. Perhaps not so many of them as piloted suits, but then, my mass of Aries pilots and suits probably wouldn't be able to do /that/ much. And to answer your question, Mister Winner, Lady Une should be moving to prevent just that—the construction of such an army."
Rashid drummed the fingers of one hand on the table briefly, looking angry and a bit worn, but determined and glowering. "So, then… where are this engineer and your deadly aide currently?"
"Space—the moon base, to be precise."
"The colonies!!!" Duo and Quatre protested, jumping upright in their chairs.
"We have to warn them—" Quatre began.
"We have to go /up/ there and protect them!" Duo corrected urgently.
//It's a losing battle. We're up against a multi-headed hydra and we need to stab the heart, not cut off heads…// Miri sank back in his seat, barely listening to the others argue, feeling depressed. //It's just… there are too many heads. We have to stop them up there in multiple places, and down here in multiple places… There's just not enough people to guard everything! What will we sacrifice? Something will die, no matter what… They each want to protect their colony, we want to protect /our/ places here… Sanc… Luxemburg… How do you chose where to let innocent people get slaughtered?!?//
Abruptly, he murmured, "Kill the heart. This is too out of control—we have to kill the heart!"
Silence answered him, making Miri glance up in surprise through long bangs that had migrated to almost obscure the glass eyeholes.
//Why are they staring at me?//
Treize tilted his head thoughtfully, frowning slightly at Zechs as if not certain if Zechs was thinking along the lines he thought he was, and this was not a place to ask. Duo was scratching the back of his head, pensive and frustrated. Quatre appeared worried, realistic, yet hopeful and determined to succeed—even if it meant grabbing straws. Rashid seemed gloomy and growling, but intrigued.
"So we destroy Romefeller before they can put their mobile dolls to use," Rashid murmured slowly, as if tasting the idea through verbalizing it.
Treize tapped a single gloved forefinger thoughtfully on the table-top, musingly, eyes narrowed at that moving digit. "That is not as simple as it sounds. Anything that bombs them to pieces, so to speak, commits public suicide. The sentiments of earth's population would turn against such a power and rend it limb from limb—ironically for killing 'innocent' politicians only interested in talking things out. You see, Romefeller has cultivated a good image for itself—false as it is."
//Milliardo Peacecraft can stop them,// a little voice whispered in the back of Miri's head. //He could just walk in on one of their voting sessions and announce his blue blood, take a place—and adroitly turn Romefeller against Dermail…// It was a seductive whisper. One promising a power over others that was his by birthright, by verbal and mental gymnastics trained and bred into him from birth…
//NO! Stop it! I won't do it! I'm not… I'm not… I'm not a Peacecraft anymore… I /can't/ do it… I don't even know what peace /is/ anymore! I'm a soldier, just a bloody-handed murderer. How can I preach peace with red hands?!?// Rubbing his bandaged hands over his eyes under the edge of the mask, Miri took a deep breath, trying to keep from shuddering. //I can't do it…//
"None of us are politicians," Duo sighed.
//I can't do it.// The words echoed in Miri's head, rebounding with failure. So many people depending on it—/humanity/ depending on someone taking the role, and he… //I can't do it. I can't be a hypocrite like that…//
"I committed political suicide by joining you," Treize admitted quietly, though he certainly didn't sound like he regretted the move.
//Someone else has to do this… Who? WHO?// Frustrated, the boy opened his bandaged hands and stared into the polished surface of the table, at his distorted, darkened reflection…
After a moment, Quatre tried sheepishly, "I don't suppose a businessman could suffice?"
"They'll eat you alive, Quatre," Duo grumbled, shaking his head. "You're too /nice/."
"Relena…" It was the faintest of whispers, the dawn of an unwanted but possibly the only solution.
Treize arched eyebrows, almost spearing his hairline, and whirled on Zechs as if the boy had suddenly grown a pair of wings and a flaming sword. Aristocratic blue eyes softened, apologetic and uncertain for once. "Are you sure?" the ex-Oz general whispered gently into the resounding silence, arrogant pose gone.
"The Peacecraft girl?" Duo asked incredulously. "What can she do?"
Quatre reached out to grab Duo's arm and with it, the braided Gundam pilot's attention. "She can move politically. Just her name carries a lot of influence," he explained quickly, hope brightening his eyes.
"They'll attack her physically," Rashid rumbled with firm conviction. "She'd be dead after her first speech."
Without tearing his eyes from Zechs, Treize murmured, "He's right. They would not only try to kill her—but flatten Sanc as well… They did it before."
//Sanc… My people. My sister! Can I risk them all…? I need to… I need to ask her. It would be up to her. But… It's more than Sanc at stake! It's the rest of the innocent people who want peace, too! Sanc… Oh, God, Sanc in flames, again… I'm… I'm not sure I'd be able to take that again, if it happens… And Relena, if she dies…//
"Is something wrong?" Duo's whisper carried across the table, though it was directed at Quatre.
"It's something he has to decide," the blonde Gundam pilot returned quietly, patiently, concerned.
//If Relena dies… If she dies I'll drag the lot of them into Hell /with/ me! We do it. There's no other option!//
Narrowed icy eyes lifted to meet Treize's concerned ones. "If she's willing, we risk it."
The older man nodded slowly, bowing his head slightly a moment in silent sympathy and gratitude—and compassion. "Then we have to go ask her. And if she agrees, protect her and the nation from Dermail's anger."
"But… what can she accomplish in this?" Duo asked, seeming a bit confused.
Thoughtful, Quatre mused out loud, "Promoting peace… Disarmament… If she can turn parts of Romefeller against the rest, and get the people on her side, they get knocked out of power. For that, she has to demand to be a voting part of the organization… Then we can destroy what weapons remain and they can't attack anyone… It'll be over."
"You'll need me!" Zechs threw in sharply, eyes still locked on Treize's, softening to an almost pleading expression, unable to hide the hint of haunted desperation in his voice. "You'll need me—as /me/, my normal self—if nothing else, to help guard Sanc and Relena!"
//That's my condition! You agree to this condition, or I won't let any of you risk my sister. I can't afford to be less than my best! There's too much at stake!!!// But he couldn't say it. He couldn't tell them, risk them… Miri couldn't reveal his real identity.
Treize nodded—slightly to answer the unspoken plea, then more firmly. "We /do/ need every pilot in top shape… And I must admit you were a little slower than usual when I last saw you with Tallgeese, Zechs," he teased gently, arrogance seeping back into every word, a broad smirk touching his lips.
For a long moment, Miri stared at Treize, blinking… //He's trying to cheer me up…?//
"That DOES it!!!"
Abruptly, a pale whirlwind of a boy launched himself out of the chair at the man three times his size in a tackle, a move he hadn't tried since he was previously this size. Of course, Zechs had outgrown such childish reactions over ten years ago…
Miri never had, though.
Treize was completely off-guard. He only had enough time for his eyes to widen in astonishment at the abrupt attack before he did, indeed, get slammed in the chest and flung unexpectedly sideways by 60 pounds of regressed soldier.
Chairs spilled over as the pair hit the floor with a heavy thud, the general on the bottom. Protests and helpless laughter echoed back up, accompanied by the occasional shriek as one or the other managed to tickle a vulnerable spot, as Zechs proceeded to try and tickle his surprised old friend into surrender.
"Ack! How dare you treat—ha hahahaha HA—your old instructor—ha EEK hahahaha—so shamefully?" Treize's voice ended on an increasingly high pitch on the last word, quite unexpected from such a dignified figure.
"You know, I think he /is/ regressing," Quatre commented into the air thoughtfully as he and a bewildered Duo stared over the table at the tangled combatants.
Rashid lifted an eyebrow and stood over the pair on the floor, arms folded across his chest. "Which one…?" he rumbled.
"/I'll/ show you /slower/!!!"
"Er… I guess this means this conference is over?" Duo hazarded.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Everyone was exhausted. No definite plans could be agreed on—that was, /after/ Rashid broke up the tickling-match. The unanimous agreement was to hit the bunks and continue hashing things out in the morning. Or, rather, sometime the /next/ morning, as it was nearly noon when they had their conference. People wanted to rest, eat, recover, heal, think, plan… Not necessarily in that order, but all required some kind of break.
Not everyone could sleep when night came, however.
Duo stretched, yawning as he sat up in bed. //Hmmm… Missed dinner.// His stomach rumbled, constricting in sharp reminder. //Yeah, yeah, okay, I'm going. Relax there. Just be sure you'll let me sleep again after, okay?//
His stomach gurgled in what the Gundam pilot took for assent to the condition he'd set, so he stood, grabbed a few clothes and a robe, and shucked them on as he padded off to the kitchen Quatre had unwisely introduced him to the night before… and the coffee machine there.
//Coffee… I'd like that a lot. Then I want a good look about the hangers—I expect nobody'll be around, and I want to see what Treize's got with him and what their typical suits have. I don't think they'd trust me in there otherwise… and I'd sleep a lot better if I knew there was no wildly-new technology hidden from us new allies!//
But he heard voices as he drew near the kitchen. Familiar ones.
//Hmmm… They're up too? Surely they aren't conspiring… Zechs is, I think, rather firmly disillusioned with Oz. Though if they're old friends…? I wonder…// Staying in the shadows to one side of the door, he listened quietly.
Silence met Duo's surveillance.
//Oh come-on! Don't clam up right /now/!//
"You've changed, Milliardo…" A quiet observation, almost gentle.
"Treize…" Almost a plea. "Not that name. Please."
"Why not? You're free now," Treize replied quietly, interested. "You aren't even wearing the mask."
"I'd hardly be recognizable like this, Treize," Zechs responded dryly. "But… No, I'm not free yet."
"Is it because of the fighting… or your sister?"
Zechs remained quiet, refusing to answer.
A soft sigh from Treize. "You'll have to face her, you know. You are our only tie to ending this war through Sanc…"
"NO!" Denial filled that shout. Then, quieter, shaken, "Noin would help us… We can contact through her…"
"She won't listen to any pleas from me, Zechs." Treize was certain about that point. "She will know about you eventually… I am surprised Noin hasn't told her yet."
A slight growl. "Noin wouldn't betray me like that. She knows…"
"She knows you too well, yes, I've fathomed as much." Treize paused a moment, and Duo could hear the man's finger tapping again. "You can't hide forever, though. Your sister deserves to meet you at least once in person."
A long silence…
"Though perhaps not as a child," Treize added, almost as an afterthought.
"Treize…" Zechs growled warningly… an amusing sound to hear from a boy of seven.
"I'm glad to see some things about you haven't changed, my friend," Treize chuckled, clothes rustling as he shifted in his seat.
"Treize…!"
"Just what exactly /did/ they do to you? Other than the height thing," Treize added lightheartedly.
Stony silence followed for a long moment. One could feel the mood between the pair changing to an almost despairing one.
Finally, "Go away, Treize…" Toneless.
"Zechs…" Treize's voice was full of concern.
"Treize… just go away… Please." Painful.
Another long pause, in which Treize's chair scraped the floor.
Then, "I'm sorry, Milliardo…" A deep, full-hearted and sincere apology, full of understanding.
"Just go, please!" Zechs's voice hit a breaking, begging note.
Duo winced. //His memories. Treize brought back the worst ones… Just leave him alone, Treize, please?//
Treize strode out without another sound, and paused in the darkness just outside the kitchen, taking a deep breath. The man seemed concerned still, at least what Duo could tell of his slightly-slouched stance in the dim moonlight of the corridor.
Duo's belly decided to mutter a quiet but vocal complaint at that moment about the delay.
In the shadows, Duo could almost feel the older man frown… then glance his way. "Duo Maxwell… If I might borrow you for a moment…" supplied a cultured whisper.
Duo glanced back towards the kitchen, then winced as he heard something shatter against the wall. //Okay, skip the coffee for now. Go with the nice man and let Zechs have some peace to get his dignity back in… You know how he'd react to a hug, after all—probably by kneeing you in the crotch?// "Ah… sure. Let's go that way…" The braided pilot kept his voice down and prayed Zechs wouldn't hear—and throw something through the doorway.
Leading the older man down one of the various unexplored corridors, Duo sank his hands into his robe's pockets. "So… How'd you guess it was me standing right there? Stomach gave me away, right?"
"Actually, more the clothing. Few wear black in the desert." Treize chuckled faintly, but his heart didn't seem to be in it.
They walked in silence for a bit, though Duo had to lengthen his strides slightly to keep pace beside the man. //I wonder what he wants to talk about… Zechs, perhaps?//
"He's changed, and it worries me," Treize admitted finally. "I have known him since… before his family died. We've grown up together. What has happened—what /is/ happening—is destroying him."
//That's getting rather obvious.// "I know," Duo murmured. //But how much do I tell this guy? And they knew each other that long, huh? I wonder how much I can get him to tell /me/! Zechs keeps too many secrets.//
"I need to know what happened to him when he was captured."
//Now we're getting to the point… But what makes you think /you/ can understand best what's going on in that kid's head right now?// But Duo decided to be truthful—if not detailed. "We pretty much figured it all out… Just take your worst nightmare and stamp it with 'True'."
Treize's strides froze, making Duo pace a couple steps ahead before he realized what happened. "That bad?" Treize sounded like someone had socked him in the midriff.
Duo frowned at the man, and put his hands on his hips. //I want you to know the full impact—if Zechs was your friend, you'd /better/ feel guilty for not looking for him sooner! And maybe if you're feeling guilty, you'll be less of a pompous bag around the rest of us, hmmm?// Coldly, he answered, "They tortured him. Some had their fun. Then they changed him—and now he can't distance /anything/ he remembers."
Was it Duo's imagination, or did Treize actually wince and seem a lot paler right now? He sounded ill, and murmured something in a foreign language under his breath before asking, "I /am/ sorry, then… If only I'd known… No, it wouldn't have changed matters—I moved as fast as I could. He… He told you this?" The man was no longer the least bit arrogant—in fact, quite concerned and hesitant.
Shaking his head, Duo relaxed. "No… We had a local doctor look him over when he arrived—the doctor told us most of it. The rest we pieced together from his reactions to things and a disc full of research he managed to bring here with him from that… place." Duo's teeth ground the last. //I want to level that place /so/ badly right now…//
Treize stood in silence, visibly shaken at the idea.
Duo blinked at the older man's reaction, then nodded slightly to himself. //That's right… Zechs said Treize was likely their next target for imprisoning… Possibly in the same place. You were lucky, Treize… lucky that he's your friend, too.//
Footsteps interrupted the pair, echoing down the corridor.
//Who? Sounds urgent…// Duo turned towards the sound and stepped past the ex-Oz general to confront it. //Let Treize get his dignity back. I can handle things… with a gun or Gundam, if necessary!//
"Master—Master Duo? Are you…?" Abdul's voice!
"Yeah, Abdul, I'm here. Wandering in search of something to eat, you know?" On cue, Duo's belly growled. //Shut-up, you! This may be more important!// "What's up?"
"We've a transport plane coming in—nobody else's awake and I was just on my way to find Master Quatre and Rashid! They're saying they need fuel and are on their way to Congo Base…"
//Who are they? Treize's support troops?// Duo frowned. Something wasn't right. As far as he knew, nobody contacted anyone about /anything/ since the battle!
"…and they say they're transporting a mobile suit on the orders of a Colonel Zechs Merquise!" Abdul finished, anxious.
"Zechs couldn't—and /wouldn't/—give any such order—the Tallgeese is /here/!" Treize exclaimed in the shadows.
Abdul jumped a good foot and muttered something sharp and scathing that Duo didn't recognize. "Yeesh! Give a man some warning, General!"
"He's right—whoever they are, they're lying…" Duo glared into the shadows and beyond them, thinking hard. //Who could it be… And /why/? They can't be Oz… And definitely not one of this new alliance…//
"The Alliance—and Romefeller—don't know a base exists here. Only the former Alliance general who we so recently put to rest even guessed this establishment exists," murmured the older man in the shadows, as Treize calculated a few things out loud.
//Then it's not them, which leaves…// "Heero! I bet you its Heero! Ask for Trowa and have them land, Abdul! I bet you by Deathscythe that it's the pair of them in a stolen plane—they probably saw Treize's suits on the sand outside and decided to play it safe!"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -
To be continued.
Oh, side note for Maria Kushrenada, who asked about the white stripes. No White Fang exists in this yet, and I imagined more along the lines of racing stripes on a car. Besides, White Fang used kerchiefs as armbands (left arm only) to mark themselves—they didn't paint stripes on their suits. And Treize had to distinguish friend from foe somehow in this tale. Only logical to use some spare paint to mark your own (and white /is/ the Tallgeese's color). Lady Une will play more of a factor later… especially when Treize calls her up for a report… ;)
As for why Zechs jumps sometimes and not others—he jumps when unexpectedly touched. You /have/ to expect retaliation in a tickle-fight!
I'll explain in the next chapter why it takes these guys over 5 hours to get anywhere when in reality, 5+ hours sends you pretty much halfway across the world.