That's Childish, So Childish. . .
Chapter Nineteen: They Don't Understand Your Sense Of Humor Like I Do
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Disclaimer--Don't own it, don't seem likely to anytime soon, either. . .
Warnings--Dorothy. Yeah, she's a bit of a nut, tho I'm nice to her. A touch of the angst again--but it's nothing terribly sad. You've already endured worse.
Duo and Heero find Zechs. Treize chats with Dorothy. Sally talks to Wufei, who doesn't seem the most thrilled about what's going on. Can you blame him?
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Kneeling before the door, Duo hastily picked away at the lock with his pin, muttering softly under his breath. //No, you couldn't stop five seconds to get the damn keys from Pagan--you had to run here like a fool. . . //
"There," he breathed, hearing the tumblers click into place finally. Not that it had taken him long, but in his anxiety, it sure felt that way!
Before Duo could surge back to his feet, Heero had reached for the door latch and turned, quietly opening the door and forcing Duo to half-crawl, half-stagger out of the way of the door's swing. Gun cocked, Wing's pilot crept into the room first, vanishing from view. Scrambling, Duo whipped out his own weapon and hurried after, ears perked the instant he stepped through the doorway.
//He wouldn't booby-trap his own room, would he. . . ?// Deathscythe's pilot wondered with a hint of concern. //I hope not. Or this is going to be /very/ amusing for him. . . Or anyone else here. I hope he's alright. . . //
The place was simple, smaller than what Duo himself had been given. The sitting room was small, more of a corridor with a coat closet and mirror, and openings to a compact bedroom on one side, with a matching doorway to a study of sorts in the opposing direction. Poking his head around the corner into the small quarters, Duo caught a glimpse of black spandex, and glided closer, into the sitting room. . .
Heero had stopped at the doorway of the bedroom, which stood open, gaping. The bed wasn't terribly large--according to all rumors concerning the former Zechs Marquise, he probably wouldn't have been able to fit on this compact thing without a couple below-the-knee amputations. A matching dresser with a boring lamp and a mirror sat beside it as complacently as furniture could possibly sit. The bed was in disarray, though-the bottom sheets wrinkled, the pillow pounded to a pulp, and a blanket trailed over the corner, half-crumpled, threatening to fall to the floor at the slightest breath. A small bath stood just beyond, door wide open for them to view the racks of tidily arranged towels, a crystal-clear shower-stall, and the fact that otherwise it barely had enough space to hold a wet dog.
But there was no occupant.
//Oh. . . damn. This can't be good,// Duo decided, lifting his eyes to meet Heero's.
The Perfect Soldier frowned, then jerked his head towards the other room in silent signal before creeping towards /that/ beaconing entrance.
//Don't be dead, kid. I'll never forgive us!// Duo trailed after, gritting his teeth worriedly. //And on second thought. . . don't be working on another prank or we won't forgive /you/!!!//
Poking his head through the other door, Heero relaxed abruptly, putting the safety back on his gun with a click, letting weapon and hand drop to his side.
Lowering his own weapon, Duo strode into the room after his fellow Gundam pilot, glancing about. //Is he here. . . ?//
A sofa, a moderate TV sitting on a cabinet containing a stereo and an old VCR/DVD player, a plush rocking-chair by the sunny window with an untidy mound of rumpled throws on it. . .
//I guess not.// Puffing a sigh, Duo clicked the safety on his gun as well, tucking it back into the back of his belt and scratching his head. "Damn. . ." he murmured. "Now what?"
"Hn," Heero grunted agreeably, going over to the window and peering out. "Suggestions?" Wing's pilot asked.
Smiling wryly, Duo shook his head. //You look utterly at a loss, Heero, and this is a first!// It was amusing to watch, a rare moment, though Duo wished he could savor it. Worry had begun chewing his stomach from the inside out. //I'm going to get ulcers like this. . . How did Kushrenada ever manage with this kid?//
The throw-rugs stirred slightly, and the chair they were on rocked ever-so- faintly.
Heero jumped as if he'd seen a ghost, backing away from the pile as if expecting it to blow up in his face at any second. "Zechs?" he asked warily, uncertainly of the mound.
No answer was forthcoming.
Cautiously, Duo stepped closer to the moving pile, frowning as he peered closer. Yes, a few stray strands of shimmering blonde mingled in that tangle, but everything else was well wrapped, hidden from view. Cozily so, in the warm sunlight and soft chair.
//Why would he sleep /here/?// A hand moved to touch-but withdrew within a few inches of that goal, as Duo winced, remembering. //I'd better not.//
Heero looked at him quizzically. "You won't wake him?"
Shaking his head, Duo could feel his braid slapping his shoulders. "No-- you didn't see him when Quatre and I did it last time. You'd have thought that touch scalded him. . . or that I was some form of venomous fanged nightmare, from the way he looked at me after."
"Hn. . . Well, he looks alright," Heero decided, tilting his head to one side as he scrutinized the pile on the rocking chair.
//How can you tell?// Duo snorted. "How can he look alright if all we can see are a few /hairs/?"
"Then wake him up."
"Why don't /you/?"
"Me?" Heero glared at Duo as if he had suggested toilette-papering Wing. "I'm his enemy!"
Duo snorted, hands on hips. //Oh come /on/, you /can't/ be that afraid of him!// "Not anymore!" he pointed out sharply. "We're all allies in this, remember?"
Heero looked back at the pile of throw-rugs and blonde hair in time to catch a glimpse of a pale lock falling free of the soft cloth like a trickle of white lava from the top of the small mound. After a moment, he griped, "Why do /I/ always get the hazardous tasks in this alliance. . . ?"
//Because your pretense of having no buttons just makes them easier for us to find--and push?// Duo hazarded silently, smirking. //At least if Zechs knees one of us, it won't be /my/ vitals. You're sterner stuff. You can re-set your own bones, after all.// "Come on, Heero--you know we all love you. He's a kid, remember? He doesn't even have a gun."
"You're just getting me back for using parts of Deathscythe to fix Wing." But Heero reached out an uncertain hand to poke the bundle on the rocking chair.
The pile of throws jerked, shifted, and wriggled before he ever made contact, rearranging itself. . .
"I didn't do /anything/," Heero warned, pulling back warily and eyeing Duo scathingly, to ward off comments.
Lifting his hands in a warding off gesture, Duo chuckled quietly. "I know, I know!"
The mound of soft blankets finally settled down again, this time with the boy's head visible, resting on the arm of the padded rocking chair, a corner of the comforters forming a partial hood over his bright hair, protecting him from the sun. As they watched, the boy sighed softly, hands clenched around the edges of the blanket and curled under his chin, the rest of him rolled up in the protective but snug embrace of blankets. Long bangs tickled at his nose, but failed to catch his attention.
The one visible ear had cotton gleaming in it. /Lots/ of cotton.
//Well I'll be. . . // "No wonder he didn't comment this morning, amid all that noise," Duo murmured, scratching the back of his head. "He never heard a thing!"
"Hn. . ." Heero grunted, frowning a bit, and stepped closer to the boy, looking down at the relaxed face of that blanket-wrapped form a moment before tucking his gun into hiding and turning sharply to go. "Let's go."
//Huh?// Duo looked after Heero curiously, then back at the boy, confused, as his fellow Gundam pilot strode from the room. //What. . . ?//
"Let him sleep," Heero added without turning.
Then Heero was gone, the front door clicking shut behind him.
Daringly, and wondering what had interested Heero so much, Duo walked around to stand where the other pilot had been, seeking the same vantage point, looking down at Zechs only a foot away, oblivious to all the commotion. //What did he see?//
Though Zechs was relaxed and definitely asleep, curled in that defensive ball, there was a tightness to his features, something Duo couldn't name, though he'd seen it before on others. Uncertain, uncomfortable dreams-- they left their mark in that tension.
Then Duo saw, too: a faint glossiness on the boy's visible cheek.
Tear-tracks.
//Dry tracks. . . He must have cried himself to sleep,// Duo surmised sadly, a hand straying on its own to brush teasing bangs away. His hand froze mid-brushstroke as he caught a glimpse of something else. . . almost lost in the blankets, tucked against the youth's chest and clenched close in those blanket-wrapped fists. . .
A tuft of "fur". The ear of a teddy bear.
He'd seen it when Rashid had brought the boy's "bag" from the plane, but not since then. A child's toy. Where Zechs had gotten it from, and how, when he was wearing cut-down rags of clothes at the time, was beyond Duo's imagination. Or /why/ an ex-Oz soldier would think to pack such next to a small missile. . .
//But you're not a soldier anymore, I suspect. . . Or perhaps you've nowhere else to turn to. You /would/ have people to turn to, if you opened up. But you refuse to. Why?// Sweeping silky strands of bangs aside and behind the boy's ear, Duo turned to follow Heero, pausing to glance back over his shoulder, frowning slightly, painfully.
//Who /is/ Zechs Marquise? It's the key to everything. . . Maybe even winning this.//
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Treize glared at his niece as if she carried The Plague of old. //God help me. . . Now I know how Zechs felt when confronting Noin.//
Dorothy beamed back at Treize with an amused, smug smile as if he'd just given her the best birthday present of her life.
//Of all things to forget. . . //
"Cousin, your hair is the most /becoming/ shade of fuchsia I've /ever/ seen," Dorothy proudly announced. "Has Lady Une seen it yet?"
//Heaven forbid!!!// "No," he growled out tersely.
"Now, now, Cousin, it really suits you, I think. . ."
//Zechs, if I get /one/ more comment on the hair, /your/ hair will be /blue/ before the day is out or I am not a Kushrenada!// "Dorothy, much as I enjoy your company," //Which I do NOT when my hair is this color!// "I did not leave Romefeller nor come haring around half the world just to show you my hair."
"No, of course not. You've been haring after Zechs," she answered smoothly, batting eyelashes coyly at him. Yes, she had heard the rumors of "Treize's boy" too, it seemed. . .
//Dorothy, you are the most infuriating creature I've ever met. And that includes boatloads of spoiled diplomats, their snotty gossipy wives, and their nasty little rugrats!// Fighting the urge to just close his eyes and cry from sheer frustration, the ex-Oz general set his jaw grimly and answered, "Yes and no."
She smiled brightly at him, with mock-innocence. Dorothy never actually /tried/ true innocence--nobody who'd ever met her would believe such an expression on /her/ face. It would have been as out of place as a "tragedy" clown mask on a Cheshire Cat. "He /is/ here, though, Cousin. You and the Gundam pilots certainly shouted for him loud enough this morning."
Treize frowned sternly at her. "You know the Gundam pilots?" //If /she/ knew them, why the heck were my men and Zechs hunting half the globe for them before this?!?//
Dorothy waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Grandfather had pictures of a couple. . . and I saw them arrive yesterday. Besides, they seem to like Miss Relena a great deal if they tend to converge around her. . . or perhaps it's the other way around? Now I'm not so sure," she teased.
Treize fought the urge to groan, and sought instead a chair to collapse into. None presented itself in the long, impressive hall. //Hell. He really /was/ going to get rid of me. . . Some relative!// "In that case, you know your grandfather and I have had a. . . falling out, right?"
"It was because he had Cousin Zechs imprisoned, right?" she responded with a slight mischievous smile. Calling Zechs a relation was sheer impishness on her part, for all she liked the Oz ace--she knew he was no such thing, and only wanted to annoy Treize about how Treize treated the younger man. Like a cousin, a blood relative. . .
"No, it was because he had 'Cousin' Zechs tortured and experimented on," Treize shot back, mimicking her tone of voice. //Try that for size. He doesn't tell you the whole truth, for all you're his favorite, Dorothy.// "And now he needs serious help. . ."
The mirth faded from her eyes and expression. "You brought him home to die?" she asked quietly, head tilting.
Wincing, Treize shook his head, feeling a faint chill between his shoulder blades. //Nearly. It may not kill him yet, but if Sally Po can't do her miracles. . . // "No, he isn't dying yet. . . Though he may still, if the doctor we brought here can't help him," he admitted firmly, grimly. "We brought him here with us because we have a plan to return the favor to your Grandfather."
He could see her stiffen stubbornly. "Oh? You intend to take over Romefeller then?" But her eyes challenged him. She wasn't adverse to the idea.
//I am /not/ leading that band of pompous misguided anachronisms. And that is final! Though you seem to accept he's capable of such inhumanities frighteningly easily, Dorothy.// "No," Treize answered firmly. "Though he clearly expected me to try at some point for his 'throne', Dorothy. I was marked for the same fate as Zechs, you see."
Dorothy's eyes actually widened. "He wouldn't," she breathed in horror, anger glimmering in her gaze.
Nodding slowly, the ex-Oz general made a face. "Small things add up. Add in that I was his assurance that Zechs would never be a threat to him, and they fall into place. Nor was that a good fate to fall into. . ."
She stared into space a moment, then whirled back to him, asking, "What did they do to him?"
Considering her a long moment, Treize frowned grimly. //Would she endure reading all that Quatre passed to me? The files Zechs found, the medical reports? I've been hesitant to peek into them myself after talking to Duo. But she is old enough to decide for herself. . . // Finally, he offered, "Do you want to see the reports thus far? We may never fully know--he refuses to say anything."
Dorothy snorted in an unladylike manner. "He wouldn't."
//True enough. But in this case, it's very bad for him. . . // Turning, he offered Dorothy his arm, still grim. "I warn you. . . I've been afraid to read all the details myself."
She paused, her accepting arm suspended over his, eyes round with surprise. "That bad," she whispered quietly.
"Those are only the things we /know/ about," he answered softly, leading her towards his rooms.
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"I think you should come meet them, Wufei."
The young man addressed frowned, eyes narrowing, his arms crossed over his chest stubbornly. //I do not trust such an alliance. It is. . . too strange! But she is sure that the other Gundam pilots are willing members, and that these traitors to Oz have changed sides to preserve their own honor. . . But I am not so certain they had honor to start with!// So he said nothing. Only glowered into the sea. //This land is depressing. . .//
Sally sighed behind his back. "Talk to them. They are good people. Honorable people. That's why this alliance exists!" she pointed out insistently.
"If they were honorable, why were they part of Oz to begin with?" Wufei returned sharply. //Answer that for me! You just met them, and you've taken their side already!//
"Why not ask them yourself?" she retorted with equal emphasis. "Perhaps, like me, they sought to make a difference. . . and perhaps change things. They say that one of the best ways to reform an organization is from within. . ."
//And how does that explain /Treize/ being a part of this alliance?// Glaring at the curling waves of the horizon, Wufei snarled, "Then how is it that Oz's former leader is a member of this alliance?"
"Nobody said it was a foolproof method of reform, Wufei. He made too many enemies, too high up, too fast--according to Miss Noin. What I've seen of him, though, supports her words," Sally mused sadly.
//Yes, you mentioned that Romefeller was on the verge of imprisoning him. But that could have been but a convenient rumor! And I still find this nonsense about making an Oz pilot into a child hard to believe. . .// But he couldn't refute Sally's opinion. He hadn't seen or spoken to the man since trying to assassinate him by sword. //And I didn't understand him then. I certainly don't now!!!// So Wufei only grunted.
"Wufei," Sally sighed. He could hear her stepping closer, so that she stood looking over his shoulder at the sea. "Why the horizon?" The question was unexpected. "Why can't you bear to look at New Port City?"
//Because it is so. . . broken. Like L5. Empty, haunted by ghosts.// To show weakness to her, however, was something Wufei refused to do. "They left these ruins standing as if to attract the ghosts of the past back. . . yet they rebuild, even as they refuse to fight to protect themselves from it repeating!" he snarled. //Foolish!//
"That's why this alliance is here, Wufei. To protect them."
Wufei whirled on her furiously. "Four Gundams? Against Romefeller--with those new suits you described? It won't work!" //The odds are too high! And this city--this /country/--will be leveled by their trying!//
"That's why Relena's attempts to win world leaders to her peace principles. She can make Romefeller collapse in on itself. . ."
"She won't have a country by then!" Wufei answered contemptuously. //What kind of leader sacrifices her responsibility for her people like that?//
"I think. . . there are other pieces to the puzzle here, which might answer that problem. Perhaps she intends to evacuate--but you're right. We all know this country will face a major battle." Sally sounded surprisingly puzzled, as if she suspected something but couldn't put a finger on exactly what the hints meant. Yet she stared out at the ocean thoughtfully. "I didn't think about it until you just mentioned it, but you /are/ right. Unless the alliance has something up its sleeves, this country will be doomed."
Wufei tilted his head, peering up at her quizzically. //Are they so desperate that they are willing to sacrifice this place, all these people, for the chance of peace, at such high odds? That is not right! This is not just!!!// Teeth gritted, he stated bluntly, "They are willing to sacrifice all these people. . ."
Sally's eyes widened, and she glanced over at him in horror. "I doubt it! I think they would evacuate the country first. . . You know, I'm not sure they've all even realized the sheer scale of the damage a mobile suit battle would cause here! But no, I don't think any of them would accept such losses. . ."
//Not sure all of them realized it? But that means /someone/ must have!// His eyes narrowed. "Treize probably knows. /He/ proposed the idea, you said."
Shaking her head in denial, Sally answered slowly, "No. . . Zechs did, actually."
"The Oz. . . /boy/," Wufei mused, frowning. //I still find that story hard to believe. She said this is his homeland. Why would he sacrifice it? Unless his ties to it are near nothing, as many of these Westerners go. . .//
Sally chuckled softly, amused. "Wufei," she murmured with an indulgent smile, "he may be a child now, but he's still sharp." The amusement faded to another distant, thoughtful look, as if she were recalling some detail that just now became significant somehow. "You know, I don't think he /liked/ the idea of the alliance coming here. . . but I don't know why they picked this place. Maybe they couldn't find anywhere else that would welcome them."
Wufei snorted. "Can you blame other countries for that?" //I would have kicked them out, too, were I a responsible leader!//
Sally frowned slightly at the distant horizon a long moment. . . then murmured, "Wufei, I told you why I came. . ."
"That suicidal Gundam pilot asked you to undo whatever Romefeller did to that Oz boy," Wufei returned promptly, eyeing her suspiciously. //What are you thinking of? I am not sure this is good. I am not sure /coming here/ was a good idea, either, now!//
"Wufei. . . he's an honorable. . . boy, now, I suppose. He was an honorable man before. I'm. . ." She paused, flushing faintly with embarrassment. "I probably wouldn't understand how his mind works as well as you would. But I need to know everything I can about him--because what they did to him affected that, too. I'd like you to speak to him, and tell me what you think."
Wufei blinked at her.
//You want me to talk to this Oz boy? What do you expect me to say to him?!? "I didn't happen to kill any of your friends in that last battle, did I?" This is foolishness!//
"There is a war on, Onna! I do not have time to chat with failed pilots messed up by their own commanders!" Wufei flung back defensively.
The look Sally gave him was full of sorrow, quietly stating that she expected better from Wufei. "He can still fly his mobile suit, Wufei, or so I'm told. . . so he isn't a failure yet. But I think he has the answers you want, Wufei, and perhaps you have some answers for him. . . ? He needs help, Wufei, and it's my /medical/ opinion that you're the best candidate."
Shifting his arms over his chest to a slightly more comfortable position, Wufei glowered. //Why /me/? Why should I get involved in this folly? And more important, why do /you/ want me involved in it?// "Why should I do this?" he asked her bluntly. "Just /being/ here is foolishness!"
Sally smiled slowly, warmly, at his icy demeanor. "Because you should meet them and talk to them before you judge the wisdom of their actions. Because you're aimless and lost right now, and perhaps it will help you find a direction. Because you can help someone as lost as you are. Because it is right."
Wufei shifted his glare out to the ocean again with a huff. //Those are good arguments. I /am/ lost. But the other Gundam pilots must have been, too, surely. Most of all, I want to know why they have become part of this, with these people, these former enemies. . .//
"Wufei," Sally added quietly. "There's something else. . . In doing what they did to him, he's lost his ability to distance his memories. And in those memories are secrets that might be important in the coming battles. Not only that--they're tearing him apart. I'm willing to try anything to help him retain his sanity until something more can be done. . ."
He shuddered at the image that presented. //How can he not distance memories of the past? Is it some kind of drug Romefeller used, that caused this? If so. . . it /is/ something I want to help her undo. I want to do everything I can against that organization, if just to spite them!//
"Something about him reminds me of you Gundam pilots, Wufei. I don't care to think of what may happen if he /does/ break finally."
Wufei closed his eyes.
//We cannot afford such a thing.//
"I will do as you ask, then," Wufei accepted quietly, turning. . . this time to set his gaze on the ruins of the palace standing behind them, and the construction in the distance behind those ruined walls.
//It sounds more and more as if this Oz pilot has become much like this land. Crumbling. Ruin. Something trying to rebuild, people trying to hope. But against what odds?//
As he watched, a gust of wind sent a chunk of ruined floor crashing to the mounds of rubble below.
//I hold no hopes of success here, however. I will try this futile thing, but only because to try is right. . .//
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To be continued. Sorry guys. The month of Finals Week tends to be hectic, and before that I was busy with my brother's wedding! I'll add a good bit more after Finals, tho. :)
Chapter Nineteen: They Don't Understand Your Sense Of Humor Like I Do
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Disclaimer--Don't own it, don't seem likely to anytime soon, either. . .
Warnings--Dorothy. Yeah, she's a bit of a nut, tho I'm nice to her. A touch of the angst again--but it's nothing terribly sad. You've already endured worse.
Duo and Heero find Zechs. Treize chats with Dorothy. Sally talks to Wufei, who doesn't seem the most thrilled about what's going on. Can you blame him?
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Kneeling before the door, Duo hastily picked away at the lock with his pin, muttering softly under his breath. //No, you couldn't stop five seconds to get the damn keys from Pagan--you had to run here like a fool. . . //
"There," he breathed, hearing the tumblers click into place finally. Not that it had taken him long, but in his anxiety, it sure felt that way!
Before Duo could surge back to his feet, Heero had reached for the door latch and turned, quietly opening the door and forcing Duo to half-crawl, half-stagger out of the way of the door's swing. Gun cocked, Wing's pilot crept into the room first, vanishing from view. Scrambling, Duo whipped out his own weapon and hurried after, ears perked the instant he stepped through the doorway.
//He wouldn't booby-trap his own room, would he. . . ?// Deathscythe's pilot wondered with a hint of concern. //I hope not. Or this is going to be /very/ amusing for him. . . Or anyone else here. I hope he's alright. . . //
The place was simple, smaller than what Duo himself had been given. The sitting room was small, more of a corridor with a coat closet and mirror, and openings to a compact bedroom on one side, with a matching doorway to a study of sorts in the opposing direction. Poking his head around the corner into the small quarters, Duo caught a glimpse of black spandex, and glided closer, into the sitting room. . .
Heero had stopped at the doorway of the bedroom, which stood open, gaping. The bed wasn't terribly large--according to all rumors concerning the former Zechs Marquise, he probably wouldn't have been able to fit on this compact thing without a couple below-the-knee amputations. A matching dresser with a boring lamp and a mirror sat beside it as complacently as furniture could possibly sit. The bed was in disarray, though-the bottom sheets wrinkled, the pillow pounded to a pulp, and a blanket trailed over the corner, half-crumpled, threatening to fall to the floor at the slightest breath. A small bath stood just beyond, door wide open for them to view the racks of tidily arranged towels, a crystal-clear shower-stall, and the fact that otherwise it barely had enough space to hold a wet dog.
But there was no occupant.
//Oh. . . damn. This can't be good,// Duo decided, lifting his eyes to meet Heero's.
The Perfect Soldier frowned, then jerked his head towards the other room in silent signal before creeping towards /that/ beaconing entrance.
//Don't be dead, kid. I'll never forgive us!// Duo trailed after, gritting his teeth worriedly. //And on second thought. . . don't be working on another prank or we won't forgive /you/!!!//
Poking his head through the other door, Heero relaxed abruptly, putting the safety back on his gun with a click, letting weapon and hand drop to his side.
Lowering his own weapon, Duo strode into the room after his fellow Gundam pilot, glancing about. //Is he here. . . ?//
A sofa, a moderate TV sitting on a cabinet containing a stereo and an old VCR/DVD player, a plush rocking-chair by the sunny window with an untidy mound of rumpled throws on it. . .
//I guess not.// Puffing a sigh, Duo clicked the safety on his gun as well, tucking it back into the back of his belt and scratching his head. "Damn. . ." he murmured. "Now what?"
"Hn," Heero grunted agreeably, going over to the window and peering out. "Suggestions?" Wing's pilot asked.
Smiling wryly, Duo shook his head. //You look utterly at a loss, Heero, and this is a first!// It was amusing to watch, a rare moment, though Duo wished he could savor it. Worry had begun chewing his stomach from the inside out. //I'm going to get ulcers like this. . . How did Kushrenada ever manage with this kid?//
The throw-rugs stirred slightly, and the chair they were on rocked ever-so- faintly.
Heero jumped as if he'd seen a ghost, backing away from the pile as if expecting it to blow up in his face at any second. "Zechs?" he asked warily, uncertainly of the mound.
No answer was forthcoming.
Cautiously, Duo stepped closer to the moving pile, frowning as he peered closer. Yes, a few stray strands of shimmering blonde mingled in that tangle, but everything else was well wrapped, hidden from view. Cozily so, in the warm sunlight and soft chair.
//Why would he sleep /here/?// A hand moved to touch-but withdrew within a few inches of that goal, as Duo winced, remembering. //I'd better not.//
Heero looked at him quizzically. "You won't wake him?"
Shaking his head, Duo could feel his braid slapping his shoulders. "No-- you didn't see him when Quatre and I did it last time. You'd have thought that touch scalded him. . . or that I was some form of venomous fanged nightmare, from the way he looked at me after."
"Hn. . . Well, he looks alright," Heero decided, tilting his head to one side as he scrutinized the pile on the rocking chair.
//How can you tell?// Duo snorted. "How can he look alright if all we can see are a few /hairs/?"
"Then wake him up."
"Why don't /you/?"
"Me?" Heero glared at Duo as if he had suggested toilette-papering Wing. "I'm his enemy!"
Duo snorted, hands on hips. //Oh come /on/, you /can't/ be that afraid of him!// "Not anymore!" he pointed out sharply. "We're all allies in this, remember?"
Heero looked back at the pile of throw-rugs and blonde hair in time to catch a glimpse of a pale lock falling free of the soft cloth like a trickle of white lava from the top of the small mound. After a moment, he griped, "Why do /I/ always get the hazardous tasks in this alliance. . . ?"
//Because your pretense of having no buttons just makes them easier for us to find--and push?// Duo hazarded silently, smirking. //At least if Zechs knees one of us, it won't be /my/ vitals. You're sterner stuff. You can re-set your own bones, after all.// "Come on, Heero--you know we all love you. He's a kid, remember? He doesn't even have a gun."
"You're just getting me back for using parts of Deathscythe to fix Wing." But Heero reached out an uncertain hand to poke the bundle on the rocking chair.
The pile of throws jerked, shifted, and wriggled before he ever made contact, rearranging itself. . .
"I didn't do /anything/," Heero warned, pulling back warily and eyeing Duo scathingly, to ward off comments.
Lifting his hands in a warding off gesture, Duo chuckled quietly. "I know, I know!"
The mound of soft blankets finally settled down again, this time with the boy's head visible, resting on the arm of the padded rocking chair, a corner of the comforters forming a partial hood over his bright hair, protecting him from the sun. As they watched, the boy sighed softly, hands clenched around the edges of the blanket and curled under his chin, the rest of him rolled up in the protective but snug embrace of blankets. Long bangs tickled at his nose, but failed to catch his attention.
The one visible ear had cotton gleaming in it. /Lots/ of cotton.
//Well I'll be. . . // "No wonder he didn't comment this morning, amid all that noise," Duo murmured, scratching the back of his head. "He never heard a thing!"
"Hn. . ." Heero grunted, frowning a bit, and stepped closer to the boy, looking down at the relaxed face of that blanket-wrapped form a moment before tucking his gun into hiding and turning sharply to go. "Let's go."
//Huh?// Duo looked after Heero curiously, then back at the boy, confused, as his fellow Gundam pilot strode from the room. //What. . . ?//
"Let him sleep," Heero added without turning.
Then Heero was gone, the front door clicking shut behind him.
Daringly, and wondering what had interested Heero so much, Duo walked around to stand where the other pilot had been, seeking the same vantage point, looking down at Zechs only a foot away, oblivious to all the commotion. //What did he see?//
Though Zechs was relaxed and definitely asleep, curled in that defensive ball, there was a tightness to his features, something Duo couldn't name, though he'd seen it before on others. Uncertain, uncomfortable dreams-- they left their mark in that tension.
Then Duo saw, too: a faint glossiness on the boy's visible cheek.
Tear-tracks.
//Dry tracks. . . He must have cried himself to sleep,// Duo surmised sadly, a hand straying on its own to brush teasing bangs away. His hand froze mid-brushstroke as he caught a glimpse of something else. . . almost lost in the blankets, tucked against the youth's chest and clenched close in those blanket-wrapped fists. . .
A tuft of "fur". The ear of a teddy bear.
He'd seen it when Rashid had brought the boy's "bag" from the plane, but not since then. A child's toy. Where Zechs had gotten it from, and how, when he was wearing cut-down rags of clothes at the time, was beyond Duo's imagination. Or /why/ an ex-Oz soldier would think to pack such next to a small missile. . .
//But you're not a soldier anymore, I suspect. . . Or perhaps you've nowhere else to turn to. You /would/ have people to turn to, if you opened up. But you refuse to. Why?// Sweeping silky strands of bangs aside and behind the boy's ear, Duo turned to follow Heero, pausing to glance back over his shoulder, frowning slightly, painfully.
//Who /is/ Zechs Marquise? It's the key to everything. . . Maybe even winning this.//
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Treize glared at his niece as if she carried The Plague of old. //God help me. . . Now I know how Zechs felt when confronting Noin.//
Dorothy beamed back at Treize with an amused, smug smile as if he'd just given her the best birthday present of her life.
//Of all things to forget. . . //
"Cousin, your hair is the most /becoming/ shade of fuchsia I've /ever/ seen," Dorothy proudly announced. "Has Lady Une seen it yet?"
//Heaven forbid!!!// "No," he growled out tersely.
"Now, now, Cousin, it really suits you, I think. . ."
//Zechs, if I get /one/ more comment on the hair, /your/ hair will be /blue/ before the day is out or I am not a Kushrenada!// "Dorothy, much as I enjoy your company," //Which I do NOT when my hair is this color!// "I did not leave Romefeller nor come haring around half the world just to show you my hair."
"No, of course not. You've been haring after Zechs," she answered smoothly, batting eyelashes coyly at him. Yes, she had heard the rumors of "Treize's boy" too, it seemed. . .
//Dorothy, you are the most infuriating creature I've ever met. And that includes boatloads of spoiled diplomats, their snotty gossipy wives, and their nasty little rugrats!// Fighting the urge to just close his eyes and cry from sheer frustration, the ex-Oz general set his jaw grimly and answered, "Yes and no."
She smiled brightly at him, with mock-innocence. Dorothy never actually /tried/ true innocence--nobody who'd ever met her would believe such an expression on /her/ face. It would have been as out of place as a "tragedy" clown mask on a Cheshire Cat. "He /is/ here, though, Cousin. You and the Gundam pilots certainly shouted for him loud enough this morning."
Treize frowned sternly at her. "You know the Gundam pilots?" //If /she/ knew them, why the heck were my men and Zechs hunting half the globe for them before this?!?//
Dorothy waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Grandfather had pictures of a couple. . . and I saw them arrive yesterday. Besides, they seem to like Miss Relena a great deal if they tend to converge around her. . . or perhaps it's the other way around? Now I'm not so sure," she teased.
Treize fought the urge to groan, and sought instead a chair to collapse into. None presented itself in the long, impressive hall. //Hell. He really /was/ going to get rid of me. . . Some relative!// "In that case, you know your grandfather and I have had a. . . falling out, right?"
"It was because he had Cousin Zechs imprisoned, right?" she responded with a slight mischievous smile. Calling Zechs a relation was sheer impishness on her part, for all she liked the Oz ace--she knew he was no such thing, and only wanted to annoy Treize about how Treize treated the younger man. Like a cousin, a blood relative. . .
"No, it was because he had 'Cousin' Zechs tortured and experimented on," Treize shot back, mimicking her tone of voice. //Try that for size. He doesn't tell you the whole truth, for all you're his favorite, Dorothy.// "And now he needs serious help. . ."
The mirth faded from her eyes and expression. "You brought him home to die?" she asked quietly, head tilting.
Wincing, Treize shook his head, feeling a faint chill between his shoulder blades. //Nearly. It may not kill him yet, but if Sally Po can't do her miracles. . . // "No, he isn't dying yet. . . Though he may still, if the doctor we brought here can't help him," he admitted firmly, grimly. "We brought him here with us because we have a plan to return the favor to your Grandfather."
He could see her stiffen stubbornly. "Oh? You intend to take over Romefeller then?" But her eyes challenged him. She wasn't adverse to the idea.
//I am /not/ leading that band of pompous misguided anachronisms. And that is final! Though you seem to accept he's capable of such inhumanities frighteningly easily, Dorothy.// "No," Treize answered firmly. "Though he clearly expected me to try at some point for his 'throne', Dorothy. I was marked for the same fate as Zechs, you see."
Dorothy's eyes actually widened. "He wouldn't," she breathed in horror, anger glimmering in her gaze.
Nodding slowly, the ex-Oz general made a face. "Small things add up. Add in that I was his assurance that Zechs would never be a threat to him, and they fall into place. Nor was that a good fate to fall into. . ."
She stared into space a moment, then whirled back to him, asking, "What did they do to him?"
Considering her a long moment, Treize frowned grimly. //Would she endure reading all that Quatre passed to me? The files Zechs found, the medical reports? I've been hesitant to peek into them myself after talking to Duo. But she is old enough to decide for herself. . . // Finally, he offered, "Do you want to see the reports thus far? We may never fully know--he refuses to say anything."
Dorothy snorted in an unladylike manner. "He wouldn't."
//True enough. But in this case, it's very bad for him. . . // Turning, he offered Dorothy his arm, still grim. "I warn you. . . I've been afraid to read all the details myself."
She paused, her accepting arm suspended over his, eyes round with surprise. "That bad," she whispered quietly.
"Those are only the things we /know/ about," he answered softly, leading her towards his rooms.
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"I think you should come meet them, Wufei."
The young man addressed frowned, eyes narrowing, his arms crossed over his chest stubbornly. //I do not trust such an alliance. It is. . . too strange! But she is sure that the other Gundam pilots are willing members, and that these traitors to Oz have changed sides to preserve their own honor. . . But I am not so certain they had honor to start with!// So he said nothing. Only glowered into the sea. //This land is depressing. . .//
Sally sighed behind his back. "Talk to them. They are good people. Honorable people. That's why this alliance exists!" she pointed out insistently.
"If they were honorable, why were they part of Oz to begin with?" Wufei returned sharply. //Answer that for me! You just met them, and you've taken their side already!//
"Why not ask them yourself?" she retorted with equal emphasis. "Perhaps, like me, they sought to make a difference. . . and perhaps change things. They say that one of the best ways to reform an organization is from within. . ."
//And how does that explain /Treize/ being a part of this alliance?// Glaring at the curling waves of the horizon, Wufei snarled, "Then how is it that Oz's former leader is a member of this alliance?"
"Nobody said it was a foolproof method of reform, Wufei. He made too many enemies, too high up, too fast--according to Miss Noin. What I've seen of him, though, supports her words," Sally mused sadly.
//Yes, you mentioned that Romefeller was on the verge of imprisoning him. But that could have been but a convenient rumor! And I still find this nonsense about making an Oz pilot into a child hard to believe. . .// But he couldn't refute Sally's opinion. He hadn't seen or spoken to the man since trying to assassinate him by sword. //And I didn't understand him then. I certainly don't now!!!// So Wufei only grunted.
"Wufei," Sally sighed. He could hear her stepping closer, so that she stood looking over his shoulder at the sea. "Why the horizon?" The question was unexpected. "Why can't you bear to look at New Port City?"
//Because it is so. . . broken. Like L5. Empty, haunted by ghosts.// To show weakness to her, however, was something Wufei refused to do. "They left these ruins standing as if to attract the ghosts of the past back. . . yet they rebuild, even as they refuse to fight to protect themselves from it repeating!" he snarled. //Foolish!//
"That's why this alliance is here, Wufei. To protect them."
Wufei whirled on her furiously. "Four Gundams? Against Romefeller--with those new suits you described? It won't work!" //The odds are too high! And this city--this /country/--will be leveled by their trying!//
"That's why Relena's attempts to win world leaders to her peace principles. She can make Romefeller collapse in on itself. . ."
"She won't have a country by then!" Wufei answered contemptuously. //What kind of leader sacrifices her responsibility for her people like that?//
"I think. . . there are other pieces to the puzzle here, which might answer that problem. Perhaps she intends to evacuate--but you're right. We all know this country will face a major battle." Sally sounded surprisingly puzzled, as if she suspected something but couldn't put a finger on exactly what the hints meant. Yet she stared out at the ocean thoughtfully. "I didn't think about it until you just mentioned it, but you /are/ right. Unless the alliance has something up its sleeves, this country will be doomed."
Wufei tilted his head, peering up at her quizzically. //Are they so desperate that they are willing to sacrifice this place, all these people, for the chance of peace, at such high odds? That is not right! This is not just!!!// Teeth gritted, he stated bluntly, "They are willing to sacrifice all these people. . ."
Sally's eyes widened, and she glanced over at him in horror. "I doubt it! I think they would evacuate the country first. . . You know, I'm not sure they've all even realized the sheer scale of the damage a mobile suit battle would cause here! But no, I don't think any of them would accept such losses. . ."
//Not sure all of them realized it? But that means /someone/ must have!// His eyes narrowed. "Treize probably knows. /He/ proposed the idea, you said."
Shaking her head in denial, Sally answered slowly, "No. . . Zechs did, actually."
"The Oz. . . /boy/," Wufei mused, frowning. //I still find that story hard to believe. She said this is his homeland. Why would he sacrifice it? Unless his ties to it are near nothing, as many of these Westerners go. . .//
Sally chuckled softly, amused. "Wufei," she murmured with an indulgent smile, "he may be a child now, but he's still sharp." The amusement faded to another distant, thoughtful look, as if she were recalling some detail that just now became significant somehow. "You know, I don't think he /liked/ the idea of the alliance coming here. . . but I don't know why they picked this place. Maybe they couldn't find anywhere else that would welcome them."
Wufei snorted. "Can you blame other countries for that?" //I would have kicked them out, too, were I a responsible leader!//
Sally frowned slightly at the distant horizon a long moment. . . then murmured, "Wufei, I told you why I came. . ."
"That suicidal Gundam pilot asked you to undo whatever Romefeller did to that Oz boy," Wufei returned promptly, eyeing her suspiciously. //What are you thinking of? I am not sure this is good. I am not sure /coming here/ was a good idea, either, now!//
"Wufei. . . he's an honorable. . . boy, now, I suppose. He was an honorable man before. I'm. . ." She paused, flushing faintly with embarrassment. "I probably wouldn't understand how his mind works as well as you would. But I need to know everything I can about him--because what they did to him affected that, too. I'd like you to speak to him, and tell me what you think."
Wufei blinked at her.
//You want me to talk to this Oz boy? What do you expect me to say to him?!? "I didn't happen to kill any of your friends in that last battle, did I?" This is foolishness!//
"There is a war on, Onna! I do not have time to chat with failed pilots messed up by their own commanders!" Wufei flung back defensively.
The look Sally gave him was full of sorrow, quietly stating that she expected better from Wufei. "He can still fly his mobile suit, Wufei, or so I'm told. . . so he isn't a failure yet. But I think he has the answers you want, Wufei, and perhaps you have some answers for him. . . ? He needs help, Wufei, and it's my /medical/ opinion that you're the best candidate."
Shifting his arms over his chest to a slightly more comfortable position, Wufei glowered. //Why /me/? Why should I get involved in this folly? And more important, why do /you/ want me involved in it?// "Why should I do this?" he asked her bluntly. "Just /being/ here is foolishness!"
Sally smiled slowly, warmly, at his icy demeanor. "Because you should meet them and talk to them before you judge the wisdom of their actions. Because you're aimless and lost right now, and perhaps it will help you find a direction. Because you can help someone as lost as you are. Because it is right."
Wufei shifted his glare out to the ocean again with a huff. //Those are good arguments. I /am/ lost. But the other Gundam pilots must have been, too, surely. Most of all, I want to know why they have become part of this, with these people, these former enemies. . .//
"Wufei," Sally added quietly. "There's something else. . . In doing what they did to him, he's lost his ability to distance his memories. And in those memories are secrets that might be important in the coming battles. Not only that--they're tearing him apart. I'm willing to try anything to help him retain his sanity until something more can be done. . ."
He shuddered at the image that presented. //How can he not distance memories of the past? Is it some kind of drug Romefeller used, that caused this? If so. . . it /is/ something I want to help her undo. I want to do everything I can against that organization, if just to spite them!//
"Something about him reminds me of you Gundam pilots, Wufei. I don't care to think of what may happen if he /does/ break finally."
Wufei closed his eyes.
//We cannot afford such a thing.//
"I will do as you ask, then," Wufei accepted quietly, turning. . . this time to set his gaze on the ruins of the palace standing behind them, and the construction in the distance behind those ruined walls.
//It sounds more and more as if this Oz pilot has become much like this land. Crumbling. Ruin. Something trying to rebuild, people trying to hope. But against what odds?//
As he watched, a gust of wind sent a chunk of ruined floor crashing to the mounds of rubble below.
//I hold no hopes of success here, however. I will try this futile thing, but only because to try is right. . .//
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To be continued. Sorry guys. The month of Finals Week tends to be hectic, and before that I was busy with my brother's wedding! I'll add a good bit more after Finals, tho. :)