That's Childish, So Childish. . .
Chapter Twenty-One: Did You Hear The News?
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Disclaimer--I own nothing. The fish all died except one Gourami, who still is nameless. The cacti are long dead. My computer is surrounded by ravens now. . . literally. I've a stuffed raven plushy on it.
Warnings--Erm, let's see. . . Confusion, determination to blow things up, some rather scathing comments, perhaps. Maybe a bit of angst, a touch of sap, and some very painful-sounding but amusing plans.
Heero delivers his letter. Relena discovers that she had a whole life she never knew about. Zechs and Wufei talk. Duo and Quatre are hunting something, but don't know what to really look for.
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Taking a deep breath, and releasing it in a sigh, Heero pushed open the door and entered the sitting-room, immediately spying Relena sitting with hands in lap and barely-contained excitement on the edge of a soft leather couch in the room.
Well, that was all he had a chance to /see/, before she leapt to her feet with the familiar cry of "Heero!" and flung her arms around him in a sudden embrace that pinned his arms to his sides and nearly cracked his healing ribs all over again.
//Hope she's not taking after Noin. . .// the dismayed Gundam pilot mused grimly, enduring the pain with set teeth. //I. . . like her, but I don't think I can take much of this for a while yet.//
"Heero, you're alive!" the girl exclaimed joyfully.
He just looked at her. //You heard me screaming death threats this morning. How could you doubt it?// he wondered, blinking.
Relena released him, stepping back a pace to beam back at him like a child who had discovered a gold coin while hunting seashells along the beach.
Wing's pilot fought the strange pull his lips wanted to take, suppressing the not-terribly-familiar expression of a smile trying to reach his features. Bluntly, he offered, "I tried to die."
Nodding sadly, she agreed, "I know. . . but I'm glad you didn't. I'm glad you're here. Mrs. Noventa sent a letter for you. . ."
Heero frowned slightly at her, ignoring the message. Mrs. Noventa, in his opinion, was a chapter done and past, and anything she had to say was likely of little importance. His concerns lay more in the present, and particularly with the girl presently standing before him. //I don't want Relena to get her hopes up. I intend to see this mission through, and end this war, and the cost will likely be my life. I could say that I'm not here for her. . . but that's not quite true. We /are/ here because of her. Or, rather, what she can do politically to help. If she /likes/ me, she'll only be hurt in the end. So, what can I say, then?//
"Noin told you we've formed an alliance," he stated, shifting to business matters. Those were always easier to discuss, /much/ easier to say than "Stop liking me! I'm probably going to die on you!"
Relena's eyebrows drew together faintly, as if that confused her somewhat. "Yes. . . It seems all so strange, though. I didn't think you might accept help from people who were part of Oz. . . but Miss Noin seems nice and sincere about trying to achieve peace with as little force as necessary. . . I suppose that is what drew you all together to make this alliance, isn't it?" she asked him hopefully, uncertain.
//Close enough. Though you /could/ say we all simply became tired of the atrocities and finally pinpointed the /correct/ source!// Wing's pilot grunted, staring at her unblinkingly.
Relena smiled softly, and looked down at her hands, which she had folded before herself neatly. "It almost sounds too good to be true. . . Does this alliance have a name yet?" she inquired thoughtfully.
//These things are supposed to have /names/?!?// Heero blinked, at a loss.
She must have taken his lack of answer for a no, as she sighed softly. "I suppose it's too soon to expect you to announce one. . . Are you all together just to fight for peace? /All/ the Gundam pilots? And Oz pilots, too. . ."
//That's better. Questions I can answer! Nobody ever said anything about naming us, though. . .// Absently, he answered, "We've agreed to destroy the true threat to peace together rather than each other. Only four Gundams. The fifth hasn't decided yet." //Naming us. . . Like hell I'm going to let Treize do that. . . ! And he's probably keeping us in the dark about that just so he /can/. . .//
"Oh!" One hand strayed to her lips, and she blushed faintly. "Well, I imagine he'll want to help, too. . ." Thoughtful bright eyes fixed on Heero's shoulder. "The true threat to peace? Does that mean you've come to kill me, then?" she wondered calmly. Apparently, by now, after he'd threatened her multiple times over, she was getting used to hearing it from him. . . Perhaps hearing it often enough can immure anyone against the suggestion of their own death.
Heero fought the urge to sigh. //You'd think that by now she'd realize that threat isn't just empty any more, but becoming a joke!// "No. Romefeller." //. . . So long as /those/ people don't start demanding I kill them! Doesn't anyone understand how off-putting hearing that /is/ to someone like me?!?//
"Oh. . ." Her eyes widened at Heero's to nearly equal the size of tea- service saucers.
Silence dropped between them like a loaded brick.
//I suppose there's nothing anyone can say to news of the forthcoming destruction of a whole aristocracy,// Heero admitted to himself glumly, reaching into the back of his belt for a familiar envelope.
Pulling it forth, he held it out to her. //May as well get this over with. Treize must be getting impatient out there, not that he'd reveal it to anyone.// "I was told to deliver this."
Relena looked down at the proffered envelope in surprise, and tentatively touched it with her hand. "By who?" she asked curiously, lifting her head again to gaze into his eyes.
//She has very interesting eyes. . . ,// Wing's pilot decided, much to his own surprise, before shoving the thought away violently and returning to the matter at--and literally /in/--hand. "One of us," he admitted stiffly. //Zechs didn't seem anxious to be known. . . If he reveals himself to her, it will be in his letter. None of my business.//
"A Gundam pilot?" she exclaimed, surprised, her hand closing on the envelope. Interested and quite curious now, Relena looked the plain thing over in her hands, finding no name--nothing--on the exterior. It was so anonymous and simplistic that it could have been lost in a box of empties awaiting her own use. . .
Heero said nothing, simply watched as she carefully ripped the envelope open and drew out a few sheets of paper with elegant scrawl on them.
Relena's eyes skimmed the first line. . . then stopped, narrowed in a bit of a disbelieving frown, and ran over those words again. . . and again. . . and again. . .
"This. . . can't be," the Princess of Sanc breathed softly. "Is this some kind of. . . ?" she began, looking up at Heero, but the rest died on her lips, and she shook her head negatively, answering herself. "No, it's real, then. . . But--how?"
Heero frowned slowly at her. //How what? What on earth could Zechs write in one line that's so astonishing? "I'm your father?"// He snorted mentally. //This isn't some space-opera. . . and he's not so dramatic. Maybe I'll ask Zechs later. . .//
Meanwhile, Relena had pried her eyes from that first line, and was following the rest with a tight, ashen expression.
Heero studied her thoughtfully, reading her shifts of expression as she read. Whatever the letter said, it upset her, confused her greatly, astonished her beyond anything she'd been imagining. Something among the contents made her suspicion fade to a kind of sadness and concern, especially near the end. . .
//What on earth did Zechs write to her?// Heero wondered, frustrated. //Maybe I should have listened to Treize and sneaked a peek, but I doubt Zechs would take kindly to that. . . and I rather like my spandex in one piece, thank you. He's already proven that he doesn't get mad--he gets even. As bad as Duo, there. . .//
"Pagan?" Relena called, finally looking up from the letter, and glancing about for the reliable old butler.
A familiar shaggy grey head peeked in the door. "Yes Miss Relena?" he inquired smoothly.
To Heero's surprise, the girl extended the letter towards the man, a conflicting mixture of emotions swirling in her eyes. "Is this true? This isn't some kind of. . . sick game?" she asked softly.
//Why is she asking /him/?!?// Wing's pilot frowned, bristling slightly. //Shouldn't she be asking me?//
The aging servant walked over without a word, and accepted the letter, skimming it with hidden eyes quickly.
Heero seethed. //I do NOT like being left out on things! What is going on here?!?//
"Yes, Miss Relena, I believe it is legitimate. This /is/ his handwriting. . ." The old man offered the pages back to her, a hint of sadness about his face.
"You knew," Relena breathed softly, hurt and disappointed.
Heero blinked, then glared at the servant. //Knew /what/?//
Pagan shook his head in a sorrowful negative. "I knew you both when you were too young to remember. I. . . suspected he survived. . . but he has clearly taken care not to confirm the fact. It's a long story, I'm afraid."
Glaring still at the unsuspecting letter, Heero felt some of his resentment melt at that. //I take it, then, that she didn't realize Zechs existed? What ties do they have between them? What kind of connection could there be between an Oz officer and the daughter of pacifists?//
Relena stared down at the pages in her hands with a haunted, almost pitiful expression for a long moment, silent. She seemed to want to ask a million questions, but unable to think of who to ask. A girl at a complete loss, trying to understand what she just learned. . .
"Not right now, Pagan. But later. . . I think I'll have a lot of questions."
Looking up at her, Heero questioned her with his eyes alone. //I want to know. . . Something turned your world upside-down. What?//
"I'm not supposed to ask you any questions about this, Heero," Relena murmured softly, eyes still on the letter she held with shaking hands. "I. . . don't understand why, but. . . I have so many questions! I'll. . . I'll have to think about this. . . I never knew--Father never said /anything/. . . ! But maybe he just didn't have time. . ."
Pagan added nothing, merely a silent presence in the background.
//Zechs, omae o korosu! You /told/ her not to ask me!// Heero grimaced slightly. //Damn secrets! Duo is right--we have to find your secrets, or this alliance won't work!//
"As for the question you're here for," Relena continued after a moment, looking into Heero's eyes almost helplessly, "I. . . I don't see much choice. I intended to talk to Romefeller and try something of the kind in any case, not just educating the children of world leaders. . . but I can't condone attacks on anyone, you understand. That's against the Peace Principle."
//What does she mean, she has little choice?// The Gundam pilot tilted his head a little to one side, stating firmly, "You lead this nation, and other nations follow you. You alone can choose for this matter. You /best/ suit the purpose, but you aren't the only one."
Her eyes dropped to the letter again. "Not me alone," she whispered softly. "And not me best. . . I don't understand. . ."
Feeling a pang of sadness because he had no idea how to help the torn girl, Heero let his anger and frustration ebb away, becoming thoughtful. //I wish I understood what's going on. Maybe I could help you--/and/ us-- better than just standing here. . . Why did Zechs take such care at leaving me in the dark like this?// "I don't understand," he admitted quietly.
"No," the Princess of Sanc agreed unhappily, "and neither do I--at least, not fully--but letting you understand is not my prerogative. . . I'm sorry, Heero."
The young man shrugged the apology away. //It doesn't matter. I'll hunt out the answers on my own, then, if Zechs is so unwilling to enlighten the rest of us!//
Sighing softly, Relena lifted her head and gave Heero a brave smile. "I suppose I'd better talk to Mr. Kushrenada, then. . . Will I see you around, Heero? Please don't leave after just arriving here. . ."
Feeling a tug on his heart, Heero chose to go with the emotion's pull. He could hardly tell Trowa to live by his emotions and not make a living example of that philosophy of himself! //I suppose talking to her now and then while I'm here can't hurt. Maybe it will help her--and, in turn, us!// "I'm part of this new alliance," he confirmed. "If you've accepted our proposal, or idea, then I will be here often."
A slightly sorrowful but pleased smile touched her lips. "I /do/ accept it, Heero. We have no other choice. . . And thank you."
//Quatre said Zechs said the same thing. . . No choice but her. Why? I need to understand this.//
Her eyes dropped back to the letter, and with one hand, she tentatively touched the name at the bottom, as if uncertainly reaching out to a new- found relative. . . or a ghost. "Thank you. . . ," she repeated--meaning for the letter.
Heero eyed the letter musingly, intrigue perked, as if hoping it would give him some kind of hint just what so amazing gift it contained that so confused the girl, then nodded briskly and followed Pagan out.
//I will find Zechs's secrets. Duo's right,// Heero decided firmly, striding off to find the other Gundam pilot. //Something about this is too important. . . But why is he keeping things from us? It doesn't fit that he'd hide something vital to this mission--I know he's as set on making this successful as I am--so why is he guarding these things? Unless he doesn't think they are vital to this. . . or there's something dangerous behind them, dangerous to someone. . . Dangerous to who?//
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Miri couldn't help shivering more the longer he stayed in the old palace. Conflicting memories kept colliding in his head until they almost blinded him, and he couldn't ward them off fast enough to keep himself in the present continuously. Good memories, bad, neutral, they didn't care to give him time to sort, let alone choose if he wanted to recall them fully or not. One or another would slip past his struggling defenses, blind him to his surroundings, then leave him shaking to the aftershocks of seeing the ruins of the present.
He was past wishing they would stop, that his memories would leave him alone. Such wishes were a waste of conscious effort, and right now he had his hands full.
A distant part of his mind sighed that the last time he had visited had been not near this traumatizing. . .
//I'm sorry. . . I'm sorry. . . I'm /sorry/!// Miri wanted to shout that out loud, in vain hope that the sheer volume of that apology would chase his ghosts away finally and earn him some breathing space, let alone a little peace. But instead, he was standing there, wrapped up as if chilled, hiding behind his bangs and shivering, eyes closed from the sheer effort of wishing that apology to some higher power.
A hope for forgiveness. . .
But no answer was forthcoming, no sign. None ever had before, and he hardly expected any now.
Zechs didn't know what he was expecting, to be honest. He couldn't escape what he had done--the past could not be corrected. He couldn't change his path--there was no return, as far as he could see. And now he stood here before the only judgment that he could imagine might free him, a wreck of a man, a ruin of a child, a failure of a son. . . in the faint hope of understanding how far he was to fall apart. . . in the faint hope of not unraveling entirely. . .
With witnesses to boot. He still had his memories of blood on his hands blinding his eyes, but he could feel that presence standing nearby.
//Wufei, the fifth Gundam pilot. . . You can see what I am--are you disgusted? /I/ am. . .// Concentrating on Wufei helped him fix on his present surroundings, and facing the Gundam pilot's reaction was much more appealing than enduring the onslaught of his memories. //I remember too much. . . Kill me or condemn me, it's better than this, more merciful than this!//
"The weak shouldn't fight," the Chinese pilot murmured abruptly.
Miri wanted to laugh. Only he had the feeling that if he began, he wouldn't stop short of a straightjacket and padded walls, or hitting a note more terrifying than Lady Une's. So he choked to his reaction to a strangled cough of a chuckle. "Then find me someone strong," he answered. "I'll give this battle--/all/ my battles!--to them. . ." //I'd have given it to them long ago. . .//
"Maybe it's the fight that makes us strong," Wufei continued, turning to face him with arms folded across his chest.
Shaking his head in silent disagreement, Zechs stepped over to the wall so he could lean his back against something. He felt too shaky to feel secure about his footing, and too uncertain about his vision to trust himself not to fall through some hole in the floor if the memories took too strong a hold over his body. //I doubt it. . . I feel weaker than ever. . .// Images of flames and smoke darkened his vision again. . . He could just see this hall again, flames licking at tapestries, chewing up paintings like a child attacking cotton candy, see burning plastered pieces of ceiling smash onto the floor in a shower of sparks. . .
Wufei frowned, and his expression carried into his voice. "You may be stronger than you think."
//I can't think, so how can I be strong?// Miri laughed to himself despairingly, tickled by the irony. //These memories are killing me. . . I'm drowning here in the fires of my past. . .// The scent of smoke and blood and death, the warmth of the fires and rumbles of gunfire and explosions, all were so vivid. . .
"I remember. . . too much. . ." Zechs barely recognized the voice for his own, the quiet, broken plea in it so unfamiliar--a child's hopeless whisper, a man's helpless whimper.
"Why did you come here, in this state?" returned Wufei softly. "You knew it would do this to you. . ."
//I couldn't take it, the agonizing slowness of my destruction--but this is still too slow! Just a quick death of who I am, not this, please. . . please. . PLEASE!// "I wanted. . . wanted to. . . to finish this--if I /must/ change, better now and face it. . . face /me/. . . No time later. . ."
A hand fell on the boy's shoulder, pressing his back to the wall, forcing him to raise his head to look up at Wufei through a haze of painful memories. Dark eyes bore into Zechs's own firmly for a long minute. . .
"Who are you?"
Dark eyes staring into his own, gently seeking. . .
//**Pale flames licking at the sky, fanned by the ocean winds, glowing in the dark of night, as a city burns below him, the view from the cliff outside, as he stands there, numb and dead inside--**//
"Who are you?" Was that voice worried, concerned?
//**Red rage, the misty spread of the blood of a dying man in the ocean's currents, and the shock of a blast of bubbling fuel-fed flames as he rips a Cancer apart with Tallgeese's bare hands, his furious roar reverberating inside the cockpit around him--**//
Something shook him distantly, and he felt his head strike the wall behind him dimly, his eyes glazed and staring. "Who are you?!?" came the cry, a far-off scream trying to reach him.
//**"Who are you?" spoken to a shattered image in the spider-webbing of broken glass that once was a house's window--the image of a boy in bedraggled, dirty, bloodstained clothes, staring back without recognition, as rain starts to fall, thunder rumbling in the background. The boy in the glass reaches up one hand to the sky blindly, tears mingling with the rain, as if asking the lightening to strike him, to end this impossible question, to finish off a lingering death mercifully, to give a fitting end to a terrible sin. . .
A lance from heaven, a flash of lightening appears in the distance behind him, giving the impression that it gave itself to his hand, for his use. for /what/ use? The boy in the reflection lowers his hand, looking from his own shattered image to his bloodstained palm, thoughts resolving as the rain slowly increases, plastering his hair flat. . .**//
"Miri," he breathed.
The wall of memories seemed to dissolve around him, and Zechs blinked once, focusing on Wufei's nearly shadow-shrouded dark eyes so close to his own. //This cannot fully destroy me,// he realized slowly. //Miri, Zechs, . . . just never Milliardo Peacecraft ever again, not at heart, though perhaps in name. But still /me/, even if a new mix of what I've been and what I've become. . .//
"Who's /that/?" Wufei asked incredulously, as if horrified by the notion that the former prince had yet /another/ alias.
Miri chuckled faintly, a hint of a smile tugging his lips. "Zechs Merquise without the mask, nothing more," he reassured.
"You're back, then," Wufei murmured gruffly, releasing the boy's shoulders, glaring. "This was a dangerous idea."
//Coming here? Yes,// Miri accepted with a silent nod, reaching a hand to rub at one of his shoulders. Wufei's grip had hurt. //But it was necessary.// The memories weren't gone--he could feel them waiting in the background, sharp and detailed and painful as a barbed whip that had been stayed for the moment. Driving him like a whip. //I have some control over them now. . . I understand now. . . Not all, no. But more than when we arrived here.//
Ice blue eyes glowed a bit in the dim light of evening as they fixed on Wufei for a long moment before offering quietly, "This had to be resolved-- now, not later. . . Wufei. . ."
The Gundam pilot blinked, uncertain, confused, and scowled a bit more, as if expecting some task to be asked of him.
"Thank you. . ." //For asking a question I couldn't voice anymore, but had to hear.//
Wufei's frown reestablished itself thoughtfully. Then, gruffly, Shenlong's pilot whirled, and stalked back to the base of the painting, grabbing something before thrusting it out to Zechs.
A familiar brass picture-frame book, tarnished and stained.
//Leaving it with more people prowling about here would be unwise, I guess,// Zechs admitted to himself. He accepted it with a silent nod. //I suppose I'm no better than the relic-hunters who were just here. . . taking a memento of the past. . . Maybe I could ask Pagan to give it to Relena, though. It is rightfully hers. . . but not until we do something about my appearance.//
Those dark eyes held his still, though, demanding something more. "Show it to Sally," Wufei stated firmly. "She needs to know."
Miri glanced down at the battered metal in his hands. "It endangers you, you know. It will endanger her, too." //The more who know, the greater the danger. From Dermail, from any of the soldiers remaining who participated in that slaughter, . . . from me, to keep the Peacecraft name and Relena safe, to succeed at this venture--this redeeming dream of peace. If this comes out now, Relena's position will be undermined--my Father's sacrifice will be for almost nothing! I don't know if I would kill to keep secret my dishonor. . . but for your sake, I hope it doesn't come to a test.//
"I know. She will understand, too," Shenlong's pilot answered quietly, firmly, accepting the risks, including the unspoken but clear threat in Zechs's words.
"So be it."
Together, they walked out of the hall, careful to avoid unstable portions of ceiling or floor or wall, retracing Wufei's earlier course through the ruins.
Memories swirled at the periphery of Miri's thoughts, like a cloud of tormenting insects waiting for the chance to bite, but no longer able to easily get past a guard of mental slaps. Focusing on the floor by his feet and the sound of Wufei's footsteps, he trailed a little behind the Gundam pilot. . . until they emerged outside at the remains of the front steps.
Wufei had stopped there, and was looking thoughtfully off to the east, where the sea met the sky on the horizon.
//Looking for a far off dawn. . . That is what we're chasing, isn't it? A distant dream.//
"It feels so far away from here," Shenlong's pilot admitted quietly. "Is it really any closer than when you last stood here?"
//A far off dream of peace. . . /Are/ we any closer? I can but hope so.//
"From here, it's always a far off dawn," Zechs whispered softly.
//Hope lies over the horizon. . .//
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Duo scratched the back of his head and sighed softly. //I wish I had a clue how to do this,// he admitted to himself glumly. //I'm generally better at putting these things together than looking around on something as insubstantial as their data contents. . .//
Search engines weren't his type.
//Give me a mobile suit's engine, or a boat's propeller, or hell, even a tricycle, and it's more my area of expertise! This. . . is Heero's.//
Quatre, behind him, had drifted away from monitoring over Duo's shoulder to exploring the library's paper contents. And it had plenty to keep him busy- -apparently, the former owner of this place liked the classics, collected first editions, and kept copies of everything written on the area's history. . . which, considering Sanc was a European country, extended somewhere into the dawn of recorded history. Probably so he could keep control over all mentions of the Royal Family's massacre.
"Say, Duo. . . some of these books might have what we need," the blonde Gundam pilot suggested in the background.
//Let's try "M. Merquise". . .// "Do we even know what we need?" he asked back absently.
"Well, what are you trying to use?" Quatre answered, flipping pages audibly behind him.
Duo released his breath in a sigh at the familiar screen popping before him. //"No results by that name. Try a different spelling. . ." Ah hell. How much do you bet there's no "Milliardo Merquise" out there? So the last name's false, too. . . But we don't have a last name to go on!//
Glaring at the blinking screen, Duo grumbled, "Quatre, all I've been able to pick up from him and Treize is that his name is fake, his real /first/ name is Milliardo, and that he's close to the Royals. Probably some minister's family or other. . . In any case, he lived near enough to witness the massacre. But that's /all/."
Sandrock's pilot flipped through a couple more pages. "That's not a lot to go on, Duo. . . But /maybe/ there's a telephone directory or something of the old city. . ."
"No, that wouldn't do." Frowning, Deathscythe's pilot rubbed the back of his neck. //What else can I try? Sanc, Milliardo, Minister of the Peace? Hey, that might work. . .// Fingers typed away swiftly. //I know there was a position by that name. . .// "He was a kid at the time, and besides, if his family /was/ big in the government, they wouldn't have a listed number. Anyway, how would we know, even if his parents were? No last name to go on. . . Heck, if we had a last name for Zechs, we'd be done by now, I bet!"
A soft sigh behind him. "I suppose. . . Well, if his family was important in the government, then surely there's a photo of them with the Royal Family, right? I can try that angle--there are a /lot/ of pictures of them, with just about everyone down to the palace staff. . ."
//No luck, just articles. And names don't help without some kind of pictures to match to Zechs. . . Damn it! I wish he'd just tell us!// Making an exasperated face at the screen, Duo leaned back in his seat again, thinking furiously. //Hell, I'm running out of ideas. . .//
"I think that's a good place to start," someone quietly answered Quatre from the doorway.
//Heero?// Duo glanced over his shoulder to eye Wing's pilot. //Good--you can help us. This is /your/ kind of thing, after all: hacking information.// "Thank God it's you. I'm out of ideas, but this really isn't my specialty, you know," he admitted with relief.
Quatre had also turned, and was beaming brightly at Heero with a heavy book open in his hands. "Can you help us, Heero? Zechs isn't the type to share his past easily, and I feel it's rather important in this place. . ."
The surly pilot pushed off the doorjamb and walked towards Duo and the computer, face expressionless. "More than that," he stated with soft frustration. "It impacts the politics through Relena. . . We need to know what's going on, and what we're in here. Treize isn't telling, and Zechs may be in no shape to. Those memories were impacting him dangerously when we last saw him, Duo."
Something chilling stirred in Duo's guts as he stood to relinquish his seat. //Damn. . . That's true--I just hope he's not getting any worse while we're doing this. And heck, if his past impacts things so much, we damn well better keep an eye on Treize--and the only way to watch what he's up to is by knowing!// "Then it's vital we find out. . ."
"Yes." Heero dropped into Duo's vacancy and began typing away with a slight glower of concentration. "What were you working with?" he asked blandly, eyes scanning a listing of Duo's last failed attempts.
Rubbing the back of his head, Duo shrugged. "Less than we wish. I know his real first name is Milliardo, because Treize uses it when they're talking in private. From the way those two act, you can pick up that as a kid, Zechs must have been close enough to the massacre somehow to have figured out the Alliance was behind it--thus the bad memories. And from talking to him, he admitted he had some kind of responsibility for the people of Sanc. . . my guess is some kind of position of power, probably held by his parents. Other than that, we've just his description and age. . ."
//I wish we had more. Sanc has a lot of blondes, it seems. . . Maybe not near-white, like him, but that could be /just/ him in his family.//
A silent nod answered Duo, as Heero frowned, deliberately typing carefully. . .
Duo peered over Heero's shoulder, curious what the other Gundam pilot was using for his search. . .
"He was thought of a dead in the massacre, or the destruction of the city after," Heero pointed out, hands pausing. He looked over his shoulder at Duo. "Is this the correct spelling?"
Duo blinked.
//The hell if I know.// "I. . . guess. . . I never saw it written down, Heero. Just spoken."
Heero hit Enter.
The screen returned what Duo was dreading. . . //And this is why I did /not/ use this for my search!// "Heero, there must be a good hundred Milliardos in Sanc. . ."
Wing's pilot glared at the filled screen that threatened to continue on for a good dozen more pages at least. "So I see," he grumbled. "But we can narrow this down, I think. . ."
//That's what I've been trying for the past couple hours,// Duo groaned to himself, turning away to lend Quatre a hand with the photos. //The question is /how/ to narrow it down!//
Bent over a book, Quatre's shoulders were. . . shaking?
//What the. . . ?//
The book's pages flopped softly with the blonde's smothered amusement.
Duo cast Quatre a mild glare and picked up a book on recent Sanc history. "Quatre, just shut up. . ."
When Trowa walked in fifteen minutes later, Quatre was still laughing helplessly over the same book.
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To be continued.
I promise, I will return to SOG, but I'm on a bit of a roll here. It ends after the next chapter, I think. . .
Chapter Twenty-One: Did You Hear The News?
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Disclaimer--I own nothing. The fish all died except one Gourami, who still is nameless. The cacti are long dead. My computer is surrounded by ravens now. . . literally. I've a stuffed raven plushy on it.
Warnings--Erm, let's see. . . Confusion, determination to blow things up, some rather scathing comments, perhaps. Maybe a bit of angst, a touch of sap, and some very painful-sounding but amusing plans.
Heero delivers his letter. Relena discovers that she had a whole life she never knew about. Zechs and Wufei talk. Duo and Quatre are hunting something, but don't know what to really look for.
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Taking a deep breath, and releasing it in a sigh, Heero pushed open the door and entered the sitting-room, immediately spying Relena sitting with hands in lap and barely-contained excitement on the edge of a soft leather couch in the room.
Well, that was all he had a chance to /see/, before she leapt to her feet with the familiar cry of "Heero!" and flung her arms around him in a sudden embrace that pinned his arms to his sides and nearly cracked his healing ribs all over again.
//Hope she's not taking after Noin. . .// the dismayed Gundam pilot mused grimly, enduring the pain with set teeth. //I. . . like her, but I don't think I can take much of this for a while yet.//
"Heero, you're alive!" the girl exclaimed joyfully.
He just looked at her. //You heard me screaming death threats this morning. How could you doubt it?// he wondered, blinking.
Relena released him, stepping back a pace to beam back at him like a child who had discovered a gold coin while hunting seashells along the beach.
Wing's pilot fought the strange pull his lips wanted to take, suppressing the not-terribly-familiar expression of a smile trying to reach his features. Bluntly, he offered, "I tried to die."
Nodding sadly, she agreed, "I know. . . but I'm glad you didn't. I'm glad you're here. Mrs. Noventa sent a letter for you. . ."
Heero frowned slightly at her, ignoring the message. Mrs. Noventa, in his opinion, was a chapter done and past, and anything she had to say was likely of little importance. His concerns lay more in the present, and particularly with the girl presently standing before him. //I don't want Relena to get her hopes up. I intend to see this mission through, and end this war, and the cost will likely be my life. I could say that I'm not here for her. . . but that's not quite true. We /are/ here because of her. Or, rather, what she can do politically to help. If she /likes/ me, she'll only be hurt in the end. So, what can I say, then?//
"Noin told you we've formed an alliance," he stated, shifting to business matters. Those were always easier to discuss, /much/ easier to say than "Stop liking me! I'm probably going to die on you!"
Relena's eyebrows drew together faintly, as if that confused her somewhat. "Yes. . . It seems all so strange, though. I didn't think you might accept help from people who were part of Oz. . . but Miss Noin seems nice and sincere about trying to achieve peace with as little force as necessary. . . I suppose that is what drew you all together to make this alliance, isn't it?" she asked him hopefully, uncertain.
//Close enough. Though you /could/ say we all simply became tired of the atrocities and finally pinpointed the /correct/ source!// Wing's pilot grunted, staring at her unblinkingly.
Relena smiled softly, and looked down at her hands, which she had folded before herself neatly. "It almost sounds too good to be true. . . Does this alliance have a name yet?" she inquired thoughtfully.
//These things are supposed to have /names/?!?// Heero blinked, at a loss.
She must have taken his lack of answer for a no, as she sighed softly. "I suppose it's too soon to expect you to announce one. . . Are you all together just to fight for peace? /All/ the Gundam pilots? And Oz pilots, too. . ."
//That's better. Questions I can answer! Nobody ever said anything about naming us, though. . .// Absently, he answered, "We've agreed to destroy the true threat to peace together rather than each other. Only four Gundams. The fifth hasn't decided yet." //Naming us. . . Like hell I'm going to let Treize do that. . . ! And he's probably keeping us in the dark about that just so he /can/. . .//
"Oh!" One hand strayed to her lips, and she blushed faintly. "Well, I imagine he'll want to help, too. . ." Thoughtful bright eyes fixed on Heero's shoulder. "The true threat to peace? Does that mean you've come to kill me, then?" she wondered calmly. Apparently, by now, after he'd threatened her multiple times over, she was getting used to hearing it from him. . . Perhaps hearing it often enough can immure anyone against the suggestion of their own death.
Heero fought the urge to sigh. //You'd think that by now she'd realize that threat isn't just empty any more, but becoming a joke!// "No. Romefeller." //. . . So long as /those/ people don't start demanding I kill them! Doesn't anyone understand how off-putting hearing that /is/ to someone like me?!?//
"Oh. . ." Her eyes widened at Heero's to nearly equal the size of tea- service saucers.
Silence dropped between them like a loaded brick.
//I suppose there's nothing anyone can say to news of the forthcoming destruction of a whole aristocracy,// Heero admitted to himself glumly, reaching into the back of his belt for a familiar envelope.
Pulling it forth, he held it out to her. //May as well get this over with. Treize must be getting impatient out there, not that he'd reveal it to anyone.// "I was told to deliver this."
Relena looked down at the proffered envelope in surprise, and tentatively touched it with her hand. "By who?" she asked curiously, lifting her head again to gaze into his eyes.
//She has very interesting eyes. . . ,// Wing's pilot decided, much to his own surprise, before shoving the thought away violently and returning to the matter at--and literally /in/--hand. "One of us," he admitted stiffly. //Zechs didn't seem anxious to be known. . . If he reveals himself to her, it will be in his letter. None of my business.//
"A Gundam pilot?" she exclaimed, surprised, her hand closing on the envelope. Interested and quite curious now, Relena looked the plain thing over in her hands, finding no name--nothing--on the exterior. It was so anonymous and simplistic that it could have been lost in a box of empties awaiting her own use. . .
Heero said nothing, simply watched as she carefully ripped the envelope open and drew out a few sheets of paper with elegant scrawl on them.
Relena's eyes skimmed the first line. . . then stopped, narrowed in a bit of a disbelieving frown, and ran over those words again. . . and again. . . and again. . .
"This. . . can't be," the Princess of Sanc breathed softly. "Is this some kind of. . . ?" she began, looking up at Heero, but the rest died on her lips, and she shook her head negatively, answering herself. "No, it's real, then. . . But--how?"
Heero frowned slowly at her. //How what? What on earth could Zechs write in one line that's so astonishing? "I'm your father?"// He snorted mentally. //This isn't some space-opera. . . and he's not so dramatic. Maybe I'll ask Zechs later. . .//
Meanwhile, Relena had pried her eyes from that first line, and was following the rest with a tight, ashen expression.
Heero studied her thoughtfully, reading her shifts of expression as she read. Whatever the letter said, it upset her, confused her greatly, astonished her beyond anything she'd been imagining. Something among the contents made her suspicion fade to a kind of sadness and concern, especially near the end. . .
//What on earth did Zechs write to her?// Heero wondered, frustrated. //Maybe I should have listened to Treize and sneaked a peek, but I doubt Zechs would take kindly to that. . . and I rather like my spandex in one piece, thank you. He's already proven that he doesn't get mad--he gets even. As bad as Duo, there. . .//
"Pagan?" Relena called, finally looking up from the letter, and glancing about for the reliable old butler.
A familiar shaggy grey head peeked in the door. "Yes Miss Relena?" he inquired smoothly.
To Heero's surprise, the girl extended the letter towards the man, a conflicting mixture of emotions swirling in her eyes. "Is this true? This isn't some kind of. . . sick game?" she asked softly.
//Why is she asking /him/?!?// Wing's pilot frowned, bristling slightly. //Shouldn't she be asking me?//
The aging servant walked over without a word, and accepted the letter, skimming it with hidden eyes quickly.
Heero seethed. //I do NOT like being left out on things! What is going on here?!?//
"Yes, Miss Relena, I believe it is legitimate. This /is/ his handwriting. . ." The old man offered the pages back to her, a hint of sadness about his face.
"You knew," Relena breathed softly, hurt and disappointed.
Heero blinked, then glared at the servant. //Knew /what/?//
Pagan shook his head in a sorrowful negative. "I knew you both when you were too young to remember. I. . . suspected he survived. . . but he has clearly taken care not to confirm the fact. It's a long story, I'm afraid."
Glaring still at the unsuspecting letter, Heero felt some of his resentment melt at that. //I take it, then, that she didn't realize Zechs existed? What ties do they have between them? What kind of connection could there be between an Oz officer and the daughter of pacifists?//
Relena stared down at the pages in her hands with a haunted, almost pitiful expression for a long moment, silent. She seemed to want to ask a million questions, but unable to think of who to ask. A girl at a complete loss, trying to understand what she just learned. . .
"Not right now, Pagan. But later. . . I think I'll have a lot of questions."
Looking up at her, Heero questioned her with his eyes alone. //I want to know. . . Something turned your world upside-down. What?//
"I'm not supposed to ask you any questions about this, Heero," Relena murmured softly, eyes still on the letter she held with shaking hands. "I. . . don't understand why, but. . . I have so many questions! I'll. . . I'll have to think about this. . . I never knew--Father never said /anything/. . . ! But maybe he just didn't have time. . ."
Pagan added nothing, merely a silent presence in the background.
//Zechs, omae o korosu! You /told/ her not to ask me!// Heero grimaced slightly. //Damn secrets! Duo is right--we have to find your secrets, or this alliance won't work!//
"As for the question you're here for," Relena continued after a moment, looking into Heero's eyes almost helplessly, "I. . . I don't see much choice. I intended to talk to Romefeller and try something of the kind in any case, not just educating the children of world leaders. . . but I can't condone attacks on anyone, you understand. That's against the Peace Principle."
//What does she mean, she has little choice?// The Gundam pilot tilted his head a little to one side, stating firmly, "You lead this nation, and other nations follow you. You alone can choose for this matter. You /best/ suit the purpose, but you aren't the only one."
Her eyes dropped to the letter again. "Not me alone," she whispered softly. "And not me best. . . I don't understand. . ."
Feeling a pang of sadness because he had no idea how to help the torn girl, Heero let his anger and frustration ebb away, becoming thoughtful. //I wish I understood what's going on. Maybe I could help you--/and/ us-- better than just standing here. . . Why did Zechs take such care at leaving me in the dark like this?// "I don't understand," he admitted quietly.
"No," the Princess of Sanc agreed unhappily, "and neither do I--at least, not fully--but letting you understand is not my prerogative. . . I'm sorry, Heero."
The young man shrugged the apology away. //It doesn't matter. I'll hunt out the answers on my own, then, if Zechs is so unwilling to enlighten the rest of us!//
Sighing softly, Relena lifted her head and gave Heero a brave smile. "I suppose I'd better talk to Mr. Kushrenada, then. . . Will I see you around, Heero? Please don't leave after just arriving here. . ."
Feeling a tug on his heart, Heero chose to go with the emotion's pull. He could hardly tell Trowa to live by his emotions and not make a living example of that philosophy of himself! //I suppose talking to her now and then while I'm here can't hurt. Maybe it will help her--and, in turn, us!// "I'm part of this new alliance," he confirmed. "If you've accepted our proposal, or idea, then I will be here often."
A slightly sorrowful but pleased smile touched her lips. "I /do/ accept it, Heero. We have no other choice. . . And thank you."
//Quatre said Zechs said the same thing. . . No choice but her. Why? I need to understand this.//
Her eyes dropped back to the letter, and with one hand, she tentatively touched the name at the bottom, as if uncertainly reaching out to a new- found relative. . . or a ghost. "Thank you. . . ," she repeated--meaning for the letter.
Heero eyed the letter musingly, intrigue perked, as if hoping it would give him some kind of hint just what so amazing gift it contained that so confused the girl, then nodded briskly and followed Pagan out.
//I will find Zechs's secrets. Duo's right,// Heero decided firmly, striding off to find the other Gundam pilot. //Something about this is too important. . . But why is he keeping things from us? It doesn't fit that he'd hide something vital to this mission--I know he's as set on making this successful as I am--so why is he guarding these things? Unless he doesn't think they are vital to this. . . or there's something dangerous behind them, dangerous to someone. . . Dangerous to who?//
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Miri couldn't help shivering more the longer he stayed in the old palace. Conflicting memories kept colliding in his head until they almost blinded him, and he couldn't ward them off fast enough to keep himself in the present continuously. Good memories, bad, neutral, they didn't care to give him time to sort, let alone choose if he wanted to recall them fully or not. One or another would slip past his struggling defenses, blind him to his surroundings, then leave him shaking to the aftershocks of seeing the ruins of the present.
He was past wishing they would stop, that his memories would leave him alone. Such wishes were a waste of conscious effort, and right now he had his hands full.
A distant part of his mind sighed that the last time he had visited had been not near this traumatizing. . .
//I'm sorry. . . I'm sorry. . . I'm /sorry/!// Miri wanted to shout that out loud, in vain hope that the sheer volume of that apology would chase his ghosts away finally and earn him some breathing space, let alone a little peace. But instead, he was standing there, wrapped up as if chilled, hiding behind his bangs and shivering, eyes closed from the sheer effort of wishing that apology to some higher power.
A hope for forgiveness. . .
But no answer was forthcoming, no sign. None ever had before, and he hardly expected any now.
Zechs didn't know what he was expecting, to be honest. He couldn't escape what he had done--the past could not be corrected. He couldn't change his path--there was no return, as far as he could see. And now he stood here before the only judgment that he could imagine might free him, a wreck of a man, a ruin of a child, a failure of a son. . . in the faint hope of understanding how far he was to fall apart. . . in the faint hope of not unraveling entirely. . .
With witnesses to boot. He still had his memories of blood on his hands blinding his eyes, but he could feel that presence standing nearby.
//Wufei, the fifth Gundam pilot. . . You can see what I am--are you disgusted? /I/ am. . .// Concentrating on Wufei helped him fix on his present surroundings, and facing the Gundam pilot's reaction was much more appealing than enduring the onslaught of his memories. //I remember too much. . . Kill me or condemn me, it's better than this, more merciful than this!//
"The weak shouldn't fight," the Chinese pilot murmured abruptly.
Miri wanted to laugh. Only he had the feeling that if he began, he wouldn't stop short of a straightjacket and padded walls, or hitting a note more terrifying than Lady Une's. So he choked to his reaction to a strangled cough of a chuckle. "Then find me someone strong," he answered. "I'll give this battle--/all/ my battles!--to them. . ." //I'd have given it to them long ago. . .//
"Maybe it's the fight that makes us strong," Wufei continued, turning to face him with arms folded across his chest.
Shaking his head in silent disagreement, Zechs stepped over to the wall so he could lean his back against something. He felt too shaky to feel secure about his footing, and too uncertain about his vision to trust himself not to fall through some hole in the floor if the memories took too strong a hold over his body. //I doubt it. . . I feel weaker than ever. . .// Images of flames and smoke darkened his vision again. . . He could just see this hall again, flames licking at tapestries, chewing up paintings like a child attacking cotton candy, see burning plastered pieces of ceiling smash onto the floor in a shower of sparks. . .
Wufei frowned, and his expression carried into his voice. "You may be stronger than you think."
//I can't think, so how can I be strong?// Miri laughed to himself despairingly, tickled by the irony. //These memories are killing me. . . I'm drowning here in the fires of my past. . .// The scent of smoke and blood and death, the warmth of the fires and rumbles of gunfire and explosions, all were so vivid. . .
"I remember. . . too much. . ." Zechs barely recognized the voice for his own, the quiet, broken plea in it so unfamiliar--a child's hopeless whisper, a man's helpless whimper.
"Why did you come here, in this state?" returned Wufei softly. "You knew it would do this to you. . ."
//I couldn't take it, the agonizing slowness of my destruction--but this is still too slow! Just a quick death of who I am, not this, please. . . please. . PLEASE!// "I wanted. . . wanted to. . . to finish this--if I /must/ change, better now and face it. . . face /me/. . . No time later. . ."
A hand fell on the boy's shoulder, pressing his back to the wall, forcing him to raise his head to look up at Wufei through a haze of painful memories. Dark eyes bore into Zechs's own firmly for a long minute. . .
"Who are you?"
Dark eyes staring into his own, gently seeking. . .
//**Pale flames licking at the sky, fanned by the ocean winds, glowing in the dark of night, as a city burns below him, the view from the cliff outside, as he stands there, numb and dead inside--**//
"Who are you?" Was that voice worried, concerned?
//**Red rage, the misty spread of the blood of a dying man in the ocean's currents, and the shock of a blast of bubbling fuel-fed flames as he rips a Cancer apart with Tallgeese's bare hands, his furious roar reverberating inside the cockpit around him--**//
Something shook him distantly, and he felt his head strike the wall behind him dimly, his eyes glazed and staring. "Who are you?!?" came the cry, a far-off scream trying to reach him.
//**"Who are you?" spoken to a shattered image in the spider-webbing of broken glass that once was a house's window--the image of a boy in bedraggled, dirty, bloodstained clothes, staring back without recognition, as rain starts to fall, thunder rumbling in the background. The boy in the glass reaches up one hand to the sky blindly, tears mingling with the rain, as if asking the lightening to strike him, to end this impossible question, to finish off a lingering death mercifully, to give a fitting end to a terrible sin. . .
A lance from heaven, a flash of lightening appears in the distance behind him, giving the impression that it gave itself to his hand, for his use. for /what/ use? The boy in the reflection lowers his hand, looking from his own shattered image to his bloodstained palm, thoughts resolving as the rain slowly increases, plastering his hair flat. . .**//
"Miri," he breathed.
The wall of memories seemed to dissolve around him, and Zechs blinked once, focusing on Wufei's nearly shadow-shrouded dark eyes so close to his own. //This cannot fully destroy me,// he realized slowly. //Miri, Zechs, . . . just never Milliardo Peacecraft ever again, not at heart, though perhaps in name. But still /me/, even if a new mix of what I've been and what I've become. . .//
"Who's /that/?" Wufei asked incredulously, as if horrified by the notion that the former prince had yet /another/ alias.
Miri chuckled faintly, a hint of a smile tugging his lips. "Zechs Merquise without the mask, nothing more," he reassured.
"You're back, then," Wufei murmured gruffly, releasing the boy's shoulders, glaring. "This was a dangerous idea."
//Coming here? Yes,// Miri accepted with a silent nod, reaching a hand to rub at one of his shoulders. Wufei's grip had hurt. //But it was necessary.// The memories weren't gone--he could feel them waiting in the background, sharp and detailed and painful as a barbed whip that had been stayed for the moment. Driving him like a whip. //I have some control over them now. . . I understand now. . . Not all, no. But more than when we arrived here.//
Ice blue eyes glowed a bit in the dim light of evening as they fixed on Wufei for a long moment before offering quietly, "This had to be resolved-- now, not later. . . Wufei. . ."
The Gundam pilot blinked, uncertain, confused, and scowled a bit more, as if expecting some task to be asked of him.
"Thank you. . ." //For asking a question I couldn't voice anymore, but had to hear.//
Wufei's frown reestablished itself thoughtfully. Then, gruffly, Shenlong's pilot whirled, and stalked back to the base of the painting, grabbing something before thrusting it out to Zechs.
A familiar brass picture-frame book, tarnished and stained.
//Leaving it with more people prowling about here would be unwise, I guess,// Zechs admitted to himself. He accepted it with a silent nod. //I suppose I'm no better than the relic-hunters who were just here. . . taking a memento of the past. . . Maybe I could ask Pagan to give it to Relena, though. It is rightfully hers. . . but not until we do something about my appearance.//
Those dark eyes held his still, though, demanding something more. "Show it to Sally," Wufei stated firmly. "She needs to know."
Miri glanced down at the battered metal in his hands. "It endangers you, you know. It will endanger her, too." //The more who know, the greater the danger. From Dermail, from any of the soldiers remaining who participated in that slaughter, . . . from me, to keep the Peacecraft name and Relena safe, to succeed at this venture--this redeeming dream of peace. If this comes out now, Relena's position will be undermined--my Father's sacrifice will be for almost nothing! I don't know if I would kill to keep secret my dishonor. . . but for your sake, I hope it doesn't come to a test.//
"I know. She will understand, too," Shenlong's pilot answered quietly, firmly, accepting the risks, including the unspoken but clear threat in Zechs's words.
"So be it."
Together, they walked out of the hall, careful to avoid unstable portions of ceiling or floor or wall, retracing Wufei's earlier course through the ruins.
Memories swirled at the periphery of Miri's thoughts, like a cloud of tormenting insects waiting for the chance to bite, but no longer able to easily get past a guard of mental slaps. Focusing on the floor by his feet and the sound of Wufei's footsteps, he trailed a little behind the Gundam pilot. . . until they emerged outside at the remains of the front steps.
Wufei had stopped there, and was looking thoughtfully off to the east, where the sea met the sky on the horizon.
//Looking for a far off dawn. . . That is what we're chasing, isn't it? A distant dream.//
"It feels so far away from here," Shenlong's pilot admitted quietly. "Is it really any closer than when you last stood here?"
//A far off dream of peace. . . /Are/ we any closer? I can but hope so.//
"From here, it's always a far off dawn," Zechs whispered softly.
//Hope lies over the horizon. . .//
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Duo scratched the back of his head and sighed softly. //I wish I had a clue how to do this,// he admitted to himself glumly. //I'm generally better at putting these things together than looking around on something as insubstantial as their data contents. . .//
Search engines weren't his type.
//Give me a mobile suit's engine, or a boat's propeller, or hell, even a tricycle, and it's more my area of expertise! This. . . is Heero's.//
Quatre, behind him, had drifted away from monitoring over Duo's shoulder to exploring the library's paper contents. And it had plenty to keep him busy- -apparently, the former owner of this place liked the classics, collected first editions, and kept copies of everything written on the area's history. . . which, considering Sanc was a European country, extended somewhere into the dawn of recorded history. Probably so he could keep control over all mentions of the Royal Family's massacre.
"Say, Duo. . . some of these books might have what we need," the blonde Gundam pilot suggested in the background.
//Let's try "M. Merquise". . .// "Do we even know what we need?" he asked back absently.
"Well, what are you trying to use?" Quatre answered, flipping pages audibly behind him.
Duo released his breath in a sigh at the familiar screen popping before him. //"No results by that name. Try a different spelling. . ." Ah hell. How much do you bet there's no "Milliardo Merquise" out there? So the last name's false, too. . . But we don't have a last name to go on!//
Glaring at the blinking screen, Duo grumbled, "Quatre, all I've been able to pick up from him and Treize is that his name is fake, his real /first/ name is Milliardo, and that he's close to the Royals. Probably some minister's family or other. . . In any case, he lived near enough to witness the massacre. But that's /all/."
Sandrock's pilot flipped through a couple more pages. "That's not a lot to go on, Duo. . . But /maybe/ there's a telephone directory or something of the old city. . ."
"No, that wouldn't do." Frowning, Deathscythe's pilot rubbed the back of his neck. //What else can I try? Sanc, Milliardo, Minister of the Peace? Hey, that might work. . .// Fingers typed away swiftly. //I know there was a position by that name. . .// "He was a kid at the time, and besides, if his family /was/ big in the government, they wouldn't have a listed number. Anyway, how would we know, even if his parents were? No last name to go on. . . Heck, if we had a last name for Zechs, we'd be done by now, I bet!"
A soft sigh behind him. "I suppose. . . Well, if his family was important in the government, then surely there's a photo of them with the Royal Family, right? I can try that angle--there are a /lot/ of pictures of them, with just about everyone down to the palace staff. . ."
//No luck, just articles. And names don't help without some kind of pictures to match to Zechs. . . Damn it! I wish he'd just tell us!// Making an exasperated face at the screen, Duo leaned back in his seat again, thinking furiously. //Hell, I'm running out of ideas. . .//
"I think that's a good place to start," someone quietly answered Quatre from the doorway.
//Heero?// Duo glanced over his shoulder to eye Wing's pilot. //Good--you can help us. This is /your/ kind of thing, after all: hacking information.// "Thank God it's you. I'm out of ideas, but this really isn't my specialty, you know," he admitted with relief.
Quatre had also turned, and was beaming brightly at Heero with a heavy book open in his hands. "Can you help us, Heero? Zechs isn't the type to share his past easily, and I feel it's rather important in this place. . ."
The surly pilot pushed off the doorjamb and walked towards Duo and the computer, face expressionless. "More than that," he stated with soft frustration. "It impacts the politics through Relena. . . We need to know what's going on, and what we're in here. Treize isn't telling, and Zechs may be in no shape to. Those memories were impacting him dangerously when we last saw him, Duo."
Something chilling stirred in Duo's guts as he stood to relinquish his seat. //Damn. . . That's true--I just hope he's not getting any worse while we're doing this. And heck, if his past impacts things so much, we damn well better keep an eye on Treize--and the only way to watch what he's up to is by knowing!// "Then it's vital we find out. . ."
"Yes." Heero dropped into Duo's vacancy and began typing away with a slight glower of concentration. "What were you working with?" he asked blandly, eyes scanning a listing of Duo's last failed attempts.
Rubbing the back of his head, Duo shrugged. "Less than we wish. I know his real first name is Milliardo, because Treize uses it when they're talking in private. From the way those two act, you can pick up that as a kid, Zechs must have been close enough to the massacre somehow to have figured out the Alliance was behind it--thus the bad memories. And from talking to him, he admitted he had some kind of responsibility for the people of Sanc. . . my guess is some kind of position of power, probably held by his parents. Other than that, we've just his description and age. . ."
//I wish we had more. Sanc has a lot of blondes, it seems. . . Maybe not near-white, like him, but that could be /just/ him in his family.//
A silent nod answered Duo, as Heero frowned, deliberately typing carefully. . .
Duo peered over Heero's shoulder, curious what the other Gundam pilot was using for his search. . .
"He was thought of a dead in the massacre, or the destruction of the city after," Heero pointed out, hands pausing. He looked over his shoulder at Duo. "Is this the correct spelling?"
Duo blinked.
//The hell if I know.// "I. . . guess. . . I never saw it written down, Heero. Just spoken."
Heero hit Enter.
The screen returned what Duo was dreading. . . //And this is why I did /not/ use this for my search!// "Heero, there must be a good hundred Milliardos in Sanc. . ."
Wing's pilot glared at the filled screen that threatened to continue on for a good dozen more pages at least. "So I see," he grumbled. "But we can narrow this down, I think. . ."
//That's what I've been trying for the past couple hours,// Duo groaned to himself, turning away to lend Quatre a hand with the photos. //The question is /how/ to narrow it down!//
Bent over a book, Quatre's shoulders were. . . shaking?
//What the. . . ?//
The book's pages flopped softly with the blonde's smothered amusement.
Duo cast Quatre a mild glare and picked up a book on recent Sanc history. "Quatre, just shut up. . ."
When Trowa walked in fifteen minutes later, Quatre was still laughing helplessly over the same book.
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To be continued.
I promise, I will return to SOG, but I'm on a bit of a roll here. It ends after the next chapter, I think. . .