Milliardo wasn't too sure just how much time had past since realizing that he could not go back to his life, and was indeed stuck on Mars, living the life of a man who looked exactly like him, but had little else in common. Except for the fact that, at some point, they had both shared the same name, and loved the same woman.
He looked up, only to take notice of the fact that the sky was already darkening and, having had no food since the night before, he was downright ravenous.
"Great," he thought, "I'm supposed to play family, and yet I've already screwed it up by disappearing for most of Christmas day. Noin is not going to be a happy camper…"
Thus he decided it would be a wise idea to at least try to find his way back to the Merquises' residence, where, hopefully, he would explain his circumstances to his once-best friend and, hopefully, she wouldn't commit him to the nearest loony bin.
Just as he walked back to his parking spot, he caught sight of his car, or rather, Zechs Merquise's car, being wheeled away by a bright orange tow truck. Deciding in that split second that things could not possibly get any worse, Milliardo broke into a frantic jog to catch up to the vehicle, all the while shouting at the driver to stop.
And stop he did, much to Milliardo's relief. He reached the tow truck, ready to pay for whichever fine he owed, only to be greeted by a familiar impish grin.
"You!" he growled in disbelief as he recognized the truck driver as the young man from the liquor store incident the night before.
"Dude!" the youth greeted, as though they had been friends. For his part, Milliardo just wanted to wring his neck, quite sure that the young man was to blame for his current state of affairs. Instead, he managed to restrain himself enough to ask what on earth he was doing on Mars.
"Took you advice, man," the youth grinned proudly, "got myself a part-time job, then I'm gonna go back to school after the holidays. Terraforming sounded a whole lot more fun than law, so here I am…" He kept grinning, as though expecting Milliardo to shake his hand and congratulate him on making such a wise choice.
"Your wife's gonna teach me a couple of classes," he commented casually, "I hear she's the best there is, but she's one hell of a tough marker," then gasped as Milliardo grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him half-way through the rolled-down window.
"She. Is not. My wife," he uttered slowly, punctuating every pause with a yank at the young man's collar, "And you know it, so why don't you cut the crap, and send me right back home, before I get really aggravated?"
"Hey, dude, relax, man!" the youth protested as he managed to wiggle himself out of Milliardo's grasp, "Look, why don't you get in, and I'll give you a ride home, and we can talk about it on the way… ok?"
Figuring that he had nothing to lose, considering he was completely lost and his car was being towed, Milliardo resigned to comply and climbed into the passenger seat.
****************
"So. Why am I here?" he resolved to ask after the first few minutes elapsed in silence.
"Simple," the young man replied, his eyes fixed on the highway, "somebody up there is looking out for you, and wants you to have this glimpse…"
"Glimpse… of what?" Milliardo inquired skeptically.
"That, I'm afraid, is for you to figure out," the young man replied, once again sounding eerily like the late Treize Khushrenada. Which only contributed to frustrate Milliardo even more.
"Listen, kid, I'm really not in the mood for solving riddles," he groaned, "in a few minutes you're going to drop me off in the home of complete strangers, who expect me to act as though I'm part of their family. I would at least appreciate knowing what the point is for all this mess, and who it is, up there, that hates my guts!"
"Dude," the young man replied, "You're not getting this. You were sent out here because there is something you need to learn. Something that the person who sent you here did not learn until it was too late for him. It is not out of spite, but rather out of caring, that this somebody wished this experience upon you."
"Fine," Milliardo grumbled, "so how long is this 'glimpse' going to take? I'm way too busy to monkey around indeterminately. I need to be back in my office on the 27 at the latest, preferably sooner. And I need to accompany my sister on a diplomatic tour of Europe beginning on January 2, so the latest that I can stay to play this game of yours is tomorrow night."
The young man shook his head in exasperation, and continued driving. Sometimes he wasn't too sure why he had accepted the mission in the first place. As far as his opinion was concerned, this guy was a hopeless case. Now, he almost wished that he had taken on the Dekim Barton assignment instead. For some reason, older humans tended to be a lot less threatening. Still quite temperamental, but at least they didn't normally go around grabbing people by their shirt collars and shaking them about like rag dolls.
The rest of the drive continued in uncomfortable silence. Before he knew it, Milliardo found himself in the friendly, vaguely familiar surroundings of the Merquises' neighbourhood. Among the Tudor-style houses decorated with Christmas lights, he soon identified the one that he was to call home for the duration of the "glimpse". The one that he would share with Lucrezia Noin and her children, pretending to be family guy Zechs Merquise.
"Now, go along and I guarantee you it won't take you too long to figure it out," the young man instructed as he played with the controls to lower and release the SUV in front of the driveway.
"We'll meet again once you have learned what you're here to learn. Then you can go home and it's business as usual." With that, he took off, leaving a rather unsatisfied and quite puzzled Milliardo standing on the sidewalk in the freezing cold, eyes transfixed on the white Christmas lights outlining the house's silhouette in the darkness. Inside, he could see people socializing by the fireplace. People with whom he would be expected to fit in the moment he walked through the door. His stomach churned, and he was overcome by the irresistible urge to run. Where to, he had no idea, but at the time it didn't seem to matter…
He was so lost in his dilemma that he had not noticed the little dark-haired girl as she came to look out the window and spotted him outside, standing in the front yard. Before he could resolve to walk away for good, the front door flew open, and the little girl came out running towards him, calling for her father.
"Daddy, where have you been?" she inquired softly as she hugged him for dear life, "we were worried about you. You didn't even open your presents… They're not gonna call you back to work for tonight, are they?" Suddenly, the urge to run subsided, and he instinctively lifted the child into his arms and began walking towards the door. Yes, it was still mighty cold on Mars, he thought, and he would not have Lucrezia Noin's child catching pneumonia on his account.
"They're not going to call me back to work," he smiled reassuringly, "it's Christmas… I sent everybody home to be with their families and eat turkey… Speaking of which, I don't know about you, but I'm starved…"
"Good!" the girl cheered, "Better hurry, then, before all the cookies are gone… Mom says dinner's not for another hour, 'cuz we gotta wait for Auntie Re and Uncle Heero to come in with their shuttle… And Uncle Duo's already had twelve of grandma's chocolate-dipped shortbreads…"
At the mention of which, Milliardo paled, remembering from one of his sister's parties how the ex-pilots, who had always remained in touch, could really shake things up…
"Oh, brother… Looks like we're hosting the whole gang."
"You guys coming in or do I have to lock you out for good?" a female voice called from the door, and Milliardo recognized the strawberry-blonde, heavily pregnant woman as Noin's best friend Sally Po.
"Jeez, it's freezing, out there… what are you guys set on, standard Saskatchewan weather? Nice to see you, Zechs. Preventers finally let you come home and enjoy some Christmas cheer, huh?" With that, Sally gave him a sisterly hug, then proceeded to shut the door and lead the way into the living room, where the rest of the guests, strangely enough all female, were engaged in a rather heated game of Trivial Pursuit.
"Where are the guys?" Milliardo inquired as he warmed his hands in front of the fireplace, his daughter promptly disappeared into the adjacent den to play with the other pilots' children.
"In the kitchen," Une replied, "Lu's in there, too, making sure they don't blow the whole place to smithereens or anything…"
"Yah, knowing Duo's in there, I'd say that's a legitimate concern," Dorothy added, "considering last time he was allowed in the kitchen, he put tinfoil in the microwave…"
"Ohmygosh, that was funny as hell," Hilde laughed out loud, "I heard this crackling, popping sound, like microwave popcorn… Didn't give it too much thought at the time. Next thing I know, I turn around, and I see flames coming out of the microwave door!"
"Think that's bad? You haven't heard Relena tell the story about Heero and the rice cooker," Catherine pointed out, "I just about peed myself laughing! I mean, how on earth do you make a rice cooker explode?"
"Takes serious skill, if you ask me…" Sally pointed out, feeling quite lucky that her own husband, behind the self-proclaimed chauvinistic façade, was really quite the spiffy cook.
Seeing how the ladies were starting to merrily gang up against their husbands, Milliardo decided that seemed like as good a time as any to take his leave and finally face his own supposed wife. Who, to his utter dismay, was quite busy taking out the day's frustrations on a completely innocent butternut squash. The way she wielded the professional knife and, blow after blow, hacked the poor thing into perfect, evenly spaced slices sent a chill up the ex-Lightning Count's spine, and he hesitated one moment before walking straight into the lion's den.
Besides, the unlikely chefs seemed busy enough to not notice him standing in the doorway…
"Come on, Wuffers, it really works, I swear," Duo Maxwell cajoled the sniffly black-haired man who, for his part, had a few choice words for the onions that he was intent on cutting.
"I'm totally serious, this is a genuine tip I got from a cooking show: to stop your eyes from stinging, you gotta stick your head in the freezer. Right, Lorenzo?" Duo continued, this time seeking validation from a true professional chef (not to mention recreational prankster).
"Sure, it does," Noin's brother confirmed enthusiastically, "don't you ever watch Iron Chef? Heck, I do it all the time when I'm cutting onions!"
Somewhat convinced, Wufei proceeded to grumble an "Alright, I'll give it a shot", then went and took his place in front of the fridge, his face looking into the contents of the freezer.
"Not like that, man!" Duo corrected, "You have to really stick it in, not just stand in front of it, otherwise it'll take for ever!" With that, the braided ex-pilot gave Wufei a light shove, enough to tip the Preventer's head all the way into the freezer. Then they all waited. And waited. Milliardo could see Noin and Quatre Winner, hands clamped over their mouths as they desperately tried not to burst out laughing their heads off. Trowa Barton, for his own part, was also having a hard time keeping a straight face. Duo and Lorenzo were elbowing each other, obvious partners in crime.
Finally, after a good two minutes of that, Wufei began to grow impatient, seen as his eyes continued to sting like a son-of-a-gun…
"Alright, Maxwell, how long is this supposed to take?" he demanded, "I don't think this is working…"
At which Duo grinned like a kid, whipped out a digital camera from gods-know-where, and proceeded to take a snapshot of Wufei in that awkward position, all the while commenting quite casually,
'Oh, it doesn't REALLY work… Just wanted to see if you'd do it…"
Chaos ensued as a rather infuriated Wufei grabbed the professional chef's knife from Noin's cutting board and proceeded to chase Maxwell with it, quite determined to exact revenge for the prank by severing a good few inches off his friend's prized braid.
"Aw, man, guys… We just renovated the kitchen," Milliardo heard Noin plead. Quite alarmed, he resolved to not take any chances with crazy ex-Gundam pilots and sharp objects, and put his old nickname to good use by barging into the kitchen, grabbing Noin by the arm, and just as quickly whisking her out of there before either could get in harm's way.
Once in the relative safety of the hallway, it took Milliardo a few seconds to clue into the fact that he still held a death grip on Noin's forearms. She, for her part, kept looking at him in that frowning, mystified air of hers, as though he were the one behaving like a lunatic, and Maxwell and Chang's behaviour were the norm instead.
"Zechs… are you alright?" she finally asked, pinning her indigo eyes on his, as though wanting to pierce through an imaginary mask.
"They're… are they always like that?" he managed to fumble for his own part, his thumb gesturing towards the pandemonium unfolding in the kitchen. She hadn't changed much, he noticed. Her hairstyle was somewhat softer, less military… she must be trying to grow it past her shoulders, he figured. She actually wore barrettes now, to keep her bangs out of her face, one thing that the space-loving tomboy he knew would not have been caught dead owning. He decided motherhood definitely suited her…
"Pretty much," Noin quipped, as though it was a silly question to ask, "I've come to think it must be some weird form of male bonding…" Then, slightly louder, as though the guests in the adjacent living room were meant to hear,
"So… I take it you guys managed to solve that whole big muck-up down at the weather control central?"
That was his cue to lie as well, blame his absence on a work-related emergency so that their guests would not wonder how on earth Zechs Merquise managed to be such an inconsiderate, antisocial Grinch on Christmas day. All he could do in response was nod, the lie refusing to surface to his lips.
***********************
He had to talk to her, tell her the truth, come what might. He was pretty sure she would not believe him. After all, Noin had always been a Scully-type personality. Very rational, evidence-driven… How on earth he was supposed to explain to her that his life was elsewhere, and that he was only there for a so-called glimpse, he hadn't the slightest clue. The concept still managed to evade him, despite the fact that he was living it first-hand. On the other hand, he knew that he could not pull off pretending to be Zechs Merquise. Even assuming he managed to fool everyone, his conscience would certainly not shut up about it.
Half-way up the stairs, he slapped himself mentally as he took notice of his poor choice of a private place to talk to her. He was leading her towards their bedroom, or rather, the bedroom that belonged to Lucrezia Noin and Zechs Merquise. Definitely not his idea of an emotionally neutral place… especially considering how she kept looking at him in that worried, almost maternal way, even as she shut the door behind them.
"You didn't have to cover for me," he blurted out, almost immediately kicking himself for such a brilliant start.
"You're right, I didn't," she conceded right away. He noticed how her lips had narrowed into one of her nervous smiles, and right away diverted his gaze to the frosty window.
"But I guess it beat the heck out of having to tell my kids I hadn't the slightest clue where their father had disappeared to for the whole damn day," she continued, no longer hiding her annoyance.
"You're right, and I'm really sorry," he recited off his improvised script, "The timing certainly could have been better… it's quite complicated to explain, so please bear with me if it doesn't seem to make any sense. Noin," he braced himself, "this is not my life. I don't belong here, on Mars… I woke up this morning, and I was here, but, see, I am not Zechs Merquise…" He watched expectantly, trying to decipher the confused expression on her face.
"I am Milliardo Peacecraft," he specified, as though speaking to a child. At that, Lucrezia flopped face-down on the bed, and groaned in exasperation, her head in her hands,
"Aw, for the love of Pete… AGAIN?!! Zechs, I thought we got way past this whole identity crisis thing
a LONG time ago… Why can't you just pick a name, either one, I don't really care which one at this point, and STICK with it, damit?"
Milliardo found himself getting discouraged. Admittedly, he had done more than his fair share of switching back and forth between the two in the past. And, short of explaining this whole situation as an alternate reality or any such unscientific nonsense, he really had no idea how the two names had come to give life to two actual human beings, each with entirely different lives…
"Noin, I realize this sounds insane," he persevered, only to find himself on the receiving end of her sarcasm,
"Gee, ya think? First you give me some nonsense about waking up to someone else's life, like we're all a bunch of strangers, rather than your own family. Then, classic… another name switch, just to keep things interesting. And then, just to add to the overall weirdness, you call me by my maiden name, which you haven't done in at least ten years! What the heck is going on?"
Silence ensued for a very uncomfortable moment. Milliardo was beginning to wonder whether attempting to explain his strange set of circumstances had been a good idea at all. Then he saw Noin's face pale, and her expression become somber.
"They're not sending you out on a mission, are they?" she broke the silence, her voice quivering ever so slightly, "Zechs… Is something going on with the Preventers that I should know about? It sounds like you're trying to distance yourself from us… Like you're getting ready to leave… Are you?"
He wasn't at all sure how it had happened, but before he knew it, Milliardo Peacecraft had his arms wrapped around the woman who had once known him better than anyone else ever would. Somehow as he stroked her hair and felt her tension literally dissolve against his body, all the comforting words that he had never been any good at seemed to come to him spontaneously. He would not leave. There was no need to fight again. Not now and, hopefully, not ever. He belonged right there, with her and the children.
"So, really, you just got familied-out," Lucrezia muttered against his chest, quite comfortable in the
embrace.
"Y... yeah, that's it," the lie came out before he had time to censor
it.
"On Christmas day.." she repeated, emphasizing his peculiar timing,
"Honey, you're weird. Scary thing is I can actually understand that… I'm getting a little antsy myself, with all the guests, and the holiday stuff, and… oh, bugger, I LEFT THE GUYS IN THE KITCHEN COMPLETELY UNATTENDED!"
With that, she bolted to her feet and made a run for the stairs, just giving herself enough time to turn around and plead,
"Next time you need time to yourself, just please let me know where you are… or at least take your cell phone so I know you're safe. Ok?"
For a reason that Milliardo could not even begin to understand, posing as Lucrezia Noin's husband, holding her as though he had any right to do so, pretending to belong in her life and her family suddenly felt a whole lot more right than telling her the truth about his real life as Sanq's successful, envied, lonely-as-a-dog politician and bachelor of the year…
****
"Uh… Lu," he heard Duo's voice holler from downstairs, "the Wuffinator spilled that whole big stock pot of carrot soup… Ouch! Easy, Rambo!"
"Never a dull moment around here," Milliardo decided, as he smoothed the wrinkles on his pants and resolved to join the clean-up patrol.