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Tapestry - Chapter 4
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Almost ... I almost made it to freedom, but he stopped me. Somehow, he knew I was there.
I knew him, of course. Recognized his voice from all the broadcasts I'd heard; recognized his face from all the vid flicks I'd seen. Everyone knew Treize Khushrenada, the elegant and charismatic leader of OZ.
Just a few more meters, and I would have been gone. Out of this house and into the night. It wasn't entirely true, really, but I had to believe that to go on. Just as I had to believe I'd get another chance at escape; and when I did, I would recognize, react, and take that chance.
React - not think. Forget about how frightened and threatened I felt, and just concentrate on my anger and my need for action.
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I stood in the doorway of the library and just looked at him, not saying a word. The man was as handsome in person as he was on video, if that was possible. Normally, I didn't give a second thought to appearances, but he ... he struck me because he looked ... perfect. Flawless, really – there was an undeniable something about him that kept me rooted in place, just staring at him. It was fascinating, watching the light from the fire illuminate the tips of his hair ... and the planes of his face were symmetrical, so pleasing to see ... perfect ...
...gods, what was wrong with me? I needed to DO something to get the hell out of there, not stand around mooning at someone who's probably one of the most dangerous men alive, not to mention—
"I have food." Gold glinted on the edge of the paper as he turned a page of his book, not looking at me.
A pleasant aroma wafted across the room; an answering growl rumbled from my stomach almost immediately. I couldn't believe it - even my stomach wouldn't cooperate. I felt desperate - I had to at least appear to be in control of my body, if nothing else.
He turned toward me, his gaze capturing mine in an instant. "Please have a seat, Ms. Po. I hate to be seated when there is a lady standing in the room."
That was not a request, I realized. I raised my chin and stared back at him, slightly challenging. A small smile played across his lips, but there was certainly nothing easygoing about it.
Fine, then. We'll do this your way.
Gathering all the dignity I could muster wearing that thin, low cut nightgown, I straightened my back and slowly walked across the room, from the doorway to the other large chair. My head had started to throb abominably, as if my moving around had triggered it. Plus, I knew he was watching me shuffle across the room in that wretched nightgown, too, which was horrid enough; but I was damned if I was going to let any of THAT show.
I'll play this out, I decided, warily eyeing the general as I sank back into the overstuffed arm chair. I'd been in worse situations. The worst he could do is kill me, and I'd been ready for that for ages.
I stared at him silently, not defiant but certainly not cowed. He was the enemy, plain and simple; no different than any of the rest.
Go ahead, Khushrenada. Do your worst.
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The general looked at me from under heavily lidded eyes, nodded once, then deliberately lowered his gaze and continued reading, a small bookmark between the fingers of his left hand.
I sat quietly, waiting for him to finish. I knew what he was doing, of course; but knowing what he was doing and experiencing it were two totally different things. I focused on the gold leaf edges of the tome in his hands, remembering that our people did this all the time. No need to get upset or angry - there was nothing unusual about making a prisoner wait. It was just another subtle way of showing who was really in control. And it didn't matter, because I had all the time in the world.
Of course, the mocking little voice in the back of my mind said, the rebels fighting against OZ did not take prisoners, ensconce them in magnificent mansions and then force them to wear nearly translucent bedclothes, now, did they?
Oh, just shut up.
Long minutes later - ten minutes? thirty? I really wasn't sure - Khushrenada nodded again and slipped his bookmark between the pages of his book. As he closed the leather bound volume he looked at me with a thoughtful, contemplative expression - and it struck me at that instant that he was completely different than his public persona. The look he gave me was penetrating, analytical, and cold, as if he was weighing and measuring me against an invisible scale; and that was nothing at all like the warm, empathetic figure the world at large saw. I had the unmistakable feeling that I was now seeing the 'real Treize' – that the 'other Treize' was nothing more than a fabrication, a pleasant diversion used to placate the masses.
It took all my self possession not to shrink back from him into the chair; it was an unsettling realization, to say the least. I glared at Khushrenada as I gave myself a little internal pep talk. He's just a man, Sally Po - don't let him rattle you. Speak first, and take any advantage away from him.
"General." Lowering my eyes and nodding my head, hoping I presented a properly respectful appearance, I said softly, "You have me at a disadvantage."
"Indeed, Ms. Po," he responded, his voice low and pleasant, inclining his head toward me. "I am surprised to see you up and about. The doctors said that it would be several more days before you regained consciousness." He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. "I trust you are feeling no ill effects now?"
"No - in fact, I'm feeling quite well," I lied, glancing at the book he held in his hands. With a start, I recognized the title of an anthology of poems I had read several years before - written in Mandarin Chinese, my native language. He ... he reads Mandarin..? I wondered, confused. No one read Mandarin ... not unless they're Chinese ...
Looking up, I met his gaze squarely and almost faltered at the amused skepticism in it. Taking a deep breath, I continued, "In fact, you owe me and the people who were on my ship an explanation. I was piloting a medical transport when we were viciously gunned down by OZ troops." My heart had started to pound a little faster, but I stared at him calmly enough, feeling myself gaining strength. "I do not understand - I was under the impression that your people did not attack the wounded."
"Ms. Po - I did not order any such attack. I was as surprised at that turn of events as you."
I stared at him in disbelief. "…I see…"
The head of OZ sighed. "My … subordinate officers are less than friendly toward your own people, I fear – and I did not reach them in time to give a countermand order. I did, however, prevent any of your men from being killed. Most have been bandaged and sent home."
For a brief moment, the image of my second's bloodied face swam in front of my mind's eye. Anger, a tight ball in the middle of my chest, pushed its way right into the front of my brain, shoving out any nagging fear and doubt that had been there. "Not all of them, surely. I distinctly recall that many of my people were killed in the melee. Unless you are in the habit of bandaging corpses, General, I doubt very much you sent them home."
"I did send them back to their families," Khushrenada answered, looking at me steadily. "Many of those on your ship were grievously injured, not killed. We healed their wounds and sent them home. Une believed we should put them in prison, but …." He shrugged slightly, his eyes gleaming as he murmured, "…I find that removing the brain is quite as effective as imprisonment, ne?"
I knew I was staring at him, but I couldn't help it. That casual comment of his had just left me aghast and gaping, completely shocked. What? – removing the brain—?
A small smile pulled at his lips. "I think you took me literally. To put it more bluntly, Ms. Po – removing you from the equation seems to have removed the driving force behind the active resistance cells. You will not be going anywhere for a very long time. Does that help?"
It took me another moment to recover from the shock. "Ah .. yes..."
He nodded, watching me narrowly. "You would be dead, to be honest. You are not – for reasons that should be discussed at a later date."
"Oh – I see." I stared at him, not really seeing anything except what felt like a thinly veiled threat to kill me. "Then I have you to thank for my life—"
"Not I," Khushrenada said with a small quirk of his lips that was almost a smile. "But again … that is for later."
This is not going well at all, I thought in consternation, gods, not at all. I must control my reactions better. Now I was making a conscious effort to bring my breathing under control and to NOT clutch at the front of my robe.
"You had a concussion," the general went on in a conversational tone, "a fairly nasty one, all told. I'm sure you – with your background – will not be surprised to hear that you were unconscious for a little over three weeks. And I sincerely doubt you recall the few moments you were awake."
Now the pain in my head and legs made sense – especially that stabbing, sick pain that lanced through my scalp when I woke up. "That's … quite a long time." I drew my breath in slowly - calmly, slowly - and looked at my hands tightly clasped in my lap. "Why - "
"It was a long time," he agreed, a strange expression in his eyes. "Une felt it would have been wiser to let you die – but, as I said, there were - extenuating circumstances. You were brought here. And now," he finished gently, "it really no longer matters. A lot can happen in three weeks."
"What did happen while I was unconscious, General?" Gads, my voice sounded strident and harsh even to me. He's not going to tell me a single thing if I treat him like that - where was my common sense? I knew better than that.
He was watching me closely, gauging my reaction to his words. "Do you feel ready to know, Ms. Po? If you'd rather wait, that IS fine." His manner was very gentle and compassionate. "You can do nothing from your current position, anyway."
"Yes. Thank you, General. I would rather know what happened while I was unconscious than not know."
"Very well, Ms. Po. You certainly have that right." He looked directly into my eyes, never wavering, and said, his tone matter-of-fact, "In that time, we have destroyed gundam 02; captured 04 and 05; captured Relena Peacecraft; possibly seen the death of the pilot of 01; and traced the existence of the gundams back to a small group of rebels in the L2 system."
I stared at him for the second time in as many minutes; I tried to speak, but nothing came out. Totally nonplused, I felt terribly vulnerable; my hands were clenched in small fists in my lap. Only my training kept my face impassive and neutral, and even then I wasn't completely sure I was successful.
Woodenly, I stared at him. "I don't believe you."
"I suspected as much. Do you wish proof?"
"Yes, I would," I replied, mustering a hard smile. "And no photographs, please – it's much too easy to fake them."
"I offer no photographs," he said mildly. "My proof comes in two forms." And with that, he lifted a remote control from the opposite side of his chair and pointed it at the wall across from him. Three shelves soundlessly slid apart to reveal a large entertainment center, complete with a late model vidscreen.
He handed the control to me. "Here, Ms. Po. Check any news station you want."
The remote was light in my hand; suspicious, I looked from the control to him and back again, waiting to discover what type of trick was involved.
"Ms. Po," Khushrenada chided gently, giving me a significant look. "Please."
I glanced sourly in his direction - what, I was supposed to believe him immediately? I turned to the center, punched the control with some force and found a news station with an internationally known correspondent hosting the program.
"....and so we find that actually those meteors WERE part of the plan called "Operation Meteor," which was designed by several rebels who—"
My eyes widened in disbelief as I listened to the news anchor – what? … what are they saying?
I tried another station. This one featured clips from the captured gundams 5 and 4 with an announcer's voice over:
"…but the whereabouts of the gundam pilots are still unknown …"
Had I looked at Khushrenada at that moment, I might have seen him smile to himself. As it was, I heard him murmur, "Not everything they say is true, of course."
Shaking my head in horrified astonishment, I clicked the remote, changing to another station.
"So you think, Dr. Ramsey, that this is a backlash of the Yuy assassination fifteen years ago?"
"Yes, Jeffrey, that's exactly what we think. It seems that not only have these men created their 'gundam' suits to gain revenge against OZ, but they specifically picked people who would have a grudge against OZ's power and—"
I sat completely still, rigidly staring at the screen across the room, feeling as though a part of my world had just collapsed. This can't be .. it absolutely can't be … they're dissecting the rebel cause against OZ ...?
Khushrenada sighed, watching the vidfeed. "They guess too much."
He turned to me, one eyebrow up, and said lightly, "If you wish to see more, pray continue. If not, then you may turn it off."
"I've seen enough, thank you." Only the slight tremble in my hand betrayed my feelings; otherwise, everything else was quite normal. Well, except for that bitter, resentful feeling I had to push to the back of my mind; the people of Earth actually had no idea what the OZ organization was about ...?
"Indeed." Treize nodded as if responding to my unspoken thought, his eyes sparkling with interest. "Suffice it to say that removing the head of a serpent usually results in its death." Another small smile crept across his face as he watched me in silence for a moment. "I had no idea how influential you truly were, Ms. Po," he said softly.
Involuntarily I turned to look at him, then quickly looked away. Those eyes - those eyes saw too much, and knew too much - and the fact that he obliquely remarked on a difference in the resistance cells in my absence was not a good thing at all. Most of my military career was built around the idea of staying in the background, assisting behind the scenes, and not having anyone know how I influenced or shaped events.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, General," I replied stiffly, looking anywhere except directly at him.
Treize chucked softly. "Please – call me Treize. I will call you Sally, if you prefer. Most of your followers did, it seems."
I looked at him coldly. "Actually, I'd prefer Ms. Po. If you don't mind, that is."
"Very well, Ms. Po," he said, obviously amused. "Would you like some dinner?"
"I ..." I blinked at him, surprised. . "... yes ... I would." And considering this was the second time he offered me food tonight, I hoped he was finally going to do something. I shook my head and stared at him for a long minute, clutching the anger and resentment in my chest as if grasping a lifeline. It was difficult to see someone as an antagonist if they continued to act in such a contradictatory manner, and do it with such calm and courtesy - but he was the enemy, and woe to me if I forgot that for an instant.
Remember your training, Po, I told myself sternly. He's going to soften you any way possible. Focus on the task at hand - assess your enemy's strengths, their weaknesses, escape, and report. Just get the hell out of here as quickly as you can.
A sardonic twist of his lips accompanied a steady glance at me. "Do you wish for other clothing, Ms. Po?"
See? Right for your weak spot. I gave a short, flustered laugh and gestured to my gown. "General – my current attire isn't appropriate for dining?" Without waiting for a reply, I nodded and said, "Yes, please – I would appreciate something a little more – substantial."
"Very well," Treize said, a small smile curving his lips. "First, however, I think there are a few things you need to know."
He pushed himself up from his armchair, stretched to his full height – and I was struck full in the face with that indefinable something that clung to him. It permeated my every pore with his presence – a masculine, voluptuous magnetism that, if I actually believed in such things, could be considered a huge aura. As he smiled down at me, I felt my eyes widen slightly, my breathing and heartrate increase, and my palms start to sweat - and gods, if that wasn't enough, my perfidious body started swaying toward him. Horrified, I clutched at the bottom of my chair, locking my arms to stop myself from pitching headlong into his side. Good Lord, what was wrong with me ..?
"Please - follow me."
I held my breath, clenching my jaw and watched Treize turn and walk toward the opposite end of the room. It was as if his simple command touched something inside me; without any warning, I found myself on my feet and obediently padding after him, leaving my mind to scream in frustration.
And - and he's absolutely fearless, isn't he ...? . He's not worried about me in the least. That breathless, scary sensation I felt moments before was quickly replaced with steaming resentment. Angry again, my hands itched to hold a weapon of some kind, any kind … even a letter opener would do …
"What is it you would like me to know?" I asked, clipping my words and glaring at him. My head was pounding again, but I was damned if I'd give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
"Several things, really. The first, I believe, is that you need to understand just where you are." He paused, looking at me, measuring me again. The shadow of a smile touched his lips as he continued, "We are located in the small area of Europe which was, at one time, known as Luxembourg. As you know, it is almost completely unpopulated."
"Ah." I threw a sharp look in his direction.
"If you had a horse, you would have to ride for two days before you reached anything remotely like civilization. I would not advise it on foot, especially since patrol dogs are loose on the grounds – as are soldiers, scattered about the edges. At one time, this estate belonged to Romefeller."
I gave him a cold smile. "I don't believe these slippers would be up to the task. But I appreciate the information, nonetheless."
"I only let you know for your own safety, Ms. Po. If you are torn to shreds or shot, my part of the deal will be damaged. Now, then … clothing. There are several choices, of cou—"
"Wait a moment," I broke in. "Deal?"
He looked at me over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Deal," he repeated.
"What deal?" I asked, insistent. "What are you talking about?"
"I will tell you about that later, Ms. Po," he said, chiding me gently. "Patience."
"I ... forgive me, General, " I said between clenched teeth. With an effort, I took a deep breath and reined in my temper. Lowering my eyes to hide my annoyance, I continued, "But the way in which you said that leads me to believe you will be trading me for something to someone …"
Pursing his lips in thought, Khushrenada looked at me and said, "Well … it wasn't simply you, of course … You are – how do I put this …" He frowned a little, looking down, finally nodded and finished, "…ah, yes. Extra insurance."
"Extra insurance…" I echoed, staring at him, bewildered.
Amused, he shook his head slightly. "Call it .. a reassurance of safety for all concerned. Une is not pleased with me at all."
The general walked out of the library toward the back of the large staircase, still shaking his head. I followed him, the nightgown rustling softly against my legs. The air in the hall was chillier than that of the library; small goosebumps danced on top of my upper arms. Quickly folding my arms across my chest and chafing some warmth into the rest of my arms - it was patently obvious to me what other part of my body was going to show how cool it was in the hallway - I ventured, "It's curious you haven't captured the gundam pilots yet. At least, not according to the local broadcast."
"I have not 'captured the gundam pilots,'" Treize replied mildly, looking at me over his shoulder as he stood in front of a small doorway, a key in his right hand. "I had several in my possession, so to speak – prisoners of war. Now I have one."
I stopped rubbing my arms and just held them, trying not to react. Several ... dear gods, he held at least two pilots as prisoners of war... and now he only has one .... Suddenly, Wufei's face flashed before me, soulful eyes large and wide.
Inserting the key into the lock, he quickly turned it and opened the door. A faint, lingering floral scent wafted out of the closet, teasing my nose.
I shook myself slightly and blinked, then tried to discreetly peer into the closet. "I see. You permitted them to go back to their families, as you did with the people from my transport?"
"I permitted them to go wherever they like," he responded, "a decision I will probably regret."
"Ah … that is possible," I murmured, thinking maliciously I only pray that you're right.
A dramatic sigh answered her. "Well, Ms. Po, when one has the opportunity to preserve hundreds of lives which would otherwise be forfeit … validly let them live, in spite of their earned justice …" Shrugging his broad shoulders helplessly, he looked back at me and finished, "…what other course could I take?"
Ugh. This was the Treize I was familiar with, the one from the vidfeed, the one who gave such stirring speeches. This was the man I didn't like at all; and frankly, at this point, I was incautious enough to allow my words and tone to show just that.
"Oh, yes. I'd forgotten the reports from the battlefield about your altruistic acts - I heard so many different things when I was in surgery." I narrowed my eyes and straightened my back, giving him a withering look. "So many of your men would arrive half dead and dying, praising your virtues ... they would bleed their life away, talking about how they needed to protect you ... hundreds of them. Did you plan that, or was that just - spontaneous?"
Treize shook his head in distress. "Such things … cannot always be avoided," he murmured as he reached into the closet; small rustling sounds snickered from its depths as he rummaged through it.
"If you mean you can't avoid things like death in war, then we agree on that, at least," I declared, my arms firmly tucked across my chest, feeling very unfriendly. "Amazing, though, how many of them thought they had to die just for you."
Treize pulled something dark green out of the closet and eyed it critically. "Believe what you want, Ms. Po. I do not willingly sacrifice lives – no cause is truly worth that." He held the garment up for my inspection – a linen pantsuit, with lined jacket and pants. "A little formal, perhaps. Did you have a preference regarding your clothing?"
"Well .. that would do nicely, I'm sure," I replied, color slowly moving into my cheeks again as I looked at the suit and acutely felt my lack of underwear. An idea crept across my mind, though; I continued, deceptively smooth, looking at him from under my lashes, "But it does seem a bit lightweight. Do you have anything in a heavier material?"
Treize spared a look into the closet before turning completely toward me. "I fear not," he replied, calm and assured, a small smile around the sides of his lips as he handed me the outfit. "However – the dogs would get you anyway."
I accepted the clothing, staring mutely at him as my cheeks turned pink. ...caught...
"I have no underthings for you at this time," he continued, closing and locking the closet door. "I will have something sent to you shortly – but please accept my apologies for now."
I just nodded, not looking at him; my face was on fire - at least my cheeks were burning with embarrassment. Having someone discuss the intimate details of my body with me when I didn't initiate the conversation was an unexpected, mortifying 'detail' that I would rather have not shared with the leader of OZ.
As we turned to walk back to the library once again, Khushrenada looked down at me. "Perhaps I should show you more," he remarked casually. "I rather think you can keep one another here."
I looked at him, confused. "I have no idea what you're talking about, General. Who can I keep here…?"
"You will see soon enough," he said cryptically, eyeing me. "One does what one must. This way, please."
I followed him into the hallway, a little dizzy from the returning pain in my head and side.
Without warning, Treize took my hand in his own and folded it into the crook of his left elbow, keeping his hand covering mine. A warm, electric feeling ran from his fingers into mine, then spread down into my arm; I was so surprised that I tried unsuccessfully to pull my hand from his grip. I looked up and was shocked again to find his face next to mine, his gaze apparently searching for something.
"I really shouldn't allow you to walk around this much."
"What? Allow me to - no, no - really, I'm fine," I stammered, suddenly nervous. He was so close, so close; and that electric feeling hadn't stopped, either. If anything, now the air itself felt warm and tingling, charged with something.
"Ah…" Treize regarded me with a tiny smile. "You would never consent to being put into a wheelchair, would you?"
Gods - a wheelchair? Is he serious? My eyes widened as I stared at him. "No – no, I wouldn't, General. I can walk."
"Well, then," Treize said, looking at me with what was almost a flirtatious smile, "perhaps I'll end up carrying you again."
If his objective was to keep me emotionally off balance, he had achieved his goal. Being close to this man set off so many different warning bells that I could hardly think - nor was the pain radiating from my head helping in the least. "I – I don't recall that –" I stammered, becoming completely confused.
"Quite all right," he purred, patting my hand and supporting my weight comfortably. "You don't need to recall everything that happens here."
We walked in the hallway in silence, moving past what appeared to be a large, formal dining, room, and made several sharp turns to the left.
I have to remember this, I thought, bewildered. But confusion and a throbbing, dull ache pushed at my mind, making thinking a difficult, if not an impossible task. Wait … two rights … then where …? …feh - I don't remember…
Treize slowed his pace. I looked up at him again to find him gazing keenly back at me, his blue eyes missing nothing about my current condition. "You will sit down after this, Ms. Po," he ordered gently, keeping a firm grip on me as we maneuvered along what appeared to be a spartan hallway, one very much like a hospital corridor.
Nodding weakly, I closed my eyes briefly and concentrated in simply putting one foot in front of the other, abandoning any pretense of good health, clutching his arm as a balance in a world that had just started to spin. "I – I'm sorry, General," I gasped, "but I would like to sit down now, please …"
He leaned me against the wall carefully and gently brushed several strands of hair out of my eyes. "One moment, Ms. Po. I will be right back – please don't move."
"Hai." With my eyes closed, I lolled my head against the cool surface of the wall. Don't move ...? ...that's funny, I thought, panting slightly. He should tell the world to stop moving instead of me.
Strong hands gently took my shoulders and propelled me away from the wall. Keeping my eyes closed, I felt myself guided next to something cold and metallic, then gently pushed down, forced into a chair.
I looked .. and he had put me into a wheelchair. "But …," I roused myself enough to protest feebly, opening my eyes to gaze at Treize.
He raised his eyebrow, daring me to say something. "Yes?"
I shook my head, defeated. "Nothing," I murmured, dropping my gaze, still feeling dizzy.
He nodded, still looking amused. "You must realize you are still ill," he said, gently touching the side of my head. "You are only human, after all." He pushed me to the end of the hall in silence.
Light spilled from the windows, natural sunlight that was slanted and golden. There were several large plate glass windows which seemed to create a type of balcony above the ground story of the building.
Some of the confusion and dizziness I felt earlier started to lift. "Where – where are we?" I asked, looking around. "I don't recognize this place."
"It's an observation platform," Treize explained as he pushed me into the small alcove. "You can see many different places in the complex at once from this vantage point." Moving over to one of the larger windows, he said softly, "I'd suggest you stand up for a better view."
"Ah ... very well. Just over here?" I asked, rising carefully and moving over to the window.
"Look down, please," Treize said gently, inclining his head toward the first floor. "You may hold the railing next to the window should you find you need to do that. Below you is the second half of the proof I offer to you that what I say is true."
I looked at him, slightly puzzled, then leaned on the railing and looked toward the ground. Without warning, I felt the blood drain from my face and my fingers clutch at the smooth wood of the balustrade. I tried to speak, but my breath caught in my throat; when I finally found my voice, I could do nothing else but stare.
"Oh, no," I whispered, riveted to the little scene below them. Below me, training against an invisible enemy, was Chang Wufei.
Tapestry - Chapter 4
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Almost ... I almost made it to freedom, but he stopped me. Somehow, he knew I was there.
I knew him, of course. Recognized his voice from all the broadcasts I'd heard; recognized his face from all the vid flicks I'd seen. Everyone knew Treize Khushrenada, the elegant and charismatic leader of OZ.
Just a few more meters, and I would have been gone. Out of this house and into the night. It wasn't entirely true, really, but I had to believe that to go on. Just as I had to believe I'd get another chance at escape; and when I did, I would recognize, react, and take that chance.
React - not think. Forget about how frightened and threatened I felt, and just concentrate on my anger and my need for action.
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I stood in the doorway of the library and just looked at him, not saying a word. The man was as handsome in person as he was on video, if that was possible. Normally, I didn't give a second thought to appearances, but he ... he struck me because he looked ... perfect. Flawless, really – there was an undeniable something about him that kept me rooted in place, just staring at him. It was fascinating, watching the light from the fire illuminate the tips of his hair ... and the planes of his face were symmetrical, so pleasing to see ... perfect ...
...gods, what was wrong with me? I needed to DO something to get the hell out of there, not stand around mooning at someone who's probably one of the most dangerous men alive, not to mention—
"I have food." Gold glinted on the edge of the paper as he turned a page of his book, not looking at me.
A pleasant aroma wafted across the room; an answering growl rumbled from my stomach almost immediately. I couldn't believe it - even my stomach wouldn't cooperate. I felt desperate - I had to at least appear to be in control of my body, if nothing else.
He turned toward me, his gaze capturing mine in an instant. "Please have a seat, Ms. Po. I hate to be seated when there is a lady standing in the room."
That was not a request, I realized. I raised my chin and stared back at him, slightly challenging. A small smile played across his lips, but there was certainly nothing easygoing about it.
Fine, then. We'll do this your way.
Gathering all the dignity I could muster wearing that thin, low cut nightgown, I straightened my back and slowly walked across the room, from the doorway to the other large chair. My head had started to throb abominably, as if my moving around had triggered it. Plus, I knew he was watching me shuffle across the room in that wretched nightgown, too, which was horrid enough; but I was damned if I was going to let any of THAT show.
I'll play this out, I decided, warily eyeing the general as I sank back into the overstuffed arm chair. I'd been in worse situations. The worst he could do is kill me, and I'd been ready for that for ages.
I stared at him silently, not defiant but certainly not cowed. He was the enemy, plain and simple; no different than any of the rest.
Go ahead, Khushrenada. Do your worst.
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The general looked at me from under heavily lidded eyes, nodded once, then deliberately lowered his gaze and continued reading, a small bookmark between the fingers of his left hand.
I sat quietly, waiting for him to finish. I knew what he was doing, of course; but knowing what he was doing and experiencing it were two totally different things. I focused on the gold leaf edges of the tome in his hands, remembering that our people did this all the time. No need to get upset or angry - there was nothing unusual about making a prisoner wait. It was just another subtle way of showing who was really in control. And it didn't matter, because I had all the time in the world.
Of course, the mocking little voice in the back of my mind said, the rebels fighting against OZ did not take prisoners, ensconce them in magnificent mansions and then force them to wear nearly translucent bedclothes, now, did they?
Oh, just shut up.
Long minutes later - ten minutes? thirty? I really wasn't sure - Khushrenada nodded again and slipped his bookmark between the pages of his book. As he closed the leather bound volume he looked at me with a thoughtful, contemplative expression - and it struck me at that instant that he was completely different than his public persona. The look he gave me was penetrating, analytical, and cold, as if he was weighing and measuring me against an invisible scale; and that was nothing at all like the warm, empathetic figure the world at large saw. I had the unmistakable feeling that I was now seeing the 'real Treize' – that the 'other Treize' was nothing more than a fabrication, a pleasant diversion used to placate the masses.
It took all my self possession not to shrink back from him into the chair; it was an unsettling realization, to say the least. I glared at Khushrenada as I gave myself a little internal pep talk. He's just a man, Sally Po - don't let him rattle you. Speak first, and take any advantage away from him.
"General." Lowering my eyes and nodding my head, hoping I presented a properly respectful appearance, I said softly, "You have me at a disadvantage."
"Indeed, Ms. Po," he responded, his voice low and pleasant, inclining his head toward me. "I am surprised to see you up and about. The doctors said that it would be several more days before you regained consciousness." He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. "I trust you are feeling no ill effects now?"
"No - in fact, I'm feeling quite well," I lied, glancing at the book he held in his hands. With a start, I recognized the title of an anthology of poems I had read several years before - written in Mandarin Chinese, my native language. He ... he reads Mandarin..? I wondered, confused. No one read Mandarin ... not unless they're Chinese ...
Looking up, I met his gaze squarely and almost faltered at the amused skepticism in it. Taking a deep breath, I continued, "In fact, you owe me and the people who were on my ship an explanation. I was piloting a medical transport when we were viciously gunned down by OZ troops." My heart had started to pound a little faster, but I stared at him calmly enough, feeling myself gaining strength. "I do not understand - I was under the impression that your people did not attack the wounded."
"Ms. Po - I did not order any such attack. I was as surprised at that turn of events as you."
I stared at him in disbelief. "…I see…"
The head of OZ sighed. "My … subordinate officers are less than friendly toward your own people, I fear – and I did not reach them in time to give a countermand order. I did, however, prevent any of your men from being killed. Most have been bandaged and sent home."
For a brief moment, the image of my second's bloodied face swam in front of my mind's eye. Anger, a tight ball in the middle of my chest, pushed its way right into the front of my brain, shoving out any nagging fear and doubt that had been there. "Not all of them, surely. I distinctly recall that many of my people were killed in the melee. Unless you are in the habit of bandaging corpses, General, I doubt very much you sent them home."
"I did send them back to their families," Khushrenada answered, looking at me steadily. "Many of those on your ship were grievously injured, not killed. We healed their wounds and sent them home. Une believed we should put them in prison, but …." He shrugged slightly, his eyes gleaming as he murmured, "…I find that removing the brain is quite as effective as imprisonment, ne?"
I knew I was staring at him, but I couldn't help it. That casual comment of his had just left me aghast and gaping, completely shocked. What? – removing the brain—?
A small smile pulled at his lips. "I think you took me literally. To put it more bluntly, Ms. Po – removing you from the equation seems to have removed the driving force behind the active resistance cells. You will not be going anywhere for a very long time. Does that help?"
It took me another moment to recover from the shock. "Ah .. yes..."
He nodded, watching me narrowly. "You would be dead, to be honest. You are not – for reasons that should be discussed at a later date."
"Oh – I see." I stared at him, not really seeing anything except what felt like a thinly veiled threat to kill me. "Then I have you to thank for my life—"
"Not I," Khushrenada said with a small quirk of his lips that was almost a smile. "But again … that is for later."
This is not going well at all, I thought in consternation, gods, not at all. I must control my reactions better. Now I was making a conscious effort to bring my breathing under control and to NOT clutch at the front of my robe.
"You had a concussion," the general went on in a conversational tone, "a fairly nasty one, all told. I'm sure you – with your background – will not be surprised to hear that you were unconscious for a little over three weeks. And I sincerely doubt you recall the few moments you were awake."
Now the pain in my head and legs made sense – especially that stabbing, sick pain that lanced through my scalp when I woke up. "That's … quite a long time." I drew my breath in slowly - calmly, slowly - and looked at my hands tightly clasped in my lap. "Why - "
"It was a long time," he agreed, a strange expression in his eyes. "Une felt it would have been wiser to let you die – but, as I said, there were - extenuating circumstances. You were brought here. And now," he finished gently, "it really no longer matters. A lot can happen in three weeks."
"What did happen while I was unconscious, General?" Gads, my voice sounded strident and harsh even to me. He's not going to tell me a single thing if I treat him like that - where was my common sense? I knew better than that.
He was watching me closely, gauging my reaction to his words. "Do you feel ready to know, Ms. Po? If you'd rather wait, that IS fine." His manner was very gentle and compassionate. "You can do nothing from your current position, anyway."
"Yes. Thank you, General. I would rather know what happened while I was unconscious than not know."
"Very well, Ms. Po. You certainly have that right." He looked directly into my eyes, never wavering, and said, his tone matter-of-fact, "In that time, we have destroyed gundam 02; captured 04 and 05; captured Relena Peacecraft; possibly seen the death of the pilot of 01; and traced the existence of the gundams back to a small group of rebels in the L2 system."
I stared at him for the second time in as many minutes; I tried to speak, but nothing came out. Totally nonplused, I felt terribly vulnerable; my hands were clenched in small fists in my lap. Only my training kept my face impassive and neutral, and even then I wasn't completely sure I was successful.
Woodenly, I stared at him. "I don't believe you."
"I suspected as much. Do you wish proof?"
"Yes, I would," I replied, mustering a hard smile. "And no photographs, please – it's much too easy to fake them."
"I offer no photographs," he said mildly. "My proof comes in two forms." And with that, he lifted a remote control from the opposite side of his chair and pointed it at the wall across from him. Three shelves soundlessly slid apart to reveal a large entertainment center, complete with a late model vidscreen.
He handed the control to me. "Here, Ms. Po. Check any news station you want."
The remote was light in my hand; suspicious, I looked from the control to him and back again, waiting to discover what type of trick was involved.
"Ms. Po," Khushrenada chided gently, giving me a significant look. "Please."
I glanced sourly in his direction - what, I was supposed to believe him immediately? I turned to the center, punched the control with some force and found a news station with an internationally known correspondent hosting the program.
"....and so we find that actually those meteors WERE part of the plan called "Operation Meteor," which was designed by several rebels who—"
My eyes widened in disbelief as I listened to the news anchor – what? … what are they saying?
I tried another station. This one featured clips from the captured gundams 5 and 4 with an announcer's voice over:
"…but the whereabouts of the gundam pilots are still unknown …"
Had I looked at Khushrenada at that moment, I might have seen him smile to himself. As it was, I heard him murmur, "Not everything they say is true, of course."
Shaking my head in horrified astonishment, I clicked the remote, changing to another station.
"So you think, Dr. Ramsey, that this is a backlash of the Yuy assassination fifteen years ago?"
"Yes, Jeffrey, that's exactly what we think. It seems that not only have these men created their 'gundam' suits to gain revenge against OZ, but they specifically picked people who would have a grudge against OZ's power and—"
I sat completely still, rigidly staring at the screen across the room, feeling as though a part of my world had just collapsed. This can't be .. it absolutely can't be … they're dissecting the rebel cause against OZ ...?
Khushrenada sighed, watching the vidfeed. "They guess too much."
He turned to me, one eyebrow up, and said lightly, "If you wish to see more, pray continue. If not, then you may turn it off."
"I've seen enough, thank you." Only the slight tremble in my hand betrayed my feelings; otherwise, everything else was quite normal. Well, except for that bitter, resentful feeling I had to push to the back of my mind; the people of Earth actually had no idea what the OZ organization was about ...?
"Indeed." Treize nodded as if responding to my unspoken thought, his eyes sparkling with interest. "Suffice it to say that removing the head of a serpent usually results in its death." Another small smile crept across his face as he watched me in silence for a moment. "I had no idea how influential you truly were, Ms. Po," he said softly.
Involuntarily I turned to look at him, then quickly looked away. Those eyes - those eyes saw too much, and knew too much - and the fact that he obliquely remarked on a difference in the resistance cells in my absence was not a good thing at all. Most of my military career was built around the idea of staying in the background, assisting behind the scenes, and not having anyone know how I influenced or shaped events.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, General," I replied stiffly, looking anywhere except directly at him.
Treize chucked softly. "Please – call me Treize. I will call you Sally, if you prefer. Most of your followers did, it seems."
I looked at him coldly. "Actually, I'd prefer Ms. Po. If you don't mind, that is."
"Very well, Ms. Po," he said, obviously amused. "Would you like some dinner?"
"I ..." I blinked at him, surprised. . "... yes ... I would." And considering this was the second time he offered me food tonight, I hoped he was finally going to do something. I shook my head and stared at him for a long minute, clutching the anger and resentment in my chest as if grasping a lifeline. It was difficult to see someone as an antagonist if they continued to act in such a contradictatory manner, and do it with such calm and courtesy - but he was the enemy, and woe to me if I forgot that for an instant.
Remember your training, Po, I told myself sternly. He's going to soften you any way possible. Focus on the task at hand - assess your enemy's strengths, their weaknesses, escape, and report. Just get the hell out of here as quickly as you can.
A sardonic twist of his lips accompanied a steady glance at me. "Do you wish for other clothing, Ms. Po?"
See? Right for your weak spot. I gave a short, flustered laugh and gestured to my gown. "General – my current attire isn't appropriate for dining?" Without waiting for a reply, I nodded and said, "Yes, please – I would appreciate something a little more – substantial."
"Very well," Treize said, a small smile curving his lips. "First, however, I think there are a few things you need to know."
He pushed himself up from his armchair, stretched to his full height – and I was struck full in the face with that indefinable something that clung to him. It permeated my every pore with his presence – a masculine, voluptuous magnetism that, if I actually believed in such things, could be considered a huge aura. As he smiled down at me, I felt my eyes widen slightly, my breathing and heartrate increase, and my palms start to sweat - and gods, if that wasn't enough, my perfidious body started swaying toward him. Horrified, I clutched at the bottom of my chair, locking my arms to stop myself from pitching headlong into his side. Good Lord, what was wrong with me ..?
"Please - follow me."
I held my breath, clenching my jaw and watched Treize turn and walk toward the opposite end of the room. It was as if his simple command touched something inside me; without any warning, I found myself on my feet and obediently padding after him, leaving my mind to scream in frustration.
And - and he's absolutely fearless, isn't he ...? . He's not worried about me in the least. That breathless, scary sensation I felt moments before was quickly replaced with steaming resentment. Angry again, my hands itched to hold a weapon of some kind, any kind … even a letter opener would do …
"What is it you would like me to know?" I asked, clipping my words and glaring at him. My head was pounding again, but I was damned if I'd give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
"Several things, really. The first, I believe, is that you need to understand just where you are." He paused, looking at me, measuring me again. The shadow of a smile touched his lips as he continued, "We are located in the small area of Europe which was, at one time, known as Luxembourg. As you know, it is almost completely unpopulated."
"Ah." I threw a sharp look in his direction.
"If you had a horse, you would have to ride for two days before you reached anything remotely like civilization. I would not advise it on foot, especially since patrol dogs are loose on the grounds – as are soldiers, scattered about the edges. At one time, this estate belonged to Romefeller."
I gave him a cold smile. "I don't believe these slippers would be up to the task. But I appreciate the information, nonetheless."
"I only let you know for your own safety, Ms. Po. If you are torn to shreds or shot, my part of the deal will be damaged. Now, then … clothing. There are several choices, of cou—"
"Wait a moment," I broke in. "Deal?"
He looked at me over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Deal," he repeated.
"What deal?" I asked, insistent. "What are you talking about?"
"I will tell you about that later, Ms. Po," he said, chiding me gently. "Patience."
"I ... forgive me, General, " I said between clenched teeth. With an effort, I took a deep breath and reined in my temper. Lowering my eyes to hide my annoyance, I continued, "But the way in which you said that leads me to believe you will be trading me for something to someone …"
Pursing his lips in thought, Khushrenada looked at me and said, "Well … it wasn't simply you, of course … You are – how do I put this …" He frowned a little, looking down, finally nodded and finished, "…ah, yes. Extra insurance."
"Extra insurance…" I echoed, staring at him, bewildered.
Amused, he shook his head slightly. "Call it .. a reassurance of safety for all concerned. Une is not pleased with me at all."
The general walked out of the library toward the back of the large staircase, still shaking his head. I followed him, the nightgown rustling softly against my legs. The air in the hall was chillier than that of the library; small goosebumps danced on top of my upper arms. Quickly folding my arms across my chest and chafing some warmth into the rest of my arms - it was patently obvious to me what other part of my body was going to show how cool it was in the hallway - I ventured, "It's curious you haven't captured the gundam pilots yet. At least, not according to the local broadcast."
"I have not 'captured the gundam pilots,'" Treize replied mildly, looking at me over his shoulder as he stood in front of a small doorway, a key in his right hand. "I had several in my possession, so to speak – prisoners of war. Now I have one."
I stopped rubbing my arms and just held them, trying not to react. Several ... dear gods, he held at least two pilots as prisoners of war... and now he only has one .... Suddenly, Wufei's face flashed before me, soulful eyes large and wide.
Inserting the key into the lock, he quickly turned it and opened the door. A faint, lingering floral scent wafted out of the closet, teasing my nose.
I shook myself slightly and blinked, then tried to discreetly peer into the closet. "I see. You permitted them to go back to their families, as you did with the people from my transport?"
"I permitted them to go wherever they like," he responded, "a decision I will probably regret."
"Ah … that is possible," I murmured, thinking maliciously I only pray that you're right.
A dramatic sigh answered her. "Well, Ms. Po, when one has the opportunity to preserve hundreds of lives which would otherwise be forfeit … validly let them live, in spite of their earned justice …" Shrugging his broad shoulders helplessly, he looked back at me and finished, "…what other course could I take?"
Ugh. This was the Treize I was familiar with, the one from the vidfeed, the one who gave such stirring speeches. This was the man I didn't like at all; and frankly, at this point, I was incautious enough to allow my words and tone to show just that.
"Oh, yes. I'd forgotten the reports from the battlefield about your altruistic acts - I heard so many different things when I was in surgery." I narrowed my eyes and straightened my back, giving him a withering look. "So many of your men would arrive half dead and dying, praising your virtues ... they would bleed their life away, talking about how they needed to protect you ... hundreds of them. Did you plan that, or was that just - spontaneous?"
Treize shook his head in distress. "Such things … cannot always be avoided," he murmured as he reached into the closet; small rustling sounds snickered from its depths as he rummaged through it.
"If you mean you can't avoid things like death in war, then we agree on that, at least," I declared, my arms firmly tucked across my chest, feeling very unfriendly. "Amazing, though, how many of them thought they had to die just for you."
Treize pulled something dark green out of the closet and eyed it critically. "Believe what you want, Ms. Po. I do not willingly sacrifice lives – no cause is truly worth that." He held the garment up for my inspection – a linen pantsuit, with lined jacket and pants. "A little formal, perhaps. Did you have a preference regarding your clothing?"
"Well .. that would do nicely, I'm sure," I replied, color slowly moving into my cheeks again as I looked at the suit and acutely felt my lack of underwear. An idea crept across my mind, though; I continued, deceptively smooth, looking at him from under my lashes, "But it does seem a bit lightweight. Do you have anything in a heavier material?"
Treize spared a look into the closet before turning completely toward me. "I fear not," he replied, calm and assured, a small smile around the sides of his lips as he handed me the outfit. "However – the dogs would get you anyway."
I accepted the clothing, staring mutely at him as my cheeks turned pink. ...caught...
"I have no underthings for you at this time," he continued, closing and locking the closet door. "I will have something sent to you shortly – but please accept my apologies for now."
I just nodded, not looking at him; my face was on fire - at least my cheeks were burning with embarrassment. Having someone discuss the intimate details of my body with me when I didn't initiate the conversation was an unexpected, mortifying 'detail' that I would rather have not shared with the leader of OZ.
As we turned to walk back to the library once again, Khushrenada looked down at me. "Perhaps I should show you more," he remarked casually. "I rather think you can keep one another here."
I looked at him, confused. "I have no idea what you're talking about, General. Who can I keep here…?"
"You will see soon enough," he said cryptically, eyeing me. "One does what one must. This way, please."
I followed him into the hallway, a little dizzy from the returning pain in my head and side.
Without warning, Treize took my hand in his own and folded it into the crook of his left elbow, keeping his hand covering mine. A warm, electric feeling ran from his fingers into mine, then spread down into my arm; I was so surprised that I tried unsuccessfully to pull my hand from his grip. I looked up and was shocked again to find his face next to mine, his gaze apparently searching for something.
"I really shouldn't allow you to walk around this much."
"What? Allow me to - no, no - really, I'm fine," I stammered, suddenly nervous. He was so close, so close; and that electric feeling hadn't stopped, either. If anything, now the air itself felt warm and tingling, charged with something.
"Ah…" Treize regarded me with a tiny smile. "You would never consent to being put into a wheelchair, would you?"
Gods - a wheelchair? Is he serious? My eyes widened as I stared at him. "No – no, I wouldn't, General. I can walk."
"Well, then," Treize said, looking at me with what was almost a flirtatious smile, "perhaps I'll end up carrying you again."
If his objective was to keep me emotionally off balance, he had achieved his goal. Being close to this man set off so many different warning bells that I could hardly think - nor was the pain radiating from my head helping in the least. "I – I don't recall that –" I stammered, becoming completely confused.
"Quite all right," he purred, patting my hand and supporting my weight comfortably. "You don't need to recall everything that happens here."
We walked in the hallway in silence, moving past what appeared to be a large, formal dining, room, and made several sharp turns to the left.
I have to remember this, I thought, bewildered. But confusion and a throbbing, dull ache pushed at my mind, making thinking a difficult, if not an impossible task. Wait … two rights … then where …? …feh - I don't remember…
Treize slowed his pace. I looked up at him again to find him gazing keenly back at me, his blue eyes missing nothing about my current condition. "You will sit down after this, Ms. Po," he ordered gently, keeping a firm grip on me as we maneuvered along what appeared to be a spartan hallway, one very much like a hospital corridor.
Nodding weakly, I closed my eyes briefly and concentrated in simply putting one foot in front of the other, abandoning any pretense of good health, clutching his arm as a balance in a world that had just started to spin. "I – I'm sorry, General," I gasped, "but I would like to sit down now, please …"
He leaned me against the wall carefully and gently brushed several strands of hair out of my eyes. "One moment, Ms. Po. I will be right back – please don't move."
"Hai." With my eyes closed, I lolled my head against the cool surface of the wall. Don't move ...? ...that's funny, I thought, panting slightly. He should tell the world to stop moving instead of me.
Strong hands gently took my shoulders and propelled me away from the wall. Keeping my eyes closed, I felt myself guided next to something cold and metallic, then gently pushed down, forced into a chair.
I looked .. and he had put me into a wheelchair. "But …," I roused myself enough to protest feebly, opening my eyes to gaze at Treize.
He raised his eyebrow, daring me to say something. "Yes?"
I shook my head, defeated. "Nothing," I murmured, dropping my gaze, still feeling dizzy.
He nodded, still looking amused. "You must realize you are still ill," he said, gently touching the side of my head. "You are only human, after all." He pushed me to the end of the hall in silence.
Light spilled from the windows, natural sunlight that was slanted and golden. There were several large plate glass windows which seemed to create a type of balcony above the ground story of the building.
Some of the confusion and dizziness I felt earlier started to lift. "Where – where are we?" I asked, looking around. "I don't recognize this place."
"It's an observation platform," Treize explained as he pushed me into the small alcove. "You can see many different places in the complex at once from this vantage point." Moving over to one of the larger windows, he said softly, "I'd suggest you stand up for a better view."
"Ah ... very well. Just over here?" I asked, rising carefully and moving over to the window.
"Look down, please," Treize said gently, inclining his head toward the first floor. "You may hold the railing next to the window should you find you need to do that. Below you is the second half of the proof I offer to you that what I say is true."
I looked at him, slightly puzzled, then leaned on the railing and looked toward the ground. Without warning, I felt the blood drain from my face and my fingers clutch at the smooth wood of the balustrade. I tried to speak, but my breath caught in my throat; when I finally found my voice, I could do nothing else but stare.
"Oh, no," I whispered, riveted to the little scene below them. Below me, training against an invisible enemy, was Chang Wufei.