--The Walls of War
Pairs: possible 2-6-2 (but not intended), refs to 13-/x6, 6-9
Warning: sequel to "The Truth," drunkenness, language, depression, spoilers for Zechs' past, Cozzy sap, the usual.
Note: Looks like Death and the Devil came to a very abrupt ending. I had NO idea it was going to end here, but it is, and I like it. Don't worry though, I'm going to write a few alternate endings for your yaoi-ful ness, one that is indeed a real 2x6x2 (with lime!) and one that is... not. Enjoy! If you prod me enough, I may do another arc in this style! Hehe...
Dedication: This one is now dedicated to by beloved fanboy Adrian, who has prodded and prodded and prodded and prodded (and prodded) for some yummy Zechs-ness. Also for the ever faithful D-sama, for my ravenous fan Liz, for Elemental, for Damoyre, for Merith, for Ashkara, for anyone who has ever left a comment (or will) in this arc, and finally, for anyone who is now a 2-6/6-2 fan, despite the fact that this was NOT shounen-ai. Hee. Thank you, you all mean a lot to me. I'm glad the arc kicked all ass, ne? Hee.
'The Walls of War' was originally written for the gw500 lj community, challenge#50 'A brick.' It was hard.
Dorothy said to me on Libra that wine is for men who hide behind dead presidents and masks that will never shatter. She said to me that if I really wanted a spark out of life, mix my scotch, bourbon and beer and burn my throat raw until I bleed.
She always was the sadomasochist. Strange girl.
But she's right. Always had been, and she understood me better then most could ever hope to imagine. I used to pretend that when I drank my wine, it was from the blood of those who had died under my command, or rather, from the blood of men who had died for me out of sheer adoration. Like Treize did.
But don't know, never did. I would watch the smooth red liquid swirl around my fancy crystal glass, watch it spin around and around, wondering why it was so thin. Blood is thicker than water, but wine... it isn't the same.
Dorothy was right, in a sense. Spending my time with Treize in his office, staring out into the world beyond our wine glasses and pretty labels was a lie. I respected Treize, I really did, and he was a good friend to me. But it would always be about the competition, always about who is the smarter, the better, the stronger... the... stable one.
I have made a lot of mistakes. Thinking back on it, I can't even remember why I listened to Treize in the first place, I can't remember... I can't remember why I joined OZ, joined the force that destroyed my home, my family, my mother, my father... My... me. Why? Why did I do it?
Quick revenge, scathing logic, the fact that I had no where else to go. I was alone, abandoned, homeless, destroyed. I was fucking alone. Darlian took Relena to safety while I held onto my father's dead carcass and begged for him to come back to me. Relena grew up in a safe home, was raised as a beautiful fifteen-year-old girl while I was dumped into Victoria like a left-over dinner, abandoned... and alone. Always alone. And dead. Of course, because I was still alive--if only in body--and because everyone knew my face, I was forced to wear that fucking mask that I hated so goddamn much and I lived and trained and breathed and ate and thrived under the enemy's watch, the enemy's look of disconcerting respect. Who is this Zechs Marquise and why he is so fast? Why is he so good? So cold?
Why does he wear that mask?
There were rumors in Victoria that my mask was a cover for some horrible mutilation on my face, one so ugly it could not see the light of the sun. Shame that when I pulled the metal prison from my flesh each night, no physical attributes were there to prove them right. Oh but how right they are, anyway. How right they always have been. Me. Zechs Marquise. The name itself is a scar and its ugliness is far more than skin deep.
My soul is stained.
"Hey Joe..." But then... we both have that problem.
Duo's voice is a bit hoarse, and I hear the ale rumbling in his stomach, in his veins. His eyes are two blue-black pools of utter causality when he asks, "Where the hell did a name like Zechs Marquise come from, anyway?"
The question catches me so off guard, I have to double back, but then I blink, frown uncertainly, and shrug.
"Zechs is German for six," I say softly. My voice is low, as if hiding a secret only he and I should ever know. For some reason, it seems that way, and I lean in closer, as if to prove it. I know no one else would care, but it's important to me. The only man who ever knew is dead, the only woman who would truly understand isn't here anymore, with me, and they both have been gone for a very long time now.
When he gives me an expectant look, clearly not accepting my answer, I clear my throat, crack my knuckles, and form two tight fists around my glass, my tension fairly obvious. I want him to know how hard this is for me. I've never told anyone before... except him.
"My parents... died, when I was six." I snort oddly, not out of contempt, but rather out of frustration. In some ways, that night still terrifies me. It always will.
"They took down the north wall to get passed the perimeter defense--basic defense as per Peacecraft politics. It was too easy when they did it, there was no chance for us. It was like shooting down unarmed civilians." I don't miss Duo's wince. I used the analogy on purpose. "They struck in the dead of night, I remember because I woke from Relena's screaming. I felt the explosion and..."
I blink, the white hot flames flashing before my eyes. I blink again, to clear them. I sigh slowly, shakily. "I don't remember much after that. I know I saw Darlian take Relena away, but I hid low, and he couldn't find me. I don't remember why I hid from Darlian... I think I knew that I wouldn't have gotten revenge if he found me, I wouldn't see these men dead. I knew that I didn't belong there, with him. I... I just didn't want him to find me. So I remember, after Darlian took Relena away, I went into the court yard... to find my parents..."
Damn.
But he asked. I look at Duo, and he looks at me blankly. Not sad, not sympathetic, just... nothing. It is the expression that I need.
My fists grow tighter. "They were dead. Very dead. The bastards cut them to pieces, nothing but..." I choke on air, not able to finish. I have never said it before, and even after all this time, I still won't. Still can't.
After regaining my composure, I sigh again, slowly. Heavily. "Sympathizers came to help... came to pick up... the pieces... and they took me in, after that. They had a funeral for the two of them. Closed casket. They buried an empty one for me. I was there, saw them do it."
"They buried a casket for you?"
I nod slightly, not really paying attention. I was too busy watching the little black box lower into the ground. "They assumed that I had died in the explosions. Said a 'young boy like that could've gotten incinerated from the heat.' Common assumption. Although most knew my face, it was safer, to let the Alliance assume that I was dead. So they buried me with my parents. They buried Relena too, but her headstone was destroyed when she took power in Sank during the war. I requested they leave mine alone."
"Why?"
I look at him and he winces slightly. I wonder vaguely what Duo Maxwell could have seen on my face to cringe away from. "I died that day, as far as I'm concerned. The rest of my life has been nothing but revenge, one after another after another. When they see that child's grave... they'll remember a child. They'll see me, in some small way, see me as I was originally born to be. But they will not see Zechs Marquise."
Duo is silent, perhaps understanding, perhaps not, but I don't really care.
I move on. "Zechs Marquise... died in the war. The first one," I add. I look at him blankly, hoping that no emotion betrays my face. "He died on Libra. You, Heero and all your comrades killed him." When he is about to protest, I cut back in. "But Zechs had two deaths. He was already dead when you killed him, had been for months. Treize killed him. He died for Treize." I think about that for a moment and then I snort in amusement. "Died in Antarctica. Can't get any colder than that, and you can't get more south."
"You died for Treize?"
"In a way you could say that I always will. In Sank, I died so that I could meet him, in Antarctica, I died under his command, and on Libra, I died for his memory. I imagine that eventually, I will die again, and when I do I will die for his spirit, which I may or may not meet on the other side. He and I are connected, in some ways. We always will be."
"So did you...?"
Love him? Want him? Crave after him? "No..." And yes.
"And what about Noin?"
I sigh softly, a bare breath on my thoughts. "As I said before, I don't deserve her."
"Why not?"
"Because..." I pause, eyes narrowing in concentration. "Because I..." Suddenly, I find that I cannot answer. I choke on air, my eyes wide the realization as I stare at him.
He smiles wryly, his eyes taking an odd violet hue under the overhead lights. "Because you're broken? Because you won't stop dying? Because you cannot stay still? Because you cannot commit to a life of peace?"
He pauses looking thoughtful.
"Because... you're a brick in the walls of war, a piece of red stone that lists that names of those who will go on forever in history as the greatest tragedy, the worst victory this world will ever know?"
He shrugs suddenly, and I just stare at him. But then he grins, foolish and mild tempered, like the joker in a courtroom. "You're acting as if you're the only brick, Zechs. Maybe it's time you saw the entire wall."
"What do you mean?"
He tilts his head and rests his chin in a fist, the casual grin disarmed to a sweet little smile. "Maybe you've forgotten that Noin is a brick too, and that she understands you better than anyone. Maybe you've forgotten that I'm a brick, that we're all bricks and we all support each other. Maybe you've forgotten that... well..." He waves vaguely, but his eyes are shining, and I know that he is speaking to himself, as well as to me.
"...that you're not alone?" My voice is oddly calm, like the briefest flash of light before my eyes as I slip into heaven.
"No," he says, in that same calmed epiphany. "No. That we are not alone."
I nod slowly, as the rush takes me. I understand.
He understands.
We all understand.
"So let's start over, Joe." He extends a hand and holds it out to me. "My name is Duo Maxwell. I'm the brick two bricks to your right, and though we have never met, we're both connected, because we all share the same wall. I'm not alone, I never was."
I smile and take his hand, shaking it. "My name is..." I pause, thinking. Then I nod with determination. "My name is Milliardo Peacecraft. I'm the brick two bricks to your left. I am... not alone... and I never was. It's nice to meet you, Duo Maxwell."
"It's nice to meet you too, Milli-man."
"Milliardo, please."
"Milli-man suits you better."