Preliminary Author's Notes: Due to the inexplicable fact that this website is no longer compatible with the format I use for Ballad, sections of this revised version will no longer be divided by my usual series of three centered asterisks, but rather will be separated in numbered subchapters. I am not fond of this new format, but it seems to be the only way I can make Ballad look more like it used to.
Chapter One
I
Their apartment was on base, as were those of the other top preventers, but though she did not have to travel very far to reach the main facility, Lucrezia was still late for her meeting with the organization's president. Upon entering the building she rushed to the elevator and pressed the button marked '14,' the uppermost aboveground floor. The elevator had ascended only eight levels when it came to a stop.
Lucrezia cursed under her breath and watched with impatience as the doors parted and gave entrance to a young man who looked as tired and frustrated as she felt.
The man studied her in silence for a few moments after the elevator had resumed its ascension, then uttered a small gasp when he recognized her. "Lieutenant Noin," he said, bringing his heels together and saluting.
She turned to him, trying to recall where she had seen him before. He did look vaguely familiar and though she could think of no other place she might have known him from, the title with which he had addressed her disproved the idea that he may have once been her student.
"You don't remember me, do you, Lieutenant?" he asked, smiling.
She shook her head and returned the smile. "No, I'm sorry, I don't."
"I didn't think you would," he said. "We were never formally introduced." He paused. "Three years ago I was a soldier under OZ."
"One of the lucky survivors."
His smile faded. "I don't consider myself that lucky. The others, the ones who died—at least they died knowing and believing in what they were fighting for. They never had to live with any of the regrets that came after the wars were over…when there was nothing left to be done, they never had to go home and see what the wars had really done to the people, what they had done." He sighed and smiled again. There was a certain sadness in his smile, a darkness Lucrezia had seen too many times on the faces of other soldiers who had lived through Treize Kushrenada's battle for an ideal that, she supposed, no one other than the man himself had truly understood; it was a darkness she had seen cross her own face and those of everyone else who had been in some way involved in the wars, a darkness that had haunted Zechs's face as long she had known him.
"No, Ma'am," he said, "I don't consider myself lucky to have survived. To do that would dishonor those I fought with who gave their lives in combat. I merely consider myself fortunate to have been given the chance to rectify the mistakes we've made in the past."
The elevator reached the top floor and the young soldier started into the corridor. "But of course," he said, stopping and looking at her over his shoulder, "we'll never be able to atone for those mistakes, will we, Miss Noin?"
She shook her head. "No. Never fully."
"Farewell, Lieutenant." He turned to the right and disappeared into the hallway, the solid clapping of his boots against the marble floor echoing after him.
He sounds just like Zechs, she thought, so full of remorse even as young as he is. He would rather be dead than be left with the memory of what he's done and have the opportunity to help make it right again.
She proceeded down the hall to the president's office, where she was ushered in immediately. The guards knew nothing of the situation—nor did Lucrezia, for that matter—but they knew better than to detain someone the president had so urgently summoned.
The room was dark as it most often was, illuminated only by the computer monitor on the desk and the light reflected by the Earth, which was visible through the massive window on the wall across from they doorway at which Lucrezia stood.
The president of the prevention organization—who had, like Lucrezia, once been employed under OZ and had worked to form this agency shortly after the assassination of Treize Kushrenada, and had been offered the organization's highest office three months ago when the former president had died during a mission on the L5 Colony—sat in front of the window, her back to the desk and Noin.
"You're late, Noin," she said flatly, not taking her eyes from the blue, glowing Earth.
"I got held up," Lucrezia replied, and her superior did not press for any further explanation.
Une rose from the chair and went to the desk, straightening a stack of papers she found there. "We may have a situation on our hands," she began, shoving the papers in a drawer.
"What kind of situation?"
"I do not yet know the specifics, but if this turns out to be what it looks like, our time of peace could be coming to an end."
"You're saying there's going to be another war?"
Not again, oh please, God, not again.
"I'm saying that it's a possibility."
"A war between whom? The Earth and the colonies?"
"The Earth's involvement is unknown at this time."
Lucrezia drove her fist into the desk. "Then who is involved?" she yelled, staring into Midii's cold, narrowed eyes, unaware of how loud her voice had become in its outrage over what she was hearing. "Why do you think another war could break out?"
Une stepped away from the desk, returning to her spot near the window. "I've received a report of the possible manufacturing and shipment of mobile suits."
"Mobile suits? By whom? Where are they being shipped to?"
Une sighed and shrugged.
"We don't know who's building them or who gave the order to have them built. We don't know where they're being shipped, either."
"Then what do you know?" Lucrezia asked bitterly, fighting the urge to leap across the desk and strangle the former OZ countess.
"Only that it's a completely new model, supposedly more powerful than anything OZ ever created."
"More powerful than the Zero System?"
"I wouldn't jump to that extreme yet, Miss Noin." She shifted her gaze back to the view of the Earth.
Noin stood up straight and backed away from the desk, stealing a glance at the computer's monitor as she did. The white of the screen was marred by small black text but she was too far away to read any of it. "Who sent you the report?"
"An ally on one of the colonies," Une replied. "Triton Bloom."
"I thought Trowa was going to stay on Earth for a while."
She said nothing.
"How did he find out about this?"
"He has his sources." Une turned to face her. "I'm having you transferred, Noin. This fire is still relatively small, but I'm sure you realize its potential."
She nodded. "Where are you sending me?"
"The L3 Colony. You and Zechs will leave this base tomorrow morning with--"
"Preventer Wind will not be accompanying me on this mission," she broke in, perhaps too hastily.
Midii shot her a quizzical glance. Though Lucrezia suspected she was still unsure of the nature of their relationship—she herself was unsure of it—this was the first time Zechs would not be joining her on a prevention operation and it was enough to make Une momentarily forget what she was saying.
Midii nodded and continued. "You will depart from this base tomorrow morning with Sally Po and her partner. The three of you will rendezvous with Trowa Barton once you arrive at L3. I'm sure he will be able to take care of things from there."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Be prepared to leave at 0600 hours."
"Yes."
"She managed to maintain the peace for a while, at least, didn't she?" Une asked, throwing Lucrezia an almost amused smirk. "Miss Relena Darlian. Little Relena Peacecraft. She tried."
"Zechs says she's going to fail," Lucrezia said.
"Does he?"
"In so many words, yes."
"He may be right."
Lucrezia turned and started to walk out of the room.
"Noin," Midii called out when she was at the door. Lucrezia stopped and looked back at her.
Une stepped back from the window and gestured at the slowly rotating blue sphere beyond. "What do you think Mr. Treize would think of this, of the way it is now? If he could see all of this just once more, what would he think of it?"
Without answering, Lucrezia exited the room and shut the door behind her, leaving Midii Une to the darkness and the memories of the fallen leader.
II
She did not immediately return to the apartment. There was still some paperwork required on the completion of the last mission she had gone on, and, much as she had always hated paperwork and the formalities it entailed, she had nothing better to do.
She settled into an office on the seventh floor. The room was labeled an office simply because it contained a desk, a chair, a small computer, and in the corner diagonally opposite these things, a small sofa. It was, however, a well-furnished room compared to some of the others in the building, most of which were all but completely empty.
It was not always so quiet and empty here, though. Almost half of the organization's members would be gone for the next week-and-a-half at least, depending on how long the conferences on Earth lasted. The meetings held by the Council did not require preventer attendance but Une had sent many of them regardless, perhaps simply because they would provide her with records of what was said and done much quicker than the Council would. A few other members whom she hadn't stationed at the Council estate had requested leave to attend and she had granted it.
Lucrezia was one of those whom Une had asked to go. Asked, not sent, somewhat to her surprise. Perhaps it was because of their former affiliation with OZ, perhaps not. Another theory she had as to why the potential mission had come to her as a request rather than an order was that Une had been able to tell how distressed she was and knew that if she were sent there against her will, she would be of little use or none at all.
She had turned down the offer. Under normal circumstances she probably would have gone, but there was too much she had to do here. Making sure Zechs didn't drink himself to death, for one. She had not given a reason for her declination of the offer but she suspected that there had been no need to do so; Une seemed to know that something was wrong with him without being told, though she would never mention it.
The Council sessions lasted on a standard of four weeks and were extended as long as necessary for any unresolved issues. There remained yet a few days before any such extension would be announced and for that time and any additional time that might be required, Lucrezia would be alone on this floor. She would not be around to enjoy the peace of the dark, empty halls, though, not after tomorrow morning.
Lucrezia did not have to ask why this mission had not been on request like the one before it had. The possibility of another war, be it between Earth and the colonies or two landowners on where one's property ended and the other's began, outweighed any personal dilemma she might be going through, and she recognized this fact just as surely and coldly as Une did. There was a big difference between listening to session after session of old men discussing every little matter under the sun and reporting their findings and checking out a situation that could quite possibly lead to another war, and if Zechs decided to will himself into death with the help of some more potent alcohol—God only knew where he got some of it—while she was away attending to the latter, there was nothing she could do except put up a strong front at his funeral.
Zechs. When had she ever started thinking of him so harshly?
She had often shared this room with him in the past. Though he had his own office on the next floor, more often than not he was more easily found with her, talking about any and everything other than war or, when he was at a loss for words, simply lying on the sofa and staring up at the ceiling as she typed and signed Une's beloved paperwork.
It struck her numbly that she already missed that.
She did not bother to turn on the light when she entered the small office. She was rather fond of working in the dark, these past few years especially, and she had every intention of allowing herself that one indulgence today.
She took off her jacket and tossed it across the room, onto the sofa. She couldn't see a thing, not even the slightest impression of the desk in the far right corner, but she knew her way through this mostly empty room well enough for it to require no thought whatsoever.
Lucrezia crossed the room, lowered herself into the chair before the desk. She switched on the computer and shielded her eyes to prevent them from being assaulted from the sudden burst of light from the screen. Once they had adjusted, she went to work.
Her last mission had been over two months ago. It had not been a very big deal—it was little more than simply supervising a conference between a handful of colonies from the L2 cluster—and she had been able to put it so far back in her mind that doing the paperwork had not occurred to her until now. It really wasn't necessary, she knew, despite all the legalities associated with preventer interference, and if she never did it, the worst she would receive from Une would be an admonition not to treat all her missions with such carelessness.
Zechs, as he always had since his return to life, had accompanied her on the mission. Something had been wrong with him then but it had not taken him so completely away from life as it was doing now, and as the conference droned on the two of them had begun exchanging bored glances from their posts at the back of the room, and once he had smiled at her. Rare was the occasion that any expression crossed his face, much less a smile, and this had surprised her. It had seemed almost like a peace offering for his distance from her, an offering which she had accepted.
They had endured only another hour of the conference. Zechs had stepped closer to her when he could no longer withstand his boredom and quietly suggested that they leave.
She closed her eyes for just one moment—for a moment was all the time she would allow herself to think of these things—and sat back in the chair, her hand still poised over the keyboard, remembering how the conference had ended for the two of them.
III
She looked up at him with incredulous eyes. "What?"
She said this a little too loudly but the attendees of the conference, sitting around a series of tables on the other side of the room, remained oblivious to them, just as they had been when the conference began.
Again, the faint trace of a smile upon his lips. "Are you bored enough to want to leave?"
"Are you serious?" she whispered, knowing that he was but amazed nonetheless. She had seen Zechs sit through countless lectures that put even this to shame when it came to being sleep-inducing, his eyes open and attentive (except for a few occasions when they were cadets at Lake Victoria, during which he kept them closed beneath the shield of his mask), his concentration never seeming to waiver, and now he was asking her if she wanted to abort a mission because they were bored.
He gave a slight nod.
Had it been any other person in either the world or space, Lucrezia Noin would have stayed firmly planted where she was. If Midii Une herself stormed into the room and ordered her to leave, even then she would still have hesitated. But it was not just any person, nor was it Une or even the risen, decaying, stitched-together corpse of Treize Kushrenada; it was Zechs asking her, and in all her life she could not remember ever once refusing him.
She simply nodded. They both glanced back at the colonists. They were all enthralled by whatever matter was being discussed now, and it wasn't likely that any would notice the two supervisors slipping out through the back exit.
And that was what they did, stepping quietly as not to cause their footsteps to echo on the marble floor and alert the attendees to their early departure. They left as silently as a pair of specters from their graves, giving neither thought nor glance to the people whose words they were supposed to report on when they returned to Mars.
"What are we going to do now?" she asked once they were outside the room with the heavy door shut behind them.
Zechs shrugged. They started down the corridor that would eventually lead to the building's exit. After some time, without saying so much as a single word, he put his arm around her waist.
She missed a step, stunned. Even when it became known that the two of them had more than just a platonic relationship he had never displayed any signs of it in public, and rather than flatter her, his sudden lapse from his usual stoic front worried her. They had forsaken a mission—a mindlessly boring one, but a mission nonetheless—on his suggestion and now he was walking her down a court hallway with his arm around her…maybe now he was going to tell her what it was that had been mentally taking him away for the past few months and maybe that something was infinitely worse than anything she had ever imagined, and—
"What's wrong, Lucrezia?" he asked, addressing her by her first name, which he had used before they had become official soldiers and to which he had reverted once all their militaristic ties had been severed. He glanced down to his side at her. "You're tense."
She tried to relax and could not. She found herself unable to do anything but offer him a smile.
He looked at her a moment longer, then shrugged again and continued on, his arm still pressing against the small of her back, his hand still resting on her hip.
They left the building this way, and he guided her toward the small craft they arrived in. He assumed the pilot's seat and she sat at his side, silently overcome by that same feeling of wonder that always took her when she could be beside him without any of the formalities they had had to use while employed as soldiers, without any apologies or excuses, to simply be with him.
They left the colony. For a while she thought they were returning to Mars, then as they neared the red planet, Zechs steered the craft away from it, toward the great colored speck of light that was the planet Jupiter, and beyond that, nothing but space. She considered the possibility that he would keep going even after the lights of the colonies no longer touched their eyes; keep going deeper into the abyss of space until the craft ran out of fuel or he found something that provided the peace he so desperately had searched for, thereby ending her suffering as well as his own. She previously had thought that if—God forbid—Zechs ever did decide he was better off dead, he would not do anything while she was with him but now she reconsidered that. He knew how much he meant to her; she had told him enough times that there should be no doubt in his mind about it. And likewise, though he often did not know how to tell her, she at least meant something to him, too. Maybe this was his final exit from life, and mercifully he was taking her with him. If this was so, did she really care?
No. This was the answer, plain and simple, blunt as it may be. No. She did not care.
Let him do it. They would go down into the grave together then, just the two of them, finally inseparably together in death as they never could be in life.
But a double suicide didn't seem to be what Zechs had in mind, not today at least, for after a while he shut off the craft's engines, letting it simply drift weightlessly in space. He lowered his head until strands of his soft platinum hair fell out from behind his ears, obstructing her view of his face. He clasped his hands below his chest and breathed deeply, as one taken in by a Zen enchantment.
She did nothing to disturb him, merely watched him as she often did while he slept.
"Have I ever been cruel to you, Lucrezia?" he asked after some uncountable time had passed. There was something in his voice that scared her. Something in those words that terrified her as his half-crazed threat to end her life along with those of the Gundam pilots had never been able to do.
She was too stunned to speak.
"Please answer me," he said softly, not as a command but as a plea, and this only scared her even more, for in all the years that she had known him, Zechs Marquise had never pleaded for anything, not from a friend, not from an enemy, and certainly not from her.
"No," she said finally, struggling to prevent her voice from faltering.
"Are you being honest?"
Still so desperate, so pleading. Like words on a dying man's final breath.
"Zechs, you know I wouldn't lie to you." And she wasn't lying, though she knew it must sound like she was, for in spite of all her efforts her voice refused to be steady.
"Yes, I do know," he said, and strangely she could hear something that sounded like a cynical smile in his voice. "I never have understood that."
"I've never asked you to understand it," she replied.
He sighed wearily and fell back in the chair. His eyes opened—those beautiful icy blue eyes that sometimes were as cold and empty as a body without a soul and at others seemed as deep as outer space itself—and he looked at her. Those eyes were empty now.
"Am I frightening you, Lucrezia?"
She averted her eyes from his. "What do you mean?"
"You're shaking," he said pointedly, and gestured toward her hands, which had rested loosely clasped over her knees until he said this. She was shaking, she realized, and not only in her hands; her entire body, from her head all the way down her legs, seemed to be trembling. She had not been aware of this until now and she tried to regain control of herself, but the more she tried the harder she shook.
"Am I frightening you?" he repeated dully.
Unable to speak under the emotionless scrutiny of his eyes, she could do nothing but simply shake her head.
He leaned forward, brushed one of his hands against the side of her face. "I am being unfair to you, though, aren't I, Lucrezia?"
"Zechs…what are you talking about?"
His hand went over her face again. He leaned even closer to her and guided her face toward him until their lips were all but touching. She could feel his steady, calm breathing against her own shaky exhalations.
"I'm sorry, Lucrezia," he whispered.
"Zechs…"
He looked into her eyes a moment longer, his own eyes still empty but also searching, perhaps seeking something that ultimately she could not provide.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, then he mumbled something to himself and released her. He rose from the chair and, casting her only one more glance, he left the cockpit.
Wearily, dejectedly, she sighed and leaned forward in her own seat, resting her elbows on the control panel. Her head fell into her upturned palms, her eyes closed, lips parted in wordless despair that seemed more and more with each passing day to be her constant companion. It was the posture of one either in tears or in prayer and the latter was what she was closest to, although she was not aware of a single word entering her mind.
How long she stayed like this was questionable—it could have been anywhere from a mere few minutes to a few hours for all she knew—but she did not make a single movement until he returned. He entered the cockpit to find her slumped in her chair and to her surprise he did not go immediately back to his own seat. He went, instead, to her, placing one of his strong hands on her shoulder.
"You're trying to understand something that can't be understood," he said softly, and there was a faint scent of liquor on his breath. "Don't do that to yourself. I've caused you enough pain, you don't need to inflict any more upon yourself."
She raised up, looking at him, dry-eyed and silently praying for a strength she didn't possess.
She could have demanded an explanation for everything then and there and somehow she believed that if she had, he would have provided it, but she did not. Whatever had been slowly taking him away from her over the year since they had gone to Mars, part of her was still merely afraid to know, and another part was afraid that knowing might mean she had to let him go.
"Yes, sir," she replied finally, as though they were still soldiers and he still of a higher rank than she, though he had never thought of her as being anything other than his equal.
He leaned down and for a brief second she felt his lips brush against her cheek. When she gave no response, he resumed the pilot's seat and restarted the craft's engine.
They did return to Mars this time, but the craft did not touch down at the Prevention Organization's port. Zechs guided it to a public landing area and brought it to a halt in the most secluded hangar he could find. He did not speak to her as they debarked but as they left the port on foot he linked his arm through hers. This was gradually becoming a more common gesture between the two of them and despite the past few months she had always taken this as a good sign. Zechs always had been able to express what he meant better through actions rather than words.
Their apartment was not far from the port and they did not bother with trying to get a ride. They walked through one of the most residential areas of the colony, arm-in-arm like a pair of young lovers who yielded not to despair or to time. And they were still young, she thought, both of them only twenty-two, though most who did not know them personally believed they were much older than that. War had taken their youth and stolen their innocence before they were even mature enough to know what they were losing. Had they ever really been children? Yes, so many years ago she could barely remember it, she had been a child who knew nothing of fear or hatred, and Zechs had been one too, under another name and of a different standing on war. They had been children once but only for a few years, and then they were made into adults by warfare. They had missed out on everything that the young are supposed to find, from the trivial happinesses to those of greater importance, and sorrows that make a youth into an adult. She could not remember having a single good friend in her youth other than Zechs. The most special of occasions of her life had been funerals and her graduation from a military academy. Her first and only love she had found on a military base; her first kiss had been with her face pressed against the cold outer shell of a mask used to hide a prince's (her prince's) identity. Hell, the conference she and Zechs had just walked out on was the closest thing to a date she had ever been on, though she had never been concerned about such things, and every other thing a young girl is supposed to learn she had no experience in. And though the two of them had never discussed their pathetic states, she knew that Zechs's case was even more pitiful than her own.
And lovers…yes, they were that too, though their relationship contained none of the exuberant happiness that the term implied. She was happy with him and although he did not know how to say it she knew that he was happy with her, but the feeling between them was not one specifically of happiness but rather of comfort, of being lost together in the calm that falls after the storm. Their relationship had not been truly platonic for years but they had only become lovers in every sense of the word a few months ago, only after both of them had been able to come to terms with the fact that the wars were finally over and they had both survived them all and were no longer of any use. Those had been quiet days of peace when the two of them had ceased to exist to the world—including Une and the rest of the organization, as well as Zechs's darling sister—and had been concerned with nothing, oblivious to everything around them. During that time they had managed to reclaim some of what the wars had taken from them, and it had only fallen into the natural scheme of such things that they would eventually come to a boundary that, despite the rumors that had followed them since Lake Victoria, they had never dared cross.
A pair of young lovers, cut by bloodshed, scarred by war, still trying to pick up the pieces of their lives even now, fourteen months after the last battle, wasn't that all they were? No longer the Lightning Count and the Commander, no longer the Colonel and the Instructor or even the two lieutenants, what were they now but two nameless people who had only each other in the world?
These two nameless people no longer cut an imposing figure in public as they had only two years ago, and they were able to walk through this area of the colony without being recognized. This was nothing less than a blessed relief. Enough time had elapsed since Milliardo Peacecraft had launched the war that was supposed to end all wars that his face, even framed by his wild platinum hair, was no longer recognizable; likewise so much time had passed since any military organization had spread the legend of the great Lightning Count that his name no longer inspired awe. Lieutenant Lucrezia Noin had been known as a fearsome soldier only within OZ ranks. There were some both on the base and living in the Martian suburbs who had worked for OZ and did recognize them, but never was a word of the past spoken amongst them. They were free in their anonymity now, two nameless, faceless people walking among the masses.
Deep within her heart, however, Lucrezia had a feeling that their illusion would soon be broken.
It did not take them long to reach the preventer's base, nor was the walk to their apartment complex too lengthy to be enjoyable. The apartment they had been designated by the organization was on the fourth floor of the complex, and the elevator facilitated their return home in less than a minute.
Neither of them spoke as they walked down the empty corridor toward their room. All was silent around them; only three other people lived on this floor despite the number of rooms and they were all scattered throughout the halls.
He released her arm once inside their room, eased the door shut behind them and quietly locked it.
She glanced to her side at him. "Zechs?"
"Hmm?" He turned from her, to the small table to the right. He swept up all the documents that lay on it and dumped them into a drawer.
"What did we just do?"
He leaned over the desk, switched off the visual communication transmitter that fed into the computer. "I believe we just prematurely left the site of a mission."
"Why?"
He stepped around the desk, reached behind it. The low hum of the dormant computer died as he ripped the plug from the wall. "Because in the end, conferences and formal discussions won't matter."
Won't matter to what? she wanted to ask, but did not. She watched him quizzically.
Now he reached into the pocket of his uniform jacket and withdrew his phone. Without a word of explanation, he removed its batteries.
What was he doing?
"What would Une have said?"
Zechs favored her with a glance and raised eyebrows. "If Une had been there, she would have made it so interesting we wouldn't have left."
Before she could say another word, he stepped toward her, embraced her fiercely. She uttered a small cry of surprise as he brought his lips to hers, then she returned the embrace, her hands sliding up his broad back and tangling themselves in his hair.
There was no question now what his intentions were, why he had eliminated the possible interruptions. This was an act that they had only begun to engage in a few months ago and there was still some brief hesitation as they started: for a moment his hands fell away from her and his insistent kiss became desperate and her own embrace slackened as she thought but dared not say, 'I can't do this.' Then, abruptly as it had fallen between them, the moment passed and he was guiding her toward their bedroom, closing and locking this door as well, further barricading the two of them from the world beyond these walls.
He paused before they could go any further. "Lucrezia?"
"Hmm?" His lips were unyielding to hers now so she pressed hers to his neck as she blindly began to unfasten his uniform jacket.
"Do you think what we just did was wrong?"
He was worrying about this now? "Zechs?"
"Yes, Lucrezia?"
"Shut up."
He smiled then, and softly gave his characteristic low, quiet laugh.
He kissed her again and this time it was obvious that there would be no further hesitation. He undressed her quickly and efficiently; likewise, she undressed him, as his hands, which were fast becoming expert, traveled over her. She uttered a small gasp when he, almost violently wrenched his lips away from hers and slowly went down her neck, down onto her bare shoulders, down lower still until they were finding the same places his hands were.
He lifted her and threw back the covers on the bed, then lowered her onto it like a newly-pronounced groom would his bride on the eve of their wedding. Her arms slid about his shoulders, pulling him close to her as they started, and that loose embrace did not falter until the act was done.
They were well-practiced with each other now and fell easily into a familiar rhythm. This was something she knew only with him and he only with her, and had known only for a few months now, despite what some believed. Their first time had not begun this easily nor had it begun as abruptly as this impromptu interlude had. Two twenty-one-year-old virgins sitting on the edge of a bed trying to stop themselves and knowing that they wouldn't be able to this time.
"Forgive my inexperience, Lucrezia," he had said softly before he had taken her that first time, more apologetically than he had spoken of his betrayal of his father's ideals.
"Only if you will forgive mine."
Thus they had become lovers and thus they remained; and as thus they acted upon this bed they had shared since they had gone to the incomplete Martian colony. Their eyes met once as their shared rhythm began to quicken, and she saw that his eyes were no longer empty: they were filled by a depth that would make even the deepest ocean of Earth envious. Without a word she pulled him closer to her still, as he slid his arms around her, gently crushing her against him.
As he finished she whispered something to him, her lips moving against his neck, her bare shoulders veiled by his long hair and for just one moment he paused, as he always did when she said this. It was something no person knew save for the two of them, and she said it only when they were alone, when they both put away the proverbial masks they were forced to wear in public. The thing she whispered to him was neither sweet nor truly endearing; it was simply honest, the only thing they still had to remind themselves of how it all was supposed to have been.
Slowly, as she lay breathless beneath him, he withdrew from her. "Luca?" he said, still holding her against him.
She looked up at him inquisitively.
"Have you ever doubted my feelings toward you?"
She thought for a moment of how she should answer this, but really that brief consideration was unnecessary. "Yes," she said once her breathing had slowed some.
He looked away from her, his face darkened by an emotion she could only identify as shame. "Please don't," he said finally, bending to kiss her. "Not ever again. Don't."
She returned the kiss, and after a few moments that may as well have been hours of silence, they released each other. He lay on his side, facing her, and she moved closer to him, resting her face against his chest. Neither of them said a word as they lay there, and eventually they fell asleep.
IV
Almost two full months had passed since that last mission that had begun so idly and ended so sweetly, and during that time—though she had never dared tell Zechs about this—she had already gone through a brief scare that she might be pregnant. That had been a while ago now, and the repercussions of their abandonment of their mission was not a child but rather this paperwork. She knew that Une really wasn't going to read over the report that carefully—Noin would not have been surprised if she never read it at all—but this was a necessity for the organization's files; and Une had once gone as far as to call such records a precaution.
"That was the problem with OZ in the end," she had said. "Nobody knew what the hell was going on."
And that was Une's biggest fear, Noin supposed, that one day there would somehow be a repetition of what happened with OZ and there she would be, right at the top of it all, with the whole thing laid at her feet to command, only this time she would be without someone for whom to kill, without someone, in the end, for whom to die.
The very beginning of the report she had already written with no problem, for it was only the final hours of the conference that she had missed. There was still a bit she had to cover before she came to what she had not witnessed and this should have come easily to her, for the sessions leading up to their unapologetic departure were still fresh in her memory, yet still she could not think of a single word.
"I really don't feel like doing this," she remarked to nothing and no one. Again, she fell back in the chair. Her hands slid down the keyboard, hitting a slew of letters that, when she glanced up at the monitor, caused her to give a weak smile at their senselessness.
The truth was that she really didn't feel like doing anything anymore. The truth was that for once in her life she was slacking at everything, from the insignificant to the important, and she really didn't care.
And the final truth behind this was that the illusion at last had been shattered, and that he was leaving her.
This was no great surprise to her, nor had it been the night before, when he had told her that he was leaving. He had been slowly leaving her for months now, ever since they had first come to the Martian colony.
Tears came unbidden to her eyes as she thought this, and this time she was successfully able to contain them. She was becoming so pathetic, so disgustingly weak. Then again, she had always been weak when it came to him.
He had not told her why he had to go to Earth; he had simply stated that it was necessary that he leave, and soon. She had asked why and he had not answered. She could only—and rightfully—assume that one of those men without names or faces had asked (or told) him to do it, and like the obedient soldier that he had so long ago been, he had agreed.
She didn't know who the people were whom Zechs spent so much time talking to, via his computer. He took every precaution to keep her from overhearing their conversations, and the few times she had managed to catch a few words the only one she was able to make out was 'counteroffensive.' A counteroffensive against what she had no knowledge, but, despite how badly she wanted to disbelieve this, she had assumed that Zechs was somehow involved in it.
And if this well-founded theory was correct, he had been involved in it for quite some time now. Their first night on Mars he had sent a message to Earth, and as time went on these messages became more frequent, until Zechs was reinstalling the visual communication device into his computer and then spending entire hours in front of it, speaking in his deep, eloquent voice and typing away furiously. She suspected that his involvement in whatever this thing (the counteroffensive) was had begun sometime during the year he had spent supposedly dead, but how and why was beyond her, as was how and why he had survived the explosion in the first place. He had never really spoken of it to her. After a while, she had learned not to even bother asking.
There had been a time—so far away now—when he had seemed to cease all communication with these people, though, those weeks (or a few months? She couldn't tell anymore) in which they had dropped out of existence. Perhaps he had only better concealed his involvement for her benefit then, but she really did not think so. But he had been unable to resist the call of duty, just as he had been unable to resist the call to fight during the wars of the past, and their self-imposed exile from the human race had ended when she awakened one morning to find him at his computer, typing an apology for his absence to someone on Earth. The call of duty.
The call to fight.
Another war.
"Shit," she mumbled under her breath. Was that it? Was something happening on Earth—had something been happening on Earth—that would lead to another war? And if so, was it connected to the possible mobile suit production in the colonies that Une had mentioned?
She couldn't think of this now. She couldn't jump to this conclusion. If she did, it would undoubtedly drive her insane. She had only to finish this accursed report, then go home to see if Zechs was still there or if he had deserted her already, this time without so much as a simple, callous 'goodbye.'
Or maybe he's getting drunk again, a voice inside her head whispered, a fiendish, wicked voice that still reminded her of her own. She cringed at the all-too-plausible thought. He could very well be getting hammered at this very moment. He did it often these days.
The drinking had begun fairly recently, only a few months ago when he had just started truly distancing himself from her, and even now he still made every effort to conceal this knowledge from her. But their apartment was small and it provided only so many places where one could discard empty glass bottles. She had known long before she started finding such evidence that he was drinking and doing so frequently, though. He could try to hide the bottles and the glasses but he could not mask the scent of it on his breath or his bloodshot eyes, or the faint trembling that wracked his hands when he drank. And she could always tell when he was drunk even before she noticed these physical signs: when the alcohol went to his brain he withdrew even further into himself, refusing to speak or even to look at her, as though he was oblivious to her presence. Perhaps he was oblivious; undeniably, his mind was strong—it had to be after all he had gone through—but there were certain things it yielded to, and it would be no great surprise if alcohol were one of them.
Once she had been one of them.
She did not know why he felt the need to keep any of this from her. She did not question it. She had never questioned anything he did, not even when he had accepted the position of leadership of the White Fang, always trusting that his true intentions were right. His secrecy hurt her only a little. What caused the most pain was his decision to drown himself and all his sorrows in liquor rather than unload them all on her. She had offered her shoulder to him for such purposes years ago and despite all she had been through for him, that offer still stood.
And now there was a pain even deeper than what she had felt as she watched him drink his life away and then (for all she knew) sign his soul over to the devil (who currently resided somewhere on Earth) because he was leaving her.
This would not be the first time he walked out on her, but if he never returned at least it would prove to be the last. The pain she felt this time was more acute than what she had experienced before, so that she found herself unable to think of anything other than this. She had been a pathetic fool, believing they could live together in peace now when she should have known from experience that this would all happen again. They would be together for so long, then he would get a call that appealed to his sense of nobility and would leave her to fight for some greater ideal that, in the end, probably did not exist, or if it did, it did not matter.
Lucrezia groaned wearily and stared up at the report displayed on the computer's monitor. She couldn't finish it today. She probably would never finish it. If a war broke out as a result of her apathy, then she could go down in history as a careless, bloodthirsty would-be tyrant masquerading as a diplomat for peace. She really didn't care anymore.
She really didn't.
Author's Notes: I am simply going to apologize for this chapter. I wrote it in bits and pieces over a period of time without referring to what I had previously written; thus, many paragraphs contradict each other, or simply repeat what has earlier been said. And writing Lucrezia's character is really not my strong suit. I am very displeased with this chapter, but as so many people have already read it, and because the story is over and done and I am now only editing it again, I made only grammatical corrections. The story moves away from Noin after this one, thankfully.
In regard to the connection between Lady Une and Trowa, it was really only an idea I was playing with. I am a big Trowa x Quatre fan, but as I decided when I first began Ballad that for once I would not delve into the wonderful world of yaoi, I thought I would explore a pairing based on the Episode Zero manga.