Chapter Twelve

I

"Testing one, zero, one, two, three, f–"

"I can hear you," Zechs interrupted, the deliberating hollowness of his voice refracting back to him off the walls of the helmet.

"Pilot communications to ground are good," the boy — whom Zechs had met only briefly earlier — said to someone on the small technical crew that had been called out from behind the curtains and assembled for this. He had never seen any of them before this night, nor had most of them ever seen him in person.

"Testing two, zero, one, two…"

"Yes."

"Backup communications are good. How are you feeling, Mr. Marquise?"

This was almost enough to elicit a slight smile from him. Never, throughout his entire military career, had he been asked how he felt before piloting a mobile suit.

"Fine," he responded.

"How does the cockpit seem to you? We did our best to duplicate the original, but I'm afraid we weren't left with much to work with. The cockpit was almost completely destroyed."

"So I've heard."

There was a quiet thump as the boy set the communications device down. A moment later, it was picked up again, and a woman's voice greeted him. "Good evening, Monsieur Marquise. I would like to say that we will stop wasting your time and get on with this, but it seems that Odin has disappeared."

Zechs heard a faint, familiar chuckle, so close and so clear that it seemed to come from someone standing behind him. He turned in the seat and through the helmet's tinted portal saw nothing.

"I'm here," Odin Lowe said, apparently by way of some other communications line that had been installed without Zechs's knowledge.

There was a perplexed sigh from the woman. "Excuse me, but where exactly are you, sir?"

"Near enough to see what I need to," Odin replied, and gave no further explanation.

A brief hesitation, which Zechs found somewhat amusing. "Very well then," the woman said finally. "If you're ready, sir, we'll proceed."

"Of course."

"Monsieur Marquise?"

"Yes."

The woman gave the command to begin, and Zechs activated the Gundam, which had lain dormant all these years.

"Epyon," he breathed quietly, not caring that the entire technical crew as well Odin Lowe was listening. A greeting. A prayer. An offering of his soul to the machine.

They had all met earlier that evening in this field, a strategic location for what they were going to do, in the countryside outside of Newport. He had not informed Relena that he would be leaving again, yet to Lucrezia he had given as many details as he safely could. To ease her mind, he had waited until she had fallen asleep, one of her slender hands resting atop her still-flat abdomen where his child grew, before he left.

It did not take him long at all to become reacquainted with the maneuvers of the suit. Its reaction time seemed to have been enhanced in the reconstruction, and this pleased him as the mere sight of the Gundam had not. After some time he realized that he was smiling. Of course he was. He had never been Zechs Marquise in this Gundam nor had he been Milliardo Peacecraft, Crown Prince of the Sanq Kingdom. He had merely been the Lightning Count, the famed soldier who killed entire battalions in an instant, the proud killer of his own men and all who opposed him alike. He did not need his mask, behind which he had hidden for so many years, to become so careless; he needed only the Epyon, and to truly lose himself, he needed only the system.

He did not announce it when he activated the system. The first thing he became aware of once his mind was linked to it was that the self-detonation mechanism had been temporarily shut down. This didn't matter. Everything ceased to matter. For one brief moment he began to remember that this was not the original system, designed by Treize and based on Zero. For one brief moment he began to realize what he himself had done to the system, how he had enhanced it. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the moment passed.

The controls became heavier in his hands. The field around him, chosen for its landscape that would allow for testing the maneuvering capabilities of a mobile suit, became a war zone. He was aware that the images before him were not real yet he was unaware, just as he was unaware of Odin's voice ordering the technical crew to leave. It was all irrelevant to him.

"Stop it, Epyon," he growled behind his clenched teeth. But there could be no resistance. He had already given in.

Before him now, an old-model Leo. The first mobile suit he had ever piloted at the academy. Another suit just like it in front of him. The other pilot laughing in excitement, he only gripping the controls and waiting. Defeating the other pilot within seven minutes, a record for a first-time pilot in an unarmed suit. Finding the violet-haired girl walking alone in the darkness. Learning who she was and what that would have eventually meant to him, had the kingdom never fallen, his parents never died. Removing his mask in her presence days afterward and in turn revealing who he was. Fighting her, almost being defeated by her. Treize's voice: "They say you've found a worthy opponent, Milliardo." Years passing. Relena's face, wide eyes, the rebel holding her hostage laughing until he saw Zechs. Relena's confusion as she failed to recognize him. Leaving her. Leaving the academy, leaving the girl. Leaving Treize finally, only to return to him as a soldier for the OZ organization. Damn him for ever forming the organization. Damn them both for even once believing any good could come of it.

"Zechs, stop it."

The Gundams, the first one he had ever encountered. The boy who would become his greatest opponent. His greatest ally.

"Leave. All of you. Inform the other in Vólos to be prepared."

Her face again, pale and glistening from the battle she had just endured. Asking her to join him. The boy again, self-detonating.

The pilot of that Gundam is only a boy.

"Zechs, you're allowing the system to override your mind."

Before he left OZ, standing in Treize's main office. Treize's hand on his shoulder.

It's almost time for the great war to begin, are you aware of that, Milliardo?

The other Gundam pilot, the one from L5. Wufei. Fighting him, letting the Zero system control him.

I am not your enemy.

Sitting in a bar in some godforsaken wasteland. The three men who had followed him. Three men walk into a bar and try to end the world. Funny. Realizing that what Quinze offered was the perfect opportunity to rectify what he had done in the past. Relena's face as she begged him to step down from the White Fang, as she refused to see what he was doing.

I am not your enemy.

Lucrezia. Please, God, no, not this one. Crying, not yet realizing but on the verge of it. Not realizing that he wasn't strong enough to deny what the Epyon demanded of him. Rushing at her. No. Pulling against the Gundam to left just before the beam saber would have cut through her Taurus.

I am not your enemy.

Now the Wing Zero. The pilot. Heero. The only one who had ever truly understood what he was doing.

I am not your enemy.

Another year, another war. Seeing the girl again after the war ended. Treize's misguided daughter. Looking up at him with those strange blue eyes. "Prince Milliardo."

I am not your enemy.

Lucrezia. Relena. Heero.

I am not your enemy.

Are you saying that—

Yes, I'm saying that Miss Noin is pregnant.

I am not your enemy.

I am not—

"I am not your enemy," he gasped, tearing the helmet from his head. "Relena--"

Two hands, almost inhumanly strong, prying him from the seat. The Epyon had collapsed; he was lying against the chair rather than sitting in it.

"I am not your enemy. Please, God, I am not your enemy."

"Prince, you're going to have to stand. I'm not carrying you back to the palace."

He tried to do as the voice told him, could not. The second attempt was more successful.

"I am not your enemy," he repeated as he was assisted to the ground.

If the voice responded, he never knew, for the moment his feet touched the ground, he lost consciousness.

II

(The Devil and the Angel Part I)

It was past midnight by the time Relena left her, claiming satisfaction with her excuses for Zechs's absence. In all honesty she no longer cared whether Relena believed her or not. She merely wished that the girl would realize she wasn't the only one affected by him.

Lucrezia did not rise when Relena stood to leave as she had become accustomed to doing while serving as Captain of the Imperial Guard, nor did she walk her out into the hallway. She supposed she could blame her pregnancy for her apathy were she not growing sick of making these incessant excuses, excuses for herself, for Zechs, for the organization, even for the child who had yet to do anything that required an excuse. It was all getting so disgusting.

She had left this room only once today, to receive a phone call that she had hoped would be from Zechs, and she had retreated back to it immediately after. Relena was worried about her for this, she knew, but somehow in light of the day's events, she didn't care. She couldn't.

Zechs had not returned until shortly after midnight the previous evening, quiet and brooding as he almost always was, but in his usually empty eyes had been the expression of one who has just seen a ghost. She later found out how true this was.

Between sips of bourbon he had delivered to her a monotonous account of the Epyon's reconstruction and of his journey through the maze of underground passageways that seemed, from his description, something more suiting of a gothic horror novel than a military base, to find the forgotten Gundam, Treize's handmade war god. He stopped drinking long enough to tell her of the test of the Gundam and its new system and where that test would occur, then polished off the glass — not his first since his return that evening — in the midst of informing her that he would again be leaving her for a while. She had not objected to what he was going to do. She understood the necessity of it. She had, however, asked him what he had done to the system, to which he replied, "Nothing that I won't be able to handle."

And so she had done as she always had in the past whenever he was given a new mission, she had nodded and said she understood, all the while masking her desperate fear for him. It was all she could do.

He had left that morning to meet with the faceless Odin Lowe in a city twenty miles north of Vólos. She had not heard from him since his departure.

Early in the afternoon a knock had come at the door of their suite. She had leapt from the desk where she had been composing a letter to the Prevention Organization and found Pagan on the other side, his voice and manner calm and polite but his face alive with obvious confusion.

"Pardon me, Miss Noin," he had said, bowing slightly. "You have received a rather frantic telephone call."

Her heart sank into her stomach, and unconsciously one hand went there as well, where her unborn child rested. "Zechs," she began, and Pagan cut her off.

"No, Miss Noin, the caller identified herself as one Midii Une."

She wasted no time with relief. She rushed past Pagan and ran down the hall, to the next wing and into the library, where the nearest working phone was.

Une had not given her a chance to say anything. The moment she heard the click of the phone being picked up she asked, in a frenzied voice to which Pagan's description could not have done justice, "Noin, is that you?"

"I'm here," she replied calmly while her mind was in chaos.

"I can't stay here, Noin," Une stammered. "I'm returning to the colony tonight. I have to. I can't stay here."

"What's happened?"

"I — he never told me," she babbled, and in the background Lucrezia though she heard a door open and another voice speak. Une seemed oblivious to this. "He knew all this time and he never told anyone."

"Who are you talking about?"

Une stuttered for almost a minute then cried out, "Zechs! He knew all this time that His-His-His Excellency–"

Oh shit, she thought, and said under her breath. This had been inevitable, she supposed, and had she not been so worried about Zechs it would have struck her harder.

"His Excellency is alive," Une finally finished, and as she did the phone was taken away from her.

"Miss Noin," a voice greeted her, a voice she immediately recognized as Trowa's. "I am escorting President Une back to the Martian colony. The rest of the organization needs not hear of why their President is suddenly leaving them. Can you see to it that no suspicion is raised within the Sanq Kingdom?"

"Of course," she agreed, knowing what he meant for her to do but unsure of how credible she would seem when she did it.

"All the others will stay here and continue the investigation of the events in Austria. A proper leader has been selected to oversee the investigation, but if need arises, do you think you could oversee it, Miss Noin?"

"Yes." She had understood immediately what was implied by a 'proper leader.' A person had been found within the organization who knew of what was really happening on Earth and would ensure that no one learned of Odin Lowe's existence or his hand in the events of the upcoming battle that would arise partly because of the incident in Austria. "One more thing, Trowa," she said before he hung up.

On the other end, the silence of waiting. It was well known to her by now that Trowa never spoke an unnecessary word.

"Will she be all right?"

He seemed to be considering this for some time, then at last he spoke. "In time she will be. I'm going to stay with her on the colony for a while. She should not be alone right now."

"Of course." She laid the phone back down in its cradle. Now, sitting huddled on the bed, hours after the conversation, she wondered if, had the situation involved herself rather than Une, Zechs would have done the same for her. The thought plagued her mind, as such things were prone to do with pregnant women, and she almost convinced herself that he would not before she realized what she was doing. Of course he would have. He already had, when, at a moment's notice, he had abandoned what he was doing on Earth to go to her when she had been hospitalized, even if his actions prior to that day suggested otherwise. She only hoped that it wasn't out of obligation.

Stop it, she told herself silently, forcing the thought out of her head. You're pregnant and you're concerned about him, but that is no reason to start doubting him. Not now.

She tried to busy her mind with thinking of what she would have to say to do as Trowa had asked and prevent 'suspicion from being raised' in the kingdom, which meant, really, that she would have to release a statement to the kingdom's press on the abrupt departure of the Prevention Organization's President. She was not surprised that Trowa had asked her to do this rather than Zechs. She was fully aware of how little information on both Treize's organization and the counteroffensive could be made known to the public, and despite the kingdom's quick acceptance of the return of their Prince, the people would now be less likely to believe him now that his aforementioned return seemed too timely and given his record for, in the past, involving himself in every war possible. Her own case was none too better, but somehow that would do less to discredit her plausibility than it would Zechs's. Perhaps it was as Wufei had once said to her: the public will more readily accept the word of a woman than it will that of a man. She thought of how quickly the colonies had accepted OZ with Lady Une as its representative. Had it been a man, even Treize, as charming and charismatic as he could be when necessary, would the colonies have hesitated then? Perhaps, but then perhaps not.

However, this did not help her any in deciding how she would field the press's questions.

She sighed and fell back against the pillows. "Zechs," she said aloud, sounding more than slightly worried in the empty confines of their bedroom, "you would kill yourself and leave me for your great meaningless war, wouldn't you?"

As if in response, she heard the faint sound of a door slamming down the corridor and the sudden echoing of two sets of footsteps, one man almost running while the other seeming to be dragged. She lay there listening to them, feeling her heart pound in her chest with every step taken, until they stopped outside the parlor door.

Please, God, don't let it be what I think it is.

She rose from the bed and went to the door, listening. Two voices spoke on the other side, and though she couldn't derive a clear word from it all, one sounded impatient and demanding while the other was quieter, frightened.

The voices ceased. Someone pounded on the door, insistently, yet it was not quite ominous. Lucrezia threw the door open and was not astonished at all to see the devil himself standing there.

"Miss Noin, I presume," he said. He was years older than Lucrezia, yet somehow ageless, and rather handsome in a dark way that in centuries past would have driven even the most respectable of women mad. He was dressed completely in black and over his dark clothes he wore long black overcoat.

Beside him, as if in some mocking tableau, the devil held an angel.

Zechs was still standing, but only because of the man's arm locked around his waist, holding him up. Likewise Zechs's arm was draped over the man's shoulders. His head was bowed and he seemed to be mumbling to himself, oblivious to everything around him.

"Zechs," she breathed, half in relief and half in horror. He looked wildly up at her. His eyes were wide and bloodshot; his face was contorted in an expression of crazed fear. His platinum hair was damp and matted to his forehead with sweat, and a few strands, she saw, were reddened with blood.

"I'm sorry to disturb you so late in the evening,' the man said, "or perhaps I should say so early in the morning, but I thought you might want this."

She looked up at him incredulously and could only move aside numbly from the door.

The man began guiding Zechs into the room. He received no resistance at first, but when they were almost completely through the doorway, Zechs clutched onto the man and refused to go any further.

"It's dark in here," he whispered, and he did not sound like Zechs Marquise but rather like a small, frightened child. "It's so dark."

Lucrezia started toward the lamp on the desk to adjust its brightness, unable to do anything else.

"Don't," the man said without taking his eyes from Zechs. "The light is sufficient. He's only hallucinating."

She looked at him, feeling her eyes widen and her jaw become unhinged.

"Please," Zechs whimpered, pulling closer to him. "It's so dark in here." A large tear spilled down his face.

"Dear God," she whispered.

The nameless devil in black glanced at her. "Please calm down, Miss Noin. It won't do to have you both like this and if you don't you may very well bring on another near-miscarriage." He returned his eyes to Zechs. "Come on, Marquise, you've made it this far, only a little farther."

Zechs didn't move.

The man sighed. "Very well then, up you go." He lifted Zechs up into his arms as though he weighed nothing at all and carried him into the parlor that joined the bedroom, setting him down in an armchair. Zechs released him reluctantly and huddled against the back of the chair, whimpering softly to himself and crying silently.

Lucrezia was only now able to speak again. She caught the man by the wrist as he turned away from Zechs and demanded, "What the hell did you people do to him?"

He did not seem angered by this. "We did nothing to him. He did this to himself."

"What do you mean?"

He removed his wrist from her grasp and went toward the door. She ran after him, darting in front of him and blocking the doorway of the bedroom. Her eyes met his finally, and she felt that he was looking into her mind, into the depths of her very soul.

"You're him, aren't you?" she asked, her voice not quite as acidic as it had been. "You're Odin Lowe."

"I'm afraid I must answer to that name, yes."

"What happened to him?"

"Miss Noin, there is no time–"

"Please tell me."

"Ask him in the morning if you can get him to sleep the rest of the night. He should be coherent when he wakes."

He tried to pass her. She did not move.

"Miss Noin, please," he said patiently. "Unless you want to draw from the kingdom's treasury to have the Prince released from prison, you will allow me to leave."

"What?"

"To put it simply and quickly, Miss Noin, there is a rather interesting weapon lying in the open within the kingdom. This rather interesting weapon just so happens to be a mobile suit, and this mobile suit just happens to be a Gundam. There are only two Gundams left in existence. One of them has not been seen since its supposed destruction and disappearance during the Mariemaia incident and can no longer be traced to anyone. The other is the Epyon, which can only be traced to the Prince. And after what occurred in Austria, if this Gundam is seen and identified while I should have been moving it, the matter will not be taken lightly."

She stared at him a moment longer, then silently moved from the doorway. He crossed through the parlor and exited into the corridor. His running footsteps echoed only briefly then faded altogether, as though he had been nothing more than a dark specter.

She locked the door behind him and returned to Zechs. He had not moved from the chair and seemed to take no note of her.

"What have you done to yourself, Zechs?" she whispered, kneeling in front of him.

As if in response he said, "I don't want to be here. It's so dark in here." The voice and the frightened eyes of a child. "Zechs–"

"Don't leave me alone in here."

"I won't," she said, though she knew he really was not aware of her presence. She fought back the tears that threatened to come and bit into her lip to stop it from trembling.

He stirred in the chair and suddenly his eyes widened again. He merely stared ahead for several minutes, then began, "I think I'm going–" His voice was cut off by a convulsion. Lucrezia jumped to her feet as the convulsions continued, and she realized that he was heaving. He groaned as she tried to help him to his feet but eventually was able to stand, though he was still heaving. She guided him toward the adjacent bathroom, stopping only for a moment to turn on the lights. Once inside, he refused to any further than the marble sink.

"Zechs, come on," she pleaded, unable to force him to move forward, lacking the strength of the man who had carried him into the palace. He remained oblivious to her. Finally she was able to help him lean over the sink, where he laid his head against the cold marble as the heaving continued. There was nothing on his stomach apparently but the convulsions went on unabated. At last the convulsions did bear a result, though, and when Zechs's head moved enough so that Lucrezia was provided with a view into the sink she again felt her heart stop. The white marble was streaked crimson with blood, glistening red under the pale light as it rolled slowly down toward the drain. Zechs's quivering lower lip was stained with it.

The image rose unbidden to her mind of him being carried into the gathering of tents that served as a makeshift medical facility after his first time in the cockpit of the Tallgeese, weak and gasping, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. A heart attack, it had been determined. A heart attack at the age of nineteen. He had recovered fully from it, and all who had examined him afterward had proclaimed that his heart was in wonderful condition, that there was nothing that should prevent him physically from continuing his career as a soldier. No more had ever been said about it, nor had it even been mentioned when Zechs had reemerged in outer space in the Epyon. They had all but forgotten about it completely.

She stared at the blood in the sink as though it were something conjured at a sorcerer's incantation, some hideous demon sent from the deepest pit of Hell. It had always simply been assumed that his recovery truly was full and there could be no relapse, that the great Lightning Count could handle anything. But never had he been like this, never, not even in the Eve Wars when the system had briefly taken his mind—

She could no longer hold the tears back. "Zechs, please stop doing this to yourself," she said, tentatively touching his hand. "Please stop it."

If he heard her, he gave no sign. A shudder wracked his body but the convulsions seemed to have stopped. After another minutes of staring listlessly at his own blood, he backed away from the sink, continued this silent retreat until his back touched the corner of the wall. He slid down the wall like a limp rag doll and drew his knees up as if in defense, hugging them to this chest.

"Help me," he pleaded, a lost, desperate child tormented by the demons of his own mind. "Please help me. It's so dark in here."

"Zechs." She stifled a sob and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. In the corner, huddled and lost in his own dark world, Zechs was crying again too, sobbing quietly into his own hands. Two tears slipped through his fingers and rolled down the length of his wrist. She couldn't bear to see him like this, watching helplessly, unable to do anything to comfort him. It was a torture worse than her own death. Yet she could not leave him. She could not, though somewhere within her mind she wanted to. Even if he was not aware of her being there with him, she couldn't leave him in this state, alone and terrified and pleading. She wouldn't.

Lucrezia withdrew a washcloth from the cabinet above the sink, dampened it with hot water. She approached his sobbing huddled figure carefully as not to alarm him when she touched him, and he gave no resistance as she wiped the blood from his face. She lifted his hair and wiped the drying sweat from his brow, then likewise washed the blood from his hair. Running her fingertips through it she located the source of the blood, two thin, shallow cuts that lay in the middle of a large bruise on his scalp, most likely an injury sustained while wearing the Epyon's helmet.

She kissed his forehead and held him against her while he cried quietly and trembled. He continued to whisper to himself but she could barely hear him, and if he were still pleading for help in the dark, she would rather not hear.

Several hours passed with them like this. His crying gradually began to subside as did the trembling, but she did not let go of him.

At some point his eyes came back into focus. He looked up at her and she saw that the redness was gone and his pupils were no longer dilated, yet he still did not seem to see her.

"I didn't mean to," he said finally. The childish tone had left his voice but he still sounded so desperate. "I swear I didn't mean to."

In silent response she again kissed his forehead.

"I didn't mean to become this. Relena would hate me if she knew who I am and what I am to her. Father would hate me if he were still alive."

"Zechs, don't."

His eyes went to hers again. No, he could not see her, she realized, but please, God, this had to be an improvement. "I wanted to look out for her," he said, his voice shaking although his body no longer was. "I left her at the academy so I could look out for her."

Lucrezia realized he was talking about her and unconsciously her arms tightened around him.

"She was always trying to be second, in order to make me look better. If I left she wouldn't have to do that anymore. She can't be brought into the war. She has to stay as uninvolved as possible."

Was he talking to himself or to someone he saw in whatever vision now haunted his troubled mind?

"She cannot be tainted by any of this," he continued, then broke down into incoherent mumbling.

"Zechs, please stop it," she begged, feeling the tears threaten her eyes again. Tainted, yes, my love, but tainted for you, tainted by war in order to stay close to you, to remain always at your side. "Stop this."

He was just as oblivious to her voice as he had been earlier. "I do love her–"

"Zechs, please don't. Don't do this."

"—but I'm too much of a damned coward to say it."

She held him closer against her, laid her head over his. He allowed her to do this. Perhaps he could not even feel it, so gone was he from his body.

As dawn's pale gray light began to creep in from behind the closed curtains, Zechs at last fell asleep. Lucrezia released him and stretched his unconscious body out on the floor to prevent him being even sorer when he woke. She still refused to leave him. She knelt by him as the sun rose over the kingdom, running her fingers absently through his long, platinum hair as she had so loved to ever since they were hardly more than children, as she so often did now as he slept.

After the sun had long been risen and the afternoon began to wane, she lay down and slept beside him, resting her head on his chest with one arm draped loosely over him, her fingers still curled in his hair.

She was awakened a few hours later by a knock at the door. Quietly, without disturbing the sleeping prince, she rose from the floor and crossed the joint living room and bedroom, and went into the parlor. The antique clock on the wall informed her that the hour was after 8:00.

By this time, Lucrezia had forgotten what her cryptic midnight visitor had warned about the possible imprisonment of Sanq's prince.

She would not need to remember it, however. On the other side of the door stood Pagan, smiling cordially and holding a cluttered silver tray in his hands. She returned the smile for whatever it was worth (she was quite aware of how weary she must look) and ushered him inside.

"Good evening, Miss Noin," he said warmly. "You were missed at breakfast this morning and again at lunch." He started toward the room adjacent to the bedroom. Lucrezia started to fabricate an excuse but he silenced her with a quiet laugh. "No need to worry, Miss Noin. I am aware enough of the situation to understand."

She looked at him, disbelieving.

Again he laughed. "No, Miss Noin, I only learned of these events last night. I too had quite an interesting encounter after midnight." He went to the oaken table and set the tray down. "This is for you, Miss Noin," he said as though he had not been beginning an intriguing matter only moments ago. "A portion of tonight's dinner was reserved for you, and I believe that Miss Lanka provided more than you usually eat. You have not eaten all day, Miss Noin, and even if you don't need it, the child does."

She nodded and sat down at the table. She knew he would not leave until he saw her eat.

She noticed that she had left the bathroom door open, and though she had turned off the lights after Zechs had fallen asleep, he was still clearly visible, lying as though dead on the floor.

"Do not worry about the Prince," Pagan said, watching her as she lifted the fork to her mouth. "I suspect I know what has happened, and that is why I prevented Miss Relena from coming here today."

Lucrezia offered him the chair across from her. After a minute or more of coaxing, he took it.

"I should explain," he began, as she listened while consuming of everything that was on the tray. "I was awakened late last night by the sound of two voices outside the servants' entrance. I did not recognize one of them, but the other I immediately placed as that of Prince Milliardo. I went to the door and opened it, only to find two men, one of whom I had never seen before and the other one the man who is presently lying on the bathroom floor. The former was trying to coax the Prince into telling him where to find you, and the Prince was stammering and not sounding at all like himself. I let them in for the Prince's sake, and when I saw what state he was in I provided to the other one what information I could. The man returned minutes later without the Prince, and therefore I assumed that he had indeed found you. He was about to depart when I offered to return him to where he seemed to so urgently need to be. Do not ask me, Miss Noin, I don't know why I did. But after a moment he accepted. I believe, Miss Noin, that he only did so because of how little time he had to waste. He spoke only to tell me where to go and it was not very far from here, but he seemed to me the kind of man who has all of his affairs gathered and knows precisely what he is doing at all times."

Lucrezia nodded.

"Miss Noin, you are not eating enough. We arrived at his destination, not very far from here, as I've said, and though it was very dark I saw from the car what appeared to be a fallen mobile suit. After some time of studying it, I identified it as none other than the Gundam Epyon. I said nothing to the man about it, of course, nor did he to me. I trust the situation was taken care of, however, for there has been no mention of it."

"Did he tell you his name?"

"Yes, I believe it was that of a Norse deity, Odin, if I'm not mistaken." Pagan thought for a minute, then added, "He wanted me to deliver a message to you, Miss Noin. He sends his apologies if he inconvenienced you. He says he did not want to return the Prince to you in the state he was in, but at the time he was left with no other choice."

"I understand."

Pagan smiled and rose. "Will you be needing anything else, Miss Noin?" She shook her head. "Thank you, Pagan."

He nodded and left the suite.

Zechs began to stir an hour later. Lucrezia had long since returned to him by then and sat by his side while his former silence gave way to a series of sleep-muffled groans and his stillness to restless shifting. She could not take this as either a good or bad sign: he was often like this as he awoke, especially if in sleep he had suffered from a nightmare.

After several minutes of this, the shifting ceased. He lay perfectly still again, then slowly his eyes opened.

She waited.

He turned his eyes to her. She could not tell if he was really seeing her now, and she was too afraid to speak to him, fearing that if he were still in the same condition he had been in last night, the sound of her voice would only trigger his own desolate fear.

"Luca," he said finally, squinting to see her through the wispy shroud of his hair.

She couldn't repress the grateful smile that lit her face when he spoke. "I'm here," she said as calmly as she could manage.

He tried to get up. He groaned through clenched teeth when he lifted his head from the floor as though it pained him to do so.

She helped him to his feet and had to steady him at first when his legs threatened to collapse beneath him. He was still dazed but coherent now, and disorientation was to be expected after what he had endured.

"How did I get here?" he mumbled, surveying the room and realizing where he was.

"You were carried," she replied. He looked at her incredulously. "By Odin Lowe."

His brow furrowed as though in concentration. At last he merely sighed and leaned back against the wall, pressing a hand to his forehead like a man suffering from a hangover. "Relena–"

"She doesn't know. She had finally gone to sleep when he brought you here and Pagan has been keeping her from coming here all day."

He opened one eye and looked at her. "All day?"

"You've been practically unconscious for more than twelve hours now." She watched him as he considered this, then asked, "How do you feel?"

He grunted and after a moment replied, "I'm fine. Are you all right, Luca?"

"Why would I not be?"

He shook his head. She thought of all the bruises that covered his scalp beneath the mask of his hair and only now did it occur to her that he could have sustained something more than a minor head injury.

"What did I do last night?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts. "If I have only been unconscious for twelve hours?"

She hesitated. She had been afraid he would ask this, but the anticipation had hardly been enough to provide her with an answer. "You were in a state of shock," she said finally, leaving it at that. It was a suitable description, she supposed, but still after what she had seen him go through, it seemed foolishly inadequate.

He merely nodded, just as he had when an OZ-employed physician had informed him that what he had suffered in the Tallgeese was a heart attack. Would it never really concern him, she wondered, how much damage he inflicted upon himself, as long as it was only himself he inflicted it upon?

Silently she guided him out of the bathroom, easing him down into a chair at the table, where she pushed in front of him the small tray Pagan had brought only a few minutes ago for when the Prince awoke. Zechs looked up at her when she told him this and gave a weak, almost amused smile. Atop the tray were two glasses, one of water and another of orange juice, and a porcelain mug of coffee. He drank the entire glass of water in one long swallowing gulp then as he started the coffee he began questioning her for more of the answers she didn't want to have to provide.

"Did Odin tell you what happened?"

She sat down beside him. "No. He said you would be coherent enough to tell me when you awoke."

He finished the coffee and moved on to the orange juice. When at last he realized that she was waiting for an answer he said simply, "It was a miscalculation within the system."

She stifled a scoff. A mere miscalculation would have only required that he exert more force and concentration against the system, not resulted in the trembling, crying childlike wreck he had been last night.

After several minutes he asked, "Did I say anything last night, Luca?"

She couldn't answer. Had he said anything last night? Of course he had. He had pleaded for help and cried that it was too dark wherever he was, and then he had begged not to be left alone in the darkness, and then as if that were not enough he had heaved until he had coughed up blood and then curled up in the corner like a terrified child. Had he said anything?

"You said that you love me," she replied finally, not knowing why, not even intending on replying at all.

"Did I?" He looked down quickly as though to guard some unwanted expression. He raised the glass to his lips, set it down again without drinking. "I do, Luca," he said when the silence became too much between them. "I know that I–"

"Zechs, don't–"

He silenced her with a kiss. The suddenness of it shocked her so much that at first she was unable to do anything, and while she merely allowed his lips to cover hers he pulled her up from the chair and lifted her into his arms. She laughed softly and returned the kiss, trying to push from her mind the memories of the night before, all the images that threatened to resurface, images of the blood running over his lips, of him huddled against the wall and hiding his tears behind his hands, of him clutching onto her as though he were drowning and she was the only thing that could keep him afloat. Please don't think of that anymore, not now, never please—

He held on to her now almost as tightly as he had last night but in a different way, one she knew well by now. This had again become a relatively frequent occurrence between them since they had returned to Sanq together, almost something of a ritual.

He guided her toward the bed as she kissed him, unable to let go of him as she had been unable to touch him only a second ago. She was overcome in those moments that always preceded this act, these moments in which she could always feel some hesitation within him, in which they silently made the transition from being the closest of friends for whatever that was worth to lovers in every form, by a feeling quite like that of gratitude. And gratitude it was, a bittersweet kind, gratitude that he had been returned to her regardless of how it had happened, gratitude that whatever he had seen inside the confines of his mind could no longer harm him, gratitude that whatever the hell had happened last night, he was still in one piece. It was the same gratitude that she had felt so many times in the past when he had been given a new mission that was especially dangerous and had been returned to her unscathed.

He pulled back the covers and lowered her down onto the bed. She was still fully dressed, both of them were, but this had never proven a hindrance to them in the past.

She pressed her lips to his cheek as her hands fumbled to remove his clothes, just as his did to her. Loose stands of his platinum hair fell onto her bared shoulders, brushing against her as lightly as feathers on the wings of an angel. At first they merely lay against each other, she kissing him still, letting her lips travel over his beautiful, calm face as his hands traveled slowly, almost lazily over her body. Her lips found his again and she embraced him, and for those moments it seemed to be not a mutual surrender but rather that he was surrendering completely to her. She kissed him once more and slowly began tangling her hands in his hair as he merely let her do whatever she wanted.

Yes, my prince, please just let me, don't question what happened last night, don't even try to remember it, don't tell me what really occurred with the Epyon because I don't wan to know, just please stay here with me like this always, let me, let me—

And he did, for a while at least, allowing her to move against him as he merely submitted to her. She at last elicited a low sigh from him as she guided him to seal this act, and slowly, almost hesitantly, he entered her as her arms encircled him. She was reminded of a more innocent night in Florence, seven years ago now, and how close this had come to happening then.

They committed this act twice that evening, the first time slowly and quietly, their sighs and pleading moans nothing more than whispers, the second quickly and desperate, and yet their voices were hushed still, as though to release anything louder than a whisper would be desecration.

Sleep, afterward, came easily and dreamlessly to them both.

Author's Notes: The first section of this chapter is one of my favorite scenes from Ballad. As some of the lovely reviewers have pointed out, I do love torturing Zechs, and cockpit systems make such wonderful torture devices for certain characters. Most of the scenes in Zechs's little freakout are recognizably from the GW series. The references to Lucrezia are from another fan fiction I once started to write detailing Zechs and Noin's years at Lake Victoria. The reference to Relena being taken hostage comes from her chapter of the Episode Zero manga. For those of you who have read the manga, wasn't Zechs just so adorable in those huge sunglasses?

I made it twelve chapters into a story before the sex scene; I do believe that's a record for me. This is probably the most undetailed sex scene I have ever written. Several of my fan fiction stories and most of my original ones delve into the world of erotica at some point, so reading this chapter was rather amusing for me. This is the last bit of sweetness for a while, though; after this there is much more interest in making war rather than love.