Many thanks again to Karina and the anonymous reviewer who sent me such lovely feedback! To me, Treize and Zechs are The Power Pair par excellence.
Lightning Arc 5 - Winter
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Rating: M for references to an intimate Zechs/Treize relationship.
Pairing: Zechs and Treize
Warnings: m/m love and some references to m/m sex, some swearing - if you are hoping for explicit scenes though, you are likely to be disappointed.
Spoilers: everywhere, in all my stories
Summary: see Chapter 1.
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Chapter 5 - The Hunt
When Zechs followed him, he stood outside, at the far end of the small clearing, near the brook that murmured softly beneath layers of ice. Zechs pulled on a pair of felt boots that would grow heavy with dampness and freeze on the outside, keeping his feet warm on the inside. Treize would wear the same when going out to hunt or fish, but he would even insist on the oldfashioned custom of wrapping his feet in foot-rags, an art in itself for any misplaced fold would chafe and blister. Russian soldiers had conquered thousands of miles on foot like that, he explained to Zechs when asked why he shunned modern waterproofs, or even fur-lined boots.
Zechs shook his head. Sometimes, Treize took tradition a bit far. As he reached for his coat of red foxfur, he looked again – Treize was pacing, a couple of steps one way, a couple of steps in the opposite direction, treading a pattern into the deep snow, and yes, he was sharp enough to take a cellphone along even to this dreamy place.
That much for a few quiet days, Zechs thought crossly, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Slowly, he buttoned up the coat as he kept watching, barely soothed nerves beginning to jangle, roused by instincts that had been honed through a life of warfare.
"Da," he heard Treize's even voice, "panimayu. Niet, ya nie magu – shto? Skazhitie li vuy..."(1) He turned his back, and the rest of the sentence was too muffled for Zechs to understand, until a sudden, pointed, "You heard me, Colonel. I am certainly NOT available now, and I do not give a shit about their fucking orders... what? I am aware of that. Tell them you do not know. Hm? Yes, I know that someone is bound to turn up here, and yes, the press will have pictures from the ball – no, I can manage. Yes. Thank you." His tone softened a little, sounding slightly strained. "I am sorry, Une. I am asking much, and I am aware of the awkward position into which I am putting you. There is no one else I could trust enough right now." He pressed one hand over his face for a moment, then raked through his hair and shook his head. "Thank you." Clicked the cellphone off and slipped it into his pocket.
He stood motionless for a moment, before drawing a deep breath and turning to face Zechs. Unsurprised, blue eyes clear and a bit weary, but a smile on his lips. "Are you ready?"
Zechs said nothing. With a few quick, long steps Treize was with him, wrapping him into a hard embrace and pressing a firm kiss onto his mouth. "Let's go hunting, Miliusha," he murmured, smoothing a stray strand of blond from the younger man's cheek. "I packed some things into the backpack there – bread and meat, a flask of tea, fire kit and ammunition – ah, and your gloves are on the stove."
Trust Treize to think of everything, even to warm the gloves for him. Zechs held on, reluctant to release his friend, and Treize let him. "You should..." Zechs broke off, cleared his throat and tried again, "You should go back."
Treize kissed him again. "There will be a time to say our farewells, but not now. Not yet. Let us go hunting, and later we should check on the fishtraps though I doubt they will yield anything; it appears that they have been disturbed by some fourlegged fiend." He pressed Zechs close and then pushed him back a little. "Well? Are you up to it, my friend?"
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They put on furcaps against the cold that bit sharply into their ears, and dug their faces into their upturned collars to keep nose and chin warm. Snowshoes, woven of rawhide strips over an oval frame of hazel, eased their way through the dense forest. Thick with undergrowth in places, in others serene like a church with the slender, soaring stems of birches rising from the snow into a low, gloomy sky. Shrivelled rosehips, not yet harvested by the occupants of the forest, gleaming from beneath little caps of snow; blackened brambles stubbornly straggling from the frozen ground. Trails of small feet, birds and fourlegged beasts criscrossing the whiteness, and some sparse snowflakes sailing dreamily from the greyness above. The crackling of frozen wood, snow clinging heavily to their feet and dusting their coats as they trudged along, Treize ahead, Zechs content to follow.
As always, he thought, eyes on the broad back of his companion, he had always followed, until now... He felt his chest tighten and tried to put the thought down, but he did not have the same resolve as Treize and began to ponder.
Before he could sink fully into his musings though, Treize stopped sharply and bent to pluck at something hidden in the snow. A trap of skilfully looped wire, designed to kill as swiftly as possible. Treize loosened the snare and lifted up a hare. "Not bad. A couple of days perhaps. Frozen solid."
Zechs took the animal and attached it to the backpack he was carrying. Treize carefully relaid the snare, and they walked on briskly. They checked another four snares, yielding two rabbits, another hare and a polecat with beautiful fur. Treize was content. It started to snow more and the sky darkened, dusk setting in even earlier than on the previous day that had been bright and sunny. So they spared a few moments to eat and drink some warm tea before they got ready to return.
"No stalking today?" Zechs asked, with a vague gesture at their guns. "There were quite a few tracks. I saw new droppings and freshly chewed branches." Indicating hungry deer.
Treize shook his head. "No, it is late, and I am not in the mood. Do you remember the first time you went hunting with me?"
"I hated it."
"You hated the blood."
"You shot that little roe deer, and the stench when you were breaking it open..." He laughed. "To think that this could make me sick..."
"You did eat the slice of liver I offered you."
Zechs gasped. "You looked... you had a drop of blood running down your chin, and that piece of meat between your teeth – how could I say no?"
Treize slanted him a searing glance, pushed a few low branches of a rose thicket aside, held them until Zechs was close, and let go. They whipped back lazily, showering the taller man with a burst of snow. Treize laughed, Zechs swore and then laughed as well, bent as though to evade another branch Treize held back – sincerely this time – and tossed a snowball at his friend. It landed right between Treize's cap and collar, and he jumped.
"Ah – my offer of peace met with a lowly ruse of war," he yapped, reaching up to try to shake the snow from his clothes.
"I studied with the Master," Zechs threw back.
"You always were a bright pupil."
"I'm just good at memorising. Remember what you told me about winning?"
Treize paused, then resumed patting at his clothes again. "Yes. I think... perhaps that was not such a good lesson, after all."
"Why? You proved it many times over: no matter how, once victory is yours, history is rewritten, the law of the conquerer becomes the law of the conquered, and this is the measure by which you'll be judged."
Treize stilled.
A trace of bitterness crept into Zechs' tone. "I did listen. Kept to the rules where I could, but I learned well because you showed me that it works."
"This kind of success comes at a cost," Treize said, barely above his breath. "But I suppose I have no right to talk of mercy."
A brief, thick silence, before Zechs shook his head and laughed, a bit winded. "What are we talking about anyway. It'll all be worth it, and a few snowflakes down your collar won't itch you that bad." He half regretted his words, although his tone was light and bantering. He could not see Treize's face as he smoothed out his fur collar and shook once more from head to toe to get rid of the damp crumbs, before giving up. He started walking, steps crunching steadily in the snow.
"Yes," the older man finally said, smile firmly back in his voice, "so are you proud of being more hardened now?"
Zechs shot him a rather dirty glance. Treize smiled briefly over his shoulder before concentrating on the path ahead again.
"Yes," Zechs finally replied, "I think I am."
"I made love to you that night."
For the first time. Zechs swallowed hard, dropping into the memory like a stone, and only came round when he was caught by Treize's hands on his upper arms. "Hey," a cool, damp whisper into his ear, "stay with me, hm?"
He leaned into the touch, clumsy and numb through all those thick layers of wool and pelt, but firm and familiar nonetheless. "But I am... with you. I was so damn drunk..."
"Not enough," Treize murmured, caressing the blond ponytail with gloved fingers.
"No, just... just enough – I'd have chickened out without it, I think. You were fantastic."
Treize snorted softly. "Only because you let me..."
"I knew it would happen."
"Oh?"
"Because I had been waiting for so damn long, and then I'd been counting the damn days to my birthday so I could get you into bed with me."
"I'd been counting too," Treize admitted quietly.
"You were playing hard to get."
Treize laughed. "I did not fancy a lay in the snow. I might have shrivelled with cold, and you would have gone for someone less embarassing."
Zechs pressed closer, his hands slipping from Treize's shoulders over his back to squeeze his rear a bit. "Still not fond of frosty fucks?"
"No," Treize chuckled, "the problem remains."
"We wear enough gear to keep warm beneath."
"I cannot feel you properly when you are wrapped into all this stuff, and I don't fancy doing you against some tree," Treize said, sliding his grip to Zechs' underarms and pinning them in place. "Let's get back."
It was snowing densely by then, and dusk began to deepen. Soon they would be unable to see where they were going, and their tracks had already almost faded under a fresh, layer of fluffy white.
They returned with the night hard on their heels. They pegged their quarry on a hook in the antechamber, shook snow off their clothes, saw to the horses, fetched water for bath and samovar. All this with few words exchanged. Too tired to care much, Zechs heaped some roughly buttered bread, mushrooms and strips of dried meat on the laquered tray while Treize built and lit the fire. When after a quick wash they sat down on the floor by the stove, with a fresh bottle and the food, a tense silence settled between them.
"What did Une want?" Zechs finally broke the deadlock.
Treize poured two glasses to the brim and saluted. Zechs clinked their glasses together, hooked his arm round that of his companion, and they tossed the drinks back. Zechs stayed like that, his head slumped on Treize's shoulder, his long body folded against the shorter, more compact one of his friend.
"Can't you guess?" Treize finally sighed. "Please, let us not spoil the mood."
"How long until they catch up with you?" Zechs prodded, suddenly weary.
"No more than a day, two with luck," Treize replied, unwillingly acknowledging reality.
"Then we should use our time wisely," Zechs whispered, drawing back a little to touch his lips to the pulse on Treize's neck. "Sleep with me."
xxx
The cellphone beeped discreetly later that night. Treize was but resting, drifting, with a sated Zechs in his arm, their legs entangled, a flood of blond splayed over his chest and shoulders, half-open lips drooling slightly on him as though they had just let go of his nipple.
He shifted cautiously to grab the phone from under his pillow. "Da?" he murmured, trying to disengage himself gently from the rather possessive embrace of the younger man. Only to be drawn in tighter. So he gave up and dropped his voice to a bare whisper. "Who? A journalist? Is that what he told you... ah. Digging up old stories... hm. How cheap. No, I am not surprised; it is so like them to resort to mudslinging where all else fails. Ah, of course they do not want the limelight on the Foundation, so they make it personal – hm? No, thank you Une, I'll be fine. I truly appreciate your loyalty."
He put the call down and lay still, looking at the ceiling. The bedding rustled softly, and he felt Zechs shift, then his voice, deep and soft, "It's such a rare thing, isn't it?"
Treize turned towards him and brushed the mass of silverblond from his face, meeting his gaze that glittered vaguely in the starlit darkness. "Loyalty to a leader makes for faithful soldiers. Accountable, heroic, reliable souls." He traced the sharp profile of his partner, then the harsh lines of cheekbone and jaw, down a firm neck, over a broad shoulder and a muscular arm, only to slip back up and repeat the caress. "But there are those that can only be loyal to themselves. It is the harder part. Treason is relative, as are justice and judgement." He paused a little before cupping the back of Zechs' neck and pulling him into a firm kiss. "My position has been weakened, albeit predictably so. I must buy time. When I return, I will have no choice but to try to have you arrested. You know what that means."
The unavoidable clad in a few smooth, hard words, relayed in a factual tone. Showing that His Excellency General Khushrenada had never stopped reassessing his position, evaluating his strategy, laying out a variety of tactics that took into account as many variants as possible, with the cold precision of a computer. Building defences, simulating scenarios, calculating outcomes. All for the goal that overrode everything else in his life.
Perhaps death was not the ultimate price, Zechs thought as the familiar dragging pain jabbed through his chest, not for such as Treize and him.
A soft sigh, lips touching his cheek. "I will not be able to keep them from courtmartialling you. And if you take off in that suit, I will have to hunt you down."
"Try your best," Zechs murmured into Treize's mouth.
"I will." An odd reluctance, firm hands stroking a long, trim back. "Miliusha," tone dropping to a husky rasp, "would you..."
"Yes," came back a rough whisper, even as long limbs tightened round the shorter man.
xxx
Next chapter: Cornered
Notes:
(1) Da... – Yes, I understand. No, I cannot – what? Could you tell me...
