((Whoot. Another chapter. Sorry it took so long, but I had issues with this one. I redid it twice, thinking it sounded way to much like Zechs was obsessing... But in the end, I went with the first draft of it anyway. . Mainly for the reason that although it does sound like that, it's accurate. If anyone's ever seen someone and fallen in love (or lust) at first sight, then they'd probably be the first to agree. When that happens, sometimes just the way that person's hair kisses their cheek when they move, or the way an anklet laying over their skin sparkles, can set you off. So yes, forgive it if it sounds creepy... That emotion often is just that when witnessed from a outside point of view. Also, another big thanks for all you people out there who read the first two chapters and nicely nudged me to continue. It's helped. ))

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He listened to the sharp click of his heels on the base's pristine floors, and decided he hated the sound. It echoed hollowly in his ears, and right now that was exactly how he felt. Empty. And it held a ring of finality in it that made his heart twitch unhappily in his chest.

On the outside, Trieze's finest general looked as he always did. Impeccably neat, stern and serious, and so surprisingly beautiful even as his expression and stance warned the world not to touch. But inwardly, the blonde found himself having one of those rare moments when he really wished he wasn't involved in this war… Or any war for that matter.

It was a normal thing, he knew. Being around countless soldiers and hearing their similar feelings told him that, but that didn't stop the twinge of guilt he felt at the thoughts. Because even with all the things he'd done in silence while truly hating them, things that sometimes left him waking in the middle of the night and biting his lips until they almost bleed just to keep in screams, this war had also introduced him to new people and possibilities… And some of those he couldn't imagine a life without. He knew who he was now, and he wouldn't go back to that nameless confusion of before without a damned good reason.

That didn't change how he felt right now though, as he stiffly made his way past the computer rooms and labs where hundreds of paid workers scrambled to make more of a nerve gas that really had no purpose for them. He didn't want to be here right now. He hadn't wanted to actually, since he'd shot a dart into the back of someone's neck, watched the body slump down to the carpet, and then flipped him over to the see the face of an angel.

Zechs didn't believe in heaven or hell.

Or at least he hadn't.

But when he'd seen that far-too-young face, frozen in forced slumber, a wedge of doubt had instantly been drilled into his mind. He'd knelt beside the form and had raised a hand to his mouth to stifle in the questions that wanted to bubble out, because somehow breaking the silence he'd created seemed wrong… And he'd stared at the boy.

He wasn't stupid, he knew this was a person before him. One that bleed just as he did, that needed to breath to survive and needed food and shelter, but that still didn't shake the near iron thought that he was being granted something rare. A glimpse at proof that some deific being had granted people. Looking at that face he wondered how some people could disbelieve. Because angel or not, there was still enough innocence and… And -goodness-, in those features that it should have been enough to make people at least pause and wonder what they were doing with their life and if it was right.

He wasn't even aware the hand that was moving to touch the soft feathers of golden blonde on the boy's head was his own until he actually felt that silken hair beneath his fingers… And by then, it was too late for him to pull them back anyway. That crown of hair was like solid bliss to touch, and he sat awestruck as he moved the mussy bangs off a pale forehead and wondered at what color the eyes beneath those fluttering lids would be. His guess was blue… Maybe a pale blue like his own, or a brighter cornflower blue like those of Trieze, one feature of the older male he frequently found himself thinking of.

It was the thought of the other blonde that made him finally jerk his hand back with a startled hiss of breath. This is my enemy. I'm sitting here petting an enemy and comparing him to my lover… The very man I serve and have brought this boy down for. The man who will undoubtedly decide the fate of this boy that I think maybe I craved from the first second I turned him over...

There was something so twisted about that idea that it made Zechs turn from his fallen prisoner and stifle a gag.

By the time he heard the clattering footsteps of more guards approaching (he'd called for backup and it'd taken them this long to get here, another thing to talk to Trieze about), he'd collected himself again and was now sitting in the chair behind the desk, moodily staring down at the limp form.

They'd clamored in and he actually had to bark at them to keep them from walking all over the delicate body, such little respect for their surrounding. Another sign of bad training that made him mentally wince.

After specifically ordering them to be careful with the little intruder and watching them cart the boy off to place him in a cell until they knew what to do with him, Zechs sat in the dark of that office for a long time. Just another silent shadow in the early morning glow, but his thoughts were those that were better left to the darkest of nights.

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And now here he was again.

Somehow, he'd managed to keep from going to check on the young man he'd captured for a few hours. A task that should have been easy, but one he could admit inwardly was anything but. Since emerging from the office and waiting for Trieze to summon him for his report, Zechs had found himself pacing like a wild beast more often then he cared to acknowledge.

His men had noticed it and had gotten edgy around him, perhaps fearing that he was having one of his even more strict days and was going to randomly grab the nearest of their rank to make some example of. He preferred they think that though. Better than the truth, that his mind was actually several halls away, focusing on the enemy and the way his candy pink lips had looked so soft and childish as he breathed in his sleep.

Maybe this is my hell.

That was the unwelcome thought that repeated itself unmercilessly in his mind as he trudge on to fulfill his lover's order. Believing in it or not before now, it seemed so suiting. Maybe this is my hell… I've certainly earned it. But must it have come with such a sweet face to slowly drive me mad and make me regret every minute of my life?

Of course it had to. That was the true agony of the situation. Granted such a glimpse at that strange perfection, he would now have to destroy it to satisfy the only other man who truly knew him.

He turned the last corner and slipped in through the doors of the their surprisingly small prison, only needing to flick his eyes to the stony faced guard behind the clear-topped desk to continue on his way undisturbed. And for a good thing too, since with his nerves this strung out, he thought he might honestly shoot someone for creating more of a problem for him. Or at the least, make whoever had dared's next shift very, very unpleasant.

Past that almost uncomfortably clean office-y room (that was one thing he was pleased about. At least the men they'd hired to make their useless drug insisted upon the neatness.) lay just one hallway to lead into the actual cells. There were only six, three laying to both his left and right. But here that was probably plenty considering they weren't expecting that many guests (at least none that would get to stick around), and they were all state of the art. Walls without seams, nothing that could be broken off of either the small cot in each or the toiletries, and that unbreakable glass wall that actually made up the hall itself. One could walk down here at any time and view the people within like fish in a tank.

It was disgusting… And very practical. At the very least, the people that went in could be positive they weren't entering into a trap, because there was no chance of the prisoner hiding behind doors here, or hanging from lights to choke them. All of the illumination for each cell came from the well entrapped fluorescents in the roof. Just changing those was a pain for people who knew how, Zechs had seen this and found it both comical and reassuring to the cells' safety. And the doors didn't even need to be opened for food, a small tray slot in each door covered that.

Somehow, the whole set-up reminded him of those people that bought a beautiful rambunctious kitten, then promptly had it neutered, de-clawed, and sent to obedience school… Then a week later complained to their friends that it was lazy and they were bored with it, and weren't kitten's supposed to be playful? Theirs just skittered away and hide under the sofa…

In other words. -- He found this prison to be tame.

And he despised it.

Oh, the safety was nice. And the fact that he knew even the incompetent imbeciles he was currently forced to work with couldn't possibly mess this up… But it was boring, and that made him twitchy. One reason he'd never minded guard duty before he'd advanced rank was the -possibility- of excitement. Of course, nothing ever really happened, or when it did it was small and typically handled with ease… But still. There was always that possibility that you were doing something dangerous, and you might be right in the heart of some action about to take place. An emotion in the air of the men you worked with that was nearly electrical. Fear, anticipation, and appreciation for the unexpected. You risked your life to check in on these sometimes violent men, and it made your heart pound and your mind start working on possible ways to protect yourself.

There was none of that in this prison. Prison, he mentally rolled his eyes as he walked past the large reinforced windows of the first pair of cells. Both were spotless, still brightly lit, and without anyone in them. More like a glorified hospital. Or a scientists' lab filled with unsuspecting subjects in their own caged worlds. That last thought actually bothered him quite a bit.

It brought to mind images of the old wars they'd had to read about while still in school. Men in tailored suits of war hunting people for no better causes then the color of their skin or their religion, or a difference in a minor belief. Catching these people and torturing them, killing them, making them do things that no human should ever have to endure… And all of the experiments that were never documented. Yet that people knew of them somehow anyway and feared the very idea of them with instant distaste, and often with haunted eyes.

People were more civil now, he knew… But history always repeats itself; and in every man, there is that small seed of evil that is just waiting for the right moment to fully blossom.

The third and fourth cell he passes are likewise empty, awaiting their miserable dweller to arrive in his or her own time. Nothing so patient as an inanimate object. And nothing so hungry sometimes, comes the uninvited thought.

Though he can feel the chill winding down his back and is aware that for whatever reason, this particular trip down these halls is making him more than just uncomfortable, that it's actually frightening him and he can't stop that feeling no matter how he tries to redirect his mind; nothing changed outwardly in his sharp steps or expressionless face.

He takes the last few steps to the final pair of holding chambers and feels his heart lurch. The fifth one is just as empty as the rest, but the sixth…

The tall blonde soldier had to -force- his body to comply with his mind, and almost numbly, he turned to face the window of the sixth cell.

The boy he'd shot with the dart was sitting on the bed, his feet resting on the floor and his delicate hands placed in his lap in a strangely proper way. In fact, his whole stance surprised Zechs… Part of him had thought he'd catch the blonde asleep, curled up like some faerie tale princess perhaps, just waiting for the kiss to awaken her from her nightmares. Or at the very least, sitting on the bed against the wall and staring at the impenetrable room around him with the teary eyes of the knowingly condemned. Instead he found the boy to be bolt sitting upright like he was expecting an important guest any minute or was waiting for a dinner party to begin around him. And no tears shone in his eyes… Not just blue like he'd predicted, but some combination of the fairest blue and deepest green that he wasn't sure there -was- a name for. He could see that strange color so clearly, because the boy was staring directly at the mirror… Seemingly, at him. Even though he knew that was impossible.

It was that set expression, one of keen knowing and detachment to his predicament, that caught him even more off guard. Weeping, he could handle. Anger was even better, because sometimes it helped with the guilt afterwards when he was standing alone in his bathroom washing away the blood. But this seemingly frail creature was just calm… Waiting for whoever might walk through that door with his fate in their hands, and ready to handle the next step thrown at him.

And somehow, it suited him although Zechs couldn't say why. As much as the unexpected unearthly beauty he'd seen when he'd flipped the blonde over had grabbed his attention, this glimpse at what could possibly be an inner strength to match his own was almost stronger.

Drawing his gun purely for procedure's sake, since he wasn't -certain- that even if his life depended on it he could shoot this prisoner, he started punching numbers on the code box besides the heavy door. Inside where he knew the beeps could be dully heard, he watched as those strangely bright eyes shifted from the reflective surface to the back of the door, and noticed that still no fear appeared in them.

The last number was pressed in and after the hissing sound of the door sliding back into the wall, Zechs stepped around the mirror and walked slowly into the room, body tense with expectation.

On the bed, the young man made no move towards him; he just tipped his head slightly to the side and gave the gun in Zechs' hand a quick glance before again peering up at his face.

Keeping his eyes on the boy, Zechs reached a hand behind him and pressed the button that would close the door from inside. Once he heard the solid sound of it moving back into place, he leaned his shoulders lightly back against the surface, trying to will himself to fall back into the normal role he took while doing these interrogations… But it wasn't working. He couldn't just accept his usual layer of ice and distance. All he found himself capable of doing was staring right back into the large, vividly colored eyes of the small blonde before him.

To break the silence, to begin the charade he knew must eventually take place, felt like sacrilege. No matter what was said, it would be a dishonor to this being, he knew that. And no matter what the boy said, he had a feeling it wouldn't shake the image the blonde presented. Does he know what he looks like? Surely he must. He must have people stare all the time.

The boy however, shared none of his qualms about the quiet thickness in the cell between them.

Quatre would have been perfectly happy to sit and wait for whatever 'fate' this guard was going to bring him, to wait and then to act. But already several things about this encounter were making him think it would be taking a bit more effort than that. First and foremost, was the fact that the lean and somehow elegant man that walked in wasn't what he was expecting. Some obviously under trained and overworked older man was what he had hoped for and thought he'd even be lucky enough to get, a bit galoot who'd wave his current 'power over him' in his face, and then just blinked stupidly while the blonde drove him to the floor and escaped over his crumpled body. But -this- man… Well, aside from being young, perhaps only slightly older then himself, he looked like he was the type that just might catch any punch thrown at him and return it in duplicate before you knew what hit you. He looks quick too. Even if I knocked him down, I think I'd only get a bullet in my back for my efforts.

The second thing that changed his mind about waiting, was the unnerving way that this tall stranger's eyes were moving over him. It reminded him of people looking at those confusing pictures of little colors and shapes pressed together and hoping to see the real image that someone had miraculously put inside of it. One of his sisters had had one of those, and he had liked it because of the blue and greens blotches alone. It felt peaceful and simple, but it had taken him years to see that it was actually a picture of dolphins moving around a sunken ship. And now this man was looking at him in the way he remember people trying to see that hidden picture.

He had seen himself in the mirror just on the other side of this cell, knew he wasn't disfigured or covered in blood and bruises, so what could this guy be looking at? A small hand started to raise to check his features, then the thought that this could just be a scare technique hit his mind and Quatre forced the hand back down again.

Unnerved now, the blonde straightened up again and gave his captive a cool, reproachful glance as he rather briskly stated- "It's rude to stare. Just get to whatever business brought you here."

That brought the situation crashing back to reality for Zechs. Though the voice was rather childishly light, there was a definite cold indifference in it's tone, one that clearly stated he knew what he was doing here. He wasn't here on his free time to mingle or with the option of just watching the beautiful boy until he could figure out what to do with him; he was here because of work, and it was time to start.

"Forgive me." It slipped out before he had sense to hold it back, and Zechs' lips twitched unhappily at that momentary lapse.

The boy on the bed just blinked uncomprehendingly at him.

"I am here, obviously, to find out who sent you and what their intentions were… And I will get that information, one way or the other. So I strongly advice you to cooperate." Even as he said that, the words felt like poison on his tongue. There was -nothing- to get or learn about here, it was all a foolish decoy… So why did he have to interrogate this young man at all? They would do just as well to simply leave him in here, alone, until the plan was complete. Trieze would undoubtedly let him go then, wouldn't he? So why play the charade out to this extreme?

He was shaken out of his thoughts and all half-formed hopes dashed to hell, by the clipped and unswayable answer of the little mock-angel.

"No."

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On the other side of the two-way glass, Trieze's lips curled into a smile at that answer that the cell's inner speakers brought clearly ringing to his ears. No wonder you looked so miserable with my orders. Never one to share your treasures, were you, my love? Even when you couldn't admit that's exactly what they were to yourself… And oh what a find this is. I believe new directions are in order now.