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: When doubts rise, time is fading away fast, and to stop destiny would be like trying to catch a shooting star... Treize and Zechs having to learn one another anew, and in for some unpleasant surprises...
xxx
"The Technological Readiness Level report on Tallgeese." Zechs placed an open file onto Treize's desk and stepped back, standing at ease while the Colonel studied the slides and columns of data. "We have a system prototype, ready for testing in an operational environment."
"Two steps away from completion," Treize said quietly, looking up. Brilliant blue eyes boring into steelblue. "What exactly do you propose, lieutenant?"
Zechs tensed slightly. "Completing the development would solve all of our current problems. Given the circumstances, I suggest an abbreviated series of test flights to achieve flight qualification." He smiled thinly. "It won't be long before we can have the actual thing flight proven through mission operations."
"Successful mission operations," Treize corrected evenly, watching Zechs' tense.
"I will make them successful."
"Yes." He looked back at the file and slowly leafed through the pages. "Ah… I suppose you want me to raise the additional funds you require."
"Rather you than me. I thought it might save you time if I included the formal letter of request and the procurement forms, all in triplicate, stamped and signed," Zechs bit out. "We should transfer the whole project to a different place. A new base, preferably one where people understand the implications of working on a classified project. As it is, I might as well shout the development details from the rooftops. It makes us an easy target."
"Sitting geese," Treize quipped deadpan.
Zechs scowled at him. "This is not funny. I simply do not feel like painting a bullseye onto my backside."
Treize smiled finely, and Zechs blushed wildly when he realised the implications. "Or those of my men," he made haste to add.
Treize chose not to pick up on the remark. Instead, he carefully closed the file and got up. "You will appreciate that it will take some work to convince the Foundation to part with a substantial tranche of their allocated resources."
"I am sure you will be convincing."
"Of course, but I would like to see this monster which appears to have enchanted you so."
Zechs gave him a dark smile. "Beauty and the beast?"
Treize bit his lip as he met the blue-grey gaze. "And who is the beauty?"
And without missing a beat, Zechs said, "Tallgeese."
xxx
They had arrived too late. Otto had taken the machine and flown to re-conquer Cinq by himself, ploughing into the enemy forces like lightning.
Otto had died. Tallgeese had survived. And Zechs had met his sister.
The world had turned once again.
Treize had stayed at the old base in the Russian forest and waited for news from Zechs. The vidcom picture was grainy and wobbly, but even so Zechs's face looked haggard, his eyes haunted beneatht the dulled, dented metal of his mask when he finally made contact in the small hours of that horrible night. "You saw?"
Treize nodded curtly. "Yes." A night that would tear open every memory Zechs had tried to cope with...
"I guess Lt. Otto just gifted us with the last stage of our Technological Readiness procedure," Zechs said hoarsely. "Assuming you would class this mission as successful?"
Treize studied his face tensely. "I am not sure. Is it correct that Lt. Otto perished in the crash?"
"Yes. We have retrieved the Black Box recordings. The suit is hardly damaged." Zechs looked pained now. For a moment, he lifted his hand as if to wipe his brow, but then he seemed to remember his mask and let his hand drop. "I got the report from forensics. He was tossed about in the cabin when the seat was wrenched from its fastenings. Multiple fractures, internal bleeding, concussion, lesions, severe bruising, brain haemorrhage. He was mangled to a pulp." He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing, "But the main problem appeared to be the preceding acute and total sensory overload, resulting in a collapse of his nervous system. He was not able to process the incoming data, brain shortcircuits, pilot goes down in a blaze of glory."
"Do Forensics know that?"
"No. He was flatlining when he arrived at the med centre, but I took the liberty of running some initial analyses on both Black Boxes..." He trailed off, staring at Treize, bitterness clearly in his eyes now. "We are not ready, Treize. We are simply not ready yet, and it is my fault alone." Frustration, weariness, grief close to overwhelming him, before the set of his jaw firmed.
"How badly are you hurt?"
Zechs shook his head in a dismissive gesture. "It does not matter. I should have been flying that damn thing. I should have finished the tests in time."
"You were recovering from a crash."
"I was well enough. And I will go to Hell and back to make this monster work. I am coming home as soon as I can to carry out the necessary tests…"
Treize's lips thinned. "You ARE still recovering."
Zechs' eyes narrowed. "I am fine."
"Not according to your medical reports," Treize shot back, suddenly sharp. "May I remind you that your health is not your personal asset."
"Do you have Lucy spying on me?"
"I do not, but sadly it cost me rather more power of conviction than I expected, just to be permitted access to your medical files. Again. Why do I have to pull rank to get at your data?" A hint of frustration tinged his tone.
"Treize…"
"How about 'Colonel, sir' – besides, I thought I should dig a bit deeper than we have so far, and found some interesting details about our bird. Let me emphasize that I need you in top physical and mental form to continue this experiment."
"Treize!"
"You are on a rather hot trail. Bring those boxes along. Oh, and we will go home for a few days."
Home. To the Khushrenada estate in the heart of the Russian wilderness. In spite of himself, Zechs felt his heart skip a beat, and he knew it showed in his glance when he caught Treize's smile just before the colonel lifted his hand and placed it briefly onto the screen, a distant caress to the image of his home displayed there. "I shall see you as soon as you can make it."
xxx
A few days of oblivion. Stolen moments. Caresses, closeness, warmth – Treize wrapped Zechs up in an embrace even before they stumbled out of the jeep that took them from the runway near the manor to the house itself. He had sent away the servants, and they took care of the household themselves – feeding the horses, clearing out the fires and making new ones – and were content to live on ration bars, coffee and wine.
A heavy silence had settled between them, and when they were together at night, in Treize's wide bed, he was careful, anxious not to hurt his companion. Only once, Zechs asked in the haze of the afterglow, "Tre?"
"Hm?"
"What is the purpose of your war?"
And Treize had drawn him close and murmured, "Sometimes... I cannot remember. When I am with you like this, I remember nothing... except you."
Time flew. Days melted away. Une rang before a week had passed, and Treize took his leave from his home by walking through the still, sun-drenched rooms, then feeding the horses once more, and turning away from everything with firm, long steps towards the waiting jeep.
Zechs sat behind the wheel already. "Brussels?" he asked quietly, turning the ignition key.
"No. We fly south. A gundam has hit one of our bases. According to the reports we have, it destroyed the civilian quarters, including a school, and the cadets' dorms."
"A school?" Zechs gasped.
"I will have to send you ahead. I am sorry, Miliusha."
Zechs cast a quick glance at him – if Treize had any regrets, they did not show on his face – a bland, hard mask, with blank eyes that stared straight ahead at the band of brown, track-ridden soil, the road that took them to the airstrip.
xxx
If ever Zechs had felt his conviction waver, his reasons for becoming one of Treize's officers slipping away, they had been restored manyfold after he had gone to visit the destroyed base. Treize had arrived shortly afterwards, and they had spent days amid the carnage... clearing up, drying tears, feeding the fires of revenge...
On their return to the headquarters of the Federation Specials, a handful of men had gathered around the card table in Treize's office. He shunned the modern imagery chart that was fastened to the wall opposite his desk, in favour of the paper chart which he found more transportable, independent of power and computer connections.
He can play safe if he wants to, Zechs mused uneasily as he tried to keep in the shadows while watching the small assembly.
It was late, the lights dimmed, the building empty and still bar the regular steps of the guards that patrolled the empty corridors. The security monitors in the office were carefully tuned out, those surveying the hallways were on and covered every angle of approach. Neither order nor official invitation had gone out to the men that were studying the chart; instead they had been called into this meeting by a quiet whisper, a couple of words passed from mouth to mouth, known only to those who knew one another.
Most of those men were about twice as old as Treize, and with the exception of Zechs, their insignia showed that they also outranked him. Nonetheless, it was undoubtedly he who led this meeting, and they listened with respectful attention as he summed up his presentation.
"Neither measurement, signal or signature intelligence have yielded anything useful, let alone imagery. We have nothing at all. The craft appears to operate by stealth, and one of our monitoring stations reports an incident that caused all of their systems to go down, in what they suspect was a jamming attack." His gloved fingertips tapped a blue blob on the military map spread over the card table. "We will have to adjust the alert level, gentlemen. It seems we have underestimated the severity of the threat."
"What about wide area and ocean surveillance?" one of the officers suggested.
"So far, all the attacks have concentrated on neutralising Federation bases," Zechs replied, falling into his role. His slim hand pointed out the sites of destruction marked on the chart. "Here. Our intelligence suggests that at present they are targeting military installations only."
"Textbook strategy," another officer remarked sarcastically. "Every single one of those attacks has breached our defenses at a critical point. We are hampered, to say the least."
Zechs nodded. "Yes. They have temporarily succeeded in interrupting communication on all levels, wiping out some of our most valuable facilities and causing us unacceptable losses among our specialist troops."
"And we are still none the wiser how it could happen," another ot the men threw in angrily.
Treize cocked his head slightly, an almost pensive gesture if his eyes had matched it. Instead, they were bright and alert, the eyes of a bird of prey that has spotted its target. "The only craft that fits the pattern of destruction and the armament profile we worked out from eyewitness accounts is a mobile suit built with gundamium," he said flatly, "and it is anyone's guess how the colonies got hold of the technical expertise to process the ore and get the alloy right." He paused, looking at the men who had fallen silent. "This would also explain their policy of total destruction - wherever they hit, they tried to silence the witnesses." He shrugged lightly. "Of course we cannot ask Federation politicians to answer our questions on the whereabouts of certain projects, or demand funds be assigned to non-existent work… especially not under the present circumstances."
With negotiations about power structures between the colonies and the Federation reaching a critical point, peace becoming more fragile every day, tensions rising... When assigning funds to high-calibre military projects would be perceived as an outrageous provocation. When treason and espionage appeared more than likely. When they were hunting a chimera and fighting against smoke screens, erected around a project aborted a long time ago.
Politicians, Zechs thought with a surge of anger, and their cursed vanity...
Treize let it sink in, before breaking the heady silence. "Gentlemen, we have reason to suspect that those attacks are the beginning of a war on a scale such as we have never seen before. The Federation are bargaining with the colonies. Reckoning from past experience, it would be foolish to believe anything of significance could result from this, other than some more political manoeuvring while our hands remain tied and our troops idle. Given the current balance of technological power and resources, we may be forgiven to call this suicidal. Any declaration of peace between the Federation and the colonies can at best be brittle and must not be trusted. There is no need to speculate about the outcome of all this haggling." He smiled, his eyes cool and sharp, before he delivered his summary, dry and succinct: "We have been betrayed."
They looked at him, faces calm and without surprise. Showing silent agreement, brightening into expectation. The colonies wanted the resource satellites, owned by the Federation. Now they appeared to possess the technology the Federation had tried to keep secret, and if they decided to apply their new-found prowess, the Federation would lose...
Everything. No satellites, no gundanium, no modern mobile suits... we will all go to Hell. Earth a pawn in the hands of the colonists... who already unleashed those... things on us... unthinkable...
Treize squared his shoulders a little more, his posture as taut as a string, his expression hard. Zechs stared at him in fascination. He knew Treize determined, or angry, or bullish in a chill, calm way. Never before had he seen him drunk on power, or colder than ice. Never had he truly wanted to see the soldier beneath the fine veneer of cultured manners and fierce intellect. Now he was trying reconcile what he saw with what he had known of Treize before... and felt himself falter.
"We have been compromised," Treize went on, his voice like glass, smooth, cold, transparent. "The soldiers who are expected to bleed for the Federation are being denied the support they are owed. Let down in the most despicable fashion, along with every single man under our command. By a handful of cowards who neither understand the situation, nor are they capable of handling it appropriately." He paused, blue gaze intense, scanning their faces, making sure he still had their agreement, before he splayed his hand on the chart, over the base where Tallgeese was kept. "We have responsibilities that are not limited to the Federation. Considering the present parameters, I believe that any act to refuse vital resources to our troops should be classed not only as foolish and dishonourable... but as high treason."
Now their faces showed more than glacial determination: a shade of surprise, grim resolve, frosty satisfaction. They had thrown in their lot with the bold young star of the Federation Specials, and their confidence was about to be rewarded. They were getting somewhere. Finally. War was their element.
Does he know... oh yes, he does... he is enjoying this... breathing it... in love with it...
Playing on their desires, inflaming their passions, their disdain for anything civilian... they had spent their lives in the military, knew nothing else, acknowledged no other authority. He had hand-picked this group after careful observation and research into their pasts, and now...
He is preparing to fly... he must have been planning this all along... how long? All his life? How could I be so oblivious? But then, he's a natural at this kind of game...
Treize gave them what they wanted, lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes the slightest bit. "Under the Law of War, there is only one sentence for the perpetrators of this crime."
And he is taking them on board, making them his wings... offering them the world no less... could it be... could I have been so wrong...
Zechs schooled his features into blankness. His uniform was growing uncomfortably hot, the room seemed too small one of a sudden, and he longed rather desperately to leave and run for the next airstrip, climb into a jet and take off. Only to find himself pinned by those sharp blue eyes and a faint smile on Treize's lips.
But I owe this to my own country... to my people whom my family let down once before... offering all of us up on the altar of some unattainable fancy... peace without arms... the debt is mine to pay... the burden mine to carry... for my sister... for hope...
Chilled by Treize's unshakeable calm as he went on to spell out the destiny of Earth and colonies, unflinching and apparently utterly untouched. Rivers of blood... a war of unprecedented magnitude... a wave of fire...
Until we are swallowed up by fire... nothing but fire... all around us... so silent...
He blinked, trying to shake off the scrap of a vision, a memory too painful to be allowed to the fore, and Treize broke eye contact with him as he finished his speech: "Gentlemen, we cannot afford further delays. Therefore, I suggest this is the time to evoke allegiances more binding than those to the Federation. In my capacity as the General of the Order of the Zodiac, I command you to gather your forces and report back to me no later than forty-eight hours from midnight today."
He met each pair of eyes, studying their faces as one might read a book, and finally planted his hand on the centre of the map.
The centre of our world... a breath of fire and ice, a flash of something beyond wild... feral, a storm of passion too great for life, too hungry, too greedy. Insatiable, seeking fulfilment... only in Death... perish and rise from the ashes... bird of fire...
"We will make this war, and we will break it."
A small, heavy silence filled the room, before one of the men said, "General, sir."
The slightest spark of triumph in blazing blue eyes at the blunt acknowledgement. "Yes?"
"Your orders, sir?"
Zechs lowered his head, linked his hands behind his back, and let go of a long, slow breath as he listened to Treize's calm voice. He did not want to see his face right now. Not the tiny smile in the corners of his mouth, or the shine in his eyes. Not the harsh set of his jaw or his posture, rigid and unyielding...
"Raise the highest alert level on all Specials' bases," Treize instructed. "Prepare your men to fight an enemy too powerful to be overcome as yet." Asking them to burn themselves up in this fire... "Ensure that they know good care will be taken of their dependents, and that our fallen will be honoured." And they will do it... for him, they will do anything... and he will keep his promise... take care of our own... "Have our oath renewed and allow those who have doubts to leave without losing face." There will be no doubts... no questions... they believe... in him... blind... dazzled by his brilliance... Treize paused, then gave them his most sparkling gaze and a bright smile as he added quietly, "And, of course, be ready to die."
Zechs' glance snapped up as he tried to stifle a gasp deep in his throat, meeting those fascinating eyes, and for a split second there was no one else but them in this world, and he read... understood... sank...
If die we must.
xxx
Treize's idea of preparing to die consisted of throwing a party for his staff officers. He had a convenient pretext - celebrating the peace contract, which representatives of the Federation and the colonies had ratified during the course of the previous afternoon. He had received the standby report of the OZ units the night before, and Zechs thought that he was not only oozing confidence: he was brimming with expectation.
"Politics is filthy business," Zechs grouched, leaning onto the bannister of the balcony outside the conference centre.
"So is war," Treize countered, without reprimand.
"Then why are you provoking this?"
"Because a controlled explosion is better than an unchecked eruption."
"Ah. And there I almost thought you were enjoying yourself."
Treize made no reply.
"They signed a treaty," Zechs said into the silence.
"They sent gundams to Earth." Treize paused, before adding in a softer tone, "I would prefer to have you closer."
Zechs shook his head, a mess of blond falling over his face, curtaining it off. "My job is to fly. Its what I'm good at. My sister…"
"Peacecraft stock," Treize mused, "I recognise certain traits…"
"Oh?" Zechs shot him a wary glance.
"Stubbornness for once," Treize's lips curved in a barely-there smile, "independence, as you prefer to call it, and a certain persistence that is very difficult to resist."
Mistrustingly, Zechs gleamed up at him through mussed bangs. "How so, sir?"
"Pride and beauty are a heady combination, do you not agree? Especially when adding power and strength into the mix…"
Zechs straightened and stepped a little closer, squarely into Treize's personal space, sinking his steelblue gaze into the brilliance that met him in Treize's eyes. "When could I ever disagree with my CO?"
Treize laughed, a little breathily. "You do that rather often, I think. I saw it in your eyes at the meeting. No, you are not all that transparent, and I am sure no one else noticed, but we have known one another for long enough."
"And yet, I can't read you at all," Zechs said, frustration creeping into his tone as he made to turn on his heel.
"Perhaps," Treize said, his gloved hand briefly touching the younger man's wrist, "you would be disappointed at how little there is that you do not know of me."
"But," Zechs replied, barely above his breath as he slanted a sharp glance through the open windows at the partying crowd, and then back to Treize who slightly cocked his head. "But I want to know all of you."
"And what will you let me have in return?"
Zechs looked puzzled for a moment, then he frowned. "What do you mean?"
Treize shook his head. "We had this little exchange some time ago. Do you remember?"
Zechs relaxed, leaning his backside against the bannister, with Treize staying close, almost touching, his aroma of roses and steel faintly in the air, his warmth and the roughness of the uniform almost palpable. Zechs longed to touch, and an odd mixture of anger and want tugged at him, as always when they were like this…
"That day when you came home for the first time after your recovery."
"Yes," Treize said, resting his hand on the stone balustrade, his gaze softening as he looked down at the blond head of his friend. "One entire year of being fussed over – and without you."
"Well, you surely were not quite alone," Zechs quipped, crossing his arms and glaring a small challenge up at Treize.
"I was too preoccupied with news of raunchy parties at home to bother looking," Treize shot back smilingly.
Zechs blushed. "Come on, you know how your mother always tried to find the best matches for you and me."
"Is that why you clung to me at the top of the stairs and demanded I kiss you?"
The blush deepened, but the challenge remained. "No."
Treize pondered. "It did not help – I think she wanted to interest you in one or two of those lovely young ladies…"
"She failed," Zechs growled crossly.
"She meant well."
A sigh. "I know that. And do you remember when you got me drunk with this cough medicine your grandmother gave you?"
Treize laughed and covered his eyes with one hand. "Good grief, the upheaval... you were exceedingly… sweet."
"C'mon, Treize," Zechs shuffled uncomfortably and scanned the terrace, relieved to find it empty, "tell that my squadron, and they'll kick you to L2 and back."
Treize bit his lip, but his eyes were still laughing, until Zechs allowed himself a small smile as well. "So what happened in the two years after that? You returned a changed man."
"Did I?" Treize looked mildly puzzled, and a bit wary. Zechs' jokes tended to be long shots, and slightly underhanded.
"Well, when you turned up in that uniform… tell me, it WAS one size too tight, right? Was that for Ann?"
"I like Ann, but not quite in the way my mother wanted. Besides, it was a regular issue uniform," Treize said, defensively. "Just... well, being laid up in bed for months on end... I had lost weight."
"The uniform pants were too small. I checked."
Treize made no reply but turned towards the balustrade to look out over the sparse green below and the surrounding buildings of the facility.
"You were looking great," Zechs went on, his voice quiet and free of his usual mockery. "I had some idea of what was going on with me then, and I had spent some time doing my homework."
"You were coming on to me," Treize said, "showing off the results of hours in the stables and in the gym. A thirteen year old should not look as good as you did. It could have cost me my career and blocked yours from ever happening."
"Ah. So is that it?"
"I would be lying if I said it does not matter to me if I lost years of work… but no, that is not all. I want… I need… and I can: move this world… this entire world into a dream." Treize laid back his head and stared up into the star-spangled sky. "We will MANAGE this war. We have leaped from amassing arms and conflicts to a new quality of both. At present, the way to reconciliation is blocked..."
"Because you blocked it."
"Because it would be a lie. A dangerous example of self-deceit. Under these circumstances, we cannot afford the unexpected. So we will crush the hostile parties until their powers are gone up in smoke and survival is the only goal. Then, we will have peace."
He lowered his head and turned to meet Zechs' eyes. "And because we can do this, we do not belong to ourselves alone. I cannot step back."
As Zechs had done, refusing to rise further through the ranks even though he could have done so easily. It would have meant more politics, more diplomacy, more difficult decisions…
"I need you," Treize said before the younger man could plunge into a bout of self-castigation. "I need you to run that project. I need to know you are with me."
Zechs stared at him. "Do you..." He broke off and turned to look into the lightsoiled darkness that covered the base. A heartbeat or two passed before he cleared his throat and looked back at Treize. "Do you know what we are doing?"
"What I have done," Treize corrected him quietly. "You are not responsible for my decisions."
Zechs swallowed hard, eyelids wanting to flutter shut, but he forced himself to look at his friend. "You can still stop it," he said hoarsely. "All of it."
Treize's smile waned, but the sheen in his eyes hardened. "As much as I can catch a shooting star."
"Treize..."
"It was too late for peace the moment the Zero experiment was conceived. Sometimes, an equilibrium of forces does not mean they will stay balanced, but will make them devour one another, driven by greed and ignorance. And sometimes, mercy is a sin. Those scientists have not done our world a favour."
"You cannot bomb us back into the stone age. All for the sake of peace?"
Treize paused, something in his gaze, a passing veil, a fleeting shade of sadness, before they became sharp and harsh again. "I can. And I will if that is what it takes." And then, his voice cool and low, "Have you so little faith in me, Miliusha?"
Zechs stared, mesmerised. He did not know this man. Who looked back at him unflinchingly, his face pale and set firmly, and demanded his loyalty, the surrender of everything that had shaped his life... to do what?
To stop the world from spinning into an abyss. Prevent the ultimate chaos, war of apocalyptic dimensions... by creating the chaos, and raise from the scorched remains, from the bloodied fields of the last battle a new light... godlike. Absolute. A vision beyond the bounds of sanity. To build the ultimate peace from the fallen of the ultimate war.
The silence of dreams... spinning so close to the silence of Death... aren't great dreams always insane?
And he remembered the bloodied, burnt soil of Cinq, the stench of Death, the stillness of torn bodies and the absence of peace amid the absence of sound. He recalled that he had meant to cry and could not because other people had a greater right to tears than him. He did not need to remind himself that only the power of violence had allowed him to reclaim the kingdom of peace for his sister while robbing him of his innocence.
The innocence of a soldier for peace.
Now, Treize wanted him to be a soldier of dreams.
A chance. A purpose. A home, to last as long as this unattainable vision...
And he found himself nodding once, a sparse, curt motion. Treize's eyes drifted shut for a moment. "Spasibo," he breathed before looking up again. "Then let us reach for the stars, my friend."
"Treize, I-"
"No."
Love you.
"But I want to say it!"
Forever.
"There is no need. I know it in my heart." A cool smile, the touch of gloved fingers on his arm. "Let's return to the game."
xxx
It was late when they left the party – Treize last, like any good host.
Or the master of a sinking ship, it crossed Zechs' mind as he stumbled along. He had drunk too much, and Treize had let him, holding his own rather better than his lieutenant, and now he was still marching along as straight as a stick, one hand discreetly on the small of the younger man's back. For guidance, Treize told himself firmly, nothing else.
It seemed natural for Zechs to lean on Treize's shoulder, as he had always done when he was troubled, or in need for someone close, and his eyes were drifting shut while Treize fumbled with the keypad. He hardly noticed that Treize pulled him into the room too. Or rather, he mused fuzzily as he dragged his eyes open again and swept a lazy gaze over the place, his suite, thoroughly fit for a general.
A large desk, a large screen simulating a window – security would not concede a real one, to the thorough amusement of Treize. Overkill, he had laughed, to protect a professional soldier thus…
But of course, he knew as well as they did that he was not just any soldier. Colonel Treize Khushrenada was the soldier par excellence, the best of the best the Federation had, someone special to lead their Specials.
Zechs chuckled deeply to himself as he leaned against the wall by the door for support while Treize went to turn on the light. A dim glow flowed through the room, just enough to make out the door to the bathroom, the small kitchen, and the bedroom.
Treize tugged open his uniform jacket and sighed deeply as the restrictive garment fell away, revealing broad shoulders covered by an impeccably white shirt, even though it showed faint patches of sweat beneath his arms and between his shoulderblades. He had suffered through this evening, he was tired and slightly drunk and reluctant to think about anything at all.
He flung the jacket over the desk and turned to Zechs. "Care to ease up somewhat?"
"I… ah… shouldn't I better leave?" Zechs slurred, slightly edgy.
Treize closed the distance between them with a few swift strides. "Come now," he said, slipping his arm round the younger man's waist, "cut yourself some slack. I'll make us some coffee, and you can sleep on the sofa if you want."
"I can go to my own room."
"You are billeted at the junior officers' quarters. That is not exactly round the corner," Treize pointed out reasonably. "Now, it does not make sense for you to stumble through the night at this time and put all the guards on edge."
"I wouldn't…"
Treize just laughed, without malice, and tugged him across to the sofa where he let him slump down and went to put the kettle on.
"What a day," he sighed when he returned a little later with two cups - he had not bothered with saucers - and handed one to Zechs. He set his own drink onto the floor and sat down on the carpet, with his back against the couch and his head against Zechs' thigh. He carefully unwound his white cravat and began to pull off his boots, finally unclasped his cufflinks and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "Better," he mumbled, reaching for his coffee.
Zechs looked down at the reddish-brown head, slightly dishevelled now, and the comfortably settled body, muscular legs stretched out, socked feet crossed at the ankles, the cup cradled in broad hands that rested in Treize's lap. Clad all in white, eased up and beat, Treize still managed to keep the air of the professional soldier.
How does he do it? Perhaps because he doesn't slump... I've never seen him slouch... unwinding by regulation... he is living and breathing the stuff... solid as a shield, and not a single dent in sight...
Zechs closed his eyes, drinking in the warmth of Treize's touch, the closeness, and felt something wrench in his chest. "Treize?"
"Hmmm?" A soft drawl, lazy, floaty.
"Does she know?"
"Your sister?"
Treize was always a step ahead. Even now, tired, relaxed, and quite drunk in spite of his decorum.
"Yes."
"I do not think so. You should talk to her."
"I can't."
"Why?"
Zechs bit his lip, trying to gather his runaway thoughts while his fingers cramped around the hot cup. The slight pain from the heat a link to reality. "I do no longer know who I am."
"Explain?"
"Beneath that mask…"
"You are… Milliardo Peacecraft. Brave enough to cast away everything he had, to take up the role of Zechs Marquise. Soldier for peace. Pure at heart. You are the one who keeps me sane."
"I… but this role… it does not fit."
"How so?"
"It's you. You remade me in your image."
Treize tensed. "You wanted it," he said, his tone unrepentant, "you wanted to be me. So I gave you everything I had, to let you become what you desired." He set aside his cup and reached up, groping blindly for Zechs' hand. Found it and clamped his fingers around it. "My gift to you," he murmured, the slightest bit wistful, "was to teach you the art of war. So you must never again feel defenceless in the face of murder." He paused, turned and sought his friend's gaze. "Blessing or curse," he said quietly, caressing the hand he held captive, "I do not know. There is no beauty in slaughter. But perhaps it is beyond my guidance… to show you which way to choose."
"You would let me choose?"
Treize's eyes darkened a little, and he let go of Zechs' hand. "Yes."
"Don't you have any doubts?"
A tiny pause, then, resolutely, "No. I cannot afford doubts when the world wants to believe that I am infallible."
"And… are you?"
A small kiss to his thigh. Firm lips through the thin white wool of the uniform trousers. "Yes."
Zechs let his head drop back and laughed quietly. "Gods, Treize…"
"Yes?" Suddenly the cushions beneath him dipped, he felt a hot breath at his throat, the smell of vodka, steel and roses washing over him, drowning him in a wave of heat and longing as he felt Treize's compact weight settle against his side, pressing him into the stuffed back of the couch.
He closed his eyes to sink into the moment, and nothing else existed but Treize's body against his own, fingers that combed gently through his hair, untangling it with patience and determination, and the drunken buzz that shivered through his limbs.
"What are you planning?" he murmured, sleepy in spite of the glow that gathered in his groin..
Another soft laugh, more like a rasp deep in Treize's throat. "Win this war and then… live on forever. Preferably with you."
"Is that true?"
A kiss onto one eyelid, then the other, then the tip of his nose. "My very personal, very sinful, and outrageously dirty little dream."
Zechs smiled and sensed Treize's smile against his cheek, along with the merest hint of a thrust against his thigh. "Ah Miliusha moy, so young… like a blossom not yet opened… such a promise… so much hope…"
"Yeah, for better or for worse," Zechs mumbled, trying to return the push but his body refused. He tried to stifle a groan of frustration that became a yawn, and turned his face into the crook of Treize's neck. Felt an arm settle heavily across his shoulders and a blanket been drawn over him as the world faded into comfortable, foggy darkness.
With his friend falling asleep in his arms, Treize finally let himself drift. Daybreak was close… yet dawn so far away… and his bold dreams were about to turn into bloodsodden nightmares...
xxx
THE END of LA2