Rating: PG
Warnings: Plotting, underaged drinking.
Characters: Dorothy, Treize, Zechs.
Note: Chapter six. Sorry for the late update. RL was a real pain this past week.
Chapter: Six: Summer
Chapter Summary: In which Dorothy has a playdate, Noin threatens bodily harm, Zechs listens, and Treize is out of line.


"Relena," Mrs. Andrea Darlian calls. "Relena!" She crosses the veranda and looks out to the back garden. A smile finds its way to her face when she sees her daughter lying on her stomach and staring into the fish pond. The girl's feet kick in the air every so often. "Ah, there she is," she sighs.

"I see." Andrea looks down to where the other young girl is standing next to her. She looks completely poised, not unlike her own daughter who is passive and shy both at home and away. She smiles at the girl reassuringly. "Shall I go down to see her?"

"If you want." Her smile falters as a frown creases her brow. She wonders if all the politicians' children act too old for their years. "She'll be very happy to see you," she adds.

"Well then," Dorothy announces, "I shan't keep her waiting." There's a smile on her face that Mrs. Darlian can't read as she skips down the stairs and across the lawn. "Relena!" she calls as she approaches.

Relena's head lifts and she smiles brightly as she scrambles to her feet. They're too far away for her to hear their conversation but she likes to imagine she can. She watches the way Relena points excitedly to the pond, tugging until Dorothy finally submits to sitting on the mowed lawn. She smiles to herself as Dorothy says something and Relena's laughter carries in the wind.

"Andrea, what are you doing?" She jumps a little in surprise, turning to look at her husband as he approaches.

"Oh, Atticus," she exclaims. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you approach." She smiles again as he wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. "She looks like she's having fun, doesn't she?"

Vice Foreign Minister Atticus Darlian frowns slightly, watching his daughter playing with Duke Dermail's granddaughter. The girl has moved over to the rose bush, studying the flowers carefully. He remembers now that the family has a strange fascination with the flowers.

"I told you she would be fine," he responds finally. "Relena's a resilient girl." His eyes are still narrowed though as he watches Relena bouncing about the older girl. Andrea looks at him questioningly. "It's good she has someone her own age," he adds finally.

"But you still aren't happy," she points out knowingly.

"I just can't understand why Dermail's granddaughter would take an interest in her. It makes me worry," he admits. "Dermail is crafty – the whole clan of them is. I thought the grandson would be the one to watch out for, but Dermail hasn't taken an interest in him. She's the one he's interested in; she's the one who's here now with Relena. I find it all a little too convenient."

Andrea laughs softly to cover her nervousness. She knows it won't fool him though, they've been married too long for that to happen, but it gives her comfort nonetheless. "Oh, Atticus," she sighs. She turns her attention back to the two girls as they splash each other with water from the fountain in the garden. "Let them enjoy their childhoods while they have them."

--

Duke Dermail frowns when he finds Treize in the library. The boy is bent over an oak desk, maps and charts spread across the wooden surface. He tugs at his moustache for a moment before closing the door. Treize didn't lift his head or acknowledge his presence in any way. Dermail's frown increases.

"Have you forgotten your manners Boy?" he demands.

Treize's shoulders tighten as he sits up, meeting his grandfather's eyes. "Excuse me Grandfather, I did not hear you enter," he replies. He stands and walks around the desk. "Is there something that you need?"

"What are you working on?" Dermail asks instead. He peers over the boy's shoulder at the papers covering the table. "Where did you get these?"

"The library in Corsica," Treize replies evenly. He tilts his head, staring at Dermail insolently. "I borrowed them before I was dismissed for leave."

Dermail chuckles drily. "Does General Cavanaugh know you borrowed them?" His finger absently traces the coastline of Italy and France.

"Of course he does," Treize snaps. He takes a deep breath and plasters on a smile. "I am not a common thief." Dermail chuckles again and Treize allows a brief, real smile. "I was simply interested in the layout of the world and where our Bases and Institutes are."

"Hm…" Dermail studies him carefully. "Cavanaugh was always an idiot." He snorts and shakes his head. "Good to see you're up to your old ways though Boy. Now, where is your cousin?"

"Thea?" Treize questions. He shrugs and turns back to the charts. "With Zechs I presume, I haven't seen them."

"The two of them hang out a lot?" Duke Dermail questions. He locks eyes with his grandson again. Treize nods slowly. "Ah, well then." He nods to himself. "Zechs did well at the Academy, didn't he? Think he'll keep it up?" Again Treize nods. "You're lucky you made a friend with him Treize, where did you meet him again?"

Treize frowns, as if trying to remember. "In Sank, before it fell," he answers finally. "His parents were teaching him the way of politics and negotiations. They were visiting when it fell."

"Pacifists?" Dekim laughs. "Ah, they went down with the Palace, did they? Good thing Zechs doesn't share the same sentiments then. He's an ace that one." His laugh fills the room. "If you see Dorothy tell her I'm ready to leave – school waits for no one."

"Of course Grandfather."

"And you…you keep on with whatever it is you're doing." He rests his hand heavily on Treize's shoulder. "And watch out for your mother, she's very delicate these days." Before Treize could respond Dermail had patted his shoulder once and turned on his heel, striding from the room. "Those charts are valuable Treize, do not mess them up," he calls over his shoulder.

--

Dorothy squints, hands steady as she raises the gun. Zechs watches her from the sideline before he presses the button on the control in his hand. With a pop the disc flies out, spinning into the air. Dorothy doesn't hesitate as she pulls the trigger. The clay pigeon spirals down and disappears into the ocean.

"Again!" she calls. Zechs obeys, releasing each disc as she hits the previous one. She lowers the rifle and holds it carefully in her hands before smiling at him. "Nice try with the triple at the end."

"You still shot them," Zechs replies. He watches as she kneels in the grass, zipping the rifle back into its leather case. Her fingers trace the D.C. branded into it and there's a smile on her face. "Dorothy?" he questions.

"Do you think Treize is done holing himself up in the library like some scholar?" She laughs at that and he wants to ask her what's funny. He doesn't, sitting on the grass instead, head tilted back to study the clear blue of the sky. "Are you happy to be going back to Lake Victoria?" she asks softly.

"Of course," he replies immediately. Her eyes narrow and he shrugs. "I like to study."

"Yes, of course." Her lips turn up at the corners as she settles herself against an aged oak tree. "Africa," she sighs. Her fingers pull at shoots of grass, tangling them together. "It's so far away."

"Not that far," he argues. "Not by plane anyway."

"Because I can visit in a plane whenever I want," she snorts. "You'll be in Africa and Treize will be in Corsica learning to be a general or something. I'll be here, with Tim," she laments. He eyes her and she huffs quietly, arms crossed. "I just…"

"What?"

"You'll tell Treize and he'll laugh," she mutters. He continues to stare at her and she looks away, studying a lady bug crawling over a blade of grass. He nudges her lightly and she sighs. "It's just…sometimes I wish I could be someone else. I wish I could do what I wanted to do, not what was expected of me." Her eyes meet his. "Understand?"

"Yeah, I do." He ruffles her hair before crossing his arms behind his head. "Trust me, I understand."

--

Zechs pauses, leaning against the tree to stay out of the sun. From his vantage point he can see the students entering through the front gate as they return from leave. He tilts his head slightly, watching the crowd for the familiar sight of dark hair, a flash of purple eyes.

"Looking for anyone in particular?" He whirls but no one is there. "Look up."

"Noin," he nearly growls. She laughs and swings out of the tree easily. Before he can react she hugs him and then pulls away, still smiling. "What…?"

"Nothing, I just missed you. And you jumped." She smirks and he just knows he won't hear the end of it anytime soon. She mirrors his previous position, arms crossed over her chest as she scans the various heads. "So who're we looking for? Khushrenada, Darlian, Catalonia, or…?"

"No one."

"Oh, come on!" she protests. She stares at him imploringly.

"I was looking for you," he admits. He's rewarded with a bright grin and she pushes away from the tree happily. "Did you have a good leave?" he questions. They're making their way toward the lake now. He watches as she shrugs slightly.

"It was usual. What about you and The Cousins?" He chuckles and her eyes narrow. "Oh, come on, you know they're beastly." He raises an eyebrow and she flushes a little. "Okay, he's charming and she's as polite as can be. But they're like snakes Zechs. They hypnotize you so you don't even realize you're being eaten!" She picks up a smooth stone and skips it across the lake expertly.

"They would be flattered if they heard you say that," he replies. He tugs his hair back into a low ponytail as he searches the ground for a proper stone.

"I don't understand why you like them," she mutters. Her next stone falls flat, plummeting beneath the water after one skip. He's silent and she sighs loudly, nudging him with her shoulder. "You can tell me things, you know? I'm not some gossip," she mumbles. He chuckles quietly and she rolls her eyes. "Do you know when Orientation is?"

"Fourteen-hundred hours," he replies. She nods and there's a glint in her eyes he's learned to be wary of. "Noin?"

"Let's see…judging by the sun it's twelve-hundred now…two hours? That's plenty of time to beat you in a sparring match." Her grin widens as he pales slightly behind dark glasses. "What, scared?" she challenges. "Come on, I still owe you for the one you pulled last term. At least you won't be marked down when you lose."

"You let me win," he retorts.

Her smile is still pleasant as she shifts her weight equally. "What makes you think I won't this time?"

--

"I hate Instructor Halice," Noin growls. Zechs looks up as she storms across the field and collapses next to him on the boulder. "Thirty laps," she continues. She hurls a stone into the lake.

"You nearly took his head off throwing that knife," he reminds her. Her glare focuses on him.

"Because you ducked." He chuckles and she shoves him irritably. He continues to laugh from his position on the ground by her feet. "Did you start on mathematics yet?"

"I finished the first twenty problems but..." he trails off, looking at her. She smirks knowingly. "You are better at math."

"I know." She's still smiling as she pulls out her notebook. "Zechs, can I ask you something?"

"You just did," he replies. She nudges him with her foot and he smiles. "Yeah, okay, what?" He slides back onto the boulder, flipping through the workbook.

"How do you know Treize?" He stiffens beside her and she looks at him. "It's just...what with Specials and all. I was just curious if that's how you knew him."

"No," he answers slowly. "I met Treize a long time ago. When Specials was just an idle thought." He finds the right page and frowns at the problem. "Any more questions?"

She hesitates again before looking back at her notebook. "Have you told your parents about Specials?"

"No." He still doesn't look at her and she sighs.

"Just one more?"

"Why not?" he mutters. She ignores his tone and presses her shoulder into his. "What is it?"

"Are you ever going to tell me more about yourself?"

He doesn't answer and she frowns, wondering if he's avoiding her question. Finally he takes a deep breath and turns to face her. His forehead is wrinkled and she knows he's studying her. She tries to look unconcerned. He smiles faintly and shrugs.

"I...think I might," he says finally. She rolls her eyes and he nudges her back. "Can we focus on math now?"

She looks ready to protest. He half expects her to if he's honest. She sighs though and chews her eraser. "Fine," she mumbles. "But I will learn more about you," she warns. "Now, look, this is easy. All that's needed is the square root multiplied then divided by the cubed root..."

He nods along, like he's absorbing everything. But he watches her carefully, studying her face and listening to her words. By the time she's done explaining he's almost convinced himself that he might be able to confide in her someday. Maybe when he's avenged his family, he thinks. She pokes his ribs with her elbow.

"Are you listening to me?" she demands irritably.

"Of course Noin, I always listen," he answers. She grins in response.

--

The door bangs open roughly and her head snaps up in surprise. Monsieur Dupont's head raises as well, his eyes extra-wide behind his glasses. She recognizes the footsteps as they stride from the door toward the front of the room. She recognizes the look of fright Monsieur is trying to hide. She suppresses a smile and raises the book slightly to cover the lower half of her face.

"My Lord!" Monsieur Dupont exclaims. He stands so hastily that his chair almost tips over. His thick fingers try to discreetly tug away the wrinkles in his shirt. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"You will have to excuse me Monsieur," Duke Dermail barks roughly. Dorothy raises her eyes as her grandfather turns to look at her. "I have an important lesson to teach my granddaughter." Monsieur Dupont looks ready to protest but bites his tongue just in time. Her grandfather's eyes narrow around the corners and she shivers in anticipation. "I am sure your lessons are valuable, but there is only so much one can learn from a book."

He turns on his heel, striding from the room. "Dorothy!" he calls at the door. She flashes a cold smile to her teacher before leaping nimbly to her feet and chasing after her grandfather. She slows to a walk once she catches up to him, making sure her shoulders are squared, her chin parallel to the marble floor beneath her feet.

"Where are we going Grandfather?" she questions finally. They exit the large front doors and stand on the front steps until the driver opens the door to the black car.

"After you, Dorothy." Her grandfather still does not look at her and she frowns. She slides into the car carefully, smoothing her skirt nervously as he gets in next to her. She wishes the slamming of the car door didn't sound half as ominous as it does. The car starts to move and she snaps her seatbelt in place. "Ah…Dorothy."

Duke Dermail reaches for the liquor cabinet built into the car. She watches as he pulls out the bottle of cognac and a small glass. Her nose wrinkles as he pours the liquid into the tumbler before replacing it in the hidden compartment. He doesn't say anything else for awhile, simply stares straight ahead and swirls the liquor around.

"Grandfather?" she questions softly. His eyes return to her and there's a small smile at the corners of his mouth. It doesn't reach his eyes though. "What is it?" She forces the tremble from her voice. "Has somebody else died?"

He chuckles at that, patting her head lightly. "No, no Dear. No one else has died." He frowns though and she doesn't believe him. "It is time you learned one of life's lessons though."

She frowns, not understanding. "Where are we going Grandfather?" she repeats.

"It seems that we have a traitor in our midst Dorothy. We are on our way to view his execution at the military base in Marseille."

"Marseille?" she demands in surprise. Her eyes stare at him and he smiles fondly at her.

"That's my girl," he replies. "Not at all worried about witnessing an execution but about the time it'll take you away from your studies." She opens her mouth to respond, to explain that it's really just that Marseille is so far from home and she hasn't packed anything. "Don't worry Dorothy," he soothes. "We'll just take a private jet there and back after this unpleasant business has passed. You'll be home in plenty of time for supper."

He pats her head again and she can't help but feel a bit like a well behaved dog. She resists the urge to growl and instead turns her attention to the scenery passing by. She frowns at her reflection until the fear is erased from her eyes and her lip stops quivering. Her grandfather obviously thinks her mature enough to handle this; she doesn't want to disappoint him.

--

"An unfortunate occurrence," General Cavanaugh comments idly. He shifts slightly, watching as two orderlies lift the body of the traitor onto the waiting gurney. "It's a shame, he had real potential."

"Don't they all?" Treize questions. Cavanaugh nods in assent. There's a commotion from the observation deck across from them and Treize frowns. Cavanaugh turns to look as well. A young man in military dress is hurrying toward them looking anxious.

"You, soldier!" Cavanaugh exclaims. The young man stops, nearly tripping on his boots. Treize represses a smile; he knows the General can look intimidating. Cavanaugh stands to his full height, glowering down at the soldier, his red hair as wild and untamable as usual. "Where are you running off to?"

"Sir!" the soldier salutes. "I've been sent to fetch a doctor. A girl collapsed during the execution."

"A girl?" Cavanaugh demands. "What's a child doing at proceedings such as these?"

"I don't know Sir. Duke Dermail brought her." He shifts. "Excuse me." He hurries off without waiting to be dismissed.

"What was Dermail thinking, bringing a child here?" Cavanaugh growls. He pushes through the crowd and Treize follows behind him. There's a ring of soldiers and officers all murmuring. Dermail is standing on the side.

"Where the Hell is the doctor?" he barks.

"Dorothy!" Treize yells. He shoves through the crowd. "Let me through, that's my cousin."

"Treize." His arm is seized roughly and he's jerked back. He glowers as Dermail pulls him close. A doctor appears suddenly, kneeling next to her and feeling for a pulse. "Give her space Treize."

"What is she doing here?" he demands. There are murmurs behind him and the lieutenant to his left coughs into her gloved hand. "What is she doing here?"

"She'll be fine with some rest. We need a gurney here and some oxygen!" the doctor calls out impatiently.

"Thank you Doctor," Duke Dermail murmurs. "I trust my granddaughter to you. Treize, come." He drags his grandson from the observation deck and into one of the offices. "You," he growls. "You have no say in this Boy. I am simply educating Dorothy to the best of my ability. Dorothy will be an asset, unlike you. Your mother let you go soft, a pity."

"She's eight," Treize emphasized. "She doesn't need to see an execution, she saw her mother die!"

"You are out of line Treize," Dermail yells. He stands up straighter, glowers down at his grandson. "I am going to the hospital with Dorothy. You are going back to Corsica." He narrows his eyes dangerously. "You are dismissed."

Treize bites his tongue as his grandfather shoves past him out the door. He closes his eyes and counts to ten and remembers what his mother said over the summer. Then he lets his face turn neutral before exiting the room. He reminds himself that in order to get his plan to work his grandfather must not suspect anything.

He doesn't think that will be hard to accomplish.