By the time the knock sounded on the front door almost an hour later, Duo had stripped, showered and redressed in the tailored trousers and expensive sweater which were his compromise with Treize on 'casual' versus 'scruffy' and brushed his hair back into a ponytail to match Zechs's, tying it off with a twist of velvet ribbon.
He was presenting himself as Dror Khushrenada, Romefeller-raised, privately-educated young noble man, just as he had this morning, and refusing to look too closely at why. It wasn't, after four years away from home, on the colonies, with the sweepers and as a pilot, truly who he was anymore, something even Treize and Mil acknowledged, addressing him as they did as 'Duo' almost exclusively.
It was true that here, with his two older brothers, he was closer to that boy than he had been for a long time, and that he did push the identification, actively seeking to reclaim his place with what was left of his family, even as he was aware that that family had no issue with who he was and what he called himself.
He wondered, though, at the sense of doing it tonight. He was throwing away something that could have made things easier. Accustomed to him as they were, the other pilots would have listened to Duo Maxwell with a certain amount of automatic acceptance. Asking to them to talk with Dror Khushrenada was only rubbing their noses in the lie he'd lived with them, and was bound to up the angst.
He knew well, too, that Treize would be calling him an idiot for it. He'd supported Duo in not reclaiming his birth identity instantly; he would have supported him in it now.
Then again, the older man was experienced at dealing with those closest to him having dual identities in a way which was almost freaky in it's commonality. Mil, Anne, now his brother – Duo wondered if dealing with all the mixed up mess ever gave the man a headache, or if he processed that the way he did so many other things.
It gave Duo one.
Silently acknowledging that fact, he downed a couple of pills from the bottle in the bathroom he shared with Mil, noting that he wasn't the only one living off the things at the moment and wondering if that was part of Zechs's attitude issue this evening. The blond had always been prone to blinding migraines and they always made him touchy.
He padded down the back stairs as the door rattled in its frame, passing Treize and Zechs in the main sitting room as the blond helped the older man settle himself in his usual corner and pausing in the doorframe for a moment.
"Ready?" he asked, noting that both Zechs and Treize had changed as well , Zechs into an cool grey version of Duo's outfit that highlighted his eyes marvellously, and Treize into a fresh set of his usual soft flannel pants and crisp cotton shirt, his heavy blue-velvet smoking-coat tied tidily at his waist. With his feet in neat black ankle boots and his gloved hands gathered in his lap, he didn't look a million miles away from how he had in any of the dozens of publicity shots that had been taken of him over the years.
The door rattled again and Duo took a deep breath before summoning a welcoming wide smile and throwing it open.
"Hello!" he said cheerily. "Oh, food!" he exclaimed, spotting all the bags the other pilots were carrying. "Gimme!"
It was the greeting they would be expecting – half-starved street-rat Maxwell jumping on any food that was offered – and he saw the familiarity wash through the four of them, breaking the uneasy tension.
"Thai, Maxwell? Heero asked, and his voice was laden with his disgust for any food that complex and overly spicy.
"Hey, yeah, not my idea," Duo played off, chattering. "Hence, ya'know, also the pizzas and stuff. Mil won't eat it either, so you're in good company!"
"Mil?" Quatre asked, stepping into the house, glancing around curiously. Smiling, petite and blond, he looked as angelic as ever, but Duo had had fair experience with angelic blonde's years before he'd ever met Quatre and he wasn't fooled. He could see the swift assessments that were taking place in that formidable strategic brain.
"Me," Zechs said, appearing from the sitting room, his voice a low, warm rumble. "Welcome to our home," he added, giving the four pilots the traditional Sancian greeting. "Please, come in."
Duo was immeasurably grateful for the backup. Wufei and Trowa were yet to speak to him – Trowa was yet to actually look at him – and even Heero was hesitating before crossing the threshold.
"Thank you for having us," Quatre said in reply, far too well brought up to be rude, even under these circumstances. He flicked a warning look at the other pilots, and it was enough to make all three of them move, stepping into the porch and letting Duo close the door behind therm.
It was also enough to tell Duo that he might actually be on thinner ice than even he'd thought. It was looking very likely that Trowa, at least, and possibly Wufei as well, were only here to listen because Quatre had insisted. Heero, as ever, would have made his own decision, which wouldn't have allowed him to do anything other than gather any and all data that he could.
He chanced a glance at Zechs, saw the answering flash in his eyes that told him the older man had already caught it, and steeled himself further, moving to help as Zechs took coats and drinks orders and directed everyone to the sitting room, relying on his own upbringing to smooth over whatever unease he was feeling in favour of getting their evening off to the best start possible. Duo could only be grateful, particularly when Zechs moved towards the kitchen with their food rather than following Duo and his friends towards the lounge. It had to be killing him to risk leaving Treize alone in this company even for a moment, and even with Duo there.
It was little enough Duo could do in response to slip past Quatre and make sure that he was standing by his brother's side before the other pilots caught sight of him, although he was skilled enough to make it look casual, however much the hand on Treize's shoulder was protective.
As he had been into the house, Quatre was the first through the door to the sitting room, his face open with his polite smile as he oriented to the room with lightning fast precision, noted how and where the occupants were, and bowed gracefully.
"Shalom Aleikhem, Treize," the little blond said fluidly. "Gut shabbes."
Research, Duo wondered, or simply keen observation? Nothing on public record expressly stated his brother's religious leanings, and he knew Quatre well enough to know he wouldn't have assumed just from birth place and name, particularly with the knowledge he had of Duo's own Catholicism to draw on.
Regardless, he'd nailed it, pinning not just the overriding religion and the significance of the date and time, but also the cultural subset, and Duo felt the reaction to that wash through his brother under his hand.
"Wa `alayka s-salām , Quatre," Treize replied softly, setting his right hand to his chest and returning the small bow as well as he could.
Quatre's smile warmed at the returned courtesy, letting Duo know that his brother had pitched it perfectly as well. It made him recall all the times he'd anticipated Quatre's behaviour by thinking of what his brother would do, of how much he'd always thought they were cut from the same cloth – statesmen and strategists, both, disguising frightening intellect and iron will behind slender bodies, bright eyes and polished presentation.
"Thank you for having us," Quatre continued, "and I'm sorry for interrupting your evening with so little notice."
Treize gave a small smile and a smaller shrug, the gesture tight and, Duo knew, probably painful. "It got me Thai," he said easily, and Duo saw Quatre blink, subtle and rapid, at the informal phrasing.
How much would he deduce? Duo wondered. Had he already begun to parse out what had been guarded from the world for a year and a half, the reason Treize's continued survival had been a secret from all but three people even after the Barton rebellion? He was no more or less guilty than Zechs had been, after all, no more or less in danger, and the blond had seen fit to share his continued existence with Une, Noin, his sister and some few others, and with the world at large when needed.
If he'd begun to think, it didn't show. Instead, Quatre gave his wonderfully enthusiastic and friendly laugh and tipped his head. "Oh? I'd wondered who that was for! I know Milliardo is no fan, and I've never seen Duo choose anything so spicy. I think he thought I was trying to poison him the first time I tried to feed him," he confided.
Treize matched the head-tilt, his hands dropping to be loose and open in his lap again. "Oh, probably," he agreed. "Much as I tried," he added, and his voice was a study in rueful long-suffering. "You like it?" he asked.
Kinesics, Duo noted, the training Treize himself had given him supplying the data. Posture-matching, open body language, a subtle widening of his eyes to indicate interest and attention. It possibly wasn't deliberate, but it wouldn't be hurting. And given the limitations Treize had with vocal communication, possibly it would be vital.
Quatre nodded, the movement soft. "More than I like Pizza," he agreed. "It's closer to what I was raised on, if not entirely right. Wufei will probably agree with me," he offered, turning to look at the oriental pilot invitingly.
Oh, clever, Duo applauded silently. Wufei had no choice but to respond now, if he weren't to look stunningly rude – and he wouldn't do that. He might be from a wildly different background again to either Quatre or Treize, but he was the third blue-blooded 'eldest son' in the room and raised with just as much attention to care and courtesy.
As anticipated, Wufei stepped into the room properly at Quatre's question and blinked before joining the conversation. "Closer for me, than for you, I think, Winner," he said, his voice slightly accent-touched and rolling, surprisingly deep and firm, as always.
Treize shifted his gaze to the oriental man, and only the hand on his shoulder let Duo feel the absolute rigidity that suddenly flooded Treize's body.
What the hell? Duo thought, tightening his hand reflexively and summoning a cheeky grin at the same time, hoping to cover the reaction. "Eh," he said broadly, vamping with the ease of long practice. "I can't tell the bloody difference. It's all rice-an'-spice," he quipped dismissively, and if it was sweeper-slang and delivered in the most L2-accent he could, that was only intentional.
He waited for Treize to haul him over the coals for both the accent and the insult, and couldn't help but glance down when it didn't come.
Treize was still gazing rigidly at Wufei, and Duo couldn't help the impulse that saw him sliding his weight forward. It hopefully wouldn't be obvious – he could live without having to try to explain – but he was subtly moving to put Treize behind him in relation to Wufei, sure as hell now that something about the other pilot was freaking him out.
Of course, he should have known better than to think he'd get away with it, given who he was in a room with. Flashing glances from all four pilots told him they'd made both Treize's reaction and his attempt to cover it, and none of them looked happy with either. It left Duo nowhere to go but to level their looks straight back and lift his chin, because he'd gone into this evening hoping not to have to choose between friends and family at all, but if it came to it, and this soon, then the choice was already made. It was better that they learned that now.
"Duo..." Quatre started, his eyes tight with worry and his particularly effective brand of disappointment, "you...?" he asked, and stopped when Wufei shook his head.
"Have I mentioned," Wufei said abruptly, talking over the blond, "that I've been teaching Mariemeia Mandarin? She has a genuine talent for languages," he explained, "and I confess, it is nice to return to my original interests."
Duo looked up at him, wondering what he was on about. Was this really the moment to introduce the fact that Wufei had far more to do with Treize's daughter than Treize himself did, who had yet to actually meet her in person?
Wufei looked back steadily for a moment, indicating that he was aware of the issues, then glanced at Treize, indicating that he was aware of that issue as well, before returning to Duo. "Is linguistics a family talent?" he asked easily. "I've never heard you speak anything other than Standard?"
Duo gave him a swift, wide-eyed look as understanding dawned, acknowledging the fact that Wufei was trying to draw Treize out of whatever was gripping him with banter and hoping his gratitude showed. The other pilot owed neither of them that much consideration. "I could say the same, Wuffers," he returned readily, "and about all of you apart from Kitty-Quat."
Wufei nodded, his depth-less, pinning gaze testament to how little he was liking the position he was in. "Sorry?" he asked.
"Standard's standard for a reason," Duo continued, running with the opening. "What else were we gonna use? I don't speak Mandarin or Arabic, my Japanese gets to 'hello' and 'which way is the shuttle?' and screeches to a stop, and it would have looked seriously suss for an L2 street-rat to speak fluent French. Of course you never heard anything else from me, " he finished lightly, hoping it would be enough.
There was a moment of silence, which Duo used to turn back to his brother, hoping there was nothing more serious going on than a recurrence of a lifelong glitch in his brother and not looking forward to confessing to Zechs that they'd broken him already. Treize 'dropped out' on them fairly regularly and always had, the breath-taking speed of his mind overclocking his brain and leaving him non-responsive while he rebooted, but it was always a sign of stress, and Duo knew Zechs wouldn't take it well given that he was already hoppy about Treize's current condition.
"...You speak French...?"
The voice was Trowa's, soft and disbelieving and layered with so many shades of emotion that nothing really bled through.
Duo winced, but forced himself to turn, making himself look to the bright side in that at least Trowa had spoken to him. He'd always known that the L3 pilot was going to take his deception the worst – simply because his was genuinely the background closest to the one that Duo had fabricated. With Duo revealed as a fraud, Trowa really was the only pilot without a real pedigree for his role, and that had to hurt.
"Eh, yeah," he said softly. "I'm sorry, Tro," he offered honestly. "I wish..."
Trowa cut him off with a sharp head-shake, the expression in his green eyes warning Duo that nothing he could say next would be wise. "I don't," he said quietly, "want to hear it. I'm here for Quatre. Nothing else." He shrugged. "I'm going to go see what's keeping Marquise," he said shortly, and turned on his heel, vanishing from the room.
If he'd been anyone else, Duo might have wondered how he thought he was going to find his way round an unfamiliar house. As it was, he simply watched him go, saddened.
"He's pissed at me, huh?" he asked Quatre, when Trowa was probably beyond ear-shot.
Wufei answered him; Quatre was staring after Trowa, clearly hesitating over following him. "Maxwell, we all are. Here," he offered, unholstering the Preventer sidearm he was carrying and handing it grip first to Quatre, making Duo register that whilst Heero had gotten changed, and Trowa, and Quatre, Wufei was still wearing his full Dress, complete with pistol. "Take this," he said to the blond. "Khushrenada has no history with you."
Quatre nodded slowly, sliding the gun into the back of his waistband without looking at either it or where he was putting it. His eyes were still tight at the corners as he looked between Treize, Duo and Wufei warily. "Alright. Wufei?" he asked, and he was clearly asking for an explanation for whatever Wufei had divined that he had missed.
Duo wouldn't have minded it, either, although he had some notion, but neither of them got it. The oriental man shook his head, opening his hands at his sides. "Linguistics," he sad flatly. "A family talent or not?" he pressed.
Duo blinked his appreciation and began tapping his fingers against his brother's shoulder in an ascending prime number pattern, keeping the gesture as small as he could. The pattern might help Treize to focus, but it would give away one of two major weaknesses his brother had if it was spotted. Heero, at least, would understand, too easily.
"Not for me," he said, as levelly as he could manage. "I speak a few languages, sure, but nothing esoteric, considering. Tro's still got me beat." He shrugged. "If Marie's inherited that skill, it's from Elizavet's blood."
"Elizavet?" Quatre asked, and his face scrunched as he tried to work it out – Duo could practically see him trying to make the Family Tree hang right.
"...my mother," Treize said softly, blinking as he focussed suddenly and sharply on his brother, then looked at the blond pilot. "A diplomat. Todaa, Dror," he added quietly, dropping into his first tongue without thought.
Duo grinned at him brightly. "You'll master your brain at some point, big brother," he tweaked, and was delighted when just the very faintest touch of colour stained Treize's milk-pale skin.
Quatre nodded. "You share a father," he commented, "but not a mother. I'd forgotten."
"Forgotten?" Treize questioned. "Did you know?" he asked, and his voice was sharp, a normal volume, his eyes and his body closing with sudden suspicion.
Duo watched as Quatre and Wufei exchanged glances, Wufei open and curious, Quatre looking apologetic. "Only since this afternoon, although your respective beliefs give some strong hint that way," Quatre explained. "For you to have completely the same parentage, one of you would have had to abandon a family religion for a completely new one."
Duo tilted his head, pushing away from Treize to wave his guests to seats on the couch, watching as the three pilots settled in a line, Quatre nearest to Treize and Wufei furthest away.
"Oh? We could have had parents of different faiths and each picked one?" he suggested, knowing he was going to get into trouble for it.
And he did. Immediately, three of the four people in the room with him made some gesture that told him they knew too much for that story to fly. Treize rolled his eyes and murmured, "Leviticus, Duo," Wufei shook his head knowingly and Quatre merely smiled sweetly.
"I am, of course, presuming you are actually the Jewish Orthodox you appear, Treize?" the blond checked lightly.
To Duo's surprise, Treize actually managed a genuine smile. "Of a sort," he agreed.
Which was Duo's cue to give it up and grin. "Alright, yes, Leviticus, Treize," he chuckled, knowing exactly what his brother was referring to. "And Deuteronomy, and Ezra," he added, demonstrating a knowledge of fair depth.
"Hn?" Heero asked, from the spot he'd taken in the middle of the couch. "Explain?" he pushed.
Quatre turned to face him, willing to do just that, his face light and fond. "There's a Mezuzah by the door, Heero, a blessed scroll. It told me as soon as I saw it that someone in the house is a follower of Judaism," he explained.
Duo let his smile soften – so that was how he'd done it. Full marks for observation to Mr Winner, then!
Quatre caught his smile, and returned it. "Given that I know Duo is Catholic, " he continued, "and that I've seen Zechs eat lasagne once too often to think he even tries to keep Kosher, it had to be Treize." He shrugged gently. "And whilst it's possible to follow Judaism and not actually, technically, be Jewish, of course, it's a matter of public record that he was born in Tel Aviv." He shrugged again. "Statistics don't always lie," he remarked, turning his smile to Treize. "A practising Judaic Israeli was fairly certain to also be Jewish. And, as I said, I know, for a number of reasons, that Duo is not, hence, different mothers," he finished.
Heero was still scowling. "Still explain," he insisted.
"Jewish identity comes from the mother, Hee-man," Duo replied, plugging the gap Quatre had left. "If the mother is, then the child is, simple as. If the mother is not, the child isn't held to be either. Treize is, because his mother was, and I'm not, so my mom couldn't have been. Easy conclusion for Quat to say they couldn't have been the same woman."
Heero scowled, then shrugged. "Alright," he agreed, and it was clear that he thought the whole thing ridiculous.
Quatre shook his head, then looked at Duo. "Why are you Catholic, anyway?" he asked. "You may not be Jewish by blood, but the household must have kept a degree of Judaism for Treize to practice. The age gap isn't big enough for it only to have been his mother's influence?" he quizzed.
Duo immediately tensed, cursing Quatre for being so sharp, because he was, of course, completely correct. Treize had been barely four when his mother had died.
"It wasn't," he admitted, flashing a look at the older man. "Our father was Orthodox, too, but Zechs wasn't, by any stretch and my mother's family were Catholic. I was mostly indifferent until I met them," he said tightly. "Watching them stand between the orphans they've devoted their life to and an Alliance sweep team, and save some of them, focuses the mind on the merits of faith."
Quatre's eyes went wide, horrified sympathy flushing in them as he understood.
Heero, sat next him, and Wufei, weren't so quick. "Sorry?" Wufei asked.
"Not everything I told you was fiction, Wufei," Duo said flatly. "In fact, almost none of it was. I've still never, actually, lied to any of you. When I told you that I was at the Maxwell Church Massacre, I was only being completely honest, because I was there," he finished.
Wufei scowled. "But, your name?" he asked. "Your background? You were hardly a street-rat orphan who took the name of the priest who saved him, Duo! And that's what you told us!"
Duo shook his head slowly. "I told you I began using the name of the priest who saved the orphans – and I did. I told you I was there – and I was. I just wasn't one of those orphans, and the name was mine to claim anyway."
He swallowed hard, but held the other pilot's gaze. "Father Andrew Maxwell was my uncle, my mother's only brother," he said softly. "He threw his half of the family fortune into building his church and orphanage, and when his message started gathering sympathy, when he started making the news here on Earth through his family connections, the Alliance set him up, staged a 'rebel' attack and had him killed and his church burned." He swallowed again. "And they'd have got away with it – except his nephew saw it happen. I wasn't one of the orphans, Wufei, I was part of the response force."
Wufei's jaw literally dropped. "My God," he said softly. "Duo."
There was silence for a moment, then, as Zechs reappeared in the door with their food, he blinked, looked between Treize and Duo and swallowed. "How... How did that fit with your plans?" he asked carefully.
Treize caught Duo's hand with his, and gazed at the pilots levelly, His Excellency in full measure for the space of a minute. "It didn't," he said quietly. "It started them."