Chapter Four

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Zechs waiting patiently, Treize staring at the floor and occasionally taking sips from the glass he held. Gradually, the tremors faded from his body and he looked up.

"What do you wish me to explain?" he asked, his voice low.

Zechs shrugged. "A good many things, I would imagine. For now, I'll be content with you telling me what all that was about."

Treize got to his feet and crossed the room to the cabinet he kept his alcohol in, pouring more of the rich amber liquor into the tumbler. He turned and leaned against the side of the unit for a moment as he studied his companion over the rim of the tumbler. A flick of his wrist drained the glass and he stared at it sombrely. "I do wish I didn't have to go to Lvov tomorrow. I've never seen a situation that called more for me to be utterly drunk than this one." He paused. "Would you like to join me?"

"No. Treize…"

The general set the glass on the top of the cabinet and held up a hand to stop the younger man in mid-word. "Control, Milliardo," he murmured. "This is about control." He straightened up, regaining his customary parade-ground posture. "And possibly about the fact that I've spent too much time alone in the past few years," he added, smiling bitterly.

He watched as the younger man shifted his weight, his face stilling into un-readability.

"You have?" Zechs asked. "I would have said exactly the opposite was true. You never seem to be alone. I don't… understand," he admitted.

Treize seemed to hesitate, turning his head to look out of the window at the spot lit gardens. "No, perhaps you don't," he sighed. "I wasn't speaking of literal loneliness, Zechs. You are right. I have very little time to myself. I meant, rather, that few and far between have been the opportunities for me to share the company of another person."

Zechs raised an eyebrow. "Is that your euphemism for sex?" he asked, fighting the urge to giggle stupidly. If Treize regarded Zechs as adult enough to discuss this with, then the pilot would force himself to behave accordingly.

The general flicked his gaze to him and frowned. "Nothing so crude, Zechs, nor so simplistic," he admonished and sighed again.

Coming back to the couch, he sat down next to the younger man again and brushed back a strand of Zechs's hair. "I should have explained all this to you weeks ago, but I couldn't seem to find the right moment to raise the subject."

"Then tell me now."

The general drew a deep breath and tilted his head. "These past few months, have you found it straightforward to lead your troops?" he asked.

Zechs blinked. "Relatively, I suppose."

"Then you find command easy?"

"I – yes, most of the time. Why?"

"I find command effortless. I always have."

The pilot scowled, wondering what this had to do with his explanation. "Of course you do. There had to be some reason why you were made Commander-in-Chief of an elite unit at twenty-two!" he replied, his voice utterly dry.

Treize didn't react. "Yes. However, I wasn't referring only to the military, Zechs, but to everything. Command is almost instinctive for me. I control every situation I find myself in."

The younger man bit his lip, regretting his previous mockery. "If that's true, how did you ever make it through the Academy? A cadet who cannot obey his officers is a sure failure."

"And with reason – a soldier who will question before he obeys will be a danger to himself and to others, given that he will often be operating from incomplete information." Treize sighed softly. "I haven't said that I can't obey others. I can, although I've never found it easy and I tolerate incompetence even less well than you do." He stopped for a moment and closed his eyes. "Forgive me for rambling, but you must… Understand that it's taken me more than a few years to clarify this for myself and that I've never tried to explain it to anyone else."

Zechs nodded, somehow knowing how great a strain this was placing on the elder man. He didn't think he had ever seen Treize struggle so with anything – and the pilot had seen him face everything from Academy Finals to attempts on his life.

He took a steadying breath and tried to will away some of his irritation.

Treize bit his lip. "I can obey others. I can give over authority to someone else. But I have to make the choice to do so. It's a conscious decision, every single time. I can turn over command, so long as I retain control. Or so long as it's my decision to give that control away."

Zechs shook his head. "I don't understand, Treize. I can see why you wouldn't like taking orders but…"

"Zechs, forget the military for a moment. I'm speaking far more broadly than that. I have an… obsession – though that is a poor choice of word – with control, with the balance of power. I can relinquish control to another, though I rarely choose to do so, because the act of choosing to let that control go means that it is, in fact, still mine."

Treize looked up to see the younger man staring at him, his eyes wide, and sighed, suddenly tired to the point of exhaustion. "Tonight was… tonight was my attempt to restore my control over what's happening between us, to try to burn out some of what I'm feeling before…"

Zechs put a hand out, then hesitated. "Treize? How are you not in control of what's happening between us? You've decided everything we've done, taught me…"

Treize smiled at him. "Have I? Only because you let me, love. You said it yourself. If you told me to stop, I would."

The pilot blinked. "I… hadn't thought of it like that."

"I know you hadn't – I didn't expect that you would have – but it proves my point. Control of a situation does not necessarily rest with the person in charge."

"I…see."

"Do you? I hope so. I… needed what happened tonight more than I think you can know. I needed to command you like that… and I needed to know I could let my control go and trust you with it instead." His voice caught, then came back. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, or if I've… upset you. I never intended any of this…"

Zechs shook his head, trying to comprehend what Treize was saying. "You didn't hurt me," he reassured. "Not really. Treize?"

"Yes?"

The pilot hesitated, knowing what he was about to ask was highly personal. "I'm sorry if I have this wrong, but…"

Midnight eyes regarded him steadily. "Go on."

"You seemed to like making me do what you wanted. It seemed as though it… worked for you…?" Zechs hated the way he stumbled over the words, knowing he was blushing.

Treize merely smiled at him gently. "I found it arousing, yes," he agreed.

"Why?"

"For all the reasons we've been discussing. Think who you are, Zechs. I doubt there are many who could honestly say they wouldn't like to be able to tame the Lightning Baron and make him obey them."

The pilot started. "'Tame' me? I don't think…"

"Zechs! Shh. I was making a point, nothing more." He waited a heartbeat and then continued. "It's a game, my friend, that's all. One that quite a few people play to one degree or another – I just happen to appreciate it more than most. It suits me well that I can command another person completely to my bidding and yet hand over all true authority to them – or that, in reverse, I can submit to another's bidding and, in doing so, retain absolute control. It helps that I find the edge of fear and the touch of pain that can be involved rather arousing."

"I… see."

Treize smiled. "I think you begin to." He got to his feet and offered the younger man his hand. "If you'll come with me, I have a book or two in my rooms that you may like to read whilst I'm gone."

Zechs took the hand, letting his commander pull him to his feet, and then collected his jacket and belt from the floor, sliding his helmet over his head again. Treize left his coat where it was, telling the younger man that he intended to return to his office that night, and so must still have work to do before he could go to bed.

As they made their way along the corridors, a thought occurred to Zechs that made him cringe a little. He looked away, trying to hide the reaction, but the general caught it anyway.

"Tell me, Zechs," he insisted.

"Ah… Will it always be like that between us now?"

Treize chuckled in response. "Oh, no! No, not at all, I promise. I'm rarely so aggressive. For the most part, things will be as they have been." He paused to unlock his door.

"I don't mind!" Zechs jumped in, hastening to reassure. "Now that I know what's happening."

Treize canted him the gentle smile again. "I can't say it doesn't please me to hear you say that, but truly, it won't be much of an issue. I've only ever had one partner who would indulge me in that sense. What happened tonight was a combination of things, not the least of which was frustration. You're the first person I've touched in quite some time and you're a damned hard man to wait for!"

To his surprise, Zechs found himself laughing aloud. Treize shot him a look of disgruntled amusement as they walked in through the door and waved him to a chair as he crossed the room to the bookcase that lined one of the walls.

Running his fingers along the spines of the books shelved there, Treize pulled two from their places and handed them to the blond. "Those should clarify things for you – I have others, if you want them when you're finished with those."

Zechs took the books, one of them an obviously old and valuable volume, from him and smiled. "Thank you."

Treize glanced at the clock on the opposite wall and grimaced. "Much as I hate to say goodbye to you, I'm afraid I'm going to have to. I have quite a few things I must do before I leave and I have to be on the plane in a little over eight hours."

Zechs nodded and got to his feet. "I'll go then. Treize?"

The general was standing with his back to the younger man, looking through a drawer. "Yes?"

"I think I understand why you like politics so much now. It's the behind-the-scenes power plays, isn't it? The game of bending other people to what you want?"

Treize turned around slowly, his eyes wide. "You do understand!" The expression in his gaze made the pilot shiver a touch in the warm air.

The general waited a beat, then crossed the room to his companion and kissed him. "Good night, Milliardo. I'll keep in contact and I'll see you when I get back."

"I hope things go well."

"So do I!"

He began to lean in again as the younger man opened the door, then stopped when Zechs began to speak.

"I have a question. If you find politics so arousing, doesn't that make all those meetings you go to rather… uncomfortable?"

Treize stared at him for a moment, stunned, and then began to laugh. "Zechs!"

The pilot backed out the room. "Good night, sir!"

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Noin made her way through the brightly lit passageways, hurrying back to her rooms after her weekly session in the base training facilities, her hair still damp around her face from the shower she had taken after her workout.

The past few weeks had been hard for her; she'd had continuing difficulty sleeping at night and had taken to spending her time either in the library or on the internet, searching for confirmation of information she knew she had never been meant to have.

Laughter echoed down the corridor towards her and she looked up from the progression of her booted feet along the carpet to see where it had come from.

"Zechs!"

Her Commander-in Chief's voice caused her spine to stiffen and her hands to neaten her uniform, never mind the fact that it was late in the evening and that she had, technically, been off duty for hours. A flash of white-gold hair in the glow of the strip lights made her breath catch in her throat and she stopped to watch as the rest of her former classmate's slender figure danced into view, one hand on the door to his general's rooms.

"Good night, sir!" The pilot's rich voice rang with amusement and Noin knew she was smiling despite herself.

Zechs let go of Treize's door as the general came into view and began to walk away.

Noin dragged herself from her frozen surprise at the playfulness the two men were exhibiting and continued on her way along the corridor. "Good evening, sir," she greeted as she passed her commander and he smiled at her, genuine warmth in his eyes as he nodded in reply.

"Lucrezia."

His attention went back to the figure of the pilot until he turned the corner and then Treize went back into his rooms. Only after the general closed his door did it dawn on her that he'd been clad only in his shirtsleeves.

Frowning, she picked up her pace and caught up with the blond as he hit the button that would call the lift to this level. "Hello, Zechs."

"Noin! What are you doing here?"

"On my way back to my rooms. What did Mr. Treize want?"

There was silence for a moment or two, and though she couldn't see his eyes, she got the impression that he'd looked away. "Merely to say goodbye – he leaves for Lvov in the morning."

"Oh, right." She looked at him carefully as they got into the lift, noting that, like his commander, he wasn't wearing his jacket, but carrying it over his arm, half hiding whatever he was holding in his hand.

"What have you got there?" she quizzed, curious.

"Books. Treize gave them to me to read whilst he's away."

She nodded, letting him believe she accepted his explanation, but in the privacy of her thoughts she was alternating between being furious at the pair of them, and being terribly afraid for them.

"Noin? Is something wrong?"

Startled, she looked up. There was real concern in the pilot's voice, a gentle note she'd only ever heard from him once or twice in the past. "I'm fine, Zechs."

He frowned at her answer and gestured with his free hand. "You've seemed… unhappy lately. Have I done something to upset you?"

Noin caught her breath, sudden tears stinging the corners of her eyes, and turned her head to study the button panel on the wall of the lift. No matter what else, she wouldn't let him see how much he affected her.

"Noin?"

She heard him come a pace or two closer to her and stiffened when she felt the wash of heat from his body against her spine. "I'm fine, Zechs."

"You aren't. You haven't been since Christmas." His voice became softer. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong? If it is something I've said or done, I'd like to try to put it right."

Damn him! How did he do this to her? How did he always seem to know exactly what she couldn't fail to respond to?

She'd sworn, in the early hours of Boxing Day morning, that she wasn't going to be such a fool for him anymore, but….

The lift came to a halt.

She heard the doors swish open but she couldn't make herself move until a gentle hand fell on her shoulder and tugged. She closed her eyes and a single tear slipped free. She raised her hand to cuff it away and his fingers tightened.

"Noin, come with me. You can't stay in the lift all night."

He was right.

Slowly, her body became less leaden and she let him steer her along the corridor, following his gentle urgings until they reached his rooms.

He let her in and then brushed past her, heading for his bedroom where he threw his jacket onto his bed and set the books carefully onto his side table.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked her, walking past her again on his way to his kitchen.

Noin nodded and then sank into the nearest chair, noting that although their rooms were, for all intents and purposes, identical, his seemed far more like a true home. It was an odd observation given everything else she knew about him. She honestly wouldn't have thought he'd have bothered to take such time with a room that would be his only temporarily.

Zechs came back into the sitting room a few minutes later carrying two cups of coffee. She took hers from him, and almost spilled it all over herself when she realised he'd taken off his mask at some point and was watching her with worry in the eyes that were half hidden behind his fringe.

Something inside her unknotted at the expression and she tried to smile – whatever else might be happening, he was concerned about her, and that meant that he was still her friend. It was reason enough for hope.

"I'm just being silly, Zechs," she murmured. "Really, I'm fine."

He shook his head. "If you don't want to tell me, I'll understand, but you aren't fine. You've been so distant lately…"

He sounded almost upset by that, she realised. Slowly, she smiled at him, finding that it took far less effort now. "I've been busy," she told him. "I had some things I wanted to look into."

"Oh? For what?" He set his cup down on the carpet at his feet. "Anything I can help with?"

He seemed so open, so honestly willing to help her that she felt her face heat. "Maybe," she admitted, taking the opening he had given her.

"Well, if I can, I will. Just ask me."

She looked down into the contents of the cup, hoping that the play of the light on the surface of the coffee it held would give her a sign as to whether she was right to do what she was about to. There was nothing there except her reflection.

It didn't matter – she'd been wondering for weeks now how she was going to bring this subject up between them and he'd just given her the perfect opportunity. Now, if she could just manage this without letting him know how she'd found out….

"It started at Mr. Treize's Christmas Party, really. I had no idea he was related to so many influential people! It got me thinking – have you noticed that almost all of the Specials come from the Aristocracy?"

He nodded, picking up his cup again. "Of course I have. It was deliberately set up that way, Noin. You know that."

"I know. I just hadn't really realised it until Christmas night, you know. Seeing all those people in one place just made me think."

"Really." Zechs's voice was utterly without expression but there was something in his eyes that warned her to be careful. He was wary now, guarding himself.

"It was Mr. Treize that really caught my attention though," she added quickly, choosing to attack the subject in a roundabout fashion. "I didn't know he was related to General Catalonia until I was speaking to Dorothy. She calls him Uncle Treize… it's so sweet!"

"Is it?"

"I think so. She really looks up to him, and to you. She seems to regard you both as her personal heroes. She told me she wanted to join the Specials but her father wouldn't let her."

"No, he wouldn't."

Noin swallowed. Zechs was sitting completely still, never taking his eyes off her. It was more than a bit unnerving.

"Well, I think it's a shame. She's really interested in the military and I think she'd have made a good Officer – she's very quick." She paused and took a mouthful of her coffee before carrying on. "She's a bit of a puzzle though. I mean, she's the daughter of General Catalonia, and Duke Dermail's granddaughter, but she calls Mr. Treize 'uncle'. I thought Mr. Treize was Duke Dermail's nephew?"

"He is. His mother, Lady Anna, was the Duke's sister."

"Oh?" she asked, trying to sound as through she didn't already know. "Then how can Dorothy be his niece?"

"Obviously, one of her parents would have to be Treize's sibling."

"But, he doesn't have any…" she began, keeping her voice puzzled.

"No, he doesn't." Zechs broke in. "She isn't his niece, Noin. She's his cousin, once removed. She just happens to call him Uncle – mainly because it annoys him."

Noin forced herself to laugh. "Oh, well, that explains it! Maybe I should have asked you in the first place instead of spending so much time looking at all those family trees. I couldn't make head or tail of most of them, they're so complicated!"

Zechs's sharp eyes were half-closed and he seemed relaxed against the soft cushions of his chair, but Noin wasn't reassured. She'd spent too much time with him in the past five years to be fooled, had seen him move from that very position into blinding assault, whether physical or verbal, once too often.

"Are they? I never found them particularly so," he replied, his voice utterly cool.

"Must just be me then. I've never been any good with charts, you know that."

"Do I?" He leaned forward, holding her eyes with his. "Noin, where is this going? I can't believe that a sudden fascination for Treize's family connections is responsible for the way you've been acting."

Noin froze, feeling her skin grow clammy. She laughed, hating how nervous she sounded. "Honestly? I was embarrassed! I had this theory that you and Dorothy must be related, because your hair and hers look so much the same, and because you seemed to know Duke Dermail and his wife so well." She laughed again. "I was trying to find out where you fit in; I could have sworn you told me once that you were related to Treize somehow, but my memory must be going. I couldn't find you anywhere on the charts. The name 'Marquise' doesn't crop up at all, not anywhere in the Peerage."

Zechs smiled very slightly but it wasn't friendly. "It wouldn't," he murmured. "I wish you'd just asked me about this, Noin, it would have saved both of us a lot of worry."

"Well, yes, I know that now." She looked down. "I just… didn't want you to think me silly for wanting to know."

"I don't think you're silly, Noin. I've always regarded you as very intelligent and I know Treize thinks the same thing."

She blushed at the praise, before it occurred to her that it hadn't been a compliment at all, but a warning. "Will you tell me, then?" she asked.

Zechs drained his cup and set it down. "If you really want to know."

"Please?"

"Alright. Yes, Treize and I are related – we're cousins of a sort, and so are Dorothy and I – but you won't find me on the charts and you won't find the name Marquise in the Peerage. My mother was one of the Khushrenada cousins." He paused and took a deep breath. "She got herself pregnant when she was very young by her lover. He was a soldier, with nothing in his background to make him a suitable match for her, but they might have married anyway if he hadn't gotten himself killed in action before I was born. I'm told it drove her to madness and I suppose it must have. She killed herself when I was three months old and her mother took care of me instead. When she died, Treize's mother raised a ruckus and insisted that, illegitimate or not, I was Khushrenada Blood, and shouldn't be abandoned to some orphanage. Dorothy's mother, Lady Mariel, supported her. Together, they worked on Tristan, Treize's father, and eventually he agreed. I was six when I moved in with them."

Noin listened to all this with a growing sense of amazement. It was a very cleverly crafted story, supplying just enough information that was probably true, in combination with just the right measure of slightly scandalous fiction. No-one of casual acquaintance could hope to see through it.

Zechs suddenly looked away, his eyes softening for a moment. "Lady Anna fought her husband in order to take me in, maintaining that she owed my mother that much for the friendship she and Lady Mariel had shared with her as girls. But she told me just before she died that, in truth, it was Treize who won his father over."

The captain felt a pang – that, she knew, was almost certainly true. Skilled actor that he had proven himself to be in the past few minutes, Noin was willing to bet that Zechs couldn't fake the tone to his voice, nor the look on his face.

She watched him, amazed at the depth of emotion he was currently displaying, and realised with a pang that what she had seen on Christmas Night was only the barest hint of what was truly going on between the two men. Treize had been everything to Zechs from early childhood: friend, mentor, confidante, elder brother, protector – literally, it seemed, his saviour. She had known the bonds between them ran deep, had seen Treize's almost paternal affection many times, and had always wondered at the source of their connection. Now she knew, and it broke her heart.

With all that between them, it was only logical that their relationship should shift in nature as they grew older. Only logical that Zechs would turn to the one person he trusted absolutely to be his first love and, unless she'd missed something over the years, his first lover.

She hadn't seen it, but she should have – years ago. The spark had been between the two men even when she had first met the pilot, when they were twelve years old.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought the tears that threatened again as she realised that she had never stood a chance at winning his heart and, simultaneously, that his choice of her as his friend was truly an amazing privilege. Silently, she vowed then and there that, even if he never so much as considered her as more than a friend, she would stand by his side for as long as she could and love him just as fiercely as she would have anyway.

"Noin?"

Zechs's rich voice pulled her from her promise, and she looked at him with wide eyes. She'd been so focused on thinking about him that she'd almost forgotten he was there and his voice had taken her by surprise.

"Noin… are you crying?" he asked, sounding softly startled.

She wiped her face and forced a smile. "No, of course not. I've just got dust in my eye or something."

Zechs got to his feet and came to kneel by her side. "Noin, please. I thought our friendship was worth more than that. Don't lie to me."

She looked up at him, wondering if he recognised the irony in that statement when everything he had said to her in the last twenty minutes had been, at the least, a very warped version of the truth. Resentment rose, turning her words harsh. "I said I'm fine, Zechs, and I am. Really. There's nothing for you to worry about."

He recoiled from the snap to her voice, blinking. "Noin?"

"Zechs… not now, alright?" She got to her feet and turned towards the door, desperate to escape before her fragile façade of composure gave way and she made an utter fool of herself.

Zechs reached out and caught her arm, forcing her to turn and look at him.

"Don't go. I'll drop it, I promise. I just… I thought you trusted me more than this, that's all."

His eyes were sad though his hand felt warm and strong. There was a tremor in his voice – she'd hurt him, and the realisation made her suddenly furious with him.

"Trust!" she exploded, yanking her arm free and falling back a pace. "I don't trust you?! You bastard!"

He looked utterly shocked. "Noin?"

"You have no right! No right at all to preach about the value of our friendship, about how I shouldn't lie to you, about how I should trust you! Those things are only worth something when they go both ways, Zechs!"

The look in his eyes made her start to cry again and she dashed her tears away angrily, fighting to breathe through her sobs.

"Noin… Lucrezia… please… I don't…."

"Don't you dare! If you even attempt to tell me you don't know what I'm talking about, I'll leave and never speak to you again!"

"What are you talking about!?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about Milliardo Peacecraft!!"

He reacted as though she had burned him. His entire body went rigid, one hand coming up as though to ward off a blow. "Noin, please! Don't…"

"Don't what?!" she snarled. "How dare you ask me not to lie to you, when you've been lying to me from the moment you told me your name…" she swept him a perfect curtsey, full of mockery, "… Your Royal Highness!!"

The crack of his hand across her face sounded as a rifle shot in the silence that followed.