Chapter Eight

A moment later Une appeared through the door, looking as close to relieved as Treize had ever seen her get. She folded her slim frame into the chair Zechs had vacated and fastened the belt.

The general looked at her closely, seeing signs of strain in the wisps of hair that had come loose from the ponytail she had taken to wearing around him, off duty at least, instead of her twin buns. It was a change he appreciated – her thick, waist length hair was almost as striking in its way as Zechs's platinum locks; a mane of rich coffee-coloured silk that he was sure would feel warm and soft to the touch. She smiled at him, and he found himself smiling back as affection made her deep chocolate eyes sparkle.

"I haven't thanked you for helping to organise all this, Lady," he began. "I couldn't have done it without you."

She glanced away, sudden colour staining the line of her cheekbones. "I'm sure that you could have, sir, and there's no need to thank me…"

"Of course there is – this is hardly in your job description."

She didn't reply other than to smile at him again, and they looked at each other in silence for a few seconds.

The plane jolted twice, hard side-to-side motions that shook his bones despite the padding of his chair. Treize turned his head to direct his attention to the open cock-pit door, listening as Zechs's voice was carried back to him – though he couldn't make out the exact words, the tone left him in no doubt of their nature. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Une's fingers clench around the arms of her seat, the knuckles whitening with the pressure.

"Lady?" he asked, twisting so that he was facing her.

"I'm alright, sir."

"Are you certain?"

She nodded, closing her eyes as the jet shuddered again. "Yes, sir. I just don't much like flying."

Treize blinked. "You don't like flying? Is this a recent thing?"

"No, sir. I've never liked it."

"Then what on Earth made you decide to join the Specials?" he demanded.

"Oh, I'm fine as long as I'm the pilot, sir," Une replied with a tight little smile. "I just don't entirely trust anyone else."

"Well, I'm sure you can trust these pilots," Treize soothed.

"Yes, sir, I…" her voice broke off into a sharp cry of distress as the plane seemed to drop ten feet straight down. It was a violent enough jolt that Treize could feel his own stomach protesting against such treatment, and without thinking he reached out, prised one of Une's hands off her chair and wrapped her fingers within his own.

"Lady… I won't let anything happen to you."

Her eyes opened and she stared at her hand in his, before looking up at his face. "I know that, sir," she breathed.

Treize met her gaze for a moment, and then turned back to the cockpit. It was strange, but she seemed to be an all-together different woman out of uniform – delicate and more approachable. The soft, rose pink wool of her jumper felt pleasant against his skin where the edge of one sleeve was brushing his hand, and against her slender neck the light was catching on a fine chain. It took him a moment to realise that she was wearing the necklace he had given her for Christmas, and that her jumper was most likely chosen because it matched it, not because it was soft, or because it flattered her slim figure.

For a brief instant, thoughts of 'what if?' flashed through his mind, and he knew that Zechs had been right that night in the Luxembourg park – the Lady would be well suited to being his wife, and the notion of spending his life with her wasn't unpleasant. It suddenly came to him that, had the past few months gone differently – had Zechs proven uninterested in a male lover, or had Treize not allowed himself to be talked out of his objections to their relationship – the odds were that the next piece of jewellery he gave her would have been his engagement ring. He glanced down at the hand he was holding, realised it was her left, and could almost see the sparkle of a gem-set ring against her small fingers.

The plane hit the landing strip with a hard bump, breaking his concentration and his musings over which gem he would have chosen for her, and she sighed in relief.

"Danken Sie, Gott!"

Treize chuckled. "You as well, hmm? Ich hatte du sprechen Deutsch vergessen," he teased.

She looked at him in surprise. "You'd forgotten I speak German?" she asked, translating his words. "I didn't think I'd ever mentioned to you that I do?"

He hesitated – she hadn't: It had been Zechs that had remarked that she hailed from Germany originally. "Your file says you're from Hanover – it was a logical assumption," he replied, shrugging.

The plane pulled to a halt. A few minutes later Zechs and Noin appeared from the cockpit, both of them looking rumpled and not a little tired – getting the plane on the ground in one piece must have been more of a challenge than Noin had thought it would be.

Treize let go of Une's hand and got to his feet, using the movements to cover his discomfort at his near slip, and ignoring the look Zechs was giving him.

Zechs followed Noin into the cockpit of the plane, wincing when he looked out of the window and saw the weather. His classmate was leaning over the co-pilot's chair, talking to Une to find out what, if anything, had changed whilst she'd been in the cabin. She nodded, and slid into the pilot's chair, taking back control of the plane. Zechs took that as his cue to tap Une on the shoulder, letting her know that she could let go of the stick she was rigidly gripping.

She actually smiled at him as she got out of his way and allowed him to take over the co-pilot's position, then she turned and went back into the main cabin.

"How far are we from the airfield?" Zechs asked as he took his own controls in his hands and immediately felt the way the plane was fighting them in the rough weather.

Noin grimaced. "Not far enough, but we'll manage. Lady Une isn't going to appreciate it though – I really thought she was going to be sick when you took off. She went completely white."

Zechs fought his smile. "I'm sorry for that. I was under the impression that the plane might be in danger, and Treize hadn't told me there was anyone else on board."

She turned an impish grin on him. "Don't apologise – I liked it!"

He grinned back at her. "I'm glad someone did! Treize seemed rather shocked, too."

"I'll bet he didn't look half as shocked as you did a minute ago!"

Zechs ducked his head, feeling his face heat again. "Yes, well…"

"Yes, well – indeed! Just what were the two of you planning to do in there anyway?"

"Noin!"

"What?" Though she was looking firmly at her instruments, her eyes were sparkling. "I'm not asking you for graphic detail!"

"Right," Zechs drawled. "Of course you aren't."

Noin shot him a glance, giggling. "So maybe I am. I wouldn't have thought he was the type…"

"For what?!"

"To have such a wanton streak." She paused, thinking. "Or, maybe I would, but not quite like that. Quickies against the wall in places where you're likely to get caught don't seem his thing."

Zechs coughed. "Noin, we weren't going to…"

"Well, maybe you weren't. Mr. Treize had other ideas – I've seen that look on a man's face before!"

"Yes, I'm sure you have," he agreed, and dodged as she aimed a slap at his head.

"You can't say anything to me! I'm not the one who was just caught with his pants very-nearly-literally around his ankles!"

Zechs raised an eyebrow. "As opposed to very nearly being caught in the hangar at the Academy by your Instructor?" he asked, reminding her of one of the stories she'd told him of her own exploits as a cadet.

It was Noin's turn to blush, but before Zechs could laugh at her, the plane shuddered and he was forced to concentrate on his controls. There was a second jolt, and he swore creatively, throwing his strength behind Noin's as they tried to fight the turbulence in the air stream. The plane steadied, leaving them both breathing hard.

"We have to lose altitude or we're never going to get her down on that airfield," Noin ordered.

"Got that."

"And we have to get below this storm front!"

"I don't think we're going to manage that. If the control tower is warning us, it probably runs all the way down."

"Great. Une isn't going to like this, is she?"

"Probably not – I hope Treize hasn't made any early dinner reservations."

Noin laughed. "It's odd thinking of him like that, you know," she added a moment later, tilting the nose of the plane very slightly down.

"Hmm?"

"Well, maybe not for you, but… it's hard to remember that he's not very much older than me and just as human. He seems so… perfect, all the time. Even on Christmas morning, he had this air… Seeing him with you like that was a bit of a shock! Especially since he seems the type to go for slow seduction over dinner, a big bed and lots of fluffy pillows!"

Zechs smiled at her ruefully. "It's been known," he admitted. "I really have no idea whether 'quickies against the wall' are something he'd do, or not. It wouldn't surprise me. I told you about that meeting he dragged me to."

She laughed again. "Now that seems perfectly in character. I can see him doing something like that so that he can sit through the meeting knowing you're squirming." She giggled and seemed to be about to add something, but the controls suddenly bucked under their hands, and then the plane plummeted straight down as the air pressure beneath the wings bottomed out for a moment, killing all their lift.

From the cabin, they heard a frightened moan from Une and Treize's smooth voice reassuring her. Zechs smiled tightly, trying not to feel a pang of jealousy, and then smirking as he imagined her utter mortification if she did throw up on her commanding officer. What was the woman doing in the Specials anyway, if she was this poor a flier? Treize had long since insisted that his cadets be screened for such phobias.

Zechs smiled as he gave his attention completely to his piloting – though he hadn't flown with his classmate in years, they had always made a good team and he found himself slipping back into those habits, instinctively working with her as they brought the jet into the field and down on the snow-sprinkled runway.

They pulled to a halt and Noin tipped her head back with a sigh of relief.

"You were right," Zechs commented wearily. "All the aerodynamics of a brick. Somebody needs to order a redesign – that could prove fatal under the wrong circumstances."

"I know, but you try convincing anyone to listen to you."

"I just might at that. You and I are the best pilots in the armed forces and we struggled. Two average pilots would never have managed and the Specials two most senior officers would now be burning to death in the wreckage."

Noin snorted. "Well, I can't say I'm not glad that Une chose to get out of the way. I wouldn't have wanted to try that without you as a co-pilot."

Zechs nodded as he stood up. "Treize would have been alright, I think."

"Maybe, but I've never flown with him directly."

"Neither have I, but he's a good pilot – better than he thinks he is, actually."

Noin frowned – that seemed an odd sort of thing for Zechs to say. "Oh?" she asked, curious.

Zechs shrugged. "He seems determined that I'm much better than he is."

"You are."

"Maybe."

"No maybe. I've fought with both of you, remember. He's very good, I'll give you that, maybe even in the top ten for the Specials, but he's not you – not even me."

"I'm not convinced, Noin. I'd like to put him in an Aries and see what he can do. He's never flown anything newer than a Leo, and they don't really suit his style of fighting."

"He managed well enough on L3."

"Even so… You've heard of the new Taurus suit?"

"Of course I have," Noin agreed, as she flicked the last few switches. "Every pilot in the Specials has heard the rumours."

"Yes. Treize was involved in its design process – quite heavily involved. Its part of something he started years ago; he's determined that his pilots will have mobile suits that match their abilities, and he's convinced that neither the Leo nor the Aries does that."

"So this new Taurus suit…?"

"Is nothing like either. It's faster, more powerful, more responsive – I'm not convinced it's not too much, but he says that it won't be, that the pilots will simply improve to match the machine as they have with every other new suit design."

"There's some truth to that. The first few times I flew an Aries I couldn't keep up, now it feels almost too slow."

"I know." He paused. "I don't think the Taurus is what he's working towards though. He's got hundreds and hundreds of hours of flight records stored away, half finished schematics, concepts for things that he won't let me see. He mentioned once, years ago when he'd just left the Academy, that one of his dreams was to design the perfect mecha – something that would work with the pilot in flawless harmony, and push them to their absolute limit, and I think he means to actually do it."

Noin shrugged. "Why shouldn't he? I would have thought you'd like the idea." She watched as he frowned. "It is you he's intending as the pilot, you know. Who else?"

"He's never suggested…"

"Should he have to? Zechs, whatever else he may be, he's an excellent judge of his soldiers potential. I'll bet he knew how good a pilot you were going to be long before you ever joined the Specials."

The frown deepened. "Noin, some of his ideas… I don't know if they're genius or madness. They owe nothing to current suit design. His figures for the pilot interface are… frightening. I'm not convinced the average person could fly it and come out in one piece."

Noin stood up, running her hands through her hair to neaten it. "Maybe the average person couldn't, but you aren't average. When is he planning to build this suit, then?"

"I don't know. He says he's waiting for something. The thing of it is, Noin that nothing about any of his ideas owes anything to the Leo design – almost completely the opposite, in fact. If he's designing what he thinks a mobile suit should be, then he must hate everything about the suits he's flown. If he's as good as you say in a suit he loathes, what could he do in a suit he liked?"

Noin shrugged, but the question had caught her imagination. "You have a point, but I doubt it will ever matter. Generals don't fight on the front lines.

"True, I suppose. I'd still like to see it – I don't like hearing him insisting he isn't a good pilot."

"Well, you could always ask him to fly something else," she pointed out. "He might do it just to make you happy."

Zechs smiled, but he shook his head. "I wouldn't ask." He paused, and then gestured at the door. "Come on – I'm sure Treize and Lady Une are wondering what's happened to us."

She made her way through the door, Zechs on her heels. He was close enough to her that she could feel him stiffen as they came into the cabin. Glancing behind her for a second, she saw that he was glaring at Treize, and she turned back in time to see that the general was holding Lady Une's hand in his own. A second later, he was on his feet and moving, without ever returning the younger man's gaze.