Disclaimer - well, of course they aren't mine. But I get to play with them so who cares?

Note: Hugs and cookies to my faithful reviewers, still fearlessly slogging through bottomless lakes of angst - KS, Maskelle, DragonRaye, Pikeebo, and especially Snow, for all the positive reinforcement and the odd bit of prodding…..I think this one's a wee bit more positive (?); a little bit of past tense squick, and a lot of present-day lemony sap …..

Public Speaking:

Wufei's hair was usually an accurate barometer of his mood. He had showered and changed into loose, casual clothes, but his hair had been yanked back so ruthlessly it was probably giving him a headache.

Zechs set their drinks down on the small table and took a sip of brandy. It was a rare thing these days, to see Wufei lose his temperso comprehensively, another indication; if any were needed, of how very worried he was about Duo.

'It's not their fault, you know.'

Wufei coloured slightly, turning to look at his lover for the first time since Zechs had stepped out on the balcony.. 'I know. I'll apologise later.'

'No need, love. Relena pays her legal advisors quite outlandish amounts of money; it won't do them any harm to be yelled at for once.'

'And threatened.' Wufei's blush deepened, and Zechs chuckled.

'They're lawyers, dearheart. I'm sure they're well used to being abused.'

'Even so,' Wufei said stubbornly, 'there is no honour in insulting paid subordinates.'

'Quite determined to wallow, are you?' Zechs stepped just a little closer, sliding one arm around Wufei's waist. 'If it makes you feel better, I'll double their fees. They probably deserve it, coming in to the palace at this time of night, having already spent the past twenty four hours trying to help us; one might think they'd expect a modicum of courtesy, if not actual gratitude.'

'Oh, stop it!' Wufei snapped, but he let Zechs wrap his other arm around him and pull him close. 'I behaved horribly and you're not helping.'

'I'm trying to feed your guilt complex so you can feel even worse about yourself,' Zechs pointed out, pressing his lip against his partner's soft, dark hair. 'Will it help if I point out that the senior partner suffers from high blood pressure, and it possibly wasn't helpful for you to call him an ineffectual, inefficient time-server. Or that his poor little assistant burst into tears after you stormed out?'

'Still not helping,' Wufei muttered, but he was smiling very slightly.

'It will be all right, you know. Winner has no case; the fact that things have gone this far indicates only how corrupt the legal system can be.'

'Then why does Duo have to stay there? With Yuy?'

'It's a formality; they were explaining that. Or trying to, before you decided to throw a hissy fit and storm out. It is unfair and wrong, but now that events have come this far, there has to be some sort of investigation.'

'Whatever happens, he isn't going into some sort of damned care facility.'

Zechs opened his mouth to agree; then realised Wufei wasn't seeking reassurance, just stating a plain fact.

'Ah. Of course not. Were you planning to take me along, or just go jaunting off into the horizon with Duo, and every law enforcement officer and bounty hunter in the universe in hot pursuit?'

'You know you can come. If you want to.'

'Stupid question.'

'Here,' He handed Wufei a glass and watched the black eyes widen as he saw the wafer thin slices of peach and apricot, marinaded in old Sanque brandy. It was one of the country's chief delicacies, and usually drunk only on special occasions.

'Are we celebrating something?'

Zechs lifted one shoulder in a gesture that was entirely too elegant to be called a shrug. 'You and I, alone beneath a full moon and all the stars in the sky. Is that not occasion enough for you? Drink, love.' He touched his glass to Wufei's, and the clear chime of crystal hung in the air.

'Love,' It was a soft echo, an endearment and a toast combined. Zechs moaned softly as his lover drank, then delicately slid a peach across his lips before swallowing.

Wufei's mouth opened at once as if he expected to be ravished. Instead, Zechs licked delicately across the parted lips, savouring the intense sweetness of peach, before drawing Wufei's tongue, tasting deliciously of ripe, softened fruit into his mouth and feasting on him until they were both breathless.

'That was … nice.' Zechs' voice was just a little unsteady as he raised his glass again. They each took a long swallow, holding each other's eyes and kissed again, tasting each other through century old brandy. Zechs took a second mouthful, holding it, and pressed his mouth to Wufei's, letting his lover drink from his mouth, then sucking greedily on his tongue.

'Shall we go inside?'

'Mil, can you give me a few minutes alone? Please?'

'Of course, 'Fei. I need to shower first anyway. Don't just sit here worrying, will you? We'll have Duo home before you know it.' Wufei took another drink, refusing to meet Zechs' eyes. 'Ah. It's Heero you're worried about, isn't it? That Duo's staying with him? Not the court case at all. 'Fei, I know you don't like Heero, but he's an honourable man. And Duo's a guest in his home. He won't do anything.'

'You don't know anything about him, Milliardo!' It was the use of his full name, as much as the pure venom in Wufei's tone that shocked Zechs. 'But you're right; he won't dare to do anything. I told him, years ago, that I'd kill him if he ever hurt Duo again, if he did anything…'

'Does Duo know?'

'Of course not. And he doesn't need to.' Oh, there was a definite warning there, not even very thinly veiled. 'You don't know what he was like, after Heero. You didn't see him. No one did, except me, and I am not letting Yuy do that to him again.' He leaned overandkissed Zechs on the lips. 'I'm sorry. Go and wash; I'll be in soon, I promise.

You don't know what he was like, after Heero. No one does.

Wufei shivered suddenly, alone on the terrace with all of his memories of those early months when Duo had moved in with him.

He had paid regular, dutiful visits, when his schedule allowed, during those first months while Maxwell was unconscious in hospital, and afterwards. Less often, of course, after Winner had organised his transfer to the private clinic in Switzerland, but Wufei's assignments sometimes took him to mainland Europe and he visited when he could, taking some time off at the end of a mission if necessary.

Maxwell was a former comrade, after all, and honour demanded he do as much.

It was Winner who had persuaded him to allow Maxwell to spend a few months in the spare room of his apartment, Maxwell's surgeons having vetoed space travel until his injuries were more fully healed. He wasn't quite sure how he'd agreed, save that even he wasn't entirely proof against the little blonde's charm, his insistence that Maxwell needed to be with a friend, not in another institution, and that it would be good for Wufei to have some company.

The first weeks had been easier than expected. He'd respected Maxwell's skill and audacity as a pilot from the start, had come to recognise his courage and strength when they were prisoners together, but he had not wanted a - a roommate, he believed the term was. Wufei had come to cherish his own space, his solitude; a little sanctuary from an increasingly complex world and he was not looking forward to sharing all of that with Maxwell.

In fact, living together had been easier than he'd imagined. He travelled a great deal anyway, and even when he was based at Preventers HQ, he worked long hours, and spent most of his free time in the gym; either working out, or sparring with one of the few agents who approached his level of skill. Maxwell was out most of the day, attending his various therapies, and tended to keep to his room when Wufei was at home.

There was only one incident during those first weeks that recalled 02 as he'd been during the War, constantly teasing Wufei and calling him by the most ludicrous nicknames.

On Winner's instructions, Wufei had kept all his weapons securely stashed in his bedroom, even the ancestral sword which he had hung over his fireplace, and he'd locked the carving knives in a cupboard.

The first morning of Duo's stay, he'd come down to breakfast to find the point of his largest knife buried in the kitchen door, a small piece of paper fluttering from the blade.

'Don't worry, Fifi. I promised Quat I wouldn't try to off myself.'

It didn't worry Wufei when he came home a month or so later, and there was no sign of Maxwell; if anything, he was rather glad. It had been an especially long day; past eleven when he left the office and he just wanted to sit in silence and enjoy the meal he'd collected on the way home. He preferred to cook, but Sally had recommended a small restaurant that served simple, authentic meals rather than the travesty that masqueraded as 'Chinese food' in most places, and he bought food from there if he felt tired.

A little needle of guilt pricked him as he sat down to eat; it was several days since he'd actually seen Maxwell for more than a couple of minutes at a time. There was plenty of food after all - more than enough for them both to share.

Tentatively, Wufei nudged the bedroom door open. Perhaps he was sleeping? It was late, almost midnight by now, and he hadn't answered Wufei's call. Maxwell wasn't there, but the room was a mess; a far cry from when it had served as his study. There was a clear route from the unmade bed to the window, but otherwise the floor was covered with tottering piles of books, clothes, and other rubbish.

Damn. Winner and Barton had trusted him to look after their friend's welfare and this was how he had betrayed their trust. He had absolutely no idea where Maxwell might be. Apart from visits to his therapist, he sometimes went to the cinema, or the library, but surely such places would be closed so late at night? Trying hard to think of somewhere else Duo had ever mentioned, Wufei absently picked up a book lying open on the bed - a novel by some Russian he had never heard of - and a small square of cardboard fell on the floor.

It was an advertisement for a club of some sort. Did Maxwell frequent such places? Surely not, especially while he was healing. Still, it was a lead of sorts.

It was in an area of town he had never visited. The club was easy to find; no other building on the block had neon lights flashing outside, or a long line of people waiting to be admitted.

All men.

Ah.

Of course, he knew that such places existed, had never, never considered entering one. He would think of it as an assignment, nothing more. Ascertain Maxwell's safety and whereabouts. Extract him if necessary. Leave.

'I'm looking for someone.' Ignoring the men already standing in line, Wufei stalked up to the security man on the door. He was still in his Preventer's uniform, after all. 'About my height, long chestnut hair in a braid, he would probably be considered attractive.'

'Yeah, we're all looking for someone like that,' the bouncer growled, and there was some sniggering behind Wufei. 'Think you got costume night mixed up, kid, but go on in anyway. They're gonna love you in there.'

'We can love you out here,' muttered a voice in the crowd, immediately followed by other, more explicit comments.

Pushing his way to the bar was a nightmare. He was assaulted from every side by vile, obscene invitations, and once or twice a strange hand touched him in a grossly familiar fashion.

'Yummy,' commented one man at the bar, who was wearing some bizarre combination of leather and lace, 'You like pretending to be a big, bad-ass Preventer, do you?'

'Get out of my way!' Wufei said furiously, fumbling for his ID, and waving to attract the bartender, and rapping out Maxwell' s description.

'Oh, him. Yeah, he was here.'

'Was?' Wufei demanded. 'When did he leave? Tell me!'

'Don't get your undies in a twist, kid. He's out back,' One meaty hand indicated a door. 'You'll probably have to wait in line for a turn, though. A few of the guys went out with him...'

He hadn't knownwhat to expect, not really, not on this night when the whole world seemed to have gone insane.

But not this - not Shinigami on the ground and naked from the waist down and surrounded by three strangers.

'Get away from him.'

'Yeah? Feel like joining in the party? Plenty of room for a hottie like you?'

Hottie! Chang Wufei bristled at the term, at the insinuating, intimate tone, and at the eyes roaming over his body, and fired two shots into the air.

'Get. Away. From. Him. Now.'

Another shot, just over their heads this time, and they scattered.

'Duo! Maxwell, are you alright?'

Oh, dear gods, what had they done to him? Maxwell was frantically trying to cover himself, dragging up pants Wufei had never seen before; black leather, with some sort of lacing at the waist, but not before Wufei had seen the blood and - other things streaking his thighs.

''Fei, you shouldn't be here!'

'Never mind any of that!' He bent over, to help Duo stand, and almost recoiled at the smell of alcohol. Duo's pupils were hugely dilated, too, and he'd been on enough drug busts to know what that meant.

'Come on. We have to call the police.' He ignored the faint, muffled protest. 'I saw those men, I can identify them. They'll be charged, I swear it.'

'No.'

'Duo, you have to.' Wufei tried to make his voice gentle and compassionate, the way Sally could when she was dealing with a victim of - abuse. 'Otherwise, they'll get away with it. With - what they did to you.'

'I said NO! It's not rape if you want it, 'Fei. If you ask for it. Didn't you know that?' His voice had changed somehow; the L2 accent much more pronounced than usual.

Wufei was up early the next morning, even by his standards. He had a report to finish for Commander Une, but that was just an excuse; he'd wanted to be out of the house before Maxwell came down. It didn't work; Wufei had just sat down with his first cup of tea when Duo appeared in the doorway.

'Oh, God, Wufei. I am so sorry. I'll move out today, I swear. I'll be gone before you get home. I'm just so sorry you saw me like that.'

It had occurred to Wufei on the drive home last night; he had no experience with this sort of thing, no desire whatsoever to gain such experience. It would be in Maxwell's best interests to move to - some sort of care facility, where he could receive professional help.

But that was before he had listened to Duo for most of the night. Wufei's building was new; the walls paper thin, so he had spent hours listening to Duo's broken sobbing.

Of course, he knew something of what had happened with Yuy. They had always seemed an improbable couple - the driven, focussed perfect warrior and the irreverent, outgoing clown, but somehow they had fit together perfectly. He had observed them sometimes, trying to identify the emotions that he felt as discomfort and embarrassment, as was only natural for a straight male.

Certainly not envy or desire or need.

He could not imagine loving anyone so much that their loss would cause such an outpouring of pure grief; listening to Duo, he had no wish ever to give another person so much power over him. To give his honour and his happiness entirely into another's keeping.

He had tried to feel love, or even affection for Meilan, as she deserved. She was his wife; would bear the children who would honour his ancestors, and continue the Clan bloodline. He had tried to feel those things, and he had grieved as tradition demanded when she died, had mourned her courage and her spirit, but in all truth, he had not even liked her very much.

Had even speculated, once or twice, in his deepest fantasies, and to his intense shame, on the fact that Yuy was now single. It seemed a particularly dishonourable thing, now, having witnessed Maxwell's unrelenting grief, and with Maxwell himself standing in front of him, and unable to meet Wufei's eye.

He was dressed in clothing altogether too big for him; sweatpants and a shirt that advertised some sort of concert. His hair was loose; the first time Wufei had seen it down since they had shared a cell together. Even then, in the middle of all that was happening, he had desperately tried to braid it; even with bones broken by the interrogators.

'No.' He said it softly enough that he had to repeat the word before Duo would look up. 'I don't want you to move out. Truly. But you have to stop doing this. It's not helping, Duo.'

'So? Who gives a fuck?' Maxwell's mouth twisted into some bastard version of a smile. 'Sorry. Bad choice of words, Wu.'

'I care. And how do you think Quatre would feel if he knew what had happened?'

'Shit!' He could still move fast, was standing before Wufei in a blur of chestnut hair. 'You can't tell him. You can't. Promise. Promise me!'

'Alright. But in return I want you to see a doctor.' Duo looked as him as if he'd said something totally ludicrous. 'Sally will be discreet. I guarantee that. Duo…' Oh, but this was too excruciatingly embarrassing to be borne. He had no idea how to say certain things. 'You could - there are - last night, you could have…'

'Oh!' Duo blushed a matching crimson. 'That. Not a problem. They used protection.' His lips formed that distorted smile again. 'Guess they didn't want to catch any nasty little L2 diseases, huh?'

'I need you to promise me you won't do that again. Please. You don't know what could happen to you.'

Violet eyes met black, just for a heartbeat and Wufei realised that he did know, he knew exactly, and he simply didn't care.

'Oh, Duo.' He was - not quite sure how it happened, but suddenly he was on his feet, with both arms awkwardly around Duo, and no idea what to do next. He supposed he had been hugged, by his parents and grandparents, when he was very small, and he had embraced Meilan stiffly at the marriage ceremony, but he had no real idea how to give comfort to another man.

No idea what to do, with Duo standing so close, and those waves of shimmering, silken hair flowing over his hands.

'Can you at least promise to be careful? For Winner's sake if not your own?'

It happened again; of course it did. Twice Wufei had to go and find him again; twice he came home alone, the second time covered with blood.

'It's not mine. Don't worry.' They were in the bathroom; Wufei knew the drill by now, knew that before anything, Duo needed to be physically clean.

'What did he try to do?'

'Some freaky bondage shit.'

'Did you kill him?' Not that Wufei was overly concerned, one way or another; anyone who put that look on Duo's face deserved death, but they might need to organise a cover-up, dispose of the body.

'No. No, I didn't but…I hate being restrained, you know that, Wu.'

He knew; of course he did. More than anyone, possibly even more than Yuy, because Yuy hadn't always been there, had frequently been off flying the Mercurius, and Maxwell had made Wufei promise not to tell everything that had happened.

That - phase, Wufei called it, for want of a better word to describe what Duo was doing - lasted three months, more or less, and Wufei began, for the first time, to reject any assignments that involved leaving home, but he was still a Preventer; one of their finest field agents and he couldn't always pick and choose. There was no denying he was the most suitable agent for the assignment to China; he didn't even try to persuade Commander Une to select another agent. Duo would be alright for ten days by himself, surely?

Wouldn't he? Wufei was half tempted to go home and check on him before delivering his report to Commander Une but of course duty had to come first. It shouldn't take too long, hopefully; just a quick debriefing and he could write up his official report from home. Any excuse not to have to spend a day in Preventers HQ, Wufei reflected bitterly as he walked through the main doors.

He had never fit in with the other agents. He was too young, too idealistic, too uptight, too bound by rules and regulations. Some of them still had grudges from the War. Sally had encouraged him to socialise more, to get to know his colleagues, but the only ones who really granted him any respect were the rare few who'd worked with him.

The jokes had gotten worse since Duo moved in with him, so he wasn't overly concerned at the comments that followed him through the building, about his 'boyfriend', the coarse speculation about what they did together. Not until someone mentioned something about Maxwell being all over the newspapers.

Wufei drove home on instinct alone. He hadn't really been concerned when Duo hadn't returned his 'phone messages. He'd only been able to call on the last day of his assignment and Duo was probably out somewhere, and he never remembered his cellphone. Nor really anything to worry about.

He knew Duo had gone as soon as he saw how neat the kitchen was. Duo did try to be tidy but chaos just seemed to follow him around. The only thing out of place was the pile of newspapers on the table. The first was dated from a couple of days after Wufei had left on his mission; the latest was two days ago.

It had perhaps been foolish not to imagine that no one would identify him at some point, but Wufei hadn't even thought of it. There were photographs, and vile articles about things that had happened years before, when Duo had just been a child. He had scrawled 'sorry' in thick black letters on one of the pictures, pressing so hard the flimsy paper had ripped.

It was - such a Maxwell reaction. The pile of papers - and Wufei had no doubt that Duo had forced himself read every one - left out so Wufei could see at a glance what had happened, the apology for letting him down, and the running.

But Wufei knew him well enough by now to guess where he would hide, and sure enough, he was huddled on a bench by the lake, wrapped in an overlarge black overcoat. He was throwing crumbs to the pigeons clustered around his feet. He looked like a homeless person.

'I want you to come home.'

No reaction. Just a shake of that head. 'I can't. Not after what's happened. Didn't you read the papers? They said all kinds of lies, that we're together. You don't want all that shit in your life, 'Fei.'

'Never mind that for now.' Wufei pulled him up, very carefully. 'Come home for a bit, please, and we can talk. Let me get you something to eat. You can have a shower and get some other clothes.'

It was that last that probably convinced him; Duo almost had a phobia about being clean, about wearing stale clothing.

'Come on,' Duo took his hand, took a step and almost fell. He was painfully light and easy to carry, and docile as a child, letting Wufei run him a bath when they got home, lay out clean clothing and sitting quietly at the kitchen table while Wufei cooked for them both.

''Those things, those papers - are just filth, Duo. Nothing you should be worried about. They'll be lining trash cans tomorrow and there'll be some new scandal for people to read over breakfast.'

'You think so?'

'I'm sure of it.' Wufei tried hard to sound positive, but inwardly he doubted it. Four Gundam pilots had adjusted relatively well to a new era, Quatre's suicide having been well covered up; the news that the fifth had apparently lost the plot would doubtless be a huge news.

He poured himself more tea and took a sip. 'It doesn't matter, what those people think. But, Duo, you have to stop living like this. You need something in your life. Some sort of purpose. I've been looking up courses at the University here and - '

'University? Me? You gotta be joking, 'Fei. You know how I learned to read? Picking up flyers for fast food places out of the gutter, that's how. So when I was hungry I could at least read about food.'

'That only makes your achievements since then all the more remarkable.' Another little piece of the Duo puzzle clicked suddenly into place. On the rare occasions when they'd eaten out together, Duo had always managed to secrete a menu to bring home.

'Will you at least think about it? I've been looking at courses for myself. Perhaps we could even become students together and help each other?'

'You're thinking of quitting Preventers? But - I thought you loved your job.'

Wufei shook his head. He hadn't meant to tell Duo, hadn't meant to tell anyone, ever, but somehow it all came tumbling out. The snide comments, the senseless practical jokes, the fact that any paperwork or records he requested always somehow went astray, all the things that he had no idea how to cope with.

Duo just - listened while he talked. He just sat there and let Wufei talk more than he ever had in his whole life, about himself, and once or twice touched Wufei's hand, or cursed the agents he'd been working with, and made them both more tea, and was - simply there for him; supportive and sympathetic and encouraging.

It was, Wufei later realised, the first time he'd ever really known what it was to have a friend.

Zechs finished towelling his hair dry, shook it out to fall over his shoulders in a gleaming, white gold sheaf, and stepped into the bedroom.

The lamps had been switched off, and his lover was a fantasy of old gold and ebony sprawled on the bed, lit by soft candlelight. Unmoving, eyes closed, he could have been asleep, save for the drowsy, delectably wanton smile.

Zechs drifted around the room, pouring a glass of brandy on the way, simply enjoying the view, before sitting on the side of the bed.

'What do you want, my love?'

The black lashes fluttered open. 'You. On me. In me.'

'Demanding tonight, aren't we?' Zechs observed, bending down for a kiss.

At the start, Wufei had insisted that they swap positions assiduously, to preserve his dignity and honour and male pride, but it hadn't taken him long to realise that being uke didn't necessarily mean being subservientor submissive or even particularly passive. God, but he was beautiful, his skin sweet and smooth as warmed caramel, with the obsidian silk of his hair fanned out over an ivory lace pillow.

They traded sips and sighs and kisses, dripping brandy and desire into each other's mouths, until finally Zechs drizzled the dregs onto Wufei's flat stomach, dribbling it down sweetly between his legs, then closed his eyes and followed it with his tongue, lapping at the tiny pool saved in his navel. With eyes locked shut, his world was distilled to sensation. Smell of musk and alcohol and desire. Sound of skin moving against skin and silken sheets as 'Fei slid and squirmed under him, of low, breathy moans deep in his throat. Taste of firm skin glazed with the juice of grapes ripened a hundred years ago.

Wufei was hard, solid and thrusting, desperate to find release. Zechs touched tongue tip delicately along his length, licking up the last traces of brandy. He was exquisitely gentle to at first, nuzzling the shaft with soft lips, then tormenting him with the slight scrape of teeth against flesh as he began to suck harder. Hands twisted frantically in pale blonde hair, just short of hurting.

'Just do it, Milliardo. Please.'

Wufei's breath hitched at the first invasion of flesh flung into warm, willing flesh, and then entirely forgot to breathe. Zechs was thrusting with powerful, jabbing strokes and 'Fei writhed desperately beneath him, moaning wildly and locking both arms around Zech's waist, battling for possession at every deep plunge, as Zechs hammered into the moving, maddening anvil of his body. Wufei came first, a climax that racked his body and rocked them both with the force of it. Zechs tensed suddenly, staring into his deep onyx eyes, then rode through the final shudders to take his lover's heart and soul and drown them in his own desire…

'Do I look alright?'

He had to be worried to ask such a question, Zechs thought, admiring the demurely beautiful young man standing in front of him the next morning. The severely tailored suit provided the most delicious contrast to his memory of Wufei an hour or so previously, kneeling astride his hips, and grasping desperately for that moment when connection became completion.

'You look... exquisite. Exotic. Positively edible.' He punctuated each word with a kiss, and then fastened his lips around 'Fei's earlobe, feeling him shudder in response.

'We...don't have time, Mil.' He probably meant it to sound firm and decisive; it came out as more of a whine.

'Damn, you're probably right. You might want to bring a pillow with you today. Or a cushion.'

'What? You think I'm going to fall asleep?'

'Not precisely. But from what I remember, the wooden benches in the Visitors' Galleries are very hard, and you could be sitting there for most of the day, depending on how things go.' He grinned, one hand sliding from Wufei's waist to pat his bottom. 'I don't think you're in for a very comfortable day, love; not after what we've been up to.'

He'd been right, Wufei thought several hours later. He should have swallowed his pride and taken the damned pillow. The morning's business hadn't even offered anything to distract him; what seemed like an ongoing debate on taxation had lasted for most of that time and Relena had finally got her chance to speak only ten minutes previously.

She looked very poised up there by the podium, wearing a lilac dress and matching jacket that were both feminine and smart. There was applause when she finished, but then, Wufei thought, the Sanque Parliament would probably have cheered Relena if she'd delivered a monologue on cabbage-growing in Ancient Amharic.

There was a ripple of interest as she left the podium and Zechs stood. It was his first public appearance here since he'd formally abdicated his claim to the throne, but from the way he strode across the dais, he could have been making speeches here every day of his life.

He paused by the lectern, those blue eyes sweeping the room. He could have been trying to banish nerves, or searching for a particular person, but of course he wasn't. He was checking for exits, for threats, for possible danger. Wufei had chosen to sit in the gallery precisely because it commanded a view of the room below; if there were trouble, he would be in the best possible place to act. Wufei could only imagine how exposed his lover felt down there, how much of a target.

Even seven years into the still-enduring peace, there were still people who wanted vengeance for things that had happened during the War, on one side or the other. Wufei and Mil were particular targets, because of their relationship. 'Sleeping with the enemy', Mil had commented once, sourly.

Hard to imagine that there had been a time when Wufei had felt like that himself.

He didn't bother to listen to what Mil was saying; they'd written most of his speech together on the long flight from India to Sanque, instead trying to gauge the mood of the members of parliament.

The audience listened politely enough, showing no real emotions either way, and there was a brief smattering of applause when Zechs swept them a bow, and expressed his gratitude, and apologies for taking up so much valuable time.

They had arranged to meet in the gardens, by a particularly ornate fountain. Zechs was there first, not having had to negotiate his way through the packed gallery, pacing up and down.

'Oh, God. What's wrong? I thought it went alright.' They wouldn't know the verdict for another twenty-fours; by Sanque law, any motion presented to parliament had to be debated for at least that period, but there was little real doubt of the outcome, since Relena had backed it. 'Is there a problem? Did Relena say something?'

'No. It's nothing to do with Duo. Something else. I - talked to Gustaf Hansen yesterday, after you'd left, just the two of us. You know he's Sanque's leading expert on constitutional law, as well as royal protocols.'

Wufei nodded uncertainly, not sure how this affected him.

'I need to ask you something.'

'I knew it. There is something wrong. What's Winner done now?'

'Wufei, it's nothing to do with Winner. I just wanted to know if you could you consider becoming taking Sanque citizenship? Wufei, I - when I abdicated, I thought I was free of all this, but until Relena has children, I'm still the heir apparent to the Throne and by Sanque law I can only marry a Sanque citizen.'

Oh.

That was - not at all what he had expected.

'Is that a proposal?'

'Not yet. Not until we sort all of this mess with Duo. Until then, it is...more of a statement of intent.' His lips quirked. 'Of my honourable intentions toward you.'

'Oh, Mil. Just so you know, I do plan to say yes. And I approve of your intentions even when they're dishonourable.'