[Fic] "A Purpose for Numbers" (2/?)
Title: A Purpose for Numbers (2/?)
Author: a_lifestyle
Fandom: Gundam Wing (3x6, 13x6, 1x3, others))
Rating: R (Sexin’, Angstin’, Angsty Sexin’…)
Words: 4,050
Summary:
A/N: Thank you for the support for this fic-the response has been overwhelmingly positive. Just the fact that there was response at all just blows me away. I’m only fifteen years late to the fandom, after all. :-).
Here’s another dose of fic; I hope you enjoy.
A Purpose for Numbers
Part Two
He awoke at 7:00, as usual, and Trowa was gone. He expected this, because Trowa had always been a man of his word. What he didn’t expect was the feeling of emptiness that settled unpleasantly in his stomach.
Zechs sat up in bed alone for the first time in nearly eight months. The sun was too bright and beamed through the window in harsh plates of light. He squinted and forced his eyes to adjust.
An hour later he greeted Relena at the Preventers Headquarters, and escorted her to the office of Lady Une. The ageless woman bowed slightly before motioning for the two siblings to take a seat. She nodded to her attendant.
“No one is to disturb us,” she said firmly, but with an air of grace that demanded respect-she was the late Treize’s right hand woman, after all. Her attendant gave a quick nod and bow before exiting the room, closing the large double doors behind him softly. Not even one click.
Une pressed the two palms of her hands to the surface of the door. Ten perfectly manicured nails gleamed at just the right angle. “I trust that you both are well.”
“Nothing new to report,” Relena said quickly. Like her brother, she was quick to get to the point. “Please, if you have any information regarding Heero, I’d like to hear it right away.”
She squeezed Zechs’ hand tightly, face expressionless. Her blood raced through her body with unease.
Lady Une nodded before standing to continue. Zechs’ eyes darted down to her two black stilettos, and knew she took comfort in assuming power in situations where she felt uncomfortable. Changes were sudden.
“I trust I don’t have to explain that this information is confidential,” she began, perching on the corner of the desk. “I have a reliable source that says they made contact with Heero Yuy three days before…before his body arrived on Earth.”
“I’m assuming it’s pointless for us to inquire about the identity of your contact,” Zechs said, eyes glued to the space on the wall where a photo of Une and Treize hung, the adjacent curtain casting a shadow over their faces.
She chuckled a bit. “You know how all this works.”
“I’m just relieved to get any kind of information this late in the game,” Relena said, cutting a look at her brother. Zechs backed down, sunk into his seat. Didn’t want to make Relena upset.
“Our contact says that they had spoken to Heero, who said that he was collecting information on a radical group with roots in L2 called ‘The Protectors’,” Une continued, crossing her arms. “It was suggested there was talk of a possible uprising upon Relena’s next visit to L2.”
“The memorial site…” Relena muttered, mind racing. Zechs watched her press three fingers to her temple. She was desperate to remember any small details, and frustrated with the limits of her own mind; he understood these feelings, but didn’t mention it.
Lady Une nodded, standing up from her desk to approach the videoscreen behind them, pulling up Heero’s file. Her fingers dragged across its surface like it was sand at the beach. Heero’s face appeared green in the fluorescent lights.
“I pulled up security briefs from our headquarters that pertain to every visit of yours to L2. A commonality is Heero’s presence-if not serving as your personal bodyguard, he was usually seen close-by or involved with Preventer activities in relation to your appearance. But, his absence that day at L2 for the memorial speech is notable. Did you speak with him beforehand?”
“Yes,” Relena answered slowly. Her eyes were closed. “He said that he couldn’t make it because he was busy. I had asked him what was keeping him so busy these days, and he didn’t really answer. He was always fairly elusive, to say the least. I trusted him.”
Zechs shifted in his chair. There were two wilted roses in the vase across the room. The sight of them was anguish. “Who were the assisting officers providing security that day?” he asked.
Lady Une’s eyebrows furrowed, and she waved her fingers across the screen, light flickering over her face. “We had a squad of forty, six in command for area monitoring, over three checkpoints. Officers Kahn, Jacobi, Warsh, Dumas, Dehond, and Hershad. Overseeing these commanders were two senior officers, Lucrezia Noin and Chang Wufei.”
He blinked once as his chest constricted. “What was their report?”
“Nothing suspicious. The day was warm, clear-just about perfect.”
“Are they here today, or on duty?” Relena asked.
Une smiled softly. “I’ve already informed them that you’d be meeting with them today. Noin is in the east hangar overseeing Taurus repairs. Wufei should be in the west dormitory-he just got back from L5 this morning.”
“I’ll talk to Noin first,” Relena announced, rising from her chair. She reached out, and Une shook her hand once, firmly.
Zechs stood and began to walk towards the exit. He was two steps away from the door before pausing in his journey. He looked over his shoulder slightly to address her.
“What was Chang doing on L5?”
Lady Une stood from the edge of the desk, flipping her hair over her shoulder with the ease of practice. She adjusted the glasses on her nose and regarded Zechs with an air of knowing. “Getting married.”
-----
He waited forty-five seconds in the doorway before Wufei acknowledged his presence.
“Hello, Merquise,” he said with no inflection or emotion, back turned towards him still, unpacking a small suitcase that lay open on his standard military bedroll. Zechs watched with interest as the boy stacked articles of clothing into piles or bunches. Five shirts. Five pairs of socks.
“I hear that congratulations are in order,” Zechs said with equal indifference. He didn’t call Wufei by name, because he feared it would taste bitter and rancid on his tongue; Zechs had very specific tastes.
Wufei paused for just a moment and regarded Zechs with a raised eyebrow. His face was always hard angles and spite, all hair tied tight and chin jutted out. It contorted strangely, a short laughing sound burst suddenly form his mouth. It could have been mistaken for a cough. He dragged the zipper around the empty suitcase. “Do you have something to talk to me about?”
Zechs navigated the conversation with the ease of space, with the tension of history. “Strictly business.”
The suitcase was shoved to the side, and Wufei righted himself. He brushed three strands of hair behind his ear before fixing an indifferent stare on Zechs. “Then, you’ll understand that time is a valuable asset, and wasting it is not only unnecessary, but detrimental to the both of us.”
“Straight to the point, as usual.”
“You’re the one who claims this is ‘strictly business.’”
“It’s a lot to hope for,” Zechs murmured. He ran his hand along the wall, his five fingertips traveling the divots and bumps of concrete before coming to rest on a solid spans of smooth surface. He appeared relaxed. Inside, his stomach coiled. Forced himself to breathe once, twice.
“Une says you want information about Relena’s commemorative visit to L2 at the end of March of this year.” Wufei had never been a patient man. Stood stick-straight and uncomfortable looking. He was fire and ice in one human being.
Zechs sighed, nodded firmly. “Relena’s blames herself. Any information is appreciated.”
“I’m sure you’ve figured out already that I’m the contact,” Wufei muttered. He stooped down suddenly and rummaged through the cabinet in the bedside table that stood on three legs and a stack of four books. He pulled out a manilla folder.
Zechs smiled, cocking his head. “I’ve not lost my touch yet, I suppose.”
Wufei gripped one bottom corner of the envelope and shook it’s contents out onto his bedroll. Documents, maps, and photos littered the surface. Zechs’ eyes flitted back and forth between the papers and the silver ring that wrapped around Wufei’s fourth finger as he sorted through his research.
“Sally Po and I have been following the activities of the Protectors for over a year. They’re a group of ex-soldiers whose headquarters are on L2, but their influence and sub-groups have populated the other colonies as well. They’re anti-Earth-they believe that anyone and everything attached to Earth is toxic, will lead to more war and hardship on the colonies.”
“Some people can’t adapt to change,” Zechs said, fingering a map with at least twenty red circles scratched into its surface, cities and countries alike. He surprised both himself and his company with a laugh that floated up suddenly from his gut. “We both know something of that.”
Wufei didn’t miss a beat, taking the map from Zech’s hands, tracing lines between the red markings. “Their influence has penetrated the media and government offices on L2, so most of their activity has remained low-profile. Their main goal is to fly under the radar, setting their traps and eliminating any roadblocks secretly. We’re trying to do the same. We’re unsure if they know we’ve caught on to their activities, but what we do know is that their influence is substantial. They’ve secured separate divisions of L2 hospitals with physicians and doctors paid by the Protectors for only their use and care. No doubt they’re also using these hospitals as localized checkpoints. The same for corporate factories and offices across the colony. They’re gaining followers and supporters without exposing themselves to the public. “ Wufei pulled out a letter, unmarked on the outside.
“I was first contacted by Heero Yuy six months before that day on L2. He said that he had gone undercover and was considered among the Protectors’ top ranks.”
“An ex-Gundam pilot-a seemingly perfect weapon for the colonies to use against Earth.” Zechs fingered the letter in Heero’s stark, sharp scrawls.
“Precisely. Heero said his intentions were to infiltrate and then take control and seize activities internally, and then call upon the Preventers and other authorities for back-up.”
Zechs looked up from the letter, forehead forming the two creases between his eyes that he had seen in the mirror for as long as he could remember. “Pilot 01. Heero Yuy. Asking for back-up.”
Wufei smiled in a way that indicated anything but comfort. “Not in this lifetime. I believe we’ve all changed in this years; after all, only a fool thinks their job is done after the war.”
“Heero Yuy intended to always be a soldier,” Zechs stated. He lit a cigarette, offered one to Wufei, who refused with a curt turn of the head. “How large would you say is their manpower?”
“Bigger than you’d expect for something entirely underground. They outnumber the Preventers at least three-fold.”
Zechs put the letter aside, fingers running over the edges of blurry photos, most of Heero Yuy. The boy still looked sixteen. Attached to the photos were sticky notes, words scribbled on napkins. Personal surveillance. “Considering the damage done by the independent actions of five colony teenagers, there could be a threat on the horizon.”
A small smile tugged at Wufei’s lip-Zechs blinked, and it was just a small memory.
“I got as close to Heero as I could get to monitor his activity. For the most part, he stayed true to his word-remaining close to the action, but never seemingly a direct part of it. I’m sure the Protectors were protecting their prized knight.”
“How did he earn their trust, considering his ties with Relena?”
Wufei stood and paced the room. Although the room was large and spacious, the empty quiet was what protected them. Made it hard to breathe. “That, I don’t know. But I can say with a degree of certainty that It had to do with something on that day.”
Zechs exhaled softly, three ribbons of smoke reaching towards the ceiling. He closed his eyes. The knuckles of his two fingers dug into his eye sockets. “What was Trowa’s involvement in this?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his misstep. Wufei’s silence made his stomach swell into his throat. He had to give the kid credit-although he was certain Wufei was feeling substantially smug, the kid had paused only a fraction of time in his pace before continuing like Zechs hadn’t just exposed his weakness.
“It is unlikely that he participated in their cause. I know that the two of them were…close.” Wufei coughed. “Trowa Barton and Heero Yuy had been sharing living quarters for three years when I received that first call from Heero. No doubt Trowa knew of the Protectors’ existence, but whether or not he chose to act or participate on that knowledge, we could never find out. Heero never mentioned Trowa’s involvement, and if Trowa took an active role in their activities, I’m positive that either Sally or myself would have detected it.”
He stopped pacing, turned his head to the ground. “I hadn’t-none of us-had spoken to Trowa in five years. He didn’t want to be found.” He pulled an ashtray from the beside table, and held it out to Zechs. “At least, not by one of us.”
Zechs looked up into Wufei’s two dark eyes, fixed on him with a heavy air of suspicion. He did not back down, although his heart beat very quickly, four times faster than usual. He tightened his jaw. Couldn’t fail now.
He butted out his cigarette and stood quickly. Smoothed out a wrinkle in his pants. “What happened that day on L2?”
“Like I reported: nothing out of the ordinary. We knew the Protectors were present, but we did our job, set up checkpoints, no one was harmed. We confirmed that Heero wasn’t present, and noted a shift in his recent pattern. We left.” He sat the ashtray down on the table and began to walk towards the exit of the dormitory. “Obviously, we don’t have any more patterns to look for. Monitoring the future movement of the Protectors will be difficult, but manageable.”
Zechs nodded once in Wufei’s general direction. “Thank you for your time. Relena finds comfort in knowledge.”
“Perhaps she can form conclusions that we haven’t,” he answered with a small taste of spite. “If you ask me, there have been only two people I have ever known in my whole life who did nothing but produce one unanswerable question after another. One of them was Heero Yuy. The other was Treize Khushrenada.”
Zechs’ skin was clammy and uncomfortable. Throat was dry. “Treize is a different conversation, for a different day.”
They stopped in front of the doorway, their voices low but with great intention, like tremors before a quake.
“I see,” Wufei began. “I’d like you to find me on that day.”
“I’m afraid I can’t offer you any insight in regards to Treize. At least, not the answers you seek. He was a private man.”
Wufei sneered. “You both were.”
Zechs turned to leave before he felt Wufei grab his shoulder firmly. He looked to him, but his gaze was not returned. Although his four fingers dug sharply into his shoulder, Wufei looked off into the empty space like he was just a leisurely passerby. “Trowa is with Quatre on L4.”
The blonde nodded, noting the sick feeling in his stomach and choosing to ignore it. “Good-bye. And, congratulations.”
He exited the dormitory, the image of Wufei’s distant stare and the silver band around his left ring finger a lasting memory, like when he stared into the sun for too long and before he knew it, violet splotches clouded his vision. He took the stairs three at a time. He counted.
-----
That night, Zechs dreamt of Treize.
The night of OZ graduation, Treize was nowhere to be found. High donors and government officials ground their teeth wordlessly as each newly enlisted soldier asked about and praised their prized king. Zechs’ eyes shifted behind his mask, noting without surprise how, when champagne began to flow, all betrayals and discreprencies were forgotten for the chance to bestow wisdom upon young, malleable minds. Manipulation and bribery were already undertones of conversation taking place underneath crystal chandeliers.
That summer was humid and never-ending, and Zechs stepped outside, leaving his untouched glass of champagne on the side table before exiting the ballroom. He adjusted his mask and began walking.
When he arrived at Treize’s residence, he made his way up to the master bedroom, where he could smell the bath salts. Moisture in the air. He took off his mask and as he ascended the stairs, he briefly looked out the large windows that framed the staircase into the night, lit up like a Christmas tree. The view wasn’t bad, but he’d seen the world from the perspective of a mobile suit. It was all no longer so picturesque.
He walked in without knocking, discarding his dress jacket on the bathroom counter. Treize was facing away from him, head resting against the side of the bathtub, an arm slung over the side. Treize didn’t flinch when he heard Zechs’ footsteps echo against the bathroom walls.
“Above all the glamour and small talk tonight?” Treize began. The lilt of his voice wrapped around Zechs throat. Took him a minute to breathe.
“I believe that it’s actually above me.” Zechs turned and rested his back against the counter. Treize, in all his stature and status was actually not as complicated of a man as everyone believed. He still perspired. He got exhausted, like everyone else. He took baths.
Zechs lit a cigarette and cracked the window of the bathroom open. Steam quickly evaporated and Treize raised an eyebrow as he slid further into the water, capturing the heat.
“You know, those things will kill you,” Treize remarked. They made eye contact for the first time that night; Zechs was certain Treize could see through his mask, among other things.
He exhaled smoke, smiling awkwardly. Like the expression didn’t quite fit on his face the way it should. “I think the fact that you are here next to me already puts my mortality in serious jeopardy, Treize.”
Treize chuckled a bit, in that aristocrat manner that grated on Zechs’ bones. He turned to him, motioning for him to approach. Zechs hesitated before walking over, leaning on the side of the tub. Treize’s hand emerged from the water and laid across Zechs’ thigh, the wet and the heat making him recoil at first. He was, indeed, a private man.
“Do you feel guilty, Zechs?” Treize asked him, the words lifting off his tongue with minimal effort, striking Zechs in the chest with each sharp syllable.
“These men signed up for a war,” he said, speaking softly but his words echoed within his mask. Inside his head. He left his cigarette against the ashtray next to the tub. “I will give it to them.”
“What is it you want, Zechs?” Treize asked. Zechs could see moisture on his lips, and he cleared his throat.
“You know damn well what I want,” he said, his attempt to be firm thwarted by blue eyes and the overpowering smell of roses.
“Tell me,” Treize repeated. “And I will give it to you.”
Zechs’ skin was hot, even when Treize ripped his mask from his face and exposed him to the humid air. Made his eyes tear. There was no time to think as he was dragged into the bathtub, the sound of the splash deafening against the quiet of their kiss.
His clothes were heavy, stuck to him. Felt like drowning. The edge of the tub scraped his spine as Treize pushed his shoulders back, hard. Their breaths were short and full. They attempted to not breathe through their mouths, which dared to open once or twice to create sounds that were lost the moment they appeared.
“I want you,” Treize said through his teeth, into the angle of Zechs’ cheekbone. The declaration was electric all the way down to where Treize ground his knee into the space between his legs.
Zechs stretched as his clothes were peeled off, each hitting the floor tiles with a satisfying smack. His hair strung across his face. His eyes were always closed.
He felt a tongue swipe across his jawline. Treize’s hands were always deliberate, ripping away at his clothes, pressing against his cock, clawing at his back, pulling him in. They didn’t know how to be tender.
In their frenzy, the bathtub plug was pulled, chain caught on a foot. As the water depleted, they remained wet and hot. Sweat and muscle and heat. Their bones rattled against the marble of the tub.
“Go on, then,” Zechs said in barely a whisper. He spread his legs, lifted his pelvis. He was never embarrassed; he didn’t know how he could be when the feeling of Treize stroking his cock was so fucking good.
Treize squeezed the base, slowly dragged his tongue across a nipple. Zechs fixed his eyes upon the one hand that gripped the edge of the tub; if he looked down, he feared his mind would cloud. Too much to bear. He felt Treize hovering over him, breath on his cheek. Intense heat.
Suddenly there was shooting pain, ripping through his abdomen. Heard himself spit curses. Hands, those strong hands were around his face, pressing into his temples, the back of his head. Pulling his hair. His cock was hard against his stomach the second he felt Treize enter him, thighs pressed to his ass. He used his legs to pull him in, and forced him start thrusting. They didn’t know how to go slow.
“God-fuck-Zechs,” Treize cursed, barely audible above the sound of flesh on flesh, muscles straining and ready to snap. Zechs met each pounding thrust, reaching between them to jerk himself. He needed release. He clawed at the back of his knees.
Eyes closed, his mind was sharp, even though the haze of whatever this thing was that was them, he and Treize, was thicker than the summer air. Felt his muscles contracting, releasing, working overtime, asshole stretching, toes curling. He felt the weight of Treize on top of him, and it turned him on so fucking much.
He let out a moan, knowing how it affected Treize, and how he would shudder silently, strengthen his resolve. He would look down between them and watch his cock sliding in and out of Zechs’ body, the body that he had navigated, conquered again and again.
“Again,” Treize said, biting down on his shoulder. When Zechs tried to cry out, the force of the thrust stole his voice. He managed a grunt, a desperate sound. He felt his cock swell.
Zechs’ head rocked back against the tub as orgasm shot through him, shaking his frame. Treize’s thrust became erratic. His knees were burning. This, this moment. Yes. Yes.
Treize came inside him, soundlessly. Time seemed to stop. Zechs opened his eyes. His chest tightened for one small moment. Treize collapsed on top of him, a heap of oxygen, come, and sweat. The tub was cold against his forehead, and never had he been more grateful.
Later that night, they had migrated to the bed, Zechs’ clothes hung to dry along the rim of the bathtub. Treize lay on his stomach, one arm serving as a pillow, the other stretched out next to him. Zechs sat upright, eyes closing involuntarily. The days were so long.
“These men are desperate, Zechs,” Treize mumbled into the bedsheets. “Desperate to hold onto something they believe in. They will follow OZ until the day they die.”
“Not necessarily. But,” Zechs added, with a hint of sadness so bitter and small that not even the great strategist, Treize Khusrenada, could predict or detect it. “They will indeed follow you.”
-----
Zechs woke up at 7:32 the next morning. Panic lept into his chest. He sat up and realized that in the thirty-two minutes he was off-schedule, the world wasn’t altered or changed in any real way.
He felt moisture on his cheek, and wiped it away with the back of his hand. He spent exactly three seconds thinking about why it had been there before he took ten steps into his closet. Three shirts. Two pairs of pants.
The shuttles to L4 were small, and he had to pack light.
-tbc-
Author: a_lifestyle
Fandom: Gundam Wing (3x6, 13x6, 1x3, others))
Rating: R (Sexin’, Angstin’, Angsty Sexin’…)
Words: 4,050
Summary:
A/N: Thank you for the support for this fic-the response has been overwhelmingly positive. Just the fact that there was response at all just blows me away. I’m only fifteen years late to the fandom, after all. :-).
Here’s another dose of fic; I hope you enjoy.
A Purpose for Numbers
Part Two
He awoke at 7:00, as usual, and Trowa was gone. He expected this, because Trowa had always been a man of his word. What he didn’t expect was the feeling of emptiness that settled unpleasantly in his stomach.
Zechs sat up in bed alone for the first time in nearly eight months. The sun was too bright and beamed through the window in harsh plates of light. He squinted and forced his eyes to adjust.
An hour later he greeted Relena at the Preventers Headquarters, and escorted her to the office of Lady Une. The ageless woman bowed slightly before motioning for the two siblings to take a seat. She nodded to her attendant.
“No one is to disturb us,” she said firmly, but with an air of grace that demanded respect-she was the late Treize’s right hand woman, after all. Her attendant gave a quick nod and bow before exiting the room, closing the large double doors behind him softly. Not even one click.
Une pressed the two palms of her hands to the surface of the door. Ten perfectly manicured nails gleamed at just the right angle. “I trust that you both are well.”
“Nothing new to report,” Relena said quickly. Like her brother, she was quick to get to the point. “Please, if you have any information regarding Heero, I’d like to hear it right away.”
She squeezed Zechs’ hand tightly, face expressionless. Her blood raced through her body with unease.
Lady Une nodded before standing to continue. Zechs’ eyes darted down to her two black stilettos, and knew she took comfort in assuming power in situations where she felt uncomfortable. Changes were sudden.
“I trust I don’t have to explain that this information is confidential,” she began, perching on the corner of the desk. “I have a reliable source that says they made contact with Heero Yuy three days before…before his body arrived on Earth.”
“I’m assuming it’s pointless for us to inquire about the identity of your contact,” Zechs said, eyes glued to the space on the wall where a photo of Une and Treize hung, the adjacent curtain casting a shadow over their faces.
She chuckled a bit. “You know how all this works.”
“I’m just relieved to get any kind of information this late in the game,” Relena said, cutting a look at her brother. Zechs backed down, sunk into his seat. Didn’t want to make Relena upset.
“Our contact says that they had spoken to Heero, who said that he was collecting information on a radical group with roots in L2 called ‘The Protectors’,” Une continued, crossing her arms. “It was suggested there was talk of a possible uprising upon Relena’s next visit to L2.”
“The memorial site…” Relena muttered, mind racing. Zechs watched her press three fingers to her temple. She was desperate to remember any small details, and frustrated with the limits of her own mind; he understood these feelings, but didn’t mention it.
Lady Une nodded, standing up from her desk to approach the videoscreen behind them, pulling up Heero’s file. Her fingers dragged across its surface like it was sand at the beach. Heero’s face appeared green in the fluorescent lights.
“I pulled up security briefs from our headquarters that pertain to every visit of yours to L2. A commonality is Heero’s presence-if not serving as your personal bodyguard, he was usually seen close-by or involved with Preventer activities in relation to your appearance. But, his absence that day at L2 for the memorial speech is notable. Did you speak with him beforehand?”
“Yes,” Relena answered slowly. Her eyes were closed. “He said that he couldn’t make it because he was busy. I had asked him what was keeping him so busy these days, and he didn’t really answer. He was always fairly elusive, to say the least. I trusted him.”
Zechs shifted in his chair. There were two wilted roses in the vase across the room. The sight of them was anguish. “Who were the assisting officers providing security that day?” he asked.
Lady Une’s eyebrows furrowed, and she waved her fingers across the screen, light flickering over her face. “We had a squad of forty, six in command for area monitoring, over three checkpoints. Officers Kahn, Jacobi, Warsh, Dumas, Dehond, and Hershad. Overseeing these commanders were two senior officers, Lucrezia Noin and Chang Wufei.”
He blinked once as his chest constricted. “What was their report?”
“Nothing suspicious. The day was warm, clear-just about perfect.”
“Are they here today, or on duty?” Relena asked.
Une smiled softly. “I’ve already informed them that you’d be meeting with them today. Noin is in the east hangar overseeing Taurus repairs. Wufei should be in the west dormitory-he just got back from L5 this morning.”
“I’ll talk to Noin first,” Relena announced, rising from her chair. She reached out, and Une shook her hand once, firmly.
Zechs stood and began to walk towards the exit. He was two steps away from the door before pausing in his journey. He looked over his shoulder slightly to address her.
“What was Chang doing on L5?”
Lady Une stood from the edge of the desk, flipping her hair over her shoulder with the ease of practice. She adjusted the glasses on her nose and regarded Zechs with an air of knowing. “Getting married.”
-----
He waited forty-five seconds in the doorway before Wufei acknowledged his presence.
“Hello, Merquise,” he said with no inflection or emotion, back turned towards him still, unpacking a small suitcase that lay open on his standard military bedroll. Zechs watched with interest as the boy stacked articles of clothing into piles or bunches. Five shirts. Five pairs of socks.
“I hear that congratulations are in order,” Zechs said with equal indifference. He didn’t call Wufei by name, because he feared it would taste bitter and rancid on his tongue; Zechs had very specific tastes.
Wufei paused for just a moment and regarded Zechs with a raised eyebrow. His face was always hard angles and spite, all hair tied tight and chin jutted out. It contorted strangely, a short laughing sound burst suddenly form his mouth. It could have been mistaken for a cough. He dragged the zipper around the empty suitcase. “Do you have something to talk to me about?”
Zechs navigated the conversation with the ease of space, with the tension of history. “Strictly business.”
The suitcase was shoved to the side, and Wufei righted himself. He brushed three strands of hair behind his ear before fixing an indifferent stare on Zechs. “Then, you’ll understand that time is a valuable asset, and wasting it is not only unnecessary, but detrimental to the both of us.”
“Straight to the point, as usual.”
“You’re the one who claims this is ‘strictly business.’”
“It’s a lot to hope for,” Zechs murmured. He ran his hand along the wall, his five fingertips traveling the divots and bumps of concrete before coming to rest on a solid spans of smooth surface. He appeared relaxed. Inside, his stomach coiled. Forced himself to breathe once, twice.
“Une says you want information about Relena’s commemorative visit to L2 at the end of March of this year.” Wufei had never been a patient man. Stood stick-straight and uncomfortable looking. He was fire and ice in one human being.
Zechs sighed, nodded firmly. “Relena’s blames herself. Any information is appreciated.”
“I’m sure you’ve figured out already that I’m the contact,” Wufei muttered. He stooped down suddenly and rummaged through the cabinet in the bedside table that stood on three legs and a stack of four books. He pulled out a manilla folder.
Zechs smiled, cocking his head. “I’ve not lost my touch yet, I suppose.”
Wufei gripped one bottom corner of the envelope and shook it’s contents out onto his bedroll. Documents, maps, and photos littered the surface. Zechs’ eyes flitted back and forth between the papers and the silver ring that wrapped around Wufei’s fourth finger as he sorted through his research.
“Sally Po and I have been following the activities of the Protectors for over a year. They’re a group of ex-soldiers whose headquarters are on L2, but their influence and sub-groups have populated the other colonies as well. They’re anti-Earth-they believe that anyone and everything attached to Earth is toxic, will lead to more war and hardship on the colonies.”
“Some people can’t adapt to change,” Zechs said, fingering a map with at least twenty red circles scratched into its surface, cities and countries alike. He surprised both himself and his company with a laugh that floated up suddenly from his gut. “We both know something of that.”
Wufei didn’t miss a beat, taking the map from Zech’s hands, tracing lines between the red markings. “Their influence has penetrated the media and government offices on L2, so most of their activity has remained low-profile. Their main goal is to fly under the radar, setting their traps and eliminating any roadblocks secretly. We’re trying to do the same. We’re unsure if they know we’ve caught on to their activities, but what we do know is that their influence is substantial. They’ve secured separate divisions of L2 hospitals with physicians and doctors paid by the Protectors for only their use and care. No doubt they’re also using these hospitals as localized checkpoints. The same for corporate factories and offices across the colony. They’re gaining followers and supporters without exposing themselves to the public. “ Wufei pulled out a letter, unmarked on the outside.
“I was first contacted by Heero Yuy six months before that day on L2. He said that he had gone undercover and was considered among the Protectors’ top ranks.”
“An ex-Gundam pilot-a seemingly perfect weapon for the colonies to use against Earth.” Zechs fingered the letter in Heero’s stark, sharp scrawls.
“Precisely. Heero said his intentions were to infiltrate and then take control and seize activities internally, and then call upon the Preventers and other authorities for back-up.”
Zechs looked up from the letter, forehead forming the two creases between his eyes that he had seen in the mirror for as long as he could remember. “Pilot 01. Heero Yuy. Asking for back-up.”
Wufei smiled in a way that indicated anything but comfort. “Not in this lifetime. I believe we’ve all changed in this years; after all, only a fool thinks their job is done after the war.”
“Heero Yuy intended to always be a soldier,” Zechs stated. He lit a cigarette, offered one to Wufei, who refused with a curt turn of the head. “How large would you say is their manpower?”
“Bigger than you’d expect for something entirely underground. They outnumber the Preventers at least three-fold.”
Zechs put the letter aside, fingers running over the edges of blurry photos, most of Heero Yuy. The boy still looked sixteen. Attached to the photos were sticky notes, words scribbled on napkins. Personal surveillance. “Considering the damage done by the independent actions of five colony teenagers, there could be a threat on the horizon.”
A small smile tugged at Wufei’s lip-Zechs blinked, and it was just a small memory.
“I got as close to Heero as I could get to monitor his activity. For the most part, he stayed true to his word-remaining close to the action, but never seemingly a direct part of it. I’m sure the Protectors were protecting their prized knight.”
“How did he earn their trust, considering his ties with Relena?”
Wufei stood and paced the room. Although the room was large and spacious, the empty quiet was what protected them. Made it hard to breathe. “That, I don’t know. But I can say with a degree of certainty that It had to do with something on that day.”
Zechs exhaled softly, three ribbons of smoke reaching towards the ceiling. He closed his eyes. The knuckles of his two fingers dug into his eye sockets. “What was Trowa’s involvement in this?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his misstep. Wufei’s silence made his stomach swell into his throat. He had to give the kid credit-although he was certain Wufei was feeling substantially smug, the kid had paused only a fraction of time in his pace before continuing like Zechs hadn’t just exposed his weakness.
“It is unlikely that he participated in their cause. I know that the two of them were…close.” Wufei coughed. “Trowa Barton and Heero Yuy had been sharing living quarters for three years when I received that first call from Heero. No doubt Trowa knew of the Protectors’ existence, but whether or not he chose to act or participate on that knowledge, we could never find out. Heero never mentioned Trowa’s involvement, and if Trowa took an active role in their activities, I’m positive that either Sally or myself would have detected it.”
He stopped pacing, turned his head to the ground. “I hadn’t-none of us-had spoken to Trowa in five years. He didn’t want to be found.” He pulled an ashtray from the beside table, and held it out to Zechs. “At least, not by one of us.”
Zechs looked up into Wufei’s two dark eyes, fixed on him with a heavy air of suspicion. He did not back down, although his heart beat very quickly, four times faster than usual. He tightened his jaw. Couldn’t fail now.
He butted out his cigarette and stood quickly. Smoothed out a wrinkle in his pants. “What happened that day on L2?”
“Like I reported: nothing out of the ordinary. We knew the Protectors were present, but we did our job, set up checkpoints, no one was harmed. We confirmed that Heero wasn’t present, and noted a shift in his recent pattern. We left.” He sat the ashtray down on the table and began to walk towards the exit of the dormitory. “Obviously, we don’t have any more patterns to look for. Monitoring the future movement of the Protectors will be difficult, but manageable.”
Zechs nodded once in Wufei’s general direction. “Thank you for your time. Relena finds comfort in knowledge.”
“Perhaps she can form conclusions that we haven’t,” he answered with a small taste of spite. “If you ask me, there have been only two people I have ever known in my whole life who did nothing but produce one unanswerable question after another. One of them was Heero Yuy. The other was Treize Khushrenada.”
Zechs’ skin was clammy and uncomfortable. Throat was dry. “Treize is a different conversation, for a different day.”
They stopped in front of the doorway, their voices low but with great intention, like tremors before a quake.
“I see,” Wufei began. “I’d like you to find me on that day.”
“I’m afraid I can’t offer you any insight in regards to Treize. At least, not the answers you seek. He was a private man.”
Wufei sneered. “You both were.”
Zechs turned to leave before he felt Wufei grab his shoulder firmly. He looked to him, but his gaze was not returned. Although his four fingers dug sharply into his shoulder, Wufei looked off into the empty space like he was just a leisurely passerby. “Trowa is with Quatre on L4.”
The blonde nodded, noting the sick feeling in his stomach and choosing to ignore it. “Good-bye. And, congratulations.”
He exited the dormitory, the image of Wufei’s distant stare and the silver band around his left ring finger a lasting memory, like when he stared into the sun for too long and before he knew it, violet splotches clouded his vision. He took the stairs three at a time. He counted.
-----
That night, Zechs dreamt of Treize.
The night of OZ graduation, Treize was nowhere to be found. High donors and government officials ground their teeth wordlessly as each newly enlisted soldier asked about and praised their prized king. Zechs’ eyes shifted behind his mask, noting without surprise how, when champagne began to flow, all betrayals and discreprencies were forgotten for the chance to bestow wisdom upon young, malleable minds. Manipulation and bribery were already undertones of conversation taking place underneath crystal chandeliers.
That summer was humid and never-ending, and Zechs stepped outside, leaving his untouched glass of champagne on the side table before exiting the ballroom. He adjusted his mask and began walking.
When he arrived at Treize’s residence, he made his way up to the master bedroom, where he could smell the bath salts. Moisture in the air. He took off his mask and as he ascended the stairs, he briefly looked out the large windows that framed the staircase into the night, lit up like a Christmas tree. The view wasn’t bad, but he’d seen the world from the perspective of a mobile suit. It was all no longer so picturesque.
He walked in without knocking, discarding his dress jacket on the bathroom counter. Treize was facing away from him, head resting against the side of the bathtub, an arm slung over the side. Treize didn’t flinch when he heard Zechs’ footsteps echo against the bathroom walls.
“Above all the glamour and small talk tonight?” Treize began. The lilt of his voice wrapped around Zechs throat. Took him a minute to breathe.
“I believe that it’s actually above me.” Zechs turned and rested his back against the counter. Treize, in all his stature and status was actually not as complicated of a man as everyone believed. He still perspired. He got exhausted, like everyone else. He took baths.
Zechs lit a cigarette and cracked the window of the bathroom open. Steam quickly evaporated and Treize raised an eyebrow as he slid further into the water, capturing the heat.
“You know, those things will kill you,” Treize remarked. They made eye contact for the first time that night; Zechs was certain Treize could see through his mask, among other things.
He exhaled smoke, smiling awkwardly. Like the expression didn’t quite fit on his face the way it should. “I think the fact that you are here next to me already puts my mortality in serious jeopardy, Treize.”
Treize chuckled a bit, in that aristocrat manner that grated on Zechs’ bones. He turned to him, motioning for him to approach. Zechs hesitated before walking over, leaning on the side of the tub. Treize’s hand emerged from the water and laid across Zechs’ thigh, the wet and the heat making him recoil at first. He was, indeed, a private man.
“Do you feel guilty, Zechs?” Treize asked him, the words lifting off his tongue with minimal effort, striking Zechs in the chest with each sharp syllable.
“These men signed up for a war,” he said, speaking softly but his words echoed within his mask. Inside his head. He left his cigarette against the ashtray next to the tub. “I will give it to them.”
“What is it you want, Zechs?” Treize asked. Zechs could see moisture on his lips, and he cleared his throat.
“You know damn well what I want,” he said, his attempt to be firm thwarted by blue eyes and the overpowering smell of roses.
“Tell me,” Treize repeated. “And I will give it to you.”
Zechs’ skin was hot, even when Treize ripped his mask from his face and exposed him to the humid air. Made his eyes tear. There was no time to think as he was dragged into the bathtub, the sound of the splash deafening against the quiet of their kiss.
His clothes were heavy, stuck to him. Felt like drowning. The edge of the tub scraped his spine as Treize pushed his shoulders back, hard. Their breaths were short and full. They attempted to not breathe through their mouths, which dared to open once or twice to create sounds that were lost the moment they appeared.
“I want you,” Treize said through his teeth, into the angle of Zechs’ cheekbone. The declaration was electric all the way down to where Treize ground his knee into the space between his legs.
Zechs stretched as his clothes were peeled off, each hitting the floor tiles with a satisfying smack. His hair strung across his face. His eyes were always closed.
He felt a tongue swipe across his jawline. Treize’s hands were always deliberate, ripping away at his clothes, pressing against his cock, clawing at his back, pulling him in. They didn’t know how to be tender.
In their frenzy, the bathtub plug was pulled, chain caught on a foot. As the water depleted, they remained wet and hot. Sweat and muscle and heat. Their bones rattled against the marble of the tub.
“Go on, then,” Zechs said in barely a whisper. He spread his legs, lifted his pelvis. He was never embarrassed; he didn’t know how he could be when the feeling of Treize stroking his cock was so fucking good.
Treize squeezed the base, slowly dragged his tongue across a nipple. Zechs fixed his eyes upon the one hand that gripped the edge of the tub; if he looked down, he feared his mind would cloud. Too much to bear. He felt Treize hovering over him, breath on his cheek. Intense heat.
Suddenly there was shooting pain, ripping through his abdomen. Heard himself spit curses. Hands, those strong hands were around his face, pressing into his temples, the back of his head. Pulling his hair. His cock was hard against his stomach the second he felt Treize enter him, thighs pressed to his ass. He used his legs to pull him in, and forced him start thrusting. They didn’t know how to go slow.
“God-fuck-Zechs,” Treize cursed, barely audible above the sound of flesh on flesh, muscles straining and ready to snap. Zechs met each pounding thrust, reaching between them to jerk himself. He needed release. He clawed at the back of his knees.
Eyes closed, his mind was sharp, even though the haze of whatever this thing was that was them, he and Treize, was thicker than the summer air. Felt his muscles contracting, releasing, working overtime, asshole stretching, toes curling. He felt the weight of Treize on top of him, and it turned him on so fucking much.
He let out a moan, knowing how it affected Treize, and how he would shudder silently, strengthen his resolve. He would look down between them and watch his cock sliding in and out of Zechs’ body, the body that he had navigated, conquered again and again.
“Again,” Treize said, biting down on his shoulder. When Zechs tried to cry out, the force of the thrust stole his voice. He managed a grunt, a desperate sound. He felt his cock swell.
Zechs’ head rocked back against the tub as orgasm shot through him, shaking his frame. Treize’s thrust became erratic. His knees were burning. This, this moment. Yes. Yes.
Treize came inside him, soundlessly. Time seemed to stop. Zechs opened his eyes. His chest tightened for one small moment. Treize collapsed on top of him, a heap of oxygen, come, and sweat. The tub was cold against his forehead, and never had he been more grateful.
Later that night, they had migrated to the bed, Zechs’ clothes hung to dry along the rim of the bathtub. Treize lay on his stomach, one arm serving as a pillow, the other stretched out next to him. Zechs sat upright, eyes closing involuntarily. The days were so long.
“These men are desperate, Zechs,” Treize mumbled into the bedsheets. “Desperate to hold onto something they believe in. They will follow OZ until the day they die.”
“Not necessarily. But,” Zechs added, with a hint of sadness so bitter and small that not even the great strategist, Treize Khusrenada, could predict or detect it. “They will indeed follow you.”
-----
Zechs woke up at 7:32 the next morning. Panic lept into his chest. He sat up and realized that in the thirty-two minutes he was off-schedule, the world wasn’t altered or changed in any real way.
He felt moisture on his cheek, and wiped it away with the back of his hand. He spent exactly three seconds thinking about why it had been there before he took ten steps into his closet. Three shirts. Two pairs of pants.
The shuttles to L4 were small, and he had to pack light.
-tbc-