PERFECT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

by marilyn

Disclaimer: Yadda yadda.

Maynard's birthday was the inspiration for finishing this at long last, but even inspiration would have come to naught without Wystii's advice. Thank you both so very much!

::thoughts::

+++++++++++++++

DEKIM BARTON

When he got the news that his scavengers had discovered what appeared to be the remains of Epyon, he was satisfied. Any salvageable scrap of that magnificent machine would be worth every bit of the effort and resources he's devoted to the task.

When he was told that they had found the cockpit, he was intrigued. Certainly some additional benefit could be reaped from this. Who would pay, and what would they pay with, to have the body of the former prince of Sank? the former ace of OZ? the former leader of White Fang? Sank as a nation was completely devastated, and the idea of suitable money ransom from that quarter was ludicrous. That Darlian woman, though, might be prevailed upon, if only to prevent her brother's body from falling into the hands of sundry rabid factions on Earth who would doubtless take pleasure in abusing a corpse if they could get nothing better. White Fang was disbanded, and OZ little more than a name, but despite the democratic government that had been foisted on the earthsphere after the war, there were still individuals of immense wealth, if no longer power. He chuckled briefly. Perhaps the remnants of the Treize faction would take up a collection to acquire the body of their hero's paramour.

But when he was summoned frantically to see for himself that the aforementioned body was still alive, he was no longer amused.

Not that the body appeared at first glance to be that of Zechs Merquise, or even alive. But the machines confirmed the latter, and he would take the odds for the former until proven otherwise.

"Keep it alive, and keep it secret." He needed to think.

The heavy door to his sanctum closed with a solid 'thunk,' a sound at once luxurious and secure. The soft glow of incandescent lighting, a welcome respite from the fluourescents in the working areas, illuminated the lavish furnishings, rich if not quite elegant, but as always, his eyes strove only for the mantle over the false fire. On it three photographs were arranged as though they comprised a family group, and the knowledge that they never had and never would fueled an intense rage.

If he had known! If his agent had not shirked his duty or, as he had come to believe through six years of obsession, allowed himself to be suborned by the woman the fool was assigned to watch, the situation might have redounded to Dekim's own advantage. He would never know exactly what went wrong.  He had disposed of that weak link as soon as the lapse had come to light. Too long after his daughter's death, his fury at the missed opportunity had prevented him from attempting to learn anything further. If he had known, he would have found a way to secure what he, in retrospect, so intensely desired. What power he would have held, controlling that charismatic, uncontrollable man. But it had been too late, and now two were dead, his plans scattered.

He wrenched his thoughts back to the present. What would be the best use for his newest acquisition?

+++++++++++++++++

ZECHS MERQUISE

It had been thirty cycles, a month at my estimate, after I awoke and began to count. How long that was after Libra I did not know, since my limbs were whole and injuries that I must have sustained in those final minutes were barely discernible against the debilitation from my confinement. During that time I was bound to the bed in darkness. Always in darkness, always in silence. Even the ones who tended minimally to my needs did not speak, no more to each other than to me, precautions that implied no confidence in the intelligence or loyalty of their agents.

Counting the cycles was the way I occupied my mind, creating features in a featureless world, events in eventless time. I came to recognize variations in the space between feedings, in the time between bedpans. Voices beyond range to discern words came and went in patterns, as did the hands moving me, and later unbinding my own left hand for me to feed myself, identified by their movements and the feel of their fingers. Gradually I worked out the schedule; I repeated it to myself, revised it with new data, and repeated it anew. This was my story, my oral history, my mantra. It kept me sane through days darker than my unlit cell, when I thought I had failed, that pilot 01 had failed, before I understood that if the Earth had indeed been destroyed, I would not have been languishing in private captivity. Yet I was careful always to appear surprised.  Knowledge is power, and I gave them none.

Some might argue that before counting time kept me sane it would have to had made me sane, but my fit had passed when I parted from pilot 01 to battle what Libra had become. As many times as I have wondered why my sanity matters, the only answer is that it does matter, but whether in defiance of my captors or of my own desire for oblivion, I cannot say.  Manhandling Epyon through to the heart of Armageddon was not a question of redeeming myself. That has never been possible.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

TREIZE KHUSHRENADA

Death was an intriguing state, and under other circumstances I would have enjoyed investigating the experience further. But events after the final battle did not unfold quite as I expected, and I could no longer afford the deception. When I found myself alive and relatively whole, I retreated to wait and observe, all my resources trained on following Miriard's movements through the mounting chaos. I took refuge in exasperation when he vanished into the bowels of Libra; after all, I designed Epyon and I knew to an nth what it could withstand. But then Miriard did not reappear, and the fear that I had dressed as annoyance gave way to a forced and bitter acknowledgement that he was avoiding me.

How could I have expected otherwise? Setting him up to be a martyr for OZ, even knowing full well that he was far too capable for those fools to succeed, is not something that Miri easily understood, and something he would never do. He does not act obliquely, or with half his mind. When he fired on me from Libra he expected me to die. I did not know whether the second fall of Sank had driven him to insanity or whether he simply hated me. How could I have been fool enough to hope that he would give me the opportunity to find out? There were so very many reasons for him to hate me. Yet there I was, thinking blindly that the end of war would return us to our former selves. Have I always been this deluded about him? 

I began to admit to myself that I would prefer that Miriard denounce me utterly, make another attempt on my life, anything, to end my growing terror, one I did not articulate often even in my thoughts, that he was…. I could not say it, but finding Miriard or finding proof was all I could think about, and the only use of my time that did not leave me restless and dissatisfied. It took a very little while for me, with all my vaunted control and patience, to become intolerant of the limitations of remaining 'dead,' although I knew very well the attention that my reappearance would bring. I would find a way to live without the distractions of a return to my former life. I would retire, publicly.

When Treize Khushrenada determined to do a thing, he did it properly. I gratefully set myself the problem and soon settled on calling personally on each of a short list of former associates and opponents to inform them of my survival and of my decision, and to convince each that this was not a ploy, part of some new plan.  They had never believed, these men of power, that I pursued anything but my own aggrandizement.  I had not previously attempted to appear unambitious, never mind distinctly unthreatening, but I know I am thought charming and persuasive, and I had to make that serve.

On consideration, I began to add individuals to the list who were not quite essential to my initial plan, simply because of their relevance, by location or connections, to my secondary agenda. More self-delusion, of course. Searching earthsphere for Miriard was the primary purpose for the tour and, when I dared say it, for my life. I would 'live' because it made searching easier. I would retire because any other course would take time from my search. The corollary, that I would be free for a future with Miri, was buried in my heart as much as I tried to keep it from my mind. I would meet with earthsphere's powerful because one of them might let slip the information I needed to complete my search. I would find Miriard.

Even as I contemplated the list, prioritizing and planning automatically, one name that would not be on my route floated constantly at the top of my mind. I have often been called arrogant, but even I was not so presumptuous as to request that pilot 05 grant me an interview. Yet, before anything else, I was honor bound to inform Chang Wufei of my survival and intentions. With rare self-doubt, I sat down to write. 

What could I say to this boy? Our first meeting had been a shock, our kinship immediately apparent. When we found each other again, I was alone, and he felt my need as deeply as I felt his, although neither of us admitted it. Wufei's pride matched my own in that regard, and we gave, and took, warily, distrusting not each other so much as ourselves.

Only to my Miriard had I ever admitted need along with love, but that was so long ago, and so much had come between us since. Still, when I found him and said those words again, his heart would return to me. Wouldn't it?

But Wufei should have distrusted me. How could I approach him now, after using him so cruelly? Slowly, weighing each word and phrase, I began to write.

My dear Chang Wufei,

There is nothing I can say to ease this news, so I will tell you simply that despite my intentions that day, I am alive. I cannot imagine what your response will be, but a little time before I begin to inform others is the only mitigation I can give you.  In less than a week I will begin a journey through the colonies that will bring me face to face with my surviving wartime associates. I dare not wait any longer, lest rumour and intrigue run before me and damage the peace.

The purpose of these visits will be to inform each of them personally of my continued existence and to announce to them my intention to remain away from politics and from public life. While I am confident that I can keep to my purpose in the face of those who might try to dissuade me, it comforts me to know that, more than your approval of my intended path, I will have your implacable opposition should I be tempted to leave it. I know there will be those who try, but they will not succeed.  I have a private agenda now to which I wish to devote my life, and if fate counters my desire, there will be even less reason to fear me.

It is ironic that of all the people I will contact in the coming weeks, you are the only one I might wish to see, and although many would doubtless prefer not to see me, the only one I will contact only indirectly in deference to what I expect are your feelings.  I fear you blamed yourself for my death. I promise you will have no reason to blame yourself for my life.

Yours,

Treize Khushrenada

There was no turning back.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

CHANG WUFEI

Wufei stared at the envelope in his hand.  It seemed entirely ordinary, to the extent that a letter could be ordinary in these times. His name and their address were unremarkably printed, and if the return address was unfamiliar this didn't mean much. Their friends moved often, but they communicated primarily by email, anyway. The solidity of the thing in his hand was somehow unsettling. It was just an envelope, containing what felt like a single sheet. It could have been from anyone. But his life had been so strange lately. Since the last battle he had felt disoriented, as though anything could happen. He had gone off alone, of course, as was expected of him, but when Duo followed, he found that his desire for solitude was as much a lie as…

A hand was laid on his arm and he looked up. He wasn't certain why Duo had come after him, although he thought Quatre had had something to do with it. There was so much more to that one than met the eye. Wufei had the all too familiar sensation of having missed something, of misinterpreting his surroundings, of underestimating his opponents and allies alike, especially the boy in front of him now. He knew with utter certainty that without Duo he would not have survived long into peace.

Black eyes met violet, and he winced. It was so weak of him to stand uncertain and transfixed by a simple envelope, but he was weak, even though Duo never made him feel it. Now, as always, Duo was disguised gentleness, taking him by the arm and pushing him firmly into their chair. It was the only real furniture in the tiny apartment, wide enough for them both, and they spent their free evenings in it, watching vids but not really. This time Duo squatted beside him, capturing his gaze as firmly as he held his arm. 

"What do you know about this that I don't?"

Wufei shook his head once. After a moment he held out the still-sealed letter. "Read it?"

Much later, Duo confirmed, for the sake of thoroughness, that the return address did not exist. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

DEKIM BARTON

The casualness of the request surprised him perhaps more than the existence of the one asking. The man he had known would have requested, yes, but refusal would had been an option only for the most powerful, or foolhardy.  This request was only that, and the man presenting himself at the Barton stronghold was equally as casual. Dekim glanced at the anteroom monitor. He could not recall ever before seeing that Khushrenada fellow out of uniform, but there he was, sitting at his ease, attired as if precisely to meet Dekim's standard of decorum. Dekim let him sit, expecting to move his visitor to fidget or squirm, or at least frown in annoyance, but to no avail.  Damn the man, what business had he, turning up alive now? What game was he playing? No help for it but to talk to him and find out. Dekim left his sanctum and crossed the office to admit his visitor, impatient to get to the heart of the matter and be done.

Face to face with Treize Khushrenada, he at once regretted his assent to this visit. The man's personality and control were like a physical blow, and Dekim felt infuriatingly powerless before that intense blue gaze, as though he were the one summoned and not the reverse. 

Powerless? He was being a fool. He controlled, utterly and personally, the largest, most profitable colony in the earthsphere. Only that Winner fellow had rivaled him for wealth, but he had been soft, and look where it got him. Khushrenada had no power now, and he had only ever had power of the slippery kind, based on loyalty, or ideas, or political alliances, the sort that made no sense to Dekim. The power of money: now that made sense.

"What do you want, Khushrenada? I'm a busy man and, if I am not mistaken, you are no one now."

"Indeed. Then I need not have disturbed you, for that is the very message I am here to convey."

A dim sense that his fantasy of controlling this man had always been absurd teased at his mind, but he ignored it as obsession, familiar and comforting, flared in his heart. Suddenly, overwhelmingly, he wanted to get away from the man himself, to be alone with his photographs.

"Speak plainly. Why have you come here?"

"As a courtesy to you.  Finding myself unexpectedly alive, I wish to employ this second chance very differently than the first. I have come to assure you, as I have and will continue to assure others, that I have no further political ambitions, and to obtain your assurance, as theirs, that you will respect my decision."

Did the man truly expect him to believe that? "Of course, of course. You  know the way out?"

If he had been looking, he might have been gratified by the way his visitor's eyes widen slightly, but his attention had already shifted. Turning on his heel, he strode through the opposite door, locking it securely behind him.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

ZECHS MERQUISE

They began to unbind me for part of each cycle, though I suspected it as more out of frustration with caring for me than consideration for my comfort. Or perhaps they were afraid that I would become too debilitated. As I was, that they had to move me physically as they required was not completely deception on my part. However, once freed, I put every moment alone to best advantage. I would not remain weak for long.

But the identity of my captors and purpose for my captivity remained unfathomable. Indeed, I began to wonder if there was a purpose, and was becoming convinced that if there was, it had remarkably little to do with me. No one spoke to me, no accusations were thrown, no demands made. More telling, I felt no sense of the urgency I would have expected if demands had been made elsewhere on my behalf and an answer awaited. All I could say with certainty was that they did not intend my immediate death.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

DEKIM BARTON

It took several days, but one morning over coffee and a newsfeed, Dekim Barton remembered what he had wanted second-most in the world. It seemed that Khushrenada had been telling the truth about his plans.  The news was full of the story of the man's miraculous survival.  A few claimed he was a hero who should be handed the governance of all of earthsphere, others called for his trial and execution, but the middle ground appeared to be in control. Vice Minister Darlian had issued a cautious statement praising the former general's complete retirement, and the head of that new Preventer organization had added her endorsement.

Crumpling the printouts angrily, he rose from the table and strode off towards his office. The wrongness of it all rose in his mind like a shadow. Simply going off to do as he wished, was he? What about what Dekim had wanted? There had to be a way.

His route from breakfast to office took him past the nursery, where his granddaughter spent mornings with her nanny. He rather liked this new one.  After the previous woman had been dismissed for her unwillingness to enforce his directives regarding scheduling and suitable leisure pursuits, he had been very fortunate to find a replacement whose views on discipline matched his own.  It was his duty to look in once a day, regardless the other demands on his time, and he slowed his pace slightly as he approached the open door.

"You have been a naughty girl, haven't you?"

"I'm not naughty, Emma! I only wanted to see where that door went."

"Did I tell you to open that door? Did I?"

"No, but it was only a musty old closet."

"Don't argue with me!"

"It was only a closet and I'm not arguing with you, truly!"

"What happens when you disobey me and argue with me? Do you remember?"

The child looked at her defiantly. "I'm not afraid of you. I can bear anything that Grandfather will let you do to me."

"That is true. Last time your punishment was not quite satisfactory. I wonder what I will do this time?"

There were sounds of quick movement and Dekim peered around the doorframe, uncharacteristically loath to disturb the scene in the nursery. Emma was holding a toy, one that his granddaughter often had with her.  He wondered vaguely where she had gotten it. He would never have given her anything so frivolous as a doll with long blond hair.

His granddaughter stood white-faced as Emma produced a sewing scissors. Her calculating gaze held the child's as she dragged the point over the doll's face suggestively. The little girl was trembling, tiny fists clenched, but she said nothing. Then the scissors opened and the point jabbed into the doll's forehead, tearing through its skin down to one eye. There was a strangled sob as the child threw herself at Emma's feet.

"Stop! Oh, please stop! I'll obey, I promise, but don't hurt Lena anymore! Please?"

Dekim was impressed. Young as she was, his granddaughter was not easily affected, yet this nanny had found exactly the right approach.

"Remember this, Mariemeia," said Emma, giving the doll one last jab. "You can always be punished if they know what you love."

Drawing away unseen, Dekim considered that being his granddaughter's nanny was not the best use of Emma's abilities. It might be second-best, but he now knew exactly how to get it.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

ZECHS MERQUISE

I knew their purpose at last, or one of them. They had revealed it to me ten cycles earlier. The pain had dulled as the undressed wound healed, but the long scabs itched unrelentingly, a torment that would have prevented sleep, had I desired sleep. 

Just as unbinding me seemed unplanned, so did cutting. Why would they have kept me all this time, only to act against me now? Not out of anger. Passion of any sort would not wait so long. No, something had happened, something they had not anticipated when I came here, but however desperately I cast my mind into the darkness around me, I could not grasp the meaning. It occurred to me more forcibly than ever that if this was punishment, or revenge, I was not the object. I knew something of the latter. Had I come upon General O'Neguil deaf and blind, I would not have killed him, not out of misplaced pity but because I could not have made him understand what I was doing and why. Death is release; it is the agony of anticipation that burns and satisfies.

If passion would not wait, why would indifference have come alive to strike me now? But if I was not the target, who was?  Who did they think would care that either Zechs Merquise or Miriard Peacecraft had been disfigured? It made no sense. There were few enough who loved me. Relena is strong, idealistic. No one would have expected the girl who denounced her brother publicly to have a care for his face. If Noin had powerful enemies, I would have known my attacker, but she did not. Treize… Treize was dead, and I would be dead to him even if he were alive.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

TREIZE KHUSHRENADA

I am essentially an optimistic man, and I had begun my travels full of hope. Each visit was another chance, not only to secure my new life but to find my Miriard, and I faced each former ally or adversary calmly, in control, as near to my careful self-image as very few would notice the difference. Miri would have noticed. But the journey had yielded no result, and I was returning to Earth with nothing.

During my travels I had occupied my mind by initiating a series of discrete inquiries after both the man and the machine of the sort I had become adept at during my time at OZ. There were no results, so completely 'no results' that it was unnatural. No trace of the man and, much more surprising, no trace of the machine. If I could reasonably hope that Epyon had kept Miriard alive, I could hardly believe it had vaporized completely. I then took a slightly more direct approach, tracking down all those who were known to have been in the area, scavenging the debris of that final battle and explosion.  However, the chaos of those first days was not easily subdued into order, and I could not satisfy myself that I knew of them all. My next tactic was to put out a finder's fee for pieces of the red beast that I expected would garner responses from every less-than-scrupulous scrap dealer in earthsphere. But only a handful contacted me, and it immediately became apparent that the respondents were universally bent on fraud. My optimism began to be maintained at a price of self-delusion.

Even pursuing this vast web of inquiries left me too much time to think, about what had passed between us, what I would have changed. This was not something I had considered often. I had always lived my life in the present and the future, thinking about what the consequences of the present would be, and how I would shape them. Of course my thoughts turned to Miri from every quarter, but thinking of the future brought me quickest to the subject I feared most. No future shown me by Epyon had been as bleak as the one that confronted me now. I refused to think about what I would do if I had to spend it alone, yet thoughts of the past brought only regret and pain.

Unless Miri was alive. If Miri was alive and I found him… If he was alive and I found him and he accepted me… What then? As well as I had designed Epyon, I could not expect that he would be wholly uninjured. I was miraculously intact after my own escape, but once the rush of battle subsided, I had been barely able to move for more than a week. Yet the agony of multiple, though minor, electrical burns and badly wrenched joints and strained muscles had been a welcome distraction from the torture that overtook on my mind. My final battle had been with a single man, while Miriard had taken on the power core for an entire space fortress. Could I, in what passed for reason in my deepening anxiety, expect him to be uninjured? Broken limbs were the least of it. He was young and strong, and had always healed remarkably quickly. But there were injuries from which even the young and strong could not recover, injuries that he might think worse than death. What if he had lost a limb? His eyesight? How would I respond if my beautiful Miri's mind had been destroyed? Or perhaps the insanity that had driven him to White Fang was still upon him? My thoughts began to run in ever more horrifying channels, but it seemed I must speculate on either injury or death. With injury there was hope, yes, but what kind of hope was there in cataloging the ways in which my Miri would no longer be my Miri?

I knew that my mental state was deteriorating. When I returned home there would no longer be anyone to play the part for, and I knew I could not play it for myself alone. I was anguished by indecision such as I had never experienced. I knew I would go mad in that house, a house I had arrogantly planned would one day be my home with Miriard, but I was unable to decide where else to go or, indeed, whether my sanity was worth the effort. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

CHANG WUFEI

Chang Wufei stifled a sigh as he paused the tiny vid clip. Watching the man he thought he and Nataku had killed, this time shaking hands with the leading member of the Alliance remnant on L2 with all the aplomb of a former world sovereign, always seemed unreal.

Well, not all the aplomb. There was something faintly, indefinably wrong about the way the man moved and spoke, something that could not be wholly explained as the aftermath of recent injury. Treize had always been so calm, so controlled. After their first duel, he had still been completely at ease. After making love - had it been making love? - he had been the one able to tend to both their needs. But the man in the clip was not entirely that man. There was something brittle about his expression; it reminded Wufei of the night he discovered that he was not first in Treize's heart. 

"I should have gone when he first began traveling. I should be there now.” Their ongoing argument had lost much of its vehemence but Wufei could not let it go. “Do you see any back-up? Is he insane, to go about publicly like this? Does he know how many people would still gladly see him dead?"

"Give him a break, 'Fei. He didn't get this far without knowing how to protect himself, whether we can see it or not. You know it wouldn't've been a good idea to go earlier. All the guy needs is a couple of Gundam pilots following him around.  I'll bet he's having enough trouble making his 'retirement' stick as it is."

"It didn't need to be two."

"Like I'd let you go alone, and for a lot of reasons, not just 'cause I'm jealous."

Wufei shot him a brief glare, but his heart was not in it. His face smoothed into something more like confusion. "It's still so strange to me that you can talk about these things."

"But I am, you know. Jealous. A little. And I'm not going to pretend I'm not. Ever since the letter. What about you?"

Confusion deepened in the dark eyes. "I didn't know..."

"Not of me, 'Fei. Of him, what he's doing, the reason he's doing it."

Wufei pressed play once more, and they watched silently as Treize Khushrenada turned from the handshake toward a waiting vehicle. It might only be his imagination, but Wufei thought he could detect, even in that image, a jaw set against pain, an expression carefully blank as the tall man bent to enter.

They had recorded and studied every appearance Treize had made during his progress. Duo’s ability to read people, acquired so early that it appeared innate, and Wufei’s more recent, painfully-attained understanding of this one man, always brought them to the same conclusions.

"He hasn't found him, doesn't know yet if he is alive or dead. Now he's on his way back on Earth, without resolution.” Wufei looked away, gazing sightlessly out the window. “I was with him once when he felt helpless, as he must now. He was desperate to the point of madness."

“Not an answer.”

Wufei turned back to the screen and sighed. “I don’t know if I’m jealous. It doesn’t feel like it did when… then, but I suppose that’s still the most likely name for it. I do know that I've got to go to him. I won’t let him do something foolish because I am a coward. I don’t think he has anyone else now.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not going to ask Une. She’d more likely try to put him at the head of the Preventers than help him search. I think we’re it.”

Wufei relaxed back into the chair and rested his head lightly on Duo's shoulder. He felt the answering pressure of Duo's cheek on his hair and the slight movement signaling a smile.

"You're welcome, 'Fei."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

ZECHS MERQUISE

I awoke lying on my back, a familiar position, but there was light filling the tiny room through a dirty window, the harsh white of colony daylight. I tried to sit up and, finding I could, felt for the edge and swung my legs over. The narrow bed was in a tiny room. I blinked against the unaccustomed brilliance and stood unsteadily, fighting the drugs that had been used for transport. Reaching out for the window frame, I steadied myself and looked down several stories to the featureless colony street.

The room contained only a dresser and the bed, so I lowered myself carefully to sit against the headboard and looked around. The doorless closet held two shirts, a jacket and a pair of shoes, and I knew that when I looked in the dresser's drawers I would find analogous underwear and socks.  I fought down the frustration that always threatened to overwhelm me at my inability to put the pieces together. Who was keeping me alive, and why?  

When I found my way to the ground level I was not surprised to discover that the room I had awakened in was in a small, shabby hotel. I was not surprised, either, to be told that my room was paid for the week, and that I was expected for work that evening in the attached bar.

I was glad that I had done what I could to regain my strength so that the simple tasks of busboy were within my limited ability. Still, it was several weeks before I had strength for anything but that. I wondered occasionally why I accepted this life that had been handed to me by my captors. But what else could I do, still weak and still unable to make out their purpose? No one asked me about myself or seemed surprised at my presence. It seemed a very good bet that they had been well-paid for their disinterest. Well-paid or well-frightened. I wondered from time to time why I did not find the nearest public vid terminal and fill in the blank of my captivity, a captivity even whose length I did not know, but I did not. What difference would the state of the earthsphere make? It was odd, to find myself passive in this. Those who had known me would have laughed, I am certain. But there was no reason for me to leave this place, nowhere to go, no one to seek out.

As my stamina improved and it no longer took my entire concentration to move the next tub of used glasses, my surroundings began to encroach on my awareness whether I wanted it to or not. I began to notice conversations around me, becoming curious in spite of myself. It seemed that there was peace, after all, though it was spoken of with wonder and caution, like a complicated new toy that might break if handled roughly, and that Relena was at the center of it. I knew she would be, if she survived. It was for her as much as for the Earth that I destroyed Libra. It was for someone else, too, someone who never knew.

I listened with increasing interest and attention, willing to accept scraps of information that came to me without my action, yet unwilling to pursue them. Just as I had investigated my captive environment, I almost involuntarily pieced together this new world. I learned about a new peacekeeping organization that, to my surprise, was headed by Lady Une. This seemed very unlike the Colonel Une with whom I had been so often at loggerheads. I wondered if the Lady of space had gained the upper hand over the colonel of OZ in that fragmented mind. Perhaps she had simply changed. She would not have been the only one to do so after… We always did have one or two things in common.

Occasionally other names I recognized would bring me up short. This new organization, the Preventers, was apparently providing peacekeeping within its ranks as well as without.  OZ, Alliance, White Fang, Gundam pilots, all were mentioned in passing as Preventer agents.  I was intrigued. Treize would have loved it.

Treize. I knew why I had accepted this life, why I had sought out neither recent history nor current events.

Not all conversations were about politics and peace, but most seemed to be. I learned that Pilot 01 was my sister’s head of security, and that comforted me. It also removed any reason I might have had to return to life. It pleased me that he had survived, although I did not know why. Perhaps because it rendered my own survival less freakish, perhaps because I still hoped for his.  Did I hope?

The vidscreen in the bar hosted only sports encounters, endless and varied, each with its own enthusiastic faction among the regulars. The incessant rise and fall of excited narration was the background of my working hours. I noted it less than the puddles dishwater or the bins of drenched towels. 

An unexpected voice scattered my thoughts, spearing me where I stood. A glance confirmed it was a live feed. That voice. His voice. Treize.

I was still the Lightning Count. The glass that slipped from my fingers was saved by my other hand without thought. As I stood cradling it, the pounding of my heart drowning out all else, I knew.

I knew.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

TREIZE KHUSHRENADA

The vidphone chimed, a call apparently originating in Cairo.  I toggled outgoing sound only, and waited for the caller to appear. "Yes?"

"We'll be there in a hour.  Will you let us in, or…?"

I blinked, startled by the convergence of unexpected sight and sound. "Of course.  I…"

"An hour then." 

The connection ended, but I stood a long time before the empty screen, trying to recall the recent images from my strangely inattentive mind. Chang Wufei.  And someone else, it seemed, someone standing just behind, never fully in view but giving the impression of another boy, another Gundam pilot, perhaps? With bright eyes and a wary expression, holding something in his hands. A rope?  My distracted mind finally produced a picture that I recognized as Pilot 02, and I shivered. 

Why were they here? Was Wufei going to finish what he had unwittingly begun? Did I care enough to prevent it? 

I spent the hour wondering why I was still there. The email had come in shortly before the call, and I should have been on my way to Colony X-18999, but instead I was sitting in the dim room, trying without result to plan my next move. My mind would not function, and I repeatedly found myself staring into middle distance, unaware of the passage of time until they were at my door. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

DUO MAXWELL

Duo hadn’t figured that Treize Khushrenada would just let them in the front door, but Wufei only shrugged, leaving Duo to guess it was mostly formality.  Not that he’d worried. If ‘Fei didn’t know a way in, Duo would sure as shit find one.

They followed the silent man inside and Duo scanned the darkened room. Cushy as it was, it did not look lived in. It seemed cold and empty, kind of like its occupant, an elegant figure standing near a high-backed chair. Duo was sure that the chair and the table beside it, vidphone and computer ready and waiting, were the only furniture in the room used recently.

Wufei approached Khushrenada, looking clearly alarmed. Duo had picked ‘Fei’s brain more than once about what they’d find when they got here, but the uncertainty and despair on Khush’s face went far beyond anything he’d been able to imagine on the ex-general. ‘Fei reached out to put a hand on the man’s arm, only to have him pull away, turning towards the heavily curtained windows. Duo thought it didn’t look so much like he was rejecting ‘Fei as rejecting his own obvious need for what ‘Fei was offering. He suppressed a snort. For all they could not have come earlier, they hadn’t arrived a moment too soon.

The move didn’t put ‘Fei off for even a moment. He took Khush’s arm firmly and led him to the window, parting the curtains a little to let light into the room. “I won’t ask how you are because I don’t think you would give me the answer I can see clearly for myself. I will ask what you’ve been doing since you arrived here.”  He stepped back slightly to look the man over, although he did not release his arm. “And when you last ate. How will starving yourself help you find him?”

Khush stiffened as though to protest, but ‘Fei cut him off. “Don’t bother, Treize. We are not blind, nor idiots. We’re here to help.”

“To help? Why? I thought you had come to finish what I forced upon you.” Khush looked away again. “I have been unable to convince myself to try to prevent you.”

Duo blinked. ‘Fei had hinted at this but Duo’d thought he was exaggerating. Treize Khushrenada hardly seemed the type. For martyrdom, sure, but not suicide. But then, neither did ‘Fei, and yet it had been a close call, and not very long ago, either. 

Wufei seized both Khush’s arms and pulled him around so that they were face to face, even shaking him to get his attention. “No, Treize! No. I hated what you made me do, and I was glad when I learned it hadn’t worked as you’d planned. Do you know that I was screaming at you from my cockpit, crying so hard I couldn’t see the controls? Well, I was. Me! I never wanted you dead and I won’t let you die now.”

Khush looked stunned, then began to protest weakly, but faced with Wufei’s rough concern he stopped. He seemed to crumple, and Duo saw the moment when it was just too much trouble to keep the game face. He was wondering what ‘Fei would do, when his friend responded by drawing Khush into a gentle but firm embrace. There was no response at first. Then, at last, the embrace was returned as Khush slid his arms around Fei’s shoulders and buried his face in the black hair. They stood motionless except for a single great tremor that shook the taller man and was gone. 

“Whatever you may think, we are here to help.” Wufei pulled back carefully, a hand still on the other’s arm, steering him back to the chair by the table. “Tell us what you’ve been doing, so that we can.”

“What I have been doing? Searching, as you say, but as I am certain you are aware, I found nothing. No trace, no hint. Nothing. But now…” He stopped, and his glance flicked to the terminal at his elbow. His was so bewildered, so unlike anything Duo had expected that he almost laughed.

‘Fei leaned over to read the email open on the screen. “What were you going to do about this?  Is it the first one? Do you have any idea who sent it? Have you followed it up?”

“No. I was about to leave when you called, but…” Khush stopped, face drawn with exhaustion. He looked like he was barely able to stay upright. Duo knew about holding on desperately until help arrived, then collapsing in a heap. He wondered, with gallows humor that he couldn’t seem to shake, what sort of heap Treize Khushrenada would make. He went over to read the message, then looked up at Wufei. “It’s so obviously a trap that maybe it isn’t.”

“Yeah.” Wufei turned to Treize. “You were about to leave? Tell us your plan and we’ll go with you.”

Khush’s face said it all, though it wasn’t a surprise.

“You were just going to rush off? No plan, no backup, nothing? That’s crazy!”

Duo grabbed ‘Fei’s arm, shaking his head to warn him off. Bluntness was fine, but ‘Fei had a tendency to get carried away and Khush was in no shape for it. “I’m gonna go find the kitchen. It’s a hard trip here from Cairo in a hour.” He winked at them both. “ We’ll come up with a great plan while we eat.”

The shuttle journey had been the longest three days Duo could recall. So many hours to fill, and when planning and small talk failed, so much silence.  He would never have imagined that the powerful, charismatic enemy he had hated from afar could become the gaunt, anguished man staring out the window.  Duo thought he might have grown a little in the last six months, but not enough for Treize Khushrenada to seem so much less imposing now than he had in those vids.  The man's effort to hide his distress was valiant, but of little avail. Duo noticed that during the stretches of silence, when each was left to his own thoughts, Khush seemed to lean ever so slightly towards Wufei, sitting beside him, as though drawn to his warmth. Duo found himself wavering between jealousy and pride at the care with which ‘Fei tended their charge.  Every expression, word, gesture reminded Duo of his own attempts to reach 'Fei after the final battle. Of course, if it were him, he'd just pull the poor guy against his chest and give him the comfort he so desperately needed, former world sovereign be damned. But Duo remembered the way 'Fei had reacted when they were first together and chuckled to himself. 'Fei and the ex-general had a lot in common.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

TREIZE KHUSHRENADA

The location given was a small bar, dim and empty even as the working day ended. Duo had scouted it, but now he and Wufei had found observation points outside, front and rear. I entered alone, my jeans, dark shirt and darker jacket melting into the shadows of a secluded booth.  Behind the counter the bartender was preparing for the coming shift and I could hear and occasionally see, through swinging doors, glimpses of activity in the kitchen. A busboy backed through the doors, swinging his tub of clean glasses onto the counter and bending to put them on lower shelves.  I noted his movements, recognizing the careful, determined use of a body still expecting pain or prone to small betrayals of its owner's will. As miraculous as my own survival had been, I had not been uninjured, and had been far from healed when I began my travels. Now, taxed further by consuming anxiety, I knew well that wary struggle with one's body.

The bartender spoke and when the crouching man turned to reply, an odd familiarity flared from behind the stiffness. A profile came briefly into view as the man glance up before returning to his task. I gasped, my heart pounding as I stood, surging forward involuntarily. Then I stumbled, only remaining on my feet by bracing trembling arms on the table. Through the fog of adrenaline, I felt hands catch my elbows, easing me back onto the seat.  As my vision began to clear, my lowered gaze took in black pants and the hem of a white kitchen smock. The busboy was on one knee beside me. Instinctively I reached out for the face I knew was there but, able to think at last, fear that I was wrong, that my longing was deceiving me, dragged at my gaze, urging at me not to look up and know crushing disappointment. 

The figure was too thin under the impersonal uniform, and although the hands had felt familiar, their strength was not as I remembered. The broad shoulders were, though, and the sweep of collarbone. There should have been hair, silver blond and flowing, rather than just below delicate ears and ragged, but it was him. It had to be. Miriard. Now all I had to do was raise my eyes to that beautiful, beloved face and I was home.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

ZECHS MERQUISE

I made my nightly opening time reconnaissance from behind the swinging kitchen doors. This time he was there. Why? How? I was shocked to realize that from the moment I discovered he was alive, I had expected him to find me. I was so certain that I believed my own rationale for not seeking him out: that I was dead to him, that he would never want to see me. Yet I felt no more surprise at his presence in this dingy bar than at my own.

Since I had not allowed myself to expect this, I did not know what to do. I had no plan. I have never had the talent for my own life that I do for battle. At a loss, I took refuge in the evening's preparations, hoping that my changed appearance and the commonness of my tasks would conceal me from his notice. As though any change in his appearance would conceal him from mine.

He was changed. Very changed. It had been years since I had seen him dressed so casually, but I knew that he had left public life now, and nothing more familiar, a uniform or formal dress, would be appropriate. The unfamiliarity of his dress masked far more disturbing changes, however. He was so thin!  He had always been broader and more powerful than I, although I overtook him in height by my seventeenth birthday.  Now he appeared almost fragile, and his manner was changed, as well. The easy stillness of composure, of the famous Khushrenada control, was gone, and only sheer will prevented him from fidgeting. 

I was careful to keep my back to him as I bent to my work, but I could not ignore Rufe when he spoke to me, and I half turned without thinking.  Movement caught the corner of my eye and I knew that Treize had risen. Then he faltered, and I was at his side, supporting him, before I could form the thought. It was all I could do to settle him back onto the banquette when I wanted only to gather him into my arms, holding him close forever. But that would have been unfair. For all his apparent recognition, he did not know who I was now. I knelt before him so that I could see his face.

But Treize was never one to hesitate. He raised his hand and eyes to my face, making me desperate to forestall him. This was not the place. There was no time. I could not bear it, not yet. My hand caught his, gently but firmly, and held it away.

"Not now, please." There was a word I would have added.

Treize did not persist, but he reversed the grasp, clutching my hand tightly, eyes tracing what his fingers could not. ”Later, then." His tone was calm, but his eyes pleaded for reassurance. 

"I must return to my duties. Will you be here when I finish?"

"Will you?"

"Yes," ::love.:: This time I felt it in my mouth, but I would not say it, "I will. But there is no need for you to spend the time in this bar." 

"I would prefer to remain here."

With a pang I realized that Treize feared I would vanish rather than speak with him. Helpless to explain myself in a few moments, I kissed the long fingers holding my own, trying through sheer will to imbue that gesture with everything I could not yet say. ::I stayed away, but I would never abandon you. I wanted to spare you pain, not cause it.:: Then I rose and returned to the kitchen.

As the hours passed, I entered the bar many times, and each time my gaze sought out the pale man in the shadowed booth. Invariably, the familiar sapphire gaze at once met my own, and it seemed to me that, each time, his gaze was a fraction steadier. Treize's body, too, became less tense, each time a little more at ease, a little more himself. My spirits lifted with every glimpse, and I wondered at the change while accepting with sinking heart that I was the cause, both of Treize's distress and of his recovery.

At last I felt I could take a few moments away from the kitchen. His eyes met mine as they had each time I came through the double doors, not a simple look but a greeting. I no longer felt uncomfortable, but had began to look for this tenuous contact as much as he seemed to. Now I stopped short. Treize was not alone. Two young men, boys, really, were seated with him. The darker one, Chinese apparently, was looking at me boldly, accusingly. The other seemed still to be watching Treize but, sensing his companion's shifted focus, he turned his head quickly, and I caught sight of a swinging, brown braid. Gundam pilots, 05 and 02.

Treize gestured to his young companions. "Miriard, I would like you to meet my friends. I am certain you have met them before, although the circumstances would have been markedly different."

Pilot 02 held out his hand, his face open and eyes appraising. "Duo," he said.  "Duo Maxwell. Glad to find you alive."

Pilot 05 simply glared until the other boy elbowed him in the ribs.  "Chang Wufei," he said shortly.

I was more curious than alarmed by the appearance of these two young enemies. Former enemy, one of them, I reminded myself, although I was uncertain about the other. Why would Duo Maxwell be here, in a tiny bar on an L3 colony, keeping familiar company with his former nemesis, however retired? 

That question faded beside the question of Chang Wufei. I thought he had left Treize, but so had I. Certainly he had struck him a killing blow, but only because my blow had failed. I knew well the hold Treize had on my soul long before he knew it, and long after I believed I preferred otherwise. As Chang continued to scowl at me, I thought I understood his presence.

I must still have looked puzzled, for Treize answered the more obvious question. "They came to me, offering their assistance, when my circumstances were very dark, indeed, and I was in no condition to refuse them." He looked at me squarely, and I nearly staggered beneath the depth of emotion and promise in that deep blue gaze. All that I had poured into the brush of lips on fingers was returned to me in an instant. "I would not be here if not for them."

His unusual candor startled me, but the statement fit all too well with what I had seen that evening. I was uncertain what might be expected of me now. What protocol was there for thanking rivals in both love and war for reuniting me with a man I had intended to avoid, for both our honor? I took refuge in manners, bowing formally to the two ex-Gundam pilots. "I am in your debt."

Maxwell seemed to find my action entertaining, but Chang remained unmoved, and it occurred to me that Treize must have forewarned them. In truth, I did not think often about how I appeared to others. What was one more scarred veteran on a remote colony?  But these two young men knew who I had been and how I had looked. That they showed no reaction bespoke more than merely experience beyond their years.

The wave of apprehension passing through me as I wondered what Treize might have said was dispelled by a scornful voice.

"You've certainly caused enough trouble, Merquise. What were you thinking? If you had the bad manners to survive Libra you should at least have had the courage to let someone know."

Chang's bluntness was no surprise. I remembered how he had spoken to me shortly after the destruction of his colony.  I had offered an alliance, one that he had rejected with just such derision. His words now had an edge of anger and frustration that told me I was correct about his reason for being here. There was, however, no answer I could give him, and my eyes flew to Treize, who paled and stiffened. I wondered fleetingly just how incapacitated Treize had been to accept the aid of this ill-mannered child, then quashed the thought as I recalled that he had, at one time, accepted more than aid.

Fortunately, no answer was required because Maxwell rounded on Chang.  

"Jesus, 'Fei! Remember why we're here, y'know?" He turned to me with an apologetic smile. "It's been a tough couple of days for all of us."

Chang's cheeks darkened very slightly, but he stood his ground. "My words might have been more carefully chosen," he said grudgingly. The glance he directed at Treize had in it far more apology than did his words, and I felt my anger rising, at Chang's rudeness, at Treize for finding me, at myself for… so many things. Something else stirred, as well, a foolish, cowardly emotion to feel now, when I had expected never to see Treize again. What did it matter to me if he was back in the arms of 05? If I were as firm in my resolve as I had been only yesterday, this jealousy would have no power over me.

I gave in to the anger and confusion, lashing out before I realized who would be most hurt by my thoughtless words.

"How shall we decide whether your disappointment at my survival is greater than my own?"

A tiny movement drew my eyes. Treize's expression had not changed, but if he had been pale before, he was now stark white. Shame filled me and I reached for him as I had before. Other presences faded and I could see, could sense only him. He leaned forward, his hand catching mine, and I thought for a moment he would hold me away, that I had overstepped some boundary. It would have eased my purpose and I wanted to be glad, but instead he squeezed my fingers. His attempt to smile made my heart ache.

"We are intruders here, and I hope you will pardon us for it. This cannot be easy for you, either."

Treize did not release my hand. It felt good, comfortable in my own. Absurdly, I felt more confident, and at the same time, utterly lost. I sketched a bow to cover my uncertainty. "Please forgive my poor manners.  I do not use them much any more."

Treize attempted to look amused, but his anxiety remained. I was again struck by how much my judgement seemed to matter to him, as well as how little he was able to conceal this.

Duo laid a gentle hand on Chang's arm, and I noted with interest that it was almost a caress. "Coming back from the dead can be kinda weird." He gathered us with his eyes and smiled, mischievous but warm. "Something we've all seen pretty close up, I guess. Sorry if we've made it even weirder."

"Indeed, and thank you." I could see Treize relax a little, and I pressed his hand before releasing it and stepping back. "I should return to work now, but I will be off within the hour, and will return then." My final glance was for Treize as I returned to the safety of the kitchen.  

Finally it was closing time. I flung my smock into the bin and came out of the kitchen to find Treize. The hours spent waiting, working mechanically while my mind was only on him, had left me with a sort of clarity, or at least some order to my thoughts. The change in his demeanor was heartening, and I made quickly for his booth, seeking the presence that now seemed to me a lifeline, pulling me from the despair that the appearance of hope had forced me to acknowledge.

He rose as I approached the booth; our eyes locked, and he held out his hand. I took it in my own, and he allowed me to draw him away from the table. The pilots were gone, and he seemed very nearly as I remembered him. It was so very long ago. 

"I have a room upstairs, very small, but we can talk there." 

His hand was warm and strong in my own. "The place is unimportant," and I felt the unspoken corollary, ::but the conversation is not::.  He ignored the chance I offered him to release my hand, and I led him out into the lobby and up the stairs. 

I had no sooner closed the door behind us than Trieze pulled me firmly to stand before him and raised his hand to my face.

"You cannot deny me any longer." It was not a question. I managed not to flinch as his fingertip began to trace the scar. It always amazes me that so powerful a man can be so gentle. I felt his touch follow the jagged mark from my hairline through my right eyebrow, over my cheekbone and along the side of my nose, caressing the healed gash in my upper lip that continued leftward through my lower lip and down to the corner of my jaw. I shivered slightly but resisted the temptation to close my eyes and surrender to that touch. I needed to see his face.

"Why?"

My heart sank as the exploring finger lingered for a moment on my jaw. Some cruel force was making us play out the very scene I had expected to give my life to avoid.

Then his hand dropped to my shoulder, and I almost gasped as he gripped me hard.

"Why did you not come to me?" Warring emotions flickered through those deep blue eyes, anguish mingled with fear but overridden by an almost angry need to know.

The rush of relief threatened to buckle my knees, but I held myself motionless. "I did not intend to hurt you." I could not answer his question yet.

His anger receded as quickly as it had come, as though that simple statement was enough. He stepped back and shrugged off his jacket, tossing over the dresser as he moved to sit on the bed, hand out to me in invitation. I watched him settle against the headboard, one knee drawn up, the other foot still on the floor. I desperately resisted the urge to curl up against that broad chest as I had done as a child, before Treize had gone off to the Academy and taken with him the last vestiges of my childhood. His gentle smirk told me that he knew my thought and approved, but I instead folded myself onto the floor, my back against the bed, and rested my cheek on his thigh. A ghost of a chuckle reminded me that I had avoided one childish act for another. I felt myself color, yet another reason to be glad that we were not face to face.  His hand rested lightly on my head as though requesting permission, which I granted, leaning into the touch. Treize enjoyed petting me, stroking my hair, running its length through his hands. How would this meager stubble affect him, unevenly grown out from a shaved head?  But his fingers carded gently through the short strands as though it had always been this way, and I felt soothed by his easy acceptance of the change.

"This was not Libra." The fingers in my hair crept towards my forehead, pausing at the top of the scar.

"No," I murmured into the denim of his pant leg, warm from my breath and his body, but I knew he did not need to hear me. I also knew he would not let it go, that the most my stalling would afford me was a little more time before I would  answer him, and equally that there was no way to mitigate the facts. I had lived through it; now he would have to do the same before there could be a chance for resolution.

"Will you tell me what happened?  I will beg, you know."  His tone was light, but I had seen the man waiting in the bar, haggard and uncertain, and my heart clenched.

"I was a captive after Libra." I felt his hand tremble slightly, but its motion did not alter. " I think I had been injured, but I do not know how seriously nor in what way, because I awoke healed. I could not determine who held me, nor why."

I stopped, giving him time to examine this information. His hand was still caressing my hair, but there was a tension and abstraction in its movement that had not been there earlier. How could I say this to him? Best be blunt and be done. I straightened and reached back for his hand, holding it against my cheek. I had not thought ever to touch him again, and the wonder of it gave me courage against all reason.

"Two months ago they did this."

Treize stilled instantly, and so completely that it was as though he were no longer behind me. His hand was like marble, I could not sense his breathing. It seemed as though his very heartbeat was suspended.  I felt an unaccustomed, frantic need to distract him, but my words were not well chosen to accomplish this.

"I was completely at a loss.  I had long felt that they had no specific intent to keeping me, but were waiting for some… use for me to present itself. I could imagine no one who would care enough about their act to be the intended victim, only that it was certainly not me, not after so much time."

"Two months ago I was still touring the colonies."

"I did not know you were alive until I was released here only a few weeks ago."

"And you realized then the identity of the intended victim."

"Yes."

In the silence I could feel his anger take fire, against my tormentors but also against me. He pulled on my hand as he leaned away from the headboard, forcing me to turn towards him awkwardly, The pain and uncertainty naked in his face stunned me.

" But why did you not come to me then?"

"Please, Treize…" I twisted in his grasp, trying to get my knees under me.

He pushed on as I faltered. "That they thought to hurt me by…" I felt him shudder as he searched for the word, "scarring you does not explain why you stayed away, once you were free. And do not tell me it is because you thought I would not have welcomed you."

Treize would never believe a lie, even if I could have borne to tell him one. "No, but I did not intend to hurt you."

"You've said that before, and I begin to fear that it has some hidden meaning. Could you imagine that I would be hurt more by having you with me, thus marked, than by not having you at all?"

Did he truly not see what must follow from this?  How much easier it was to oppose him when I did not see a future, in the world with him but not with him, stretching ahead of me interminably, when I did not see him. I am so often a coward.

I turned fully towards him, catching both his hands now and holding them as firmly as I held his gaze.

"Treize," I needed his complete attention, "what was the first thing you said when we met?"

"I believe I said, 'What a beautiful prince.'"

"Yes, and when I was a little older and we had truly become friends, you would greet me fondly and call me your beautiful prince. Later, when we became more than friends, you whispered many things to me in bed, many names, but from the first time we made love to the last, you always called me 'perfect.'" I drew his hands, those beautiful, strong, clever hands, towards me, brushing them with the rough-edged smoothness of the scar that slashed my lips. "I am not beautiful; I am not perfect any longer."

He was shaken, but recovered quickly, and rather than drawing away, his fingers returned to my lips, tracing them intimately, soft and hard places without distinction. 

"You have never been a vain man, in fact, so far from it that you have driven me to distraction more than once," a faint smile was there and gone, "and I cannot fathom what you would have me make of your words. Do you think you are no longer my perfect prince? That I cannot love you now?" He struggled to keep his voice from rising beyond the thin walls. "That it is even a choice for me, between you as you are and you not at all?"

"You should never have had to contemplate that choice, not even to reject it. Please understand me. Even as I rationalized staying away from you by pretending that you would not welcome me after the madness of our final encounter, I never, not for a moment, believed that you would reject me because of a scar on my face." My eyes slid away for a moment. "If only you could."

His silence was that of a man unable to choose a single question from the myriad flooding his mind. This time it was I who pressed on.

"You are Treize, a man who loves and demands beauty and perfection in all things. Who will you be if you compromise who you are because of what I have become?"

He stared at me and I held my breath, though I do not know why. I was not awaiting his decision; the decision had already been made. Surely he must see that I was right.

Then his brow cleared and the corner of his mouth quirked upward. I was lost. Nothing made sense, and I was about to object, although I do not know what I would have said, when he reached out and seized my arms. I think I yelped as he pulled me up and over him, then rolled us both on the narrow bed until he could prop himself on his elbow and look down at me. He gazed at me for a moment. There was no denying the hunger in his eyes, nor the joy, and I was mesmerized. As much as I knew I should protest, my body longed for his touch, and I could not move away.  Then he brushed back my hair and again caressed the top of the scar, this time with lips and tongue. Tiny kisses and licks moved down its jagged course and I shivered, both from the tenderness of this new exploration and in sick dread that I was now defined in Treize's heart by that scar. He licked the cloven eyebrow, kissed the furrow between them, then licked the other. I closed my eyes as he moved to kiss each lid, then ran his tongue over the mark across my cheek and beside my nose, but they flew open when I felt a decidedly playful kiss planted on the very tip. Treize was grinning now, a challenge in his eyes.  His mouth continued downwards, pausing only a moment over my ruined lips before completing the journey at the corner of my jaw. 

But the exploration did not end there. Treize moved up to suckle at my earlobe, nipping at it gently before returning to tease insistently at my lips. My heart soared as it understood the enormity of what he had shown me through these simple actions, although I could not have found the words to tell him. With a moan I joined the kiss, so familiar, so longed for. My hands rose around him involuntarily, desperate to confirm his presence. A hand at his back pressed him to me, the slickness of his silk shirt terrifying as my hand sought purchase. The other tangled in his hair, stroked the straining tendon in his neck, caressed the faint stubble on his cheek, seeking frantically for those touches and textures that were Treize.

When the kiss broke, we were both dazed and panting. Treize rolled off his elbow to lie on his back, pulling me to him, and my arms slipped around  him instinctively. I dimly noted his hardness against my belly and my own against his thigh, but at that moment they seemed incidental, the least important element in our reunion. Sweet as I knew our joining would be, it would wait while our minds and hearts renewed their bond.

He pulled me closer and I tucked my head under his chin, calmed by the familiar brush of lips against my hair. Wrapped in each other's arms and exhausted by fear, relief, guilt, and joy, we slept.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

DUO MAXWELL

"Think it's okay to return to the shuttle now?" Duo glanced sidelong as his companion. "Unless you really want them to know that we've been right across the street all night."

Wufei was perched backwards on a chair, chin on crossed wrists on white-painted wood, gazing meditatively out the window. The advance of uniform colony daylight was shifting the aspect of the narrow street from menacing to merely shabby. At Duo's words, he raised his head briefly towards the boy stretched out on the bed but said nothing. 

"I mean, if Treize hasn't come out and collapsed on the sidewalk, I think we can assume they've reached an understanding." Wufei jerked around and glared at him, but Duo simply swung easily off the bed to stand by the frowning boy. He wanted to wrap his arms around those rigid shoulders and rest his cheek on the glossy head, but they hadn't touched except in passing since leaving the shuttle yesterday.  He contented himself with standing so close that he could feel the other boy's heat on his arm, and continued quietly. "Y'know, I'd never tell you that letting him go this time would be any easier than it was before."

Wufei relaxed slightly and turned his gaze back through the window to its twin on the facing building: same cheap sash, same dusty, white curtains. The light behind those curtains had gone out several hours ago, but before that Wufei had watched as two silhouettes stood together, separated, then moved out of view. Duo had watched 'Fei.

Abruptly Wufei  rose and replaced the chair by its companion table. Snagging his jacket from the wall peg, he turned to Duo. His smile was brief, but it was the first one Duo could remember seeing directed at him since they'd left their own apartment.

"I think it will be much easier this time."

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TREIZE KHUSHRENADA

Waking fully clothed with Miriard warm in my arms was not something I had done in a very long time. It had been common enough when we were children; after a long day of holiday entertainments I would have no stomach to send him off to his own room. He lay now as he had then, head tucked into my armpit and perfect cheek flushed with sleep. The light filtering through the smudged glass and stained curtains was faint enough that for a moment he looked unchanged, but I forced my gaze to seek out the jagged strands and gashed lips. My arms tightened around him as cold rage seized me, and I fought to keep from straying to thoughts of revenge.

That was the difficulty, was it not? It was not my revenge to take unless I was willing to prove the perpetrators of this horror correct. It was Miri's, and he did not want it. The slightest gesture I might make in that direction would only strengthen what experience told me was his soul-deep fear, that he was now marred in my heart even more than in my eyes. I would have to wait for him, follow his lead, prove to him that the evidence of another's hatred on his face need not sink inward to carve his own heart, nor mine.

I waited with some apprehension for him to wake. I no longer expected he would try to leave, but I knew far too well the ease with which he shouldered and carried guilt to think that the subject of the previous evening was closed. 

At last he stirred and stretched, opening wonderful, ice-blue, uncomprehending eyes. I felt a prickle of dread for the moment he would remember. He leaned up on one elbow to look over at me with that lazy, sensual smirk that had grown upon him after our relationship changed.  Last night I had seen the boy, my adored prince, earnest and exacting, but this was the man, my lover and beloved. Suddenly my half erection, that had seemed unimportant in the face of the night's overwhelming emotions, sprang insistently to life.  I squirmed slightly. Instantly Miri's hand was at my crotch, not to ease but to inflame, and he moved over me for a kiss. I tried to hold his unfocused, half-lidded gaze, but it slid past mine as he devoured me. His hand roughly stroked the fly of my jeans and tongue plundered my mouth as I surrendered to the feel and taste of him, my own hands moving to reciprocate. Yet a part of my mind waited, fearful, for the return of awareness I knew must come. I could only hope that I would be able to bring him through what would certainly follow.

Maybe it was the sudden, tiny movement as my fingers tried to tangle in unexpectedly short locks, but his lips froze on mine. Suddenly he was motionless in my arms.  When he drew back, it was not far enough for me to observe his expression but I could see that his face had gone white, throwing the scar into vivid relief.  

"Treize," he breathed. "Oh, Treize. What have I done? We could have lost each other forever, and I was willing to let it happen, no, making certain that it did." He pushed himself away from me on trembling arms, head ducked to hide behind a remembered curtain of platinum silk, but I would not have needed to see his face to know what I would see there. "You will never trust me again, should never trust me. I misunderstood you, misjudged you, hurt you so terribly…."

His arms gave way and I caught him as he collapsed, holding him close when he tried to roll away. After a brief struggle I felt him relax against me, but it felt not like surrender, rather temporary acquiescence to a greater necessity.  He burrowed his face into the curve of my neck, each murmured word a warm exhalation on my skin.

"You cannot forgive me, I know that. I am so sorry…"

This was precisely what I had feared, what I had to cut short or I would still lose him, however tightly I might cling to his body. That fear gave me strength.

"No! Listen to me!" I gave his shoulders an ungentle shake to secure his attention, and waited until his eyes, red with tears that I knew would not fall, met my own. Memory rose as I realized that this was as close as he ever came to crying, then no more than now. I fought the impulse to crush him to me, crooning meaningless, soothing words, as I might have done so long ago. Instead, I focused on the startled 'O' of his mouth, caught in mid apology, and kissed him hard. "How would I not trust you, when you love me better than I could love myself? Are more honest with me than I have ever been with you? You shame me." I kissed him again, preventing his protest although he still did not respond in kind. "I know you intend no such thing, you need not say so, but I have always known you are so much more than I deserve."

There was fierce argument in his bright eyes and creased brow, but I would not let him speak.

"Can we each put our guilt behind us now? Do not protest. You know mine is as great as yours. Or will we be so supremely selfish that we punish ourselves, however deservedly, at the price of hurting the other even more?" I winced at using his very guilt against him, even in desperation.

I could see that my words were reaching him when, for a moment, remonstrance smoothed from his face. I was surprised, then, to read not fear or guilt but sudden shame in his averted gaze. I felt that something had become clear to him and, all at once, I understood, too.

I sat up suddenly. “Miri! Oh, my wonderful Miri!”

He turned back to me, startled, and I am sure it had been many years since he had seen me smile like that. All my love and joy were loosed into my expression as I willed him to believe me, to understand my relief at his realization. “You knew I would find you! You were waiting for me. Your heart knew I would come, though your head pretended otherwise.” A voice in my own head reminded me that attempts to exert my will over his had never met much success, and I knew well that I was skirting disaster. If he thought to ask how I had discovered his whereabouts, all my reassurances would be worthless.

::Honesty::, the voice prompted. ::Not if, but when.:: Yes, but not now. Please, just not now. Once he had passed the initial horror over what ifs, I would tell him, I swore it. But not now.

“Yes,” he whispered, looking at me in amazement. “I did not know it until I saw you in the bar. But it seemed so unimportant then because you were here.” He crawled up to me, leaning against the headboard.  His hand rose to my face as though to reassure himself that I truly was there.  “And after, I was intent on proving to you that you should leave…” His hand dropped to my chest as his brow furrowed with the return of self-recrimination, but my euphoria demanded that he be happy, too.

“No! No more. You know you could have hidden from me but did not. You wanted to be found as much as I longed to find you. Why be ashamed that your heart knew better than your head?” I thought of how many times I had ignored my heart for the reasons in my head and suppressed a shudder.

But my mood remained high enough to overwhelm his defenses, and he rose from the bed, pulling me to my feet with to stand with him. The beginnings of a smile tugged at his lips. It was a glorious sight, even twisted as it was by the constricting scar, and it was accompanied by a wicked sparkle coming into his eyes. 

“You have always been very wise and sure about what the rest of us should do, haven’t you? Do you think you can take your own advice?” The sparkle softened. “I know that you feel your own mistakes as strongly as I feel mine, only that you have schooled yourself to conceal what I cannot. If I am to put old habits behind me, so must you. Secrecy and evasion can hurt us both every bit as much as my sense of responsibility, which you seem to think is occasionally excessive.” He lowered his head, glancing at me sideways with humor so long absent it took my breath away.

When his meaning finally cut through my surprise at his turn of phrase, the shadow of my vow rose to loom over me, mocking me. How could I tell him now, when his terror at what might have happened had so recently been allayed? Yet if I did not and he asked, the outcome would be infinitely worse. All my old secrets and evasions paraded through my mind, each trailing its painful consequences like a banner. 

Miri sensed my uneasiness and looked at me sharply. I pulled him into an embrace to avoid his searching eyes, but it was too late. 

“Treize?” He rested his cheek on my hair, his arms coming around me to tighten possessively. “Tell me why you are afraid.”

Afraid? I was utterly terrified. To my horror I began to shake, and no amount of tension forced onto my traitorous body would make it stop. All I could do was rest my head on his shoulder and cling for my life. 

“It cannot be so bad as this, can it? You did find me. We are here, together. Soon we will leave this place, together. And yet you are afraid. Tell me.”

It was far too late for equivocation.

I drew away from him, although without the support of his body I was near falling.  Whatever might happen, we had to be face to face for this. “I did not find you through my own efforts.”

Now it was my turn to search his face. To my confusion I read nothing unusual there, no fear, no disappointment, not even mild surprise but only an invitation to continue. His hands were still on my waist and I was grateful for even that small contact and support.

“Immediately upon return from my tour I received an untraceable email demanding that I come here. Since I found you here, I must believe that your captor wanted me to do so.”

“That agrees with what his purpose seems to have been in scarring me.” His words were thoughtful. “And would you have continued to look for me had you not been summoned?”

Miris’ question had been uppermost in my mind before he asked, and I answered without thought. “Of course. I announced my survival and retirement so that I could search for you freely. I could think of nothing except finding you or finding proof…” My throat constricted so violently that I could not speak, and my knees began to give way.  He caught me and pulled me back against his body, holding me close while stroking my back, my hair, whatever he could reach with his free hand. 

“Proof of my death? Oh, Treize…”

“I never said it. I could not even bear to think it, not to its conclusion. Not how I would live if I did find proof. If I would live.”

I was as shocked as he was at my words. I have never countenanced death as a cure for despair, yet to live the rest of my life without Miri had been beyond contemplation.

“But I am alive, and we are together. You need fear that no longer, yet you are still afraid; I can feel it.”

I did not look at him this time, unwilling to leave the safety of his embrace.

“How will you trust me unless you believe that I would have found you,” I murmured against the refuge of his neck, “and how can you believe that now?”

I felt him draw breath to speak. I was suspended, floating, my entire being focused on his next words.

Miri’s voice was soft and calm in my ear. “Ah, but you were still looking for me, and you would have kept looking. Even if I had been so foolish as to hide from you, you would have found me. I know you, how tenacious you can be, how patient when you have to be. It might have been another month or even a year but I know you would have found me.” His lips brushed my temple, their roughness comfortingly real. “I trust you.”

Those simple words poured through me, easing the clench of fear and making me lightheaded. Now I swayed with relief rather than fear. I lifted my head from his shoulder to meet his eyes, but our lips met first. The kiss overwhelmed us and we clung fiercely, as though defying the other to let go. For long moments we stood, aware only of fervent caresses and eager mouths. The tiny piece of my mind not lost in sensation dimly noted tears on my face, and I knew they must be my own, for my Miri never cries. 

~END~

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