Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ No one else ❯ Three: Treize ( Chapter 3 )

No one else: Treize

~ * ~ * ~

Rating: PG, just to be sure

Warning: AU, Angst, YAOI, Treize's POV

Pairing: 13x6 (13x5 implied)

Author's notes: The third of a set of three (finally); 'No one else: Dorothy' follow-up.

Disclaimer: Bandai, the Sotsu Agency and TV Asahi do own Gundam Wing, Zechs and Treize, not me. No harm intended. No money made.

Many thanks to Marilyn, who beta-read this story. She helped me avoid a few (very) embarrassing mistakes. For that I am very grateful :) Of course, all remaining mistakes are mine.

~ * ~ * ~

An angel leans over me, his eyes of the sharpest blue I've ever seen. They shine as he smiles softly, his beautiful features alight with love. Milliard? I'm so glad to see you...

"You must hold on, sir."

But I do, love... I do. It's difficult without you. It hurts so much...

"You must live, General."

Live? Am I not dead? Isn't this hell? Oh, love, haven't I lost you?

"Don't give up. Please, don't give up."

I won't, love. For you, I won't. Just stay a little longer... don't go yet...

But the silhouette starts to fade away. I want to touch him, but I am restrained. I am paralysed. Still, I want to speak. But the air I breathe now feels like metal in fusion, burning my lungs and tearing me up inside. And my vision slowly blurs, darkness filling up my world, and my angel disappears into the night.

~ * ~

He comes and goes, easing my torment with a smile, breaking my heart with each departure. He shows up at the deadliest moments, when sheer pain runs through my body in heated waves, echoing every heartbeat, and in those instants, the loving look in his eyes is a piece of heaven in this hell of mine. And I would be glad to bear more, much more, if only it could make him stay.

I shut my eyes tightly when my memories arise, and I fight to quell the souvenirs of my betrayals. I told so many lies through the years... Did he know I loved him? Could he make out the truth among the lies?

I wish I could hold him close, touch him, breathe him, taste him. The pain and the sorrow would mean nothing if I had him at my side.

When the pain surges again, I try to even my breaths, calling for him, willing him to appear to me. I want him. I need him. And the heat becomes almost unbearable, leaving me helpless; but then, as hope flee out of my grasp, I am rewarded at last, for he materializes in front of me. He looks down at me, and I feel his long golden hair brush over my arm, fresh like a spring breeze. His hands ghost over my face, softly resting a minute on my forehead, and I lean into the caress. I feel like sleeping, the pain has gone for now - he chased it away - but I don't want to fall asleep. Should I blink, he would vanish again, and I want him to stay.

But my strength slips away from me, and my body grows heavier. I catch his hand, but a suffocating languor penetrates my muscles, and he slowly leaves me, swallowed back into darkness.

~ * ~

The world is so still, so dark.

I breathe in deeply, surprised to feel that the fire has become mere embers. The pain is still there, coiled around my bones like a snake, but somehow it's not as blinding as it used to be. I don't know if I should be grateful or worried about it.

I try to sit, but I find myself tied to the bed I lay in, and the move stirs up the burning reptile sleeping in my body. I fall back moaning softly.

"You are finally awake."

Shadows move near me and a lean figure emerges from it. A tall, pale man clad in white comes closer, scrutinizing me. I dislike the way his eyes run over me, but a more important question haunts me. "Where is Milliard?"

The smile that grows on his lips sends chills down my spine, and fear grips my heart. He doesn't answer as he leans over me to examine me. His touches are cold and dry, and they make me uncomfortable. I try to get away from him, but someone else comes and holds me down while he continues his examination.

Whoever they are, they obviously want to scare me. The way they ignore me, touching me with a disgusted grimace as if I were a being of lower ranks: every action they take is intended to unsettle me and weaken me. Do they really think I would fall for it? I may be wounded and hurt, but I am certainly not a fool.

So I lay still, letting them do what they want, not daring to ask again for Milliard. By the time they're finished, I am sure they are some kind of doctors.

"Who are you?" I ask once they seem to be done, but no answers come and they move back into darkness.

"Untie me," I command as they open a door, letting in a flow of bright light.

One of them turns around to face me, and his voice is strained with hatred when he speaks. "You are in no position to give orders. You are nothing but a tool to insure peace now. Our tool. *We* will accomplish what your former pawn couldn't. Because he's dead. Do you hear me? Dead. We..."

"Silence!" the second man shouts and, grabbing the other one by the arm, they both exit my room.

The door slams closed, leaving me alone in the dark with my thoughts.

~ * ~

I don't know how much time passed since their visit. The pain comes and goes, along with Milliard's ghost, and everything else melts away. The only sparks of light left for me are in the eyes of the phantom I summon when the snake's fangs tear me apart. I know he's just an illusion, yet I keep willing him to my side, and as hurtful as it is, the fleeting sight is my sole relief.

I should try and eat, but I am not hungry. I am not thirsty. I feel nothing but the pain consuming me whole. My body grows weaker, but I can't find the strength to care. I should fight back, try and escape from here. I'm sure I could find a way out, but I lack the will to do so.

Sometime I have to shut my eyes to push away an unwanted remembrance, but even in the blankness of my mind I can't be quiet. A flash of black, almond-shaped eyes, and I look away, a knot in my throat. But deliverance keeps escaping me, and behind closed eyelids I see gundanium fragments smeared with blood, and I feel a restless soul seeking a peace it will never find. And then, when I am overwhelmed by this hopeless, endless feeling, here alive in this dark room, I know for sure I am in hell.

"You really loved him, didn't you?" The voice is hushed and caring, but I don't answer. Still, I know he will persist. He has tried many times to make me talk, and he failed each time. Yet he is still there.

He moves around me silently, putting aside a plate of food I barely touched. He is used to it; he has nursed me for some time, now. "You don't have to answer. I know. I understand." He holds out a little piece of wet cloth and begins to wash me. "I lost a loved one too, you know? Because of the war. Of your war, the war you set up." He falls silent for awhile, caught up in his musings, and a sigh escapes him. "My mother told me once," he finally says softly, "that true love can defy anything. That no matter how far, as long as you are both alive, you would always feel the other's presence." He pauses, glancing at me thoughtfully. "I used to think she was just a romantic sap, for I never felt such a connection myself. But you... Tell me, is it true?"

I look up at him, and my heart misses a beat. His eyes are full of sorrow, but he smiles lightly nonetheless. He puts the cloth away. "I've always wondered," he explains. Then he shrugs. "Anyway, would you like to eat, now?"

"Yes, thank you."

~ * ~

I don't understand why he's helping me.

He's always around when I wake up, reading a book under a dim light, in a corner of the room. I asked him once what he was reading, and he answered me with a wry smile, 'War and Peace'. I almost laughed.

They keep me in darkness, with nothing to do, and it's maddening. The only lights in here are the small lamp beside my bed and Cyd's - my new mysterious friend - flashlight. When I questioned him about it, he only shrugged. He doesn't know why either. And to my great discomfort, I am still tied up to the bed, unable to move.

My main question though, is the reason for all this. And it's starting to be obsessing. Why do they keep me alive? What did the man mean, saying I was now a 'tool to insure peace'? Maybe Cyd would, or could know, but I can't bring myself to ask him so bluntly. He's a precious ally to keep madness afar, but I don't think his loyalty would go as far as to answer that. And I shall not forget that we might be under surveillance. Cyd's use of metaphors and apparently out-of-topic examples and references point toward that.

I wonder what day it is. How long have I been here? Maybe I could ask; it's a genuine question after all. It would allow me to get a better view of my situation. How long does it take for a missing person to be officially, and legally, dead? But that's a tricky question, given that everyone witnessed Tallgeese II exploding at the hands of the Shenlong Gundam. At the hands of its proud, stubborn pilot... I close my eyes.

I hadn't thought things would go the way they did... The war, Milliard... I miss him so much. Will he ever want to see me again? Or will he simply smile and turn away, leaving me and his past behind? I have so many questions, and so very few answers. I reopen my eyes, and I frown.

Someone's in here, and it's not Cyd.

My bedside lamp is on, but its faint light doesn't reach the lithe figure hidden among shadows. I know it is not one of the two doctors I first met, for the silhouette is too small. "Who are you?"

But no answer comes. I would have been surprised otherwise, though. "Untie me," I order. No reaction, no move. This one knows self-control, or he's playing with me. Well, either way, it was worth the try.

He stands there, unmoving, and despite the darkness, I feel him looking intently at me. I don't know what persuades me he's male, but I'm sure I'm right, and the more he stares, the more I'm convinced he wants something from me. A reaction, perhaps. He wants me to squirm from worry, or he wants me to talk to fill the silence? He'll wait a long time, then. I lean back against the pillow and the mattress, staring at him just as intently.

This silly game goes on for several minutes, and he finally breaks it. Moving swiftly, he leaves the room as silently as he came in, slowly closing the door behind him. But as the door is shut, I see a strand of blond hair shining briefly in the dim light.

~ * ~

"I will contact him," Cyd whispers into my ear while washing my neck.

I look up at him, confused. His voice is hushed and shaky, and he looks scared. "What?" I ask softly, not daring to speak more openly. His tone is one of a conspirator, and the way he murmurs next to my ear suggests that I was right - we are under surveillance.

"Zechs Merquise. I will contact him."

I don't answer. My mouth grows dry and, for a few seconds, I am unable to talk. He interprets my silence as a question and continues, holding now a razor. "But he believes you're dead, and I don't know how I could convince him without having him send me to a nut house."

I can't help but to smile. Rationality is one of Milliard's great assets - tempered with a wild sense of honor, that is. Cyd would no doubt sound less than sane to him. What would bring him to believe in my survival? "My cross..."

"The little jewel, with a blue stone?" I nod slightly. "He will recognize it as a sign you're alive?"

"Yes." Maybe not a sign that I'm truly alive, but it will surely pique his curiosity.

"All right."

We keep silence for awhile, then I ask in a breath, "Why?"

He peers down at me, an unreadable look in his eyes. "I am tired of wars."

And he leaves me there, shaved and clean, my mind full of unanswered questions.

~ * ~

We are moving, apparently, and in a hurry. Not that I mind... if only I knew where we are going.

I have had no news of Cyd since our little conversation, and I fear the worst. But those thoughts are unproductive, so I put them aside for now.

They blindfolded me and untied me. I was lucky I was surrounded, for the minute they pull me up, I fell to the floor. Several days unmoving - or rather, as Cyd told me, months - can be quite weakening. But they caught me in time and, after a small, painful walk which included climbing stairs, they threw me into what I believe is a car.

It's been hours now, I think. I don't know if they took many detours and twists so I would get lost, but if that's the case, it wasn't necessary. I can't even say if I'm on Earth or in the colonies.

The pain is back, though, and with a vengeance. It had been absent for some time now, and I hoped it was gone for good. But it seems that even if I'm healing, I'm not ready yet to fight my way back to freedom.

The vehicle stops and I am pulled out of it. Strong hands take a firm hold of me, as if I were in any state to run away. They are scared of me. The reason escapes me - or perhaps it's just my reputation. Anyway, I can't help a satisfied smile ghosting on my lips.

Doors are opened and shut, and voices whispering to one another surround me. Then, finally, a door opens in front of me and, as loud as the thunder in a clear sky, someone says with unhidden mockery, "Here are your new quarters, General. Hope they are to your tastes!" Then he bursts into laughter, along with his acolytes, and I am thrown in the room. The door is shut behind me and I am left alone.

I lay on the ground for several minutes. I see bright red flashes behind the blindfold; my rib cage his throbbing with pain and I am unable to catch my breath. I must have had broken ribs when they picked me up in space, which are not totally healed. Not to mention the throbbing in my arms and legs.

But I finally manage to sit up and, with shaky hands and unsteady breaths, I remove the blindfold.

It's not dark. I can actually see my surroundings. That alone is a relief.

I am apparently in some kind of cell, and a decrepit one at that. The concrete walls are bare, and humidity oozes from thin, long cracks. Right in front of me, a sinuous thread of water runs from the ceiling down to the floor, and the sound of the drops falling to the ground echoes eerily in the silent room. A bed - what a generous thing to say rather, a mattress lays in a corner, and the clean white sheet resting on it is as discordant as a child's laugh in a cemetery. I also notice a small toilet in the opposite corner, along with a filthy sink. Right in the middle of the room, hanging from the ceiling, a single light bulb diffuses its sickly rays, creating shadows in every hole and crack of the place.

No doubt, I am prisoner. It will take more than a dirty cell to impress me, though.

I crawl to the mattress and, covering myself with the only clean sheet given, I close my eyes, praying for the pain to go away, and for Milliard to come to me.

~ * ~

I am completely alone now. I've seen no one in days - maybe in weeks. I'm losing track of time again. But if I rely on the number of meals - a greyish porridge and a glass of water - passed to me through a hatch in the door, and if I assume they feed me once a day, I'd say I've been here for about eight days. I've started to mark them on the wall, where the concrete has softened a bit, like in old books and movies. I just have to find myself a fellow prisoner who knows about a secret treasure, and I'm good to become the next Monte-Cristo.

Not that I would mind. I'm looking forward to a deep and thorough revenge.

With the pain slowly backing off, I began to exercise myself a few days ago. Nothing too extreme, but the sole fact of moving without too much discomfort is a real joy.

A joy tempered with worry. Cyd hasn't come back and, as the days go by, I don't have much hope of ever seeing him again. Another death to add to those I've caused.

I just hope he reached Milliard in time.

~ * ~

Footsteps and shouted words wake me up. The atmosphere is tense, and I find myself wondering what's going on. Something's happening, something they hadn't prepared for. I sit onto the mattress, focusing on the noises I hear. They are coming closer to my location, and by the sound of the voices, they're not quite happy.

Then, without any notice, my door slams open and soldiers barge in, holding up their weapons. I am too tired to laugh at this unnecessary display of power. Do they really think I would try to take them all at once? I still have difficulties doing ten laps around my cell. Poor idiots.

But then a man approaches and steps in front of the soldiers, as sinister as a ghost from the past, and for a minute I am stunned into silence. But I slowly get up, concealing my surprise behind a wry smile. "Count Alaroff," I greet him with a slight bow. "What a pleasure."

He smiles smugly at me, and the scar on his cheek twists accordingly. "Treize Kushrenada. A pleasure, indeed. I meant to visit you sooner, but my business..." He trails off.

"Of course." I keep my polite mask, a detached smile stretching my lips, while I search for a clue. Why would a Sankian noble want to imprison me in such a place? Wouldn't a court martial or a world wide trial suit Sank better? "Please say, Count, why am I here?"

Another smug smile, and his eyes narrow and shine with rapaciousness. "For peace purposes, don't you worry, Treize. Now, I know you are used to better accommodations. You have to forgive our... lack of spaciousness, but we had to make a quick move."

"A quick move?"

"Yes. A weak link threatened our plans, but we took care of it." And as his smile widens a little, his teeth long and sharp, I understand that Cyd is dead. "But since I am a good man, I thought I would bring you a treat to compensate," he continues. "You'll be happy; I've been told you asked for it."

He steps back and two soldiers, holding a collapsed body, move forward and throw the unconscious person at me.

"Have a great time, Your Excellency!" Alaroff concludes, and he exits the room with his men as promptly as they barged in, leaving me staring at the man lying before me.

He lays on his belly, his head partly turned toward me, eyes closed. Milliard. He's pale. So pale that the blood drying on his cheeks and chin and the dark circles running under his eyelids are like disgraceful marks disfiguring him. His long, gold hair is also stained with red drops at the back of his neck, and a strand is stuck to his cheek, glued with red. One of his hands rests near me, his long fingers now relaxed, and I can see the blue veins through the ashen skin. And he is thin. So terribly thin that I fear to touch him, afraid that I might break him.

I slowly come nearer, and with each step my pulse quickens. This is no fantasy. He won't disappear. I hold out a hand and brush my fingers through the golden locks. His hair feels so dry! Not silky anymore... Did he stop taking care of it? Why would he do such a thing?

Carefully, I take him into my arms. He feels so light. I turn him so he faces me. He looks exhausted and a small vertical wrinkle has appeared between his eyebrows. I massage it with my thumb, making it slowly fade away. Then I move my hand to caress his cheek, cleaning it of blood. I can't stop looking at him. Even in this induced sleep he's beautiful. We stay there for a long time, him sleeping, me holding him tightly, simply watching him. From afar, I feel a slight pain coming back into my arms and my chest, but I don't pay much attention to it.

For better or worse, I have him back at my side.

And no matter what, I will make him stay this time.

~ * ~

I don't know how long we stayed like this, but at some point I moved us to the mattress. I wrapped him up in the sheet and then in my arms, and we settled down in a half-sitting position, his head resting against my shoulder.

A few days have passed since they brought him here, and I am worried. He hasn't woken up once yet. He stirs sometimes, mutters words I don't understand or, worse, sobs faintly. I'm afraid to know why he cries those silent tears, but each time he does, I talk softly to him, and my voice seems to soothe him.

I rarely leave him and if so, not for long. I got him to drink some water, but he obviously needs something more substantial. I hope he wakes up soon.

What did they do to him?

Or, rather, what did he do to himself?

~ * ~

He moves in my arms, and I open my eyes. I have dozed off, it seems. "Hush, stay calm, love," I whisper, holding him closer.

But instead of relaxing, he stiffens in my arms, growing still as if waiting for something. He heard me! Carefully, I touch his forehead. It's cooler than it has been for the past few days. I run my hands over him, caressing his face, his neck, his chest, hoping that those touches will keep him awake long enough for me to regain my voice.

And he finally opens his eyes. Striking clear blue eyes, full of tears and haunted with fear, looking directly at me. And there is so much despair in those eyes that I feel myself fighting to catch my breath, an unbearable feeling of loss griping my heart. He holds out a shaking hand and touches me, his fingers lightly running over my chest, and I'd like to smile, to say something to reassure him, but I am frozen there.

He suddenly moves forward and, slipping his arms around me, he holds me in a desperate grasp. As he starts to shiver, I find the strength to move again at last, and I hold him just as tightly. "I'm here, love. Right here. Don't be afraid..." And I go on, whispering sweet nothings to him while he cries. Slowly, his body grows limp as he falls back asleep, but I keep holding him close, his head against my heart.

~ * ~

"Treize?" he whispers, his voice low and hoarse.

"I am here, love," I tell him. "Right here."

"Are we in Sank?"

"No..." Why does he ask me that?

"I won't kill you." He peers up at me, uncertainty plain on his pale and yet beautiful face, but I don't know what to say. He seems to be in a world of his own, far away from me, and I'm afraid that the slightest move would put him out of my reach. But he misinterprets my silence, and his attempt at a smile wavers and turns to water as tears fill up his eyes. "You have to believe me..."

His plea is without hope, as if he expected me to blame him, to hold him responsible for... what? What so terrible thing did he do to expect me to be anything but glad to see him? "I do believe you, love," I assure him, and he doesn't notice how my voice quavers.

"You do? I am so glad..." He pauses, frowning, bringing back the little wrinkle I had erased. "I wanted to tell you... I was afraid to, but I want you to know, it is important, you see. I love you, Treize. I always did, no matter what I did or said..."

His words, jerky and rushed, give birth to a dull ache deep inside my heart and, for a second, I lose sight of him and the world melts into a colorless blur.

I don't deserve him.

I am about to speak again, to explain him that I've known it for a long time. That no matter what he seems to think, I do love him too, deeply, forever. But sudden footsteps resonate and the door is opened forcefully, letting in Alaroff and a few soldiers. I hold Milliard tighter.

"What's happening, Treize?" he exhales into my ear, and I shiver as I focus my attention on the man standing before me.

"What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," the Count replies with a dismissive gesture.

I breathe in slowly, trying to tame the anger raising inside, and failing miserably. I'll care about masks and games later. "Nothing? He has been unconscious for a week! He is sick!"

"Maybe," he answers with a smirk. "But I'd rather say depressed, Your Excellency. Given his condition, he might have not reacted well to the sedative, but it is unimportant."

His condition? I feel Milliard trying to sit up, but I stop him, and he leans against me without any protest. "What condition? Why is he here?"

He laughs, making little barking sounds. "Where have you put your so famous composure, Treize? You should know better than to ask those questions. But understand this: your friend's health - pardon me, your friend's *life* depends on your own cooperation."

"You wouldn't dare!"

He smiles. "Everyone would conclude it to be suicide. His incoherent behaviour lately would be of great help for that. Listen to us, do what we tell you, and he will be fine. Our plans don't include him."

Milliard stiffens against me, and his eyes fly wide open. I have no time to talk to him, though, for Alaroff suddenly says, "That's enough, Treize. Step back."

I glare at him, thinking about killing him right here and now. I know I can. Right now. But there are the soldiers and, more important, Milliard to think about, too. Milliard, still weak and not ready to fight anything at this point. So I gently lay him down, my hand brushing his hair, and I do as I'm told - I step back.

And I regret it immediately, for the second my hand leaves him, panic fills his eyes. Two soldiers run to his side, one of them holding a syringe that he promptly plunges into the base of Milliard's neck. Within seconds, the beautiful eyes darken and close as the artificially-induced sleep claims him. Then he lies there in a deadly stillness.

"That's quite good, Treize," Alaroff comments while I stare at Milliard's unmoving form. "Now, if you remain calm and cooperative, this is the worst that will happen to him. We'll move out of here soon, and he will be our warranty of your good conduct."

"And when you're done? What then?"

"Then, a police officer or a Preventer agent will find him, delusional and sick, somewhere in town. He will be sent to a hospital and convinced that it was all just an illusion. He'll be safer than you, don't you worry. Good night, Treize."

Then he turns around and leaves us here. Once they've all disappeared, I go back to Milliard's side and hold him close.

We have to escape from here. I have to think of something, and fast. There's no way I'm letting him go alone, not if I can help it.

And what on Earth is a Preventer agent?

~ * ~

Five days has gone by, if I consider the meals sent to us. And today's the day. I just know it. I can feel the tension in the air. We'll be moving soon.

And Milliard hasn't woken up yet.

"Milliard? Please, wake up." I shake him softly, but firmly.

He flinches and tries to turn away, nuzzling closer to me. "I don't want to wake up," he mumbles.

"You have to, love. Please, wake up."

He sighs and stirs up, clenching his fists as he fights to open his eyes. "What?" he asks with a sleepy look.

"We have to get out of here, love. Now. Tell me, what do you remember?" I have no way to know if he was caught here or moved like me, but any information is better than none.

He frowns as he gathers his thoughts. "A basement..." he finally says hesitantly.

But before I can ask for more, people enter our room without warning, Alaroff in the lead. I was so focused on Milliard that I hadn't heard them come. Today's the day, indeed.

I am about to speak in order to buy some time, but all of sudden Milliard sits up in a fluid move, and the look in his eyes leaves me speechless. Calm and cold, calculating, fixed on Alaroff, it is empty of any doubt or pain.

He's going to fight. "What do you want?" he asks - no, he demands, and Alaroff notices it, for he winces, and for a brief second, fear crosses his eyes.

But then the foolish man dismisses the warning of what's to come and orders, "Take him."

Two men grab me and pull me away from Milliard, while other two try to take a hold of him. I speak to him, telling him to stay calm, but I see the light in his eyes, the way his pupils are dilating, and I understand that my words are useless.

Within a blink of an eye, true chaos is unleashed, and the fight begins.

A strange feeling seizes hold of me. Although I fight too, freeing myself from the grasp of Alaroff's men and making my way toward Milliard, I can't help but to feel detached, as if I am a spectator to all this. I can clearly see Milliard being hit, and hitting back, observing every blow he takes and gives. And despite his state and the drugs running in his veins, he refuses to yield any ground, and he stands up, fighting back in quick, precise moves, slowly defeating every opponent in complete silence, undisturbed by their screams and threats.

And despite the blood and the noise, I can't hold back a proud smile. Did they forget that no one can defeat the Lightning Count?

But then, as I am about to reach him, a gunshot resonates in the room, and more people enter, swiftly getting a hold of the soldiers and disarming them. And someone suddenly yells, "Treize Kushrenada!"

"Your Excellency!"

"General!"

I find myself surrounded by a crowd of wide-eyed faces, pushing me even further away from Milliard. I see him still struggling, a bleeding cut on his forehead, but he is panting now, his skin is sallow. He is about to fall and he needs me, and none of those silly fools can see it.

"Get away from him!" a cold voice commands near me and the crowd falls back in an instant. A voice I would've recognized anywhere. Lady Une stands next to me, her face pale but looking very resolute, and she says, "Please go and get him, Your Excellency. Then we'll lead you to a safer place."

I nod and rush to Milliard's side. He stares at me blindly for a second, swaying on his feet, and I take him into my arms. "It's over, love," I whisper to him. "We're safe, now." He leans against me, exhaling a shaky breath, his body becoming limp. I slide an arm around his waist and we follow Lady Une out of this damned room, and out of the building, constantly surrounded by excited voices and people.

As we are led through a growing crowd, though, I get a glimpse of a solitary figure, and I shudder as I recognize the Chinese pilot. Our eyes lock together for what seems to be an eternity, and I feel my breaths becoming uneasy. But another figure comes behind him, a blond, small man, and he finally looks away. Turning around, he exchanges a few words with the newcomer and then disappears in the crowd. I bury my face in Milliard's hair and hastily catch up with Lady Une.

"Please, let me have a look at him," a soft voice asks once we're outside, and I meet the woman's eyes. "He's wounded," she explains, but I simply hold Milliard tighter.

"This is Sally Po, the Preventer's medical chief," Lady Une adds, her hand now on my shoulder, guiding us to the nearest car. "You can trust her, Your Excellency."

We get into the car, Sally Po, Milliard and I in the back seats, and Lady Une in the passenger seat. The driver starts the engine as soon as the doors are closed and we take off immediately, followed by several other cars.

"Where are we going?" I ask while Miss Po examines Milliard. "And what are the Preventers?"

"We are going to the hospital," Lady Une answers, moving to face me. "The Preventers are an organisation created to secure peace."

"So I take it the war is over, and the Earth is safe?"

"Yes. I will fill you in with the developments of the past few months, but for now you need to rest and let Doctor Po examine you."

"I..."

"Please, Your Excellency."

I stare at her for awhile, then I nod my assent and Sally Po checks me over. Things seem to have changed quite a bit around here lately.

~ * ~

We arrive at the hospital minutes later, but reporters and cameras have already begun to gather at the doors, and they spot our car rather quickly.

"We all thought you were dead," Lady Une says, her voice somewhat subdued, staring at the crowd outside. "It will take some time for everyone to get accustomed to the idea of your survival."

"I understand." I keep silent for awhile, watching agents controlling and moving the crowd away, while our car is slowly led to the emergency door so we can step out of it safely. "And Milliard?"

The Lady and Miss Po exchange a look before the latter answers. "He was sick. But Dorothy took good care of him."

"Sick? What..."

"As I said, Your Excellency," Lady Une replies, "I will fill you in later. But not before you get some rest. Just know, for now, that he was safe."

"With Dorothy?"

She smiles tiredly. "With Dorothy."

The car finally stops and we get out of it. Two nurses lead us in and soon we are in a room with two beds. With the nurses' help, I lay a now sleeping Milliard in the one closest to the door. I am about to sit next to him, but the nurses push me aside with meaningless words and start plugging him to the machines surrounding the bed.

"Here, General," Sally Po says, leading me to the other bed. "He will be fine, don't worry about him."

I glare at her, but comply nonetheless and lay down on the bed. Then the unpleasant circus begins and after a great deal of time and having many doctors and nurses examining us, we are finally left alone, Milliard still sleeping faithfully, and I being ordered to follow his example.

Which I do within minutes.

~ * ~

I wake up in a dark room and, for a second, panic strikes me. I sit up straight in the bed, convinced I'll find myself tied to it. But I am not, and I see Milliard sleeping in the bed next to me, his breaths even and steady. The cut on his forehead is now covered with a white bandage, along with his left arm, his chest and his neck. But he seems to be peaceful, and for now it's enough. My heartbeat slows down.

I want to get up, but several cables linked to screens and machines stop me. Instead I push the little red button beside me and wait for the nurse to come.

"Yes? What can I do for you, sir?"

"I'd like to take a shower."

To my surprise, she nods without any protest. "Lady Une brought you both a few useful things. We put them in the laundry... we didn't want to wake you. I'll get them, just a second, please."

And she disappears, to come back with two full bags. She puts one next to Milliard's bed and the other on a chair, next to me. Then she begins to unplug me. "Here you go, sir. This room has its own private bathroom and shower - just there." She shows me a small door, in a corner.

"Thank you, Miss..."

"Marika Burns."

"Thank you, Miss Burns." Then I hesitate. This is quite easy. "Won't I put you in any trouble?"

She smiles. "Not at all. Doctor Po gave us specific rules for Mister Peacecraft, but you, sir, are free to do as you wish, as long as you don't overdo it."

"What rules?"

"He mustn't get up until the doctor has seen him, and only water and light food are allowed for now."

"I see. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome. Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything." She smiles again, and then bustles out of the room as her beeper rings, leaving me unsettled, but in a rather good mood.

I rummage through the bag, take out a robe and pyjamas, and I go to the bathroom to take my much needed shower.

~ * ~

I sit next to Milliard's bed, waiting for Dorothy to arrive. Miss Po came by earlier, but she hadn't been very talkative about Milliard, simply saying that he had needed someone at his side to cope with my 'death', and that that someone had been Dorothy. Lady Une is nowhere to be found at the moment. I suspect her to be avoiding me, but given the brilliant job she has done so far, and all there is left to do, how could I blame her?

The room is kept dark so Milliard can sleep, but I soon notice a new shadow in the doorway. "Please come in, Dorothy," I greet her in a whisper.

She enters without a word and sits next to me. She keeps her head down, though, hiding behind a curtain of long hair, and her whole body is tensed. Her hands, crossed in her lap, are stiff and her knuckles are white. She sits up straight, but I have the feeling she'd rather crawl under the bed. And she doesn't speak.

She's about to cry. The thought hits me hard, disturbing but true. "I wanted to thank you," I finally say. "For what you did for him. Sally Po told me. It must have been difficult."

I see a bitter smirk stretching her lips behind the blond strands. "It was nothing, really," she replies nonchalantly. "And more selfish than you probably imagine."

I smile slightly, taken off guard by those words. This humility is not typical of Dorothy. Yet it seems to help her gather her composure, for she finally looks up at me. "And how are you yourself?" she asks with a steady voice, her face clear of any suspicious emotion.

"Quite fine, given the circumstances," I answer. Then I breathe in softly. "How has he been?"

"Didn't Lady Une or Doctor Po tell you?"

I grimace and lean back in my chair. "No. Doctors examined us and put us to bed, and the Lady refused to say anything before I got some sleep."

"And I should?"

I look sharply at her and I notice the familiar mischievous gleam in her eyes. She's teasing me. "Of course," I say with a wry smile.

She smiles too, but it slowly vanishes as she speaks. "Well, he has not been so fine, I'm afraid. Sally Po didn't give me many details. Actually, I believe that the Gundam pilots know more about his illness than I do. But I can tell you that he was in a severe depression, and to be a doctor wasn't necessary to notice that."

"I see," is all I can manage to say.

A depression. And a severe one. No wonder he needed someone... I feel suddenly very grateful for what Dorothy has done. The fact that she chose to do it, and that she is still around after what she has obviously been put through, is very commendable.

"I have a little something for you, Treize," she suddenly tells me. And she unlocks a golden chain around her neck before handing it to me. My chain, with my little ankh.

"I wondered if I would get it back," I say thoughtfully as I take it, moving it in the dim light. "Where did you find it?" I add, looking at her.

"In the basement where Milliard was caught. My guess is Milliard found it at the murder scene, where the police officers neglected it because of its apparent insignificance."

"Murder scene? So, that's why he never came back."

"Who was he?"

"A friend. I gave him this so Milliard would believe him." And he died because of it.

"The police will want to question you. And the Preventers."

"I will talk to them in due time." I put the jewel on and slide it under my clothes.

A comfortable silence settles in. Milliard's breaths are somehow hypnotic, and a nice languor creeps into my body. I'd like to lie by his side and fall asleep holding him, his back secure against my chest and my face buried in his hair. I sigh softly. I long for the sound of his voice. I miss the sparkle in his eyes when curiosity strikes him, and the way he tilts his head when he is solving a difficult problem...

"Treize? I have a question for you..." Dorothy says, interrupting my sweet musings. "But I'm not sure I have the right to ask it."

I shiver. Coming from Dorothy, this isn't good. "Go ahead."

"It's about Chang Wufei."

I suddenly grow cold, my heart sinking and my mind going blank. It is a sorrowful mistake I don't want to think about right now. Maybe later, but for now I want to focus on Milliard, and nothing else. No one else but him matters. I reach out for Milliard's limp hand, clasping my own around his. Then, lifting my head, hardening my will, I look directly at her. "What about him?"

"Nothing," she immediately replies, looking down once again. Not fast enough for me to miss the pain flashing across her eyes, though. She knows. I smile bitterly. I should not forget that she is my relative. I try to find something to say to divert her attention, but she stands up and says, "I will leave now. You need to rest." I nod, my mouth dry, and she adds in an odd, protective tone, "Stay close to him, though. He used to have nightmares." And she goes for the door.

Milliard stirs in the bed, his hand lightly squeezing mine, and he sighs softly. "Dorothy?" I call, staring at the man lying before me, and she stops, waiting. I breathe in. "I will take care of him myself, from now on. You don't have to stay around anymore... but I'd like you to stay with us, if you want to."

She remains silent for awhile. "Yes, I'd like that very much," she finally says, but her voice is strained. I close my eyes as she leaves, and squeeze Milliard's hand.

~ * ~

The day has been long.

Lady Une has finally visited us. She came in with the former Gundam pilots 02 and 04. They politely questioned me about Milliard well-being - agent Wind, as I learned - then stood back as the Lady took my deposition, interrogating me about my detention and my keepers, and finally filling me in with the events of the past months. Duo Maxwell paced the room silently, looking tired and flashing concerned looks at Milliard from time to time. Quatre Raberba Winner, on the other hand, kept silent and still, standing in the shadows, carefully listening to me. Seeing him so patient and focused, I'm not surprised he was the Gundam pilots' leader. His calm presence draws others' attention, even when he is hidden in darkness.

They left promising to get to the bottom of this. I don't doubt their success.

Nightfall has come and the full moon shines, its faint light softening the angles and flaws of the world. I listen to the silence of the city through the open window, revelling in its peacefulness. Milliard is still deeply asleep, his hand lifeless in mine, but from time to time he moves, exhaling my name in a sleepy breath, faintly tugging at my hand, and I savour every moment of it.

But such perfect moments are not meant to last, and the air moves, the atmosphere getting cooler.

"So you're alive," the shadow in the doorway whispers.

"Disappointed?" I ask, hiding my uneasiness behind irony.

He hesitates. I trouble him, and he hates it. "No," he says.

Silence. "I'm sorry." My voice is flat, but it is a heartfelt apology.

"So am I," he answers bitterly, and I wince. "Did you tell him?"

"Not yet."

"I see." His gaze travels from me to Milliard, and he adds, "May you be happy."

And he vanishes, his lithe silhouette fading into darkness. I close my eyes. It's over. For now, at least.

~ * ~

His hand is tightly clasped around mine, crushing my fingers in an iron grasp that wakes me up. His whole body is tensed and his head jerks from side to side. Silent tears have left a shimmering path on his cheeks.

He's having a nightmare.

I get up from the chair I slept in and, pushing him over a little, I lay down next to him. Nurses removed most of the wires earlier. I gather him close and he gradually relaxes against me.

I check the clock and notice that it is almost time for the doctor's visit. A few moments later, Sally Po comes in.

"A nightmare?" she asks in a low voice.

"Yes. But he's better now."

Better indeed, for he starts to actually wake up. "Treize?" he breathes into my ear.

"I am here, love." He sighs and nuzzles closer.

Miss Po raises an eyebrow. "He's awake?"

"Yes," I reply, smiling, delighted to feel him moving against me. "Do you want me to leave?" But Milliard stiffens and she notices it.

"No." Then she turns to Milliard. "Zechs? Do you hear me?"

"Yes," he growls sleepily, burying his face in my neck.

"Do you recognize me?"

He sighs unhappily, holding me tighter before looking at Sally Po. "Yes, I recognize you, Doctor Po," he says dryly, leaning against me. Then he frowns. "I missed our last meeting, didn't I?"

"To be truthful, you missed the last three."

His eyes widen and he becomes pallid. I hold him closer in reassurance. "I am sorry, I did not intend to," he whispers. "Will you sanction me?"

"Don't worry, I won't...but I'd like to examine you, now..."

At that, he frowns again and, with some reluctance, he lets her examine him. He follows her every move with an annoyed look, frowning at the sight of the bandages covering him. And then, as the doctor finishes her examination, he suddenly sits up, startling us both. "Doctor, you must contact Relena, and the police, and tell them..."

"It is already done, Milliard. Lady Une took care of it five days ago." I slip my fingers through the golden strands. He relaxes and lies down, his eyelids growing obviously heavier, and he yawns out loud, a slight blush reddening his pale cheeks as I laugh a little. "You should rest, now. We'll talk later," I suggest, smiling down at him.

"All right." And, leaning heavily against me, he closes his eyes, falling asleep with his arms around me.

"You should rest, too, General," the doctor tells me after awhile.

"Don't worry, Miss Po. I'm quite comfortable as I am." I glance at the now sleeping man in my arms. "He will want to get up next time he wakes up."

"I know. He's a... challenging... patient. He is still weak, and needs much rest, but I'll allow a shower and a few steps around the room. But nothing more than that." I nod and she smiles, standing up. "All right, then. I'd like to see you tomorrow, though. Privately."

"Why?"

"First, for a complete and final check up. You are almost completely healed, and monthly visits should be enough from now on. And second, because I'd like to discuss a few things with you regarding Zechs."

I frown, suspicious. She's far too serious. "I'll be there."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then." She bows gracefully and leaves without looking back.

~ * ~

A feather. The light touch of a bird's wing caressing my face, tickling my nose. I try to escape it - I want to sleep! - but a soft laugh stills me and I open my eyes.

Propped up on one elbow, his head tilted and resting on his hand, he lies beside me, staring at me with those unique eyes of his, a smile on his lips. He is still wrapped up in the bed sheets, but I see his bare shoulders and his graceful neck, their skin creamy and soft, waiting to be touched and kissed and licked...

He looks so alive... and so delicious. I lean over and kiss him, slowly, thoroughly, exploring and remembering, only letting him go when the need for air becomes unbearable. "Hmmm... delicious indeed," I whisper as I take him into my arms.

"Could say the same," he murmurs. "I missed you."

"So did I. But we are together now. And soon we'll be home."

"Yes..."

His voice is calm, yet it lacks the sparkling joy I saw in his eyes minutes ago. "Milliard? What is bothering you? Please, tell me."

"Your home... the estate..."

"Our home."

"Yes... it belongs to Dorothy. For now, at least."

I stare at him, silent for a few seconds. "To Dorothy?"

"Yes. I passed it over to her at the reading of your will. I mean, we thought you were dead, Treize... even though we never found your body... We thought that the explosion..." He breathes in. "I couldn't picture myself living there without you."

"I understand," I tell him, rocking him lightly. "Where did you live, over the past few months?"

"I bought a small house... and 'small' is the key word here. You wouldn't like it much..."

"Why do you say that? I'm sure it's cosy and comfortable. And if it won't do... well, I guess I made a good move when I invited Dorothy to stay with us. She might welcome us to the estate."

"You what?" He lifts his head to look at me, searching my face for a clue. "You're serious."

"I am. Are you disappointed?"

He stares at me mutely for a moment. "No," he finally says. "I am glad. She is... she's..."

"Oddly comforting?"

He nods with a slight smile. Then he shudders. "Treize, I'd like to get up."

"Only if it's for a shower."

"That sounds good. Can I?"

"Yes. Doctor Po allowed it. But nothing more."

He snorts and we sit. I help him to stand up and, after getting him some clothes out of his bag, I lead him to the bathroom, holding him close.

~ * ~

"Hi there!" a cheerful voice greets us from the doorway.

Looking up, we see Dorothy waving at us, smiling broadly. Milliard, comfortably leaning back against his pillows, smiles in response and welcomes her in. "Hi, Dorothy. Please, join us." Sitting by Milliard's side on the edge of the bed, I nod my assent, smiling too, and she comes in, sitting near us.

Then she looks directly at Milliard, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Tell me, how's my favourite prince this morning?" she asks him, and he frowns, just like she intended him to.

"I am no prince, Dorothy," he answers sternly, straightening up.

"Yes, yes, you say so. But we all have our own opinions, haven't we?" she winks at him. "Oh, pout all you want, you won't change my mind. So, how are you?"

"Fine. Until you came in, that is."

"Always so kind to me. I love you, too, you know?" She said it without emphasis, casually, giving to these words a truthfulness that even the nonchalant tone can't hide. I wonder if Milliard noticed it.

"Treize told me you'd stay with us."

"I'm afraid I will. I'm not easy to get rid of, as you should know."

"I do," he hisses darkly, but the joyful gleam in his eyes betrays his words, and he looks suddenly very young.

And very tempting. I turn toward Dorothy, trying to forget the image of his body pressed against mine, my hands exploring him as I trail kisses along the line of his neck and shoulder, licking the creamy skin... No, not now. Later, surely, but not now. "But won't you feel a little uneasy?" I ask, relieved to hear my voice steady and unstrained. "Trapped with the two of us? Milliard told me his house isn't very spacious."

"No, it isn't. At least, not by *your* standards," she says haughtily. "That's why I've arranged for your former estate to be readied. It should be settled by the time you're allowed to leave the hospital."

I narrow my eyes. That's perfect timing. Still... "What makes you think we want to live there?"

"I assumed so, that's all. Was I wrong?"

"Not at all. But I would have appreciated being consulted first."

"Well, well, well," she smirks, apparently pleased. "You speak as if you were still the World's leader. We have a democratically elected President now. Autocracy is past, you must realize."

"Unfortunately, I do," I reply somewhat mournfully, thinking about Lady Une's newfound stubbornness.

"Don't sound so sad! See it this way: you are on vacation."

Vacation? That's interesting. I haven't have one of these in... well, in years. And spending days with Milliard without being bothered with protocol and formalities would be very pleasant. Yes, indeed... I would have plenty of time to make my fantasies come true...

We keep talking casually for awhile, Milliard sitting back, comfortably resting in the bed with a little smile. He doesn't listen to us, simply enjoying our presence, and to see him so relaxed is comforting. But as our discussion goes on, I notice that Dorothy grows serious, her replies less spontaneous. "You are reluctant to talk, all of sudden. Do you have news for us?"

She briefly looks at Milliard, then back to me to answer in a low voice. "Yes. Alaroff wasn't working alone, and he is not the one who decided to keep your survival a secret. Truth be told, from what I've heard, he would rather have finished you himself."

"Then I should be grateful that someone thought better of it."

"I'm not so sure."

"What do you mean?" I ask, staring at her, frowning.

She glances at Milliard again, concerned. "You said they were about to deliver you to someone else, that you were about to be moved when the Preventers found you. Well, I shouldn't tell you this - I shouldn't know about it myself - but that someone else could be Relena Peacecraft."

Lord. No wonder she didn't want to talk about it. If that's the case, Milliard will be devastated. "Could it be?"

"It's only an hypothesis for now. But there are circumstances... and the letter said 'Ready for QR'. Ready for Queen Relena, perhaps."

Cyd's letter, yes. "I see."

Relena. A strange young woman. As idealistic as her brother... but then, idealism seems to have grown into a gene in the Peacecraft family. Relena and Milliard. Very similar and yet completely different. The first will stand up for her beliefs, but the second will take actual steps to achieve those beliefs. 'QR' for 'Queen Relena'? The more I think about it, the more it seems impossible... without being stupid, the girl lacks the reckless mind to do something as tortuous as to capture me, and Milliard, in order to insure peace. She is too blunt and too straightforward to do such a devious thing. Unless I misjudged her.

Relena can't be 'QR'. Someone else must be involved. Someone very determined - or desperate.

A nurse quickly enters the room with a plate, putting it down next to me before leaving, and I push away these musings. I will analyse this later. I take the pill and the glass of water from the plate and hand them over to Milliard. He sighs softly and take them without any question.

Dorothy jumps to her feet, clenched fists on her hips. "Now, I don't know if I should be insulted or grateful," she growls with a smile. "How come you obey with so much docility? It use to be so difficult to give you those damn pills. You can be so stupidly stubborn at times!"

Milliard's cheeks redden, and a small chuckle escapes me. He tenses immediately and glares at Dorothy. "Don't look at me like that, Milliard. You know I am right." She talks to him in a mother-like tone and his eyes narrow. He's furious.

But he apparently was oblivious to our discussion and I am grateful for that. "This is not over, then?" I ask her, not wanting to be more explicit.

"No. It seems that it is more elaborate than we all first imagined. The Preventers are on it, though, so you don't have to worry. They are surprisingly efficient."

I smirk. "Should I pass on to Lady Une this vote of confidence of yours?"

She grimaces. Her face gets a laugh out of Milliard and she smiles unexpectedly at him, relief and love visible on her face for a second.

She really does care about him.

~ * ~

Dorothy has left now and Sally Po awaits me. Milliard stares thoughtfully outside. "Do you want to sit near the window?" I ask.

He flinches, startled, and I notice that fear is back in his eyes. I lean forward and gather him close, stroking his hair. It is getting silky again.

"Tell me this is no dream," he whispers softly. "I spent so many nights dreaming about this... Tell me this is real, please."

"It is real, love. I am real." I help him to stand up, leading him to the chair. I kneel before him once he's seated. "I am real." I smile up to him. "And I intend to prove it to you very soon." I cup his chin, caressing his jaw line with a finger. "But I have to meet Sally Po first. You understand, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. Go. I'll wait here."

"I'll be back soon." I get up, kissing him lightly on the lips before leaving. I hope the meeting won't take too much time.

~ * ~

I can't believe it.

She is talking. I see her lips move and I hear her soothing, yet stern, voice. But I can't quite make out the words, for her earlier words still ring in my ears.

"How dare you imply I could hurt Milliard?" I finally say. The cold words don't begin to show the anger rising inside, but she winces.

"I never said such a thing, General."

"Then please explain it to me again, Doctor, for I obviously misunderstood."

"I know you would never hurt him *intentionally*," she sighs. "But... as you must know, Zechs has suffered from a deep depression."

"Yes, I know."

"Then consider this, General. Over the past few months, he lost himself. When I first saw him, he was in pieces. He now needs to reconstruct himself, to put the pieces back together and make them fit. But he has to do it on his own."

"That's very pretty and I agree with you. But where do I become a threat to him?"

"You're not a threat!" she spits, losing patience. "I said that there was a danger, not that you were a threat to him. You are a powerful man, General, with a powerful personality. And although Dorothy helped him a lot, Zechs is still fragile. I want you to be careful with him. To be aware that he needs support and not control. He needs to regain his independence. You, most of all, should know how much he needs it. In his current state, crushing him and getting him to depend on you is easier than you imagine, and I don't want that."

"I don't either." My voice is strained, but my anger has abated. "I will be careful."

"I know you will." She smiles tiredly. "That was all I had to discuss with you. From the check up I made earlier, you are healing steadily. I will sign your release form this afternoon. Of course, you're free to stay with Zechs."

"When will he be able to leave?"

"In a few days, I think."

We set a meeting for the next month, so she can follow my progress, and I leave her office, making my way to Milliard's room.

~ * ~

"I will stay with Treize, Relena. I don't know where it will be, but I doubt it will be in Sank."

He looks up at his sister, his expression unreadable, and Relena keeps silent for awhile, probably thinking about ways to change his mind. From the look in his eyes, I know it is useless, but she doesn't. She knows so little about him.

"I understand," she replies at last. "If you change your mind, you will always be welcomed, brother. Take care." She bends over and kisses him on the forehead. Then she turns around, stopping in her tracks when she sees me in the doorway.

"Princess Relena," I greet her, bowing slightly.

"Treize Kushrenada," she says dryly. "It seems that brother trusts you. I hope you will be worthy of his trust."

I smile. Her manners have not improved in the least. The Queen of Sank would benefit from learning some subtlety. "I will do my best, rest assured, princess."

She leaves silently, without looking back. I close the door behind her and go to Milliard. He stares ahead in mild shock, his lips parted in outraged surprise. Then he feels me next to him and looks up at me. "What she said..." he begins.

"I know." I lean forward and claim that beautiful mouth with mine. My morning fantasy comes back to me and I pull him up, holding him tight against me. Then I leave the mouth and its now swollen lips and go down to the neck, kissing and licking the soft skin, while slowly moving us toward the bed. He becomes breathless under my ministrations. "I love you," I whisper.

"Love you, too," he says, holding me, pulling me even closer.

"I was so afraid... during the war, and after, that you hated me... what I did..."

"I could never hate you, Treize... It's just... I couldn't..." he murmurs, trying to find his words. But he doesn't know...

I open his shirt as I lay him down on the bed, kissing my way up to his ear, sucking at the lobe, and I feel him shiver in my arms. "I know. Everything will be fine, love. As long as we are together."

"You won't leave me?"

"No one will ever separate us again, love, I promise," I swear.

And as the sun shines brightly outside, bathing our room, I know this a promise I will keep till the day I die.

~ * ~

Home, at last. The front of the estate is slowly revealed before us, the faded bricks of the façade green with ivy. The turrets and the balconies bring back many memories of happier times. Milliard, leaning back in his seat, stares at it thoughtfully. I can't read his expression.

"Milliard?"

"Hmmm?"

"Is something bothering you? You're very silent."

"I was just thinking."

"About what, love?"

"It is unimportant." He looks at me with a faint smile. "Don't worry. I'm fine."

I'd like to press the issue a little more, but that would upset him. So I drop it, holding back my concerned curiosity. He will talk when he feels like it. I smirk to myself. Support and not control... guess I'm doing fine so far.

The car finally stops. The shadows of centenarian trees protect us from the sun as we step out of it, making our way to the door while the driver takes care of our luggage.

"Welcome home, you two!"

Dorothy stands on the porch, waiting for us, and the sight of her seems to calm Milliard. "Thank you for your hospitality, Dorothy," he says.

"My pleasure, really. I don't like to be alone here. This place is so big I could get lost for days..."

He chuckles softly. "You spent many summers..."

"... and didn't set a foot here in years," she finishes. "The servant crew will be here next week. I only have a chef and Mister Diehl for now, and I managed to not see them for the last two days... Anyway, come inside. The sun's high and I don't want you to have sunstroke."

"I'm not that weak," Milliard snorts.

"No, you're not. Not if Sally Po consented to let you go," she winks. "But let's not take any chances. Come."

She slides her arm under his and leads him inside, forgetting me on the doorway. I follow them with a wry smile. As I step inside I see the lean form of an old man clad in a black suit. He bows slightly when he sees me and mutely disappears to go about his business. I sigh. At least I'll have Diehl's invisible presence to remind me that this place is mine.

"Would you like a drink?" Dorothy asks as we enter the drawing room. "I have here some very good liquor," she adds with a small smile, looking at me.

"No doubt," I mumble, sitting on the couch, where Milliard joins me moments later. I take his hand, idly caressing the slender fingers before entangling them with mine.

Dorothy goes to the liquor cabinet and pours us each a glass. And we sit there together, chatting lightly, while the afternoon goes by peacefully. At some point, Diehl makes a discrete appearance to announce dinner, and we have a light meal as the sun slowly sets. And when the night has settled in, we finally go to bed and I hold him tight against me, falling asleep with his head resting on my shoulder.

~ * ~

He's still deeply asleep. The sun's rays play on his hair, making the silky strands shine like gold in fusion, and his features are relaxed, his lips parted as he breathes calmly. He's so beautiful... I run a hand over his chest, along his arm, glad to feel the well-defined muscles under the warm skin. I sigh. I'd like to wake him, but he needs his rest. I lift myself up, careful to not disturb him. I brush a light kiss over his cheek and get out of bed.

"Good morning, Treize," Dorothy greets me when I enter the dinning room. She sits at the table, dressed, the newspaper spread out before her. She holds a cup of coffee in one hand and turns the pages with the other.

"Good morning to you," I answer and sit next to her. "I didn't remember you were an early riser."

"That's because I wasn't. But the past few weeks have taught me differently," she replies with a wry smile without taking her eyes off the paper. Then she sighs and shakes herself, as if she is chasing away a bad memory. "And what about you? I always thought you were *the* hedonist, never out of bed before noon... even more if Milliard was in it with you."

"Although Milliard *is* a great motivation to lay in bed late, the rest of it is a myth, dear cousin. You obviously never went to military academy."

"No, and I hope I never do." She gives me a sideways look, then smiles slightly. "You know, if you're waiting for your breakfast to be served, you'll wait a long time. As I said yesterday, the servant crew will arrive next week. We're alone with the chef and the butler, and today's their day off."

"I see." I get up and head for the kitchen. I pour myself a cup of coffee and manage to get a decent meal. As I sit again next to Dorothy with my hand-made breakfast, I remember the greyish porridge I ate for days during my captivity, and the food on this little plate suddenly looks quite delicious.

"We'll have to tell Milliard," Dorothy suddenly says as I take my first mouthful.

"I know." I put my fork down. I look at her. "Who told you Relena might be involved?"

She hesitates. "Quatre told me."

"The pilot of Gundam 04?"

"Yes. He helped me during Milliard disappearance; he stayed with me. I trust him."

She does, indeed. The young man I met seems to be a serious and genuine lad, not one to spread unconfirmed information. But... Relena behind all this? No, it can't be. And Alaroff's trial coming... if only the man would talk. This mystery would then be solved.

The doorbell interrupts my musings. Dorothy gets up, a frown on her face. "I'll get it," she says. "If it's Noin..." but she trails off and leaves the table.

"Noin?"

"Never mind," she sighs and leaves the room.

I put down my cup of coffee and follow her. I arrive as she opens the door, and I stay where I am, observing from the shadows.

"Quatre!" Dorothy exclaims, a wide smile stretching her lips as she discovers the man standing on the porch. "What are you doing here?"

"Only wanted to know how you were doing," he answers with a soothing, young voice and a shy smile. "I hope you don't mind?" He blushes a little, and I hide a smirk. He is impeccably dressed, looking like a business man with his dark suit. The look on his face is almost formal, far too serious in fact, and it acutely reminds me of Milliard.

"Not at all," Dorothy replies. She seems quite pleased. "Do you want to come inside?"

"I wouldn't want..."

I step out of the shadows and he starts at the sight of me. "Please, do come," I insist.

He doesn't answer at first, and a frown briefly darkens his angelic features as he assesses me. Then he nods slightly, as if a decision had been made, and he holds out his hand. "Nice to see you well, Treize," he says politely.

"Thank you," I answer, shaking his hand. "Dorothy told me you helped her during difficult times."

A small smile curves his lips, but his eyes remains serious as he looks at me. "It was nothing; she's a friend."

After exchanging a few words, Dorothy leads him to the drawing room and I go back to my breakfast, smiling slightly. The way he examined me from the doorway and his reserve in front of me... It will take some time for him to accept me as an ally. But I can't blame him, can I? I sip at my coffee, still smiling. So young, and yet already so suspicious. He really is quite like Milliard.

Then I stop still as a thought crosses my mind.

How quite like him is he, exactly?

He did lose his father to the war.

And he did betray his father's ideals in order to accomplish what he believed to be right.

I wonder...

"You seem quite thoughtful," a hoarse voice whispers in my ear before soft lips kiss it, and my little schemes fade into a blur. "Something on your mind I can help you with?"

"I think so..." I murmur as I turn to face the angel at my side, and then I pull him down for a sweet, lingering kiss.

A perfect moment...

"Well, that's very interesting." Dorothy's piercing voice suddenly cuts through the warm haze surrounding us, and we part, breathless. Dorothy stands in the doorway, grinning at us, with a flushed and quite embarrassed Quatre beside her. "Oh, are we interrupting? I'm so sorry!"

With an unrepentantly mischievous gleam in her eyes, she joins us at the table, closely followed by Quatre. Milliard sits next to me, a faint blush reddening his cheeks, but his eyes are sparkling. I can't help but smile at him. He is so lively, so young this morning. The sight and the taste of him is like the sweetest of addictions. Amazing how thoroughly, and deeply, fond of him I am.

"Quatre will be staying with us," Dorothy announces without any warning.

"Dorothy!" he says, turning an interesting shade of red. "I don't want to..."

"Bother us? But you are no bother, Quatre! I assure you. Don't you agree, Treize? Milliard?"

"Of course you can stay," I manage to say politely. The insolence of this girl is simply unbelievable.

Milliard smiles reassuringly at the young man sitting across the table. The poor lad looks like he'd rather bury himself in the ground. I am certain he hadn't planned for any of this when he decided to visit us.

"Well, thank you," he mumbles, still uncertain. "It won't be for long, rest assured. I'll leave for L4 tomorrow."

"Is there any trouble there?" Milliard asks.

Quatre smiles to him, slightly more comfortable. "No Preventers business, don't you worry. Since Alaroff's arrest, things have been really calm."

"Speaking of which," Milliard continues, "do you have any news?"

"Don't you think," Dorothy intervenes, "that you should worry about that *after* eating breakfast?"

He frowns, looking at her with annoyance. "I am not hungry."

"Now, why does that sounds familiar?"

"Dorothy!"

"Eat first."

His eyes narrow as he leans over, looking at her intently. "What is it?"

"Eat."

"No until you tell me what you know."

"What makes you think I know anything?"

"I know you do."

"Eat."

"No."

"Treize?"

Two pairs of eyes turn to me, one as violet as a stormy sky, stern and confident, and the other of the loveliest blue I've ever seen, staring at me sharply. Staying safely out of this, Quatre looks at them with a small smile, amused. I wish I were in his boots, and not forced to decide between these two stubborn children.

Two stubborn children. The thought crosses my mind and I almost laugh out loud, but the murderous look in their eyes stops me. I clear my throat. "I have to agree with Dorothy, Milliard."

He flinches at that, as if I had slapped him physically, and I almost regret it. But then he straightens up and his eyes become icy. He tilts his head, considering my answer, and I have a hard time not to brush away the golden strands coming over his eyes. A child? No. But a very young man who had to act older than his years for most of his life. I think this is why Dorothy's presence is so comforting to him. She allows him to be a child again. This childish argument is a nothing but a harmless game; I can tell by the way a smile hides right under their glares.

Milliard finally nods silently, accepting my decision, and gracefully raises from his chair, heading for the kitchen. I watch him as he disappears in the other room, amazed as always at how the most trivial moves become sheer elegance with him.

He comes back minutes later with two slices of buttered toast and a glass of orange juice. He eats the toast without a word and drinks his juice just as mutely; then he puts the glass down and says to Quatre, "Speak."

Two pieces of toast, buttered or not, don't make much of a breakfast in my opinion, but I suppose this is better than nothing. So Quatre does as asked and tells him everything. Milliard's features darken as he speaks, but he doesn't interrupt him. He listens to all of it and, when he's finished, he simply says, "Relena can't be involved. There must be another explication."

Beside me, Dorothy sighs. "Milliard, you're not objective on this..."

"I am."

"It's not official yet..." Quatre says softly, trying to ease the atmosphere.

Milliard looks at him in silence, an unreadable expression on his face, and seconds turns into heavy minutes. Quatre stays still though, squarely returning Milliard's gaze. As I glance at him, I see a shadow briefly hovering in the clear blue eyes, but it disappears before I can name it. Then he nods to Quatre, smiling slightly at him as he stands up, and whatever was hanging over us vanishes.

"I will go for a little walk, if you don't mind," he says calmly. "Sorry for this little display of temper, Quatre," he adds with a vague gesture toward Dorothy. "I hope you will have a good time here."

"I'm sure I will."

And he leaves the dinning room in swift, long strides without another word.

~ * ~

The sun is about to set, and Milliard is still out there.

He didn't come back for lunch. And his morning toast seems quite ridiculous now.

"He's fine. I'm sure he is," Dorothy tells me. But her voice speaks a different truth.

We sit in the drawing room. I have a book in my lap, but I could hardly tell you its title. Dorothy is curled up on the couch, her whole body tensed. She is quite pale. Quatre sits by her side, glancing at her with worried eyes.

"Maybe..." I start, but then the front door slams opened and Milliard joins us seconds later.

"Milliard!" Dorothy cries out, relief and anger tangible in her voice, and he stops in his tracks.

"What?" he asks.

"You scared us!" She jumps on her feet, two red marks on her pale cheeks, her eyes flashing. "You stupid fool! What were you thinking? I thought you..." But she suddenly trails off and she slumps back into the couch, as if she had no energy left.

"I am sorry, Dorothy. I didn't realise..."

"Obviously," she mutters.

"I am sorry," he repeats. He looks baffled and somewhat surprised. He comes and sits next to me. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I simply... got lost in my thoughts."

"All afternoon?" Dorothy spits. "Quite absorbing those thoughts were."

"Yes, they were." He turns his gaze to Quatre, and an icy silence settles in the room.

And a cold calm fills me as I finally understand. I remember the silent, unknown guest I saw while I was imprisoned and still tied to my bed. The dark silhouette who visited me isn't faceless anymore.

"Quatre?" Dorothy says hesitantly, but the young man doesn't answer, staring at Milliard.

"Why?" Milliard asks in a low voice.

"I thought that you, of all people, would understand," he replies without acknowledging anything. He looks as innocent as ever, his voice steady and even.

"Treize wasn't killed."

"No, he wasn't." He tilts his head, as if he was reflecting over a little mystery. "Maybe he was of greater value alive."

"Relena isn't involved."

"Who knows?" He smiles softly. "You know the saying... There's no smoke without fire." He stands up. "It's getting late. I know you invited me to stay, but I think I will decline. I must leave early tomorrow morning, and I wouldn't want to disturb you." He bows slightly, a gentle smile curving his lips. "I was pleased to see you all well. Have a nice evening."

I stand up too, followed by Milliard. Dorothy doesn't move, though. She stares at Quatre with wide eyes, her pursed lips forming a thin, pale line. "A nice evening to you, too," I reply.

"Thank you for everything. Please don't bother, I know the way." And he gracefully leaves without a look back. Seconds later, the front door slams closed.

"I'll call the Preventers," I say as we hear a car getting away.

"They won't find anything against him."

"He's clever."

"He is."

~ * ~

Dorothy has been very quiet these days. She spends a lot of time in the library, but I doubt she reads anything. She looks very tired, almost heartbroken, but Milliard always manages to get a little smile from her. They don't speak much together; still, his presence at her side keeps her from retreating completely into her shell.

As Milliard predicted, the Preventers didn't find anything pointing toward Quatre. I wonder if they even believed us. Lady Une looked so disbelieving... But I am not surprised. The truth is rarely praised.

Thus, the true reason to all that has happened is still unknown, and probably will always be. My only comfort is that Alaroff has been found guilty.

I will keep an eye on both Quatre and Relena, though.

Outside, the sun is rising, its rays adorning the clear sky with bright reds, oranges and purples. Milliard stands on the porch, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the natural display of colors. I approach him from behind, wrapping my arms around him, bringing him close against me.

"Beautiful," I breathe in his ear.

He smiles and closes his eyes. "I love you," he says softly.

"I love you too," I whisper, kissing his temple. "Forever."

~ * ~ * ~

Fin.