Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Restless Peace ❯ Enter Zechs ( Chapter 11 )

Disclaimer: See previous parts. For those of you not familiar with Swedish, Aderton is the number eighteen.

Parings: 1xRP, 3xMU, 4xDC, 4xOC, 6x9, OCxDC

Period: April 7, 197 to May 15, 197

 

 

Restless Peace: Enter Zechs

 

“Frustration is the wet nurse of violence.” -David Abrahansen

“It covers my toast like a stinky, fishy tarp. I know it's not butter, but I Can't Believe It's Carp!” -Kenny Blakenchip and Vic Romano

 

07 April AC 197—Suite 4-R, l'Hotel Jardin, Luxembourg, former Luxembourg

Relena stared out the window—another birthday. She spent this one much like her last one: alone and working. Of course, she was not working much this time. Last birthday, there had been hope for the government. Now…there was more violence. True, all of France and Italy had returned to Earth Sphere, but Lady Une, as did the President, believed the threat was still present; they had not abated future crises. It was a matter of when, not if.

The murmurs of the news broadcast kept her from focusing. She had turned the television volume down, but now she would turn it off. Before her finger pressed “POWER,” it hovered as she witnessed Dorothy, big as ever, reunited with Quatre. She smiled. She was happy for her friends. However, it had come at a price: human lives. Human lives the President, the government, had vowed to protect.

Turning off the broadcast, she threw the remote at the wall. The batteries flung out in random directions. Frustration opened the door, and Anger seized her. How could they allow the bombing? She grabbed the trinkets on her nightstand. The glass pony she received that day shattered as it flew into the bathroom door. She heard her glass of water hit the floor after a chuck. To think, Lady planned for more! A nearby shoe lost its mark, the wall, and flew out the open window. In a fit, she went to her bed. All anger came pouring out with her frustration.

At length, she tired herself. She slid down a wall on her balcony. She started sobbing when she felt the tears, angry and mournful, on her cheeks. She heaved long past her capacity for tears. She was beginning to feel useless—no, not useless. She was cheap. People, governments, paraded her in front of the public, letting her spout on and on about her dream of total pacifism. Meanwhile, they would do whatever the hell they wanted.

The phone rang. She tried to get up, but even her body would not listen to her mind. Looking at the horizon wistfully, she heard the message system take the call. It was her adopted mother calling to wish her a happy birthday. She assumed her daughter was working but teased that she was really out partying. Relena could snort at both thoughts.

At some point she realized the streetlamps came on; now there were more people conversing below her. She decided it was really time to get inside. She pulled herself together and walked into her hotel room. It looked like a drunken, angry sailor stayed in it. She was almost proud of herself, but she should get to work. She did not want to give the maids too hard of a time…and she did not want them gossiping about this either. She wanted to clean the room, but when she went to start, she just collapsed in tears, and, like when she went through puberty, she did not know the reason for her tears. She rolled onto the floor, lying on her side. She held herself and wished Heero would just pop in the room.

A knock came from the door. She cleared her throat and asked who it was. She intended to send her or him away. The door muffled the words, but she recognized the voice clearly. Somehow, she sprung up and opened the door, flinging herself at her visitor.

 

Milliardo—or Zechs depending on when you met him—easily got the key to his sister's room. The receptionist informed him this was against policy, but she knew he was Relena's brother. His voice, looks, and charm—Lucrezia called it “little flirts”—did not hurt either. He headed up to her room, gift in hand. Mrs. Darlian blushingly assured him Relena would be working. Luckily, Noin—Lucrezia—had not seen him with Mrs. Darlian or the receptionist; she could be a bit jealous at times. She was in their own hotel room sick from the trip over.

He came to her door and knocked. He planned to use the key only if necessary. He thought he could hear crying, but why would his sister be crying? He heard her ask who he was. He answered and almost chuckled when he heard her scrambling.

She opened the door, and he consciously had to stop himself from gasping. He only saw her briefly before she buried herself in his clothes. She was wreck, and her room was in the same condition. At first, he thought there had been a break-in, a struggle, but he saw the telltale signs this was all self-inflicted.

Gently, he rocked her until her sobs subsided. Though he hated to see her cry, he was glad to be able to hug her—really, brotherly hug her. She relaxed instinctively in his embrace. Even after her eyes were dry, she stayed in his arms. She remained silent, losing herself in the rhythm he created, and he said nothing, enjoying their time together. Being separated for most of their lives robbed them of moments like this, especially since he now lived on Mars.

She tired soon after, and he laid her in bed, reconstructing it. It took him nearly an hour to clean the rather large hotel room. Part of the time he searched for the cause of the mess, but it seemed he would have to wait for Relena to wake to get an answer: like what happened to one of her shoes? He dialed Lucrezia's number. It was a little late, but she would not get mad at him, not after he explained the situation.

“Are you sure Relena's okay?” Noin—Lucrezia—questioned on the receiver.

“She'll be fine. She just had to have her little fit,” he said, “She'll be fine now that it's out and not stewing inside her.”

“I hope you're right,” she replied, “Do you need me to come over there?”

“Not right now,” he informed, “I'll stay with her tonight in case she wakes up and needs me, but can you bring over breakfast in the morning?”

She chuckled, “Sure, but you know they'll give you breakfast at the hotel.”

“I know, but bring it anyway. It'll give you an excuse to come over just in case Relena's in one of her stubborn moods in the morning,” he reasoned. He gave her directions despite her knowing the way.

“What about the President?” she inquired.

“What about him? He doesn't need to know about his little scene.”

“I agree with Relena, honey. He's gone too far this time. He never should have allowed the bombings to take place. He claimed the `foolish wars' were to serve a reminder to us, but he went and added more deaths to the tally.”

“He only did what he thought was right at the time,” he reasoned, “We still don't know all the reasons for it. Besides, all of you voted him into office, decided to trust his judgment in situations.”

“Don't you mean `we voted'?”

“Dead people can't vote.”

“Oh, ha, ha,” she said slightly less than amused, “Well, what would you like for breakfast in the morning? I could fill up on the free buffet here, but they'd probably frown on me carrying enough food out for three people.”

“They probably would,” he agreed. “How about you just bring us muffins, bread, a cinnamon bun if you wish,” he looked through the little refrigerator unit, “We have butter, but we'll need jam.”

“Anything else, Your Highness?” she inquired.

“You know, I never saw this side of you before we married.”

“What side?”

“This sarcastic side,” he informed.

“Sarcasm doesn't have much place in war, and couples always change once the chase is over and they've caught their prey.”

“And here I thought I was the one chasing you.”

“I let you think a lot of things, but we both know I was the one chasing. You were the one fleeing.”

Relena started stirring. “I'd love to chat more, but I think we're waking Relena.”

“I should get to bed anyway. Staying upright for too long makes me nauseous.”

He frowned, “Will you be okay making it over here in the morning?”

“Yes. It's just a twenty-four hour thing, and I've taken enough medicine to kill it.”

“If you don't feel well in the morning, don't come.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Now I must go.”

He chuckled, “It's Your Royal Highness, and good night. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she hung up. He turned to view his sister. She was still asleep and under the covers, good. He took off his shirt and turned on the shower. Stripping off the rest of his clothes, he slipped in the shower. He was in the middle of washing his hair when a noise in the back of his mind caused him to pause. There was a stirring noise in the room, not yet to Relena's bed. He almost turned off the water but thought better of it. Getting out, he wrapped a towel around his hip and grabbed his nearby gun. He quietly opened the door and walked out stealthily. He could not see the intruder. He tiptoed down the hall a meter or two when he spotted the man. He raised his gun and ordered him to freeze.

“Ah!” screamed the man as he turned around with his hands up. As he saw Zechs, he lowered his arms. It was Heero. He jumped and yelled when he noticed Zechs' towel had fallen off in his trip down the hall, putting his hand in front of his face.

He reached down and retied it around his waist. “Sorry…what are you doing here?”

“It's Relena's birthday,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Delivering a package?” he suddenly became aware of a wrapped present on the table.

“Yes…maybe spend the night,” Heero gestured toward the couch so as not to arouse the older brother's anger.

“Why don't you get your own room for the night and return tomorrow?”

Heero glanced down and saw the mass of wet carpet at Zechs' feet as well as the shampoo resting in his silky strands. “I suppose I should let you get back to your shower.”

He nodded, and Heero slipped out just as he had come. Zechs shook his head and returned to the bathroom. He let the towel drop and climbed back into the shower. He rinsed his hair and wondered how many people out there had skills as Heero and how many of those people would want to harm his sister. He tried to push that thought out of his mind as he dried off after the shower. He could not allow himself to be suspicion at the slightest breeze. He put on pajama bottoms mainly in case Relena woke up before he did and saw him in the morning, and then he brushed his hair.

As sleep took him, his last thoughts were of his tasks tomorrow, of how Relena would react to everything, and of how the world would react to Relena.

 

10 April AC 197—Room 78-J, Martin Hotel, Colony U-2081, L-2 Colony Cluster

Midii paced; she could not sit still. Her hands fluttered, never content where she put them: her hip, her chin, her side…. Her mind was functioning the same way. It would not stay on any one topic. Well, how could it with Luc missing? After a few days, it had been apparent they were the only ones on the colony. Whoever had been there at first—whoever took Luc—was long gone. Tears came to her eyes again, but she still refused to shed them. She would cry when she knew his fate; she would not mourn him now. A phone rang, and she jumped at the sound.

“Midii,” Trowa called softly, “the phone is for you. It's your mother.” She tentatively took the phone. What could she tell her?

“Maman?” she answered.

“Midii!” her mother greeted with…relief in her voice? “I was so scared you were taken, too.”

“Taken, Maman?”

“Like Luc, dear. We found him on our front porch steps this morning.”

“Luc's there?” Is he alive? Is he alright?” she asked, trying to dam the floods of relief until all the facts were present.

“He's starving with a few bruises, but nothing too serious, and yes, he is alive.” Midii sighed, years washing off her. “I'm sorry, dear. I called to see how you were faring. Come home soon. The charges are astronomical.”

Midii understood and hung up. Her cheeks were wet, but she did not cry. She flung herself into Trowa's arms. He held her close, smiling, happy at the conversation he conveniently overheard.

“Luc's okay,” she happily cried, “He's okay.” She still clung to Trowa.

“We should get back to Earth,” he softly said, “The boys will want to see him with their eyes, as will you.”

“And you need to contact the Preventers?” she looked up at him.

He nodded. “Yes, Lady will have a circus going on there.” He smiled at that. “Plus, she'll want a full report from me about everything.”

“I'm sorry for all this drama,” she apologized, wiping her tears away.

“It's ok for the `drama.' I better get used it if I'm going to join your family someday,” he headed to the door, “Come on; let's get the boys.”

 

11 April AC 197—Spaceport, Colony V-293, L-4 Colony Cluster

Trowa still was not talking about what he meant by “joining her family someday.” Whenever she tried to discuss it, he would keep his mouth shut. He would not talk of it or propose, making an engagement official. She would have thought the comment was a slip by him and to him, a grievous error if he did not wear that infuriating, satisfied smirk. He was enjoying her torment.

 

Amato watched his sister as she harassed Trowa. His sister could be silly sometimes. She kept asking him about joining their family. This was silly. Amato told Midii Trowa was already part of their family. The older man had thanked him, giving him a hug. However, Trowa still grinned goofily, and he teased Midii. He would get her back on the subject when she gave, and then he would be quiet. Amato asked Thayer about this, but his brother just rolled his eyes, making noise in his throat. Sometimes, adults and big kids confused Amato.

He looked around the spaceport. There was a lot to see and to explore. He fought the urge to run off. Midii said she would tan his hide if he left her side before they got home. It really was not fair. They were supposed to stay at Midii's new flat. Stupid Luc, it was all his fault. That was not a nice thing to think. If Sister Marie, his school teacher, knew about that thought, she would slap his wrists and making him say his prayers many times. Amato looked up at the ceiling. If he prayed for forgiveness now, maybe he would not have to help Jean-Claude, a girl in his class, with her “special project.” (Luc and Thayer called her a suck-up.) He looked down, eyes tightly shut, and prayed for forgiveness quickly. Midii tugged at his hand as she started to walk, yanking him out of his prayers. He looked upwards again hoping he was forgiven so that he would have to confess to Father Lunaire—who would certainly tell Sister Marie.

“Thayer, do you miss Luc?” Amato asked softly as his sister pulled him along.

“Yes,” the response came quickly. He looked straight forward. Amato looked up Trowa; he and Midii also looked straight forward as they walked. They did not want to look at the sinner, Amato realized. He looked down in shame and felt the tears coming fast. He tried to stop them, he really did, but soon he was bawling his eyes out.

 

Trowa volunteered to take the boy. Midii was tired from everything, and no one could discern why he was sobbing. He patted the boy's back and walked around the waiting area as Amato's tears dried. Thayer tried to grab some sleep in the uncomfortable chairs, and Midii went to transfer their tickets to a new shuttle.

“I'm sorry,” apologized Amato. His voice was barely a whisper, and Trowa would not have heard it if his lips had not been near his ear. “I'm a bad boy…a sinner.”

“Now why would you think that?” Trowa asked in a hushed voice as he turned his back toward Thayer. He knew the brothers could be hard on each other sometimes and, he did not want to let them have any other ammo with which to tease Amato.

Amato told Trowa of his bad thought involving Luc and Midii's new flat.

“No, that was not a very nice thought to have,” Trowa said, “However, you're still a good boy. You won't have to tell Sister Mary”—“Sister Marie”—“Sister Marie, sorry, or Father Lunaire. You can tell another priest if you wish.”

“Do we have to tell Midii? Or Luc? Or Thayer?” the boy whispered, throwing a glance at his brother.

“I suppose not,” reasoned Trowa. “You should try to get some sleep now, Amato.” He lowered the boy into a chair near his brother. Midii returned looking just as beat as her brothers. “Any luck getting us to a new shuttle?”

“Just barely,” she rubbed her eyes. “I had to fight with the witch at the counter. She wasn't in a giving mood. However, we have to wait a couple hours for our flights to get here.” She took a seat a few seats away from her brothers. Trowa sat across from her. Lowering her voice, she continued, “There's something strange going on here. She really didn't want to give me those tickets. She's been refusing people passage off this colony left and right. She only bends—and that's a little—for those who want to travel within the cluster. If you want to leave the cluster, whether to another colony cluster, to the moon, or to Earth, she blatantly refuses.”

“What about the other employees?” he asked in the same hushed tone.

“There were only a couple others when I first went up, and now she's the only one on the clock,” she responded, “but as far as I could tell, they were doing the same.”

“Why would they want to keep everyone contained?” he muttered, mostly thinking aloud.

“You're the one who should answer that,” she smirked.

“Well there's a number of reasons I can think of, none of which I'll voice right now,” he looked to the ground as the possibilities raced through his head. “But I'm glad you finally did get tickets out of here. I think that's the best thing for now: to leave.”

“You think the boys are safe?”

“Yeah, they'll be fine for now,” he nodded, “I don't think this has anything to do with the situation down on Earth if that's what you're thinking.”

“Then what could it be?”

“I believe it's probably…I shouldn't say,” he suddenly looked out the window.

“Trowa, tell me,” she insisted, “or I'll have the boys colour your hair next time.” She gave him a sharp look, but he shrugged it off. He watched shuttles come and go. She gave up and watched the passengers walk around the spaceport. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that something caught her eye. She watched whatever it was intently. He glanced at the boys to make it appear he was not interested in it, but he did not see anything in the quick glances. He noted her frown a few minutes later, and she tensed up.

“What is it?” he eventually asked softly.

“The girl at the counter…she's acting like she's working on the computer, but she's been on the same screen now for nearly half an hour. I've been trying to read what it says by the reflection of the glass case behind her.”

He looked back out the window to avoid suspicion, “Have you managed to read it?”

“I think I have. This is an American colony, right?”

“Yes, last time I checked it was.”

“She's reading in French.”

“Don't you think some Americans know the language?”

“What American would want to read a French Nationalist website?”

“Nationalist?”

“Wanting France to have more power, or most want France to be independent again.”

“I know what nationalists want, but aren't Americans a mixture of other countries historically? Perhaps her family's from France.”

She shook her head slightly, “I know that website. I used to work for them. They would never leave the country for another, especially for the `uncultured Americans.'”

He raised an eyebrow in her direction.

“They really look down on other countries, especially those who open their borders to everyone. What can I say? They're extreme nationalists. You should hear what they call the Germans…lot of bad history there.”

“Go on.”

“I don't know…. I suppose they might be on the move, but that just sounds so….”

“Coincidental?”

“That's not quite the word I was thinking of, but it'll do for now,” she whispered, “There's so much going on now.”

“You worked for the group before, right?”

“That was a few years ago,” she reminded him.

“It's still something. We'll talk to Lady when we get back. She'll know what to do. Until then, let's just focus on getting home.” He turned to her and smiled, “You'll get to see Luc in just a few short hours.”

She returned the smile, “You're right. Let's just focus on Luc and the boys. They're safe now, and that's what matters.” He pulled her into his lap and murmured in her ear. She suppressed a giggle at the feel of his breath from his ears brushing on her ears. Yes, Trowa was right. Le Mouvement Nationaliste Francais could wait a few days. If only she could convince her brain of that.

 

16 April AC 197—Preventers' Headquarters, Paris, former France

Wufei was happy to be back. The minister had sent a spy in with Kedlin and Yuy…Jet. That was from where the third “Preventer” had come. They had traveled carefully to China; then they quietly disposed of the infiltrator. With him out of the way, they headed back to Paris. They arrived in time for Une's special meeting. There were many there: the President, Sally, Quatre, Heero, Dorothy, Duo, Trowa, Midii, Kedlin, Jet, and a small handful of others he did not know too well.

Une reviewed the situation and asked them all to recount their experiences. Quatre went first. He was inside the occupied territory when it happened, taking care of Trowa's “sister.” They had lived in a bunker a few days before heading to his relatives' home where the girls still were. He reported on everything he observed while there. They had fresh supplies coming in the country everyday, they were able to immobilize most forms of transportation and communication except to what they wanted, and they had kept relative order in the short amount of time they “ruled;” they had not fallen into chaos.

Dorothy went next. She had kept protestors from crossing the Pyrenees, but they had entered Andorra, causing her to acquire even more guests. It meant nothing to Wufei, but she gave her fiance a meaningful look. She continued saying she captured some lower leaders and reported what she learned. She finished assuring they were still alive.

Heero then told his tale. He had been on vacation with Relena when it started. The Western hemisphere was barely aware of the “European crisis.” When they returned to Luxembourg and Paris, Heero had separated from his girlfriend. He headed off to a country by Iasi and ended up in Russia. He looked up an associate of Trowa. The man, apparently, had much information on various topics pertaining to recent events. Heero did not get too specific as it was all in his report. He did, however, state that there were more attacks planned; still, nothing was certain. A mob boss had taken control of Colony L-2P4551, and he advised them strongly to discuss “things” with him.

Kedlin and Jet started their piece. Une had sent them to Iasi as a mission. When they had arrived, all had gone to plan at first. Agent Lyod had informed them briefly of the situation and unusual activity when the Minister of Internal Affairs found them out and imprisoned them. He interrogated them but got no information, nor did they of him. They could not discover the snitch or how the snitch knew who they were. Still, Lyod managed to be the one to deliver their infrequent meals, and she kept them informed as best she could. When Wufei arrived, he managed to negotiate their freedom; however, they left the rest of the tale up to him.

Wufei found his moment next. Une had sent him to IaÅŸi near the beginning of the crisis. They had disposed of a Hong Se Lao Hu agent, and Wufei took his place. The man in charge of the buyers' hands, Droski, was very suspicious, especially when Lyod became very chummy with him. The Minister and his posse caught him when he found the agents. The Minister let Wufei take back Agents Rookie and Jet as a “gift” for his supposed leader, Yi. However, he had slipped in a false agent, presumably as a test. He continued his story about their trip to China and getting rid of the false agent.

Trowa, with Midii's help, went next. They were near the border during the takeover. Luckily, they had been able to escape to space before the rioters captured them. Through a series of events, they ended up barricading themselves in an abandoned apartment complex on a deserted colony with her brothers. Everything had been average enough not to repeat what was in the report except that Midii's oldest brother, Luc, was kidnapped. The boy was returned, mostly unharmed, to her parents' chateau in Perpignan. However, he never got a good look at the men, and he did not understand the language they spoke. He said it sounded close to French, but he could not comprehend their accents or vocabulary. Trowa then gave his theory that the bombing of Une's office and the captures of his sister and of Luc were not unrelated. He contended that it was not luck that Une was away from her office at the time but that it was intricate timing on the person who wanted to keep them away; these were all warnings to them personally.

Duo went next. He had not done much during the occupation. He had been on leave due for mental reasons for a couple of months, so he had only been able to view what had happened from his home. Even then, Une had ordered him to lie low after the senator's comment on the Gundam pilots. He did exclaim that his girlfriend's scrap yard had been burnt to the ground. They had counted it fortunate that they were out seeing a movie at the time, but now he thought along the same lines as Trowa.

The other agents gave their tales. They had fought on the front lines; none had managed to penetrate their network to spy. They had had to gather information in simple ways with the communications down. They had not collected that much more than the former Gundam pilots had.

Sally spoke up last. She stood slowly, deliberately. Evidently, there had been a reason she was going last.

“I know many of you have wondered where I've been,” she started. The murmurs began. Thinking back, he suddenly realized that he had not seen her. With everything being so busy, he had just assumed she was on a different floor or in a different office.

“I've been working with dignitaries from powerful colonies and countries. As Heero has stated earlier, mob bosses have seized control of some colonies and of some of the smaller countries. Of course, they need to be dealt with, but they were more concerned with the protestors. The American diplomat had recently obtained the name of the chapter there: the Brotherhood of the Constitution, with a Sisterhood now. None of the others had much information, and all the American had was the name of the group, no leaders or members.” She walked around the table and dropped a packet, presumably her report or part of it, in front of each person. “They requested a special team for investigating this group.” Done handing out the papers, she stood by the door holding two extra packets.

“I have granted this request,” the President spoke up for the first time, “While I was loath to command the bombings, I want more to eradicate those who feed on vengeance. I know it's an impossible task, but with Lady Une's assistance, we can at least deter it.”

Lady nodded, “Sally is in charge of this mission. She has not yet assembled a team yet to my knowledge.” She lifted an eyebrow toward the woman, and Sally gave a negative sign. “Apparently, new information has come about in the last hour?”

“While it's true I had only gofers in my repertoire when we last spoke, ma'am, right before this meeting I have gathered a team to do the main bulk of the work.” Wufei sat up straighter and looked at her. He noted distantly that the other Gundam pilots also sat up with eager looks. Sally must have seen this, for she chuckled and continued, “No, sorry boys. I don't think you'd be good for this, especially with how the group feels toward teenagers with `adult jobs.' If it ever came out you fought in the war or were Gundam pilots, you would be no use to us. No, I managed to snag two others.” Everyone looked at each other, puzzled at who else it could be. Sally opened the door and handed the two extra packets to her teammates: Lucrezia Noin-Peacecraft and her new husband Milliardo Peacecraft.

“Noin and Zechs?” cried Duo incredulously. “At least people don't know who we are! Well except for Quatre. Everyone in Earth Sphere knows their faces!”

“It is not your decision to make,” Une reminded him sharply with an equally sharp look.

“They aren't doing undercover work anyway,” Sally assured, “The gofers are doing that. Noin and Ze—Milliardo are helping me talk with the leaders of the protestors.”

“We have a feeling they would rather talk with us who have finished high school and some college than `kids,'” Zechs said looking quite amused. Duo's retort died on his lips as he bit his tongue and sulked slightly in his seat. The other Gundam pilots looked the same at being disregarded for this chance.

“The decision is final,” Une said leaving no room for argument. They accepted it albeit ungratefully. The President leaned over and spoke to Une privately. Wufei turned to Heero.

“What does she expect us to do?”

“I suppose they feel they should compromise with some of the traitors' demands,” Heero murmured, “and the demand they'll probably bend to is our returning to finish school, maybe even university.” Wufei snorted. “Why else would Une send Sally alone on a fact-gathering mission?” Wufei nodded, but he was secretly hurt that Sally had not confided in him her mission.

“We need to leave for an urgent meeting that just came up,” Une announced abruptly, an aide standing behind her some. She stood before the President as did everyone else. “Col. Zechs, Lt. Noin, Major Sally, will you please accompany us?” They filed out quickly, and Wufei pondered why she used their military IDs instead of their codenames: Wind, Fire, and Water. The “grownups” were hiding something.

 

18 April AC 197—La mansion de la familia Cataluna, Barcelona, Kingdom of Catalonia, former Spain

Mariemaia was getting tired of seafood. Catalonia's main diet was on their fish from their famed ports. She did not mind seafood, but having it for most of your meals for a month was sickening. She wanted cow. Miss Dorothy and Miss Sylvia did not mind—they were raised on the stuff. Mr. Raphael did not seem phased by it either. However, she knew others shared in her misery. Mr. Quatre and Miss Adarah could not eat fish for religious reasons. He ate a lot of vegetables and fruits. He seemed hungry, but he kept a smile on his face, especially in front of Miss Dorothy's scowl. Miss Adarah ate a lot salads and loaves of bread. The twins also claimed they could not eat fish for religious reasons, but she suspected they just did not like seafood. They also had a vegetarian's diet for the most part there, but she caught them eating candy and other junk foods in private as if they were starving.

Of course, Mariemaia was not sick of the seafood near as much as she was sick of the tension. There seemed to be a love quadrangle happening in the household. Miss Dorothy and Mr. Quatre were engaged and were having a baby. Mr. Quatre was betrothed to Miss Adarah, however. Miss Dorothy once had a relationship with Mr. Raphael; she refused to say how serious, which drove Mr. Quatre crazy. Mr. Quatre tried to keep the peace between Miss Dorothy and Miss Adarah, who had gotten along fine until Mr. Quatre came. Now they glared at each other and made snide remarks. To Mariemaia, Miss Dorothy was the winner…or would be the Winner. She smiled at her pun. She could crack herself up when she wanted. Anyway, Mr. Quatre tried to keep the peace, mainly by romancing both women; this, of course, just fueled the fire between them. Mr. Quatre had his own glaring contest with Mr. Raphael. They were not as entertaining as the women, though. They only glared at moments, and they made no sarcastic comments. Miss Dorothy did not bother to stop their feud; she almost seemed to encourage it. The doctors cautioned that all the stress may cause complications with the birth.

 

Quatre sat in the lawn with Sylvia, Amaya, and Alaron. They were having a picnic. They were quiet for the meal, for they normally dined alone together for lunch. Dorothy and he had another spat, and she exiled him to the picnic to “get out of her sight.” He wished they would speak to keep his thoughts off of her.

“So, you're a famous singer,” Quatre inquired of Alaron.

He nodded, “Yeah, I guess so, but a lot of people still haven't heard of me, so I guess I'm not that famous…sir.”

“You don't have to call me `sir,'” Quatre retold him. They all seemed on pins and needles around him. He tried to get them to settle, but they were all uncomfortable. Being a Winner had its downsides. Everyone always stood on ceremony with him. They ate in silence, occasionally commenting on the view and nature surrounding them. Normally, he would try to soak in Earth's splendor, but his current situation took over his thoughts.

Dorothy was acting very strange—even for a pregnant woman. She had not cheated on him, nor had he on her. However, they still shared tension. He used Adarah to spy on Dorothy with Raphael. He knew his fiancee acted differently around her former boyfriend when he was near. He wanted to know exactly how differently. Of course, he did feel a tad guilty about using Adarah, but he had to use what means he had at the time. It may be misleading her, but he was not sure whom he would marry at the moment. It seemed Dorothy shared the same confusion he did.

“It'd be a great day to go riding,” Sylvia commented.

“You can go riding if you wish,” Quatre informed, “I'm sure Dorothy won't mind.” He finished his second sandwich.

“Oh, I'd love to,” she smiled sweetly, “but I don't think the twins here don't know how to ride.”

“You don't?” asked Quatre, looking at them in surprise.

“We've only ridden a few times in our lives,” Alaron explained, “but we were younger. It's really strange since our mom is an excellent rider and used to compete in some fancy horse sport or something.” He shrugged. “We just never had a lot of time to ride or anything.” His sister nodded in agreement.

“We could teach you two,” offered Quatre. He was not in the mood to walk back into the tug-of-war with Dorothy and Adarah.

“Yeah, that'll be fun,” grinned Sylvia at Alaron. She was just as smitten with him as Mariemaia was. Fortunately, those two left it to a healthy, friendly competition.

 

At the stables, they found some good mares perfect for the first time riders. Quatre was stuck with Amaya as Sylvia quickly volunteered to help Alaron. Amaya seemed scared by the size of the horses, and Quatre had qualms as to her riding capability. Sylvia suggested they help by riding with each twin. Quatre quickly saw the consequences of this and insisted they would fare better if they learned to ride sitting alone. Both twins mounted the horses well enough with only a minor incident involving a foot in Quatre's gut. Sylvia and Quatre walked the horses out and then mounted their own outside. Sylvia was very attentive to Alaron, and he really enjoyed the attention. He flirted with no shame until Mariemaia skipped out. She grabbed her own horse and joined the group, situating herself between Alaron and Sylvia.

“Mariemaia, I think it would be better if you got on the other side. Alaron doesn't know how to ride that well, and I need to be close to help him if he needs it,” Sylvia explained in a quite nice voice.

“He seems to be an excellent equestrian,” the girl smiled sweetly, “You must learn it from your mother, Alaron.”

The teenage boy thanked the young girl and gave both girls a smile, which they both accepted graciously.

“How about a race?” proposed Mariemaia, “Just…to show Alaron our…skill?”

Sylvia smiled slyly, “That sounds like fun. Where should we race to?”

“The tree over there,” she pointed a few meters away.

“You're on,” she accepted. Suddenly, the girls dashed off. Alaron brought his horse to a trot skillfully and took off after them. Quatre suddenly wondered if the boy really did know how to ride and only faked it to get the girls' attention. He would not doubt it, but he also doubted the girls cared.

As the horses ran off, Amaya's horse stirred, and she gripped harder on the reins. Her knuckles had already been white, and he thought he saw a little blood trickle down her wrist from her fingernails digging into her palms.

“Relax,” soothed Quatre, “Calm down. The horse isn't going anywhere, and I won't let you get hurt.” He reached over to pat her shoulder reassuringly, but her arms clenched her sides, and her body went instantly rigid. “I'm sorry.”

She nodded, looking forward and away from him. She relaxed a little, “It's okay. I just get a little…spooked around, um, guys.”

“I understand. Did…something happen to you in the war?” it occurred to him she was always quiet around men and stayed close to Sylvia, but he caught her watching some of the male hands on the estate without wearing their shirts.

“A lot happened, but I wasn't raped or anything like that,” she said quietly.

“Well, I'm glad for that,” he said. He corrected her form a few times, but they did not have much to say. He asked her various questions, but she deflected them. “You must be happy to be back in Europe.”

“I'm only here to watch over Alaron,” she informed, “Mom, uh, doesn't want him in the same `trouble' that you're in.” She blushed.

“What trouble am I in?”

“She doesn't want him knocking up some girl and then having to pay for it one way or another,” she explained biting her lip.

“I understand. It's okay. Still, it's a beautiful land.”

“I suppose it is. I miss the United States, though. The dogwoods are in bloom at home, and there's the Dogwood Festival I'm missing again this year. Out of everything, I guess I miss my family, too.”

“I miss mine, too,” he smiled, “Lucky for me, I found some more relatives that live close by, only a little over 11,500 kilometers away.”

“That sounds far.”

“Well, it is a bit of a drive, but it's closer than the Middle East or the colonies,” he smiled once more. He observed that she relaxed more and more with each smile, as did most women around him.

“That's true.” She smiled back this time. “You must be excited to be a father soon.”

“Excited, yes, and scared,” he replied honestly. Before she could respond, Mariemaia rode up to them.

“Mr. Quatre, you have to decide who won the race,” she said with grin, “Miss Sylvia insists she won, but anyone could tell I won by a furlong! Alaron wanted to figure it out by a kissing contest, but Miss Sylvia said that would not be proper.”

“She's right about that,” Quatre frowned, “Why don't you two have another race?”

“What would the point in that be?” the lass asked.

“Winner gets a kiss from the other two?” suggested Amaya. He was surprised to hear her voice come up from next to him.

“That sounds great! And I know the best place to ride,” Mariemaia beamed then cantered off.

“Good idea on the spur of the moment,” he complimented her.

“If you knew my little sisters, you wouldn't be that surprised.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Six,” she answered.

“That's a lot nowadays,” he said. She nodded, not commenting on his slew of sisters.

She shrugged. “James is eleven. Holly is nine. Jacob's seven. Emily is six, and Clara is three, almost four.” They came to a stop at the tree which was the first finish line for their companions. He dismounted and stood by the other horse to help her. She slipped halfway through her descend and fell, fortunately, into his arms. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he assured. “You only told me about five siblings.” She gracefully got out of his arms and stood nearby as he tethered the horses.

“Well, I didn't think I really needed to mention my twin,” she smiled amusedly.

He chuckled, “True; I wasn't thinking.”

At that moment, Adarah waltzed up. “Hajji Quatre, Raphael has given a present to Dorothy: expensive jewelry. And she is most pleased by it.” She grinned mischievously. “It's a diamond necklace in yellow gold. He called it, `empowering elegance,' I think. He said it was just what she needed to cheer up, and it'll go wonderful with her figure once the baby is born.” Dorothy had been requesting items she could use after the pregnancy as her due date was fast approaching.

Quatre pondered this for a moment, “Thank you, Adarah. Let me know if you find out anything else.” He gave her a big smile and took her hands. Adarah beamed.

“Ana behibak,” she said.

“Ana behibek,” he returned. She skipped off. He suddenly remembered the other girl with whom he was. “She would do it without my asking. She's not in any danger anyway. Dorothy would never hurt her, and I think I deserve to know what that man does to my fiancee.”

“I never said anything,” she reminded him. She looked off to the horizon. “I should go.” He went to help her, but she had already untied her mare, remounted her, and started off on a trot toward her twin and the girls. Quatre began to wonder how manipulative the twins could be. Obviously both knew how to ride.

“Don't add another girl into this mess,” warned Dorothy from behind him. She must have been the reason Amaya left.

“Please. She's too young, Dorothy,” he told her.

“She's older than Adarah; Amaya's a year younger than you, fifteen. Her birthday is even in the same month as yours,” she informed.

“Amaya is fifteen?” he was surprised. “I thought she was twelve.”

“Because she's short, straight, and flat?”

“Well…yes,” he admitted reluctantly, not too happy with the bluntness of her question, “Even Adarah has a chest.”

“So you've noticed,” she asked acidly.

“I'm human, Dorothy; I notice how people look,” he replied in a similar tone.

“Or you're just male,” she continued, “I thought you said you could wait out my pregnancy to sleep with me.”

“I can,” he turned to face her fully, “I don't know why you accuse me of sleeping with every girl that walks by!”

“Probably for the same reason you accuse me of kissing every guy I happen to look at,” she countered. They stood at a standoff, both glaring at each other.

“Dorothy, you shouldn't be out here for so long,” warned Raphael as he walked up behind her. He put his hands on her arms. She went to shrug them off but stopped when she saw Quatre's reaction. “Besides, you have a visitor.”

“A visitor, Raphael?” she purred, arching an eyebrow as she looked over her shoulder.

“Yes, he wants to see you, too, Quatre,” he informed.

“Me? Who is this visitor?”

“He says Milliardo Peacecraft, but I know he's Zechs Marquise.”

 

There he was sitting at the table on the patio, sipping tea. He was waiting for them as if nothing had happened in their past.

“Mr. Milliardo!” Dorothy would have skipped up to him if she did not have all the extra weight. Instead, she waddled up and gave him a big hug. He returned it affectionately.

“Hello, Dorothy,” he smiled and gave a nod to the men, “You look well. Quatre, Raphael.” They returned the nod as well.

“You do, too,” she smiled as well, “What brings you here?”

“Your upcoming marriage,” he explained as everyone sat at the table, “Since you have no brothers and Treize is unable to deliver his speech to Quatre, I thought I should.”

“How thoughtful of you,” she smirked.

“Yes, well, since I did not grow up with Relena, you're the closest I had to a sister growing up, Dorothy,” his eyes rested on the husband-to-be. “Why don't we get that out of the way now, Quatre?” He stood and gestured over a few meters to the house. Quatre stood and walked over to the wall with him. Milliardo's low voice sounded mildly threatening, but the two left behind could not make out the exact words. The gist, however, was quite clear.

“All seems well enough,” Raphael commented lightly as they watched. Quatre kept his cool, but his skin was slightly paler as Milliardo counted off the ways he could make the younger man's life a living hell if he ever hurt Dorothy.

“Yes, I assume he has Treize's speech deep in his heart from the time he threatened him,” she said.

“Zechs threatened Treize?”

“No. Treize threatened Mr. Milliardo.”

“Why?”

“Mr. Milliardo and I were caught kissing a few times by Treize, and my cousin felt the need to give Mr. Milliardo `the talk.' He afterwards forbade us from continuing such behavior,” she explained.

Raphael gave her a sharp look, “You and Zechs had a relationship?”

“Barely, you couldn't really call it a relationship,” she continued. He gave a small, disapproving grunt. She eyed him and made a mental note to send him on his way soon. She could not be having her little pawns taking themselves too seriously. What she had with Raphael was superficial, and she had no intentions on getting serious with him. Surely he understood that.

“We have an understanding,” smiled Milliardo as he sat down. Quatre took his own.

“Everything good then?” she patted her fiancee's hand and kissed his cheek. He finally smiled and kissed her.

“Oh, it will be, my darling,” he grinned.

 

20 April AC 197—Streets, Cologne, State of Nordrhein-Westfalen, former Germany

“Heero, these people are on our side now,” Duo reminded his friend as they walked down the street, following Une, Zechs, Noin, and Sally at a safe distance.

“I don't like information being withheld from me,” Heero stated. He kept his eyes on their targets. They had been spending a lot of time together lately, too much for Heero to like. He and Duo had been following them for the past few days. Trowa and Wufei had joined them occasionally, but today Trowa was helping his girlfriend with family issues and Wufei was seeing some in-laws that managed to be on Earth when the colony detonated. He stopped at the corner, acting as if he were looking for his way around, to allow more distance between him and their targets.

“Nor do I, but they're going to be past pissed if—no, when!—they find us,” Duo repeated. He watched a couple women walk by them.

“They won't find us,” Heero consoled. “But they're doing more than meeting diplomats.”

“What if that's really what they're doing?” questioned Duo, “It's going to look real bad for us then.” They resumed walking down the street. The former military officers walked into a building. Duo looked at its name: Winner Company. “Why are they going into Quatre's building?”

“He offered it to them to use for diplomatic meetings,” informed Heero as they walked into the building. They saw Sally's back as she entered the elevator; it went up to the fifteenth floor, one of the executive floors. They would need special clearance to get onto it. Luckily for them, they knew the owner.

“That's great for us,” Duo smirked. Getting into a different elevator, Duo slid the card Quatre gave them across the reader as Heero punched in the code and selected the floor. “So what else could they be doing?”

“I can think of a number of things off the top of my head,” Heero muttered. “However, none of them are feasible.” They stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall. They had lost their targets on the elevator trip, but that was fine, less chance at being found.

“That's always a good sign,” Duo said sarcastically, “You know, if they really didn't want us to know, and they've surely seen us by now, they'd have gotten onto a different elevator while we were riding up and have gone to a different floor.”

“Let's just explore this floor first.”

“Fine,” Duo conceded, “But do you even have a plan for what we'll do when we find them?” They searched the halls and listened at doors.

“It'll come to me,” Heero assured. “It always does.”

Duo muttered something about needing Quatre and one of his plans, but Heero chose to ignore it. They checked another door marked: Executive Suite. No one was there, but it was then that Une, Zechs, Noin, and Sally turned the corner with a group of men and women impeccably dressed surrounding them. Heero grabbed Duo and ducked in the empty room. They were entering the room next to them, and they all stood discussing issues as the door was unlocked.

“My people are quite upset at the treatment the government has given them,” reported a man with a French accent.

“We regret the death of any innocence,” came Une's standard response, “However, the President did what he felt he must.”

“Well, my people wish to have our constitutional rights back,” levied an American voice.

“Your national constitution has been dead for quite some time now,” Une pointed out, “However, much of your amendments you had are in Earth Sphere's constitution now.”

“Not the right to bear arms, not the protection against quartering of troops, not the right to property—it's all the government's—and certainly not the right against unreasonable searches and seizures. Preventers are allowed to search any place and to arrest any person they believe is breaking the law,” argued the American.

“Now, that is not true,” Une said in a calm voice. “You know why the public does not have the right to bear arms, and there is no army, so there can be no quartering of troops. As for property, that is a manner for the legislative body, and there are guidelines and law set in place for the searches and arrests by the Preventers.”

“Name one Preventer who has had charges brought up on him or her when he or she broke that law! There are countless stories of Preventers arresting citizens without a warrant!”

“They were guilty.”

“It's innocent until proven guilty!” The others joined in agreement on this.

“Ambassadors, arguing in the hall is not going to solve anything. Now, you came here to negotiate, and we must talk calmly and softly for that to happen,” Sally's voice came. The men and women murmured in agreement and apology. The door opened, and they filed in the room closing the door.

Duo glanced at Heero. They would not be able to hear the conversation now. Heero sat motionless, still staring at the wall. Heero was contemplating the next move. If he remembered correctly, Quatre said there was a way to eavesdrop on the rooms next to the Executive Suite. Was it in the closet or through the cabinet? It had to be the closet as Quatre could hide in the room and overhear the conversation in the room and next room without being seen. He stood and opened the closet door carefully in case it creaked. He entered the closet; Duo followed confused, but he quickly realized what was happening.

“We should be able to hear in here,” he whispered.

“Not today,” a man's thickly accented voice came from behind. They turned and saw who must have been an executive. In his three-piece suit and tie, he reminded Heero of Odin Lowe, a former guardian of his, when he went to meet potential employers. “What are you boys doing here? How did you get here?” Heero's first instinct was to punch the man, knock him out; however, it would only create more problems at this stage.

“Hey, we're on official business,” Duo flashed his Preventer badge, “and we know the owner; that's how we got in.” The man was clearly not impressed.

“Let us see how your boss feels about this official business,” he took them by the arm and dragged them to the neighboring room. Noin opened the door after he knocked. The room looked at him. The executive explained the situation in which he found the “boys.” Une assured him she would take care of it and asked the man to leave them with her. He left, surely to call Quatre and report the incident. Duo and Heero stood at the door and waited for Une to allow them to sit. The ambassadors kept their gazes on Une, waiting to see how she would handle this development. Heero immediately wished he had insisted Quatre accompany them, or at least had knocked out the executive, for the position in which he put Une. She did not want to reprimand or to press charges against them; however, she could not allow them to go undisciplined in front of the diplomats after what she assured them in the hall.

“Rogue agents?” inquired the Spanish representative with an amused look on her face.

“Not quite,” Une said, “However, they are on their way to becoming that.”

“That is the man who harassed my son,” a Russian man claimed. Heero looked over and did notice a resemblance between him and a middle-aged man to whom he spoke in Russia. “As I remember, he was an associate of one of my son's friends. This friend was a Gundam pilot and so was this associate.”

“This is one of the Gundam pilots?” questioned the French delegate.

Une and the others remained silent on the issue, obviously debating on what to say.

“My country demands to know,” French ordered.

“As does mine!” insisted American. Spanish, Russian, and the others also wanted to know the truth.

“What is said here, does not leave this room, not even to your spouses,” Une warned, “Duo, shut the door, please.” Duo complied, and they sat down.

“Our leaders will want to know,” Spanish said.

“Your leaders already know,” Une assured. “Yes, these two are Gundam pilots.”

“They are too young!” French said, incredulous.

“Perhaps the Brotherhood is right, in its belief on children if nothing else,” muttered American to Spanish, who nodded in agreement. Heero did not appreciate being discussed, especially when he was in the room sitting in front of those who were discussing him. He disliked it even more when people chattered about his age. Duo clenched his fists tightly to where his knuckles were white; he had to be biting back some comments as well.

“We are not here to pass laws,” Une reminded them testily. She knew too well just how unstable her position could become if certain laws on age and job were passed.

“We should get back to the task at hand,” suggested Sally, “We need as much information as we can get on this group. In America, it is called the Brotherhood of the Constitution.”

“In France, it is connected to le Mouvement Nationaliste Francais Dixieme,” informed French.

“The French National Movement is in on this?” Zechs frowned.

“No, le MNF X has been around for many years, much time before ESUN was established,” he continued, “and they would certainly never fraternize with any other country. Because they are so well founded, our government has established a relationship with them; they share information with us. They have been working some with the French branch of the Brotherhood, which has no official name yet as far as we can tell.”

“It has worked with such groups as los Rejinoles Espanoles, los Libertadores, y las Hijas de la Monarquia in Spain,” reported Spanish. “But, the leaders never give their real names, so it is hard to find them.”

“What names do they give?” inquired Noin.

“Oh, names of dead men: George Washington, John Richardson, Wilhelm Tell, Heero Yuy, Winston Churchill, Fyodor Poletayev, and Soichi Noguchi.”

“Strange they would give those names…” commented Noin, now frowning as well. A lull came over the room as the contemplated the name list.

“We have a name for the leader in America,” the diplomat finally said. “He goes by El Cid.”

“El Cid?” questioned Spanish loudly. She looked at the American in disbelief.

“Who is El Cid?” asked Une.

“His real name is Rodrigo Diaz, or more commonly as Ruy. He is the national hero for all of Spain. He helped his king Sancho II unite the Christian kingdoms. After King Sancho was assassinated, the king's brother Alfonso took the crown. Alfonso ended up banishing Rodrigo, and el Cid became a mercenary; however, he stayed loyal to his king. He conquered Valencia from the Moors for Alfonso and thus was made Lord of Valencia. He spent the last of his days driving the Muslims to Christianity,” she clarified.

“Why would he name himself that?” queried Noin.

“He is given credit with many defeats against the Muslims and Jews…. El Cid Campeador never lost a battle,” she gave more information in hopes it would help.

“Never lost a battle…interesting,” Zechs mused aloud.

“We have a couple names for the Russian leaders,” the Russian dignitary spoke up, “Jose P. Rizal, Jon Sigurthsson, Juan Santamaria, and Simon Bolivar.”

“Why do all these names sound familiar?” Sally thought out loud.

“They're all national heroes,” Heero filled in suddenly. “Heero Yuy is from the colonies. Winston Churchill is from the United Kingdom, George Washington is from the United States, and Rodrigo Diaz—El Cid—is from Spain.”

“Yes! You're right! They are all national heroes!” exclaimed the American, “Juan Santamaria is from Costa Rica, Simon Bolivar is from Bolivia and other countries, and Jose P. Rizal is from the Philippines.”

Knowing the pattern now, they quickly discerned to which country each name was a national hero. They started moving into the other information the former nations had promised the government in exchange for this inquisition. Duo and Heero were asked to leave the room and did so. They walked down the hall and to the elevator as a few executives followed them with their eyes. The pilots went down to the lobby, but they did not exit. Instead, they went across the lobby and to another elevator. From there, they went up to the top floor, Quatre's private office floor. He had one in each building though he did not make it to each and every building. The slid the card across a new reader, entering the code, and went into the office.

“What happened in here?” Duo asked out loud. While the office held no personal trinkets of Quatre, it did have a standard desk, pictures of landscapes on the wall, chairs, well-maintained plants, and papers on the desk Mr. Winner would need should he ever use this particular office. In case this happened, Quatre's underlings kept the office immaculate. However, someone apparently did not want this to be. The office was wrecked, ransacked. The papers were thrown throughout the office, all over the floor as the desk was tossed to the side. All the drawers were out. The chairs were tossed in a disregarded manner as were the plants and pictures.

“I'd say intruder,” Heero dryly commented. Before Duo could respond, a shot whizzed past them. The bullet dug into a nearby wall, and after a quick glance at its destination, the boys turned to see who the shooter was. The man—or it could have been a woman in the loose clothing and hat—quickly climbed out the window. Though it appeared he had to have jumped, they saw a platform for the man's destination. He was lowering the scaffold to a nearby ledge. Heero started to follow when the intruder reached his destination and promptly cut the cords and cables suspending the scaffold. Duo saw this and started running out the room to catch the man on the appropriate floor. Heero called to him to stop, however, when he observed a helicopter flying near the building. He saw the man intended to jump and to flee this way, so he started taking shots. Unfortunately, the distance was too great, and the bullets that did make it were deflected either by the body of the helicopter or by the blades. As he watched the helicopter take off with the man, he burned the details of the helicopter in his mind.

“We'll have to search those papers, though I doubt we'll find anything,” Heero stated as he watched the helicopter fly away.

“Heero, I don't think he was here for papers, exactly,” Duo's voice sounded distant, “Look here: wires coming out of the wall; they're for a computer.”

“Well, I doubt Quatre had anything on a computer here,” Heero said stepping away from the window.

“No, Quatre's father managed to have all his computers share files so that if he ended up in a city abruptly, he would have all his files on hand should he ever need it. Quatre explained it to me one day,” Duo continued, “They have all of Quatre's files.”

 

23 April AC 197—Peacecraft Castle, New Port City, former Cinq Kingdom

“Relena, calm down,” Noin instructed. She was sitting on a chair by the window reading one of her favorite books. Relena was pacing the room. A few days ago, Duo and Heero found one of Quatre's offices burglarized; his computer was gone, and they suspected one of rebel groups. Since then, they had gathered enough evidence and had left in search of the man. They had gone up to the colonies and across the world searching for him the past few days. They were making remarkable time as they only dealt with the bosses.

“He should have been here by now,” she sighed. Actually, he should have been there two hours ago. One hour ago she had sent her brother to find him, and neither had sent word yet. Noin was as calm as could be. Relena was not.

“It hasn't been that long,” Noin pointed out, “They could have been held up by traffic, or they could have gotten a flat tire.”

“They should still call!”

“You really need to calm down.”

The phone rang. Pagan entered the room a minute later, informing Relena she had a call. Noin gave her a look as if to say, “Well, there you go.”

“Hello?” she answered the phone. “Hello?” she continued when no one responded. She frowned. If this was a trick, so help her….

“…Relena…” a strangled voice said. It was breathing hard, and his voice—it was deep like a man's tone—sounded as if liquid were in his way, as if he were drowning.

“Heero?” she questioned. It did not sound like Heero, but it did not sound human.

“…tell Une…it was….”

“It was what?”

“El…Cid.”

“What?”

“El Cid…did this…going to…. I…love…you.”

“Heero?” She heard a gunshot, then a moan, and a release of air, almost like the air leaving a dead body. “Heero!” Her eyes widened with fear as dial tone rang in her ear. She let the phone drop from her hands. Noin was now standing in front of her chair, book in hand. She regarded Relena with an anxious look.

“Relena, what is it?” she had the tone of a deeply worried mother. “What's wrong?”

“H-Heero,” Relena tried to keep the tears inside herself, but she was losing the fight. “He sounded like he was dying, a-and he said El Cid d-did it.” She swallowed a gulp of air. “Then there was a shot, and he-he….” She could not bear to finish the sentence. Noin put her arms around the girl and rocked her, assuring her things would be fine. She immediately called her husband. With each ring he did not answer, her heart stopped suddenly. Finally, a click sounded.

“Hello?” the deep voice came calmly.

“Zechs!” Noin exclaimed with relief. She explained the situation as well as conveyed Heero's message.

“I don't suppose you got a location?” he asked hopefully.

“No, I'm sorry,” she said, “Relena, it'll be okay.” Relena had begun pacing.

“How is she taking it?”

“About as well as you would think,” she responded.

“Oh great,” he said, “I'll contact Duo and see where Heero was last headed.”

“Let us know when you find out.”

“I will,” he assured. Sending his love to both women, he ended the connection.

“He can't be dead,” Relena said. Her voice was back to its normal level, and she no longer shed tears. Her resolve was absolute. “Heero has cheated death many times. He was a Gundam pilot, and he's an excellent Preventer agent.”

Noin nodded, “That's right. He'll be fine. Zechs sends his love, and he's going to call Duo and see where Heero went.”

“He'll find him,” the former queen nodded in agreement, “and he'll get the man responsible for this.” She had a glint in her eye.

“Relena…” Noin started unsure, “Are you okay, dear?”

“I'm fine,” she assured then sighed, “I just…I know vengeance is wrong. I've fought against it for the past two years…and yet, I'm wanting revenge. I want revenge on the government for their broken promises, I want revenge on the rebel groups for their acts, and I want revenge on that man for his actions on Heero.”

“It's natural,” Noin embraced her sister-in-law. “It's natural to want it. You can't eradicate the feeling, dear. It's human nature to feel like that. The important thing is that you don't act on the feeling.”

“It still feels wrong,” Relena admitted, hugging back.

Noin smiled, “Well, I won't tell anyone you had the feeling.”

“Thanks,” Relena smiled and chuckled a little. They sat down on the couch and managed to watch television for a couple hours without commenting on anything except the show. After the news, Relena stood and stretched. She excused herself to get ready for bed. Noin cleared the coffee table of their treats. Relena had excused the maids for the night, so she took care of the dishes herself. The phone rang.

Noin answered, “Hello?”

“Noin?” the man responded.

“Honey, what is it?”

“I found him.”

 

26 April AC 197—Lab 28, Preventers' Headquarters, Paris, former France

Nicholas worked himself to the edge. A Preventer was down, and it was his job to find out who did it. He was a soldier for the past five years, but now he had to work for the scientist. He mostly did errands and ran searches through the computer, but it was something, and he was there to make sure the Preventer did not risk his life in vain.

Currently, the specialist was running the man's DNA through a worldwide search, and a dirt specialist was hoping to track down the mud on his shoes. Nicholas' job was to find any other evidence that would identify the man or from where he was. They could hopefully find out where one group was stationed. So far, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything left on the corpse was common.

“Shouldn't you find a piece of thread or a dead fly that you can only find in one square mile somewhere?” inquired Jet. She had decided to dedicate her lunch hours to helping Nicholas in the lab. She sat on a stool across the lab table from him and kept twisting around in it.

“This isn't a movie, Jet,” he reminded her, “and Mr. Smith did not have anything, as of yet at least, that does not narrow down anything.” Mr. Smith was there name for the man until they learned his true name.

“So…everything on him was common to everywhere?”

“At least everything we've analyzed has been,” he reported, “Have you found out anything in your search?” He sorted papers.

She put a disc on the table. “I brought over your computer files on old contacts. Why do you think you have better files than the Preventers?”

“Because I have files His Excellency never released to any others.”

“Not even to Lady Une?”

“I don't know if he gave them to her or not; I was not privy to all who gave them to. However, even if he gave them to her, I highly doubt she would want to make the files public to all Preventers. Besides, some of my contacts come from some…less law-abiding citizens.” He gave her a small smirk and entered the disc into the computer. He typed in the search information and let the computer sort through the new data.

“Why do you have this obsession that Une is holding things back information from you?”

“Because she is,” he insisted. He knew most of the staff (well probably all of the staff) believed he was crazy and paranoid for thinking it.

“Yeah, well, has anything come up?”

He looked at the screen and frowned at the results: Chris Honen.

“What is it?”

“I know this man,” he muttered. The DNA analyzer rushed in the room with a manila folder in hand, announcing she had discovered the man's true name. Nicholas and she compared results, and they had come to the same conclusion.

“Is anyone going to fill me in?” demanded Jet.

“I knew the man from when I had to be in training,” he answered, “His name is Chris Honen.”

“What could he want?” wondered the analyzer.

Before one could respond, another Preventer burst in the room and exclaimed their man had taken a turn for the worse!

 

28 April AC 197—St. Joseph Hospital, Newsborough, former Cinq Kingdom

Heero lay perfectly still in his hospital room. He could smell Relena to his left. He could hear Mrs. Kaeilan to his right; she was fussing over his bed and hair, smoothing out his sheets. He knew Noin was in the room, and he thought Zechs might be as well, but he could have stepped out. Une had been there earlier in the day, but she had left. He could understand and was aware what was happening; however, he could not will himself to open his eyes, or to give any indication he could hear them, in fact. He was sure he looked much worse than he felt.

“He'll be fine,” assured Noin. He heard Relena muffle a sob; he wished she would not cry over him.

“What if he doesn't wake up?” Relena managed to say.

“He managed to shoot and kill that man right before he passed out; I think he'll be fine,” reasoned Zechs nearby. “They may have beaten him badly, but he's had worse, remember.” There was no response, and Heero imagined Relena was nodding, unable to speak without crying. He heard fabric moving, and he decided Zechs was hugging his sister. He felt Mrs. Kaeilan's hand squeeze his. He tried to squeeze back.

“The doctors say he'll wake up anytime now,” she reminded them, “All it takes is time. He'll pull through this.” The door latched sounded, and the hinges creaked.

“Is he any better?” questioned Duo as he entered. More feet shuffled through the door.

“The doctors have done all that they can,” Noin was saying, “Now we just wait for him to wake up. Did you guys find anything else out?”

“The President's demanding to see some of the countries' leaders. He's pretty upset over this,” Duo explained. There was a pause. “I should have been there for him.”

“You had no way of knowing this would happen,” Quatre comforted, “You both had to go to different places for home. No one could have foreseen this.”

“The lab's done with all the evidence on that body Heero got us,” Wufei spoke up, “He's an American. As far as dental records go, his name is Chris Honen; however, we have no place of residence. His DNA was on record as well. He's a convicted felon.”

“What did he do?” inquired Zechs.

“His felonies are for espionage, war crimes, organized crime, and a few other less `heinous' crimes,” reported Wufei. Quatre excused himself, and the door clicked as he left. The others shuffled a little.

“Was there anything else?” Heero wanted to scream in the silence. He was quickly getting annoyed at his invalidism. He knew there was more to the conversation than they would say. Part of it was their body language, which he could not see, and the other part was probably his beaten body lying at the center of them.

Trowa was the one who spoke up first. “Did you get anything off him to pinpoint a meeting location or another individual?”

“As for the meeting location, no,” Wufei answered slowly, “The coroner believes Honen must have taken a shower not long before his death as he did not hold much grime and dirt on him, and his clothes were clean of most traceable evidence. However, they managed to find some little hairs on his shirt. The man's DNA is still running through the files, though.”

“I expect Une will have an assignment for this?” inquired Zechs.

Wufei and Trowa both decided she would, and Heero heard the door click again. He was not sure if someone left or entered.

“Was that Adarah out there?” asked Trowa. Heero was not sure who Adarah was, but everyone in the room must have known her as no one inquired who she was. They probably met her while Heero was unconscious.

“Yes,” Quatre said, so he must have entered the room. “She heard Dorothy was in the hospital until she gave birth and that I was here for a friend as well, so she thought she'd come see me.” There was a pause. “I sent her back home to her family, and I told her I'd call her when there was something. I don't need her here heckling Dorothy her entire stay in the hospital, and honestly I'm not sure what she'd do to our child.

“Did I miss anything? Where was Zechs going?” Apparently, Zechs left the room in the same opening. The others filled Quatre in on the conversation he missed.

“It's such a shame that you young lads have to work this hard,” Mrs. Kaeilan's voice was vastly different than the others' voices. “You should be enjoying your youth, not fighting adults in battles or in politics.”

“Well,” Relena said, her voice calm, “we knew when we started this is what our lives would be. It seems to be our lot in life.”

 

2 May AC 197—Le manoir de la famille d'Une, Perpignan, Province of le Languedoc, former France

“We have to go,” urged Midii brushing her hair. Trowa lay on her bed in only his pants propping himself up halfway with his arm. Midii sat at her vanity. It had hearts all around it as she was seven the last time she was able to enjoy it. “I can't stay in my parents' home much longer. They're driving me crazy, and my cousin…. I love him deeply, but it's just hard to be around someone who wants…well my mother babies him. She says he went into the military and needs some help. I'm getting very sick of her.”

“You can't just leave your mother,” he said.

“Watch me,” she spoke defiantly as she struggled with tangle. “I know Amato will be upset, but I'm not his mother. I'm his sister. Luc is better now. I mean, it will take awhile for him to get completely fine, but there's nothing else I can do, and Thayer will be fine without him. Seymour is here for them.”

“I can't go back just yet, anyway,” he pointed out.

“Trowa, we haven't been to the apartment since January!” she reminded standing up, “It's been nearly four months since we've slept in our own beds!” She set the brush on the vanity and stood at the foot of the bed.

“This isn't our bed?” He gestured at the bed. “I know this is your parents' house, but until I officially quit the Preventers, this is the more convenient place of residence than an apartment up in L-3. And until these fanatics are taken care of, it's safer for you to be near people, like here with your family, not alone in an apartment.”

“I'm not alone in the apartment. We have friends up there, or at least I do. You're never around. If it weren't for this crisis, I wouldn't have seen you in the past five months,” she argued, “You said yourself that academy training thing is turning out excellent agents. Why can't you just retire from the agency? You have enough money saved up to last us a few months, a year if we're frugal enough. The circus doesn't exactly pay you in peanuts either. I can make pretty good money, too, once I have enough time to search instead a little skirmish flinging you or me off to the middle of nowhere. You have more months off to spend with me and your family with the circus than with the Preventers.” She slid on the bed and put her hands up near his face. “Trowa, all you do now is jump from fire to fire, attempting to put it out. You said goodbye to that life when you destroyed your Gundam. It's time to settle down. You've as good as proposed, and years from now—many years from now—we can have a family of our own, but it's not going to happen if you die picking up after everyone.”

“Somebody has to do it,” he countered softly.

“Then let somebody else do it,” she begged, “Let someone else who wants to do it do it. Don't make yourself miserable by staying in a job you hate because you feel honour-bound to it. You've paid your debt. There are many others who are excited and want to do it.” She leaned over and kissed him.

He returned the kiss and lay on his back and stared at the ceiling as she sat on her knees. “I don't know,” he said eventually. “Quatre will probably leave when his child is born. It's only a matter of time before Duo works at the yard fulltime. Heero will stay on for a few years, but I doubt he'll stay when he has to do more paperwork. Wufei…he was a scholar, so the paperwork won't bother him, and he's the only one working fulltime. Perhaps I should leave. I have been missing the circus.” He looked at her face. “When this is over with, I'll hand in my resignation.”

“You can't do it now?” she inquired and lay down next to him.

“It wouldn't be good for anyone for me to quit in the middle of this, especially with Heero in the hospital,” he explained, “When this one is over, I'll hand it in and finish up.” She thought this over and eventually nodded.

“Yes, you're right. It's for the best.”

He stretched his long arm out and turned off the light then brought it over and wrapped it around Midii. They had been lying in bed for about an hour, muttering a little to each other, when Trowa's personal digital rang. Midii groaned and shielded her eyes from the lights of the phone. Trowa grunted and fumbled as he grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” he mumbled sleepily. “Oh, hi…no, we hadn't gotten to sleep yet.”

Midii kept her eyes shut, but she could still see the light through the eyelids.

“Really?” Trowa was saying, “That's great. Thanks for telling me. It's fine, really. We don't have anything to do in the morning anyway.”

“Well, thank you, and I'll call in the morning.” Trowa hung up and tossed the phone away as he settled back into the curves of Midii's body.

“Who was that?” she questioned.

“Duo from the hospital,” he responded as if it were his name, “Heero's woken up, and they're getting information out of him.”

“That's good. Does that mean you'll be done soon?”

“You wish.” He smirked. “It probably means more work.”

“Oh, great,” she sighed, “Can I come? Please?”

“You know the answer,” he answered. “Besides,” he smirked wickedly at the upcoming comment, “Amato would miss his mother.” Midii grabbed her pillow and smacked her almost fiance with it. He laughed as she continued with slaps on his chest and stomach. He grabbed her wrists and held her off. She giggled and rolled onto him to finish her attack. She managed to get the pillow back in her hand and smacked him with it. He abandoned her wrists and settled for tickling her sides.

They must have been loud, for pounding came from one of their walls. Knowing that it was her brother on the other side, Midii grabbed one of her heavier trinket and hurled it at the wall. More pounding came, and they decided to ignore it.

Trowa tickled whatever bit Midii was nearest his hands. She hit his head with the pillow a few more times before smacking his arms with her palms. He managed to pull her closer to himself and planted a kiss on her lips before pulled away to hit him again. He used his arms to pull her to his chest, and there he held her as he tickled her. Occasionally, he teasingly left kisses on the tops of her ears or on her neck. She managed to squirm out of his arms and scrambled off the bed, giggling with a smile on her face that was becoming slightly painful. He got off the bed stealthily, almost catlike. He stalked his prey slowly with a knowing smirk on his face. That smirk irritated her when he thought he knew her so well.

He pounced on her. She attempted to run out of his grasp, but he tackled her to the floor. She struggled under his body, and he held her pinned. She tried to tickle him as he did to her, but he was not ticklish, at least in any of the places she tried. Thus, she had ended up surrendering to his barrage of kisses, not that she minded that much.

Footsteps sounded up and down the hall. Trowa and Midii probably should have been concerned, but they were too caught up in each other to notice. Soon a half-knock came on the door as it opened.

“Midii!” gasped Caroline. She started in French but switched to English quickly. “Luc told us you were loud in here and now we find you having sex on the floor!” Trowa wore a look of surprise and shock. Midii just laughed.

 

10 May AC 197—Tithen Lego Las Cafe and Bakery, Colony T-31376, L-3 Colony Cluster

Wufei rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Well, actually, he could not get the sleep out of them, but he tried. He must have really been tired. He made a mental note to lock his doors and turn off all phones when he got home so that he could get some uninterrupted sleep. Une had sent them to all corners of the Earth Sphere tracking down the men responsible for Heero's condition. At least he had finally awoken.

“You need some coffee,” commented Sally as she sipped her caffe latte.

“I'll be fine,” he muttered. They sat at a lawn table on the terrace of the cafe and bakery watching people past them. He put his sunglass back on.

“Then stop falling asleep!” she chastised. She nibbled on the sweet roll she bought.

“I haven't fallen asleep,” he insisted. “Perhaps we should end this spat and focus on our job here?”

“If that's what you want,” she smiled. “Just let me finish up this roll and latte.”

“I don't see why you have to eat every two hours anyway.”

“It's not every two hours, but we never have time for a real meal. When you can't have three big meals a day, you should have six smaller meals a day, which I think is healthier anyway,” she justified, taking another tear of roll.

“Shouldn't you know for certain?” he teased.

“I'm not getting into that again,” she muttered stuffing the rest of the roll in her mouth. Oh, it tasted so sweet and so good! No wonder this was her favorite cafe/bakery.

“That's attractive,” Wufei glanced over at her as he scanned the streets.

She shrugged and chewed.

“We have a possible suspect down the road,” he muttered. Sally sipped her latte and glanced in the direction through the slits of her eyes.

“Too young,” she said, “Our man is at least ten years older than that.”

“It could still be him…or a relative,” he insisted. He stood and stretched as Sally finished her latte and tossed the cup in the trash. She stood and grabbed their packets. They headed down the road coincidentally following the man.

“It's not him.”

“It is.

They walked down the street and took a left as the man took a right. Sally stopped and looked at the windows of shops. Wufei shuffled impatiently. They headed down the road, and she stepped into one store. He reluctantly followed. The store had a sale on shirts, bras, and panties. They had tables with the sale items on them. By now, the folded articles of clothing were in a mess of piles. She sifted through the piles occasionally pulling up an article to inspect it.

“This is not working,” he hissed, “and it was him!”

“It wasn't, and I'm just throwing people off our trail,” she murmured.

She did not end up buying anything, and they exited the store continuing their journey down the street. They took a left turn, walked a block, and took a right. Wufei sent her a look as the man reappeared in front of them. If she did not know better, she would think her partner planned this, but she kept her mouth shut and pretended she did not see the gaze he was sending her. They now had to head to the government building for a meeting, and it seemed their little friend would be joining them.

“It's him.”

“It's not.”

However, the man joined a group of friends outside a restaurant in which the group went. Sally and Wufei walked another two blocks before entering the government building. They crossed the lobby and went into the stairwell. The elevators had a sign that they were not operational. They climbed the stairs seven flights. The computers would be linked to the weather system and thus able to take surveillance tapes from the whole colony. It was probably the biggest complaint from people on Earth about the colonies (right with controlled, fake weather): everyone outside in a colony was under surveillance. Of course, that was what most colonists loved. It provided good security. Many people were still able to go unnoticed and hide within a colony, especially the more populated ones. They were there to search for their man, the real one.

“When we get there, you'll see that it was not him. We'll find the real guy.”

“It was him, and you'll be in disgrace.”­

They opened the door and went through security. Once clear, they headed to the office of the governor. The governor was waiting for them and informed them of all that she had done to help them. She was very proud of it. They had sent a picture of the man ahead of them; thus, the governor had had time to locate him. They kept him under constant observation. However, when Wufei and Sally entered the room, he was in a restaurant. It happened to be the same one their fake man entered.

“See what I told you?” Wufei muttered smugly where only she could here. She sent him a warning glance.

“He's in that restaurant, madam Governor?” Sally inquired.

“Yes,” Governor Hermina confirmed and looked at a paper in her hands, “he frequents the restaurant, almost daily.”

“Interesting,” Sally said.

“Does he have a regular group around him?” Wufei asked.

“Yes, the group at the restaurant pretty much stays near him,” answered a technician watching the monitor. “However, he also has another group at this dance club and another group at the market downtown. The groups sometimes mingle at various locations, and they all meet at church.”

Sally whispered something to herself. Wufei strained to hear but could not make it out. He watched the monitors.

“He has not shown any attempt to leave the colony,” offered Governor Hermina. “Not that we would let him. He hasn't broken any laws either, as far as we can tell without bugging his surroundings, that is. We wouldn't have even thought to look at him if you hadn't sent us a picture.”

“We believe that's what they're opting for, for now,” Sally said watching the screens as well, “They won't want to attract attention until they must.”

“That sounds…intelligent,” the governor commented when no one else did.

“Ten dollars says it's him,” muttered Wufei. Sally regarded him skeptically. It was not like him to place bets. Getting him sleep-deprived made him cocky.

“I'll take that bet,” she smirked.

Governor Hermina glanced at them then asked, “Forgive me if you already answered this, but do you have a name for this man?”

“We know his name,” Wufei replied simply. Sally rolled her eyes with a small smile when her partner remained tight-lipped after the comment.

“His name is Drew Martin,” Sally answered amused.

“Ah,” smiled Governor Hermina.

“How long does he usually stay in the restaurant?” Sally asked.

“Estimated about an hour,” Governor Hermina replied, “but as little as fifteen minutes sometimes.”

“I suppose we just wait and see then?”

“As far as I can tell,” confirmed the Governor.

“I hope it doesn't take too long.”

“Well, look at that,” a technician mumbled.

“What is it?” several people asked.

“A man that he usually only sees at the club. It took me awhile to recognize him; he's in a suit and tie today. He's heading to…he's entering the restaurant,” the technician reported, “It looks like he's in a hurry.” The technician looked away from the monitors for the first time and gazed at them. “He might try to leave the colony. Should we alert the police, ma'am?”

Governor Hermina looked to the agents, “Should we? We don't want him getting away, of course.”

“Oh, it'll be fine. We're still gathering information on him,” Sally explained, “If he does leave the colony, all we need to know is his next destination. We've been following him for a few colonies now.”

“You're not going to make an arrest?” questioned the Governor, her eyebrows up.

“We don't have anything on him at the moment, and still need him to lead us to the others,” Wufei said.

“Oh! Here he comes now,” exclaimed one of the technicians. They all gathered around the screen. Sally groaned as she had to give Wufei his money.

 

15 May AC 197—Vanbrugh Building, New York City, New York, former United States of America

Milliardo Peacecraft still knew his way around political arenas and diplomatic meetings, and he still knew when people feeding him bull shit, and this aide clearly was. From the information from the labs and also later from Heero, he had known where to start looking. He had tracked down Chris Honen's employer to this state of this country. Through talking to the right, unscrupulous people, he had narrowed it down to this area, and eventually they led him to his building. They had not only led him to this building, they had given him a name. He had a few names to toss around to the little underlings on the bottom floor. They had brought him up to this floor. An aide was now explaining the “situation” in which Milliardo had put him. The boss was out and did not like to return to waiting visitors, especially ones about which he did not know. While he had not flashed his Preventers' badge, he was sure they knew or had guessed it. His face was fairly recognizable, and his attitude and manners to them screamed government official. Still, he had to give them credit. They did not just up and run. They stayed and did their jobs, albeit nervously.

“And so you see,” the aide finished, “I don't think it would be best if you were to stay here when he arrived.” Milliardo just stared at the young man who twitched. Murmurs of the boss' return started, and the aide rushed to meet him at the door. He quickly spoke to the man entering the room. Milliardo stood and looked over at the boss. The man had soot-black hair which was silky and straight. He wore it in a style that reminded Milliardo of Treize, but they were still drastically different. He had mustache and a thin beard below his eyes, which were the color of desert sand. Despite the flurry of aides around him, he kept a calm demeanor. He dressed in a designer suit with a silk tie.

“Zechs Marquise,” the man smiled, “Or do you go by Milliardo Peacecraft now?”

“Whichever suits me at the moment,” he answered, “Milliardo has a grave, but there is no record of Zechs ever living. It seems you know me, but I still do not know your name. I've tracked you down this far without it.” The man almost smiled and sent the others out of his office.

“I am Aderton Cohen,” he smiled and sat behind his desk. “Is there anything you need or want from me?”

“Do you know a man named Chris Honen?”

“He works for me,” Aderton replied, “Though I don't know for how much longer. He hasn't shown up for work for three weeks, not even called in sick.”

“That's because he's dead,” Milliardo informed, “He attacked a Preventer agent with others we are hunting. The agent managed to shoot and kill him before he was beaten any further.” He watched the man's face for any indication he knew of the event.

“I'm sorry. I didn't know that,” he looked at Milliardo, “Well he certainly wasn't working under my orders. I would never ask or condone any of my employees to rebel against any government official, much less attack one.”

“Of course not,” stated Milliardo.

“I support the government very much, Mr. Peacecraft,” Aderton affirmed, “I believe in reform, change within the system, not an overthrow of it. That creates anarchy and chaos, two things I deeply do not want. We could easily succumb to rule by organized crime then, and my business would die then.”

“Enemy of the Mafia, I presume then?”

“I don't believe they call themselves that or like to be called that, but yes, I suppose I am. I may not agree with all the President's policies and decisions, but I certainly do not want someone else in charge. We've had enough leaders throughout my lifetime, more than need be. I'm tired of coups. I want peace, stability.”

“Oh, I'm sure,” smiled Milliardo, “Still, we all get frustrated with the government; we despair that it will ever change or get better. Some of us, then, try to change the system, maybe even put a new one in?”

“I do not appreciate this line of questioning.” The smile on Aderton's face vanished. “Am I under arrest?”

“Not at the moment.”

“You just came around to harass the citizens then?” Aderton asked sarcastically.

“Oh, no, just you,” he assured. “You see, the agent who was attacked was my sister's boyfriend, and she's very distraught over this.”

“You allow your young sister to date older men?”

“No,” he said coolly, “Her boyfriend's her same age.” He kept his eyes on the man's face. The age had definitely hit a nerve, but the man remained unruffled outwardly.

“It's a shame such a boy that young would end up in that condition,” Aderton managed to say, “I hope he recovers fully.”

“He will,” Milliardo assured, “He's already woken up, and he's almost through with his rehabilitation.”

“Too bad he wasn't in a safer place…like school.”

“Yes, such a shame.” Milliardo's digital went off in his pocket. He excused himself and took it out. He had a message. Une wanted to talk to him right then. He wanted to stay and rattle the man's cage some more, but this was all according to plan. They would have to observe the man for now. “I'm sorry, but I have to go.”

The man stood as Milliardo did, “Well, I'm sure we'll get more to say next time.”

“Next time?” inquired Milliardo as he stood in the doorway.

“Yes, I have a feeling we'll be meeting later,” Aderton smiled, but the smile looked more like a smirk. Milliardo nodded and left the building.

 

“Do you want us to take him out?” asked a man as he reentered the office with the group.

“No, of course not,” Aderton said, sitting down.

“That is Zechs Marquise. Killing him will generate too much attention right now,” bit one of Aderton's closest men, Ryce Toole. His rested his grey eyes on the man with a menacing glance. While his eyes resembled pools of mercury, his hair took a different turn. It was silky, curly, and very short hair, and it was the color of fresh blood. He wore it in an uncomplicated, severe style. He had no facial hair, but he was tall with a very muscular, masculine build.

“He knows too much,” argued the man.

“Perhaps,” smiled Aderton, “but then again, we've let them find much of that.” He excused everyone out of the room again, except for Ryce.

“Letting them think you're this great mastermind?” Ryce smirked.

“Well, it's better to let the underlings think I'm all-knowing. You know that.”

“So you claim, but the people aren't that stupid,” Ryce walked over and stood by the huge window, watching busy streets.

“Neither are the Preventers,” growled Aderton.

“They don't have all the information, your people do.”

“They don't have enough to nail us, but they're on our trail. We should step it up a notch if want to achieve the results we want.”

“You really think the former Gundam pilots will be able have more influence on the government than senators?”

“Why else would I have you infiltrate the Preventers and get a copy of the list?” Aderton smirked.

“That's true,” Ryce muttered as he lit a cigarette. “I've hit Colonel Une, Trowa Barton, Duo Maxwell, and that little spy with Barton Midii Une. I just finished taking care of that Kaeilan woman for Heero Yuy. Who's next, Quatre Winner or Wufei Chang?”

“Let's see if we can't kill more two birds with one stone.”

“Hit them both?”

“Take down Sally Po and Wufei Chang. We'll save Quatre Winner and Relena Peacecraft for later when we want our point across,” Aderton's smirk turned into a grin, “When you finish with Po and Chang, see if you can do anything about Mr. and Mrs. Peacecraft.” Ryce regarded his employer; he was much less amused than Aderton was.

“Whatever you want,” he commented as he put out his cigarette. “I'll be real quiet about it, too.”

“Good, I don't want to see him for a long time.”

Ryce moved to the door.

“Oh, Ryce,” called Aderton before he opened the door. Ryce turned and looked at him. “See what you can get me on Rashid Kurama.”

 

**Translation Notes**

Arabic:

Ana behibak—I love you (female to male)

Ana behibek—I love you (male to female)

Spanish:

los Rejinoles Espanoles—the Spanish Rejiñoles

los Libertadores—the Liberators

las Hijas de la Monarquia—the Daughters of the Monarchy

Other:

Le Mouvement Nationaliste Francais [Dixieme]—The [Tenth] French Nationalist Movement (French)

11,500 km—7,145 miles

Tithen Lego Las—Little Green Leaf (Tolkien Elvish)