Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Heart's Treason ❯ Epilogue ( Epilogue )

Heart's Treason

By Llewlyn

Summary: Thrown in an OZ cell together, Zechs and Trowa fall in love. But before they realize it, they're torn apart.

Rating: PG-13 for chapters 1-4, NC-17 for a lemon in chapter 5 and lime in the epilogue.

Treize stood in the doorway to the room his oldest and best friend now lived in. He watched in silence as Zechs sat before the window, working quietly. He hadn't said a word to anyone since the day the boy had died. At night though, heart-wrenching sobs could be heard from the locked suite.

It was funny, Treize thought, how so strong a man, a man who had as a child seen his family slaughtered and come away sane, had taken the death of one boy so hard. True, they had been found together, and had been in prison together, but they had only known each other for a few days. Perhaps it was the fact that he had been forced to watch the boy's execution. To see someone who couldn't have been more than 17 or 18 years of age suffocated by toxic gas… Treize himself had vomited after and turned to his Chinese lover for comfort.

Now three years after the proud, defiant boy had died, as had Lucrezia Noin and 11 soldiers before him, Zechs lived in silence. His needs were communicated by polite notes left on a table. No one knew what he did all day, alone by the window. No one dared ask.

~thwack~ A crumpled wad of paper landed at Treize's feet. The general picked it up, uncrumpled it, and read. ~Come in or stay out. You're bothering me.~

"Come in." Another note; Treize caught it. ~What do you want?~ "I want you to talk again," Treize blurted out before iron self control kicked in again. "I want to know you're alright."

~I'm fine.~ "You're not." In stronger letters, ~I'm fine.~ "No, Milliardo, you're not. It's been three years. Three fucking years and you haven't said a word to anyone. We don't know what's wrong with you." In a softer, sadder voice, Treize said, "I want my friend back, Milliardo…"

Slowly Zechs stood and faced Treize. In one hand was a large pad of sketch paper; the other, a pencil. "And… I… want… Trowa… back… you… son… of… a… bitch." They were the first words Zechs had spoken to someone in three years and his already rough voice was grating and harsh from disuse. Treize just stared at Zechs. "You… never… knew who… he really was… to me… did you, Treize…" Dumbly, Treize shook his head. Zechs smiled coldly and threw the sketchbook at Treize, who caught it. He turned back to the window, standing at parade rest. "Go on… look." His voice was bitter. "You know you want to."

Treize looked at the first page. The portrait of a somber boy looked back at him… the boy Zechs was found with, the pilot. Words were written around the edges of the picture.

Slipping `round the universe

Silenced all alone

Frantic search for lover's verse

Dead now, can't atone

Treize frowned slightly. Had he known Zechs was this talented? The portrait was perfect, exact… masked pain was visible in the one eye shown. Treize almost wished he could protect the boy shown, make his pain go away…

The next picture was the same boy, only smiling slightly, knowingly… almost like the Mona Lisa. An I've-got-a-secret smile. A smile that now made Treize want to tease the secret out of the boy… Trowa. And more words, another poem, haiku this time.

Your vanished laughter

Absent makes my weak heart break

Lost in death my love

"Love…" Treize whispered.

"Yes. Love. Keep looking." Treize turned to the next picture. A sketch, seemingly unfinished, of Trowa asleep, stretched out on a poor excuse for a cot. -Prison…- The OZ uniform the boy was wearing, rumpled, dirty… smudges on the sleeping boy's face. Even in sleep, apparently, the boy held his secrets, his face was taught with unconscious worry and strain, a minute frown on his pretty features. No words on this drawing, but smudges in the corner looked suspiciously like tearstains.

"He looks so… young…" Treize murmured.

"He was. Keep looking. Keep looking until your heart breaks and you have to go back to Trowa's friend for comfort." Treize couldn't see the slight smile that crossed Zechs' face briefly. "I wonder… does he know who gave the order for his comrade to be executed? Does he even know how his brother-in-arms died?" Zechs turned slightly. "I doubt it. You would want to spare his feelings… After all, you don't want him pushing you away as a murderer." He chuckled quietly... a sound that sent chills up and down Treize's spine. "I said keep looking!" Zechs snapped suddenly. Obediently Treize turned the page.

A battered child looked back at him. Grimy bandages were wrapped tightly around his chest. He gasped slightly. "OZ's first interrogation. The lightest, only one fractured rib, no stitches. Keep going." Another page. The same boy, eyes closed and face scrunched up in obvious pain, a swollen arm cradled against his chest. Blood leaked from numerous cuts on his body. "The second interrogation. Sprained wrist, 3 cuts needing 25 stitches." Another page. This time Trowa stood, all his weight on one leg. The other was in a crude splint. "The last interrogation before Noin got us out. Fractured leg, 38 stitches. Keep going."

Treize looked through the book. The precise drawings laid out the story of Zechs and Trowa. The trip to France, their first real kiss, and Trowa's back receding. Then an older Trowa, framed in a doorway. Another passionate kiss… and another, clothes falling. Then more erotic pictures… Trowa displayed in all his naked glory, Zechs preparing Trowa, fear/pain/want/love/pleasure on Trowa's face as Zechs took him… Treize looked at Zechs' back, outlined by the sun from the window. Words formed on his tongue but refused to be said.

"Yes, he was a virgin," Zechs answered Treize's unspoken question. "He gave of himself willingly to me." The bitterness in his voice was tempered by the desperate sadness. "Keep going." The next few pictures illustrated the couple making love. Beautiful, unrestrained, captivating, the drawings were masterpieces. Treize sighed softly, remembering the first time he had made love to the dragon in his bed.

//Proud, scared, defiant, willing… the young warrior refusing to give in, to surrender, instead throwing himself at Treize in an attempt at hand-to-hand combat. He failed, the general caught him off-guard and kissed him. Slowly building up to sex, at first just kissing, petting, then heavier and more meaningful things. Finally, real lovemaking. But his dragon hadn't been a virgin.//

The final series of pictures were of waking up with Trowa, kissing and greeting the morning in bed. Violence interrupted. Guns pointed at the two men, nude together before the soldiers. Being arrested, torn from each other's arms without a proper goodbye. And being led into the room where Trowa already sat in the gas chamber, strapped into the chair. The toxic fumes choking the boy, killing him… and being led away again, not even allowed the chance to see the grave. If there was one.

"And you see what he meant to me. Who he was to me." Zechs' cold voice cut through Treize's sad reverie.

"Yes."

"And you see why I haven't spoken nor will again?"

"Yes."

"Good. Leave now. Take that book with you. Show it to your lover. Let him show his friends. I won't let this be a secret, Treize. You killed a child. My lover. You will never forget it." Zechs turned around, madness gleaming in his frozen blue eyes. "Never!" he hissed, swiftly crossing the floor and taking Treize by the throat with one hand. "You killed him, Treize, you saved me but you killed him and then you went home and fucked his friend." Zechs grinned maniacally. "I ought to kill you right now for what you've done to me, to Trowa, to the other boys… Heero, Duo, Quatre… and especially Wufei…

"I know them all, Treize, I know them. I want them to have those. I ought to kill you," he repeated, "but that those four boys know what you did to their friend is more important than what you did to me." He kissed his one time friend roughly. "Remember me, Treize. When you feel the cold wind at night, when you're safe in bed with Wufei, remember me. Remember Trowa. Remember all the infants' fathers you killed, the wives you widowed, the children you stole… remember it all, Treize. Hide where you want, the guilt will never be far from you." He laughed quietly, intensely.

"I will always remember. I will always be trapped with your guilt, my own, my family's… remember, Treize…" Zechs released his chokehold on Treize. Calmly, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, he turned and went back to his seat by the window. "Good bye, Treize," Zechs said.

Treize stood, stunned. In seconds, Zechs had gone from violent to peaceful. It shook him, even more than the collection of drawings in his hand did. Finally he answered, "Good bye, Zechs." He slowly turned and walked back to the room he sometimes shared with Wufei.

The Chinese boy reclined on the large bed with a book. Treize dropped the pictures onto the floor as he entered and fairly dashed to the bed. "Let me make love to you, Wufei…" -Let me prove I'm not a murderer alone…-

"Gladly," Wufei answered, pulling Treize down onto him and kissing him passionately.

~~

Zechs stared sadly into the sunlight. "He won't remember."

The voice in his mind answered, he's already forgetting.

"I tried, Trowa… at least your friends will know the true story."

Yes. I love you, Zechs…

"I love you, Trowa."

And Zechs forgot the man who had been his friend, he forgot the boys who had meant so much to Trowa, he forgot everything but the world inside his mind. His world. With Trowa.