Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ My Empire of Dirt ❯ Black Earth and Ivory ( Chapter 5 )

Pairs: ref to past 13x6, 6x9, and 1xR

 

Warning: There's ref to a past yaoi (male/male) relationship in this chapter. That relationship might continue in future chapters, so if gay relationships disturb you, please do not continue reading. That said, the yaoi might not continue. It really depends on the story at this point.

 

Note: Loves and kisses to Merit, as usual. ^^;

 

4. Black Earth and Ivory

 

Dark skies fall on
black earth and ivory.
Far from your sun
clouds now close over me.

--Enya

 

**

 

They ran, and Zechs could not decipher where they went. The only thing that kept him going was Noin's iron grip around his arm, pulling him along the chaos that now mirrored his mind. He had shut down. When he woke again, he knew there would be hell to pay, but for now he was nothing more than a body following another body away from the gunshots and... that man.

 

He was tired. He didn't want to think about it.

 

Noin pulled him particularly hard and they both lunged into a fairly large janitorial closet somewhere in the upper floors. He watched with a daze as she closed the door and locked it before turning back to him with a set of keys. He lifted an eyebrow, wondering where the hell they had come from, but she just grabbed his wrists unceremoniously and unlocked his handcuffs.

 

He stared at the keys, at the handcuffs and then at her. He could almost swear he saw her frown as she stood there, but he didn't know for sure because he didn't know anything behind the cloud of fog that seemed to have drifted around him. He backed away, nearly tripping over a mop bucket, and slid down the wall. He brought his knees up and he hid his face in his arms, because when she looked at him, he was sure that whatever expression he wore was something he did not want Noin to see.

 

"Zechs," she said.

 

He said nothing. She approached him and her body was warm, but as her hand touched his shoulder, he shook it off and leaned away. Without a will, he started to shake, and he found that he could not stop.

 

"Zechs," her voice was so far away, "...I didn't kill him. I'm a far better shot than that."

 

But he already knew that, and he didn't care. Why should he care? He swallowed his dry and scratchy throat, coughing when it itched. His eyes watered, but he held them back, saying nothing. Her hand tried to touch him again, and he shook it off before her fingertips barely brushed his shoulder.

 

"Zechs, please..."

 

Was that worry? He tensed. She had no right to worry about him.

 

She touched him again, and this time she held on with a firm grip. She shook him hard and he looked up, glaring death at her so suddenly and fiercely that she visibly shuddered before him. She did not let go, but her eyes showed the slightest hint of fear as he stared up at her, and he didn't know if he liked it. She looked him in the eyes and he glared right back. "Wake up Zechs," her voice was determined, but vulnerable. "You can't break down now, I need you."

 

"Do you really?" The words were sarcastic, and they had come tumbling from his throat before he could stop himself. He had no control over his mouth, just as he had no control over his life, and he sneered at her, his words no more than a whisper. "The last time I checked, you said you'd rather die before you let me be there for you."

 

Noin grimaced but did not look away. "This is not the time or the place, and you know it."

 

Zechs stood up in a blur of intensity and closed in on her before she could defend herself, her body trapped between him and the door with barely the room to breathe. He put his good arm over her shoulder against the door and leaned inches from her body, face in her neck, inhaling deeply. He closed his eyes, feeling the subtle twitch of a very dark personality lingering underneath the surface of his skin like an old friend. After eleven years, he'd never felt so calm in this moment--not since Epyon and Libra and the entire Earth Sphere that had allied against him. It was unnatural, even insane, but he knew, somehow, that when the time came he would defy death and logic and time and space just to get his sister back and make Treize go away for good. Somehow, he felt that if he really wanted, nothing could ever stop him. It was that simple.

 

He smiled into her neck, and it was a smile of irony. She always did smell good, like some rare flower dipped in gasoline. He had missed that smell. He wondered briefly what would happen if he lit a match to her, and some of the tension melted away as the images of a burning flower assaulted him.

 

But then he opened his eyes again, and his gaze was serious and deadly. Noin stood her ground and glared right back, but she was tensed so badly she could have crushed diamonds between her teeth, and her eyes flicked in fear as Zechs smiled an unstable sort of smile. "This is the perfect time, Noin," he said calmly, "We could die any minute and there's someone back on Earth that will miss you. Do you think he'll miss me?" Zechs' smile twitched dangerously toward a sneer as he added, "I will never know. But you do. Tell me, does he hate me, Noin? Does he believe the bullshit out there, does he really think that I killed his aunt? Does he, like Quatre and Heero and Une and even you want me dead for a crime I didn't even commit? I wouldn't be surprised if he did, Noin, that's the way this world goes. I give my blood and they spill it, it's a wonder I give a damn at all--"

 

"Shut up," Noin growled and pushed him away. He stepped back, but he didn't give much room, and she faltered slightly before she could control herself. She didn't blame Zechs for being bitter. She was bitter herself. But still, she would not let him speak that way about their... her... child.

 

"Your... our..." She struggled for breath, her voice catching before she plowed on, assuming dominance even as her voice betrayed her pain. "My son believes in your innocence quite blindly, always did, even to the point of confronting Yuy about it. His uncle tolerates the lectures, but only barely, and Mil--er, my son abuses that fact relentlessly. In fact, he's done more on behalf of your name in our household than anyone else would dare." Her eyes welled with a wall of tears and she swallowed and glared at the door behind him. "If you must know, Mil--he was even smart enough to realize where I was going and why and he demanded to come with me. When I refused, he said that he hated me and that he never wanted to speak to me again. He does that every time I talk negative about you, you know. He does that when he knows I'm the only reason you'll never see him. He hates me, Zechs, and he thinks you're some kind of tragic hero straight out of the fairy tales." She snorted, her eyes still misted with emotion. "Even Cipher is brainwashed by his fantasies. You'd be proud of him."

 

Zechs frowned, his mind numb. His son didn't hate him?

 

He shivered... and, according to Noin, neither did Cipher. Cipher was Relena's and Yuy's son, surely he would hate Zechs for murdering his mother, regardless if it were true? With his father's fury no doubt leading him, the boy should be furious. But then, unlike his own son, Cipher had actually known Zechs and known him well. Zechs had made sure of it--after the mistake of Noin, he would not allow another child neglect in his life. Cipher was almost like a second son to him, closer than a nephew; he was the son that Noin couldn't take away from him. In fact, he and Cipher were so close before the murder that the two were often misinterpreted that way in public, much to Zechs' pain. Cipher had loved Zechs.

 

He could not believe Cipher still loved him. Even when everyone claimed that his favorite uncle murdered his mother, he still believed in Zechs. It didn't seem right, somehow. Zechs shivered. The wired feeling he'd felt just a moment before collapsed around him and he stepped back, his eyes glittering with uncertainty. "Yuy can't be pleased about that," he said.

 

She barked a hollow sort of laugh. "Believe me when I say that he isn't."

 

He looked at her and she looked back at him. He opened his mouth, but she beat him to the punch.

 

"Look, I don't know what I saw back there, Zechs. I know what you think you saw and I know what you're thinking after seeing it, and believe me for once in your goddamned life when I tell you that I understand. But whatever that was back there, whoever it was, it was not Treize Kushrenada." Zechs made motion to protest but she growled and held up a hand. "It was his body, I'll give you that, but that was not his mind. Not as we know it. If Treize had gone so far as to change his name to something like Shade and wear clothes as shitty as what we saw him dressed in, you know more than I do that what we saw was not Treize at all. Treize is dead, he's right. This is an unknown enemy who wants to capture you for an unknown purpose and I suggest you treat it as such. Do not, under any circumstances, let your feelings get the better of you. It'll get you killed and I... wouldn't like that."

 

He just stood and stared at her and she softened very slightly. "Don't think I don't know what you both had for each other. Everyone knew." He did not say anything, and she sighed. "Right. We better get out of this closet, because I reckon they're standing outside this door listening to every word we're saying. Do you think you can handle a little exercise? I brought you in here because you got yourself shot a few times, not that you seemed to have noticed. And you're bleeding." Zechs shrugged. She snorted. "Wake up and focus--this is not the time to go into shock. You've lost enough blood for the both of us."

 

Zechs didn't need to look down to know that she was right, and he stood there very quietly and considered what she said just before he realized that he didn't want to think about it at all. He decided that killing someone would do him a world of good right now, and he grinned at her, pulled his energy pistol in one bloodied hand and his borrowed gun in the other, checked the ammo and indicated the door with grace of a shrug.

 

When the door was opened, men were waiting, and the hall lit up like Chistmas.

 

**

 

Though he'd never admit it, Gregory Micheals was very good at what he did and there was a reason that Yuy trusted him for this assignment--in some ways, Greg's only competition was in fact the gundam pilots themselves, and even then, he had advantages. Oh, sure, he couldn't pilot a helicopter let alone something as cruel as a gundam, and he'd never grow the strength to bend steel with his bare hands, but he was still the best intelligence officer for miles around and those who knew him didn't dispute that fact at all. It was something he was good at, and Gregory always took the things that he was good at very seriously.

 

All of his life he'd been a soldier, and he was barely sixteen when he'd first been inducted into OZ and then eighteen when he climbed his rank to Treize's third most trusted intelligence officer. No one knew Greg's name in particular during the war, and if you ever asked his colleagues, they couldn't tell you much about the dealings, but that was the point and it was no secret if you really paid attention to where Treize found most of his information. Gregory had once acted as the hands that Treize did not want the world to see--Une and Zechs were far too brute for his more... subtle influences, and Gregory sometimes knew things that even the other two didn't know. Where Treize liked to play with Une and Zechs as if they were some kind of obscure chess set, Gregory had been far more of a partner. Treize had trusted Greg, they grew up together, and the general had known more than anyone that Greg wasn't the kind of man to betray what he considered family. Treize Kushrenada had been more than family to Greg--they were blood brothers. Partners in crime.

 

In fact, he and Greg went way back, but when Treize died, so did his contacts, and no one really believed him when he stated his old relations to the man. Why should they? No one knew about Greg in that way--Greg had been something of poor trash and strictly speaking, Treize wasn't supposed to have known him at all. Not in that world. When they were children, Treize would hide it from his father--something he was quite good at considering he and his father were not on speaking terms--and Gregory's mother was always drunk and hardly gave a damn, so she didn't know either way. The only one who really knew anything about Greg and Treize's relationship at all had been Zechs, and Zechs was usually too busy working his way toward Sanc's revenge to pay much attention. Greg and Zechs hardly knew each other because they both worked at opposite ends of the Earth, but they knew enough to know that they both shared the same man and they didn't like it--it was something like Zechs' relationship to Une, which Gregory had been witness enough to know was not a pleasant sight.

 

Greg and Treize were not romantic, even though he knew Zechs had suspected it, considering their odd relationship. Gregory wasn't even gay, and he had told Treize this on more than one occasion because he knew that Treize was, and no matter what he claimed in the end, the other man was at least a little bit interested--Greg wasn't Treize's type, no, but he was a challenge, and Treize always loved challenges. Of course, Treize then met Zechs, the biggest challenge of them all, and the rest had been history.

 

The two of them, Greg knew, had something special. It never stood a chance, but it was there, and for a while, it was nice. Sort of, anyway. He still hadn't liked Zechs, but Treize was too busy half the time playing footsie under the table to notice, and it wasn't like Treize would take Greg's permission, even if he'd been looking for it. He was obsessed, and Greg wasn't stupid. Zechs and Treize had been cruel to each other, even in those fluffy happy sappy moments, and it was always an endless dance of competition. Treize had constantly toyed with his lover with those infamous mind games of his, and Zechs fought against him like the ball of fury that he was simply because Zechs Marquise was someone that did not like to be toyed with. There were fights, and there were make-up sessions, and there were secrets and there was long, hot, slow sex. Gregory saw it all, because he had been there half the time keeping Treize company when he got drunk over the frustrations of his lover and his life. As brothers, they needed to confide every now and then, it was a requirement. Greg, being what he was, knew everything.

 

But then it shattered. It had been inevitable. In the end, Greg knew they did have something just before it crashed down around them, but it was something that never stood a chance. Greg blamed Zechs, Zechs--he presumed--blamed god, and Treize blamed war, because they all knew that the relationship had been doomed from the start and there was no point in denying it. OZ or no OZ, they hadn't stood a chance.

 

Tragedy, it seemed, loved to torture the both of them, but he secretly suspected Treize would have it no other way. Treize was a romantic, after all. Greg actually thought this was a great love story for chicks--he'd even tried it as a pickup more than once, and it almost always worked. Probably the only thing he got out of it all, now that he really thought about it...

 

And anyway, Greg was one of the best intelligence officers in the world--not the best, he admitted that much, but to OZ in the war, he was a far cry above average and highly talented in his field. Gregory put up an ignorant front and he liked to test people for their patience, but when he wanted to, he could be just as deadly as any of them in his own ways, and probably moreso because you never quite expected it when it happened. He didn't play major roles in the war, but he was witness to many major things that happened, and he affected much of Treize's part in it than the world really cared to know.

 

That's why when Gregory entered the hotel--following the sound of gunfire and a hysterical call for local police about one Bloodied Prince aka Milliardo Peacecraft, and saw Treize Kushranda standing there in the lobby without a care in the world, he reacted by complete and utter shock. Treize Kushrenada, very much alive. As in, not dead. As in standing right there in the lobby, looking back at him. He was different, a bit ragged, and missing an eye, but there was no mistaking it--it was Treize. Alive.

 

Gregory had been stunned. Once it passed, he reacted by holstering his gun and demanding answers. It was stupid, even Greg would tell you, but Gregory tended to do a lot of stupid things where Treize was concerned, and getting killed tended to be one of them.

 

"Treize!" His voice shook badly, and he winced. "What the hell are you doing alive?"

 

Later, Greg would tell you that he really wished he'd said something more intelligent after eleven years, but such is the life of a moron. He kept a safe distance away, but not so safe as to run if Treize suddenly decided to kill him. Old habits died hard, and he had always trusted the other too much for his own good. Treize smiled oddly at him, a strange glint in his one eye that asked, "Do I know you?"

 

Gregory's insane half-smile of sheer hope faltered and then he frowned. Treize was obviously a little disturbed, which was understandable considering he was supposed to be dead, and from the look of him, he had sustained a great number of injuries, which of course was also understandable, but it still shook him to see it. He must be suffering amnesia, Gregory figured. Of course, if he didn't remember Gregory now, he never would, considering it had been nearly eleven years since the man had supposedly died. Surely the memories would have found a way to restore itself at some point in all that time if they were going to?

 

He stared at Treize's face, taking it all in yet again. One eye was completely white and the other was a soulless blue. When Gregory looked at him, he found that his childhood friend was dead. This was not Treize at all.

 

Greg shook his head and nervously backed away. "No," he said, cursing himself as his voice started shaking again. "I guess not."

 

Treize made some kind of gesture and several large men that Gregory hadn't seen in his shock came thundering from behind the ex-General, aiming very large rifles in his direction. Treize smiled a very scary kind of smile and rubbed his chin as he mused the other man's fate. His remaining eye went distant for several minutes, as if searching something within in his mind, but the detached look on his face was eerie and wrong and Greg didn't like it at all.

 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity though it couldn't have been more than several seconds, Treize finally came back to himself and smiled warmly. "Ah yes. Gregory Micheals, what a surprise."

 

He gestured for the men to drop their guns, and Greg just looked at Treize with sheer confusion. The other man didn't even recognize him not seconds before, and now he remembers? Greg shivered, suddenly. That wasn't normal, not even after eleven years. Treize had turned into a full-blown psychopath, that's what happened...

 

"I assume you're looking for Milliardo, are you not?"

 

Gregory nodded stiffly. It was all he could do.

 

Treize smiled again in that terrifying sort of way. "He is here, but you can't have him."

 

Greg lifted an eyebrow. "Why not?"

 

"Because he's mine," Treize said.

 

Gregory growled low in his throat--he did not like this desecration the great Treize Kushrenada, his blood brother, his friend had become. He wanted to snap Treize out of it, but knew it would do no good, not after eleven years. With a frustrated torrent of emotion, he said, "Zechs murdered his sister. He deserves to be punished."

 

Treize nodded. "I know," he said.

 

"And you still want him?"

 

"Of course," and there was a smile.

 

"Where will you take him?"

 

That smile grew into an amused chuckle that sent shivers down his spine. "That, dear Gregory, is for me to know and for you to find out."

 

This was getting no where. Greg sighed and glared at Treize, for what it was worth. "Where have you been? Eleven years, Treize."

 

There was a glimmer in Treize's one eye that puzzled him, though he couldn't figure out what it meant. "Coma," he said.

 

"You were in a coma? Where? Why didn't anyone find you?"

 

Treize shrugged very carefully and said, "I didn't want to be found."

 

Gregory stared. His entire life was being pulled out from under him and he didn't understand anymore. Treize was supposed to be dead, that was the whole point of the second war--Treize died. He was dead. He was not supposed to be alive.

 

He wondered, briefly, what Mariemaia would think about this strange turn of events. He thought about Une, and he thought about Chang, and then he thought about Zechs and remembered why he was standing there in the first place. Loud pops of gunfire exploded from the stairwell to his right and explosions vibrated from the upper floors above his head. For the first time, Gregory noticed the blood on Treize's long jean jacket, and the fine little hole there that punctured to down his skin. The blood smelled fresh, but the way Treize moved suggested that either the wound wasn't serious or that it didn't exist at all. From what he could see of the hole, there was no wound where the blood came from. Which was odd.

 

Treize waved to the outer doors. "I assume you're working at Preventer now," his voice was completely unconcerned about the obvious death and destruction raging above them. In fact, his eyes almost seemed delighted.

 

Gregory nodded, unsure where this was going.

 

"I want you to tell Lady Une what you found here. Tell her everything you can about me and what I said and that I am still alive. Tell her everything. Tell Chang, as well. Tell Yuy. Hell, tell everyone. Make sure they all know. Make sure the press knows. Make sure the world knows. Do you understand?"

 

He nodded again. He felt numb.

 

Treize grinned something the Kushrenada of old would have never grinned. "Good. Now leave. Milliardo is mine."

 

Gregory left, but he did not leave the hotel. He wanted Zechs, and he was going to get Zechs no matter what Treize tried to do to him in the process. He was not leaving without Zechs--he didn't want to know what Heero would do to him if he left without Zechs, and he didn't want to find out. Zechs... yes, Zechs. He was going to find out what the hell was going on, and he was going to bring Zechs home. Then he was going to sleep and forget everything.

 

His mind was in a state of absolute shock, but he held onto his sanity with grim determination. Treize was alive and involved, and this changed everything.

 

**

 

Noin peeked passed the corner they were currently trapped and a bullet whizzed passed her forehead for the effort. She ducked back, sighed, and checked on Zechs again. He did not look good.

 

He'd been shot in the arm, there was blood coming from his left leg and a nasty bruise formed the left side of his face where someone had clocked him a good one. The arm was still bleeding, though it finally began to slow down, and Noin didn't know if this was because he was running out of blood or simply because his body was finally beginning to cooperate. He was pale, he limped, he hadn't said anything since they'd left the closet, and there was a very distant look in his eyes that appeared shortly after his run-in with Treize. Usually, Zechs was very lively and vocal in battle, but now he was silent. Even after Noin's speech in the closet, his thoughts were very far away, and he wasn't focused at all.

 

It didn't help that he looked about ready to fall over. She knew she needed to get them out of the damned building, because Zechs needed a doctor, and there was only one doctor she could think of at the top of her head who would help Zechs and not turn him in. The sooner they got away and off the colony, the better. Sally was, after all, several thousand miles away in Sank.

 

Zechs wavered slightly and shook himself. When she looked at him worriedly, he said, "Dizzy. M'fine."

 

He couldn't even form coherent sentences. This was going to be fun. Noin sighed again.

 

Several more shots rang out as Noin growled, using her frustration to kill two guards down the corridor. Zechs smiled and joined in, and managed to get another kill just before he got shot in the same arm again. He cried out and she pulled him back, snarling at him. "Don't shoot if you can't concentrate!"

 

He just nodded and gave her his gun. Her snarl faded to worry again and she frowned at him. "You can make it, Zechs," she said, giving his gun back. "This is nothing. Don't fade out on me."

 

He tried to give it back to her, shaking his head. "You're r-right, Lu, I can't..." He hissed and made a fist around the gun when pain shot up his leg. "...can't focus. Take it."

 

She shoved the gun back at him and glared, before taking three more shots down the hall. "No, damnit! You'll need it. Now shut up and stay out of the way of the bullets or I'll shoot you myself."

 

He smiled, his eyes almost amused. "Yes, Sir..."

 

She won her last kill, and dragged him on without warning down the hall. They were on the second floor now, if she could get to a good window, they might be able to jump--Shots rang out, and without thinking, she dove through the first door she came to. Zechs made a grunt, and when she slammed it shut, locking it, she noticed that he got himself shot again, this time in the other leg. He swayed, fell back against the wall, and gritted his teeth.

 

"Fuck," he said, his voice much too quiet. "...I really pissed Murphy off this time, didn't I?"

 

He almost crumpled to the ground before Noin grabbed his arm and dragged him across the room. "No time to sit down, Zechs, we've got to get out of here." She pulled whipped open the balcony door even as bullets sprayed through the front door, and glass shattered, the jagged crystals raining down, slicing her hand. Shit, these guys were getting pissed. No time to worry about it--she yanked Zechs onto the balcony, and looked down. There was a dumpster right under them, in the middle of an alley. Perfect. She guided Zechs over the railing first and he fell, landing in a controlled fall amidst the bags and trash. She jumped after him when he crawled out, grunting when the bags and whatever the hell else it was she landed on cushioned her fall.

 

When she jumped out of the dumpster, Zechs was leaning against it, panting hard. A bullet bounced off the tarmac from above, and she cursed, grabbing him again, and pulling him down the alley. Eyes of the homeless watched with interest and she ignored them, shouts following behind her. When she reached the street, she turned toward the front of the hotel, to the parking lot. Her car was in there.

 

Yuy's man, the man she'd locked in the closet all the way back at the shuttleport, was standing beside it. He saw her and pulled out a gun. She panicked and tried to shoot him but she was out of bullets, and he fired before she could do anything. Numbly, she noticed the shot didn't hit her or Zechs. There was a thump behind her. She turned, a man was dead with a gun in his hand. She dropped her own gun, now empty, and stole that one.

 

She heard Zechs say a name. She couldn't make out what it was amidst the screaming.

 

More shouts came from behind and her tail, Yuy's man, grinned at her, glared at Zechs, and waved to the car. She dragged Zechs, who was now leaning on her very heavily, into the backseat as the strange man working for Yuy covered fire for her. Then she slammed the backdoor shut and fished for her keys, shooting randomly all the while she sat behind the wheel. The other man worked his way around the passenger side, and with a last ringing shot, emptying his cartridge, tossed the gun and jumped in. Noin turned the ignition and spun out of the parking lot, her tires screaming as the rubber burned on the tarmac. The car twisted, narrowly avoiding collision with a pickup truck, as she turned sharply, racing down the streets.

 

Back at the hotel, the man they once called Treize snorted as he gathered up his men and prepared to depart. Sirens were wailing the distance, and they didn't have much time until the local police arrived.

 

He smiled suddenly. Sure, they got away, he thought. He knew they would. It didn't really matter. Milliardo would come to him, in the end.

 

 

 

A/N: There is a reason Noin wouldn't say her son's name in front of Zechs back in the closet. I'll touch on that very soon. It has to do with the name just as much as it has to do with problems going on between the two of them and Noin, being caught in the middle of battle, didn't want to deal with it. If you pay attention, it shouldn't be hard to figure out what their son's name actually is. It starts with Mil after all. ;D

 

Also, Cipher's name has a specific meaning to it. For the g-boy's children (and yes, there will be more children), I wanted to keep with the Gundam tradition of giving the characters names based off numbers. Cipher is (basically) zero and means, "Any figure, a person of no account, a secret writing, the key to a code. Zero--beginning of all things, fixed point, unmoving, nothing, empty." It's an actual word in the dictionary, and I picked it because it reminds me of Heero's role in the canon and how strongly the war revolved around him. I think Heero would pass that talent onto his son in some ways, and thus, the special meanings of the name. I also picked zero because of the gundam, so yes, the number is significant.