Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Strays ❯ Chapter 3

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Strays

Part 3

Treize woke in the back of a moving car. From the front he could hear two men talking.

“This is crazy, Jim. Stealing a car is one thing; but kidnapping and murder I want nothing to do with, man. Pull over and let me out now.”

“Shut up!” the other man, apparently Jim, told his partner. “Like it or not, but you are in this just as much as I am. Besides what difference does it make? Car theft or murder, we both have two strikes against us already. If they catch us they will lock us up for life anyway. So it's better to make sure that they don't catch us, wouldn't you agree?”

“You said we would steal a couple of luxury cars and sell them. Man, I didn't bargain for this…”

“Do you think I did? It's not my fault that that guy surprised us. But now we are better off getting rid of him. Did you take a look at his wallet; all those credit cards? We can withdraw enough dough to disappear and live the good life till the end of our days, before the cops even find his body.”

The other man grumbled, apparently still not convinced.

Treize swallowed. He had been inching toward the door while he was listening to the two crooks. Ever so slowly he moved his hand toward the silver doorknob, and prayed that it wasn't locked. Trying to jump from a moving car wasn't exactly a smart idea, but the alternative seemed even worse.

Luck appeared to be on his side, because the car slowed down as they approached a traffic light, and Treize reacted. The door flew open and he pushed himself out of the car. Somehow he managed to pull up his knees before he hit the pavement. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he tumbled a few times, dazed, before he was able to jump up onto his feet and run. He had no idea where he was, and was driven purely by instinct and adrenalin.

Treize's eyes snapped open. His heart was beating frantically. He sat up in the bed, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and tried to calm down his breathing. It was the third night in the row that he had this dream, and he was starting to wonder if it was more then just a nightmare.

The tawny haired man reached for his watch that was sitting on the nightstand. It was only 2 am, too early to get up. He put the watch down again and settled back into his pillows. For the longest time he just lay there and stared at the ceiling, unable to go back to sleep because his mind kept wandering back to his dream. Could it be that this kidnapping really happened and now he was subconsciously reliving those memories?

Finally he turned on the light and picked up the book that he had been reading the evening before, but he managed only to read a few pages of the novel before a quiet knock at the bedroom door interrupted him.

“Yes, come in.”

The door opened and Milliardo's platinum-blond head appeared in the room. “Is everything alright?” he asked.

“Everything is fine,” Treize assured him. “Just a nightmare, or bad memories, I'm not sure which.” He shrugged. “I hope I didn't wake you.”

“You didn't. I couldn't sleep either for some reason. I was just about to make some tea when I saw the lights on in your room.”

“Tea sounds wonderful. I'll help you.” The older man suggested.

###

About twenty minutes later the two men were sitting in the kitchen, sipping hot, honey-sweetened tea and nibbling on oatmeal cookies that Relena had baked the day before.

“Do you often have trouble sleeping?” Treize wanted to know.

“Occasionally,” Milliardo admitted. “But I don't like to take anything. So I usually just get up, have some tea and watch TV.”

“You have a lot on your mind, which makes it harder to relax and fall asleep. But sitting awake and watching TV really isn't the solution. You don't get enough sleep that way.”

The younger man snorted in amusement. “Look who is talking.”

“Well, the difference is that I'm at home and I can take a nap when I get tired during the day, while you are out there driving an ambulance all day long.” Treize pointed out.

“I suppose you are right. But there isn't much I can do.”

“There might be. You just have to try to relax your body and mind. Some soft music and a nice massage should help. Would you like to give it a try?”

Milliardo's laugh sounded somewhat nervous. “I think I'll pass.”

“I promise I won't do anything you don't want,” the tawny haired man assured him with a brilliant smile. “And if you don't like it I'll stop.”

Milliardo flushed slightly, even as he finally nodded. “Fine.”

“Excellent.” Treize took the last sip of his tea and put the cup into the sink to be cleaned later. Then, while he turned on the radio and searched for a station with soft, instrumental music, he told the younger man to lie down in the couch and relax.

Milliardo stretched out, belly down on the couch and pulled the blanket up to his hips. He swallowed as Treize knelt down next to the sofa, afraid that the older man might hear his wildly thumping heartbeat.

“Are you ready for me to start?”

He nodded and forced himself to relax as Treize's fingers begun to knead the tense muscles at the back of his neck. The fact that Milliardo was only wearing pajama bottoms made things a lot easier. Strong but gentle hands pressed against his back; palms and fingers run over his shoulders working at the knots.

His anxiety faded away quickly. He closed his eyes and he felt like he was floating in a warm sea as the older man's hands stimulated the blood flow to his back. Strong, nimble fingers moved down his spine, thumbs pressed into pressure points.

“How does it feel?”

“Feels…good…” His speech was becoming somewhat slurred as he started to drift off.

Treize continued his massage. He would have loved to show the younger man that his talents didn't stop at easing tense muscles, but he had assured Milliardo that he wouldn't do anything; and a promise was a promise.
A few minutes later he noticed that the blond's breathing had become deep and even.

“Milliardo?” he asked quietly.

There was no answer. The young man had fallen asleep. His handsome face was peacefully relaxed, long silvery lashes touching faintly flushed cheeks, full lips slightly parted.

Treize smiled softly as he rose to his feet. He reached for the comforter and pulled it up to Milliardo's shoulders. “Sleep well.”

He turned off the radio and yawned. Perhaps I should try to get a little more sleep too.

###

Treize had just stepped out of the shower when the phone rang. He wrapped a towel around his hips and shuffled into the bedroom to take the call. “Peacecraft Residence.”

“Hi, it's me,” Milliardo's voice came from the other end of the line. “I'm such an airhead. I forgot the shopping list that I made this morning.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. It's sitting on the kitchen counter.”

“Good thing my head is attached to my shoulders,” the blond laughed somewhat sheepishly. “Or I might just forget it too some day. Can you do me a favor and read me the list.”

“Can I call you back with that; I just got out of the shower.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Are you planning on going to the market right after work?”

“Yes,” Milliardo confirmed. “I have a lot of overtime, so I'm going to leave work a couple hours early today. Oh, by the way. You don't have to worry about dinner tonight. It's Friday, Relena will be spending the evening with her friends. And I thought the two of us should go out for dinner too. There is this little Italian restaurant I love. They have the best `spaghetti a la carbonara' outside of Italy. I haven't been there in ages.”

“Hm…”

“What's wrong? You don't like Italian? We can go somewhere else.”

“No, that's not it,” Treize assured him quickly. “It's just that…you don't have to take me out for dinner. I feel bad enough as it is smooching off of you.”

Milliardo gave another laugh. “I wouldn't exactly call it smooching. Besides, I think it will be fun, and I insist that you come.”

“Very well,” the older man agreed. “If it makes you happy.”

“Great; it's a date then. I've got to go now. Don't forget to call me back with that shopping list.”

“I won't” Treize assured him.

###

The tawny haired man whistled quietly as he carried a load of cleaned and folded laundry upstairs. This morning when he had asked Milliardo to show him how to use the washing machine the young man had laughed and joked that he would have to start paying Treize soon as a live-in housekeeper.

Treize didn't mind the work. In fact it made him feel very relaxed and comfortable. It was hard to believe that only five days has passed since that night when the Peacecraft siblings had found him in the park. Somehow he felt like he had known them forever. Perhaps that was because `this' really was the only life he knew. He still didn't remember much of his past beyond these five days, and sometimes he wasn't sure if he wanted to remember. He really enjoyed his new life and, although he knew it couldn't' last forever, he wanted hold on to it for a while longer.

Treize walked back downstairs, empty laundry basket in one hand. The TV in the living room was running, turned to some local news channel. He listened to the newscast with only one ear as he went on with his chores, until the mentioning of the name Treize Khushrenada suddenly grabbed his attention. He turned his head to look at the TV and stopped dead in his tracks. Flickering on the screen was a picture of him, dressed in a navy blue three-piece Armani suit, smiling brilliantly into the camera.

Treize frowned as he walked to the nearest chair and dropped into the cushioned seat, his eyes never leaving the TV screen.

“…According to Lieutenant Snyder, spokesperson for the Orange County Police Department, the multimillionaire and chairman of `Oz Enterprises' was officially declared missing yesterday….”

The picture on the screen changed to show him together with a young woman. Her hair was pulled together into two braided buns, her eyes hidden beneath small, thin-rimmed glasses, giving her a very stern and professional appearance.

“…The Lieutenant told our reporter that Anneliese Une, Khushrenada's fiancé and long time business partner, informed the police on Monday about his disappearance. According to department policies a report was taken even though a missing person's case can not officially be opened until at least 72 hours after that person's disappearance….”

Khushrenada's fiancé and long time business partner…The line kept echoing through his mind. I'm engaged?! That's right. That woman... I think I remember her.

“…Last night Miss Une talked exclusively to our reporter Kristine Daun.” The newscaster continued. Then the picture cut to the taped interview.

Treize blinked. In the interview Miss Une looked nothing at all like the woman shown earlier in the picture with him. She was dressed in a very fashionable house suit. Her hair was loose and she was wearing no glasses.

“The police seemed to believe that Mr. Khushrenada disappeared on his own free will.” The reporter stated.

“Yes, I had that impression too when I talked to them. But Treize Khushrenada would never do such a thing.”

“We learned just hours ago that his car was found near the Rockfield International Airport.”

“Yes, they informed me about that.”

“But that still doesn't change your opinion?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Can you tell us a little more about your fiancé? We know that completely rebuilt `OZ Enterprises' after his father's death and became one of the most influential business people in this country within a few years. But how is he as a person?”

“He is kind, generous, intelligent, and has a great sense of humor. And he is very old school and hopelessly romantic. He is also the kind of person who will donate 10000 dollar to a charity and still feel bad for not doing more. OZ is his life. As you said, he completely rebuilt the company and put countless hours into it.”

“And you have been with him right from the beginning, haven't you?”

“More or less. His father took me as an intern only a few months before he passed away. When Treize took over the company he saw that I had pretty much the same vision as he, so he made me an executive manager and later I became his partner.”

“You are equal partners, aren't you?”

“That's right. Treize insisted on it. He said if anything was to happen to either of us the other one should be able to lead OZ in the way we had planned it.”

“Would you mind telling is when you saw Mr. Khushrenada for the last time and when you noticed that something wasn't right?”

“Of course not. We attended a business dinner on Sunday evening after which he drove me home. He stayed for a cup of coffee and excused himself around 10:30, because we both had to get up early the next morning. When he didn't show up in the office the following day I knew immediately that something was wrong. It's not his style to be tardy. He usually even calls when he is stuck in traffic and late in the morning. I called his cell phone all day long but he didn't answer, so I went to the police that evening…”

Treize was barely listening to the rest of the interview. His head was spinning, trying to comprehend the things he just heard. It was like parts of a puzzle were suddenly starting to fall into place. Finally his nightmare was starting to make sense. He had driven her home after dinner and left his car in the street while he went inside with her for a cup of coffee. - He still didn't remember much off that part, but if she said so, that's how it must have been.

When he came back somebody was trying to break into his car. He remembered yelling at the man, but he didn't realize that there was a second crook until something hit him on the head from behind. After that everything went black, and he had no idea what happened until he woke in the back of his own car.

The tawny haired man finally turned off the TV, picked up the phone and called `Information'.

“The listing for the main office of OZ Enterprises please,” he requested.

Moments later he dialed that number. A machine picked up on the other end, and an automated, female voice asked him to dial the extension of the person he wanted to reach or to press 0 for the operator.

Treize hesitated for a second or two before he pushed 7 5 3. He wasn't sure how he knew this number; it was just another memory triggered by newscast.

After the second ring somebody picked up. “OZ Enterprises, Anneliese Une's office.”

It was her voice, he was sure. “Anne?” he asked hesitantly, instinctively using the shortened form of her name as he always did.

There was a moment of surprised silence. “Treize?” she asked. “Treize is that you? Where are you?”

He opened his mouth for a reply but suddenly he wasn't sure what to say. What am I doing? He pressed the `off' button and stood there frozen for several moments before hanging the phone slowly back into its cradle.

###

When Milliardo came home his houseguest was sitting in the living room, reading a newspaper. He couldn't help but notice that the older man seemed a little more serious than usually.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

“Everything is fine,” Treize assured him, but his smile looked somewhat forced.

Milliardo didn't push the issue any further. Whatever it was, Treize apparently didn't want to talk about it. “Would you mind helping me bring in the groceries from the car?” he asked instead.

“Of course.” Treize folded the paper up and rose. “How was your day?” he wanted to know.

“Rather slow, but I'm not complaining. I'm glad that I don't work tonight. Friday night is always crazy in the emergency room for some reason.”

The two men continued to make small talk as they unloaded the car and put away the groceries. Treize pulled two bottles of red wine from one of the paper bags and raised one eyebrow in mild surprise. He had never seen Milliardo drink.

The blond, noticing the reaction, shrugged. “They were on sale, and I thought it would be nice to have some at home. I don't know much about wine though.”

Treize nodded. “I see.”

“By the way,” the younger man continued. “I'm not working this weekend. What would you think about driving up to the mountains to go fishing?”

“Fishing?” Treize echoed. “I'm not sure, but I don't think I have ever been fishing before.”

“It will be fun,” Milliardo insisted. “A family friend owns a cabin up at Lake Mammoth. I called him earlier today and he said we can have it for the weekend. So, what do you think?”

“I'm looking forward to it. It does sound like fun. But what about the pets?”

“We will take Scruff; he will love it up there. Relena will take care of the cats.”

“You mean she is not going to come with us?” Treize asked.

“Relena, in the mountains, fishing; are you kidding me? She would never spend the weekend that far away from her friends and `civilization'. No internet, no shopping mall, and did I mention it's a cabin in the woods?”

Treize chuckled. “Well, if you take it that way…”

Milliardo smiled, glad that the older man seemed in better spirits now. ___________________________________________________________________________ _______________

T.B.C.

 

Author's Note: 

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