19 Dec 1999
Hello, mina -
I don't know how many will be interested in this - it's the last fic in a four fic series I've written on the early years of Zechs Merquise (nee Milliard Peacecraft.) It's a rather gothic little number, and comes with a definite angst warning (but of course if you know anything about sexy Zechsy you figured that, didn't you! ^_^)
Anyway, this is the fic that follows the last one I posted, Exile.
As always, I sincerely appreciate constructive criticism and/or comments.
Thanks,
kumiko
based on the song by Counting Crows (music & lyrics A. Duritz)
DISCLAIMER: All Gundam Wing characters are property of Sunrise, Bandai Visuals, Sotsu Agency, and Asahi TV. This work is not written for profit, but for entertainment purposes only.
Author's Notes: This fic takes place immediately following "Exile." It occurs during the evening of the day the Sank Kingdom is destroyed and the morning that follows. It is written from Milliard's point of view, but in third-person.
Key for punctuation:
"..." - character dialogue
/.../ - character thoughts
>...< - song lyrics
> All of a sudden she disappears
Just yesterday she was here <
They had put him in the attic. Try as he might, Milliard Peacecraft could not stop comparing what he was going through now with what his life had been like yesterday at this same time.
Yesterday he had played hide and go seek in the nursery with a very eager Relena, until they had been summoned by the nanny to dinner with their parents. This was a rare treat and they had been dressed more formally and made to look much neater than they would have if dinner had been, as usual, in their own rooms.
Today, he had seen the last he would see of his sister for God knew how long, perhaps forever. With one blow from the Federation, his relationship with the feisty toddler that he loved more than life itself was gone. He hadn't said goodbye to her, or gotten a chance to explain why he wouldn't be there in the morning, when she woke up. Not then - not ever. As Darlian had explained it to him, it would be as if he had never existed.
>Somebody tell me if I'm am sleeping
Someone should be with me here
'Cause I don't wanna be alone - <
Darlian had brought him to this small house with its grim but loyal occupants and then was leaving to go back to his family which, apparently, now included Milliard's sister. The mistress of the house had told Milliard to go upstairs and clean himself up. Instead, he had lingered by the top of the stairs, listening to the adults talk about his father, his mother, the country, and, finally, about him and what would have to be done with him.
"He's a danger to anyone who keeps him, I have to tell you," Darlian was saying. "They were very clear on wanting the Royal Family exterminated -that was their term. I'm sure they'll keep a unit on lookout for him - at least for the foreseeable future."
"Whatever do we do with him, then?" the master of the house had exclaimed to Darlian. "I'm as loyal as can be to my King, but I can't put my wife at risk..."
Darlian had reassured the man. "It's just for tonight, I'll find another place for him tomorrow, I promise you."
And so it was sealed. He would be kept here, like an unstable element, under the careful watch of these two until tomorrow, when they would breathe a sigh of relief to see him go.
/I thought these feelings would end with the attack... but... here they are again... worthless coward! First I allow my own parents to be killed, and now simply having me around can put innocent people at risk. All because I was selfish... all because *I* didn't know what to do when my country needed me. When my father needed me... Please God! Is this a bad dream? Can I wake up now? Please! Please - I want to wake up!/
>Wanna be the knife that cuts into my hand and I
Wanna be scattered from here in this catapult
What a big baby, won't somebody save me please?
Can't find nobody home... <
Darlian's last words to his hosts still echoed in Milliard's head. "I hope to find him a place to stay, if not permanently, then at least for several months at a time. Obviously it can't be anywhere in the country. Too much temptation for the boy - to see his sister, the try to see his home, what there is left of it."
The master of the house had found his voice again and had said, in hushed tones, "I have it from a friend in the capitol that the Federation force are going to establish a base here - the bastards. Do you think they really will?"
"It's almost certain," Darlian replied. "And you may feel that way towards them now, but we'll all have to work with them once they're here and established. We can't be seen to be openly hostile."
What was the man saying? Was he really suggesting that the people of Sank should cooperate with the Federation? He couldn't be and yet - /How can you say that, Darlian? How can you even *think* about working with the people who killed my father?/
It was too much to take in. For the hundredth time that day he fought back tears as he stood and then ran up the stairs, following the mistress' directions to the small room at the top of the house. Pushing his way in through a narrow door, he fell to his knees and the tears coming despite all of his efforts to stop them. /Father! Father, please come and take me! I want to go with you! I want to be with you and mother - wherever it is you've gone to. I don't care, just please, *please* don't go away and leave me here alone!/
Hard, desperate sobs wracked the small frame, going on for what seemed an eternity to Milliard until the tears finally gave way to a sudden, strange calm. Everything, every part of him now felt different than it had just a moment ago. Heavy and dull, and all the feeling seemed to be going out of his arms and legs, his hands and feet becoming numb. It was as if, without any warning, his body was giving up its sense of touch. He could think and feel terror and despair, but his body just wasn't there. He was only a mind... a senseless, grieving mind...
With a little scream, he stood up suddenly, almost losing his balance because he couldn't feel his legs. His eyes widened in horror as he held his hands out in front of his face. They were refusing to bring in the sensations they should have. Nothing but horrible, numb flesh.
/Am I here? Am I really here? Maybe... maybe I died, too. Maybe I died, but I just don't know it yet. Dead people don't feel things. But if I *am* dead, where's Father? Why am I here and not with him? Unless - /
He broke off, horrified before he could even finish the thought. He was here, in this cold and lonely place. His father was somewhere else. Only one explanation for that.
"Am I... am I in Hell?" he whispered into the dusty attic air. "For being such a baby - for not trying harder to defeat those soldiers... I have to know..."
That need to know, that singular sense of purpose sent a strange calm over him. He walked around the small room, looking for something that would tell him the truth about himself, and where he was. He found it in the form of a small, folding blade, kept next to a thick cream-colored candle, no doubt for trimming the wick and scraping wax.
Lifting the blade up in front of him, he stared at it for a moment, then brought it down and across his wrist in a brief, horizontal sweep. The pain flashed through him and dark red blood oozed from the cut and began to drip softly onto the floorboards.
/Well, it looks like I'm alive after all.../
>All of these tired, battered voices
Wait for the hunger to come<
He was wandering around the palace, looking for his family in the darkness. It was bitterly cold and there was smell of blood and gunpowder in the air. There were soldiers outside but he couldn't stop to fight them - he had to find his family. He could hear his mother and father talking, in one of the rooms in the south wing. He called and called for them but they never called back. Every room he went into was cold and dark - utterly empty. He walked until he was exhausted but their voices began to fade, until at last he couldn't hear them anymore. Not knowing what else to do, he sat down at the base of the grand staircase and waited for one of the soldiers to come and shoot him.
Luckily he didn't have to wait long. The sound of footsteps through the front hall, the silhouette of someone in uniform against the large, moonlit window, and the sight of the gun, its barrel pointed directly at his head. Just before the soldier pulled the trigger, his face turned slightly and Milliard Peacecraft was allowed to behold his executioner. It was, strangely enough, himself.
>Got little revolvers, stupid choices
No one to say when we're done
Well, I don't wanna bring you down - <
"Aaaah!" He sat up suddenly and found himself back in the small attic room. Watery morning light filtered through dusty windows and didn't help much to drive the horrible sight of the dream from his mind. He was on the floor, a small blanket covering him, although he couldn't remember finding one. There was a knock at the door and he held the blanket to his chest tightly, not knowing what to expect, or who should be coming.
The mistress of the house, looking tired and somewhat frightened, came into the room, stopping in her tracks at the sight of the blond boy. They regarded each other warily for a moment, then she attempted a smile and curtsied. "'Morning your Highness, that is, Master Merquise. I've brought some breakfast and some hot water. The pipes don't come up here." She set a tray down on one of the dusty bookcases and carried a large pitcher of water to a basin and mirror near the back of the room. From over her shoulder she pulled a small towel and put it down beside the basin.
He hadn't forgotten his manners. He stood, a little shaky, and bowed as best he could. "Thank you. What you and your husband are doing is... very kind." The words came out beautifully, it just didn't feel like he was the one saying them.
"Mister Darlian will be here in an hour. He's found a place in the east where you can stay, at least for now - " The woman's sensible face seemed to crumple in on itself suddenly, and she went down on one knee, crying.
"Oh my dear little Prince Milliard! Shall we ever see you again in this country? Will you come back one day, come back and be our King? You have such a strong look of your father about you..."
He couldn't bring himself to look at her. "Please, don't kneel for me. I'm... not a prince... anymore... I'm just a boy, like any other. I'm Zechs Merquise. Not Milliard - Zechs Merquise. And no one should have to bow before *him.*"
She left him with his cooling oatmeal and his cooling bath water. The former looked very unappetizing, so he moved slowly to the latter. It seemed to take every effort just to keep focused on what he needed to do to wash himself. At last he was done though, and poured fresh water into the basin for a last splash of his face. Brushing off the droplets, he raised his head and looked into the mirror over the basin for the first time. He saw a pale but familiar face, its fine features surrounded with strands of white-gold hair. He stared at himself and then, slowly, brought one hand up, the thumb and forefinger shaped to look like a gun. He watched with rapt attention as the forefinger was pressed against his temple, followed by a quick downward movement of the thumb, and heard, far off, the echo of another gun, pressed against another Peacecraft head.
> Wanna be the light that burns out your eyes, cause I know Little things about me that would sing in the silence of So much rejection, in every connection I make Can't find nobody home...<
He was coming down the stairs when he heard Darlian let in. He decided to wait until the adults had had their time to talk, and so sat down in the middle of the staircase and listened.
"I had a terrible time finding a suitable place. The first five families I called hung up when they saw it was from me. Everyone is just too afraid of what the Federation might do... but I found a place, as I told you, in Eastern Europe and they've agreed to keep him there for at least several weeks."
The master was speaking. "Can you keep doing this, Mister Darlian? It seems rather dangerous considering you have the little girl in your family, now. Might not this effort on behalf of the boy bring... unwanted attention?"
Darlian responded, "It's true, I'll have to pass this job off to someone else very soon, or the Federation might get wind of what I'm doing. We can't have the princess' well-being threatened in that way."
/Relena? Threatened? Not by me, surely... but... if I'm anywhere around her, she might be... that's why it has to be out of the country. I can't come back here as long as there's a chance she might be hurt./
The two men came around the corner and caught Milliard by surprise. He looked up at them with a start, and stood suddenly, grasping the handrail of the stairs. Darlian attempted a kindly face. "Well, Master Merquise -the time is here. There's a car waiting outside to take you to a private airfield. From there you'll travel to the home of the couple who have agreed to take you in. They live a very secluded life and it appears from all we can tell that your safety there will be assured. Please, this way." He gestured towards the front door of the house and Milliard walked slowly down the stairs.
He was whisked into the car faster than he could think and now sat, feeling very small, looking out at Darlian who was giving the driver last-minute instructions. /No one wanted me... they're all afraid... I'm afraid... so tired of feeling that way... but you, Darlian - are you afraid? Will you remember this? I want you to. I want you to remember me... as your life becomes comfortable again... remember me, and this moment.../
> Wanna be the light that burns out your eyes, cause I know Little things about me that would sing in the silence of So much rejection, in every connection I make< >I wanna be the last thing that you hear when you're falling asleep<
He kept his eyes on the man who had been his father's closest aide. And as he stared, Darlian turned his eyes towards the small blond boy looking somberly out from the backseat of the car. It seemed to Milliard that the man's face paled somewhat then; that a little of the confidence he displayed with the householders and the driver drained away.
/Good. You should look like that. Otherwise you won't remember... no one will remember... who it was killed my father, separated his children, destroyed our homeland. Remember, Darlian... remember.../
>I wanna be the knife that cuts into my hand and I
Wanna be scattered from here in this catapult
What a big baby, won't somebody take me please?
Can't find nobody home... <
owari
(:./kumiko/bblood4)
