16 Oct 2000
Chapter 6 - a dramatic encounter. Thanks to those who continue to commet. ^_^ kumi
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.
PAIRINGS: 6X9 AND 13X6
WARNING: sap
Three days had passed since Zechs had found the strange note on the mirror at Sohm's. Two days in which he tried every way he knew how to get *someone* living with in the palace with him to confess, but no one took him up on the offer. He gave Noin every opportunity, poked and prodded Relena until she glared at him, and even went as far as to question Ender rather vaguely, but the look he got back from the butler was equally vague.
So, with five days to go until his wedding, Zechs Marquise slipped on his driving shoes and put on his sunglasses, mourning for the briefest of moments his pair of leather driving gloves. They'd been a present from Treize on his 17th birthday, but he had no idea where they were now. He walked down to the palace garage and asked the mechanic, Marta, which car was fastest and whether it was ready to drive. He was not disappointed by the woman's answer.
She got him set in the small, red convertible and gave him directions to a closed track where he could open the car up and get a sense of real speed. A feeling of something almost like happiness came over him as he checked all the gauges and mirrors, not unlike his charge-up routine in Tallgeese had been. With a last nod of his head to the mechanic, he accelerated smoothly and in less than five minutes was out of sight of the palace.
Watching the small sports car disappear around the drive, Marta took an envelope out of her shirt pocket and looked again at it's contents. "Certainly seems generous just for putting something in the glove compartment..."
"What information have you got for me?"
"He's taken the car out."
"Splendid. How I wish I could go and meet him somewhere..."
"Perhaps that might be the easiest course."
"But it would have none of the dramatic effect. No, I want him to be telling our grandchildren about this when we're both wrinkled and he's got flowing silver hair. I want to make an *impression.*"
"Well, if anxiety is part of that impression, you seem to have done just that."
"It's not so bad, is it? Surely he's not *too* upset by all of this..."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that."
"Really? Hmm... I suppose some sacrifices are necessary for the sake of the goal..."
"As you say..."
Idling at the entrance to the driving track, Zechs checked the little clock on the gleaming, teak dashboard. /I have an hour and a half until the rehearsal. Plenty of time, plenty of time.../ He was about to put his foot to the accelerator pedal when he noticed a rather large piece of white paper hanging out of the glove compartment.
For a moment he thought of ignoring it. But the more he thought about it sticking out like that - like a note or an envelope had been stuffed into the compartment and the door jammed shut on it - the more it bothered him until he swore under his breath and opened the glove compartment door to poke whatever it was back in.
It *was* an envelope - an envelope just like the one he'd gotten in Sohm's. Small, with his name neatly written on the front. Once again, he slid it open carefully and read the note inside.
"You've always taken my breath away with the adorable obsession of yours. But I long for you to do it in other ways as well when we see each other again. Until that time, I've taken the liberty of leaving a token of my affection for you in the trunk. Drive safely."
The tall blond slumped in the driver's seat and stared at the note. He didn't recognize the handwriting, so it must have been that whoever was sending him these things was getting someone else to write them.
And now, what about this "token of affection" in the trunk? Zechs had spent far too much time in the military to stop his mind enumerating the many possible threats it might pose., but in the end, decided that if it were something truly dangerous, like an explosive of some kind, it probably would have gone off already. Why rely on someone to open the trunk - it was much more certain that death would occur if the car itself were wired.
The train of his thoughts led him to brood for a bit on the possibility of these things being from someone who had lost loved ones in the war, perhaps at his hands, and now had come to exact their revenge on the Lightning Baron. /But if that were it, he thought, /then I deserve whatever it is, so to hell with it - let's take a look./
Opening the tiny door, he unfolded himself from the front seat and walked to the trunk, releasing it as he did so. It swung open slowly and he braced himself for the worst. It was, however, perfectly empty except for a pair of supple, leather driving gloves.
Zechs's face went utterly white.
/They can't be... not the same ones... those were still with.../ "NO!"
The sound of his voice startled him. He hadn't realized he's said that expression of disbelief aloud and now he stood, trembling, as he picked up the gloves and stared at them. Memories of when he'd first gotten them from Treize flooded him. And as they did, he realized that there *was* a way of telling if these were the same ones...
It had been on his birthday, in the springtime, and warmer-than-usual weather in Bremen had made Treize's beloved rose plants blossom much earlier than usual. They had gone for a walk in the garden and, sitting on a small stone bench amidst the roses, Treize had given the gloves to him.
"I *know* you, Milliard - you're one of those who feel they can't go fast enough and therefore seek out all sorts of danger in the name of Speed. Well, if you're going to drive, and obviously *I* can do nothing to stop you, it's best that you have the proper equipment." He had taken the gloves from Zechs and pointed out all the different features that made them the best and Zechs had teased him that Une had probably done all the research on them.
"Automobiles are not one of my joys, Milliard" the soon-to-be General of OZ murmured, leaning over to slip them onto Zechs's hands. "I leave them to you. Give me a well-bred horse and carriage any day."
"Stick-in-the-mud," Zechs had teased. Then, looking to his left, he spotted a perfect rose bud - half open - and reached for it to give to Treize in thanks. "Look here," he'd said cheerfully, "I can even use them for gardening - ahhh!!!"
A sharp stabbing pain had gone through his finger and he'd pulled back from the rose bush, pulling the glove off and watching a large drop of blood swell up from a puncture wound in the tip of his index finger. The thorn of the rose had gone clear through the leather of the glove.
Treize had reached over and caught his hand, murmuring questions about whether he was all right and did he need to see a doctor? Zechs had shaken his head.
"We'll get it properly cleaned and bandaged when we get back to the base," Treize had said and then he'd lifted the injured finger to his mouth, sucking on it gently and all the time staring into the blond boy's eyes.
Zechs had been sufficiently distracted that it was several days later when he discovered the tiny puncture hole in the buttery-soft leather glove.
Coming out of the reverie of that long-ago time, Zechs had turned over the left hand glove and looked at the top of the index finger pouch.
In the middle of it was a tiny puncture.
Suddenly the warm summer day turned chilly. These were the same gloves that Treize had given him. Gloves that he used only when he was at the Bremen headquarters or at Treize's family estate in Kiev. He never taken them with him when he left OZ... when he'd left Treize. Yet here they were, in the trunk of a car he'd just decided to drive from the Sank Palace garage.
/Someone is playing a very cruel joke on me.../ he thought as his finger ran over that puncture hole. /Making me think of him... think of the times that we were together, even as I'm preparing to wed Noin. But *why*...?/
Completely bewildered, he sat down on the ground, leaning back against one of the convertible's tires and leaning his propping his forehead against the hand that held the gloves.
"What am I missing?" he murmured to himself. "Everything idea I come up with is impossible..."
He stayed there for a long time, just thinking, trying to make sense of it all.
The wedding rehearsal was taking place in the palace chapel, where Noin had asked to have the ceremony. Although Zechs wasn't at all religious, Noin still felt it important that her marriage be sanctified by some religious establishment and he hadn't objected. Now he stood in the front of the chapel with Howard, who had just arrived to assume his role as best man.
The priest who would be marrying them was smiling benignly on Zechs as they all waited for first Sally and then Noin to walk in a sufficiently stately manner down the long, dark red runner of the chapel aisle.
As Zechs watched Noin walking towards him, her face alight with sheer joy, and a lot of self-consciousness, he had to smile. It was starting to feel more right, this marriage he had agreed to, and that had to be a good thing. It was good for a man to be comfortable about the important, lifetime decisions he made, and while Zechs couldn't yet claim comfort, he at least was not dreading the upcoming ceremony.
Now Sally had walked to the left side of the space they occupied before the altar and Noin stepped up, taking Zechs's arm, which he offered with a soft smile. She squeezed him, eyes bright, and they climbed two steps up to the altar proper. She let go of him to hold onto the pretty nosegay that Relena had made up for the rehearsal and Zechs clasped his hands behind his back, trying hard to listen to the priest's instructions, despite a slight chill going up his back, the result of a draft somewhere in the chapel.
The cleric had been talking for fifteen minutes when he remembered that a chalice was needed at a particular point in the ceremony. Telling Zechs and Noin to wait where they were, he hurried off to the vestry to get it. A pity he did, actually, because he missed what happened next and the resulting excitement.
As they all stood in the front of the chapel, talking amongst themselves, there was a strange little noise, as if something were heading through the air somewhere in the building. It was subtle, faint, but it was there. The next moment it whizzed past their heads and hit the back wall of the altar and fell on the floor at Zechs's feet. They all peered down at the thing. It was an exquisite, solitary rose, deepest red, just about to bloom fully.
Zechs spun around, pale gold hair a flying main out behind him and what he saw at the back of the chapel made the room lurch and spin, threatening to go completely out of his control.
Standing near the doors that Noin had walked through earlier was Treize Khushrenada, dressed in long, close-fitting black trousers and boots, and a silky, dark blue shirt the color of his eyes. He stood looking down the aisle at Zechs, one hand on his hip, the other relaxed at his side and his gaze did not waver.
"Have we gotten to the part," he said in his resonant tenor, "where the congregation is asked if anyone objects to the marriage? Because *I* have a definite objection."
Zechs had taken a few steps towards the man, searching his face to try to convince himself he was really seeing what he thought he was. "Treize...?" he whispered, not taking his eyes from the man.
Relena stalked forward. "What kind of trick are you playing here? Dressing up as Treize and trying to get some reaction out of my brother! Well, it's *not* funny! In fact -"
Zechs held out an arm to silence her, still staring at the tall man near the doors. "Don't Relena," he said hoarsely. "It's him. I'd know him... anywhere..."
Treize lifted a forked brow. "You don't know how pleased I am to hear you say that, Milliard."
As the two men continued to stare at each other, no one noticed Noin clapping her hand over her mouth and running out of the chapel.
End of Part 6
(:./kumiko/rosen6)
