5 Feb 2000
Hello, minna -
This is Secundus, the next fic in the Triptych series. It explores the change in Treize and Zechs' relationship from being strictly platonic to being romantic (but not yet sexual) in nature. It follows the first fic in this series: Primus.
Feedback and helpful criticism are always welcome.
Thanks,
kumi
ZnM
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 Note: Secundus occurs in A.C. 189. Treize is 18 and back from L3. Zechs is 13 and has been out of touch with Treize since they last saw each other a year earlier.
Key for punctuation:
"..." - character dialogue
/.../ - character thoughts
Treize:
/I simply *must* get out of this house. If I don't I will no doubt become more unpleasant than any of the horrid guests staying here at the moment and that, of course, is unacceptable. So I'll look like the Esquimaux if I have to, but I *will* go out and shoot today./ Treize Khushrenada recalled those passionate words as he stood, freezing cold at the trap field, stamping his feet up and down to try to stay warm while the older men all took their turns. He would not return before 4pm, because he had announced that time to his mother and her assorted guests and Treize was nothing if not true to his word. He was, at the moment, regretting that characteristic of his.
It had been bitterly cold for over a week and the house guests that often came for a month in January had been grumbling their way through breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with elevenses and teas in-between. He himself had stayed mostly to his own rooms, recovering from an injury he'd sustained in a battle on L3. It would take another two weeks before his leg was strong enough to run on, three more after that before it returned to absolutely normal functioning.
So here he was, at his parent's home outside Kiev, standing in a snowy field in sub-zero temperatures, just to get some air. /This place - I haven't come out here since... Milliard,/ he sighed heavily at the thought of the young, golden-haired prince whom he had befriended seven years ago on his one and only visit to the Sank Kingdom. /I wonder where he is... why he hasn't been in touch with me.../ He shook his head to clear those thoughts, which only led to unhappiness, and gazed out across the long, snowy field.
His eye caught a figure coming towards them from the house. From this distance he could tell nothing of the age or gender of the person, only that whoever it was wore a long dark coat with a deep hood, the bottom of which was pulled around the person's face. Treize followed the mysterious visitor's progress as it came nearer. Finally it gained the field and came to stand next to Treize. The person, it appeared to be a male, was about three inches shorter than Treize, making him roughly 5'9". He wore very large, dark sunglasses that covered most of his face that was not shielded by the coat.
Treize nodded to the newcomer politely. "Good afternoon. Would you care to join us in a bit of shooting? Our trapmaster is excellent."
"Thank you," a smooth, baritone voice replied. "I would like that very much." Treize signaled to his valet to fetch another gun from the trap house and, as the last of the older men was finishing, the newcomer had his gun and was sighting through it, getting used to the feel. Treize was up next, and he couldn't help but show off to the new arrival. He told his trap master to to send out three down the line, and neatly hit all of them, sending clay shards raining to the ground. He did the same on the next two shoots and then smiled just a bit smugly, and waved a graceful hand to let the newcomer know it was his turn. The mysterious visitor asked for the same three-down-the-line pull as Treize had. As the clays went out, the man (if indeed he *was* a man) coolly shot all three. He turned and nodded to Treize before asking for four clays on the next pull.
/Who is this?/ Treize thought in mild irritation. /Someone trying to show off, but he'll be shut down soon enough. Pulls of fours and fives were only attempted by the best in the sport.
The trapmaster pulled and Treize, along with the crowd of men behind him, watched anxiously as each clay in turn was struck precisely. A perfect four. The older men were muttering amongst themselves and Treize was about to offer a grudging compliment when the visitor took his last pull and requested a five. /Five? No one but the world's best clay shooters would ever attempt a five. Who does this man think he is? Surely he can't.../ The trap was pulled and as the older men watched the clays eagerly, Treize kept his eye on the shooter himself. Everything about him was icily calm, his stance showing no excess movement, the gun aimed precisely at each target with an amazing combination of precision and speed. Treize could tell just from watching the man that all five of the clays would be hit.
His admiration was more than grudging now - even he knew when someone had proved himself beyond all doubt. The older men gathered around the visitor, clapping him on the back and remarking on his prowess. At long last they departed as a group, leaving Treize and the mysterious shooter standing across from each other.
"You're an amazing shooter," Treize murmured, "Do you compete professionally?"
"No," the man said, "the leagues have a strict age limit. You have to be over sixteen to compete."
Treize frowned at the man. "Sixteen - surely you must be - "
A sudden sweep of one of the visitor's hands brushed the hood aside as the other removed the sunglasses. Treize's felt his breath taken completely away by the long shock of platinum hair that spilled out from beneath the hood. The effect was complete when he looked at the long-lashed, ice-blue eyes.
"Hello again , Treize," murmured thirteen-year-old Zechs Merquise.
"Milliard..." came the breathy reply. Treize reached out a hand tentatively, as if the vision before him might disappear if he moved the wrong way. The sleekly gloved fingers touched a cold-reddened cheek and stroked it, breath coming harder in icy clouds. "Y... You must be chilled to the bone, dear friend. Please - come into the house and get warm." He said it all in a kind of dreamy murmur, then dropped his hand and led the two of them back to the warmth of the Khushrenada mansion.
They had slipped past two rooms full of houseguests and run up the stairs to Treize's rooms and now, as Milliard stood by the fire, Treize had a chance to see what changes the year had wrought on his friend. They had been dramatic, that was certain enough. He had gained what must be three full inches in height and a wealth of pale gold hair, that fell in one smooth, silky curtain almost to the middle of his back. His face had gotten leaner, the beauty more masculine and less androgynous than the last time he'd seen the boy. And, the young prince turned to look at the fire, and Treize allowed his eyes the luxury of running along Milliard's body, he noticed a wealth of new musculature and a distinct broadening of the boy's chest and shoulders. /Oh, Milliard... such a precocious thing you are.../
Treize came out of the reverie to find Milliard staring at him, a puzzled look in his eyes. "Treize? Is something wrong?"
The older boy shook his head. "Oh no, Milliard, on the contrary - my lovely prince is here and all's right with the world."
Milliard regarded him for a moment, then gave him a strange smile. "I don't go by that name anymore, you know."
"My dear friend," Treize murmured, "to me you will *always* be Milliard..."
The blond boy strode to Treize's bookshelves. "And... I'm definitely not a prince anymore. No. I've got another occupation now - or will have come this spring." He tilted his head to peer at the book titles more closely.
/Dear God, save me - he's adorable.../ "Another occupation, you say. Goodness aren't you a bit young for an occupation? What about your schooling?
Milliard lifted his hand up and touched the spine of a book, but then dropped his arm and moved on. "I'm doing that now, as part of the preparation. Very intensive courses, indeed, but when I'm done I will have a very good position." He ran his fingers lightly over the rest of spines in that case and moved to the other one. "I stand for my final exams in May."
"Well *now* you've really got me intrigued, my dear boy. Come on now, out with it - what's the name of your school and what are they teaching you?"
Milliard turned a smiled at his friend. "It the Specials Academy at Lake Victoria, and they're teaching me how to be the best mobile suit pilot on Earth or in Space."
To say that Treize was surprised would have been a very polite understatement. He could feel his eyes widen and his heart gave a strange flutter inside his chest. /Don't die, Milliard - oh dear god, please don't die.../ "The Specials..." he managed to whisper, "but - my uncle Dermail runs the Specials, why wouldn't I have known that?"
Another slow smile as the blond turned back to the bookcase. "Because I'm not Milliard Peacecraft there, I'm Zechs Merquise. They certainly don't know any different. You do, and perhaps your uncle, but that's about it. As far as the instructors go, I'm just another cadet, and that suits me very well indeed."
Treize thought back to Christmas Eve of the last year. He and Milliard, sitting in front of the tree at 3am. Milliard had been almost playing with the mobile suit set a guest had given Treize's nephews. It had been clumsy play, as if the boy holding the tiny figures had never done this sort of imagining before. And Treize had clasped his hand over Milliard's guiding him, showing him the very basic moves an MS pilot would use. When they had finished, the tiny toy air base was in pieces on the floor and their hands still held the equally tiny MS. He had spoken words that chilled me then. A voice that should have been youthful, saying youthful things, instead sounded like a man's - hardened and weary, but determined to do anything. "I want to do that to the people who killed my father" he had said. And apparently he had meant it.
"Zechs! How marvelous that you could come! I've been wondering how you were faring! Come! Let me take a look at you!" My mother's charm and enthusiasms could always win over even the shyest guest and she was no less successful with Milliard. We walked over to where she sat, pale with the pain that the tumor had brought her, but ready to pour the tea. She brightened considerably as she ran her eyes up and down my friend. "My, you are growing up so amazingly handsome, Zechs," she said in a voice that was warmly pleased.
"His hair is too long," a high voice came from somewhere nearby.
Zechs looked at my mother quizzically, not quite knowing if she had made the comment or not. "I... I beg your... pardon?" I felt a movement somewhere near my feet and looked down to see a young girl with her head sticking out from the table cloth. She was looking up at Milliard and tapping in an irritated manner on my shoe.
I stepped back. "Dorothy, what *are* you doing under there? Come out this instant and apologize to my guest.
Milliard looked at me, his expression stricken. "Oh, no... no she doesn't hav-"
"Nonsense! She was hiding and eavesdropping on a conversation that was not meant for her ears. She then decided to join it, so she must abide by the rules of etiquette which say that insults are to be followed by apologies." I crossed my arms as my young cousin stood up, a petulant look on her face. She folded hers as well and stared up at me with all the bravado she could muster, which was actually quite a lot. "Apologize. Now," I said in a firm voice.
She scowled at me and turned, almost, but not quite looking at Milliard. "I'm sorry," came the grudging words, whereupon she spun back to me and said, "But it *is* too long, you know. *Girls* are supposed to have long hair, *boys* are supposed to have short hair."
I raised an eyebrow, ready to give her a good lecture, when Milliard interrupted me. "Perhaps," he said to Dorothy softly, "it seems too long to you. But, my father had longer hair than this. He always wore his hair long and well, he died several years ago. I keep my hair long out of respect for him. I hope you will forgive me for being sentimental about it."
Dorothy stood, at a loss for words after Milliard's tender confession. The rest of us were in no less awe - I had never known why his hair was long. It simply was, I adored it that way, and so I'd not thought to even ask. But from that point on I believed that whenever I admired Milliard's pale gold mane, I would also remember the love and the enormous respect he had for his father, the fallen King of Sank.
Dorothy regained her composure faster than any of the adults in the room. "Well, I suppose it's okay then," she remarked in a generous manner. "My aunt and uncle," and here she smiled sweetly at my mother, "gave me a wonderful castle this year." She took Milliard's arm, pulling him towards the far corner of the room. He looked back helplessly as she went on describing it. "It has knights, and dragons, and *scores* of soldiers with cannons and swords - oh! and a prince and princess who fall in love..."
I smiled and gave my poor friend a wink. It would be good training for him. If here was to be an officer, and I had no doubt he'd finish with excellent marks, he would have to become accustomed to attending formal dinners and talking to incomprehensible females. My cousin Dorothy would be the perfect test case. If one can hold one's own with Dorothy, one is likely to succeed with all the rest of the world's population.
I sat next to my mother and accepted a cup of tea - a refreshing Ceylon -and waited for the Questioning and Judgment. It was inevitable with my mother. She was the keenest student of human nature that I ever met and she was ruthless in her research. "So, have you found out what he's been doing the past year? Why he didn't write to you? Hmm?" She looked worried for a moment and grasped my arm. "Please don't tell me you two have had a falling out - I *do* so want it to work out the way you hope it will."
"I'm not sure where he was all last winter, nor during the summer, but from Spring of last year up to the present he has been at Lake Victoria." I raised an eyebrow at her knowingly.
She sat back and stared at me, the smiled. "He's in the Academy? Milli-Zechs? How *very* astonishing. That's the absolute last place I'd expect him to be - unless you put him up to something?" She was giving me a very sly smile and I realized I might as well confess all. I moved in very close to her, making certain no one else could hear.
"Well, let's just say that he had been feeling for many years a certain... anger, shall we say, at the way the Federation treated his father and his homeland. When we spoke last Christmas he... well he expressed a great interest in mobile suits and in what they could do. I have to admit, I may have, well... *encouraged* him a bit in that direction. But for the life of me I never really thought he'd do it somehow." I thought about the trap field then and told her about the amazing shooting skill he'd displayed, and how last year he couldn't hit a thing.
"Perhaps that is what he did with some of his time," my mother mused. "Perhaps he found someone who could train him on the basics - it certainly would have made his application to the Academy highly competitive."
I remember then, his words at that lonely trap field over a year ago: "I'm not giving up, Treize. I'm thinking about what I did wrong so I can do better next time." I thought about him; thought about his beautiful face that was always so earnest, so serious. Yes, I could well imagine him practicing his shooting, his fencing, his eye-hand skills - all those things a pilot would need. And I could also see him up until the small hours or else rising before everyone else, practicing and practicing, until he got it right.
"Yes," I finally answered my mother, mind only half there, the other half on my young friend across the room. "Yes, I'm certain that's what he must have done." She looked at me oddly and went on to serve tea to several of her cousins who had come up to talk. I sat and thought about things. If Milliard was that well practiced at the basics, what other research might he have been doing over the past year...?
We had gotten through dinner and had escaped to the comfort of my room. My mother had put Milliard up in the small suite that was next to mine and I was secretly delighted that he would be in such close proximity to me. The year had been very eventful and much had happened to make me feel jaded and wary, but seeing him again, here, before my fire, I felt whole again. I felt a peace that had been long missing, certainly since I went to Space. He sat now on the floor, poking to sleepy fire into a crackling monster. His hair shimmered in the light of the flames, so much so that I felt compelled to join him down there.
"You have such a thoughtful look on your face, Milliard, what's going on in that mind of yours, eh?" I gave the side of his head a gentle poke with one of my fingers and he looked over at me in mock contempt.
"I was just thinking about how pleasant it is to be back here. I... I had such a wonderful time last Christmas... didn't even want to leave, you know." His head was ducked a bit and I could see a small flush of embarrassment on his cheek. I reached out to touch it, and he brought his head up slowly, searching my eyes for something, looking more beautiful than I had ever seen him. "Tell me about Space," he said softly.
A wave of guilt swept over me then, stupid though it might have been. I wanted nothing more than to beg his forgiveness for having my three-day affair with Leia Barton because it made me feel like I had been unfaithful to him. That was ridiculous of course. We didn't have that kind of relationship. We were merely friends, every good friends who didn't see each other as much as we'd like to, but friends just the same. It wasn't anything more. So I did my best.
"It was tremendously exciting for the first six months," I said casually, "then it got absolutely terrifying for about four or five hours, and then tedious as hell the last five weeks. We thought we had things under pretty firm control, but there was a group of rebels on L3 that no one had thought would be a force. Well, it turned out they were and were also highly organized so they gave us quite a battle. We had defeated them and were heading back to the base when one of them got in a parting shot - right through my leg, unfortunately."
He frowned and reached a hand out to touch the leg I had indicated. His fingertips felt like warm air on me, they were so light. "T-Treize, that's terrible. I hope you didn't suffer much."
Smiling at him, I reassured him it had been worse than it felt. The pain had been somewhat tolerable, but the training to get the leg working normally more than made up for it. He kept a hand on me, gently stroking up and down the injured shin and frowning slightly. Oh, how I wanted to reach for him, to pull him close and tangle my fingers in his hair. To hold him and kiss him until we were both drunk with those kisses. But how could I. He was still very much my junior, and I had no idea if he even looked at me that way. So, I sat there, talking about piloting in space vs. the earth's atmosphere and dying bit by bit from sheer unfulfilled desire.
Zechs:
/Strange, being here again. Remembering that time last year. Being with him./ Zechs was having trouble falling asleep and it was vexing him. Normally, he was a very good sleeper, and never had difficulty with new quarters. But tonight, well tonight was different somehow. It wasn't anything he could name. The clock was quiet, the faucet didn't drip, and his bed was very comfortable. He was even tired. But somehow... he rolled over and sighed, then gave up fighting and thought about Treize. /It's what I've been doing for two weeks, it's what I've been doing all day, as a matter of fact. And now, when I want it to be quiet and let me go to sleep, it's there, demanding more thinking time, as if I hadn't given it enough during the day./ He thought seriously about whether or not he was turning into some kind of pervert.
That made him sit up (literally) and take notice. He wondered over to the window and looked out on a snow-covered field lit brightly by a waning moon. Was he, perhaps... one of those? One of those people who thinks about sex all of the time and never do anything else? Certainly other people never had these same thoughts. In fact, *he* never had these thoughts until about six months prior. It was that dream, and thinking about it made him blush even thought he was completely alone. Should he tell Treize, he wondered? Should he warn him about - about this person who used to be his friend and now - but he couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence. So, failing at the attempt to banish his perverted thoughts, Milliard did the only thing in the world that had been known to help him with anxiety: he cleaned.
By 5am, the Khushrenada's pickiest houseguest could have eaten off the floors.
He laid down in bed finally and prayed for sleep to come. He felt exhausted but unfortunately not very sleepy. His body had grown too accustomed to predawn drills and marches, and it wasn't going to let him be late for any of them, even if he was thousands of miles from Victoria Base Academy. So, he got up and took a shower, counting on the hot water to do for him what coffee seemed to do for Treize.
/Damn that name! Why can't I think for ten minutes at a time without straying to it.../ The hot spray of water made his body feel both relaxed and tingly, and only encouraged his mind in its shameful fantasies. But they were there, and oh how they troubled him.
Most of them were about touching Treize. Some time when he wasn't so guarded, when he wouldn't expect it, Milliard would imagine reaching out a hand and grasping the edge of his sleeve. Or perhaps they would be sitting next to each other and Milliard would have his hand down on the sofa and Treize would absently put his hand down and they would touch. He didn't have any idea why these images were so powerful, but they filled him with such longing that at times he found it difficult to stand, so weak were his knees at the thought that any of these might come true.
When he was feeling especially brave - or wanton, perhaps - he would imagine something so impossible and delicious that it actually made him dizzy. He saw the two of them, lying on the ground, watching the stars. His heart would suddenly leap and he'd think it was because he'd just seen a shooting star, but when he open his eyes, there would be no stars to be seen. Something would be blocking them, and that something would be Treize. He would roll over and straddle Milliard, sapphire eyes are staring down into ice-blue and Milliard would feel his cheeks go flame red. He begin to say something to Treize, but Treize would stop him by leaning down and kissing him. And the next thing he'd know, his entire body would feel as if it had been engulfed in flames.
That's where he was now, standing in that streaming water and touching himself in a place he knew wasn't supposed to touch - not like this. And the more he touched himself, the more he thought about Treize, reaching out to touch his sleeve, their hands touching accidentally, Treize's body on top of his, Treize's kiss... /Oh, it would be such heaven if he did that.../ Milliard knew it was bad of him to think such thoughts and he knew Treize was not the type who would even begin to think that way about any boy, let alone him, but...
It got to be too much and he slid down the wall of the shower until he found himself on the floor. The spray of the shower happen to hit strongest directly between his legs and, being the wicked child that he was, he opened them and let it hit him. It took about 5 seconds for him to enter that strange, trance-like state he'd been going into occasionally for the last 6 months. He didn't want to admit it, but it felt *so* good. Something hot and wet came out of him and he arched back, pressing against the side of the walls with his palms, letting it happen, loving every minute of it, just like the pervert he was.
After it was over, he sat, miserable, his knees drawn up to his chest, just letting the water flow over him. How could he ever face Treize given the thoughts he'd been having? How could he face Treize's mother, with this secret inside concerning her son? /Well/ he told myself sternly, /you're a guest here, an uninvited one at that, so you'd better be on not only *good* behavior, but beyond good. And beyond-good guests do *not* waste time in the shower, nor do they dream about kissing their hostess' son. So get up and get over it, idiot./
He could be very harsh with himself when he needed to be so naturally, he obeyed.
It was probably a very good thing that Treize's door was still firmly closed. Milliard walked by quietly and descended the stairs, thinking to find a good book in the library to pass the time until the household awoke. As he started down the hallway, though, he heard someone call his name. Turing, he saw no one and felt very perplexed. It came again, that gentle voice and he realized it emanated from the Morning Room. He peered cautiously around the corner and found Treize's mother seated comfortably on the sofa, he hand wrapped around an elegant teapot.
"Good morning, Zechs, or, if I may, Milliard."
He smiled at her, feeling very shy. "Of course, Countess, whatever you choose," he murmured and bowed as politely as he could.
"Won't you have some tea with me? I wake up earlier than ever now and it would be such a nice change to have some company."
"Absolutely," he said, "but - that teapot looked somewhat heavy for you, allow me to pour out, please." He took it from her gently and filled two cups, using the sugar tongs to sweeten his own.
She was smiling up at him as he poured. "Still such pretty manners, Milliard," she said kindly. "And I still remember the first time I met you, so young and pretty and serious. I'd never seen a six-year-old act like that, not even Treize!" She laughed and he had to laugh with her.
"Surely, Countess," he said as he sat beside her, "Treize must have been a very good child."
"For the most part, Milliard, but at times... well. He would be absolutely stricken if I told *you* in particular about some of those escapades, so let's just say this: he had faultless manners and the wits to know when using them would get him his own way." She gave him a wink.
He laughed again. "Well, please don't tell me if you think it might embarrass him but, why *me* in particular?"
She gave him a long, thoughtful look. "How old are you now, Milliard?"
"I've just turned thirteen," I answered feeling a blush and not knowing why.
"Well, you know that Treize thinks of you as his best friend?"
I had to consciously close my jaw. It had absolutely dropped when she'd said that. "Uh, no. No, I wasn't aware of that fact. Surely he has... much closer friends than me."
"Oh, he has acquaintances, of course, simply everywhere, many of them from high up in the Specials. He's good at making acquaintances. Should be," she winked, "I taught him." She looked at Milliard shrewdly. "He's much less inclined to make friends - real friends - that he can count on and who return his admiration and regard. The few real friends he's had in his life have been very important to him, so I hope you can forgive an old woman who only wants the best for her son. Tell me, Milliard, do you consider him a true friend as well?"
A friend? She wanted to know it he thought Treize a friend? Oh, if she only knew! If she knew how much he admired him, and how he looked up to him. If she only knew how he did everything at the Academy to someday impress Treize. Someday Treize would visit, surely, and he wanted to be able to show him the fencing trophy, the wilderness medallion, and the Lead Cadet medal he'd won. There were scores of other awards, as well and someday he dreamed of laying all of them at Treize's feet and begging the young man to find him worthy. "See, Treize," he would say, "see what I've won and I did all of this for you." But he couldn't tell the Countess such things. So he told the truth, only very watered-down. "Of course I consider Treize a friend, if he has been so generous as to bestow that title on me. I must admit, though, that I hardly think myself worthy of the position." His eyes were on the teacup in his hand, because he couldn't bring myself to face her. "He is... something of an... well an idol to me. I admire him *so* much and I... I want him to think well of me." Milliard finally lifted his gaze to hers. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for him, you can be sure of that."
She smiled softly but very warmly, and inwardly he took a breath. "You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that." She asked for more tea and he refreshed he cup. "Do you know why so many of my relatives and friends are here right now, Milliard?"
He shook his head.
"They are here because I am dying." He looked stricken and made a move to stand, go to her, something, but she raised her hand and stilled any response. "About three months ago my doctors did a brain scan on me and they found a tumor. It's in a place that even the medicine of today can't get at, so surgery or laser treatment is out of the question. It's growing quickly, so they assure me the time I spend in pain will be short. I have nothing to complain about - I've lived a long and very happy life, so I'm not sad about that. But I am concerned about leaving Treize. He and I... well, we've been like soul mates. He can talk to me about anything, anything at all, and I know I can do the same with him. It will hurt him a great deal if he can no longer tell his secrets and his worries to someone; if he can't share his wonderful observations about the world with someone who understands and appreciates them." She smiled again, but this time the pain showed through. Perhaps it had been there the whole time we'd talked and he was only now noticing it.
"Countess, I... I don't know wh-" he was stammering at the idea of her not being here, as she always seemed to be. Such a great amount of life, taken away that quickly. But she stopped him again.
"I wanted to ask you if you felt you could be that kind of person for Treize someday. If you felt you could get to know him and be there for him to talk to and to share things with. I know that it's not very polite of me to ask something like this, and I realize what a commitment it requires, but -"
"No, Countess - don't think that way!" It was his turn to interrupt her. "I would agree to what you ask in a heartbeat, but...
She looked at him quizzically. "Yes? But what, Milliard?"
"Do you... do you think... he would want me to do that? Does he care for me enough to accept that from me?"
He was so worried that he might be agreeing to an intrusion on Treize's privacy that he was completely unprepared for her response.
She laughed.
"Oh, Milliard! You charming thing! I needed that, really I did." She stopped and put a hand to her stomach, still giggling. "Oh, I haven't laughed like that in ages. Now tell me the truth, has he really not said a *thing* to you?"
He didn't know what to say. He had no idea what she was talking about, but how does one tell one's hostess that she's become incoherent? He opened his mouth, but absolutely nothing came out.
"Milliard, I'm sorry, you must think I've lost my wits completely. We'll leave it at this: I'll hold you to your word about being Treize's confidant, because I can guarantee he cares enough for you to want that. *And*," here she laid a hand on his knee and encouraged him to lean in closer to her, "I will tell you only this: that it might be a very good idea for you and Treize to have a long chat by the fire. Upstairs somewhere. With the door locked." She giggled again.
He was completely baffled, and wanted to ask what she thought a talk was needed for, but just then her two sisters came into the room and he was politely told to find Treize and wake him up.
He walked back upstairs, still puzzling over the Countess' reaction to his question. Whatever could she have meant by saying, "has he really not said a *thing* to you?" Why should they have a long chat and why should the door be locked? It was all terribly perplexing.
Treize's door was still closed so he knocked. There was a mumbled, "come in" and he entered the sitting room, feeling incredibly shy all of a sudden. "Um... Treize?" he called softly.
"Mmmpf." It was really more of a growl than an actual reply.
"Treize, your mother told me to find you and wake you up," he said, from the safety of the sitting room. Oh, how he wanted to run!
Another growled response. "What did you say, Treize?" he ventured.
"I said Come In - how can you wake me up if you're out *there.*"
He felt the blood flushing his cheeks again and walked ever so cautiously to the doorway. Peeking around the edge, he saw a large lump, vaguely man-sized, in the middle of the bed. Every once in a while, it moved.
He walked up to the thing and shook it gingerly. "Treize?"
"Mmrpf."
He shook it again. "Treize?"
"MMPF."
He backed away for a moment, but when the lump didn't move, he knew he had to be more forceful. "Treize! Now listen here, your mother - aaaaaahhh!" In one quick movement the lump had become very human and had grabbed him from where he stood, dragging him into its depths like a snake swallowing a mouse.
The next thing he knew he was under Treize's covers and fighting to be able to see something, anything. And then he did see something - Treize. With absolutely no clothing on at all, and he wished to God that the blanket was still wrapped around his head, so red were his cheeks.
Treize wiggled his way on top of him and said in a cheerful voice, "So *this* is the kind of man they're turning out at the Academy these days? Someone who can be pinned this easily?" He smiled down at him. "It's a tragedy, really - how do we expect to win?"
Milliard was trying not to look too interested in the naked body not two inches from him, and barely managed to stammer out, "W-We've not g-gotten to wr-wr-wrestling yet."
"And am I to believe you've gotten no other practice?" he said smoothly, raising one eyebrow. Milliard wished he hadn't done that. For some reason he utterly adore Treize's eyebrows and when he raised one like that, well... it was very hard to keep one's mind on what one is supposed to be doing.
He gave it my best shot. "You're mother wants you to wake up," he told his attacker firmly.
"Oh, I *am* awake, thank you, Milliard. The question is, now that I'm awake, what *are* you going to do with me?"
Treize & Zechs:
Milliard was afraid to breathe. His face looked stricken and his body was trembling so much he could see the blanket shaking out of the corner of his eye. Looking up at Treize, he blinked several times and squirmed a little. Treize smiled. "Oh my. This *is* a bit of a muddle, isn't it?" he murmured. He pushed himself higher on his hands and gazed down at the boy beneath him. /Gods, but he's exquisite... I want him, here , now... Want to strip off his clothes and push up inside of him and make him mine... Oh, Milliard, my sweet friend... I love you so.../
Milliard wriggled more, but with each move he seemed to be pushing against Treize's knee that rested right between his legs, and *that* was not helping things in the least. "T... Treize? Don't you want to let me go now? So you can get dressed? And go down for breakfast...?" His voice sounded breathy, even to himself, and try as he might, he couldn't seem to make it sound normal.
"Do you *want* me to let you go, Milliard?" Treize's voice was smooth as silk and he noted that his captive was breathing rather heavily and his cheeks had gone intensely red. "Just tell me to, and I'll do it," he whispered into the young blond's ear, and soaking in the delicious feeling of having Milliard under him and trembling.
Milliard could only stare up at Treize. /This... this is just like one of my daydreams... the way he's looking at me... surely that doesn't mean... he couldn't possibly.../ Although he was flat on his back, he felt a wave of dizziness pass through him as Treize leaned in closer. /Oh, God! I want to kiss him! Could he... could he...?/
Treize didn't feel like stopping. He had fantasized about this boy on and off for the last seven years and here he was, his sweet captive, looking for all the world as if he actually *wanted* Treize to kiss him. His gaze softened and he leaned down, their lips almost touching. "Milliard..." he breathed.
Suddenly there was a whoosh of blankets and sheets and they were completely uncovered. They both turned their heads, Milliard wide-eyed with fright and Treize glaring with frustration, to look at who had done it. They came faces to face with a small, pertly pretty girl with pale blue eyes and long, forked blond eyebrows. The eyebrows wiggled at them suggestively and the creature who owned them asked, "What are you doing to him Treize? Fighting with him? Did he do something wrong?" She smirked at Milliard.
Treize took a deep breath, not moving from where he straddled his young friend, and hissed at the intruder, "Dorothy, if you do not leave this room instantly -"
"What will you do to me?" she interrupted, her eyes running over them, taking everything in. "If you do anything to me I don't like I'll just tell Auntie about what you were doing to your friend." She smirked again, this time with the confidence that comes of knowing one has got the upper hand."
"Fine," Treize said between clenched teeth. "My mother could care less about what I do in the privacy of my own rooms. So your little blackmail scheme wouldn't work." He smirked back at her.
Dorothy considered this information and then offered an alternate, and far more satisfying threat. "All right then, I tell Grandfather instead." She smiled at him sweetly and propped her chin on her elbow that rested about an inch from Milliard's stricken face.
"You wouldn't," Treize growled, narrowing his eyes and glaring at his cousin.
Zechs, who hadn't said a word since being discovered, managed to squeak out, "Treize? Who is her grandfather?"
"*My* grandfather," the girl informed Milliard, "is Duke Dermail, the head of the Romefeller Foundation and Commander-in-Chief of the Specials. You know - that group that runs the *Academy*? The one you are a lowly cadet in?" Having finished making the nature of the threat clear to the blond boy, she picked up a long strand of his hair and tickled the end of his nose with it."
That was enough for Milliard. He gasped as quietly as he could, squeezed out from under Treize, and headed out of the room. A moment later they heard the door to his room close.
Treize lay on his stomach, chin resting in one hand, the other hand tapping an angry rhythm on the bed. He fixed a steady stare on the little girl. "Why did you do that, Dorothy?"
Dorothy folded her arms in front of her and rested her chin on them, fixing Treize with an equally impressive stare. "I heard Auntie tell him to wake you up, and I know you like him a lot."
"And those two facts are important because...?" Treize said, his stare getting more intense.
"Because I think that you intend to spend all of your time around that silly boy and I don't like that." She lifted up both arms, still folded, and slammed them down on the bed, glaring right back at Treize.
He sighed then and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down so he wouldn't slap her. "You *do* realize, don't you, that you walked in at *exactly*, and I do mean *exactly* the wrong moment?"
"Oh?" she asked, her face a picture of innocence. She walked to the door, then turned and gave her cousin a superior smile. "Good," she said firmly, and walked out of the room, just avoiding the pillow that was thrown at her.
Treize rested his head on the mattress for a moment before pushing himself up and slipping into a robe. He'd better go see how Milliard was. The boy had obviously never been around a Force of Nature such as Dorothy was. He was no doubt in shock and in need of comfort.
He knocked softly at Milliard's door. There was a pause and then it was opened, but just the tiniest crack. A lovely blue eye, fringed with long, pale-gold bangs peered out. "Milliard? I came to see if you were all right after my cousin's shameful behavior. May I come in?"
The blue eye widened. "Uh... uh.... I have to... um... change now. But I'll be down in twenty minutes for breakfast... um... I'll see you down there... all right?"
"Certainly," Treize said graciously, giving a polite nod of his head. /Damn that child. Milliard had been acting like it was just what he wanted... and then - / He walked back to his own room and got into a hot bath. It was only then that the thought struck him... /Why did Milliard have to change?/
He had an answer that he prayed was true, so he smiled to himself and lowered his head to the edge of the tub, reaching a long arm down to where he ached so beautifully, and beginning a long, slow stroke.
Breakfast went off fairly well considering Treize's dreaminess from the morning's activities and the mortification that seemed to have come over Milliard. The blond boy was staring out the windows, away from Treize, so he let his eyes caress his friend's face, remembering the way it had looked as Milliard lay beneath him. /You, sweet friend, are maddening... a challenge that I refuse to give up on, because it's clear to me that you are worth every bit of hell I'm going through to get to you.../ So far gone was he in fantasy that he didn't notice for several seconds that those ice-blue eyes were returning his gaze. When he did, Treize smiled softly at Milliard, who proceeded to blush very prettily, and drop his gaze to the uneaten food on his plate. Treize was intrigued and kept his gaze locked on the beautiful boy.
Milliard slowly looked up and, with great hesitation, looked back over at Treize. /Oh, dear God... what if he knows how I feel? He'll never want me to come and visit again.... I wish I could stop trembling.../ He looked down again, trying to regain some semblance of composure. It was all so confusing. He had learned so much this past year, but none of the training had taught him to flirt. He felt completely out of his depth, especially with Treize, who seemed so calm and cool. /He's probably had a hundred lovers/ he told himself, /what would one more be for someone like that./
In reality in didn't want to be "just another lover" to Treize, but his older friend was so worldly and cosmopolitan that to him a boy of thirteen must seem a mere child. He braved one more look and what a sight met his eyes. Treize was staring at him, eyes half-lidded and when Milliard looked up he smiled softly. Then he took his thumb and drew it slowly over his own bottom lip, still holding Milliard's gaze. When he reached the mid-point of his lips, Treize closed his eyes briefly and gave his thumb a little kiss, then looked back up at his friend. Milliard's heart gave a leap at the sight, eyes half-closing involuntarily, his breath coming harder. /What's wrong with me? It's so hard to breathe... looking at him... makes me so dizzy.../
Someone was saying his name. It sounded muffled as if it came from far away and it was only with great effort that he was able to pull his eyes from Treize's and look towards the speaker. It was Dermail.
"I beg your pardon?" Milliard managed to get out.
Dermail stared at the young blond. "I said, young man, that I understand you currently hold the highest marks in the Academy. Is this true?"
He didn't want to brag in front of Treize, so he lowered his head and tried to sound very humble and undeserving. "Oh, yes... I seem to be in a constant battle with Cadet Noin. We usually go back and forth with first and second place." Peeking out from under his lashes, he saw Treize still gazing at him, his smile warm, his eyes searingly hot.
"Well, we must think about an appropriate post for you then," Dermail mused. "How do you feel about Space?"
Milliard had been about to answer when Treize broke in. "Surely, uncle -you wouldn't waste a talent like his on some godforsaken colony. We all know the real battles are being fought down here," he fixed a level stare on his uncle. "I should think you might want him for New Brussels or even Victoria." Having said his piece he looked back over at Milliard and, when his uncle had looked away, winked.
The blond boy's already reddened cheeks grew redder. /God what I wouldn't give to be Dorothy's age and crawl under the table right now.../
Dermail stared at his nephew, then back at Milliard. "Mmm... you may be right Treize. Perhaps the best pilot in the Academy *should* stay close, where the action is the heaviest and the consequences most wide-reaching..."
Milliard managed what he thought was a fairly good smile for the situation, but it would have been a lot easier if he had felt less like rabbit and if Dermail had looked less like a hungry wolf.
"Well," Treize said standing up, "speaking of action, my leg needs to see some. I think I'll take a nice long walk, now that the temperature is at least above zero, and I believe I'll take my dear friend with me -Milliard?"
"What? Me? Oh. Yes. Of course." The young blond stood up, perhaps a little too quickly, and bowed politely to the other diners. Treize put a hand on his back and they left, heading towards the cloakroom.
They had to pass through the main wing of the house to retrieve their coats and go out the main door. As they walked, Milliard looked at his companion somewhat apprehensively. "Treize, was it... well... was it polite to just leave like that... I mean it was your uncle talking."
Treize shot his friend a sidelong glance and held a long, graceful finger to his lips. "Quiet now," he murmured softly. "If we make no noise we might be able to avoid picking up any stray relatives." He looked over at Milliard and mouthed, "Keep quiet."
They had made it to the cloakroom and gotten into their coats in complete silence. Now it was merely a matter of getting out the door unseen. Treize was feeling confident, on the edge of freedom, and Milliard would be with him. Lovely Milliard, who perhaps wouldn't mind if Treize stole a kiss in one of the mansion's snowy gardens...
Treize had opened the door and said, "Here we go my boy," when all at once they were faced with not one but two smiling female relatives. Treize's cousin Charlotte, 21 years old with an rather horsey-looking face, and Tatiana, a third cousin who had just turned 15 and was unfortunately inclined to giggle constantly. "Well, where are you two off to?" Charlotte smiled, looking hopefully at Treize.
"Oh, just a walk, nothing much," Treize murmured pulling Milliard past the two doorway vultures and down the front steps.
"Oh, well then you won't mind if we join you - it's so wonderful to be able to get out and roam around again!" This came from Tatiana, who did not suffer in the least from shyness, as she already had her arm through Milliard's and was actually batting her eyelashes at him.
Treize raised an eyebrow and frowned. /Didn't know women actually did that sort of thing. Well, well, learn something new everyday... / "It's really not necessary to accompany us, ladies," Treize said politely, "you've obviously been out for a while and could use a good stint by the fire to warm you up."
"Oh, not at all," Charlotte chortled, "we only just came out. We were coming back for Tatiana's scarf and found it lying by the front door."
"Well," Treize tried again, "Milliard and I have a few things to discuss privately, so -"
"Nonsense!" Tatiana cried in mock protest, "What could the two of you have to talk 'privately' about?"
"Probably the *war*," Charlotte said, her tone slightly contemptuous. "And we simply *can't* have that kind of talk at a house party, can we?"
"No," Tatiana agreed, "especially when it removes the two most attractive young men from the ladies of the group."
Treize stood in profound frustration, looking at Milliard, who was obviously *not* going to be kissed during this walk. /At least not by me -and if that Tatiana female tries to do it, I'll throw her into a snowbank./But he knew when he was beaten. "Very well, ladies," he smiled and nodded at them. Let's have a turn around the Grecian garden, shall we?" and he offered Charlotte his arm, Milliard's already having been claimed by the amorous Tatiana.
The younger girl pulled Milliard along with her and took the lead. As soon as they were out of earshot, she put her head quite close to his and kept it there, causing Treize no end of consternation. Charlotte noticed his frown and chuckled. "Isn't it cute, Treize? I think Tatiana is completely smitten by your friend. She'll be writing to him three times a week once he leaves, no doubt about it."
Treize kept his voice calm. "He's a little young for her, isn't he? I thought women tended to fall for older men."
"Oh, that doesn't matter - they're only two years apart." She stopped their progress for a moment and gave the other couple a simpering smile. "They just look perfect together, don't they Treize?"
They had spent two hours airing out the females, and now Treize was sitting on his bed, leg propped up with heat packs covering it. Milliard sat on the bed as well, applying new packs as the others got cold. "You shouldn't have been out so long, Treize. It can't have been good for your leg."
Treize gave a satisfied smile. "But Milliard - it's all worth it to be here now, with you, getting all this splendid attention."
The former Prince of Sank blushed, but said nothing.
Treize suddenly had an idea and smiled at his companion. "I know what we can do to pass the time while the old leg gets warm."
Milliard looked up at him. "What is it you want to do, Treize?"
"Truth or Dare," Treize purred, "and you can go first." He folded his arms in front of him and gazed deeply into the blond boy's eyes.
Swallowing with effort, Milliard murmured an assent and then asked Treize, "Truth or Dare?"
"Truth," the young noble replied.
Milliard dropped his gaze, his face going very red. A moment went by and then, "D-Did you... I mean, was there... " He looked up into Treize's eyes and said quickly, "Did you find a girlfriend in Space?"
Treize was caught off guard, but only briefly. After a bit of color had drained from his face he rallied and decided to tell his friend, if not *all* of the truth, at least a good part of it. "I was close to one young woman, for about three days. She came to the hospital I was in on L3 and was very kind to me. But... that kind of relationship was a mistake. I didn't have the proper feelings for her and I was scheduled to leave for Earth soon, so it wouldn't have gone anywhere anyway." He watched Milliard closely for a reaction.
"Oh," Milliard said softly. He seemed somewhat disappointed and Treize couldn't quite tell why. "All right, then. Your turn, Treize.
Treize smiled at him. "Truth or Dare, Milliard?"
The boy squared his shoulders and said firmly, "Dare."
Treize was surprised. He could have sworn his companion was in the mood for quiet confidences. Well, if he wanted a challenge he would have it. He leaned forward and stared into cool blue eyes. "Go downstairs and walk to my father's liquor cabinet. Take out a shot glass and a bottle of scotch, fill the glass and drink it down." He continued to stare. "I'll come with you."
Milliard seemed a bit taken aback. "But - your leg..."
"It'll only take a moment, surely. Let's go."
They walked down the stairs quietly, Treize confident that his friend would surely back out of it at the last moment. He himself would put on a mock protest but finally be lenient and generous with him. Standing in the hallway outside of the drawing room, they heard a group of voices, chattering and laughing.
Milliard's eyes grew wide. "You didn't tell me there would be people here!" he whispered fiercely.
"What fun would it be if there weren't?" Treize smiled back at him.
Milliard stood for a moment blinking first at Treize, then at the door. Then he straightened up, squared his shoulders, and stepped into the room.
Treize watched from the doorway, certain that Milliard would turn around at any moment. But, to his great surprise, he didn't. The young prince walked calmly to the the far side of the room, where the liquor cabinet stood. So far no one had noticed him. Treize watched as his young friend opened the doors on the large cabinet. /That got a few heads turning/ he thought with amusement. Carefully, the boy took out a small shot glass and an open bottle of Scotch and set them on the table beside him. He poured and then Treize saw the golden head tip back. At the same time, the conversation in the room seemed to trail off, all eyes on the long-haired boy. Milliard drank the amber liquid down in one, smooth swallow, then set the glass down, wiped it out with the cloth provided for that purpose, put glass and bottle back neatly in the cabinet, closed the doors and turned around.
Every eye in the room was on him.
He only hesitated for a moment, and then daubed neatly at the corners of his mouth, bowed politely to Treize's astonished father, said, "Extremely good liquor, sir, you are to be commended," and then walked gracefully out of the room and headed up the stairs at a full run, Treize right behind him.
"Milliard that simply amazing! I had no idea that you'd actually *do* it, but you *did*!" Treize was grinning wickedly at his young companion who looked up at him, panting hard.
The boy put a hand to his head and murmured, "What do you mean, I wouldn't do it. It was a dare - of course I would do it." He felt a bit light-headed, but was relieved he had been able to pull it off, for Treize's sake. /My hostess may have me thrown out into the snow before nightfall, but I did it - for Treize.../ He looked up at the young man. "My turn I believe, but first let's get you back into bed."
"Yes sir, Milliard the Lionheart" Treize murmured and smiled. The boy got him settled and covered his leg with heat packs, then settled in beside him. "You're amazing, you know," Treize said, looking over at him. "You never stop surprising me."
Milliard felt his cheeks flush. It was so hard, being close this way, remembering the morning, having to keep it all inside. /Back to the game/he thought, /that'll be a distraction./ He looked over at Treize and asked, "Truth or Dare?"
Treize stared at him for a moment, and at first Milliard thought that maybe he hadn't heard the question. He was about to say it again where Treize put his head down very close to his and whispered, "Dare."
They sat there for a moment, eyes locked on each other, lips just inches apart. Milliard felt the heat rising to his face as he searched Treize's eyes for something he couldn't define, but wanted so badly nonetheless. When Treize tilted his head a bit, as if asking a question, Milliard remembered their first game of Truth or Dare, over a year ago. He took a breath and whispered the same dare.
"Kiss me."
Treize stared into his eyes and raised an elegant hand to his face. His fingers grazed Milliard's cheek and his thumb brushed over heated lips. The softly, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Milliard's. Time spun out, and for both of them, the world of Kiev in A.C. 189 ceased to exist and narrowed down to Treize and Milliard and the sweetest kiss that either of them had ever known.
Treize and Zechs:
A week went by faster than Milliard could possibly imagine. The days were full of time with Treize; legitimate time, walking to exercise his leg, shooting to keep in practice, reading to each other, and trying to avoid Dorothy (with only partial luck.) But there was also stolen time, and that meant more to Milliard than anything else; times when Treize would pull him into a deserted hallway and press him to the wall, lips on his, the kiss deep and fiery; or times during dinner when he felt the caress of Treize's hand on his knee or thigh. There were even times, behind the door of Treize's rooms, when they had a few hours to themselves, and they could explore each other as slowly and thoroughly as they wished.
Those blissful and often fevered sessions were held to kissing and touching, by no small effort on Treize's part. He knew that Milliard was too young for more intimate gestures of love, but that didn't stop the maddening desire he had for his friend, nor make it any easier to live with. They usually ended with a long good night kiss, whereupon Milliard would go to his bed and Treize would go to his bath. Warm water and one's own hands, however, were a poor substitute for the beautiful golden boy just down the hall.
On the eighth day of Milliard's visit he awoke, bathed, and dressed and knocked on the door to Treize's rooms. There was no answer, and, even though it was unlikely for Treize to have gone downstairs without him, he decided that must be where his friend was. Coming down the stairs, he saw several of the Countesses female relatives gathered in a rather gloomy collection in the main sitting room across from the staircase. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but their low voices sounded saddened and full of pain and one of the group, he couldn't see which, was crying softly.
A feeling of alarm went through the young prince and he went quickly down the hall to the dining room, library, and morning room in turn. There was no one in any of them - no Treize and no Countess. It was only then that he saw the small group of family members standing down at the other end of the hallway, just outside the small room the Countess had taken since her illness had become serious. He walked down the hall slowly, searching the small crowd for Treize, and anxious at not finding him. The people outside the door turned to look at him as he approached, seemingly expecting him to say something. "Please forgive my intrusion, I was looking for Treize and couldn't help but notice you. Has the Countess taken a bad turn?"
A tall, stately looking woman at the front of the group nodded her head sadly. "It happened in the night, probably a stroke, the doctor says. She... she's paralyzed and can just barely speak, but she's still aware of what's around her. Treize is talking with her now.
Milliard lowered his gaze to the floor. "I'm most terribly sorry. I won't intrude any further," he said bowing politely and turning to walk back towards the staircase. He was about halfway down the hall when he heard his name. Spinning around to see who had called him, he saw Treize standing outside of the room. "Milliard!" he called. "She's asked to see you. Would you mind..." Treize held out a hand to him, his face a mask of misery and grief that Milliard simply couldn't ignore. The young blond walked quickly back to the room and grasped Treize's hand, following him into the Countess' room.
The change in Treize's mother was unmistakable, and rather ghastly. Her face was deathly pale and her limbs frozen and slightly curled. Both sides of her mouth sagged and her eyes reflected the pain she must have been feeling. Still, when the two of them walked in, she managed to move her almost-useless face muscles into a weak smile.
"Mother said... there was something she needed to tell you," Treize murmured. "You'll need to get close to her though, her voice doesn't carry at all."
Milliard smiled at the Countess and approached the bed. He sat in the chair that was next to her pillow and leaned forward. "I understand you wanted to talk to me, Countess. What is it I can do for you?" He picked up her hand from where it lay on the bed, and clasped it softly.
"Do you want me to leave, Mother?" Treize asked from behind them.
She mouthed, "No," and turned her eyes to Milliard.
Quietly, more a ragged whisper than anything, she addressed the blond boy at her side. "I... I will be... gone soon..."
"No, my Lady, please don't say things like that -" Milliard protested only to be silenced by the determination in her eyes.
"I want to... make sure... that every... everything... is taken... care of." Milliard nodded his understanding, and, with great effort, the Countess drew a deep breath. "Remember our talk... last week?" The boy nodded. "It's time... Milliard... it's time... Have you... and Treize... had your talk?" She looked at him, her eyes infinitely kind and tinged with sorrow. Milliard bow his head for a moment. He understood now what she was trying to say that morning, about Treize, about how much he cared for Milliard, and about needing to talk to one another about the truth of their feelings.
He looked back up at her, eyes glowing with unshed tears. "Yes, my Lady, we have. You were very right - it was needed."
She closed her eyes briefly in satisfaction. Then, very quietly so that he had to lean his head down right next to her lips, she whispered. "Do... do you... love my son?"
Milliard ducked his head for a moment. The tears insisted on coming then, silently, running down his cheeks and dropping soundlessly to the soft, white comforter on the bed. After a moment or two, he looked up at the Countess and whispered his reply. "Yes, my Lady. I do - very much."
"Stay with him," she whispered, "in your heart." He couldn't find words, so he merely nodded. Her eyes went up to meet Treize's and he moved to kneel beside Milliard.
"Yes, mother? Do you want something?" Treize asked, his voice trembling.
She looked over at Milliard, then back to Treize and, finally, down at her hand, lying in the blond boy's. She repeated that series of gazes once more before Treize's eyes moved to Milliard, too. His friend was looking at his mother, a sad and puzzled expression on his face. But Treize understood. He reached his hand out and covered his mother's, giving it a squeeze, then gently took Milliard's hand into his. He leaned over and kissed his friend gently on the lips and looked back down at his mother. An understanding passed between them - about life and death and love that didn't die, even though its human hosts did. She could die happily now, for she knew her son had someone who would be friend, lover, and confidante to him, and he could let her go knowing of that happiness.
The Countess looked at both of them and smiled once more. "Goodbye," her hoarse voice croaked, "Make me proud - ." Her voice disappeared before she could finish. She gazed at Treize and drew several raspy breaths."
"Mother," he whispered, his face already reflecting his grief, "Mother..."
There was one more painful breath, and then she was gone.
Treize's lips trembled and he put a hand to his forehead, eyes closed against the flood of pain that was approaching. A tear rolled down each cheek and he whispered it again, "Mother..."
Milliard reached for him, drawing the stunned man into his arms and hugging him tightly. He knew all too well this part. The enormous grief, the overwhelming sense of loss, the denial that Treize was no doubt feeling - a blessed period of shock where the mind simply refused to accept the horrible truth that a beloved parent was gone. It was necessary to make it through these first moments, but unfortunately it didn't last very long.
Treize suddenly put his head down on Milliard's shoulder, wrapped his arms tight around his friend, and began sobbing. Milliard just held him, knowing from painful experience that nothing else could be done. Just holding him, and stroking the golden brown hair, and whispering, "I'm here, Treize... I'm here."
The funeral was held three days later and Treize asked Milliard to sit with him and his father in the front row of the church. It was a beautiful service but Treize wouldn't remember most of it. He would instead remember feeling that the casket was altogether too cold and glacial-looking for his mother and what had been her warm and lively personality. He would remember the black-robed priest who seemed to be stealing all the light in the church with every prayer for the dead that he offered. And he would remember the feeling of Milliard, sitting so close to him that he could feel the heat from the boy's body coming through his clothes to warm him, deeply soothing in just being there beside him. As he watched the dirt fall on his mother's casket, he gripped Milliard's hand tightly and felt his friend's arm slide around his waist, warm and strong.
After the reception his father had given, Milliard had finished his packing. He would not be staying for the reading of the will the next day. It was time for him to rejoin his fellow cadets at the Academy. They stood now, facing each other, and tried to come to terms with having to say goodbye. "Not a day will go by, my love, that I won't think of you, and wish you were with me," Treize said softly, bringing a hand up to stroke the blond boy's cheek. "Promise me you'll be strong for me, yes?"
Milliard, doing his best to remain stolid, nodded his head, his eyes searching Treize's for reassurance, while at the same time trying to give it.
Treize's fingers traced down the smooth skin, his thumb once again brushing Milliard's lips before he pulled the boy close to him and buried long fingers in his hair. "I'll miss you, my dear friend," he whispered into one golden ear. "And I'll do my best to come and see you as soon as I can."
Milliard pulled back a little, his gaze intent on the noble face. "I'll make you proud of me, Treize," he whispered back. "Just watch me."
Treize smiled, a hint of his old self returning. "Oh, I know you will, dear Milliard. In fact, I'm counting on it."
owari
(:./kumiko/bblood6)
