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"Lost "Written By: Artemis Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters are
copyright to Sunrise, Bandai, Sotsu Agency, and associated parties.
I make no money with this fic. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: implied yaoi, angst, violence, language Pairings: 6x2, mention of 4+3 Summary: Sequel to Interfacing: Found. Quatre
has some shocking information for Duo about his new lover; there's
trouble in Cairo... "Lost" 7) Worse, Zechs kept seeing the gun, pointed between his eyes. He didn't remember the actual pulling of the trigger, understanding that for a moment his mind had disappeared into a safe place. It was as if he'd blinked, saw Duo struggling with Quatre, then nothingness had enveloped him as the drug had taken over. [I don't know who that was... oh, God, I need my Dancer back,] Zechs moaned in the silent prison of his mind. [My sweet Duo, why haven't you come to find me? Your Wolf needs you...] He could almost pretend they were two people - "Dancer" and Gundam pilot Duo Maxwell. If only... He'd shoved the bed out from the cold wall but didn't lay down on it yet, preferring to sit facing away from the door, an unconscious attempt to reject what had happened. Outside that door was his reality; he was a prisoner of a Gundam pilot, wanted for dead by another, waiting for the slim chance that they could find some trace of Gundam 01 to prove his farfetched story true. [Let tonight be the night Meiser moves it,] he'd thought more than a few times, fuzzy in his mind as to what day it actually was. The instructions he'd left behind had been "four nights". Wasn't this the fourth night? Zechs didn't know. He still felt the effects of the drug in his system. His personal anguish and the remnants of that sedative still conspired to make him nauseous, and the flashing images weren't helping either. Even so, he was slowly growing sleepy... at last. He'd stopped rocking a while ago, and now merely sat, his mind settling into a stupor. There was a sound outside his window. [Should I be thinking of escape?] he asked himself. But Zechs had already decided, during his conversation with Quatre Winner, to stay put and endure, as the corroboration of his story was his only hope of recovering from this disaster. Not that his heart could recover. Zechs was certain he would never allow himself to love again. Not when he was still deeply in love with a certain Dancer whom he now knew did not truly exist. A couple more soft sounds. It could have been a voice, but he couldn't make anything out. Someone might be there... but Zechs did not care. Then, softer steps as the possible someone seemed to move away. Or his mind was playing games with him. That wouldn't be surprising. [They must be curious about me,] he thought drowsily. Finally he lay down on the bed, on his left side, still facing away from the door, his legs folded so that he was curled somewhat protectively in a ball. It was an old, old habit long outgrown. Six-year-old Milliardo had slept like that when his family had been killed. Nineteen-year-old Zechs Merquise felt again acutely that ripping of his reality, thirteen years after the first one. [Dancer... I love you so much,] he thought, tears streaking his cheeks again. [Let me sleep in your arms, please. I need you, my sweet Dancer...] At last, he fell asleep, hoping to dream of being with his Dancer again. It was not to be. About twenty minutes later, the nightmare began. There was so much shouting. "You fucking bastard, you're with OZ!" screamed a man who strangely resembled his beloved Duo. "You raped me!" Zechs cowered on the floor where he'd been hogtied. "I... I couldn't..." "Shut up! Everyone in OZ is a rapist, a murderer of innocent children and deserves to be punished! You can't love anyone! You're incapable of loving!" The face was so twisted, he couldn't see what the man really looked like. "You raped me over and over..." The word "rape" felt like knives plunging into his flesh. "No, no," Zechs, horrified, tried to protest, but the man slapped him. "You liar! You used me for your pleasure! You're a filthy OZ rapist!" "I... I never..." Zechs was trembling. "You can't love anyone!" The man grabbed his jaw roughly. "Admit it!" "I..." Zechs tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. Within, a voice began to growl at him, insisting something but he couldn't understand it yet. "Say it! You can't love!" "I can't...l..." But the word died in his throat. Suddenly the other voice came to the fore. "Stand firm, man!" It sounded very much like Treize Khushrenada. "Don't let a piece of garbage take away your pride, Milliardo." "Treize?" Then the Commander-in-chief of OZ, resplendant in his full dress uniform and cape, his hand on the hilt of his sword, was standing over him as well, looking down at his friend and protege. "Such a pity, Milliardo. You're better than this, surely?" The man with the braid crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the elegant Duke with a scowl. "There's the stench of decay in your ranks, Your Excellency," the man sneered. "Speaking of garbage, you'd better take out yours!" Angrily he spat at the bound prisoner on the floor. "My, my, such manners... but then no one expects that of Gundam pilots," Treize replied smoothly, looking down at the short man with disdain. "Milliardo, do get up off the floor. Your uniform will be dusty. How regrettable." "Treize, he means to kill me..." Zechs gasped, now spying the gun that the man with the braid was handling so casually. "So don't let him," Treize replied, edging away as if concerned about getting blood on his boots or pristine white pants. "You're the Lightning Count, pilot of Tallgeese whom no ordinary man can master. You're a prince, my friend. The floor is no place for you." "Raping scum!" the short man screamed again, and kicked him roughly in the side. Zechs gasped sharply with the pain. "I... I loved..." Treize looked down with interest. "Whom did you love, Milliardo?" "D...Dancer. I love Dancer with all my heart. I would never do anything to hurt him. I couldn't!" Zechs gasped, tears running down his cheeks. "Of course you couldn't," Treize replied, shaking his head. "It's too bad you raped him." "But...!" "Rapist!! MURDERER!" The man with the braid shouted again and brought the gun up, setting the barrel between Zechs's eyes. "It's a shame, really," Treize murmured, walking away. "You can defeat your enemy handily, even tied up. If you considered him an enemy, that is." "Go to hell, you bastard!" Duo Maxwell shouted and began to pull the trigger. Crying out, Zechs Merquise woke up, sobbing and shaking. He would not allow himself to sleep again that night. At first light, Quatre was up, dressed, and sitting down to a much-needed cup of strong coffee with Rashid in his study. He'd slept fitfully, knowing all too well how critical the day to come was in the future they were trying to craft. Rashid had already gotten a report that Abdul and Yasar were all but arriving with the data they'd recovered. "I'm prepared for whatever they have found," Quatre said firmly. "Rashid, I can't tell you how important it is to find out the truth." "The truth will be very liberating for everyone involved, Master Quatre," the large man agreed, taking a sip of his coffee. "But you, more than anyone, must be prepared for what it holds." Just then a breathless Abdul and another Maguanac, Yasar, entered the room. Quatre and Rashid hastily stood up. "You've got the information?" the Gundam pilot asked anxiously, studying their faces. Abdul would have grinned whether he had or not. "We've got information," he replied, handing over a folder and a tape recorder, his usual goofy smile plastered to his face. Yasar pointed to the folder while Abdul helped himself to coffee. "I can't believe this guy - you should have seen Abdul at the microfiche in the Addis Ababa central library. It's amazing what he's dug up there..." Abdul broke in before either Quatre or Rashid could. "And talk about being in the right place at the right time... eh, you'll see." He balanced the coffee cup in one hand and tapped on the tape recorder with the other. "This was a gold mine..." The Maguanac leader stepped forward, looking as if he was about to clang the two men's heads together. "What did you find out?" he growled. "Master Quatre is waiting!" "Hold your shorts, Captain, I'm getting to that!" Abdul took a long, needed swig of his coffee, then, the Maguanacs all ranged around Quatre's desk, he picked up the folder and opened it. He took out a photo that looked very dark, then another one that apparently had been enhanced and lightened. "Okay, tell me that's not a Gundam being transported!" Quatre's eyes widened. The lightened-up picture clearly showed a massive, draped, Gundam-shaped item being loaded onto a ship. "Bingo," he said softly. "The registry of the ship was Capetown," Yasar added. "And it was heading south." "We couldn't get the manifest, though," Abdul admitted. "This was taken about 10 pm at Mombasa, the seaport closest to Lake Victoria in Kenya. Our man there said he'd tracked the land transport from the OZ base, was waiting for us to contact him before calling it in." Rashid stared at the evidence a moment and then grinned. "It looks like our OZ Colonel may be the rebel he claims to be," he said, and then put a hand on Yasar's shoulder. "Good work, men." Abdul waved it off. "Eh, we're just getting started!" Quatre nodded, eager to see what else they'd brought him. "Go on, Abdul, please." "Oh, sure..." Abdul pulled another piece of paper out of the folder. "There is a base on Antarctica... see..." Quatre read what appeared to be an old Alliance memo dated A.C. 190. "It says," he explained to Rashid, "that Barclay Base on the edge of the Filchner Ice Shelf of Antarctica off the Weddell Sea was put permanently out of service in 190 and sold to private research interests, a group out of northern Europe." He shrugged. "I'll have to ask Zechs how he got a hold of it." "Hmm," Rashid wondered as he scratched his chin. "Master Quatre... this could be a trap." "How so?" Quatre asked quickly. The expressions on the faces of the other two Maguanacs fell. "Everything is as the Colonel has said, but it seems too good to be true." The large Arab looked at his Master and then sighed. "What do we really know of this Colonel Merquise? Your little Gundam friend is certain he is our enemy." The little blond nodded. "That's what we're about. Abdul, is there more?" Abdul nodded, solemn now. "Yeah. Look at this." He pulled out a photocopy of what looked like an old sepia print, a family portrait. Or perhaps it was of a photo damaged in a fire. Quatre examined the photo carefully. It was a large family, with a man with very long, pale hair and beard in the center, his wife beside him, something of a strawberry blond, carrying a toddler girl with hair the same color. Ranging around them were what appeared to be many relatives closer to their ages. Off to the side, almost an afterthought, stood a very serious little boy of about six, a shoulder length bob of white hair crowning his head. [Allah, it's HIM!] he thought with a shock, and a sudden tingle in his heart confirmed it. "What is this a picture of?" he asked quietly. [I only told them to discover the family that ruled the Sank Kingdom,] he noted to himself. Abdul fished out some notes from the folder. "I wrote it down... here it is. This is the Peacecraft family, the last rulers of the Sank Kingdom before the Alliance took it over." Quatre handed the picture over to Rashid. "This little boy... that's him, Rashid. Zechs said his real name was Peacecraft." "That family was well known for their pacifism," Rashid nodded, looking over the copy of the photograph. "If he truly is the heir to the Peacecraft throne..." he began, but did not finish as he saw the hope in his Master's eyes. [He wants this to be the truth... I pray that it is.] "Which is why he wore that mask," Quatre reminded him firmly. "Merquise, for whatever reason, joined the military but would not dishonor his name by using it because of his family's pacifism. I still have many questions for him, Rashid, but so far I'm convinced he was telling the truth. Moreover, I *feel* that he was." He straightened, every bit the little lord. "Abdul, Yasar, you have more?" Yasar plugged in the tape recorder while Abdul handed out copies of a transcription. "It was sheer accident we stumbled across this, Master Quatre," Yasar explained. "This is a recording of a transmission from an OZ officer, possibly in Mombasa, to an OZ airborne mobile suit pilot in the vicinity of the Gulf of Aden, picked up via the offshore oil rig "Mainstay" in the Gulf. We've had someone listening to OZ broadcasts there regularly, but this one was left unsecured." Quatre, nodded, feeling a sense of excitement build. This would be it, he could feel it. "Play the recording, we'll read along," he instructed them. Listening to the recording, the four men read along to it. OZ Lt: He's gone, you say? Rashid could hardly believe it, but it was all so very clear now. Zechs Merquise... Prince Peacecraft... or whomever he was, was making a break from OZ. "Master Quatre... he was telling the truth." Suddenly the Arab remembered Duo and the scene in the fruit market. "Allah forgive us. Your friend..." That Rashid believed, too, finally, was a tremendous relief to Quatre, but he was just as concerned about Duo. "Yeah, no kidding..." He sighed. "Guys, you did fantastic," he said to Abdul and Yasar. "Thanks so much for digging all this up! It's exactly what we needed." "Hey, anything for you, Master Quatre!" Abdul exclaimed, reaching over an ruffling the little blond's hair affectionately. He and Yasar departed then, talking animatedly about finding a good, hot breakfast. Quatre refluffed his hair, sighing. "Rashid, I have to show this to Duo, and I think I'd better do it before I see Zechs. If he still has it in mind to kill Zechs..." "Certainly, Master Quatre. But please... act quickly," Rashid said, in his fatherly tone. The pilot of Sandrock smiled grimly. "You can be sure I will," he replied, leaving his cup of cold coffee behind as he gathered the evidence and a videotape from his desk and departed the room.
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