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"Without Virtue"Written By: Clara Barton Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following
is an intellectual exercise with no intention of profit. That said,
these characterizations, words, and situations are mine. Please ask
before reprinting. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Drama, angst, Character Death, violence,
gore, language, drug use, language, yaoi sex, het sex, language, AU Pairings: 2xSolo, 6x3, 1x2x3, 5xM, 5x H, 4x S,
4x R, 13x 6, 13x?, probably a few more as well. Summary: "When virtue has slept it arises invigorated." - Nietzsche. A darktale of violence, lust, and vengeance in a city without justice.
" Without Virtue"
Her skin felt like one massive, raw, itching sunburn. When she woke up in the hospital bed, two weeks after the Sanc Police Academy attack, all Noin could think about was scratching at the healing burns on her arms and side and making it stop. She went so far as to reach out with her left hand, completely untouched by the flames, to shove aside one of the bandages on her right elbow. "Stop right there." Noin looked up guiltily and saw that Zechs Merquise was sitting in the chair across from her hospital bed, an amused, patronizing look on his face. "You don't understand how badly it itches," Noin whined. He arched an eyebrow at her tone. "Do you want it to scar?" "No," she said petulantly. Although a larger part of her simply didn't care. She had sustained second degree burns on most of her right side, but her right arm had only suffered first degree burns that were very nearly healed – aside from the unbearable itching. "Then leave it alone." Noin sighed and slammed her head back against her pillows. "I hate hospitals. I hate being wounded. I hate being weak." Zechs frowned. "You aren't weak. You were wounded in the line of duty, Noin. You –" "I was wounded in my sleep when my training facility was attacked by terrorists and every single student under my care was slaughtered," Noin corrected him, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "We're going to find out who was responsible for it and we're going to bring them to justice." Noin leveled a glare in his direction. "Don't feed me that bullshit, Zechs. You and I both know…" she trailed off with a sigh. There was no point, really, in rehashing this conversation again. "Both know what?" he prompted. "We both know that no one ever gets brought to justice in Sanc." "Maybe things are changing," Zechs murmured. He looked towards the closed door to her room before continuing. "Treize is… organizing a movement within OZ and Romefeller. The Treize Faction." "How humble of him," Noin muttered. "Une's choice of name – not his." "That explains it then," Noin said with a sigh, "I'm sure she's got his name tattooed on her ass – and her labial folds. Probably has rose petals tattooed somewhere too." Zechs' lips twitched into a smile that he quickly killed. "He wants to push the old guard out of power and clean up the corruption in Sanc." "Really?" Noin sat up straighter, intrigued despite her distaste for both Khushrenada and Une. Zechs shrugged one shoulder. "Uh-huh. You don't believe him, do you?" His face wasn't easy to read, but Noin had known Zechs since they were children on the playground. He was very nearly an open book to her. "I want to," Zechs confessed with a frown, "but he's involving Trant Clark and Michael Quinze. Those two are…" "Despicable." Noin knew the backgrounds of both men well – Clark was the mastermind behind the Core meth labs and Quinze oversaw L1s gun manufacturing and smuggling operations. Zechs nodded. "But what choice do we have, really, Noin? If we got rid of every criminal in Sanc there would be no one left." Noin thought about all of those young, dead boys and girls. "I want in," she told Zechs. "Whatever you're planning, I want in." Zechs frowned. "I'm not -" "Zechs. Don't lie. Not to me." He held her gaze for a long moment, a stubborn set to his jaw, but he eventually sighed. "I don't have a plan, yet," he told her at last. "I think, for now, that I have to follow Treize's lead. Catalonia is only a few years from retirement and –" "Zechs, Sanc doesn't have years left. The Police Academy was completely destroyed! Cops are being murdered left and right – this fight isn't in the back alleys of L2 anymore, it's infected the entire city." "Damnit, what am I supposed to do about it, Noin?" Zechs stood and she saw his fists clenched angrily by his sides. "I can't do a damn thing! I can't convict the drug dealers or the gun runners or the pimps. I can't arrest the terrorists and gangs running around the streets and I can't even trust the cops I work with! There is nothing I can do!" The look in his pale blue eyes went beyond desperate and into a whole new realm of hopelessness. She hadn't seen him look like this since… It suddenly hit her. "The fire shook you up pretty badly, didn't it?" Zechs swallowed hard. "I wasn't even involved." Noin nodded. "You were there – I saw the footage of you visiting the site. Did it smell the same? The same as when your family was murdered?" Zechs was saved from answering by the door opening. Trowa Barton stepped into the room and seemed to instantly pick up on the tension. He looked between the two of them uneasily. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his question directed solely at Zechs. The blonde man gave a stiff nod. "Yes. Of course." Trowa looked at Noin to judge the veracity of Zechs' claim. He had been one of her best students, as a cadet at the Academy, and now he was her savior. Noin had been barely conscious when Trowa cared her from the flames that night, but she had seen the scrolls and had seen how he heroically returned into the flaming wreckage again and again, working alongside the firefighters to recover as many bodies as possible. Trowa had been on an accelerated track at the Academy – an order cloaked as a suggestion from Zechs – and had kept mostly to himself, making few friends. Yet he had still known at least half the cadets at the Academy, and had certainly known all the instructors. She wondered how he was dealing with the aftereffects of losing almost all of his peers. After a moment Trowa turned back to Zechs. "Sir, there's been a development in regards to the Academy bombing." "What kind of development?" Noin couldn't help but ask. Trowa frowned and raised one eyebrow, a clear question for Zechs about whether or not he could tell her. Zechs inclined his head slightly. "Our forensics teams haven't been unable to uncover anything," Trowa told Noin. "The site was…" It seemed like Trowa couldn't find the right words to describe it. Noin nodding in understanding. "Catalonia decided to call in a favor to an old friend. This morning that favor arrived." To Noin's knowledge all of Catalonia's 'friends' had a bad habit of winding up dead. She wondered who he could possibly consider a friend that wasn't enough of a liability that he needed to have them killed. "His name is George Septum." "Fuck!" Zechs growled and jumped to his feet. Noin frowned. She didn't recognize the name, but Zechs clearly had. "He's an ATF agent," Trowa continued in an even tone. "He and his team are here to start investigate the bombing." "Zechs, who is he?" Noin asked. But the blonde man shook his head, clearly uncomfortable revealing information in front of Trowa. With a groan, Noin sat up on the hospital bed. "Trainee Barton, find Dr. Stevens and tell him that I need to be released. Today. Now." Even though she didn't know who he was, if Zechs was that disturbed by the man then Noin needed to be out of this hospital and by his side. He clearly needed her help. Trowa, once again, looked to Zechs for direction. For some reason it frustrated Noin – yes, Zechs was Trowa's superior officer but then so was she. "That's an order, trainee," she snapped in irritation. Trowa's posture went rigid and he nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he murmured and turned to go. Noin could make out the barest trace of a smirk on his lips as Trowa looked at Zechs before leaving the hospital room. It was enough insolence that Noin opened her mouth to launch into a tirade about egoistical boys, but then she caught the look on Zechs' face as he watched Trowa leave. His features were normally so rigidly controlled that he had developed a reputation for being cold and unfeeling, but just now, in this moment, there was a softness to his mouth and a warmth in his eyes that Noin had only ever seen directed towards a handful of people, two of whom were long dead. "Oh my God." Zechs looked at her with a frown. "What?" "You like him." The frown became an angry scowl. "You do. You've got a crush on your rookie!" "I do not have a crush," Zechs spat. "I'm not twelve." He massaged the bridge of his nose. "We're involved." Noin couldn't even remember the last time Zechs had dated anyone. During their time at the Academy together Zechs had developed a reputation as being a bit of a slut – one night stands with as many men in their cadet class he could lure into his bed and more than a few of the instructors. "How long has this been going on?" "Eight months." "Well, that explains why you wanted him put through accelerated training. You didn't want your bed cold for six whole months." Zechs glared at her. "It's more than that." Something about his tone suggested that he would have preferred it not be. Noin couldn't help but grin. "So, what, he's a one night stand that you just couldn't shake? Has he confessed his undying love for you and you, emotionally crippled sex-fiend that you are, just couldn't find a way to break it to him that you hate committed relationships?" "Hardly," Zechs muttered and shook his head. "Then what? Because I don't know when you've slept with the same person twice, let alone spent eight months being… involved." "I care about him, Noin. It started out as… sex, amazing, completely mind numbing sex that –" "Okay, I get that he's good in bed. You don't have to go into any details there." "-but now…damn it all, I care about him." "And that makes you angry and afraid, because you don't won't to lose him too. Like you lost your mother and father -" "I didn't realize you had taken up psychotherapy," Zechs sneered. "Online course," Noin responded sweetly. "You might as well start calling me Dr. Lieutenant Noin." "Dr. Lieutenant?" Zechs echoed, a faint grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Yes," she decided with a nod. She waited a moment before continuing with her earlier line of questioning. "How does he feel about you?" "Damned if I know," Zechs muttered. "He certainly enjoys the sex – even now that he's not being – even now," Zechs corrected himself, and Noin wondered what he had been about to say. "Even now?" she repeated, hoping to draw out his original words. "Even now that we barely speak anymore," Zechs said. "A few weeks ago he made some arrests, a few of Clark's dealers, and when I cut them loose he – we – had a shouting match in the middle of the pen." "Really?" Noin tried to imagine Zechs, normally so calm and cool, and Trowa, who had struck her immediately as having amazing self control, fighting in the middle of the police station. "I had to write him up for insubordination and then, later, I had to explain. We haven't spoken much since then." Noin arched an eyebrow. "But you're still having sex?" Zechs sighed. "How pathetic is it that the only thing keeping me sane is the feel of his skin? I spend my days walking through this…nightmare of a life and it's only touching him that convinces me I have a chance of seeing this thing through." Shit, Noin couldn't help but think. The look of complete misery on Zechs' face told her that he felt the same way. "Who is George Septum?" Noin asked, partly to change the subject and partly to take advantage of this rare vulnerability from Zechs. "One of them," he said bitterly. "Oh." That was all Noin needed to know. Twenty years ago, when Zechs was just eleven, Sanc had been a completely different city. The Mayor, Alexander Peacecraft had been known for his dedication to equality and peace – he had managed to forge a tentative truce between all quarters and the Core of Sanc for just over a year, and the city had experienced unparalleled financial prosperity. However, that prosperity had made more than a few greedy, and the risk of losing their place at the top of society to upstarts from one of the quarters had inspired a few of the more powerful Core families to band together and form the Romefeller Foundation. One of the first acts of the foundation had been to eliminate Alexander and his family – a sign to any who dreamed of challenging the Romefeller's that they would be defeated. The Mayor's house had been burned to the ground – killing the entire staff as well as Alexander and his wife. The bodies of their two children, Milliardo and Relena, had never been found. Noin was one of only a few people who knew that Zechs Merquise was in fact Milliardo Peacecraft and that his sister, Relena, had been raised by Thomas Darlian as his own child. When Zechs said that Septum was one of them he meant that Septum was one of the men responsible for the murder of his family – and by extension the collapse of Sanc into ruin.
While Noin and a very reluctant Zechs badgered Stevens into releasing her from the hospital and the paperwork was processed, Noin sent Trowa back to the police station to collect a spare uniform she could wear. The realization that she had nowhere to live – she, like the other instructors, had quarters at the Academy – no possessions, and no underwear had hit her hard. Her entire life had been the Academy, her definition of self and her value had all been measured by the success of her cadets. Now… Now Zechs needed her, and she put all of her doubt, pain, and anger aside. Zechs needed her and Sanc needed her. She had no illusions about the possibility of bringing to justice whatever terrorist had destroyed the Academy, but there was a chance, however faint, that Noin could avenge the deaths of all those innocent children under her care. Trowa returned with the uniform just as Stevens returned with her discharge papers. She accepted both gratefully. "I'll meet you at the station," she told Zechs, who nodded and left. But Trowa stayed behind another moment and passed her a plastic bag. She looked inside and discovered brand new socks, panties, and a bra that was – she was intrigued and disturbed to note – exactly her size. "Thank you," she said to him. It was one thing to know that she owed him her life – entirely another to know that he was her oldest friend's lover and clearly didn't realize how lucky he was to have Zechs in his life – but the fact that he had taken the time and the initiative to get her underwear after she had snapped at him meant that he was… infuriating, Noin decided. She didn't particularly want to become involved in Zechs' love life, but it was clear that his relationship with Trowa Barton wasn't very healthy. He held her gaze for a long moment, as if analyzing her face for weaknesses, and Noin realized that Trowa was judging her as an opponent. She arched one eyebrow in challenge. "Zechs is my best friend," she informed the rookie cop tartly. "And while I'm grateful that you saved my life, I'm not going to let you ruin his." "Yes, ma'am," Trowa said, that same slight, insolent smirk on his face again. Without another word he left.
Despite the fact that she had spent the last four years at the Academy, walking into the police headquarters that afternoon felt like coming home. The sea of faces – all faces she recognized – were a welcome replacement to the dead ones that had been haunting her waking and sleeping moments since the Academy bombing. Of course, not all of the faces were welcome. Dorothy Catalonia wasted no time in her efforts to remind Noin that she hated her former instructor. "Lieutenant Noin," Dorothy greeted her when she walked into the station. "Officer Catalonia," Noin returned. "We were all so very grateful to learn that you survived the terrorist attack." Noin arched an eyebrow at that. Her hospital room had been inundated with get well cards and flowers from almost the entire Sanc police force. The only notable exceptions to those who had sent her gifts were Dorothy and Chilas Catalonia. "It would be such a shame to lose you," Dorothy continued. "My father and I were speaking about you just the other day." "Reminiscing?" Noin suggested. Dorothy's lips curled. "Yes, you are such a credit to this precinct," Dorothy muttered. "It would be truly a shame if anything happened to you. Or to your dear friend, Detective Merquise." With a haughty shake of her hair, Dorothy turned on her heel and marched away. "She should just pull down her pants and piss on your shoes," a voice murmured. Noin turned to see Hilde Schebeker standing behind her. "Did you just insult another officer?" she demanded. "No," Schebeker said with a firm shake of her head. "I merely offered a suggestion to make her intimidation tactics more successful." Despite herself, Noin felt her mouth form a smirk. "It's good to have you hear," Schebeker said with a wide smile. The girl had been one of Noin's favorite cadets – she was smart, sensitive, and determined. Not a combination easily found in Sanc these days. Her personality and drive, combined with her looks, reminded Noin of herself, when she had been that age. "How have you been?" Noin asked her. Schebeker shrugged. "I'm adjusting. It's been a tough year – first I lost my training officer, then another training officer and then…" Noin nodded. She had gone to the Academy with Solo Ford and had actually recommended that he request Schebeker as a trainee when the girl graduated. "And you?" Schebeker asked hesitantly. "I'm fit for duty, and that's all that matters," Noin told her. Schebeker nodded her head firmly. Noin resisted the urge to hug the girl and instead looked past her at the bustle in the pen. "Is the Chief in his office?" "Should be. He's been getting the ATF team settled in all day." "Excellent. Thank you, Officer Schebeker." Noin watched the girl walk away and sit down at a desk, presumably her own, and start to go through the files on the surface. She allowed herself a moment to appreciate that at least one of her students was alive and successful – two, she had to reluctantly add when Trowa Barton walked past her and gave her a polite nod. Catalonia was indeed in his office and when Noin walked in he looked just as thrilled to see her as his daughter had been. "Noin," he greeted her brusquely and reluctantly gestured for her to sit in one of the chairs across from his desk. "Chief," she responded with only a fraction of civility. "I thought you were still in the hospital, recovering." "My doctor was impressed with my progress and decided I was ready to resume my obligations." Catalonia arched an eyebrow. "It's going to be months before the Academy is rebuilt," he pointed out. "I know. That's why I'd like to transfer back to the precinct." Catalonia leaned back in his chair. He could turn down her request, both of them knew, but the Sanc police force badly needed some good PR right now. "How many officers have died in the line of duty over the past six months?" Noin asked when he still looked undecided. "Enough that losing the only survivor of the Academy bombing in the line of duty would crush morale," Catalonia murmured, his cold intellect kicking in. Noin frowned. She hadn't considered that angle, but he was right. "Sir, I'm ready for active duty and I know more about the Academy than anyone else on your force. Assign me to be the liaison to the ATF team. Please," she remembered to add. Catalonia sneered. They had never gotten along – Noin had refused to give his daughter any special treatment when she was at the Academy and Catalonia resented her for that, but even more for the fact that Noin, like Zechs, remembered what Sanc had been like before OZ and Romefeller. "I've already assigned Officer Barton," Catalonia said after a moment. "After all, he was useful that night. You on the other hand…" Noin fought down her anger and resentment at that. "You're actually going to assign a rookie as your liaison to the ATF on the violent case of terrorism this city has ever seen? Don't you think that sends the public the message that you don't really care? I wonder how the news scrolls will spin it…" Catalonia glared. "Fine," he snapped. "You and Barton are on the case." Noin smiled sweetly and stood up. She saluted and waited until he returned it before walking from the office. "Oh, and Lieutenant Noin?" She turned at the door and saw that Catalonia was smirking viciously. "Welcome to the precinct." "Welcome back," she couldn't help but correct him as she left. Once she left his office Noin wandered the station aimlessly, retracing her steps down corridors she had walked years ago. Corridors that seemed emptier now, because none of her cadets would walk them again. It took an effort to shake herself out of her melancholy thoughts, and just as she did she caught sight of Trowa Barton walking through the pen. Noin leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. He stopped at one of the desks, and Noin recognized it as the Schebecker's. Trowa leaned one hip against the desk and looked towards the cops clustered by the water cooler as he casually leafed through the folders on Schebeker's desk. His hand hesitated when it uncovered a photograph that looked like it had been folded and refolded several times. A frown crossed his face and he pocketed the photograph before moving on. Just what are you up to? she wondered and decided to make it her mission to uncover just who Trowa Barton was and what he wanted from Zechs.
It had taken hours for Noin to be assigned an office – a private one and not a cubicle in the pen, as her rank demanded – and by the end of the day she felt exhausted, cranky, and in more than a little pain from the burns on her side. However, the fact that she had absolutely no where else to go had her lingering at her new desk. "Hey." She looked up to see Zechs standing in the open door of her office. "Yeah?" "I have a meeting tonight, and I'd like you to come with me." She arched one eyebrow. "A meeting?" He nodded but didn't elaborate. "Okay." She stood up from her desk and he frowned. "Damn. I forgot you don't have any other clothes." "And my uniform is inappropriate for this meeting," she hazarded. Zechs nodded. "Come on, let's go shopping." Those words made Noin drag her feet and Zechs actually had to grab her left arm and haul her from her office. "I hate clothes shopping," she complained. That was one of the many perks of running the Academy – she wore a parade uniform, workout clothes, or her utility uniform every day. She had teased Zechs that one of the reasons he had made detective so quickly was an effort to be able to wear his own clothes – he still wore the uniform on occasion, but the rank entitled him to wear civilian clothes as often as he wanted to. Unlike her, Zechs loved to clothes shop and his personal taste guaranteed that after an two hours at one of the high end fashion houses in the Core, Noin was forced to purchase a pair of three inch heels and a black velvet, long sleeved evening dress that she despised for its form fitting skirt and cleavage enhancing cut. The fact that even Zechs couldn't keep his eyes from travelling towards her breasts as they rode the train to L3 and the location of this mystery meeting did little to appease her. Noin didn't do feminine. She didn't do pretty or beautiful or riveting – all adjectives that the salesclerk had used when Zechs made her try on the dress in the first place. "You look fantastic," Zechs assured her as she tried to adjust the neckline. "I hate you," she responded. "Where are we going, anyway?" "The Circus," Zechs said after looking around to make sure no one else on the train was listening in on their conversation. "The –you're taking me to that brothel?" Zechs rolled his eyes at her reaction. "Does your rookie approve of you visiting such a… wretched hive of scum and villainy?" "He's joining us there," Zechs informed her. Since he was being so cagey and refused to elaborate, Noin leaned back and they spent the rest of the train ride in silence. When they at last arrived at The Circus, Zechs led Noin through the crowded first floor and to a curtained room on the second floor guarded by four burly men. Zechs ushered Noin into the room first and she was confronted with the surprised glares of twelve men and women. "So good of you to join us, Zechs… and Ms. Noin, I hadn't realized you were joining us this evening." The look Treize Khushrenada sent their way as Zechs and Noin sat could have thawed a glacier. "I hadn't either," Noin informed him before sending a glare in Zechs' direction. Gathered around the table were the backbone of the Sanc underworld: all the major players in politics, publicity, drugs, prostitution, and guns. And then there was Trowa Barton, seated between Une and Quinze, looking as if he felt perfectly at home. "Hm." Treize and Zechs seemed to be engaged in a prolonged staring contest, but eventually Treize smiled and inclined his head. "In any case, we are delighted to add you to our company," Treize assured her. Several others at the table murmured similar sentiments, but Une fixed Noin with a cold glare. "Well, now that we are assembled, perhaps we can discuss our recent failures." Treize directed the words in Trant Clark's direction. "In the last two weeks how many of your establishments have been destroyed?" Treize demanded when Clark remained silent. "Nine," Trowa helpfully supplied when Clark didn't answer. "Nine," Treize repeated. "Which sets back our cause several thousand – if not several hundred thousand." "And then there's the matter of the arms manufacturing in L1," Treize turned to Quinze. "We've lost some warehouses," Quinze hedged. "Twelve," Trowa said and Quinze sent the man a glare of pure hatred. Noin wondered if the rookie had a death wish – why else would he be trying to show up two of the most dangerous men in Sanc? She looked over at Zechs, but his eyebrows were drawn together in a frown, as if he too wondered what Trowa was doing. "We are losing ground. Not only are these attacks damaging Romefeller and OZ, but they require our immediate actions if we want to retain any chance of taking control. The public are growing restless – the Academy disaster has created doubt about the strength and authority of Romefeller." "Which provides a perfect opening for us," Une murmured. "Yes," Treize agreed, "but only if we can follow through. We've noticed increased violence in every quarter of the city and L2…" Noin had seen the news scrolls while recovering in the hospital. The citizens of Sanc seemed convinced that the attack on the Academy had been perpetrated by L2 natives, whose hatred of the police was legendary, and there had been countless attacks on citizens from that quarter who ventured into the rest of the city on their own. This, in turn, had led to L2 gangs striking back – killing Sanc police, taking on the mercenaries who protected L1, even looting L4 mansions and inciting riots in L5. Only L3, under the iron fist of Deikim Barton's control, seemed to have escaped the recent escalation of violence. "Maybe your new lackey has a suggestion for us?" Quinze muttered with a glare in Trowa's direction. Treize only smirked. "Ironically, he did have a suggestion." All eyes focused on the auburn haired man. "The city needs a symbol. Something it can focus on that unifies the people and keeps them under control. Something to believe in. The citizens of Sanc have seen that Catalonia is powerless to protect his officers for years – but now the cadets, the sons and daughters and brothers and sisters of people from every quarter were slaughtered and Catalonia has done nothing. Dermail is old and out of touch – the people don't listen to him anymore, and now more than ever, Sanc needs a voice to listen to." He was smart and he had balls, Noin had to give Trowa Barton that much. "Then you're going to step in?" Heinz Baer, the owner of the largest Sanc broadcasting network. "No," Treize said. "The time isn't right for that. Not yet. What we need is someone for the people to believe in… someone to calm them down and remind them to behave themselves." Treize smiled slightly. "We need Relena Darlian." Beside her, Zechs tensed, his entire body going rigid at the mention of his sister's name. "Thomas Darlian's daughter?" Clark asked in dismay. "She isn't one of us." "Exactly," Treize agreed. "She isn't controlled by Romefeller or OZ or this organization. And everyone knows it. If she can be persuaded to save the people of Sanc and serve them, in this time of need…" he trailed off. "It's going to take a hell of a lot of persuasion," Lon Kou spoke up. He was a member of the notorious Kou family from L5 – a family that almost rivaled the Bartons and Catalonias for its reputation of ruthlessness and solidarity. It was clear that Kou was volunteering to the persuading, and Noin had to drive the heel of her new shoes into Zechs' right foot to keep him from speaking up. "You can't intimidate her into this," Trowa argued. "The only reason people will listen to Relena is because she believes in what she's saying – if you damage her belief in her own importance then she will be useless." That was probably the most polite way to say that Relena is self-centered and completely full of herself, Noin mused. "You just have an answer for everything, don't you?" Clark muttered. Trowa gave him a smug, superior look, but remained silent. Une looked ready to volunteer her own services, so Noin spoke up. "I'll do it," she said, surprising everyone in the room. "She'll listen to me. Her father trusted me and I've had some experience dealing with snotty brats," she added, thinking about Catalonia. Her description of Relena made several people chuckle and diffused some of the tension around the table. "Very well," Treize agreed. "Coordinate my Une. The rest of you," he looked around the table with a disappointed expression on his face, "would do well to remember that we get nowhere unless we push forward." He waved his hand, signaling an end to the meeting, and everyone started to disperse. When Trowa left Zechs got to his feet and followed him from the room, clearly furious with the other man. Noin rose to follow them, but Une stopped her at the door. "Luce, it's been such a long time since we last spoke. Why don't I buy you a drink?" No one had called Noin that in years. "I'm actually a little tired," she tried to demur. Une fixed her with a hard gaze. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you get tucked in before your bedtime." Treize laughed from his position at the table. "Join her," he suggested, but it was clearly an order. "You two could do with some catching up." Noin barely managed to conceal her resentment and followed Une out of the room and back to the main floor. Une led the way to a secluded booth and a moment later a male waiter wearing only a black thong delivered two glasses of champagne. "You're looking well," Une said. Noin glared at her. "For someone who just got out of the hospital today," Une clarified with a sharp grin. "I assume Zechs dressed you." "Of course. You know I would never wear this of my own volition." "I do," Une agreed with a suggestive tone. Noin didn't believe in regrets – in life you acted and then you dealt with the consequences of your actions and moved on. There was no point in looking back and wishing things had been different. But she deeply regretted the very brief, very twisted relationship she had had with Une years ago. The woman had an innate skill in figuring out your weaknesses and manipulating them to control you. On top of that ability, Une was a cruel, petty bitch who enjoyed making people bend to her will. Noin sighed. "What do you want, Midii?" Une's eyes narrowed. She hated her given name just as much as Noin hated her own. "I want to ensure Treize's victory, and I want your assurance that you will do everything in your power to make that happen." Noin arched an eyebrow. "What kind of power do you think I have?" "Don't act like an idiot, Luce. It doesn't suit you and it's so boring. We both know that Milliardo trusts you above anyone else still alive." "There's a reason why he trusts me," Noin pointed out. "The same reason Treize trusts you – I would never betray him." "I'm not asking you to," Une said. "In fact, I'm asking you to save his life. Treize is worried that he is becoming… unhinged." "You think he's losing his mind?" "We think he's losing his perspective. This has been going on for months now." Noin wondered if it could be related to his relationship with Trowa. She was suddenly struck with the thought that Trowa Barton was just as emotionally cold and collected as Une, just as intelligent, and just as likely to wind up manipulating the people around him. "What do you expect me to do?" Noin asked. "Put him back on the right path and keep him in line." "Perhaps you haven't met him, but no one tells Milliardo – or Zechs – what to do. Not even your Treize." "I know that," Une snapped. "Obviously you have to be smart about this or he will see right through you. I know you volunteered to persuade Relena to join our cause to keep me away from her and we both know why you want that. I'll allow it, for now, because I suspect Trowa Barton is correct and that forcing her to do our bidding would only backfire." "Who is he? Trowa Barton." Une smirked. "A gift from Deikim to ensure he isn't entirely overlooked when the new order comes about." When she had first read his name on the list of new cadets at the Academy, Noin had been intrigued. It was well known in Sanc that almost everyone bearing the last name of Barton was not, in fact, relating to the overlord of L3 but had instead likely been adopted into the organization. Which meant that anyone bearing the name of Barton was unquestionably loyal to the L3 quarter above all else. But the smug look in her eyes and her choice of words meant that Une was implying that not only was Trowa Barton an L3 loyalist, but one of Deikim's infamously well trained prostitutes. "You're joking." Une chuckled. "Not at all. Amusing, isn't it?" She gestured with one hand and Noin tracked her gaze to a shadowy corner of the club. Zechs had Trowa backed against a wall and it was clear the two were arguing heatedly. A moment later, however, they were locked in a passionate embrace, kissing each other as if intent on devouring the other whole. "Oh Zechs." She couldn't help but feel pity for him. "Speaking of gifts," Une said and lifted her right index finger and twirled it in the air. Noin frowned and then scowled when a woman appeared at their table. Her hair was a riot of wild, red curls and her blue eyes were rimmed with golden mascara and eye shadow that leant her an otherworldly appearance. Her body was completely covered in a golden dress made of some diaphanous material so that every line of her body was visible. "Treize thought you might want some company," Une said. "Did he?" Noin turned to her with narrowed eyes. "And just when did he think that?" Une smirked but refused to answer. "He knew Zechs would bring me tonight, didn't he?" "Both of you are terrifyingly predictable," Une confirmed. She rose from her seat and stood beside the woman for a moment, looking her over. "Be good to her," she ordered the woman before giving her mouth a hard kiss. Noin watched Une walk away before turning to the woman with a sigh. "I'm not really in the mood for –" "It's part of my job to put you in the mood," the woman interrupted with a saucy tilt of her lips. "And I'm sure you're very good at it," Noin assured her. "But I'm really not comfortable having sex with…" "A woman? I was told you preferred women, especially bossy women." Noin closed her eyes as an unbidden mental image of this golden woman dominating her came to mind. "Yes," she agreed after a moment. "But I've never – I don't –" "I see," the woman interrupted again and sat down beside Noin, close enough that their legs touched and Noin could smell the sharp, exotic scent of her perfume. "You've never been with a whore before." "No," Noin admitted. "Then let's just pretend that we're two lonely girls who met over a glass of champagne," the woman handed Noin her as yet untouched glass, "who just couldn't keep our eyes off each other and simply had to spend more time together." Noin's mouth felt incredibly dry. "I don't even know your name." "Catharine Bloom," the woman said and instead of offering her hand to Noin she reached out to trace the plunging neckline of her gown. "And yours?" "Noin – Luce Noin," she corrected. "Luce," Catharine repeated with a smile. The way she said the name sounded nothing like Une – instead of sounding like a curse or a trap it sounded sweet and intoxicating. "What a pleasure to meet you."
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