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"The Agency: Meeting of Souls "Written By: Karina Pairings 13x6 [eventual], 5xS, 3x4, Others undecided at this time. Warnings: Extreme Alternate Universe setting. Unbetaed, Aussie spelling and grammar, not much else in the early chapters though it will involve murder, stalking and possibly some colourful language down the track. Some Out Of Character depictions are unavoidable considering the alternate universe setting. Rating: M [In Australia that would be mature adult 15+] Not sure with the new rating system about international ratings. Rated for violence and language and adult concepts. Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. That's about as plain as you could say it. Summary: The world took a very different turn with the acknowledgement of psychic abilities and training of select psychic individuals enlisted in elite fields such as law enforcement and politics. A grading system for the strength of psionic abilities was developed and those who were the top of the elite have been dubbed Prime Talents and are highly sought after. Elite institutions have been developed to mark, train and employ individuals with useable psionic talents. The colonies of canon Gundam Wing do exist in this fic and were constructed before the psionic system was founded. With the advent of psionics in open use in society younger people are appearing in positions of power as they are awakening to their abilities earlier and are highly trained in their fields of expertise. //…// Thoughts
Chapter Fifteen Treize refrained from glancing back at the agents working around the forensic van, his partner amongst them. His concern was no longer the psychic investigation of the individual items to be prepared for transport to the Agency laboratories. His high powered empathy, which permitted him to use his empathic form of psychometry to accurately gage the emotions of the individuals who had handled them, was now directed solely toward the younger man walking at his side. His talent had been making the choice of which items to remove from the crime scene simple. With him otherwise occupied, his partner would need to bag everything he had not already designated as being pertinent to the investigation. Their usual technique required him to pin point items a suspect would have physically handled, or had soaked in strong emotion, and later be fitted into their investigation. It would mean wasted time later, sorting out the wheat from the chaff, but there was no help for it. They had delayed enough already waiting for the Agencies specialist forensic unit to arrive; he was not inclined to delay longer while a lesser psychometric talent was summoned to take his place. His focus now must become the younger man and settling him to the idea of this newly found talent. If he could gain some insight from Trowa into exactly what he had seen of the murdered man, it would be welcome and significant information. If Trowa had indeed seen the shade of the victim lingering in the refrigerator, and he had no reason to think Trowa would be alluding to such a skill for no reason, he might be able to convince Trowa to permit him to scan his memory of the vision. Such a scan might enable him to determine some small detail Trowa was consciously unaware of, which might give them vital clues to both the identity and occupation of their victim. It was unavoidable they draw attention from bystanders as they crossed the grounds and entered the security building. That he could tell they were staff and not students, in particular Otto’s security personnel in prominent evidence. He caught flashes of curiosity, some concern and recognition from those who recognized Trowa in his company, and no small amount of attention followed them through the doors to the offices. The staff present in the foyer nodded politely and made way for him, but he could feel the mounting curiosity and the growing focus of their concern at Trowa’s presence. The building served to focus their emotions and he was careful to appear relaxed and casual as he motioned Trowa toward the door leading deeper into the building. In very short order Otto would be informed, and possibly the Master of the University, which would make life a little easier for him when he approached the Registrar over the need to reassess the younger man’s talent. He informed the desk officer he would be using Otto’s office and would appreciate not being disturbed for a time. The woman on duty was, he noted, an empath and he lightly brushed her shields with his own talent. He projected a calming aura and mild curiosity, careful to give no hint Trowa was in anyway involved in causing the disturbance. In return he received her projected content, reading it as acknowledgement and a confirmation she understood Trowa was not in trouble. Satisfied he was not about to have Otto and his superiors breathing down his neck in the space of minutes, he followed Trowa to the door leading into the depths of the building. Stepping through the door he took the opportunity to study the younger man as he took stock of his surroundings. Deciding physical grounding would be called for Treize maintained a fingertip touch on the broad shoulder, motioning with his free hand in the direction he wanted them to go. Using the light touch to better sense the emotions roiling within Trowa, Treize considered how well the youth was dealing with what had happened. He could sense Trowa’s confusion all too easily and the fear underlying it. There was also a more than healthy curiosity steadily gaining strength. His daughter’s cousin was finding firmer mental footing, and he was pleased his assessment of Trowa being a basically level headed and steady young man, was proving to be sound. It was not easy to see death for the first time and Trowa had seen beyond death, a harder reality to deal with than the physical body itself. He suspected by the time they settled to the interview Trowa would be stabilized mentally and not likely to fall apart on being questioned. One thing the Barton’s did not do was breed weak kneed stock. Since Trowa seemed content with the situation and had, from memory, never been overly mouthy, Treize did not feel he needed to engage in meaningless prattle merely to assist Trowa in grounding himself. When dealing with this particular Barton useless conversation might well be the worst thing to attempt. Trowa had always been quiet, he recalled, reserved; a young man who seemed well enough able to amuse himself and did not feel the need to be noticed by his elders. Given what Treize knew of the nature of the in-house politics of the Barton Clan, this was most likely a survival instinct that had kept his profile low enough to avoid undue attention from the Elders. No doubt this new found talent would attract far more attention than he would be comfortable with, but there was no help for it. Trowa would need to be trained, and the Patriarch would be required to give his consent. The silence was not bothering the youth, who emanated a strong desire to think while he could and the certainty he was not going to particularly like the aftermath of the coming interview. Treize was willing to permit Trowa to take his time, unwilling to rush the younger man as he struggled to deal with the situation. Treize needed him centred and well aware of the repercussions of the interview; willing to listen as well as talk. Maintaining a light monitoring touch he read growing interest as they passed the various offices and glimpsed security personnel at work. For an instant he caught the quickly squashed desire to be a part of such camaraderie. There was a genuine interest in the work being carried on underlying Trowa’s curiosity. There was also an aching desire to belong, but Treize sensed the fatalistic acknowledgement so familiar to him with all who came from the old families of European descent. The very real knowledge one was not likely to escape the future the Elders had planned. Trowa might be a minor cousin in the clan, but his fate was controlled by the Elders who sat up and took notice of a child once their Psi talent established. //Rather reminds me of a somewhat milder version of my own discontent. I was desperate enough to jump at the chance I was given to escape my fate. For me it was a success, and I have no regrets about the choices I made. No doubt he is considering the advent of this Medium talent to be a nail in his coffin, ensuring he will never escape the Barton’s grasp on his life. I have to wonder if it might not actually be his escape. Stranger things have happened. I suppose it will depend on his strength.// Treize was thankful Otto was otherwise occupied with the duties of running the security system for such a large and complex establishment as Tsuberov. The man had been nothing but cooperative, and Treize could not put his finger on the cause for the persistent itch that suggested Otto was hiding something. He could find nothing to complain about the man’s behaviour, given the well ordered society under his command was currently in disarray by an unexplained death and multiple break ins. Some Security Officers would be highly defensive of their methods and training and insist they run the show, but Otto had been of every assistance to them. He had emanated an honest desire to sort out the mess as speedily as possible. Otto had offered his office to the investigation team should they be required to interview anybody, and Treize was thankful for the privacy. He did not want to take Trowa to the Agency for the interview, preferring to keep the surroundings as familiar for the young man as possible, but needing to be assured they would not casually be disturbed. It was just another example of how willing to cooperate the former Sancian Royal Guard was. In some ways his lack of resentment worried Treize, though he supposed given the man’s past he would accept the need for a murder to be investigated by the appropriate authorities. //Still, there is something about him that bothers me. That mind shield is far beyond what I would expect to find given the situation. A Security Chief, even at so prestigious an establishment as Tsuberov, should not be fitted with a device so complex, costly and new. How did Otto get on the list to have such a new device implanted? It’s ground breaking technology and expensive does not begin to describe the cost involved. There is more to him than meets the eye, but I suppose that is a puzzle I will need to entertain another time.// He stopped before the office door, and pushing it open motioned Trowa to enter. He could feel the youth’s curiosity as he looked about, noting the rogue’s gallery dominating one wall, the past employment of the man on open display. He caught the flash of appreciation on seeing the painting that should have been hanging in a museum, and then the uncertainty of what he should do next. “Take a seat.” Treize indicated one of the chairs placed before the desk. Trowa settled in the centre of the three seats and gazed about him, giving Treize the impression he had never entered the office before. Given the Barton Clan’s reputation, Treize could well believe the youth had kept his nose clean and had never needed to be called before Otto in an official capacity. The younger man still looked peeked by the encounter, and Treize considered him as the youth settled in the chair. Too many of the Barton clan considered themselves to be above the common masses, but Trowa, on the occasions they had previously met, had always struck him as being down to earth and eminently sensible. Still no questions asked, though Treize did detect mounting nervousness and swelling curiosity. It seemed being in the office was enough to rouse Trowa’s unease and a rising tide of fear. No doubt if he had incurred the displeasure of the Barton Elders, he would have a natural nervousness to being placed in an environment which screamed authority. Otto would be associated with discipline, and discipline always made a body nervous. Treize was no exception to that reaction in younger years. While Trowa was not a chatty individual, Treize sensed that in his reticence, much of his silence might have been the result of little practise of speaking to authority figures in the home environment. Until Dekim Barton, the family patriarch deemed you an adult, you were treated as a child and were expected to keep your nose out of family business-and your mouth firmly shut. How Barton determined when the clan children were adult depended from child to child, but it was not an arrangement that suited Treize, who had a far more relaxed attitude when it came to children. The Barton attitude of children must be rarely seen and definitely not heard, was something Treize was determined to monitor as his daughter grew older. At the present time she was only six years of age and needed her exuberance controlled. He was not, however, inclined to permit her to be subjugated by the Barton clan. She was, after all, a Kushrenada and his family had a history of speaking their minds. Within the Kushrenada family even young children were encouraged to do so, after all, one did not learn anything if one did not ask questions; or make mistakes. The Barton adults, particularly those under Dekim’s leadership in the main family compound, tended to play their cards very close to their chests. Internal house politics had been known to run into bloodshed; more than one patriarch of the house had met an untimely end. Not that he could say the Kushrenada’s had not had their share of murder and intrigue. It was rife amid the old families and always would be. He had been aware of their hierarchy before he had agreed to the contract for a child, and was confident in his ability to spare any child of his their sanctions for being a typical Kushrenada. Leia had been more forward than most of her family and, he admitted, had he not been quite so firmly homosexual, he might have been interested in her. Given their past encounters, and what he had sensed of her, though he would never reveal how deeply he had scanned her, he felt he could trust her to supervise their daughter’s early education. He had, however, been careful to include in the contract access for himself to have a supervisory voice in all aspects of Mariemaia’s life. Given the Barton families somewhat more volatile nature than his own, he had taken pains to ensure the child would be given into his custody should Leia chance to die. It was not a clause the Barton patriarch had initially approved, but he had conceded eventually. The child still gave him access to the Kushrenada family and their sphere of influence; a legitimate heir to her father’s considerable resources. At the present time, she was his only heir. //Something I will need to address. I am not particularly fond of the idea, but one does have a commitment to one’s family and to the ESUN as a Prime to consider.// Though not at the present time. He would take up the matter with his daughter on his upcoming vacation and he was, he promised himself, having that time off. The last thing he would need was for the other Primes to learn how strained his shields were. Forcing himself back to the present matter Treize made his way to the credenza. “Coffee or tea, Trowa?” “Coffee. Please.” Trowa seemed to shake himself, making a visible effort to focus his attention on the Prime. “This is Otto’s office? I’ve never actually been in here before.” “Well, I am pleased you have not been involved in anything untoward, though it does worry me you appear to be devoid of youthful exuberance. Except for the imitation of roosting chickens, of course.” Trowa blushed when he realized he had one of the nine Prime level Empathic Telepaths in the ESUN making him coffee. It was as surreal as learning he was a Medium talent. “I’ve just never been caught.” Treize snorted softly and flashed a smile, deciding that was probably accurate. When you were reared in Barton’s enclosure, if you got up to mischief you made certain it could not be traced back to you. “What is going on, Treize? I… That was… I did see a body, didn’t I?” Treize glanced at the youth and after a moment’s consideration shrugged broad shoulders, turning back to pouring the coffee into two mugs. “You can best tell me that.” Trowa scowled and stared at his hands resting on his thighs, fingers gripping quite powerfully and he made a conscious effort to loosen his grip. When he spoke it was quietly and with an assurance Treize approved. “I did.” The Prime nodded and set both mugs on the desk, turning back to the credenza for the sugar basin and a teaspoon. “Do you have sugar and milk? We will need to contact your trainers and have a revised schedule prepared.” “Black, but I do have sugar. Thank you.” Choosing to have his coffee black Treize returned to the desk and settled back in Otto’s chair, silently complimenting the man on how well it cushioned and supported the body. The day seemed hours longer than the hands of the clock proclaimed and his bed was a very long way away. “Mediums are not too common and a powerful one is always in demand, particularly in the area of law enforcement. We have a staff of seven working for the Agency on a world wide basis, an additional five stationed on the colonies. Given today’s society, we do not have enough bona fide talents to meet demand. It is easier to investigate a murder in this day and age than it was sixty years ago. If, of course, you can speak directly to the victim.” He noted the shiver, not very obvious, but he had been looking specifically for a reaction. Trowa would need counselling, as did most with the talent. He was far from surprised by the flash of what many people would name fear, but fell somewhat short of what he personally called a fear reaction. There were so many levels of fear only another high level empath could understand some of the more subtle distinctions. “How many people have died?” He arched an eyebrow at the question and said nothing, waiting for more. There was the need to talk in Trowa, though he was fighting that need, and if being what appeared to be obtuse got the youth talking, he would develop clamp jaw and the IQ of a pea. “How many people have died here, at Tsuberove in the last day or two? How many and how?” Trowa tried again, being a little more detailed in his questions this time. “To my knowledge only one person has died. Do you have reason to believe there is another? Have you seen anything odd; someone you can not explain being in a certain place at a particular time? Another spirit seeking someone to explain to them what has happened; though you may not have made a connection with their presence at the time. That is often how a Medium discovers their talent.” “No. No, nothing like that. I just… What is going on?” “That is what I and my team are trying to determine. The Agency has been requested, by the ESUN Security Office, to assist in the investigation, given our rather unique catalogue of talents and resources. They have requested assistance in determining the state of affairs at Tsuberov, and what threat level there may be to the student’s resident here.” “Someone is dead. I would think that is a threat.” A flash of belligerence came clearly through the empathic link Treize had established. While the Prime acknowledged he personally would have preferred the precautionary removal of the Winner Heir, and his roommates, from the University until the matter had been dealt with, he could not actually say so to Trowa. “But why is he dead, Trowa, and what was he doing where he was when he died?” Treize noted Trowa had not touched his coffee, and as a gentle prod picked up his own and sipped. “No one wants to cause a panic, understand that. It is doubtful the murder has anything to do with any of the students.” He could lie convincingly if he had to, and if that was what it took to settle the young man down he would not hesitate. He would take as long as he needed to get what information he could out of Trowa, but he would need to be careful. He had seen too many emergent psi’s mishandled and ruined. He would not make the mistake of permitting impatience to rule him. “But…” “The death occurred prior to the return of the student body to Tsuberov. I assure you the victim was not a student registered here, nor was he employed by the University.” “He was too old to be a student.” Trowa whispered, picking up his mug and nursing it for a moment before taking a cautious sip. “Do you recall seeing him before?” Trowa scowled and bit back a response stating he was not in the habit of seeing dead people. He struggled to regain his equilibrium; it was hardly the Prime’s fault he was now caught up in this situation. He should not let this bother him so much and he knew Treize was not asking him if he had seen more shades of murdered people. The agent was asking if he had seen the living breathing man, not the spirit. Allowing the incident to throw him so far from his centre was not going to help. Taking a steadying breath, and a moment to really sample the coffee, he considered what he had seen. Taking the detail of the man’s face given the brief view he had had, and the oddly scrunched in look of him within the refrigerator, he tried to fit the features to someone he knew. He generally had a good memory for faces, but he could not place this one and sighed. “No. I can’t recall having seen him around here, not that there was anything remarkable about him to remember; other than the fact he was dead and his body was not actually in the refrigerator.” Treize smiled slightly at the comment. “He was neither a student nor an employee, and he was on the grounds unauthorized by Security. As yet a fingerprint search of all identification agencies world wide has drawn no result. Even with the networking we have enabling us to cross check agencies, given the size of the ESUN, these things take time. You have now given us the option of calling on a Medium to establish a line of communication to the victim, though such often takes time.” The offhand comment concerning the need for time to establish communication with the shade tweaked Trowa’s interest. If he was going to be seeing the dead popping up in his vicinity, he might as well gain as much information as he could on the talent. A Prime knew at least a little information on every branch of the Psionic sciences, a necessary preparation for working with possible future partners. The Duke was a veritable gold mine of information, and he seemed willing to talk. “Why would it take time? I would have thought a Medium would just need to ask, much as you and I are talking.” “The victims of violent, and most often unexpected crimes, too often do not realize they are dead. Your little escapade in the tree has at least offered us the option of bringing in a Medium, now we know his spirit is still available to be contacted. We should be able to identify him and gain some clue as to the identity of his killer.” “You did not know the… Spirit… was in the refrigerator?” “We did not. Understand, please, what I am about to tell you is privileged information; not to be shared with anyone. We need to keep the entire affair quiet, and I assure you we do not believe any of the students are at risk. We would have no hesitation about closing down Tsuberov until the matter had been dealt with if we did.” That was, supposedly, the view of the Tsuberov officials and the ESUN, though he could not claim it was his own opinion. He would have been happier to have no students in the vicinity, but he had to be guided by the parameters set down by others, at least until he had the evidence to the contrary and could overrule them. “I… alright. I understand I am to speak to no one about this.” “Most of the details you do not need to know, and I will impress on you, once again, this information does not leave this office.” At Trowa’s nod Treize continued. “The victim was killed yesterday, sometime in the early hours of the morning, before any of the students arrived. We are still waiting for the pathology report to tell us exactly how he died, and how long he had been dead.” “I know when to keep quiet, Your Grace. I will be discreet.” Treize waved a hand negligently, sipping at his coffee. “I am not a Duke at the moment, Trowa, merely an agent for the Agency.” “Prime Kushrenada then.” Trowa nodded, failing to see Treize’s wince at the formality. “What you said before… about bringing in a Medium. Does that mean you can simply ask the shade who it was who killed him? Can it be that easy?” Treize only wished it was. “In some cases, yes, that can be the case; but very rarely does anything come easily in this life. You need to understand that while the victim might be able to tell us who did the killing, the process of proving that information to a court of law is something else again. We still need evidence and, unfortunately, a Medium’s word is not good enough in the courts of today. No, I doubt in this case we will be fortunate enough for it to be that simple.” “I… guess I will have to learn all of this, won’t I?” “Yes, my friend, you will. I suspect you have more than a modicum of the talent, but we will not be expecting you to front the victim again. You have done enough, simply be letting us know the shade is there to be contacted.” There could be no denying the relief he sensed from Trowa at the assurance, and Treize could not say he blamed the younger man. It was a disconcerting talent, and in past centuries had had its practitioners labelled as anything from charlatans to insane. Though most psychic abilities had had the same effect through the ages. How many psychics, he mused, had been the victim of the Inquisition and the Witch burnings? “We will bring in one of our own Mediums and perhaps, after you are trained to your peak, you might even work with me at the Agency.” “I guess being a Medium will open other opportunities. It seems very different to my Long Ear.” “You think?” Treize smiled at him. “You hear people you have learned to target, without being within sight or sound of them by ordinary standards. It is not so large a stretch of the imagination that your eyes, not just your ears, might have some unique talent. I do know of one other Medium who has a Clairaudient talent not too dissimilar from your own. You are not unique, my friend. We do not, as yet, begin to understand the psychic links that give us multiple talents, but they are there. In time we will understand more.” “I am almost afraid to inform Dekim Barton of this new ability. He seemed to be quite set on where my future lies.” Trowa would have been of interest to the Elders of the family when his talent had been marked, and the rarity of his particular talent would have earned extra attention. Dekim Barton would be keen on exploiting that talent for the future of the family, Treize knew, and he wondered if the patriarch would be as pleased with Trwoa’s Medium ability. “You will not need to inform him. By the end of the day Tsuberov will have handled the contact. If you think you need some assistance, feel free to call on me. I will be listing myself as a consultant on your file, as I will be bringing your talent to the attention of the University.” To say Trowa was surprised by the revelation would be an understatement. A notation on his record of a Prime’s interest would not be missed, and it was certain to be brought to Dekim Barton’s attention. “You don’t have to do that. I am sure you have plenty of other matters to attend to.” “Well, we are, in a manner of speaking, cousins, are we not?” “I guess we are.” Trowa looked relieved and took a healthy mouthful of his coffee. He felt comforted by the interest of the Prime, and wondered if the man was using his talent to settle him down. “How did he die? He was so scrunched up in the refrigerator it was hard to see any marks on him.” “He died quickly and suddenly and as a result he may be unaware he is dead. If that is the case, our Medium will need to contact his shade quickly, gain his confidence and initially learn his name. It is possible he did not see his killer and, as I said, we are still waiting for the pathology report. Some deaths are so quick the victims do not realize what has happened. I believe this might be one of them.” “So, he was not shot? Or knifed? They leave visible sign, but if you don’t know that means… Was it Psi?” A horrified whisper escaped, the thought of someone killing with a psionic talent was abhorrent to him. “How did he die?” Treize sipped his coffee and set it slowly on the desk, placing it precisely and turned his gaze to Trowa, speaking quietly and firmly. He knew the young man was bright. “We are waiting for the pathology report to confirm our suspicions.” Trowa considered Treize for a long moment and blinked, only too aware of the intensity of those blue eyes centred on him. “You are not going to tell me, are you?” A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Not at the present time, no. That is one of the things you do not need to know.” Trowa drew a shaky breath. “Okay… but… how was he fitted into a fridge that size? I mean…” He shook his head, the long fall of his hair over half of his face momentarily revealing both emerald eyes. “I won’t speak of this to anyone, Treize. You know that I can keep quiet, but the look on his face… I’m not going to be able to forget that look for a long time.” “I know you can keep silent, Trowa, that is not the problem. You have now met my partner. He can be quite intense, and he has definite ideas of what should, and should not, be revealed. For the moment I can say very little about the case.” “Intense.” Trowa whispered. “Yes, he can be described as intense. A high level kinetic. I remember you telling Marie about him one day. What level is he?” “Chang’s strength lies in his telekinetic talent. He is a level 9 Telekinetic; yes, quite a rare strength.” He acknowledged Trowa’s arched eyebrow with a small nod. “The Agency needs to employ strong talents to meet the growing requirements expected of us. You will not find anyone with less than a level 7 primary talent working as field investigators.” “I have heard of The Agency from others in the family. When they learned you had gone to work for them, they were horrified.” Treize could not quiet restrain his predatory grin and the amused glint in his eyes. He was certain ‘horrified’ would actually be an understatement, given some of the clandestine business operations attributed to the Barton family. Not that the Kushrenada clan could talk. “Perhaps they were afraid my independence, and flaunting of the old traditions, might be picked up by your generation. I have, I admit, had an effect on others in the old Families and the Elders of certain other families are far from amused by me.” “I gathered some of them were not happy about the prospect of you picking up on matters best left unsaid while you visit with Marie.” Trowa shrugged broad shoulders and looked embarrassed. He had no doubt Treize was aware of the opinion of certain members of the Family. “Afraid I might pick up on something best left secret, hmm?” He could not resist the small chuckle. “Yes, I find that reaction common when dealing with big business, and particularly politically oriented situations. What old family in the European sector does not dabble, hmm? I admit, and I will thank you not to comment on this to anyone, that I have never warmed to Dekim Barton and his ambitions. I like Leia well enough. She has been good to Marie.” Trowa watched Treize for a long moment. The Prime could clearly sense his hesitation and a deep desire to avoid trouble. Teamed with his caution was a real concern, and it was no surprise when Trowa hunched over in his chair, looking extremely uncomfortable, interlocked his fingers to still their restless movement and drew a steadying breath. “Leia and Dekim… have been arguing lately.” Trowa hesitated, looking pained, but he liked Mariemaia and he liked her mother far more than he approved of the patriarch. “Over?” Treize encouraged softly. Treize knew Leia was not particularly fond of her father, but he also knew she was well aware of her position as a Barton, and was fiercely loyal to the family. She was one of the few members of the younger generation her father would take the time to listen to. Trowa would be all too aware he was treading where his toes did not belong, but Treize could feel his struggle with himself. Trowa believed he needed to say something, to make him aware of some upcoming trouble within the Family. Something that might impact on Mariemaia. “I… I’m not certain but… It is forbidden to use any Psychic talent unauthorized in the precincts of the House. I don’t initiate my Long Ear but… sometimes I can’t help ’hearing’ something no one else is supposed to know. I’m not always in my shielded room, and sometimes it just… happens. Marie’s only six and she likes me, and I like her. She’s different from the other kids at the main compound. I sort of got into the habit of looking out for her when I am home.” Treize was careful not to allow his growing concern to be seen. This boded ill for the future and he would need to keep alert for a change in Barton’s strategies. “This has something to do with my daughter?” “I believe it has something to do with Marie, but I haven’t heard anything specific. Leia does not talk much at the best of times around me, but lately she has been… almost silent around the house. She seems to be spending all of her spare time with Marie too.” Treize frowned, leaning back in his seat. He did not trust Dekim Barton not to plan out a use for Mariemaia within his dynastic ideals. He had known at the time of agreeing to the contract that he was going to have to watch the man. Barton played a different kind of game than the Kushrenada’s, and he was only too willing to use children in his schemes. It was not a pretty or overly discreet style and many of the Kushrenada’s considered him ‘tacky’. While Treize had full access to his daughter, he knew there was a great deal Barton would not want him aware of concerning his ambitions for Mariemaia in future years. The man tended to plan his games twenty years ahead of the here and now, and that made him dangerous. “I am pleased you look out for her, and would appreciate it if you would continue to do so. I will need to keep a closer eye on her if he is already beginning to notice her at six.” “It was considered a coupe when the contract was signed with the Barton family gaining majority custody of the child.” Treize grunted softly. “I personally thought at the time my Uncle was a fool to agree… though he has always been thick with Dekim.” He was wary enough of his own relatives not to have made his displeasure obvious at the time. “They are a canny pair and I need to watch them. Thank you, Trowa, and be assured, no one will hear anything from me.” Assured his concerns for the little girl were noted, and would not be dismissed, Trowa relaxed. He had, in effect, betrayed his family in bringing his concern to Treize at this unexpected opportunity, but he could not say he was sorry. If he could he would escape the family. He was sure he could find opportunities to establish a future for himself. “Let us not get sidetracked. Tell me, why do you sit in oak trees, outside of abandoned dormitory blocks, doing a passing fair imitating of a roosting chicken?” Trowa had the grace to look embarrassed. “I was startled when the door fell open and there was a man in the refrigerator, okay? I was shocked enough that I fell out of the tree and you don’t need to make jokes about it. It’s embarrassing enough as it is.” Treize grinned, an evil glint in his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. I can wring a bit more amusement out of it if without trying too hard. Lord knows this investigation is proving to be strange enough that I need a lighter view on life.” Trowa groaned and glared at the older man. “I’m not going to live it down, am I?” “Of course you will. Just give me a day or three to be amused by it.” Treize chuckled. “Just because I am amused does not mean I intend to share the reason with others, at the cost of your dignity. Have no fear, unless one of the other witnesses to your unsuccessful challenge to the physics of gravity mentions it, no one will hear it from me.” Trowa sighed, well aware the Prime was working on getting him to see the funny side of life again. He could not, however, banish the sight of that squashed form and those eyes imploring him. What it was the shade wanted from him he did not know, and he was not keen on finding out. “That’s something at least.” Treize inclined his head and smirked. “Now what were you doing up the tree?” Trowa sighed again. He was not going to be able to avoid answering and he knew it. He felt the Prime was being honest with him and was genuinely concerned, but the man also had a reputation within the Barton family. He knew enough to know that Dekim was careful around the Prime, and the family Patriarch’s caution said everything. Treize Kushrenada was dangerous, and not simply because he worked for The Agency. He had heard enough at the compound to know Treize would pursue a subject until he had the information he wanted; he would cling like a limpet and not let go until he was satisfied with the answers. Dekim had warned his people, on more than one occasion in Trowa’s hearing, to beware of the Prime. It gave Trowa the confidence to be honest up front-or spend the next seven hours being grilled in a most gentle, but thorough, manner. He had heard one cousin, who had dabbled in a case Treize was involved in, comment that the Prime rarely got nasty, but when he did it was better not to be around and the focus for his anger. A telepathic Prime’s anger could kill. “I was…” He hesitated, entertaining the notion of lying, but under those compelling sapphire eyes he relented. The empath would know he lied, and he found it was important to him to keep the Prime’s good opinion. “I was listening for a friend. I often climb the tree to escape attention when I have the opportunity, and listen for him.” //Ah. I had wondered what the tree thing was all about. You have not, I think, said it all though.// Treize nodded. “You are not in trouble, Trowa. Far from it, in fact, your presence has been beneficial to the investigation. I just need to know what you were doing there, and why you were there at that particular time.” He had hoped to avoid the subject of Quatre, but it looked like he might not be able to. Hopefully he could satisfy the Prime, perhaps even divert him, without being obvious. He really did not want to mention names, or the extent of their friendship. “We share few classes, our talents being so different, and he never came to class this morning. Then the word circulated the dormitory block was evacuated in the early morning, and the rumours were rather wild by the time they reached me. I had hoped to hear from him as to where he was to be billeted, and when he would resume normal classes. I usually climb that tree because the canopy is thick enough to offer me privacy, and the branches are large enough to offer me a safe perch.” “And did you?” “Pardon?” “Hear from him.” “Oh. Yes, he sent me a message. We do that when we can; he’ll whisper a message hoping I am listening for him. He said he should be able to see me in class tomorrow.” Treize considered Trowa for a long moment, pushing aside the remnants of his coffee. He had not been actively scanning the youths mind, but he had been monitoring the timbre of his minds emanations. He found himself to be intrigued by the flavour of Trowa’s thoughts, and the hint he was hoping to avoid something. There was a hint in the impressions he was receiving, a touch of fear, longing and unmistakable desire, that he recognized. He had suspected, soon after first meeting the young man, who had then been barely a teenager, that Trowa might be bisexual, or perhaps homosexual. His suspicions had been aroused by youthful hormones responding to the people around him, and his resulting emotional responses to that interaction. Trowa’s body language had been suggestive, and it brought to mind his own inner conflict over his sexuality. It appeared the youth might have made up his mind concerning his sexual orientation. What was intriguing, and somewhat surprising to the Prime, was the fleeting image he caught, quickly squashed. The face was familiar, and it was not really a surprise, considering certain magazines they had discovered in one of the bedrooms the day before. “Quatre Rababer Winner?” He arched an eyebrow. “Does he return your feelings?” Trowa blushed scarlet and ducked his head, hiding behind the long fall of hair over his face. He should have known better than to try to deceive the Prime, but he really had wanted to avoid anyone knowing about their budding relationship. He thought it was good of Treize to permit him a few minutes to gather himself, but he really could not bring himself to answer. He was hopeful Quatre was as keen on him as he was on the Winner heir. When no comment was forthcoming Treize sighed and leaned back in his seat, considering how best to get the youth to open up to him. That his emotions were in a turmoil over something in its infancy was obvious, and he was not about to betray what was obviously going to be a very personal confession. He needed to keep Trowa’s confidence, and he knew from personal experience, how hard it was to take that final step into being actively, and openly, homosexual. “I am as gay as a fairy on Smack, Trowa. It makes no difference to me what your personal preferences are, nor was I scanning you. You were thinking very strongly of the Winner heir and I chanced to catch your hope, not any actual thoughts. Contrary to whatever you may have heard, I do not peek into the heads of Barton family members whenever the whim takes me.” The youth was staring at him, visible eye wide, and for a moment it looked like he might fall off the chair. Treize gave him a moment, and being careful not to sound patronizing or disapproving, resumed his questioning. “I presume it is not a hopeless attraction? He does know and return your regard?” “You’re…” Trowa sighed, dropping his head into his hands and scrubbing at his face. “I did not realize that you were… well…” “Homosexual. No need to flit about it, Dear Boy. I am what I am. You must realize not everybody in this world is cut from the same cloth. A word of advice, Trowa. Once you know your orientation you can either agonize over it-over how other people will react to your sexuality- or you can simply let it be what it is. I am gay. It is a matter that concerns me and no one else, though to be sure there are those who have strong opinions of disapproval. I expected that, given my families status, and while I can not say it does not hurt, I have come to accept their disapproval as simply being the way it is. What you do with your revelation concerning your sexuality is up to you. Being homosexual is not the stigma it was even two generations ago, and amongst telepaths it is imperative you understand your sexuality.” “How is that?” He was genuinely curious and forgot his own embarrassment as he tried to puzzle out why understanding his sexuality was so important to the Prime. Treize shrugged, seeking for words a non telepath could understand. A fellow telepath knew exactly why you had to understand where your preferences lay, and how important it was to accept that orientation. “A high level telepath does not have the luxury of lying to his, or her, self where sex is concerned. The human body is the sum of genetic parts, and the human mind is something else entirely. The body, depending on the set of one’s genetics, has preferences on what it finds attractive and what it does not. The same can be said of the mind. It is not a given that what the body desires, is necessarily the same as what the mind finds attractive.” He could see the youth was listening, perhaps giving him more attention than he gave to his lecturer’s. In many ways this talk would shape Trowa’s future, and Treize was well aware he needed to be honest. If the young man was entertaining the notion of having an affair, whether brief or long term with an empath, he would need to be prepared for the facts, not go into it believing in the fictional happy ever after. It was, unfortunately, far more complicated to find the perfect mate for one with as sensitive a talent as that possessed by the Winner Heir. Treize was all too aware of the pitfalls to be found in a relationship for the likes of himself and Quatre Rababer Winner. “If either the mind or the body is fighting the other you can forget any sort of sexual satisfaction taking place, no matter the times one indulges. Repeated experiences, if continually unsuccessful, will cement unpleasant responses to strain a relationship. Experimenting will produce anything but satisfaction, though there may be a physical climax experienced.” Trowa exhaled slowly, settling a little deeper into his seat. “You are not speaking exclusively about Telepaths, are you?” “No, I am not. This applies to everyone, talent or non talent, it makes little difference. A telepath generally learns their sexual orientation soon after their talent begins to develop on reaching puberty. What follows in our talk will be a telepaths view of sex, but it applies to non telepaths too. Anyone thinking about a physical relationship with a Sensitive, telepath or empath, will need to consider the broader aspects of sex. Empaths are much like telepaths, unable to hide from the truth of their orientation, though they might try.” “Quatre is a Prime level Empath, though not as yet accredited. He is expected to develop a high level telepathic ability, though how high and how fully ranged is, as yet, unknown.” Trowa murmured. “All telepaths and Empaths learn the same lesson, Trowa. It is unavoidable when the mind and body desire something so similar and yet so different. Sex is the great leveller, the one thing no one can hide from. He will soon learn he can not hide from himself and his family’s desires for his future will, unfortunately, conflict if he is, truly, homosexual.” “They are not… comfortable… with the idea of homosexuality. They are religious.” Trowa whispered. “And their religion is one of the more solidly opposed to same sex relationships of a sexual nature. You can have same sex relationships without having sex enter the equation, but it takes immense willpower to keep the two separated. Yes, Quatre will need to deal with both his family and his religious views, because for one of his talent, to lie to himself will be to chance insanity. You are neither telepath nor empath, so you will not know if he is honestly accepting of what lies within him. You will need to tread a very fine line if you decide to set foot on that road with Quatre Winner.” “What do I look for? How do I tell if he is comfortable with the idea of our friendship developing beyond this point, into something more physical? Please. I need to understand, so I can help him decide.” “All you can do is be yourself, and above all, be honest. You can explain to him how you feel, but you must be aware of the level of honesty you need to exercise when dealing with a Sensitive. You can not lie to an Empath or a Telepath of high level. Any doubts you have will be read and undermine his confidence in you and in himself. In your relationship as a whole. No matter what you do, ultimately it is his choice alone to make, and he must make that choice as honestly as you have dealt with him.” Treize leaned forward in his seat, intent on the young man. He could not stress the importance of honesty enough to get this point across. It was not easy to be absolutely honest, and an empathic partner could not help but know if you lied. Even unintentionally. “Help me to understand him better; to understand me better.” He could sense Trowa did not understand just how difficult it was going to be to say, think and feel the truth. There was a real will in the young man to be honest with the one he wanted to develop more than a friendship with. It would be a rocky road, full of pit falls, but if they chanced to make the journey successfully, they would have something beautiful. “Have you not spoken to anyone at your family compound about your sexuality?” “No.” A wave of discomfort told him Trowa was very uncomfortable with the idea of revealing his sexuality to his family. It was not an unusual reaction in someone still engaged in sorting out his preferences, who came from a dynastically driven environment. There was more than fear of their disapproval; Treize picked up what he interpreted as a fear of being used. “There is no one there I feel I might confide in, who would not go screaming the news to every member of the family. I’m not comfortable enough in myself to reveal all yet. You are the first person I have felt I can talk to about it.” It was not a glowing view of the Barton family structure, but Treize had had his own doubts and fears about his family as well, all proven to be well founded. All he could do was be honest and hope the younger man took in, and believed, half of what he was telling him. Some of it he would not understand, only another telepath or empathy would, and while Trowa wanted to understand he was going to be limited. Some things you had to ‘feel’ to accept. He had not thought he would need to explain the birds and bees to anyone before his daughter came of age; and then he had hoped it would be Leia doing the explaining. He was, in effect, doing exactly that; engaging in sex education with someone who only had half the available requirements to understand what he was saying. Trowa had the intelligence and the physical need, but he did not have the sensitivity to literally ’feel’ what he needed to understand. “The first thing you need to accept is there is a difference between the male mind and that of the female. Both sexes approach intimacies in a very different fashion. When I consider the gulf in the minds of the two sexes, I am truly astonished the human race has survived this long. Telepathy and empathy might yet bring about the end of the human race.” Trowa arched an eyebrow, staring at the Prime in surprise, clearly not understanding his comment. Treize sighed, waving a hand slightly to forestall his interruption. “It is true, male and female think along very different lines. I could give you a list of books on the psychological differences between the sexes that would fill the national library, but it would not help much. There is always some aspect that has not been covered adequately. Perhaps a telepath or empath will one day write a book that can actually be interpreted to shed some light on the subject, but that day has not yet arrived.” Trowa had not asked for a psych lecture and Treize was not intending to turn this discussion into a minefield of psychology. He rubbed absently at his chin and met the confused gaze of the younger man. “The fundamental truth when dealing with a telepath is that one can not lie, mind to mind. It is impossible. Nor can one lie to an empath, who feels the actual physical reaction a body generates to speaking a mistruth. There is nothing more devastating to the male psyche than to read from a woman’s mind how much she is not enjoying sex, when she is making all the right moves that imply she is in ecstasy. Telepathy and empathy force honesty into any relationship.” “Oh.” Trowa frowned, thinking that comment over and his head snapped up as he realized what Treize was getting at. “Oh!” “For a telepath or empath the act of sex is physical, mental and emotional. There can be no separation between the body and the mind. There can be no deception at all between partners. Telepaths and Empaths know if they are making all the right moves; if their heat, their excitement, is reciprocated. Lying during sex is fine for the vast majority of the human species, but where certain talents of the mind exist, it has to be more than simply the act of sex. It genuinely must be honest sex.” “I’ve sat through the sex education course here at Tsuberov, we all have to, but they did not explain this in quite the same way as you have.” “Was your lecturer either a telepath or an empath?” “No.” “Ah, well then, they might need to modify their roster to include the vagaries of sex involving Sensitive's. I might need to discreetly mention that to the appropriate personage.” At Trowa’s wary look Treize smiled. “Without mentioning any names, of course. A Prime has such a reputation that pulling these things out of the very ether goes little remarked upon, I assure you.” “Do you… have someone? Special.” The flicker of deep pain from that part of him so firmly controlled was squashed and soothed with a fleeting glimpse of white blonde hair and blue eyes, before he caught the errant thought. It simply would not do to salve that part of him with one who knew nothing of him. Amid telepaths that was one of the greatest no no’s. “At the present time, no, I have no significant other.” Treize shrugged elegantly, dismissing the matter as being unimportant to their discussion. “Personal relationships between Sensitive’s, or a Sensitive and non telepath or empath, are fraught with danger. To a Sensitive such as myself, an intimate relationship must be as fully mental and emotional as it is physical; or there simply is no fulfilment. The act of sex itself for a telepath is a dangerous affair.” Trowa straightened in surprise. “How? I don’t understand.” “Generally physically, if the attraction is there, there will be physical release, a sexual climax. For a telepath-and to a lesser extent an Empath-there must be more. An empath will be satisfied with feeling a partner’s pleasure and project himself into that pleasure; but it must be genuine pleasure. The Empath will know the difference and respond to it. How embarrassing, for all concerned, if your partner screeches and wails and flails about the bed as though they are in ecstasy and you know they are, in fact, merely putting on an act to end the encounter sooner.” “God.” Trowa whispered. “Honesty is imperative, Trowa. For a telepath there is greater danger. Your mind seeks to merge with the mind of your partner, seeking on a purely mental level, equal ecstasy to that which the body experiences. The greatest pleasure desirable would be for two telepaths to submerge themselves in the mind of the other, as their bodies blend together. A properly shielded empath or telepath can have sex with a non sensitive talent quite successfully, but if their shield should fail at the peak of the encounter the absolute worst can happen. In some cases a talent may be unable to perform at all if there is not a merging of minds. It is, unfortunately, a matter of trial and error.” He could see Trowa thinking that over and feel his confusion and determination growing in equal measure. Perhaps, he decided, Trowa had understood more than he had given him credit for, but thinking one understood was not the same as actually being in the heat of an encounter. “For someone who is homosexual or lesbian there is rarely hope of attaining that perfect merge with the opposite sex. It is generally made clear the first time they indulge in an encounter with the opposite sex that something is very wrong. As a result the moment is generally ruined beyond repair. Some try repeatedly, especially if taught from infancy that homosexuality is wrong or not acceptable within the family.” “Is that what happened to you?” He winced, but he should have expected the bright young man to make the connection and this was not a public conversation. He could trust Trowa to keep their discussion private, and he was willing to go the extra yard to assist one who was facing the battle he had already faced. “That’s a little personal, Trowa.” He cut off the stammered apology before it started with a wave of a hand. “Since you are trying to sort yourself out at this time, I can forgive it. Yes, I tried more than once to function sexually with females, and with every attempt it became clearer I was only hurting myself. I was, at that time, fortunate enough to have a long conversation with one of the Primes in my field. She sensed what I was doing and sorted me out with cold efficiency. To this day, I thank her.” He could not resist a small smile at the memory of that most enlightening, and supremely embarrassing, conversation. Gabriella was not one to accept anything but the truth, and she had made quite an impression on his family. Some of those hardened politicians avoided her like the plague if they had forewarning of her presence. “She made it easier for me to accept I was not going to be able to fulfil my family’s expectations and marry the woman of their choice. Settling down to breed another generation of little Kushrenada’s, for them to force into set moulds, was not going to happen as they desired.” Trowa winced. He knew what was expected in too many of the older families, and that included the Barton dynasty. The Kushrenada’s were old world nobility, and he was personally sure Dekim Barton wanted egress into that dynasty and Mariemaia might be his key to unlock the door. He did not doubt Treize had had a hard time of admitting to himself, and to his family, his sexual preference. Treize was, after all, The Kushrenada; at that time the heir, never just a minor cousin. “It would not have been easy.” He whispered. “No, it was not. I am fortunate in that in this day and age one does not need to fear the consequence of not passing on your genes, if you chance to be homosexual. Regardless of sexuality, if you are a Prime or high level psyonically active individual, it is expected you will breed and both consolidate and diversify your gene line. Taking formal contract for children is ideal for both purposes. It settles familial disputes over the succession, and provides a new generation of talented individuals to keep the world turning.” “Is Mariemaia to be your heir for the Kushrenada inheritance?” Treize shrugged, unwilling to go into the subject at this time. “She is an heir, though not necessarily THE heir.” “You are free to find the one who ideally compliments you, because it is confirmed you are homosexual and that fact is known. Your contemporaries accept your sexuality and it does not bother them? They will not protest when you seek him out? How will you know? When you find him, I mean.” Again the Duke shrugged, an elegant tilt of his shoulders. “I have had the pleasure of meeting all of the Primes in my field, amidst which there are bonded pairs who are fortunate enough to know that ultimate merging. I am the first in the group who is homosexual, and given my past experience, it was a relief none of them are homophobic.” “They really accept it?” “You can not hide such a reaction, Trowa. Not from a telepath or empath. Gabriella was a godsend, a breath of fresh air, who offered me more than hope. She gave me freedom to find the one person out in the wide world she assured me I would find, if I looked for them. We all have what we term soul mates. There is someone out there who will be the perfect compliment to me physically and mentally. Mind and body will literally be one, feeding off the other and in turn feeding the partner. It is the ideal for a telepathic joining.” “It sounds wonderful. Quatre seems so right to me, but we have not taken it beyond friendship.” “There is time. These things are best not hurried. Mind you, there is the chance that the ideal mental mate might actually be the one you least expect.” “How so?” “Can you imagine my dismay, if all my mental buttons prove to be pushed by a female, not the male I am certain I am looking for?” “But you… are… Can that happen?” “So I have been told. My mind will seek the perfect mind with which to merge, as Quatre will subconsciously seek the perfect mind, perhaps the perfect emotion is a better description, to compliment his own. What a disaster it might be to a homosexual male if that perfect mind should be housed within a female body. The suggestion was made, more a cautionary action taken to ensure I did not seek my perfect mate only amid the male population. They tell me, if the meld is strong enough, the nature of the gender really makes no difference to the fulfilment involved in the merging.” He sighed, dismissing the momentary depression. He really did not wish to entertain the notion. “You are not a high level telepath with empathic tendencies, so I sincerely doubt you would have similar difficulties.” “I… No, I doubt I will have that sort of trouble. I hope Quatre does not have that problem either. Does the perfect partner have to be telepath to telepath; empath to empath?” “No. The human body and mind is a strange creature. Gabriella tells me not to worry and just go with the flow, it will happen when it happens, and agonizing over it will serve only to waste my life. Quatre might well find that he merges best with a talent other than a telepath or empath. It depends on the individuals involved, but always remember, honesty in sex is imperative when you love a Sensitive.” “I will remember. Honesty.” Trowa drew a deep breath and pinked about the cheeks. “How… How do you deal with it? With the need? I mean, there must be occasions where you want… want to… Ah. Sorry.” He ducked his head to hide the blush. “None of my business.” Treize only hoped he was not blushing as fiercely as Trowa. Full blown blushes were never pretty on red heads in his view, and even though his hair was more auburn that red, that deep a blush would be most unbecoming. “Yes, that is a little too personal.” He gathered his wits about him and stood, moving to the window and presenting his back to the younger man, though he did not once remove his monitoring touch. “Do you believe Quatre Winner returns the depth of your regard for him?” Trowa felt, and no doubt looked, exceedingly uncomfortable with the question. Treize did not turn to face him as yet, giving him time to recover himself. It was an extremely personal question, but Treize had permitted Trowa to trample very ungracefully on some very personal ground, and Trowa knew he owed the man. His talk with the Prime had been informative, and had raised questions about his sexuality he needed to answer before he made any mistakes by acting too quickly. He needed to consider what he had learned, and settle how he viewed himself and his sexuality. “Yes. Yes, I believe he does.” “Ah.” Treize turned to face the youth. “How far beyond friendship have you taken it? You are not open with others about the depth of your relationship? What about between yourselves, how honest have you been?” “We have not moved anywhere near a sexual relationship, but we are more than just friends. Much more, I believe. Quatre is worried about what his family will say and do when they learn he is not exactly heterosexual.” Treize arched a delicately forked eyebrow, intrigued. “Interesting that you phrase it that way; ‘Not exactly heterosexual.’ Is he, then, bisexual? ” “No.” Trowa whispered, his head lowered and his hands clenched tightly together. “He is homosexual, but he is very aware of the religion his family have followed for centuries. They are of Arab descent and the family are traditional Muslims in the matter of sex.” Treize had known the religious view would be a monumental problem for a homosexual to overcome. Devout Muslims took a hard line when it came to homosexuality. “You openly acknowledge your attraction between each other?” “Yes.” He detected not the faintest trace of hesitation in Trowa’s emotional gradient, and knew the younger man was certain he and Quatre understood each other. “How many people know? Honestly, Trowa. How many people know you both lean toward each other, and it is leading to something beyond deep friendship?” “Quatre shares the same suite as Duo and Zechs and Zechs is probably going to be a Prime Empathic Telepath. I have no doubt he knows, and Duo is very observant. While they have not said much, I know they know that we… ” Treize watched him, following the dawning revelation as Trowa made the mental connections. He did not move from his place by the window, simply stood and allowed the younger man to work his way through the facts. “Quatre roomed in that dormitory block. I heard there were plumbing problems in the building and some of the students were placed in a new suite… Was… I…” He stared up at the silhouette of the Prime, the windows bright light making a shadow of him. “Tell me Quatre has nothing to do with the body.” Trowa was quite bright, more than astute enough to put the pieces together. How much he guessed would depend on the round of rumours he had heard prior to this conversation. He was hitting close to the correct scenario and Treize already knew what he was going to have to do to spare the entire group distress. “Duke Kushrenada. Please. Is Quatre somehow involved in this murder?” “The refrigerator came from his suite.” Treize murmured. “From his suite… The broken furniture too?” At the small nod of confirmation Trowa felt his heart clench. “He would have told me if the suite had been trashed last night! He would not have kept quiet and Duo would never have been able to keep it secret!” //An interesting assessment of Mr. Maxwell.// Treize mused. “Quatre Winner and his roommates were settled in a new suite last night, because the body was discovered in their commonly assigned rooms. It was their original suite where the murder took place. I would not consider having them stay in that suite. It was also their original suite that was vandalized, by person’s unknown, through the night.” “But why?” Trowa whispered. “I understand why you moved them; Zechs and Quate would definitely have picked up on something having happened in the suite. What I can’t understand is why anyone, this murdered man, would have been in their suite… and why was he murdered? I don’t… understand.” “As yet, neither do we. We are trying to determine the why, and I will have to ask your cooperation in keeping this information away from Quatre and the others. Given the uninhabitable condition of the dormitory building at the present time, all three, with a few other students from the same dormitory block, have been moved off campus in the interim. I apologize for any crimp in your plans this action may cause, but I judge their safety to be of more importance than you romancing the Winner heir.” “Yes. Yes, I agree. Quatre… is he the target? Or is it one of the others? Was it just a coincidence the man was murdered in their suite? No, how could it be coincidence if the suite was trashed the next night?” Treize arched a delicately forked eyebrow at the prattle bursting from the younger man. He could feel the pace of Trowa’s thoughts picking up speed and was careful not to probe. A great deal of thinking was going on in that young mind and he really did not need to be inundated with additional thoughts of young love. One thing in Trowa’s avalanche of thought had caught his interest, and Treize leaned forward slightly to attract his attention. “Why would you consider one of the other boys in the suite to be the target, if any of them are involved? I was led to believe there is nothing remarkable about either Mr. Maxwell or Mr. Marquise.” Trowa hesitated, chewing on his lower lip as he eyed the Prime, trying to decide if he was being humoured or taken seriously. The Prime’s attention was fully focused on him and there was nothing that suggested amusement in his stance. “Well… It is true Quatre has the highest profile of the three but… Well… Zechs is almost a Prime, isn’t he? Prime Telepathic Empaths, like all other Primes, are rare enough to be high profile. You are one and you know how many of you there are not. I just assumed… Wouldn’t someone pay a reasonable price for a Prime if they could manage to get their hands on him? And Duo, he has that pet project of his with the space suits. From what I have been told about the project, if he is successful it could revolutionize some areas of space technology. Wouldn’t that be enough of a reason to target him?” Treize frowned and began to pace the length of the window, considering Trowa’s words carefully. “You raise a valid point. Quatre, while he does have the highest profile, he is not the only one who might be considered to be of value. We do not know that any of the students are involved in any capacity, major or minor but… Yes, you raise a very valid point. I have to remind you, yet again, of the value in keeping this information secret. We can not afford for anyone to learn of what we have discussed.” He held up a hand to forestall the interruption he could see was coming. “Not even Quatre and his friends. You can not discuss it with Quatre, and given his talent he would know you are hiding something as soon as he ’feels’ you. I assure you, Trowa, he is under observation and in no danger.” Owl eyed the younger man stared at the Prime who was careful not to loom over him. Bright as a button, Treize reminded himself, aware Trowa had made the mental leap to know what was coming. “I can establish a mental block, placing this conversation behind a secured shield. Quatre may feel your tension and your worry, but he could not pry into the why and you would not be capable of telling him what it is that is shielded.” “I...” Trowa hesitated, but he knew the tenacity of the blonde and though he was only a level 5 telepath, Quatre knew how to batter down Trowa’s defences and get him to talk. “I… Quatre is tenacious. Could you…” “Could I…?” Treize prompted. If his empathy warned him something was up, Quatre would worry at him until he buckled. “Could you… well… cover my reaction so his empathy might not pick up my concern? I would prefer not to be made to forget, but that might be preferable to having Quatre digging around for information I can’t give him.” Treize offered a small smile. “I think I can come up with something to give you some protection from the insatiable curiosity of Mr. Winner. I will set a shield in place that will keep you from being scanned, and I will also set an overlay. A different set of emotions will trigger whenever you chance to think about what is best kept secret at the present time.” Trowa blanched, aware of just how powerful a telepath you had to be to tinker with another person’s mind and not cause damage. “I won’t do anything stupid, will I? Under the influence of this shield.” Treize caught a clear mental impression of a theatrical stage and weird antics by a cluster of people. He could not resist the temptation to have just a little more fun. “I assure you I will not have you act like a chicken falling out of a tree, whenever you chance to think of our encounter today.” He smirked at the younger man. “Trust me, Dear Boy. We need only keep the shield in place for a few days. It should not take too long to sort this matter out.”
Karina Robertson 2007 |
