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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. Archive: Gundam Wing Universe [gundam-wing-universe.net]
//…// Thoughts
Chapter Thirty One The down side of sleeping in on a work day was that the day was shortened in work hours, but not in the amount of work one was expected to accomplish. At Tsuberov each day's activity was a part of a pre planned, individualized routine covering each semester. To fall behind was to increase one's work load and sleeping in had set him hours behind in his scheduled day and one was expected to make up for lost time. Such expectation to complete ones assigned work, only emulated the demands of life, the responsibilities and deadlines to be found beyond Tsuberov's secure walls. The upside of having to make up for his lazy morning was that he was far too busy to spend time with Quatre and Duo, and therefore he had managed to avoid most of the awkward questions from his friends. And there had been awkward questions. It made for a long day where he had not paid perhaps as much attention to his instructors as he should have. He knew Duo too well to think his friend would resist the temptation to keep the questions coming on his return to the hotel, and he had been distracted trying to think up plausible excuses to avoid his dorm mates. Nor had he been wrong about the inundation of questions and sly innuendoes when Duo had successfully cornered him. One thing he was bound and determined to do was to not reveal what had happened on his arrival at the University. He desperately wanted to demonstrate to the Prime that he was worthy of notice and trust. He could keep his mouth shut and perhaps, just perhaps, they might have the opportunity to meet again. Zechs sighed softly as he leaned back against the cool marble slab that made the shower wall. The coolness of the surface made for a small distraction to his public mind, though there was no one at the hotel capable of penetrating his shields to access even that level of consciousness. Quatre was too weak a telepath at this time to be a danger to his shield's security, and he had performed a perfunctory scan of the hotel seeking any trace of a high talent mind, and he knew no one was a danger to his personal thoughts security. He had secrets to keep and so he needed to be assured of who might be capable of reading him and it was rather an eye opening experience. Keeping secrets from even close friends was not something which had concerned him in the past and, given he knew something of the investigation taking place at the University, he was now aware of certain needs that must be faced beyond Tsuberov. When he left the University and was contracted to some corporation, politician or agency, as he surely would be, he would be expected to maintain potentially sensitive information behind solid shields. He had been told, of course, by those instructors preparing him to enter the big wide world, but it had never before seemed real, the need to cater to that other world. The professional world of real life beyond an exclusive educational facility. Tsuberov would not always be there as his protection. He would be entering the working world as a professional, supposedly capable of functioning for the good of his employer, and that included keeping potentially sensitive information secure. The Duke Khushrenada was involved in highly sensitive cases that could potentially topple governments should the wrong people learn what he knew. One's personal shields would be more than one's personal security against intrusion by people's every day thoughts. The shields he had been so painstakingly taught to erect and maintain were there to secure information from others, as much as protect him from their day to day thoughts, dreams and nightmares. When a case, contract, or business arrangement was completed that information must still be protected. Was it any wonder the Prime's shields required attention? Zechs was suddenly aware it was vital he pay more than lip service to his studies if he did not wish to fail dismally in the real world. He pressed his back against the stone, savouring the coolness against his back even as the hot water beat at his front. It was decadent luxury to do it. The world was an amazing place. Who would have thought anyone would line their showers with marble slabs? It was an extravagant, even decadent, use of expensive stone. A demonstration of the gulf between the social classes. That was what was wrong with the ESUN, he mused. Class distinctions were so very obvious in a society that prided itself on equality. It was a joke. A sorry, sordid and not very funny joke. There were people out there starving, dying. Children who ran the streets, starving and wearing tatty clothes, whose nimble fingers were all that separated them from starvation and living. And there were the fat cats who had money to burn and the greed to do nothing more than earn more money for the sake of simply having it. There was the middle class who put their heads down and concentrated on staying out of the gutter and lamented never being able to share the dreams of the rich, who worked from daylight to dark, dark to daylight to keep their home and give their children a chance at a better life. A chance some of those children would throw away without a care, intent on a spiral to self destruction. He must ensure he did not fall for that trap. He had been given a chance at a far better life than he could have imagined not so long ago. He was one of the fortunate ones, and he needed to make use of the chance presented to him. Inequality, it was everywhere. That was what was wrong with the world around him, not that he would ever be able to do anything about it. He was well aware it was not his place to lead but to follow. That was where his future lay. The lesson had been drilled into him often enough in the past. Know your place. He was only too aware of his roots. He had lived in an orphanage where the showers were lined with laminex sheeting and, if you were not quick, the water ran cold. Those hurried sessions under the noisy plumbing were still very much in his memory, and it seemed a hideously decadent thing to be standing here with hot water streaming over him and cool marble pressed to his back. //It must be costing Tsuberov a fortune to keep us resident in this pricy place.// There were other hotels in the area and they were far from trashy, nor did they cater to the common tourist market, but no, Tsuberov had boarded them in the lap of luxury. Quatre had not even blinked when they had first been shown to their suite. It was what the Winner heir was accustomed to living with when at home and demonstrated so clearly the gulf between them. The thought of the smaller blonde drew a wince as it brought with it the reminder of why he was hiding out in the bathroom, lurking in the shower and baking his front while cooling his back. Flooding his body and mind with sensation was a defence against intrusion. He knew he had to be blushing at the idiocy of his actions, but he really wanted to avoid his friends and their endless questions. Neither of his roommates would let him alone and they would start in on him again, picking at him, digging, trying to get him to reveal what he knew. Information he had promised to keep to himself. He simply could not tell them what he had learned from the Prime, either about the Prime having questionable shields or the sorry state of their old dorm suite. And he certainly could not tell them how that man made him feel. Trust Quatre to find the means to turn the tables on him with no effort. The Winner had a knack for knowing just what to say at the exact right time to set him on the run from them. His quiet interlude was destroyed by heavy handed pounding on the door. "Zechs! We have to be in the reception room in twenty minutes! What is taking you so long in there? Are you jacking off?" God, Maxwell could be so crude! Zechs actually caught himself cringing. "Duo! Don't be crude. Zechs, hurry up!" Winner sounded as horrified as he felt, but at least the pounding stopped. Zechs leaned his head back and stepped forward, allowing the spray to cascade over his face. He would have to move, he had not honestly thought he had spent so long in the bathroom. It was utter luxury to be able to stand under the hot water for so long. Another hated formal dinner in the restaurant to look forward to, when his preferred option would have been to nip out the rear entrance and head down the road to partake of a take out burger and chips… or perhaps sushi? Anything would have been preferable in his opinion to another five course sideshow, where the rich and famous and the up and coming want-to-be's of the ESUN were given another viewing of the quality of Tusberov students. The Board of Governors had turned the disaster in the dorms into a promotional sideshow and Zechs hated the attention. With a low growl of displeasure he shut off the flow of water and proceeded to towel himself dry, vigorously rubbing his hair to get the bulk of the water out. He could have been spared this round of the side show had he work in the laboratories waiting for him, but that was rostered for the following evening. Personal preferences were of no concern to Tsuberov and the idea any of their students would settle for, even prefer, a take out meal would have horrified the establishment. At least he was working the next night and he could have his meal in the cafeteria; and perhaps he might be fortunate enough to have an audience other than the technicians? He could only hope, but even as he thought it he crushed that small rebellion of desire. They were Primes, working Primes. They had far more to do that watch him taking baby steps toward their level. It was not their place to babysit him and it was something far more than babysitting duties he wanted from one of those Primes. He knew his face flamed at the thought and he refused to look in the mirror. He could only hope they would think he was pink from a really hot shower and spare him comment. Ah, he could dry his hair, that would give him enough time to gain control of himself again. Perhaps, if he was fortunate, he might have them in attendance of a work session once more before their business at the University was concluded. Renewed pounding on the bathroom door drew a scowl from him and an honest flash of temper heightened his colour. He wrapped a towel around his hips, flung the door open, hairdryer in hand, and pointed it menacingly at Duo Maxwell, the source of the door pounding. "I'm getting dressed! Fuck off!" ————————————————- Duo stared into blue eyes spitting fire and then found himself staring at the door as it slammed in his face. After a long moment he turned to grin at Quatre. "He looked pissed." The slightly shorter blonde shook his head slowly, huffing a breath of disbelief at the irrepressible nature of his friend. It took a lot to make Duo Maxwell back off and reconsider his actions, and at the present time he looked inordinately pleased with himself. "Will you please stop teasing him, Duo? You know how he hates these affairs, and after the way you have exploited every opportunity to push him about this afternoon… and about the Duke of all things…" Quatre shook his head. "Your trouble is that you never know when to quit." "I know well enough when to quit, Kitty Kat and I promise I will be good tonight. I won't so much as mention the subject of what happened this afternoon, or the fact that I know he's sweet on that Prime hunk of stud wandering around the University." Duo grinned, unrepentant at Quatre's theatrical groan at his play on words. "I'll be such a good boy that you'll reward me with a lollipop." "Oh please! You really can push too far." "Hey, I said I'd behave." "Make sure you remember that, " Quatre sighed. The meal would, naturally, be a formal occasion and they were expected to dress accordingly. Quatre buttoned the last of his jacket's buttons, smoothing a hand over the fine wool blend in an unconscious gesture. He had chosen a suit of deep blue with a pale blue shirt beneath, the colour just right to emphasise the aqua of his eyes. He was, as usual, the first to finish dressing and determined to hurry Duo along. Duo spread his arms akimbo and struck a pose, tossing his chestnut braid over his shoulder to drape down the front of his black jacket and the whiter than white shirt. "What do you think? Shirt washed, ironed and tucked in, no holes in the knees of my trousers, courtesy of the Tsuberov Laundry Department, and no pockets turned out. Pass muster, yes? All ready to go and charm the socks off of the rich little old ladies who drool over us every night." "As usual, you scrub up well when you can be bothered to put in the effort. All ready? I don't think so. Socks, while they are black and do blend in, do not necessarily complete the look." Duo looked down to his sock clad feet and grinned. "Oh yeah. Shoes. Thanks, Mom." It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that Quatre had been called Mom and he merely rolled his eyes and turned away from the bathroom now that peace had been restored. He was briefly tempted to turn back to the bathroom and remind Zechs to watch his language; it would not do for any of their instructors to overhear him swearing after all. However, given the real danger of Zechs erupting into a verbal tirade if he was pushed any further, Quatre decided to forego that admonishment. Duo had been pushing hard every chance he'd had throughout the day, and everyone had their limits. He needed to survive the night without Zechs picking up on anything that he and Duo had learned. His braided friend had a penchant for pushing just that little bit too far, despite his claims to the contrary. Quatre was curious, yes, he admitted that, but he did not like to keep the blonde at a distance. He worried that Zechs might think he was putting him off, as so many others had in the past. He was only too aware of how certain persons had been treating Zechs at Tsuberov. Though Quatre had not been present during the early days he had witnessed enough since he joined the University to understand the gulf in class distinctions Zechs had experienced. It was not everyone at the University, of course, just a core few who made life uncomfortable and gave the children of wealthy families a reputation for being stuck up prigs with nothing better to do than annoy the hard working middle and lower classes. It annoyed Quatre, the class distinctions prevalent in the ESUN in a day and age where there was supposed to be equality and equal opportunity. Too many people were too conscious of every little difference between them, and they either flaunted their `superiority' or, on the opposite end of the scale, bemoaned their inadequate lot in life. He had always had everything he could possibly desire in material things and he knew it was a privileged life style. Along with that privilege though went a host of responsibilities most people did not consider, unless, like he, one was stuck with being the heir apparent to a corporation that spanned the Earth Sphere. Quatre had been taught what he possessed was a privilege and not a right; he had to earn his place, not merely expect to maintain it. Too many of his peers failed to understand that lesson early in their careers, and many of them would learn it the hard way as time passed. His father had been a hard task master and they had had their misunderstandings and outright disagreements; the arguments had been frightful on occasion, but he could not deny his father had prepared him for the day he must step up to his place as his successor. He still had a long way to go, but he was more aware of the real world through his association with his dorm mates than many of his contemporaries. The bathroom door opened behind him and he turned to find Zechs glaring around him as though he expected to find something nasty waiting for him, pale gold skin gleaming and towel hitched around the narrow hips. He really was a delectable piece of male flesh and Quatre always appreciated the view. Looking was nice, but he had made it a rule not to touch soon after meeting the older youth. He had found what he wanted, what he desired, in a certain Trowa Barton and he knew Zechs Marquise was not interested… for Zechs that kind of interest had only recently sparked with the appearance of a particular russet haired Prime Talent. Quatre was far from blind. "I've sent him off to finish dressing, so if you are quick you should be able to make it to your room before he comes back out." "Thanks, Quatre." Duo had pushed too far, he realized beneath the scrutiny of those crystal blue eyes. There was a wariness in Zechs he had not noted since their early days, when neither Duo nor Zechs had been sure why the Winner heir should lower himself sufficiently to notice their presence. It was time to back off and let Zechs alone and, hopefully, he would be cautious enough around them not to ask questions they did not need asked any more than he wanted them to question him. "He won't be as annoying over dinner, Zechs." A snort was all the response he received as Zechs, with a flash of pale hair, made himself scarce and Quatre sighed, running a hand down the creases of his trousers. He wished he dared grow his hair that long, just to see if it could look half as magnificent as that waterfall of moonlight. His father would probably have a fit though. A conniption was something the elder Winner entertained rarely, but all too often when it came to his son. "So, oh personal diary who knows all things social, who is on the guest list for this evening?" Ah, so all was not lost yet, eh? Zechs was still willing to talk to him and Quatre felt his mood lighten a little. It was his hair; maybe he might give it a try, although he certainly would not want it quite as long as Duo's mane, perhaps a bit shorter than Zechs' too. "The usual; a couple of Professors, two members of the Board of Governors and a selection from the student body, including Princess Relena and the daughter of a Board of Governors member, Sylvia Noventa. I hear Sylvia and the Princess are almost inseparable lately." "Is it my imagination or is the guest list getting larger with each dinner we are forced to endure?" Quatre sat on the couch, tweaking the creases of his trousers as he did so and ensuring he acquired no creases in his jacket. "No, it is not your imagination. " "At least they have not compounded the agony by insisting we dress in uniform. Suits are bad enough." What was it with Duo and Zechs and this mutual dislike of dressing well? Both of the young men looked `to die for' in a suit, though admittedly they needed to up the quality of their tailor. It was something Quatre had tried to make them understand many times in the past, and he thought he had found just the right means of getting the message across. This might be as good a time as any to float the idea. "But you look so good in a suit. Both of you do." "I feel like I am in a straight jacket all the time, that I can't loosen up and have a good time. The suit means formality and formality means uncomfortable. " "So it's a psychological thing?" Qutare mused. "No. Purely physical. I feel restricted in movement and some days its hard to breathe… although that latter might just be psychological, I'll admit that much." Quatre grinned as Duo joined him, the braided youth flopping unceremoniously onto the couch and pulling at his bowtie with one finger in his collar. "I know what you mean." Duo hunched his shoulders and rotated his left shoulder before he shrugged and sat back in an ungainly flop. "Just can't get comfortable, no matter how good they are supposed to make me look." "Mr. Modesty, that is what you are," Quatre snickered. "You both look very good in a suit and if you insist you feel uncomfortable all the time, and its not just a psychological thing, then I have the perfect solution." "And what might that be?" Zechs appeared in the doorway, tucking a white dress shirt with ruffled front into black trousers. "Now both of you are going to agree to this, I want no arguments as I intend to prove a point. I have been trying ever since I arrived at Tsuberov to get you to see a decent tailor. The tailor makes the suit, just as the suit makes the man, gentlemen. I'm going to have my personal tailor drop by and take your measurements for a new suit. I will be paying for that suit to be made and you both will wear them, without complaint. After you have worn the suit for a full evening at a formal gathering, you will tell me the difference between the suits you have been wearing, and the really well tailored piece of clothing my tailor will provide you." "Quatre…" "Kitty Kat…" "No!" Oh, he just knew they would protest and he had had quite enough of this. He was determined to see those deliciously male bodies in something really decent, and if he could just get Zechs outfitted and parade him in front of a particular Prime… he was sure there would be a respectable puddle of drool to mark the Prime's interest. He would deal with the problem of getting the Prime to attend such a function after he got the suit onto his friend's back. Step one, give them no ground to refuse him. Quatre stood and turned to face both young men, glaring fiercely at each in turn. "Zechs, its your final year at Tsuberov and we are going to call it your graduation present from me. Shut up and don't argue with me about it again. Duo, you will need to look your best at Zechs's graduation ceremony. You know Tsuberov puts on a big to do and you don't want Zechs to outshine you because of the quality of the tailoring, do you? I intend for both of you to leave your critics floundering, so shut up before you can think of any excuses. Hurry up and get ready, I'll be waiting in the foyer." The door to the hallway slammed closed behind Quatre and Duo blinked, turning to look at Zechs who stared at the door with a look that screamed `Oh shit'. "He's a bit tetchy, don't ya think?" "When he gets like that is usually best to give him a little time and then talk him down." Duo stood, straightening his clothing, surveying himself as best he could. "Nothing wrong with my tailor… is there?" "I thought not, since I am using the same one." Zechs turned and moved back to his room. "You have to admit there is a large discrepancy between the price of our clothing and the price of Winners, but it's not as though we are purchasing off the rack. Perish the thought of buying off the rack and attending Tsuberov, it's just not done." "Yeah, but it can't make that much of a difference surely? I mean, it's just a suit." Duo chewed at his lower lip. "What did he have to go and get all huffy about?" "Apparently it does make a difference and if we can't talk him around then, I guess, we shall find out." ————————————— "Treize? I thought you would have headed for home hours ago." "Good evening, Sally." He had been putting the finishing touches on his daily report, or so he hoped it appeared to the woman leaning through his doorway. She was dressed for the cool night air and given the time of night she would be heading for home, Chang having departed nearly two hours previously. There were some days he found himself wondering if the couple saw enough of each other to see their relationship secure. Their working hours were very different and Chang, being a Field Agent, was on call at all hours of the day and night and could find himself with little to no warning heading for the opposite side of the planet or into space. Then there was Sally's profession to be considered, the duties of a physician were never light. The woman was a specialist in her field and as such was always in demand. Where, in their careers, did their marriage fit in? "Something I can do for you, Treize? Be it in a professional capacity, or simply as a friend?" She slipped through his door, closing it pointedly behind her and choosing to perch on the corner of his desk. That pose, he mused, appeared to be her favourite and it allowed her to look down at the person seated behind the desk, transferring the power position to the physician. It was no accident but a subtle working of psychology she employed, just one of many little tricks in her arsenal. He supposed he should open up and inform her of everything, but he was not comfortable enough with the events of the day to do that. Not at this time. Certainly had Gabriella not been imminently accessible to him then he might have; in fact he was sure he would have, spoken to her. However, he trusted the Romany Prime, annoying and infuriating as she could be, and she had taken her own steps to safeguard his shields. The colossal cheek of the woman though, to pull a training Psychic into a bond to strengthen his shields. By rights he should report her for such a serious breach of etiquette, but he did not want to cause trouble for Marquise. Gabriella could weather any storm that came her way, he had no doubts about her skills at survival, but they had a tender youngster to think of. Gabriella, damn her, knew that he knew she would do nothing to endanger the younger man, physically, mentally or by reputation. She was there, linked into the three way fold, monitoring them both day and night. Unorthodox, and frankly illegal as it was, her method had worked. He could not deny that his shields were in far better condition now than they had been in the preceding weeks, and that change was brought about after only one brief session lasting mere fragments of a second. Direct mind to mind contact with Zechs Marquise was something of an experience. The younger man's shields were incredible and Treize wanted to learn more of how Zechs had fashioned them. Such different training techniques Tsuberov must be employing to craft such clarity and diamond hard security into his shields. The young man's shields, in every way, were to be envied. If others could learn the technique…? Zechs, in that one brief contact, had repaired much of the damage his shields had taken over the course of the past year, not all of it by any measure, but a great deal none the less. Treize needed time to sit down and analyze the work that had been done; review exactly what it was Zechs had done to accomplish the change. The deed itself had occurred in such a way that it was patently clear it was second nature to the younger man to note a faulty shield and act to correct it. Zechs had not even thought about what he was doing, merely reacted to the frayed shield he encountered. He had touched the tatters, drawing the ragged gaps together and… well… for want of a better word Treize decided `polished' was as apt a description as he could define. Yes, that seemed to be the closest description to describe what he had seen. Marquise had drawn the tears together, somehow sealing them into an unbroken seam and then polished the seal until Treize was hard pressed to find the ragged tear. He needed the time, place and peace to go deeply into himself and study exactly what had been accomplished. But it was not good to sit wool gathering in front of this particular woman. Sally was dangerously perceptive and if she determined her particular skills were required, and her patient was viewed as reluctant to succumb to her control, she would exercise her authority over him. "No, nothing. I was just finishing off some paper work while I had the opportunity. " Blue eyes studied him intently and delicate fingers flicked toward the folder on his desk. "Have you finished here? I was about to head home and I can offer you a home cooked meal if you would like? It's Wu Fei's turn to cook tonight, so it will most likely be Chinese, but I think you don't mind Chinese, right? It will be authentic Chinese, too, not take out." Treize chuckled, honestly surprised by the revelation. "Chang can cook?" "Quite well actually, though he continually apologizes for the quality of the meal. He can't cook Italian though," Sally grinned "he's absolutely hopeless with Italian. Mind you, he's not bad with Japanese, absolutely excellent with Chinese, and he is a dab hand with an omelette." The vision of Chang Wu Fei wearing a frilly apron with the words `Kiss the cook' flashed into his mind and he knew she had projected it deliberately at him. It was a memory too, not a play on imagination and it was enough to make him laugh out loud. "Well, one learns something new about one's partner every day. No, Sally, I'm quite content, gastronomically speaking, for the moment. I had a snack a little while ago." "If you are sure you are not hungry, then how about you come for the company? It has to be better than going home to that empty loft of yours." She was determined to mother hen him, but he was not in the mood for more of Chang Wu Fei tonight. He saw quite enough of his partner through the day, and tonight, well… he had much to think on tonight. No, he was quite content to go home to his comfortable, if all too empty of company, loft. "Another time, perhaps, I shall enjoy the culinary skills of your husband. To be honest I need to spend a little time working on my shields. I'm afraid I was a little… tetchy… at one stage today and lost my temper. Rather than allow myself to chance flavouring the psychic ether in an unthinking moment, I will take this evening to work on my shields. It is as good a time as any to meditate and tone things down." Of course being that honest had its drawbacks and he could see the beginnings of that particular gleam in her blue eyes that held the potential for trouble. "You lost your temper? What has that husband of mine done now?" Ah, of course she would think that, and he could honestly assure her Chang had nothing to do with his fit of pique. Better to explain a little of what it was that set him off, and as the Medical Officer for this division of the Agency she would need to know. Gabriella's actions could, and definitely would, affect the case until he could get her to remove the restrictions she had placed. "It was not anything Wu Fei did, I assure you. Gabriella… Gabriella has chosen to interfere with the case to a certain degree. It has nothing to do with your husband." Sally frowned, setting her handbag on his desk and it was clear she was not satisfied and therefore not moving. "What has she done that would interfere in the case?" How to not make it sound more than an inconvenience? She had the power to pull him from the case and he was bound and determined to finish the murder at Tsuberov. "Gabriella, in her infinite wisdom, has placed a limitation factor on my working levels; reinforcing the limitation with a cut off factor should I push too hard. The woman is impossible." Sally snorted, her eyes intense. "The Prime struck me as being a great deal more than she lets on with that pushy, adorable and impossible Gabriella routine. She struck me as being a shrewd woman who knows exactly how to get what she wants and where to draw the line when it comes to matters of psychic ability. So, given I am not at all fooled by her eccentric old lady spiel, kindly be honest and tell me just how bad your shields are and how heavily has she restricted you." Okay, maybe he should have outright lied; this might be a little more complicated than he had thought. He would not be removed from the case and that was something he would need to ensure they understood. Not even Gabriella would succeed in removing him from the case, if she dared to even try. Some things he would tolerate and other things… well, best they not trespass there. "My dear Sally, I assure you Gabriella would be the first person to pull me off the case and wrap me in cotton wool if I was not up to performing my job. All she has done is set a safety feature in place to stop me from going too deep… or, to be more precise, from going beyond what she considers to be too deep. The entire reason behind her doing this was to jog me into doing some much needed, and too long delayed, work on my shields. That work I will begin tonight, as soon as I return to my loft and the old busy body will then remove her restrictions upon her return." "And if she does not?" Then he would take great delight in… well, he would think of something, but he would not mention that here and now. No, Gabriella only wanted him to work on his protections and he admitted she had a point. He was laggardly about attending to his needs. The Agency had kept him to a tight schedule and he had allowed it, more fool him, now he must deal with the aftermath of Gabriella coming to sort matters out. "Between her and you, I am sure that will not be a problem. I informed you, did I not? I am not attempting to hide anything from my Medical Officer and you performed a series of tests the other day. Things have not changed dramatically since then and you passed me for work." Sally sighed. "True enough. I think I need to have a long talk to this woman though." "Oh, I do not doubt she will have words with you before she departs. She will likely take great pleasure in pulling me apart for your inspection. I am insisting on a vacation when this case is over and Gabriella will likely gut anyone who dares to suggest I work instead of rest. Stop mother henning me, though I must say it is rather nice to have you fuss over me. You have a much more genteel bedside manner than Gabriella." Sally snorted softly in amusement and gathered her bag. "Are you sure you will not come home for dinner with me?" "Quite sure, Sally. I do have work to do." "Well, you will eat something a little more appropriate to your calorie requirements than a snack, you hear?" "Yes, Mother. All I have to do is activate the video consol in my room and get the kitchen to send something up on my return home." "Be sure you do." She paused at the door to the office. "In fact I will check with your Building Supervisor in the morning. In the interests of your health and as your Medical Officer," she smirked. "Women," Treize sighed as the door closed behind her. "I heard that!" Rolling his eyes Treize turned his attention to completing his report, suddenly more than eager to leave the office. Sally was a good friend and on any other night he might have taken her up on her offer of a meal and company, but not tonight. He did have his shields to attend to and he really did not wish for the company of his partner. While he did not exactly blame Wu Fei for the loss of his control and the appearance of Gabriella, he could not deny the fact his temper was on too short a fuse to chance rekindling the flame. Wu Fei had a habit of bringing out the snippy side of him and tonight he wanted anything but excitement. Sitting back from the desk, stretching cramped muscles in his shoulders, he decided he really needed a physical work out. It was too late to get in some gym time he decided, but he needed to schedule a really decent work out, perhaps a sauna and massage after it. A little physical pampering could go a long way to relieving stress. Deciding enough work for the day had been done, and he did not wish to chance being dragged into anything by lingering too long, he escaped the Agency before anyone could think of something only he could do. He noted Une was still at work and he took particular care not to be noted by her. Once on the streets he paused and looked around, deciding it was too lovely a night to simply go home. He needed some exercise and a walk would do, the streets were not so crowded as during the day and there was a city park only a few blocks down. An evening constitutional would give him some air and exercise and when he was done he could walk back, pick up the car and head home to his apartment block. It was too early in the evening for the muggers and opportunists to make the park unattractive and it was not as though he would be unobserved after all. He had his watchdogs guarding his back after his recent temper tantrum. Gabriella had been furious he had not received a bodyguard, he was a Prime, after all, and he knew to placate her Une had assigned a team to watch him, day and night. He was only too aware of their presence. He would take great delight, once Gabriella had departed and things returned to normal, in informing Une she could reassign those agents to more productive activity. It was indeed a pleasant evening and he was not the only citizen out for an evenings walk. There were theatre goers, dressed to the nines, women in expensive gowns and gentlemen in their crisp tuxedos. The police presence in this district was relatively high and the streets were safe to walk as a result, perfect for a casual stroll. There were young couples out for dinner and perhaps a movie, the dance clubs were soon to open and generally he received an ambient air of contentment from those he passed. The park was well lit at this hour, making it safe for young lovers to walk hand in hand, bodies pressed close and their emotional gradients radiating between warmth and raging lust. There were late workers exercising their pets, people doing Tai Chi and Yoga, and a group of joggers as well as a group of teenagers having what looked to be a party over by the lake. It was relaxing to stroll along the path, watching couples stealing a romantic interlude from the day. It would, he admitted to himself, be nice to walk hand in hand with another warm body; to admire the moonlighted parklands with a lover pressed close. To steal a kiss or three and walk closely together, physical warmth shared as well as mental and on returning to home one could indulge in some heated and much anticipated loving. The momentary flash of moonlight on blonde hair in a crowd drew a flush of warm longing, and for once he made no effort to stamp on the emotion. His shield was secure, no one was with him, no one could read him… just this once he could imagine what it would be like to walk with that lithe young body pressed to his side, his arm perhaps draped around broad shoulders or perhaps curved around a slender waist, fingers spread to rest his palm against the rising curve of a firm… No, that was enough for now. No need to stir things up. It was nice to dream just a little, and he knew it was wishful thinking, it might always remain noting more than a daydream, but that was alright. Perhaps it might actually happen, in time. It came as something of a shock, ice water dousing the comfortable warmth of his inner fire, to catch the mental flavour he had not expected. It was brief, just a fleeting touch, the barest awareness of that unique mind, but he knew it was not imagination. He had no sooner sensed it than it vanished, and his automatic questing probe to find it again failed. But it had been there. He had caught the unmistakable flavour of the mind that had raged and killed once already. Treize leaned his back against an old Elm, rested his head back against the strong trunk and deepened his probe, seeking any trace of the mind in his vicinity. It had been there, an echo of pain in the flavour of it. Wherever the killer was though he was alert, aware and… seeking? But what… or who… had he been seeking? —————————— He had to be honest with himself and admit that dinner had not been quite so dreadful as he had expected. He would, admittedly, have preferred to return to the suite and work on his art assignment, but he was now conscious of things he had previously ignored; things he could no longer ignore. He was to become a Prime talent and, as he had so often been told before by his instructors, with exceptional talent and the position of a Prime ranking, there were certain requirements he must fulfil. These requirements were more than training his talent to his limits, they were requirements that were far more down to earth and mundane; he needed to acknowledge, and accept, his human requirements. Tsuberov's instructors had been demanding, training him for the necessities of working amidst polite society and, he admitted, he had fought them every inch of the way. He had chosen not to acknowledge the truth of what would be expected of him when he left the protection of Tsuberov's borders, stubbornly refusing to think of life beyond those sheltering walls. Polite society on the social level was something distant, something unrelated to who Zechs Marquise fundamentally was. Zechs was an orphan, a sometime child of the streets, not one who was born to the gilded halls of aristocracy, or to the expansive mansions of the mega business moguls. Zechs was not even of the upper middle class, yet he walked the halls of Tsuberov and learned of his talent and he received the same education as the children of the upper classes. Someone had noted something about him that set him apart from his contemporaries, and because he was different the world he had grown up in was barred to him. He was excluded from it, given over to a new world where he was expected to learn the ways of people who had never gone hungry, who had never slept in the street, who had never fought to be first in the shower just so one could wash one's hair in hot water. It was a different world and one he would never escape, his talent would not permit him to return to the old way. After making the acquaintance of two Prime talents how could he now ignore what would be expected of him in both skill and competency on the job, and in the manners and etiquette required for him to circulate amidst polite circles? Duke Treize Khushrenada, T/E Prime and the wonderful and frightening persona that was the Prime Gabriella. Tsuberov was all theory and practise to attain perfection, and while he had paid lip service to his instructors of life skills for interacting with what would become his contemporaries, he had never actually believed he would be a part of that world. But the Primes… they were reality. They changed everything. He could not ignore what he had been told, what he had been taught; what he had for so long denied was to be his lot in life. On completion of his training he would take a place amongst the nine others who shared the same scope of talent. Prime Gabriella had made that abundantly clear with spoken word as well as mind to mind, the language a telepath could speak best, and she had promised so much. It was not the material things she promised that changed his outlook, but the intangible but vitally important emotional support he had missed in his growing years. She had promised she would be there for him, that all nine of them would be there for him. He did not want to be in this gilded restaurant, but he was. He did not want to be included in polite society, but he was. He was because it was now his future and wanting to avoid it was a left over of an angry young teen that had been given no choice in the abrupt displacement of all that he had known. This was now his reality and he was no longer a teenager full of anger at what he had seen as betrayal. What he would really like to do was slip out of the hotel and spend the night running the streets as he used to do. It would have been his final hurrah to the old Zechs, the one who was free to please himself. It would have been his final acknowledgement of all that was past and his acceptance of all that was future. In the end running the streets as he had had gotten to be too much for him. The constant voices in his head; the emotions that had filled him and were not of his own making had made his skin crawl all the time. He had felt everyone wanted to live in his skin and it had been driving him to greater and greater excesses to try to escape it. No, the streets had been sending him insane, he would have died there, and he knew it. Now it would be different if he ran the streets, he had shields now. Tsuberov had been good for that at least, teaching him to protect what was fundamentally Zechs Marquise. If he ventured into the streets now he would survive them. "Good evening. Zechs Marquise, isn't it?" One look at the young woman speaking to him and Zechs's body took over from his stunned mind. He stood in a single graceful movement and that movement continued into a bow to the shorter young woman smiling up at him as he straightened. "My goodness! I hadn't realized you were quite that tall, Mr. Marquise. May I join you for a few minutes?" //Why? What the heck does she want with me?// But of course one could not say that. That was not done, particularly to a Princess. "Of course, Your Highness." Relena, Crown Princess of Sanc, smiled as she settled herself into a chair and looked expectantly at him then at the chair beside her. Being only a little over five feet in height Zechs towered over her and it made him even more self conscious of just who she was. He spared a frantic glance around the room, hoping Quatre might be free to come to his rescue, but could not see his friend in the immediate vicinity, and that meant it was all up to him. Again his body acted with no conscious direction and Zechs found himself seated beside the Princess who seemed to be staring rather intently into his face. That did not seem all that polite to him, but he could not exactly call her on it. One did not tell a Princess she was staring… did one? What was he to do now? "I believe that this will be your final year at Tsauberov?" Oh good, she opened the conversation. He could answer questions, but what did she want with him? The Princess of Sanc was in her first year at Tsuberov and, if memory served, she was a telepathic suggestor, a related field of psychic ability but quite different from his own talent. "Yes. Yes, it is my final year here… ma'am." Relena pulled a face. "Please, Relena is fine. Titles and Ma'am's, Madam and Miss… Of course Miss makes me feel like a little girl with pig tails, but the titles, they make me feel positively ancient and I'm only seventeen. You wouldn't want to make me feel old, would you?" "I… No, of course not." Was he blushing? Oh, he just knew he had to be as red as a strawberry and with his colouring that was just a horrible thought. "Good. I can call you Zechs, yes?" A bright sunny smile changed a pretty teenager into a stunning young woman. "I have to admit that I have wanted to meet with you since I saw you in the cafeteria the first week of term. I've been angling for a chance ever since." She, the Princess of Sanc, Miss Popularity in the junior year if the rumour mill had it right, had wanted to meet with him since the beginning of the year? Why? He was nobody, the orphan no one wanted to adopt because he was seen as too wild and independent to be a good child. He was certainly not Mr. Popular at Tsuberov, so why did the girl want to meet him? "Why? I mean… Well…" God, the blush had to be getting worse! Her exquisite blue eyes widened and her smile faltered. "Why did I wish to make your acquaintance? I would have thought that was clear, Zechs. I wanted to find out which cousin you are, of course. I wanted to fill in your name on my personal copy of the family tree." t.b.c. Karina Robertson 2009 Notes: Zechs Marquise: Psi Student 5th year at Tsuberov Parapsychic Investigation and University. Level 10 Receiving/Projectin g Empath [approaching Prime Designation] + Level 9 Sending /Receiving Telepath, Projected L10 function. Finder function suspected, not officially registered. Country of origin, Luxemburg. [20 years of age] Duo Maxwell: Psi Student , 3rd year at Tsuberov Parapsychic Investigation and University. Level 8 Psychokinetic ability, projected level 9. Sending Telepath Level 5. Colony of Origin L2 Cluster [ 18 years of age] Sweeper adoptee. Under pre contract agreement with Sweepers. Quatre Rababer Winner: Psi student, 2nd year at Tsuberov Parapsychic Investigation and University. Current Level 5 Telepath, projected Level 7, Current Level Receiving Empath 9.3, projected Level 10, Prime. Current Sending Empath Level 2, projected Level 4. Colony of Origin, L4 Cluster [18 years of age] Treize Kushrenada : Level 10 Sending/Receiving Telepath + Receiving and Projecting Empath at Level 10. Prime rated. Agency Operative contracted term of 5 years with 2 years remaining. [25yrs of age] Training facility: Psychic Institute Munich Division. Sally Po [Chang]: Level 4 Receiving Empath with linked Healers Ability graded Level 6 Agency Operative-Chief Medical Officer contracted term of 10 years with 6 years remaining. Training facility: Psychic Institute Beijing Division. [23 yrs old] Relena Peacecraft: Sanc. Level 5 Telepathic Send function / Suggestor element Level 6, Receive function Level 3. Projected level Telepathic Send, Level 7, Suggestor Level 8, Receive function Level 5. Initial training Sanc, New Port City. Tsuberov student. First year present, second year study roster. [Age: 17 years]
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