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"The Price They Paid "Written By: yanagi Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing. I just
borrowed the boys to play with. I won’t hurt them–much.
Rating: NC 17 Pairing: 1x2x1, 3x4x3, 5x6x5 Warnings: Swearing, sexual innuendo, full body
cavity search, limes and lemons later on. Summary: 'They' sentence Heero to two ten year sentences to be served concurrently. The differences between what the boys experience can be startling. *thoughts*
"The Price They Paid" Chapter 20 Heero settled in his favorite chair on ‘his’ terrace. There were three other terraces in the small garden with similar setups, but he’d never seen anyone but Zechs use them. So he decided this was the perfect place to practice his whistle. He’d chosen a D whistle as the most common tunes were all in D or G. He had just started to play when he was interrupted. "Boy! Here, Boy!" Heero turned to look at the man across the garden from him. He was standing in the door of his ‘cell’ motioning to Heero. "Come here!" Heero shrugged, stuck his whistle in its case and put it on the table, then he went to see what the man wanted. "What do you want?" Heero couldn’t help the slightly dirty look he gave the man. "Don’t get insolent with me. I’ll have your job. Come in here and see what’s wrong with my coffee maker. It won’t work." Heero walked into the kitchenette, looked at the coffee maker then gave the man a smirk. "It helps if it’s plugged in." Heero reached over and plugged the machine in. "Plugged in? Well . . . I never. I didn’t think of that. I’m not good with machines." Heero looked closely at the man. He was old, at least sixty. *Well, not really that old.* Heero started to excuse himself. "If that’s all you want, I’d better go." The man was fiddling with the coffee maker. "Oh, yes." The man cleared his throat. "I’m sorry about earlier. I . . . tend to have a bad attitude first thing in the morning. I really need my coffee." "Oh, that’s ok. I have a friend that’s even worse." Heero started out onto the terrace. "You better go through this way." The man pointed to a service door. "I’ve heard that we have two of the Gundam pilots right here in our courtyard. You don’t want to run into one of them. They’re real killers." Heero bit his lip. "Um . . . I can’t go out a service door. I’m not allowed." "You’re not allowed? Then how do you do your work. . . . and I really won’t get you in trouble with your boss. I’m just cranky BC. So . . . " The man raised his eye brow at Heero, waiting for an answer. *Hee-man, just relax. No one’s after us anymore.* Heero snorted at his thoughts. "I’m an inmate just like you. I’m not allowed into the service areas." The man looked startled. "What . . . oh, I was told that it’s not acceptable to ask that. I apologize." Heero just shrugged. " ‘S all right." He couldn’t help a slightly cheeky grin, after all, he wasn’t actually telling a lie. "Got in for . . . um . . . I think they called it civil disobedience. Like TP-ing the court house. Stuff like that." "I see . . . well, if you’re sharing I will too. I’m in some serious trouble for tax evasion . . . but, I don’t understand how. . . . I’m just . . . I didn’t do my taxes. My accountant did them. But he’s not in trouble, I am. . . . I’m just a teacher. What do I know about taxes?" The man sighed. Heero shook his head. "I don’t know anything about taxes either. I have a friend that is really good at accounting. I could ask him to look things over for you. Perhaps he can figure out something . . . um . . . by the way. My name’s Heero. What’s yours?" "Oh, its Charles Fox. And please don’t call me Charlie. I never cared for it." "Pleased to meet you." Heero held out his hand. The older man took it and Heero was startled to feel his hand. It was soft, the skin thin, and the bones felt fragile as a bird’s. "My, that’s some grip you’ve got there." Heero immediately eased up. "I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget. Are you ok?" "Oh, yes. I’m fine. Now, young man. I . . . forgive me. I’m a retired teacher, as I said. I taught music. So I’m interested in your education. You are furthering it, aren’t you?" Heero watched as the man continued to fuss with the coffee. He realized the man wasn’t going to get anywhere. "Here, let me do that. Shall I make two cups? Or just one?" Heero looked over his shoulder "Two, of course. Now, I believe I asked you a question. I would like an answer." Charles sat carefully at the table and gave Heero a stern look. "Well, let me see. I’m taking several courses via a net connection. I’ll give you a transcript if you like. However, my psycharitrist and my guardian have selected my classes for me. With plenty of input from me, I might add." "I see. What are you majoring in?" "Not really majoring in anything much. I’m getting several Masters and Bachelors mostly mathematics, computers; hard ware, not soft, and . . . " Heero trailed off at Charles’s disbelieving look. "I know it’s hard to believe, but I really am. I want to have an over view of several different sciences. I think I’m going to go into colonial construction. If I can. . . I may never be allowed off Earth. So . . . never mind" Charles looked at Heero with some sympathy. "I see. Colonial construction. Sounds interesting. What would you be doing. With all those different degrees . . . I can’t figure it out." Heero smiled rather dreamily. "Site manager. I really think I could do a good job." "Construction workers can be really . . . oh, thank you." Charles accepted the cup of coffee with a sigh. "Construction workers are hard men. They have to be. Especially suit workers. But I don’t think I’ll have too much trouble. They’ll only mess with me once." Charles gave him a disbelieving look. "You’re much too young to be so cocky. Men like that don’t respect . . . er . . . anyone with only college experience. If you know what I mean." Heero finished his coffee and nodded. "Yes, sir. I know exactly what you mean, but I’m one of those Gundam pilots. A real killer. They won’t mess with me but once. See you." Heero sauntered out the French doors, leaving Mr. Fox to stare after him. He returned to his terrace and whistle. ~ * ~ Zechs saw Heero go into the stranger’s rooms but decided not to interfere. Heero was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Besides, the man looked like he was about to blow away. He was barely taller than Heero and probably didn’t weigh as much. He looked about sixty, studious and innocuous. He went in to make tea. While he was waiting for the water to boil, he heard a sound that he could only suppose was Heero playing his whistle. It sounded different from how it had in the shop. But that was all it could be. He wondered what their courtyard mates would make of this. When the water boiled, he poured it into a pot, added it to an already prepared tray and took it out to his terrace. "Heero. Tea’s ready. Come over. I’ve got some of those cranberry scones you like." Heero took his whistle down and smiled over at Zechs. He’d been practicing secretly for a while and now he felt secure enough in his new found skills to show them to Zechs. Heero settled at the small ice cream parlor table and accepted the cup Zechs handed him. "What was that song? It’s very pretty." Zechs poured his own tea. "It’s called Crested Hens. Showed up in the late 1600’s old calender. I think. It’s in O’Neals. I could look up the origins if you’re interested." "Not really. Do you have sheet music?" "Just the tune line. Old Irish musicians go in for original embellishments. You’ll hear a dozen versions of the same basic tune. You want, I could run off the melody for you." Zechs smiled over his cup. "I’ve been practicing my harp, we could do something together. You think?" Heero smiled back. "Couldn’t hurt. I just hope we don’t get in trouble for disturbing our neighbors." Zechs handed Heero a plate with a scone and some butter on it. "If we bother our court mates, we can move our practice to the music rooms." At Heero’s blank look, he explained that there were several soundproof practice rooms available for instrumentalists so they wouldn’t disturb others. Heero sighed. "I wish. I . . . " Zechs watched for a moment then deciding that Heero wasn’t going to continue, commanded "Don’t peter out on me. What do you wish? I don’t have much power anymore, but I believe I have enough to grand you your wish. You never want much." Heero bit at his lip then decided. "I wish I could have all the guys in for a jam session. They all play something. Quatre plays violin, Trowa plays the flute, Wufei will admit to playing a shakuhatchi and Duo plays key boards." "I wouldn’t have thought that Maxwell would play an instrument, when did he have a chance to learn?" "At the orphanage. Sister Helen started teaching him on their old piano. Then Professor G continued them as a reward for something or other." Heero shrugged. "He knows a lot more than he lets on." "I see. Have you all ever gotten a chance to get together?" Heero shook his head. "No, we were never all together long enough to get to play together. At least we weren’t when we were happy enough to play. I never had a whistle, and Quatre only played sad music alone, after. Trowa and Duo both hid away too. So. . . . but now things are so much better. Maybe, someday." Zechs took in Heero’s wistful expression and slumped shoulders and decided to make sure that they had their ‘jam session’ as soon as he could manage it. Maybe they’d even let him join in. "Well, if that face falls any farther, it’ll hit the ground, as my old nurse used to say." Zechs picked up the whistle. "Play me something else. Something happy. Please?" Heero licked his lips and thought. Then he put his whistle to his lips and played Gary Owen, then Over the Waterfall. Zechs smiled through several other pieces then stopped Heero. "Enough, your tea is getting cold. I’ll give it a little warm up, shall I?" Heero took a swab from the case, swabbed his instrument out and put it away. He accepted the tea and settled himself for a relaxing session of just sitting. Finally Heero looked at his watch. "I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to be at a therapy session in ten minutes." "Therapy?" Zechs gave Heero a sharp look. "I thought you were healed." "I am but I have to go in one last time. ‘She’ll’ sign off on me this time. The Iron Maid wants to make sure." Zechs grinned at Heero in unabashed glee. "Well, shall I tell her . . . Help?" Heero had given Zechs’s braid a yank as he walked past. He left him examining the end for any supposed damage. ~ * ~ "Well. Mr. Winner-Yuy. Let me look at that leg." Miss O’Donnell looked at Heero’s leg. Then she poked him here and there. "Looks good. How’s it feel?" "Good. Doesn’t hurt. It’s still a little weak, but I’m getting over that. Regular visits to the gym are helping. . . when can I go back to martial arts. I miss my workouts." Miss O’Donnell sighed. "Who are you going to work out with? I don’t know of anyone up to your levels." Heero blinked at her for a moment, how did she know his levels. He decided to take Duo’s advice and ask. "How do you know my levels?" "I don’t really. But to be who you are, they have to be fairly high. Right?" "Yeah." Heero ducked his head, thinking about what she’d said. "Wufei is up to my levels. So’s Trowa. . . . Barton. Tall one?" Miss O’Donnell nodded. "Quatre isn’t. He’s very good, but not that good. Duo . . . maybe. He was when I went in, but I don’t know if he’s been keeping up or not." Heero straightened up, stretching out his back. "Zechs might be. I wonder if he’d like to work out with me." "I don’t know what his levels are but I want you to take it easy at first. I don’t what you do undo all the healing." Miss O’Donnell unknowingly took her life in her hands as she cupped Heero’s chin in her hand to make him look her in the eye. "Understand me, young man?" Heero smirked at her a little. "Yes, ma’am. I understand. I’ll be careful. Duo will have my hide if I hurt myself again. And I really don’t want to hear Wufei rant about my suicidal tendencies . . . " Heero hopped off the table. "So . . . I’m cleared for light duties?" Miss O’Donnell nodded absently then went back to completing her notes. "Go on. Take care." She looked up. "and I don’t expect to see his Royal Highness in here either." Heero nodded and left. ~ * ~ Zechs leaned against his terrace wall and waited for Heero to return. He didn’t notice Mr. Fox until he spoke. "Excuse me. You look like a cultured gentle man. I understand that there are two Gundam pilots here. Do you feel that someone like that should be in a facility like this? I mean I’m no one to talk. But . . . I’m not even sure what I mean. They’ve got that young man convinced that he’s one of them. This isn’t good. I realize that it’s none of my business but he needs to realize that . . . " Mr. Fox trailed off. Zechs just gave him a weary look. It was starting all over again. One of the reasons that Heero and he had been the only ones in this unit was that it was just more trouble than it was worth to try to have him in the same court with others, there was always trouble. Like this. "My name is Zechs Merquise and I’m one of the Gundam pilots. Heero Yuy, I believe you referred to him as the young man, is the other. If you have a problem with us, I’d recommend that you take it up with the warden. And remember, we were here first." Mr. Fox turned a rather alarming shade of red. "Oh, I see. That self effacing young person is really a Gundam pilot?" Zechs just nodded. "Well, now I really feel . . . ridiculous . . . I apologize. I don’t understand . . . he’s too young to be a soldier. What were they thinking?" "Mostly about their own agenda. They didn’t care about their, our, ages. All they cared about was whether we could do the job or not. Your kind of blindness just adds to the problem. We are what we are, get over it. If you can’t be nice to Heero, at least don’t be cruel. Just stay away. Please." Mr. Fox eyed Zechs for a moment. "And what about you?" "I’m used to it. I don’t want him to have to get used to it." The professor nodded. "I don’t understand it at all. But if . . . well, I won’t add to the problem. I really just want . . . I’m afraid; to be frank. I’m not . . ." he sighed. "I’m old, I’m a professor of music at a local junior college. And all I really did was trust the wrong person. I paid my taxes. But I paid them to the man who did my taxes and he didn’t pass it on. So now I’m in trouble, he’s disappeared and here I am." Zechs nodded. "I see. Well . . . I followed orders, I was a good soldier. I tried to be a good commander. And Heero just did what he was trained to do. We all do what we think is right, or what we were trained to do . . . "Zechs turned away the looked back over his shoulder. "If anyone bothers you, tell me. I’ll deal with it. Have a nice day." He walked into his quarters with a sigh. ~ * ~ Heero took his time getting back to his quarters, he wanted to practice and he didn’t. He couldn’t decide which songs to work on and he had so many to choose from. He knew he wasn’t going to be good right at first. He had been conditioned to expect punishment for failure, so he knew he was going to have some problems, but. . . He sighed, he was over thinking again. He could just hear Duo. *’Ro, don’t think so much. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow and do it.* He decided to just open the book and learn the tune on the right-hand page. He fiddled around with it for a while, just to prove that he could. Then he buckled down and learned it, in about five minutes. He settled in for a long session. What else did he have to do? He’d finished all his homework and was comfortably ahead in his reading. So, practice. Which he realized he enjoyed. "Hello! Earth to Yuy. Come in Yuy." Heero looked up and grinned at Zechs. His quick glance at the clock told him that he’d been playing for over two hours. Which would explain the dryness of his mouth and throat. "Stagger in. Fall down and tell me what’s up." Heero motioned at the nearest chair. "You’re going to miss lunch in about twenty minutes. You can’t live on that survival stuff forever, you know." Heero shrugged, gave Zechs a mischievous look and replied. "Why not? I did for years." "Yes, and it shows. You’re a midget. Come on. Fresh food. Nice healthy veggies and . . . I’ll admit. I want company. I never realized how much I despise eating alone until you came along." Heero quickly cleaned his instrument and put it away. "Ok. I’ll admit that I’m hungry." He stopped to stretch and bend, working the kinks out of his back. "Good. . . oh, if you don’t mind. I’d like to join your sessions from time to time. If that’s ok with you." Heero glanced at Zechs, his hopeful look reassured Heero that he really meant it. "Sure. If you don’t mind messing around with an amateur." "You’re very good. I wonder how . . . .O’Carolans . . . humm. I have some sheet music I think you should take a look at. Might be interesting for us to play." "Ok. I’ll look at it after lunch. You want to bring your . . . no, I’ll bring my whistles to you. Easier to transport whistles than that monster of yours." Zechs gave Heero a gentile smile. "Well, shanty. At least it’s refined." He stuck his nose in the air. Heero smirked at him. "Better shanty than lace certain." Zechs snickered. "And what either a Japanese high bred or Sanq royalty really knows about sixteenth century Irish is beyond me." "Humm, music’s good though." They entered the dining room laughing companionably. The server came over and offered menus, took their orders and brought their food. He kept giving Heero tiny, scared glances. "Looks like you’ve got him properly cowed." Zechs hid his amusement behind his water glass. "You should never have put up with his shit. All it would have taken was one of your ‘I’m in command’ glares." Zechs looked sad. "But I’m not in command anymore." Heero made a disgusted face. "Yes, you are. You may not have control over where you are. But you’ve got control over what you are. Either you’re a man; a prince, and an ‘officer and a gentleman’, or you’re a prisoner. Decide." Zechs murmured "iron bars do not a prison make." Then nodded. "You’re right. I can’t give up. I’ve lived for others most of my life. It’s hard to live for myself. But . . . " Heero nodded. "See. All it takes is a spark." "You’ve lit a conflagration." Heero smiled and turned to his food. ~ * ~ "Trowa. I feel like playing. Join me?" Trowa smiled happily. He had missed their musical sessions. "Sure. Get my flute and be there in a minute." "Don’t bother. I have a present for you." Quatre gave Trowa one of his most dazzling smiles. "Ok. But . . . Quatre Raberba Winner, you did not!" "Did! And don’t middle name me." Quatre ran into the music room and placed the case in Trowa’s out stretched hands. Trowa opened the case and indeed there on the black velvet lining was the coveted flute. He’d been looking at it for months. Now, here it was. He wished rather vaguely that Quatre wouldn’t buy him things like that. Then he shrugged, said thank you, and took out the flute. He put it together with an air of satisfaction that pleased Quatre no end. Quatre retrieved his violin from the storage cabinet and began to tune it carefully. He put the electronic tuner on the table. The thimble sized electronic gadget blinked serenely, waiting for him to put bow to string. When Quatre drew the bow over the string, it continued to blink green. He tested each string and found them all to be in perfect tune. Trowa came over to him and put his new flute to his lips. He blew gently. The tuner continued to blink green. The flute was in perfect tune as well. "This is so nice. Thank you, meli." "You’re welcome. Your old instrument was getting a little too worn." Quatre rubbed the hand on his shoulder with his chin. Trowa put the flute to his lips and played a scale. Quatre echoed with his violin. They played for a while, until Wufei came into the room. "Do you mind if I listen?" Wufei sat on the floor without waiting for an answer. He’d only asked to be polite, he knew they wouldn’t mind. Duo was right behind him. "Hey. I’ll sit in if you don’t mind." "Sit in? What do you play?" "Key board. See?" Duo pulled an electronic key board out of his pocket, unrolled it and layed it on the table. "Wow. Duo, that’s a nice key board. Micro processors are great things." Duo regarded the instrument fondly. It was one of the best on the market. G had given it to him after he’d played the Minute Waltz in a minute. It consisted of a pressure sensitive strip, the key board; and a processor/speaker module. Unroll the board, turn on the processor, and you had a fine keyboard all ready to play. All you had to have was a table or other flat surface large enough to accommodate its length. He played a few scales then settled in to play along with Quatre and Trowa. Wufei got up and went to the cupboard. "I’ll join in as well, if you don’t mind." He removed the shakuhachi from its drawer and held it up. The Chinese flute was made frm bamboo and polished to a high gloss. Quatre smiled in delight. "Wufei, I didn’t know you played an instrument." "Yes. I was taught. I enjoyed it very much, but . . . it wasn’t something I felt a warrior should do. I haven’t played since the day Merian died. " Trowa reached out and squeezed Wufei’s shoulder, Duo slipped up behind him and put an arm around him. Quatre smiled a little less happily. "I’m so sorry. Perhaps . . . " Wufei interrupted him. "Maxwell, you want to lose your head?" Duo snorted softly. "Thanks, guys. I’m all right. I want to play. Someone name a tune I know." So they spent a few minutes naming off tunes until they had a list that they all knew. Then the fun began. Wufei found that the versions of most of the tunes that they knew didn’t match. Duo knew the bare bones melodies of all of them and ornamented as he saw fit. Trowa was about the same. But Quatre knew different versions, written for the violin and ornamented in a rather strict and formulaic style. Wufei knew bare bones tunes and ornamentations and had been trained to combine them on the fly. Duo caught on right away and Trowa wasn’t far behind him, they both understood music theory almost instinctively. Quatre had trouble. He’d been trained in a strict old style school. You had sheet music and followed it. "Real" musicians didn’t interpret the music, they let it interpret them. Duo snorted, Trowa smiled slightly and Wufei just threw up his hands. "Quatre, anyone who makes music is a real musician. It doesn’t matter in the least whether you read ‘dots’, learn by ear, or just make it up as you go along. Relax. Just listen to us and jump in when you feel comfortable. If you have trouble with embellishments or ornamentation as some call it, just play the melody. And don’t worry about making mistakes. We’ll all probably blow the whole thing. This isn’t a performance or anything. Just us having fun." He looked at Duo and Trowa. The both nodded back, so he put his flute to his lips and Trowa copied him. Duo tapped the beat with his foot and they started. Quatre joined in after the second tune, so they started again. And stopped. And started. And messed up. They laughed, swore, pointed out differences in melody, timing and pace. And wound up having the best time they’d had in a long time. Finally Quatre called a halt when he heard Duo’s stomach growl. "Oh, Duo why didn’t you say you were getting hungry." "Huh? Me? Not me. I forgot all about it. I. . . well, now you mention it, I am a little hungry." Another growl made Trowa snicker. Wufei’s face turned pink. "I think that was me. Trowa, we better clean our flutes before we put them away. All that giggling . . ." Trowa turned his nose up. "I don’t giggle. Or spit in my instrument." Wufei rapped him sharply on the top of the head with his bamboo shakuhatchi. "Sure you don’t." Trowa rubbed his abused head with one hand and snatched Wufei’s instrument with the other. "Ow! Give me that. That’s no way to treat it." Wufei snickered but let Trowa have it. "You want it, fine, just means you have to clean it." Wufei grinned at Trowa’s dirty look, but Trowa turned to the cabinet and got out the swabs. Wufei left him to his task and went to look at Duo’s keyboard. "When did you get that?" Duo shrugged. "I’ve had it for a while. G gave it to me. He said everyone should play something. I just turned out to be a keyboardist?" "Not real handy to carry around. Or play. I don’t remember ever seeing you play it." Duo shook his head. "Don’t think you ever did. If I wanted to play I usually hid in ‘Scythe. Heero heard me play once and I thought he’d go ballistic. He don’t like music, I think. But I’ve always wanted to play a real piano." Quatre, who’d been listening in while he wiped off his violin, interjected, "But Duo, if you want to play a real piano, why don’t you just play the grand piano over there?" "Because it’s not mine. That’s a very expensive instrument. You think I’m uncouth enough to help myself to it?" Duo looked slightly indignant. "No. But . . . I never thought about it. I never knew you played anything . . . " Quatre tried to figure out how to say what he wanted without insulting Duo. "Quat. Just spit it out. I won’t be pissed." "I told you long ago, anything I have you’re all welcome to. Except Trowa or my violin. You want to play the piano, help yourself . . . " He cased his violin and turned to Trowa to hand it to him. Trowa took it and picked up the two flutes. "Thank you, Trowa . . . now everyone come on. I’m starving." They wound up arguing music through lunch. Duo held up Wufei’s argument that anyone who made music, no matter how good or bad, was a musician. Quatre argued that reading music and some level of skill was necessary to be a musician. Trowa played ping-pong, looking from Duo to Quatre and back to Wufei. ~ * ~ Relena turned off the radio and sighed. She wished she could play an instrument well. She played the obligatory piano, but was at best an uninspired plinker. She could play at a socially acceptable level but didn’t play from memory and couldn’t find herself really interested in anything she knew. She looked up at a knock on the door. "Enter" Dorothy stuck her head around the edge of the door. "The car is here. You should wear a sweater. Those places are invariable cold." Relena shuddered, picked up a light sweater from the foot stool and left the room headed for the car. She spent most of the drive worrying. "Doro. What if he doesn’t want to see me. What if he turns me away. I really didn’t know what that nasty man was doing. Did you? If you did, why didn’t you tell me? What am I going to do?." Dorothy reached over and patted her on the hand. "Miss Relena, stop that, do. You’ll make yourself sick. If he doesn’t want to see you. You sent our compliments and apologies for bothering him when he’s busy. I didn’t know for sure what he was doing. I had an idea but I couldn’t really prove anything. You’ll do what you always do. You’ll make it work somehow. Just stop your fussing until we have an idea of what will happen. Perhaps he’ll be glad to see you. Or perhaps he’ll make you work for it. Either way . . . well, don’t worry until it’s time." Dorothy poured Relena some tea from a thermos she’d brought along. "Have some tea and stop fratching yourself. You’ll feel better after tea." Relena accepted the cup, sipped and tried to quit worrying. But she felt so bad, she just knew that Milliardo wouldn’t forgive her. He was well known for bearing grudges, revenge was almost his byword. *Oh, dear.* When they finally arrived at the facility, which to Relena looked like a middle priced hotel she was resigned to the thought that her brother would send her away again. She wanted to love him, he was her only remaining family. She wanted him to love her. She so rarely got what she wanted. ~ * ~ "Ma’am!" The door guard snapped to attention, gulped and realized that he had no idea what to do next. Relena smiled at him and returned his salute. "Could you please see if my brother will see me?" "Brother? Ma’am?" The poor man looked like he was going to choke. "Your brother works here? I . . . don’t believe I know him." Relena sighed. "My brother is incarcerated here. Mill . . . oh, he doesn’t use that name. Zechs Merquise. Please see if he’ll see me." "Yes, ma’am. I’ll have someone come to escort you right away." Relena stopped the man and repeated herself again, adding that she wasn’t sure if he’d see her or not and she didn’t want to disturb him if he was busy. The guard finally got it through his head that Zechs might not be happy about seeing his sister. His reply brought joy to Relena’s heart and some pain as well. "I don’t know why he wouldn’t want to see you. Every time he asked to see you and you refused he tore his quarters to bits . . . at first. I guess he got tired of cleaning up the mess. He just sulks now." "Sulks? My brother would never sulk." "Ok, pouts then . . . Ha! Got him, hang on a sec." He spoke into the stand mic on his desk and winced slightly. "He’ll be right here. You’ll have to meet him in the guest room this time. Next time you can go to his quarters if you want." The sound of heels rapping sharply on the hall floor gave Relena pause. She saw her brother striding towards her and all she could do was watch, big eyed and cringing. When Zechs reached her, he stopped and just waited. She dithered for all of two seconds, then with a tiny sob, she threw herself on Millardo’s broad chest and mercy. "Hush. It’s ok. I got a report from Doro. I’ll take up my grievances with the ‘nasty little toad-man’. " Zechs rocked her gently for a moment. "Come . . . dry your eyes. We’ll go to the visitors chambers and you can tell me all about it. Then you can ask me any question you like. I may not answer all of them, but I won’t lie to you. Ok?" Relena sniffled and searched her purse for a hankie. Not finding one, she patted her pockets. Zechs smiled slightly and handed her his handkerchief. "Here, use this. Wipe then blow, other way round is just nasty. As Duo would . . . did say." He led the way to the visitors chamber and settled Relena in a comfortable chair. "Tea?" Zechs didn’t wait for an answer, he needed tea. He’d rather have a nice stiff drink but in deference to his sisters sensibilities he’d settle for tea. Relena nodded her thanks, even though she’d already had more tea than was really good for her. She wouldn’t turn him down for anything. "Thank you, Milliardo. It’s . . . " She noticed his wince and stopped speaking. He felt it necessary to explain himself. "I don’t use the name Milliardo Peacecraft anymore. I had it legally changed when I was sentenced." "Oh. And why wasn’t I informed of this?" Relena felt a little put out. She didn’t know half what she ought. "I informed you. I sent you copies of the legal papers, which contained an explanation of why I felt it necessary to change my name." Relena sighed, pulled out her phone, and made a call to her office. "I see. Well, it’s my fault again. Zechs, then." Zechs bowed slightly. "Please, continue." "I . . . I have no excuse for my actions. I was angry and said some truly unforgivable things. Then . . . I did mean it for the best. I told that nasty little toad-man to make sure that he got every message from you. I did not mean for him to keep them from me or to do most of the things he did. I meant for him to make sure I got every message you sent. But . . . then I got . . . involved . . . but that’s no excuse . . . some of those letters of apology were . . . painful is not the word I want. . . . I . . .oh, Mill . . . Zechs . . I don’t know what I’m trying to say." Zechs watched Relena struggle and all he could do was realize that she was so very young. She was trying her best, he could see that. And one of the reasons he’d changed his name was to separate them in the public eye. He did what any loving brother would do, he forgave her. It was so obviously distressing to her that he knew she hadn’t meant for, he couldn’t help a slight chuckle, that nasty toad-man to intercept his letters and gifts. "Relena, my dear. Does the ‘nasty little toad-man’ mean Mr. Webster?" "Yes, that obsequious, slimy little sneaky worm." Relena set her tea cup down with a decided snap. "I sent you presents that he intercepted, so I though you didn’t want anything to do with me. And I found all sorts of things that he never gave to me. I. . . . " Relena got a thought full look on her face. Zechs watched with amusement as she put on what he thought of as her ‘Princess face’ "What is going on in that head of yours, I wonder." Relena settled deeper in her chair. "He intercepted my email to you and yours to me. He also intercepted regular mail. Without my written authorization. Some of the things were rather expensive. Oh, that reminds me. Doro has a present I sent to you that that . . . " Zechs held up a hand. "Please spare me. Just tell me . . . " Relena pouted slightly. "Well he is. But as I was saying . . . I sent you something for your birthday, but we found it in his drawer labeled ‘not appropriate.’ I’ll give it to you in a while. Doro said she wanted to check on another . . . er . . . inmate? Resident? What do you call yourself here?" Zechs sighed. "I prefer inmate, but the staff always refers to us as clients. I . . it’s ridiculous." "OH," Relena sighed again. "Will you stop that? I’m not angry at you. Not since you explained what happened. I got Heero to do some digging. They think they can keep him off line. They are, as usual, wrong. He . . . you will not cause him any trouble, you hear?" Relena just nodded, big eyed. Zechs continued to explain that Heero had traced a few of his emails and found that they had been intercepted, done a little more digging and realized that Relena had been requesting scans for lost emails for months. They’d drawn conclusions of their own. "I don’t want to cause Heero any trouble. In fact, I wish I could see him. You see, " Relena looked down at her clasped hands. "I had the most horrible crush on him. I caused him no end of problems, following him around and outgrew it during the trials. I realize that we’d never make it. Even if he wasn’t homosexual. I’m too idealistic and he’s too pragmatic. But I’d like to be his friend. I like to think of myself as such." Zechs smiled at her. "I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that. He’s in need of as many friends as he can get." "I’m visiting the facility he’s in soon. And . . . " Relena trailed off as Zechs pointed. "They moved me. I got hurt. . . umpf" Heero grunted as Relena hugged him, hard. "Oh, Heero, I’m so glad to see you. I’m doing the best I can, but it’s so hard. I’m fighting on several fronts at once. They want to disempower me. Some of the legislators resent my power. They say I’m too young to know what’s best. I say they’re so old, they’re set in their ways. And so I can’t help you like I want. I can’t help Milliardo, nepotism is such an ugly word, although half the congress seems to indulge in it, one way or another. And so I’m so sorry I had to turn it all over to Quatre and stay sub rosa. But I do have influence that I can use. And I will, when the time is right. And I’m babbling, aren’t I." Heero returned the hug, then smirked. "You sound like Duo on a rip. But that’s ok. I’m glad to see you too." Relena gave Heero a slightly blank look. Then blushed heavily. She remembered some of the silly things she’d done in her pursuit of Heero and sat down abruptly. Heero shook his head. "Don’t do that. It was nice. I . . . had trouble . . . expressing . . . I’m still so not good at this." Relena had to giggle. "I’m sorry, but you sound just like Maxwell. It’s all right. I understand. Please, won’t you join us?" Heero glanced at Zechs and, catching the pleading look in his eyes, agreed to stay. "For a while. Then I have to leave. Homework won’t do itself." So he stayed, buffering Zechs and Relena, interjecting questions when the conversation seemed to lag. *I do to have people skills. It’s just like an interrogation, keep the words flowing. Ask easy questions and wait.* Relena told Zechs everything she’d done for the Gundam pilots. "I did it all with all of you in mind. You to, brother. I swear if it wasn’t for that nasty little toad-man. "Heero pricked up his ears. "I wanted to apologize ten minutes after we parted. I was just . . . so immature . . . and foolish. I’m so sorry. Please . . . " Zechs took her hand in his and kissed it gently. "Stop. I did many foolish things myself. I forgive you if you forgive me. Ok?" Relena smiled at him so happily that whatever small ill feeling was left faded easily. Heero got up from where he’d been sitting and offered tea. Zechs held up a hand palm out in a ‘no thank you’ gesture. Relena sighed. "Oh, I couldn’t. My kidneys are floating now. I . . . er . . . " she reddened. Heero just pointed, she hopped up and scurried into the ladies room. "You think?" Zechs relaxed, stretching out his long legs and sighing. "Yeah, I do. I’d really like to know more about Mr. Nasty Little Toad-man Webster." Heero shrugged. "Me too. I’ll see what I can come up with after she leaves." Relena emerged from the door just then and the conversation turned general. Relena filled them in on what she was going to be doing for the next few days. Heero listened with half and ear. Zechs told Relena about their trips to the mall and Heero’s whistle and the harp he’d bought. Heero noticed Relena flexing her feet with a small crease between her eyebrows. He sat down on the floor without comment and slipped her shoes off. "What? Heero don’t do that. My feet are dirty." "No they’re not. Why do you insist on wearing shoes that are too tight? It’s ridiculous." "They match my outfit and I haven’t broken them in completely yet. Stop." Heero just firmly plunked her feet in his lap. "Your feet are clean. If your feet are the dirtiest things I’ll ever have to handle I’ll be . . . " He grinned at Zechs, who just covered his eyes with one hand and muttered. "Don’t even. Not in front of my sister." Relena relaxed, Heero gently rubbed the marks off her feet, but Zechs took the shoes and flexed them carefully until they loosened up. "That ought to take care of that. You ought to have them sent out to be stretched a little. It takes away from the wear, but you do too much standing and walking not to do it." "I know. I’ll have Doro take care of it today. . . speaking of her. Where is she.?" Heero shrugged. "You two say your good-byes and I’ll go find her. It’s almost lunch time. You have an appointment in . . . " Just then the door opened and Dorothy came in to get Relena. "Re’ we have to go . . . now. Or we’ll be late. It’s a sit down luncheon so we have to be on time." Relena said good-by to Heero then turned to Zechs. "Mill . . . Zechs. I’ll get used to it. I swear. I have to go. But I’ll come back. And anything you send to me comes to my desk or Doro’s so . . . oh. I forgot. Doro’ do you have it?" Dorothy handed Relena a long narrow box and smiled as Relena removed the watch from it. "Here, I sent this to you for your birthday only that . . ." "Nasty Little Toad-man" everyone chorused along with her. "Alright. I wore that one out. Sorry. But anyway, here. Let me put it on for you. I’ll just . . ." Relena reached out and took Zechs by the left hand. "take . . . this . . . oh, my. That . . . "Relena let out a little shriek of sheer fury. Zechs tried to pull his hand away but Relena held on tenaciously. "Relena, it’s fine. They just don’t want me taking off. I could you know. If I really wanted to. At least, without the tracker I could." "I don’t like it. I want it OFF! NOW!" Heero smirked at Zechs. He patted Relena on the shoulder. "Calm down. It’s off. Or it will be soon." "How are you going to get it off?" Heero smirked even more. "You know Duo will kick my ass if anyone else does it. He wants to so bad. Ok?" Relena looked between Heero and Zechs. "It’s ok with me. Zechs?" Zechs grinned. He’d been examining the watch. "I like the watch. You’ll get papers, probably after the luncheon. Hug me and get going Doro is getting ready to spaz." Relena obediently hugged, issued orders to the warden, who was hovering in the hall and left, Dorothy trailing after. ~ * ~ A quick call to Duo brought him to the facility, along with Wufei. They explained that Quatre and Trowa had to go to L5. Duo examined the bracelet carefully. Then he asked for the plans, which the warden handed over without complaint. Duo examined the plans and sighed. "Well, at least you’re not booby trapped. I really don’t like my chances of escaping the Pink Panic if I blow off your hand." "Do not call my sister a Pink Panic. It’s. . . " "Disrespectful." Wufei finished. "but we got in the habit of calling her that because she drew way too much attention to us. See pink, panic. But . . . Duo. . . make nice. Ok?’ Duo concentrating on plans just nodded and muttered. "Yurp. No prob." It took him a few moments of work to bridge the circuits with a piece of wire. Then he picked the lock imbedded in the bracelet. It took him a while and some fervent curses, but he did it. "There." Duo tossed the revolting thing into the nearest trash and picked up the watch. He ceremoniously handed it to Wufei, who gently strapped it on for Zechs. "Thank you, Ming Long." Zechs examined his wrist, free of the despised fetter at last. "You are very welcome, Bihai." Duo just grinned. ~ * ~ Heero leaned into Duo so he could hear the conversation from both sides. "Hey Q. You get the mail I sent?" Quatre’s disembodied voice replied in the affirmative. Then Quatre made a call. "Hello, Miss Carson. I heard something really distressing." Miss Carson was one of the worst gossips in ESUN and as personal secretary to the head of the second largest corporation in ESUN she had a lot of people to gossip with. "Oh, Mr. Winner do tell." "Yes, it seems that one of Miss Relena’s aids has really put his foot in it. He intercepted mail from Zechs. Kept it from her. Such a shame. Here we’ve been blaming her for being cold to him and this little weasel was playing power games. Besides committing half a dozen felonies. So . . ." "Oh please. . . don’t tell me he’s back on the market." "Yes, Relena isn’t going to press charges. Doesn’t want the exposure. But . . . I just know some unsuspecting person will hire him. Such a shame. You know?" "Oh, I know. Oh, excuse me. I have an incoming call. . . . Hello, Sherry. You’ll never believe . . . " Notes: Ming Long - Bright Dragon
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