Never Again 5

When Treize Khushrenada finally pulled himself into a state of full consciousness, he was a very confused nobleman.

Sitting on the edge of the large sofa which he had been sleeping on, his mind ran amuck while he pulled on the assorted pieces of his uniform. /He was with me. I swear that he was… gentle hands… the feel of his uniform…/ Treize knew he could not have been hallucinating that time. He could nearly still feel the patterns that had been traced onto his skin, and the warmth the other had left in the space where Treize now sat was undeniable, as was how comfortable Zechs was to sleep against.

And yet he was faced with two pieces of conflicting information. A note with the words 'Thought I'd let you keep sleeping. Don't worry, I can run the inspection myself. Z.M.' scrawled onto it in well trained handwriting -- and the two gloves that he had found laying on the floor beside his boots and own his gloves. _Two_ pairs of white gloves did not work.

In one hand he held the pair of foreign gloves, moving the soft material through his fingers. They were a bit bigger than the well-worn pair that was his, and there was what could only be identified as some sort of stuff on them. Something mech related. Grease, likely.

So, how did a pair of gloves that obviously belonged to Zechs, since he was the only person with entry clearance into the private office, end up lying beside the sofa Treize had been rather happily sleeping on?

And, Treize felt as if he hadn't slept so well in years. It had been _very_ nice. /That is not the proper word… I would kill to have such a comforting presence at my side every night…/ A solid body below him, strong arms around him, hands in his hair…

Treize shook his head as if to rid it of the memory. /Gott in Himmel… I am going to drive myself up a wall if I keep going on like this… He is not mine. He never will be. He has Noin. I would have to be blind to deny that they are close. But maybe… Gods, I cannot be having such vivid dreams. And I would never hear a com. unit conversation in one of my dreams, would I? Er… doesn't matter. Zechs is my only friend, and I cannot lose him not matter what./ With that thought, he began to snap the hidden clasps for his boots shut, the long practised motion coming to him without thinking. But as he began to pay the clasps attention, his movements faltered. One clasp locked onto the wrong catch. Sighing, he pulled his right leg up onto his left, and scrutinised the mess. Two tiny pieces of metal locked together at a strange angle, the attached leather strained by the positioning. /Joy./ Nimble fingers quickly went to work at it, while his mind drifted off again.

/See what happens when you pay too much attention, Khushrenada? You screw things up. Instinct can often be better than plotting and watching…/ Finally, catch fixed, Treize cocked his head to one side, smiling furtively. /Perhaps, just perhaps, advice that is applicable for boots is also applicable in life./

He put both feet down on the floor, and stood up, gloves in one hand, note in the other. Standing near his desk, he studied both of them. /Two pieces of a puzzle. One suggests that all he came in here for was to do me a kindness concerning the inspections that I hate so much -- trying to put on a pleasant show -- and the other piece insinuates that he was here for… _other_ reasons…/

Both pieces of a very intriguing puzzle were set on his desk as he smiled to himself, straightening out his uniform shirt and jacket. He had suddenly come to a very decisive decision concerning his state of attire for the day -- he wouldn't bother to button up either shirt or jacket until later. Zechs would return after the inspection, wouldn't he? Of course he would, if only out of concern.

/Sometimes Mirialdo is so predictable, when it comes to routines/ Treize thought. /Thank Gott for that. Now, to find out for sure. Perhaps a few hints before the ball to see if he reacts well./ There was a quavering of doubt. /And, if he doesn't? Then what will you do?/ he shrugged philosophically to himself. /Ah well. That is something I will have to deal with if it comes to it./

Lightly, he paced back over to the sofa and picked up both cloaks. His eyes drifted over both of them for a moment, and then he dropped his own back onto the sofa. In a swift movement, he had wrapped himself in the dark material of Zechs' cloak, closing the clasp. It was a bit large for him in the shoulders -- frightening, really, since Treize was not lithe in that area -- but otherwise there was no outward way to tell the two cloaks apart. Treize didn't care if Zechs noticed he was wearing his cloak; it was comforting, simply a bit of his friend's presence with him.

Smiling -- truly and cheerily smiling for the first time in perhaps years, his velvety sapphire eyes dancing -- he set about dealing with last minutes things concerning the grand Soirée that evening.

/Hmm… Perhaps I will even be able to dance with him./

~~~~

Une drew a deep breath before she turned on the com. unit that was set into the wall outside Treize's well-sealed private office.

"Lord Treize, sir, I have brought you something Miriam sent you," Une said into the com., voice low. Miriam had nerve, but Une supposed she shouldn't have confronted the woman, who had simply avoided saying anything about her obvious relationship with Treize. It had likely made her chances at a relationship with Treize worse.

There was a pause, during which she heard a few papers being shuffled, and soft humming. Then there was a soft click, signalling the door was open. Une smiled, glad to see that Treize still trusted her, and opened the door. Carefully, she balanced the tray as she walked in, holding herself with all the poise and posture that was expected of her status.

Treize, however, was not holding himself with his normal poise. In one hand, he held a pen, and the other was tapping a tune of some sort out on the desk while he scrawled onto the paper in his fluid script. From his throat there was a soft, pleasant sound -- so soft that Une was unable to tell if it was humming or soft singing. Une smiled to see Treize so at ease, for Zechs' words earlier had disturbed her. /Zechs was simply exaggerating. He is fine, better than normal even. I don't think I've ever seen him in such a pleasant mood. He's _certainly_ not in General Mood./

"Sir, I brought you tea and a message from Miriam sent. I informed her that you didn't want to see anyone today. She wanted you to be ready by four-thirty." Une blistered inside at those words. She was giving Treize Khushrenada orders!

The soft musical sound Treize was making stopped abruptly as he looked up from what he was writing. The smile fell from his face, replaced with a painfully blank expression. "Lady Une," came the rough, slightly startled whisper. /I should have paid more attention to who it was at the door… Dammit./

She blinked, and set the tray on the end of his desk while Treize gracefully rose to his feet, and paced sedately away from the desk. His eyes didn't meet hers. "Sir…" she murmured. "We… I believe we need to talk about what we did last night."

"No," Treize corrected softly, looking out the window with glazed eyes. "About what you did."

Une was taken aback, not having expected Treize to say such a thing. She stepped a bit closer towards him, and he spun to face her. "Treize," she said in a sad tone, studying his form. "W-what… what happened to you?" /Oh gods, Zechs was right. What did I do to him?/ The meticulous bindings were undeniably covering wounds she had left. "Did you go to the med-centre?" /To put him through such embarrassment as others seeing him like this… I think I've ruined any chances I've ever had with him…/

Treize shook his head, walking back over toward his desk; he still was unable to bring his eyes up to meet hers. "Zechs bound them for me." His voice was soft, faint. He cleared his throat. "I think that you should leave, Une." A sigh, and he passed a hand over his face. "Now would be best."

Une's brow furrowed. "Treize, sir, I am sorry. I was simply trying to find a way to express my love for you."

A weak laugh escaped Treize as he stood by his desk, eyes drifting over the sheets of paper. "Love… You do not know what it is. Obsession, yes, but not love… if you truly did, you would not have done that to me…"

"I... I was desperate, Treize… there was nothing else--"

"I loathe you," he choked out, pushing the papers about with an unsteady hand. "Get out of my sight."

Une walked behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Treize… You're not being reasonable." She realised just how unreasonable he was being when she felt him jerk away, staggering back. His facial expression was nearly fearful.

"I told you to get out of my sight!" he snarled. "You disgust me." /And I disgust myself… I still cannot decide what was worse, your betrayal of me, or my own body's betrayal of me?/

"Lord Treize, I am sorry. But why… why did you act as you did last night?" Une asked at last. /Gods. He _is_ angry… but I have to know./

"I have no wish to be involved with you Une."

After a moments thought, Une decided to speak her mind word for word. "Sir, I know that I became carried away, however most men… I cannot think of a soldier who would object to the situation you were in last evening."

"Lady Une, I am not most men." /And won't you be surprised if you ever find out where I differ./ "I must admit, you do strike a pretty figure, however... That is not it, Une." /The problem is that you are one I give my trust to. I would never have even thought of…/ Treize shook his head, turning away once more. /I do not wish to deal with this… not now, not ever…/ "You betrayed my trust. If…" He cleared his throat again. "If anyone else should learn of what happened last night, I promise you that you… you will… Gott…" He trailed off, raising a hand to the bridge of his nose. The threat was empty, and he knew it. He couldn't bring himself to do her harm.

Tentatively, Une reached out a hand to brush his cheek. Once more, he jerked away. "Don't touch me." A cold order; his voice was aggrieved, as was the look in his eyes, as they met Une's for the first time since she had entered.

She stepped a bit closer, and he fell back against his desk, nothing to defend himself from her if he had to, beneath his hands only cold--

A gasp escaped him, followed by a paint peeling string of cursing, and Une moved back, concerned. He held his left hand tightly in his right, forcing back the pain. /Shit… it's not my day. Not my day, not my week, not my month, not my year./

Une watched a drop of blood fall from his clenched hand. Her eyes darted over to the desk. Where his hand had fallen was a glass paperweight. Pyramid shaped, and sharp edged.

"Do you wish for me to get help, General?" Une asked uneasily. She would never have thought Treize to be so careless as to have something like that happen.

"No," he said, tone uneasy but steady at last. "I'm fine. Just leave."

Une bit the inside of her lip as she left. /I had already caused enough damage to him… he wasn't careless -- he was trying to get away from me!/ Une decided it would be best if she didn't seek Treize out that evening. No reason to embarrass him in public.

As she closed the door behind her, a nearly animalistic growl escaped the famously calm General Treize Khushrenada.

~~~~

/Gods help me if I ever have to suffer through another inspection./ Zechs thought, as he paced down the hall. Between that moment and inspections, he had stopped in his quarters and changed into a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. No uniforms were allowed into the concert, but he'd yet to abandon the mask. /I slept right before the inspection, so why am I so tired now?/ He paused and smiled to himself. /Oh yeah. I was bored right out of my mind back there./

He paused at the entry pad, and tapped in his code. / I'm off duty now, so I'm just going to give him the report, get my cloak back, and leave. Nothing else. No more molesting your superior officer in his sleep, all right Zechs? Not unless you get a really good chance./ The door opened, and Zechs stepped in, sealing the room behind him.

The room was a mess -- or at least part of it was. The papers and folders that had been on Treize's desk were on the floor, looking as if they had been shoved off it; a silver tray was with the papers, and some of them looked as if stained with tea; Treize's chair was knocked over. Warily, Zechs peered around to that side of the desk.

Treize was sitting on the floor, a heavy black cloak pulled tightly around him, back against the rich dark brown wood. His eyes were closed, and he held his left hand in his right, a little away from his body; blood had soaked into the carpet beneath that spot.

/What the--/ Zechs asked mentally as he knelt beside Treize on the floor. "General," Zechs murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. Treize's eyes flickered open, and they drifted over to rest on Zechs' face. He seemed to become less tense -- but only barely. A small sound from deep in his chest, and his eyes had shut again.

Not taking his hand from Treize's shoulder, he took the hand Treize was holding into his own. No protest. Carefully, he uncurled it from the fist it was held in. The white glove was veined with reddish-brown, and Zechs winced at the slight tremor that ran through Treize's muscles as he peeled the glove off. The finely formed hand was covered in dried blood, the cause being a shallow gash in the strong yet slim palm.

"Sir, you're going to end up dead if you keep this up," Zechs said, resting the back of Treize's hand on the floor, as he stood and rifled through Treize's desk for the gauze.

From the bottom drawer on the left, he pulled the last of the gauze, the tape and the water, then turned sat down beside Treize. He held the wounded hand in his own as he carefully cleaned it. A grimace flickered across Treize's features, but it was quickly gone. "You know, I think I would never have had the chance to use the first aid procedures I've been taught if it wasn't for you," Zechs said lightly, a bit of regret slipping into his voice. He wished he'd never have to put that training to use, particularly on Treize. To make it worse, it was the second time in one day.

The movements were mechanical as he bound Treize's hand. The finished product wasn't too bad -- Treize would be able to hide it beneath his gloves at the ball that evening. /If he doesn't go completely insane before that,/ Zechs thought, looking at Treize; one of his legs was pulled up close to his chest, the other stretched out before him.

"Sir, are you okay?" Zechs asked at last. /Come on Treize… You've got me scared. I know that Une must have been here, you were still sleeping soundly when I left. Was she the one who hurt your hand?/

Eyes still closed, Treize nodded. "Yes, I'm fine Mirialdo. Just fine."

"Who hurt you?"

There was a pause. "It was an accident. I backed against my desk and put my hand on something that was sharper than I thought."

/Treize back against his desk. An accident. Hah. Not without feeling threatened…/ "Then why is all your work scattered?"

"I… was angry. There is no worry, Zechs," he said, eyes slightly open now, but looking at the floor. "I am fine."

/'Zechs'. He called me 'Zechs.' He barely ever calls me that. Only when he's thinking carefully about what to say. And he's repeating himself. That means…/ Zechs took off his mask, setting it beside him on the soft carpeted floor. "Sir, I want you to look me in the eyes and say that."

"What?" Treize startled, his sapphire eyes coming up to meet steady azure.

Zechs gave Treize's shoulder a slight squeeze, as he held Treize's eyes steady with his own. "You don't have to lie to me sir. I know what is going on."

Treize laughed bitterly, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Zechs, but I do not know what you are talking--"

"Une told Noin and I earlier," Zechs said softly.

Treize's eyes shut, while a disheartening sound -- part cough, part laugh, and part moan -- escaped with a ragged breath.

"Treize, I want you to know you have my support in this matter. If there is anything I can--"

"Just leave me alone," the cultured tenor interrupted. "I do not need you, out of everyone, thinking less of me. Just forget you ever… ever knew…" /Why did he have to find out?/ Treize had never before contemplated so strongly the idea of simply ending his life. But he couldn't -- he had to force himself onward. There was too much to still be done for him to abandon his life. Not yet. After the war.

Zechs shook his head. "I'm not leaving, Treize."

"Why not? Do you want to hear what happened from my own mouth? She made me fuck her. Happy, Mirialdo? Isn't that what you wanted to hear? I…" His voice cracked at the start, then drifted off, along with the last of the anger he had in him. The tightness in his chest returned ten-fold as Zechs' steady blue-violet eyes held his. Just then, Zechs looked so sad, almost as if he was disappointed in Treize.

Zechs put an arm around Treize's shoulders and hauled him to his feet. The cloak fell to the floor, forgotten. "Come on, sir…" He picked his way through the mess on the floor, wanting to get Treize away from the desk and any other objects he might hurt himself with. Treize was frighteningly acquiescent, and Zechs found himself unable to guess at what was going on in the other man's mind. He sat on the sofa, ready to pull Treize down onto it with him, but he realised the position was awkward.

As Zechs slid down to the floor, pulling Treize with him, Treize swallowed hard. The closeness of Zechs' supporting arm was too real, too much for him just then. /I will not cry… I will not… It is weak… It is not my way…/ Treize didn't resist as Zechs put his arms lightly around him. It was already getting hard to still the tremors he felt racking him.

The tightness in his chest was getting worse, and he lifted his head to look into Zechs' steady eyes. /Perhaps I can take my mind off…/

It was the last Treize could stand. All day he'd been holding onto his control with half a grip, if that -- and the sad look on Zechs' beatific face caused the reins to drop.

Unable to hold himself together any longer, the tears began to flow freely. Zechs' arms tightened, pulling him closely to the slightly rough material of Zechs' black t-shirt.

"Shh… shh…" Zechs murmured softly, continuing with soothing nothings.

Treize had not been expecting Zechs to make such an effort to comfort him -- though it was indeed a gesture worthy of his only true friend. He felt he should pull away from Zechs, save the last of his dignity, but that thought was stopped when Zechs stroked a hand up his back; Treize's right arm came up around Zechs' neck and he buried his face into Zechs' shoulder like if he did so, all of the things that were bothering him would go away.

Zechs' brow furrowed. /At least he's not drinking…/

The tears that flowed from Treize's tightly shut eyes were nearly hysterical, and Zechs moved a hand up to rest at the back of Treize's head, as he leaned back against the sofa, pulling Treize with him. He moved the hand from Treize's back, and pulled the General's lower body close to him. Treize finally went limp, due either to his sudden closeness to Zechs, or the violent shaking he was taken with.

"Shh, shh," Zechs murmured in an attempt to calm his friend. "Treize, please… relax… shh… it's okay…"

"I-I…" Treize tried.

"Easy, easy," Zechs soothed in his rich baritone. "Don't talk just yet."

Treize drew a choked breath, and moved closer to Zechs, resting fully against him. By this point the young officer was little more than a sobbing heap, breaths catching in his chest making it hard for him to breath and cry at the same time. Zechs pulled Treize fully into his grasp and began to rock him gently, murmuring 'shh' over and over. He was at a loss for what to do to calm his friend; really there was very little he could do except simply be there.

Treize had managed to get his breathing somewhat under control, no longer choking, when the com. badge went off. The first time it had gone off that day, Zechs had simply wanted to disconnect it; the second time, when Treize had been sleeping in his arms, he had wanted to smash it to pieces. And now, when it was no longer a matter of his personal pleasure, but perhaps a matter of Treize's continued sanity, the beep came again. Zechs wanted to stomp on the badge until there was nothing left, and then hunt out and strangle Noin.

He sighed softly; there was really no reason to embarrass Treize by answering it, because Noin didn't need to know any more than she already did. And right then, 'any more' included his apparent fear of Lady Une and that the great leader was sitting on the carpet of his office crying like a hurt child.

It would have been surprising to anyone other than Zechs to see Treize like that. Treize was too controlled to shed tears; or at least, he gave that impression. Zechs remembered the shocked look on Noin's face when she had delivered him the news of his mother's death. Treize had nodded, closed his eyes, opened them a moment later, and told her to inform his uncle that he regretted being unable to attend the funeral, but he had a mission the next day. It was a flawlessly cold performance on Treize's behalf, and it made him seem all the more like the perfect leader. Nothing phased him, nothing broke his permanently cruel humour.

That was the side most people saw.

But Zechs remembered a long conversation with Treize late that night, while they were discussing attack strategy. Out of the blue, Treize just said 'I wish that I had have had a chance to say goodbye. To either of them.' Zechs nodded, understanding fully the blow it was to loose a parent -- he had lost both of his at a frighteningly young age. His father…

He still faltered at the memories he held about his father. It was impossible to act so cold concerning the death of your parents -- unless your way of coping was to pack it away, and ignore the pain until a more convenient moment.

/Or until you can't put anymore pain away,/ Zechs thought, shifting his grasp on the shaking form of his superior officer. Une had simply been a catalyst for this moment. The tears Treize was shedding probably dated back for years.

Again the beeping nagged him. /No, I can't answer it with Treize like this,/ he decided. "Treize, I have to go," Zechs said in a hushed tone. "Do you want me to take you to your rooms?"

"N-no," Treize choked out. "J…just… hold me."

It was the first thing near to an order Treize had said to Zechs all day, and the words startled both of them.

Zechs moved one arm from Treize's back to pick up the com. "Zechs Marquise," he said into it, voice flat.

"Zechs? Oh ,good. I found one of you." The voice was not Noin's as he had expected, but lady Une's; at the sound, Zechs felt a tremor run through the body that was clasped tightly against his. "Lord Treize disconnected his. Miriam is… she is trying to get a hold of him. Something concerning the ball this evening. Do you know where he is?"

"No," Zechs said curtly, clicking it off. He didn't care if Une heard Treize, or the slight jealousy that slipped into his voice at the mention of Miriam. The com. went skidding across the carpeted floor, coming to rest with a crack against the panelled wall on the far side of the room.

/That takes care of that,/Zechs thought, slightly smug, then turned his attention back to Treize. He was still sobbing, one hand clutching at the black material of Zechs' t-shirt. Zechs could feel the warm dampness of the cloth against his shoulder where Treize's aquiline face was still buried.

/It is just amazing that he hasn't gone crazy…/ Zechs fended off a thought of Treize, noble, cultured, graceful, a fencing master, in a straightjacket. Horrible thought, but possible. All the officers of such high ranking were overworked -- or so Zechs was led to believe, but he seemed to doubt it -- but Treize was especially overworked, since he was young to be taking on such responsibilities, and barely ever relaxed anymore.

/I remember how we used to find time to escape the instructors, and just wander the gardens, or just do things that had no real purpose. Now, even 'down time' is filled with work. Balls and banquets, speeches and toasts, shaking hands and pointless promises… I can hide behind my mask; just nod, let them know I'm alive. Treize has to play the diplomat; he's not even allowed to have a bad day. If this had've happened a few days later or earlier, it would have been locked away…/ Zechs frowned, not liking where his mind was going. If Treize didn't change his habits he was on a decidedly downward spiral.

Zechs was broken from his reverie by a rough sound. "M-m-mirialdo…" Treize's voice was a broken whisper.

"Shh, easy Treize. You're going to make yourself sick," Zechs informed softly. He'd seen it happen before to people who had cried for as long as Treize. "And if you make yourself sick, I won't go to the ball. I promised I won't leave you… But Noin would be angry if she was stood up…" The last sentence had a wry tone to it, and the humour brought Treize a bit more to his senses. His sobs became more controlled, but the shaking was beyond his grasp, and it continued.

Zechs pressed his cheek against the short tawny waves. "Treize, tell me what happened," he murmured gently, softly insistent. "I… can help."

"Y-you can't," can Treize's voice at last, defeated to the core.

"Have... have you talked with her?" Zechs was having trouble finding the right words to address the matter in the most discreet manner.

"I did… but she--I... can't do a thing. She-she knows that… if she wanted to do it again… I couldn't stop her… she's t-too valuable to lose, but…" His words degenerated, becoming quickly incomprehensible.

Zechs had known Treize long enough to understand how his friend's mind worked. Nearly everyone Treize knew was on a pedestal for one reason or another. Une was the ideal subordinate, and her administrative skills were unquestionably valuable. Treize was detached from those people. Zechs supposed, with a wry smirk, that Treize knew him too well to elevate him; knew all his flaws and quirks, knew all his habits and preferences…

Well, perhaps not _all_ his preferences…

"Shh, shh… It's going to be okay. Don't worry. I won't let her do that to you ever again. She'll never lay another hand on you."

"But… I can't stop her…" Treize managed, lifting his head from Zechs' shoulder. His eyes were bleary and reddened, strong features blurred with fatigue.

"Treize… If you will allow me, I will do what you cannot. Just say the word, and I will do it." A simple suggestion, made in Treize's best interests, but would the man who was so deeply rooted in his value system accept something that bordered on violating it?

The tawny head nodded once, barely perceptible, then dropped forward, resting on Zechs' shoulder. He was nearly under control, but every so often a hitching breath escaped. "Thank you," he breathed, then sighed. Yes, if he wanted to, he could easily just stand up, and act like he was fine again. However, it was too good a chance for Treize to pass up. He tried to inconspicuously bury himself deeper into Zechs' grasp, and did a rather good job of it, considering how smoothly he could move.

After a long moment, Treize asked, his voice once more mellifluous, "Are you okay being like this?"

"Hm?" Zechs asked. He had been simply watching his friend, mind utterly blank except for the occasional thought that involved a lack of uniforms… or any clothing for that matter…

"Does this bother you?" Treize was amazed that it didn't sound even the slightest bit suspicious. /Good,/ came the mental sigh of relief.

"Bother?" Zechs repeated. "No." A pause. "But--"

"But?" /Slightly on edge there, Treize. This is dangerous territory…/

"My leg is falling asleep." /And other things are waking up… but let's not bother you with that right now…/

"Ah." Treize shifted a bit, and reluctantly realised that he should probably move. He slipped over to sit beside Zechs, still close, while Zechs kept his arm draped over Treize's shoulders. His golden-brown head dropped back against the cushions. "Gott, I've made a fool of myself."

"Sir…" Zechs' voice held a warning tone, and he gave Treize's shoulder a light squeeze.

A soft sigh escaped Treize as he closed his eyes. "Don't call me that when there is no one else around. With out ranking, we… you are my equal, Mirialdo."

"Of course, si-- Treize."

"Much better."

Zechs smiled. Treize didn't seem to have any problem with 'being like this'.

Zechs sighed. He knew he had to go to the concert, that Noin was expecting him, however…

His eyes drifted over Treize's rangy form.

/It's not like I have to be there on time, is it?/