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A Little Warmth Damn them, thought Treize as he carried an unconscious Une on his back. There were bandages around her left arm and right ankle. Behind him lay the remains of a small plane. A couple of terrorists had tried to kidnap him to use as a hostage. They hadn�t counted on the hostage and his aide fighting back. He chuckled grimly, I bet they weren�t expecting her to shoot them & throw them out of the plane. Unfortunately, by the time they�d reached the controls, it took all their piloting skills to land the plane so it wouldn�t explode into a fireball on landing. He looked up at the grey sky and thought, It looks like it will snow soon. I know there has to be a cabin near here. Then he felt Une stirring. �Treize-sama . . . We�re alive?� Une said with wonder. �So, it appears, Lady.� �I think I�ve twisted my ankle. It feels swollen and it aches.� �That�s why I�ve been carrying you.� �You should put me down.� �You can�t walk.� �No, you should put me down and go without me. Save yourself.� With those words, snow began drifting down from the sky. �Nonsense.� �Treize-sama, I am expendable. As a commander, you should realize that.� Treize frowned and said sharply, �Don�t ever say such a disgraceful thing again. You are accusing me of being utterly base and despicable.� Une gasped. �I meant no such thing . . . I only wanted. . . � Treize�s expression softened. �I know, but I plan on saving us both. Look, there�s a cabin.� And there was one in the distance. By the time, they�d reached that cabin, it had begun snowing in earnest. Treize temporarily put her down, then opened the door. She managed to limp in then sat down on the floor. Treize shut the door and looked around. It was small, but it had the bare essentials. It had a fireplace and a small bed with a blanket on top, neatly folded. Treize quickly built up a small fire from some leftover newspaper and some wood lying in a pile next to the fireplace. He took off his jacket and shook off the snow, then turned to Une. She was pale and shivering. Treize thought, The loss of blood isn�t helping either. He sat next to her and put a blanket around the both of them. �You should be warmer in a few minutes.� He looked at her face and thought that he noticed a slight blush on her face. �Treize-sama.� �Yes?� �Do you think they�ll be able to find us?� �Yes.� �It might not be for a while.� �I saw some canned food in the cupboard. Someone must use this regularly. Either way, we will be fine. You know, this actually makes me nostalgic.� �How so?� �It reminds me of the times when I was a child, playing in the snow. It�s been a long time since I thought of that old place. I haven�t been there in years.� �Back where?� �Back where my parents lived. I was a child then.� �Why don�t you tell me about your childhood? You never really talked about it.� Treize took a breath. He glanced at her face, smiling and momentarily unaware of the cold. �I was a boy born into a family of soldiers. No matter how far back you went, every man in my family was a soldier. It was always assumed that I would be a soldier. So, my father raised me with that in mind.� �You must�ve made him proud.� �No, he rather despised me.� Shock exploded all over Une�s face. �Despised? You?� Treize smiled at her. �Yes, it�s true. My father was very ambitious man. He always wanted to be head of the military. When it was apparent that he would never be much more than an officer, he decided that I should do what he couldn�t. He couldn�t choose anybody else, I was the only son he had.� The fire filled the cabin with strange shadows that flickered this way and that. Night had fallen and it was easy to imagine something reaching back from the past to exert its power. Treize continued. �As a child, I enjoyed playing in the garden with my mother. Often the gardener would be there and talk about what would be in season. There was a swing and a sandbox in the back. Sometimes, I�d try to help the gardener by shoveling some dirt with my little trowel though I admit I probably hindered rather than helped. But times like those never last.� �I wish I could have a picture of you as a child.� She couldn�t imagine this imposing figure next to her as a mere toddler. �When we get back, I�ll see if I have one in the album that�s not too embarrassing.� �What happened?� �My father decided to create the best soldier that the Khushrenada branch of the family tree had ever produced. At age five, he began teach me the art of fighting. Fencing, hand to hand fighting, and target practice. Besides regular school, he also hired a tutor who would drill me in military history and battle tactics. He took me hunting when I was seven and encouraged me to shoot all types of game, rabbits, pheasants, deer. I excelled at it all. There was just one problem.� �And what was that?� �I didn�t see why there should be fighting. I thought my father and much of the family treated war like a business, as a job. He hated me because I challenged him to make sense of it. He thought I was being weak or sentimental. You should�ve seen his face when I cried when he shot a deer in front of me the first time we went hunting one winter, when I was seven. He was livid, telling me that if I couldn�t stand a dumb animal being killed, how could I be a soldier?� �He didn�t understand why I needed a reason as long as we were the winners. I hated him for being so unthinking. I wanted to make sense of it. I didn't want to fight mindlessly. I read all I could about all the past wars from the Peloponnesian War to the present and still I could not find the answer. It was only when I went in on my first mission under my father's command, I started to understand." "Understand what?" "That war isn't simply something that happens in isolation. Whatever terrible things happen, it doesn't happen simply due to the fighting. War happens because it's the expression of the hate, turmoil and violence in people's hearts. It's only when people stop feeling that way that the fighting finally ends. When it's finally replaced by the realization that hurting others only hurts ourselves. But war seems to be the only vehicle that really teaches this lesson. When everyone gets tired of seeing the countless dead and wounded . . .. A soldier�s job in war is to make people aware of this because there doesn�t seem to be any other way. It�s horrible, but it�s true." Treize�s face grew sad at this thought. "War can do terrible things to people, but it also does something too. When some of his soldiers were trapped under enemy gunfire, my father went in and died rescuing them. He fought magnificently. Even with one of the arm of his mobile suit shredded and useless and a thousand holes peppering the armor, he fought until the last of his men could escape. Then he crumpled. That was one of the few times I respected and admired him. He showed me that that he was more than the petty, harsh and sarcastic man who screamed that he was ashamed of me. I only wish I'd seen that side of him earlier, but sadly it took a war to show me who he could be." �I�m sorry, Treize-sama.� Treize rubbed his face. �I don�t know why I told you. I shouldn�t burden you with stories like these.� �And have you carry the burden alone? No, I won�t let you struggle alone.� Treize was quiet, then he said, �You should rest. You take the bed, I�ll keep the fire going.� �I refuse.� �Why do you always disobey my orders even though I am your superior officer?� �I refuse when it is for your own good,� smiled Une. �You are being stubborn again.� �Yes.� Treize sighed, then said, �Go to sleep. I�ll be with you shortly.� �You�re not going to wait until I fall asleep, then stay up all night, are you?� asked Une. �I know that you wouldn�t let me get away with something that simple.� Une waited for him on top of the worn mattress, and when the fire had been put out, she felt him climb in. �Good night,� he said. �Good night, Treize-sama,� whispered Une back. And they slept, nestled like two spoons underneath the blanket, sharing what little warmth they could. The End |
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