Never Again

 by Kat Reitz ([email protected])

 

CHAPTER VI

 

As Zechs made his way through the halls at a leisurely pace, his mind drifted happily back to the last few moments in Treize's office.

For a long time, they had simply sat on the floor, neither speaking, neither moving; there was no need for movement or speech between them. Occasionally Treize would sigh, or make some small nervous movement -- Zechs took it as a sign of unease, and he had gathered the courage to break the pleasant silence. If he could have, Zechs would have sat there for all eternity, an arm around Treize's shoulders, the lithe, tawny-haired man resting comfortably against him. He asked Treize what was going on in his head -- those same words -- and Treize, surprisingly enough, answered. "It is just… There are things I must attend to," he had said at last, eyes darting to the clock. A drawn out sigh followed.

Zechs had smiled slightly, and looked to the clock also. Time for the concert. "Well, I should be at the performance." He had stood up, and offered Treize a hand, which was accepted. It was such a temptation to Zechs to just haul Treize up, but he didn't; and after Treize had risen to his feet in a graceful movement, he had not removed his hand from where it was within Zechs'. Perhaps he hasn't realized…

No, he seemed well aware that he hadn't taken his hand back. The slight shifting of his slim fingers within Zechs' and the faint, _barely_ detectable blush that had risen into his cool features were good proof of the fact. But his eyes were unreadable, cool and passive, as was his face, which had taken on an expression that was something between blank and amused -- very obviously forced. Zechs had given Treize's hand a slight squeeze, and then released it before leaving.

And that was why Zechs felt like skipping down the halls.

However, he had wisely decided to just enjoy the contentment he felt, and just made his way slowly to the concert hall. No reason to hurry to get there. Just a lot of noise, unless some sort of miracle had happened to 'Battallia'; he highly doubted that the new singer was any good.

Zechs smiled again, unconsciously working the fingers of his hand. He was holding my hand! There is yet hope! He knew that if anyone could hear his thoughts, they'd label him pathetic. People acted like this in grammar school, didn't they? But it was such a great success to Zechs! That moment meant more to him than anything that had come so far that day. Because Treize was acting independently, not out of a subconscious need for comfort, or because of unconscious movements that were part of a dream. The young officer had been fully aware of what he had been doing.

I think I might have trouble getting myself to stop smiling, he noted happily, smirking to himself.

The roar caused by many people talking reached his ears. The open double doors, leading from the dark hallway into the dark concert-hall, gave him enough sight to spot the table Une and Noin were at. The lighting within the concert-hall was poor, and spotty. Funny. The place was normally well lit. Must be purposeful…

As Zechs neared the doors, he was forcefully shoved aside by a black clothed figure. A murmured 'sorry' and the figure had passed him into the dim hall, disappearing into the area for performers only.

Still startled by that, Zechs sat down in a chair beside Noin and across from Une. He knew he would have been fuming normally for something like that, but... No, I'm in too good a mood right now to let that ruin it for me... He smiled to himself. Tonight at the ball… maybe I can get him to… I wonder… His brow furrowed. What am I thinking? Getting him drunk is never a good idea.

"Zechs?" Noin broke into his reverie. "Where were you?"

A deep sigh escaped him. Why did I leave Treize again? Yes, that's right. Because Noin is a good friend of mine. "I… I was… seeing to the General." The hesitant words were punctuated with a heavy glance toward Une. Zechs wondered how much he could say, without really saying much; he hoped his tone had conveyed to Une how Treize was, without Noin realising all of what was going on. Two people well involved in the grim matter was enough.

Une didn't bring her eyes up to meet Zechs. He leaned across the table, eyes narrowing. With the mask gone, he knew the anger in his azure eyes could be seen easily, and he hoped Une noted it well. "Lady Une, I am going to warn you only once. If you ever again lay a hand on him, I will make you wish that you hadn't. Understand?" She nodded, looking him full in the eyes at last, defeat reflected in her expression. "Good." He once more relaxed in his chair. He looked at Noin, and flashed a slight smile. "When does the show start?"

"It was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago," she said, brows coming together briefly. "This is not the best way to start a concert."

Zechs nodded in agreement, and darted a look around the place. Yes, people were starting to get restless. A horrid way to start it… but the music is good a least, even if the singing isn't…Hmn. I wonder what it would be like to get Treize to attend something like this. He knew that towards the back of the hall, couples were doing some rather indecent things, as always tended to happen, so there would be very little wrong with having Treize there with him, perhaps… The thought trailed off and died a death that was decidedly not natural. Where have I been keeping my mind? I know Treize wouldn't do anything of that sort, even if he was interested. The biggest show of affection he ever makes in public is a smile, if that… And he would never do anything so wonton, not even in privacy…

And then the little voice in the back of his mind took an opportunity to pipe up with: Yes, but wasn't he doing just that in his office? It was private, wasn't it? That lithe figure pooled into your lap, your arms… body pressed close to yours… clinging so sweetly to you… utterly unresisting and wanting your touch… Zechs grimaced, pushing the voice away. But it was not like that… he was only that way because he was left alone and hurt… He was cracking up, so it wasn't like that… Was it?

The thoughts drifted off and Zechs forced his mind to go blank. Nothing was better than torment.

"Shit! What the hell did you do?!"

Zechs looked up, as did Noin and Une. Then it hit him that it was only the band members talking to each other. The voice he had heard was female, distinctly.

"Josh, can you get him that drink?" A called out phrase, nearly an order. "Damn, you're a mess! Ahw… Don't worry, we can go without you playing the guitar." There was a faint sound of protest, but the female cut it off. "No 'buts'. You're already messed up bad enough, you don't need more added to your injury list. Here, drink this. Alright? Good." A pause. "You want me to go check? Sure!"

After a few seconds of trying to figure out why only one side could be heard, Zechs realised it was because one of them must have been hooked up to the speaker system, and the other wasn't. A red head peeked through the curtains, and she scanned the crowd for a moment then disappeared.

"Yeah, he's out there? You want to talk to him befor--" She stopped, and the other's voice could nearly be heard. "Alright, alright. Hmn. Do you know how cute you look when you're angry?" There was a noise something akin to a growl. "I'll get the show started now, love."

The woman stepped onto the stage, guitar hanging off her shoulder strap, cord trailing back towards the end of the stage. Already the stage itself was dimming, becoming very dark indeed. Zechs wondered how they planned to play, if they couldn't see; unless of course, they were so well trained…

"How are all of you doing tonight?!" she called out into the mic. that was attached to a headset she wore. Cries from the crowd ranged from 'fine' to 'bored'. She laughed, a pleasant sardonic chuckle. "All right… We're going to fix that right now! Please, give a welcome to our new singer -- if only for this evening -- 'Rus'!"

By this point, the stage was nearly completely dark, and Zechs could only pick out the form of the figure who walked from the back of the stage forward to stand beside Miriam. He didn't greet the crowd.

Zechs smiled, and leaned back, as the band opened with a classical opening riff. Starting off soft, building up to a frightening level, and then dropping off. He could pick out the drums, two guitars and a base. Just the original four.

Zechs' jaw nearly dropped off as the man began to sing. His voice was so fluid, so perfect… A clear strong tenor. And so familiar…

"I don't want to be hostile.
I don't want to be dismal.
And I don't want to rot in an apathetic existence.
See, I want to believe you, Mbr< And I wanted to trust
And I want to have faith to put away the dagger.
But you lie, cheat, and steal.
you lie, cheat, and steal

Zechs swallowed, and Noin didn't notice his expression since she had joined the cheering of the crowd. The singer had such a sway over the audience. It… it can't be… can it? He… no, it can't be… Zechs turned his attentions back to the music, and the dark figure on an even darker stage. At every word, his eyebrows raised higher in surprise.

His attention went back mid verse, while the man jumped from the stage. It must have been a six foot drop, but there wasn't the slightest break in his velvety voice; only the echo as solid boots hit the floor hard. The room became nearly as dark as the stage had been; with him gone, the stage became somewhat brighter. Carefully, gradually, Zechs realised, the figure was making his way to where he, Noin and Une were. The crowd also noticed and the cheering became louder. He was now nearly kneeling beside Une's chair, and Zechs could tell his head was bowed.

"Veil of -- virtue -- hung to -- hide your method
While I smile and laugh and dance
And sing your praise and glory."

The man's head came up. Suddenly, gently subtle movements switched to a barely visible pace. There was suddenly a dark, angry edge to his voice.

"Shroud of -- virtue -- hung to -- mask your stigma
As I smile and laugh and dance
And sing your glory."

'Glory' was punctuated by a flash of perfect white teeth, and Une was sent reeling. The figure slunk into the darkness before Zechs had a chance to make out any clear features.

"Gods, are you alright?" Noin asked, kneeling beside a distraught looking lady Une.

"He punched me!" was all Une muttered, hand to the side of her mouth. A nasty looking bruise was already forming. "He punched me!"

Noin helped Une into her chair again. "He might have a reason, Une… he better have…" We can always arrest him… but with the way he's stirred up the crowd, I don't want to try it now. The man could incite these soldiers to do anything right now…

Zechs noted blandly that Une was fairly okay, as his eyes remained trained on the man. His voice had taken on a laughing tone; the amusement he saw in what he had done was obvious.

"My guilt, your blame ,
I've been far too sym~pa~thetic.
My blood, your fault.
I've been far too sym~pa~thetic.
I am not innocent.Mbr< I am not innocent.
You are not innocent.
No one is innocent."

The ending riffs were nearly drowned out in the applause, and the man bowed fluidly, one arm going up in a flourished, moderately pointless gesture. Zechs blinked at the smooth movements. So familiar…

The cheering died down. Miriam stepped forward once more, and a spotlight settled on her as the singer receded to the background. "That was 'Intolerance' by an o~old band called 'Tool.' This is vintage music here, folks! If you don't like it, blame Rus; he was the one who picked the songs!"

No one was being blamed for the vintage songs, because once she had finished speaking, someone in the crowd started up a chant of 'Rus! Rus!' and the rest, or close to it, kept it up until the spot light had turned off, and Miriam had stepped back.

'Rus' stepped forward, bowed once more, and this time a sliver of light caught his shirt -- it was white, and hanging loosely on his frame.

They played five more fairly unremarkable songs -- at least, they were to Zechs. One sounded like the singer was trying to stir up an uprising, the next four weren't even slightly serious. But they were good, still. Just not anything to really remember.

"Alright, our golden voice has to take a minute to get a drink before the grand finale," Miriam said, trying to soothe the crowd. "The next and final song is 'Not Sleeping', by some old band called 'Counting Crows'. I think Rus is trying to make some sort of point" -- she gave a laugh, and was right, since all the other songs had been about ruined and failed relationships -- "but I'm not going to go into his faults, because if I did, we'd be here all night! Rus, have you finished that drink? What, did you get a double shot? Oh, hurry up! You have the rest of the evening to spend drinking yourself into a ditch, and maybe if you sing this last well enough, some of these kind people will recommend a good ditch for you!"

It was clear, from the muffled 'very funny' that Miriam was simply joking the singer.

The music was softer than what was normal for 'Battalia'. Much softer. No ear splitting riffs, just a soft, pleasingly simple tune.

This time the tenor seemed to weaken, the angry edge gone. The crowd calmed as soon as he started. Such amazing charisma, Zechs noted in awe. Only… maybe it is…

"He comes to me at night,
When I'm sleeping
He comes to me,
When I'm alone
He comes to me,
He holds my head,
When I'm crying.
He comes to me,
He shuts my eyes.
He brings me home."

In the background of his gentle voice, Zechs could make out Miriam adding to the harmony. Strange, the lyrics. Why was 'Rus' singing 'he' instead of 'she'? 'Not Sleeping' was a number he'd heard Battallia play before, and it had always been a 'she' that was referred to. Always.

"But I'm not sleeping anymore.
Anymore.
No, I'm not sleeping anymore
Anymore."

The man had moved from centre stage, and his form was perched on the edge, legs hanging over the pit. A cheer went up from the crowd, as the lights began to slowly brighten; it was agonisingly slow for Zechs.

"He tells me when you look at me
He tells me when you're lying
He tells me when you talk about me
And he lays me on the floor
He tells me when you're whispering
And he lies beside me… naked
He tells me when you laugh at me
And he locks all the doors."

A narrow spotlight began to slowly sweep up the man's lithe form. Zechs followed it with eyes as anxious as the rest of the crowd. There was a thought gnawing at the back of his mind, and he hoped every deity he could name that the voice was right for once. If it is…

"But I'm not sleeping anymore.
No, I'm not sleeping anymore.
Anymore."

The music picked up its pace, and the light continued to move slowly. Black boots, well polished, the style familiar to Zechs; they looked like uniform-issue boots. Now lithely muscled legs encased in a soft black material that clung in all the right places. Why is the light going so slow? Zechs' mind asked. The crowd was anxious to see the singer, and Zechs was anxious to see if he was right.

"1,2,3,4,5,6,7 am, all alone again
But I've been through all this shit before.
Spend my nights in self-defence,
Cry about my innocence.
But I'm not all that innocent anymore…"

Zechs missed the next stanza, as he watched the light on the figure spread, the areas lit staying so as the light cast onto a leanly muscled pale stomach and the white cloth that hung around it.

"But I'm not sleeping anymore.
No, I'm not sleeping anymore.
Anymore."

The guitars picked up pace once more, and the ending was nothing short of magnificent. The stage was fully lit as the singer smiled warmly at the crowd, and Miriam sat beside him, slinging an arm over his shoulder.

"So, anyone want 'Rus' to sing with us again?" She was trying not to laugh; at least the crowd's reaction had been good. Some were laughing, others clapping, while a few answered 'Yeah!'.

The smirk on Treize's face was unstoppable. It was caused by a combination of the adrenaline from the performance, and the knowledge that he had actually managed to slug lady Une. That felt good. Just to get it out of my system…

As the soldiery filed out, Miriam laughed at the extravagant sigh that escaped him. "Come on, it wasn't that bad, was it?"

Treize reached up and took off the headset he had been wearing. "No, it wasn't," he admitted, eyes searching to crowd. "I just think I'll stick with the sort of music I'm used to. Opera and…" He drifted off, seeing Noin and Une leave, and Zechs approaching the stage. A deep breath, and his nerves were steadied. Did he pick up on the lyrics? Gott, what if…

"Sir," Zechs murmured, smiling. "That was a good show. I never would have expected…"

"Neither would I. It's all her fault," Treize said, gesturing to Miriam.

"Oh, yeah, blame me…" Miriam muttered, rolling her eyes. "It's always my fault… always--"

She stopped as a man approached, carrying drumsticks. He sat down beside her, and kissed her on the cheek. "Great show, Mir." He looked at Treize. "You too, Sir. Strong voice." He smiled. "Come on. I'm in the orchestra at the function tonight…"

A nod from Miriam. "Well," she said, with a faint hint of a smarmy look. "I'll leave both of you alone, guys. I'm sure you want to… talk." She undraped herself from Treize, and stood.

Treize sighed, looking at the tight black leather she was wearing. "If you show up at the ball wearing that, I will have you discharged."

"Of course you will, Treizey…" Her laughter was ringing as she left with the drummer. Treize winced at her name mangling.

Zechs cocked a brow. "Is she…? I mean, you and her…"

Treize shook his head, finishing off Zechs' question in his own mind. "No, no. I've known her for many years. A distant relative of mine. She is like a sister to me. Nothing more." He shifted his position on the edge of the stage, and sighed. "A very annoying sister, however…" He smiled slightly. "Did you enjoy the concert?"

Zechs nodded. "I do not think that Une did, though… It was very… moving…" He thought to the lyrics of the final one song. 'He' instead of 'she'. "Albeit a bit confusing at times." Just like you are. I'm not sure if you're trying to subtly tell me something, or not…

The faint smile on Treize's face didn't waver, but it was obvious he was trying to come up with an answer. After a few minutes, a comfortable silence fell between them; Treize looking down at Zechs, Zechs leaning against the stage, smiling up at Treize. Gott… He doesn't know how sensual he looks… No mask… no uniform… Treize's mind shut down any attempts it had been giving toward an excuse. No wonder he wears the mask… enemy pilots would be following him back to the base if he didn't…

Tentatively, Zechs touched a hand to Treize's abdomen. "You know… Une probably wouldn't stalk you so much if you did up your shirt…"

Treize could feel his face doing a slow burn. "Aa… It was Miriam's idea…" Looking away from Zechs' eyes, he quickly buttoned up the white shirt. Well, buttoned it up as far as possible. Zechs had kept his hand in place, and was looking at it, seemingly deep in thought. Damn. Why does he have to do this to me?

Zechs stretched his hand, then realised he was being watched. A nervous sound, and he pulled his hand back. "Sorry, sir."

Treize managed a weak laugh. Control… control… Jumping him would simply be a bad idea… even though nearly everyone is gone… "It's okay. You're right, at any rate," Treize admitted. Then paused, eyes catching Zechs'. "Are we going to go to the ball like we normally do?"

Normally… oh, yes. Zechs smiled to himself, meeting that steady gaze. "Of course. Seven?" Treize nodded, expression softening a little. "I'll be at your rooms then." He pulled away from the stage, and paced away. Treize watched Zechs leave, following the movements of his body with anxious eyes. As the door closed behind Zechs, Treize heard laughter.

"Good show, Treize! Way to go! You'll get him yet!"

Miriam.

Treize sighed, and rose to his feet. He had to get back to his rooms and get ready for the ball.

He was sure tonight was going to be a night he'd never forget.

~~~~

Treize sank into the warm, rose scented water with a luxurious sounding sigh. Not too hot, just… perfect… His mind drifted over the events of the day. Not too bad… the good offsets the bad… He closed his eyes, and sank deeper into the rose scented water. It stung his wounds, but the heat was unwinding tight muscles, and felt too good to leave. Hedonist to the end, hm?

Behind his closed eyelids, he could see Zechs' face. A groan escaped him, and the smiling image was erased. I should just give up on him. A friend only. I cannot risk his friendship. Perhaps… Yes, if it comes to it, I will lie. Ask him to not touch me, even though I know it's just an innocent habit of his, because it bothers me. Would that sound in the least bit suspicious? Of course it would. He absently rubbed a damp hand over his closed eyes, then let his hand drop back into the water. Just stop thinking. Stop…

The struggle was useless. No matter what he did, he would always be planning, always be playing chess with humans as pawns. He didn't want to use Zechs as another pawn in his current game, but it was far too late. My only friend… I'll cause his so much suffering if I become involved that way. If I wanted, I could use what I know… about his family, the coup… No. Treize shook off the thought. I could not bring myself to do that, even if my position called for me to do it.

As he carefully cleaned the wounds Une had left on him, peeling off the careful -- and now wet -- bandaging Zechs had done, his mind went to and old thought.

It is weakness to feel so, isn't it? I should just do what I've done before… Send him off. Out of harms' way. Like I did with Leia. Away from me, so I can't risk their lives inadvertently. A voice in the back of his mind berated him for that thought. That's a brave way to deal with love, isn't it. Treize? Yes, send them off. Where you don't have to deal with… weakness. Or is it because you're afraid their love for you will fade? Don't want to risk rejection? Could you handle seeing your loved one in the arms of another?

He pulled himself from the comforting water, anxious to no longer be left alone with his thoughts. While he rebound the gashes, his mind kept up a mantra of cowardcowardcoward.

Gott. I will try something at the ball. But if it backfires, I'm shooting myself. And then the voice reminded Treize that he really wouldn't. I'll wish I shot myself.

A long sigh, and he looked into the bathroom's mirror. Hell. I look like hell. He pulled a razor out of the cabinet. I want to look my utmost this evening.

Treize was making his second shave of the day a meticulous affair. He didn't want his face to simply be smooth -- flawlessly smooth was what he was reaching for. Normally he wasn't so painstaking, however…

Another sigh. For Zechs, of course.

Finished, he looked once more into the mirror. His reflection looked cold, disdainful, and haughty -- reflecting none of the emotions he felt roiling within him. Good.

When he strode into his bedroom, his eyes darted around, checking to see… The sheets on his bed were still… and…

The shudder that overtook him was uncontrollable, and he leaned against the wall until he had his bearings once more. Carefully, keeping his eyes averted from anything but the wall, he made his way over to the closet. It took him a few moments to find his dress uniform, and he quickly slipped it on.

Well, perhaps quickly wasn't the right word.

If I ever find out who designed these uniforms…

Finally, he had his clothes arranged perfectly. The dress uniform wasn't his normal midnight blue, white and gold ensemble. No, the jacket was black, as was the breeches and undershirt. He smiled, and noted that he would look horribly pale in it, if the edging wasn't silver. Eyes darting up to the clock, he slid on his boots.

7 o'clock. Zechs should be here any moment now…

~~~~

Zechs straightened his tuxedo, and took a deep breath. He knocked on the door. Not using his clearance and just walking in, but actually knocking.

"Enter," came the liquid tenor. Zechs exhaled in a short puff of breath, and swung the door open, closing it behind him. Treize strode into the room, cloak flowing behind him. His expression was slightly cold, amused… normal Treize.

"Gods, sir," Zechs muttered, looking at the uniform. "Are you sure you want to wear that to the ball?"

Treize's expression hardened a little. "Why do you ask?"

"You'll be prying the women off you," Zechs said, truthful. Amazing… how… how can his clothes fit him so well?! Damn, it should be illegal…

Treize laughed. "Well, if that is the case, you should not wear that tuxedo."

Zechs shook his head. "Noin doesn't like it. She tells me it's too much white."

"I don't think so," Treize murmured appreciatively. He paced slowly around Zechs, inspecting. "I think it looks very good on you…" He placed his gloved hands on Zechs' sides, while standing behind him, and ran them downward briefly, then moved again. "A very nice cut for you…" His voice was getting softer, and more introspective with every comment he made. "And the material is very soft… Bozhe moy, kak ya tebya hochu." The words were a husky whisper, his breath brushing over Zechs' neck. [1]

Zechs was sure Treize had said something, but… It wasn't in the common tongue, or even any of the familiar German phrases he used occasionally. "What did you say sir?" he asked as Treize stepped away, still studying him.

"Nothing of importance," was the soft reply. Then he seemed to return to his normal self, and spoke again. "Come, friend. We must attend this event, like it or not."

~~~~

Treize was decidedly not enjoying himself. Little more than an hour into the ball, and he'd so far spent it avoiding Une as if she were a plague and dancing with Miriam. Only a bit more to suffer through… This is absolutely miserable…

He sighed, mind not on the steps he took. They were mechanical only, every move unconscious, simply the reactions of a body that had been schooled for years in what to do. Normally, he delighted in the dancing at least, but something was decidedly lacking this time…

Miriam noticed that Treize was uncommonly silent, the bantering small talk having long since fallen away. He'd seemed in poor humour since the moments after he'd come down the steps of the room with Zechs, and been pulled away from his friend to mingle with diplomats who wanted 'a moment alone' with Treize. She knew those 'moments alone' were simply said diplomat, or whatever, pandering for Treize's support. She shook her head. This is a war being fought and run by children. Too much stress for one so young. She herself was nearly thirty, and had no where near the young General's responsibility. She drew her eyes up to meet his, and realised his heavy lidded sapphire eyes weren't really focused, that he was watching something, watching… A laugh was barely stifled.

Treize startled, noticing that Miriam had stopped moving. "Miri..." his eyes caught hers, and she finally chuckled aloud, prodding him back into the proper steps. "Why did y--"

Leaning forward, she whispered in a laughing voice, "Sir, you are utterly pathetic. Just do something!"

"That borders on insubordination," he sighed tiredly. "I would not look so if…" A slight shake of the head, and unconscious movement. His eyes lingered on Noin for a moment, then dropped back to looking at nothing.

He doesn't even need to speak… He thinks there's no chance for him because of Noin… how sad. It must be obvious to everyone but them how much they mean to each other. I've seen it in Zechs' eyes, if not his words… "You know, he would say yes…" He treats you so well, and with a few of the arguments I've heard between you, it certainly isn't hero worship… You're both equals…

"He wouldn't." Treize's replying tone was cold, nearly sulky.

She sighed. "You lie poorly to start with; it gets worse when you lie to yourself. Well, we're going to solve this problem once and for all." And with those words, she began to prod him subtly in the direction where Zechs and Noin were dancing. Treize sighed, and gave in to defeat; the day had been too long for fighting of such sort.

"I happen to know that the next song isn't another waltz, but a slow dance -- real slow," she whispered, and before he could question, continued. "I'm dating the orchestra leader. Yes, I organised it; don't worry, he doesn't know the details. I'm sure you don't wish to slow dance with Une, since I'll be leaving you shortly. So, I'm ordering you, General, to dance with Zechs Marquise. I will not give you a chance to back out and regret it."

"You do not understand!" he hissed.

"I understand well enough," she replied evenly. "You're miserable, you've been miserable all evening, and this is a chance to change that…"

Treize fell silent as they neared Noin and Zechs. The look on Noin's face was overly happy, and Zechs also looked contented. Watching them, Treize felt something that was more than a touch of jealousy; panic, too, at Miriam's intended plan.

"Treize…" Her voice held a warning tone.

He sighed softly. "Fine. But if I lose him, I will have you demoted." They disengaged as the music began to trail off.

Zechs was chatting happily with Noin as she nearly dragged him odd the floor. Quickly, Treize stepped over to Zechs, and placed a slim hand on his shoulder. Both he and Noin stopped walking and turned.

"May…" Treize steeled himself. "May I have this dance?" His voice came out soft, not matching the expression he had forced onto his face.

Noin blinked. He wants to dance with me? "Of course," she said, stepping away from Zechs, a little confused.

"Ah, no," Treize murmured. "I…" He looked restless. "Mirialdo, may I have this dance?"

His mind went into a flurry. He's asking me to dance… Is he serious? Does he mean this how I hope he does? "Or course, sir," Zechs finally said, as the lights were beginning to dim and music starting. Treize seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

Noin felt oddly detached as she watched. Zechs is going to dance with Treize. Another man. It's a joke, isn't it?… I think I understand. Cruel revenge -- Treize would rather dance with Zechs than Une. Noin thought. As she made her way toward a few of her less likeable suitors, another thing crossed her mind. Treize picked the worst possible song to do it during, though.

Zechs opened his arms, and took Treize in; Treize draped his cloak about the younger officer, enfolding him in the dark material. He put his arms under Zechs', around him, resting his head on Zechs' shoulder. Zechs reached around and placed one hand on the back of Treize's neck, beneath the cloak, the other around his waist.

Any unease Zechs had sensed from Treize faded as the music started fully. It really isn't dancing, Zechs mused. More like two people moving slowly against each other… Not that he had a problem with that, because Treize's body felt so good against his…

In the back of his mind, he noted that Treize was moving him ever so subtly into a darker region of the room. But that part was being ignored in favour of the part that was tracing the movement of Treize's strong hands sliding up and down his spine. Zechs took a deep breath as one of Treize's hands lingered by his tailbone, sensuous in the very lack of movement. Treize's sapphire eyes glittered hungrily, and he tugged Zechs closer.

After minutes that seemed like a pleasant eternity, the music began to come to a close. Treize sensed this, and prepared himself mentally. The music was tuned out, the only thing he could hear was the beating of his own heart as he moved his hands slowly up Zechs' back, feeling the fine muscles shift beneath his fingertips. Zechs was breathing deeply, and his back was nearly against a wall as Treize looked into his eyes, one hand on the back of his head, the other slim fingered hand gently grasping his chin. Their breaths mingled together.

Treize closed his eyes as his tongue darted out once, twice, to lick at the edge of those promising lips, before capturing them in his own with bruising force. It was something of a catharsis to Treize, as if he was able to purge the loneliness and frustration from himself in the act. Hands slipping down to rest on Zechs' forearms, he gentled it somewhat, and pushed his tongue into Zechs' mouth. Thoughts became disjointed. Zechs tasted sweet and warm to Treize, and he noted somewhat absently that the lights were coming back up.

Eyes still closed, he pulled away from a moment, finding air elusive; he still leaned heavily against Zechs, hands still clutching him. A thin whisper reached his ears, over the sound of his racing heart. Zechs' voice. Whispering 'Oh gods' over and over. Treize froze, and a measure of his control returned to him. Slowly, it dawned on the young officer that Zechs hadn't moved, hadn't responded. One hand was pressing against his chest, in what seemed to be an aborted attempt to push him away, the other strangely positioned against his side, Treize noted sadly.

I've just ruined the only good thing in my life. Sickened and nauseated by how he'd just embarrassed himself in front of his only true friend, and the whole organisation, he forced himself to let go. It was hard to pull loose the fingers that wanted to clutch so much more than Zechs' arms.

But he did manage it, knowing that it would likely be the least time he'd be that close to Zechs ever again. Also, there was the nagging thought that he'd just killed his friendship with Zechs. He was still breathing hard when he stepped back, lust having turned to quiet chagrin.

"I… I apologise," Treize managed, voice thick and forced. He noted that Zechs' breathing was as unsteady as his own. Zechs didn't say anything as Treize walked off, and Treize was grateful for that. "I'm sorry." This said softly over his shoulder, carrying more misery than should be possible for words to carry. "I… Sorry, Zechs."

The gathered nobles were deathly silent, all eyes on the young general.

A long sigh escaped Treize, and he disappeared through the doors that led into a side hallway. They closed behind him.

Zechs watched in shock, as did a large majority of those in attendance at the ball.

What did I just do?

~~~~~
[1] It's Russian for 'My god, how I want you.' Subtle, neh?

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