Part 1

Trowa stepped off of the bus and looked up with trepidation at the imposing structure before him. The OZ military base was built right out of the steep cliffs. Its main beam cannon stared out over the land like a baleful eye.

Two weeks. A bare two weeks had passed since he had turned his back on the safehouse and headed for the OZ recruitment office.

Since that time, he had been tested, prodded, and grudgingly accepted. His training had been a formality. Sometimes his inability to hide his facility at fighting and piloting worried him, but no one had batted an eye when he had requested to be assigned to this base in particular. A few days and some judicious manipulation on the part of Heero and Duo later, and he was here.

He took a breath, hefted his dufflebag, and strode towards the front gates.

In addition to the usual guards on watch, a frowning oriental man in his middle years was standing in the massive doorway. His frown deepened as Trowa approached.

"You there!" he snapped. "You the new recruit?"

Loathe to shout, Trowa waited until he was within speaking distance before halting and saluting crisply.

"Yes sir," he said, then presented his transferral papers. The man grunted and looked closely at the papers, then squinted at Trowa.

"Aren't you a little young to be a mobile suit pilot?"

Trowa blinked in surprise. "Were not Lucrezia Noin and Zechs Merquise pilots at the age of thirteen, sir?"

"You ain't Noin or Merquise, are you," he said mockingly. "How the hell did you get so good so fast?"

"No sir, I can only aspire to their level, sir," Trowa replied, attempting to add a note of admiration to his voice. One of the guards glanced at him sidelong and smirked. "And it seems I have natural talent at piloting, sir, or so my teachers said. I have always wanted to be a pilot, like Colonal Merquise, so maybe that is why."

"You've really got a case of hero-worship here…" he glanced at the papers again. "Private Barton. I hear you requested this assignment."

"Yes sir, I wish to learn as much as I can about His Excellency, Treize Khushrenada and his ideals." That, at least, was true.

The man smirked. "Well, my name's Lieutenant Reiten. You report to me. Since you're so keen on His Excellency, you have night duty tonight in section A-16." He held out Trowa's papers and squinted at him again. "I'll be watching you, Barton, don't forget that. If it turns out you aren't who you say you are, I'll take you down personally."

Trowa didn't bat an eye. "I hope you will be watching, and reporting my activities, Lieutenant. That way your superiors will see how good I am, and promote me." He lightly plucked the papers out of the red-faced man's fingers and strode past him. :He's an idiot, he won't interfere with me,: Trowa decided with satisfaction. :It's not as though I needed a warning to be careful.:

Though most soldiers would have protested vocally about being forced to do night duty on their first day, Trowa was so keyed up and eager to get this mission over with that it didn't occur to him. He was welcomed into the barracks by the other soldiers, but once his unwillingness to talk became clear, they left him well enough alone. The pilot was relieved. This was going to be hard enough without having to deal with 'friends'.

He stowed his gear and went through the usual administrative red tape involved with his first day as a full private without comment, but was relieved when he was released and told where his post was. Though he was exhausted by the ordeal of the day, he went straight to his post, determined to impress his superiors enough that he would be assigned somewhere close to Treize.

As such, he was amazed when he saw where his post was located.

In shock, he stared at the ornate, oak doors, then down at the paper with his orders, and up at the doors again. The guard who was just coming off duty smirked at him.

"First day?"

"Uh, hai," replied Trowa, still not completely over his surprise. "Is this Treize Khushrenada's suite?"

"Yes, it sure is. Looks like you weren't expecting to be assigned here."

"No, I wasn't."

The soldier held out his hand for Trowa's orders, then saluted and relinquished his post. "The General likes to meet his new recruits, especially the ones who work close to him. He probably figured this was the best way. Be warned, though," His lips thinned slightly. "He's been under a lot of strain lately, what with the coup and all. Don't make things any worse for him than they already are."

"I won't. I requested this assignment because the General was here." Trowa figured getting that rumour nice and entrenched in the knowledge of the general population of the base would serve to dispel questions later.

The soldier laughed heartily. "You'd be surprised how many do. You're one of the lucky ones, trust me." He gave Trowa a thumbs-up and walked away.

To Trowa's disappointment, he never met with the General, though he saw him often; when the General returned to his suite late at night, or left unusually early. The first was fairly common, the second rare.

By the fourth night, Trowa was beginning to despair of ever meeting the General. :What pretext can I use? I'm so close!: he thought as Treize passed him, barely acknowledging the salute Trowa gave him, and stumbled sleepily to bed. Just as the General passed him, Trowa caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath.

:He's drunk!:

Inspiration hit the quiet pilot and he placed his hand quickly on the door to keep it from closing.

"Sir? Treize Khushrenada, sir?"

Treize stopped and looked at him. Amazingly, though he looked as though he was having trouble walking, his eyes were clear and alert. He frowned. "I recognize you, Private, but I'm afraid I can't remember your name. Forgive me. Is there something wrong?"

"We have not met formally, sir. I am Trowa Barton and I was assigned here four days ago. There is nothing wrong, I simply wondered if there was anything I could do to help you. You seem quite - tired." Trowa swallowed. He'd been about to say 'drunk', but didn't know how well that would go over with the dignified General.

Said dignified General only chuckled. "You mean drunk, of course. I am not, though I have been drinking." His sapphire eyes sparkled as they met Trowa's emerald ones. "If you have been here four days and we have not formally met, it is because of an unforgivable oversight on my part. I had intended to meet you, Private Barton, but I'm afraid I have been quite busy. Why don't you come in now?"

Elated, Trowa tried to calm his nerves. "But sir, I'm on duty."

"I won't tell on you. I hardly need protection this deep underground." He shook his head ruefully. "But I can never tell my loyal guardians that, they would be deeply disappointed. Come in, Private."

Trowa willingly followed the General into his suite, his initial euphoria at successfully making contact carrying him over the threshold. The sound of the oak doors closing was like a coffin slamming shut, however, and he felt himself go cold all over. :It begins now.:

To say the room was spacious would have been an understatement. The suite consisted of four rooms, one main living space with a couch and armchair, and a desk with a computer on it. A kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom clearly led off of the main room. Treize gestured that Trowa sit where he wanted, then went straight into the kitchen.

"Would you like tea or coffee, Private? I'm afraid if I'm going to be coherent for much longer I will have to have coffee, but I have several wonderful varieties of tea as well." Treize's voice floated clearly to Trowa, who was seated in the armchair, the only outward sign of his terror the death grip he had on the leather arms of the chair.

"I'll have coffee as well, if you don't mind, sir." :Good, my voice is still even,: he thought. :It will be fine. I can handle this. Calm down.: To his relief, he felt his fingers loosen.

A few minutes later, Treize emerged with a tray bearing two mugs of coffee, cream, and sugar, in elegant china cups and pitchers. The set reminded Trowa of Quatre and his heart clenched briefly. He had not spoken to anyone but Heero and Duo since he'd left, because he knew he couldn't face Quatre's eyes. He sat in silence, waiting for Treize to initiate the conversation.

Treize offered Private Barton cream and sugar, which was refused, and passed the boy the steaming cup. He took a tentative sip of his own, smiled, and put his cup down to cool.

"Well, Private Barton, I have heard of your impressive scores on the initial testing with Aries. Why did you choose to go through the soldier training rather than going to the academy and gaining the chance to become an officer?"

Trowa shrugged, staring into his cup. "Well, sir, I have no interest in becoming an officer. I merely wish to win your war for you."

"Someone of your skill could easily make an excellent officer, and then you would be far more integral to the process of 'winning the war for me'." Treize pointed out gently.

"Sir, I…" The boy seemed embarrassed, though his beautiful eyes, barely glimpsed beneath his bangs, still didn't hold any emotion. :What a curious person,: Treize reflected. "I am not the type to give orders. I take them. But you flatter me with your support and praise."

"Not at all," Treize assured him. "You are an excellent pilot and highly intelligent. I only speak the truth." He picked up his coffee and swallowed a large gulp, finally feeling the effects of the brandy he'd had after dinner begin to diminish. He put the cup down again and stretched, feeling his back protesting. He was far too tense, and his uniform was becoming decidedly uncomfortable. He looked back at the private.

"Private Barton, would you mind terribly if I changed into something more comfortable. I have been in this uniform since early this morning." The boy's eyes widened imperceptibly, but he nodded.

"Of course, sir," he said quietly.

He drained the rest of the rapidly-cooling coffee and went into his bedroom. Conscious of his guest's obvious discomfort - though he wasn't entirely sure why he seemed so nervous - he changed quickly. The uniform was discarded in favour of a black sweatshirt and loose jeans. He didn't have the opportunity to wear civilian clothes very often, but he hoped it would put the boy more at ease.

When he exited the bedroom, the pilot seemed to pause for a moment before daring to look at him. What he saw seemed to surprise him, because a flicker passed through his eyes before being drowned again.

:His eyes are so empty, why does his emotion never reach them?: Treize wondered. He couldn't help it; now he was intrigued.

"Ahh, that is better," he said, smiling. He received a small smile in return, which again failed to brighten those green pools. He sat back on the couch.

"Well, private, are you tired of answering my questions, or may I ask one more?"

"You just did."

Treize blinked, then chuckled. "Well, may I ask one after I complete this one?"

"Of course."

The General leaned forward slightly. "First, I'd like to reassure you, private. This is not an official review. You needn't feel as though your career will be affected by this conversation. We are simply two men, talking. You may call me Treize, not 'sir'."

A crooked smile appeared on Trowa's face. "I'll call you 'Treize' when you stop calling me 'private', sir."

"Very well, may I call you Trowa then?"

"It's my name," Trowa said noncommittally. Treize decided to take that as assent and continue.

"Exactly. Well Trowa, I have heard that you requested this assignment specifically. I was wondering why you did that."

"Is that your question?"

"Yes."

Trowa spoke in an even tone, not varying from the tone he'd used for most of the conversation. "I admire you, Treize. Immensely. I wanted to be here so that I could learn from you, and protect you personally."

Treize was taken aback. He had heard similar things from recruits before, but never said so matter-of-factly, without embarrassment. "I see. Well, do you find it is all you expected?"

"It is now. Now that I've met you." Trowa looked up and met his eyes. "I hope that we can talk like this again, Treize."

"As do I," Treize replied. "You are an unusual person, Trowa, and I find myself very intrigued by you."

Trowa broke eye contact abruptly, staring back down at his coffee cup. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, which Treize finally decided to break.

"Also, it will be convenient for us to talk. You are one of the only guards who is actually here when *I* am. I hope we can talk again tomorrow night."

Trowa looked up again. "Treize, are you lonely?"

Treize chuckled, but even to his own ears it sounded forced. "What can you mean? I am surrounded by people who are interested only in my welfare."

The boy shrugged. "You just seem lonely to me." He looked down again. "I know what that's like."

Treize leaned back and looked at Trowa thoughtfully. "Yes, so I see."

Trowa stood outside Treize's door. It was early morning and he would be relieved soon, and he was staving off exhaustion by running the conversation back through his head and analyzing it from every angle. Though his intention in doing this was to analyze Treize for any weaknesses he could exploit, he kept turning to the latter part, when he had asked the General if he was lonely. He didn't know why he had said that, and it bothered him that Treize had looked at him as though he could see right through him.

In actuality, it had been a fruitful thing to say, since he had confirmed that Treize was in dire need of informal companionship. The conversation had ended shortly after that, but not before Treize had confided that his only true friend - Zechs Merquise - was in Nairobi and that they were unable to speak much. Treize missed his friend and was becoming bogged down in duties and silly political functions. He needed Trowa's friendship, and the Gundam pilot intended to convince His Excellency of that as soon as possible.

:The sooner I can get this over with the sooner I can escape.:

:But *why* did I say that?:

No matter how many times he turned it around in his mind, he couldn't find the answer.

|Prologue| |Part 1| |Part 2| |Part 3| |Part 4| |Part 5| |Epilogue|

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