Foolish Games

Warnings: Violence, language, the ever-present references to sex, drugs, and rock n roll, references to prostitution, Une POV, songfic



Author's Notes: All I can say is, do your best to try and listen to the song while reading this one. It was so perfect, it gave me chills.



We hear from Duo in this one...keep your Kleenex within arm reach.



Song is Famous Monster by Saliva



Rating: R



Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, thanx a bunch!



enjoy.









~Famous Monster~





//...Dear Heavenly Father...

...Please forgive us...

...For we know not what we do...//



I lean forward in my chair, elbows on the polished, mahogany surface of the table in the boardroom, here in Conference Room 3F, and rub circles into my temples with my manicured fingertips. Retired Agents Barton and Winner and Agents Chang, Po, Noin, and Wind had arrived minutes ago and were now trying to make Agent Yuy as comfortable as possible while handcuffing his unconscious form to a chair.



Chang had arrived just before Yuy was going to send a bullet my way for sending his lover on death-mission, Operation Orphan, and had delivered a nicely executed non-lethal blow to the side of Yuy's head, rendering him unconscious. He was followed shortly after by the rest of the lot.



I sigh inwardly. I'm not sure all of that would've made much of a difference either way. Agent Yuy had obviously been blacking out from delirium.



I reach over to the intercom and press the button that would buzz my personal secretary Lina Tills.



"Lina," I murmur, "I need a discreet medical unit up here in the next five minutes. Tell them I want water, nutritional bars, and vitamins."



"Yes, ma'am."



"Five minutes," I repeat.



"Ma'am."



I lean back and press the bridge of my nose with two fingers and close my eyes.



I hear rustling and a few casual murmurs and then the squeaking of chairs being sat in and then nothing.



Then I heard the unmistakable cultivated drawl of the one and only Lightning Count. "I'm just dying to know what you two were talking about."



//...Look at your life...

...Look at the way you slip and slide...//



I open my eyes and look at him around the fingers still pressing the bridge of my nose.



He was gazing expectantly at me with those piercing, pale blue eyes of his.



Lover to my lover, once enemy to my once enemy, enemies once and allies again, Milliardo Peacecraft, you're a handsome devil. Treize admitted it freely, I had conceded grudgingly. It was so very difficult to compete with that particular beauty for Treize's affections. And after all of that, he chose Chang.



My eyes swivel to the Chinese man. He's a proud one, Chang. High golden features, smooth black hair, stern full lips, that perfect condescending smile...I can't really blame Treize for his wandering eyes. That boy had the spirit to match his beauty. Treize couldn't resist him; and neither, apparently, could Zechs--or Milliardo--or Wind--or whatever the hell he's calling himself these days.



Noin didn't seem to mind overmuch, I observe. The lovely Lucrezia was leaning ever so slightly towards Agent Po. I have to fight to hide my grin. It baffles me how they can all sleep together like nervous bunnies and not expect a dramatic tragedy like this to eventually unfold. It would be terribly naive of them to think their untainted happiness would last forever.



They are war veterans. Such is the way of things. Agent Maxwell never felt it necessary to delude himself. He is very familiar with the ugly side of peace, after all.



I drop my fingers and stare plainly at Winner and Barton. They both had had a life to return to after the wars.



Winner returned to his company, or, more appropriately, his Fortune 500 Company, as head CEO and uncontested heir to the Winner Foundation, a billion dollar legacy his father had left behind. I raise a brow, thinking of the pacifist, former gundam pilot aristocrat. He's a lovely little paradox, that one. Multi-talented, though physically weaker than the other four former gundam pilots, he held his own with grace, an easy smile, clever wits, and major connections. He's a pretty one too, but I wouldn't go as far as calling him delicate. He can be hard as nails when he wants to be. I hear he had it out once with Dorothy Catalonia. She had succumbed to tears before the end of it. Imagine that.



And Barton. I think of Mariemeia when I look at him. She's a teenager now, lively and obstinate. Barton isn't really a Barton, so he isn't really related to my adopted-daughter. He stole that name from her uncle after he was killed. Interesting thought really...and now we are all on the same side. One big happy family.



He's what I like to call a dangerous beauty. Stoic as mountain, eyes alive and watching like a wild animal's, slender movements of grace and fluidity, quick and lethal, seen and not seen, somebody and nobody, everywhere and nowhere, and perfectly trapped behind the image he's fought so hard to project. I know what that feels like. I really do.



All in all, they're a comely couple. I think their magnetism comes, not from their looks, but from the power they wield together. When I think of that power, I think of what Trieze and I used to be and I shudder.



//...Look at your time...

...Look at the ones you've left behind...//



Then, remembering Zechs' previous question, I turn my gaze to the still, sleeping, limp form of the magnificent Heero Yuy.



Oh, that boy used to infuriate me during the colony wars. Always thwarting me, no matter what, even when I thought I had him, he was playing me. Ruthless, that one. And quite impossibly innocent.



You'd think he's a madman if you didn't know him. But, no, he's just a bit gruff, and betimes a bit rash.



After all, it's not the first time he's tried to kill me.



I allow my gaze to sweep over his sleeping features. So relaxed, he almost doesn't look real. His face is usually tight with restrained emotions that leak through the endless portals of his gorgeous cobalt blue eyes. Ah, me, a color so true it makes you want to weep at the purity of it. When he's all dressed in dressed for one of Relena's formal ESUN balls, I swear, he looks like a knight right out of a fairy story. Quiet, fierce, and always maintaining the appearance that he'd just tumbled out of bed.



This time I can't hide my smile and Zechs coughs impatiently.



Just then, the medical unit knocks on the door and I call them in.



//...Look at your eyes...

...The hollow black circles of your plight...//



A medical officer puts a bit of chemical on a sterilized pad and places it under Yuy's nose. He wakes instantly and favors the medical officer with a glare of pure bewilderment. Another officer feeds him three vitamins and aids him to wash it down with a bottle of water. Before leaving, they place nutritional snack bars on the table alongside two more bottles of water.



Heero stares at the food impatiently. I watch him with amusement. I know he can break the steel of the handcuffs binding his arms behind him but I think he is assessing whether it would do more harm than good to do so.



I think he realizes how odd his behavior from earlier may have seemed.



He raises his eyes to me and I laugh outright at the aggravation writ in those fiery cobalt blue eyes. He's come to his senses. He needs sleep still, but he'll be fine for an hour or so.



I motion to Zechs to unlock the handcuffs. "He won't really need those. Besides, I think he may be hungry."



//...But you can get by...

...Oh, and killing you might take one more life...//



And now it's time. The moment I've been avoiding for weeks now has become, inevitably, unavoidable. I have to tell them about Agent Maxwell.



I open my mouth to speak but Chang interrupts me.



"Une, please tell you didn't send Maxwell on Operation Orphan."



I glance at him and he begins cursing in Chinese. "Are you mad?" he manages finally.



"You should know, before you go making assessments about my judge of character," I say, "that he was very much successful."



Chang was stunned into silence for a moment and then his features brightened with pride. "No shit..."



"However," I continue. "He's in grave danger...and he's very sick."



"Une." That was Barton. "You have exactly 120 seconds to explain."



"He's deep in the underground. How, exactly, he got there, I'm not sure. But he's in...And he's in so deep that after he assassinated David Gilson" --whistles from around the table-- "he says he's being promoted."



"Promoted?" Chang asks.



I shrug. "Those are his words, but he's scared to death of the ceremony. As it turns out, the gentleman who heads the major prostitution rings in colonies is the deceased Gilson's uncle."



"An outsider just ousted a made man--and a family man, no less," Sally said grimly. "That's not good."



"You said he's sick?" Quatre inquired.



"No," I say. "I said he's very sick."



"How do you know he's scared?" Heero whispered without looking up. "How do you know?"



I hesitated, then grabbed my laptop, opened the file Duo sent me yesterday, and pulled open the recorded correspondence I had with him over the vidphone. I rewound it and pushed play before pushing it towards them.



It's really not safe to keep that sort of thing on file, but I couldn't delete it before showing his friends. Nobody's that heartless.



Not even me.



//...Because you're a famous monster...

...You do whatever they offer...//



Agent Maxwell, worn, tattered, and drawn, flicks his eyes around nervously before leaning towards the vidphone screen. "Une?" his voice whispers. "Can you hear me?"



"I can," my recorded voice answers. "Why are you contacting me like this...you know this is a breach of--"



"Shut up and listen for a sec," Maxwell's recorded voice cuts off mine. I don't need to see the screen, I know what's there. I'm quite positive that that correspondence will be permanently etched into my memory until my last breath.



"I need you to get me outta here," his voice continues.



I did not respond at first. Then: "You know I can't do that, Duo. Not yet."



I rarely call the Agents by their first names...however, I've found myself growing very fond of that particular braided pilot. He's a true soldier. He's still fighting for the dream...a dream that seems to have gotten lost in translation. The dream for true peace. For a place where everyone has a second chance...not just the rich and politically empowered. Everyone.



I hear an abrupt noise coming from the laptop and remember this is when Maxwell slams his fist down. "You're not understanding me, Une. They saw me with Trowa. They know! I know they do..."



"Is that paranoia, or a fact?"



"I...I don't know. I know they saw me with Trowa. They asked me about him. I told 'em I owed him money...they've got like a hundred eyes on me, Une. They've...they've instructed me to go to this club...In celebration of my victory. They said it's a promotion. It's bullshit...I ousted a made man...it's no promotion, it's an execution."



"Gilson?"



Duo nods before speaking again. "His uncle's going to be there...everyone's going to be there. Everyone on that goddamn list."



I pause before speaking. "Are you sure?"



Duo nods again, looking around nervously. "I think it's a trap. It's too goddamn convenient. And I think Gilson's uncle is out for blood, Une."



"You'll have to tough it out, Duo. I'll plan your retrieval as fast as I can."



"Une," his voice cracks and his eyes well up with tears. "I'm getting worse."



I remember narrowing my eyes at him. "Worse?"



He pulls up his sleeve and the twenty or so abscesses on his arm are blood-red and the vein is bulging. Dark lines branch out from the abscesses and snake up and down his arm, reaching as high as his shoulder and chest and as far down to his wrist. Blood poisoning. Goddammit.



Hisses sound from around the table, but they remain quiet, watching.



The tears are falling freely now. "One more hit, maybe two, and then I'm done. I'll OD, I know it."



His head droops and his tears splash on the vidphone. "This mission is killing me, Une. I knew it might...but not like this. Not like this."



I don't say anything. I remember feeling my heart break for him. I remember hating myself for sending him up there.



"The worst part, Une," he whispers. "Is that I still want it. I can't eat, I can't sleep...I can barely think of anything that doesn't revolve around getting more."



He looks up into the vidphone, his eyes haunted with his addiction. "I'll ask for it, Une. And I don't want to think of what I'll do to get it...you have to get me out of here...I'll only do more harm than good at this point..."



"I'll see what I can do, Duo," I murmur. "I promise."



I remember his shoulders slumping. "Une?" His voice is hoarse and thick with emotion.



"Yes?"



"Do me a favor, will ya?"



"Of course."



"Tell...tell Heero I love him...and...and I'm so fucking sorry." He's sobbing now and my heart aches all over again. "And...and...tell Q and Tro and...and Wuffers...to be happy...no matter what it takes...they deserve that much..."



"I will."



"Thanks..." He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying to get himself back into some semblance of order. "And...well, I know you don't know her very well but...tell Hilde...I did my best...and...and to...name a kid after me, you know?...that'd be pretty cool...."



I touch my cheek and realize I am crying.



I remember nodding to him, unable to speak, and watching him muster up one of his infamous sunny smiles. It was no where near as radiant as it usually is, but it looked like the dawning of a new day to me.



"Alright," he says, sniffling a little. "Enough with all the emotional shit. I'll see you around, Une. Kay?"



I nodded again and he turned off the vidphone.



//...You tie a noose...

...around your neck...

...and they throw you over...//



I pull back the laptop and open the file that had the contact information spreadsheet that I had asked him to gather. This is what I thought was going to get him killed. Not the assassination and certainly not the narcotics. I was so very wrong, it seems.



"This is every affiliate and the locations thereof of crime reeking throughout L2. Not only does it allow us to be able to take out the crime lords of L2 in one blow but also the surrounding colonies of L1 and L3. It only took him six weeks to gather this information. What was the original estimated time for this, Chang?" I look pointedly at the Chinese man while pushing the laptop forward.



I'd never seen Chang look so pale. He stared at me for a few more seconds before shaking himself and registering my question.



"Four to six months," he murmured.



Winner pulled the laptop towards him and studied the information. "This is the entire web? All of it?!!"



I nod and watch him run his hands through his hair.



"Trap or not," Barton said, "I think we should stage the stake-out at the time and date of that party."



"It's nearly impossible to plan that kind of--"



"No it's not," Quatre interrupted me matter-of-factly and he promptly stared me down. See? Hard as nails.



"Fine," I say. "I want it on my desk by 1700 hours."



"Kid?" That was Chang. "What kid?"



I gave him a puzzled look.



"He said he wanted Hilde to name a kid after him," Chang specified. "Is Hilde pregnant?"



"No." Yuy had been oddly quiet until now. "Orphanage."



"Orphanage?"



"Needed money for the orphanage."



It was dead silent.



And the shit, officially, hits the fan.



//...You're a famous monster...//



Noin came to her feet abruptly. "You offered Maxwell *money* to take a death-mission?!!" she shouted at me.



I nodded. Here we go...



"Did it ever occur to you that the Preventer Unit would have been more than happy to sponsor that orphanage?!!" Noin raged.



I blinked. Actually, it hadn't. But I didn't say so. I didn't say anything.



"Duo wanted to fight for it," Barton murmurs to himself. "He doesn't like asking for money." He is a clever one.



Winner shook his head. I knew he'd take it the worst. Winner had plenty of money and Maxwell never mentioned the idea to him. Winner would probably blame himself for Maxwell not asking for his assistance. It's his way.



"Unbelievable," Winner whispered.



//...Look at your mind...

...Look at the strength you never found...//



"Chang," Yuy growled. "How is it that you know so much about this operation?"



"I wrote it," Chang answered.



Round and round and round again, I muse to myself.



"Then why aren't you up there?"



"Because the death estimate was too high," I answered for him. "Chang is a valuable agent."



"AND DUO MAXWELL ISN'T?!!" I had expected that from Yuy, not from Chang.



I gaze at the Chinese man, who had risen to his feet, shaking with anger.



"Well, obviously it was the right choice," I say. "Maxwell is successful and he is, at the moment, alive."



"That operation was scrapped the moment it was written, Une," Sally interjected, forcefully pulling Chang back into his seat. "Why did you re-open it?"



"How can I pass up the opportunity to take out crime in the colonies in one blow?" I'm sitting up straight, defiant in my righteousness. "It was for the best. I did nothing wrong."



//...You lean on your pride...

...The only thing that would never let you down...//



"You offered him money, Une," Zechs murmured. "You broke the law."



I stare at him. No, goddammit! Don't bring the 'law' into this. I've run my course, my legacy is set, let me die honorably. Let me die as a soldier. Not in a goddamn prison cell.



I can fool everyone but myself. I know I've been a bit mad since Trieze died. I've wanted nothing less than to join him as his consort on the other side. It's all I want. It's all I've ever wanted. Finally, I found a way to set it into motion. A death so glorious, I'll be read about for ages. Ages! Gunned down by the Magnificent Heero Yuy for sending his lover on a mission to the colonies. It's romantic, no? And, as irony would have it, it's the God of Death himself who made this possible for me. My hat's off to you, dear boy.



But now, as I watch Heero sitting calmly in his leather chair, staring at nothing, Agent Po keeping a reminding pressure on Chang's arm, Barton and Winner already working out the logistics of the stake-out/rescue mission, glancing up at the commotion from time to time, and that accursed couple, Zechs and Noin, shouting about law and injustice...I know I'm probably just going to jail. Goddammit.



//...Look at the signs...

...Look at the way they stop and stare...//



"I'm going to have you court-martialed," Zechs continued. "You are henceforth banned from the grounds of the Sanq Kingdom and stripped of your title."



Zechs rises to his feet and leans forward, placing his fingertips on the polished surface of the table. "And, so help me God, if Agent Maxwell dies, I will make it my personal responsibility to make sure you get Death Row for Murder 1."



I swallow. Well, it's not exactly what I had in mind...but I suppose it will do.



Noin touches Zechs’ elbow and whispers something into his ear. He nods and looks back at me, straightening. "And Mariemeia Kushrenada will take up residence here at the Sanq Kingdom until further notice. You will have no contact with her without my expressed permission."



I felt my eyes widen. "No!" I breathe. "You can't do that..." But I knew he could. And he would. I should have thought this one through. Some things really are worse than death. I drop my head in my hands, despair clumping in my throat.



//...They're watching you die...

...And when you're gone...

...It's like you weren't even there...//



Zechs turns to regard the others in the room. His eyes lingered on Chang for a moment before sweeping over the rest of them. "This is not entirely Une's fault. Duo made a choice. And so did all of you. I hope you all take this time to notice what should be different in future between the five of you so that this sort of thing never happens again." He pauses. "You have every resource at your disposal. Contact me when you're finished with the mission detail."



Zechs turns to me and motions for me to stand. I stand and walk towards him. He instructs me to write down all passwords and codes to my files. I comply and, when I am finished, he takes me by the arm and leads me out of the room.



//...Because you're a famous monster...

...You do whatever they offer...//



Outside the closed door, Zechs turns me roughly and pushes me against the wall. He clutches at his hair. "What the hell is wrong with you, Une?! You just lost everything."



I shrug. "It's what Trieze would have done."



Zechs nods sarcastically. "Yeah, and he's dead, Une."



"I know." I stare into his frosty blue eyes, urging him to understand.



Zechs shakes his silvery head. "Trieze...he had ideals. Most of which were...commendable, but the methods he used were not." He pauses. "Trieze died on purpose. He knew his point had gotten across and the need to be the victor was never really the point for him. He won out anyway, even in his death."



Zechs grabs my chin and stares down into my eyes. "But he did nothing for his own selfish reasons. He valued human life; even if it was just one life. He never asked anyone to die for *him*, he asked them to die for his *ideals*, his *vision*."



He released my chin and shook his head again. "When you sent Duo up there, you weren't doing it for the colonies, even though I believe *he* was. You were doing for you, for your own agenda...Trieze would never have done that. Think about that, the next time you send a human life into the abyss in Trieze Kushrenada's name."



He motions for a guard and instructs him to take me to holding cell 39 and to await orders from there. The guard nods and grasps my arm, leading me away. I stare at Zechs over my shoulder as the guard leads me down the corridor, thinking about what he said.



//...You tie a noose...

...around your neck...

...and they throw you over...//



Perhaps he's right. It's hard to distinguish right and wrong anymore. It was so much easier during the war. It was all a means to an end. It's not the way during peace.



Even if it is an ugly peace.



//...You're a famous monster...//



I try not to think of how dirty and disgraceful the holding cell is going to be. I try not think of how embarrassed I will feel as news of my being court-martialed hits the newspapers.



So much for my glorious death.



//...Famous Monster...//



I try not to think that Mariemeia might grow up hating me. If I really offended Trieze's ideals that badly, Mariemeia will know...and she will disapprove.



And she is the only piece of Trieze I have left.



//...Famous Monster...//



I try not to think of how badly this all turned out, even if the mission was successful. Maxwell is a bright soul. He deserves to live. I shouldn't have sent him.



He's dying now, because of me.



//...Famous Monster...//



And I try not to think of how I don't really feel that bad at all.



And I wonder if I really am Colonel Une and have been all along.



Does loose hair and a soft skirt change a person...or just make them look different?



//...Famous Monster...//