"The Agency: Meeting of Souls "

Written By: Karina

Pairings 13x6 [eventual], 5xS, 3x4, Others undecided at this time.

Warnings: Extreme Alternate Universe setting. Unbetaed, Aussie spelling and grammar, not much else in the early chapters though it will involve murder, stalking and possibly some colourful language down the track. Some Out Of Character depictions are unavoidable considering the alternate universe setting.

Rating: M [In Australia that would be mature adult 15+] Not sure with the new rating system about international ratings. Rated for violence and language and adult concepts.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. That's about as plain as you could say it.

Summary: The world took a very different turn with the acknowledgement of psychic abilities and training of select psychic individuals enlisted in elite fields such as law enforcement and politics. A grading system for the strength of psionic abilities was developed and those who were the top of the elite have been dubbed Prime Talents and are highly sought after. Elite institutions have been developed to mark, train and employ individuals with useable psionic talents. The colonies of canon Gundam Wing do exist in this fic and were constructed before the psionic system was founded. With the advent of psionics in open use in society younger people are appearing in positions of power as they are awakening to their abilities earlier and are highly trained in their fields of expertise.

//…// Thoughts
~/.../~ Telepathy
>…< Empathic Impression translated from emotion into symbolic words.
*…* Flashback / Memory

"The Agency: Meeting of Souls "

Chapter Eighteen

Waking hours later than his usual routine set the day off to what seemed a poor start. There was no lying in bed with the privacy screen lowered, and his telempathic ear tuned to the waking of the world beyond his apartment. Until he was deprived of it, he had not realized how much he looked forward to this quiet time. Missing the moment shunted his day into the not quite right category, before he even considered what lay ahead of him.

He made it through his shower without considering what he must do by sheer iron will. Deciding what would be the best response to his partner’s fubar was something he determined he could not face, without at least one decent cup of coffee. Given coffee making facilities was not a standard feature of his shower he determined he must delay consideration of the dilemma.

This, of course, brought the sordid details to mind begging to be noticed and almost ruined a perfectly good shower.

Leaning against the rear wall with the hot water streaming over him, was a blessedly peaceful time in a day he had to force himself to face. There was, despite his personal preference, no escaping it. Once he walked out of his apartment he would officially have started his working day, and he would have no option other than to face the cold hard reality of the decision he must make.

Not having to be into work at the usual hour he might have considered a luxury on any other day, but not this morning. He supposed he had rarely felt less like facing a working day, but he was not a coward and some things had to be done. Avoiding the issue would serve no useful purpose, and at this point in time he had no idea how he was going to handle this mess. He would not run from it, much as he might wish to. He could not pretend the altercation had not happened, too many people knew of it for him to simply forgive and forget.

When he dealt with the problem initiated by his partner he still had the investigation to face ahead of him. He would not shirk the search for the killer or the stalker. He needed to determine if the two, killer and stalker, were the same person and who, of the three students sharing a suite, was the stalker’s infatuation.

There were so many questions unanswered in this investigation, and he needed his full attention on the puzzle. Being distracted by this altercation with Chang was placing the three young men at greater risk, and he could not permit it to continue.

Having taken his time dressing he descended the stairs, his sock clad feet silent on the treads, and noted the message light blinking on the answering machine. He vaguely recalled setting the machine on his way to bed the night before, but to answer it now would be to permit the working day to begin. He was not ready to consider the day officially started, and messages undoubtedly sourced from the Agency could await his pleasure.

He paused beside the machine and eyed it for a long moment. The thought this might be a call from a family connection was dismissed; few relations concerned themselves with the social niceties with him. Despite being the Duke he had, as far as too many of them were concerned, turned his back on the traditions of the family. Business concerns went through his business manager, and he checked for calls from that worthy periodically through the day. That he could recall there were no business matters pending which would require his personal attention at this time.

The only thing he could be certain of was the call would not concern Mariemaia. Any matters referring to her were prioritized and an alarm would sound to alert him if he did not pick up the call.

There was, of course, the possibility there may have been another incident at the university, and that possibility had his hand hovering over the play button. The stalker might have sought out his target at the hotel, though he felt it fairly certain Une would have had someone break down his door if he was required urgently. She would have known Sally would sedate him, and nothing short of a bomb exploding in his immediate vicinity would rouse him.

“It can wait, at least until I have coffee.”

He found it a settling routine, the making of coffee and preparation of breakfast. Unlike some mornings he need not hurry, as Sally would no doubt strip the flesh from Une should she consider summoning him in her infuriating superior fashion. It felt almost decadent, having so tardy a start to the day.

He liked to keep busy and was not one to sit idle and do nothing. Keeping his days full had never bothered him, but there was such a thing as too much. Sometimes he needed to slow down and, if nothing else, throwing a temper tantrum might bring a change for the better in his circumstances. He had needed to draw a line and force the issue, and though it had not been intended, he would make use of the incident to see his needs adequately met.

He was not a prima donna, though he was well aware there were agents who would consider his display of the previous day proof he was a spoiled rich boy. Others would accuse him of shirking responsibility, when all he wanted was to have his needs as a Prime respected. Those needs were not so much for his own comfort as they were for the safety of those around him.

Not that anyone would understand until a Prime chanced to go off the deep end of sanity and took down half the city with him. Something he was not intending he be the first to do.

//I should check the news logs.//

It was possible he may have broadcast his agitation sufficiently to affect the general population. The Agency monitored the emotional levels of the city, and his presence and state of mind the evening before might have given rise to social agitation on more than a personal level. He might have leaked sufficient agitation to set off the more sensitive members of the population, who in turn might have responded in kind to his emotional gradient.

“Christ, I probably set off dozens of arguments and fist fights. I only hope I never got anyone killed.”

He found himself staring at his breakfast plate and wondering when he had actually eaten the food. He had no memory of sitting down to eat, but the plate was before him, obviously used and quite empty. He tilted his coffee cup and discovered that too was empty, and huffed a disgusted breath. That simply would not do. One needed to savour a decent brew, and if there was one thing he did know, it was how to brew decent coffee.

He poured the second cup from the French Press and pushed his empty plate aside, unfolding his newspaper. He hoped he would not be reading about mass riots, or an increase in police call-outs to domestic disputes overnight. He was almost afraid to see if there had been a rise in murders in dark alleys, or in speeding fines and larrikin behaviour in the areas he had wandered the night before. He might have sent people into hysterics or sudden rages, cowering in fear or experiencing sudden lustful desires. There were so many ways an out of control Prime might affect the general population.

He took time to savour the robust taste of the coffee. He was particular about his choice of beans and ground enough each morning for his daily use. He was serious about his coffee, and he knew it amused Chang he was so particular, but Chang had a tea fetish so he could not talk. For Treize the act of making coffee was far more than the drink at the end of the process.

He used the stages of brewing coffee to monitor and maintain his moods. Preparing the perfect drink required precise control, and he had trained himself to ease into relaxation techniques during this process. Though some people might find it strange, he had even come to equate making certain coffee blends as a sensual experience, not that he would inform anyone of that little fact. Enough people looked at him as though he was a specimen in a bottle without adding more to their number.

Over time he had found he was predominately a taste and touch person. He tended to use certain of his Psi abilities in much the same manner as he analyzed information with these two senses; many of his descriptions tended to be flavour or touch orientated. Nor was he the only high talent psi who analyzed their extra sensory abilities in more familiar terms of flavours and textures.

It was exceedingly annoying for someone who desired touch as much as he, to be forced to restrict himself from indulging in touching. Physical touch amplified his psi ability, and he had learned early why high talent telepaths and empaths avoided unnecessary touch. Sensory overload was something he had needed help with too often in the past for him to touch as freely as his nature wished. He had decided years ago it was a small price to pay, this enforced isolation, for peace of mind.

It was the ever indomitable, and always right, Gabriella who took him to task over his abuse of himself. She had forced him to acknowledge why he had had so much difficulty maintaining control of his abilities. Under her instruction he had acquired control, and learned just how much touch was too much. She had even offered him the hope, sometime in the future, there would be one he could touch to his hearts content, and there would be no repercussions to torture his senses.

//Gabriella.// He smiled into his coffee, a nostalgic and fond expression. //There is no one quite like her. At least I don’t have to deal with her over this loss of control issue. Which, of course, brings me back to Chang Wu Fei and what I have been trying not to think about. I have to decide how I am to deal with him. There will need to be some form of discipline. He needs to be made to remember telepaths and empaths have a strict code of conduct, and he should not trespass. He can not go around making such serious mistakes and expect to get away with it.//

Not even his morning coffee was going to brighten his outlook today.

No matter how he looked at this mess, whatever decision was made would reflect not only on his future, but that of his partner as well. Avoiding the issue as he had done in the past would not help. There had been past instances when Chang had stepped over the line and he had let those instances go, choosing not to make an issue of them. That was no longer an option. If there was no discipline in response to this latest breach of etiquette, there would be nothing to stop Chang Wu Fei from repeating the same mistake with another telepath of high level.

That telepath would not be so inclined to take a step back from confrontation.

If Chang was fool enough to accuse another talent, then there would be no help for the man.

He wanted to smooth over the bungle, for fear of endangering Chang’s chances of having the family that was so important to him. It was possible he might be sanctioned, and his family plans put on indefinite hold by the powers that be. If Wu Fei failed to understand the severity of his gaff, his life could take a very different, and not entirely pleasant, course.

If Treize could not smooth over this latest and severest bungle, and have Chang understand his mistake, then he could be laying the groundwork for the end of Chang Wu Fei’s career. How many warnings would employers give to an employee who seemed unable to keep his mouth closed? How many employers would permit an employee to pass judgement on his fellow employee’s sexual orientations and expect to keep key personnel?

It was entirely feasible Chang might be brought before a judicial hearing if he made a mistake of this nature again. If that should happen everyone involved would have their characters examined under microscopes, accuser and victim alike. In such a hearing everyone would pay, to some degree, for a moment of unthinking carelessness.

//How many times have I told him a loose sexual thought, amid a telepathic circle, could be viewed as the equivalent of rape? The human mind, particularly the mind of a human male, is sexually oriented and a certain amount of sexual overtone is to be expected, and accepted. But there are limits. Particularly with telepaths there are lines over which we do not step for the benefit of our fellows. No one in a telepathic circle jokes about sex. We steer away from sex in our public minds as much as possible, beyond the unavoidable, and very natural, appreciation for the human form we happen to be viewing at the time. Is his problem the fact I am a confirmed homosexual? I have to wonder if he is a suppressed homophobic. Chang can be infinitely sensible most of the time… and he can be a bloody fool.//

Not that being a fool was the exclusive province of medium sized, telekinetics of oriental descent. Everyone had their moment when they wished they could crawl under a log and hide from the world, following a particularly stupid comment or deed. He did not doubt Sally would have given Chang a detailed lecture on the etiquette of sex amid telepaths before she permitted him to sleep. Could he believe telling the man, yet again, where not to tread would cure the problem?

//If he says something similar to another telepath, or empath, he could be brought up on charges, and I will have no say in what happens to him.//

Put simply, Treize did not want such a thing to happen. Basically Chang was a decent sort, if a little hot headed and tended to walk around with a rod up his backside. He needed to smooth over the incident somehow to ensure Chang had a future, not so much for Wu Fei himself, but for his wife and soon to be family. Hard as it was Treize knew he could not ignore the incident this time, and must request some form of discipline be applied to his partner.

//If I had reacted to some of his earlier comments in a semi official warning, then perhaps it might not have come to this.//

He had been careful to keep his personal interest out of his conversation with Marquise. He had questioned his desire to meet with the younger man before he had made the request of Otto, and he was certain there had been no ulterior motive of a personal nature behind the request.

There was a certain etiquette involved when meeting another person with the potential to equal one’s own abilities. He was a Prime, and Marquise was a young man developing a talent which would grant him the same Prime status in the near future. Etiquette amid their select circle required he meet the younger man and assess him.

Undoubtedly Tsuberov had its own specific etiquette for such meetings. Protocols he had stomped all over when he had requested the spur of the moment meeting. It was one of the perks of being a Prime Talent, to be able to disregard such protocols without fear of censure, though he was careful how often he abused the privilege. As one of the nine Primes in his field who were sane and functional it was his right, indeed it was his obligation, to investigate any individual brought to his attention who could join their select group.

He had no problem with confirming to his eight counterparts, scattered throughout the Earth Sphere as they were, and therefore unable to personally meet with the young man, that Zechs Marquise would be the tenth to hold the title, and responsibilities, of a Prime.

It was natural to be curious, and to take the opportunity to indulge said curiosity when it presented itself. He knew each and every one of the Primes would have taken the chance, as he had, to meet and greet the younger man. Every Prime in their grouping, and a good few of the Primes in other fields, would take whatever opportunity might present itself to contact Marquise and make a personal assessment.

Once again on the roundabout of emotional hurt, he subjected himself to microscopic scrutiny, seeking any sexual overtone within their meeting. Once again he felt he could say, with complete honesty, there had been nothing beyond the very human appreciation for a rare beauty. A purely private and personal assessment, acknowledging to himself what nature had given the young man. A thoroughly human reaction held behind private shields and guarded, as every telepath and empath guarded their sexual thoughts.

Any heterosexual male had the exact same reaction when they looked at a woman who crossed their path. No one in this predominately heterosexual world gave a damn if a male appreciated the female form. It was expected, but let a homosexual male look at another male, and all hell broke loose. Two women could size themselves up and no one would think it uncommon, unless one of those women was known to be a Lesbian. If a woman eyed a male, and the male noticed he would strut a little, and in response the woman might preen for him to notice her interest.

It was a primitive reaction, basic to human nature; a part of the human courtship ritual most people took for granted and never thought to question. Making eyes at each other was all a part of finding a mate. Anything that went against what was generally accepted, male to female, was considered by too many to be unnatural. Wrong.

It was sexual discrimination and it was rife throughout the Earth Sphere, even in these supposedly enlightened times. There might not be the huge social stigma there once had been, if one announced they were interested in a member of the same sex, but it was still far from an even playing field. He knew there were whispers enough about his sexual orientation circulating around certain high circles, and it was unfortunate. The unhappy truth was a Prime Talent was never ignored.

Despite Chang and his unthinking accusation, Treize could say he had not projected his appreciation of the younger male upon Marquise. He had contained his reaction in a far more rigid manner than any heterosexual male would have, if introduced to an equally attractive female.

//Screw Chang’s homophobia. He’ll simply have to get over it.//

At his meeting with Marquise, brief though it had been, he had found the younger man to be surprisingly shy and withdrawn, this despite his known history of spending time on the streets. There was an innocence about Marquise any Prime worth his salt would have no trouble detecting. Treize had also sensed an aching need within the young man, for a sense of security and stability in his life.

Marquise was well aware his future was in doubt, despite his strength of talent.

//You don’t lift someone off the streets and place him in an elite educational facility and leave him unobserved. Instruction was given to Tsuberov, but it takes more than money and guidelines to rear a child to become a caring, and well turned out, member of the community. There is something suspicious about this Guardian and what he intends for Marquise. I need to know who this benefactor is and what his, or her, intentions are toward Zechs. The other Primes were no less concerned than I by what I read from him. It is of concern to us all we do not lose one of our own, to what smacks of shadowy dealings. I sensed in him a deep sense of personal honour, which will not sit well with deception, and what might be criminal dealings. Marquise would not make an easy accomplice to criminals. The stress would drive him over the edge into insanity. //

Not that this problem had a baring on the situation he had been requested to investigate. Or did it? Trowa had a valid point when he cast doubt on the identity of the intended victim. Was it Quatre Winner who was the target, or was there room to ponder the possibility the stalker had another target in mind? He needed to ascertain the identity of the intended victim, and to be certain there was no doubt in that identification.

//As Trowa mentioned, Quatre is not the only individual in the dorm with potential. All three are handsome young men, handsome enough to draw the eye of male and female admirers. I strongly suspect, though there is always room for doubt, that both Winner and Marquise are homosexual, though I suppose one, or both of them, might be bisexual. Maxwell gives off signals which suggest he might be bisexual, though I can not say for certain where his inclination might lie, not without peeking. He has an eye for a male, that is clear enough, and he has no problem flirting with girls from what I have heard. Winner is the heir to a fortune, and his father would pay well should a ransom be presented. Maxwell has his special project which, I must admit from the little I viewed, has potential for space exploration and increasing safety during space maintenance. The boy will be worth a fortune in the future should he complete his designs. Marquise is almost a Prime talent, and someone may have aspirations on where that talent is used.//

He sipped his coffee and tilted his head back to stare unseeing at the window. No, he could not point a finger at one of the three and say with absolute certainty this was the most likely target. He needed to see why they had decided Winner was the target.

“Yes, Trowa, we should not forget the other two. They each have something to offer other than good looks and a friendship with Winner.”

The door chime jarred him from his thoughts and he glowered, affronted to be reminded of everyday life so rudely. Who could be calling at this hour of the day? He would normally have been gone from his apartment, and he did not need to be at the office for another two hours, so no one from the Agency should be bothering him. With a huff of disgust he glared at the offending door and flipped over a page of the newspaper. It was as the page settled that he realized he had no idea what was on the page he had been staring at for the last half an hour.

“Well, damn.”

He ran a hand through his hair, glowering at the newspaper. Perhaps he should simply go back to bed.

The chime rang again, a pleasant tone requesting his attention, and he ignored it as gracelessly as he had the first, for good measure hissing his displeasure. He had assumed Une and Sally would have the good sense to understand he preferred to make his own way into the office. With the sedative Sally had given him the night before they would know not to expect him in at his usual hour.

A third press of the chime drew a growl from him and a glare that would have melted an iceberg. He would have words to say, and it would be just another point amidst many he would make on his arrival at the office. He was not surprised when there was a brief pause and a soft bleep signalled the com unit was active.

“Kushrenada, will get his neat arse to this door and let Gabriella in, or Gabriella will fry his ears for him after she bashes down stupid door.”

Indignation turned to slack jawed delight at the laughing voice from the intercom. It was the matter of seconds before the delight morphed into utter horror.

Gabriella.

//Oh my God!//

Gabriella was at his door.

//What is she doing here?//

Treize was quick to abandon all imagined slights and make for the door to greet his surprise guest, almost falling over his own feet in his haste. It did not do to ignore Gabriella. He flung the door open to be engulfed in a bear hug and a flow of warm thoughts; his mind was hugged as thoroughly as his body was hugged physically.

“What are you doing here?”

Though she was head and shoulders shorter than Treize, she outweighed him by nearly half his body weight. It was her presence which gave her an impression of towering height, and it always came as a surprise to Treize to realize how short she was when he had the good fortune to be hugged by her. She radiated a solid powerful confidence which Treize’s mind interpreted as height.

Gabriella was something more than chubby; she was solid and Earthy, but there was mystery and mystique surrounding her. He supposed it was the results of her Romany ancestry, this mystique. She looked like a gypsy in her loudly coloured red skirt and with a silk shawl draped around her shoulders. On this occasion she was not wearing a headscarf, and twin brightly coloured combs held her wild mane of hair in check.

As a telepathic empath he shied away from physical contact, but he could never retreat from Gabriella. She had been his salvation, guiding him to accept aspects of himself which had caused more than a rift between himself and his family. Gabriella refused to admit to having a surname, and was the Prime he most liked of them all. Delightfully she specialized in hugging him to within an inch of his life, and he never wanted to contemplate losing her solid warmth.

“Let me in, Naughty Boy. How dare you keep old bones on a door step.”

Giving up the hug reluctantly he drew her into his apartment, closing the door firmly behind him, and was immediately engulfed in another rib threatening hug. She planted a kiss soundly on him and broke away, stalking across the width of the loft to glare at the windows, misted over with the privacy screen. All he could do was watch her with his heart lodged somewhere between his mouth and his chest. One needed approval from Gabriella, and while they had met since she had turned him loose from her apron strings, she had never entered this particular apartment.

“It is good to see you.”

While he had not been given permission to speak, he was no longer the younger male who had desperately clung to her, seeking her approval. She had stood between him and his enraged family in the past, and while she had not been shy of disciplining him, she had always been fair and willing to listen. She was more his family than any of his relations who had governed his younger years.

“Always it is good to see Gabriella.”

She had not changed, and he prayed she never would. Turning from the window she snorted in a typical Gabriella expression of distaste, gesturing at the privacy screen.

“Where is trees and grasses and water? One can not relax properly without these things. Gabriella thought Naughty Boy understood this necessity.”

“I work in the city but there is a lovely park…”

He fell silent as a hand waved airily and then, in typical Gabriella fashion, she was off into an explosion of movement. He could only watch in silence as she sailed through his living area, peering into draws and cupboards, moving ornaments and staring at his artwork. If she approved the piece there would be a short sharp nod, and if she did not there would be a scowl and grunt or odd hissing noise, accompanied by a dismissive gesture.

All he could do was watch her, with what he was certain was a foolish grin on his face. Gabriella was unique and he never wanted her to change.

“So then, Naughty Boy, you will now be explaining to Gabriella what set up red flag of alertness with Kushrenada emblazoned for every Prime to feel? Gabriella is far from amused with flag waving in ether for her to see.”

The greeting was over and she was ready to get down to business, and he would be expected to respond promptly and truthfully. Gabriella could smell a lie, large or small, with unfailing accuracy, and shading the truth would not be appreciated. He knew there would be no deterring her from meddling, and there was little he could do to contain her. Gabriella was a law unto herself, and he knew of no one who could escape her once her mind was set. He was afraid Chang Wu Fei would be meeting justice face to face, in the form of an irate elderly gypsy. There would be little he could do to affect the course of events now Gabriella had chosen to interfere.

Still, for the sake of his partner, more specifically his partner’s wife, he had to try.

“Nothing happened. Honestly, Gabriella, it’s really nothing but a misunderstanding. I am more than capable of dealing with it, and you did not have to come all this way for that.”

“What is it making Naughty Boy think Gabriella is here for him, hmm?” She swept past Treize on her way to the staircase leading up to the loft bedroom, patting him on the cheek in passing. “Gabriella is having many duties, many tasks which must be done. Not just is Gabriella’s ear tuned for Kushrenada.”

He watched as the stairs creaked under her weight and she paused at the top, surveying his room. The thought he was glad he had paused long enough to make his bed briefly flitted through his mind. It was rare Gabriella was motionless, and in the few times he had known her to be, the circumstances had been serious. With a shrug of broad shoulders she strode forward and began her investigation of his bedroom.

“What are you doing?” He took a hesitant step toward the stairs, concerned lest he set her off into a tirade. It was all too easy for her to become affronted, and the consequences of her upset were rarely pretty.

He had suffered enough of her tempers in past years to know not to provide her with fuel if he could avoid it.

“Gabriella is looking, is this not obvious?”

Well, that was a little obvious, he decided, but looking for what? He only hoped she would find whatever it was she was searching for, or she was likely to tear his apartment apart.

“Looking for what?”

He watched from his position near the kitchen, which afforded him the best view, as she bent to, he presumed, peer under the bed. Straightening she considered the bed with her head tilted to an inquisitive angle.

“Evidence.”

Treize could only blink, completely lost. Evidence? Of what? It was typical Gabriella. She never failed to confuse him, and every time he promised himself he would deal with her on a more level footing the next time. He would stand up for himself and gain her respect, and the accreditation of being an adult in her eyes, and every time he was left like a lost child reprimanded for having his hand stuck in a cookie jar.

“Evidence of…? ”

His eyes widened as her ample form was launched at the bed, and said bed groaned in protest. He choked back a protest, unable to do more than wonder if he would need to order a new bed as she bounced a time or two, testing the springs with a suggestive rhythm he knew was drawing a blush from him. The bed creaked as she hauled herself off the far side, and he could hear, if not see, her opening draws.

“Gabriella is looking for evidence my Naughty Boy has found himself company, and Gabriella is not find it. Why do I not find this evidence of company?”

He tried to respond but his vocal cords were singularly uncooperative. He wondered if it had something to do with the amount of blood suffusing his face, as surely he had never blushed so hard in his life.

He watched her enter the bathroom and could only listen in pained silence to her rummaging through cupboards and draws. He was shaking and was considering the virtues of finding a dark corner with a deep hole in which he could crawl. Perhaps there he might be far enough away from her to spare him further embarrassment.

Perhaps he should make a dash for the door and run as far and as fast as humanly possible?

But no, no one could escape Gabriella.

She was back on the steps and before he could retreat she was there, practically standing on his toes, dark eyes fiery bright as she looked him up and down.

“Well? Gabriella is waiting.”

Treize backed a step as she loomed large before him, the bench top pressing into the small of his back, and all he could do was try to control his furious blush. His jaw worked but no sound emerged until Gabriella leaned forward, a wide grin showing perfect teeth.

“Gabriella is not going away, Naughty Boy.”

God, she could be so embarrassing.

“I live alone.”

He squeaked! A god awful, honest to God, squeak! How could he have forgotten her insatiable curiosity and total lack of respect for his privacy? His mother could not have been more embarrassing if she had lived long enough to oversee her maturing son.

“Gabriella is thinking she is smart enough to see this. Her Kushrenada is having not much in the way of visitors except for…” She paused, dark eyes narrowing. “Female doctors angry with oriental men? Ah, Naughty One, why is it you are harder to teach than any others Gabriella has taken under her wing? As well it is you are favourite, but still your butt is in danger of a sound trouncing. You shall do something about the company you are keeping. Gabriella knows there is a brain in here somewhere.” A stubby finger poked at his ginger head. “How must I teach you to use it? Have I not told you before to find yourself company, even a handsome male doctor instead of this female who thinks of decapitating her mate.”

“Gabriella, please.” It was a sigh of pained resignation, and the day was only just beginning.

How was he to survive her? She would linger on and interfere in his life until she had matters settled to her satisfaction. If only she did not have a heart of gold he could tell her to leave him in peace, but he loved her dearly.

How would the Agency survive her?

“I am Gabriella and you are not to be forgetting it, my Naughty Boy. I am smelling real coffee, not horrid imitation served on shuttles people are expected to drink. Where are your manners, Naughtiest of Naughty Boys?”

Gabriella on a public shuttle? Perish the thought; she would no more set foot on a commercial shuttle than her employer would consider booking her on one. It would have been a private shuttle with only the best of food and drink, but Gabriella had to have something to complain about.

“Of course.” He stared at her for a moment and then, somehow, forced himself to step to the side and slip around the bench into the kitchen proper.

Coffee. He could do coffee. That was easy enough to manage, even with whirlwind Gabriella in his immediate vicinity. He could use the making of coffee to control his nerves. Fifteen minutes in her company was worse than working for the Agency for a year, not that he would tell her that, but why did she have to have an interest in his sex life?

“While you are making coffee you can be explaining this man you have found.”

Did he detect emphasis on the word ‘man’, or was it his imagination? With Gabriella he would be unsurprised if there was indeed emphasis on the sex of Marquise. She could be as subtle as she could be direct, and she had already made a point of meddling in his sex life.

“I have been elected by the seven Primes to meet with this Zechs and tell them what I am thinking of him. Zechs. What is this business with his name?”

Treize could only blink in owl eyed fashion as he set the kettle to boiling. He was uncertain of what he should say, as Gabriella would already have made up her own mind about what to think of the unusual name. His head lifted from the kettle at a whomp from the direction of his couch, to find Gabriella had made her ample form comfortable, and was in the process of destroying his paper by sorting it into an order more to her liking.

She was unique, a rare person one could not forget in a hurry, if ever. She had come into his life when he had desperately needed to meet the voice of reason. Gabriella had provided that voice, and with it wisdom he could never hope to match. He would be forever grateful to her, and it amazed him he could tolerate from her what he could take from no one else.

One thing he had learned was you never offered Gabriella anything but home made coffee. You were likely to be severely mauled if you offered her instant coffee, and there were certain rules you did not bend in the making of ‘real’ coffee. The beans could be ground by a machine, but you must never ever brew her coffee in a machine. He had made that mistake once only, and listening to her complaints about ‘mechanical coffee’ for the next week had ensured he never made the mistake again.

“Zechs is no name but a number. What mother is naming her child a number with a rank?”

To be on the safe side, though he had ground beans earlier, he ground more for her to know it was indeed fresh coffee he would be offering her. Washing out the French Press he winced as he watched the sports section of his paper find its way to the centre of her preferred selection, and the cartoons migrated to the front. The former front page was now relegated to somewhere near the back, along with the for sale notices, public announcements and entertainment notices. How she managed to tear the pages so neatly every time he had not figured out, as to his certain knowledge there was not a trace of kinetic energy in the woman.

“The records I viewed from Tsuberov have no other name listed for him.”

“Zechs Marquise.” Gabriella considered the stock market listings for a moment before slipping them at the very back of the neat pile of paper taking form before her. “This is Sixth Marquis. I am finding it most curious a child is named after a number and rank. One has noticed there are many strange new naming customs appearing in the last fifty years, and Gabriella is convinced healthy dose of common sense is needed to right many wrongs of society. Children grow up hating their names and are never happy with life as a result. We live in increasingly interesting time, and Gabriella is enjoying the watching of the world. So tell me, my Naughty Boy, how old is this six?”

He resisted the urge to groan. She would take fiendish delight in driving him to distraction misusing the name, if she saw it bothered him. He could only try to give the impression he was unaffected by her antics. It was not as though he could do anything about the whimsy of the woman who had named her child after a number and then died, leaving her son to face growing up in an all too often unkind world.

Did she expect of him to leap to Marquise’s defence, betraying if he harboured any emotion toward the younger man? He would be very careful not to make that mistake, or he would never be free of her teasing. He would not make any obvious comments, this was Gabriella and it was better to grin and nod. It saved a world of pain in the long run.

“Twenty.”

“Twenty? Is he old twenty or perhaps young twenty? With name like six I am thinking he will be old twenty.”

The newspaper rustled and he dared not look at her, concentrating on making coffee and keeping a neutral expression. He would not bite and give her added fuel, in the interests of self preservation, and he silently apologized to the absent man she was using to test him.

“I see from dirty dishes you have eaten this morning, therefore Gabriella is assuming your mouth is awake, if not your voice. Come now and be honest with me. Is he old for his years or is he young? Is he talented with the use of his abilities or is he lazy? Is he handsome? Does he swing the way of male to female and does Gabriella have a chance with this Six, or will it be my Naughty Boy who has a chance to find the love of his life?”

“Gabriella!” He fumbled, almost dropping the French Press into the sink and stared at the woman in shock.

She had gone further than he had expected her too, between testing his bed and now openly questioning him on the sexual orientation of Marquise. Why did she insist on doing this to him? She seemed to make it her life’s work to make him feel like a three year old caught with a fist full of stolen goodies.

“What?” Dark gypsy eyes blinked innocently at him. “You always were too aware of what other people think. Pfftt to other people.” She made an expansive gesture, dismissing the world at large. “We are Prime, Naughty One. We are few and we need to become more. Not even breeding amongst ourselves will assure viable prime talents in the future. You are not as are all of the other male primes… and for that I thank the Good Lord in Heaven.” Both arms rose briefly toward his ceiling before falling back to her lap. “Too many talents are like Alonzo or that hulking brute Adam and I would be grey haired.”

Treize sighed, knowing he was making a mistake, but he simply could not resist the temptation. He had so missed her, despite her embarrassing ways.

“Gabriella, my dear, you do have grey hair.’

“Ah, Wicked Boy. My naughty boy has pretty eyes and a cheeky mouth to match. You see this clump of grey here, Naughty Boy? This clump is belonging to you. You give me every one of these grey strands and is it not wonderful Gabriella is great enough to forgive you this mess of grey? Of course it is wonderful. Ah, look at this!” Her hand slapped the newspaper before her. “Did I not tell imbecile not to dabble on this horse? Is donkey! I know the man has lost a fortune. Come to me for a loan he best had not, or I will loan him big stick to shove up his posterior. Might teach him much needed lesson.”

The paper was thumped and scrunched and Treize sighed. Undoubtedly he would be able to find another at the office, but that really was beside the point. Whenever Gabriella appeared in his life, his newspapers tended to die nasty deaths.

“Now then, Slow One Who Can Not Make Coffee Before Gabriella Dies Of Thirst; we will be entering together this torture chamber where you work. Gabriella will be talking to people about nastiness which has upset my Naughty Boy. This upset Gabriella has had enough of, and you will be saying nothing except ‘Yes Gabriella’.”

He snapped his mouth shut on the protest, pinned by her glare into rethinking the virtues of silence.

“Gabriella was elected by Primes to see to this business and see to it I will. Already I have talked to this Une who is in need of learning to speak back to oldsters living in last century. Warned her I have we will be speaking at length, and I will have words with this Dragon who is of little flame and much noise. By the time Gabriella is finished with him he will squeak like mouse and hide in walls.”

He had to make an attempt at least to get her to leave the matter to him. Chang might find himself sanctioned, if not expelled from working at the Agency, and it was the last thing Treize wanted to happen.

“Gabriella that really is not…”

“Naughty Boy will be silent, or he will not accompany Gabriella to Tsuberov school for idiots with much money. Kettle is boiling and Gabriella is waiting for coffee.”

It was so much easier to give up gracefully. “Yes, Gabriella.”

Maybe an interview with her would be enough to have Chang realize the error of his ways, and he could always hope Gabriella took a liking to his partner. At least if she liked him he could be assured Chang would survive to see another day.

“I am needing to know everything there is to know about this number and rank who will be joining us.”

Treize winced. She was a force of nature and in a temper she had taken down his family Elders. Did he dare consider the consequences of Gabriella set loose in Tsuberov? He shuddered at the very idea, and the thought of her fronting Zechs Marquise and demanding to know why he was called Zechs… or fronting the teaching staff over faults only Gabriella would see… no, he did not want to contemplate the furore that would ensue.

“He is shy, Gabriella, nor is he unaware of the precariousness of his position, and I ask you not to be too hard on him. He did not give the name to himself and he probably hates it. I had enough trouble growing up with the sly remarks about my name to know what he must have gone through. He will be shy enough about meeting you without you frightening him to death.”

“Frighten him?” Fists slapped the paper, rocking the table. “Gabriella frightens no one who does not deserve to be frightened! If he needs to quiver in boots of my design, have no doubt he will quiver. I am thinking I will be hugging this one to my bosom, much as I needed to hug you, Naughty Boy. Is as well I have ample bosom. Gabriella is good at finding lost boys and bringing them home. I will know if this one will be safe at home with me, or if he will do better in Naughty Boys care.”

He took refuge from her glare by returning to the task of making coffee. The kettle’s contents were poured into the French Press and the kettle was filled and set to boil. He could only watch with trepidation as his visitor began, once again, to prowl his apartment. There was no sign for her to find of company in the suite, but perhaps this time it was simply her inability to sit still for long periods that set her off.

How could he convince her to leave the matter of Chang to him? He liked his partner well enough and he knew Wu Fei actually liked and respected him. One could not be a functioning telepath and empath and not know what one’s work mates were thinking, though it was always better not to advertise the fact they were easy to read. There were work place ethics to be considered when even a casual probe could lay bear the thoughts of the people surrounding him.

Chang had not been thinking along the lines of the restraints of a telepath when he had said what he had, and if Treize had been more himself; if he had not been so stressed, he would not have reacted in such a volatile manner. The comment was innocent enough, unless you were a high level telepath more than capable of influencing people and force them into a situation that, had they been in their right minds, they would never enter into.

Chang was not a high level telepath or empath, so how could he, or anyone, understand who was not as he, a Prime, or near to a Prime level, talent. He could explain all of this to his visitor, but what was the use? Gabriella knew it all already, she had taught him in his younger years, and she had warned him she intended to push her way into the life of Zechs Marquise. He had no doubt if she succeeded in interfering in the young talents Guardianship, it would be to the benefit of Marquise. If he refrained from making comments on her high handed methods, he might be able to explain about his partner’s pending family situation. Perhaps he could spare Chang from, if not the worst of her tongue, then from official sanctions which would delay, or destroy, the beginning of their family.

If Gabriella was bound and determined to take a hand in the matter there was no force on Earth that could stop her. She had her own mind, her own ideals and her own code of honour. Woe betide you if you fell short of her expectations, or if you deliberately stepped over a line she alone could see. Experience had taught him there was much Gabriella saw that others missed.

Living in her vicinity could be precarious, but if her protection was offered to you, regardless of whether or not you needed it, you could not have a better friend.

Her interference would be to Zechs Marquise’s benefit, though he wondered if the younger man could survive her presence in his life as well as he had. The best he could hope for was to somehow soften her impact on Chang’s life, and subtly encourage her to improve Marquise’s prospects. She could certainly get away with more than he would when it came to hunting down the mysterious Guardian and taking him or her to task over the pending question of future contracts.

“Let me guess, my Treize with the naughty eyes.” She was watching him when he looked up and he resisted the urge to gulp, though he knew he had to be blushing by the heat in his face.

“Sorry?”

“You are liking this smokeless dragon, yes? And you are worrying Gabriella will have him dismissed and punished? Pffftt! How little you know of Gabriella.” Dark eyes raised to the ceiling in silent appeal to some otherworldly listener, greying hair trembled as she shook her head a little. “Talk to the man I will do, rend him limb from limb I might, if I think he should be disembowelled for his loose tongue, but know you this, Gabriella will not ruin his life. Gabriella does not do this ruin thing. Where Gabriella goes improvement follows. Not only this dragon with a big mouth, but Une who hides her timidity behind false bravado and position, will meet with Gabriella. You will be knowing now I want this matter between you and her finished.”

//God, she is going after Une too?//

Gabriella knew all about the aborted contract which lay at the heart of the aggravation between him and his superior at the Agency. He would have to watch his thoughts too, for if Gabriella learned he thought of Une’s position as ‘superior’ in rank to his own she would have his guts for garters. To Gabriella the highest rank attainable was that of Prime and no one, least of all another Prime, should think otherwise.

“I think we dealt with that old matter last night.” He dared to interrupt, unwilling to have her raking up matters best left in the past.

They had been young and the Elders of her family had driven the entire regrettable matter too far, coming close to ruining both their lives.

She had spoken of it, if briefly, and they had not gone for each others throats, which was great progress over past encounters. Une had ultimately faced her family elders, finally leaving their protection to begin her own life. Her position at the Agency had been earned, not purchased by family money, and he respected her for her skills. Perhaps, in time, they might even approach each other on friendly terms, but for now there was a truce, of sorts.

Obsidian eyes focused on him in a baleful glare and Treize felt he should ooze below the bench top, just to escape her scrutiny. Those eyes held you and told you what a treasured fool you were, and dismissed you to play with your toys while older and better minds worked for you.

“Gabriella.” He dared to growl.

Dark eyes sparkled. “Ah, growing up a little. This is good, however Gabriella is here to attend to matters, and attend to them she will, despite your growls. You are three points above your established safety levels, Naughty Boy and anything I can do to ensure you rise no higher into danger I shall do. Even if you squeal like little girl. How is little girl, by the way? I wish to meet with her before I leave.”

//Oh God. Marie. What would you make of Gabriella? Please like her, but what ever you do, don’t want to be like her or you will drive me insane.//

A foot tapped noisily against the floorboards and his eyes rose to find his guest smirking at him, daring him to say anything. She had always been good at reading through his shields, and in the condition his shields were in at the moment she had probably followed his every thought.

How embarrassing. No, better not to think about that.

“Does Gabriella have to come and finish the making of coffee?”

“Of course not. Almost done.” His hands leapt to the cooling French Press. “Mariemaia is well and her education is progressing apace.”

“Kettle was boiled almost full minute ago and still you look at cooling press. Ruining coffee you will be if you pay not adequate attention to what you are doing. Gabriella will be scaring Barton with a visit soon. Fossilized old stick needs to have some life scared into him.”

Of course she would just happen to know Dekim Barton and be on good terms with him… or was that bad terms? Lord, he did not want his daughter caught up between Gabriella and Barton any more than he personally wanted to be caught between them.

Striding up to the bench she leaned forward, holding his gaze. He froze, caught by her eyes and the leashed power he could sense clearly within her. There was a gentleness to her few knew, and she could be equally as cruel, though it took something outrageous to bring out the hard side of her. She was many things, but above all she was Gabriella, and he had never had cause to distrust her.

“I will not interfere with your work, but know I will look into matters that concern Primes and you will not interfere. I see you enjoy your work in this place, but your work will not improve, only suffer, if you do not establish control. Control not of yourself, but of those who think to exploit you. You are too nice a boy, this is the problem and Gabriella will act where you will not. I will see Barton knows of my interest in little girl, and I will see you settled and given your due at work. I will also meet with the Six and determine if he is a Prime.”

Affronted she would doubt his word he paused, the French Press raised over the sink to pour away the cooling water, freshly ground coffee beans waiting to one side.

“No.” She waved aside his protest before he could voice it. “Gabriella and the Primes do not doubt your word. It is the ability of Tsuberov idiots to care for a Prime we doubt. It may be we will take this Zechs under our care to complete his training, and you will not be involved in this. Gabriella is to determine if this step is necessary and, if so, ensure it happens. You will be keeping your neat derrière out of the way, my Naughty Boy, unless I specifically ask of you something. I am not having you caught up in shit which might be flying when Gabriella begins to dig.”

Treize considered the woman for a long moment as he emptied the press, deposited the ground beans within it and added the newly boiled water. Gabriella and the Primes must have been doing some serious talking while he was sleeping off the effects of his temper and the sedative, and he was uncertain he liked their interference.

“Don’t you think that is a little heavy handed? He does have a legal guardian, and the last thing he needs is to be subjected to a custody suit. He is approaching twenty one, Gabriella. It is not as though he is a child with years of his minority ahead of him. We do not know anything about his Guardian and what the actual plans are concerning his future. This uncertainty and fear of shadowy deals may well be smoke and mirrors. There may be nothing illegal happening.”

“We will be learning this. I am knowing young men often think one thing is so, and is not so when you look under rocks, but Gabriella is good at looking under right rocks to get at hidden truth. If there is trouble for a young Prime we will be learning it, and we will take Six out of trouble before it begins. No one will be permitted to abuse a Prime, Kushrenada. No one.”

Why did he have the sinking feeling he was not going to be rid of Gabriella for a long time? With this dynamic woman two days was a lifetime; an exhausting and often painful lifetime.

“How long are you here for?”

White teeth flashed in her dark gypsy face as she grinned. “Until I have done what needs to be done, Naughty Boy. Are you not pleased Gabriella has come to visit?”

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2007

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Notes:

Treize Kushrenada : Level 10 Sending/Receiving Telepath + Receiving and Projecting Empath at Level 10. Prime rated. Agency Operative contracted term of 5 years with 2 years remaining. [25yrs of age] Training facility: Psychic Institute Munich Division.

Gabriella : Romany descent. Level 10 Sending / Receiving Telepath + Level 10 Receiving and Projecting Empath. Prime Rated. Training facility rumored to be the old Government Laboratories of the Prussian Republic which was deposed in the year AC 45. Age: Unknown [rumored to be approximately seventy four]. Oldest of the Prime Telepathic Empaths.

Chapter 19

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