Marking it Down to Learning + Chapter 19 (cont)
The Man Behind the Myth

Quatre forced himself to make the appropriate admiring comments. He still couldn't bear to look at Treize, see the man forced to listen to the story of his mother's rape... Another part of him marveled at how well this story had been hidden. He vaguely remembered his father talking of the death of Treize's parents. The story had been that they were both killed in a riding accident. They had had an elaborate funeral his father had gone to earth to attend it. Quatre wondered suddenly if Treize had known anything differently until he too had come under the thrall of Polynices.

"She died after two years. It was most annoying, but she was older than most of our clients wanted, anyway. She was a novelty really, so her loss didn't hurt the business. But, when she was gone, I found... " Polynices frowned, and hesitated for a moment. "My revenge was incomplete," he said slowly, as though verbalizing the idea for the first time. "I no longer had anything of Andreas'. It was... frustrating," he said inadequately, scowling. "Now, I'm practical enough to know I was never getting that land," he acknowledged reasonably. "But, I wanted... something. I couldn't get at the boy, here," he scowled, "and I can't even tell you, Quatre, how it angered me to see him fooling the whole world, as his damned father had. Everything came as easily to him as it did to Andreas. I was pleased when he died, but when I found out he wasn't dead... " Polynices smiled slowly. "It was like a gift from the Gods. It was beautiful. I negotiated for his purchase... but White Fang was greedy," he said, shaking his head sadly. "I was forced to take steps of my own."

Quatre jumped, physically startled by the sudden realization. "It was you?" he demanded disbelievingly.

Polynices laughed. "Guilty!" he admitted brightly.

There had been, nearly six years earlier, a sudden, violent outbreak of hostilities in one of the most remote colony clusters. Nothing had come of it, but the Preventers had investigated, and there had been some indication that the remnant of White Fang had been involved. No one had ever been able to figure out what had actually occurred.

And no wonder!

"The boy has been with me since then," Polynices gloated. "It's been... such a joy to me to have my family around," he laughed whimsically. "He's been a challenge you have seen for yourself that he is not always obedient," he acknowledged. "I could have broken him more thoroughly... but he suffers more, as it is," he said shrewdly. "The pleasure that would come with destroying him is nothing to the pleasure I get containing the spirit that longs to be free... That is exquisite."

Quatre look at him, startled by the perception and eloquence with which Polynices made this remark, but the older man's attention was on Treize, and so he missed it.

"I've been working on getting the other... the child," Polynices continued. "She's too well guarded. But the time will come... she's getting older, and she'll be striking out on her own, and I'll have my opportunity. How old is she?" he demanded, turning his attention abruptly to Quatre.

"The child... " Quatre blinked, Polynices' lightening changes confusing him slightly.

"The child!" Polynices repeated impatiently. "My grand-niece," he chuckled.

"Oh. Mariemaia," Quatre managed. "She's... she's fifteen," he managed, fighting not to shudder at the idea of Mariemaia in the hands of this madman.

"Fifteen!" Polynices chuckled. "Time does fly! I would have loved to have her when she was younger... I don't share your dislike of youth," he chuckled. Quatre laughed back, ruefully accepting the teasing even as he fought back his disgust.

"But, there's a lot who'll pay a great deal for an older virgin," Polynices was continuing blithely. "If I don't decide to take that for myself, that is," he reflected. "Or provide it as a gift to my favorite possession," he chuckled wickedly, grinning at Treize.

Quatre felt physically ill at the idea of Treize being forced to violate his own daughter. This was a particular sickness of which he hadn't formerly suspected Polynices. But the man had taken his own nephew, fantasized about forcing the father to take his child... One part of Quatre's mind reminded him wryly that anyone who chose to name himself after a figure in the Oedipal myth could hardly fail to have a strong fascination with incest1. The rest of Quatre's mind despaired that he could make light of even such a horrendous situation as this. Was he truly that sick? Was Polynices right in seeing these similarities that the other man insisted existed between them?

"Maybe I'll get her when they send her to college," Polynices mused. "That would be a nice irony. But I'd rather like to get that guardian of hers with her..."

"Commander Une?" Quatre blurted. He blinked. He had an excellent imagination, but he couldn't for one minute imagine Une as one of the Order's prostitutes. She'd yell at the clients, and critique their performance...

"She's been a thorn in my side for years," Polynices nodded. "I'd love to have her see her failure... see the child she raised part of this... "

Quatre made a small, involuntary sound of protest, by managed to turn it into a laugh. "That's certainly an interesting idea," he told the older man admiringly. Poor Mariemaia. Une was never going to let her out of her sight again.

"But, that's another project for the future," Polynices said with regret. "It'll be all the sweeter for waiting, however," he pointed out brightly.

Quatre stared at Treize. The ginger-haired man looked up slowly, and Quatre read murder in his eyes. Almost unconsciously, he nodded. The movement was tiny, almost unnoticeable, but it was there. He had to let Treize know, somehow, that he agreed. Polynices must be destroyed.

The blue eyes widened a little, then turned away. But Quatre had seen the flash of satisfaction in them.

He seemed to have acquired an ally on the inside.

But how to communicate with him...

"Anyway, Quatre, I'm sorry! I've rambled on so long, and after I promised you a taste of my favorite!"

Quatre stared at Polynices, nonplussed. Shit. He was expected to... make use... of Treize.

I'm not going home, Quatre thought wildly. I'm just... not. I'm leaving, and I'm going somewhere else. No one can make me go back there. I'll go back to the office, and they can check me out there, and...

And maybe he'd escape getting his ass kicked by Zechs.

"How do you want him?" Polynices demanded eagerly, staring at Quatre.

Quatre stared at him for a moment, then looked at Treize. Shit. There was no way to get out of it without arousing Polynices' suspicions...

"I want his mouth," he said finally. "I had to listen to enough of his speeches... now we can see if he can use it for something more constructive." He laughed with Polynices, despite the way he was cringing inside, imagining the reactions to this conversation back at the headquarters. If Zechs didn't kill him, Une would.

"You heard him, boy," Polynices barked at Treize. "Show him what you can do."

Wordlessly, Treize rose to his feet and climbed to the bed. Quatre lay back on the pillows and spread his legs wide, as helpless in his way as Treize, feeling humiliation rise hot inside him. He didn't want to do this any more than the other man did, but he had no choice either.

The former OZ General knelt between Quatre's legs and bent down. His eyes came in contact with Quatre's for an instant, and the older man flexed his shoulders slightly.

"Oh! My good man, could you undo his hands?" Quatre called to Polynices, adjusting himself more comfortably on the pillows. "Why let him do half the job, after all?" he laughed.

Polynices chuckled and moved forward on the bed. "Good idea," he agreed, and Quatre heard the clink of metal as Polynices undid the chains on Treize's hands. The ginger-haired man used his freed hands as leverage to adjust himself more comfortably between Quatre's legs, and the blond gasped as he felt one cool hand stroke his testicles, and the other come to rest on the sensitive skin on his inner thigh.

The gasp was echoed by Treize, and Quatre felt the man's breath puff over his own hardening arousal. He looked down the length of his body and saw Polynices caressing Treize's body, his fingers sliding into the other man's entrance.

"Really, now," he reproved mockingly, "I thought I got him this time! I didn't know I'd have to share."

Polynices laughed, and regretfully moved away. "You're so greedy, Mr. Winner," he said, shaking his head in mock sorrow.

"I was never much for letting the other children play in my sandbox," he joked in return.

"Am I at least permitted to watch?" Polynices asked, his voice heavy with mock woe.

"But of course," Quatre replied graciously. He looked down toward the man between his legs. Treize glanced up once, and Quatre saw the significance in his gaze. Then Treize lowered his head, and Quatre groaned as he felt the other man's mouth around his arousal.

A few seconds later, he gasped in surprise as he felt Treize pinch his inner thigh. Polynices had settled himself beside Quatre on the pillows, and the angle prevented him from seeing the gesture. Quatre knew it must imply something, but couldn't figure out what it was...

It didn't help that Treize's mouth was moving over his arousal, alternately licking and sucking him, stroking his testes, distracting him from guessing. Then the pinch again, then that tongue and that mouth and...

Wait! Quatre jumped, as realization struck him. The pinch came again, then... . Three licks. Then Treize's fingers caressed him. Then he sucked hard three times on the tip of Quatre's erection. The caress. Three more licks. Then the hidden pinch. Again, the pattern repeated.

Three, pause, three, pause, three.

The pattern.

A pattern... a... code...

Morse Code!

It was Morse Code!

Treize Kushrenada was sending him the SOS signal, in Morse Code, through the application of his lips and tongue to Quatre's penis.


His life was utter, absolute farce.

The caress was the break between letters, the pinch that between words.

Treize was always clever, but this... this took the cake.

Talk about thinking under pressure.

Now, he had to communicate that he understood, and somehow keep track of the message. This form of communication had an inherent flaw Quatre didn't know how long he'd be able to keep himself from reacting. He hoped he'd be able to control himself long enough to get the whole message.

"Oh!" he managed to gasp. "Allah! That's so... oh, so good... " he moaned, emphasizing the sounds of the letters Treize was communicating to him. He wasn't really worried about Polynices picking up on anything, but he hoped Treize understood. If he had to sit here and only get an SOS the whole time, he'd lose his mind.

But he hadn't needed to worry. Treize resumed his ministrations with new energy. His mouth moved quickly, his fingers sure, never faltering in his pattern. Quatre moaned, and writhed, crying out nonsense, as he struggled to catch the pattern, translating the sensations into letters and words in his mind, doing his best to put on a good enough show for Polynices, to keep the older man's attention on him rather than on Treize.

Finally, he could take no more, and he shouted in ecstasy as he emptied himself into Treize's mouth. He opened his eyes and looked down, and saw Treize staring at him as he swallowed his seed. He closed his eyes and allowed his head to droop in a half nod, reassuring the other man as best he could that his information had been transmitted.

Well. He knew that the security center was in the center of the building, accessed via a hidden door near the sign of the main staircase. He knew where the slaves were kept when they weren't being used, and how to get there from this room. And he had a message for Zechs.

Amazingly, that had been the first message Treize had passed him.

Back during the war, Treize had been similar to Heero in some ways his job had been more important than anything.

It appeared that some things some priorities, perhaps had changed.


How the hell was he going to explain this to Zechs?

He couldn't imagine.

He couldn't begin to imagine.

Maybe his earlier idea was best... he would just not go home, and would send them an email.

Great idea. He could just see the subject line "Re: Coded Fellatio."


This mission was going to be the end of him. If their enemies didn't kill him, his friends would.

At that moment, Quatre hoped that the end came sooner, rather than later.


1: The Oedipal myth is the precursor to the story of the Seven Against Thebes. Laius and Jocasta, King and Queen of Thebes, abandoned their infant son after a prophecy which stated that the child would grow to kill his father and marry his mother (ew). So, they gave him to a trusted woodsman, who was supposed to kill the child. Unfortunately, he couldn't kill the innocent babe, so he left him in the woods to die, telling the King and Queen that he had killed him. The baby was found by seven dwarves, and brought to their cottage... no, wait, that's another story. He was adopted by the King and Queen of neighboring Corinth, who never told him he wasn't their natural-born son. He grew up, and went to an Oracle to find out about his future. The Oracle told him he would kill his father and marry his mother (ew). This horrified him, because he thought the King and Queen of Corinth were his real parents. So, to save them, he left Corinth and went to Thebes! On the way there, he killed this rich guy with a bad attitude (yep turned out to be Laius). He saved Thebes from the Sphinx, and was rewarded by being allowed to marry the recently widowed Queen, Jocasta (ew). It was only after fifteen or so years, and four children, that anyone realized that Oedipus was the guy who had killed Laius, and that he was actually the baby who was supposed to be dead, and thus he'd married his mother (ew). So he freaked out, blinded himself, and eventually died. It was his banishment and death that led to the whole succession question between Polynices and Etocles which eventually led to the war of the Seven Against Thebes. The cycle of plays which tells that story Oedipus Rex, Oedipus at Colonnus, and Antigone are by Sophocles. They were written a couple of centuries after The Seven Against Thebes, and are much better reads, from a modern stylistic perspective. I highly recommend them. Also, this story is the one that lends its name to that handy little psychological term which Freud coined and was so interested in. Because of these stories, any boy who loves his mother is diagnosed as having an Oedipal Complex.

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