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remix_reduxTITLE: Snow (Reindeer on the Rooftop Remix)
AUTHOR:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jennabiding
SUMMARY: Children are not the only ones who look to the skies on Christmas Eve.
RATING: G
FANDOM: Gundam Wing
PAIRING/CHARACTERS: Zechs/Treize, OC
ORIGINAL STORY: byxtinethepirate, found here.
NOTES: All credit for dialogue in the conversation at the end goes to Xtine, as it is taken almost verbatim from her story. The OCs are my own creation, inspired by a casual mention in the original story.
Treize lies awake, waiting for complete dark. Alone in the room, the enemy fooled into thinking that he is truly asleep, he has allowed himself to open his eyes so he can watch for the light that comes through the crack at the bottom of the door to go out. Maps, carefully compiled from weeks of recon, lie hidden beneath his mattress. He makes his own bed, so the enemy has not been able to discover them, or his plans.
Not that Momma is really the enemy, of course. But as Father says, when it comes to war, you are not always on the same side as those you love. Momma didn't like it when Father said that. Father pretended not to see the look she gave him, but he never said that part again when he told Treize stories from The War.
The light goes out.
This is it, the moment he has been waiting for all year. Two years, really, if you count back to when he first got the idea. He was only a little kid then, four years old, same age as Victoria is now. She's probably too little to really be a help, but it won't hurt the plan to have an additional sentry. And anyhow, agreeing to let her help was the only way he could stop her from telling on him once she found out he was up to something. The plan failed last year, and there's no way Treize is going to let that happen again. This year, he's definitely going to meet Santa Claus!
Treize climbs out of bed, lifts up the edge of the covers and slips his hand under the mattress, feeling around until he touches the corner of his notebook. He pulls it out and goes to the door, where he stops and listens. He listens as hard as he can, but he doesn't hear anything. Still, he only cracks the door open a little. He looks out, but doesn't see anything. It's just like in the story Momma read tonight: not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse.
Treize smiles. It must be close to time now. It's definitely time to get in position.
He tiptoes down the hall to Victoria's room, where he finds her asleep. Not just pretending, but really asleep. He thinks about just letting her sleep. They worked hard today, building forts in the snowfall from yesterday, stocking up on snowballs to defend their position from Father's attack. Treize is tired, himself, and Victoria is littler than him so she's probably even more tired.
But like Father says, there's no time for tired when you're on a mission. So he touches Victoria's shoulder. Like a good soldier, she wakes up instantly. "It's just me," Treize whispers before she can say anything.
She blinks at him a couple of times. "Is he here yet?" she whispers back.
Treize shakes his head. "Come on," he says, and then turns all serious and official as he uses Father's phrase: "Move out."
Victoria nods once and slips out of bed to follow him. They march single-file down the hall, until they reach Victoria's position at the alcove window. They go over her story if she's caught by the enemy. "I just ask for a glass of water," she says when he drills her for the hundredth time. Treize nods with satisfaction; it's the never-fail excuse for all nighttime missions. Then they test their wrist-comms. The voice component on Treize's is all messed up from when he landed on it after falling out of a tree a couple of days ago. Father hasn't had time to fix it yet, so they're going to have rely on beeps.
"How many if you see Momma and Father, or if they see you?" Treize quizzes his sister. The first time he called them The Enemy, Victoria got all crybaby on him, so Treize has decided to keep it simple for her.
"Two," she says, holding up that many fingers.
"Good," he nods. "And if it's Santa?"
Even in the dark, Treize can see her eyes get bigger. If – no, he corrects himself, when they meet Santa, he bets Victoria's eyes will try to pop right out of her head. He puts a hand up to cover the snort he can't help making as he pictures it and nods again as she holds up three fingers.
Satisfied with preparations here, Treize creeps down the stairs, sticking to the sides, holding onto the railing with both hands as he takes a big step to skip over the creaky stair.
He pauses at the bottom, looking and listening. It is as quiet and still down here as it was upstairs, so Treize goes to his own position, the one guaranteed not to miss: the branches of the Christmas tree rustle and a couple of ornaments jingle as he squeezes past to the window, and Treize freezes; but no one comes, and so he pulls his pajama sleeve free of the needles and puts both hands on the window sill to take up his watch. But the curtain is in the way, blocking some of his view. You want to have good Peripheral Vision, Father told him yesterday when they were building one of the forts. That means being able to see as much as you can in as many directions as you can, Momma explained. That's part of why Treize has Victoria on lookout upstairs on the other side of the house: she's his Peripheral Vision up there.
Treize has to be his own Peripheral Vision down here, so he reaches up to push the curtain to the side – and freezes again:
Someone is out there.
Treize ducks down. Slowly, he reaches up until his fingers are hooked onto the windowsill again; slowly, slowly, he raises himself up to peer out the window:
Yes, someone is definitely out there. But, Treize realizes, it's only Father. He should have expected to see Father here, he thinks now. After all, it was seeing Father like this two years that gave Treize the idea for his own plan.
He had gotten up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water – really – when he had walked by the glass doors to the patio and seen Father standing outside, like he is now, looking up at the sky. Treize felt funny seeing Father just standing there like that... until he realized what Father was doing, that he must be waiting for Santa Claus. It all made perfect sense, and it made Treize smile.
Before he could go out to join Father, Momma found him and trundled him off to bed (after getting him his glass of water, of course). But Treize had the idea now, and a year to plan for it.
So the next year, which was last year, Treize stayed up until everyone else was asleep, and then came downstairs to wait for Santa. As he passed the open patio doors that time, he was startled to hear Father say his name without looking down or turning around. Treize stopped, but Father still didn't look down or turn around. Treize stood uncertainly; Father had never said his name in quite that way, and Treize didn't know what it meant except that it made him feel funny. Not bad, exactly. Just, funny inside somehow.
He had remained by the door awhile longer, but when Father did nothing but continue to look up at the sky, Treize had gone into the living room to sit by the tree. That had been his mistake, of course: he sat down, and pretty soon he was lying down, and then some time after that he was being carried upstairs by someone who was not Santa at all but turned out to be Momma. He was tucked into his bed again, where he quickly fell into a sleep that lasted until morning.
So this year, Treize is determined to remain standing until Santa arrives. He turns the latch and pushes the window up just a little, enough that he might be able to hear the jingle of sleigh bells when Santa arrives. This makes it a little cold, because there is no fire in the fireplace tonight. There can't be, of course. Treize risks a glance at the fireplace before returning his attention outside. He isn't sure if Santa is actually going to slide down the chimney. Especially with Father standing out there; that makes Treize think that maybe Santa will land on the lawn and come in through the patio door. That's not as much fun as sliding down a chimney, but it's more practical, and Treize wouldn't blame Santa for staying practical while on his mission.
Father is still looking up at the sky, and Treize looks up too. Clouds are sliding over the moon, darkening the night, and Treize worries that Santa might lose his way... but then he remembers that Santa is a professional. He would never let something like clouds on the moon get in the way of completing his mission. He probably has night-vision gear, for himself and for the reindeer. Treize grins. He wonders if Santa will let him try it on, if Treize asks very nicely.
A fat little snowflake sticks itself to the window, starting to melt on contact. Another one lands, and another. One slips through the window to fall on his hand, resting on the sill. Treize looks up to watch the snow fall down. He isn't worried about it. Santa lives in snow so he must like it. Treize likes it, too. He's pretty sure that Father likes it as well; at least Father keeps his face turned up to it, and Treize watches Father watch the snow for awhile.
Then movement catches the corner of his eye, and Treize turns his head:
But it's only Momma. He watches her walk across the snow to Father. "Zechs," she says, using the word she uses for Father when she doesn't think Treize or Victoria are around, "what are you doing out here this late?"
"Nothing," Father says, looking up at the sky again. "I just wanted to see the snow." Treize gets all warm-feeling when he hears this, and smiles: waiting for Santa must be their own private secret, his and Father's. Maybe Father will even let Treize wait with him next year; maybe that's why Father said his name like that two years ago.
"And you couldn't do that from inside?" Momma is saying. "It's a good thing the kids didn't hear you, they would have thought it was Santa, and we would have never gotten them back into bed!" This makes Treize giggle so that he has to take his hands from the windowsill and cover his mouth, lest he give himself away. Proof that the plan is working brilliantly so far!
Father hugs Momma, and they stay in the hug. "It's been almost eight years now," Momma says, "since AC 195." Treize knows that date! AC 195 was the end of The War. He doesn't know why Momma is talking about that now, though.
Father must not know, either. Or maybe he does know, and he decides not to answer with words; Father is like that sometimes. Now, he hugs Momma closer. And turns his face back up the sky.
Although he doesn't say Treize's name this time, Treize somehow knows that Father is thinking it. After a moment, Little Treize Merquise turns his own face back up to the sky, to wait for Santa Claus with his father.
AUTHOR:
jennabidingSUMMARY: Children are not the only ones who look to the skies on Christmas Eve.
RATING: G
FANDOM: Gundam Wing
PAIRING/CHARACTERS: Zechs/Treize, OC
ORIGINAL STORY: by
xtinethepirate, found here. NOTES: All credit for dialogue in the conversation at the end goes to Xtine, as it is taken almost verbatim from her story. The OCs are my own creation, inspired by a casual mention in the original story.
Treize lies awake, waiting for complete dark. Alone in the room, the enemy fooled into thinking that he is truly asleep, he has allowed himself to open his eyes so he can watch for the light that comes through the crack at the bottom of the door to go out. Maps, carefully compiled from weeks of recon, lie hidden beneath his mattress. He makes his own bed, so the enemy has not been able to discover them, or his plans.
Not that Momma is really the enemy, of course. But as Father says, when it comes to war, you are not always on the same side as those you love. Momma didn't like it when Father said that. Father pretended not to see the look she gave him, but he never said that part again when he told Treize stories from The War.
The light goes out.
This is it, the moment he has been waiting for all year. Two years, really, if you count back to when he first got the idea. He was only a little kid then, four years old, same age as Victoria is now. She's probably too little to really be a help, but it won't hurt the plan to have an additional sentry. And anyhow, agreeing to let her help was the only way he could stop her from telling on him once she found out he was up to something. The plan failed last year, and there's no way Treize is going to let that happen again. This year, he's definitely going to meet Santa Claus!
Treize climbs out of bed, lifts up the edge of the covers and slips his hand under the mattress, feeling around until he touches the corner of his notebook. He pulls it out and goes to the door, where he stops and listens. He listens as hard as he can, but he doesn't hear anything. Still, he only cracks the door open a little. He looks out, but doesn't see anything. It's just like in the story Momma read tonight: not a creature is stirring, not even a mouse.
Treize smiles. It must be close to time now. It's definitely time to get in position.
He tiptoes down the hall to Victoria's room, where he finds her asleep. Not just pretending, but really asleep. He thinks about just letting her sleep. They worked hard today, building forts in the snowfall from yesterday, stocking up on snowballs to defend their position from Father's attack. Treize is tired, himself, and Victoria is littler than him so she's probably even more tired.
But like Father says, there's no time for tired when you're on a mission. So he touches Victoria's shoulder. Like a good soldier, she wakes up instantly. "It's just me," Treize whispers before she can say anything.
She blinks at him a couple of times. "Is he here yet?" she whispers back.
Treize shakes his head. "Come on," he says, and then turns all serious and official as he uses Father's phrase: "Move out."
Victoria nods once and slips out of bed to follow him. They march single-file down the hall, until they reach Victoria's position at the alcove window. They go over her story if she's caught by the enemy. "I just ask for a glass of water," she says when he drills her for the hundredth time. Treize nods with satisfaction; it's the never-fail excuse for all nighttime missions. Then they test their wrist-comms. The voice component on Treize's is all messed up from when he landed on it after falling out of a tree a couple of days ago. Father hasn't had time to fix it yet, so they're going to have rely on beeps.
"How many if you see Momma and Father, or if they see you?" Treize quizzes his sister. The first time he called them The Enemy, Victoria got all crybaby on him, so Treize has decided to keep it simple for her.
"Two," she says, holding up that many fingers.
"Good," he nods. "And if it's Santa?"
Even in the dark, Treize can see her eyes get bigger. If – no, he corrects himself, when they meet Santa, he bets Victoria's eyes will try to pop right out of her head. He puts a hand up to cover the snort he can't help making as he pictures it and nods again as she holds up three fingers.
Satisfied with preparations here, Treize creeps down the stairs, sticking to the sides, holding onto the railing with both hands as he takes a big step to skip over the creaky stair.
He pauses at the bottom, looking and listening. It is as quiet and still down here as it was upstairs, so Treize goes to his own position, the one guaranteed not to miss: the branches of the Christmas tree rustle and a couple of ornaments jingle as he squeezes past to the window, and Treize freezes; but no one comes, and so he pulls his pajama sleeve free of the needles and puts both hands on the window sill to take up his watch. But the curtain is in the way, blocking some of his view. You want to have good Peripheral Vision, Father told him yesterday when they were building one of the forts. That means being able to see as much as you can in as many directions as you can, Momma explained. That's part of why Treize has Victoria on lookout upstairs on the other side of the house: she's his Peripheral Vision up there.
Treize has to be his own Peripheral Vision down here, so he reaches up to push the curtain to the side – and freezes again:
Someone is out there.
Treize ducks down. Slowly, he reaches up until his fingers are hooked onto the windowsill again; slowly, slowly, he raises himself up to peer out the window:
Yes, someone is definitely out there. But, Treize realizes, it's only Father. He should have expected to see Father here, he thinks now. After all, it was seeing Father like this two years that gave Treize the idea for his own plan.
He had gotten up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water – really – when he had walked by the glass doors to the patio and seen Father standing outside, like he is now, looking up at the sky. Treize felt funny seeing Father just standing there like that... until he realized what Father was doing, that he must be waiting for Santa Claus. It all made perfect sense, and it made Treize smile.
Before he could go out to join Father, Momma found him and trundled him off to bed (after getting him his glass of water, of course). But Treize had the idea now, and a year to plan for it.
So the next year, which was last year, Treize stayed up until everyone else was asleep, and then came downstairs to wait for Santa. As he passed the open patio doors that time, he was startled to hear Father say his name without looking down or turning around. Treize stopped, but Father still didn't look down or turn around. Treize stood uncertainly; Father had never said his name in quite that way, and Treize didn't know what it meant except that it made him feel funny. Not bad, exactly. Just, funny inside somehow.
He had remained by the door awhile longer, but when Father did nothing but continue to look up at the sky, Treize had gone into the living room to sit by the tree. That had been his mistake, of course: he sat down, and pretty soon he was lying down, and then some time after that he was being carried upstairs by someone who was not Santa at all but turned out to be Momma. He was tucked into his bed again, where he quickly fell into a sleep that lasted until morning.
So this year, Treize is determined to remain standing until Santa arrives. He turns the latch and pushes the window up just a little, enough that he might be able to hear the jingle of sleigh bells when Santa arrives. This makes it a little cold, because there is no fire in the fireplace tonight. There can't be, of course. Treize risks a glance at the fireplace before returning his attention outside. He isn't sure if Santa is actually going to slide down the chimney. Especially with Father standing out there; that makes Treize think that maybe Santa will land on the lawn and come in through the patio door. That's not as much fun as sliding down a chimney, but it's more practical, and Treize wouldn't blame Santa for staying practical while on his mission.
Father is still looking up at the sky, and Treize looks up too. Clouds are sliding over the moon, darkening the night, and Treize worries that Santa might lose his way... but then he remembers that Santa is a professional. He would never let something like clouds on the moon get in the way of completing his mission. He probably has night-vision gear, for himself and for the reindeer. Treize grins. He wonders if Santa will let him try it on, if Treize asks very nicely.
A fat little snowflake sticks itself to the window, starting to melt on contact. Another one lands, and another. One slips through the window to fall on his hand, resting on the sill. Treize looks up to watch the snow fall down. He isn't worried about it. Santa lives in snow so he must like it. Treize likes it, too. He's pretty sure that Father likes it as well; at least Father keeps his face turned up to it, and Treize watches Father watch the snow for awhile.
Then movement catches the corner of his eye, and Treize turns his head:
But it's only Momma. He watches her walk across the snow to Father. "Zechs," she says, using the word she uses for Father when she doesn't think Treize or Victoria are around, "what are you doing out here this late?"
"Nothing," Father says, looking up at the sky again. "I just wanted to see the snow." Treize gets all warm-feeling when he hears this, and smiles: waiting for Santa must be their own private secret, his and Father's. Maybe Father will even let Treize wait with him next year; maybe that's why Father said his name like that two years ago.
"And you couldn't do that from inside?" Momma is saying. "It's a good thing the kids didn't hear you, they would have thought it was Santa, and we would have never gotten them back into bed!" This makes Treize giggle so that he has to take his hands from the windowsill and cover his mouth, lest he give himself away. Proof that the plan is working brilliantly so far!
Father hugs Momma, and they stay in the hug. "It's been almost eight years now," Momma says, "since AC 195." Treize knows that date! AC 195 was the end of The War. He doesn't know why Momma is talking about that now, though.
Father must not know, either. Or maybe he does know, and he decides not to answer with words; Father is like that sometimes. Now, he hugs Momma closer. And turns his face back up the sky.
Although he doesn't say Treize's name this time, Treize somehow knows that Father is thinking it. After a moment, Little Treize Merquise turns his own face back up to the sky, to wait for Santa Claus with his father.
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-23 03:39 am (UTC)At first, I thought that it was little!Treize's namesake who was talking, but then there was the moment of epiphany when I realized that it was really Zechs' son. That just bowled me over and *guh* am I a sucker for kiddie!fics. I just.... WOW! I love the WHOLE concept of this, and the military language that little Treize uses with such childish innocence. It's a wonderful juxtaposition, and I can really see the little boy learning to talk and think in that manner thanks to his father.
The ending was especially heartwrenching for me, how Treize's understanding of what's happening is filtered through his childish perceptions. The shared moment between him and Zechs, even while his dad is thinking of the older Treize was such a sweet and poignant moment.
I could not have asked for a better remix for one of my stories, so thank you SO much for writing this. *loves* Despite this lengthy rambling comment, I really have no words. *is floored*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-23 05:00 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for your comments, and again I'm just delighted that you enjoyed your remix! :)