Bless the Beasts and Little Children

Bless the Beasts and Little Children, Continued.

Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22
Parts 23 and Beyond

PART 12

'No!' Heero's human mind struck at the invading presence that clutched the woman in his hand. He threw her away from him, both hands reaching up to claw at his head. Inside, something tore at his mind, seeking domination. Heero sank to his knees, feeling parts of himself be ripped apart. Muscles bulged obscenely, and he felt the explosive pain of joints giving way under the onslaught.

'No,' he raged at the mind within, 'I am in control! I will not let you...' words were lost, drowned in a wave of feral hunger. But Heero's will had been forged in steel, and sharpened in war, and he would not give in. Slowly, agonizingly, the usurper was forced back into the depths. Flesh and bone knitted itself anew.

When finally he could feel it no more, the boy found himself on his hands and knees on the floor. Every muscle in his body ached, and sweat poured from his skin to stain the dirt below. Dimly, he realized that the sharp wail of his broken cheekbone was gone, or simply lost in the general internal clamor. From somewhere above, he heard the woman's voice, smooth with admiration. "Well done, sire. I've never seen anyone hold back the Change. The will of the Lion is obviously not overstated."

Carefully, Heero rose to his feet. Every dreg of remaining strength went into holding his exhausted muscles rigid as he raised his gaze to hers. "What did you do to me?" His voice was cold, and gave away nothing of the fear that coiled within him.

"I did nothing, sire, but awaken you," she smiled wryly even as her eyes burned, "I hadn't realized that you would put so high a value on remaining asleep."

"You are not making sense. I suggest you start."

"But of course, sire. You, Heero Yuy, are the last surviving member of an ancient and hallowed line of shapeshifters--beasts that can take human form, and thus share the advantages of both. You, like myself and Tamar," she gestured at the still-kneeling form of the other boy, "are of the species called the Blood Tribe of the Beasts. Your breed is Leo, the king of all Earth." She bowed again, although the motion held more than a trace of mockery. "As leader of the Protectorate, I have been holding these members of the Blood Tribe for your return, so that you may lead us to our rightful destiny."

Heero stared at her, outwardly dispassionate. Inwardly, his mind reeled under her words. She had to be lying...there were no such things as shapeshifters. Even if there were, surely he would have known before now. 'But how to explain what just happened then,' a small voice murmured. 'It's not exactly like you to go around strangling women. Threatening to shoot them, maybe, but not strangle them.' He ignored it, and chose to focus on something he thought he could understand. "What is the Protectorate?"

Amanda beamed at him, revealing a set full of perfect teeth that were somehow unnerving. "I'm so glad you asked, sire."

He scowled. "Don't call me that."

She bowed again. "As you wish...Heero?" At his terse nod, she continued, "The Protectorate is dedicated to the preservation of the Blood Tribe from their worst enemies: humanity. That this upstart species that has brought the whole of the planet to the edge of destruction with heedless expansion and crippling wars is terrible enough, but they also hold in their hearts a special hatred for the Blood Tribe. They hunt us, for sport or to quench their never-ending hatred." Her lips twisted. "They do not even hunt fairly, but rather strike down the weak and the children, who cannot shift to save themselves.

"Those of us with the power and will to do so have dedicated our lives to finding young members of the Blood Tribe and protecting them from the Hunters. We call ourselves the Protectorate."

Heero realized, after a moment, that she expected a response. He let her wait while he digested the information. 'I was looking for a challenge,' he thought. "What do you do about these...Hunters?"

Amanda smiled. "We give them the hunt of their lives. The *last* hunt, as a matter of fact." He nodded; it was what he had expected.

"How many of there are you?"

"A few hundred, right now, scattered across the globe. The Blood Tribe is not particularly fertile, but we are equivalent to a human army of thousands."

"Against how many Hunters?" His eyes began to gleam.

She shrugged, "We can never tell. They are a secret society, and they do keep their secrets well. But, should our existence become common knowledge, every human hand would be turned against us. The Protectorate has always operated as if every human were a Hunter."

"What do you want me for?"

It was Tamar, unheeded and almost forgotten, who answered him, his voice ragged with sincerity. "*Lead* us, Heero! We need you...our war is always with us, the odds are always against us. Show us how to strike back!" As Heero frowned down at him, Tamar gestured to his chest. Slightly above the heart was a ragged scar. "A Hunter did this to me. He just walked up to me while I was playing basketball in the back of the orphanage and shot me. I was 14. If Amanda hadn't been close by and rescued me, I would have died." He shuddered with memory. "And every day, we miss someone, and they die because we weren't there, because of human envy and fear. Please, Heero. Please help us..."

There was a pregnant moment of silence. It was shattered by two words:

"Mission accepted."

PART 13

"Oh, no," said Quatre, his eyes wide with horror as the three boys stared at the vid screen. "That's *Howard*..."

"Not anymore," Wufei replied coolly. He reached over Quatre's shoulder and keyed the volume on the newscast.

"...the body was found at approximately 1:30 this morning by a late-night maintenance worker, whose name is being withheld for the moment. According to our sources within the department, fluid samples of at least two other individuals were found on the scene, although no other bodies were found at the scene," Wufei cursed darkly, and turned it off.

"We need to be there as soon as possible."

"You think Duo's in danger?" Trowa asked.

"I think we're all in danger. If one of those 'fluid samples' is from Duo, and he's metamorphosed...we'll need to retrieve it before it's seen by too many people to contain."

Contain. The word rang warning bells in Quatre's head, and he looked at Trowa. The other pilot, however, was staring down at his hand with a remote expression. Quatre shook his head. "Wufei, we aren't going to kill anyone. Not just for some samples..."

"*Just* samples?" Wufei snarled, spinning the blonde's chair until they were facing each other. "Do you have any idea how the humans would react if they knew we existed? With the technology we've evolved, once they pinned down the genetic signature of the Blood Tribe, they could track us down no matter where we ran. Our survival depends on concealment, Quatre!"

"But *not* at the cost of innocent lives!" Quatre's own voice rose in response to Wufei's agitation. And in the back of his mind, he imagined he could hear screaming. "Never again, Wufei," he said.

"Perhaps we should wait to decide what we're going to until we actually reach the Colony. And find Duo," Trowa's smooth voice interposed itself between them. Quatre sagged.

"You're right, of course. I guess we're just all tired. Rashid, please make arrangements for us to leave for L2 as soon as possible. Perhaps we can catch some sleep on the way, and," he glanced over at the tall, unbending form of Wufei, "and then we can decide what needs to be done, okay?"

After a moment, Wufei nodded. Quatre sighed in relief and turned back to the console. He called up his South American contacts, and began the irritating (and expensive) task of locating Heero again.

A while later, he gave up, dismissing the man on the other end of the screen with a keystroke. "Bad news, guys."

Wufei snorted with amusement. "What else is new?"

Despite himself, Quatre smiled. "True that. But I can't reach Heero. According to the hanger manager, some officials came looking for him, but he'd already left on a trip."

"Trip?" Trowa asked, and Quatre grimaced and filled the two ex-pilots in on Heero's less than legal career. Wufei and Trowa exchanged glances and small smiles. Somehow, neither of them found it surprising.

"Anyway," Quatre continued, "It's unlikely that Heero will return to that hanger, and the guy didn't know the destination of the shipment. In fact, he's liable to leave the country. I'll put my best people on tracking him down, but it will take time."

"Time we don't have," Wufei observed.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Everyone turned to Trowa. He shrugged, and said, "If there is anyone that can take care of himself, it's Heero."

"But with the Doctors involved...you know Heero's attitude to orders," Quatre didn't have to think very hard to remember that cold night when, at the Doctors' merest words, Heero had self-detonated. It didn't take much imagination to believe that he'd do it again, without ever realizing why. He shook his head. "I won't leave him to face this alone."

"Leave contact information, here, and with your men. When they find him, he'll know how to get in touch with us," Wufei suggested.

"Good idea," Quatre turned to make the necessary calls. He gave the searchers his personal line at the office. Although he'd like to be able to get in touch with Heero as soon as possible, the ways in which a personal communicator could be tracked were numerous. And most of them had been taught to him by his Doctor. He'd simply have to check in with the office often.

By the time he was done with the arrangements, Rashid had silently returned. He waited until the last call was terminated before smiling at the three boys and saying, "Your chariot awaits,"

"Thank you, Rashid," They climbed to their feet; each one showing signs of fatigue. It was almost dawn in the desert, and none of them had even seen a bed, yet. They stretched, and yawned, before making their way in a loose triangle to the shuttle field. After the other two had boarded, Quatre stopped and threw his arms around Rashid. "Please stay here," he said, "If Heero comes, tell him where we went and why, okay?"

Rashid nodded. After another quick hug, Quatre turned and boarded the shuttle. Rashid moved away to a safe distance, one hand clutching his hat as the liftoff stirred the wind around him. As the shuttle accelerated, he squinted his eyes against the newly risen sun, and whispered into the wind, "Be safe, Master Quatre."

Intermission

A million threads through history. Billions of stars throughout space. A single planet where life flourishes. The only place in the universe with intelligent life, indeed, with several strains of intelligent life, though most of them know it not. Life which seems to revel in its own destruction. Earth--cradle of civilization, mother of war. Even under the beneficent reign of the United Earth Sphere Alliance, war never dies. It merely goes underground. Turn your eyes upward and see Earth's children, the colonies. See what Man has created that God could not. Marvel at our triumph, at humanity's triumph.

I stand here, at this window suspended in a field of stars and look down at our birthplace with--dare I say it--contempt. There, I can see the thin line that is the Great Wall of China. How much greater it is than the featureless desert of blue that rolled by an hour ago. Man made the wall. I wonder if the Beasts travel there on occasion? If so, do they snarl in envy at our accomplishments, or are they awed by our grasp of science and mastery of the elements? Do they attack it with mindless fury, or do they weep? How do they dare to defy us, these animals?

I turn away from the window. I have seen Earth a thousand times before, and will see it a thousand more before I die. I prefer the steel skies and recycled breezes of the Colonies...they are purer. The sacred Aramean crossbow lies on my desk, a bolt by its side. For a long time, it was thought that only bolts made of the bones of the Blood Tribe could kill one of the Beasts. I never accepted that; to accept that would have been to admit that Man could not rid ourselves of the threat with our own power. I refuse to bow to mysticism. Finally, after much experimentation, I found a better way: hollow aluminum bolts filled with a particularly volatile phosphorous compound. The compound interacts with bodily fluids in an impressively exothermic way. I coated the tips with gundanium, for penetrating power. My test run was quite successful.

I have spoken with my colleagues; those that are left, anyway. Three of us remain, and we count no kills among our prey. I cannot say that I am surprised. We had to teach them well, or else the Colonies--humanity's greatest achievement--would have been lost. That was unacceptable. Still, I can see that we made an error in judgment in splitting up. Our prey will band together, and so must we. I pick up the crossbow, trailing my lined hands along the carved wood of the stock, and the cold metal of the trigger. I pack it gently. My colleagues tried to fight our former charges as if they were human, using trickery and guile. I will not make that mistake. One does not talk to a dangerous animal, you merely put it out of its misery.

"Dr. J? The shuttle is ready to leave for L2 when you are." I nod to my assistant, and snap the locks on the crossbow's case. The others are waiting for me. Are you waiting for me, Heero?

* * *

Heero, my King. I whisper the words into the stifling jungle air, and feel them resonate within my soul. I wish they didn't. I do not want a strong ruler, and were it not for the worship that you command among the lesser members of the Protectorate, I would kill you where you sleep. I have a Hunter's bow and bolts that I saved for just such an occasion. I can see you in my mind's eye, transfixed through the heart, those beautiful blue eyes dimmed. How I would feast!

My hands clutch convulsively as a part of me cries in denial of the vision. I showed you my throat, and awakened instincts that neither of us can ignore. But you will never know the power you have over me. I will wait, and watch, and your weaknesses will reveal themselves to me. I will be your guide into the strange new world that is your birthright. You will depend on me, and eventually, you will love me. Eventually, my King, we will speak with one voice. My voice. And together, we will lead our children into a glorious new future.

But for now, Heero, sleep. Dream sweet dreams of blood. The moon is high above us, and I can hear the throaty rasp of a jaguar in the trees. He is telling me that there is prey to be found in the shadows, and I am hungry.

* * *

I am the hunger that will not be denied. I can smell their fear; the sweet stink of it makes me lightheaded. How could they have thought to hide from me? One lies beneath my massive claws, torn in two. I delicately lick the paw I used to rend her tiny body. I growl with satisfaction, but do not stop to feed. I kick the food behind me and hear the front door slam shut with a hollow bang. I can also hear other food through the walls, like tiny mice. First the hunt, then the feeding. As it has always and ever been. I stalk through the familiar hall, past the brightly colored wax drawings, and the abandoned stuffed animals.

At the end of the hall, I face a monster. Lurid violet eyes glare from a snarling, bloodstained mask of grayish brown fur. It is hideous, and I feel a faint screaming within my head, struggling to be heard. I lunge forward, and smash the image into a million silver slivers. The screaming fades into insensibility again. Good. I do not want to listen to that voice.

There is a door, and on the other side of the door, life. The knob does not work, so I break it down. Five of them are huddled behind a desk. They scream like music when they see me. They call a name, "Miss Hilde!" and I can feel that irritation inside my head again, louder. I will drown it in blood. I take a step forward, and another odor blooms next to me.

Sound and gunpowder fill the world, and I am thrown from my feet. Agony! I howl in pain and rage, and turn to snap at my tormentor. How dare she! I am Shinigami! She leaps back from my jaws, and I can smell no fear on her. She believes herself to be hunter, and I the hunted. I can feel the wounds sealing, and four bullets fall to the floor with a musical tinkle. I stand to my full height, and *now* she fears me. The gun roars again, but I ignore the pain. Pain is fleeting, and I am forever.

I raise my hand to strike her down...

End Intermission

PART FOURTEEN

The trio knew something was terribly wrong as soon as they turned the corner. If the crowd of agitated citizens standing in the door of Hilde's orphanage hadn't been enough, the air was filled with the awful music of screaming children. They froze. Trowa took a deep breath and said, "Someone's been killed."

"How do you know?" Quatre asked, then reddened slightly as Trowa and Wufei both gave him a hard look. "Well, *I* don't feel anything."

"You haven't transformed, yet," Wufei said shortly. "Come on." The three began to move again, running across the broad metal ribbon of the road. They shouldered past the onlookers, ignoring the shouts and demands. As they gained the entrance, with Quatre in the lead, Wufei growled, "Did you hear them?"

Trowa nodded. "A monster. Duo..."

"Maybe not," Quatre snapped, as he wrestled with the door. Something seemed to be blocking it, and it was slow going. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions, and anyway, Duo wouldn't do...blessed Allah." The door had unstuck.

What had been blocking their way had once been a human body. A child's body. Now it was rent almost completely asunder, with the only one small, perfect fist for identity. Even hardened by war and death, the boys couldn't stop the cold shudder that passed through them, and Quatre and Wufei looked away. Trowa stared for a heartbeat longer, his face dark and solemn. Wufei took the door out of Quatre's rigid hand and gently closed it. He threw the lock. The Chinese boy's eyes blazed with obsidian fire. "We stop this...*now*" And he began to change.

Wufei's skin rippled, and expanded to cover new muscle mass. He shook his head sharply as bones lengthened. Black hair flew in a blizzard. His clothing ripped as joints popped and realigned. One newly taloned hand ripped a hole in the seat of his pants to make way for the gleaming black tail that thrust itself from the base of Wufei's spine. In less time than it took for Trowa and Quatre to take a startled step back, Wufei Chang had been transformed into a seven-foot-tall reptilian creature with glassy black scales and the tattered remnants of his trousers clinging to his waist. Trowa found himself transfixed by one fathomless ebony eye. "Change."

Trowa nodded, and closed his eyes. As the other boy's form began to shift, Wufei regarded Quatre. The blond turned his stare, equally fascinated and horrified, from Trowa and shrugged helplessly. "I don't know how to *do* that. You'll have to show..."

He was interrupted by the frantic barking of a pistol and a monstrous howl of pain. The pilots' heads snapped around. They took off as one toward the sound. Quatre found himself quickly overtaken by Wufei and Trowa. The shapeshifters moved faster than anything he'd ever seen; Trowa's panther-like form in particular seemed to fly across the floor. They barreled through the shattered remains of an office doorway and slammed into the snarling wolf-man who dominated the room. The monstrous creature gave a bone-chilling howl of pain and rage as he was driven to the floor. The three beasts merged into a multi-limbed entity of rage as they tore into each other.

"Don't shoot!" Quatre knocked Hilde's hands skyward as the gun roared again. She turned to him with a white face and a terrible emptiness in her eyes. The gun remained clenched in her hands. He shook her, and shouted over the snarls of the battle, "We've got to get the kids out of here!" For a moment, he thought she wasn't listening, then her expression seemed to clear, and she gave him a quick nod. Together, they edged around the tangled, thrashing bodies and pulled the children out from behind the desk and into the hall.

When they were all clear, Hilde pushed Quatre into the wall. "What the hell is going on?"

He looked at her, wide-eyed, and could say nothing. A particularly large crash from behind them made them both flinch.

Inside the office, Trowa and Wufei were wearing Duo down. Wufei's scales deflected most of Duo's claw attacks and Trowa was a furious tornado of action, striking in a dozen places almost at once. Still, they both bore the seeping wounds where the were-coyote's claws or fangs had struck true. In one final bid for freedom, Duo's back legs came up and slammed into Wufei's stomach. As Wufei was flung away, Duo lunged forward and sank his teeth into the dense black fur of Trowa's right shoulder. Trowa yowled and tried to leap away, but Duo's grip was strong. Duo shook the other beast between his massive jaws, ripping through muscle and into bone. Trowa's left paw swiped at Duo's eyes, tearing a gouge down the side of his face.

Behind Duo, Wufei had recovered and clasped his taloned front paws together, forming one huge fist. While Duo was distracted, he took the opportunity to raise his hands up, and bring them down with crushing force on Duo's furred head. Duo collapsed, his grip on Trowa going slack as he fell, senseless, to the bloody floor. As soon as his maddened eyes closed, his form began to dwindle, until it was human and familiar once more. Trowa stood, swayed, and then he also dropped unconscious to the floor before returning to human form. Wufei snorted, and shrunk with considerably less drama. He slung one naked body over each shoulder, and backed out of the office.

In the distance, he could hear sirens. His eyes flickered to Quatre, Hilde, and the huddled group of orphans. "We have to go," he said.

Quatre nodded, but his horrified eyes were on the limp, battered form of Duo. Hilde's were, as well, but it was rage that lit her gaze. "He...he *killed* Sarah. He was going to kill them all. Duo...what the *hell* is going on?"

Wufei regarded her gravely, as the sirens rose to screaming intensity. "Duo was not himself, and I know that's obvious. He will be dealt with justly, I promise you that, but we cannot be found by the police," he looked towards the front door, which began to shudder under blows from outside. "How do we get out?"

Hilde's lips thinned angrily, and for a moment it appeared that she wouldn't say anything at all. Quatre caught at her shoulder, and looked pleadingly into her eyes. "Please."

She shuddered, then reluctantly nodded. "There's an access to the maintenance tunnels through there," she pointed at a small, black door marked 'Janitorial Supplies'. "I *will* have an explanation, and it had better be a damn good one, or it won't be the police you'll have to worry about." She looked back towards the buckling door and the child's broken body, and tears began to flow down her cheeks. "Now, *go*, damn you."

Quatre lingered for a moment, but Hilde wouldn't meet his eyes, instead bending down to try and comfort one of the hysterical boys huddled at her feet. So, with one last glance backward, they went.

PART FIFTEEN

The tunnels were black and filled with the scent of stale air. Wufei sneezed once as he turned away from the ladder. Somewhere above them, he heard the faint whisper of the closing door, and Quatre's breathing as he descended. Wufei shifted the bodies he carried. The angular edges of Duo and Trowa's ribs rested on his naked shoulder-blades. For the first time, he wished that one of the three of them had had the courtesy to be a little more...padded.

"We should find one of my holdings," Quatre whispered behind him. Wufei rasped his assent, and Quatre lead the way through the darkness. "I think this will take us towards the business section," he said, "once we're there, I can go up and contact someone to pick us up. And bring some clothes." There was a hint of embarrassment in the last sentence. Wufei said nothing but shook his head ruefully in the darkness. He didn't understand Quatre; he never had. Whether that was from the blond boy's weakness, or his own, he couldn't decide.

They walked hunched over through the tunnels. Occasionally the tunnel would split, and Quatre would stop for a while, before picking a fork. Wufei didn't think that it was as random as it looked. He hoped not, anyway, but he didn't offer to help. The darkness and the silence in which they traveled was soothing the last remnants of the beast's mind within him, and dark but human thoughts were taking its place.

The mission was screwed over. Splashed liberally all over the office floor of the orphanage was the blood of not one, but three, members of the Blood Tribe. A Beast had committed a massacre whose likes hadn't been seen for centuries. Even if Hilde was wise or loyal enough to keep her mouth shut, there were more than a dozen children who'd seen Duo, and children were not known for their restraint. Duo Maxwell had feasted on human flesh, and even if his transformation had left him any of his human mind, the memories alone might drive him into true madness. It had happened in Wufei's family once, to a cousin he'd barely known. His discipline had broken; afterwards he had taken his own life in an attempt to regain his honor. If Duo chose the same path, could Wufei deny it to him?

Up ahead, Quatre cursed softly as he scraped his toe on something. Wufei avoided the protruding splinter of plastic with easy grace. Over his back, Trowa shifted, but showed no stronger signs of waking. Another one whose sanity was in question, Wufei thought. Trowa believed himself a monster, and seeing Duo's rampage would only reinforce that belief. Self-hate was a poison as bitter and deadly as arsenic, and much harder to counter. Wufei could only hope that Quatre would know how to reach him. He hoped that Quatre would know how to reach both of them, but he'd always wondered about the bond between Quatre and Trowa...

"We're here, I think." Quatre said, unknowingly interrupting his ruminations. He was standing next to another ladder; Wufei could smell the acid tang of iron. "You should probably stay here, Wufei. I'll find a phone and contact someone to pick us up."

Wufei set the bodies of Duo and Trowa on the cool, plastic floor. "We'll need to go somewhere with a secure chamber," he said. "Very secure."

He heard Quatre sigh. "I know. I've...well, my family has a securities business somewhere here. I'll talk to someone there, and we can put Duo under observation. Should I ask for a doctor?"

"No," Wufei growled. His lips twitched. "But maybe a veterinarian." Quatre was silent. "Just go. We'll be fine here."

The ladder clanked as Quatre mounted it. "I'll be back as soon as possible," he said, then began to climb.

Wufei listened as Quatre's footsteps ascended to the surface. When he judged them far enough away, he let himself slide down the damp wall to rest between the bodies of his former teammates. As he finally allowed his muscles to unknot, he felt the exhaustion of the change seep through him. He turned his blind eyes to the slumped form that he could scent to his left. "Duo," he thought, "it shouldn't have happened like this. You should have had someone there the first time. I should have been there."

Unpleasant thoughts, but true. Wufei had had the option several times of revealing the truth to the others. If he'd told them, if he'd only been strong enough to tell them, then most of the past couple of days could have been avoided. The buffalo village would have accepted a few more novices...it was a bit of a tradition in those parts. They would have been together when the Doctors came. It had been Wufei's weakness that had caused this..."Mine," he said aloud to the unconscious Duo, "not yours."

"I'll make it right somehow," he whispered into the darkness, "I give you my word as the last of my clan on that." Saying the words, even where no one could hear them but himself, made Wufei feel a little better. The oath gave him a goal, and a goal kept the despair at bay. For now. To his right, Trowa stirred. Wufei heard the catch of his breath, and his nostrils caught the change in the boy's scent as he struggled into wary alertness.

"Quatre's gone to get us transportation. And clothes," Wufei said. He kept his voice casual and his body slack. Although he'd never shown the interest Quatre had, he knew just enough about Trowa's past to make him sick to his stomach...and very, very careful. Under any other circumstances, Trowa would never have slept this close to anyone, and Wufei could hear the ragged beat of Trowa's heart even as he sat up.

"When will he be back?"

"Soon, I hope."

"Good. Is Duo...?" Trowa's voice trailed off awkwardly.

"He's still out. With any luck at all, he won't wake until we get him contained." Wufei let a bit of dry humor creep out, "Which probably means that we'll be required to jump on him again. Luck has never really been our strong suit."

Instead of lessening the tension as he'd intended, the remark merely heightened the space between them. Trowa's silence was taut and contemplative. The question Wufei had been dreading hung in the cold air.

"Why did he do that?"

Behind the flat, controlled tone, Wufei sensed a soul walking on a knife's edge over Hell. Suddenly, he realized that Trowa had never told them about *his* first transformation. Did he have another potential berzerker on his hands, or was it just Trowa being Trowa? Wufei was not a man who felt comfortable in the lands of the fragile human psyche...he wanted Quatre here more than he wanted anything else in the world. Quatre could find a way to make the truth heal at least a few of Trowa's wounds; Wufei only knew how to make it cut like a sword blade. And lying wasn't even an option.

He took a deep breath. "It takes some of us like that, the first time. When we are inexperienced, sometimes the release of the beast mind can overwhelm us."

"Only the first time?"

He hesitated, but shook his head. "It is most common on the first transformation, but under extreme circumstances, any of us might be driven to surrender to the primal part of our nature." Like Shen, Wufei's cousin, driven insane by the senseless murder of his human wife. Losing control was every sane shapeshifter's worst nightmare, and Wufei could feel the terror of it taking root in Trowa's fertile mind. Wufei searched for words to make it easier, and could find none.

Sometimes the fear of the Beast was all that kept them human.

They said nothing more until the air shifted somewhere above them, and Quatre's spicy scent wafted down to their noses. "Wufei? Wufei, is everyone okay?"

"Trowa's awake."

"Hello, Quatre."

"Oh, good!" The blonde's voice held so much relief that Wufei couldn't help but smile. "There's a room up here where you guys can get dressed." The sound of a few joints popping echoed off the tunnel walls as Trowa gingerly tested his limbs.

"I can climb," he said.

"Then go first," Wufei said as they rose to their feet. "I'll come after, with Duo." Trowa had swung himself onto the ladder before the sentence was complete. With a pained groan, Wufei swung Duo over his shoulder and followed. His back burned with strain, and he hoped that Quatre had found them a real shelter, if only for a little while.

PART SIXTEEN

Tamar yelped in pain as Heero's foot connected with the back his knee, and fell forward. He rolled, prepared to surrender, only to see a fist coming down at what seemed to be a large fraction of the speed of light. He turned the roll into a panic-stricken sideways lunge. The fist thudded to earth an inch from his ear. Tamar kept rolling, barely avoiding the flurry of blows, until he rolled up against the rough log barrier that formed the sparring ring. He cringed there, panting and exhausted, as he waited for the final blow to fall. Heero's shadow fell over him. "Get up," Heero said, and extended a hand.

Gratefully, Tamar took it. The small crowd that stood around the ring murmured disapprovingly as he rose. The boy's fair cheeks flushed guiltily. Only Heero seemed entirely unaware of the silent accusations of failure that hung in the air. He looked Tamar over closely with that icy blue stare that he had already become famous for, then said, "Better. Not good enough to keep you alive, but better. Next time, be prepared to turn faster." He turned away. "Next?"

Tamar stumbled out of the ring, heading instinctively for the bathhouse. The camp didn't have very many luxuries, but with the oppressive heat and humidity, the Protectorate had made a bathhouse with a plentiful supply of cold and hot water a priority. Even one of their precious generators was used full time to regulate the temperature in the two tanks. And never was Tamar more grateful for it than today, when every muscle in his body screamed with the strain of mastering the tasks Heero had set them all.

He entered the darkness of the bathhouse and sank into the steaming pool, barely even remembering to remove his shorts and underwear. The scalding hot water was a blessed reward...and stinging punishment. Despite the fact that Heero's training program was only in its infant stages, most of the cadre had snatched up the skills as if they were pieces of meat thrown to starving wolves. Only he, Tamar, was lagging behind. It wasn't even as if he were the youngest; Katrina, the Russian whose Beast form was a white fox, was only fourteen and she had managed to earn one of their new King's rare smiles in the ring just this morning. It just wasn't fair.

He sank deeper into the water. He wanted so *badly* to please Heero, to see those steely eyes judge him and find him worthy. Why couldn't he do it? What was wrong with him, that even the simplest of hand-to-hand moves continually eluded his traitorous body? When Amanda had saved him, and nursed him back to health, she'd told him of the glorious name he'd make for himself in battle with their enemies. He let the water level crawl up to his ears and caress his bitter smile. At this rate, the only name he'd earn would be Tamar the Worthless.

Lost in his poisonous thoughts, Tamar didn't hear Heero enter the bathhouse until the water of the pool slipped up his nose in a wave. He sat bolt upright, and saluted. "Heero, sir. I-I was just about to leave..."

"Stay, Tamar. I wanted to talk to you, anyway." Tamar subsided, and bit the inside of his lip.

"About what, sir?" 'As if I have to ask.'

Heero said nothing, instead bending forward and dunking his head into the hot water. Tamar looked away, and made a desultory effort to wash himself. After realizing that he'd spent almost two minutes washing the same small circle of his thigh, he gave up and looked back. Heero was industriously scrubbing between his toes. Tamar blinked at having caught his worshipped leader doing something so...mundane. He grinned, and a sound that was suspiciously like a giggle caught in his throat. Heero looked up and tilted his head curiously, with one finger and the washcloth caught between his two smallest toes. All the tension of the morning exploded in Tamar, and he began to laugh helplessly at the sight.

Heero finished washing his feet as he waited for the boy's laughter to fall off. He didn't need Quatre to clue him to the hysterical nature of Tamar's mirth...he'd noticed the young Protectorate member getting more keyed up (and more clumsy) every time they met. Some people thrived on urgency and the need for immediate response; it gave them a high. Time seemed to slow down and perception and judgment became clearer than glass. Judging by the rest of his new company, this held true for shapeshifters as well. And for some people, like Tamar, it shattered them. Their problem was they saw too many choices, and too many chances for failure. For such people, there really was only one solution.

When Tamar seemed to have control over himself again, he appeared to be considering drowning himself out of sheer embarrassment. Heero couldn't help him with that part, so he cut directly to the chase. "We're planning an operation soon...within the next couple of days." He turned the full force of his gaze on Tamar. "You won't be in the assault team."

Tamar flinched, but his voice was steady, though low. "I understand, sir."

"I want you on the strategy team."

"What?" The boy's eyes lifted. "Why?"

"Amanda told me about the Florida rescue. It was your idea to set a trap for the Hunter, and you were the one who managed to find the right place and concoct a reasonable story as bait. It impressed her. Most of us tend to be...direct thinkers." 'Or as subtle as a train wreck, as Duo would probably say,' Heero thought, and a smile turned up one tip of his mouth. "Between us and Amanda, we might actually manage to get all of our people out alive." 'Our people. How strange that sounds.' He never thought that he'd volunteer to take responsibility for other human beings ever again. He certainly never thought that he'd enjoy it.

But he did. He could feel the old excitement stirring again, and this time it was joined by a new, possessive feeling. All these Beasts, broken and angry and arrayed against overwhelming odds...it touched a part of Heero that had lain empty and lonely since Zero had been destroyed. And now, instead of being a grunt, he would be a general. If only he had his Gundam...if only he had the other pilots...and why couldn't he have the latter, at least?

He stood abruptly, water dripping from his naked body. "That's all," he muttered at the stunned Tamar, and pulled his shorts on.

"W-where are you going?" Tamar asked, even as he reeled with what was, in effect, a massive promotion within the ranks. Heero flashed him a smile, as cold and sharp as a knife blade.

"Going to call a few friends. See if we can't even the odds a little."

PART SEVENTEEN

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Forgive me, Father..."

"I see there's been no change."

Quatre looked up to find Wufei standing at his elbow. He shook his head, too exhausted and heartsick to speak. He returned his eyes to the observation room, and skeletal figure kneeling in the corner. The building they were bunking down in had once been a weapons laboratory. Quatre's father had purchased a rival's corporation, and had found the small, high-tech facility tucked away in its assets. He'd immediately shut it down, of course, but had never gotten around to renovating it for new tenants. Luckily for them, since there was a testing room that could withstand a small-scale nuclear explosion. Even Wufei didn't believe that Duo could deal out that much damage with his bare hands...claws...whatever.

Not that he'd tried. In fact, when he'd first come to, Quatre had been hopeful. Duo had regarded them through the triple-strength plexi-steel with red-rimmed, but sane eyes, and listened quite calmly as they started to explain. It was about halfway though Wufei's speech that he'd turned away, walked to the farther corner, and kneeled. Every since then, he'd been reciting that one line, over and over again. He ignored everyone else. Quatre's heart ached for him...literally, as his unreliable empathic sense relayed every bit of the crushing shame and self-loathing that radiated from Duo like malignant light. It soaked into Quatre's soul, a seeping poison.

Wufei looked down at Quatre, his thin lips pursed. Quatre's hand was rubbing his chest, as if in pain. He had a feeling that Quatre didn't even know he was doing it. He cleared his throat, and the hand leapt away from Quatre's shirt like a startled rabbit. Blue eyes, set in a face that looked much older than it probably had even a week ago, turned up to him, startled. "Don't lose yourself in him, Quatre," Wufei warned. "I need you with me. I," his voice slowed as if the words were being dragged out of him, "I can't do this on my own." He turned away, reluctant to let any more of his weakness show.

Quatre's hand went up to his chest again, and lightly touched the space over his heart. Then it reached out and brushed the tips of his fingers against Wufei's arm. "It's okay. *I'm* okay." His attention drifted back to Duo. "He's just in so much pain."

"We can't do anything to help him now," Wufei said, his voice flat. "If he's going to come out of this at all, he's going to have to do it himself."

"And if he doesn't? We can't stay here forever; not if the Doctors are still after us. This place can be traced to me, and you know that word's gotten out about the incident at Hilde's." Quatre's inner voice mocked him, as he stuttered over the last words. 'Oh, yes,' it said, 'call it The Incident, and try to forget that tiny, shredded body.' It chortled at him as he flinched from the memory. 'Is it working?'

"Which can be easily linked to us, if you know what you're looking for," Wufei mused, oblivious to the stricken expression that flickered across Quatre's face. "Which the Hunters do. How much time do you think we have?"

"Wha?" Quatre shook himself. "Oh, well, the title to this place is under a fairly obscure company name, which is related to my main holdings through another proxy. But we've never tried to *hide* any of our assets, so...if they know what to look for, and have access to my company intranet...make it twelve hours, at minimum. Starting three hours ago, of course."

Wufei's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "Of course. Damn. I'd hoped for longer."

"I've already got one of my men looking for somewhere else, Wufei. As soon as he contacts me again, I'll set the transport arrangements in order."

Wufei nodded. "Good. Until then, we can get some sleep. Trowa is manning the comms."

"I'm glad you'll get some rest. You look half-dead." Quatre had turned back to stare through the observation window again, and his voice was abstracted. Wufei sighed, and flicked a nearby switch. The glass dimmed and turned black.

"What part of 'we' didn't you understand, Winner?"

"I'm fine. Someone needs to stay with him."

"Trowa's got a feed from the communications room. He can probably see more of the damn room than you can." Quatre looked as if he were going to continue to protest, but Wufei stopped him with a cold look. "Didn't you hear me the first time? There's *nothing* we can do. He probably doesn't even know you're there. And if you work yourself into exhaustion now, then when he *does* come out of it, you're not going to be able to give him the help he needs. And you're the only one who can. I certainly can't, and neither can Trowa." The corners of his mouth flickered up into a smile. "You're the only truly sane one of us all. Now, stop being stupid and sentimental, and go the hell to sleep."

Quatre stiffened indignantly at the idea of being put to bed like a disobedient toddler, before grinning at the sheer irony of it all. Wufei was right. Not about him being the only sane one...Allah knew that wasn't true, but the one thing that war had taught him is that you rested and refueled when you could, because any moment everything could go straight to Hell. So he stood, and whipped off a salute that was only a tiny bit sarcastic. "Affirmative, sir."

"Go away, Winner."

Quatre left. When we safely out of sight, Wufei turned and hit the switch again. He stood and watched Duo for a while, his eyes flat and expressionless. Finally, he blackened the window again, and went to seek his own cot.

In the communications room, Trowa watched the conversation play across his screen without sound, then cued the cameras to follow Quatre as he walked to the small storage rooms where they'd set up the cots provided by Quatre's contact. When Quatre got to the door of 'his' room safely, Trowa switched the view to the interior of the observation room. No change. He cued the sound, and tried to place the origin of the line that filled the air with so much shame and sorrow. Some sort of prayer, wasn't it?

He turned the sound off, and turned his attention resolutely back to the outside sensors. 'Do your job,' he told himself, 'just do your job and don't think about anything else. Like Heero would do.' He refused to let himself think that Heero might not handle this Duo any better than Trowa, himself, could.

****

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. The start of a confession, where you pour out your transgressions, and seek absolution. An ancient and honored tradition that has brought comfort and relief to millions throughout time.

Bullshit. Where do you start, even if there was a priest nearby to hear the litany of your crimes? Gee, Father, I *ate* someone. Hey, and then, I killed a bunch of kids, and tried to eat my girlfriend.

Ex-girlfriend, a voice chimes in, and you didn't get all that far.

Shut up. The *point* is that you don't get forgiven for shit like this. Cannibalism, I'm thinking, is pretty much a mortal sin. Do not pass Purgatory, go straight to Hell, enjoy your dinner.

He *was* trying to kill you when you ate him, the voice returns, but even it sounds dubious. The voice is familiar, but you can't bother to try and place it now.

Shut *up*. What does it matter? People have tried to kill me before, and I don't recall putting any of them on the menu. But then, I don't recall being a monster before, either.

Blood Tribe. The voice offers the name with a hesitant air, maybe realizing that it isn't helping.

Blood Tribe. Oh, yeah. Because that's a name that just shouts 'normality'. All I ever wanted is a normal fucking life, and now I can't get the taste of blood out of my mouth. What the fuck kind of justice is that?

You wanted to be Shinigami. You thought you were the God of Death. Now you are. This voice, *this* voice you recognize. It's guttural, and from the slight mushiness of the consonants, you can tell that the words have to make their way through a mouthful of very sharp teeth. This is a voice that you'll never forget, because it is your own.

I never wanted this. I *never* wanted this.

You didn't, the timid voice agrees, but now you've got to deal with it.

You wanted it. You wanted *me*. You still do.

Shut up. Shut the fuck up, both of you, and leave me alone. Why doesn't everyone just leave me alone? Don't they see what I *am*...forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Forgive me, Father...

Aren't you *hungry*?

****

The incoming call light blinked amber, grabbing Trowa's attention from the outside monitors. He glanced at the clock. Four hours since Quatre and Wufei had gone to their rooms. He sighed, and toggled the channel to voice mode. "Sirius Securities, Limited."

"Trowa?" He sat upright in his chair, and quickly toggled visual mode.

"Heero? How did you...?"

"Rashid helped me with the contacts." Heero was tanned, and the his background was, unless Trowa has suddenly picked up a very unusual eye disease, a wall constructed of reeds. His hair was longer, too, Trowa absently noted, and a small leaf was stuck just above his left ear. Other than that, he hadn't changed at all. "I understand the others are with you?"

"Yes. Where are you? There are things we have to discuss."

"I know all about it. Which is why I need you to meet me."

Trowa nodded. "Let me just wake Quatre and..."

"No time. Just take this down..."

PART EIGHTEEN

Trowa's voice called Quatre gently out of sleep, and he smiled as he turned, eyes still closed, towards the sound. His questing hand met only air, however, and as he became more aware, he realized that the voice had a tinny quality only imparted by an inexpensive comm system. 'Disappointed once again,' he thought with a smile, and opened his eyes. "Trowa? What's going on?"

"Sorry to wake you, Quatre, but Heero called. Thought you'd want to know."

Drowsiness vanished. Quatre rolled off the narrow cot and began to haphazardly pull on his clothes. "Is he alright?" he asked, as he buttoned his shirt.

"Seems to be. I'll fill you in when you get here." There was a small click from the ceiling as the comm disconnected.

Heero was alive! It was only as the flood of relief washed over him that Quatre realized just how worried he'd been for the Wing pilot. Despite his hidden feelings for Trowa, Heero was in a lot of ways the pilot he understood the best. Certainly, his empathy had resonated with Heero more than with anyone else. Maybe, finally, something was going right.

When Quatre reached the comm room, he found Trowa and Wufei waiting for him. Wufei's almond eyes glittered strangely. "Well," Quatre said, with only a hint of impatience, "I'm here. What's going on?"

"Heero wants us to got to Brazil to meet him," Trowa replied.

"And he's working with the Protectorate!" Wufei looked like he wanted to bite something...preferably Heero.

"The who? Oh, right. That militant group."

"I'm not surprised," Trowa said. "Heero doesn't really know anything else but fighting." He looked briefly wistful.

"We have to stop whatever they're planning to do," Wufei ground out.

"How do you know they're planning anything?"

"Well, I doubt they've invited all the Gundam pilots just to have a tea party. What about you?"

"Sarcasm aside," Trowa said with a quelling glance in Wufei's direction, "Heero said he had a mission for us."

Quatre found an empty chair and sat down gingerly. The last thing in the world he wanted was another mission. He would have though that Heero, of all people, understood that. And with the Protectorate, a group that Wufei claimed were little better than terrorists? What was Heero thinking?

His chosen seat was next to the monitors, and as he tried to think of something helpful to say, his eyes alighted on the Duo's screen. He hadn't moved. A thought struck him, and he looked up at the tensed figure of Wufei. "This Protectorate," he asked slowly, "would they know how to help Duo?"

"We don't need their help."

Quatre's tone sharpened. "That's not what I asked." Wufei glared back, but Quatre wasn't the CEO of an interplanetary conglomerate for nothing. The Chinese boy turned abruptly away, and lifted a shoulder.

"I don't know. Maybe." He made a sound of frustration. "Probably."

Quatre nodded. He's expected as much, but he had to hear it. "Well, then. I don't like it any more than you do, Wufei, but we have to get Duo some help." He waited for Wufei's reluctant nod, and gave him a grateful smile. "I'll call my transportation contacts. What are our coordinates?"

Trowa handed him a sheet of paper, and Quatre thought he saw a pleased smile lurking in the moss-green eyes. It was the first smile he'd seen there since the night at his compound, and, for some reason, it chilled him.

Wufei, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with outrage. "This will not end well," he proclaimed with deadly certainty.

"With us," Quatre said, not without humor, "hardly anything ever does."

* * *

Heero, Amanda, and Tamar stood waiting on the narrow strip of grass that separated the shuttlepad from the hungry jungle, and craned their necks to watch as a star fell from the heavens above. The star, in due time, became a shuttle bearing the discreet wing marks of Winner, Inc. At Heero's right hand, Amanda narrowed her eyes in feline satisfaction.

The shuttle touched ground, and slowly powered down. The trio moved forward as the passenger door opened. Only Tamar flinched from the heat and flung debris that skittered through the air around them.

The first passenger out was Trowa, and before the ramp could even extend, he had leapt to the ground with the grace of a born athlete. "Trowa," Heero greeted him, and the two exchanged brief nods. Trowa studied Amanda and Tamar from behind his shaggy, black bangs. Whatever he thought of what he saw made no mark on his expression. Tamar gave him an uncertain smile, but it was ignored as Trowa turned back to the shuttle.

Quatre and Wufei came down the ramp together, carrying a stretcher between them. Heero stiffened, and looked a question at Trowa. Without taking his eyes from Quatre, Trowa replied, "Duo."

"What happened?" Before Trowa could answer, Quatre and Wufei reached them, and sat the stretcher down. Looking at Duo's peacefully sleeping face, Quatre reflected, one would never guess that it had taken most of what should have been a six-month supply of tranquilizers to keep him that way during the trip.

"What happened?" Heero asked again, this time of Quatre. His eyes were dangerously intense.

"It's a long story; one that should be told after we get him somewhere...safe," Quatre said. He glanced curiously at Heero's companions. "Who are your friends?"

On cue, Amanda glided forward and extended her hand, palm down. Propelled by manners learned in the nursery, Quatre took it, and brushed his lips lightly across her smooth knuckles. She gave him a smile that contained entirely too many teeth for his comfort. "Amanda Gentry," she purred, "and you must be Quatre Raberba Winner. A pleasure." It wasn't until he heard the sound of his full name in her mouth that Quatre realized where he'd seen a smile like that before. Dorothy.

"A pleasure," he repeated, even though it was anything but. He noted that the other hand rested possessively on Heero's arm. What was Heero doing with this woman?

Amanda didn't seem to notice his insincerity, probably because she'd moved on to Wufei. Her smile sharpened. "Well. If it isn't Wufei Chang." She extended her hand again. He stared at it as if it were the maggoty remains of a ten-years-dead corpse. She withdrew smoothly, and Quatre could tell by the slant of her eyebrows that she was amused, rather than offended.

"Mr. Chang," She said sweetly, "allow me to tender my condolences on the loss of your clan. Their...suicide was a blow to us all." Wufei purpled, and Quatre dodged the stretcher to move close enough to restrain him, if necessary.

"Amanda."

She looked at Heero. "Yes, sire?"

"Shut up."

"Yes, sire." She subsided, her expression as serene as a Buddha.

"Sire?" Trowa raised an eyebrow.

Heero grimaced. "I'll explain when we get to the village. Which we should do now." As Wufei and Quatre reached down for the stretcher, Heero laid his hand on Quatre's shoulder. "I'll get this end."

"Are you sure?"

Heero flashed him a thin smile. "Most of the time." Quatre nodded and stepped back. Amanda, frowning at the careful way Heero lifted Duo's stretcher, led the way into the jungle.

PART NINETEEN

The light of the full moon fell across the Blood Tribe village like a cold, crystal kiss, frosting the leaves and the edges of the huts with its faint, silver glow. Amanda and Tamar led the rest of the group to a small, windowless brick building. It was one of the very few stone buildings in the village, and the only one with a door instead of a brightly dyed cloth flap. The door was made of iron, and there was nothing bright about it. Amanda took a keycard from a slim pocket in her dress, and opened the building to reveal the stale darkness inside.

"You want us to put Duo in there?" Quatre's eyes were wide as he took in the barren, prison-like interior.

Amanda gave him a condescending look. "I assure you, the Protectorate has been rescuing berserkers for centuries, and we know how to do it." She ignored Wufei's snort. "It's not for the rest of his life. Just until we know the extend of his sickness. Of course," her tone was challenging, "if you have a better idea, I'd *love* to hear it."

Quatre glowered, and glanced at Wufei for support. Wufei was standing defensively, his flat, black gaze on Amanda and his fists clenched. Nevertheless, at Quatre's silent plea for support, he could only shake his head and growl, "She's right. He needs to be confined for the moment." His eyes flashed. "Only for the moment."

"Of course." Amanda was outwardly gracious in victory. She stepped back and with a gesture that was almost a bow, waved the two holding the stretcher into the room. Trowa and Heero stepped within, and carefully lowered Duo onto the floor. Quatre, despite his concern for Duo, kept his eyes on Amanda, and saw the hand she held the door with twitch. He wondered if Wufei had seen it, as well. This 'Amanda' was not to be trusted, not by him, and not by Heero. And yet the former pilot of the Wing Gundam had shown no sign of his typical wariness around her. What hold did this woman have over him?

The door clanged shut, and Quatre jumped. All five of his companions turned and stared at him. For a second, they shared a common expression, and he suddenly knew how a deer must feel, when a careless bound lands it in the center of a pack of wolves. Then the youngest one, Tamar, smiled gently and the illusion was broken. Trowa said, "Are you all right, Quatre?"

"Just tired." Quatre pinched the bridge of his nose, and tried to make himself believe that what he'd seen--what he'd *thought* he'd seen--was just a phantom conjured up by fatigue. He gave them a weak smile. "It's been a rough couple of days."

Trowa nodded, but his gaze remained speculative. "Well, that's that," Amanda said, and went to tuck the keycard back into her pocket. She was stopped by Heero's slender hand clamping itself on her wrist. Silently, he used his other hand to take the keycard and slip it into his own pocket. Amanda's eyes flashed, but when he let her go, she only smiled ingratiatingly. "If you wanted to keep it, sire, you had only to ask."

He ignored her, and turned to his friends. "There are some empty huts waiting for you, if two of you don't mind doubling up?" It wasn't really a question, and he didn't wait for a reply. "This way."

Quatre and Trowa exchanged a faint, amused smile and fell in behind Heero. Wufei waited for Amanda and Tamar before doing the same, making sure never to turn his back to either of them. And still he radiated unhappiness as they followed their hosts through the thickly clustered houses of the village. Quatre could feel his rage in the deeps of his chest, like the dangerous tickling of biting ants. 'Hold on, Wufei,' he thought, willing him to act sensibly, 'we need these people right now.'

Whether Wufei heard Quatre's plea or not, they reached the two huts without incident. The huts were at the edge of the village proper, and the pilots recognized and appreciated the symbol of trust on Heero's part. Without a word needing to be exchanged, Quatre and Trowa staked out one and Wufei the other. As they inspected the interiors as well as they could in the darkness, Heero's voice came to them from outside. "We'll talk more in the morning. Tamar will be your guide tomorrow, but sleep as long as you like."

Through the door flap, Quatre could see the slim silhouette of Tamar draw itself up to a painful straightness. 'Yes, sire!" he said, loudly enough to cause a bird in a nearby tree to protest sleepily.

"Don't call me sire," Heero muttered. The phrase had the well-worn tone of a childhood prayer to Quatre's ears. Quatre's lips quirked. Heero had never really been a leader, and it looked like he wasn't really enjoying being one now.

"Thank you, Heero, Tamar." Quatre waited just a second longer than was polite before adding, "Amanda." He couldn't see her from within the hut, but it didn't take much imagination to picture the narrowed eyes above the friendly smile. Unlike the other pilots, *he'd* been taught the mannerly warfare of corporate politics almost from birth, and this was the warning shot over the bow. 'I defeated Dorothy,' he thought at her graceful, deadly presence, 'if you push me, I can defeat you, too.'

* * *

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Quatre awoke to find himself alone in the hut. He sat up, absently brushing a few straws from his tousled hair, and looked around. Trowa was nowhere around, and the faint breeze was cool and cutting. He stood, walked to the door-flap, and pushed it aside. The village was still, but the jungle was alive with sounds. Things stalked in the darkness, and were stalked. As he listened, something died with a brief, piteous shriek. He wondered if whatever killed it would be walking around on two legs come the morning. He wondered, for a shameful moment, if it would be Trowa.

He set his jaw firmly against such nonsense, and walked away from the hut. Trowa, he knew, would never do that, no matter what shape he was in. And, indeed, as his eyes scanned the tree line, he saw a slim, masculine form leaning with his back against a tree. It was too dark to see Trowa's eyes, but Quatre knew he was being watched as he closed the distance between them. He ignored the disquieting sensation, and came to stand by his friend. "Is everything okay, Trowa?"

"No."

"Can I help?"

Trowa's lip curled into a mocking smile. "Will you kill me?"

Quatre recoiled. "No, of course I won't!"

"Even if I become like Duo? Even if I go crazy like he did? Will you kill me then?"

"You won't, Trowa. Duo was alone. You're not." 'You don't ever have to be,' he didn't say. He still had no idea where he was in other pilot's affections, and he'd rather not know anything than know there was no chance at all.

"You would have killed me once." Trowa laughed harshly. "You *did* kill me once. Remember?"

Quatre flinched, the memories of his own brief trip into madness still raw and painful in his mind. He said nothing, though. Everything that could be said had been a long time ago. And Trowa knew it, was striking only to wound, not to argue.

The silence grew, sharpened, and cut at him. Still he held his peace. It was a contest between them, to see who could hold out against the tension the longest. Finally, just as Quatre was beginning to search for words, Trowa's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Quatre."

"Apology accepted. Although, I'd think you'd listen to me, since I *do* have firsthand knowledge about this sort of thing."

Trowa chuckled in his subdued way, and Quatre relaxed, but he also felt disappointment. The lightening of the mood signaled the end of the potential of hurting each other, but it also meant that Trowa was retreating back behind his barriers. He was unable to prevent the small sigh from escaping. He touched Trowa lightly on the shoulder and said, "Well, I'll leave you in peace, now." Trowa didn't reply, so Quatre hid the small stab of hurt, and began to walk back to the hut.

Trowa's voice stopped him. "You know, I can smell you now."

Quatre swallowed. "Really? How do I smell?"

Minutes passed, and Quatre thought that Trowa had decided not to answer. Then the answer came out of the shadows behind him, in a voice that hardly sounded like Trowa at all. "Good enough to eat."

Quatre was hard pressed to restrain the shudders that wanted to crawl across the flesh of his back as he took a deep breath. Trowa was testing him. Seeing if he could make Quatre think of him as an 'abomination'. "I'll take that as a compliment," he said brightly, and walked away.

Quickly.

* * *

The morning was already hot by the time the sun pulled itself over the canopy. Quatre awoke to find himself still alone in the hut. Sweat had stuck great hunks of the primitive mattress to him, and he grimaced as he pulled the bits of husk and dirt from his sleep-marked skin. He gave up when he realized that most of it was probably on his back, where he couldn't even *see* it, much less reach it. 'I wish Rashid were here', he thought as he combed his hair as best he could with his fingers. Had Heero mentioned something last night about baths?

He went to the door and stuck his head out from the flap. Tamar leaped to attention from his place just outside. "Mr. Winner, sir!"

Quatre held up a hand and winced. "Quatre, please." He looked around, but this part of the village looked just as deserted as it had last night. "Where is everyone else?"

"Sparring, mostly. Mr. Chang offered to take over for Heero this morning." Quatre noted the worry on Tamar's face. "He said he, uh, wanted to work out some of his aggression."

"Great Allah have mercy on his partners, then." Wufei probably wouldn't do anyone any real harm. Probably. He stopped himself before he could ask Tamar to take him there. He was not going *anywhere* in public without a bath, barring the end of the universe itself. "Are there baths, here?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Uh, Quatre, I mean. Right this way." Tamar led the way to one of the other brick buildings in the village. Along the way, they passed a few other villagers, and curious, suspicious eyes followed them all the way into the building. Tamar showed Quatre where everything was, and then grinned. "This is actually a good time. Everybody's at the square, so you aren't likely to be interrupted."

PART TWENTY

After a long, hot bath, Quatre felt human again. The irony of that put a small smile on his face all the way to the square. Several men and women of various sizes and ages were working out in practice rings. With mingled relief and disappointment, he noted that they all seemed to be content to fight in human form. Even so, his trained eye noted their inhuman speed and grace as they moved through training katas. It was actually easier to recognize the differences in solitary practice; in the rings where two or more sparred, the eye was fooled by the fact that everyone was moving at the same, impossible, speed. He watched for a while. It never hurt to know your allies' capability...or your enemies'.

That Quatre still hadn't decided which these men and women were, he considered a bad sign.

"Mr. Quatre?"

Quatre turned and smiled at Tamar. "Didn't we go over this, before? It's just Quatre."

Tamar smiled back. "Sorry, sir...Quatre. I just wanted to tell you that, if you were looking for Mr. Chang and Mr. Barton, they're in the command building, with Amanda." The look on his face suggested that Quatre's abilities as mediator would be desperately needed shortly, if not right this moment.

Quatre sighed, and looked back at the nearest practice ring as a young woman with startlingly pale hair threw her partner over her shoulder with a triumphant yell. The ground beneath his feet didn't shake as the other's massive body slammed into the packed dirt, which Quatre felt was unfair. 'When the world crashes into you', he thought at the nameless fighter, 'it should at least have the common courtesy to notice, shouldn't it?'

He looked away. "Thank you, Tamar. I suppose I should go and see what the plan is."

The boy nodded, and fell in beside Quatre. He pointed the way through the huts, and kept up a line of friendly chatter that neither of them paid much attention to. When they reached the command building, he stopped and bowed. "I have other duties, sir, so I'll leave you here. If you need to go back to your quarters..."

"I can find my own way, I'm sure." Quatre's eyes twinkled as he patted Tamar on the shoulder. "You're doing a very good job as guide, but I think I've got it, now."

Tamar blushed, stammered something, and bowed again before leaving. Quatre shook his head. The boy wasn't that much younger than he, but somehow, Quatre couldn't believe that he'd ever been *that* young. From inside the building, which was one of the other "real" ones, a sturdy square of concrete with a wooden door, he could hear raised voices. He steeled himself, and turned the handle.

"...*listen* to me, you bloodthirsty bitch!" Wufei's shout slapped at him as Quatre stepped inside and quickly closed the door. The Chinese pilot was out of his seat, his hands planted aggressively on the table, and his face about five inches from Amanda's seated form.

"Now, Mr. Chang," she replied calmly, "I don't think there's any need to hurl insults, simply because we have a...difference of opinion, do you?" Her eyes weren't on Wufei; they were darting to the faces of each of the others seated at the table. Quatre almost groaned aloud. She was using Wufei's formidable temper to her advantage, discrediting him in the eyes of the others.

He hurried forward, and put a restraining hand on Wufei's shoulder. Wufei shrugged it off impatiently, but he did take his seat again. However, no one could look into his face and imagine that his rage was any less than it had been a moment ago.

Amanda smiled at him, then turned her attention to Quatre. "Mr. Winner. It's so good to see you, finally. I trust you slept well?"

He bowed, his own polite mask firmly in place. "Call me Quatre, please, Amanda. And I apologize for my tardiness. Flights from Outer Space can be so wearing. As I'm sure you know." He was sure that she *didn't*, if Wufei was telling the truth when he said his Clan had kept the Protectorate from the Colonies.

Her nearly imperceptible nod told him that the hit had been acknowledged. So they were even, if you could ignore all the points she'd been racking up on Wufei while he was relaxing in the bath. He took the empty seat between Wufei and Trowa without being asked, and gave his most charming and innocent smile. "I hate to be a burden, but would someone be kind enough to fill me in on what's been discussed so far?"

The time spent filling Quatre in allowed Wufei to get his temper back under control, and gave Quatre a good, if rudimentary, idea of what was going on. There were eight people at the meeting, none of which were Heero. When he asked where Heero was, Trowa had answered with one word: "Duo." Amanda was there as his representative. Then there were the pilots, and the four Elders from the predatory tribes that were members of the Protectorate. The canine branch was represented by a grey-haired man named Colin, who spoke with a refined English accent and looked profoundly uncomfortable in his human form. Throughout the briefing, Quatre noticed him pulling at his tie and growling softly to himself.

Quatre felt better about the representative of the felines. Kay Daniels was a plump, outspoken American who had an obvious dislike for Amanda, and seemed rather easily charmed by Quatre's friendly manner. He marked her under "allies". Still, he watched her carefully. No one knew better than he how easily a sharp and deadly mind could be hidden behind an innocent facade. The man sitting to her right, however, was quickly assigned to the enemy camp. Joseph Monroe was also American, but the representative of the reptile Blood Tribes was as hostile as the feline was receptive. He was completely Amanda's creature, Quatre quickly discovered, and seemed to take Wufei's behavior as a direct challenge to his authority. Which was possible, Quatre admitted.

The last representative, like the first, couldn't immediately be put into any category. Essian Bayode was a well-dressed, dark-skinned man who watched a lot, and said little. He was the representative of the tribes that were too small to have their own, like avians. Quatre thought that he might not care for Amanda much, but his few remarks showed an inclination towards bloodshed that Quatre found disturbing.

The topic under debate was the Protectorate attack on a military base that was rumored to be controlled and used by a Hunter. The attack hadn't *been* a debate until Quatre, Wufei, and Trowa had showed up. Once Wufei had challenged the wisdom of such a move, however, Daniels and, surprisingly, Colin, had voiced their own reservations with the mission. As leaders of the two largest contingencies of the Protectorate, their objections could not be lightly pushed aside. So the representatives were tangled in arguments about ethics and logistics, as well as using the opportunities to make power plays within the group. And, Quatre thought with satisfaction, the only person who could unite the Protectorate leadership with any speed was briefly out of the picture.

Quatre launched himself into the discussion with a mental, gleeful rub of his hands. He knew what side *he* was on, and it wasn't Amanda's. With a little verbal footwork, he knew he could keep these people deadlocked for ages. He and Amanda locked gazes at the same time, and gave each other identical, insincere smiles.

The war was on.

* * *

Heero leaned against the cold, unfinished stone of the containment building, and stared at the black-clad form huddled in the corner. Duo was curled on his side, his arms clutching his knees, and his filthy hair winding in tattered ribbons around his body. His eyes were open, but Heero couldn't tell if they were seeing anything in this world. He'd been there since a little after dawn, and in all that time, there had been no change. Only the dilation of Duo's pupils as the door had opened kept Heero from going over and checking his pulse.

Duo's body was a little more than an arm's length away. Heero closed his eyes, and resisted the momentary impulse to stretch his hand out. Instead he began to talk. "Duo. You're an idiot. After everything...is this the way you're going to finish? I never thought you were that weak. Crazy, but not weak."

He heard Duo shift. It was a good sign. 'Or,' he thought with a touch of morbid humor, 'it's a sign that I'm about to be eaten by the closest thing I have to a best friend.' Either way, it was progress. "You think you're the first person in the world to have to deal with collateral damage? Let me tell you a story, about...a little girl and a puppy." Heero kept his voice expressionless throughout his recitation of the event that had haunted him for years. As he finished, silence wrapped around them once again. Duo made no sound, no signal that he understood anything that had gone on.

"Duo," Heero said, his eyes still closed. "we all have to live as we feel. Destruction is buried inside us all, which is why peace can never last. We all devour each other, one way or another. You fucked up, no question. You lost control...I know how that feels. And when you lose control, you can't trust yourself, can't trust anything. Except your own feelings. If you feel that you can't do anything else but die, then go ahead. From authority, however, I can tell you that it doesn't help."

He stood up, and looked down into the darkness that held Duo's body. "You're devouring yourself, letting the destruction in your soul rule you. That's not the Duo I know. He was the master of destruction, not its servant. Is this any way for the God of Death to behave?"

"Don't call me that."

"Duo?" No answer. Heero let the silence stretch, and hoped his words had found some purchase. He'd done all he could, all he knew how to do. He had other duties to attend to. He opened the door, and as his eyes watered against the jungle sunlight, he paused. "If your feelings lead you back, Duo...we're here."

PART TWENTY-ONE

Heero. Why did you tell me that? Why do you care whether I live or die? Of all the people, I would have thought that you would understand. 'Follow your feelings'...how do I do that, when I don't even know who I am, anymore?

You are Shinigami. You are Coyote. You are the hunger that is never sated.

No. No, that's not who I am. That's not who I want to be. The war is over, Shinigami is dead. It's nothing more than a name...a name chosen by a stupid, angry kid. Don't call me that. I have another name...

The King is right. You are weak.

What's Elvis got to do with this? Leave me alone. You're a ghost. A ghost of a monster. I'll kill you.

Death is defeat. Death is the fate of all who fail. Death is your calling.

And what does that say about me, huh? Why couldn't I have been...I don't know...the God of Flowers or something? Something good, something pure. Instead, I'm the God of Death. Fuck it. Fuck you. Let me stay here in the dark. Let me die.

You do not want to die.

Yeah? You think so? What do you know about it?

I am you. You are me. I do not want to die, therefore you do not want to die. You lie to yourself, deny yourself. You sicken me.

Don't call me a liar. And doesn't that mean that I sicken myself? Sounds about right. Glad we agree on something, then. Shit, man, now I know I'm crazy.

You don't have to be. You are divided. You will not accept the truth. The truth of me. Accept the monster, or you'll lose the man.

Kill the man, and I'll kill the monster.

Death is my domain. The domain of Shinigami. You cannot kill me unless you embrace me.

My dark side is a philosophy student. How fucked up is that?

Choose. Decide who you are, and what you will be. I grow weary, waiting for you. I must feed. I must live.

...I don't want to be a monster...

Liar.

* * *

"Can't say I care for it, Amanda. Puts my people in a high-risk area, you see?" Colin gnawed pensively on the end of his tie. "Get Joseph to lead the charge with *his* people, if he's so bloody eager for the fray."

"I'd be glad to," Joseph said quickly, "but there simply are not enough of my people to do so. Your people are the most numerous." And most expendable, his thin-lipped smile said. Sometime during the endless series of arguments, his eyes had changed to a flat yellow color, and Quatre could see the tips of white fangs that flashed whenever he spoke. Uneasily, he wondered what would happen to him if one of them really, truly lost his or her temper.

"My people are just as valuable as yours," Colin growled, "Remember that, snake, before I have to tie you into a knot."

"Gentlemen," Amanda leaned forward, and gave both men quelling looks. "We're not here to fight each other, please. You're scaring young Mr. Winner."

Kay sniffed and gave Quatre a soft look. His youth and gentle good looks appeared to have prompted her to treat him as a sort of adopted son, to Quatre's mingled relief and embarrassment. "I'm not so sure *why* I'm here, anymore, Amanda. This plan you have, war with the humans, it's contrary to all the customs of secrecy that we have followed for centuries."

"Some would say it is a weakness to hold onto obsolete customs," Essian murmured. Of them all, he was the only one who seemed wholly unaffected by the heat and the tension. His suit was still crisply ironed and clean, and Quatre hadn't seen any suggestion that the man even *had* a temper to lose. Every attempt to bait him into revealing more of himself had been met with a bland smile, and a pleasant, meaningless remark. But then, every time that one of the other Elders seemed about come down strongly in opposition to the attack, there he would be, with a quiet challenge.

And they would back down, as Kay did now, with a frown and a shrug. "Of course, we can't be hidebound, but is this really the right time for such a move?"

"What better time could there be?" Joseph slammed the table with his fist. "After that debacle with the Colonies," a sly glance over at the pilots, "the Earth has destroyed all of its mobile suits, and most of its heavy armaments. The UN is committed to that 'total pacifism' nonsense. They would never see it coming."

"They would blame any attack on the Colonies first," Trowa said. It was the first time since Quatre had asked about Heero, and a moment of silence flowed around the table as people remembered that he was there.

Joseph sat back with a smirk of satisfaction. "All the better, then. None of *our* people are up there."

"You *coward*!" Wufei leapt up from his chair. "You want the glory of war, without the responsibility. You don't give a damn about anything but your own blood lust. You are not worthy of the position of Elder, or any other."

Joseph stood. His serpentine eyes held a dangerous light. "Maybe you were hot shit up in those tin cans, Chang, but down here, *I'm* in charge. Keep that in mind before you mouth off to me, Exile."

"Sit down, Wufei." Quatre's voice was urgent.

"No! He has dishonored those he claims to serve!"

"Sit *down*."

Wufei's knees bent before his head had registered the order. He landed back in his seat with a thump, and stared at Quatre with eyes that had gone completely black. Among the pilots, Quatre had an unspoken rank. He was the tactician, the only real team player in the lot of them. He'd never used that informal influence so blatantly before, and seeing the anger in Wufei's eyes, he realized that he'd never be able to use it again, not like that and not with Wufei.

Trust me, his eyes begged.

Yes, Wufei replied with the defensive set of his shoulders, for now.

Joseph was still standing, and he looked from one pilot to the other with disdain. "Well, looks like we know whose holding the leash in this relationship. Didn't know you had a thing for blondes, Chang."

A peculiar, rattling growl came from Wufei's throat, but he didn't move or otherwise reply to the taunt. His eyes still held Quatre's, and for a moment Quatre had a feeling that it really *was* a kind of leash, like Wufei was using something in his eyes to hold himself down. He didn't dare move. As Amanda waved Joseph back he felt the first trickle of gratitude for the woman since he'd arrived.

The room that Heero entered was choked in silence as thick as green wood smoke. He looked around, then smiled at Quatre. "Everything okay?" he said in a voice that suggested that he knew very well that it was not.

The tension broke, and Wufei finally dropped his gaze to the neutral surface of the table. Quatre sagged in the chair, pinched the bridge of his nose, and chuckled tiredly. "About as well as can be expected."

"That bad?" Heero moved to the empty seat at the darkened end of the table, and looked down at the Protectorate members. Each of them bowed his or her head as his eyes flickered over them. "So. What's the plan?"

Colin shifted nervously. "We haven't gotten that far, quite. Er, sire."

"Why not?" Heero turned to Quatre. "I'd hoped you would have come up with something. We don't have an unlimited timetable, and you're the best tactician I know."

"This is insanity, Yuy." Wufei didn't look up from the table as he spoke. "We can't fight the whole human race."

"No," Heero agreed. "Just those on Earth. They can have the Colonies. They can build as many as they need."

Quatre shook his head. "Heero...why are you doing this?"

"Those that would kill me...or my friends...are my enemy. Humanity is my enemy."

"The Hunters are not all of humanity!"

"Every human would be a Hunter, if they knew of us," Amanda snapped. Around the table, heads nodded. "We have all lost someone to ambush, to human fears and human hate. Why should we just lie down and take it? We were made to rule this planet!"

"No," Quatre said. It was all spiraling out of control. He could feel it slipping through his fingers, but he didn't know how to stop it. He had to change Heero's mind. "It doesn't have to be that way. What about the hope of peace? What about our dreams, Heero? You're going to start another war!"

"It wouldn't have lasted, anyway," Heero said. His voice was gentle. "Quatre, this is the only way...how long to you think Re...this peace would have lasted once humanity found out about us? Even the doctors have betrayed us. We must fight. We have no choice."

"I don't accept that!" Quatre found he was shaking as he stood up. "There is always a choice. You don't *have* to do this! Kay, Colin?" Finding no flexibility in Heero's expression, he turned to the two Elders he'd tried to cultivate.

Only to see them shake their heads. Colin said nothing, and wouldn't look at him, but his teeth worried his tie to shreds. Kay's hands fluttered helplessly, and she looked at him with pity. "I'm sorry, dear. But we are called, and must obey the Leo."

"I won't let you do this," Wufei promised, staring at Heero. "If you walk this path, I will kill you."

"Understood," Heero said with a nod. "Quatre?"

"No, Heero. I can't support this. You're my friend, and you always will be, but I'll fight you if I have to."

Another nod. "Trowa?"

Trowa looked around the table, and then faced Quatre. Quatre could read the decision in his eyes, and a pain like a bullet pierced him to the heart. "Trowa!"

Trowa stepped away. "I'm in."

Heero smiled, it was unexpectedly sweet, and not at all triumphant. "Thank you," he said. Then he turned to Quatre and Wufei. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to remain here, until our first attack is finished. You know too much about it. Then you can have your shuttle back, and...whatever will happen, will happen."

Beside him, Quatre felt Wufei tense and his own feet scuffled the dirt floor as they shifted into a more balanced stance. Even as his body readied for battle, however, his mind reined it in. They couldn't fight, not now. The Elders were focused on them with predatory attention. If they'd been human, Quatre knew, they could have attacked anyway. Impossible odds were, after all, their specialty. But suicide wouldn't help anybody, and Quatre could follow Wufei's progression to the same conclusion by the minute changes in his posture. The Elders closed in on them. He made himself relax as Kay touched his shoulder lightly, warningly.

"I'll escort them to a confinement building, sire," Amanda said, not even bothering to hide her glee.

"I'll go with you," Heero said. "I want to see where they'll be staying, and I want someone to see to their needs while they're here."

"Yes, sire." As Heero turned away, Quatre watched Amanda's eyes, and once again caught a flash of frustration and hate flicker across her face. She hid it quickly, but he saw. He knew. 'When I escape,' he vowed silently, 'I'll find you. This is your fault.'

The group, with the two prisoners securely in the center of the wary Elders made their way awkwardly out of the building, and to the opposite end of the village from where Duo was confined. The realization was a reminder. "What about Duo?"

"He stays with me." There was no hesitation in Heero's response.

They reached another stone hut, with the now-familiar style of iron door. Amanda opened the door. As they passed, she bent close Quatre and whispered, "It was fun while it lasted, sweetie."

Before the door closed and locked he and Wufei into darkness, Quatre smiled. Nothing like his normal smile, it was an expression that no one but his own, dear Sandrock had ever seen. "This isn't over, yet."

PART TWENTY-TWO

"Well," Doctor J said as the door slid closed, "is it done?"

"It is," Professor S replied. With his remaining hand, he threw a package onto the desk where J sat. As it landed, the brittle clinking of glass could be heard through the plastic. "Although I still don't understand why you had me eliminate this evidence. The police could be of use to us."

"They must not know, of course. You shock me, Professor, by even considering letting civilians in on our sacred duty. They will fulfill their purpose even without the knowledge."

S lowered himself into a nearby chair. He caressed the bandages wrapped around the stump of his wrist. "I can still feel it, you know. It is a most curious sensation."

J snorted. "A most *irrelevant* sensation, you mean. We have other things to consider. The Hunt, for example."

"I consider the loss of my hand to be quite relevant, actually, Doctor," S replied mildly.

"We'll get you a new one. Now, concentrate, man!"

"Very well." S stopped rubbing the stump, with obvious effort. "The Hunt, then. I think it's obvious that we are all that is left. We underestimated them."

"Nonsense," J leapt from his chair, and began to pace the austere, steel room. "We knew their capabilities perfectly well. No, our mistake was to clutch to the false comfort of obsolete customs. Man's strength is his ability to adapt. We failed to adapt to the conditions that we created...we deserved this slap on the wrist." He paused. "No offense."

"None taken, Doctor. But I trust that this is going somewhere?"

"Always, Professor. I propose that we stop this heedless, solitary chase after our prey. Now that they are together, and we have lost the element of surprise. We must band together as we did before, and change the rules." He walked over to his case, and opened it with a flourish.

S stood, and walked over to examine the modified crossbow. He picked it up with his one hand, then placed it on the desk, and raised one of the bolts to eye-level and sighted down its length. He smiled. As he set the bolt down, the manilla envelope at the very bottom of the case caught his eye. At J's gleeful nod, he picked it up and awkwardly opened it. His eyes narrowed as he studied the four pictures. "What is this about?"

Doctor J rubbed his hands together, and grinned. "Bait."

* * *

"We should have fought them." Wufei's feet beat out a rhythm of anger as he paced near the door to the cell.

"We would have died. We couldn't have killed the whole village."

"We should have *tried*, Winner. Instead, we're trapped in this damn box while the Protectorate makes a mockery out of everything I've ever believed in." Wufei slammed his body against the door, to no effect. "Damn it! Why is Heero going along with this insanity? It can't possibly succeed. He sounds like..."

"Milliardo Peacecraft," finished Quatre. "At the end. 'Destroy the Earth to save it'." He remembered the mad Lightning Count, and Quatre's heart ached. With nothing left to protect, he'd tried to buy peace through total destruction. Insanity, but with a nobility of its own. Quatre gasped.

"What is it?"

"What if Heero isn't *trying* to succeed, Wufei?"

Wufei's heels scraped on the concrete floor as he spun to face Quatre. "What are you babbling about? He's got an *army* out there!"

"Well, think about what Milliardo was trying to accomplish...ending war by killing everyone who fought. Now, map that to what we already know about Heero..."

"...and he may be trying to destroy the Protectorate by leading them into a hopeless fight." Wufei's voice was dumbfounded. "It makes sense. Especially if the only members of the Blood Tribe he's had contact with are these raving imbeciles. We've *got* to stop him. I wouldn't shed a tear for any one of these fools, but there are others out there who are too weak to defend themselves, once humanity knows of their existence." He resumed pacing. "You really believe that's what he's trying to do?"

"I don't know. Maybe I just want it to be true. If I could just talk to him..."

"That's going to be difficult from this side of the door."

The reminder of their captivity made Quatre sink down the wall with sudden weariness. From his new position on the floor, Quatre could hear the muffled cacophony of a large group mustering for war. He wondered where Trowa was, and why he was going along with this. "We'll get out of here, Wufei. I know it."

Wufei's response was to throw himself at the door again. It didn't budge, and Wufei swore long and impressively in Mandarin.

"Would it help if you...changed?"

"No. It's reinforced." Quatre felt the air stir as Wufei left the door and leaned against the wall beside Quatre. "Of course, now would be an excellent time for you to metamorphose. If you did, the two of us might manage to break it down. I doubt that anything but gundanium could stand up to both of us."

"I don't know how," Quatre said miserably. 'And I don't want to...lose myself like Duo did,' he admitted to himself. He'd lost control once, and it had cost millions of lives. How could he embrace anything that would make him risk the same again? But if he didn't at least *try*, how many more deaths would his fear cause? Two doors, and behind each, a tiger.

Above his head, Wufei made an impatient sound. "It's not something that you *learn*, Quatre. It's something that you *are*. It isn't," his voice faltered, "it isn't always like this. We aren't all thugs and madmen."

"I know." Quatre tried to sound as if he believed it. He did...except for the tiny part of him that persisted in wondering 'what if'. The part that he had successfully ignored when he had a mission, but now, in the darkness with nothing to do but wait, was finding himself unable to shut out.

"So, will you try, Quatre?"

Quatre shut his eyes against the blackness without, only to find more within. Possible madness or certain shame? Could he seriously face Trowa on a battlefield with no Gundam to hide behind? Could he really sit idly by while people died for no good reason? Why did he fight?

"I fight to preserve the gentle ones of the world."

"Was that a yes?"

Quatre started. He hadn't realized that he'd spoken out loud. But it *was* a yes; there were always gentle ones to be protected...whether they were human or Blood Tribe. And he could no more turn away from his responsibility to them--any of them--than he could spit on the grave of his father. He stood. "What do I have to do?"

Wufei took him by the shoulders and maneuvered him into the center of the room, facing the door. He stepped away, and said, "What do you *want* to do?"

"Escape. I want to get out of here." And see Trowa again.

"Good answer." Wufei's smile was evident in the tone of the words. "Concentrate on that, and reach down into the core of yourself, down to the part of you that is sleeping, and wake it up. Gently."

Quatre nodded, closed his eyes, and tried to follow Wufei's directions. The minutes passed, and he tried to keep his mind focused on the door, and the strength he would need to get through it. He pulled up his memories of Trowa and Wufei's changed forms, and tried to merge them with his. 'I need you,' he pleaded to whatever power was within him, 'we need you. If you really are part of me, then you'll listen, and you'll help us.'

And something stirred. The breath caught in his throat, and his skin crawled frantically beneath his clothes. Quatre fell to his knees as dizzy waves of sensation washed over him. His eyes flew open, straining to see something just beyond his reach. And his ears were filled with a sound, so familiar but so far away...a dry rustling like leaves or...

The door opened. The setting sun's crimson light pierced Quatre's eyes like a lance and he cried out. His concentration broke, and whatever had been rising within him fled back into the shelter of his soul. He sagged against the cold floor, drained and soaked with sweat.

"Well, well, well," a dry male voice said. "Looks like we interrupted something, eh, Lisa?"

"It would appear so. Looked important. Too bad." 'Lisa' didn't sound at all sorry. "Get up, Mr. Winner."

He didn't. Instead he studied with smarting eyes the two shadows on the other side of the doorway, paying special attention to the crossbow the man held. The loaded crossbow. Behind him, he heard Wufei's rattling growl. "That's a rather old-fashioned weapon, don't you think?" he asked in his friendliest voice.

The shadows of the man's face shifted to suggest a grin. "You know what they say...if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Now stand up, so you can die like a man."

Smiling, Quatre went to one knee, as if to rise. "Wufei?"

"Yeah?" The air between them vibrated like a guitar string and the crossbow jerked indecisively between its two targets.

"Now."

They sprang as one, Wufei leaping high, and Quatre sprinting low. The crossbow twanged; Wufei roared in fury. His pain echoed in Quatre, his left shoulder burned with phantom fire before he plowed into the woman's knees at full speed and had more immediate things to worry about.

He and the woman slammed into the packed dirt in a tangle of thrashing limbs. She got in a glancing kick on his shin and Quatre's entire leg from the knee down went numb. He grunted and slammed his forehead into her nose. It shattered with a crunch. Streetfighting wasn't exactly his style, but if it kept him alive...he'd thank Duo later. She tried to scramble away from him, but he clung to her with grim determination, getting in blows where and whenever an opening appeared. He was winning, too; she had a huge strength advantage, but Quatre was well trained, his skills honed in the chaos of war. She fought as if she were trying to score points...he fought to save his life.

He ducked her elbow, and slammed his palm up into her face. He felt the heel of his hand catch on the bleeding remains of her nose and thrust upwards, hoping to the drive the nasal bone like a dagger into her brain. She screamed again, an inhuman yowl, and her feet drew convulsively up to her chest, making a spirited attempt to disembowel him with claws that split open the tips of her toes. He launched himself straight upward with a yell of his own, moving quickly enough that her claws only shredded his clothing. While he was off balance, her arm came up and slapped him.

Quatre felt ribs break as he hurtled sideways through the air. He twisted, trying to soften his landing. He struck one of the huts in mid-flight, and the flimsy walls exploded around him. The floor was as hard as stone, but he couldn't afford to be stunned. Instinct rolled him into a new defensive position. Reeds scratched and tickled his skin in a thousand places. Every breath was white agony. 'Now,' he thought to the Beast within, 'would be an excellent for you to come out. Before I end up as the world's largest cat toy.'

There was no answer, and through the hole in the wall, he could see his opponent, her body twisting and reshaping to an insane amalgam of woman and tiger. She shook her head once, blood flew to spatter on the ground. Her muzzle turned toward him...no longer could he see any sign of the damage he had inflicted. Frantically, he searched the hut with his eyes. No weapons, anywhere. The tiger-woman was moving forward slowly, her golden eyes fixed on his face, her claws curling and uncurling. 'Merciful Allah...'

Wufei, in his reptilian form, landed on her back with a throaty snarl of battle. She twisted, but not fast enough. Wufei's claw reached up to the sky; it was clutching something long and thin. Quatre had a second in which to recognize the crossbow bolt. It already dripped with gore. Wufei brought it down like a bolt from heaven, burying it to the fletching in his target's chest. He leapt free as she convulsed, then fell and lay still. By the time he landed, his form was already dwindling back to human.

Wufei stalked, nude and apparently oblivious to it, to the hole in the hut's wall. "Quatre?"

"I'm...here." He stood up. "Is she..."

"Dead. It was a Hunter's weapon." His thin lips twisted in disgust. "Such things should be destroyed. It sickens me to have to have used it." He studied Quatre. "Can you make it?"

Quatre nodded. "Of course." He took a few steps, and found that the damage wasn't as bad as he'd thought. Bruises everywhere, and the ribs, of course, but shock's pain relieving effects were setting in. He could handle it. He looked at Wufei, his face grim. "This was Amanda's idea. Heero wouldn't do this."

"Granted." Wufei gave him a hand out of the wrecked hut. They looked around. "And if she was going to kill us..."

"Duo!"

They ran. Quatre's side screamed at him, but he ignored it. Duo was not in any condition to fight off armed attackers, and Allah only knew what being attacked by other Beasts would do to his fragile mental state. They dodged empty huts, Quatre could hear the beating of his heart pounding out a frantic rhythm: too late, too late, too late.

They rounded the final corner and slid to a stop as Duo's cell came into view. A shredded corpse lay at the foot of the closed door, and a battered body hung, pinned with a Hunter's bolt to the wall, its bloody arms clutching the remains of another man by the tattered strips of what used to be his throat.

Tamar's one remaining eye rolled in its socket towards them. He grinned a ghastly grin. "I saved him...for the...for Heero. Take the Wing...cell key...pocket." Then he shuddered once, and his hands loosened. The second body landed at Tamar's feet like a damp sack of grain. Quatre had seen the moment of death too many times not to recognize it now.

Silence fell.

TO BE CONTINUED

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