See Part One for Disclaimers

Part Three

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>>dream or flashback<<
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Heero calmly walked over to his small desk, sitting lightly in the folding chair.  Quatre, I'm sorry...  He'd known that one of them would challenge him, sooner or later.  But why did it have to be Quatre?  He was so frail lately.

Why couldn't it have been Duo?  I know he could take it.  But could I?  There was nothing he could do about it, though.  Heero wished like hell that he could make the others understand; he only wanted to protect them.  I had to discipline Quatre; there's no room for second-guessing in this game.

He was sure that they all despised him now, after what he'd done.  That's a laugh.  You know they despised you long before this!  When had it happened?  When had they become his subordinates?  When had he lost his friends?  The day they all decided I was their god, their light, their everything.  The day the world, including his fellow pilots, had sentenced him to Hell.

Heero silently rose from his chair, going to his door.  He gently placed an ear to the cold wood, listening for any signs of life.  Nothing.  Silent.  Noiselessly, he opened the door and slinked down the dark hallway.  As he passed their doors, his fellow pilots', Heero imagined them all sleeping soundly, peacefully.  The thought both pleased and angered him.  He needed to keep them safe, all of them, and yet, he still resisted, still desperately wished that someone else had been chosen for this role.  No, I am the world's protector.  That  is my mission and I must accept it.

When he came to Wufei's room, Heero noticed that the Chinese boy was still awake, a soft light gleaming from under his door.  Hmm, candlelight.  He didn't breathe as he passed the 'dragon's lair' (another one of Duo's little jokes), mindful of alerting no one to his presence.  Down the hallway, he headed left through the blackened living room, towards his final destination:  the kitchen.

Heero pulled one of the chairs out from the table, facing it towards the back door.  Sitting down, he made a few mental notes.  If they tried to come in the back door, he'd be waiting for them.  He didn't think they'd be tactless enough o use the front door, but Heero planned on making the rounds every twenty minutes anyway.  No one's going to get in this house tonight.

He set his gun down delicately in his lap, ready to attack.  The Japanese boy took control of his senses, stretching them out to their limits.  His eyes began adjusting to the dark, more and more detail showing itself.  And his hearing sharpened, too; he could hear cars passing on the distant highway.  Even though his body was on full alert, Heero allowed himself one last moment of freedom.  Closing his eyes, he whispered "I'm sorry Quatre...I'm sorry Duo."  Even as the lone tear slid down his face, Heero reopened his eyes and continued his vigil.

*      *      *

Wufei glanced up from lighting a candle, bringing his eyes to the door.  Is someone out there?  He remained frozen for a moment, listening.  Finally convinced that no one was lurking in the hall, he continued his meditation preparations.  Wufei went down on the floor, taking up the familiar posture with ease.  He cleared his mind once again, repeating the same process he'd gone through earlier that day.  Ah.  He felt his being opening up, and then they began to appear before his eyes.  Dozens, hundreds, thousands; they just kept coming.  One of the elders (perhaps the same one as earlier, though he wasn't sure) began to speak.

"Chang Wufei.  Why have you not honored our requests?"  He had never answered them before, always remained silent to their pleas.  A younger man, though still quite old, spoke this time.

"Do you care nothing for honoring your ancestors?"  He still had not gathered the courage to speak.  This time, his own father addressed him.

"Chang, son, please.  You must."  Why are they doing this to me?  Is it my punishment for being weak?  As much as their words pained him, he still could not respond.  The voice that now came from the crowd was soft, feminine.

"Wufei..."  He knew that voice.  It's her...I knew she would come.

He managed a breathy response.  "Meiran."

"Fight for our justice."  She sounded so imploring, urging him to action.  She hadn't spoken to him like that since...

He was confused.  "Your justice?"  At least his voice was coming back to him, though it was still soft and rough.  Meiran's voice echoed throughout the room, then faded back into nothingness.

"Fight...for us."  Wufei didn't want her to go.

"Wait!"  But it was too late; he was left with all the others; all the people combined who didn't mean half as much to him as her.

"We need the revenge.  You must hear us, obey us.  Pay blood with blood, body with body."  It was the ancient one again.  Wufei didn't want to listen to this, yet again.

"I can't do the things you're asking me to do.  I won't hurt weak, innocent people!"

"There are no innocents in this world.  There can be no justice without retribution."  He needed to ask them about the traitor; he knew they could help him.  But  will they?

"There is one among my group who is out of harmony with the others.  Please, I require your assistance."  The crowd of men, women, and children began to seethe and teem like a net full of silvery fish.  Wufei could hear them all begin to speak at once, a cacophony of voices filling his head and probably the entire house.  Then, they began to speak as one.

"Justice.  Bring us our justice."  Wufei could feel something slipping away from him, leaving his body.  What is it?  He couldn't tell.  Then a voice he didn't expect to hear emerged from the crowd.

"You must help us."  The form of Trowa was standing before him.  What?  What's he doing here?  Wufei was stunned.

"You must bring us justice.  It's the only way."  It was Trowa, but not Trowa.  Trowa's normally blank face twisted into some sort of hateful, pathetic expression.  Why are they trying to use him against me?  Wufei thought about the stoic youth, so utterly, painfully quiet.  And yet, he communicates with me without speaking; he somehow manages through the silence.  Of all the others, Trowa was the only one who seemed to understand him, the only one he felt he could really talk to.  We all need someone to listen.  Trowa was definitely the best listener among them.

Wufei knew his friend wouldn't be here, among these people, trying to force him into a part he refused to play.  With a final deep breath, the Chinese boy concentrated his will and forced them all back into darkness.  Rising to his knees, he noticed that the candles had burnt away, leaving him, too, in darkness.  Curling up into a ball, Wufei decided to spend the rest of the night there, on the floor.  The bed was so far away, and he knew he'd never make it.

*      *      *

Morning had come, almost.  He supposed six wasn't too early to rise, though the sun wouldn't be up for over an hour.  I wonder if we're taking the Gundams.  Heero hadn't said.  There was really nothing for him to do, then, until the others were up and ready to go.  Sleep wasn't an option.  Maybe he could get some breakfast...No, he wasn't hungry.

Trowa decided to investigate the war room.  I never got a chance last night.  Maybe there's a clue as to what happened.  Still in yesterday's clothes, he slipped out the door and up the hallway.  As he entered the living room, he could sense someone nearby.  Retreating to the shadows, Trowa moved stealthily towards the kitchen.  He peered around the corner, only to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Neither he nor Heero moved, eyes locked together by some supernatural force.  Trowa broke the silence.  "Going to try the same trick on me that you pulled on Quatre?"  His voice held it's characteristic flat tone, but inside, Trowa fought down a speck of fear that had managed to escape his defenses.  Heero dropped his gun and went back to his post.

"It's early, go back to bed."

"I've got things to do."  Trowa really wanted to ask him why he was staked out in the kitchen, but then again, he knew the answer to that question anyway.  He did need to know one thing, though.  "Are we taking the Gundams?"

Heero glanced down at his watch, seemed satisfied with what he saw there, and responded.  "No.  They aren't required for this mission."

Trowa walked back into the living room, then, heading for the war room.  He noticed that the door was still wide open, and he was afraid to go inside at first, frightened at what he might find.  There is no fear, there is nothing.  You are nothing.  Thank god for his defenses, he'd never get anything done without them.

With each step Trowa took into the room, broken glass and splintered strips of wood paneling crunched under his shoes.  It was obvious by the time of the attack that the assassins had know a.) Which room they would all be in, and b.) What time they would be in there.  It's a good thing Heero's not long-winded, or we could have all been killed.  It was a wonder that Maxwell had survived.

Trowa began at one end of the room, methodically sifting through the jumble of materials covering the floor.  An hour later, just as he was about to call it quits, he noticed something near the overstuffed chair by the window.  The chair Duo had been sitting in.  He knelt down, careful not to kneel on any broken glass, and picked up the tiny scrap of blue paper.  Scrawled across it were six numbers:  692834.  The handwriting was unmistakable.  "Duo."

"Yes?"

Trowa whirled around, still kneeling, to find Duo standing in the doorway.  He couldn't think of a thing to say at the moment.

"Find anything interesting?" Duo smiled.

Trowa wadded the paper in his hand, concealing it with a fist as he stood.  "No."  He tried to smile back at the American, but, as usual, his face would not respond.

*      *      *

Quatre couldn't believe he was stuck riding all the way to the airport in a car with Trowa and Wufei.  This should be fun.  One doesn't talk and the other only opens his mouth to rant and rave about justice.

This, like everything else wrong with his life, was Heero's fault.  He thinks he's clever, insisting Duo ride with him in the supply truck...leaving me with these rejects.  And why did  he have to sit in the back seat?

I wonder how much further it is.  He considered asking Trowa, but doubted he'd get much of a response.  Well, I'm sure as hell not asking that Chinese son of a bitch.  Quatre's mind leapt back in time to their last mission, the one they almost didn't make it back from.

>>>>>Quatre ran.  There was nothing else he could do, three of the terrorist's group in hot pursuit.  He cursed under his breath.  "Damn, I'm the last one."  Heero would only wait for him for so long.  Quatre ran.  Rounding the next corner, he could make out an exit in the distance.  Just a bit further...  Quatre ran.  Now their escape vehicle came into view.  Almost there.  He felt an overwhelming desire to be in that car  right now.  Quatre fell.  Damn!  What the hell was that?  He looked down at his legs, expecting to find some cleverly laid trap.  Nothing.  Great time to start tripping over my own feet.

Quatre was back up like a shot, but his pursuers were too fast.  They were on him, his chance of escape vanishing.  The last thing he saw before succumbing to unconsciousness were Wufei's cold black orbs, locking onto his own.  Time froze in that moment, his comrade sadly shaking his head, and Quatre knew there would be no rescue attempt.<<<<<

"You coming?"

"Huh?"  Someone's voice had pulled him back to the present.

"On the plane?  The mission?"  Wufei, as usual, sounded annoyed.

Quatre opened the car door, stepping into the warm afternoon sun.  Struggling to hide his contempt for Chang Wufei, he forced a chipper smile to his face.  "It's so beautiful here!"  He hated playing this game, but they would all learn, soon enough...

The Organization plane awaited them, ready to carry the five straight to their frozen destination.  Quatre wondered what kind of mission they could possibly fulfill in such a barren, icy desert.  Maybe Heero will fill us in on the way.  As they all headed for the aircraft, he resolved himself not to be separated from Duo again.  I'm not spending  another trip in silence!

As if he'd known what Quatre was just thinking, Duo grinned and asked "So, how was your car trip with the two chatterboxes?"  The slight blonde let out an exasperated sigh.

"Let's just say I had far too much time to think."

 

Duo gave him a knowing look.  "Don't worry, I'll find some way to distract you on the flight."

*      *      *

The American recognized that look on his friend's face.  He's been thinking about that time he was captured, that time he...  Duo made up his mind to keep Quatre's thoughts off such dangerous distractions.  After boarding the plane and taking his seat, he set about the job of cheering up the Arabian.  "Have you ever been to Russia?"

"No.  Have you?"

"No, but I saw this really cool movie once."

"How accurate is that?"

"Well, you know, it gives you an idea."

Quatre seemed bored with the conversation, his eyes drifting to the other side of the aircraft, coming to rest on Heero.  "Did  he tell you anything about our mission on the way here?"

I sure hope he doesn't slip into one of his 'Heero is the root of all evil' modes.  "Not really."

Quatre raised an eyebrow.  "I thought you were a lot more persuasive than that."

"I try, but that guy's made of stone or something."  Duo didn't attempt to hide his frustration.  "Sometimes, I think he's the biggest jerk that ever lived, like last night."  He glanced over at his friend's shoulder, the boy's wrenching scream still echoing in his head.  "But every once in a while, he shows a small spark of humanity."  Duo recalled the look on Heero's face in the hallway outside Quatre's room.  I know I saw concern there, plain as day.

"He's good at fooling you, winning you over to his side.  He's got the whole damned world on his side."

Uh oh, time to change topics.  Fast.  Or else he'd have to spend the whole trip listening to the 'long list of evils committed by Heero Yuy', lovingly compiled by none other than Mr. Quatre R. Winner.  "So, you got any theories on who our shooters are?"

"What makes you think there was more than one?"

"It's kind of hard to drive and fire a machine gun at the same time."

"True.  I don't know.  Trowa and Wufei seem to think one of us had something to do with it."

"Yeah, that's a pretty crazy theory if you ask me."

"Heero seems to agree with them."  Duo didn't like the way Quatre had grunted out Heero's name.

"He kind of has to as least consider the idea."

"I know he suspects me; they all do."  Quatre turned his now frantic blue eyes on Duo.  "You don't think it's me, do you?"

"I don't think it's  any of us.  If we can't trust each other, what have we got?  We're a team.  If we start doubting each other, we might as well quit now before this goes any further."  He didn't mean to sound quite so angry, but, hell, he'd been pissed about this ever since Wufei had brought it up.  Without trust, we have nothing...

Quatre seemed a little relieved.  "I knew you wouldn't betray me.  Not like the rest.  They left me to die, all alone.  Not like you.  Someone had to save me so I could stop him."

Lord, he's breaking up.  Duo couldn't figure our what had caused the boy's relapse.  He hasn't acted like this since that night.  The night Duo had rescued him from the terrorists.  Rescued. he thought, self-mockingly.  That's a laugh.

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