See Part One for Disclaimers
Part Six
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>>dream or flashback<<
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Trowa had been listening to Muya and Wufei's 'discussion' for the past 20 miles, and he was more than a little annoyed. How long could they possibly argue the pros and cons of women in combat situations? While those two argued, Quatre appeared to be deep in thought and Duo tried in vain to engage Heero in some sort of conversation. Heavyarm's pilot sighed, directing his gaze out the window to his right.
I just don't trust her. Muya. Something about her just bothered him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was the way she kept pointing out all the personal information she knew about them. When they'd been getting into the truck, she'd rushed to open his door for him. "Trowa, let me get that for you. Or are you going by Nanashi again?"
It wasn't only the things she said, either, it was the way she said them. Trowa heard her voice in his mind again, as she'd closed his door for him. "Have you heard from the real Trowa Barton lately?" She hadn't waited for an answer, only left him to hop in the front seat with Wufei. And earlier, she already knew about the possible traitor in The Organization. How? Had Heero been in contact with her somehow?
Trowa strained his neck to the right as far as he could, trying to catch a glimpse of the odometer. Only 350 more miles to go, through snow and ice. There just wasn't much to look at. From examining a map of the area, he knew the highlight of the trip would be when they crossed the Lena River, but that wasn't for another 150 miles or so.
None of this bothered Trowa, however. Patience was his strong suit; no amount of boredom could perturb him, of that he was certain. Not like that crazy American. But then, I suppose his insanity is his greatest weapon.
He conjured up a mental picture of Duo in battle, screaming maniacally, all the while rambling on about being 'Shinigami'. An impressive sight, really, with enemies dropping around the Deathscythe like they were discarded toys. But Duo's impetuous nature had also gotten him into trouble as well. Like when he went after Quatre against Heero's orders.
Of course, Heero hadn't tried to stop him, but Trowa had noticed how strange the Japanese boy had acted on the plane ride home. He'd been very short tempered and high strung, very unlike himself. Heero was worried about them. . .maybe one a little more than the other. If he was nothing else, Trowa was observant. And these days, the more he observed, the more fault he found with their leader.
Who would you replace him with? Quatre? Oh no, that would not be a good idea. He'd seen the blonde slipping further and further into some sort of madness, much as Duo tried to hide it. Duo then? No, he just wasn't reliable enough. Wufei? Not exactly good at working in a group situation, the Chinese boy did much better taking orders than giving them. You then! No, that wasn't acceptable either. Trowa much preferred to remain in the background and watch.
I guess we're stuck with Heero then. For now. The tall boy glanced at Heero sitting next to him, trying his best to ignore Duo. For now.
* * *
Fine. If no one's going to talk to me, then I'll just shut up. He had been rambling on now for quite a while, but no one seemed interested in talking to him. Wufei and Muya had moved on to politics Boring!, Trowa had apparently been mesmerized by the scenery, Quatre was intent on his own thoughts, and Heero just flat out refused to speak to him.
Normally, Duo wouldn't have minded talking to himself; often times, it was the only way he could have a conversation. They're all so quiet, except for Quatre. Well, he had to amend that thought: except for Quatre, sometimes. Unfortunately, he knew what kept his friend so silent lately. Duo wished he didn't know, like the others, but he had been there, seen. . .
>>>>>As he crawled through the terrorist's ventilation system, he was glad, for once, of his slight nature. Duo had no idea where they'd taken Quatre, but the base wasn't too terribly large. I'll just keep looking 'til I find him.
He checked every room that he came to, peering in through ceiling grate after ceiling grate. Duo passed offices, restrooms, food preparation areas, even a few holding cells, but no Quatre, anywhere. He was beginning to think that the base was a tad bit larger than he first suspected. I won't give up!
By the time he came upon a large laboratory, the American pilot was exhausted from crawling around like some sort of rodent for two hours. Stopping to rest near a grate that looked down into one of the labs, Duo let out a small sigh. This is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Maybe I should have just blasted in through the front door. That wouldn't have gone over too well, without the others to back him up.
Heero. . .how could he have just left us? He must be heartless, a perfect soldier in every way. No, that wasn't right at all. Without hearts, humans are no more than robots; without hearts, soldiers are no more than killing machines. He knew there had to be a place for compassion and caring within themselves, somewhere. Otherwise, they were no better than the people they were fighting.
Voices from below drifted up into the shaft as four guards of some kind entered the previously empty lab. "But why don't we just kill the little shit and get it over with."
"I think they've got plans for him."
Duo leaned in closer and strained his senses to capture every word. Are they talking about Quatre?
"Yeah, I figured."
"Besides that, it's none of our business. If you want to last around this place, it's best to just keep your mouth shut and follow orders."
The American couldn't tell who was saying what, the guard's voices losing any distinction they might have had by the time they reached him in the shaft. Just then, the door to the lab slid open, admitting a short man wearing a lab coat, presumably one of the scientists who worked there.
"Where's the prisoner?" he asked.
"While you were out, we were ordered to take him to see Admiral Wind." Wind?
"I see. Will he be returning?"
"We were told to wait here for further instructions."
"I see. . ." The scientist appeared to be troubled by something.
"What's the problem?"
"I was told that I'd have a chance to try a few things on him." Try a few things! Does he mean experiments?
"Well, I don't know who told you that, but Wind seems to have his own ideas."
The scientist slammed his fist down on a nearby surface. "Damn that man! He's ruining this place, ever since the war. . ."
"I wouldn't say that too loudly if I were you. Remember what happened to the man you replaced."
Fear crept into the researcher's voice. "Forgive me. I let my mouth get away from me sometimes. If you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."
"Good idea."
What the hell's going on here? They'd taken him to see some guy named Wind. . . Admiral Wind. Wait a second, I passed some sort of office earlier, bigger than the others, more ornate. Maybe that was it!
Duo attempted to get some sense of which direction he should head, but this place was like a maze! I hope I can find him in time.
* * *
"Wind?" Quatre whispered loudly. The tall man was now standing only a few feet from him.
"That's better. Let's sit and talk for a moment." Wind turned his back on Quatre, heading for his chair. "You understand, of course, you will be killed; I won't make you any false promises." The Admiral settled in the large swivel chair, while Quatre still had not moved. "Sit, sit," he said, as if he were speaking to a guest who had dropped by for a chat.
I can't move!
Wind was growing impatient. "Sit. . .or I'll have to help you."
I mustn't anger him, I mustn't. The boy's thoughts became frantic. He found his arms would move, but his legs still wouldn't budge.
Admiral Wind gracefully rose, and proceeded to 'help' him to his seat, roughly forcing the boy into the cold metal chair.
"There we are, Mr. Winner. May I call you Quatre?" A small blonde head nodded vigorously. "Good." Once he was reseated, Wind smiled at his diminutive companion. "I have a list of information that I need answers to. But first, you'll have to take this." The man opened a wooden box resting on his desk and removed a tiny yellow pill. He leaned over towards the boy, extending it to him.
Quatre's already huge eyes widened even further and he made no move to take the offered drug. Oh god, he's trying to poison me! I couldn't do it earlier, and I won't do it now! Wind's face went from charming host to maniac in less than a second. He flew to the boy's side, standing behind him. The Admiral grabbed Quatre's neck with one hand, his jaw with the other. Prying open the young pilot's mouth, Wind popped the pill on his tongue and forced his mouth shut.
"Swallow." When Quatre tried to shake his head no, Wind jerked the boy's head back so violently, Quatre was afraid he would break his neck. The man roughly stroked the silky white throat, leaning forward until his lips were touching the boy's ear. "Don't you know that I'm in control here? Do as I say, and you won't have to suffer needlessly." Quatre tried to move away from the hot breath in his ear, but the man held him too tightly.
Finally, he was forced to swallow, terrified of what he had been given. Wind released him and once again returned to his chair. "Now then, that wasn't so bad, was it?" The boy only hung his head and tried to keep from breaking down. "Ah, the list." Admiral Wind picked up a pen and looked down at a sheet of paper lying on his desk.
"First, who are you working for?" Quatre had no intention of answering any of these ridiculous questions, and yet, the more he thought about remaining silent, the more something inside of him wanted to speak. As his voice slipped from his lips, he was powerless to stop it.
"Peacecraft. No wait, Relena Darlian." Wind smiled; that was common knowledge. At least now he knew the drug was working.
"What does she call her group?"
"The Organization."
"What function do you and your fellow pilots serve in The Organization?"
"We're her private army."
Wind raised an eyebrow at that. "An army of five? What is your mission statement?"
"She uses us as a peacekeeping force."
"Where is The Organization's base of operations?"
"I-I don't know. Only Heero knows."
"All right. Where does Miss Relena hide her private army?" This was the question he really wanted an answer to.
"I-I. . ."
"Yes?"
"I can't!"
Damn! The boy was resisting the drug. He shouldn't be able to do it, but he was. "You can tell me, Quatre, it's safe."
"No, no!"
Wind could see that the boy was in anguish. "Why do you want to protect them? They obviously care nothing for you. After all, they left you here, didn't they?"
"I, I know they'll come for me."
"Really. That would be. . .foolish." The man beamed, immensely enjoying the boy's suffering. Still, it wasn't enough. He needed more. "If you're not going to talk to me anymore, then we're going to have to play another game." Wind rose from the desk slowly, purposefully, stalking towards the small pilot. "You know," he said, lifting the small chin to gaze into intoxicated blue eyes, "you're really rather pretty, in your own way."
Quatre did not respond, only sat limply, barely conscious of the man's presence. The Admiral frowned. No, this wasn't going to be any fun if Quatre wasn't going to put up a fight, at least show a little fear. He knew the drug wouldn't wear off for at least another thirty minutes, on it's own, anyway.
Wind went to the wet bar in the corner and poured a glass of ice water, bringing it back to his captive. "Thirsty?" he asked, and without skipping a beat, threw the liquid in Quatre's confused-looking face. The boy let in a gasp of air as the cold water hit him, inhaling some of it down his windpipe. Coughing and sputtering, he looked up into Wind's eyes with incredulity.
The Admiral smiled, a dark humor taking over his face. "I see now I have your attention."
* * *
I am not lost! But in his heart, Duo knew it wasn't true. He had gone down so many different ventilation shafts, turning left, right, right, left, hitting dead ends, ending up at exits, going in circles. How did I ever think I was going to be able to find him like this? But he had no other choice; he knew that out in the open he would be captured, same as Quatre. The American crawled forward on bruised, bleeding knees, having long ago cut them open on the sharp metal of one of the grates.
Great! I'm back at the stupid lab again! This had to be the fifth time. Duo was about to keep moving straight ahead, when he noticed a tunnel leading off to the left. I don't think I've been down that one before. . .oh god, please let this be the right way!
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