Witness the
A Gundam Wing Fan Fiction by The
Manwell
Sequel to Relinquish the Soul
Possession Arc
Finale
- One -
The Acting Director of the United Earth Sphere
Alliance Preventer Head Quarters Division has never really cared for
Mondays. To Une,
it always seems as if the brief respite of the weekend is just long enough to
recover from the headaches of the week before, but just short enough to prevent
her from accomplishing anything significant or satisfying. That might be because she rarely indulges in
a full 48-hour holiday. Or any holiday
at all. And she has decided that her
dislike of Mondays is not because she must drag herself back to work after a
comfortable but too-short respite. She
dislikes Mondays because they are intrinsically dislikeable.
Today has yet to prove itself to be an exception.
The report on her desk is not an enjoyable read. All one hundred and forty-two pages of it
detail all of the ways in which Preventer forensics experts are sure the Zanoah Base did not explode. She’d been warned that the team’s findings
were inconclusive. But the actual
reading of the report itself is an exercise in frustration.
Nearly as frustrating as the reports she’d received on a former
war outpost maintained by the Bedouin in the
Two unexplainable events of mass death.
They may or may not be connected, but she is very doubtful
that they are merely timely coincidences.
She needs more information.
Information that Trowa Barton, Duo
Maxwell, and Heero Yuy could quite possibly provide.
If they had indeed survived the explosion at Zanoah which, given what little evidence that does
exist, is past the realm of Unlikely and tiptoeing across the border of Impossible.
And it seems she’d lost an agent right around that same
time.
Chang Wufei has not reported for duty since the day before
the inexplicable explosion at Zanoah. She can only speculate on his degree of
investigation. Or
involvement.
The black boxes Preventer agents had recovered at Zanoah had given no indication that Chang has infiltrated
the base. It had only revealed the
presence of Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, and Trowa Barton as they’d performed a
security check of the facility. Dramatic
though it had been to witness, the recordings had given no further clues as to
the cause of the explosion. Although
forensics had isolated the source of the blast, none of the surveillance
equipment had been operating in that particular room at the time. An oversight, perhaps? But why such an obvious one when the Zanoah staff had known in advance that they could expect a
security audit? Une
reaffirms her conclusion: if it had been an oversight, it had been a deliberate
one. What had happened in that
room? And who had wanted to keep it a
secret? She doubts that it was the work
of Maxwell and his partners. Had another
party been involved with the incident, or does the blame truly lie with the
agents manning Zanoah?
So many questions.
Questions that Trowa Barton, Duo Maxwell,
and Heero Yuy could likely answer.
But their bodies, as well as the bodies of many others, had
never been recovered. In a blast of that
magnitude, forensics had reported, it is highly unlikely that anyone within ten
meters of the immediate explosion or present in the flame-channeling corridors
would have left any identifiable remains.
The medical examiner had authorized their death certificates only last
week.
Which had brought her back to Special
Agent Chang Wufei.
It had saddened her to issue the warrant for his
detainment, but her regret had been far outweighed by frustration. Nearly two months have passed since the disaster
at Zanoah, and she is no closer to finishing her
report on it than she had been the day after it had occurred.
The only lead she has is a series of satellite photographs
capturing the burned-out remains of what had been identified as Chang Wufei’s
personal vehicle. The lack of any human
remains present at the scene seemed to indicate that no one had been inside the
car when it had exploded. But as to who
had driven it out into the desert, forensics has been unable to find any
evidence amongst the puckered glass, buckled metal, and gutted interior. Although they had reluctantly concluded that
the same type of mysterious explosives that had destroyed the car had also been
used at Zanoah.
What had happened that day?
Who had orchestrated the explosions?
And what, in the name of God, had they used? Had Chang witnessed any of this? Had he been involved? Is he still alive? In hiding, a prisoner of
some unknown enemy, or willingly conspiring to bring about another massacre?
However, since Chang Wufei is not present and able to
deliver an account of his actions, she taps out an internal extension on her vidphone.
“Digital Forensics, what can I do for you, ma’am?”
Une asks her questions regarding
the status of the Bedouin’s computer database. Progress is still slow. Whoever had jammed the system had been quite
adamant about making the information inaccessible. She tells the agent to keep working.
She disconnects the line and rubs her forehead.
Acting Director Une really, really
hates Mondays.
And the small but utterly distinctive sound of a NeoGlock’s safety being disengaged is simply the
exclamation point on the end of her anti-Monday credo.
She is startled, too startled to even think to twitch. Her thoughts swirl with confusion. All of the NeoGlocks
had been destroyed. As had all other conventional
bullet-armed weapons. It is conceivable
that even with the United Earth Sphere Disarmament, the Preventers had missed a
few. But it is not conceivable that
someone could have transported it into her private office completely
undetected.
She struggles against reaching for the gun she knows she no
longer wears. Une
does know that the intruder won’t shoot until he is sure he has her
complete attention. But she cannot not notice him indefinitely.
And she’s never been a coward.
It’s hard to face, but the knowledge is blatantly evident:
she won’t be able to think her way out of this one. And she probably won’t be able to talk her
way out, either. But it’s her best shot.
Still, what a way to go... and on a
Monday of all days.
Surely, this is atonement.
Acting Director Une says, “You’ve
got my attention.”
“I know.”
That voice...
Her head snaps up and she finds herself numbly absorbing
the leather-and-jean clad form of Duo Maxwell.
The NeoGlock held so easily in his grasp is a
secondary detail.
She hears herself admit disbelievingly, “I’ve just read
your death certificate...”
“I know that, too.”
It must be the arrogance in his voice that coaxes one of
her eyebrows into a skeptical arch.
“You’re well-informed.”
“From where I stand, there’s not much I can’t know.”
Her eyes narrow with speculation. “Then you should be able to answer a few
questions for me, Mr. Maxwell.”
“I could, but I won’t.”
She thinks she almost hears the click of the first bullet
chambering. But of course, it already
has been. Duo Maxwell would not have
waited until now to finish that little chore.
She waits. This is
Duo Maxwell’s show. He’ll fire when he’s
good and ready. But as the seconds roar
by, her awareness of the office becomes more acute. The window is still locked. The door still firmly shut.
The door...
There’d been no soft scrape of wood against carpet
preceding her visitor’s entrance. No
shift in air pressure.
But, how could that be possible?
In the swirling silence, she feels compelled to wonder
aloud: “How did you get into my office, Mr. Maxwell?”
And finally, he smiles.
It is, without a doubt, the coldest smile she has ever
seen.
And she knows: Duo Maxwell has broken.
He draws a slight breath.
He sights.
“Dreamwalker!”
At the sound of a new voice, Une
manages to find her lost reflexes, diving behind her massive desk and its
mountain of reports. In the same
instant, the gun discharges with an eardrum-bursting explosion. Papers erupt.
Plaster dust snows.
“Do not follow through with this!”
There is no reply.
There is only silence.
Une remains where she is and
waits for her assistant to collect some back-up before barging in. From beneath her desk, she sees no foreign
shoes crushing the bulk-ordered carpet.
She knows she is alone.
With a sigh, she sits up and leans against her desk. She closes her eyes. She figures she only has about ten seconds to
figure out how she’s going to explain this.
Duo Maxwell – a dead man – in her office
with an outlawed firearm.
And the second man...
A man whose voice she knows very, very well...
A man she could not have possibly heard.
A man who, as far as she knows, is even more
dead than Duo Maxwell.
“Come in.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“For what are you offering an apology,
“This morning. Une’s office. Maxwell.”
“Ah, succinctly put.
And why is it you feel compelled to apologize for the Dreamwalker’s rash actions?”
“I failed the assignment.
I’m sorry.”
“
“I was unable to destroy all of Zanoah’s
digital recorders. Nor have I been able
to decode the Bedouin’s encrypted files...”
“
“I will accept the consequences of my incompetence.”
“
“Is there?”
“Do not sound so doubtful of me, Walker. This day was destined to come.”
“What will we do?”
“You shall return to your post at the Preventers. Your position there may yet be
invaluable. And, of course, Une must be addressed; I will arrange for that.”
“And Maxwell?”
“I am handling that matter personally. Do not concern yourself with it.”
“I regret that I have not been of more assistance to you.”
“You have always provided a wealth of assistance to me,
Walker.”
“If you say it, then it must be true, sir.”
“It is true, my friend.
It is true.”
- Two -
I should have deleted that damned
assignment the moment I saw it.
A fierce, empty silence – a void – where a
young man’s thoughts would have echoed.
The rage... yes, Heero’s rage is very nice. Hot and satisfying. Mmm... And Trowa, his
despondency is so rich. Soul deep. Yes, yes,
give me a taste of your soul...
God damn it, Duo. Why did I let you feed me that bullshit about
you feeling fine? You were not
fine!
Nothingness.
And Wufei, so worried for them, for me. He loves me.
I can feel it and I like it. Give
me more, more, I’ll take it all, all, all...
Damn you to hell, Duo Maxwell! I need you here, you self-sacrificing moron!
Aching, icy numbness.
Wufei is mine, is mine, is mine. And soon Trowa... yes, soon... Then Heero
will fall... fall...
Wufei opens his eyes and lets out a long breath. He surveys the room he had chosen several
weeks ago for the purpose of mediation.
Despite the ability of its restful colors and unadorned walls to soothe
his mind, he has yet to actually manage a successful meditation in it. And this morning, once again the thoughts of
the others infringe on his quest to reach past his own awareness to the place
where Duo might sense him, might contact him.
In the past five weeks he has heard nothing from Duo. And far too much from the
others.
Heero’s enduring, self-directed rage.
Trowa’s echoingly empty withdrawal.
And Quatre...
Wufei sighs. He has
no doubt that Quatre cares for all of them.
He has no doubt that Quatre can control the vampirism. But it is a very, very fine line that the
young man treads. He cannot suppress the
hunger, deny it, or fight it. He must
allow it to view the others as prey. He
must allow it to take what it wants. It
is up to Quatre to make sure it takes only what has been freely offered or
carelessly cast off.
Wufei admits it is unnerving living with someone who could
consume your very soul should Quatre stumble along that vanishingly thin path
he has balanced himself upon. Although
Wufei is afraid for his own sake, he is even more fearful for Quatre’s. If the young man ever slips and takes what is
not his, Quatre’s own sense of failure and guilt will leave only two paths open
to him: he will either succumb completely to the vampire or take his own
life. If Wufei knows anything about
Quatre at all, it is that he would never be able to consciously live with the
knowledge that he had consumed a human soul...
“You’re worrying about me again.”
Wufei doesn’t turn around. He knows Quatre is leaning in the doorway, a
vision in khaki slacks, white T-shirt, and unbuttoned oxford dress shirt, with
his sunglass-tangled blond hair and pale, bare feet. Yes, this Quatre is exponentially sexier than
Wufei’s old comrade – quite capable of tempting a logical mind into the
forfeiture of one’s own soul – and Quatre is well aware of this. Truly a dangerous
combination.
Wufei replies, “With good reason,
Winner.”
“So you insist.”
Quatre pauses and Wufei can feel those lightning-blue eyes mapping his
kneeling form from behind. “You tried to
meditate again. Without
help.”
The empath’s displeasure vibrates
through the air and Wufei snaps, “Despite your delusions to the contrary,
meditation is not a team sport.”
“No,” Quatre drawls suggestively. “But I know another game we can play, just
the two of us, and I guarantee you’ll reach nirvana.”
Wufei snorts with a surprised bubble of laughter. “If you want to work off your excess energy,
maybe you should get back to your crocheting.”
Quatre chuckles. And then he steps into the room.
Wufei is instantly tense.
“Relax, I won’t...”
There exists such a wide range of actions of which Quatre
is capable, that he doesn’t bother to list them or offer up an example. However, that is not what concerns
Wufei. With every encounter, he feels
his objectivity slipping just a little more.
With Heero and Trowa lost to him in worlds of their own making and Duo
missing, he has nothing to anchor himself to except the very person who could
take him, own him, destroy him.
Quatre’s hands find his shoulders and move down to the
curve of his upper arms. “Relax. I’m going to help you find Duo.”
“While I appreciate the sentiment behind your offer to
augment my energies with your own, I do not think you should be here.”
“And I don’t think it’s safe for you to try to contact Duo
without some kind of backup. You’re
tired. And there’s no telling what state
Duo may be in.” Before Wufei can use his
next breath to articulate yet another argument, Quatre continues, “Rashid and
the others are busy elsewhere – at my request – not being implicated in helping
us disappear. Heero still wants to see
both of our heads mounted on pikes and Trowa can barely take care of
himself. Who else in this vast sea of humanity
would you rather help you?”
“You can’t get past the hunger,” Wufei reminds him.
“Yes, I can. I have
before, and I will now. We’re going to
do this together, just like we promised we would. It’s just you and me and we’re going to find
him. So close your eyes, Wufei, close
your eyes...”
Reluctantly, Wufei does.
As the darkness of his own body descends upon him he hears
it: the muffled percussion of a human heart.
He sees it: the fluid, endless dance of smoky fog.
And then it happens: the flash of light as his senses
ascend to the level of awareness which has summoned him.
Heero Yuy watches.
He leans against the wall directly opposite the open doorway, arms crossed over his chest, and endures. He watches arms settle around weary
shoulders. He hears the sigh of
exhaustion. He sees the interplay
between two people who know they are part of each other’s destiny.
He tightens his arms even further over his chest. His unseen hand fists against his
ribcage. The fingers
of the other gouge into his clothed bicep.
He watches and he tries not to remember.
But his arms ache.
Barely breathing in anticipation, eyes narrowed with
cynicism, he endures what will most likely be yet another of Wufei’s
ineffectual attempts at mediation.
And at length, it seems as if, maybe... this time... Chang
may have...
Wufei slumps forward on a long, defeated sigh. “I’m sorry, Quatre. I cannot.”
Even before the utterance has been said, Heero’s faint hope
is ruthlessly crushed. His snort is soft
and cynical.
In the mediation room, Quatre pauses briefly in the act of
pulling his exhausted friend to his unsteady feet. Wufei does not even have enough energy to
start. It is to him that Heero directs
his brutal words.
“You’re a fool, Chang.”
Once, Wufei might have glowered at the vitriol. Now he only wearily acknowledges, “Thank you
for that astute observation, Yuy. Your
presence here is clearly making all the difference.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by this scene. I warned you about him.”
Wufei leans heavily against Quatre, closes his eyes briefly
in a likely attempt to gather his own strength.
Quatre answers Heero’s challenge. In a cold voice, he replies, “Yes, you did
warn him. Do you feel vindicated now?”
“You sonuvabitch... You think I wanted you to do this to
him?”
“You think I give a damn about what you want?” Quatre
snaps.
“No, I’m not the one who’s deluded himself.”
Temper snapping, Quatre turns the full force of his gaze
upon the figure leaning tense and angry in the hallway. “Why do you insist on poking the lion with
sticks, Yuy? Even you are not that
foolish. Even you know that eventually the
beast will turn and attack.”
And, in a flash of insight, Quatre persists, “Unless, of
course, that is what you want.” Quatre
does not have to elucidate precisely what would happen, should he finally lash
out. Heero is fully aware that he is
playing with an eternity of oblivion. He
knows and he does not care.
Perhaps sensing this, Quatre’s ire deflates. Saddened, disappointed, he says, “Is this the
cowardly way in which you would use me?
Is this the end Duo would have wanted for you?”
A long pause growls between them.
In a voice weighed and rusty with rage, Heero returns,
“Never say his name again, you parasite.
You are not worthy to even think of him.”
Quatre’s rage returns with full fury. “Neither are self-pitying trolls like
you! You cannot
change what has happened: neither your mistakes nor his! It. Has. Happened!
What are you going to do about it, Yuy?”
Heero glances meaningfully in Wufei’s direction. The young man looks asleep on his feet. And right after allowing Quatre to “assist”
him with his meditation. Heero thinks: Not
a coincidence. He says flatly, “I think you’ve
done enough for all of us, Winner.”
Quatre bares his teeth in a seething grin. Heero hears him inhale sharply with the
intent to speak.
“Sofa,” a third voice croaks.
Instantly, the empath’s rage
dissipates. “I apologize, Wufei.”
A soft grunt acknowledges Quatre’s words.
Heero says nothing.
He watches with narrowed eyes as Quatre guides Wufei from the room and
turns down the hall to negotiate the brief distance to the living room. Heero remains in the hall. From his vantage point, he can see Wufei
slump down among the once-soft cushions.
Quatre speaks to someone seated at the window. “You don’t mind if I turn down the radio, do
you Trowa?”
As expected, there is no reply. Trowa continues staring out the window.
Heero closes his eyes and quietly but soundly bangs his
head against the wall. God, he hates
this place. These
useless people. Supposedly, Duo
is out there, somewhere. Supposedly,
Quatre had helped Wufei save his life.
Supposedly, he will return when he has recovered from enduring the Owning. Supposedly, they are waiting for a sign.
Waiting.
Possibly waiting to learn that Duo is
dead. Possibly
waiting to learn that Quatre had betrayed them. Possibly waiting for the
vampire to consume their souls.
It all boils down to waiting.
And that stew is a bitter one, indeed.
Just as the radio volume warbles, indicating the touch of a
hand, a key phrase interrupts the vampire’s intention to quiet the faceless,
ever-present voice.
“...and this just in: an attack was made on Preventer Headquarters
this morning. At approximately
Heero lifts his head from the wall and regards the
satellite reception unit. He tries not
to think about the investigation at Preventer HQ. He tries not to assemble the list of
priorities, possible evidence, potential
vulnerabilities. That is not his job
anymore. His job now is... waiting.
“There is no bullet.”
Heero turns his gaze to the living room, somewhat startled
at the strange declaration.
Quatre frowns. “What
did you say, Wufei?”
On the sofa, Wufei frowns.
“I’m... not sure. What did you
hear me say?”
Heero can see from the unsettled look on Wufei’s face that
he had not even realized that the words had come from his own mouth.
There is no bullet.
The news announcer is still speculating on the attack on Une. Heero now joins
in with his own unanswered questions: And who would attack Une? Who would have motive? Who would have the capability? And could any of this possibly be related to
a seemingly failed meditation attempt?
There is no bullet.
A gunshot. An assassin. A target that is – quite
possibly – in the position to learn a great deal about some very unusual
circumstances and events.
Heero considers.
He evaluates.
He decides.
Voice too soft for the others to hear, he says, “You want
to know what I’m going to do, Quatre?”
Heero Yuy steps quietly away from the gathering in the living
room and retreats down the hall. “Now
it’s your turn to wait... and see.”
- Three -
“What do you mean you can’t find a bullet?” Acting
Director Une demands in a low, dangerous tone. “These files didn’t just break Olympic
high-jump records for the hell of it!”
The agent before her replies, unperturbed, “I did not say
there hadn’t been a gunshot, ma’am. We
have three witnesses who heard it as well as security recordings from the
office lobby. I can see the impact point
in the wall behind you where it entered.
However, we cannot locate the bullet itself. Unless you yourself have already confiscated
it, it simply isn’t here, ma’am.”
Four little words: it simply isn’t here.
Only four little words and yet it deepens the mystery by
fathoms.
The profound unknown surrounding her dismantles her
irritation, leaving her deflated and exhausted.
“I understand, agent,” she replies with a modicum of
professionalism.
Professionalism. It’s a word she is beginning to hate. Why had she accepted this thankless, passionless
position in the first place? To maintain the peace?
To protect the innocent? How can she accomplish this when this
morning’s events have clearly shown that she cannot address these seemingly
simple directives within the walls of her own office?
Perhaps it’s time to consider a career change. Zoo-keeping is looking more and more relaxing
all the time; teeth and claws don’t usually pass through walls and security
checkpoints.
As tempted as she is to draft her resignation letter, she
knows she won’t. She’s never walked away
from a mystery, a challenge, or a threat.
And now she faces all three.
Perhaps it’s time to pay a visit to the Preventer Digital
Forensics Division. There’s nothing like
a superior officer leaning over one’s shoulder to inspire results.
Nothing happens in Trowa’s world of ice. And that is how he prefers it.
Nothingness is a good place to be when what crouches in the
shadows of memory waits to consume you.
But nothingness is not safe. It is not infinite.
Deep within the territory of his mind, a jungle warfare
sparks and sizzles. The ambush is always
sudden and ruthless, melting back into the darkness just before he can combat
it.
“Duo? What are you doing here?”
“Hey, Tro! Nice to see you, too, dude! I’m just fine; thanks for asking! The flight was great and I saved you some
peanuts!”
Nothingness. Nothingness is good. The cold helps. Here, by the window, he can almost feel the
chill of the snow directly on his skin.
Ice is good. Numb is good. Here he can pretend that he has no history,
that he exists only in each moment has it happens, that it is impossible for
him to have made mistakes in a past that never existed.
“Are you going to tell us what’s wrong?”
“There’s nothing wrong, Tro. In fact, everything is perfect.”
Perfection: darkness, ignorance, peace. In the silence, he hears nothing. Remembers nothing. Knows nothing. He breathes.
Sometimes he wonders why he bothers to do even that. He does not need the air. He needs the numbness.
“I never thought I’d say this, but you guys were
right. We really are making this work.”
“You know us too well to doubt us, Duo.”
Doubt. He ignores it. Doubt leads to thought. Thought invites memories. Memories... are unbearable.
“Have I told you guys yet today that I couldn’t live withoutcha?”
Live. Life. Living. Is that
necessary? Is it desirable?
“I’ll take you both out for ice cream when we win this
one.”
“Never been in Little League
before...”
League. Team. Partners. He does not want to understand these
words. He does not want to remember
their meanings. He wants to know only
the nothingness. Only
the chill, the silence, the darkness.
He leans his forehead against the frozen window pane. He closes his eyes. He welcomes the cold. With every breath, he imagines the fire
dimming, dimming, dying into nothing.
Nothing.
“I’m going to find him, Trowa.”
A voice – a voice he knows – whispers to him in the
darkness.
“We’re going to be together again.”
Together...
“I need your help, Trowa.”
Together... Duo...
“I have a job for you, so listen...”
Listen... I’m listening... I’m listening for the sound of Duo’s
footsteps, for his laughter, for his voice.
Listening... For Duo, I’ll
listen. Listen.
“Trowa? Can I count on you?”
For a long moment, Trowa does not move, does not think, does not breathe.
He blinks and this time, his eyes focus. He sits up.
He turns toward the figure sharing the window seat with him and, in a
voice hoarse from disuse, says, “Yes, you can count on me.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Can I count on the fact that that won’t be the last time
you jerk my chain for your own selfish reasons?”
“You do not wish to know the reason for my falsehood?”
“I already know why people lie.”
“Yes, I can see that.
What you want to know is if I also have the propensity for giving you a
forthright reply.”
“And you just gave me my answer, buddy.”
“But you do have other questions, do you not?”
“I’ll keep my questions to myself, thanks. What I’d like to know is why you got in my
way.”
“Do not invent obstacles in your path.”
“Is that supposed to be advice?”
“It is my reason for lying to you.”
“That’s 100% crap-ola, man. If you had anticipated my reaction to learning
about Une’s investigation, and if you had intended to
stop me from killing her, then why did you discuss the threat she poses in
front of me?”
“Can you think of no reason for why I would do that?”
“I can think of several twisted leaps of logic, but nothing
that makes sense, no.”
“But you have already seen that it does. Your resistance to my will is indeed
formidable. You have read my motivations
quite clearly. And now I shall
anticipate your counter-move.”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that, pal.”
“Ah, but, Dreamwalker, of the two
of us, I am not the one who needs it.”
- Four -
It’s amazing how much money Acting Director Une has authorized for the salaries of people whose sole
task is to tell her what green, blue, and red lines on obscure charts are meant
to represent.
Feeling more obtuse than she’d care to verbally admit, Une glares at the junior officer spouting as many
polysyllabic words as he can muster in order to “explain” the data on his
computer screen. All of which essentially
means that no further progress has been made.
“Agent,” Une
barks, interjecting into his continued, pseudo-elucidation. “You are not paid to think up clever ways to
phrase excuses. Your task is to decode
this data. Can you do that or shall I
transfer you to another section? Public
Relations is constantly submitting requests for more
agents to do elementary school assembly presentations.”
The threat does wonders.
“Ma’am! I’ll have something for you within
twenty-four hours.”
“See that you do, Agent Walker. See that you do.”
Wufei takes in the conspicuous black duffel bag in
the back seat of the SUV and the figure leaning towards the driver’s seat
through the vehicle’s open door and snaps, “Going somewhere, Yuy?”
Heero Yuy does not seem particularly surprised by this
interruption. He says, “What does it
look like to you, Chang?”
“We agreed that all of us would stay together until Duo
contacted one of us.”
“And he has.”
Wufei blinks. His
voice is cautious when he speaks: “You know where he is?”
“Not at the moment. That’s why you’re coming with me.”
“...now?”
“No,” Heero replies coolly.
“Two minutes from now, which would make it –” Heero consults his wrist watch. “–
“That sounds suspiciously like an order, Yuy.”
“It is. Get in the
car, Chang.”
Wufei scowls. “You
are not my mission commander,” he states flatly, and turns abruptly to exit the
garage...
And finds Heero Yuy standing directly in
his path.
Wufei does not betray his surprise with a start, but his
brain sort of hiccups as he tries to comprehend that Heero had been standing
behind him, on the other side of the SUV, not one second earlier.
“Get in the car,” Heero directs.
Wufei stares hard at this man before him. As much as he’d like to indulge in a show of
temper, he wisely resists the inclination.
“If you expect me to come with you, then I’m entitled to know exactly
what your plans are before I consent to take part.”
“A waste of time.”
“Then give me one good reason why I should go along with
this!” he hisses.
“Do you think Quatre can defend himself against a firestarter?” Heero wonders aloud.
Once again, Wufei’s brain performs the mental equivalent of
a stumble. The threat is there, hanging
between them and Wufei suddenly wants very, very badly to be on the other side
of the door behind Heero. “You dare to
threaten –”
“I dare to do what I must to get Duo back!” Heero’s shout echoes in the garage, rolling
around the exposed rafters and bouncing off of the concrete floor. “Trowa’s already in position and –” Heero taps the
small comm. piece nestled in his left ear.
“– waiting for my signal.”
Wufei fumes.
Heero continues, “Everything is starting to come together
for me, Wufei,” he says quietly. “And
this is my chance to find Duo. For this
goal, and only this goal, Trowa has pulled himself together. He’s going to look after Quatre for you while
you’re working with me on this. How he does that will depend entirely on you. He’s looking forward to seeing Duo again;
you’re not going to disappoint him, are you?”
Incensed, Wufei growls, “How can I make a decision, either
way, with nothing to base it on but a pie-in-the-sky objective and underhanded
threats?”
“The plan is for you not to make a decision. The plan is for you to sit your ass down
behind the steering wheel and drive until I tell you to stop.”
Wufei thinks about punching Heero Yuy in the jaw. He thinks about challenging the threat of
Trowa attacking Quatre. He thinks about
what Heero Yuy has become, what his abilities, in
total, might be. He thinks Heero will be
disinclined to answer Wufei’s questions about his extraordinary abilities. He thinks that – in hand-to-hand combat – he
is now no match for Heero Yuy, if he had ever been. He thinks the prudent thing at this juncture,
is to get in the car.
He says, “I highly doubt, after this stunt, that there is
anything you can say to win my sympathetic cooperation, Yuy.”
Sensing Wufei’s disgruntled compliance, Heero says, “Sympathy
is unnecessary. Your cooperation is all
I need, Chang. And I will get it. One way or another.”
Yes, Wufei can see that Heero isn’t interested in sympathy. The situation has degraded far beyond
that. He’s interested in results, and
for weeks, Wufei has not produced them.
That, in and of itself, is confusing to former Preventer Agent
Chang. Why had his meditation attempts
been so ineffective? What mechanism had
allowed Heero’s tolerance to unravel so dramatically?
Wufei doesn’t have answers for any of these questions. And no protests Heero will listen to.
Smarting in the wake of those apathetic directives, Wufei
strides over to the driver’s side of the car, climbs in, and slams the door
shut behind him.
“Quatre.”
Just the sound of his voice, softly spoken, wakes him. He turns toward the door and sees...
“Trowa?” For a moment, he’s almost painfully
disoriented. Seeing Trowa standing on
the threshold to his room, hearing him speak...
Surprise sparks adrenalin and rockets him the rest of the
way into wakefulness.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Quatre asks,
“What’s happened?” cutting directly to the source of Trowa’s unexpected
loquacity. Obviously, something
must have initiated Trowa’s sudden renewed participation in socializing. The man had been practically catatonic for
weeks.
But now, Trowa leans in the doorway, arms crossed over his
chest and watches Quatre pull on the nearest pair of pants. “Heero and Wufei left.”
“Left!?” Quatre’s eyes narrow. “Clarify that.”
Trowa obliges, “Heero and Wufei are not in the house. The SUV is gone.”
“Shit,” Quatre mutters, wrenching his belt through the
buckle. “Where did they go?”
Trowa lifts one shoulder in a shrug of ignorance.
“And why now?”
That, perhaps, is the most important question. Quatre reaches for his boots and tries to
remember the last time he saw Heero and Wufei.
Wufei he’d seen last night. He’d
combed the man’s hair out of his eyes just outside Wufei’s bedroom door. In this house of heartache, that has been the
most intimate gesture they’ve dared. He
glances at the clock.
He’d seen Heero yesterday morning. They’d argued in the hall just after Wufei’s
attempt at meditating. Then Quatre had
taken Wufei into the living room.
Presumably, Heero had returned to his room. But then there’d been the news announcement
of the attack on Une... and Wufei’s odd
statement. What if Heero hadn’t returned
to his room immediately following their encounter? What if he’d lingered in the hallway?
For the first time, Quatre really thinks about the words
Wufei had uttered.
There is no bullet.
Odd words. Presumably related to the
attack on Une.
If she’d been shot at, and there hadn’t been a bullet... But what does that mean?
“Trowa, help me out here,” Quatre says. “Wufei tried to contact Duo yesterday morning,
but couldn’t. Then there was that
announcement on the news about Une being attacked in
her office. Possibly in response
to this, Wufei says, ‘There is no bullet.’ Then Heero disappears into his room for
the rest of the day. Does any of that
fit together?”
Trowa is silent for a long moment. Then he leans away from the doorjamb and
says, “I’ll make some coffee.”
Quatre snorts and slouches forward on the edge of the
bed. He braces his elbows on his thighs,
draping his hands in the space between.
He looks down at his boots, which he’d automatically put on a laced
up. He hopes he’d remembered to put on
socks.
Alone now, he decides to consider the situation from
another angle. What kind of weapon could
be used in an attack on one person in a high security building? The answer to that being: not very damn
many. Something that
could be brought in without setting off alarms. A piece of rope or plastic to be used as a
garrote, maybe... But then why had Wufei
said that there hadn’t been a bullet? Of
course there hadn’t. No one makes or
uses bullets anymore. To get a hold of
one and bring it into the Preventer HQ administrative offices you’d have
to –
Quatre’s breath tangles suddenly
in his throat.
You’d have to make one inside the target zone.
But that would be impossible, unless...
“You were a dreamwalker...”
Quatre surges to his feet and practically runs into the
kitchen. He sees Trowa reaching for two
steel coffee cups and blurts, “Why would Duo try to kill Director Une?”
Trowa, seemingly unsurprised by this
abrupt question, replies, “Bedouin.
Zanoah.”
“Yes, those events would have been under Preventer
jurisdiction. But the Maguanacs jammed the Bedouin’s computers. And nothing conclusive can be proven from Zanoah’s security data recorders. Une most likely
thinks the three of you died in that explosion.
So, why would Duo target Une?”
Quatre decides against sitting in one of the chairs
scattered around the table and sits directly on the table itself, swinging his
feet up onto the seat of the chair.
Trowa hands him a cup of coffee and says, “To get our attention?”
“And hers as well, I’m sure.”
Trowa, his own steaming cup of instant
caffeine in hand, leans against the table beside him. “If Une likes having
all of her questions answered...”
Quatre sips thoughtfully.
“Then she might go digging around in something best left alone.”
Like the Bedouin’s database of doom. Which would expose – at the very least –
himself and Duo.
Quatre considers this new possibility, and determines that
Heero’s absence the day before must indicate time spent investigating not only
the attack on Une, but also her role in the Bedouin
and Zanoah investigations. He also realizes that last night, Wufei had not
been planning on accompanying Heero on this task. And something must have stopped him from
informing or inviting Quatre. For a
moment, he considers the issue to be a lack of trust or confidence in Quatre’s
abilities to control his vampirism. But
even then, Wufei would not have said nothing. He would have explained exactly why Quatre
had been ill-suited to accompany them.
Some other explanation is called for...
Trowa, quite possibly sensing Quatre’s increasing
determination, says indifferently, “Are we going hunting?”
Quatre looks up sharply at that last word.
Hunting...
Suddenly, he feels the beast stirring within him. He can feel it coiled deep in his chest. If he can keep it there...
A small but sharp, predatory smile curves his mouth. Quatre says, “I suppose some questions really
ought to be asked in person, shouldn’t they?”
“How did you find me?”
“You know, I’m hearing the words, but I’m just not feeling
the emotion, man. So, I guess I can
assume you’re not surprised to see me ‘cause you’re plugged into the Big Guy’s
Network of Doom.”
“It’s hardly that.
And he’s hardly God.”
“Oh, really? I said that very thing to him. Do you wanna know
what his reply was?”
“By all means, indulge me in an approximation of his
response. For old times’ sake.”
“He said, ‘Just because you do not know who God is, do not
make the mistake of assuming who God is not.’”
“Has he truly become that pompous?”
“You shoulda seen it for
yourself, pal. He could take that act on
the road.”
“Indeed.”
“Alrighty,
enough with the chit-chat. You
already know why I’m here.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve already made your decision.”
“Of course.”
“So... you gonna stick your neck out for me?”
“No.”
“Ah. That’s it,
huh? You won’t do it and there’s nothing
I can say to convince you otherwise.”
“You need to listen more closely. I said I wouldn’t do it for you.”
“I see...”
“No, I don’t think you do.
But my motivations will remain my own.”
“Whatever, man. I
just wanna hear you say the words. You’ll do it?”
“Yes, Pilot 02. But I
will do it for her.”
- Five -
Via the small comm. piece nestled in his ear, Heero
listens as Trowa masterfully herds Quatre, the final player, into place. He smirks at the use of the word “hunting” to
call forth the young man’s predatory instincts.
The vampire has been awakened.
Heero does not bother to spare Wufei a glance. The man is still furious with Heero’s methods
of manipulation. But it had been
necessary. It had all been
necessary. Now that the troops have been
organized and orders given, everything will go according to plan.
The others have often underestimated Heero’s ability to
strategize. It is a mistake they should
not have made. For when it comes to
crafting and implementing a plan, Heero Yuy is as ruthlessly opportunistic as
they come.
The time for waiting is over.
Questions have been asked that now will be answered.
Punishments will be dealt to all who have evaded them.
But, most importantly, the crimes which have been
sanctioned by the many will now be illuminated by the few.
These are his tasks.
And Heero Yuy is not prone to failure.
“Just where the hell are we going, Yuy?”
Wufei demands, sharply.
Heero can imagine how his pride must be stinging him. Like a school of jellyfish.
“That is, if I’m allowed to ask,” Chang snarks.
Heero almost smiles.
“Preventer Headquarters.”
Wufei blinks. Heero
thinks he can hear the man’s heart skip a beat.
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything.
And then he predicts darkly, “You want to pay Une
a visit.”
Heero merely shrugs.
He is not about to divulge the full and complete details of his plan nor
confess to the truth he has come to suspect.
He removes his laptop from the duffel bag in the back seat and
replies. “Just drive, Chang.”
Scowl firmly in place, the former Preventer agent does just
that, unaware of the abilities within Heero that have recently been reawakened,
ignorant of the purpose for which Heero has been created, uninformed of the
true nature of this mission and the price it will require.
From all of them.
They had been unable to replace Wufei’s shiny,
silver sports car with a vehicle of equivalent caliber. Briefly, Quatre mourns the loss of that sleek
and speedy horsepower. He recalls not
just a few... interesting memories associated with the interior of that
machine. Quite different from the funky
atmosphere of oil, dust, and ancient flannel blankets that have come to define
the interior of this old farm truck. But
he has to admit, they’re making good time.
From behind the steering wheel, Trowa says, “We still
on-course?”
“Same heading, no deviation,” Quatre confirms and allows
himself to become preoccupied with slowing turning the issue of Wufei’s abrupt
departure over in his mind. Why
had he left without telling Quatre?
Well, Quatre’s instinctive reply to that is: Wufei wouldn’t
do that. The two of them had promised to
deal with the situation created in the wake of Duo’s disappearance together.
But Wufei had left.
And he hadn’t told Quatre. So,
assuming his trust in Wufei has not been misplaced, Wufei had not been able
to tell him.
Quatre nurses that thought for a moment. Then turns his complete, objective attention
onto the implications: What could have dissuaded or prevented Wufei from
communicating this drastic change of plan?
It’s not a long list of possibilities. And one in particular snags Quatre’s
attention. In fact, that particular
possibility has green eyes and is driving a cantankerous, ancient, stick-shift
farm truck towards a glowing horizon still sparkling with city lights.
And Quatre wonders: If it were down to Trowa and I...?
Take!
Quatre closes his eyes as the need within him swells.
I want what is mine!
“And you’ll have it,” Quatre promises it silently.
Yes, soon! I can
feel the tension... the prey is near... Want!
“Yes, soon,” Quatre assuages it. “We must be skillful. We must be cautious.”
I can feel the energy... We shall conquer...
We shall consume...!
The creature within him swirls in a powerfully revolving
frenzy through his body, testing Quatre’s muscles and skin, feeling for
weaknesses and leaving trails of adrenalin in its wake.
Quatre glances at Trowa once more and knows that his
greatest threat is here, beside him. His ally. His friend.
He says, “Catching up isn’t going to do us any good. We have to head them off.”
Trowa nods.
Quatre says no more than that. He feels the truck’s momentum slow as Trowa applies
the brake. And with a gentle motion of
his hand, the firestarter turns on the truck’s
rattling turn signal and steers off of the highway and onto a forgotten, gravel
path.
“Your enterprise was fruitful, I trust?”
“‘
“Or am I not supposed to know that you’ve successfully
argued your case and gained our mutual acquaintance’s full cooperation?”
“Well, you did wish me luck, so I figured...”
“That I might have said something on your
behalf?”
“No. Actually, I was
pretty sure that you’d beat me to it. He didn’t look all that surprised to see
me, now that I think about it.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I’m sure that you’re one crazy sonuvabitch.”
“That is far too simple a generalization for someone of your
intelligence. Tell me who, exactly, do
you think I am, Dreamwalker?”
“I really don’t think you want me to answer that.”
“Because you might be right. A frightening possibility, isn’t it? I’d be delighted to tell you, but I’m afraid
I must save that little revelation for another time.”
“Thank God for small miracles.”
“But I will confirm your suspicions on this: you and I are
much alike. We both thrive on chaos, on
battle, on the dynamics of survival. On life. For what is life,
but a constant war?”
“Uhm... a recipe
for some serious migraines?”
“Fighting a war in solitude is a bit... tedious. That is why our instincts drive us to locate
loyal, powerful comrades.”
“Ah... I get it. I should have known you had the poor schmuck
in your pocket the whole time. So tell me,
have I passed your little test?”
“And what would you say if I told you that you had?”
“I’d tell you to stick your intuition where the sun don’t shine; I’ll never serve you.”
“I saved your life – your very existence – Duo Maxwell. You’ll serve me until that debt is paid.”
Acting Director Une
resists the temptation to forget her resolve and buy a shuttle ticket to a
space colony – any space colony.
Only yesterday afternoon, she’d convinced herself to see this
investigation through, to knock some heads together if need be. But now, in the silence of very early
morning, in an office building that is void of voice and life, she wonders if
her resolution is truly what she wishes for.
She imagines cracking this case wide open, finding Duo
Maxwell and Chang Wufei, interrogating the stuffing out of them.
And after that?
She sighs and listens to the listless breath echo off of
the four walls of her office and knows what will come next: yesterday, the day
before yesterday, two days before, three, four, a hundred, ad infinitum: the
future will be a mirror image of the past.
She tells herself that what she works for now is at a more
crucial, more vital stage than it had been when she’d worked with Mr. Treize. She tells
herself that she is still fighting that war.
She tells herself that she is still reaching for Mr. Treize’s
vision of humanity with honor.
And she’s told herself this so many times that the words
have all the sincerity of a mass-produced greeting card.
Une leans back in her chair and
finds her gaze drawn to the mysterious bullet hole in the wall behind her
desk. She contemplates the mystery it
encapsulates. Adrenalin tingles in her
veins at the memory of those moments: of the impossibility of the NeoGlock, of Duo Maxwell’s untraceable entrance and exit, of
Duo Maxwell’s existence, of the sound of that second voice.
It’s a mystery. A real mystery.
One that, perhaps, may never be solved. Or, dare she think it, shouldn’t be
solved. But she is weighted with the
deaths of hundreds of people. How can
she even think about turning her back on them?
On justice?
Dear God, Chang would have her head if he’d merely suspected the
thoughts she’d been entertaining: quitting, giving up, letting
go. Hah!
Her job may be passionless, it may test the limits of her own humanity,
sanity, and – she can’t contemplate it without an accompanying shudder –
professionalism, but it is necessary. Or
is she ready to tell the families of those lost, that she’ll be their champion
for justice no longer?
If only there existed some deeper meaning to it
all. Some passion. Not the same cycle of death and retribution
that has acquired shopping-list dispassion and ambivalence...
A soft knock on her door abruptly ends these self-absorbed
musings. She dismisses these thoughts
quickly and brutally. She does what she
has always done: get on with it.
“Yes?”
“Lady Une...”
That voice!
Recognizing that soft tenor, she turns quickly, her heart
beginning to race, her mind disbelieving.
Standing just this side of her office threshold, a tall,
elegant man regards her with kind eyes, stealing her breath, claiming her soul,
and whispers, “How I’ve missed you, my lady.”
- Six -
“This... is not possible,” Director Une states softly, confidently. “You died in battle.”
The man who looks and sounds like Treize
Kushrenada says, “Yes, you did witness the
destruction of my mobile suit. And you
are correct: from that moment on, I was dead.
To you. To the world. And, most importantly, to history.”
With basic logic once more reasserting itself over
knee-jerk reactions, Une muses, “But, of course, you
didn’t. You survived. Mr. Treize...”
“My lady, please, sit down. There is something of great importance I have
risked reappearing to discuss with you.”
Where, once, she would have obeyed instantly and with
breathless anticipation, Une cautiously leans one hip
against her desk and waits.
With uncanny insight, he tells her, “I know that you are
unhappy with this new peace. I know
because I can see the absence of vitality and vibrancy in the face of my
beloved lady. But you must know that
this is not the end of our quest. This
is not the distilment and domestication of our vision. There is more, my lady. There is purpose.”
Une closes her eyes as that last
word. A word that she
has never been so ready to hear.
“You have always known my weakness, Mr. Treize.”
“No, my lady, not your weakness. Your strength.” Treize approaches
her desk and leans against it beside her.
“The destruction of my mobile suit did not – could not – kill me. You see, there are some of us in this world
with extraordinary abilities. And,
unfortunately, when powerful people discover us, they seek to use us as weapons
and shields. We may seem inhuman, but –
I promise you – we are as vulnerable as anyone else.”
Une allows a small, wry
smile. “Your manner of speaking in
riddles hasn’t changed, I see.”
Treize chuckles. “Perhaps not.” He
lifts a hand from the edge of the desk and gently captures Une’s
chin. “This is real, my lady. I
am real. Undeath
is real. You might ask me how it is
possible, but I would not be able to answer that; this world is a far greater
mystery than I can ever fully describe.
Although my kind may seem to have a great knowledge of the universe, we
cannot even answer the simplest question of all: how was all of it made?”
He gently caresses a lock of her chestnut hair behind her
ear. “We are just as lost as you. And we need your help, my lady, if it
pleases you to give it.”
Une says nothing for a long
moment. She considers the possibility
that this is a trick, a trap, another manipulation. And, most assuredly, it is. Now, at this moment, she must decide how
important that is to her.
She says, “You want me to drop the investigation on the
Bedouin and the Zanoah Base. You want me to ensure that that data is
unrecoverable.” For those are the only
inexplicable events which might result in the unfavorable exposure of these extraordinary
people, as Treize calls them.
He replies, “I am asking you to protect a few people who
reacted out of self-defense when cornered by the ambitions and warmongering of
others.”
“You are asking me to overlook a crime.”
“I am asking you to do your duty as an agent of peace to
help a group of people who wish to live a quiet, peaceful life. I am asking you to give the gift of peace to
them. I am asking you not to force them
to fight for you... or against you.”
“Because you believe I won’t be able to win.”
“Because I don’t want to lose you to the
ugliness of that conflict, my lady.
I would wish for my own oblivion before I would see your loveliness
corrupted by that thirst for power.”
Une has no reply to that.
Treize stands. “I regret that I must take my leave now. My lady, it has been an exquisite treasure
seeing you again. Although I cannot be
with you, know that I am thinking of you always.” With those words, Treize
lifts her hand to his mouth and brushes a gentle kiss across her skin.
Eyes burning with tears, she watches him stride toward the
door. Just before he reaches for the
doorknob, he turns and smiles at her one last time. The moment hangs between them for the
eternity it takes to draw a single breath.
All that had never been and all that may never be exists in that
gaze. And Une
wishes with all her heart that she had not been left outside this man’s
extraordinary world. Her chest aching
with regret, she watches as he grasps the doorknob. And, strange as it may be, it appears that
with every additional movement, his figure becomes more and more transparent
until the door seems to stand open for a ghost and close on a breath of wind.
“What are we doing here, Yuy?”
“Finding a parking space,” Wufei’s passenger replies.
Wufei shakes his head, turns on the jeep’s turn signal and
glides into the visitor parking lot. “I
know I don’t have to tell you that there are stealthier ways of executing this
mission.”
Heero does not comment.
He remains relaxed in his seat, scanning the building in the early
morning light. The winter sun hasn’t yet
emerged completely from the far horizon.
Although not the coldest month of the year, it is the darkest.
As bidden, Wufei pulls into a vacant parking space and
turns off the engine. He doesn’t say
anything. His anger and fear have long
since been pushed aside. For the moment,
he’ll cooperate. Later, however, is a
different story entirely.
Wufei watches Heero Yuy out of the corner of his eye as the
young man leans forward in his seat and gazes up at a square of lit office
window above them. “Une’s
in her office,” Heero states.
With no way of disputing that, nor the inclination to toss
pointless accusations about, Wufei says drolly, “I suppose you’d like me to go
in and make an appointment for you to see her?”
The nearest corner of Heero’s mouth lifts. “Not quite.”
He checks his watch and then pulls the black duffel bag off
of the back seat and slides it out of sight.
He holds his hand out for the car keys.
Reluctantly, Wufei hands them over.
“Let’s go,” Heero says, opening the car door.
Grudgingly, Wufei complies.
As their boots crunch through the frosty asphalt, Heero slides his hands
into his jacket pocket.
“I’m not going to try to explain what it is I’m trying to
do here,” he tells Wufei. “I can’t.”
“Won’t,” Wufei corrects him bitterly.
“No,” Heero replies, unperturbed, “can’t. There are no words in any language I’ve ever
known to explain it.”
Wufei says nothing to that.
He fights back a chill and tries not to think too hard about Heero’s
tone, but finds himself musing that it’s weighted with barrenness. An odd thought to be thinking as he crunches
his way across the Preventer HQ visitor parking lot.
“There is a conservation of things that people don’t
understand,” Heero continues quietly.
“An object at rest will remain at rest, that is true, but it is not
productive. And humans never stay in one
place for long. They devise goals and
plans, they scheme and scrap amongst themselves.”
Wufei can see the sidewalk just ahead. He can see the night guard standing just
inside the glass doors, lifting what appears to be a cup of coffee to his
lips. Soon the man will look up and see
them approach. And even in the ghostly
winter dawn light, he may recognize them.
Wufei does not know what Heero’s plan is, but he heartedly wishes the
man would just get on with it.
“Humans forget about sacrifice. They hold everything too close to them. Packrats. Their behavior mirrors the rodents they believe
themselves to be so far above.”
Wufei keeps his eyes on the security guard.
“I think you understand about sacrifice, Chang. To attain something new, something old must
be given up.”
The paper cup of coffee begins to lower. The officer’s face begins to turn toward the
glass doors.
In an instant of insight, Wufei says, “You’re sacrificing
me, Yuy? Is that it?”
There is no response.
Wufei glances away from the doors and sees...
No one.
Heero has disappeared.
Wufei almost stumbles to a halt, but his surprise is not
wholly genuine. He’d suspected something
like this. Frowning, he continues his
slow march up to the entrance. Heero had
wanted a diversion, had he? And he’d
strung Wufei along until it was too late to turn back. Even now, the security officer’s lips are
moving. Reporting a
possible sighting of the missing Preventer Agent Chang Wufei.
For an instant, Wufei’s resentment is so bitter it nearly
incinerates his tongue. But no. Wufei knows
he cannot avoid this place and his boss forever. One way or another, this situation is going
to be sorted out. Even without the
threat to Quatre’s wellbeing, Wufei would have walked up these steps. But he doesn’t have to like Yuy’s methods of
getting him here.
Wufei pushes open the door.
Steamrolling over the guard’s attempt to place Wufei in Preventer
custody, the former agent says simply, “I’m here to speak to Acting Director Une and no one else.”
Preventer Agent Walker stares at the string of
unintelligible symbols that has become his life over the past two months. The data returning his glare on the computer
screen is from the database owned and utilized by the Bedouin. It is the data Director Une
has made clear she wants. It is the
information his master has decided the Preventers Director must have. But it is the information Agent Walker has
been unable to decrypt.
He doesn’t look at the clock. What use is time to a being such has
him? If Une
removes him from this assignment, he will simply consult his master and
determine whether his position in the Preventers still holds any further value.
Still, he’d like to succeed in at least one of the
tasks he’s been given.
For a moment, he lingers over the sink, thinking. Who had encrypted this information? Who would have had the skills, the time, and
the motive to do it?
But it does not matter that
Cup in hand,
The coffee splashes onto the carpet and his pant legs. The cup rolls to a stop against his left
shoe. He ignores it.
File not found.
Press Enter to search again...
... and reload them onto his
computer. He’ll need to make more backup
copies, of course, but that’s easily done.
Later he can wonder how this had happened. After all, Duo Maxwell, or another dreamwalker, is the only one capable of appearing and
disappearing at will. It’s possible that
he would be capable of deleting the data on
Now seated at the main computer,
And is told that the files he’s searching for do not exist.
The data from the Bedouin compound is gone.
His hands are shaking above the keyboard. The thought enters his mind to head over to
forensics to collect the Bedouin computer hard drive itself, only he has the
sneaking suspicion that it will not yield the information he seeks. He suspects that – if the hard disk is in
fact still locked in the evidence room – it is completely blank.
And Agent Walker knows that most likely means one thing:
Asha has awakened at last.
- Seven -
“What is it I’m not supposed to know about what
killed the Bedouin and destroyed Zanoah?”
Wufei regards his former employer. While he is not exactly startled by her
question – after all, Acting Director Une has always
had an astute ability to read between the lines of any given situation – he had
expected some sort of censure-soaked greeting to come first.
He arcs a brow at her over the lone table in the barren
interrogation room. “No ‘Agent Chang,
finally you grace us with your presence’?
I’m infinitesimally disappointed.”
A brief, amused huff betrays Une’s
true reaction. Stone-faced, she
counters, “That was certainly unintentional.”
“Of course it was.”
Une steps closer to the table but
does not sit down. “Don’t pretend you
didn’t hear my question, agent.”
“I won’t,” Wufei promises.
“I won’t pretend that every other agent with Beta Security clearance and
higher won’t be able to hear it, either.”
For a moment, Une says
nothing. Finally, she draws a small
mechanism from the pocket of her suit jacket and places it on the table. Wufei leans forward and examines the frequency
jammer. It has
been turned on. Whether or not it is
functioning correctly and interfering with all electronic recordings within the
room remains to be seen. But it is not
for his own sake that he has given a warning.
“I’m touched that you harbor any concerns for me at all,
Agent Chang.”
Wufei returns the jammer to the
tabletop and says, “Why wouldn’t I? You’re
an able leader. I do not wish to see
your forced resignation.”
“High praise, indeed. However, I am still waiting for an answer to
my question.”
Wufei crosses his arms over his chest and allows his
eyelids to drift down until his vision is almost completely obscured. Now, more than ever, he must trust his
intuition. While his words may never be
heard by anyone other than Une, it is still Une – a powerful woman – who will hear them.
So he waits.
And the words come.
“There wasn’t a bullet, was there? From the attack yesterday.”
She does not reply.
But Wufei doesn’t need her to.
Quatre had been right about his abilities. He is a true medium. Wufei’s mediations had been but a situation in
which Wufei had decided to accept the knowledge and intuition that had come to
him. Now, he opens himself to the truth
that exists beyond himself and speaks it aloud.
He continues, “And while the identity of the assailant is
unknown to the general public and the investigators, it is not unknown to
you. You did not share this information
because you knew no one would believe you.
After all, according to your best forensics experts, Duo Maxwell is
dead.”
Wufei raises his head and opens his eyes. Une sits before him
still stone-faced but he can hear her thoughts.
“How did Duo Maxwell get inside your office with a loaded gun? I am not a liberty to tell you that. I will tell you only that he can. The Bedouin knew that he was capable of it. And the Agent in Charge at Zanoah – due to my own careless inquiries – had inferred
it. The data that you want so badly to
be decoded will reveal to anyone who is willing to pay for it and able to persuade
one of your agents to sell it to them that there exists people who are weapons
in and of themselves. I think Duo
Maxwell has already shown you this; that bullet – despite its non-existence –
would have killed you had it struck you.”
Une does not comment. She watches Wufei but again her thoughts are
not hidden from him. She finally
summarizes, “And how do you know all of this Mr. Chang?”
Wufei feels a small smile pull at his lips, “You’ll think
I’m crazy if I tell you I’m psychic, so I’d better confess to being in league
with Maxwell and privy to his state of mind and the details of his criminal
activities. That is, breaking and
entering and carrying an illegal firearm.”
“It’s convenient that you’ve brought that up, Mr. Chang: How could anyone have gotten into my office
undetected with an illegal firearm?
Despite your insistence that you aren’t able to tell me how Maxwell did
it, I’m sure you could give me a good guess.”
Wufei’s cooperative smile remains. “Ah, perhaps. After all, there must be a logical
explanation.”
“Is there? And what
logic are you using?”
“One I’m sure you’ve already discovered for yourself, but
are hesitant to use.”
“Yes, of course,” she mockingly concurs, “Duo Maxwell,
having somehow killed the Bedouins in an act of self-defense, also destroys the
Zanoah base for the same reason, surviving the
explosion to threaten my life with a weapon that could not have gotten through
our security, discharging a bullet that damaged property but does not
exist. That logic?”
“Or very similar to it, ma’am.”
“And just what am I supposed to do with this information,
Chang? What do I tell the families of
the agents who died in Zanoah? Men and women who had been following one
person’s – according to you – misguided orders?”
Wufei does not have an easy answer for her. “And the injustice perpetrated by many of the
Bedouin and the Agent in Charge of Zanoah? What of that?
What court in the world is going to understand the delicacy of this
situation? Or, instead of seeing people
who only want to live their lives in peace, will they see weapons to be used
for their own gain? Surely, you can see
that while persisting in this investigation, you will be undermining the very
peace so many – including yourself – have sacrificed so much for? Surely, you can foresee the war this data
would bring?”
Une leans abruptly back in her
chair, as if winded.
Wufei says quietly, “Now you see the concern that
precipitated yesterday morning’s attack.
You know that Duo Maxwell is not solely motivated by enlightened
self-interest. That is not an aspect of
his albeit highly varied character. Why
would he go to such lengths to stop you from asking the same questions that I
had?”
He waits for his words to draw out the only answer he knows
she can give. But this time, he does not
echo her thoughts even as they come to him:
Maxwell has someone to protect.
Silence pulses in the interrogation room. And then Une
speaks, “According to your theory, Maxwell was more interested in protecting a
secret than actually attacking me. So
why didn’t he simply cut to the chase and ask me to keep silent?”
“Perhaps the situation did not allow him to do that. Perhaps he thought you’d never close the
investigation just because he’d asked you to.
Perhaps he was sending out a message.”
“Speculation is not an adequate substitute for answers,
Agent Chang.”
Wufei tilts his head to the side and regards his boss. “Then why don’t you seem disappointed,
ma’am?”
She regards him for a long moment before finally admitting,
“Perhaps it’s because I want to believe it.”
Asha has awakened.
Calm down, he tells himself. Surely, his master has already foreseen this.
Which means he’s waiting for me to
assist him.
And since there is nothing to be done regarding the lost
data and his failed assignment,
Not every child born is human.
Asha knows this is a fact that
very few can comprehend, let alone accept.
The circumstances of its own most recent embodiment
had been complicated and desperate.
Despite the knowledge of how it had happened, Asha
is incapable of describing it in any human tongue. And Asha knows them
all. Even the ones
that have been forgotten.
And so very much had been forgotten.
Asha sits on the roof of the
Preventers headquarters building and considers the singular most important
thing that – until the confrontation with Wufei in the garage of the safehouse – had been kept hidden. Until the moment when Heero Yuy’s desire to
cut off Wufei’s exit had manifested itself in a Shift, the young man who had
called himself Heero Yuy had not realized that his name could not be Heero
Yuy... that he could not be human at all.
The dam had been broken.
The knowledge had come. The memories. The history. The knowing.
Finally, the reasons and motivations for this powerful need to find Duo
Maxwell had infused him.
And now Asha is here, at the place
of the Call. Maxwell had beckoned Heero
Yuy here. And here Heero Yuy will
wait. The time is near for Asha, the Essence of Destruction, to fulfill its
duties.
In the elevator,
The telephone in his master’s quarters begins to ring.
The elevator moves.
The telephone rings a second time.
The elevator slows... stops.
The telephone rings a third time.
The doors open.
And
But finds himself eclipsed,
weightless, in searing, glowing white perfection. A voice an... angel
calls to him and he strains to be nearer to that heavenly being. He can feel the promise of its blessing. With only a touch he will know everything, he
will transcend, he will become...
In the elevator, a young man with blonde hair carefully
removes a cellular phone from a limp hand.
Over the open connection, it rings a fourth time and then the young man
disconnects the call.
Behind him, a second figure moves into the lift. Without turning around, the blond man says,
“The roof.”
His companion presses the corresponding button and the
doors whisper closed.
It is time.
“Asha, my old friend, I was
beginning to think that you’d forgotten all about me.”
Asha, the former Gundam pilot
known as Heero Yuy, turns toward the familiar voice and states, “I’ve
remembered.”
The being opposite him looks like a man, had lived as a
man, and had died as a man. But it is
all merely an illusion. The smile is as
bright and confident as Asha recalls. Not so much as a wrinkle or a grey hair has
been added in the twenty years that have passed since his last speech
encouraging peace and cooperation between the colonies and Earth, since this
man’s public assassination. He appears
tall, virile, confident. It is a body that was tailored to charm and
manipulate mortals with ease. But his
eyes are cold.
“Have you remembered indeed? The last time we encountered one another, I
seem to recall being the target of that sniper you recruited to shoot me in
broad daylight. That was most
bothersome. How was I supposed to
implement the greatest war in human history when the body those idiotic
colonial administrators trusted lay with a hole in its head on the ground? I was forced to delay my plans. An inconvenience I expect to be reimbursed
for, Asha.”
“You’ll be disappointed again,” Asha
predicts darkly.
“Asha, have you been interfering
with my warmongering?”
“I don’t think you really need me to answer that.”
The first Heero Yuy, the supposed pacifist leader of the
colonies, does not seem surprised by the words of the young man opposite
him. His smile is patronizing. “Must we continue this incessant contest of
will? You know I have had more time to
prepare myself than you, to gather the forces of creation and chaos to me. You cannot win this battle. I’ll merely scatter your essence amongst a
thousand bodies. This time, it will take
you longer than a mere two decades to reform your being.”
“You are my nemesis, Druj. Negotiations are irrelevant. Opposing you is the reason for my existence
in this dimension.” The young man who
had – ten years ago – accepted the name Heero Yuy, and who now fully
comprehends the meaning of those syllables, grins icily at his opponent. “If you refuse to concede, then prepare
yourself for battle.”
- Eight -
By the time Quatre is shouldering open the door to
the roof of Preventer Headquarters, Heero’s challenge is an echo in the charged
air:
“If you refuse to concede, then prepare yourself for
battle.”
Quatre’s heart seems to stutter in shock as he takes in the
desolate battlefield across which his once-upon-a-time comrade faces a man who
history has believed to be dead since before Quatre had been born... the real
Heero Yuy.
Quatre closes his eyes, utilizing his empathic senses to
classify the sentient beings in his midst.
He “sees” Trowa, a brightly burning flame of purpose beside him in the
shadows of the stairwell. And when he
turns to the beings on the roof, his breath catches in his throat. For here are no mere mortals. No, if what his senses are telling him is
true, then, the beings braced for confrontation are in fact...
“Angels,” Quatre breathes in the darkness. On his shoulder, Trowa’s grasp tightens.
He focuses completely on Trowa’s former bondmate,
but realizes immediately that this is not the youth he remembers. Gone is the anger, the self-reproach, the
resentment. In place, Quatre senses a
being that is focused on a singular purpose: the destruction of its enemy. Its intent is a culmination of the bitterest
cold – a motionless chill unlike anything Quatre has ever witnessed. And when Quatre turns to the opponent, he
senses a roiling, frothing chaos of heat and existence. Finally, Quatre understands:
The angel of peace and destruction will make war against
the angel of chaos and creation.
Quatre would have gasped had the situation not been so
dire. Later, he will recall the
teachings of his father’s religious confidant.
In the aftermath of this fight, Quatre will recall reading ancient and
obscure texts in the monk’s private library describing the source of all good
and evil on Earth as arising from the conflict between Asha
and Druj, the angels of peace and war, the agents of
destruction and creation.
The hand grasping his shoulder tightens and Quatre realizes
he’s leaning too far beyond the stairwell door.
Although Trowa says nothing, Quatre understands that in this fight, they
must not interfere.
And then light erupts from the former Heero Yuy of the
colonies – Druj.
Light that burns the eyes and reaches through skin to illuminate mortal
organs with painful clarity. And from
that light leaps beasts of all sizes and shapes: undulating mythical monsters that
breathe fire; muscled and furred cats with wicked claws and teeth and feathered
wings; steel-beaked gryphons with fiery eyes; and
nearly a dozen more whose dark, terrifying shapes humanity has only glimpsed in
the depths of their darkest night terrors.
With a word from the angel of chaos, they charge toward
their prey. But the angel of peace is
not without its own defense. Asha uses no words, just a single gesture, as if he is
striking a hammer against the surface of the building’s roof. The sun-baked, cracked
asphalt and concrete ripple like waves on the surface of a pond. Concentric circles expand beyond the force
which had created them. And then the matter surrounding Asha
shatters, shifts. Quatre realizes
it’s a thirteenth-storey earthquake.
But this has not stopped the beasts. They are almost upon Asha,
who closes his eyes and clasps his hands with an ear-splitting crack. Quatre gasps as the air suddenly shifts,
spinning violently towards Asha, as if someone had
removed every air molecule surrounding the angel. He watches as a tornado tears the torn
asphalt, concrete, metal, and brick from the building and gathers it all into
the storm and enclosing the creatures in the roaring funnel. Although Quatre
cannot hear their screams, he knows that they will not be released until every last
one of them has been completely destroyed.
Asha does not wait to evaluate
the efficacy of the storm. Asha, who but for its icy ferocity, would have looked
exactly like the Heero Yuy that Quatre has known for years, launches toward his
nemesis. His form shivers, shifts, moves
faster than Quatre can perceive. Druj counters. And
this time, Quatre can see the weapons they each wield.
With each shift of its form, Asha
seems to gather and throw a spear-shaped object. It takes Quatre a moment to realize that the
spears are in fact debris from the destruction of the roof. And just as quickly, Quatre realizes that Druj deflects each missile with practiced motions of two
exquisitely glowing swords.
Feeling equally spellbound and helpless, Quatre watches as
the angels circle each other. Their
forms disappear and then instantaneously reappear in different locations long
enough for the weapons of each to strike and clash against the other’s.
And then, just when Quatre thinks that this battle cannot
go on forever with each so equally matched, Asha’s
form wavers, seeming to shimmer in the air, instantly summoning multiple crude
lances aimed at Druj.
And then unthinkable happens.
Duo appears between them.
Quatre stares even as Trowa’s hand clenches painfully in
his shoulder and they watch as a rainstorm of projectiles coalesces in the air
and strikes the barrier that stands before their target.
“No!” Trowa shouts, the air heating up dangerously around
them. Quatre gasps and watches Duo slump
to the rubble, makeshift spears lodged in his body.
Automatically, Quatre reaches out to feed Duo energy, but
he finds nothing that can receive his offering: Duo Maxwell’s heart is still.
“Save him!” Trowa yells into Quatre’s ear over the ruckus of
the still-spinning storm.
But Quatre cannot.
He turns away from Duo’s empty and lifeless gaze and finds himself
witnessing a smugly satisfied smile on Druj’s
handsome face. Opposite him, Asha no longer seems to be there. In its place is the young former Gundam
pilot, Heero Yuy, who looks heartbroken and enraged,
one hand clutching a bloody arm where Druj’s blade
must have struck a glancing blow.
Furious with grief, Quatre reaches out for the energy of an
angel. Druj’s
eyes widen as Quatre unleashes the beast within him and sets it on its
prey. The power is overwhelming,
burning, infinite, but Quatre does not relent.
Opposite the no-longer-gloating Angel of Chaos, a dark scowl of purpose
pulls Heero Yuy’s expression. The hand of his bloodied arm fists.
And the wind changes direction. It swirls, spinning toward Druj, pushing him toward the edge of the building. And over the howl of the wind, Quatre can
hear the angel – demon? – laugh.
“You think a storm will defeat me, Asha? Me!? Your essence is still as scrambled and
useless as the instant I encased you in that mortal’s body!” Druj’s laughter
takes on an edge of victory.
But something catches Quatre’s attention: drops of blood –
Heero’s blood – being pushed up the blade of the sword by the wind... up, past
the hilt, over the glowing metal, and then a single drop manages to touch Druj’s skin.
The embodiment of chaos’s laughter becomes a shriek of pain
and shock and then an explosion rents the air, flinging Quatre into darkness.
“What happened here?”
Wufei looks out over the ruined top floor of Preventers HQ
and, it seems to Une, that he merely breathes in the
essence of the catastrophe. “A battle,”
he tells her.
The Acting Director stares at him for a long moment. “Impossible,” she breathes. But even as she protests, she wonders...
Wufei nods. “It does
seem to be,” he agrees.
Not appreciating his unhelpful accord, she glares at
him. An easy task given that the sirens
of the emergency vehicles and the smoky air have given her a headache of
considerable size. She snaps, “A battle
between whom, Agent Chang?”
Wufei smiles ruefully.
“A couple of dead men, Director. Just a couple of dead men.” He returns his gaze to her, his manner changing
abruptly. Standing before her now is a
young professional. Agent Chang says, “I
doubt forensics will find much that will be able to explain this. I’m afraid it will remain another unsolved
mystery, ma’am.”
“Indeed?” she wonders aloud. “That brings us back to your situation, then,
Agent Chang. Whatever shall I do with
you?”
Without flinching, Wufei Chang replies, “Whatever justice
dictates, ma’am.”
Acting Director Une stares
intently at the young man in her employ and agrees, “Indeed, Agent Chang. Indeed.”
The news report does not give many details regarding
the explosion. With the exception of the
topmost floor, the building is still in tact and structurally
sound. One person had been
killed. The damage to the building has
been estimated to cost a lot. The cause
is, as yet, unknown.
The driver of the shiny, silver sports car taps his
fingertips against the steering wheel and lets out a sigh. This is taking longer than he’d expected.
Waiting has never been his forte, but he quells his
impatience. He listens to the sounds of
engines idling, roaring, grumbling in the distance. He listens and he thinks of space
travel. He wonders about space itself
and the places beyond it. He wonders
about the other dimensions. He wonders
about their fate.
And then the sound of footsteps draws near and, somehow, he
knows exactly who it is. He looks across
the interior of the sports car and grins as a familiar young man leans down and
regards him through the open passenger window.
“Nice car.”
The driver laughs.
“Yeah, I kinda thought you’d like it.”
The door opens and Wufei Chang slides into the passenger
seat. He closes the door but, with the
window down, the noise from the colony spaceport is unhushed. “It’s good to see you again,” Wufei
says. “It’s been a while.”
“Oh man, you can say that again!” The driver starts the engine and pulls out
into the late evening rush hour traffic.
“Although I’m patently glad you’re not talking to me while I’m
driving this time.”
The driver winces. “Er, yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, Wu-man. But I see you’re all in one piece, so
whatever Q did to you for that, it wasn’t permanent.”
“Lucky for you,” Wufei acknowledges darkly. “I take retribution very seriously, Maxwell.”
“Don’t I know it!”
“So, are you going to tell me what happened? That is why you came to pick me up isn’t it?”
“Sorta.” Duo Maxwell glances in the rear-view mirror
and changes lanes. “I guess I should
back up to when you and Q helped me dissolve the Oath, eh?”
“A good place to start,” Wufei mildly agrees.
“Well, yeah, I was... drifting, I guess. It’s hard to describe. But then something just... I dunno, collected me, I guess, and I found myself in
the service of this self-appointed bad ass who has
this serious kink for war and chaos and crap like that. Oh, and did I mention that he called himself
Heero Yuy?”
Wufei stares at him.
“Yeah,” Duo continues to Wufei’s stunned silence. “But he didn’t look like our buddy. Oh, no, this guy’s the original Heero
Yuy. Y’know... pacifist leader of the
colonies and all that shit? The dead guy?”
Wufei chokes.
“That’s what I thought, too,” Duo agrees, eyes still on the
snarl of traffic. “Coulda
wet myself, actually, ‘cept I’m, y’know...”
“I know,” Wufei murmurs before Duo is forced to enunciate
his inhuman nature.
“Turns out he’s some kinda god of
chaos or somethin’ and I coulda
died laughin’...”
Duo shakes his head. “I thought
about contacting you guys, I really did, but I was gettin’
some seriously weird vibes, so I held off.
And good thing I did, too. ‘Cause
it turns out this Heero Yuy rescued me so he could use me to get to, er, our Heero Yuy.
And if I’d spoken to you, that woulda been
it. Bang. The end.”
Duo sighs. “So, when
I heard that Une was askin’
a lot of dangerous questions, I paid her a visit. I knew you guys would figure it out. And, most importantly, I knew that Heero’d come when he was ready. Which was sooner than I’d
thought, actually.”
“So, what happened?”
Duo taps his fingertips against the steering wheel again
while they’re waiting for the traffic to start crawling forward. “From what I gather, Heero forced you to
drive him to Preventer HQ while he hacked the database to figure out how much
evidence they actually had on us. It
turns out that Druj – the chaos bad ass dead Yuy dude?
– he wanted the Preventers to think that Heero, Trowa
and I had all survived Zanoah. He wanted us to be arrested or forced to
defend ourselves in such a way that we revealed what we are to the world and
started another war. But one of the Zanoah security recorders got past his man, so everyone saw
us go in and – presumably – die. So Druj told his man on the inside to decode the Bedouin’s
hard drive so the Preventers would at least know about Q and me. But Heero beat him to it. Erased the data.”
“Who’s the inside man?” Wufei asks, thinking of contacting Une.
“
“But, if he –”
“He was a djinn,
just like Tro.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. But Q took him out. Don’t worry about it, man.”
“Hm.”
“So, where was I?”
“Druj’s master plan to reveal us
to the world and start another war was foiled when Heero showed up at Preventer
Headquarters.”
“Oh, yeah! So, yeah. Bitchin’ fight you
missed on the roof, by the way. Heero, er, Asha, I mean, but I still
call ‘em Heero... Anyway, Heero’s got the power to
destroy, right? And Druj’s
got the power to create, so Druj was throwing all
kinds wicked shit at Heero and Heero just about destroys the building and
starts a tornado defending himself. Then
it’s down to the two of them. They both
did this weird shift thing, they just sort of disappear and then reappear
someplace else –”
“I’m familiar with the phenomenon.”
“Oh, re~ally? I’ll have to ask
you about that sometime.”
“The fight?” Wufei prompts.
“Well, see, I had this seriously pain-in-the-ass life debt
to Druj for fishing my essence out of infinity or
whatever, so, when Heero went in for the killing blow I, well I – ”
“Got in the way,” Wufei finishes.
“Hey, who’s tellin’ the story,
here?”
“My apologies. Please continue.”
“Huh. That’s
better... Well, OK, so I died. Tro just about incinerated the building, Q
sucked the life – well, some of the life – outta Druj and then Heero changed the direction of the wind and
blew some of his own blood up Druj’s sword until it
touched Druj’s skin and then –” Duo snaps his finger. “Gone.”
“Gone?” Wufei echoes.
“What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
“Well, Heero’s the essence of destruction, right? And Druj’s the
essence of creation...” Duo grins at
Wufei’s impatient expression. “They
can’t touch each other. It’d neutralize
‘em both.”
“One drop of Heero’s blood destroyed Druj?”
“Well, no, but screwed him up pretty good. Heero’s thinkin’ he
won’t be back for about a century.”
“Well,” Wufei allows.
“I suppose that’s something. And
you died defended Druj so your life debt is paid, I
take it?”
Duo nods happily.
“That pretty much covers it.”
“Except how the four of you got out of there undetected,”
Wufei reminds him.
“Oh, yeah. That was my contribution. That’s the great thing about being a dreamwalker; I don’t actually have to have a live
body, if you get what I’m sayin’.”
Wufei arcs a brow.
“So you just rose from the dead and...?”
“Threw Quat over my shoulder and
off we went.”
Wufei chuckles at the mental image that evokes.
“Y’know, you seem awfully chipper
for a guy who’s just spent a solid month being interrogated by the Preventers
and two weeks in an interplanetary tin can...”
“I suppose I do.”
“So, what’s goin’ on with that,
man? What’s the verdict from Une?”
Wufei sends Duo Maxwell a smug smile. “I’m a consultant.”
“Ah ha... So, you’ll
have some free time now, yeah?”
Something in Duo’s tone pulls a suspicious look from his
passenger. “Possibly” is the guarded
reply.
“Enough time to form a crime-fighting team, take on the
cesspit of humanity every night, defenders of the colony?”
“Dear Ancestors, who let you start
reading comic books again?”
Duo laughs.
“Ha! That’s just about
word-for-word what Heero said.”
“If you haven’t convinced Heero to go along with you, what
makes you think I’m anymore agreeable?”
“Well, you do seem to be in a good mood...”
“’Good’ does not equate to ‘stupid’, Maxwell.”
“Yeah, well, I guy can hope...”
“If we’re not going to create a secret yet elite
crime-fighting unit, then what is the plan?”
“Well, Trowa suggested starting up our old security system
evaluation business again, but...”
“Heero would never agree to that after what happened last
time.”
“Very true,” Duo agrees.
“Besides, Quatre had a better idea...”
Wufei snorts out a short, undignified laugh. “He usually does.”
Duo chuckles.
Wufei waits. And
then: “Well? What is it?”
Duo grins and shakes his head. “I’m gonna let him sell you on it himself.”
“Oh, joy,” Wufei mockingly enthuses.
“Yeah, I know you’ll put up a good fight, but you know the
Winner brat always gets his way.”
“Not in everything,” Wufei replies, crossing his arms over
his chest.
Duo sends him a speculative glance. “Yeah, I guess he never did get you into bed,
did he?”
Wufei scowls.
“Well, be warned – you’ve been placed on The Agenda.”
Wufei rolls his eyes.
“When you say it like that, Doomsday sounds more inviting.”
Duo laughs. “God
knows how you tolerated Heero and Trowa while I was gone. They couldn’t have been as obnoxious as
Q-ball’s been...”
“So how did you convince Heero and Trowa that you could be
let out long enough to act as my chauffer?”
“Um, well...”
Wufei sighs and lowers his forehead into his upraised
palm. “You didn’t actually tell them you
were going to pick me up.” He doesn’t appear
to even bother to make it a question.
“Heh-heh. Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that
you guessed. I mean, you are
psychic –”
“It doesn’t take a psychic to know when you’ve done
something asinine, Maxwell.”
“Ah, there’s that ol’ snark. I was
wondering how it would take you to start growling at me again.”
Wufei consults his wrist watch. “And a new record has been achieved. Surely, twenty-three minutes and twenty-two
seconds is the longest time thus far.”
“I’ll trust your judgment on that one,” Duo says, turning
the wheel clockwise sharply and pulling into an unremarkable double-car garage. “We’re here.”
Duo flashes a brilliant grin at Wufei and tosses him the keys. “Hope ya like the
car. If you leave now you might be able
to make the flight to L3...”
Wufei stares flatly at Duo and pockets the keys.
“Ah, OK, then. Just,
y’know, Agenda,” Duo needlessly reminds
him. “Good luck, man.”
And then Duo Maxwell disappears. Wufei shakes his head and climbs out of his
new shiny sports car. He’s pleased to
note that it’s the exact some color and model as the one Trowa had
destroyed. Wufei reaches out and runs a
hand over the hood.
“I’m jealous already.”
Wufei smiles. “Well, Winner, what are you dithering around
for? Get over here and take my attention
off of my new car.”
Quatre growls. “Gladly.”
Wufei finds himself turned and leaning against the
still-warm hood with a warm solid weight pressing against him. He enjoys a brief instant of chaotic blond
hair, a sexy grin, and a fierce, predatory gaze before a pink tongue licks
delicately – hotly – across his lips and pulls him into a kiss. Wufei’s eyes drift closed and his arms wrap
around the empath in his arms.
For the duration of a dream, Wufei allows Quatre to conquer
his mouth. But then, with a sinuous
twist of his hips, reverses their positions and pins Quatre against the
passenger side door.
“I have,” Wufei murmurs, interrupting himself to dive back
into that sinful mouth, “received intelligence,” and another long taste, “that
I’ve been placed,” a brief foray to reacquaint himself with his would-be
lover’s taste, “on a certain agenda without,” and yet another conquest of that
warm, wet cavern, “the consideration of one fact in particular.”
“And, what would that be?” Quatre whispers, his hands
sliding beneath Wufei’s long-sleeved T-shirt.
Wufei smiles. “My car hasn’t been... christened yet, has
it?”
Quatre laughs as Wufei gently pushes him back a step, opens
the passenger side door, pulls the seat forward, and motions into the dim
recesses of the leather interior. “After you.”
The Acting Director of the United Earth Sphere
Alliance Preventer Head Quarters Division has a new opinion on Mondays. Once, she had considered the weekend to be a
too-short respite from the trials and tribulations the work week brings. But now, she knows differently. Now, each Monday is a new beginning, a new
opportunity to rejoin the mysterious world that she protects with her silence
and her devotion. Now, each Monday
brings with it new determination, new beauty, and the memory of a man whose
ideals she embraces whole heartedly.
Une stands in her temporary
office and regards the distant horizon.
Soon, it will be dawn. A new day. A new sun. She smiles
as she lazily twirls an unremarkable postcard between her fingers. The soft breeze it generates kisses her
gently on the cheek and warms her. She
glances down at the piece of correspondence she holds in her hand and reads the
tasteful advertisement for a new jewelry store that specializes in wedding a
commitment ceremony pieces. The store,
in and of itself, is not unusual. Nor is
the design and lettering on the postcard.
And if anyone had noticed the return address in the course of delivering
it to her, they had not mentioned it.
For, really, why would Acting Director Une be interested in a small specialty jewelry store
on a colony that’s a two-week shuttle ride away?
But that is for Une, and Une alone, to know.
She turns and places the postcard on her desk, atop the mountain
of files and paperwork she’ll have to get through today and turns back to the
window. The first glimmering line of
light is just beginning to pour across the rim of the distant mountains. She watches as the light fills the sky and
the burning sphere rises, newly hatched and emerging from its shell. Une draws a deep
breath and allows the light to fill her, warm her, shore
her up.
It is, once again, Monday morning. Only, this time, Une
is not resigned.
She is reborn.
The End
Author’s
Notes: So, yes, this is the end. Heero,
Duo, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei have started a jewelry store together. Duo and Quatre will assist the customers who
will be nervous, excited, happy, in love, and so forth; their emotions will
feed Quatre’s inner demon. Trowa will
work with the metal, utilizing his djinn abilities at
a safe rate. Heero could easily work
with stones, “destroying” bits of them to create a well-cut gem. And Wufei? Well, I imagine he’d enjoy haggling for raw
materials and researching suppliers.
Anyway,
I’m sure some of you have questions, like what will happen 100 years from now,
when Druj returns?
Well, Asha will fight him again, of
course. Duo will quite possibly be there
to help him since there’s no “natural” lifespan for a dreamwalker. Trowa, if he develops a healthy approach to
dealing with his emotions, is expected to life a full life as well, although djinn are not known for their longevity. Quatre, as an empath,
will be able to supplement his own energies, extending his life. That leaves Wufei, just a normal mortal (or,
more normal, at any rate). But with
Quatre around and willing to share, no doubt Trowa and Wufei won’t have to
worry about leaving their friends to face Druj’s
return without them.
And what about the relationships? Well, you’ve
seen that Wufei and Quatre have gotten a start on theirs, finally. And hopefully, you inferred that Heero and
Trowa have picked up where they left off with Duo.
And
what about Une – is she really going to let sleeping
dogs lie? Yes. Finally, she has something that is more
meaningful than the daily grind to look forward to. She has been given an extraordinary secret to
protect and she cherishes it, even if no one will ever know or acknowledge her
for it.
What
about justice for the people that were killed?
The Bedouin?
The agents at Zanoah? Well, this, I think, is the most important
thing I have to say – the world must move on.
Grieve, learn from the mistakes that the power-hungry have made, and
move on. That is what Une hopes the world will finally be able to do now.
Why
didn’t Heero just come out and tell Wufei what was really going on? What was with the Gestapo crap? Well, let’s face it, Heero can be a real shit
when he wants something. And what he
needed was to get Wufei (and Une) out of the line of
fire. He’d also been counting on Trowa
to get Quatre to Preventers HQ (by an alternate route) so that Quatre could
surprise Druj by draining some of his power. So, it all worked out, in the end.
And,
finally, is Duo really going to start a crime-fighting superhero gang with the
others? Ah, hm. Well, think about it this way: can you really
see Duo just giving up on something he really wants? Yeah, me either. Although he might encounter
a bit of resistance when it comes to introducing the new set of “costumes.” Heh-heh.