Word Count: 54,756
Warnings: Language, angst, alternating first person POV.
Pairing: eventual 1+2+1

Notes: I went back and re-researched the series to write this. I wanted to completely rebuild Heero and Duo's relationship, so in the first (and shortest) portion of the story I've rewritten the first half of the series.

Summary: Heero Yuy and Duo Maxwell started out as Gundam pilots... Later they became Preventers... Yet oddly enough, they'd never managed to actually be friends. But something is going to change that.

A.C. 195

~ Duo Maxwell ~

That guy.

I can't stop the somewhat exasperated sigh that escapes me. From the first, I'd known he would be impossible to work with. Hell, he'd barely even acknowledged my existence and I'd shot him. Twice! And not only that, I'd launched a rescue operation when he'd ended up in the hands of the Alliance. I'd finagled and charmed and snuck my way up to the fiftieth floor and bloody saved his sorry ass. I'd even used some of my own personal stock of explosives to do it. Hell, I'd given him the parachute off my back!

But I didn't stop there. Oh no, I just had to follow my instincts. He's a good guy, they told me. You'll want him on your side, they told me. He's just a little shy, they told me.

Shy.

Yeah, that one still cracks me up. Anti-social was more like it. Anti-Christ was even a definite possibility. And here's the kicker: I just kept going back for more. It's amazing what you can learn about yourself during a war. For example, I'd always considered myself a bit of a hedonist. But a true hedonist wouldn't take the sullen indifference, the snide wit, and derisive glares for long. And I did. So, yeah, definitely not a hedonist.

More like masochist.

I can't quite figure out what exactly it is about the guy that makes up for his attitude. And there must be something. It's not the conversation, that's for damn sure. Or the warm camaraderie.

Hmm... maybe it's the competition. Yeah, that must be it. Even though we appear to be fighting against the same enemy -- at the moment, anyway -- he still feels more like a rival than a comrade. It only takes one of those side-long glances of his and I'm ready for a good fight. Not with him necessarily, but... Ah, hell. How can I explain it? It's like I want to... no, I need to show him up.

Yeah, he thinks he's all that. Mr. The-Shit-On-A-Stick. Uh huh. I'll just have to disagree. I mean, who stopped the Alliance from recovering his suit from the bottom of the ocean? Who brought it up to the surface unassisted? Who lent him the resources to store said suit? Yeah. Me. And what does he do? He uses my Deathscythe for parts and freaking takes off without so much as a "Nah nah-nah!" or a "Thank you."

Not that I'm bitter.

Oh, no. Seriously, I'm not. Why waste the energy being bitter when plotting revenge is so much more satisfying?

And painful.

I wince as my left calf begins to cramp up. Looks like I won't be making it to the eight-mile mark without a rest first. I jog down to a walk and step off the asphalt to stretch my muscles.

Pilot training has done a lot for me. Trust me, learning the intricacies of a battle-mode mobile suit ain't no cakewalk. But after that series of encounters with that guy... especially after watching him rip one of his arms free from those restraints in the hospital and set his own broken leg aboard the Sweepers' ship... well, let's just say I felt like I'd received the quick and dirty version of the Gundam pilot spiel. Which is why I've suddenly adopted a more rigorous work-out schedule. Which is why my muscles are screaming at me like the apocalypse is coming.

I don't dare sit down on the patches of soft-looking grass. I force myself to continue working my left leg muscles and, as soon as I've managed to ease the ache, I'll be back on the road. But that doesn't stop me from taking advantage of the view. And this snaking mountain road has got one hell of a view. It's still early morning and the sun is hovering over the lake in the distance. Its shadow of glittering white winks up at me from the rippled surface of the water. The cool breeze whispers through the feathery pine trees marching up the fallen walls of the valley.

All I can do is stare; the earth is beautiful. No other words can measure its intensity. And, for a moment, I waver. Why not just stay here for a while longer? Why not just enjoy the moment? Carpe diem and all that?

But then my imagination paints in the sight of him approaching. I visualize him charging up this narrow mountain road and diminishing the lead I'd worked my ass off to acquire. In my mind, he's not even out of breath.

That does it. I'm back on the road and running full-out. Like hell that guy's ever going to beat me at something as stupid as a little twelve-mile race up a mountain. Not even in my dreams.

~ Heero Yuy ~

Duo Maxwell.

I frown up at the smooth, boring ceiling of my room in the darkness as his essence crosses my mind. I haven't really allowed myself to think about him, not even when I'd been "borrowing" the parts I'd needed from his Gundam. In fact, at the moment, I ought to be focusing my attention on preparing for my next, currently undisclosed mission. But I'm in a bit of a funk and no one's monitoring me through a two-way mirror so I'll think about Duo if I want to, God damn it.

As soon as I make the decision to permit him free rein within my mind, he's there. The sound of his voice. The easy gestures. The large, dark eyes. I find it difficult to believe he's a Gundam pilot. I would have expected the L2 scientist to choose someone with a bit less... flare. Duo has this... presence. A long time ago, I'd heard the phrase "larger than life" but until I'd met Duo, I hadn't really grasped the concept therein.

I find it hard to believe he'd managed to make it all the way to my room in that Alliance hospital without setting off a dozen alarms and alerting security. That had been unexpected.

I feel my brows draw together as I take the time to recall the incident in detail. Hell, the whole thing had been unexpected. He'd probably knocked out or killed a guard in order to hack into the video surveillance unit just to let me know he was on his way to help. How had he traced me to that location, anyway? And why? He'd shot me, after all. So what was this new game of his?

I can't remember being more confused than I was at that moment. But I hadn't had the time to dwell on it. A few minutes later, he'd blasted his way into the room and it was suddenly time to stop brooding and start running. But I can think now. There's actually not much else for me to do at the moment.

I systematically list all of the risks he'd taken and resources he'd used to get me out of there. It had been a substantial operation. I wonder if he'd been ordered to go in after me. J might possibly have known about my incarceration, but it would have taken considerably more time to locate and deliver a mission to the nearest available operative: Duo. And I'd only been in Alliance custody for one night.

So he'd gone after me of his own free will.

Why?

Again, that one word. That one word that has the power to drive me insane if I don't distract myself from it. But it's impossible. I must know why Duo launched an unapproved rescue mission. He hadn't even known who the hell I was.

I sigh in perfect silence. I can't rationalize this. Nor can I figure out his motives for lending me the safety of his hideout. The best thing I can think of is that, somehow, Duo's instincts had told him to do that either because I could be a potential threat to his assignment or because he thought the gesture might win me over to his side. Still, that doesn't exactly explain why he didn't just leave me in the hands of the military. Or shoot me when he'd gone in after me. After all, soldiers -- assassins -- don't have "friends."

God damn it, why can't people in general be more like mobile suits? Then maybe I wouldn't be lying here mulling over something that will be no more clear to me no matter how many brain cells I exercise in its pursuit.

Damn. I hate the waiting. The cold, metal floor radiates its chill up through my sock-clad feet but I don't swing my legs up onto the bed. Even if it's cold, at least it's something.

I remember the adrenaline rush from the brief resistance I'd encountered when I'd entered Earth's atmosphere. I remember decimating my enemies. I remember I'd laughed. I can't remember the last time I'd laughed before that.

I close my eyes.

I sigh.

I really need to get the hell out of here.

And then, as if providence had heard my plea, my computer beeps and an incoming message begins to scroll across the screen. I'm on my feet and sliding into the chair opposite instantly.

"Target is North Pacific Ocean OZ Supply Base... Roger that mission."

~ Duo Maxwell ~

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

I cannot believe my luck. I flop down on my back across the tarp-covered surface of my mobile suit, tuck my hands behind my head and stare up into the night sky. When I'd arrived at the North Pacific Ocean OZ Supply Base and seen the smoking rubble, a half-formed suspicion had forced my hands to tighten around the controls. I hadn't let myself to dwell on it at the time, but I'd speculated on just who my competition was. I'd figured it must be him.

And it was.

So here was my second chance to set this guy straight. To deflate his dangerously over-inflated ego just a tad.

"It looks like we're both after the same thing."

And had I managed to do that?

"Well? Aren't you gonna at least respond??"

The next few moments had been promising. He'd lifted his Buster Rifle and aimed it right at me. I'd locked my Buster Shield on him.

"Seems like the two of us will have to fight it out after all."

And I'd had to fight to keep my cool. Damn, I hadn't realized how much I'd been craving an opportunity like this. But as much as I'd wanted this, I'd decided to call him on his bluff. Recklessness would get me nowhere with this guy. So I'd waited. And that's when my phenomenal bad luck decided to make an appearance.

The ground beneath Deathscythe gave way and I had to throw myself into regaining my equilibrium. And that's when he made his move. I could hear my own voice echoing in the cockpit and I froze as that glowing beam of energy rushed toward me. The explosion came. And went. And I was still standing.

Then I heard the crash of a mobile suit slamming to the ground behind me.

What the hell??

He'd shot the enemy behind me.

And this is when he'd decided to get talkative.

"I've returned the favor."

And then he'd laughed. That bastard.

"Damn you! I'll get you back!"

Heh. That's one promise I'm definitely gonna be keeping.

Dimly, I hear a few of the mechanics drifting towards the mess hall for a drink after a long day. I almost snort. If they think their jobs are hard, they should give my life a try for twenty-four hours.

"Hey, Duo! Duo!"

I sit up, eager for a distraction away from the day's earlier humiliation.

I glance over my shoulder and spot Howard wearing one of his loud, pink Hawaiian shirts.

"What's up, Duo? Whatcha doin' there?"

"Nothin'. Just thinking how beautiful the moon looks from Earth," I tell him, not entirely honest. But hey, if I hadn't been so consumed with thoughts of the day's mission, I would have been thinking about the beauty of the moon. And that's close enough for me.

"You bet it does. It's a real beauty."

I actually take a moment to contemplate the topic of our easy conversation and I realize that it really is beautiful. I hear myself musing, "From the colony the moon's just too close. It almost looks like a graveyard."

"Yeah..." Howard agrees, sounding oddly... detached and awed. "A graveyard..."

I hide a smirk. I guess ol' Howie's gotten into his personal stash o' hash already tonight. For a nanosecond, I consider teasing him about it but I'm too introspective to really work up the enthusiasm. "I wonder how long I'll be able to see the moon like this?" I say instead.

"Hm. I doubt if that guy even looks at the moon," I hear someone comment. And it takes me a moment to realize I'd said it. Shit. What's this crap I'm spewing? Forcing a nonchalant air, I lay back down on Deathscythe's knee and attempt to save some face, not that Howard will clearly remember this conversation in the morning or anything, but because I will.

"He should try enjoying life rather than spending his time trying to outsmart me." And then I feel the corners of my mouth twitch upward as I continue, "While he's alive, that is."

My cool guy façade successfully restored, I continue contemplating the moon and wait for Howard's reply.

"I know what you're saying but it's not that simple," he tells me. I hear him turn away and head toward the mess hall. Probably for another beer and some snacks. That's one thing I can say for hanging out here; no one thinks I eat a lot, not when the guys regularly see the size of Howard's appetite after he's dipped into his not so little bag o' crop.

But he's not done pontificating and his parting shot is simply, "It's just human nature."

That gets me thinking again. Damn. It's bad enough I feel like a total heel for screwing up at North Pacific but now I'm starting to sift back through my memories and examine the guy's mannerisms. All work, no play. How can anyone be remotely happy with a mindset like that? Maybe the rush of battle is the only joy he allows himself. It's a depressing thought but it explains that creepy laugh of his before he'd taken off.

"What's that guy doing? I wonder..."

Damn it. There goes my mouth again. On autopilot, as usual. I do not want to wonder about him. I want to kick his smug ass all over the J.A.P. point.

I gaze up at the moon and decide to dump Deathscythe into the ocean tomorrow. I need to work on my reaction time. I sigh. If it's not one thing, it's another. But I'm convinced that the day's gonna come when he and I are gonna get the chance to duke it out. And I'd better be ready. Unless I want to embarrass myself again.

Not gonna happen, I think, my gaze hardening into a glare. I haven't made it this far just to take second place without a damn long, hard fight.

~ Heero Yuy ~

It all comes back to me at the strangest times: all of the things I'd been trying so very hard not to think about.

In an instant, I'm stealing the shuttle that I'd planned to use to get myself and Wing to the New Edwards Base. I'm aiming my gun at a too-familiar mobile suit hitching a ride in the cargo hold. I'm watching that familiar black-clad figure leaping from the cockpit and staring up at me with those ever-changing eyes. And he has the audacity to just invite himself along.

"Hey! You load yours on, too, pal. I'll come and take over the cockpit."

"Duo..."

"This time I'm definitely not gonna let the mission fail. How about trusting me a bit?"

"Do what you want."

Why had I let him accompany me? Why had I let him pilot the shuttle? My shuttle? Why had I trusted him? Why hadn't I shot him? But then, I hadn't been able to kill Relena, either. Focus on the mission, I'd told myself. And I had. Until Duo had spoken.

"Oh, man. This is gonna be quite the battle, isn't it?"

"This mission's really big. I don't think you get it."

"You bet I do. This is our chance to finally destroy the OZ organization."

"This time is different. We're gonna eliminate every OZ leader."

"Yeah... Then I go back to space."

He'd looked so... at peace. Again, I'd wondered how he could be an adequate soldier. His emotions are so apparent. That had not been how I'd been trained. And as I'd studied his profile, I'd wondered what he had to go back to in outer space. I had a lab and a group of scientists and a training program to return to. For the first time, I started to really wonder about who he had been before coming to Earth. I wondered if he'd had a normal childhood. I wondered what that would have been like.

But, to my surprise, I'd discovered at New Edwards that Duo was a soldier. A damn good one.

"Woah. This defense line isn't like the others."

"Ten times more of them. That's much more than we estimated."

"Well there's no turning back now!"

He hadn't either. Even though his suit hadn't been equipped with a rifle, he'd more than held his own. Using his Beam Scythe and relying on the limber dexterity of his suit and his own reaction time, he'd woven easily through the battlefield. Clearly, I'd underestimated him. Or had he intended to give me that impression during our earlier encounters? I'd no longer been so sure he was the suspicious fool I'd initially thought him to be. But then, after my egregious error at New Edwards, I hadn't been sure of anything anymore.

"Hey, kid! Look out! You'll get shot!"

I'd heard Duo's voice over the comm. I'll get shot? I'd opened my eyes. Getting shot was the least of what I deserved for blindly complying with Trieze's plans and assassinating the Alliance's pacifists for him.

"Don't just stand there!"

But I had. And he'd stayed. He and the pilot whose suit's main weapon had been a pair of Heat Shotels. They'd reentered the battle and attempted to draw enemy fire away from me. At first, I hadn't cared.

"So how long do you expect us to look after you?"

That voice. Duo. My hands had tightened around the controls as anger had begun to flutter to life beneath my skin, in my blood. Then someone had finally drawn a bead on me and I'd just sat there and taken the shot. I'd deserved this.

But where Duo's taunts hadn't been enough to get me to move, a stranger's voice offering up a mission had. A woman's voice had echoed out into the night and given me the chance to prevent further unnecessary destruction and death. And, in that moment, I hadn't been capable of turning away from that opportunity.

"A failed mission means death, but my card hasn't come up yet."

The explosion of the base had been prevented but that hadn't changed the fact that I'd completely, totally, irrevocably fucked up. The anger, the pain, all of it had been shoved away. It's the only way I know how to deal with failure. Although I can recall experiencing different reactions, once upon a time. But the training had ensured I'd never experience those again. Strong emotions are not acceptable. So I'd buried it all deep in my soul. Hell, I'm pretty sure I'll die before I have to sort through my own feelings anyway.

"Heero!"

Reluctantly, I turn my attention back to the game in progress. I'm torn between feeling grateful to have a distraction from my thoughts and feeling resentful that I must participate in these pointless activities. Duo sends the ball in my direction and I easily catch it. Now for the drive to the net. Mission accepted. I almost smile.

I dodge my opponents easily and set up the shot. I calculate the trajectory and I take my own rebound. Slam dunk.

"Nice shot, Heero!" Duo shouts.

The small crowd of fellow students cheers. It sounds too much like the chaos during a fight. Too much like my own inner screams during that last battle at New Edwards. Duo settles his arm on my shoulder and waves back at our fans.

He tells me, "Hey! Wave back to them or something! They're cheerin' for us, superstar!"

I need to get out of here. I ignore the odd silence and attention that follow me as I just walk away. I can feel the curious stares of the other students and the amused smirk of one Duo Maxwell on my back. It irritates me the way he looks at me. As if he can see right down to my soul. As if he knows the secrets even I don't acknowledge about myself. It pisses me off.

Now in need of some time and space in order to cool down my temper, I seek out a lonely bench overlooking the sea. It takes me a while, but I do eventually relax somewhat. Until:

"So this is where you went..."

I look up from the bench I'm occupying as he approaches. God damn it, can I just be left the hell alone for a while? I decide to ignore him. He'll go away. Eventually.

"You know, that's pretty smart. Changing schools when you've gotta move on. After all, it's natural for people our age to be in school."

This reminds me. I'd been meaning to ask him why he'd followed me here. And I'm pretty sure he had followed me. I don't believe in coincidences.

"What's the idea?" I demand, staring at him as he gazes out into the ocean from where he leans against the railing.

He almost chuckles. "I'm just trying to act normal."

"You stand out." I gain a certain amount of satisfaction at having the opportunity to point this out to him.

But, alas, he has a comeback for this as well: "You wouldn't be as suspicious if you acted natural instead of being so secretive." My only consolation is that he crosses his arms over his chest which is normally a defensive gesture. He leans closer to me and challenges, "Why don't you just chill out a bit and have some fun as a student?"

All right. It's time to wrap this conversation up. If he won't leave, I will. "Leave me alone," I say, standing.

He grins. "And stay outta your way, right?"

I pause. "Hm?"

His eyes gleam with a mischievous light. "The two of us are going after the same thing, here," he confides. "You can't hide it from me. I can see it in your eyes as plain as day, pal."

Is it possible to glare someone into oblivion? I'm pretty sure I'm attempting to do just that to my unwanted shadow right now.

He doesn't even flinch. "What do you say the first one to destroy that ship wins?"

I follow his gaze out to the craft moored in the sparkling bay. He wants to turn this mission into a race, does he? I wonder what the prize will be, but since he hasn't offered a suggestion, I decide that the winner will get to choose his prize. In silence, I accept his offer, contemplating my moment of victory when I will calmly inform him that from now on he's to leave me the hell alone.

~ Duo Maxwell ~

Ah, I just love fireworks. The explosion rocks the ship and takes out most the enemy's defense. But, luckily, there are a few manned mobile suits left standing. Otherwise this would be a hideously boring mission. I begin my dance of death, slicing through my opponents as I dodge bullets.

This is a training exercise for me. It's not as if that pitifully weak firepower will actually damage my suit. Still, why borrow trouble? And besides, I'll take any opportunity I can get to work on my reaction time. I pivot and bring my scythe into play again. I sigh as the suit I've decapitated tumbles to the ground with a satisfying crash. This is so way cooler than the simulators.

I take a moment to absorb the changing layout of the battlefield. Thus far, Deathscythe is the only Gundam here. I grin.

"All right! Looks like I got here first."

No sooner do the words leave my mouth than a corona of light glinting off of white Gundanium gleams across the screen. God damn it!! Someone up there must really enjoy pissing me off. I lean forward and move to enter the fray in earnest once again. I put a grin into my voice and call out over the comm., "What took you, Heero?"

I know I irritate the hell out of him when I say stuff like that. So I toss a few more digs out just to be sadistic. "Don't worry," I console him with saccharine sweetness, "I left you some action."

God, I just love pushing him. Especially when we're in battle. In front of the other students, I do my good-ol'-buddy-Duo routine. But out here... My grin takes a turn for the feral. Out here with the adrenaline pumping and my past humiliation in mind, I'm a whole different kind of guy.

I recall sneaking aboard the shuttle he'd been in the process of stealing -- the shuttle that would take us to New Edwards -- and grit my teeth. God, I can't believe I'd fucking apologized to him. It wasn't as if I'd even screwed up that North Pacific mission at all, damn it. But hey, it's like a big game of chess. You've got to know when to sacrifice something in order to advance to the next level. And I had. I've been getting closer to him and he doesn't like it. Heh. Good.

Now all I've got to do is make sure he never, ever figures out what I really think of him. He can't know that I'm secretly on his side, cheering for him. He can't know that his victories are my victories, too. He's an amazing guy. But like hell I'll ever share that with him.

A second explosion forces my attention away from my duel. My eyes widen as I watch the control tower go up in a billowing cylinder of flame. God damn it!! Heero'd managed to take out the target. Shit!!

Growling, I turn back to the unfortunate survivors and start to take out my frustrations on the inadequate Leo suits. I almost laugh at myself for thinking Heero's successes are mine as well. I can be such a melodramatic idiot sometimes. Still, it's not going to take much to take the wind out of Heero's sails. Over the comm., I call, "Yo, Heero! Nice shot, man! This sure is relaxing with you doing all the hard work for me, buddy!"

I think I hear him growl back at me over the line.

I grin.

I disembowel the last Leo.

I love my life.

~ Heero Yuy ~

"I've come to say good-bye. I've got a bad feeling about this one."

I remember the grim determination in the line of Duo's usually mobile mouth and only now do I understand: Duo believes he's going to die on this mission.

The thought does something odd to me. It calls up another memory: the brief conversation we'd had as he'd flown our shuttle toward New Edwards. I remember the slight smile on his lips. The fondness in his voice when he'd spoken of returning to space.

Duo doesn't want to die.

Perhaps that's why my hand shakes as I send back my acceptance of J's latest mission: self-detonate. I wonder if Duo's received these orders as well. And, as infuriating as the guy is, I don't wish this on him. I rush to comply with my orders. If I do this, perhaps it will generate enough of a shock that the other pilots will be spared.

I pause. I can't believe I'm thinking like this. We're all soldiers. We all knew what we'd signed on for. None of us really believe our lives are worth more than the cause. Still... why waste resources if it's not necessary?

I open the hatch and step out of my suit, the detonation device in my fist. I haven't got any regrets per se. More like good moments that I'll miss remembering. Flying. I'm going to miss flying. The feel of my Gundam thrumming with power beneath my fingertips. The adrenaline rush from battle. The satisfaction of completing a difficult mission. Duo.

I hesitate at that thought. Why would I miss someone who seems to exist to make my life more difficult? Although I must admit, those few encounters shortly after we'd met had been particularly satisfying. I'd shocked him. Several times. I'd even baited him and clashed wits with him. My lips twitch at that. He'd been so easy to bait in the beginning. He'd practically set himself up for it. I easily remember his reaction when I'd received a new mission aboard the Sweepers' sea craft.

"What is it?"

"I'm on call. An enemy carrier is transporting Gundanium alloy. I'll see to it first thing in the morning."

"Hey! You can't go anywhere with your machine in this shape. We're talkin' miracles here!"

"It'd take a miracle for you, but I can handle it."

Although I have to admit, he'd given it back just as good as I'd dished it out:

"We~ell... excuse me for being a mere mortal..."

My slight smirk fades at those last two words. I think that, somehow, he's got that backwards. Someone like him is hardly "merely" anything.

We'd been performing an interesting dance since our initial encounter. Each of us attempting to figure out the motives and objectives of the other. He'd been outgoing and helpful until he'd gotten tired of me continually brushing him off. I suppose, if I regret anything, it would be my attitude then. It would have been nice to have battled wits with him a bit more than I had. I only now realize just how much I'd enjoyed his argumentative conversation. The intellectual challenge. I hadn't been offered many of those thus far in my life.

Oh, God. I'm going to miss Duo. That annoying, frustrating, jeering voice. Those laughing, incorrigible, mischievous eyes. Something inside my chest aches.

I stare straight ahead at my enemy's mobile suit and intone, "Mission accepted."

~ Duo Maxwell ~

I can hear them outside. They said they needed food and water. They asked for assistance. And maybe I'm just a little too jaded for my youth, but I think what those OZ troops really came to this desert base looking for is trouble. They came looking for us. For the Gundams and their pilots.

I'm tempted to give them exactly what they're asking for.

"Duo..."

I sigh. I don't look at my companion. I can only imagine the look on my face that's drawn that soft, warning tone.

"I know, Quatre," I tell him. "I know."

I'd love to go out there and acquaint those cowardly Ozzies with my Beam Scythe. Dear God what I wouldn't give to be out there right this instant. But I can't, not with OZ's threat against the colonies as a factor. I slide down the stucco wall until I'm sitting with my knees bent in front of me and my hands fisted on my thighs. There are no words strong enough to describe my rage at OZ in this moment.

My eyes close and for the one-hundred and fifth time I'm watching Heero and his Gundam go up in a brilliant blast. The darkness behind my eyes becomes my suit's vid screen and I'm staring at fireworks that should be a powerful, adrenaline-fueling sight. But all I feel is sick to my stomach... and angry. Very, very angry.

"He probably saved our Gundams and our lives," Quatre says softly, somehow knowing exactly what I'm thinking. Ah, hell. I don't suppose it's all that hard to read me. After all, Quatre had been the one to call Heero my friend. It's odd that I'd never thought of him as a friend, odd that it had never even occurred to me. I sit here in the cool shadows and wonder what it would have been like to be friends.

Too fucking late now.

Reluctantly, I allow myself to be drawn into the conversation. "How do you figure that, Quatre?"

I suppose, if I took the time to think about it, I could figure it out. But I don't and I don't want to, either. I just want to sit here and hate the soldiers crawling all over our hideout.

"Well, if one of the engineers had ordered his agent to self-detonate, don't you think the others would have followed suit as well rather than allow us to be taken into custody?"

I look up at him, really thinking about the events that leave me in a cold sweat of fury. I think about it and I realize he's right. If Heero hadn't acted quickly, thereby shocking enough sense into OZ to force them to withdraw their immediate threat, the rest of us would have received those orders to go down with our suits rather than accept OZ's terms of surrender.

God... could I have done it? Could I have just pushed the button and gone up in flames? I mean, I'd always believed I'd be better off dead than living under OZ's thumb but could I do it? Could I kill myself for the cause?

I... I don't know.

God damn you, Heero Yuy. Why'd he have to concede the fight so early in the game? Why??

God fucking damn you, Yuy. I can't believe I've won our little undeclared war... by forfeit no less. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. I shake my head. If that guy weren't already dead I'd kill him myself. I almost think I liked the situation better when I'd only been thinking of Heero's blind compliance with his assignment. But if what Quatre said is true... if Heero had self-detonated to save the rest of us from the same fate...

My lip curls upward into a silent snarl.

I fucking hate martyrs.

~ Heero Yuy ~

I want him to find me. That's why I'd used his name, but if asked I'll never admit to it. I'd been relatively sure that he had figured out that I was still alive but... but I'd wanted him to know I hadn't forgotten him. That only now, after months spent in convalescence, after months spent in Trowa's quiet and undemanding company, have I started to realize that I owe Duo Maxwell a great debt of friendship.

So why, upon seeing his likeness on the vid screen, had my first thought been of eliminating him? I try not to think about that too hard. I try not to dwell on how cold and calculating I can be.

I'd stowed away on a cargo shuttle in a produce crate. Heh... Me, a Gundam pilot, scourge of the earth and the colonies, hiding amongst the fancy lettuce. I'd smiled at that. But the shuttle had gotten me to the colony where they were holding Duo. Holding him while they arranged for his execution. I almost shiver every time I think of that. And I ignore the fact that I've arrived with that very same objective in mind. I can feel the gun tucked into my waistband as the elevator descends. The yellow track lights whisper over me in quick succession as my controlled fall brings me closer to the detention cells. I don't ask myself if I'm ready, if I can really do this. The trick, I've discovered, is not to think about necessary evils too much.

And then I'm there, slinking out into the hall. I see only one guard and feel both relieved and insulted at once. Relieved because this will be relatively simple. Insulted because OZ ought to have more respect for one of us. And Duo is most definitely one of us. I've seen him fight. He's brilliant...

But then my eyes narrow as another alternative for the lack of guards comes to me. Perhaps Duo is in no condition to resist effectively. The anger surprises me. I should have expected something like this from OZ but, oddly enough, I hadn't considered it. My gaze returns to the closed door behind which is one possibly battered Gundam pilot. A rival. A comrade. A dead man.

I tell myself to take this one step at a time. First: take out the guard. I do so quickly, allowing my training to take over and guide my hands in the silent strike. I insert the man's pass card and the door shivers open. I unceremoniously dump my burden into the tiny, unadorned and unlighted cell. Directly opposite me, slumped back against the wall, is Duo.

He looks like shit. Listening to the wheezing quality of his breathing, I sweep my gaze over him, automatically cataloguing his injuries.

"What a surprise," he manages to say in a ghost of his former humor. "Hey, Heero!"

I almost return the greeting. But no. I'm here to kill him. As soon as the thought asserts itself, my gun comes up. He doesn't seem particularly shocked by this turn of events.

"Just in time," he doggedly continues. "They were about to use me and my Gundam for their wicked plans." I watch him struggle painfully to his feet. He leans back against that same dingy wall for support. "If I'm gonna die, it'd seem appropriate for you to do it."

God, he says that as if it's going to make it easier for me to pull the trigger.

"Here," he says, lifting his chin and closing his eyes. "Go right a head and shoot me."

Damn it, I can't do it. I pull back on the trigger but not enough. And I can't make myself curl my index finger tighter around it. Shit. What the hell is wrong with me lately? Duo has to die. This is necessary. But as soon as I assure myself of this, a small part of me rebels. Necessary? Is it really?

I stare at him. I can feel the inclination to finish this mission start to slip over me. Fuck. I'm really going to kill him. I know I am.

God damn open your eyes and stop me, Duo!

"Hey!" he protests and, miracle of miracles, those large unforgettable eyes open. He looks back at me over the muzzle of the gun and even though his voice is incredulous, the look in his eyes isn't. His expression is simply resigned and... sad.

I don't want to kill him.

"You're really gonna shoot me, aren't you?"

I wrestle with my soldier's instincts. I don't want to kill him. I won't kill him.

I reply, "If that's what you want me to do..." But it's not what I want to do. I turn away, unable to stand there and see myself reflected in his eyes. I am such a cold bastard.

I toss him the hand gun. "Your right hand's still okay, isn't it?"

~ Duo Maxwell ~

Life sucks for me at the moment, but I guess I can't complain. I mean, the alternative would involve a bullet between the eyes and the pesky side effect of being dead as a door nail. I wince as I attempt to sit up without causing my ribs to crumble to dust against my innards. Fun.

I think back over the past few days and I have to keep my gaze trained on the window of my room to reassure myself that things aren't so dark anymore. I'm not being escorted in an armored car down the street to the angry shouts and accusations of the people I'm trying to protect. I'm not surrounded by OZ soldiers. I'm not having the crap kicked out of me because I killed somebody's comrades. I'm not staring at the business end of Heero's gun, liberation a faint promise behind him as he stands framed in the open doorway.

I still can't believe he'd tossed me the gun.

"So, which way is it? Where's your Gundam?"

"I left it on Earth. It'd stick out too much here in space. So I'd probably wind up getting caught like you did."

"Yeah, well pardon me. So how did you plan on getting us out of here anyway?"

"I came here so I could kill you. I hadn't gotten around to thinking up an escape plan yet."

After that conversation, time had seemed to slow. I can recall nearly every agonizing step we'd taken after that. And I can remember marveling at Heero's tactical brilliance, comforting body heat, and pissed-off determination. Every detail is incredibly sharp in my memory: Heero bending steel bars in order to squeeze both of us through and into the corridor; Heero's tense body beneath my arm, herding me toward the elevator; Heero laying down cover fire when we'd arrived on our floor and the sound of my name signaling me to detonate the small bombs he'd already carefully placed; Heero reprogramming the mobile dolls to go after the Leos and the soldiers wearing their regulation astrosuits; Heero securing an anonymous shuttle and flying me away; the flat, cold look in Heero's eyes as he'd committed himself to killing the men who'd helped make both of us who we are.

"Oh, Heero..."

My ears pick up the small noise of someone pausing on the other side of my hospital room door. I carefully turn toward the portal as it opens and admits the object of my thoughts. As the door swings shut behind him I dig up a wry grin. "Speak of the devil," I tell him.

He doesn't immediately reply. He traverses the room to lean against the doctor's station across from me.

I elaborate, "I was just wondering what kind of trouble you were thinking about getting yourself into now."

He slides a few photographs from his pocket and offers them to me. As I consider the images before me, he gives me the short version of his latest investigation. A particular phrase grabs my attention, successfully bringing my gaze back to him.

"Did you say the Lunar Base?" I demand.

"Yes," he says succinctly, plucking the photos from my limp fingers. "There's a large amount of Gundanium alloy being brought into the Lunar Base factory. It's probably for making a new type of mobile suit."

Oh, crap. He's serious. Well, sitting around here was getting kinda boring anyway. "So... what are your plans?"

The look he gives me leaves me no room to charm my way out of here with him. Crap. Again. "You'll get in the way," Heero informs me dispassionately. "Just stay here."

Oh, he did not just tell me what to do! "What do you mean?" I snap and start to stand. I don't get very far. Damn I hurt. After a few moments of straining against the pain and huffing carefully, I decide to stop being macho and concede. Just this once. Heero just better not get too used to this docile Duo. He won't be seeing him a second time. "Considering everything that's happened lately, I am gonna need time to recover," I say slowly. Then I focus my gaze on him again and attempt to draw from my seemingly endless reserves of charisma. "But don't you think you could be a little kinder to me once in a while?"

"Why not go to school instead of me?" he responds and I'm not sure if that's his version of an answer to my suggestion or if he's ignoring it completely. "I've already gotten the enrollment taken care of under your name."

"What?! You've gotta be kidding!" Now why in the hell would he do that? It takes me a moment, but I think I get it. "Sure, your name would stick out too much here, but still... I mean --"

He cuts me off rather neatly. "Instead of complaining, why not spend your time resting and concentrating on getting better." It's not a request. The jerk. I must be really tired. I'd never put up with this bullshit if I weren't so battered a sweet little ninety-year-old grandmother could take me out in hand-to-hand combat. My imagination supplies a gray-haired, wrinkled granny whipping a pair of knitting needles through the air like num chucks. Lovely.

I shrug, promising him nothing. His eyes narrow. I ignore it. "Don't overdo it, man," I tell him, giving him my half-hearted blessing. He must figure it's all he's going to get from me at this point because he simply nods and, sliding the surveillance photos of the moon into his pocket, strides toward the door.

I want to say something but I'm not really sure what. The irony tastes like rust on my tongue. How many times since his self-destruct show had I wished for a chance to... what? Tell him he's more than just a soldier? Tell him that the simple fact of his existence has pushed me harder and further than anyone including myself? Tell him that I'm the pilot I am today because he challenged me to be stronger? All of the above?

The door closes behind him.

Damn it.

I sigh and carefully move myself to the window seat. Maybe I'll get a glimpse of him leaving...

"Don't overdo it," I repeat to the beautiful day beyond the glass. "Like he's gonna listen. Of course he's gonna overdo it."

But there's not much I can do about it, I know. Hell, even if I'd had Deathsycthe hidden away in the debris around this colony I wouldn't be able to pilot yet. And what exactly do I think I'd say to him? These overly emotional thoughts the painkillers are producing?

I sigh, feeling my muscles tighten with the frustration of being left behind while he goes in search of destruction and glory. Damn it, someday I'm not going to be playing "catch-up" with Heero Yuy anymore.

And that's a promise.

~ Heero Yuy ~

I'm going to throttle him. I squint in the direction of the open cell door and watch as Duo Maxwell is shoved into the gloom. He limps, trips, and staggers down the steps in a semi-controlled tumble.

He's gotten hurt. Again. At the end of my arm cuffs, my fingers curl into tight fists at the sight of him forming a puddle of black cotton and brown braid on the cold floor. Hadn't I just pulled his obnoxious ass out of the fire? Wasn't he supposed to be recovering from his last visit to OZ? I'm so aggravated by the sight of him that I almost don't realize that I'm actually kind of... glad to see him again.

Frustrated with his bullheaded stubbornness and reckless streak, I can't stop my snide remark, "Botched your mission?" The question is rhetorical. But it is a question. I frown. That should have been a statement, a chastisement. So why had it come out sounding almost soft? I rally my anger and continue to his still figure, "You couldn't destroy the base and you didn't kill Dr. J and the others." I don't realize until the words are out of my mouth that I have no idea what Duo's intent had been. Those harsh words I'd aimed at myself. Shit. I shouldn't have said that, but even if I'd wanted to apologize, I can't. Not with Wufei here. Not with OZ potentially listening in.

For a moment, there's no response but I know he's awake.

And then, in a voice strained with the effort to sound normal, he calls back, "How about a little sympathy?"

I open my moth to reply but he obviously doesn't expect a response from me. Or he doesn't want to hear it.

"In any case, I'm still glad I decided to come here." Slowly, gingerly, he turns his head so that his gaze focuses on Wufei. "I've got good news. Your Gundam and mine are being rebuilt as we speak, you know."

No, I hadn't known. And by the look on Wufei's face, he hadn't known either.

Duo sighs happily. "I can't wait until they're done..."

And as much as I want to be furious with him, I understand his need. My Gundam isn't just a machine, a tool. It's who I am. "Looks like OZ will be keeping us alive for a while," I say, voice carefully neutral. "It's a good chance so don't die yet."

He makes a soft grunt of amusement. "Don't worry about me, pal."

I blink. I am worried. I scowl. Shit... again.

"I have no intention of dying that easily. There's... the colonies to fight for."

He'd just hesitated there. What had he been going to say? What is Duo really living for?

"Just watch me," he says rakishly, "I'll become the God of Death once again!"

I have to smile at Duo's spirit. The guy just doesn't know when to quit.

"But right now..." he continues, exhaustion painting his words, "I need some sleep."

And then he's out. My pulse spikes in my veins. I don't think about concealing my concern any longer. I creep over to him and gently assess his condition. His pulse is steady, his breathing unobstructed, his temperature normal. I don't dare attempt to remove his clothes to check for other injuries. Duo Maxwell is, first and foremost, a highly trained soldier. I study him for a moment more, happy that he has at least arranged himself in the position least likely to aggravate his old injuries.

I climb midway up the steps and situate myself between him and the cell door. I tell Wufei, "He'll be all right."

I think I say the words more for my benefit than because I really think Wufei gives a damn. A small smirk tugs at the corner of my cellmate's mouth. Apparently, he's figured the same thing. I decide to shut up.

Silence settles in the dark room and an indeterminate length of time crawls by. Then, voice tinged with curiosity and amusement, Wufei wonders, "Is he always like that?"

"Like what?" I snap. "A pain in the ass?" There's no response. Hell, I'd known exactly what Wufei had been asking. I finally acknowledge quietly, "Yeah. He is."

"He has spirit," Wufei contributes thoughtfully.

"Yeah. He does." More than me. My gaze stays focused on the unconscious pilot a few feet away as I silently compare and contrast the two of us. There is something fundamentally different and yet the same in our characters. We're both soldiers and pilots... and yet... Where I see my future as a series of duties and responsibilities, Duo seems to see the future as a game. What are little things like a thorough beating and a humiliating capture compared to returning to battle armed with a superior mobile suit? He'd decided to forgo the mission in favor of greater glories to be had in the future. If I had faced the same options, what would I have chosen?

I'm... not sure.

"I would be honored to fight side-by-side with him in a real battle," Wufei says quietly. Sincerely.

Without thinking, I reply, my gaze still locked on Duo, "I already am."

~ End of PILOTS ~

Book Two: PREVENTERS

A.C. 200

~ Duo Maxwell ~

I think of the weirdest shit sometimes. For example, here I am, standing in the Preventers HQ break room with a pot of coffee in my hand and my favorite mug in the other and I'm wondering how exactly this beverage is made. I mean, I know you run hot water over ground-up, roasted coffee beans and all that but... how exactly does hot water and bean bits turn into this powerful legal stimulant I'm holding aloft in my hand? I can run water over sand or cracker crumbs or feta cheese and not get nearly as satisfying a result. But then I think of this morning's Lucky Charms flavored milk.

Hm. Obviously this taste transference isn't an isolated incident.

"What are you doing, Maxwell?"

I blink and, looking to my left, find myself greeted by Wufei's amused expression. "Contemplating the chemical and physical aspects of the phenomenon known as taste transference," I quip. There's nothin' like the truth to really freak someone out.

Wufei bravely plucks the pot from my hand.

"Hey!" I protest. I'm not finished with my thought experiment yet.

"You can finish your contemplation after I've gotten my share," he tells me with amusement. Wufei is far too amused at eight o' clock in the morning.

I grumble, "I'm gonna need a chain of custody voucher for that, Wu."

"I'm drinking evidence?" he inquires casually, taking a sip.

"Hm," I agree. "You never know what they hide in this stuff. I mean, it's almost black anyway so you'd never know it if someone --"

Wufei abruptly raises a hand and warns me, "Do not ruin this for me, Maxwell, or you will regret it."

I smirk. I've heard that particular threat almost as often as I've heard Heero swear to kill someone. After working with both of them for a good two years now, I've been desensitized.

"Speaking of," I reply wickedly, "I brought some Jell-O in my lunch today..." I don't get any further. Wufei scowls, turns, and marches off to his office. I lean back against the counter and chuckle. It's been over four months since Wufei asked me what the stuff was made of. That had been priceless. After my factual explanation, he'd paused, eyes wide with a spoonful of green Jell-O quivering on his fork halfway to his mouth. I'll never forget the look of revulsion on his face as he'd deliberately abandoned his dessert. I shake my head and promise to get some homemade head cheese at the Scandinavian market next weekend for my lunch. Wufei has no idea that there are so many foodstuffs out there that are far worse than lime Jell-O.

"What is it?"

This time the intruder is Heero. He's probably one of the few agents here who would dare to ask me what's on my mind when I'm grinning evilly to myself at eight o'clock in the morning. I chuckle, still holding my empty mug as he approaches the abandoned pot with his own cup in hand. "Just thinking about that time I told Wufei where Jell-O comes from."

Heero smirks as he pours himself his usual half-serving of coffee. "No sense of adventure," he replies drolly.

I continue grinning in silent agreement. Spotting the empty mug in my grasp, Heero holds up the coffee pot in silent question. With a shrug, I hold out my cup and he fills it for me to the imaginary two-thirds mark. Then, replacing the pot, he opens the fridge, plucks the Half & Half from the shelf and sloshes exactly one and a half ounces into my mug. I arc a brow at him. He'd managed to fix my coffee for me precisely the way I drink it. Hm. I suppose there's an advantage to working with people who investigate stuff for a living.

In fact, lately, Heero's been making all these odd, little gestures like this one. I can't quite figure it out.

I take a sip of my flesh-tone beverage. It's perfect. Of course.

Heero absently runs the dish rag around the counter before chucking it back in the basin. "Une wants to see us," he reminds me.

I snort. As if I'd forgotten. "If you're ready, then lead the way, dude."

~ Heero Yuy ~

"Agent Yuy will be our man inside on this."

"What?!"

I glance in Duo's direction and find myself highly amused by his consternated expression.

He protests, "But I'm way better at infiltration than he is, you know!"

That phrase... that tone of voice... I flash back in time and I'm once again in OZ custody with Duo and Wufei. I recall being recruited to help bring down a new type of Gundam that, by process of elimination, I'd known must have been piloted by Quatre. From the grungy shadows of our cell, Duo had protested that I be the one to accompany Trowa. In fact, he'd used nearly the exact same objection then: "I'm a better pilot than he is, you know!" It had confused me a little, listening to his adamant declaration. He'd been in no condition to pilot anything, so why had he said it? Over the years, that moment has stuck with me doggedly. One of these days, if I think he might actually tell me the whole truth, I'll ask him. But for now I sigh and roll my eyes at him.

Une neither confirms nor denies his statement. "Technically, you're up on the rotation, Agent Maxwell," she replies, cutting -- I think -- to the heart of the issue. Duo hates desk duty almost as much as he hates letting me have all the "fun," as he puts it. "However, the nature of the organization you'll be investigating is such that it would be prudent for us to adjust things this time."

Duo crosses his arms over his chest and looks rather grumpy. "Oh, yeah? What's so special about Heero?"

I glare at him. He can be so immature when his ego's involved.

Une ignores his sullen undertone and informs us, "Agent Yuy has a biological advantage."

That surprises me. And Duo as well if I read the lessening of tension in his shoulders correctly.

She holds up a pair of data disks. "This organization is one of the companies that have taken over re-building the facilities on the moon. It's a pharmaceutical plant and Agent Yuy's enhanced resistance to most drugs could come in very handy."

"You expect me to get caught," I say flatly.

Her mouth tightens slightly. "It is a distinct possibility. Especially with the people you'll be dealing with. Of course we'll do everything we can to provide you with an air-tight cover and background but I also have to take into consideration several reports of new hires being subjected to various drugs during their orientation for the purpose of ensuring their cooperation."

"Brainwashing," Duo summarizes, glancing at me. I can't completely read the look in his eyes. Is it concern? If so, is it for me or himself as he'd almost been the operative on this one?

"It's only an allegation at this point," Une reminds us but we all know better than to ignore something with such potentially serious consequences, "but we need to pursue this as soon as possible." She offers the disks to us and I step forward to accept them. Silently, I pass one of them on to Duo. "After you've become familiar with the case, I'd like to see both of you to discuss logistics."

Duo and I nod almost in unison.

"That's all, agents."

~ Duo Maxwell ~

I'm liking this assignment less and less. In the privacy of my office, I scour through the information on the data disk provided by Une and with every passing paragraph, I become more and more convinced that it really should be me going in. I mean, pulling this off is going to take more than your average level of acting ability and I know that's my strong point. Hell, if it weren't for the possibility of that whole brainwashing crap I would be the best choice for this one. Sure, I've been trained to resist that kind of thing, but Heero is leaps and bounds ahead of me there, having spent a good four years more in training than I had. Still, Heero's not what I would call a "natural-born" actor. He prefers to go unseen, either by way of stealth or by redirecting attention away from himself... C4-style. And this mission will require him to blend in with the crowd. He'll be damn lucky if he can manage to play their game without arousing suspicions. Very damn lucky.

I frown at the computer screen, a sour taste in my mouth. I've got a bad feeling about this one. I jab at the arrow keys, scrolling down further. It should be me going in. I want it to be me going in. I fucking hate staying behind the scenes. I hate the waiting. The wondering. The lack of immediate control over the situation. And, of course, blowing shit up is a lovely bonus you don't see around the office very often.

At my elbow, the phone rings. I mark my place with my cursor and check the caller ID. Heh. Figures.

"What is it now, Yuy?" I drawl.

He snorts at me. "I ordered us lunch from Antonia's. It's just arrived."

Oh, shit. At the very mention of that little mom-and-pop Italian take-out place, I begin to salivate. And he freaking knows it, too. Asshole.

"Meet me in my office?" he invites but it might as well be an order because I'm not capable of refusing, regardless.

"Give me five minutes," I reply and hang up.

I power down the pc screen and lock my hard drive before I've returned the phone to its cradle. Still, I don't leap up and race out the door. I sit there and gaze at the phone with narrowed eyes. What had prompted that little offer, I wonder? Is he trying to apologize for stealing my spot on the undercover ops list? But why would he? It's not like he had any control over Une's decision.

I sigh and, shaking my head, stand. I can't figure the guy out. I give up. As long as he follows through on his promise of Antonia's take-out, I don't give a damn about his motivations. Following my nose, I let myself into Heero's office well before my five minutes has expired. I take a seat on the edge of his immaculate desk and accept the white Styrofoam box and plastic utensils. I pop the lid off and grin down at my order. Stromboli. I jab at it with my fork and take an inventory of the contents. Gorgonzola cheese and spinach with two little sauce cups of marinara. Just the way I like it. I'm wondering if he remembered my beverage when he reaches around the white paper bag and collects a pint of chilled milk tea.

I stare at the carton in my hand for a moment before I glare at Heero. He neatly cuts his sausage, mushroom, and mozzarella ravioli into quarters and ignores me.

"Dude," I say, wary of this generosity. "Do you, like, need a favor or something?"

Mouth open and fork an instant from depositing his fist bite on his tongue, he pauses. "What... like watering my plants?"

"You have a cactus," I remind him. I know this because I'd given him one for a gag gift last Christmas. "But yeah, something like that."

He lifts a brow at me. "You will be responsible for my backup during this next mission, won't you?"

"Uhm... that's usually part of desk duty, yes," I reply, thinking I know where this is going. "You think you have to ply me with Antonia's so I won't leave you there?"

"Hm," he says. "I wouldn't put it past you."

I shrug. "Yeah, good point." I dig into my stromboli and think about Heero's words. So he's aware of this assignment's risks and he's concerned enough to mention it even if he hadn't been totally serious. That, more than Heero's uncanny ability to provide me with a selection of nothing less than my favorite foods, worries me.

"Look, man," I tell him, "just don't go vigilante on me and I'll get you home."

"You don't ask for much, do you?" he counters, lips smirking and a single brow arced.

I poke my fork in his direction. "Get that evil grin off of your face, Yuy. I'm the only one allowed to use that look around here."

"No wonder you signed on."

"That's right," I confirm. I turn back to my lunch but don't actually manage to take a bite without getting something else off of my chest first. "Just be careful, Yuy," I grouch. "You know how much I hate it when you go all suicidally heroic and steal all the glory."

He grins back at me, his expression taunting. "Then do your job here so I won't have a reason to."

I glare at him. What a jerk. "In honor of your imminent departure and subsequent banishment from the realm of Antonia's, I'll let you have the last word on that."

"How generous of you," he deadpans.

I think so, too.

~ Heero Yuy ~

Mammillaria albicans

Minimum average temperature: 50° F

Sun Exposure: Light shade

Origin: Mexico

Growth Habits: Clustering cylindrical cactus, up to 8 inches tall, 2.4 inches in diameter, 4 to 8 central spines, with sometimes one hooked, 14-21 radials

Watering Needs: Water sparingly, needs good drainage

Flowering Habits: White to pale pink flowers

I don't have to look at the small card that had come with my Christmas present from Duo. I'd memorized it completely the day he'd given the tiny plant to me. He'd intended for it to be a joke although I'm still not sure exactly what that joke is. I sit down on the arm of the couch and just watch the cactus grow in achingly slow motion.

It's only about three inches tall now and it hasn't quite begun to crowd the miniature clay pot. After a bit more extensive research, I'd learned that I'd probably have to wait six months to notice any appreciable growth. But that's all right. Even as small as it is, it's already promising flowers.

There are five tiny buds perched not on the top of the cactus as one might expect but along the slightly bulging barrel. All of them are clamped tightly shut as if trying to resist the persistent rays of the sun in order to roll over and go back to sleep.

I had been looking forward to watching these tiny blossoms open. From further research, I had learned that it would happen within the upcoming week and that they would, most likely, unfurl very quickly. But unless they open up tonight, I probably won't get to see them; I leave for the moon tomorrow.

And this afternoon, I'd almost asked Duo to stop by my apartment and check on the flowers. I'd almost asked him to bring a camera.

I catch myself evaluating the logistics needed to rig a camera to take a photograph every six hours and I have to smile, albeit a bit ruefully, at myself.

This cactus blooms every year in March: there will be other blossoms.

I sigh and stretch out an arm to reach the nearest lamp. The shadows had grown deeper as I'd been sitting here thinking about flowers. I tug the brassy chain and golden light erupts in my living room. Even though Duo and I have worked together on many assignments over the years, it had still taken us the entire afternoon to prepare for my departure. I have a morning flight and I haven't even packed yet.

I allow myself another moment to study the way incandescent light bends around the cactus on my living room window sill. And I really wonder what Duo had thought was so funny about it.

Leaning away from the couch, I propel myself in the direction of my bedroom, intent on getting some of that much-needed packing started. But even as I pull out various shirts, ties, and slacks, I'm still wondering about the significance of that cactus.

Cacti are amazingly delicate creatures for all their prickly appearance. The majority of their weight is due to water retention which, in an environment that only receives precipitation a handful of times a year, is necessary for survival.

I pause.

I backtrack and reconsider those last thoughts. I consider the possibility that Duo had chosen the plant for me as some sort of metaphoric analogy. Although I don't have spines, I'm aware that I'm usually perceived as being rather aloof. Perhaps even unapproachable. And like the water-tight skin of a cactus, it's my tendency to refuse to allow my emotions to escape me. Or my memories. I hold them inside, guarding them like they're treasure. And perhaps they are. The moments of friendship I'm given with Wufei and Duo are few and far between. Like desert rain.

And then that thought nudges me in yet another direction: Duo. When had been the last time he and I had been... well, for lack of a better word, friendly? When had been the last time we'd confided in each other? Offered encouragement? Reassurance?

I think back over the last two years we'd been employed by the Preventers... and I think back over the second battle we'd fought on New Year's Eve... and I think even further back to the year of silence after the first war... hell, I even troll through my memories of the first war itself.

This isn't the first time I've done this sort of historical examination. Every time I find myself thinking back on time and events I'd shared with Duo, I come to the same uncomfortable, inevitable conclusion: somehow we'd come through battle after battle without ever truly becoming friends. And there just seems to be something horribly wrong about that.

I sigh and decide to stop thinking about it. I never get anywhere with it, anyway. And besides, I have an assignment to pack for.

~ Duo Maxwell ~

I love coming up with code names. It's actually a talent of mine. I have this knack for picking a completely believable name. My success rate is due, mostly, to the fact that no one but a parent could have thought of that particular name with any fondness. And, of course, there's no way in hell someone would actually choose that name for himself. And voila, the mark is completely oblivious to the fact that he or she is being investigated by a Preventer agent.

I've lost track of the number of times someone has come to me and asked for one of my brilliant code names. In the event of a request, I simply whip out my ever-growing list and select something that sounds believable for the person who will be answering to it. That's the final touch that makes it all perfect, you know. But for Heero's code names... well, that requires a certain... finesse that I don't bother with for anyone else.

I start to chuckle at the thought of Heero answering to the code name I'd picked out for him... but the sound dies almost right away. I find myself staring at the clock on my desk and calculating his shuttle's speed and location.

I still wish I'd been the one to go. But that sort of woe-is-me whining won't get me anywhere. I know it, but I'm still sulking. On the inside, of course.

"Maxwell, stop pouting."

I glance up and over my shoulder at Wufei. He leans quite insolently in the doorway of my office, smirking. My expression takes an evil turn. "Please, please tell me you're here for a code name."

Both his dark brows lift in barely-suppressed amusement. "Not for all the money in the world would I ask you for a code name after I'd just accused you of pouting."

"Heh. I guess you are kinda smart'n'stuff, aren'tcha?"

"Yes," he replies haughtily. "I suppose I am."

I snort. "Pompous ass."

He pauses a moment. I suppose he's waiting to see if I've managed to vent all my hostility in those three syllables. "Yuy en route?"

"Yeah," I say. "Got his shuttle on the GPS tracker. Wanna watch the little green light blink with me for a while?"

Wufei looks borderline worried. "Don't you have other things you could be doing?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah. I was thinking I should probably start getting the logistics together for my scheduled mosey on down to the copy machine." Oh, yeah. Desk duty is just a whirlwind of activity. Oooh, baby.

Wufei stares at me for a moment. "I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but when it comes to operation support duty, if you weren't so amusing, you'd be intolerable."

"Thanks for the pick-me-up," I mutter dryly. "Rah-rah-rass."

Wufei looks even more worried. "What?" he asks with audible reluctance.

I sigh. "You know the old pep rally cheer?"

He gives me a blank look.

Dutifully, I recite, "Rah-rah-ree, kick 'em in the knee! Rah-rah-rass, kick 'em in the --"

"Maxwell!"

I grin maliciously and continue over Wufei's urgent whisper, "... other knee."

Wufei sighs. "Ancestors save us," I think I hear him mutter. He musters up a weak glare. "Is this what you do when you're on the Network all day? Dig up archaic -- not to mention asinine -- examples of pseudo-music."

I laugh: pseudo-music. How true. "So... if you're not here to get a code name and you don't want to listen to my collection of, er, pseudo-music, then why are you here?"

He stares at me for another moment. "Collection?" he manages. "You mean you know more of those hideous... things?"

"Well..." I drawl, "the word collection does tend to imply plurality, yes."

"You... collect some very strange things," he replies.

I can't say I disagree. "So..." I begin again. "You. Here. Why?"

Wufei takes a moment to study me. And I do mean study me. By the time he's finished memorizing my face, I'm starting to get a little weirded-out.

"Actually..." Wufei tells me with slow deliberation, "I came by to see if you're all right."

"Er... huh?"

He elaborates, "With Heero being gone."

I snort. "Bloody hell, man. It's not like we're joined at the hip! I'm just pissy 'cause he got to take this one. You know me."

Another quiet moment passes before Wufei agrees, "Yes, I do know you."

And with that cryptic remark, he wanders away again.

~ Heero Yuy ~

Before I'd stepped through the front doors of the research facility, the game had already begun. In my mind, I struggle to keep up the mental image of Duo in full charisma mode. I have to hide in the open here which means doing things Duo's way. I've never really tried this before and I'm nervous, but there's no room for errors and that uncompromising standard steadies me.

I stride up to the receptionist's desk and announce myself. "Rupert Takahashi," I say with a small, friendly smile. Behind the greeting, I'm silently damning Duo. Again. The son of a bitch is probably leaning against the counter in the HQ break room right this minute, smirking his ass off and telling anyone who will listen that he'd managed to find a code name even more hideous that the last one he'd given me. It must have been quite the challenge to best Linus Levine. I continue smoothly, "I have an appointment with Dr. Adamsson at eight thirty."

The young man opposite me returns my pleasant greeting and asks me to wait for a moment. After a brief exchange over the phone, he tells me, "It'll only be a minute or so, Mr. Takahashi. Dr. Adamsson's assistant is on his way."

"Thank you," I remember to say. I even attempt to pitch my voice the way Duo does. Yet even after working with him for the past two years, it's hard to do.

I can freely admit that there is no one else in the world who can act like Duo unless it's... well, Duo himself. For a long time, I'd been amazed at the fact that Duo is capable of such enviable stealthwork. I've never quite been able to work out how someone like Duo can go unnoticed whenever he wants to. But then, I'd reconciled myself -- a long time ago -- to the fact that I will always notice him, regardless of time and place. Still, it baffles me how the attentions of other people are not immediately drawn to him unless he wishes it to be so.

I sigh. I tell myself to stop wasting time with this old debate. I haven't understood this since I noticed it during the war and it's highly unlikely that I'll figure it out now.

Time to get on with the show.

I glance at the receptionist and wonder if I should try to make small talk but he looks busy so I force myself to fiddle with my suit jacket, run my fingers along my tie, glance at the arrangement of spacescape paintings along the wall. Idly, I wonder how Duo does it: maintain that level of average-Joe-ease he's so very good at. I shove my free hand in my pocket and jingle the hotel key around. I realize I'm running out of things to do while I wait and I begin to get a little worried. I have to blend in. I must blend in. Standing at attention, deathly still, eyes roaming the lobby with the intent to map every exit will certainly get me noticed. I have to act like a personable, run-of-the-mill kind of guy. I readjust my wrist watch. Damn, this is hard.

"Mr. Takahashi?"

I turn and offer a grateful welcome to the young man stepping past the sliding glass doors. He holds out his hand and I grasp it, telling myself I can do this, reminding myself that my character has done things like this every day of his professional life.

The assistant introduces himself to me and continues apologetically as he steers me deeper into the research facility, "Dr. Adamsson sends his apologies for being unable to greet you himself. Several case tests coming up for review got moved up ahead of schedule, so you're stuck with me for the time being."

I chuckle, like I'm supposed to. "You mean, I'll be stuck with whatever equipment you need recalibrated for your operations here on the moon," I correct.

The assistant grins and nods. "We've certainly got enough to keep you busy for a while."

"That's good," I reply gamely. Out of nowhere, something I'd once heard Duo say comes to me and I grasp onto it with relief, "It'll keep me out of trouble."

~ Duo Maxwell ~

"Ahh..." I lean back in my chair, close my eyes, fold my hands over my pleasantly full stomach, and murmur to my host, "You know, if I thought you wouldn't kill me on sight, I'd ask you to marry me."

Wufei snorts and I hear the creak of his chair as he leans back against it as well. "You say that every time I cook, Maxwell," he observes dryly. "I'm used to it by now."

I crack open my eyes and attempt to look wounded. "Alas, I have reached the bottom of the pit of pathetic; I've become predictable..." A wicked grin tugs my lips upward at the corners. "How to change that, I wonder..."

Wufei sighs and shakes his head. "I shouldn't have said anything," he intones flatly.

"Yeah," I agree with a mellow sigh. "You really shouldn't have. Especially since Heero's not here to help you distract me from formulating my evil plans."

There's a long pause following that remark. And while long pauses during a conversation with Wufei are not uncommon, this particular one is. I take a moment to study him a little harder, noting the uncertainty in his body language that makes him tense.

"What is it?" I ask him. My eyes widen and my pulse skips as something occurs to me. "Did you find out something about that company Heero's infiltrating or --"

"Calm down, Duo," Wufei says quietly, rising from the table and carrying his dishes to the counter. "You know I'd tell you the moment I found something." He turns and scowls at me thoughtfully. "It's only been three days. What's got you so wound up about it, anyway?"

I shrug. "Nothin' really," I hedge. "I'm always edgy right before the first check-in." Which is true. Mostly. I try to ignore the fact that I've been counting down to Heero's first scheduled communication since we parted ways after work the night before the mission. His message tomorrow should put me out of my misery.

Still, Wufei doesn't buy my lame half-truth. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me.

I sigh. "I was up on rotation for this one but Une decided to go with Heero. I just..." My jaw clenches down for a moment. "I just hate being the one that's left behind," I grumble. "The guy in the field has all the options, all the control... And I just hate sitting on my ass, waiting. And I can't even hope for some action because that would mean that Heero's in danger and I have to back him up." I link my fingers behind my head and close my eyes. "Desk duty sucks, no doubt about it," I conclude, "because as badly as I want to be out there, that would mean wishing something would go wrong and that just feels like... like I'm..."

"Betraying your partner?" Wufei supplies when I flounder.

I kind of twitch a little and give him a speculative look. I suddenly realize that I've never really thought of Heero as "my" partner. Just another agent I work with a lot. Huh. "Yeah," I admit, albeit reluctantly.

"You're not the only one," he tells me.

It's not really a comfort, but it does broaden my perspective a little bit on the subject. "So that's why you threatened me with bodily injury if I didn't come over tonight."

Wufei shrugs. "Sometimes distractions are necessary," he replies, quoting Heero.

I can recall when he'd said that, too: not so long after I'd joined up with the Preventers. I'd been defending my seemingly frivolous hobby of tinkering with gizmos and gadgets to Wufei when Heero had thrown in his two cents. I don't think I'd ever heard him defend one of my personality quirks before. Still, despite Heero's support, Wufei hadn't been won over:

"But... For the love of the ancestors, who the hell needs a talking toaster??"

I almost grin at the memory. I love Wufei to death, but the guy just has no sense of adventure.

And that last thought reminds me of sipping coffee with Heero in the break room earlier this week. I sigh.

"You're worried about him," Wufei tells me suddenly.

I resume glaring at him. Taking a breath, I open my mouth to retort but Wufei cuts me off with something equally abrupt.

"What the hell happened between you two?"

Thoroughly confused, I manage a highly intelligent "Huh?"

Wufei settles back in his chair at the table and regards me calmly. "Back during the war, I noticed the way you and Heero dealt with each other. Just from watching, I would have thought you to be friends. But every time you spoke to one another... you sounded like rivals." Wufei's lips curve into a sad sort of smile. "Not much has changed since then, even though you've been partnered with each other nine times out of ten over the last two years."

I absorb this in silence, a little startled that Wufei's even broaching the topic. I mean, what does he care? After all, Heero and I do get along even if we aren't best buddies or anything...

"I consider both of you my friends," Wufei continues, somehow reading my mind. "And I know you consider me a friend, but I don't understand why you haven't extended the same courtesy to Heero."

"Why the hell are you bringing it up, anyway?" I hear myself snark.

"Duo..." Wufei replies slowly. He's using that tone of voice that tells me my churlishness is flowing off of him. He's using that expression that indicates he's baring his soul to me. God damn him. I can't be an asshole now.

And he's still waiting for the truth. Reluctantly, I cooperate.

"I can't," I finally reply, eyes narrowing and arms crossing over my chest.

Wufei frowns, not understanding. In all honesty, I don't really understand it, either. "I don't think I've ever heard Duo Maxwell say he can't do something."

He has a point. And I do wonder why I can't open myself up to Heero but no logical reason is forthcoming. There's only a dark, black, thick space in my mind that separates me from someone who might have been my friend, once upon a time.

I can't think about this right now. All I can do is shake my head and offer the only excuse I have: "I can't."

~ Heero Yuy ~

I'm running out of time here. Soon, all of the equipment will be up to safety inspection standards and my excuse to remain here will be exhausted. And I have yet to find any evidence of illegal activity: it appears the rumors of the employees being brainwashed are just that. Therefore, I have two choices: one, to return with absolutely nothing either confirming or denying our suspicions, or two, to get a little more creative in my interpretation of the law.

Not much of a choice, really. I grin. Duo's going to be pissed as hell that I got to have all the fun this time around.

I pull out my laptop and open a programming window. I don't bother to keep an eye on the clock as I compose the virus I'll need in order to both disable the main power and plant an open gate directly to Duo's computer in his apartment. I'll have an opportunity to upload the virus tomorrow, I'm sure. Then, once the system crashes, a manual reboot will allow for Duo to ghost around through the encrypted and password protected files.

What I'm about to do is very much against Preventer policies, but only Duo will know who has allowed him access into the system. No one will be able to prove it had been me rather than some anonymous employee. But, then again, at the moment I am an anonymous employee.

How ironic.

I smirk to myself as my fingertips type out the necessary commands. But I also have to keep in mind that I need to camouflage the virus's true intent. The system shut down must seem like a side effect of the virus, rather than its main goal. So, all right... what sort of obnoxious mayhem would a twelve-year-old hacker like to cause on this former OZ base?

Several ideas immediately come to me and that fact alone I find highly amusing. Most people wouldn't consider me particularly creative. Except Duo, perhaps. I think he's picked up on my recently expanding appreciation for the weird and deranged. In fact, some of these virus intents I've thought up I'd like to share with him. They'd be good for quite a few laughs, if Duo and I had the kind of relationship where we laughed with each other.

And suddenly my mood tumbles from mild amusement into acute frustration.

Why aren't Duo and I friends? We've seen each other almost every day of the work week for the past two years. We've handled some dangerous and delicate assignments together in perfect unison. Hell, I've even started pouring his fucking coffee for him in the mornings. And isn't it sad that I've made that little extra effort to be sure I make it in to work early enough to have a shot at doing that one little thing for him. Everyone at HQ thinks we're friends. Some have even been deluded into believing we're best friends. But not Wufei.

Oh, no. Wufei knows. I can tell from his subtle sidelong glances in first my direction then Duo's when all three of us are in the same room. I don't know how he'd sensed the distance between us Duo continually affirms when everyone else is oblivious.

That's not to say we don't laugh and joke and talk. But it's all surface. No deep, soul-binding camaraderie here.

But, God, there's nothing I wouldn't give to...

I freeze.

In stunned silence, I blink at my interrupted programming and stare at the imaginary door I'd just slammed on that last thought. I'm not sure what to think of that oh-so-easily contemplated wish. I'd like to forget about it entirely, but I find myself inching open that door again to have a second look.

I suppose I'd been aware of this fact -- at least subconsciously -- for a very long time. But it's not until this moment, as I sit in front of my laptop in a shadowed and anonymous efficiency apartment, that it really hits me.

I would do anything to be Duo's friend.

Several disjointed bits of information skip through my mind: my habit of ordering his lunch for him and surprising him with take-out when I know he hasn't bothered to pack anything; my habit of taking the moment to notice whether he'd brought his lunch or not; my habit of fixing his coffee without having to be asked; my tendency to arrive at work in time to have the chance to pour him that first two-thirds cup; my persistent re-examination of every moment, every smile, every gift he's ever given me in search of hidden meaning...

Dozens of bits of memories and clues all crash together in my head and I begin to realize why I've bothered learning how he takes his coffee and making sure I request an extra cup of marinara sauce for him from Antionia's...

Christ, I'm an idiot.

It all comes down to the simple, pathetic truth:

I've chosen him to be my best friend. And I want him to fucking wake up and be mine, too.

I can remember a time when I would have rather self-destructed with Wing all over again than admit that to myself. Hm. I suppose people really do change.

The thought gives me hope and the hope makes me angry with myself for even considering it, but I can't not wonder if someday I'll ever manage to traverse the distance that's between us.

I simply don't know how to deal with someone as complex and stubborn as Duo Maxwell. Reluctantly, I admit that I'll need help and resolve to speak with Wufei and Quatre. Perhaps Relena as well. I nod in satisfaction at my decision. It is, after all, my only other logical option aside from a direct confrontation with Duo over the matter, which I'm fairly certain would end badly.

With that temporarily settled, I turn my attention back to the havoc and mayhem I'm about to instigate.

~ Duo Maxwell ~

I'm going to kill him.

I swear to God, if I manage to find him still in one piece, I'll kill him myself.

Five days. No email. No phone call. Nothing. For his sake, he'd better be captured. Or incapacitated. Or... something.

I heft the carton I'd been appointed with a bit more gusto than necessary. Although the guy next to me gives me a funny look, I'm rather proud of my self-restraint thus far. Not that I think for one instant that either Une or Wufei is going to congratulate me for this.

I suppose I could blame Wufei. I mean, if he hadn't dragged my turbulent emotional state out for my wide-eyed perusal that night after dinner at his place then I might still be fidgeting in my squeaky office chair back at HQ. But he had and I'm obviously not.

Perhaps if I'd managed to sleep after that neat, little trip of introspection, I might not be where I am right now. Maybe. The next day at work had been hell, in any case. I'd had loads of shit to do but like I gave a damn about it while I was waiting for my asshole partner's email. The morning had come and gone. As had lunch. And dinner. And the janitorial staff. That had been the defining moment; that had been when I'd asked myself a very specific question: So, what are you gonna do about it?

Notice I hadn't asked myself what Une would want me to do, or what Wufei would want me to do, or even what I wanted to do. Perhaps I wouldn't be risking a highly satisfactory and very pensionable job over something that could turn out to be a false alarm. Or worse. I'm very aware that I could blow Heero's cover and fuck not only him and myself over, but the Preventers in general.

I'd already tried to make myself care during the twelve hour shuttle ride here. And I'd failed miserably. I'll care if I fuck up, I'm sure. But that hasn't happened yet and it's not a policy of mine to concern myself with nebulous probabilities.

In retrospect, it had been scarily easy to convince a harried space freighter captain to give me berth to the moon. Especially after I'd done my "I'm-just-a-harmless-dumb-idiot-trying-to-get-back-home act." I don't think Heero's seen that one.

And he won't get the chance to, either, once I get my hands on him.

Despite the visions of excruciatingly prolonged death frolicking through my mind, I manage to smile at the docking inspector. "Yo, man, where do you want this?"

The bastard doesn't even look up from his fancy digital clipboard. "Cool," I tell him, following his disinterested nod. As I carry my burden of something-or-other marked Fragile, I take note of a service door near the corner I'm headed for. Perfect.

Fifteen seconds after the carton in my hands touches the cold, worn flooring, I'm ghosting through a labyrinth of halls that look altogether too familiar for my peace of mind. It appears the new tenants haven't redecorated yet. I take in the specific shade of washed-out, moon-powder-dusted neosteel and marvel at how some things really don't change. Once more I'm voluntarily venturing into this beast and on the heels of the same guy I'd come to "rescue" on my previous visit. Not that I'd ever told him that. Not that he would have cared either way. Not that he's going to appreciate the gesture this time around, either.

But then, it doesn't really matter what he wants. Because once this Stealth Show gets underway, there's no stopping it. So without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, may I present the amazing Disappearing Duo Act. Please hold your applause until the end... No, no, wait for it... wait for it...

I draw in a deep breath and imagine myself blending into the walls like a semi-solid puddle of liquid steel. Everything that I am becomes cold, grey, and still. I smirk briefly in shadows. And I can't help but be amused by the words that echo through the dimming stage that is my headspace: "Now you see him... and now you don't."

~ Heero Yuy ~

Finally.

I listen to the sound of the solar bay doors hissing closed behind Adamsson's chief assistant, the man who has been my tour guide/babysitter for the last five days and then some. Finally, I am alone. And I'm alone with the data beast that runs this corporation.

As Duo would say, Whoo-yeah!

At last, the virus program I'd been carefully nurturing on my laptop's hard drive will finally be allowed the fieldtrip I'd promised it a day and a half ago.

I almost snort at myself. Perhaps my concentrated effort to behave like Duo over the duration of this mission has had an effect on my psyche. An intriguing... if disturbing thought. For sure, it would amuse Duo.

Will, I correct myself. It will amuse Duo. Sometime over the last thirty-six hours, I've firmed my resolution to get through to that guy. And I'll do whatever it takes. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop clashing wits with him. I mean, let's face it: what's friendship without intellectual challenge? But I'm going to start crowding his space until he finally lets me in. No longer am I going to convince myself I'm satisfied with his bullshit smile and snappy rejoinders. It's all or nothing, now.

But first, the mission.

It takes me mere moments to accomplish the task I'd been assigned by the head doctor's assistant. And then, under the pretext of running a diagnostic program, I hook up my laptop to the database. Finally, something I'd actually been trained to do. Something I don't have to refer to my memories of Duo for. I know that as soon as I get back to Earth, I'm going to crash and burn. This assignment has been exhausting. Where Duo gets the energy to be who he is, I have not a clue.

While I'm waiting for the virus to be absorbed into the main computer, I surreptitiously take in my surroundings. In mere moments, I've nearly finished typing up an encoded text file detailing the variety of power sources here in the generator room. I can't help but be little impressed by the field of solar mirrors pointed toward the domed ceiling. And I'm annoyed to realize that I can't remember if these are the same mirrors that had been here back when Oz had appropriated the facility or if the Earth Sphere had installed them recently in an attempt to entice companies to move their operations into outer space.

Having finished my notes, I once again check the email account I'd used to contact Duo. There's still no reply to my check-in. I frown and wonder what the hell is going on. I'd already turned my mobile connection inside-out looking for a blockage. I give the mental equivalent of a shrug. I'll sit down this evening and try to figure out the problem. It's obviously something that needs several hours' worth of my undivided attention. Perhaps, having been distracted by the completion and release of my virus, I'd missed something when I'd last checked it. Unlikely, but possible.

The progress window on my screen alerts me to the completed upload.

So, that's it. The next time the main computer connects with the satellites necessary for this compound's communications, the virus will begin to unfurl. A diagnostic check will send it into full maturity. There is nothing more I can do at this moment. Either it will be successful or it won't. As I pack up my equipment, I also briefly consider the possibility that I'll be asked to stay on longer here to help sort out the problem and while that might end up being good for the mission, I'd really rather go home. But whatever, as Duo would say.

I feel my expression softening as I think of him. I'm a little anxious to start my new campaign to win his friendship. I almost shake my head at myself. Damn but it took me long enough to change my tactics--

My expression is pulled once more into a frown as I wait for the doors to open at my command but there's no response. I tap in the code once more and wait. But still the electronic locks remain engaged.

What the hell? The virus couldn't have taken effect yet. In fact, I hadn't even attacked the locking systems with it.

I jab at the keypad yet again.

There is still no response.

A short? A code change? The possibilities are endless. I consider removing the maintenance panel and rewiring it. I could manage to do so in about thirty seconds, but it would certainly disabuse them of the notion that I'm a harmless traveling techie. Unless they've already figured me out, in which case, not getting out of here a.s.a.p. would be a big mistake.

My options are neatly listed and scrolled through in a handful of seconds but before I've decided on one, a rusty squeal from somewhere above and behind me intrudes. I glance over my shoulder to locate the source of the movement but for a several seconds, nothing is immediately apparent. It's when my gaze lands on a pair of gears turning against each other that a ghost of the truth shivers through my body.

And then the temperature in the room starts to climb.

I glance up and I'm as close as I've ever been to breaking out in a cold sweat. For the tiniest moment, I stare as the first of the dome's panels slides under its neighbor. I turn back to the lock and rip the panel off. I don't even bother with the possibility that someone has forgotten about me being in here and has decided to charge the mirrors. It's obvious to me that they know. I would be an idiot to hope otherwise.

Metal slides against metal and the first ray of unfiltered sunlight forces its way through the widening gap in the roof. At the access panel, I've just managed to yank out the wires but I feel as if I'm being boiled by light. And the first of nearly a dozen panels isn't even open yet.

I try to work faster, but I can't breathe. My eyes are watering from the glow beginning to surround me. I'm still calm -- after training like mine what else would I be? -- but I realize that I will probably not survive this. Not that that's any reason to give up.

The first panel is open completely and I think I've started to cook. I can't think, can't see, can't feel my hands. Hell, I can't feel anything except the blistering heat. And then I imagine I'm falling into a soothing, cool darkness and a pair of strong arms. Death hums in my ear and I'm a little surprised that I recognize the voice.

"Duo..." I think I say and then I'm gone.

~ Duo Maxwell ~

Okay, there are certain things that you expect to happen when the door control panel you've been "coaxing" into unlocking finally complies.

Sirens.

Alarms.

Frantic shouts.

Gunfire.

Trieze.

Oh, wait, wrong combat sim.

But what you don't expect is to be engulfed by boiling, retina-searing, white light just as the feverishly hot body of the person you're looking forward to killing in the imminent future falls limply against your solar plexus.

Let's just say I've had better days.

I have to bite back the string of knee-jerk obscenities that rise to the occasion as my vision goes perfectly white then perfectly black. I'm too busy to bother with my impressive assortment of expletives at the moment what with dragging Heero's body out of the path of that skin-peeling light while simultaneously groping rather forcefully at the aforementioned control panel. I'll give those colorful words their due just as soon as the schedule permits.

And then, suddenly, miraculously, the door whispers closed and the temperature stabilizes. For a long moment, I stand in the dark, blinking my watering eyes and trying not to tell myself my lack of vision is the result of me having accidentally hit a light switch in my mad scramble to get that damn door shut.

I'm not really sure how long I stand there. It feels like for-fucking-ever but it can't be more than a few minutes. And then, slowly, the shadows start coming back to me and everything turns cool and dim and grey again.

Except Heero, that is.

I grope for his pulse and the fact that I manage to wrap my hand around his neck without eliciting a reaction tells me he probably won't be walking himself out of here. Aching from the adrenaline and the mother of all migraines, I let out an explosive breath when I do feel a pulse.

Fucking hell, I'm going to kill him when he comes around.

Of course, that means I've got to get both of us out of here in our respective entireties now.

Doesn't ask for much, does he, this partner of mine?

Gritting my teeth in frustration, I kneel down under his weight and guide him over my shoulder. I stagger a bit as I straighten up.

Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun.

I can already feel the flesh of my shoulder beginning to bruise under his bulk, but I'll bitch him out about it later. For now I've got slightly more urgent things to worry about.

Obviously, I'd just interrupted an attempt on Heero's life; it's a foregone conclusion that he's been made here. Now, depending on about three hundred and twelve factors, our exit from this Godforsaken facility could be scarily easy or fatal.

I know which one I prefer but I don't usually get a choice in these things. And Heero's not voicing an opinion at the moment, so...

I meet no one on the outbound trip. With every step, the knots of tension holding my joints together wind tighter and tighter. And thank God for that, otherwise I probably would have collapsed under Heero's weight.

I'm more than a little surprised that, ten minutes later, as I've just cleared the Lunar Base in a borrowed shuttle and alerted the nearest colony hospital to our arrival and Heero's condition, I'm still not breathing any easier. I'm a little puzzled by this. I mean, Heero's not flopped over my shoulder anymore so you'd think the weight would have left with him.

But it hasn't.

Frowning fiercely, I turn on the comm. and decide I'd better call work and let them know I won't be coming in today. Oh, and that Heero's mission has been scrubbed. And that Heero's injured. And that I've also just managed to commit a shitload of protocol misconducts. Oh, and let's not forget the felonies: breaking and entering, grand theft, and so on.

My hands aren't shaking as consider I dialing Wufei's line but my mouth is dry. Very dry. Which makes a twisted sort of sense if you consider the fact that my eyes are still watering like Niagara Falls.

Finally, the expletives I'd put on hold insist on having their fifteen seconds of fame. Even though it ends up being more like fifteen minutes.

Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it damn it!

And in the midst of my near-violent emoting a vast, dark space opens inside me and four little, soul-shaking words echo out:

What have I done?

I'm pretty sure I've saved Heero's life by way of pure, sad-bastard, dumb luck.

But "pretty sure" doesn't cut it in a business that deals in hard facts. And it's certainly never cut it in the Preventers.

But it's a little late for that now.

I glace at Heero. Maybe I'm hoping for some reassurance or a Plan B or something. Instead, I end up staring at his molted, peeling skin... what I can see of it through my reflexive tears and around his clothes anyway. Damn, but he looks so young and lost and... broken.

And suddenly, making that call to Wufei becomes difficult for a whole different set of reasons. And no, I don't want to talk about it, thanks.

~ Heero Yuy ~

"Fuck you, man!"

That voice.

"Don't fucking tell me..."

I know that voice.

"I am calm, you asshole!"

Duo...

The sound of his voice is the only sensory input that manages to filter through the strange grey place I'm drifting through weightlessly. I attempt to open my eyes and I frown at the significant amount of effort I put forth with no appreciable results. Damn. Something this simple shouldn't be this difficult.

"Look-- You know what? Just don't fucking call me unless you've got some half-way decent good news, all right?!"

I hear the click of Duo's phone closing. A heartfelt sigh accompanies the rustle of clothing and the creak of a cheap resin chair suddenly being forced to accommodate someone's weight.

I finally win the battle against the dim nothingness and the sight I'm greeted with is of my partner slumped forward in an ugly orange chair with his face in his hands.

My eyes water in the low but persistent glow of the room's diffused light and something in my chest knots in upon itself at the utter dejection in Duo Maxwell's bowed body.

My immediate reaction is to reach for words of reassurance, but in my free-floating, vague confusion, I'm at a loss as to how to gather them to me. When my quest for words fails, I attempt to locate a memory for inspiration but even those evade me. For what could be seconds or actual minutes, I simply lie here struggling for syllables that won't come to me. Helpless, I watch as Duo sprawls back in the worn, plastic chair and quite abruptly treats the tiled ceiling to a rather colorful diatribe.

Those nebulous and as yet unarticulated reassurances lodge in my lungs.

And then Duo tears his malevolent attention away from the fascinating view above us and I find myself lined up in the sights of his hostile gaze.

The slippery words of comfort I'd been trying to close my fingers around shatter completely.

"Oh, great," he says flatly. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

I'm startled by the hot aggression lurking in his voice. I watch him rock to his feet and approach me in a determined swagger. I feel like I ought to be cringing under the heat and weight of his glare, but I just stare, mesmerized.

For a moment he just glowers at me. For the life of me, I can't understand why he's so angry.

"So," he bites out as he punches the call button at my bedside with barely contained rage. "You gonna take your turn and bitch me out about professional responsibility now, too?"

What?

"No?" he continues, steamrolling through my confused silence. "Well, I'm sure you'll get around to it when you're feeling up to it."

Feeling up to it? I don't feel much of anything at the moment except vaguely unsettled. I try to trace the thread of this thought as well, hoping it will lead me to the hows and whys I can't seem to name. But then that splinters into nothing as Duo narrows his eyes at me. I can't remember ever seeing a shade of blue as hard or as cold as his eyes.

"I guess you'll just knock me out again for being so helpful," he snarls.

Whoa. What the hell is he talking about? Is that how I got here? I hit Duo and he decided to reciprocate? But I can no more understand my motivations for doing that than I can comprehend the source of Duo's hostility. I mean, what can I say when forced to endure derision of this magnitude?

For a seemingly eternal moment, I just don't get it. I can't remember ever hitting him. I can't think of why I would even want to. I really have no clue.

And then a flash of memory reluctantly answers my witless confusion:

"I need a favor."

"Sure, man."

"Hit me."

Oh, right. X18999. Wait... He thinks I hit him because... But, hold on... All that happened years ago, didn't it? I strain to tie the fluttering ends of all these thoughts together but it's just too hard. None of this makes a damn bit of sense and it's starting to irritate me.

"Duo..." I finally croak out, blinking in response to his anger, my confusion, and the steady stream of light-induced tears crowding my vision.

"Ah, so your vocal chords do work," he observes snidely. "Well, after the doctor's through with you, I imagine you'll be ready to chew on my ass to your heart's content."

And I'm so busy trying to figure out what a doctor has to do with anything that I miss my chance to respond.

A third, new voice asks with no small amount of puzzlement, "Why would you be angry with the man who saved your life, Agent Yuy?"

I send a watery glance in the direction of the door and stare at the man who has apparently been appointed my doctor. I want to tell him that I'm not angry with anyone, but my brain takes far too much time sorting out the words.

"Don't ask me," Duo mutters as he abruptly heads for the still-open door. "That's just the way the miserable fucker is."

And then with a quick twist of his body and a flick of his braid, he's gone.

I stare at the doorway and suddenly I'm remembering another portal entirely -- one with an electronic control panel -- and I'm remembering light -- infinite, blinding, searing light. And for the first time since I'd opened my eyes, my mind feels perfectly clear.

I turn my now-sharp, lucid gaze onto the doctor and hear myself demand tonelessly, "How bad is it?" And it must be very bad indeed if I can't feel a damn thing.

I listen to his well modulated and carefully worded lecture on third-degree burns, nerve damage, and radiation sickness with only half of my attention. I've heard most of this before, years ago, in pilot training. Mostly, I'm absorbing the following facts in silence:

Duo had gone after me.

Duo had saved my life.

Duo expects me to think less of him for it.

The specifics of third-degree burns, nerve damage, and radiation poisoning I can understand.

Duo Maxwell, on the other hand... now that's an issue that requires some serious investigation.

~ Duo Maxwell ~

Going off on Heero like that had been pretty fucking stupid, no question about that. I admit this to myself as I bully my way out onto the hospital balcony and force myself to take three deep, sequential breaths. As I inhale the recycled colony air, I try to justify my outburst: Wufei had been a pompous ass; Heero hadn't had the best timing in waking up, etc., etc...

But, regardless of the extenuating circumstances, I'd behaved very badly. Hell, who wouldn't right after they'd been informed that no, you wouldn't be reporting for active duty and assigned to the task force currently digging through the company that almost killed a fellow Preventer because you're on probation and Une wants to keep an eye on you until the dust settles. Probation. Fucking hell. There's even a Preventer agent I'm supposed to check in with every twenty-four hours.

Fuck that.

Pardon me if I don't feel like making Une's life any easier by tromping down to the local Preventers Branch office here and checking myself in for observation.

For a small, infinitesimal moment, I feel a little bad for Wufei. Hell, he'd probably insisted on being the one to break the news to me. But that's neither here nor there -- or rather, it's not here, it's there and I've got to concentrate on my local fuck-ups first. Concentric circles and all that. So, therefore, what I'd just told Heero gets the lion's share of my attention.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

And what the fuck is my problem with what had happened on X18999? That had been years ago. In the heat of battle... anything for the success of the mission and all that shit. Way old news. So why did I bring it up? It's not like I'm hauling it around with me like a faded, dog-eared photo of my first love or anything.

The only answer I've got is the same dark, mysterious void I'd experienced last week during Wufei's pushy -- if well-meaning -- interrogation. Unsettled by this parallel, I force my attention in the direction of something I can understand. Like me being an absolute bastard to the guy I'm normally assigned to work with. Although probably not anymore.

Hell, it's not as if I'll blame Heero for requesting a new partner when he heals up. Even I don't like me when I'm at my snarky-bastard worst. So this ache I'm suddenly feeling that coincides with my contemplation of the death of our working relationship makes no sense whatsoever. I mean, I don't really give a damn who I work with... do I?

Jesus. If it's not one God damn thing it's another. Everything I've thought about in the last ten minutes has morphed into something I sure as hell do not want to think about.

But I have to.

Because sure as God made sunshine and snot, Heero's gonna quiz me about it when I go back in there. And isn't it a sad, sad commentary on my life that I'd rather endure that interrogation and sleep in an ancient plastic chair instead of checking in with my probation officer and enjoying the comforts provided by the Preventers. But I chafe more at the thought of allowing myself to lounge around in a hotel room that's being monitored five ways from Sunday. Acquiescing has never sat well with me. And like hell I'm going to just sit around with my thumb up my ass for the sole purpose of Une's peace of mind. Still... I never thought I'd actually choose to sort through my subconscious and apologize to Heero instead.

I shake my head and let out a long breath.

I'm sure there's got to be something seriously wrong with my priorities.

~ Heero Yuy ~

There may be days when I'm not exactly crazy about my job, but when it comes to data collection via electronic sources I never have to work myself up for it. The instant I'm left alone for my afternoon "nap" I manage to commandeer the vid phone and position it to hover within range. It's a given who the first person I'll call is going to be.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Don't ever hang up on me, Maxwell!" he roars by way of greeting.

Despite my situation, I smirk. I usually enjoy watching Wufei make an error. It doesn't happen very often but the look of pissed-off contriteness he produces is well worth the wait.

"Ah... Heero. You're... awake. Um, finally."

"Yes," I reply, taking a bit of pity on him and allowing the stumbling subject change. "And I'm wondering what and the hell has got Duo so wound up." I hate asking about things I should already have first-hand knowledge about... and would have first-hand knowledge about if I hadn't been unconscious the entire time. This is the last time I allow myself to be drugged into a near-coma for five solid days. Never mind that no one had exactly asked me... nor had I been in any condition to state a preference. But, however.

Wufei sighs. "Long story short, Internal Affairs is investigating him for initiating and following through with an unauthorized reconnaissance mission which may have resulted in compromising the agent undercover."

This doesn't make any sense at all. "But if Duo hadn't come after me, you'd be trying to figure out what to do with the flowers from my funeral." Assuming there'd be any. Or a funeral at all, for that matter.

"I know that," he assures me. "But there's still considerable room for doubt. We're investigating."

I arc my brows at that. Sure as hell, no company would invite law enforcement agents into their compound after just trying to fry a Preventer on the premises.

"A virus has been discovered in their main database and it's endangering the health and welfare of the workers. The UES Occupational Safety Department is looking into the situation and keeping us informed. As soon as they turn up anything odd, we'll have a way in."

I can't help but feel a little proud of the fact that my virus is proving somewhat useful after all. Even if it had almost killed me to pull it off.

"And Duo?" I ask, trying to piece everything together.

"On probation," Wufei reluctantly tells me.

Ouch.

"I should have tried to stop him. He was practically going insane the day you were supposed to check in and nothing came through. I should have known he wouldn't wait the full forty-eight hours before --"

As fascinating as Wufei's self-chastisement is, I have to cut him off. "What are you talking about? I did check in. It was Duo who never got back with me."

Wufei physically pauses. I'm not even sure if he's still breathing. I know this posture. He's scenting a new lead. "Are you sure?" he asks carefully.

"Yes," I tell him, knowing my information might change things.

"I'll look into it," he tells me. "And I'll keep you informed."

"What about Duo?" I ask, a little startled that Wufei hadn't offered to share his finds with both of us.

"You'll have to pass it along for me," he replies looking grumpy. "I'm not talking to him again until he shits the stick out of his ass."

I almost laugh at that.

"Now turn off the damn vid and rest like you're supposed to be doing."

And just to get even with him for that little dig, I don't bother to sign off. I just smirk at him and hit the disconnect... and several other keys, I'm sure, what with my hands being bandaged as they are.

I hate the fact that I'm bound to this bed. Just another solar-sick spacer statistic. I suppose I ought to be grateful that so much progress has been made in the treatment of solar burns and radiation poisoning in the last two hundred years. My prognosis is actually better than most; it's likely I'll regain most the feeling in my back and neck over the course of the next year. But the sad fact is that my injuries aren't actually all that uncommon. Colony maintenance personnel suffer these sorts of injuries all the time due to faulty or worn out radiation filters in their mobile suits. And that's another bit of interesting trivia: mobile suits had originally been designed for the upkeep of the colonies rather than war. But that's human progress for you.

Despite the leaps and bounds the science of medicine has advanced since the first space colonies, I'm impatient to be up and capable of punching out Duo's lights. Not because he'd saved my life, but because the doctor had thoughtfully informed me that the idiot had nearly fried his retinas beyond repair when I'd practically fallen into his arms on the Lunar Base. Duo had been seconds away from being blinded permanently. As it was, he'd had to undergo seventy-two hours of optical therapy upon delivering me to the solar burn unit.

Seconds. Mere seconds away from being blind... I just can't wrap my mind around that. I just can't summon up a concept of Duo without his sparkling -- or sparking, as might be the case -- dark blue eyes. Doesn't he know that I'm not worth that? That nothing is worth the loss of that vibrancy?

For a while, I simply stare at the darkened screen and contemplate my situation and Duo's eyes. Then I turn toward the information I'd managed to pry out of Wufei before he'd realized I should not be doing anything more strenuous than breathing. Thankfully, I now know that I am not the sole source of aggravation for Duo at the moment. But how his nearly going "insane" waiting for my call and then recklessly rushing out after me figures in, I'm not sure. Especially with his rather confident assumption that I won't be remotely thankful for his intervention.

An instant of frustration clouds my thoughts. I rage at the unfairness of it all; this week I was going to go home, watch my cactus blossoms wilt, and work on being Duo's friend. But no, now I'm in a hospital bed, awaiting physical therapy, further burn treatments and whatnot while Duo is emoting elsewhere beyond my reach.

Damn it.

I continue staring at the darkened screen until a voice I know all too well alerts me to another's presence in my room.

"Now that's more like the Heero I know."

I start. Damn it, how the hell had he gotten in here without my knowing about it? I look up and take in the fact the Duo is standing well inside my room, obviously having managed to not only get past the door but almost to my bed before he'd announced himself. I'm on the verge of telling him off for it, but I bite back the words he'd nearly startled out of me.

Instead, I absorb his awkward, wavering silence and know he's come back to apologize for his earlier outburst. But I don't want an apology. I want an explanation. Still, these sorts of things can't be rushed.

"At least I'm here in spirit now," I drawl, unable to mask my exhaustion.

He snorts in good-humored agreement. Still, he has yet to look me in the eyes.

I tell him, "I talked to Wufei."

Duo nods once and refrains from further comment.

"I understand why you needed to let off some steam," I continue, hoping my empathy will pry a meaningful sentence or two out of him.

"Yeah," he sighs out, "if ever there was a reason for me to lose it, that would be it."

"You mean being pulled off the case?" I venture persistently.

He shrugs. "All of it, really."

Duo shakes his head and wanders over to stare at a miscellaneous piece of framed art. I think it's a vase of red poppies or something.

He elaborates to the dull glass, "I know I've got issues with impulse control, but I've really fucked myself over on this one."

Between the two of us, I'd have to say that I'm the one who's the most fucked over at the moment. But now's not the time for a "my-day-was-worse-than-yours" pissing contest.

Duo predicts darkly, "Une won't let me come back after this."

"She doesn't have all the facts..." I start to tell him. But he doesn't appear to be listening to me. He doesn't appear to even remember that I'm in the room. Or that he's still speaking out loud, for that matter.

There's a distance in his voice when he softly states, "I'm nothing without the Preventers."

Those quiet words hover between us, aching between us. And I find myself shocked and accepting and unsurprised all at the same time.

"That's not true," I tell him, albeit a bit lamely.

"No, it is true," he replies, but that far-away quality still lingers in his tone. "It has always been true. If I lose my job..." He sighs heavily. "There's just nothing else out there for me, you know?"

I don't really know what to say to that. I mean, if I had known him better, I might have been able to mutter something meaningful and wise. But I settle for conducting a brief search my memories for anything I think might have been important to him in the past. "What about the scrapyard? Didn't you stay with Hilde for over a year?"

If possible, he seems to fold even further in on himself without actually twitching a muscle. "I can't go back there," he says. "I can't look into her face every day and take seeing the pure, absolute hope... and trust... and fucking idiotic idealism." He shakes his head and a sad chuckle escapes him. "A few years ago I was prepared to die to free the colonies from military occupation... and now -- if there's the slightest possibility that I'll be recognized -- I can't bring myself to set foot on one. How messed up is that?"

There's one hell of a story here. I briefly toy with the idea of ferreting it out. I've never been around Duo when he's so open and hurting, but before I can figure the odds of making it through to the other end of the conversation without causing a serious setback in our budding camaraderie, he seems to come to his senses.

"In fact, if it weren't for the lack of one God damn email, I wouldn't even have to be worrying about this shit!"

Well, the holiday had been nice -- while had it lasted anyway -- but now the old Duo seems to be back and blaming me... again.

"I did check in, Duo," I tell him quietly. "I've already told Wufei about it. He's going to let us know what he finds."

"At least the lousy bastard is good for something," he grouches weakly.

Someone more adept than me at personal relations would be able to turn the mood around, I'm sure. But, sadly enough, I'm just happy he's not directing his formidable temper towards me anymore. We lapse into tense, awkward silence and I can almost feel his unvoiced apology and my blatant curiosity dancing around each other in the void.

But he doesn't seem to hate me at the moment. And, as far as I'm concerned, that's a decent enough start.

~ Duo Maxwell ~

Volunteering to be Heero's therapy buddy had been one of my typical impulse decisions. I suppose I'd been spurred on in part by guilt over still not having managed to spit out a proper apology for treating him like the Anti-Christ, and also in part by pure morbid fascination for his injuries. And, if I'm totally honest with myself, I have to admit that I'd been pretty damn curious to see just how Heero would react to his circumstances. I guess I've always wondered what exactly the guy is made of and having the chance to watch him fight his way back from severe solar burns and radiation poisoning had been an opportunity of a lifetime.

Damn, that makes me sound like some sort of bloodthirsty, ancient Roman spectator in the Colosseum or something, but it's true. And, you never know, maybe I had been a spectator in the Colosseum in a previous life... although it's far more likely I'd been the entertainment. In any case, now I had the chance to watch someone else's vital struggle and I found myself signing up for the ride. I'm not exactly sure what Heero thought about me inviting myself along with him to his therapy sessions, but he never voiced a complaint.

But then, I'd quickly learned that complaining was something Heero just didn't do... even when I could almost taste the physical strain he was under and my own muscles were screaming in sympathy. Hell, in those instances, I'd almost complained for him. But I'd exercised uncharacteristic self-restraint and forced myself to generate encouragement instead.

I grunt softly under Heero's weight as he wobbles a bit unsteadily and leans on me a little harder. "Okay, man," I hear myself say in an unusually accommodating tone, "slow it down a bit for me here, all right?"

"Am I... rushing you?" he grits out around the pain.

"You know me," I reply around the laugh that wants to escape me, "just a lazy good-for-nothing."

Heero takes another, better-measured step. "Not true," he mutters.

"Sure it is," I tell him. "Which one of us is actually walking and talking right now? You know I suck at multi-tasking."

He just shakes his head in disagreement, but I notice that his glower isn't quite as dark as it had been a few moments ago. "Not walking," he corrects me softly. "More like... shuffling."

This time I let myself chuckle. And I feel Heero pause beside me. I tear my gaze away from the goal line ahead of us and find myself looking directly into his eyes; they're a little hazy from the persistent aches of his body but otherwise completely focused on me.

"What?" I demand, a little nervous at being on the other end of that look, especially at this close range.

He shakes his head. "I just can't remember the last time I heard you laugh at something."

I dredge through my memories of the last week or so and I realize he's right. What with this whole probation thing, I've been one moody sonuvabitch. I open my mouth to apologize for that and I'm a little surprised it seems so easy to do at this moment, but Heero cuts me off.

He looks away and concentrates on his feet. "It's nice to hear. I've missed it," he tells me.

He's missed my laughter? Well hell, what am I supposed to say to that?

"Er... who knew that after this past week, I'd still have a fan club?" I manage and try not to cringe at the pure cheese-factor of what I'd just said.

But Heero smirks. "It takes more than that to scare away the die-hard fans."

"Also known as stalkers," I reply in one of my sagest tones. "Thanks for the heads up."

The smirk on his lips stretches a little wider. "Anytime."

I nod. "Right. Shall we stop fooling around and kick this course's ass or what?"

He chuckles and takes another step forward.

I've got to admire the guy. I mean, here he is: weeks ahead of his therapy schedule and not showing any signs of giving up or breaking down. The sheer momentum of the man is admirable. Despite the fact that he's only allowed short rests between his three therapy sessions every day, he's never balked at them. I can't say I would have handled it the same.

This is our last workout of the day and although we do end up kicking the course's ass, albeit in very slow motion, we both collapse on a nearby bench. Perhaps it's from habit or something, but Heero's leaning against my shoulder. And I'm a little startled to realize I don't really mind. The bit of warm weight actually feels kind of nice.

"At this rate, you'll be back on field duty in about five minutes," I tell him with a grin.

"Hm," he replies and I can't tell if it's an "I can't wait" Hm or a "Whatever you say" Hm. He seems really mellow about it and that kind of weirds me out. I mean, if anyone would be chomping at the bit to get back to work -- other than me -- it's Heero... isn't it?

"Um, you do want to get back to work, don't you?"

"So I can set Une straight on this shit story about you endangering my mission? Most definitely," he says with surprising strength.

Startled by his reply, I hear myself reassure him once again, "Look, don't worry about it, man. I'm sure it'll work itself out." After all, it has to. I found my post-war home in the Preventers. The very thought of having to give it all up and start over leaves me feeling shaken and weak.

Over the last few days, Heero's suggestion of going back to the scrapyard to give Hilde a hand has intermittently passed through my thoughts, but my initial refusal hasn't changed. After all, I'd started fighting for people like Hilde: people who believed in something; people who had dreams and optimism; people who still thought heroes were real. To see that open, innocent admiration in her eyes -- and in the eyes of every other colony citizen who'd known that I'd piloted a Gundam -- had been beyond painful. It had forced me to recall -- with every breath I'd drawn -- of a time when I'd had a best friend and hero I'd believed in... only to realize a short time later that there are no heroes. There are only frightened people and children who do what they have to in order to make it through another day.

During the war, I hadn't fought for the deaths of the people I'd loved as a child. I'd fought for all of the innocents out there in the world who still believed in happy endings. And that's why I'd joined the Preventers. I'd needed to battle alongside other scarred and restless soldiers who understood that while fighting is tough, looking into the faces that remind you of who you used to be before you bought a clue and grew up is a hell of a lot tougher.

And these thoughts lead me to a rather unexpected place: I wonder what Heero had fought for in the war... and what he's fighting for now. I'm a little amazed at my sudden, burning curiosity. But I don't ask him. How can I? Asking him why he fights would be an invitation for him to reciprocate the question. And I just can't open myself up like that to him.

A small, rueful smile touches my lips as I contemplate the surprising number of things I've discovered I can't do lately. And most of them have something to do with Heero. Odd. And to think, not so long ago I'd believed that for me -- the God of Death -- nothing had been impossible.

~Heero Yuy~

I'm exhausted.

I'm tempted to simply pass out as soon as Duo helps me maneuver back into bed, but I can't.

He's still brooding. I can hear it in his silence. And, trust me, after studying someone for as long as I've studied Duo, it is possible to hear their moods even when they aren't speaking. In fact, sometimes the silence only makes it more obvious.

At the moment, he's worrying away at his unsatisfactory contingency plans for moving on with life without the Preventers. I think he's being a paranoid idiot about it, personally. There's absolutely no way Une is going to fire one of the best agents the Preventers has seen since its inception. But this is really important to him, so I can't blow it off by telling him he's getting all worked up for nothing.

At last, we come to my room and he pushes my wheelchair up next to the bed. I wait for him to set the breaks while I silently plan my approach. It's time to pull out the heavy artillery. Long past time. This is my cue to do something he can't brush off, ignore, or discount out of hand. So, when he leans in to help me up, I reach for him and lock my arms around his shoulders. I push myself upright as he straightens... but that's as much cooperation as he gets from me. I lean heavily against him, my entire body in warm contact with his. Suddenly, I'm a human necklace. This would be damn awkward if it weren't so necessary.

Encumbered by my dead weight, he wraps both of his arms around my waist and looks at me questioningly. "Heero?"

"Stop tearing yourself up about it; it's never going to happen," I tell him softly. I don't have to spell it out. I can see it in his face and sense it in his body's tension that we both know what I'm talking about. "But," I continue, "if you decide not to go back, I'd still like to have you around."

His expression adopts a wry quirk of his brows and lips. "And just how are you going to keep me from lighting off to God knows where?"

"I'll give you a job myself," I reply with a small grin.

He hadn't expected that reply.

I continue to his startled expression, "Unlike our unimaginative mutual friend, I think there's quite a market out there for talking toasters."

And there it is: the real, uninhibited laugh I've been waiting to hear all week. The fact that I can also feel it in the form of his torso vibrating against mine and his breath puffing against my cheek makes it so much better.

With his eyes glittering at me, he asks, "You'll hire me to make talking toasters for you?"

"If that's what you want to do," I reply. "But I was actually thinking of making them myself so you could work on your next prototype."

"Heero Yuy, the talking-toaster apprentice."

"Well, it hardly makes sense for the genius to do the grunt work."

"And now I'm a genius?"

A wider smile stretches my lips. "Get that surprise out of your voice, Maxwell," I tell him. "You've always been a genius. And any further attempts by you to fish for compliments will be met with my snoring."

"Oh, ho! So this is how it goes, eh?" he replies with a chuckle.

"Yes. And you'd better think about my offer," I tell him.

"Oh, I will," he counters with a brilliant and somewhat feral grin. "It's the only way I'll ever get to boss you around twenty-four-seven."

"Sadist," I grouch. Having successfully restored Duo's good humor and planted the suggestion that there really are other things he enjoys doing besides arresting people, I glance longingly in the direction of my waiting bed. My legs start to tremble under me from exhaustion and I know I'd accomplished my self-appointed mission in the nick of time.

He laughs softly in my ear as he maneuvers me toward that happy destination. The warmth of his breath raises the small hairs on the back of my neck.

"Actually, I'm a converted masochist," he tells me in a smooth continuation of our conversation.

"What were you before that?" I hear myself ask.

He laughs again. "Well, once upon a time, I actually thought I was a hedonist."

"You poor, misguided soul."

"Hear, hear."

I let Duo guide me back into bed and relax gratefully against the new set of clean linens that had been applied in my absence. I try not to miss the heat and strength of his presence when he pulls away and tucks the blankets around me. I expect him to head off to his usual chair but he hovers over me for a long moment, a soft smile gracing his wide mouth. I don't say anything. I just look at him expectantly.

His smile gets a little wider at my wordless inquiry. "And you don't snore."

"Hm," I reply, feeling warm at both the knowledge that he knows this and at the evidence that he has constantly guarded me in my sleep here. "Does it piss you off?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Not really. But then again, your list doesn't need to get any longer."

"True," I agree and allow my eyes to close.

Thus, the last thing I see that night is Duo's gentle smile and laughing eyes as he watches me fall asleep. And with a sight like that, I don't bother to try to remember any dreams I might have had that night. They would have only been a mediocre comfort in comparison.

~Duo Maxwell~

Heero Yuy had tried to cheer me up.

Scratch that.

Heero Yuy hadn't tried anything. He'd actually managed to cheer me the hell up.

Will wonders never cease.

And that hadn't been the last time, either. It was as if a switch had been flicked; as if Heero had suddenly realized he had the power to make me laugh and had become addicted to the adrenaline rush of it.

And I'd damned him even as I'd laughed at his quietly mumbled dry wit.

Too bad that happened a little too often during his therapy sessions. If I'd gotten a dollar for every dirty look the therapist had given me as I burst out laughing for no apparent reason, I would have been able to financially back my own talking toaster line.

"Man," I simultaneously wheeze and try not to glance at the knowing smirk I know he's wearing, "You've got to stop cracking me up..."

"Oh, am I wearing you out, Maxwell?" he hums at me. "Getting old and set in your ways?"

"Oooh... you are so lucky I can't hit you right now."

He snorts. "Precisely."

"I'm keeping track, though," I warn sternly.

"I'd hate to deprive myself of the opportunity to enjoy one of your obscure paybacks," he replies lightly.

"Argh!" I hiss. "What the hell? Who died and made you Mr. Happy?"

"The Easter Bunny."

I laugh. Again.

The therapist glares at me. Again.

Ah, what the hell... right?

"Ya know, I think -- between the two of us -- you're the sadist."

"Hm," he murmurs thoughtfully. "That may be. There's certainly nothing like a good collar."

Oh. My. God. I choke on my own breath at the pun. "That," I tell him in low tones when I'm able, "was a horrible abuse of Preventer jargon."

"Are you going to tell on me?"

"And give Une ideas?" I force a slight shudder through my body and, pressed up against me as he is, I know he can feel it.

"Good shudder, Maxwell," he tells me conversationally.

"I was rather proud of it, myself," I reply with a conspiratorial grin. "Now, are you ready to give this course a go by yourself, grasshopper?"

"I was thinking about it," Heero tells me, "but I wouldn't want you to develop any signs of Empty Nest Syndrome."

"Walk the damn course, Yuy," I growl.

"Don't let me catch you taking up scrapbooking."

I sigh and shake my head. This conversation could go on indefinitely but Heero needs to attempt this on his own now. He's ready. "Get shuffling, Flash."

"Race you to the angry therapist," he mutters, glancing in the scowling man's direction.

"Wow, I don't know how to contain my enthusiasm," I mumble as we both stand there staring at the finish line about twenty feet away.

He sighs dejectedly. "Me either."

I snort once but manage to keep the smile off my face.

Carefully, Heero starts to lean away from me. The solid, warm presence of his body is suddenly absent and I'm a little startled at how strange it feels. Yesterday, he'd walked five feet with his hand on my shoulder but today his fingers slide down my arm and grasp my palm.

"You gonna be able to keep up with me?" he asks flatly, confident I'll get the joke nonetheless.

"I don't know..." I drawl. "A World Champion shuffler such as yourself can leave me in the dust."

"At least try not to slow me down, will you?"

And with that, he takes his first unassisted step.

Even though he's holding onto my hand, I don't feel his weight at all. He's really doing this on his own. With me along for the ride.

He makes it to the angry therapist without incident then collapses with me on a bench to rest. And it's not until he's leaning against my shoulder again with our hands still clasped between us that I realize this is the first time anyone has ever wanted to hold my hand.

And that person is Heero Yuy.

Who'd a thunk it?

I briefly consider mentioning this unexpected turn of events but something in Heero's expression stops me. The words die unvoiced when I find him staring so hard at our clasped hands that he must figure we've got the meaning of life sandwiched between our palms.

"Heero?" I ask.

He blinks once and looks up at me. His eyes look darker than usual but his expression is unfathomable. "Thank you," he tells me on a whisper.

"It's nothing, man," I tell him hurriedly, ever the one to head-off an awkward emotional moment as quickly as possible. I've developed it into something of an art form, I think.

But Heero's single-minded determination thwarts my effort. He tells me. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"Hey," I say around a forced chuckle. "We're Preventers, right? We look after each other."

For a moment, he simply looks at me. Then, as he slides his hand free of mine, he leans back against the wall behind us and closes his eyes. "Right," he tells me. "Preventers."

And for the life of me, I can't read his tone. Against my better judgment, I open my mouth to pursue this strange mood of his but I never do manage to ask. At this precise moment, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. Instinctively, I reach for it and answer it... and listen to Wufei's voice as he relays Une's summons.

~ Heero Yuy ~

Wufei's call couldn't have come at a better time. It couldn't have come at a worse time, either. And trying to get my head around that paradox became my new hobby. Other than assisting Duo in the management of his acute agitation, that is. At the very least, keeping him from self-destructing gave me something else to think about other than the ticklish sensation in the back of my mind that I experienced whenever I heard Duo's laughter or felt his steadying touch.

Over the next few days, I kicked my therapy sessions into high gear. I couldn't afford to lean on Duo like I had been, not if I wanted to stand next to him in Une's office and guard his back as he'd guarded mine here. And knowing that I'd allowed myself to -- quite literally -- lean against him so much became a source of puzzlement that I instinctively sensed could become a source of shame if I allowed myself to dwell on it. Luckily, I hadn't really had the time. But I could feel it crouching in the back of my skull, waiting for the dust to settle before formally introducing itself.

So, as fucked up as this is going to sound, I'd been happy to focus on helping Duo moderate his unpredictable temper. He may be one of the strongest, most loyal, and expressive people I've ever known, but he's like a star that can't decide between becoming a red giant, a spinning pulsar, or a black hole. Einstein himself would have marveled at this young man standing next to me.

But Einstein isn't here. It's just me, Duo, and Une. And I can't help tensing as our boss takes a deep breath in preparation for delivering her verdict.

"Agents," Une begins. "Welcome back to Earth." She takes this moment to survey me and I feel like I'm being assessed for my efficiency. Just another weapon in her arsenal. I fight the urge to fist my hands at my sides. "You've made outstanding progress in your recovery, Agent Yuy," she tells me. "But your physician informs me that it may be sometime before you will be fit for fieldwork."

I nod. "Yes, ma'am," I reply in my characteristic stoicism. In all honesty, I don't have any interest in going back to fieldwork if Duo's about to be fired.

That last thought startles me. Jesus... what am I thinking? That I'll quit the Preventers if I can't work with Duo every day?

Thankfully, Une saves me from exploring this thought further.

"Agent Chang has completed his preliminary investigation into your last assignment and it is those results I would like to discuss with you this morning." She pauses and levels a hard look at both of us. Then, for the first time in known memory, she directs softly, "Have a seat, gentlemen."

There's really only one thought I have in response to that:

Oh shit.

Duo declines the offered seat and I remain at my post beside him even though my body demands otherwise with admirable enthusiasm.

She takes our stubborn insistence in stride and simply -- finally ­-- gets down to business:

"Agent Maxwell," she says briskly, "the facts of this incident have been reviewed thoroughly and while it appears Agent Yuy owes you his life, I cannot condone your vigilante methods. Preventer protocols exist for very good reasons. You'd do well to remember this in the future. For now, you'll take an unpaid leave of absence for no less than thirty days. I suggest you spend this free time wisely. Perhaps reviewing your training materials," she concludes.

Beside me, I finally, finally sense a lessening of tension from him. He nods once and forces out a gruff, "Yes, ma'am."

And then Une glances in my direction.

"Agent Yuy, you told Agent Chang that you'd sent a communication to Agent Maxwell on your check-in date. Is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," I reply.

"And what were the contents of that message?"

"I informed Agent Maxwell that the mission was proceeding according to schedule."

"I see," she hums. "And your exact words, agent?"

I open my mouth to tell her but nothing comes out.

Before I can wonder too deeply about this, she asks, "And what time did you compose and send this message?"

"On the day of my scheduled check-in," I reply and my voice sounds curiously wooden and dead to my own ears.

"The time, agent," she insists.

Yet again, I have no answer.

"And when you hadn't received word from Agent Maxwell, you checked your server connection. Is that correct?"

"Yes," I reply with relief. That much, I am sure of.

Une nods. "And did you find anything suspicious?"

"No, ma'am."

"Did you check your communications history cache?"

"I..." My God, I don't remember. Had the sun managed to fry my brain completely?

"Let me help you," she continues fluidly, not disturbed remotely by my fumbling responses. "You didn't find a recording of a sent message in the cache memory because no message was ever sent."

I frown. "I sent a message," I insist.

"No," she tells me slowly and with deliberate intent, "you did not, agent. There is no record of it because you never composed it. Nor can you tell me word-for-word what you'd intended to write." Une pauses. "It's very unlike you to not remember those kinds of details, Agent Yuy. And I also find it unlikely that you would convince yourself that you'd written and sent a fictional message... at least not without encouragement from an outside source." She pauses briefly and gathers a breath. "There's only one logical conclusion: you've been compromised, Agent Yuy."

The atmosphere in the room changes tangibly. The implications of this... The possibilities... Oh God... I start to seriously consider sitting down.

"I hope you understand that I cannot reinstate you, even for administrative duty, until you have been evaluated thoroughly by our staff psychologists," Une continues.

I barely hear her. Fuck. How in the hell had this happened? When had it happened? When had those bastards managed to feed me a lie about checking in with Duo?

I feel suddenly very disoriented and dizzy. One moment, I'm standing at attention and the next I'm leaning heavily against Duo's shoulder. I can't recall gravitating toward him, but there's no denying the fact that he's supporting my weight effortlessly in the middle of Une's office.

I don't know how much of her informational lecture I've missed, but when I clue back in, I hear: "I have scheduled you a series of appointments with a Preventer psychologist who specializes in --"

"No," I hear myself say sharply. The last thing I need is someone else sorting through my brain. There's no possible way I can consent to that.

"Until you're certified mentally stable I cannot allow you to return to work," she warns me, her expression stern.

"I don't care," I hear myself say. I just want out of this office. Out of this situation. Or perhaps I just want to lock myself in a small, dark room until the whole thing goes away.

In the face of this single, impossible, inconceivable thing, I flee.

And it's not until I'm swaying unsteadily on my feet at the elevator banks that I realize Duo had followed in my wake. And he'd followed not to offer me words, but a silent shoulder to lean against. And I suppose it's an indication of my disorientation that I don't hesitate to take him up on it.

~End of PREVENTERS~

Book Three: PARTNERS

~ Duo Maxwell ~

Une had used the term "false memory construction" but I've always called a spade a spade and as far as I'm concerned, brainwashing is still brainwashing.

Shit.

I can't begin to imagine how those assholes had managed to pull it off. And I'm pretty sure Heero would like to know the answer to that question as well. But he's not in any condition to discuss it at the moment.

Damn. I've never seen him like this before. I mean, I've seen him angry, focused, grim, amused, resigned, and expressing a plethora of other emotional states... but I've never seen him so... lost.

And I can't help feeling somewhat responsible. Hadn't I just recently wished for a chance to see what this man is made of? Hadn't I been morbidly fascinated by his mortal struggle? Hadn't I wanted to know what Heero's limits were? And now here I am, wrapping a blanket around him as best I can as he's huddling in the corner of my second-hand couch.

How had the wish I'd formed from pure, morbid fascination managed to come true when every other appeal I'd ever sent out into the void had been blithely ignored?

Perhaps there really is something about me that draws the attention of malevolent spirits to the people I care about.

Wait...

Had I really just used the "C" word in reference to Heero Yuy?

Shit, I guess I had.

And, what's more. I guess it's true. I do care about the guy. But, then, why wouldn't I? Especially after the last two weeks plus we've been through together? Still, it seems weird to come right out and admit it. But then, the whole damn situation seems weird. Still, Twilight Zone or no, he needs me right now and my standing here looming over him is not exactly helping.

Following instincts I don't normally acquiesce to, I crouch down next to him on the edge of the couch and gently curl my arms around his shoulders. I almost expect him to resist the embrace, but he doesn't. He settles his weight against me and sighs.

What is it about the warm weight of another person leaning into you? Why does the trust that single action implies cut you open every time? I almost wish he'd cry; then I'd feel uncomfortable and awkward instead of... raw and open.

God, had I just sat down and pulled him into my arms? Jesus Christ. I had. I must be completely insane. This is Heero Yuy for fuck's sake. He doesn't need me. He has never needed me. I've been useful, handy, convenient, efficient, a means to an end... but he's never, ever needed anything from me.

But then, why is he curling closer to me, resting his cheek on my shoulder, sitting with his thigh pressed against the outside of one of mine?

This young man hurting so silently in my arms can't possibly be the Heero Yuy I know. I must have eaten some of those funny mushrooms for breakfast or something... You know what they say about space shuttle food, right?

But here we are. I'm sitting on my beat-up, lumpy couch with Heero practically in my lap. And I wonder what's going to happen when he comes to his senses and realizes where he is right now.

Three weeks ago, I would have expected... Actually, I don't know what I would have expected. And even now I'm drawing a blank. It's so easy for me to recall that complete lack of expression he'd gifted me with right before he'd slugged me in the gut on X18999 and I keep deferring to that moment... keep wondering if I'll see that look again... and I wonder if I'll be able to take it a second time.

But when I stop and think about it, that concern -- let's not call it fear, all right? -- doesn't really make any sense. I mean, Heero hasn't said a mean word to me since... since... Damn. I can barely remember a time or two during the first war. And the only time he'd ever hit me had been during that Mariemaia mess. Even the indifference he'd shown me during the first war and the Eve Battle has been completely absent since he'd joined the Preventers. So why am I entertaining these lingering expectations?

I don't really know. If I sit here long enough and force myself to think about it, I'll probably figure it out. But let's be serious. I'm a world-class procrastinator when it comes to emotional stuff and introspection and crap like that. Besides, I'd rather just lean back against Heero and marvel at the evidence that the friendship we'd tentatively started building during Heero's convalescence has survived the trip to Earth.

So that's exactly what I do.

And when Heero falls asleep in my arms, I just continue sitting here, holding him. I suppose I ought to lay him down. It would be better for his still-healing body. But I don't want to let go quite yet.

I almost smile as I realize here is yet another issue I don't want to think about.

Later, I tell myself. I'll think later. For now, I just want to be warm and needed for a change.

~ Heero Yuy ~

I've never woken up in someone's arms before.

In fact, I've never come awake so slowly it felt more like I was drifting into one of those beautiful but transient dreams I always forget the details of upon my moment of waking.

But as my eyelids gradually drift open, I know that I'm not dreaming. I know that the wrinkled Preventer uniform I have my cheek pressed against and the shoulder it conceals is Duo's. That realization in and of itself is more than enough to soothe me back into sleep.

I shift closer to him and feel myself drift on the lazy ebb and flow of consciousness. I'm not sure exactly how long I linger like this. But I know that when the synapses in my brain do actually start firing, I've managed to get myself into a rather precarious situation.

I'd just slept the entire day away in Duo's arms. Perhaps I'd even drooled on his shirt. I ought to be mortified. Once again, I'm leaning on him without regard for his preferences in the matter. But if this is my first, last, and only opportunity to experience the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek, then I'm going to take my sweet time and relish it, damn it.

Of course, I'd never anticipated him already being awake...

"It's about time you came around," Duo hums in a soft but amused whisper.

Oh, Christ. I sit up quickly, forcing down the blush I know is trying to creep up my neck. I make a show of rubbing the crust from the corners of my eyes and the circulation back into my stubbly cheeks.

"First order of business," Duo begins, shifting next to me and consequently hissing in a sharp breath, "is coaxing the circulation back into my arm."

I glance at him apologetically from beneath my bangs.

He replies with a gentle smile which I find myself returning.

"And the second order of business?" I hear myself ask.

He huffs out a brief sigh and states baldly, "Isolating your point of memory fuckage, my man."

Just that quickly, the warmth I'd borrowed from Duo deserts me. "I..." And my throat closes before I can finish my reflexive denial.

But, Duo understands. He leans closer to me and settles his hands on my shoulders. I tell myself my body is still weak -- that I'm still exhausted -- from everything that's happened to me and that's why I lean into his touch.

"Heero..." he tells me on a whisper of sound. "You can't let this overtake you. We both know -- if you ignore it -- the damage..."

I close my eyes and nod. I know the risks. The battle to undo the manipulation of my mind will be a hard, up-hill battle as it is what with weeks having passed since the event had occurred. Yes, I know the risks. But I don't know if I can do what has to be done.

But I have to try. After all, Duo will be reporting for duty next month. And I intend to be standing next to him when that happens.

Still... can I open myself to him so completely? I flinch a little at the idea of allowing anyone unrestricted access to my mind. But I trust him. And I trust him to not only act in my best interests but to make what has to be done as easy for me as possible. His unwavering presence in my therapy sessions had shown that truth to me.

"We'll have to take precautions," I hear myself whisper. "I was conditioned to resist psychological manipulation..." I don't have to tell Duo that many of the methods of resistance I'd been trained to perform are lethal.

His fingers tighten on my shoulders and even though I'm not meeting his eyes or even looking at his face I can feel his smile like a soothing balm on my prickly skin.

"Yeah..." he agrees. "That's what I figured."

And that's also why it's so imperative that we understand exactly how the doctors on the reformed Lunar Base had managed to plant the suggestion that I'd already contacted Duo. Why had my training failed? And if it had happened in this case, could it happen again? Could I fail my mission or -- God forbid -- Duo in the future because my abilities had become unpredictable?

The very thought of something happening to Duo because my training had failed us firms my resolve to uncover exactly what had happened in outer space. In fact, that horrifying possibility erases all lingering traces of hesitance. This has to be done. My own life and questionable mental stability is one thing, but I cannot allow myself to endanger Duo.

Drawing a deep breath, I finally look up and meet his empathizing gaze with a hard look of my own. Before the slight stirring beneath my breastbone can manifest into something more than the faintest of tingles, I hear myself demand, "When do we start?"

~Duo Maxwell~

Contrary to popular belief, I am not an idiot. Arrogant as fuck, maybe. But definitely not an idiot.

So when Heero had looked at me with that "I'm-ready-to-stomp-on-a-pacifist-with-my-Gundam" gleam in his eyes, I'd known a little redirection hadn't only been a good idea, but absolutely necessary. It's a damn good thing redirection is one of my spe-ci-al-i-ties.

I smile easily into that glare and quip, "Not tonight, that's for damn sure. There's a hot pizza, made by someone who isn't me, calling my name."

Both the tension and the hard edge in his features soften just a bit and a ghost of wry expression accompanies his answer, "You're not going to order pineapple on it, are you?"

"Hell, yeah!" I reply. "On my half. You can have whatever the hell you want on yours." I stretch back over the arm of the couch toward the side table and scoop up the cordless hand set. I'm a firm believer in the fact that not everything in life ought to be handled via vidphone. I suppose it's one of the manifestations -- and a minor one at that -- of the association of anonymity and safety that had been drilled into me during my... well, not childhood... let's call them my "younger years."

I settle back on the couch and allow my body to over balance a little so that I'm leaning against Heero's shoulder again. He needs to feel the lack of tension in my body. Sometimes, words and facial expressions will only go so far... especially where paranoid ex-soldiers are concerned.

I breathe in Heero's scent, smiling slightly as it warms me from nose to navel, and activate the channel. I glance at him and mutter, "Whatcha want, man?"

He smiles ever so slightly at me and I feel the lingering hesitation drain out of him. "Canadian bacon and black olives," he tells me automatically but his eyes are communicating something else entirely.

"Predictable," I sigh with mock disappointment.

He arcs a brow at me and I find myself lifting the arm between us to rest my elbow on the back of the couch in order to ruffle his chaotic hair. I can feel the heat from his scalp against my palm and I think I feel a slight increase in pressure as well. As if he's leaning into my touch.

I punch the speed dial button on my phone. Cradling it against the ear closest to Heero, I wait for the local delivery place to pick up.

"You actually have that on speed dial?" he asks with a genuine grin.

"Of course."

Again, that damn eyebrow goes up. "Of course?"

"Well, think about it, man," I tell him. "If you're too tired to actually feed yourself at the end of a shitty day, are you gonna wanna look up a phone number?"

Heero blinks and looks at me, considering. And that's when the call finally connects. He watches me order a half-and-half extra large pizza, shaking his head slightly and gifting me with a somewhat bemused grin.

I am completely aware that I've just done a total one-eighty. Meet Duo the Dork. His talents include -- but are not limited to -- inducing relaxation in others through fluffy, dumb humor. It's one of my most effective weapons and I settle into that particular behavioral groove with enthusiastic ruthlessness.

Yes, ruthlessness. This is only one step in the long, delicately arranged technique I'd decided on while Heero had been asleep in my arms. Basically, the progression will happen as follows: 1) establish the problem so that Heero is subconsciously aware of the friendly interrogation I will have to perform; 2) get him to see the necessity of said interrogation and agree to its use; 3) use whatever means -- bodily contact and humor included -- to encourage his relaxation until he's completely unguarded; and finally, 4) while giving him the appearance of complete safety and control, start picking through his memories.

Like I said. Arrogant as fuck.

But I do honestly believe I can accomplish this. I mean, Heero knows -- on every level -- that it's absolutely necessary... and -- most importantly -- he trusts me. Hell, the man had just slept curled up in my arms, for the love of God.

So I tell him stupid jokes, old stories and anecdotes. We do some light reminiscing over past amusements. The pizza comes. We eat. And when he leans back against my shoulder again, his eyelids drooping with satisfaction and his body a limp, warm weight against me, I know it's now or never.

~Heero Yuy~

I've never met anyone as charismatic as Duo Maxwell. That is an unavoidable fact. He is a master manipulator of not only his own behavior but of others' as well. It's only his temper that gets him into trouble on occasion... and those occasions tend to be rare.

So when he'd started with the jokes and the half-hugs and hair-ruffling, I'd let myself be carried away by it. I'd wanted a diversion from the whole damnable mess and Duo had offered me one.

And a damned enjoyable diversion at that.

I sigh soundlessly and sink even further back against his side. I can feel his arm resting across my shoulders and his hand moving over my upper arm in a light massage. His other hand moves against the inside of my wrist which is resting on my thigh. I am bracketed by his arms and, thus, his warmth. I feel centered and safe.

"There now,' he whispers, pressing his cheek against my hair. I turn toward his neck and feel a smile pushing at my lips. "I've got your back, Heero. You're my partner and I always look after my partner."

I lean even closer, warming at the assurance. I don't think too much about how much these words mean to me. I don't think about much at all. I trust him so I simply let him take care of me. My comfort is so complete that I don't even wonder at my uncharacteristic dependence on him. In this moment, everything simply makes sense.

"So, it's your turn to talk to me, Heero."

"Hm?" I ask, vaguely wondering what he wants me to tell him.

"Well, how many stories have I told you tonight?"

I grin. Lots. I hadn't known he'd had such an amazing repertoire of anecdotes. "Don't know any good stories," I mumble into his neck.

"Well... then tell me about Rupert Takahashi's latest adventure."

And I do. I hear his questions but I don't really concentrate on them. As soon as they're asked, I answer then forget about them. I don't know how long I talk to him and I don't really care. Sometime during my mutterings and his softly-asked questions, I find myself being maneuvered away from the back of the couch and Duo begins to rub my back in soothing, rhythmic sweeps of his palm. I don't really feel it in my skin, but I can sense the pressure against my muscles. In response, I rub my thumb back and forth over his hand. When I'd grasped it in my fingers I don't clearly recall, but I'm pleased to have it in my possession.

I'm not sure when I fall asleep but I know I must have. Because when I blink open my eyes, I'm sprawled on top of Duo and both of us are still on his lumpy, ugly couch. But this time, he's asleep.

At first I think he must be faking his slumber because his arms are still snug around me. Disbelieving, I wait for a good solid fifteen minutes but his breathing never changes. That is, until his eyes start to shift beneath the pale lids. His lips part on a sigh and he pulls me closer. A slight smile touches his mouth and I'm glad I've at least given him a pleasant dream in payment for all he's done for me today. And then I realize that Duo has done far more for me that I'd thought.

He'd interrogated me.

Bloody. Fucking. Hell.

I almost laugh.

Here I'd been worried he'd try to force the information out of me and I would stop trusting him or clam up on him or go into some training-induced defense maneuver and hurt him. But none of that had happened because Duo hadn't had to force me to talk about anything. He'd gotten me to relax in his presence and had asked me to talk to him.

I can vaguely recall his questions; they'd all related to my last assignment in some way, shape, or form. But never once did I come out of the warm lethargy I'd been under.

Those few, niggling doubts I'd entertained regarding Duo's ability to extract information now crumble to dust, completely obliterated.

And I feel a line of heat sizzle alarmingly through my body as I consider how efficient he had been. How easily I had allowed myself to be lead through his questions. How frightening this would be if I hadn't already trusted him with total abandon.

It's not a little scary to realize I'd allowed myself to be manipulated.

And it's not a little disconcerting to realize Duo has that kind of power over me.

I watch him dream in silence for a moment more, wondering what I'd said, wondering if he'd managed to isolate the moment of memory contamination. I almost want to wake him up and quiz him about it... but I know I can't. I've entrusted my mind to him and until Duo decides he's collected all the information there is to be gotten from me, I can't interfere.

So I lay my cheek back down against his chest and close my eyes.

~Duo Maxwell~

HQ, we have a problem.

Getting Heero to talk about the details of his assignment including the people he'd met, the conversations he'd had, the things he'd done and thought and felt had been way too easy.

Creepily easy, in fact.

I'd always been wary of easy battles... and this is most definitely not an exception.

Ensconced in my workroom, I stab half-heartedly at the somewhat-disassembled carcass of a rusty, antique food processor someone had left out on the curb for the garbage collectors last month and sigh. I'd taken up trying to repair and modify the thing during Heero's mission but I'm pretty sure it's a lost cause. Too much damage. But playing with the thing gives me an alibi. With Heero mucking about in my kitchen trying to make a semi-palatable meal from my extensive collection of non-perishables and me desperately needing some quiet time to study the information I'd gleaned from my partner last night, this had been the only place for me to go. I know I look engrossed in my task, which is the important thing. I don't want Heero to wonder what I'm thinking about. It's imperative that I appear to have everything under control.

But I don't.

And while that's bad, the possibilities that have arisen since last night are worse.

So, I sit at my worktable which is cluttered with all variety of mechanical bits and pieces and pretend to give a damn about the gizmo in my hands while replaying the story I'd carefully prodded out of Heero about twenty hours ago.

He'd told me everything I'd asked to know. Without hesitation and in as much detail as I'd wanted. But if he'd really been brainwashed by someone who'd known what they were doing, that shouldn't have happened. There should have been some resistance as I'd probed his memories. Something unaccountably and inexplicably vague. Evidence of significant time loss. A toneless quality in his voice.

And what had I found? Nada. Zilch. Zero.

Fuck.

And because it pertains to this situation, I'll think it again: Fuck!

So, one possibility is that the guys who'd planted the false memory about Heero contacting me aren't just good at brainwashing, they're fucking geniuses. Not a comforting thought, that. But I'd rather deal with this option than the second I'd reluctantly acknowledged this morning.

Damn the Devil's advocate half of my brain, anyway.

So here I am, glaring at the grimy remains of a twenty-year-old food processor trying to figure out what to do next while I'm praying to God I can keep my developing suspicions from coming across to Heero.

I'm still glaring when my cell phone rings and I absently scoop it up. I know it's not Une. She'd already called and ordered me to haul Heero in so she could "council" him on his options as soon as possible. I'd told her to push off -- in the nicest possible way, of course -- and I'd very reluctantly offered to see what I could do... maybe. To say that Une isn't my favorite person right now would be a hilariously bad understatement.

I glance at the caller ID display and arc a brow at the phone number.

"Yo, man. Whaddya want?" I sing into the phone as I peer into the guts of the former appliance.

Wufei sighs. "I'll forgo the obvious inquiry as to which illegal stimulants you've used to sound so infuriatingly cheerful and just get to the point, shall I?"

"Aw, you're no fun," I quip even as I feel a smidgeon bit of sympathy for the exhaustion and anxiety in his voice. Only Wufei, God, and Une know exactly how much time he's putting in at the moment what with the situation being what it is. And, if you ask me, God's damn lucky Une keeps in the loop at all. I guess she figures having an omniscient being on our side might come in handy some day. You'd think she'd be happy with three former Gundam pilots on the payroll... but whatever.

Wufei manages a bit of humor to address my funless-bastard accusation: "Regardless, you were ready to marry me for my cooking a month ago."

I bark out a laugh at that. "Oh, how quickly doth I forget," I dramatize.

His immediate reply is a dismissive grunt and I know we're moving on to the actual topic of his call. "Where's Heero right now?"

"Trying to make something edible for dinner. I'm gonna give him another ten minutes before I call for delivery again."

"Good," he says curtly and I know he's talking about the fact that I'm alone. He doesn't give a good God damn what Heero's doing or how much junk food I've eaten in the last forty-eight hours. "I've been examining the virus that's been attacking the systems at the lunar base and I think you need to take a look at this before I submit my report to Une."

"Uh... okey-dokey, I'll swing by tomorrow morning. Gonna be bringing Heero with me, though."

"Fine, get him in to see Une while I give you the disc and my notes. Hopefully that'll keep her from stomping around the building for ten minutes so I can brief you on how the case is coming so far."

Wufei's admitted rationale doesn't fool me. He's not really going to brief me in person; the case is still open and the information too sensitive to risk like that. No, he'll put everything he needs to tell me on the disc. Besides, even with Une breathing down his neck, he would have figured out a way to bring me up to speed if he'd really wanted to. The truth is that Wuffers doesn't want Heero to know he's giving me the data on that virus or the latest news and events concerning the lunar base. Interesting. And disquieting.

"I'll call you when I get there, 'k?"

"Fine. Good night, Maxwell." And with that exhaustion-infected grouch, he hangs up.

I stare at my phone for a moment and start to contemplate all of the possible variations of bad news Wufei could deliver but the screech of the kitchen-confined microwave forces me to put it out of my mind. I tuck the phone away and deliberately rearrange my thoughts and body language. Whatever Wufei had uncovered, I can't let my speculations ruin all the progress I've made with Heero. I think I strain a critical mental muscle group in the process, but I manage it.

"So, when are we calling out for Chinese food?" I holler in the direction of the kitchen.

There's a telling pause. I imagine Heero giving his concoction a tentative taste. And then: "As soon as you tell me which speed dial number it is!"

I laugh. We may be former Gundam pilots, once-feared fighters for justice and peace and colonial independence, but even we can't work miracles.

I try not to let that last thought bother me as I shout back the correct number and my order.

~Heero Yuy~

I regard the number keys on Duo's handset with no small amount of appreciation. He has quite the system worked out with the speed-dial: Preventer HQ emergency response, shuttleport reservations center, and no less than four different kinds of local, ready-prepared food delivery businesses to name a few. I briefly consider calling up all of the programmed numbers, but I know I'd only be checking to see how far down the list my contact information is. And I don't want to sour the evening like that. It's been a good day.

So, with our Chinese delivery order on its way, I wander in the direction of Duo's spare bedroom, wondering what he's up to. Leaning in the open doorway and crossing my arms over my chest, I end up watching him mutter at the inelegant remains of something that might have once been a very outdated food processor in his hands.

"I don't think you're winning," I inform him with a tiny smile tugging at my lips.

He grunts. "It's hardly the first losing battle I've fought."

Too true. "Still, that thing is beyond help."

Duo chuckles softly and glances up at me. "Nothing's beyond help" is his quiet and knowing reply. And those few words are the catalyst for some warm and chaotic event inside of me. When the churning warmth settles down a bit, I relax back into the conversation. "That's just your ego talking," I hear myself tease him.

He releases a genuine laugh at that.

"Probably. I am one arrogant sonuvabitch," he admits.

I drawl, "Then aren't you and Chang a pair."

"Oh, ho! And look at you: the only modest one of the three of us."

And then it's my turn to laugh. When I wind down, I find my gaze trapped in his. For a long moment, we simply stare at each other. But then, in a soft voice that doesn't disturb the warm connection we've fumbled into, he invites, "Well, come on in and take a look at all the victims of my little hobby like I know you're dying to."

My smile widens. "Ulterior motives exposed yet again. Drat," I monotone.

He snorts and returns to his latest "victim" and, after a slight hesitation, I sidle into the room and start poking through the various gadgets he's repaired and foisted improvements of dubious practicality upon.

Several minutes leak past us before I hear myself mumble, "It's too bad you're an adrenalin junkie. You'd be a brilliant addition to the Tech department at HQ."

"Yeah, too bad I don't like chatting it up with balding geeks about improving microprocessor efficiency."

I briefly glance at him over my shoulder and grin. "That's just the repression talking." And I gain another chuckle for my witty rejoinder.

"Uh huh. And just what would Une do to me after I'd told her I was transferring out from under her watchful eye?"

"Hm," I ponder briefly, "she'd probably assign me to tail you twenty-four-seven." And I'm not a little startled to realize that tailing Duo Maxwell might very well be the best damn assignment I could ever hope for. And in an instant, I experience a near-blinding moment of clarity and truth: I really would follow Duo Maxwell anywhere. Getting paid for doing it would only be an unanticipated bonus.

"Not unless you jump through her hoops to get reinstated first," he cautions with sudden gravity.

The bolt of panic I experience surprises me. The very thought of Duo going back to work without me there to watch his back and fix his coffee and make sure he remembers to eat lunch scares me more than I'm prepared to deal with. "I suppose I should speak to Une about the steps we're taking to make sure I'm... stable," I acknowledge somberly.

"I'm sure she'd appreciate the courtesy, Heero," Duo tells me, looking up from his once-was-useful appliance. I can feel his gaze on my back, through the fabric of my shirt. "But you know you don't have to..."

"No," I quickly assure him. "I want to. It's important. I want to go back to work..." With you.

"Okay." His reply is easy and light and I feel his gaze slide away from my tense back and return to the hopeless bit of almost-rubbish. "I'll drive you to HQ first thing in the morning, then?"

I let out a long, hot breath in relief. "Yeah. Thanks."

This time when I risk a glance over my shoulder at him, I get tangled up in his warm gaze. "Sure thing, man. Partners."

And with those few words, I feel luckier than I ever have in my short, misspent life. Lucky to know him at all. Lucky to have lived through the war. Lucky to have been born in the first place.

The intensity of that conviction rocks me. Almost literally. In moments like this one, I tend to experience an epiphany... In the breathless instant after my usual defenses have been surprised away, a wave of understanding often overcomes me. Sometimes it almost feels like I'm drowning.

And tonight I'm pulled under so quickly I don't have time to offer up even a token struggle.

Suddenly, I flash back to the war, to the time immediately following Quatre's having succumbed to the Zero System. Trowa's fate had been unknown and Quatre and I had been captured by Oz. The docs hadn't wasted any time in hooking Winner up to various instruments and starting their analysis of why their perfect system had failed. Nor had they wasted any time in filling us in on events from their perspectives. I had listened in silence -- hearing the words, processing the information -- but consumed with something else entirely.

I hadn't heard a single thing about Duo. Had he managed to escape despite his injuries? Or was he still in Oz custody? But even as the questions had burned through me, I hadn't asked. The words had been hot and overlarge in my throat. Impossible to utter.

And then my mentor had told us that both Maxwell and Chang had made it out with their partially completed mobile suits. The relief I'd felt I'd always understood. No, what I've occasionally wondered about since then is why I hadn't been able to ask in the first place.

But tonight, the answer to that comes to me:

I hadn't asked because asking would have implied a willingness to accept any possible answer. And I'd only been interested in one outcome. And shocked as I am in the wake of that realization, I quickly deduce what the underlying sentiment implies.

Christ.

"Hey, Heero. You all right, man?"

The sound of his voice cuts through the buzzing white noise of my thoughts. "Fine," I reply automatically. I frantically sift through my brain and latch onto the first semi-convincing lie that comes to me: something I'm relatively sure he'll buy because he wants to hear it. "I was just envisioning myself taking names and kicking ass again..."

Duo chuckles. "And here I was going to accuse you of spacing out on me."

"Would I do that in your divine presence?"

"Well... you always did have something of a deathwish," he returns with a grin and a teasing tone.

"As if you're one to talk," I reply with a snort.

He hums mildly in agreement and we lapse back into comfortable silence. I find myself staring at the infamous toaster Duo had modified to talk. I'm tempted to turn it on and fetch a slice of bread to toast just so I can listen to Duo's voice announcing the browning process. My favorite line is the "Here's your hockey puck, sweetie!" that sounds after the machine has finished toasting on the darkest setting.

I smirk at the toaster and allow myself to get lost in the memory of this appliance's unveiling. God, Wufei's reaction had been positively precious...

Deep down, I know I'm putting off the inevitable. I know I'll have to face that moment of self-discovery I'd just been dragged through by my subconscious. But not right now. Please God, not right now. I'll deal with it... and everything else... tomorrow.

~Duo Maxwell~

I flop down without ceremony in the chair opposite Wufei's desk and meet my friend's scowl with a carefully constructed carefree grin. "So, whatcha got for me, Wuf-man?"

"And after that deplorable address, you expect me to give it to you?" he replies with a condescending expression and snide tone. The man must be absolutely exhausted to take a little light-hearted teasing this badly.

"Well, I didn't work my magic to get Heero to suggest coming down here and talking to Une voluntarily -- against my better judgment, I might add -- to come away with empty pockets, now did I?"

The mention of Heero seems to spark something a little more... humane in Wufei. "How is he?" is the softly asked follow-up.

I shrug. "Confused. In denial." And I hesitate before I add, "Vulnerable." It goes without saying that I really wish he hadn't fallen for my ploy and agreed to see Une this morning. Neither of us is quite ready for that.

A black eyebrow arcs again but the expression is speculative rather than condescending this time. "A truly alarming combination," he agrees.

"Unprecedented," I agree.

"Well, then. Let's not dither about further." And with that less-than graceful opening, Wufei hands over the highly anticipated disc. I pocket it smoothly and maintain my silence, sensing an introduction to the issue on the horizon.

I'm not disappointed.

"It's obvious who wrote that virus. It's got his signature all over it."

"But?" I can't stop myself from asking.

"But the information it contains is... highly unusual. It could help you pinpoint the source of the... damage."

I don't overlook the careful wording. Wufei hadn't used a more definitive term than "unusual" for security reasons, but I have the distinct impression that the replacement of "brainwashing" for "damage" had been for an entirely different reason altogether. I can't stop the wince as this subtle inference supports that aforementioned unfavorable second scenario I'd conceived after interrogating Heero. I don't have to be told to keep this disc a secret from Heero until Wufei and I have some concrete possibilities for him.

"Roger that. Thanks, man."

I watch as Wufei leans back on a drawn-out sigh of relief. That easily, I've assured him that I'm aware of the layered meaning he'd just tried to impress upon me and that I will be cautious with how I proceed.

"Well, seein' as how you're ass-deep in alligators here, I'll just take myself back up to Une's office."

"Yes," Wufei rallies, the moment of exhaustion quickly concealed. "I would appreciate it if you would restrain yourself from bothering me while you're unoccupied."

"Nooo problem," I whirr cheerfully. "Later, dude."

Back in the hall, I keep my smile on as I intermittently pass my fellow agents. I carefully box up my speculations and dread regarding the information in my pocket until it's been stowed in a small and dusty -- but air-tight -- cabinet in my mind. The last thing I need is Heero wondering if I'd been wandering around conspiring behind his back while he'd been enduring Une's pep talk.

With a charming grin at Une's secretary, I slide into a visitor's chair and settle into benevolent listlessness. It's not two minutes later when Heero emerges. I deliberately squash the spike of alarm at how close I'd cut it. If Heero had walked out of Une's office and not seen me... Well, I would have had to lie to him about what I'd been doing... And he would have become suspicious anyway. But it appears I'm quite the lucky bastard today.

"Well, I don't see any open wounds," I tell him as I stand up.

He steers us toward the elevators and replies dryly. "That doesn't mean it was painless."

"No. No, it doesn't," I admit easily.

As we approach the elevator bank, I recall the last time I'd stood here with Heero. Had it only been two days ago? Hell. A shitload has certainly happened since then. I'm still daydreaming about it when the doors slide open... and that's my excuse for being completely floored at the sound of Relena Dorlain's voice calling Heero's name in obvious delight and surprise. Beside me, Heero seems equally startled.

"Relena," he rasps out. "What are you doing here?"

She laughs. "It's good to see you, too," she scolds with good humor. She smoothly turns to me and we exchange automatic pleasantries before she shines a brilliant grin back on Heero again.

"I'm here to see Une about a budget meeting," she says, finally answering Heero's question. "But more importantly, what are you doing here? Consulting?"

I can feel myself frowning with confusion. Before I can wonder if she'd somehow found out about Heero's precarious employment future with the Preventers, he replies.

"Um, no. It's just... ah... Duo..."

"Ah, catching up?" she guesses with a grin.

Heero manages a nod.

"Well, don't let anyone talk you into a uniform," she warns him. "We both know you love your work too much to give it up for this thankless job. Even if you would be brilliant at it." Her expression softens with genuine happiness. "But I am glad you followed your dream to do something that doesn't involve violence."

I hear him grunt in automatic agreement.

"Well, I've got to get going. Give me a call if you're free for lunch before I leave Saturday morning, all right?"

"Sure," he tells her and then both of us watch her stride purposefully down the hall. After a long moment, Heero turns back around and pushes the button to recall the elevator we'd missed in Relena's wake. I occupy myself with staring at Heero.

"Dude..." I begin slowly, feeling my way through this sudden weird-as-hell situation. "You haven't told her you joined the Preventers." I'd intended for it to be a question... but it hadn't come out that way.

"Obviously," he replies dryly in that lifeless droning tone of his that I usually hate. Now is no exception.

Briefly I wonder if he'd deliberately omitted this information just to keep Relena happy and off his back, but something else nags at me. Something else that kind of clicks together inside my head...

"Your dream of doing something that doesn't involve violence?" I parrot.

"Unnecessary violence," he tries to amend.

But I don't buy it.

I take a moment to study him -- really study him -- and I'm startled at the subtle disquiet I sense beneath his passive expression and squared shoulders. Suddenly, I'm remembering his oddly absent enthusiasm when I'd asked him during one of his physical therapy sessions if he had been looking forward to returning to work. And I'm also remembering the forced levity last night when he'd explained his spacing episode. Suddenly, it all makes absolute, perfect sense.

"You don't really like this job, do you?" I blurt, almost breathless from the shock of it.

"No, I... it's..."

I don't wait for him to scrape together a complete sentence... or an excuse. I'm immediately angry with him for hiding this so well... and with myself for not having clued into it sooner. "You didn't have to become an agent," I continue in a frustrated tone, recalling his ringing endorsement last night of my techie skills. "You could have gone into Intel or --"

"What's the difference?" he snaps in a surprising show of temper. "Either way I'm supporting actions that have the potential to hurt people. At least this way I can control how much."

With that, the elevator doors slide open in front of us, revealing an empty car. We step in and Heero punches the button for the employee parking garage. It seems to me he hits the control panel with a bit more force than necessary. But I'm too busy trying to figure out why he'd bother lying to me about this to really take that warning for what it is.

Tongue on autopilot -- as usual -- I hear myself accuse, "That's bullshit and you know it. Whether or not we hurt people isn't up to us. It's up to the suspect and how desperate he is."

"Why do you care why I work here?" he challenges back and I know I'm close to the truth; he can't think of a more convincing excuse to throw at me.

"Oh, gee. I don't know," I snark. "Because you're my partner maybe? Because I give a damn? Do you think I want to trust my life to a guy who doesn't really have his heart in it? I mean, what the fuck, Heero? I thought..."

"What?!" he almost shouts, rounding on me. "What did you think, Duo? That I enjoy reliving the most painful moments of my life on a regular basis? That I like being reminded of the fact that I'm a trained weapon?"

"Then why are you putting yourself through this?" I shout back. "You've got an ironclad excuse to get out of this place and get that perfect job you've been lying to Relena about --"

"There's no such thing as a perfect fucking job, Duo!"

"Like you've ever tried to figure that out for yourself! If you didn't want this job, you shouldn't have taken it!"

He growls at me. "My reasons are my own business and I'll thank you to --"

"Butt the hell out, right? Jesus fucking Christ. Nothing ever changes does it? You don't give a good God damn about anything but your fucking righteous battles, do you? Not even your own wants as a fucking person take priority over that shit!"

He crowds my space and I feel the moist warmth of his breath on my face as he spits out, "Do not presume to know why I do what I do! You don't know shit about it!"

"Oh yeah?" I challenge like a rabid wolverine, pushing back into his space. "Well, there's one thing I know, Heero Yuy. I know I sure as hell don't want to work with someone who's here out of survivor guilt or some such shit-priority!"

And before the last syllable has cleared my throat, I've been slammed up against the elevator wall and pinned there. I stare into Heero's enraged face, stunned by the show of strength I'd forgotten he possesses.

Gazes locked, he fairly roars, "My only priority is you, you stubborn ass!"

Oh. My. God.

My entire body freezes.

I think I even stop breathing.

I can feel my mind struggling to wrap itself around Heero's admission and all it necessarily implies as we stand nose to nose, sharing each other's heated breaths, bodies pressed together... intimately. In a Preventer's HQ elevator.

It shouldn't have surprised me when the doors suddenly whisper open -- we are in a public elevator, after all -- but I flinch nonetheless. And that involuntary movement seems to be the catalyst which releases Heero from the moment we'd become frozen within.

With startling speed, Heero's body heat abandons me and the only thing that prevents me from sliding to the floor is my own deathgrip on the waist-high elevator railing. One minute our bodies had almost been fused together in hot emotions and the next Heero has escaped the elevator entirely.

I should have gone after him.

But I hadn't. Couldn't. Had been utterly incapable of lunging forward to catch the door before it had closed. But as soon as the gears lurch into motion, I fall on the control panel and punch the button for the floor above the parking garage. The single flight seems to take forever and all I can think about is finding Heero. I don't know what I'll say... what I'll do... what I can do... But that doesn't seem to be very important to my adrenalin-charged mind.

I'm almost vibrating before the car stops and I'm out the door before it's finished opening. I clamber down the emergency stairwell to the parking garage in hot pursuit. I don't bother with stealth. Heero has a fifteen second head-start: it's all down to speed now.

But when I tumble out into the garage, my footsteps are the only ones I hear. I strain to locate evidence of his presence but there is none. And, somehow, I know he's not here. Not anymore.

I swear loudly and violently and glare at my unmolested and still-present car.

Holy fuck has this day gone downhill.

And in record time, too.

But really, what else can I expect from Heero Yuy? Things have the odd tendency of ending up broken in his wake. Olympic records and sound barriers not withstanding.

~Heero Yuy~

It should have felt odd to take a page from Duo's book and run like hell.

But it hadn't.

I suppose I could blame that last mission and my struggle to adopt as many Duoisms as I possibly could...

But I don't.

My flight had been fueled by pure fear. And I might be miles away from the site of my abrupt confession, but the information hasn't changed. Oddly enough, I'm surprised by this. As if traversing a significant amount of distance has the power to erase a moment in time. But it doesn't. And it doesn't make my confession any less honest.

The truth is still the truth, after all. I don't have to like it to recognize it as such.

I sink down onto the arm of my couch, my eyes riveted to the small, solitary figure of the only plant I own: the cactus Duo had given me. I try not to notice the fact that my couch isn't nearly as comfortable as his is. I try not to dwell on the tiny, shriveled corpses of the small, pale flowers that had blossomed in my absence.

This is the perfect, clichéd scenario for the ever-popular self-recrimination: "Dear God, what have I done?"

But I don't ask myself this question because quite honestly -- and unfortunately -- I know exactly what I've done.

I've confessed the depths of my devotion to the one person who I'd follow to Hell and back. And it doesn't help that the recipient of my devotion is an honorary schizophrenic with a phobia of deep, emotional introspections, a case of chronic near-violent emoting, a talent for Machiavellian manipulations, and borderline obsessive tendencies towards technology.

At least I'm not looking at him through damned rose-colored glasses.

I snort at the thought.

But God, for all that Duo Maxwell is a seriously fucked up mess, he is a genius.

Duo Maxwell can and does manipulate me as easily as he handles a loaded gun, and believe me, I know of what I speak.

Last night's conversation hadn't been coincidence. I'd figured that out as soon as I'd realized Une's little lecture about my future had been too thorough and concise to be spontaneous. She'd no doubt asked Duo to bring me in. And I'd let Duo maneuver me into thinking the whole thing had been my idea to begin with.

He is underhanded and evasive and ruthless in the pursuit of his goals, no matter what those goals are.

And he is the one person I would choose to have by my side through anything.

I pause at that silent declaration and find that I have to amend it.

Duo Maxwell isn't just the person I would choose. He's the person I have chosen.

My eyes had finally been opened to this truth the night before when I'd realized the strength of my attachment to him. I wouldn't just follow him into the proverbial Hell. I actually had followed him into Hell. Into my Hell. Into a life where my greatest fear hovers constantly over me like a great, invisible thundercloud, waiting for a moment in which I'm unguarded to strike.

Two years ago, the world had been on the verge of a second war and I'd answered the threat as I always had: as a trained killer. But I hadn't anticipated the effects that intervening year of peace had had on me. On my psyche. I hadn't realized I'd been changed by it. But I had. I'd poured everything I had into the role I'd had to play... but it hadn't been enough. Even now, many events are fuzzy.

Why had I asked Duo to hit me only to have a fair chance to return the favor?

What had transpired in the Earth's atmosphere when I'd fought Wufei?

How had I gotten into Dekim's underground fortress?

These events and so many others are vague and blurred. My rationale for these decisions and my actions during these events elude me. I had only been a Gundam pilot again for twenty-four hours, and it had almost destroyed me. And I had almost killed needlessly.

What if my gun hadn't been empty?

What if I hadn't murmured my deepest desire before I'd collapsed?

What if Relena hadn't been there to hear it?

In the aftermath of the most traumatic battle I'd ever experienced, my subconscious had offered up something precious. Something I needed. Something to cling to. I had heard myself almost whisper in something akin to awe that I would never have to hurt anyone ever again.

And I'd meant it.

And yet, as much as I'd needed that, I'd needed Duo more.

I still do.

So I wander through an existence that -- most days -- doesn't seem so bad really, following the one person I'd somehow tied myself to before I'd even been aware of having done so.

And now that he knows how I feel? Now that he knows I what I would give up for him... just to be near him... Now have I finally lost him?

I don't know what to do. I don't know if there's anything that I can do. As soon as the words had left my mouth, I'd lost all control of the situation. And one thing is certain: I can no more influence Duo's reactions than I can go back to being that impersonal weapon. Many people believe I haven't changed -- including Une -- but I know. And I think both Duo and Wufei know, too.

And I have to trust in that. And I have to trust in the friendship I'd started to cultivate between myself and Duo. And I have to trust in the fact that I'd willingly placed my mind in Duo's care. I have to trust that Duo will not disregard my actions these last few weeks. I have to trust that he will take them as proof of my sincerity.

There are only two downsides:

One: I've never been very good at blind trust.

And two: if Duo actually does consider my actions as proof of my feelings for him, it will be a first.

I sigh and stare at my cactus. Duo's cactus. The me that Duo sees.

~Duo Maxwell~

The best part about being a master of redirection is that I can -- and do -- easily apply those fantastic abilities to myself whenever needed.

It goes without saying, I think, that now is one of those needful times.

I very deliberately don't think about what had just been said that elevator and plop myself down onto the couch and turn on my laptop with a push of a button. I stare at the flickering screen as I wait for the programs to load and slowly twirl the disc Wufei had given me between my fingers.

I'd been in the process of violently yanking my car keys from my pocket in that too empty parking garage when I'd realized that I was currently carrying the perfect means for my own distraction.

I'm not proud of the fact that I'd jumped at the opportunity to wade through some other -- any other -- situation than the one I'd just had shoved into my face this morning. But I'd nevertheless tuned my thoughts toward that disc and forced myself to start speculating about its contents just so I wouldn't think about... well, you know.

Although I'm not sure exactly what I'm going to find when I open Wufei's present, I know I'd better take all the precautions I normally would when viewing sensitive information on a unsecured line. I methodically go about the task of checking and double-checking that my laptop is completely unhackable and all of my important information has been backed up on a separate hard drive. I can't afford to have this virus Wufei wants me to take a look at getting frisky with my techie wet dreams, now can I?

I guess, for all my denial, Heero was right last night when he'd claimed my protests against enjoying a good technical discussion over microprocessor efficiency were the result of repression.

It's really quite amazing, actually, that Heero's developed this weird ability to see people. Really see them. Hell, I trust his judgment of character almost as much as I trust my own. I might be unpredictable and -- let's be honest, shall we? -- downright difficult to live with, but my instincts are never wrong.

Which is why Heero's angry declaration had been such a shock. Wait. Is such a shock. I mean, why would he feel...? And about me of all...?

Wait a minute. Hadn't I just decided I wasn't going to think about this?

Yeah. That's what I figured.

I shove the disc into the carrier slot on my laptop and loom over the machine humming on my coffee table as I wait for the file list to pop up. When it does, I don't hesitate to choose the first of only two files: the virus.

The code scrolls across the screen and I find myself taking in the data as easily as most people scan the movie summaries on the backs of rental discs. I take note of the various components, feeling a grin tug at the corner of my mouth at the command that will send a subtle invitation to my personal email address. Of course Heero would write in a secret back door for me. He knows what desk duty does to me, after all.

I shake my head and continue reading. The entire document is fairly complicated and a few details actually raise my eyebrows a bit. Either Heero'd had way too much time on his hands or his sense of humor is way more morbid than I'd been led to believe.

The true intent of the virus is camouflaged by sprinklers that activate and deactivate randomly and bidets in the men's bathrooms squirting anyone who passes by... This last bit I see is dependant upon security motion detectors in the restrooms. The existence of those devices doesn't raise any suspicions. Motion and heat detectors are standard issue in all space building designs.

There's also evidence of microwaves in the private apartments being programmed to beep two hours after the lights go out in the place... and continue beeping until someone opens the appliance's door.

And of course the temperatures on the hot and cold water reservoirs have been reversed.

Christ, Heero must have been positively bored out of his tree on that mission to think up all these innovations and meticulously program them.

And I can't help but chuckle as I go through the list.

Metal ceiling panels in the hallways that seemingly spontaneously magnetize.

I chortle as I imagine paperclips and staples being pulled upward and out of the grasp of a startled scientist making his rounds.

Shoe-shining receptacles that use the wrong color polish and dab smiley faces into the leather.

Driers that operate at 300%... broiling the clothes dry... and undoubtedly smaller in the process.

Locking mechanisms in the data storage room that don't respond to the first five tries... even with the correct code...

Wait a minute.

I reread that line with a dark frown.

The data storage room had been where I'd found Heero... where the solar panels are located... where Heero had been trapped and... crispened.

I scan further down until I locate the very last malfunction Heero had programmed.

And when I find it my fingertips freeze right where they are, suspended over the keyboard.

It's impossible.

But it makes so much sense.

I back up and reread the virus. I reexamine the malfunctions. I tell myself not to panic. Yet.

I force myself to read Wufei's report, but unfortunately, he's arrived at the same conclusion I have. And having had access to Heero's laptop after it had been collected and sent to HQ, he's got even more evidence to support his conclusion. The conclusion I had suspected last night. The conclusion I hadn't wanted to be right about.

God damn it all to hell.

I take only enough time to activate the sleep mode on my laptop, slam the lid shut, and tuck it under my arm. I barely remember to grab my car keys and cell phone and stuff my feet into a pair of shoes. I'm panicking, I know. But I don't care.

Because if I'm right -- and I think I am -- Heero's life could be in danger.

Right. Now.

~Heero Yuy~

Follow your emotions.

Of all the instructions and advice I've ever received in my life, that's the one piece that I have always carried with me. And it's the only piece I'd ever offered to another soul. I'm not too sure how practical it is... but my mentor had used his last breath to deliver it.

I suppose that leaves an impression.

It's odd that for all the people I've killed, I've only actually been physically present at the side of a handful of them when they'd died. And Odin Lowe's death had been the first I'd witnessed... up close and personal, you could say.

So perhaps the advice isn't so much wise as it is... etched into me.

I sigh and caress the smooth metal in my hands. It's times like this -- when I'm overwhelmed by the absolute emotional clusterfuck I've managed to create in my life -- that I miss that lonely assassin who'd taken me in and taught me how to survive, how to kill, and -- in short -- how to grow up.

And while I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Odin hadn't been infallible, I somehow persist in believing that he would be able to untangle these moments I get lost in and show me the path again.

I sigh and let my hands move as they will. Autopilot really is a soothing place to be after you've run so hard and so far that the only place you'd wound up had been a brick wall.

"Heero?"

My hands tighten at the sound of that familiar voice invading the heavy peace I'd finally found in the sanctuary of my bedroom.

"I know you're here, man," Duo continues and I can hear him closing the front door behind him. "I tried to call but your phone's off the hook."

I frown and glance at the appliance sitting on my nightstand. I don't recall leaving the channel open, but I apparently had... because the vid phone lies muted and spitting static across the screen beside me. How had I not noticed this?

"Talk to me, man."

I hear the steely note in Duo's voice. I know that tone. It's the one he uses when he's decided not to give up until he'd gotten some answers. And if Duo Maxwell is consistent at anything, it's being an obnoxiously stubborn cuss when he puts his mind to it.

With a heavy sigh, I admit, "I'm in the bedroom."

I don't hear his footsteps, but he pushes the door open only a half a second later. He must have started moving almost as soon as he'd heard me start to sigh. He stands in the doorway, regarding me with those ever-changing eyes of his. For the first time in my life, I find myself staring at a Duo Maxwell who is immovable and completely patient. The volatile energy he exudes is oddly absent and I wonder about that. I have no point of reference with which to refer in judging if this is a good sign or a bad one.

Very softly, he asks me, "Can I come in?"

I shrug. "Sure." Despite my off-handed tone, Duo has my undivided attention as he approaches my bed and sits opposite me. He leans back against the footboard and I endure a long moment during which his gaze moves over me very deliberately. From my sock-clad toes to my chaotic hair.

"Do you really care about me that much?" he asks softly, suddenly.

The question surprises me and my hands convulse once in my lap. I don't think to clear my throat before I try to speak and I hear myself grate out in an uneven voice, "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

He nods once. But I know he's not convinced. Nothing is that simple when it comes to Duo Maxwell.

"Why me, Heero?"

Why, indeed. I snort and shake my head. "You don't ask easy questions, do you?" I counter, trying to stall him. I'm not sure I even understand the reasoning behind my choice. And I'd rather not think about it right now, not with everything else I'm trying to deal with.

One corner of his mouth quirks up. "Nah. Life's too short, ya know?"

Indeed, I do.

"So... why me, Heero?"

"I trust you," I tell him. "Completely. Beyond that... the hell if I know."

He laughs and it's a sound I've never heard out of him before. It's soft and breathy and somewhat... intimate. I feel gooseflesh race up my arms and I barely manage to squash the reflexive shiver in time.

"Is that why you joined the Preventers? Because I'd...?"

"Joined up?" I finish for him and answer succinctly, "Yes."

He glances away and I glimpse a moment of confusion on his face even though I'm only given a view of his profile. "You shouldn't have made a decision like that based on..."

"On what?" I challenge softly. "I know myself well enough to know what I need. The sacrifices I make in the process are irrelevant."

Immediately, I have his undivided attention again. "Jesus Christ. Are you listening to yourself? You make it sound like you'd follow me through Hell and back!"

Having thought those very thoughts not an hour ago, and having determined them to be an accurate description of my present situation, I don't deny it. I let my silence speak for me.

Duo shakes his head and I sense the building frustration in the gesture. "I don't understand you. You don't..."

"Don't...?" I prompt, wondering what it is that's holding Duo away from me.

He sighs sharply and explosively, searching for the words he wants. "Like me," he finally finishes in an unhappy tone.

I blink at him. "What?" How had I managed to convince him of that?

He closes his eyes for a moment and I know that when he opens them, I'm not going to like the look in them.

And I'm right.

His dark eyes are flat and wary and suspicious when he unveils them again. "I've only ever been a means to an end... a convenient ally... a... tool." The last word is barely a whisper and I feel it tear at me with shocking ferocity.

"When did I...? How...?"

He interrupts my unbalanced floundering and softly tells me, "During the war. During the Mariemaia deal... Not since we've been working together with the Preventers."

Which begs the question: "If I haven't been treating you... like that for two years then why do you keep this distance between us?"

He shrugs. "Habit, I guess. I've always thought of you in more competitive terms than, you know, like..."

"A friend?" I ask, my chest muscles tightening into a hard ache.

He watches me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Yeah," he admits.

God, that hurts. I force a swallow down my throat, but the pain and emotions aren't banished with it. "So... you're saying it's all my fault that..." I have to pause and gather the scraps of my strength to voice the implied message. "... you don't trust me?"

Duo quickly shakes his head. "No, Heero. I'm not saying that. I'm..." A rueful grin tugs at his lips and a dark gleam of humor enters his eyes. "I'm an asshole. And a mistrustful asshole at that. Who carries grudges because it takes too much energy to sort out the truth." He shrugs eloquently. "I'm an insensitive prick. There's no getting around that."

I laugh. "Yeah," I agree when I can. "I know."

He tilts his head to one side and regards me with a sharp stare. "Then why do you trust me so much?"

"Why don't you trust me?" I reply, starting to get frustrated at his inability to comprehend. "Take all of your reasons and reverse them. You were another soldier but you treated me like a person. You helped me. You challenged me. You made me see myself as something other than someone else's weapon. Why wouldn't I trust you?"

Duo simply watches me, his eyes wide and surprised. And in the wake of that very personal revelation, I stand and march out of the room. I'm feeling split open by that admission. And I'm feeling furious that I'd managed to make Duo feel the exact opposite: sub-human, with instrumental value only, worthy of manipulation but not trust.

Had I really been such an unbelievable asshole?

"Heero, stop it."

I look up as Duo perches on the arm of the matching loveseat in my living room. I hadn't even noticed I'd been drawn back to my usual perch facing the window.

"Heero..." He sighs and a determined expression hardens his gaze. "I'm the agent I am today because you challenged me to be a better pilot. You helped me, too, if I remember correctly." The corner of his mouth quirks up and I know he's recalling that time I'd busted him out of Oz custody. "We've already established that I'm a grudge-loving bastard. Is it any wonder I've been clinging to the illusion that our relationship is one of competition? It is... was much easier to deal with."

"It was?" I echo, hating the blatant hope I hear in my voice.

"Yeah. It was shot to hell a long time ago, but today I finally bought a clue."

I snort softly in amusement and tell him, "You know, for someone who can manipulate me like putty, you're surprisingly dense sometimes."

"Don't I know it!" he agrees happily. "It took a lot of effort to train myself to be this oblivious to my own motives."

I shake my head, wondering at that. Sometimes, I honestly don't understand him.

And in the process of pulling back from the conversation, I notice something odd about my living room. I notice Duo's laptop sitting on my couch.

I frown.

"What's your pc doing here?" I can hazard a few guesses, but I hold back.

When he takes a deep breath, I know I'm not going to like the reason, whatever it is. "Maybe now isn't the best time to talk about it..."

"Maybe you're right," I tell him. "But you're going to tell me anyway."

He coughs out a surprised laugh. "Yes, sir."

After a moment, Duo doesn't elaborate so I glare at him. "Don't make me ask you again, Maxwell..."

He sighs, all traces of humor evaporating. "Fine. What did you program that virus you unleashed on the lunar base to do?"

I blink at him, a little surprised by this topic. How can the virus I'd created be the cause of his reluctance to talk to me? Immediately, I reveal the primary objective: provide a back door for Duo to investigate the company's database. And I systematically list the malfunctions I'd created to cover up the true intent.

Sprinklers.

Bidets.

Hallway ceilings.

Private residence microwaves.

Shoe-shining receptacle.

Water temperature reversal.

Clothing driers.

After I finish my list, which is rather impressive if I do say so myself, Duo nods in satisfaction. "That's everything, right?"

My eyes narrow. "... yeah..."

He takes deep breath and looks into my eyes. "I picked through your memories the other night, Heero."

"I know," I reply quickly. At the sight of his eyebrows arcing in silent inquiry, I elucidate, "I figured it out when I woke up."

He nods and tells me bluntly, "I didn't find any evidence that you'd been brainwashed."

I blink. I must have heard that wrong. "What?"

"There was no evidence, Heero. Nothing. Can you come up with anything that would explain how someone managed a completely undetectable brainwashing episode on a soldier who's been trained to within an inch of his life to resist brainwashing attempts?"

I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

"Yeah," Duo continues softly. "I was stumped, too. Either we're dealing with some seriously scary dudes, or..."

"Or there was no brainwashing at all," I mutter. "But then how did I manage to believe I'd sent you that check-in message...?"

I feel a touch on my bicep and look down at Duo's hand softly curled around my arm.

"Heero, Wufei took a look at your laptop. It's true that you never sent the message. But..." Duo leans a little closer. "You blocked me from your email server, too."

Again, all I can think of to say is: "What?"

"You didn't want to hear from me."

"But I didn't...!"

"There's more."

Only two words. Who would have thought that only two words could make my hands tremble?

"The virus you wrote does more than just piss people off," he tells me in a soft but firm voice. "You programmed a malfunction into the data storage room's locking mechanism so it would take at least five tries to open. And..."

I would have prompted him to finish that sentence, but I can't figure out how to make my throat work.

"And you programmed the solar panels to charge continuously. Starting immediately from a successful upload."

No. I look away from that searching gaze and stare out the window.

"You wrote a virus that was destined to kill you, Heero."

No. I transfer my gaze to my hands where they rest on my lap.

"And you didn't send me that check-in because you knew I'd come after you and stop you."

No. I watch my fingers curl into tight fists.

"Heero... what's more likely? That some super evil bad guys managed to perform the perfect brainwash, or..."

No! Those fists begin to tremble.

"Or that your training and your subconscious don't... agree anymore?"

"NO!" And with that, I surge to my feet. "That's... that's bullshit!" I'm seething with rage and terror. "Get out!" I yell. "Get the fuck out, Maxwell!"

He ducks quickly as my wild gesture toward the door nearly connects with his head.

"Heero..."

"OUT!!" I storm toward the front door of my apartment, intent on only one thing: ejecting Duo Maxwell from my home and eliminating this horrifying possibility from my life. But then something crunches and shifts beneath my stockinged foot. Momentarily distracted by the discomfort of something hard and solid digging into one of my foot bones, I glance down and recognize the shattered remains of a pot... and the spray of sand... and...

No!

I swiftly glance up and behind me, my gaze zooming to the window sill. The only place I've kept Duo's cactus since he'd given it to me.

And I see nothing but unblemished moulding.

"Oh, God..."

I turn back to the mess in the entryway on a desperate whisper. What had I done? What in the hell had I done?

But the answer is easily discerned. I can see the impact point on the door where the plant had struck. The scatter of sand. The shards of clay. And there, leaning drunkenly against the floorboard, the mangled remains of the small plant I'd never gotten the chance to watch bloom.

"Oh, God... I didn't..."

I don't realize I've sunk to my knees until Duo wraps his arms around me and leans his cheek against my hair. His voice is so soft, so soothing in my ear: "You're not alone, Heero. I'm here with you. Right here with you."

"I couldn't have..." I insist. "Couldn't have..."

He rubs his hands up and down my arms and I think the simple touches are the only things holding me together. "We're going to get through this, Heero. I'm here for you, man. We're partners, you know? Partners."

"How could I have done this, Duo? I don't remember." But when I examine my shaking hands, I notice several scratches on my right hand. Fresh scratches. Spaced at the correct intervals to have originated from angrily grasping and hurtling a small cactus across the room.

I've seen and done a plethora of hideous things in my life. I've felt fear and terror and horror. I've been paralyzed by it. I've ridden the adrenalin like my life depended on it, and many times it had. But I have never been afraid of myself.

It is a fear unlike anything I've ever experienced. The mere possibility that I'd orchestrated my own death then subconsciously sent a silent call for help... I can't even consider it without breaking into a cold sweat.

"Come on, Heero. You're shivering."

I allow Duo to guide me over to the couch and wrap me in his own jacket. And himself. He envelops me with his strong arms and just holds me. I lean into his warmth and surrender. It shouldn't have been this easy to give in... and I try to ignore this one more bit of evidence that points to the impossibility Duo had suggested: the possibility that I might be breaking.

~Duo Maxwell~

Once again, I find myself in Preventer HQ, but I don't go in search of Wufei or Une. In fact, I have no intention whatsoever of separating my ass from this chair. At least not until Heero reemerges from the shrink's office. And in all honesty, I ought to be having my own head examined.

Jesus, but yesterday afternoon I'd had the piss scared out of me. I'd sped outrageously all the way to Heero's apartment, listening to sound of his phone incessantly not ringing. No voice mail. No caller waiting announcement. Just... nothing.

I'd raced up the stairs, picked the lock, and coaxed the security system into silence only to notice the explosion on the floor. A thousand horrible scenarios had overwhelmed me, the worst of which being: I'm too late.

My relief at getting him to answer me had been short-lived. I'd all but stampeded to his bedroom but I'd frozen on the threshold.

And for what had felt like the longest moment of my life, I'd just stared at the gun in his hands. The loaded gun, I'd realized with a glimpse at the clip peeking out from beneath the handgrip. The loaded and unlocked gun when I'd gotten close enough to sweep my gaze over him and take note of the disengaged safety.

Fuck. I've never been as scared in my whole life as I was sitting there, talking to Heero, trying to reestablish his trust in me while aware of him rolling that gun between his hands. I might not know exactly what I feel for the guy, but I'd been terrified he was going to do something messy and permanent to himself.

At least he'd left it behind on the bed when he'd marched out into the living room radiating guilt and pain. An unstable Heero with a gun is not someone I can break bad news to. And I'd regretted having to spell out mine and Wufei's suspicions. God, that had hurt me almost as much as it had hurt him. And I'd almost fucked it up completely; he'd almost kicked me out.

But in the end, he'd let me hold him until he fell asleep. Then he let me herd him into a long, hot shower after he'd woken up. He'd let me feed him and he'd let me drive him to HQ so he could make an emergency appointment with Une's noggin expert.

At least I'd gotten a few things done while he'd been in the shower. I'd unloaded and restowed the gun; I hadn't wanted to even consider what Heero would think if he'd found that lying around and correctly deduced that he'd been absentmindedly fidgeting with it for who knows how long.

I'd cleaned up the mess in the entryway. I'd hung up his phone... finally. But turned the ringer off. Which he should have done yesterday if he only hadn't wanted to be disturbed. Leaving the vid phone off the hook like that had been a screaming cry for attention.

Which, unfortunately, only supports the current working theory.

God, even though I'd been the one to suggest it to him, I still can't believe that he's really breaking. Heero's too strong, too stubborn, too--

"Ah, Agent Maxwell. What a pleasant surprise."

I almost curse out loud. But considering who's approaching my chair at a good clip that would be a very uncool idea. But I can think it. And I do: Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"'Morning, Commander Une. How are you doing today?"

"I'm quite pleased to see you sitting outside of Dr. Banes's office, agent."

I try not to grimace. There's no way I can dissuade her of the belief that Heero's having a session right now. It goes against every one of my instincts -- and Heero's, too -- to let a total stranger into this already volatile equation, but Heero had insisted and I hadn't been able to give him any better options.

"Take a walk with me, agent," I hear Une invite/order.

I refocus my attention on her and reply with a sheepish expression I think must look as fake as it feels, "I, uh, should really stay here, ma'am." I aim an apologetic but pointed glance at my watch.

"This won't take long," she tells me and I know I'm committed. Damn it.

"Um... okay, I guess I've got a minute..." I can't resist muttering.

She doesn't reply. She simply turns on one of her three and three-quarter inch, overpriced Italian heels and leads me down a maze of corridors to her office. I'm a little surprised to see Wufei in there with several stacks of files and reports surrounding him. I'm pretty sure I know what I'm seeing, and Une confirms it in the next moment.

As soon as the door closes behind me, she says, "I asked Agent Chang to brief me on what he's discovered with regards to the lunar pharmaceuticals case, but first I'd like to discuss Agent Yuy's condition." She turns toward me and pins me with her gaze. "Agent Maxwell, how is he?"

Okay... I know I've got this "no lying" policy thing but...

The very thought of telling Une to unvarnished truth about Heero's current, alarming vulnerability has my survival instincts throwing a temper tantrum your average three-year-old would be proud of.

I tell her, "Well, he's a little concerned about the brainwashing possibility, ma'am. He's taking the situation very seriously and you already know he's working to resolve the security problem it presents. I've been staying with him, like you asked. He confides in me. Trusts me." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Wufei fighting back a frown. Luckily, I've got Une's undivided attention.

"Have you seen any indication that he's unbalanced or unsure of himself?"

I shake my head. "No, ma'am. He's unsettled, but aside from being royally peeved about having his memories tinkered with, he seems perfectly normal. And, honestly, Heero being peeved about something isn't a real stretch of the imagination, ya know?"

She nods and smiles at me. "Excellent." And turning to Wufei, she asks, "I take it you haven't been able to uncover any new evidence against Dr. Adamsson and his associates?"

"No, ma'am. But --"

Une cuts him off with a victorious announcement. "Well, we're going to get a second chance. Dr. Adamsson has personally requested the services of a Mr. Rupert Takashi, whose work he was greatly impressed with. Apparently, some of their equipment calibrations were... altered in the process of dealing with that unfortunate computer virus. Since Heero doesn't seem to be too affected... and since I can guess how much he'd like another opportunity to get some solid evidence against the men who tampered with his memories, I don't see any harm in sending him out again."

Oh. Fuck.

I really shouldn't have lied. This is what happens when you lie, boys and girls: really, really, super-bad shit.

But before I can panic, Wufei jumps all over her declaration. "Ma'am! I must object to sending Yuy on assignment --"

"Alone!" I quickly insert, cutting off Wufei. "I mean, sure, he's pretty much recovered from his burns, but sending him out there on another solo mission would just be asking for trouble. And besides, what if these scientists are just trying to get Heero back in their territory for a second go at him? With all due respect, ma'am, I think you should send Mr. Takahashi's trainee -- me -- out there with him for 'practical experience' in electronics repair and maintenance."

Une leans back and grins at me. "Great minds think alike, I see, Agent Maxwell. I was about to suggest a similar situation. I'll revoke your suspension -- temporarily, of course -- for the purpose of the mission." Une then turns to Wufei and directs, "Leave your reports with me and I'll look them over this afternoon. I want you to brief Agent Maxwell on the case, Agent Chang."

"Yes, ma'am," he replies.

"Here, let me help you with some of those," I offer, standing. I skim over the stacks and find a file with Heero's Preventer number on the tab buried in the middle. I scoop up that stack and give Wufei a long, hard Look. "Which of these are staying, man?"

He tosses a brief but dangerous glare in my direction. "The top one stays," he tells me, sorting through his own stack. I don't have to be told that I'm going to catch hell for this once Wufei gets me alone. But I'll deal with it when I have to deal with it.

"Thank you for your time, agents. Agent Maxwell, please send Agent Yuy in to see when he concludes his appointment."

"Sure thing," I tell her and head for the door. I can sense Wufei hot on my heels. He's practically seething. This is gonna be painful.

I hide a wince and stride toward Wufei's office with Heero's file clutched in a grip nothing short of death by vaporization could loosen.

~Heero Yuy~

What an absolute waste of time.

I have to swallow back my snort of disgust and forcibly stop the disappointed shake of my head. There's absolutely no way in -- or out of, for that matter -- hell that I'll be able to trust that overconfident, smarmy administrator wannabe with my subconscious.

Somehow, I refrain from slamming the door behind me and turn to where I'd left Duo before going in for my "let's-get-to-know-each-other" appointment. Only... Duo isn't there.

Feeling vaguely unsettled -- after all, he'd told me that nothing short of free Godiva chocolate was going to budge his ass from that chair -- I frown at the empty waiting room. But after a moment of unproductive glowering, I decide to try Wufei's office. Perhaps something has come up. Perhaps new evidence that I'm really not loosing my mind and becoming a danger to society. Perhaps further proof that I'm a buster rocket short my launch package.

I wander down the mostly-empty halls. Almost everyone has gone home for the day and I'm relieved. I meander toward Wufei's office and wonder what I should tell Duo. It's obvious to me that Une's expert isn't going to be an option for me. So... now what? Should I ask Duo to take some sort of crash course in soldier psychology? Should I resign? Lock myself in small, padded room? Or something even more radical... like retraining?

I can't stop the shudder I experience at the very thought. But I force myself to look at the end result, not the means. If it means I'll manage to avoid becoming an unpredictable threat to others and be able to accompany Duo on missions, then any price is worth it. Even retraining.

My steps slow as I see Wufei's door up ahead. I've always envied Wufei's office. It's got a window with a very nice view. He tries to lord that over us on occasion, but Duo usually manages to shut him up with a well-placed comment about the origins of Jell-O.

Although, as I get close to Wufei's lair, I notice one other thing I hadn't really considered to be an issue before. Even though his office does have a nice view, it isn't sound-proof. At all.

"... idiot! I can't believe you lied about that!"

"What should I have told her, man? There's absolutely no way I'm gonna give her that kind of power over Heero. She'd have him locked up faster than you can glare one of the newbies into pissing himself!"

"Quit being such a melodramatic flunky, Maxwell. She'd do no such thing. She would find him the proper care he requires!"

"Gee, Wuffers, how's the weather there in your little fantasy world? Enjoying your stay?"

"You want to talk about fantasy worlds? What's this crap about you going on a mission with Heero! It's bad enough Une wants to send him back to the moon, but with you volunteering...!"

"Drop it Wufei. If Heero goes, I'm going."

"The hell you will. He'll get you killed!"

"Shut. Up. Wufei." A terrible silence follows those three, heavily weighted but softly spoken words. "Never, and I mean never, imply that Heero would do anything to endanger me." No threats are spoken, but when Duo uses that tone of voice, none are needed.

Stunned, I stand outside Wufei's office in the deserted corridor and just... absorb their words. Une wants me to go back to the moon. Duo had lied about my mental stability. Wufei's about ready to eviscerate someone.

Sounds like the perfect moment to walk in there and get the whole story, doesn't it?

With a heavy sigh, I open Wufei's door and announce myself.

"Wufei's right, Duo." I step into the office and shut the door behind me. I take in Wufei's startled expression and fading flush of anger before I turn to Duo, catching the tail end of a frigid stare. I continue softly, "I'll only get you or both of us killed. Une's going to have to assign another agent for this." I cross my arms over my chest and glare at the both of them. "And this office is far from sound-proof so you might want to consider lowering your voices a few decibels if you insist on continuing this conversation."

If I had bothered to entertain the faintest hope that my words would have ended the discussion, I would have been very disappointed.

Suddenly all-business, Duo turns his complete attention on me and replies in a softer but no less certain tone, "First of all, I find it highly insulting that you think I can't take care of myself on a mission or that I would be negligent enough not to notice a threatening situation until it's too late. I don't need your protection, Heero. And that's a fact."

I feel like I've just been slapped. I hadn't meant for my statement to sound like that but... when I try to reword my intent, I realize I really am trying to protect Duo. A fellow Preventer agent. An adult. Former soldier, pilot, and terrorist. I know I have no right to treat him like a child.

An apology hovers on the tip of my tongue, but Duo isn't finished yet.

"Second, Adamsson asked for you specifically. You're already familiar with the equipment and the database and the people. And I guarantee changing operatives would set this mission back another month or more. Maybe there isn't brainwashing going on up there, but who's to say those docs aren't endangering the employees in some other way?

"And third..." Duo glances in Wufei's direction, daring him to argue with his reasoning. "What kind of reason could we justifiably give Une for your refusal without her coming to her own conclusions about your mental health? She already believes she's doing you a favor by allowing you to go back out there and bust the asses who'd fucked with your memory. You gonna be able to explain to her why you're not really interested in following through with that? Think about it: the woman governs the most powerful paramilitary organization in the entire Earth Sphere. Do you really want her to question your motives now?"

My throat feels suddenly dry at that. Wufei might trust Une completely, but Duo and I are on the same page here. There's no way I'll give anyone with that kind of power knowledge of my vulnerabilities. It goes against everything I know about life, survival, and the dubious fairness of both.

"Finally," Duo finishes in a quiet, confident tone. "You can do this. I'll be with you and, when you get back, resign if you want. I'll even help you come up with an excuse if you feel you need one. But if we drop the ball now, Une's gonna know something's wrong and we absolutely cannot afford to let that happen."

I glance at Wufei and I'm surprised to see his reigned frustration being broadcast load and clear. Determined to circumvent this, I return my gaze to Duo and carefully remind him, "But we don't know what I'm capable of, what the triggers are or if it's totally random. Duo... I'm dangerous."

For a moment I actually think I might have raised a viable point of non-negotiation. But then a slow, toothy grin stretches his lips apart. "Yes, I know you're dangerous... But so am I. Don't underestimate me."

And I do that far too often already. I certainly don't need to make more of a habit of it than I already do. "I don't like this," I tell him firmly.

He shrugs. "Nobody does, but this is the situation nonetheless. So," he continues, a hard edge in his voice. "You'll go talk to Une. You'll tell her you're fine but act pissy because this whole brainwashing thing is a major fart in your bubble bath. I'll stay here and get the case notes from Wufei then we'll talk logistics tonight at your place."

I want to argue.

Wait, let me rephrase that. I want to argue and win. But I know that's not going to happen. If we drop the ball now, powerful people will suspect that something serious is wrong with me. For an instant, I wonder how that would be so bad. Une would have the power to ensure that I wouldn't become a danger to anyone...

But then I catch Duo's gaze and I can see the fierce determination there. He's not going to let me cop out on this.

I honestly don't know if I have it in me to make it through one more mission, dangerous or not, but I know Duo will never forgive me if I give up now.

I just hope Wufei's fears don't come true.

I have enough nightmares already without adding Duo's death to them.

~Duo Maxwell~

I don't have to look up from the outdated techie article I'm not reading to know the exact moment Heero resigns himself completely to this mission.

Personally, I'm rather impressed that he'd held onto his misgivings as long as he hand. And, while it's unlikely that he's flushed those reservations down the proverbial crapper, at least he's going to offer more than grudging cooperation. And about damn time, too.

I'd been running out of patience.

In the long, breathless moment following our successful clearance of the Earth's atmosphere, the already-humming air between us shifts as Heero leans his head back against his seat, sighs out a lungful of air, and commences with staring blankly out the shuttle window.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is what surrender looks like... Yuy style.

I reflect on the swiftness with which he'd swapped tension for disappointment and smile down at the glossy photo of an overpriced -- and now completely obsolete -- external memory cache device for the busy businessman's traveling workstation.

"There's nothing remotely funny about this situation," my seatmate informs me in a flat voice.

I know with absolute certainty that he hadn't glanced away from those deceptively stationary points of light out there. It appears he's just as psychic as I am today.

"Maybe not," I agree lightly. "But you know me. I never pass up an opportunity to amuse myself."

I can easily picture the agreeing lift of Heero's brows. "Then, by all means, do share."

I flip to the next shiny page and oblige him. In a tone that would have been more appropriate for making a comment on the weather we'd left behind on Earth, I muse, "Never thought you'd be disappointed that our shuttle hadn't been engulfed in a blazing inferno. That's all."

I hope Heero doesn't ask me how I'd managed to connect that forlorn sigh to a lack of spontaneous combustion because, quite frankly, I'm not sure how I'd made that jump, myself. But it seems to fit. Which is why it's so amusing.

He snorts. "No death threats, either." He manufactures another expressive sigh and in that monotone of his, he plays along, "Nobody ever visits... Nobody writes..."

I swallow back my laughter and I try to tell myself I'm just being considerate to my fellow passengers but, honestly, I don't want to encourage the attention of fate with the sound of my amusement. There's just something about zipping around in a glorified tin can in infinite fucking vacuum that is practically asking for a cosmic smack-down if you know what I mean.

Call me paranoid.

Irrational.

Psychotic.

I won't dispute any of them. They're all true, more or less.

I tell Heero in a tone I've wrestled into boredom, "I could arrange for someone to stalk you if that'd make you feel more comfortable."

"What a pal."

I grin at my magazine. I can tell from the acoustics of his reply that Heero still hasn't looked away from that stupid window. "Here for ya, man. Through lumpy gravy and runny eggs."

I can almost hear his wince. "Great," he grunts in response to my choice of
imagery. "Just in time for the in-flight meal."

"You barf, I'll bag."

I hear the hidden bark of amusement in the obvious hitch in his breathing but -- like me -- he keeps a white-knuckled grip on his laughter. I wonder if I'm not the only one who always feels like an amoeba under God's microscope when I fly commercial shuttles through outer space.

Beside me, Heero shakes his head and whispers softly, "How did I let you talk me into this?"

I arc a brow and consider opening my mouth to reply, but I sense he hadn't actually intended to ask that question aloud. I let him think he hadn't voiced that thought and continue staring down at the pretty pictures winking up at me from the pages of the months-old magazine. I probably should have picked up a current issue from the spaceport duty-free shop but whatever. I'd been a little preoccupied. And, honestly, I hadn't wanted to get too engrossed in anything during the flight. After all, I've got some serious scheming to contemplate.

What I'd told Heero about the risks he'd be taking if he refused the mission had been true.

Well, mostly.

I might have exaggerated.

Played to his ingrained paranoia.

All right, all right. Blatantly manipulated him.

But it's all for a good cause.

No, really. It is.

Here's the deal: while I'm willing to accept the hypothesis that Heero's training and psyche are having a nice little tiff at the moment, I'm finding it difficult to accept that his mission to the former Lunar Base had nothing to do with it.

Before Heero had left on this mission, he'd been fine. The most solid, dependable agent on the payroll at HQ. I know. I've butted heads with him often enough over mission logistics. You could say I enjoy a bit of slack in my plans to allow for spontaneity and opportunism. Heero, on the other hand... Damn, but I think he'd be tempted to schedule our bathroom breaks if he'd thought for one second that I'd let him get away with it.

But now...

Total. One. Eighty.

So, slap a sticker on my ass that reads "Paranoid Conspiracy Freak" in nuclear fuchsia but I'm still gonna go through with this mission. Both Une's official assignment and my own clandestine investigation into this phantom catalyst.

And let's be honest. Before I can really help Heero make an informed decision about what to do next regarding his, er... internal clash of issues, I'm going to need all the information I can get. Including why this had manifested itself now.

Yeah, that's what I tell myself...

... and I ignore the very satisfying fantasy of finding that stereotypical evil bad dude who hurt my friend and putting my fist through his heavy coke-bottle lenses and sweaty face.

Yeah. No hidden priorities here. I'm an open book, doncha know?

~ Heero Yuy ~

Have I mentioned that this is an amazingly bad idea? I'm pretty sure I had at some point... at several points, come to think of it... but, somehow, here we are anyway.

I cross the threshold into the impressive main lobby of the pharmaceutical company and take a deep, fortifying breath. I ignore Duo's presence just half a step behind me and to my left. I grudgingly have to admit he's playing his role of The Trainee really well so far. He's fairly vibrating with anticipatory energy, as if he's not only experiencing his first visit to the moon but he'd just had his first shuttle ride, as well. It's those kinds of details that I always forget and that, subsequently, ruin my disguise. Although, in this case, I get the impression that Duo's purposefully drawing attention to himself... and away from me. As a fully trained and highly dangerous Preventer agent capable of taking care of myself in virtually any combat situation, I ought to be offended.

I'm not.

I pretend to ignore the fact the Duo is quite obviously-but-not-actually giving his undivided attention to the impressive arrangement of spacescape paintings I'd admired on my initial arrival and approach the receptionist. Yet again I announce my arrival and try to look like I'm not a trained assassin.

But once Duo has decided -- by some mysterious inner logic -- that he's gawked at his surroundings long enough, he works his magic and manages to elicit a conversation out of the receptionist. All I have to do is feign interest in the mundane chatter. So I do.

Until: "Rupert! It's so good to see you again!"

Turning, I nod at the familiar face of Dr. Adamsson's assistant. The man who'd trailed along behind me like a lost puppy during ninety per cent of my first visit here. He concludes his approach with a hearty handshake.

"Your company said you'd had a fairly serious family emergency or something...?" he comments with a concerned frown. "Is everything all right?"

I nod easily. "Yes, everything's fine now. I apologize for the inconvenience I know I must have caused..."

"Oh, never mind that. Your company did send us a replacement, but he wasn't you, Rupert. The machines are on the verge of rioting."

I chuckle. "Hm," I tell him in a light tone, "if you're not careful, I'll get the impression that I was missed."

The assistant laughs. "Well, it wouldn't be inaccurate."

Sensing an opening in the conversation, Duo shifts beside me and I immediately move to introduce him. With a gesture towards my partner, I intone, "My assistant and current electronics engineer trainee, Felix MacGyver."

I watch as Duo leans forward, offering his hand to Adamsson's assistant and it seems to me there's something more than the garden variety, unpredictable Maxwell amusement in his eyes. It's glaringly evident to me that he's finding something about this situation to be flat-out hilarious. And I think... maybe... it might be his choice of name. I make a mental note to quiz him later on what's so damn amusing about the name Felix MacGyver. It'll make a nice distraction from my own inescapable difficulties.

"MacGyver, huh?" the assistant muses with a wide grin. "I don't suppose your family is aware of a little-known late twentieth-century television program about a man by the same name?"

Duo returns the grin and turns it up another notch toward Blinding Radiance. "Got the entire series on vid disc at home. Mandatory education in my family."

"Seems like a lot to live up to," the assistant replies as he finally starts to steer us out of the lobby. "At least MacGyver had a team of script writers and special effects experts to get him out of all those close calls..."

Dou shrugs. "Wouldn't have it any other way." And then he chuckles. "You'd be surprised how many of us went into law enforcement and the like."

I try not to tense at the fine line Duo is approaching. Ahead of me, Dr. Adamsson's assistant laughs.

"So, you must be the black sheep of the family, right?"

"Maybe," Duo drawls with a sly glance in the scientist's direction. "In any case, nobody ever suspects the techie geek guy, right?"

This is why Duo is the master of infiltration. How he can say shit like this and not totally tip off the suspect completely baffles me. Hell, I know I don't have the nerve to cooperate in, let alone instigate, a conversation like this with an individual I'm investigating undercover, but Duo does it effortlessly.

Oblivious to my partner's subtly guided influence, the assistant becomes even more talkative than I recall. Which, quite honestly, is really saying something. If I'd thought the man was indiscriminately friendly before, he's a veritable social whore in Duo's presence.

But while I'm awed by this, I'm not exactly surprised. After all, I've always known about Duo's unparalleled brilliance in being able to coax out the traits the wants from the people he interacts with.

Take me, for example. How many years had I wasted letting him goad me into nit-picking and pissing contests, half-hearted though my participation may have been.

Still, there's no debating the fact that Duo Maxwell is completely unique.

Irreplaceable.

And he's placing all of his trust in me.

Jesus, I hope I'm not going to fuck up this mission. And, listening to the echo of that thought, I almost snort out loud. Two months ago, I'd regarded this mission with necessary caution, yes, but not with abject terror. Two moths ago, it had been obvious that having the two of us on this mission would have been overkill. Two months ago, I'd willingly undertaken every aspect of the on-site investigation personally.

It's amazing what a little unpredictable and violent mental instability can do to a person's ego, isn't it?

Still, now isn't the time to brood about it. I'd managed to put a lid on those fears during the long shuttle ride and now is not the time to let them out, even for good behavior. Now is the time for me to focus on this elementary assignment. Now is the time to trust Duo to know what he's doing... even though I kind of suspect he's hoping to use this mission to show me I'm not the personification of uranium at critical mass.

Well, he's got his work cut out for him. Because no one but me can say exactly what I'm capable of. And it's not as if anyone's ever been guilty of removing my memories, so I should know. Still...

Still, I silently pray, Please, please don't try to save me from myself if I do something stupid, Duo.

But I know he will.

And it's times like these I wonder why in the hell I couldn't have sworn my fanatical devotion to someone with a modicum of common sense and an inkling of self-preservation.

Yeah... and we all know how well-known I am for doing things the easy way.

~ Duo Maxwell ~

Okay, why in the hell hadn't this particular detail been included in the mission briefing?

It pains me, but I manage to swallow back a glare of lethal proportions. At least until I can gift its intended recipient with it.

Yes, I'd like to lodge a formal complaint concerning the purposeful withholding of vital information by a fellow Preventer agent. But, seeing as how I can't get my hands on those ever-popular and Internal Affairs-provided Your Ass Is Grass forms, I'll just have to make do with mental rants and elaborate torture scenarios.

I offer a sage nod in response to some indecipherable -- and likely completely asinine -- comment Dr. Adamsson's assistant generates. He doesn't seem to notice that 1) I'm not doing any of the work his company is supposedly paying me for, and 2) I haven't contributed to the conversation during the last twenty-three minutes. It's really quite remarkable that the man can go this long without either repeating himself or suffering from oxygen deprivation. This clearly defies the known and accepted facts of human biology and psychology.

Hence, Heero should have bloody mentioned it.

And I can't even use my own personally tailored military hand signals to bitch him out about it in real time.

I carefully do not glare at what I can see of him as I hover nearby, awaiting an obscure grunt which I will have to correctly translate into a request for some tool or supply which I supposedly have in my possession. Note to self: do not, under any circumstances, offer to help Heero with home improvement projects.

As I attempt to keep my eyes from glazing over from overexposure to chem-geek jargon, I reflect on how damn lucky Heero is to be wound tighter than your average Swiss watch because, otherwise, I'm pretty sure he would have fallen asleep from sheer boredom by now. It's a mystery to me how I'm managing to keep myself from spasmodically twitching in a vain attempt to circumvent mental atrophy.

Damn, but these dweeby science guys can talk!

"That's a rather interesting point," I interject with lightning-quick reflexes when I sense the presence of semi-closing punctuation in his rambling address. Deciding to check to make sure Heero really is still conscious where he's hidden in the cozy utility access cubby -- and indulge in just a bit of petty revenge -- I continue, "Have you talked to Rupe about your theory? He's really into maximizing calcium ion channel flow in African anteaters."

I think it's quite obvious that I have no fucking idea what I'm talking about. In fact, I'm not even sure there actually are African anteaters. Let alone if their neurons communicate with calcium ion channels.

I'm a machine kinda guy. I only know enough about the inner workings of the human body to point out, in the event that I have the opportunity, to Wufei that he's about to eat something that will only make bowel movement more strenuous in two days' time. Oh, and I can do a passable job of patching myself up in the middle of Armageddon while up to my armpits in blood and mud. But I doubt the next Nobel Prize laureate here would appreciate the lecture I could deliver on the topic. To say nothing of me having to explain why a childhood supplemented with MacGyver re-runs could equip me with such technical knowledge...

So, I entertain myself with wondering if Heero's going to counter my ruthless attempt to redirect the focus of our local pharmacist to him. Mr. I Have No Life doesn't have enough time to do more than raise his brows and look in the direction of where Heero's torso probably is, before a droll comment rolls out of the hole in the wall.

"It's melanin production levels in South American fruit bats that I'm studying up on lately." I have an instant in which to admire Heero's swift reply and wonder where in the hell that little fiction had come from before a martyred sigh echoes out into the small laboratory. Heero affects in a bored drawl, "Would it kill you to actually pay attention to a conversation for once, MacGyver?"

I'm trying to decide between which subtle verbal smacking I want to go with but the assistant jumps -- figuratively -- between us in a scarily perky attempt to moderate our exchange.

"That's not fair, Rupert. I can't really blame anyone for not being particularly interested in my area of research. It's not exactly mainstream."

Or even remotely interesting.

"So why don't you tell me about you, Felix?"

I shrug. "What's to tell?" I begin and start weaving a yarn about my fictional adolescence and the following -- equally fictional -- college years. Of course I paint myself as an underappreciated genius amongst dullards. Nedly the Nerd seems to relate to those bits, especially. I'm somewhat content discussing various adventures in electrical engineering projects I'd supposedly undertaken while still in that mythical university I'd never attended, when quite suddenly, the conversation takes an odd turn.

"So, I suppose, if you could have anything it would be recognition for your innovations?"

I open my mouth to shoot off a reply but I feel myself stumbling over a tangle of words that seem to be a very-in-character ready agreement and an alien assertion that has something to do with my partner. "Erm..." I hear myself fumbling. But it appears this is confirmation enough for Nedly.

"Well, what's stopping you, Felix?"

If I'd had the luxury, I would have allowed my eyebrows to arc at that. This guy certainly doesn't believe in doing things half way, does he? Either he's boring me to tears or he's firmly pushing against the boundaries of what constitutes polite conversation. Still, it's not like he's the first guy I've ever met to be so under-socialized in his little lab-world that he's lost all concept of tact. Just look at wartime Heero. Yowza.

"Uh... well the normal stuff, I guess," I mutter and commence with a nice bit of hemming and hawing about the unfairness of life and know-it-all managers and obnoxious patent laws.

I'm still nattering on about how great my life would have been if I'd been the one to invent Post-It Notes, when Heero squirms out from the utility access compartment and announces the completion of his project with the following truism:

"Stop boring the clients, MacGyver. Come on. Let's shut you up -- I mean, feed you."

The assistant looks positively scandalized by that deliberate abuse, but I laugh. And in that moment, I really see what I've gained in Heero: more than a working relationship, more than camaraderie, maybe even more than friendship. And I'm suddenly nostalgic over all of the good laughs we might have had if I hadn't spent the last two years being such a bastard. And I'm wondering if we're going to be able to enjoy this new dynamic between us in the future. I'm wondering if Heero's going to give us that time before he does something stupid like checking himself into one of those funny farms for maladjusted veterans. But I don't have to wonder what he'll do if I don't use this chance to show him he's not some sort of ticking time bomb. I know this is the first, last, and only chance I'm going to get to present my case.

And I know I shouldn't be throwing all my chips onto the table for this one, big crap shoot. But, God damn it, something has got to pan out. After all, nobody has this much shitty luck indefinitely. At least, not if I have anything to say about it.

~ Heero Yuy ~

When Duo's not complaining about something I've done, am planning to do, or am in all probability considering doing, his snarky griping is actually damn amusing. Either I'd completely forgotten this little personality quirk of his or it's been a hell of a long time since someone who isn't me has managed to light the fire of Peevedom under his ass. It doesn't take much deliberation for me to reconcile myself to the latter... but I wonder if I ought to feel jealous at having been usurped so suddenly. Hell, I almost don't know what to do with myself now that Duo has chosen another recipient for his passionate and derogatory pontification.

Still, for all the novelty of this new target, he makes it quite clear that I'm not completely blameless for his somewhat less-than-amiable mood.

"Geez, Rupe. Why the hell didn't you mention this guy before?"

I know Duo's pretty wound up, but I'm almost one hundred per cent sure that it's mostly for show. I know I could growl at him or glare or, hell, even kick him under the table, but I don't. I trust him to maintain our cover in his own unique ways. Even if those methods are a raving mystery to me.

I shrug and stab at the congealing remains of today's re-heated dinner special. My enthusiasm for food is not particularly vigorous at the best of times. In fact, it rarely goes beyond a grudging appreciation for is as something with instrumental value only insofar as it can supply me with necessary nutrients in an efficient manner. Antonia's is the one exception, it seems. But staring at the lukewarm lump of calories on my indestructible resin tray is causing some serious setbacks to that tiny bit of progress, I think.

I reply, "He wouldn't be that bad if you'd stop encouraging him."

"Encourage him!" Duo fairly explodes. "I was this close --" At this point Duo provides a very helpful gesture to illustrate his meaning. "--to passing out from total sensory deprivation in the middle of his little infomercial!"

"You weren't the only one," I grumble. But then a corner of my mouth quirks up as something else occurs to me.

I tell him, "You know, as your supervisor, I really ought to report your nearly falling asleep on the job to home base." I give him a long look of warning in an attempt to remind him of the fact that he really shouldn't be admitting these sorts of details to me. And yes, it's all for show... but sometimes it's fun to indulge in the details.

"Oh, for the love of microprocessors!" He huffs and throws me a glare I can see straight through. "Rupe, just listen to yourself. First you tell me not to bore the clients but here you are practically admitting to passing out right along with me!"

"I admit to nothing," I inform him stoically. "But, if I were to say something like that, it would be perfectly acceptable because, unlike you, I'm not undergoing probationary work experience."

He disregards this with a snort I've developed an odd fondness for over the years. "Whatever, man. Still... at least you didn't have him on your case about your most cherished pipe dream..."

Duo's derisive reference to Adamsson's assistant and his completely left-field inquisition into one Felix MacGyver's life's ambitions shifts something in my memory. It kind of feels like an old, moldering rug has just been jostled in its grimy and dust-coated room to reveal a gleaming wood floor beneath.

"Actually," I reply slowly, trying to discern exactly what it is I'm almost remembering. "he did ask me something similar."

"Hm..." Duo muses, those dark eyes of his recording everything that may or may not be showing in my expression. "Let's hope it's not part of some obscure geek mating ritual..."

A strange sound that's not a laugh but not a strangled cough grinds in my throat. "But, if that were the case, you would have immediately recognized it, MacGeek."

"Oh, you are sooo funny! Did you think that up all by yourself?"

"Why would I bother?" I toss back. "Especially when I can use the character references you supplied to get all the details I need to keep you in line."

Duo gifts me with a look that travels the length of his nose before diving right for my ego. "You are such a jerk, Takahashi."

I hum noncommittally. "Keeps your vocabulary of derogative terms well-exercised, though."

He shakes his head on an amused sigh. "I still can't picture you putting up with that kind of... interrogation," he muses.

Ah, we're back to talking about the assistant again. I summon up a cocky grin and counter, "Who says I did?" And with that, I collect my tray/garbage scow and stand.

"Oi! Where do you think you're going?" His demand is punctuated by the scrape of chair legs against the metal floor.

Although I don't glance in his direction, I arc a brow. "I've decided I'm done staring at today's... special and it's time to get some sleep." I aim a pointed glance at the main clock, with the help of which I determine that I've been awake for over twenty-one hours.

"Woah... sleep?" Duo stutters with wide-eyed innocence. "What's that?"

I hold back my snort long enough to reply, "The only other thing aside from food that manages to shut you up for any appreciable length of time, I believe."

"Oh... that."

I release the snort I'd been saving and happily deposit my tray in the waste disposal unit. Abandoning the lingering syllables of our conversation to fend for themselves as they echo in the empty, cavernous employee cafeteria I pivot on my heel and make a beeline for the door. Behind me, I can hear Duo dumping his tray into the slot with a satisfying crash.

"Tell me something, man. Why do they call it the day's special if it looks just like every other 'special' they offer?"

"It's special in its inconspicuousness."

"Dude... is that, like, even a word? Inconspicuousness?"

"Does it matter? You understood my intention, didn't you?"

"Unfortunately..." he mumbles and jogs the last step to come up even with me as we meander down the unremarkable halls.

I listen as Duo rambles on about one day's special in particular that had turned into quite the gastrointestinal adventure. I'm aware that he's performing that singular feat of distraction that comes so easily to him. And I'm so damn tired that I don't really care that we're in the semi-public hallway of a potential enemy organization. I toss in the occasional grunt to demonstrate that I'm still moving under my own conscious power and he doesn't nettle me about it.

But then, suddenly, as we come abreast of the door to my rooms, Duo steps in front of me and blocks my access to the door's keypad. "So, what did you tell him?" he demands with an almost feral light in his eyes. I blink at him once before he elaborates: "Super Nerd? When he asked?"

Dear God, but this man is tenacious. I place both of my hands on his shoulders and bodily maneuver him away from the keypad. When I've relocated him to my satisfaction, I say, "The same thing I'm going to tell you, MacGyver." I punch in my access code, not bothering to hide the number sequence from Duo. "Not a damn thing. Good night."

Then I shoulder open the door and shrug it shut behind me. Alone at last.

It's weird as hell to be shut away in a room away from Duo. I don't think I've been out of his sight for a significant period of time since we'd returned to Earth. Hell, even that bit of creepy me-time I'd had after that, uh, elevator... um... scene hadn't lasted for more than an hour or so. I suppose. I mean, it's not like I'd been watching the clock or anything.

With a deep breath, I force myself to derail that train of thought. I step into the bathroom and collect my toothbrush and tell myself that I do not need to invite Duo over here to spend the night curled up with me. I am an adult. I can handle sleeping alone in the dark. I tell myself I'm looking forward to crawling into bed and closing my eyes. And when I finally find myself cocooned in the blankets on the more or less comfortable mattress, I think that I really might have been telling myself the truth for once.

And with that thought, I close my eyes.

~ Duo Maxwell ~

I can't decide what's worse: knowing something's going on but being unable to find out what it is... and thinking something might be going on but unable to translate the hopelessly vague shifting feeling in your gut. I kinda suspect that both scenarios totally bite in their own ways. But at the moment, I'm attempting to deal with the latter. And, well, we all know how well I "deal" with my instincts being messed with. Yeah, yeah, I know it's not much to go on, but it's not like I was really interested in tottering off to beddy-bye anyway.

Ducking out into the hall, I stalk past Heero's door without more than a glance at it. Sure, I could drag him around the building with me, but what would be the point? It's not like we can discuss anything of importance here and, let's face it, the guy's exhausted. But, with the month he's had, who wouldn't be?

And here I am ready to run laps around the damn complex just to burn off these infuriating maybes. I stifle a sigh as I realize that I'd left my rooms without more than just that for a goal. I mean, it's not as if I actually expect to observe some underhanded scheme in progress while I'm meandering around during the night cycle, but you never know. And, honestly, I've always preferred my methods of observation to electronic treasure hunts. Perhaps that's why Heero and I make such a great team...

But no, that's not true. Heero and I have always made a great team because we've constantly challenged each other in different ways. And of course, the respect has always been there. And... if I let myself admit it, so has the caring. Hell, after Heero'd self-destructed during the war, it had been obvious that I'd given a damn about him. But maybe I'd started caring even further back than that.

My mind very helpfully shoves the uncomfortable memory of me breaking into an Alliance affiliated hospital and offering my only parachute to a near-stranger... and then having to watch him pass out in mid-fall. I normally try not to remember the time when Heero almost hadn't opened his parachute. But for some reason, he'd snapped out of it at the last possible moment. And the bastard had come away from that harrowing experience with only a broken leg.

I consider what I can remember of my actions back then, of the help I'd offered him, of the connection I'd tentatively tried to create despite his being the Original Curmudgeon TM.

Damn. I guess I'd cared even that far back.

Shit.

I am such an utter asshole. Do nice, normal people without an assload of emotional baggage usually take the better part of four years to realize they care for someone? The answer has got to be no.

You know, for the record, introspection sucks.

I continue my meandering, eyes watchful and ears perked even as my thoughts and memories from the war drift through my awareness. Most of this shit I haven't thought about since it'd happened... but tonight seems to be a bit of an odd night. I mean, for one thing, I'm wandering aimlessly while voluntarily reminiscing about a time in my life that doesn't exactly inspire sweet dreams...

And it's just when I've had this thought that things start getting interesting.

"Felix? Is that you?"

I turn toward the open door of the small laboratory Heero and I had finished with right before we'd beaten a path to the dubious comforts of the employee cafeteria. I blink at Adamsson's assistant as if I'd been surprised out of some deep thought or other.

"Hey, man," I greet in a tone that sounds automatic.

The man frowns at me. "What are you doing still awake?"

I shrug. "Sometimes I just can't get comfortable my first night in a new place, you know?" Which is, oddly enough, true. My first night is always spent learning the rhythm of the darkness around me. It's vital to the once-was-street-kid part of my brain that I be able to differentiate the strange nighttime noises from the usual ones, even while I'm asleep.

The man hums thoughtfully. "Never had that problem myself, but then, I wasn't raised a MacGyver."

I chuckle. "A childhood trauma if there is one," I agree. And then, with a slight frown, I ask, "So, what are you doing up at this hour if you're not a fellow insomniac?"

"The usual. Working. Now that you and Rupert have adjusted everything to the correct settings in this room, I can finish compiling the data I need for a project that's due in a few days."

"Ah, crunch time?" I ask with a note of sympathy.

"How aptly put. But where are my manners? Come in and have a seat."

"Oh, no," I murmur. "You have work to do. I don't want to disturb you." Although being in such close proximity to one of the employees here while he's working might open a window or two into this investigation...

"You won't. It's a completely mindless -- if necessary -- task."

"Well... all right. For a little while anyway." So I tromp into the lab and make myself comfortable in a swiveling chair a few feet away from Nedly. We pass several minutes in companionable small talk. I suppose I hadn't exactly been fair when I'd bitched about this guy earlier. Heero's right about him; he's not so bad if you can just keep him from launching off about his pet projects.

"So, when you can't sleep do you usually wander around looking like a man who's carrying the weight of the universe on his shoulders?"

I grin. "I don't make it a habit to think about anything nearly that profound." Which is why my thoughts from earlier still seem so damn weird. I mean, since when do I ever comb through my own past? I may be a masochist but I don't want to become either homicidally enraged or suicidally depressed. Weekends are short enough without inviting those old demons across the threshold to join the party.

"I thought perhaps you'd been considering an answer to your situation."

"What situation is that?" I query, reaching for and expressing my confusion rather than any anxiety that comment might have generated.

"The reason for why you're unhappy at the moment, of course."

"Who says I'm unhappy? Maybe I'm just impatient?" I suggest, leaning back in my chair and leaning my chin in one hand. The stack of printouts beneath my elbow makes an adequate cushion where it rests on the long table and I find myself settling in a bit further.

"Everyone's unhappy in some way, shape, or form," the assistant tells me as he clicks away through columns of numbers on the computer screen.

"And you figure you're, what?... like the Happiness Enforcer?"

The man is smack dab directly in my line of sight, so regardless of how relaxed I appear to be, I can't not notice his moment of hesitation. "Well... no. But people really ought to do something to achieve their own happiness."

I let myself frown. "Well... yeah. But let's be honest. People are lazy. Or they've become used to being unhappy. Nobody changes habits like those spontaneously."

A small grin tugs at the assistant's mouth as he continues highlighting and clicking away. With a suppressed air of triumph, he replies, "Exactly."

And suddenly, I'm wide awake. And that sensation alarms me. Hadn't I been fully aware of my surroundings when I'd wandered in here? I thought I had... but now it feels like I've managed to break the surface of a warm pool.

What the hell?

I force myself to appear unaffected by all of this. But with that famous paranoia of mine resurfacing, I can't resist goading him, "You'd be a very rich man if you could sell the world happiness. Too bad it'd never last."

At this, his smile only widens. "Give a man a fish and he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish and he eats for rest of his life." He shakes his head, amused by some private joke I hope I'm misunderstanding. "Everyone has a dream, a need, a desire. They just need a little... direction." And then the man slides a glance that's positively calculating in my direction, "So tell me. Have you determined a way to achieve your goals yet, Mr. MacGyver?"

And there's really only one response to the cunning manipulation radiating from the man opposite me:

Holy fucking hell.

~ Heero Yuy ~

Usually, when sleep eludes me, it's for a reason.

And I'll be damned if I know what it is tonight.

I flop onto my back with a frustrated sigh and stare up at the blank, grey landscape of my ceiling. And as I actually find myself studying this unremarkable neosteel panel, I think it's kind of a shame that I couldn't work something into that virus I'd written using the metal tile above the beds in the residences.

But then, before I can feel more than a twinge of amusement at the idea of hapless sleepers levitating toward their ceilings, I'm drawn into the reality of what I actually had written into that virus.

My own death.

And it would have happened, too, if Duo hadn't arrived when he had. Which brings me to the second disturbing aspect of the whole thing: the fact that I'd convinced myself I'd checked in with him when I actually hadn't... in order to get him to come out here and save me from myself.

I'm not even sure if any of this makes any sense. Can my training actually malfunction and try to destroy me? It's very own conduit? Does my subconscious really have the ability to plan and time something so elaborate? Something which depends completely on Duo's characteristic impatience?

And then there's the second instance from a few days ago in my apartment. Had I left the phone off the hook rather than simply turn on my voice mail because my subconscious had been anticipating something destructive from my training? But then, I had been destructive, hadn't I?

I wonder what Duo did with the remains of the cactus and I try not to wince at the pang that twists the muscles in my chest tighter.

The evidence seems to suggest that my training really is violently unpredictable while my subconscious is continually sending out cries for help. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. There are so many things about that theory that bother me... I can't even begin to sort it all out. And that's the last thing I want to do right now, anyway.

I curl onto my side and wish I'd swallowed my pride and invited Duo to stay with me tonight, rumors and unprofessionalism be damned. But I hadn't. And this is my problem after all. I know I have to come to some sort of resolution regarding it soon. Because if it manages to become other people's problem as well... by then it'll be too late.

What does the world do to malfunctioning soldiers who have a subconscious that will go to unknown lengths for the sole purpose of survival? What would J have done?

And if there's one thought in the world -- that doesn't involve harm coming to Duo -- that could bring me nightmares, it's that.

God... I know the answer to that question: I know what J would have done. After all, he'd done it before.

Retraining.

That is, if he'd determined that I was still needed. Still useful. Still necessary.

And if not...

Well, in all actuality, deactivation might be a kindness compared to retraining.

Damn. Listen to me. I sound like I'm discussing a misbehaving pet dog or a computer on the fritz.

With a second sigh, I reflop onto my back and glare at the ceiling again. This is getting me nowhere. Except even further entangled in my depressing circumstances. It's obvious to me that I need a distraction. And there's really only one person who can do that for me.

So, I roll out of bed and straighten my T-shirt and shorts. I stuff my feet into my dress shoes, sans socks, and head out the door. I don't care that my hair is probably standing up all over the place, or that I must look damn funny in my black sleep wear and polished leather shoes. I march purposefully down the hall to Duo's room and press the call button and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

What the hell? I frown at the key pad and announce my presence yet again.

And yet again there's no answer.

Okay, enough of this shit. Whatever Duo's doing in there he can just--

The thought collapses in on itself as the obvious occurs to me. It's not that Duo isn't answering his door. It's because he's not even there to hear my call.

Suddenly my heart is pounding painfully in my chest. I damn him for wandering off like this... without back up or telling me or...

But then, maybe he had told me. In a way. Perhaps there's note left for me in his rooms. And with that, I try the door. It's locked but it only takes me a minute of trying Duo's favorite number combinations before I hit on the right one.

The door slides open revealing an empty room. Don't ask me why I'd still been hoping to walk in and see him standing just behind the door, his face a mask of hostile efficiency, and a cocked and loaded gun pointed at the spot between my eyes.

But he isn't there. And there's no note that I can see.

And I'm starting to lose patience.

Is it really so much to ask that he'd clue me in on these sorts of things? I mean, for the love of peace, all I really want is a little consideration from--

I freeze. Completely.

The echo of my thoughts is almost a presence in and of itself: All I really want.

And suddenly, I understand what that weird almost-recollection I'd experienced earlier means.

I remember Adamsson's assistant asking me during my first assignment, "I've noticed that your job doesn't really seem to be, uh, challenging you, Rupert. So what is it you really want?"

And I remember sitting in a room -- the mirror image of this one -- my hands frozen above my laptop's keypad and a half-finished virus staring back at me on the screen as I'd realized a single truth. I would do anything to be Duo's friend.

Oh. God.

It all comes together so fast I feel a little nauseous. All the pieces zoom into place. The handful of tiny, little details I shouldn't have forgotten, but somehow had.

The question the assistant had asked me. And it's mate: "And how are you going to achieve your goal?"

I'd thought I hadn't answered those questions. But I had. I just hadn't answered them verbally. But then, the man hadn't been trying to get me to talk, had he?

And then the last detail. Arguably, the most important one, visits me.

Adamsson's assistant had approached me with his questions while we'd been in a small laboratory. The same laboratory, in fact, that he'd quizzed Duo in earlier today.

I'm out the door and racing down the hall like a shot. I don't particularly care that my shoes hadn't been designed for running in... especially without socks. If I slow down, I know the panic will overtake my mind and I absolutely, positively cannot let that happen.

I must be making enough noise to rival the Earth's great Serengeti migration, but it's a secondary -- and unimportant -- detail. I'm panting harshly, a little from exertion but mostly from stress. My goal isn't exactly clear to me. Am I running to save Duo? To tell him what I've discovered? Or am I in pursuit of a suspect?

When I burst into the small laboratory four very long minutes later, I'm surprised to find both of my quarries in residence.

And I blink in numb shock as I notice one of them has bound and restrained the other with a colorful assortment of electrical cords.

"Yo, man."

I stand there gaping, in my pj's and dress shoes, until Duo's grin widens even further and he gestures toward a very scared-looking pharmacist, "I was just explaining to our buddy here that it's a kinda serious felony to fuck with the minds of Preventer agents. Speaking of... you don't have your badge and cuffs on you, by any chance, do ya?"

~ Duo Maxwell ~

The average person would take one look at me and assume that I'm in perfect control of the situation. That person would also assume that I find the aforementioned situation somewhat humorous.

The average person would be wrong. And that individual may very well be dead wrong, considering the mood I'm in right now.

So, despite my flippant greeting to Heero, I'm all for bludgeoning Adamsson's assistant to a painful and agonizing death with whatever's handy. I suppose the gleam of that bloody fantasy must have been dancing in my eyes because Heero hadn't even waited for me to make the suggestion before insisting that putting the bastard out of our misery would not succeed in delivering justice. If only for the sole reason that it would make mountains more paperwork for us if our suspect happens to die while in custody.

Needless to say, that little factoid doesn't make me happy. So I commence with shooting off jokes and flashing razor sharp smiles. Heero doesn't seem to be too bothered by the fact that I'm quite obviously not treating this entire situation with the degree of sobriety it deserves. But honestly, the frequent and inappropriate use of humor is the only way I can let off enough steam in order to keep my hands off the bastard.

And it's just as well that during the inevitable circus which follows no one had attempted to... regulate me. Because if some poor, random fool had been stupid enough to try to deny me my facetiousness, I would have launched my fist into Nedly's sweating face in a heartbeat.

It also doesn't help that Heero and I had been forced to ask the local law enforcement people for a place to keep our prisoner. Seeing as how nobody's life is in obvious danger at the moment, Heero and I can't really justify borrowing the first ship that suits our purposes and hightailing it back to HQ. Especially since I'm technically not even supposed to be in uniform. The only reason Une had agreed to send me instead of Wufei had been because it'd been made completely obvious during that first meeting in Une's office following Heero's convalescence that Heero trusts me without reservation. Which implies that I have the ability to handle him, as crude as that sounds.

So here I am, stuck on the moon for the time being, stalking through the halls of the local law enforcement division. Halls that are very familiar to me... for good reason.

I'd kinda hoped to never-again-for-as-long-as-I-live see the inside of another lunar base detention cell, but Fate really seems to enjoy raining on my parade.

Beside me, Heero's presence is somewhat... grounding. We both know I'm not calm and we both know I'm unlikely to be calm anytime soon. But his acceptance of my volatile temper settles me just enough to prevent me from losing it completely. Which, let me assure you, is necessary. Especially considering the interview we're about to begin.

For a moment, my attention is directed away from my own fire-and-brimstone ire and I wonder if Heero is going to be all right. After all, he hasn't heard our suspect's story yet. But I'm curious how much of it Heero'd managed to put together before he'd made his grand entrance into the lab.

We draw even with the detention cell door and by unspoken agreement, we both hesitate. The halls echo with our silence and I find myself reaching for his hand. "Heero?" I whisper, letting him see my concern.

He nods once and summons up something that looks kinda like a smile, but because of the flat look in his eyes obviously isn't. I suppose it's the best answer I'm going to get, so I pull the access card from my pocket and swipe it through the reader beside the door.

"Knock knock," I call as I step over the threshold to face the man who'd had the nerve to fuck with my partner.

I give myself a moment to get my roaring emotions under some semblance of control. As I do so, I absorb the sight of the man. Being arrested, it appears, hasn't really agreed with him. He looks shaken and ill but that doesn't deter me. In fact, I feel my predatory instincts rising to the forefront.

"You can guess the reason for the visit, I'm sure." I grin and I show so many teeth my lips hurt from the stretch. "You're going to repeat the story that you told me to my partner." I pause long enough to heat up my glare another hundred degrees. "You're going to explain -- in detail -- what you've done to one of your subjects," I spit out viciously just to see him wince. And yes, it is rather gratifying.

Heero takes a seat at the table, across from our Nedders but I remain by the door, leaning in the corner. I still don't trust myself not to come across the table at the guy, but like fucking hell I'm leaving Heero in here alone with him.

His story is actually rather fascinating -- if you overlook the fact that he's done this to real people -- and fantastic. Hell, I'm still having a hard time believing it even with him stumbling through yet another explanation of it for Heero's sake.

It all revolves around a drug. Which, considering the man's profession, isn't that much of a stretch of the imagination. But imagine a drug that when vaporized and inhaled by a subject grants a varying level of access to that person's subconscious mind. How had he managed to control something like that? Well, he'd had quite the sweet little set up in that lab of his. Independent ventilation systems had been installed in every laboratory as a safety measure and he'd rigged his to administer the odorless vapor. He'd created various excuses to see people in that room and had thoughtlessly used them to test his pet project. One by one, his coworkers had been asked the same basic questions. Questions specifically chosen to encourage that individual's subconscious to recognize their deepest, fondest desire... and formulate a plan to achieve it. And none of this is the subject consciously aware of.

Is that, like, the biggest load of bullshit or what? I'd seriously thought ol' Nedly had just been fucking around with me. But when I'd asked him how he'd managed to avoid the effects of his goofy gas, he'd succinctly replied that if he wore a specifically medicated patch, the gas was completely harmless.

I don't even want to think about how many subjects that took before he'd managed to brew up the right formula.

So... Wufei and I had been right after all. It hadn't been brainwashing. Or even memory manipulation. But someone had still dared to screw with Heero's mind. And for that, the little geeky bastard is going to fucking pay. And not because he'd done something with complete disregard for morality and an individual's right to privacy. No, he's going to pay for a far simpler reason: he'd hurt Heero.

Because of his idiotic and ill-researched experimentation, Heero's subconscious had been fairly ordered to formulate a plan that would result in Heero achieving his most cherished dream. A plan which had included his near-death and my cavalry charge to save him. All of it timed so precisely that, had any individual event occurred with the slightest variation, Heero would at this moment either be dead or plotting a new scenario to follow through on.

All without his knowledge.

Think about that. Heero Yuy. Former Gundam pilot. Terrorist. Assassin. Soldier. Formulating missions without conscious thought. And for what end?

Now, if that doesn't give you nightmares, nothing will.

And I'm wondering how Heero's going to take it.

I tune back in just as the great Ass of an assistant is wrapping up his little spiel: "I was only testing its effectiveness with normal people. The drug isn't nearly as effective if the subject is aware of it, so it had to be done secretly. I just want to help people! It's designed to encourage individuals to move beyond their fears in order to achieve happiness!"

I watch Heero's face and note his complete lack of expression. Both of his hands are on the table and both are curled into firsts. But otherwise, he's as still as stone.

"They help me by providing data and I help them find happiness. It's a true symbiotic relationship. If I can perfect it, think of what it could do for people with phobias! It has the potential to eliminate their irrational fears and live fully, healthy lives! Isn't that worth it?"

A very long moment stretches painfully taut in the dull room. So taut that I think the next breath I take will vibrate in the air like a tuning fork.

And then Heero replies. His voice is so soft, so incredibly quiet, but I hear him with perfect clarity.

"Your first mistake, was to assume I was exactly who I said I was. You trusted the cover story I gave you and performed your experiment on someone who is not and never has been 'normal.'"

The assistant blinks at Heero, clearly surprised by this response.

"You were careless and missed crucial information about my background which could and did affect the results of your experiment. If I'm to believe your account, and if I can find evidence to support it, then I will make sure additional charges are filed against you."

"A-additional charges?!" the man sputters.

Tonelessly, Heero informs him, "Deliberately endangering peacekeeping officers is a serious crime."

And with that, Heero moves to stand up from the table.

"Wait!" our suspect barks out suddenly. "Didn't the experiment help you confront your fears? Aren't you closer to achieving your goal of happiness than you were before?"

In a way, I can almost understand this man's desperation. For sure, he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life in prison. But certainly, he doesn't want to spend it there knowing that his life's work which he'd intended for the betterment of humankind had actually caused harm.

Heero pauses and gazes down at the man. With complete calm, he replies, "I'm not even close to facing down my fears. Which brings me to your second mistake."

In a barely-there whisper, the man chokes out, "Which was?"

"You assumed that you could cure fear. It's not a disease. It is, in fact, every person's right to face down his or her fears. To take not only that decision but also that potential victory away from someone is to deny them their greatest desire." Heero pauses a moment and draws in one more breath. "All desires come from a fear of something. Fear of loneliness, rejection, uncertainty, death, life... The greatest satisfaction a person can experience in and of themselves is the conquering of that fear."

And with that, Heero Yuy turns away from the startled scientist and meets my gaze.

I have known many honorable people in my life. I have also known many brilliant ones. There have been the tenacious and the talented as well. The kind and the generous. But I can honestly say that I have never been more proud of anyone in my entire life than I am of my partner, Heero Yuy, in this moment.

All of my zealous rage fizzles down, suddenly so insignificant compared with what I feel for this man in front of me. I suppose I could try to name an emotion this intense, this all-encompassing. I could try to trap it with words. Could try to physically capture it in my callused hands.

But I won't. And I don't. I simply put my hand on Heero's shoulder and steer him out of the room. I make our excuses to the police officers who try to waylay us along our journey and all the while I keep Heero moving in the direction of the door. Somewhere out there in this cursed former-Oz base is a quiet room with a comfortable couch just waiting for Heero and me to curl up on it.

~ Heero Yuy ~

Search and seizure warrants. Forensics. The procurement of secure transportation. Reports. Debriefing. The standard post-assignment health check-up. All of it seems to happen at once. And contrary to popular belief, none of it is remotely interesting or exciting. It is, in fact, utterly draining.

Even though the days following a major break or a promising arrest in a case can be pretty crazy, it's never seemed quite this overwhelming before... but then I'm pretty sure that God hates me.

I blindly grope for the light switch on my way out of my office. I really couldn't care less if I leave the light on over the weekend, but after two years the motion is one hundred per cent pure habit.

I pass my hand over my face as I let the Preventer HQ hallways funnel me down toward Duo's office. This is the part of my day I've been looking forward to since Duo and I had disembarked from our shuttle with suspect in tow this morning.

I allow my expression to soften as I recall Duo's presence over the last three days. During those seventy-two plus hours, I'd alternated between dealing with all the tedious and nit-picky details required for wrapping up an assignment and leaning against Duo's shoulder on strange couches. And I know that Une seems to believe I live to defy the old "no man is an island" saying, but nothing could be further from the truth. If someone must be an island, then that person is Duo. And I'm the silent jungle that sinks its roots into the soil. He holds me safe above the waves. And I hold him together against the occasional storm.

At those somewhat poetic thoughts, I shake my head and wonder if I'm still under the influence of those damned suggestions. But I know I'm not. In fact, the effects of the drug itself wouldn't have lasted more than an hour. And the only thing required to successfully counter the suggestions themselves is the conscious awareness and acceptance of them. Which explains the virus and my purposeful non-communication with Duo. And it answers for my destruction of the only plant I'd ever owned and my having left the vidphone off the hook. Hell, it probably even explains why I'd confessed the depth of my attachment to him while Duo and I had argued in the HQ elevator the week before.

You know, it's not often things in life get wrapped up so neatly.

I know I ought to be happy now. Duo's fine. I'm fine. And we got the guy we'd gone after. Mission complete... more or less, anyway. Still, the ache in my chest hasn't gone away. Maybe I need one more night beside Duo on my couch.

I turn the corner and see Duo's office door standing open. As I cross the remaining distance, I notice the fact the Duo isn't alone. I slow my approach and wait for a clue as to the identity of his guest. I don't want to interrupt him if it's an important conversation.

"... thanks, man. I owe you one."

"It was a small thing to take care of this for you in your absence, Maxwell," I hear Wufei reply. "And you can thank me by convincing Heero to let me make you both dinner tonight at my place."

"You're taking it upon yourself to save us from calling out for delivery?"

"Someone has to."

"And here I didn't think you'd been paying attention whenever I'd mentioned what Heero and I'd been living off of. You know, no matter what the secretaries call you, you're just a big teddy bear with warm, squishy filling, Wuf."

Wufei snorts and I smile.

"So," Duo continues accompanied by the squeaking of two chairs being relieved of their burdens, "let's go find Heero and convince him, then."

At this moment, I step into the doorway and lean against the frame. I watch Duo zip up his travel bag and I catch a glimpse of some kind of small-ish cardboard box before it's concealed completely. "No need," I inform them with a friendly -- if tired -- smirk. "Convince me now."

"Yuy. Excellent timing. You're going to let Maxwell give you a ride home and you're going to relax before the two of you will arrive at my apartment at nineteen hundred hours."

I meet Duo's gaze and we mutely share a look of amused surprise. After a moment, I transfer my attention to Wufei. "If you're waiting for us to object, we're going to be here for awhile."

"Excellent," Wufei replies. He nods with satisfaction and gathers his jacket up from the back of Duo's guest chair. He and I wait for Duo to turn off the lights and lock his office then all three of us meander down to the elevators. We don't talk about work. Mostly, I listen to Duo trying to get Wufei to tell us what's on tonight's menu. The sound of his voice is the balm my unsettled soul needs tonight and I soak it up unrepentantly.

We part ways in the parking garage and I collapse into the passenger side of Duo's car. He doesn't turn on the radio, but we both roll the windows down as we emerge onto the street. It's a nice evening and the wind scrubbing over my face and through my hair is cleansing.

"You know," Duo muses as he slows for a red light. "I think Wufei missed us. That was a classic display of withdraw."

"Withdraw from what, exactly?" I inquire.

"Bossing us around? Mediating between us? Who knows. The guy's a total head case."

I laugh and Duo grins back at me, sharing the joke. "Pot, meet kettle," I reply when I have the breath.

"Hey. If you're going to compare me to kitchenware, at least liken me to something cool."

I offer up a few off-hand suggestions and we end up debating the coolness-factor of various utensils and appliances. Duo's witty commentary keeps the smile on my face during the entire ride to my apartment. By the time we're in the elevator, we've moved on to discussing "manly" window treatments. Apparently floral and/or pastel valances don't qualify.

Duo waits patiently for me to unlock the door and deactivate the security system. I kick off my shoes and wander into the living room. Behind me, I can hear Duo following my example. I sweep my gaze over the room, part of me checking for anything out of place and part of me just glad to be looking at familiar surroundings again. But then my attention is snagged by the empty window sill beside the couch.

Damn. Just... damn.

I'm not quite sure how to articulate the disappointment I feel. Am I angry with myself for having killed Duo's present? With having let it slip my mind that I had? With still expecting to see it there? With not being able to watch it bloom next year? All of the above?

"Hm..." Duo muses from directly behind me. If I'd still possessed the feeling in the skin along my back and neck, I probably would have been able to feel his body heat through my shirt. Yet another thing to wish for...

Into my silence, Duo comments lightly, "This place looks like it needs something..." And with that, one hand arcs around me, holding up the box I'd seen him zip up inside his bag back at HQ.

With a slight frown, I take the parcel from him. I may not be able to feel his heat, but I can feel the pressure of his weight against my muscles. He lowers his chin to my shoulder and wraps his arms around my waist. His silence is as comforting as his unexpected embrace and I feel myself relaxing into him.

I pry the lid off the box and what I see inside steals the breath from my throat. "You..." I hear myself say on an exhalation.

His arms tighten around me. "Your window sill seemed kinda empty without it."

I stare down at the tiny cactus carefully packed in the box. I can see that the pot is new and slightly different from the original. A little bigger. But the plant itself... I can see on one side where quite a few of the spines had been broken off by impact. The barrel is also slightly lopsided, but otherwise, it looks fine.

"I... I don't understand. When I threw it..."

Duo gives me another reassuring squeeze. "It looked a lot worse than it really was. The spines actually absorbed and dispersed a lot of the impact. Mostly what you saw was the roots all tangled up. I just had to repot it and ask Wufei to babysit it for me while we were gone."

Still stunned and unable to comprehend what I'm holding in my hands, I lean away far enough to look into his eyes. "But, how...?"

I both watch and feel Duo shrug behind me. "I like fixing things, Heero. It wasn't that hard to figure out."

I don't know what to say. I just stare down at the cactus I never thought I'd have another chance to watch bloom. I'm tied up in all the words I could say but just aren't heavy enough to convey the sincerity of my meaning. How is it Duo Maxwell always manages to give me the impossible?

Drawing in a shaky breath, I murmur the only thing I can think of to tell him, "I don't know what to say."

"Well... a 'thank you, Duo' would be nice," he teases me gently.

I feel a smile coming over me and I dutifully parrot his words back to him: "Thank you, Duo."

"You're welcome, man." Our gazes remain locked for a long moment before his grin brightens and his eyes narrow in a warm smile. "That wasn't half bad for a first attempt," he congratulates me. "Maybe next time you could try giving me a kiss, too."

My breath freezes in my lungs even as my heart starts beating double time at the thought. I don't try to hide my reaction. Duo's wrapped around me so completely I know he can feel it with his entire body. The moment stretches between us but Duo doesn't release his hold on me, doesn't twitch, barely breathes.

And eventually, I find enough of my voice to answer him. "Maybe I will."

His answering smile is so brilliant it makes my chest ache. I'm tempted to lean forward and try giving him that kiss now, but he briefly tightens his arms around me one last time before stepping away and collecting his bag.

"Is it all right if I use your bathroom to change out of my uniform? Then we'll hang out on the couch and watch your cactus grow for a while?"

I soft chuckle vibrates past my lips. "Yeah. Go for it."

I watch him walk away but not until the bathroom door closes behind him do I move. Striding into my own room and quickly changing into a comfortable pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I can't help but marvel at the sight of the little cactus currently sitting on my dresser, patiently waiting to be restored to its rightful spot on the window sill in the other room. How many things that I'd thought I'd never get a chance to experience has Duo made possible in the last hour? And, thinking further back, how many things I'd once believed to be impossible has he offered me since we'd first met?

I can't even begin to count them.

But I can allow myself to experience them.

And, I decide, right now is the perfect time to start.

~ End of PARTNERS ~

Author's Notes

The following is a brief record of my sources. Due to the way I've structured IMPOSSIBLE, it's difficult to site my references in-text (without interrupting the story itself), but it's important to me to give credit where it's due. After all, this is a fan fiction and wouldn't have been possible without all the imagination and hard work the Gundam Wing creators put into this series in the first place.

Canon Series References

:: Episode 2: Duo fights off the Alliance and recovers Heero's Gundam. He seems to have just followed the Alliance activity to see what the fuss is all about then, seeing it's a Gundam, decides to use it for parts. Shortly thereafter, Duo shoots Heero in the right arm and left thigh to stop him from shooting Relena.

:: Episode 3: After Heero launches the torpedoes at the surfacing Gundams, he passes out in the water only to wake up in Alliance custody. Duo takes it upon himself to break him out just to assuage his curiosity about the mysterious fellow pilot. While Duo's examining Heero's restraints, trying to figure out the best way to free him, Heero rips one arm free and, ignoring the blood all over his hand, calmly asks Duo for the knife. Later, with Wing hidden away aboard the Sweeper's ship, Heero sets his broken leg himself, thereby grossing Duo out.

:: Episode 4: Duo attempts to initiate a conversation with Heero while Heero's evaluating the damage to his mobile suit. Heero repairs his suit in one night (by stealing the parts from Deathscythe) and takes off without a word to his hosts.

:: Episode 5: Heero's lying on his bunk in a small, dark, windowless room waiting for a mission to come through. Duo receives the same mission as Heero but arrives a little late. After Duo's attempt at conversation is blatantly ignored, they square off. Then the rubble beneath Deathscythe's foot gives way and Duo is momentarily distracted. Heero fires and takes out a Leo that had snuck up behind Duo. Heero declares he's returned the favor, laughs, and takes off. Duo swears to get back at him.

:: Episode 6: Duo has a conversation with Howard while he's lying on his back looking up at the moon.

:: Episode 7: In the process of stealing a shuttle to transport his suit to the New Edwards Base, Duo shows up and loads his suit onto the craft uninvited. In the cargo hold of the shuttle, Heero's gun trained on him, Duo promises not to let the mission fail. Once airborne, Duo pilots the shuttle and has a short exchange with Heero, his reluctant passenger. Upon arrival at their destination, Duo and Heero comment to each other during the battle at New Edwards before the other Gundam pilots show up.

:: Episode 8: After the deaths of the Alliance's pacifists, Heero stops fighting and both Quatre and Duo cover for him. It's not until Sally Po alerts him to the impending destruction of the base that he gets himself together.

:: Episode 9: Heero and Duo end up at the same boarding school, playing on the same team during a student basketball game. Later, Duo shows up at the target first and begins to cause havoc.

:: Episode 10: Duo stops by Heero's dorm room just before shipping out to intercept the OZ transport. During the mission, Heero receives orders from Dr. J to not surrender the Gundam. Heero steps out of his Gundam and triggers the self-detonation device.

:: Episode 11: Duo and Quatre hide out with the Maganac Corps in the desert but OZ tracks them down and places explosives around the civilian homes under the pretense of replenishing some of their supplies. Earlier in the episode, Duo confides in Quatre his willingness to die rather than live in a world ruled by OZ.

:: Episode 19: As a prisoner of Oz, Duo is escorted through the streets of the colony. The citizens rage against him, calling him a murderer among other things. Heero sees the news report on the captured Gundam pilot and promises to eliminate "all negative factors." Heero infiltrates OZ's detention cells to execute Duo Maxwell before OZ can use him to further their cause. At the last possible moment, Heero changes his mind and rescues him instead. After Heero decides not to kill him, he manages a half-way decent escape plan and once safely away on a shuttle, declares his duty to kill the scientists who are now in OZ's custody.

:: Episode 20: Now in the hospital, Duo and Heero converse about where Heero's going next (i.e., the Lunar Base).

:: Episode 23: Heero and Wufei have already been captured by OZ. They watch as Duo gets chucked into the holding cell with them. Heero berates Duo's inability to finish the mission. Duo ignores him and delivers the good news to Wufei that their Gundams are being rebuilt.

:: Episode 24: In the beginning of the episode, Duo infiltrates the Lunar Base in order to destroy it, or so he tells Hilde. Later, Heero, Wufei, and Duo are all in OZ custody and as Trowa comes to collect Heero to fight a new type of Gundam, Duo claims that he's a better pilot than Heero.

:: Episode 26: Following Quatre's encounter with the Zero System, both he and Heero are captured by Oz. The doctors (also Oz prisoners) begin analyzing Quatre's reaction to Zero. Heero is present and gets briefed on the current state of war. He says very little while Quatre insists that someone should look for Trowa Barton, who is now M.I.A.

:: Endless Waltz: Heero shows his remorse for having caused civilian casualties during a mission and is subsequently retrained in order to eliminate his "weak" emotional response to failure. During the mission to prevent the colony X18999 from falling to Earth, Heero, Duo, and Trowa are on the verge of being discovered and surrounded by Dekim's guards in the communications room. Heero asks Duo to hit him then promptly returns the favor, the end result being that Duo is unconscious and taken into custody while Heero escapes and moves on with the next phase of his plan.

Miscellaneous Resources

:: After having woken up in the hospital following the incident with the solar panels, Heero's comment about the original use for mobile suits being colony repair and maintenance is something I read in one Gundam publication or another. The title eludes me at the moment. (And yes, you may infer that medicine has advanced far enough to provide an amazing level of comfort and regeneration for people in space by the time this story takes place.)

:: Information about Heero's cactus was gathered here:
http://www.desert-tropicals.com/Plants/Cactaceae/Mammillaria_albicans.html
:: And the bit about it being a March-flowering plant I found here:
http://www.cactus-mall.com/mammsoc/article4.htm