Rollercoaster - 04by Wind Chijmes"Let's welcome Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton and Quatre Winner back to our ranks." The conference room was made to seem small with the officers that crowded the space. There was so much applause Duo thought he finally knew what it felt like to be a celebrity. He grinned and waved most unabashedly, none the least perturbed by this homecoming. Of course he knew that at least a third of the officers in this room weren't exactly happy with the return of the three ex-Gundam pilots. Their War-ridden pasts had meant that the three of them had made enemies that they themselves were unaware of. Quatre had made it clear even before their shuttle had touched down on Earth that their return would ruffle more than few feathers and smoothing those over would be top priority for at least the first months. To hell with it, that was Duo's philosophy. Over the years, he had learnt to most things in his stride. There was too much of the world he had yet to see, and nothing was going to blight his outlook without his goddamned *permission*. It wasn't the best approach, but it was Duo attitude. As expected, once the bulk of the officers had left, only the core personnel remained behind for a closer, and more genuine welcome. Amongst them, Midii Une seemed especially pleased as she regarded them from warm bespectacled eyes. "Well, it appears I've finally succeeded in rounding up the rest of the renegade pilots over to my side." She laughed gently, and it made her face soften pleasantly. The three of them exchanged rueful grins. It was true to a point. Une had personally tried to recruit them into the Preventers ever since the Wars had ended. Yet, they had resisted in favour of servicing their respective colonies. She had understood then, and even told them that the door would always remain open to them should their minds change one day. Well, here they were. Quatre shook hands with her, cerulean eyes twinkling. "We're so glad to be back, Commander." "Remember you said that, Winner. None of you are going to get any discount from me when it comes to work." "Not even on account of our history?" "Not even that." Duo felt his heart warm as he watched the half-joking, half-serious banter between the Arabian man and the current leader of the Preventers. Every time he saw Quatre in his diplomat mode, he would be reminded of how much that blonde had grown. No longer just a pale, sweet-faced boy wearing his naïve pacifism on his pink-clothed sleeve, Quatre Winner had grown well into his twenty years. His face was still youthful and even younger when he smiled, but its angularities were undeniably masculine, and his eyes were steely beneath the warmth, suggesting strength of character that had been moulded in spite of his elitist background. It was a little too timely then for those eyes were suddenly on him and Duo quickly grinned in return, hoping that Quatre's keen emotional triggers hadn't detected the rather embarrassing sentiment he been projecting. Turning away a little to examine of the paintings framed on the wall, Duo tried to focus on the abstract cubes and swirls of colours that dared at him to unlock their meanings. He stared at them, eyes swimming as he tried to follow the patterns of combinations and contrasts. They seemed to clash, yet to complement where he least expected them to. Sometimes the darker shades seemed to swallow all the light in the painting, yet at other points, the brightness jumped out at him. "Quatre would be accusing us of abandoning him to office politics later." Duo grinned to hear those words, spoken so gently and quietly, yet brimming with amusement. Without really looking, he knew Trowa was beside him, his willowy frame held in that graceful posture, leaf-green eyes missing nothing. "Still thinking about that reunion dinner?" Duo stopped following the colours. "Not really," he said truthfully. "But it could have gone much better." That was truthful too. It wasn't like Duo to dwell on the not-so-happy, but if he had to look back, that dinner certainly could have gone more smoothly. All it did was to unearth a whole well of long-buried issues between two of his closest friends. "It could." Trowa agreed. His tone grew graver. "But if it had, we would have come away with the illusion that things were all bright and beautiful, and we would have learnt nothing." Inclining his head so he could see clearly the calmness on Trowa's face, Duo finally nodded. Trowa was far sharper and complex than most people would credit him for, and although his words didn't always make *too* much sense to Duo sometimes, they did make him feel better every time. A quick glance over one shoulder saw Quatre and Une still engaged in conversation. Duo raised a hand to the painting and traced one brilliant strip of red with his forefinger. "Am I being Utopian if I say I did hope that all five of us would work under the same roof one day?" There was a smile in Trowa's tone when he replied. "I'd call it optimistic." "You know me." "The eternal optimist?" Duo's finger paused. His lips were curling at the corners. "One of my stronger points." "I see you're not going to let them go without a fight." "Starting to pity them already?" The amusement was back in Trowa's voice. "What does this remind you of?" Duo shot him a lopsided grin. "Old times." The old times, when the five Gundam pilots still operated as individuals, each of them learning the startling truth of the existence of four other pilots like himself, wondering if each other were friend or foe, fighting a common enemy when there was one, and turning onto each other when the suspicion got too much. Yet at the end of it all, none of them could deny that strangely intimate connection between them that stemmed from a shared destiny. Heero and Wufei might have left the HQ, but the ties that bound them to the institution and the people were inescapable. "Men," Une called out abruptly. Duo and Trowa turned, for the time being shelving aside their private discussion. Une and Quatre were looking over at them. "You'd have to pardon me for any tardiness," Une was saying as she pushed up the spectacles on her nose. She smiled. "I'd love to take you on the little tour around our premises myself, if not for some rather pressing commitments." "Nah," Duo said jokingly, waving one hand. "I'm sure we'd fit right in." Une raised an eyebrow. "You might change your mind when you see who your tour guide is." "Good morning." The men turned simultaneously at the bright, feminine voice that uttered that even brighter greeting. Standing at the doorway, clad in a simple yet smart uniform, the woman smiled warmly at them. She looked the same, yet different from before, with her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and her bangs tucked behind one ear. "Good to see you guys again," Lucrezia Noin said, her dark eyes twinkling.
Meeting old comrades ranked amongst Noin's favourite events. She'd never been the type to believe in the old saying of absence making the heart fonder, but gradually, she was finding that it rang truer and truer with time. These three men now staring at her with smiles of different degrees might not have been her closest friends, but their presence always made her feel like she was travelling memory's lane once again. It was a wistful, nostalgic feeling, and one she treasured. She nodded rather awkwardly as Quatre enveloped her in a warm hug. She felt the sincerity in the Arabian's embrace and she tried to reciprocate as well as she could. Une and Zechs were always telling her that she was much better in action than in affection, but she was learning. Duo's hug was as irrepressible as the man himself was, and this time it did make her blush just that slightly as she nearly was nearly rocked back by the sheer enthusiasm on the American's part. Trowa was more restrained however, much more to be honest, but it was with him Noin could regain some measure of her coolness as she shook his hand. "Well," Noin nodded her head. "Shall we?" She gestured towards the doorway. Much of the premises had been revamped in the six months than the men had last been there, and the tour, although somewhat perfunctory in nature, was a chance to let the men absorb the general functions and processes happening around them. She took them to see the new lobbies, the latest terminals that were entirely funded by social elitists, the range of improved mobile suits that were still undergoing testing. Along the way, they talked often, and the men even pointed out the various ways of improving and thus maximising operations. Noin almost laughed. This reminded her sharply of the fact that she *was* playing tour guide to ex-Gundam pilots, last known to be precocious sixteen year-olds blazing the skies. "Hey, isn't that Zechs?" Noin looked to where Duo was gesturing animatedly. True enough, the American was right. The former Sankian prince was striding across the hall just a storey above, and from their angle, his platinum hair was striking even as he veered into another direction and was obscured from sight. "He has a meeting," Noin explained to her group temporary tourists. "Busy man," Duo grinned. Noin nearly rolled her eyes at that. Duo had unwittingly hit the nail right on its head. It was something Noin noticed almost right away. Ever since Heero Yuy and Chang Wufei had left the HQ, Zechs had been very busy. He always seemed to be buried in either meetings, or plans or his own thoughts, even. It was like he was keeping something from everyone. Noin sighed inwardly. Now no longer his subordinate, she had the authority to probe, but old habits die hard. It wasn't really her place to question him. But these three men however... Noin chanced a glance at said men from the corner of her eye. Now that they were back and holding positions on similar level to her and Zechs as well, the dynamics were changing. She grinned now. If she had to admit to herself, work just *might* be getting more fun.
"Milliardo Peacecraft. It's been a while, hasn't it?" Zechs inclined his head at that formal address of his birth-given name. It was still seldom that he was referred to by that name and his ears had grown rusty to it. He had long given up his right to his claim to the name. Milliardo Peacecraft was the prince of the Sank. Zechs Merquise was a destroyer of the Wars. Now he was Zechs Peacecraft, no longer a soldier yet not quite a civilian. Zechs smiled inwardly as he settled into his seat. It *had* been a while. There had been partings and now there were meetings. None of his thoughts surfaced in any noticeable ripple in his demeanour, naturally. Moving with poised grace that was second nature to him, Zechs turned so he could just watch the other man with appropriate discretion. Asami Keiji, second son of the late business magnate Asami Ryouichi. The elder Asami had stamped his name into the annals of legal history, belonging to the category of shadowy underworld figures who operated legitimate businesses as a cover for their shadier dealings. Those figures were masters at exploiting the loopholes in the laws and just as skilful in adapting to each tumultuous rise and ebb of both war and peace. Last suspected to be dabbling in black-market supplying of illegal firearms, Asami Ryouichi had suddenly taken ill and passed away, leaving a will that had his first son Keisuke inheriting most of his properties and businesses. That had been a decision which shocked many, particularly those who knew enough to be aware that it was Keiji who had been the favoured son, and yet hardly surprised those who also knew that Keiji was of illegitimate birth. As if guessing the nature of Zechs' thoughts, a smirk settled on Keiji's features. He was a striking man with his black hair and unusual deep-green eyes, but there was an arrogant set to his jaw and a glint to his gaze that only served to remind Zechs this *was* an Asami he was dealing with. "Are you remembering the times we've crossed paths, Peacecraft-san?" Keiji's lips were curled at the corners like he was smirking "I'm not in the habit of remembering trivialities," Zechs rejoined coolly. He did remember. Himself as a new Preventer and assisting Une in a negotiation with an Asami Ryouichi accompanied by the then fresh-faced and wide-eyed Keiji. Himself as a promoted Preventer leader and taking Une's place while he held court with an older and wiser Asami Keiji. "Ah." Asami looked convincingly rueful. "Pity. Because I do. I always find it impossible forgetting any one of our meetings, Milliardo." Zechs discarded that comment. It was just one of the many tools of provocation that Keiji liked to indulge in, Zechs had learnt over time. More significantly, there was ample reason that it was Zechs whom Une had sent on this assignment, of course. Une was shrewd and not one to waste resources. Zechs was a war veteran even at his relatively young age of twenty-five and a natural leader. He had enough panache and sway to negotiate a reasonable deal for the Preventers. "In that case," the other man spoke before Zechs did. He had dropped his little game and his deep-green gaze now warned of seriousness. "It would have to be Heero Yuy." White-blonde brows drew together sharply. "I asked for the best," Keiji continued blithely, settling himself back in his seat comfortably. He had picked up Zechs' lacquered letter-opener and was toying with it in his fingers. In Keiji's language, the best would have been Zechs himself. That much, Zechs knew. "But if I cannot get the best, I'd have to settle for the next best, don't I?" Keiji chuckled; a smooth, almost-melodious sound. "On some level, I actually do value my life." Zechs raised an eyebrow. He recalled the last private call he had received from Keiji and the request of the best personal bodyguard the Preventers could assign him. That itself had been unexpected - Asami Keiji approaching the Preventers - but it also told Zechs that the effects of the dubious will were taking place. With the father gone, Asami Keisuke would likely exact revenge for each act of favour shown towards his younger and illegitimate brother. That had been the most perfect situation for the Preventers. The self-destruction of the Asami dynasty would save the Preventers a lot of work. Trust Asami Keiji to get the Preventers involved after all, and specifically picking Heero Yuy, who had since the wars acquired a resounding public profile being Relena Peacecraft's bodyguard. The Preventers had an alliance, albeit an uneasy one, with the Asamis. There was no way they could turn down Keiji now that he had made known his intentions so publicly. "I hear Yuy is no longer in direct connection with the HQ." Keiji continued conversationally and unperturbed by the rather one-sided dialogue he was holding with Zechs. "I'm sure you can spare him, Milliardo. Or...could it be personal motives the reason for your hesitation?" That could either be a veiled threat, or an assumption. Zechs was a fatalist at heart, and he chose to believe both. One could never be too careful. He had his own set of calculations designed to slowly convince Heero Yuy to work with him on a future project. Keiji's request was certainly a *wrench* in plans. Zechs leaned forward and regarded the other man with a gaze no less steely. "You'd have to allow me a little time to rendezvous with the HQ before taking one of our best men for your own use. One week, and you'd hear from me again." The deal had been unofficially sealed at that very moment. The fact that he had displayed willingness to take a discount off the bargain meant Asami had won this round. That one week was time to let Zechs prepare for round two. As if echoing Zechs' sentiments, a devilish gleam lit up Keiji's emerald gaze. "To our cooperation." He held out his hand. Zechs took it, acutely aware of the layers of implications of their unlikely truce. "Cheers." Asami Keiji left shortly afterward, flanked by just one bodyguard and a specially assigned Preventers officer. Zechs had made to personally escort the other man from the building but Asami laughed and reminded Zechs of his many 'things' to take care of. Just before he stepped from Zechs' office, the Japanese man inclined his head without fully turning. "We'll meet again, Milliardo." Once the door had slid shut, Zechs allowed himself some reprieve. He closed his eyes and leaned back his head. These days, it seemed even the best-laid plans were naught in the face of the unexpected. Too helpfully, his mind supplied the details of each and exact point where his plans had fallen through to become the tatters they now were. It could be traced back all the way to his own extra-curricular activity of wondering about the affairs of others, specifically Heero Yuy and Chang Wufei. Officially put, he wanted to find out how they ticked, how their minds worked, if they could help or hinder Zechs' own vision for the Preventers. Personally speaking however, he just wanted the two men within his grasp. Their spirit fascinate him and Zechs liked to let himself be taunted so. What good was a challenge if it wouldn't test him? Zechs was not always above mixing pleasure with work, after all. Their simultaneous departure from the HQ placed a damper on plans, but Zechs wasn't deterred. He would turn it into an advantage, and legit authority from Une even gave him the *right* to wrest some control over them. A small flare of irritation flashed through Zechs at the thought of Asami Keiji. Several years of congenial acquaintance and uncompromising rivalry meant they traversed on almost parallel wavelengths. Now that Heero Yuy had left the HQ so openly, it wasn't surprising Keiji would make a move on the man. A former Gundam pilot, the most prolific amongst them no less, and a former Preventer, Heero Yuy would be an invaluable asset. Zechs wondered vaguely if Chang Wufei's departure had drawn even a fraction of such attention. The untimely beeping from his vid-screen drew him out of his reverie. Zechs placed the message through and the pixelled image of Une filtered into the screen. "Commander," Zechs greeted, leaning forward in his seat. "Zechs," she returned, and the continued, wasting no time. "I'm sure you know that our Three Renegades have returned?" She sounded like she was smiling, although her face remained expressionless. "Ahh yes, of course. I had meant to receive them in person." Zechs said and meant it. "Unfortunately, I had other business to see to." Her face grew thoughtful. She appeared to hesitate momentarily, before recovering her composure. "We cannot afford to strain our relations with Asami more than they already are." He heard her exasperation and he nodded in agreement. On the surface, the Asami Enterprise was one of the main financial pillars of the Preventers. And beneath its façade of legal business, its network of underworld dealings was wide and far-reaching. "I understand what to do, Une," Zechs said quietly. She snorted softly, a most unbecoming sound for the Commander of the Preventers, and Zechs tried not to let his amusement become too obvious. "Asami Keisuke is not going to sit idle for too long, and Keiji will be watching his back. It won't take too long before we make our move." Zechs raised an eyebrow. "I always do love chess, Commander." "So do I, Zechs," Une smiled now. "So do I."
He raised his head and let the night wind ruffle his hair. It was cool against his face, and soothing against his scalp. Pulling the edges of his jacket closer around his body, he kept walking. The air had turned cold with the approaching nightfall, and the skies darkened above him. Streams of people drifted past him, and Heero barely noticed any one of them. It seemed that these days, he wouldn't *see* anyone unless the other party were to spring some large surprise - or mistake - like trying to mug him, for example. Otherwise, people were faceless as far as he was concerned. Few things had changed since the Wars. Yes, there were misplaced individuals, specifically the soldiers who had fought during the wars and were now stranded in that grey area between their duties as fighters and their place in society as civilians. Heero had thought he might be stranded in the same way as well...yet the displacement had been so subtle he had barely noticed it until he was already living on his own in a spartan hole-in-the-wall apartment he had rented on this quiet street. He remembered himself walking into his quarters and suddenly unsure of what to do with himself after that. That was the first time ever he had been unsure of his purpose, and it was then that he sought a different life in the nights. It wasn't a particular want to discover his self-identity, nor did he make it a mission to eke out his niche in society. He just went wherever his legs took him. Walking. He liked walking like this. Four years ago when the curtains had fell on the Wars, he had done the same thing. He liked the feel of the streets beneath his feet. They were like connectors. They brought him to people, and they brought people to him. Some of these streets were darker than the rest even with the street-lamps, but each one offered something different. He looked up when he saw the figure that hovered several feet away from him. A young girl, who looked no more than seventeen, but felt much older with her thick layer of makeup and the hardened expression of her eyes. Cobalt eyes strayed, tracking past the girl to the boy behind her. He was almost phantom-like, the way the shadows clung to him like dark drapes. Like her, he felt old beyond his years. Beneath the open coat, his clothes were tight, cropped shirt ended just below the chest to expose a wide swathe of pale torso, pants cleaving like second-skin around the thighs and groin. He lounged against the wall, hip jutted at an angle. He seemed comfortable with his position, even if it were arranged so the gazes of passing potential clients would get easy access to what he could offer with his body. Logic told Heero to continue his walking and keep his pace. The barest slowing down of his steps would be an extension of an invitation to these flesh-peddlers, but his feet hesitated. Heero raised his eyes, meeting the layered gaze of the boy. Like some tacit understanding had passed between them, the boy moved from his rest. Casting Heero a look over his shoulder, he moved deeper into the shadows. Heero was not chaste by any stretch of the imagination. He had had bed mates before, although they were few and far between. He was a human and a man and he had his needs. But he had yet to resort to buying another body. The boy ran after him as he turned away and continued walking. He heard the rapid footfalls, and wondered why. A loss of a potential client only meant having to attract another. He turned on his heels just as the boy was reaching out to touch his sleeve. Up close, the differences were startling. Earlier, the shadows had tinted the boy's hair nearly black and made his eyes look darker than the night itself. Now, under the dirty-white cast of the streetlight, Heero could see that the hair was actually a dark red and the eyes were brown. The spell was broken. "Mister," the boy began. Heero could not have been more than several years older than him, but just that one utterance opened up deep chasms between their fates. If Heero had not been selected and trained as a Gundam pilot from young, he could very well be this boy now. Heero's gaze hardened, although not unkindly. "Do you need money?" It wasn't an insult, but the way the words spilled from his lips made them sound like one. Dark brown brows drew together, before Heero tried to rephrase that. "What I mean is - " "I got it," the boy actually *laughed*. Raising a thin hand, he brushed the crimson bangs out of his eyes. They were serious now. "I'd work for that money." The frown deepened on Heero's forehead. Around them, the straggly streams of people paid barely attention to the little scene between he and the boy, but that only made Heero feel stranger. He stared at the boy, knowing full well he was a prostitute, but could anyone selling himself look as calm, bemused and even playful like this boy was looking? Heero turned to leave for the second time, and this time, the boy's hand caught him firmly by the jacket sleeve. Heero was silenced by the look in the boy's eyes. Desperation, bleakness, hopelessness all swirling in the wildness in those brown depths. Desperation, bleakness, hopelessness...all in his eyes. Heero took an involuntary step back in confusion. The boy followed. "Mister, I just - " "Why?" The word slipped from Heero's lip in a whisper. There was something profoundly sad in the boy's smiling eyes. "Dunno. You just feel...safe, I guess." You feel safe...I'm tired...and .you feel safe... //What was that?// Heero shook his head, trying to clear the sudden clash of latent memories with his present consciousness. //What was that all about?// Those words rang so clearly in his mind, it was like they were said right into his ears. A sudden movement jerked Heero out of his reverie. He looked up into a panicked brown gaze. "I'm - I'm sorry. I didn't mean - " The boy trailed off wretchedly, as if suddenly remembering himself. Heero squeezed his eyes shut fleetingly, before snapping them open again. His brain worked with him, pushing the tangled knot of recollections to the deepest recesses of his mind. The boy's face bobbed into his vision, and it was as if Heero was looking at him for the first time that night. The richness of that crimson hair, how the innocence still glimmered in his brown gaze, his pale, soft hands, his unconscious tugging at the clothes that didn't seemed to fit him. Moving before he actually was consciously aware of it, Heero leaned down towards the boy.
Ice-blue eyes glittered in watchfulness. Unhurriedly, Zechs eased into a pocket of idling passers-by. He was surprised - and he didn't get surprised too often - how easily he had found Heero Yuy. That man had virtually disappeared after he had transferred out of the HQ, and Zechs had anticipated that he would need to call on all of his resources to track him down. That hadn't been the case. A simple re-tracing of an email had led him to the apartment where Heero was staying. Camping for several hours at that same apartment had rewarded him with Heero emerging from it. Of course, the simplest explanation for finding Heero this quickly was because Heero allowed himself to be found. Zechs had no doubt that if Heero was determined to disappear from this world, he could very well do so. Heero Yuy liked walking, Zechs discovered. He walked for hours and without direction. And Zechs followed, all the way suspecting that Heero Yuy liked people as well. Then there was the young boy - a male prostitute. Zechs' interest level shot up several notches. How would Heero react to an overt gesture of sex for money? He watched the Japanese man *flounder* for a moment and at first Zechs thought he was caught off-guard, until he realised that Heero's strange reaction didn't seem to be in any way to do with the hesitant propositioning of the boy prostitute. Slowly, white-blond brows drew together. Heero was leaning down...kissing the boy? Zechs was not one to think that Heero was the kind to display any overt gesture - no matter the nature - in public. Then Zechs caught the discreet, almost imperceptible movements between the two youths. His guess was confirmed when the younger boy drew back in confusion, and Heero walked away. Zechs stood still for a moment longer, before moving after Heero. The young Japanese rounded a corner. Zechs followed, then he came to a complete stop as he found himself staring right into a narrowed cobalt gaze. Heero Yuy certainly didn't look amused at being shadowed, and neither did he mince his words. "I am no longer connected to the HQ." "Neither am I. For tonight." Zechs replied congenially. Making an enemy of Heero would simply complicate matters all over again. "Shall we find a place to sit down?" "I don't see any reason to." Four years and that steel-like resolve hadn't softened. Instead, it might be said that it had grown even harder, considering that now Heero had learnt what to say to keep his ground without conflict. Standing so near, Zechs was suddenly reminded that Heero was no longer a child. Zechs smiled. "Not even when it's a job offer?" The Japanese man kept quiet, but made no move to leave. "I won't take too much of your time," Zechs turned in the direction Heero had been heading in earlier.
Heero followed Zechs to another street, a quieter one, but a street nonetheless. He had thought that Zechs would pick a place that was more isolated than this, but the former Khushrenada ally seemed satisfied as he settled down into one of those benches that lined the streets. Keeping a clear distance between them, Heero sat down. He had every right to be wary. Zechs' demeanour was always that of calm and composure, with just the occasional flare of emotion. That icy exterior, combined with the almost-beautiful Aryan looks, hid even more than Heero's own stoicism. It had been bare weeks since he left the HQ and Heero hadn't expected to be contacted again so soon. Furthermore, if it had taken Zechs himself to play middleman, Heero guessed it was a job of certain significance this time. "Giving the boy money is just a temporary measure. You'd not help the boy that way." //What - // Cobalt eyes narrowed into flints, Heero realising what Zechs was talking about. How long had Zechs been tailing him, and how much had he seen? As a rule, Heero mostly didn't care how much others tried to pry into his life. He wasn't as intensely guarded about his privacy as some people credited him for, *but* that didn't mean he enjoyed being drawn into a discussion about his decisions. Without turning his head, Zechs continued, eyes cast skywards like he was philosophising. "You pitied him, maybe lamented the boy's lost innocence. You thought about all the rest of the innocents who perished during the wars, and you remembered you are a part of the destroyers. So, you pitied him and you gave him money. That is no solution, Heero Yuy, and it's very unlike you to plunge into matters to which you had no control over."
"You have a very contradictory nature, I see," Zechs sounded almost...amused? "It's very fascinating." Heero jerked his head up. The other man was gazing at him, ice-blue eyes hooded with some strange emotion. Was this even Zechs? It was suddenly hard for Heero to connect the former deadly Tallgeese pilot with this man and his all-seeing gaze. Zechs' face suddenly seemed much closer, his white-blonde hair almost silver as the strands trapped the moonlight and his face gravely handsome - Then Zechs was talking again, his deep baritone jolting Heero back to reality. "Before I forget, the assignment details. Asami Keiji. I expect you've heard of him?" Heero looked away, quickly wrestling his fluctuating thoughts back under control. Asami Keiji. A flash memory of a function where the Asami patriarch had played host, and beside him stood his two sons. Keiji, the younger and the unpredictable one, dark-haired, green-eyed, bored and not bothering to hide it. Heero nodded. "You will protect him for a period of no less than three months." The details were not all clear to Heero although he did know something of the Asami standoff. Heero mentally connected the dots. The death of the patriarch, the will, the elder son claiming the lion's share of the inheritance, the illegitimate younger brother. "No less than three months," Heero repeated. "So it's for an indefinite amount of time?" "You can put it that way. But after all, you are on indefinite leave from the HQ as well." "How is *this* assignment different from HQ duties?" "This is unofficial. You will report directly to me, not the HQ." Zechs wasn't really answering the question, but Heero didn't push any further. He was already told all that he needed to know and there was nothing more that Zechs would divulge. "Think about it, Heero. If you are agreeable with it, meet me here at this place, this time in a week." When Zechs stood up and left, Heero was still seated on the bench, head bowed in thought. ~*~ fin ~*~ On to Chapter 5 |