Genre: Action, Drama, Humour (some)
Pairings: 1x5x1, others tba
Warnings: Violence, language, sex, adult situations
Spoilers: Yes, quite a lot for end of series (no EW though)
Feedback: Please! Particularly what you like/don't like about the fic.
Disclaimer:Gundam Wing belongs to its owners (Bandai, Sunset, and a whole
host of others, none of which are me) and I'm not making any money off
of them. Not a single peanut.
AN: A little reminder - though presumably those of you still reading me
probably don't need it: This is not a romance, so no, Heero is not crying
himself to sleep every night with the name 'Wufei' on his lips (snark,
thanks for the laugh, Ash). What is he really feeling and thinking? Since
this is Wu's POV you can't be entirely sure yet, but if you read very
carefully between the lines you might see that there's a small glimmer
of something starting. Yes, Wu's going to miss it by a mile, of course,
what do you expect...
Huge thanks to Dawna, my beta! Any mistakes left are due to additions
on my part and should be left at my doorstep.
Arrangement + Chapter 25
Knowledge, Part II
frog in a well shaft seeing the sky"
Trowa was efficient as he gathered up his men - fifteen in all, well,
twelve now, and four of those injured. He had two of them frisk and cuff
his captives and hustle them to the truck, driven right into the hangar.
There were openings the partners could have exploited, but not many; the
men seemed to be in awe - and fairly terrified - of their leader and his
The truck ride lasted about half an hour, but they stopped several times
and Wufei was willing to bet that they'd changed directions frequently.
They were probably in the same industrial zone. At least, that's what
it looked like when the truck finally stopped and they were dragged from
it. The truck had pulled up under the portico of a building - no doubt
to protect them from eventual satellite surveillance. Wufei glanced around
quickly as he was pulled roughly over the tailgate. They were in the middle
of a huge yard, with three hangars and a big garage off to one side, off
towards the canal. He saw shadows move in and about the buildings. Many
shadows. Mounds of garbage and broken old cars made odd, amorphous shapes
under the few, unbroken streetlights, like sludge dredged up against the
double-chainlink fence a hundred feet away. They were being shoved towards
the doors of what looked like a disused office building, rising incongruently
from the puddle of gunk around its base. A cracked, dirty sign read 'Klimt
Haulage Corp' under some crude and uninspired graffiti.
Two men on either side of each cuffed Preventer escorted them through
the broken doors, Trowa right behind them with a gun trained on Heero
at all times. The entire ground floor had been gutted, and held traces
of firecans near a broken window and weather damaged wall. There was garbage
everywhere. They were taken up a flight of stairs smelling of old piss
and cats. The second story was better kept - the ruined first floor and
the stairwell were probably there to discourage the curious, if there
were any stupidly wandering around in this wasteland.
They were taken to the back of the building. Wufei noted as many details
as he could. Most of the doors were closed. The open ones...he saw a room
full of sleeping bags - he counted six of them. But there weren't many
men in the building, that he could hear. It must be off-limits to most
of the men outside. The Syndicate were notoriously cagey about letting
their minions know more than they needed to. Two men were talking in low
voices over a map spread on an abandoned desk in a room without a door.
In another, a man was sitting in front of several monitors wired to a
portable generator, cables running all over the floor in bunches tired
together with wire. Finally they arrived at their destination, or rather,
their holding cell: one of the old offices.
It was a far cry from Exeter's shabby attempt at locking them up. Wufei
and Heero were cuffed each to a deck chair moulded from one piece of tough,
flexible plastic. Wufei managed to keep any wince of pain from his face
or stance as his wound was forcibly pressed against the chair's back,
and his arms wrenched backward to pin him to it. Three men kept watch
in the room with them. Two stayed near the door, and they almost immediately
brought out a deck of cards and pulled up two more garden chairs and a
crate. Trowa was the third, he took first watch without a word to any
of his men; he sat down and stared at the partners, as if waiting for
them to try something stupid and longing to make them pay the price for
The silence was heavy and lasted a long time, only ruffled by the slap
of cards and a few words as the two men near the door played baccarat.
It was probably around four in the morning, that dead time when even feral
cats had slunk back to their lairs in the garbage and the ruins. Wufei
couldn't relax. It would have been wise to meditate, conserve his strength
and energy, but having Trowa's eyes on him, with that expression, was
sending his stress levels way up, even though his mind kept reminding
him this was a friend and ally. Probably. Almost certainly. But Trowa
might not be able to save them from execution, if that was where this
was heading. Even if he was willing to compromise his mission - and Wufei,
used to Heero's way of thinking, wouldn't count on that - he was one man
against several dozen, if not more. The odds were not good...
Trowa was on his feet and his back against the wall before Wufei even
registered the slight noise beyond the door. A gentle tap, and one of
the men, after a nod from Trowa, went to open it.
Two men came in. Trowa nodded an acknowledgment to them, then stood back,
on one side of the door, and chased the previous guards out with a curt
Wufei examined the new arrivals carefully, in case he ever had the pleasure
of filing a crime report on either of them. One he thought he recognized:
a local lieutenant in the Syndicate, risen from the ranks the hard and
bloody way. The other he'd never seen before. He noted finely manicured
hands, very expensive shoes, a clean, professionally tanned face and well-cut
hair; he ignored the attempt at unobtrusive and casual dress. This guy
was a big fish. Probably one of the many heads of the Syndicate, the one
Sam had said was feeling cornered. The partners had been on his tracks
for weeks now, but had never seen him even in a picture before. In his
late fifties, though he looked younger at first glance. Slightly paunchy
but mostly fit. Round, regular features, handsome in a well-groomed and
unremarkable way. Hair was brown, probably dyed. When he rubbed his hands
together Wufei noted the pale dimple of a removed wedding ring. The man's
gesture was not nervous; it was slow and thoughtful. He looked them over
carefully, examining their features attentively without catching their
"These are definitely the men we wanted. Well done, Mr Nash," he finally
said, without any further introduction.
"Just Nash." Trowa muttered, but he sounded a lot more polite - in a resentful
way - than with his men.
The boss - Wufei was ready to bet his life this was he - ignored the comment
and the tone. "I can hardly believe you got both of them at so little
cost. Bruckheim gave me an accounting of their capture; he was impressed."
Trowa sniffed, a gesture eloquent in its dismissal of Bruckheim and his
impressions. "It helped that we knew where they were going to be tonight.
Allowed us to set up a welcome in that hangar," he added.
Wufei had been reluctantly admiring Trowa's complete immersion in the
role - and so his ears pricked at those last two sentences. There had
been something there. Something a bit off. And, very briefly, Trowa's
eyes had flashed their usual deeper green. Some kind of warning.
"How did you know where we were
going to be?" Wufei found himself asking, prompted by his intuition and
that tone. He'd felt Heero tense to ask the same question.
The boss completely ignored him; he was staring at Heero, or rather, an
inch above Heero's head. He rubbed his hands again.
The third man in the room snorted. It was an ugly sound. Vielle, Wufei
suddenly remembered. He'd seen surveillance photos of possible Syndicate
operatives here in Brussels. Antoine Valery Vielle.
"We've been watching you two. Very carefully." Vielle's grin was awful,
a slash of a leer on thick, beefy chops. "Ve-ry carefully. Right, Nash?"
Trowa smiled tightly, as if humouring him. Vielle, who'd glanced back,
raised his eyebrows at the expression.
"Oh come on. You said we should make it a pay-per-view."
"As a joke." Trowa shrugged, uncaring. "Personally, I don't swing that
Pay-per-...? What...?Wufei reined in his questions and impatience. Vielle
was going to tell them, that much was obvious. And Wufei wasn't going
to like it; that much was obvious too. Had these goons hacked in to Ops's
"We have our ins and outs in your precious Division." Vielle chuckled.
"It's like gruyere!" Beside Vielle, the boss smiled, though it appeared
most of his thoughts were elsewhere.
"We have your Lady Une under constant surveillance. Did you know she has
a shower in her private bathroom?" Vielle leered and Trowa made a cruel,
appreciative noise in the background. Wufei let himself enjoy a quick
mental picture of Une taking Vielle's testicles off with a melon baller,
though in reality Une probably wouldn't give a shit.
"We heard you were her two golden boys. So we decided to keep a close
eye on you. We got your home address..."
Fuck, more leaks. So they'd been followed tonight...?
"And we put little monitors in every room."
There was a moment of silence. Vielle grinned, waiting in ugly anticipation.
Wufei stared back in slowly dawning comprehension and disbelief.
"You're lying." Heero's voice was an uncaring monotone. "You couldn't
get past my security system."
Wufei's ears were ringing, but he heard it nonetheless; the slight, nearly
unnoticeable hitch in Heero's voice as he realized, even as he said those
words, that there was someone here who could break into their rooms, plant
bugs sufficiently discreetly where even Heero would miss them, and leave
without a trace.
"It wasn't easy." Trowa confirmed their suspicions, casually. "But our
sources told us you two were out in Mexico somewhere. I had a few nights
to worm my way in. You didn't wire up your roof access properly, there
Mexico...that meant the bugs had been there for over three weeks. Trowa
was warning them, giving them an indication of how much the Syndicate
might know of their current operations - as well as informing Heero about
a hole in his security net that he should address if ever they got out
of this mess alive.
The thought of having been compromised was one thing...Wufei had another,
more personal concern. Very personal. But that bit didn't matter...The
worst, in a way, was that Wufei wasn't even going to make a fuss about
this, assuming they survived. He'd been living with Heero for too long;
he'd learned to think differently. Everything was for the mission. Pride,
honour, justice, self...they all
became words, notions you discarded as inefficient and unessential. You
just...did the job. You accepted stuff like this and moved on and forgot
about it and killed a bit more of that small, inner self that was, right
at this moment, gasping in shock, feeling vulnerable and violated. That
bit didn't matter.
He managed to feel a distant pride that nothing had shown on his face
beyond his extreme contempt for the insects before him.
Trowa's eyes had been fixed on Heero's, ice on ice. He glanced away nonchalantly
and turned towards Vielle.
"I still think we should make a montage of the one from the bedroom,"
he said, his voice as smooth as a cat toying with a mouse. "So far, only
you, me and Xian have seen it. I'm sure the guys would love it. That and
all the home footage we taped from our other targets. Especially that
Swiss agent and her girlfriend..."
So they had more than Heero and Wufei under close surveillance...and the
details of the partners' private lives were not yet spread around the
entire Syndicate and underworld. Wufei rather suspected Trowa had been
trying to tell them the former rather than the latter. Or maybe that was
just Wufei's long association with Heero speaking. It didn't matter. All
that mattered was the mission; the enemy had been watching when Sam had
given them the details of tonight's operation. They'd heard Sam inform
Heero and Wufei that they would have no backup, no surveillance, no nothing...
Vielle was saying a show was a good idea when the boss finally stirred.
"Let's not get crass, Nash." The curl of his lips spoke of more distaste
than the video suggestion could warrant. Trowa ducked his head, sullen
and watchful, like a vicious attack dog used to being harshly brought
under control by its trainers.
"We have bigger concerns," the older man continued, once more distant.
"Corazon came back with yet another guest. The camera you planted at the
Himmel pent-house came in very handy."
"The target at the Himmel? The rich bastard? Corazon got him?" Trowa suddenly
looked keen. It was obvious that he expected some monetary fall-out from
"Yes. He was imprudent. Decided to ditch his bodyguard and go to town.
It was already a boon for us that he decided to make his visit to the
Lady Rat a whole week early. The Brussels police weren't ready to properly
guard him yet...You'll be rewarded for this, Nash. We do not forget those
who help us."
"If we have him...do we need those two?" Trowa asked, eyes feral on Heero
and Wufei. The latter had a feeling that whatever his cover story was,
it included a dislike for Gundam pilots.
"Yes, we need them." The boss answered shortly. "And my associates will
pay a lot of money for them to arrive alive, and relatively unharmed."
"We're hostages?" Heero sounded frankly incredulous.
The leader had taken a step towards the door. He slowly turned back. His
eyes were cold and uncaring as he finally looked straight at Heero.
"No, Mr Yuy. We are not holding you hostage. We are going to kill you.
Fairly unpleasantly, I'm afraid. You and Une really have left us no choice."
Heero smiled slightly, in a way that sent prickles up Wufei's spine, and
made the boss frown and look away.
"Dekim was a fool, going about it the open way, like he was Napoleon!
He's the one who really started the war between us," the boss grumbled,
eyes flickering over Wufei, Vielle, the dirt-covered window, anywhere
but that smile. "He was a calamity waiting to happen. If anything, I'm
grateful you people took him down without more fuss. Some of my colleagues
will claim that they are executing you to avenge Dekim." He looked at
Heero from the corner of his eye. The smile had disappeared and Heero's
face was back on Yuy-neutral. The boss straightened and faced him fully.
"We aren't happy about Dekim. But that's not really why we are going to
be sending your body parts to the various members of the Preventer and
The man frowned, and looked down at his well-manicured hands. He'd not
looked the slightest bit upset at the description of Heero's end, but
the next few words seemed to come out reluctantly. "It's crude. We shouldn't
have to be so...vulgar about it. But you forced our hand. We had an understanding
with Romefeller. We will hammer out the same understanding with Une and
this new-fangled ESUN that took Romefeller's place. But first, we will
need a few object lessons, and you, Mr Yuy - both of you - will have to
be it. We will never get anywhere if people don't fear us. Capturing and
terminating two of the Gundam pilots, the two that Une kept close to her
and used for her dirty work...that will put the fear of our organization
back into their minds." He turned away dismissively, and Wufei wondered
if he'd even bother to show up when he and Heero were being tortured to
"They're dangerous, though," Trowa muttered as the boss passed him.
The man shrugged. "That they are. But I trust you to keep them quiet,
Nash. If you do your job right...we might even require your help when
my friends finally have our long-delayed discussion with Mr Yuy and his-...er...I'm
sorry, I was told your name but I-" He'd turned back and glanced at Wufei,
"Chang Wufei." Wufei answered coldly. If he was going to die, when they
made a break for it or later, under torture, then he wanted it to be under
his own name and not as Heero's anything.
He ignored Vielle's leer. Trowa was smiling, a cold, savage grin, eyes
still fixed on Heero.
"Right." The boss muttered absently, as if remembering the name and forgetting
it just as promptly. "Be ready to have them evacuated in thirty minutes,
Nash. Coordinate with Antoine, he's getting the transport ready. Our other
guest is here already; Corazon brought him ten minutes ago. You will have
to go talk to Corazon yourself, nobody is allowed up there but those with
"We'll move all of them together? Is that wise?" Trowa asked, still staring
"I don't see that we have much choice. I want all three of them out of
Brussels in less than an hour, and we cannot arrange for another plane
in so short a time. It was truly fortuitous that Mr Yuy and his friend
decided to come looking for us tonight. I suggest we trust fortune to
keep them and our hostage in our hands for awhile longer."
"You're the boss," Trowa commented, finally turning and nodding with a
show of insincere respect at the chief's departing back.
The two men who'd been playing cards outside the door stood hastily as
the boss passed them by without a word. Trowa glared at them as they came
"Can you two fucks stop playing long enough to watch these guys? I got
something I gotta do."
The men mumbled something incomprehensible, put away the cards and stood
in an attempt at parade ground attention that would have gotten them shot
under Treize. Trowa sneered, started to leave, then with a contemptuous
look at the two, swivelled around and walked behind Wufei.
"You two are staying on guard." Trowa informed his men, voice hard and
aggressive. Cruel hands jerked Wufei's handcuffs, shooting pain up and
down his arm and through the joints of his shoulders. "You're to stand
there and keep your eyes on them at all times." Trowa's fingers curled
around Wufei's, pressing something metallic into his palm. "If you need
a break, one of you go out the door and shout for Phillips, he's down
the hall with his guys. But the other one stays here with gun drawn on
them." He moved behind Heero. Tugged his cuffs too. "Don't get too close
to them and don't fuck with them. They're more dangerous than twenty of
you. Got that?" Wufei noted the way Heero's fingers quickly flexed and
closed over his palm.
The men muttered their agreement, both sullen and nervous as Trowa approached
them. His eyes narrowed. Before they could do more than gasp, he grabbed
them each by their forehead and slammed their heads back against the wall.
The men froze, eyes rolling as 'Nash' leaned forward between them until
he was almost whispering in their ears.
"Listen carefully. I'll be popping by. If you two aren't doing exactly
what I told you just now, I will rip off your dicks and fuck you with
them. Is that...perfectly clear?"
Both men swallowed at once and said 'yes' in choked voices. Trowa leaned
back an inch and stared at them, up close, for a few seconds, then let
them go and made a show of wiping his hands on his jeans. Then he turned
towards the partners and looked at them with cold, anticipatory menace.
"I doubt they'll let me have a go at you...they want it to last, and I'd
kill you in twenty minutes. Or less. You and the rich bastard they're
keeping upstairs...you all have an appointment with someone who'll take
much better care of you. But I will be with the big cheeses, and I'll
be watching. See you around."
"We certainly will," Wufei answered arrogantly, since some kind of response
was probably expected of him. Heero just did his Death Glare number 9
and left it at that. The door closed softly behind Trowa, and the two
men leaned back against the wall, relaxing a little bit, though their
drawn weapons were still loosely pointed at the partners.
Right. Twenty minutes and he and Heero would break out of here, Wufei
thought, carefully using the key to unlock the cuffs without any motion
visible in his arms or shoulders. Then Trowa expected them to go and insure
the safety of the hostage that the boss had apparently managed to capture.
Damn that moron of a politician or whoever they'd managed to snag; if
he hadn't arrived ahead of schedule, or decided to go for an unprotected
stroll, Wufei could have gone and had a long talk with Vielle and his
boss. Now they had to go and protect his rich ass instead. It seemed that
Trowa did not share Sam's lack of faith in their hostage rescue abilities.
Or, more likely, he just didn't have a choice. Wufei guessed, from Trowa's
words, that the infiltrator wanted to keep up his cover for awhile longer,
try to get a few more heads of the Syndicate into his noose.
Wufei started a countdown in his head, ran over in his mind how many men
he'd seen in the building - not that many, most of them were outside -
how they were armed, what the situation would be...the hostage was on
one of the floors above them...they'd have to get to the stairwell...how
discreet did Trowa need them to be...?
A small part of him was still pulsing with anger and shock...he mostly
ignored it. He shouldn't really care. After all, they'd been ready to
have sex for the benefit of Exeter's men back on L3.
But that had been...that would have been faked. Ultimately, and deep-down,
they'd have known that, and the knowledge...somehow that would have shielded
him. Just a game, just an act. Like that kiss in the club, he reminded
himself, and was surprised at the faint surge of bitterness at the thought.
But the two occasions they'd fucked since the cameras had been placed...that
had been them. The real thing. The raw deal. The arrangement was ripped
open and laid bare. Vielle just saw it as a peepshow, and Wufei, hardened
in Heero's crucible, didn't care about that overgrown amoeba. He was more
upset about Trowa. And Une, Sam, and Sally...because of course, assuming
they managed to crack this operation, the records would become evidence.
They'd be in the Preventer files; classified, but...they'd still be seen
by those who mattered.
Why did it matter? So they'd find
out. The arrangement wasn't something he was ashamed of. He'd often been
embarrassed at the necessities of the arrangement but never ashamed that
Heero had chosen him for the shudo, for the agreement of samurai who wanted
no affection, no bonds to weaken them. If the others asked - and he was
sure they would - he'd just tell them the truth. That Heero and he relieved
their sexual frustration with each other, had done so since the war. Like
Heero had put it at one point...no needless emotions.
In his mind's eye he was telling this to his friends - who were kind,
concerned people who cared about him. They'd probably think it was great
he and Heero were together, they'd want to know more details about their
supposed relationship, get them to be more open about it, as if they were-
He'd tell them it was just for sex and for the partnership and they'd
look at him and...and question that and root around and try to understand
and scrutinize and why was the
very thought of this taking on the same dimensions as the boss's casual
threats of torture? He had nothing to hide!
Wufei wrenched his thoughts away. Nothing he could do about it. Nothing...
Heero twisted in his chair. He looked...upset. Something like a little
consolation flickered in that tiny part of Wufei that was still trembling
with wounded pride and...no, nothing else. Just pride.
His partner hissed quickly, in the English they used together, with a
few words of Japanese and Chinese tossed in, and peppered with suit references,
war lingo and code, a private dialect even a multi-linguist would barely
follow: "Three weeks - what cases did we talk about? Did we discuss Ops
defences? Security? Did we mention any informants by name?"
Figured...Wufei felt something inside him finally crumble completely as
he carefully examined every nuance of his partner's stance, his face and
eyes, looking for any trace that Heero was as shaken as he was...that
his partner wouldn't be able, when their friends asked, to shrug away
their arrangement with a casual 'just a convenient fuck'.
He found nothing. Except the beginnings of a small, puzzled frown at his
"I can't remember..." Wufei mumbled, then shook himself.
No. This wasn't...this wasn't him. He'd been off-balance for long enough.
Wanting something - not even sure
what - that didn't exist. That couldn't exist.
Wufei breathed in. Out. Closed his eyes briefly...and his centre was there,
unexpectedly right before him.
He'd accepted this arrangement years ago - embraced it. For a reason.
It made him better, stronger. It gave him the opportunity to live on an
edge few others had ever known even existed. An edge that no emotions
or feelings could cling to. Now was the time to call upon that strength.
Besides, it had been fifteen minutes since Trowa had left. Time to do
"We would never mention an informant by name, we always use code," he
answered crisply, completely ignoring the two guards who had straightened
up from the wall and were looking at each other hesitantly. His mind quickly
recapitulated the contents of the last three weeks and he bit his lips
and exchanged worried glances with Heero. Damn. There would still be some
damage. Especially this last week when they'd worked from home. They'd
discussed Heero's findings, his work on breaking the financial aspects
of the Syndicate. I expect a lot of money got shuffled behind our backs,
Wufei thought angrily. Damn it, couldn't Barton have found a way of -
no. This wasn't the OZ Lunar base. These men didn't have the rigid, easily
infiltrated infrastructure of a military hierarchy. They had the paranoia
of rodents. If Trowa was under deep cover, he wouldn't risk breaking it
for anything that wasn't crucial.
"Oy. No talking," one of the men ordered.
"Did you recognize the leader of that taskforce? Nash?" Wufei asked his
partner. The room might be monitored; they had to keep up the pretence.
"No," Heero answered neutrally. "But I recognize most of the others. Including
these two." He stared slowly, first at one, then the other of their captors.
"I said, no talking!" The man shouted, waving his gun around.
"Yes, I know I've seen their faces somewhere..." Wufei murmured thoughtfully,
examining the unshaven and threatening mugs while ignoring the menacing
steps forward they'd taken.
"Shut up!" The other man growled.
"Of course we have. We know every one of the Brussels operatives for their
organization," Heero pointed out, as he twisted to look at Wufei. There
was a faint hint of curiosity in his voice; no doubt he was wondering
where his partner was going with this.
"No...no..." Wufei bit his lip in thought. "That wasn't where I-...Oh,
I remember. It was at the police station the other day; a list of the
"You little fuc-"
The man didn't have time to finish his sentence, much less pistolwhip
Wufei into submission. One hand to knock away the blow, the other deep
into his gut. Heero had already leapt off his chair and clocked the other
one in the jaw, gracefully catching the gun mid-air as it and its owner
tumbled to the ground.
At a gesture from his partner, Wufei gripped his stolen Luger and went
to listen at the door. A few people were moving about the building. From
a glimpse in the dark stairwell when they'd been brought up, Wufei estimated
the place had at least three or four more floors, and they didn't know
where the hostage was being kept.
He ignored the sounds behind him, of Heero crushing their former captors'
throats. It was an unfortunate necessity. They could not afford having
them come to and give the alarm. These men might also guess that Trowa
had freed them. To protect his cover...sorry, Sam. Heero moved the bodies
to one side of the room, against the wall behind the door, and moved to
his partner's other side.
Wufei glanced at Heero, wondering how they were going to tackle this,
and found his partner looking him over carefully. It was the way he would
give him a once-over to check for injury after a firefight. But he had
to know that Wufei was mobile and unhurt, must have known that before
they jumped the guards. Wufei was just starting to wonder what his partner
was looking for when Heero's eyes dropped quickly from his face to his
back, then flicked towards the deck chair where he'd been sitting. Blood
was smeared like reddish brown paint on the white plastic.
"How bad is that?" Heero asked brusquely, handing him some extra chargers
he'd found on one of the bodies.
Wufei shrugged. "Bleeding, painful, not crippling," he answered absently,
slipping the ammo into his pocket.
Heero didn't look at the stained hole in the coat; his eyes went once
more over Wufei's stance, as if not quite convinced his partner wasn't
downplaying his injury. He didn't look entirely satisfied, but from the
uncharacteristic hesitation that followed, Wufei gathered he was unable
to find a way to formulate the question again, now that Wufei had told
him his status clearly and was not expecting to be contradicted...Heero
nodded abruptly and turned towards the door.
"You secure the hostage," he ordered, tightening his grip on his weapon.
"I'll get the man who was here earlier and any information-"
"That might...interfere with...another operation," Wufei cautioned him,
carefully. The room was probably not being monitored, since no-one had
shown up to recapture them, but no point being careless, not with Trowa's
life on the line.
"I'll stay away from their commander then, but I'm not leaving without
some more information, now that ours was compromised." Heero's voice was
below a whisper but still managed to get a bit of steely determination
Wufei merely shrugged. He had his duty.
They opened the door and split up without another word.
[chap. 24] [chap. 26] [back
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