07-Jul-2000
Category: Adventure, Angst, Romance, Friendship.
Pairings: 3+4, 1+2
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being sought or made off this bit of fun and mental relief.
Quatre stood in front of the mirror at his house, straightening his tie. Getting the knot in just the right place, he stepped back and fix his tie pin and then pulled on the vest to his three piece suit. Again he took a moment to center his tie, fussing.
Trowa wasn't there to perform their little ritual. Trowa, Heero and Duo had gone ahead to the meeting hall to perform preliminary sweeps of the ground. In an hour, Quatre Raberba Winner was expected to stand before a group of colony and Earth officials and announce Winner Enterprises's withdrawal from Project Operation Comet's Tail.
He would stand on a dais, in an open auditorium, under spot lights and make a speech, explaining WEI's surprising withdrawal from a project they had strongly supported from the beginning. It would not be unexpected. Given the threat to the young blonde's life, no one would fault him for withdrawing his support from a project whose detractors were ready to kill in order to see it shut down. It was, in all, a safe move.
Right?
In truth, he would stand there and make himself a target.
He would be forcing the hand of the three men who wished to murder him. This would be their last chance to strike him down and blame it on the radical opposition to the project. Quatre had announced his intentions a week earlier to his subordinates. He had cited his own reservations about the cryogenics along with his concern for his safety and the safety of his family as the root of his decision. He had given Paul a week to prepare for this night. In the end, it would come down to speed.
Who got to whom quicker.
Trowa had fought the idea from the moment Quatre had uttered it. The terror in his green eyes had torn at Quatre's heart but the small Arabian had remained firm. If they could draw out, one last attempt, it would fully support the information they held in the briefcase. There would be no way that an attack at this point, coupled with the information they had on paper, could be seen as anything but what it was. An elaborate scheme to murder the Winner heir.
Heero had stepped up and supported Quatre's logic. Duo had remained silent but had nodded his support behind Heero. Wufei had looked less then thrilled with the plan but in the end had simply said he would stand as Quatre's bodyguard should the other three fail.
Trowa had nearly gone ten degrees of ballistic when Duo had jokingly said they should all place a bet on who could keep the bad guys from killing Quatre first. Quatre had feared they would actually have to pull Trowa off the American's neck and in fact Heero had moved between the two with a formidable frown aimed at Barton.
Now, the night had arrived and it was time to go. Quatre looked at himself once more in the mirror. A young man, more beautiful then handsome, in a dark three piece suit looked back at him. Pale, perhaps a touch more pale then usual but that only seemed to heighten his large expressive eyes. Taking a deep breath, Quatre turned away from the mirror and moved to his bedroom door.
As he stepped out, Wufei peeled away from the wall. Dressed in a formal suit of a long white tunic, over white pants with black cloth shoes, Quatre was not surprised to note that the tunic was cut in such a way as to allow the young dragon full range of movement, should the need arise.
"Ready?" Quatre asked, more to make conversation then out of any need to know. He could tell from the watchful air around the other boy that Wufei was prepared.
"Hai." Wufei answered shortly.
The limo ride to the building was too short. Quatre felt himself growing more and more restless as they drew closer. He worked at calming himself but he couldn't quite throw the flashes of memory as they came to him. The beautiful day. Paul riding beside him talking about something, stepping out of the limo nodding absently to Paul... the soft little pops, the blinding pain, then nothing. In the split second between pain and oblivion, he could swear he'd heard Trowa calling his name...
"Quatre..." Wufei spoke more firmly."...Quatre... we've arrived."
"Huh?" Quatre shook himself and looked over at Wufei and for a moment Wufei felt himself assailed by doubts about what they were about to do. He quickly shuttled the feelings aside. Quatre would do, what needed to be done, he just needed a little push.
"We've arrived." Wufei repeated, then he quickly stepped out of the limo on the other side, walking around to open the door for Quatre. Making escape impossible for the little blonde.
He must go forward.
Quatre looked out at the bright lights spilling across the sidewalk that yawned out from the door of the limo to the building. It seemed like a mile stood between him and the building, instead of a few feet. Quatre swallowed hard, surprised to feel his heart racing and a fine trembling racketing through his body. Oh but he wished Trowa were here.
'He is here.' Quatre reminded himself. 'He's here, in the crowd, with Heero and Duo ready to finish this. Wufei is waiting for you... they're all waiting for you... none of us can do it alone.'
~'I am not alone'~
Holding onto that last thought, Quatre slide out of the limo. Lightbulbs flashed in his face, for a moment blinding him as photographers took advantage of the shots of young Winner's first public appearance since getting gunned down. He felt Wufei's hand close around his elbow and followed where the Chinese boy lead, reminding himself to smile politely as he shook his head, declining to answer the questions thrown at him.
His body was tense as a board. Waiting, subconsciously for the invasion of metal tearing through vulnerable flesh. The pain didn't come... the fire and shock did not come and then they were within the quiet of the building.
Wufei caught Quatre's arm in both hands as the small blonde staggered a bit, letting out a sudden whooshing breath.
"This will be a lot easier if you remind yourself to breath once in a while Winner." Wufei whispered, not unkindly but followed by a firm shake. "Now, is not the time for weakness. That time has passed."
Quatre flushed a bit under the words but nodded, getting his legs back under him and his spine straight once more. As soon as Wufei was certain Quatre had his feet he released him and dropped back just behind his left elbow, staying between Quatre and the majority of the crowd.
The small group made their way into the wings beside the stage. Quatre fought the urge to crane his head around, looking for Trowa and the other two. He couldn't give away the game. The organizer of the meeting hall started to rush towards them and stepped back just as quick as Wufei interposed himself between the man and Quatre.
"Ah...ah.. good afternoon Master Winner. All is in readiness for your speech and we have the Swan Room reserved for the reception afterwards as you requested."
"Very good Mr. Gret. If you would have them signal for people to take their seats please? These are all busy men and I don't want to keep them longer then necessary."
"Right away Master Winner." The man bowed and stepped away.
Quatre moved till he stood just behind the velvet curtain that blocked the side of the stage from view. He again felt the fluttering in his chest as his heart seemed to want to jump out of his throat.
~'This is just another battle. It's just another battle. Go out there and face your enemy....I can't see my enemy.... but you still face him, you know he is there. This is just another battle.'~
Not since he said good-bye and pressed the switch, had he felt Sandrock's loss so keenly. Quatre looked up and met Wufei's dark gaze. The Gundams were gone... but not the Gundam Pilots.
~'I am a Gundam Pilot and I will *not* face my enemy with fear.'~
Wufei seemed to see something shift behind those turquoise eyes and he slowly nodded, his face still expressionless but a light in his dark eyes.
Quatre returned the nod. ~'I am a Gundam Pilot and I do not face my enemy alone.'~
With that thought Quatre turned in time to make his cue. Walking out onto the stage, into the open, under the lights that blinded him to the crowd beyond the stage front. He walked confidently to the podium, stepping up onto the little stool placed there for his comfort. Turning, he looked out into the crowd, his instincts screaming an awareness of gun muzzles trained on his chest.
Gun muzzles, *he* could not see.
Gun muzzles, *he* could not avoid.
Lifting his chin, Quatre looked out into the glare of the lights, as he had been trained to talk to crowds and placed his life into the hands of four others.
"Good afternoon..."
TBC
Laekin
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