23-Apr-2000
<blinks> This plot is not quite working out the way I expected... It kind of has a life of its own. Anyway, here it is: chapter one.
He heard the door open behind him, but he did not even turn around to see who had entered, much less to acknowledge his visitor. He could feel his visitor's steely gaze fix on the back of his head, but he did not care; all his attention was focused on the flickering computer screen as it ran through a detailed search program.
Wufei relented first, the dark eyes gentling slightly. "They're resting as comfortably as their injuries allow." He spoke the news that Quatre had no doubt been waiting to hear. Or had he? Looking upon his friend now - unnaturally hard blue eyes fixed on the screen in what could only be a relentless attempt to track Trowa down - he wasn't quite sure what Quatre wanted any more. "Heero's in a bad way, but Sally thinks he'll pull through. Duo's condition is a little more stable. They were both in top physical condition, and that will be one of the more critical factors in their
recovery."Silence.
"Winner?"
Silence.
Wufei waited with more patience than he realized he possessed. Then finally, "Quatre Winner. Ignoring me won't make me or the situation go away."
There was yet another long silence, and just when Wufei was about to turn away, dismissing Quatre as a lost cause, the blond Arabian spoke, his normally gentle voice clipped and terse. "He attacked us, Wufei. He tried to kill us!"
Wufei stifled a sigh, too exhausted now to feel anything but tired. He would have felt angry and betrayed too, but since Quatre was doing such an excellent job of projecting those particular feelings, he should probably settle for being the rational one just this once.
Still, he couldn't help the slight hardening around his eyes... a sure indicator of the hardening of his heart when he saw the grim, tight line of Quatre's usually smiling mouth. Damn you to hell, Trowa. This is what you have done to our angel. "How is your search coming along?" he asked, moving gracefully over to stand behind Quatre's chair. He knew better than to utter weak, consoling platitudes on how Trowa did not mean to do what he did. Who the hell knew what Trowa wanted anyway - the boy had completely snapped in the heat of battle.
Besides, Quatre was a lot stronger than they gave him credit for. The Arabian did not need to be consoled. In fact, Wufei mused thoughtfully, judging from the simmering fury in the blue eyes, some physical restraint might even be in order.
"He's using one of the safe houses, I'm sure of it," Quatre's fingers fairly danced over the keys, adeptly drawing out the information on the many safe houses scattered across several colonies. "He hasn't left an electronic trail; I've checked all his bank and credit accounts - he hasn't touched any of them. And he doesn't have very much on him, so he is probably heading out towards one of the safe houses in which we've stashed local currency."
The computer obediently displayed the result of its search, and the Arabian pilot nodded towards the generated list of safe houses - about twenty two of them. His tone was distant and impersonal, almost deliberately so. "These safe houses have sufficient currency resources to provide for his needs. What would you estimate his fuel resources to be when he fled the battleground?"
Wufei gazed thoughtfully at the screen, beginning to get an inkling of where Quatre's investigation was headed. "About three quarters of a full load?"
The blond boy nodded tersely, punched in a few numbers on the computer keyboard then issued a fresh search command. The hard drive whirled as it performed calculations based on estimated fuel supplies and known locations of safe houses. The computer monitor flickered briefly then the lines of text vanished, and were replaced with gridlines forming a map of sorts. "This is where he turned on us," Quatre pointed towards the red dot in the very center of the screen, "And these -" his attention turned to several green specks scattered across the screen - "Are the safe houses he could have reached based on his fuel supplies.
"Merge the information," Quatre continued tonelessly, entering the commands even as he spoke, "And..." the screen flickered again, at least half of the green dots vanishing. "And we're down to five safe houses. He's in one of them. I'm sure of it."
"You're assuming he's rational," Wufei noted, his voice quiet. "That he would seek a safe house that has currency supplies before he runs out of fuel. But what if he is no longer rational...?"
The wide blue eyes blinked in surprise, suddenly seeming much too vulnerable.
It was just for a moment. Quatre's eyes hardened once again. "Then it doesn't matter any more, does it? He'll just keep running till he runs out of fuel."
Did Quatre's voice catch just ever so slightly on that last sentence? Wufei ignored it. This wasn't the time for emotion. Important decisions had to be made, and quickly. "It's hardly that simple. It matters, Quatre. Just think on it - there are too many unknowns here. We don't know why he turned on us. Did he just snap or is he working for OZ? If he is, then we're completely compromised. All the safe houses... all of us. Actually, that's what I've come to discuss with you. I know you'd rather have Heero and Duo recuperate in the safety of your home, but we need to consider the possibility that we might no longer be safe here. We should move the two of them out to a public hospital so that they'd lose their identities as Gundam pilots in the anonymity of a crowd."
Quatre's already fair complexion paled further. His mind was already racing ahead. Heero and Duo had to be protected, of course, but beyond that... My family... compromised... He squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the tears. Allah... he had to protect them.
There was much he had to do before that, but if it meant that he had to die to protect his family... then he
would...
An ambulance, sirens wailing, screeched to a halt outside the emergency ward entrance of the OZ-controlled hospital. Two medics dressed in standard white uniforms climbed out from the ambulance to oversee the removal of two unconscious boys to a private two-bed ward. "What is this?" an administrative staff demanded as two files - obviously the paperwork for these two young men - were tossed dismissively to her.
"Car accident," one medic - a young Asian man with cool, black eyes that seemed to see right through her - reported shortly. "They've received rudimentary treatment of their injuries at Ridgecrest Academy prior to their transfer to the hospital." The other medic - yet another young man with pale blond hair and hard blue eyes - ignored her entirely, his attention focused on the two injured boys.
The hospital staff knew Ridgecrest Academy - a private and expensive OZ-controlled school. The boys there were reputedly intelligent, and spoilt brats to boot. Possessed of more wealth than they knew what to do with, they lived on the fast track and on the extreme edge of danger - testing their youthful invulnerability through fast cars and deadly accidents. She opened the file, idly leafing through first one, then the other. The medical files from the Ridgecrest infirmary always came conveniently attached with histories and photographs...
Julien Rakehell - only heir of the powerful Rakehell family of L3. Cute smile. Very cute smile. Ridiculous braid, though. And here was the other one... Kreon Delaney of Earth, youngest son of the Delaney family that had made its fortune in inter-planetary trade. Lovely eyes - dazzling blue - but he needed to smile a bit more. He was much too serious.
The files also came with contact information... home addresses and phone numbers on L3 and on Earth respectively. She sighed to herself. Another routine admission. Another dull day at work. Tossing the files into the cabinet, she did not even notice that the files seemed just a little too new, the paper almost still warm off the printer...
"That's done," Wufei spoke tersely as he drove back to Quatre's estate. They had dumped the borrowed ambulance back at Ridgecrest. "Sally will be able to keep an eye on them. What's next?"
Quatre was staring straight ahead at the road before them. The dangerous glitter of the blue eyes was visible assurance that the storm of his fury had yet to pass. Unlike Wufei, he rarely lost his temper. Instead the anger shimmered and grew within him like a living infestation. And when he finally spoke, his voice was impersonal - the cold, dead voice of one who had never felt anything... never loved... never been betrayed.
"Now we disappear... "
End Part 2
(:./danyale/true2)
