"Pax Ultima"

He was at a diner. Some cheap dive eating a cheap meal. Burned toast smeared with something brown, probably protein spread. Coffee black because he had never trusted the sweetness of sugar and didn't understand why people wanted creamer.

Sitting there. Eating. Alive and unconcerned that Trowa Barton walked into the diner with three knives, two guns and every intention of killing him.

Trowa sat down in the booth, across from him, and put his hands on the table.

Duo just grinned at him, took a moment to chuckle and then he continued eating.

Trowa waited until he finished and those seven minutes took more out of him than the last two years had.

Duo wiped his mouth with a napkin, took another sip of the coffee, draining it, and then wiped his mouth again before standing.

He stretched, long body and long limbs lean, just this side of malnourished, and he smirked at the way Trowa's eyes searched his body, checking for weapons, for weaknesses.

"If you're in the mood for a quick fuck, we can use the bathroom," Duo taunted him. "But if you want something more you're going to have to wait."

Trowa wasn't prepared to wait any longer than he already had.

He stood up, shoved a gun into Duo's spine hard enough to bruise and grabbed his hair tight enough to upset Duo's balance.

"Damn. You use this kind of foreplay with Wufei?" Duo leaned back, wiggled his ass against Trowa's groin and Trowa resisted the urge to kill him right there.

But it wouldn't be enough. Not nearly enough, not after what Duo had done. Not after what Trowa had lived through.

In the alleyway Duo fought, dirty and ruthless as always, and Trowa only just avoided a severed carotid and a perforated lung. But it was clear that Duo was tired, was weak and he was no match for Trowa's fury, for his determination and his need for vengeance.

The hotel was seedy enough that the proprietor only arched an eyebrow when Trowa carried in Duo's slumped body, one arm around his shoulders, limp feet dragging the ground.

He had more concern when Trowa came back a moment later and grabbed the folding chair by the front desk, but he remained silent.

Trowa stripped Duo with clinical detachment. He knew this man, knew this body, from years spent fighting together, working out together, showering side by side in the locker room and sharing private jokes in the med bay.

He made the knots tight, cutting into Duo's circulation and he left him on the chair, in the bathtub and he laid down on the bed in the next room and he felt a moment's peace for the first time in three years.

Not since before Catharine's death had he been able to close his eyes with ease. First it had been her, her face haunting him and then his, Heero's, the single, clean bullet hole in his temple and the dried, perfect circle of blood, the other half of his head, missing almost completely.

Trowa was used to death. He had grown up with it, he had perfected it. But that had been before, his previous life, his job. Catharine wasn't supposed to die. She was supposed to be the one who lived - the one who knew what peace tasted like so Trowa had a reason to keep fighting.

And Heero.

When Heero died, peace had ended for everyone. Not just for Trowa.

He had always known Duo was a thief, he'd never needed proof. Never wanted to have something so precious taken from him.

~ * ~

Chapter 3

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