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"Persistence"Written By: Honor Disclaimers: I own Gundam Wing, a dragon (which
resides in my back yard) and possess the ability to fly at will. Pairings: 3x4 Spoilers: For episodes 3-10 Warnings: Romance, heavy lime, angst, sappy moments,
language, violence. I start out very much following the series, but
it doesn’t last long and will slide into a TWT. Some OOC (I gave
Trowa an actual personality, based on my interpretation of his character
in the series. It conflicts with the fanon view, which is why I’m
putting up the warning.) Rating: R Archived: Gundam Wing Diaries Betas: Velvet and Caitilin /thought/ *emphasized* <<vid or comm>>
"Persistence " Chapter 3 Assumption is the mother of all screw-ups.
After a while, Trowa just gave up figuring out who was attacking who. He flicked the missiles open and fired. It was an easy matter in hitting all of them, and only one of the black suits lifted out of the way. “Cause you’re all bunched up,” he muttered. Didn’t the idiots down there have any tactical sense? It was easy to mow them all down if they were in a concentrated area. He closed the hatches and flew forward, intent on finishing off the rest so he could get back to his mission. As he mowed down Leos, he noticed that Quatre had followed him down and was cutting down enemies at a very efficient rate. So…the little blond was more than capable of handling himself in battle. Interesting. Eventually, the only suits left were the ones that resembled his own. He turned to face them, guarding Quatre’s back while he finished off the last suit. The comm flicked open, revealing Quatre’s face.
<<Trowa! Those suits look like ours. Could they also He had no patience for figuring it out. “Whatever they are, they’re in my way,” he shot back harshly. Heavyarms beeped at him, warning that an enemy vessel was close. He looked at it sharply. OZ shuttle? He was out of missiles. Damn it! The other mecha in white abruptly shot forward, changing into a jet mode. Trowa’s face flickered into a frown as he watched another complete his mission, cutting the jet in half. Perhaps…perhaps they were all on the same mission? It rankled to have someone else do his job, though. While the jet fell in streaming bits to the ground, another voice he didn’t recognize echoed in the unnaturally still air. <<Thanks for the missiles earlier, buddy. Now, let me return the favor!>> Trowa’s eyes narrowed. He was already pissed (mostly at himself) and this idiot was picking a fight with him. The blade on his arm flicked out and he growled as he moved forward, block the scythe that tried to slice him in half. They locked for a moment, testing each other’s strength, then both sprang back. Trowa showered him with bullets, but there was no effect on the other suit. Dimly he heard Quatre yell <<Cut it out!>> No time to answer him, the black suit was coming at him again, still with that thermal scythe in his hands. He raised his blade to block it, and sparks shot in all directions. A torrent of flame shot between them. In unison they dropped their attack and turned to look at the new player on the field. Another white suit, this one with red and green accents stood there and was braced for an onslaught. <Haven’t you gotten tired of these meaningless battles?!> an irate voice demanded. Trowa registered it when the other suit returned and set down next to the black one, but his eyes were focused on the flame throwing suit as it straightened from its crouch. The hatch opened and a very slender teenager with black hair and slanted eyes stepped out. “Don’t you realize?” he continued. “You’ve all been lured into OZ’s devious trap.” <We what?> Quatre sounded worried. Trowa gave his image a glance and saw him worrying at his bottom lip.
WHAT?! Trowa quickly flipped to the news and watched as the report was made. Peace negotiations…colonies declaration of war? Shit! What had he just done? “It was all planned out by OZ,” the pilot continued ruthlessly, still in that overly calm voice. “We became their puppets. Controlled by Treize Kushrenada’s hands.” <<Oh no,>> Quatre whispered brokenly. <<Damn them!>> the brunette pilot snarled. Trowa just glared. Used. He had just been used to defeat the very purpose he was fighting for. The knowledge burned in him. /I’ll kill that man with my bare hands./ “I’m still going to fight OZ!” the pilot declared, turning back to his cockpit. “Even if I have to do it on my own.” <<Trowa?>> He glanced at the screen as he started to follow the Altron pilot to the hangar. <<You’re going after Kushrenada, aren’t you.>> “Yes.” <<I’m sending you coordinates of where I’m staying next. You’ll be safe there, and have a chance to stock up on supplies.>> He didn’t need to accept the offer. He had his own safe houses and ways of supplying Heavyarms. Quatre didn’t seem to expect a response from him. <<You don’t have to come, of course. But the offer is open. Good luck.>> With only a nod in acknowledgement, he turned and walked away. + Quatre couldn’t just leave it at that. He had his
own resources, of course, and knew that Treize Kushrenada had survived
an attack of two Gundams (although most of his convoy hadn’t.)
Getting to the hotel room he had set up was an easy matter, with Sandrock
hidden safely at an abandoned army depot nearly fifteen miles away.
Sitting at the hotel late that night, he found his mind concentrated
on the last few days. He worried over his new friend and lover and
wanted reassurance that he was okay. There was also the case of the
Chinese teenager that had confronted them all. He was a Gundam pilot
too, and Quatre wanted to meet him and have some kind of ability to
talk with him. Finally he decided on an email, figuring that he wouldn’t
chance From: blondie@cuteanddeadly.org Hi Trowa. I wanted to make sure you were okay after that last battle. I caught the news…I’m sorry you couldn’t get him. We’ll do it at the next opportunity, I swear. How badly are you damaged? I can come get <delete> How badly are you damaged? The offer is still open, you know, if you need some help. Who is the other pilot? Is he okay? How did he know it was all a trick? I really wish I had the information resources that he obviously does. Would he be willing to team up with us? I was a bit scatterbrained at the battle and didn’t get the other pilot’s contact information. I barely got their *names*. I feel like such an idiot. Maybe he knows how to contact them? Call if either of you need anything. Or email back, if you wish. QW ----- Blowing out his breath irritably he hit send with a tad more force than necessary and went to bed. It would do. + It was late when Trowa finally retired to the trailer. He settled in the other boy—Wufei—first then settled on his own bed. As an afterthought he booted up his laptop to quickly check for any messages. There was one, but…he didn’t recognize the address. /Maybe it’s Quatre./ Trowa shook his head at himself. Recently, if there was something in his life that he couldn’t immediately explain, then he usually attributed it somehow to Quatre. The funny thing was, he was usually right. Sure enough, it was from Quatre. He sounded a little hyper. Trowa was in no condition to answer it tonight. He was so tired he could barely read the email. He closed everything down again with the resolve to answer it in the morning. + Wufei woke up a few minutes after Trowa did. He took
a quick shower before sitting down at the breakfast table. He respected
the teen across the table from him, and was very grateful for his
silence and un-condemning attitude. It had made his recent shame They ate in silence. It was Trowa that finally broke it. “I got an email last night from Quatre.” At the other’s blank look he elaborated, “One of the other pilots. He wanted to make sure we were alright, and to offer us a place to re-arm and repair our Gundams.” Wufei shook his head. “I do not need such assistance.” Something like a rueful smile crossed over Trowa’s face. “That isn’t going to stop him from offering it. He also wanted to know where you got your information, since you apparently have better contacts than we do.” Wufei hesitated only slightly before giving that information out. He could only give them a code name, after all. And he trusted this man and the others, at least to this degree. “Armand. The only information I trust without triple checking is from Armand.” Trowa nodded. “I’ll pass it along. Quatre…he thinks that we can’t fight this alone, that all of the pilots should fight together.” “I fight alone,” Wufei returned sharply. “I thought that too. And look at what happened.” Wufei bit his tongue with narrowed eyes as he took that in. If he had known the others, and been in contact with them, this disaster would have been avoided. It was a valid point. “I’ll exchange information with you, but I won’t fight with you unless necessary. I have my own agenda.” Trowa accepted this with a nod. “Just give me a way of contacting you. And be warned…he’s…not like us.” “How so?” Wufei was becoming rather curious about the relationship between these two. It was obvious that Trowa knew him very well. “He’s compassionate by nature.” “A warrior has no room for emotions,” Wufei returned flatly. Trowa shook his head in disagreement. “In battle, no. But…he’s stronger because of them. He doesn’t let emotion cloud his judgment. In any case, he will show you nothing but kindness and help. Don’t slap it down. You might need it later.” Wufei nearly snarled out a rebuttal to that, an almost instinctual response. Something stopped him. This last defeat at Treize’s hands had made it appalling clear to him that he couldn’t do everything by himself. It might be wise to listen to Trowa just this once. “I need to go.” Trowa followed him out the door. “You have my comm number. Send everything there.” “Fine.” He stopped and half turned to look back. “Thank you.” Trowa watched him go, thoughtfully. “You’re welcome, Chang Wufei.” + Trowa sat down at his laptop late that evening, finally having the time to respond to Quatre’s email. It had been a full day with moving the circus and he was more than glad the day was over. From: ammunition@mostlyred.net Quatre. We’re fine. Neither of us were damaged enough to require extensive maintenance. The other pilot (Chang Wufei) has already left. He told me to tell you that he will exchange information, but not work with us unless necessary. ---- --- Armand is the informer that Wufei trusts. I’ll give you the contact details once Wufei sends them to me. TB ---- He sent it and headed for the kitchen to make dinner. Half way there, the laptop beeped. Surely Quatre hadn’t responded that fast! Turning around, he headed back and clicked it open. It was from S. A mission? Hm. Trowa quickly scanned through the information. A stake out near one of the bases…observe and report, eh? The mission called for a week of twenty-four hour surveillance. That wasn’t going to be possible on his own. Then he got to the bottom of the message. <<Don’t worry, Trowa, you’re not doing this alone. I contacted a colleague of mine. We’re sending pilot 04 to help you.>> 04…Quatre! Trowa groaned and sank into his seat. The whole universe was apparently against him. Here he was, trying to avoid the cheerful blond so he coul remain at ‘just friends’ and S was shoving him in the pilot’s direction. Well, at least Quatre would be happy… ~*~*~*~ Honor: Okay, this is the point where I start ignoring
the timeline in the series. *beams* Oh, and Quatre doesn’t go
crazy, and Trowa doesn’t lose his memory. So Nyah!
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