"A Pirate's Trade"

Written By: The Plotting Housewife

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit.

Rating: NC 17

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Pirates, yes I went there, Yaoi, Smut, Questionable Pirate Morality, Arrrrg

Pairings: 2x1, 3x4

Summary: Captain Maxwell of the Shinigami, second most feared pirate to sail the Seven Seas, unwittingly stole precious booty from the one man who is more feared than he is. Oops.

"A Pirate's Trade"

Chapter 16: Always Yours

The sun stayed out for the remainder of the afternoon with only a few clouds left behind. As it began to sink in the west, it painted the sky in bright hues of orange and pink and the temperatures dropped drastically. Trowa wrapped his cloak around his shoulders to ward off the chill and checked his watch. Six minutes.

He met Wufei on the main deck who was dressed in his own cloak of thick, black wool. "Are you ready for this?"

"I have to be."

"Just remember to stay calm no matter what. You will not do Quatre any favors if you lose your temper."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could not afford to be bested by his anger. This was life and death and only cool heads would prevail.

"Squared away?"

He dipped his head in a nod. "Squared away." Together they disembarked from the Catherine with Black and Craven in tow, and headed towards the pier where the two separate docking platforms were joined.

He felt the heavy weight of his revolvers in their holsters, more aware of them now than he'd ever been before. He was flanked on both sides by his men which provided the strength he needed in this most trying of times and it worked to center and ground him. When he spotted Maxwell in the distance, he could see the same formation, but with the addition of a smaller figure being led by the arm.

His heart raced inside his chest and he fought down the giddy urge to run to him, sweep him into his arms and weep into the golden hair he'd missed so much. Instead, he kept a steady stride, his expression one of stoic determination and a trace of aggression.

Alright. Here we go...;

The two groups stopped a good thirty meters away from each other. To Trowa's right, the pier acted as a divider of sorts. Maxwell face was equally grim and his right hand twitched beside his hip. Trowa stayed his own, maintaining a frosty exterior, but he was keenly aware of that hand, ready to go for his own weapons should the need arise.

He gave Quatre a cursory once-over and saw nothing outwardly untoward. Encouraged, he shifted his focus back to Maxwell who lifted his chin in expectation. "Me ship?"

"My boy, first. That was the deal."

The other pirate hesitated for just a moment, then nudged his chin at the man beside him whose painful-looking grip on Quatre's arm made Trowa's jaw harden in possessive fury. The man released him and Quatre didn't wait for anyone to change their mind. He bolted across the deck and was seized by Trowa's left arm. Trowa swept him to relative safety behind him and faced the danger up ahead. There was no time for happy reunions just yet.

Guns were drawn on Maxwell's end which prompted Trowa and his crew to pull their own. He could feel Quatre's hands fisted into the back of his cloak and heard the soft whispers of, "It's okay. I'm okay. Let him take his ship. Please."

"Don't do anything foolish, Maxwell," he warned, pointing the barrel of his revolver at the other pirate's chest.

"We'll lower our weapons when I have me ship. I've honored your request. Honor mine."

"Tro - Captain, please, please, please. Let him have his ship."

Trowa remained steadfast, eyes narrowed. His finger rested gently on the trigger. "I have your word that he is unharmed?"

Maxwell opened his mouth, but it was Quatre who responded. "I am. I'm alright. Let them go, please."

He lowered his own gun, but warned his men to keep theirs trained on the other pirates. "Steady, lads. Keep your weapons at the ready." To Maxwell, he gestured with a curling finger and said, "This way." He grabbed Quatre in a protective arm and led him back to where the Catherine and Shinigami were docked. Wufei and his two other sailors followed, walking backwards with cautious steps, keeping their weapons aimed and ready to fire.

Maxwell and his men did the same as they advanced, but they maintained the thirty kilometer gap between them. Once Trowa reached the Shinigami, he gave his crewman the signal to disembark and watched as he climbed over the scuppers and came down the ramp. "Get back to the Catherine and prepare for departure. We leave at dawn."

"Aye, Sir."

He took Quatre over to the Catherine's ramp and spoke in a tone that left no room for argument. "Get on board. Into the cabin and wait for me." He was reluctant to let him go. His arms ached to hold and his mouth to kiss, but it was the safest place for Quatre until the Shinigami set sail.

The blond hesitated, fidgeting with the frayed end of the rope cinched around his waist. He was afraid to leave, terrified that blood would be spilled, but a look of warning from Trowa was enough to get him scurrying up the ramp where he was helped up by Thomas. He disappeared from sight just as Wufei, Carver, and Black stopped beside him, still eyeing Maxwell and his men like hawks.

"She's all yours. The explosives are still loaded so be cautious. My cannons are pointed at her and will be until you are out of sight. I suggest you depart as quickly as possible."

Maxwell nudged his chin at two of his men and they immediately went aboard to check for any signs of an impending ambush or any major damage. He and his first mate glared suspiciously at Trowa who held his hands up. "Look her over, but I assure you, she is unharmed and no one is waiting to attack you."

When the tall, broad pirate whom Trowa could only think to describe of as "Mammoth"  leaned over the scuppers and shouted, "She's all clear, Cap'n," Maxwell headed up the ramp to see for himself, ordering his first mate to stay where he was.

Trowa and his men remained at the base of the Catherine's ramp and waited until he climbed back down and addressed his man in a loud voice. "Go back to the Johannah and get the rest of the crew. I want the explosives cleared away and placed in the orlop. You have fifteen minutes to get your arses back here."

"Aye, Sir." With a salute, the first mate spun on his heel and walked back towards the other side of the pier.

Maxwell turned to Trowa and bent low at the waist, though he couldn't be certain whether it was mocking, or genuine. Knowing what he did about Maxwell, he presumed it was the former. "Pleasure doing business with ye."

"Remember what I said, Maxwell. Touch anything that is mine again and the next time, I will not be as kind."

The other pirate's lip curled just slightly and Trowa held his gaze, deadly promise churning the green depths of his eyes. At long last, Maxwell dipped his head in a curt nod and headed up the ramp, shouting the whole way up. "Alright, lads! Get all that gunpowder to the orlop. Smith, you stay here with me. Greenwich, get back to the Johannah and help the lads bring our supplies. I want this ship ready to sail in less than an hour."

Trowa turned to Wufei. "Keep an eye on them until they're out of sight. I do not think he'll try anything, but we cannot be too sure."

"Aye, Sir. Craven, take post on the bow, Black on the forecastle. Make sure the lads are ready to fire the cannons if they even dare to aim theirs at us."

Trowa left them to it and climbed aboard, relatively unconcerned at this point. He had well enough of a read on Maxwell to know that he didn't want trouble anymore than Trowa did. He simply wanted his Shinigami just as Trowa wanted Quatre back. Now that the deal had been made, he was certain nothing more would come of it and they could go their separate ways.

His crew did not need to seek permission to fire the Catherine's cannons. They already had the order if and when it became necessary and he would know if Maxwell did decide to do something foolish because the lurch and boom of the explosions would be evident enough. Maxwell wasn't stupid. All he wanted was to sail with his beloved Shinigami and his own arse intact.

Maxwell was not the one Trowa was worried about. His men saluted him as he climbed aboard and he gave them a rather rushed nod on his way to his cabin, to the one he was worried about. He stepped inside the warmth and privacy of his cabin and found Quatre sitting on the edge of the bed. He stood as Trowa closed the door behind him, but hesitated to make any further move.

And God help him, he still looked as beautiful as he did the day he'd been taken. He was slightly thinner, losing only a minuscule amount of the weight he'd gained back after he'd been sick, but he was paler. His hair was longer having not seen a cut now in nearly four months and it looked divine on him. The golden blond tresses tumbled over his forehead, the ends of his tousled curls a dozen centimeters below his chin now. He was dressed in a simple gray tunic, tied at the waist with rope and only reached the middle of his thighs.

On his feet were a simple pair of slippers, dingy, dirty, and worn out. His normally bright eyes were stormy with anxiety and ringed with dark circles. Trowa could only imagine how much sleep he'd lost. Lord knew he hadn't slept well either.

"Come here," he whispered, his heart skipping as Quatre came to him willingly. He folded his arms around him and buried his face in the tangled hair, inhaling the salt of sea air and Quatre's unique scent. "Oh, Quat. I missed you."

Quatre's breath hitched and he wound his thin arms around Trowa's back, fingers clenching into the thick fabric of his cloak. His voice was a bit shaky as he confessed, "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

He leaned back and cupped the cherubic face in his calloused palms. "Are you alright? Are you sure?"

Quatre's hands closed over his own as tears weaved between their fingers. "I am. I'm alright."

"Did they hurt you?"

The blond chewed his lip, eyes flitting to the side. He didn't want to lie, but the last thing he wanted was retaliation.

"Quat? Answer me."

"Noth - nothing permanent -"

"Did they touch you? Did they -"

"Trowa, please! Don't -" But Trowa was already heading for the door again. Acting on pure instinct and his worst fears, he threw himself in front of it and shouted, "No!"

"Quatre -"

"Please. If you really care about me, you'll let this go."

"I cannot -"

"You have to. It was a mistake."

"Rape is no mistake," he growled. His body was on fire, the thirst for blood clouding out everything else aside from wrapping his vengeful hands around Maxwell's neck. "Who did it? Was it Maxwell?"

"No! No, he never touched me, but -"

"Get out of my way, Quatre."

"I'm not moving. If you want to get through, you're going to have to move me because I'm not going to let you do this."

He threw his hands up, rage making his limbs shake. "Why are you protecting them? They hurt you!"

"Because there is someone -" Quatre paused and ran a flustered hand through his hair. "There's a boy. Maxwell's boy."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No. He's - he's my friend, Trowa. And I'm scared for him already. If you do this, what will happen to him?"

"That's not my concern."

"No, but I'm your concern and he is my concern. If you kill them, he will have nowhere to go. Trowa," he reached a hand up, brushing the backs of his knuckles across a chiseled cheekbone. "He didn't choose this life anymore than I did."

Trowa's face flushed as memories of Quatre's captivity at his own hands came to be, was consumed with remorse for how he'd behaved. Did he really have any ground to stand on when he'd been no better? "I never should have taken you like that."

"I don't regret it. You saved me," Quatre said with a tender smile and a shrug of his bony shoulders.

"I made you a slave."

"I was already a slave. I've always been a slave. The difference is that now, I belong to someone I love and who loves me. And...I think it might be safe to say that you no longer see me as one."

Trowa swallowed the lump in his throat and swept the boy into his arms. "I still had no right."

"What's done is done. I'm happy now. More than I've ever been, or could ever be in the Sultan's court, or married to my betrothed." He leaned up on his toes and brushed a soft kiss against Trowa's ear. "And I still belong to you, no matter what. Because I want to...habibtaa."

The epithet, spoken in such sweet reverence melted his fury like the wax of a lit candle. He leaned down and took Quatre's mouth in a searing kiss, groaning in bliss as he finally got a proper taste of him. It was difficult to fathom such an overpowering attachment to another person. Desire that brought him to the brink of madness. Even his love for Catherine could not measure up to the loss he'd felt when he discovered Quatre had been taken from him.

And the joyous ache of reunion was made all the more gratifying after weeks of pining and the fear that he may never see Quatre again alive. It was like drinking from a cool well after days in the desert. The strength and vitality returned to his body, cleared the chaos of his mind, and made his heart beat with life again.

Like being resurrected from the dead, born again in God's grace.

The desire, the desperate need to reclaim what was his took precedence. The knowledge that men who were not worthy had touched this beautiful creature, plundered him without a care for Quatre's own wishes, fueled the burning need to erase their taint from his skin.

Quatre's breathy whispers of affirmation were like music to his ears. So irrevocably synced to each other that they could anticipate what the other needed was a divine miracle. He tore away the tunic with rough hands and lifted Quatre onto the bed, immediately dropping to his knees onto the floor and burying his face between the trembling, splayed thighs. With reverence on his lips, he worshipped at the altar of his love.

He laved and suckled at the opening which relaxed beneath his attentions and he gently penetrated with his tongue, savoring the sharp cries of pleasure and the tangle of slender fingers in his hair. It didn't take long to bring Quatre to a shuddering climax and he rose up while the blond was still incoherent, reaching over his prone body for the oil that waited on the small table beside the bed.

It had been weeks since he'd touched his cock other than to wash it and he sucked in a harsh breath, squeezing his fingers around the base to prevent ejaculation. He spread the oil evenly over his length and pushed his hips into the space between Quatre's trembling legs.

Quatre was already delirious, beautifully languid with satiation from his orgasm, legs dangling limply over the edge of the bed. Trowa lifted one up and hooked it over his arm while he used his other hand to guide his cock towards his lover's opening. Quatre's back bowed in rapine submission as he was penetrated, an emphatic moan vibrating the column of his swan-like throat.

And Trowa...Trowa was besieged, bewitched, and blissfully broken by the rapture of being inside Quatre again. He grabbed the blond's other leg, slung it over his opposite arm, leaned forward to brace his hands on the bed, and began the slow, supine rhythm of fucking.

He was almost afraid to open his eyes, terrified that if he did, he would find himself alone. He'd had far too many dreams that seemed so real. Dreams that told him his search was over, only to awaken and find that Quatre was not there.

It was the sensation of fingers digging into his biceps that forced him to crack his eyelids open and he nearly wept with a pang of unbridled joy, knowing that this time, he was not alone. This...this was no dream. He would not wake up in a cold, empty bed. Not this time.

He lowered himself down and sucked a peaked nipple into his mouth, cherishing the soft cry it invoked. Quatre was beside himself, tossing his head back and forth against the quilt as his mouth trembled and formed barely audible Arabian declarations of devotion, though Trowa recognized a few of the slurred sentiments and easily translated them. He buried his face in the silken neck and sucked bruising kisses into the porcelain throat. The vibrations of Quatre's moans tickled his lips and spurred his hips to thrust harder, driving himself in deep as if he could push his whole body inside the warm cocoon of the sublime creature beneath him.

Quatre climaxed again, rather unexpectedly, writhing with a hoarse shout as he spurted across his belly and chest. Trowa withdrew with a soft growl and flipped him over, palming aside a supple buttock and pushing his torment back inside the clutching heat. He watched the erotic slide of his cock as it disappeared into Quatre's body with ravenous gaze, memorizing the way the ring of muscle dragged out over his length before it was pulled back in upon reentry.

He leaned low over the boy's sweaty back and mouthed hungrily at the bony shoulder blades, his ears picking up the faint whimpers of exhaustion, satisfaction, and likely overstimulation. He came after a dozen more thrusts, groaning his pleasure into the back of Quatre's neck.

"Now you're mine again," he husked, stirring the blond curls at Quatre's nape.

"I never stopped being yours," was Quatre's groggy reply, muffled slightly from the quilt beneath him.

He climbed onto the bed, pulling his love up with him. They rested their heads on the pillows as Trowa spooned him against his chest. He buried his face in Quatre's hair, not wanting to address the subject so soon after sex, but he was itching to know. "Who was it?"

"Trowa -"

"Tell me."

There was a heavy sigh. "I will tell you. Someday. When the time is right. But not now."

"Quatre, please."

"I will not put Heero at risk."

"Heero." He tested the name on his tongue. Foreign. Somewhere in the East. "That's the boy," he guessed.

"Yes. He was the only bright spot while I was with them." Quatre rolled over and stared up into his eyes, his soft palm caressing Trowa's cheek. "I understand what you must be feeling about this. But I want you to promise me that if you avenge me -"

"Not if, Quatre. When."

"When you avenge me, you must do it when you're clear-headed and not clouded by anger. And...there is one man I do not want you to touch. I want the honor of killing him myself."

Trowa lifted his head and stared down at him, brows drawn low. "What did he do to you?"

"More than he should have. I'm sure he's done the same to others and will do again. When I'm ready, his life is mine. I reserve that right."

Trowa leaned down and kissed him, whispering against his lips. "Then you shall have it."

"Thank you, Trowa."

"But I will be present when that time comes. That is not negotiable."

Quatre smiled, expecting as much. "Very well. That was already a given in my mind as I know how you are." He stretched and then cocooned himself against Trowa's chest, nuzzling like a nesting chipmunk. "I love you, Captain Trowa Barton. I just - I want you to know that I did what I had to do to get back to you. Some of those things...;" he broke off and looked away, cheeks flushing with shame. "Some of those things I am not proud of."

Trowa put an immediate stop to the guilt and self-blame, grasping the blond's chin and turning his face back towards him. "Sometimes survival requires things we are not proud of. Don't you ever believe you did anything wrong. You did not betray me. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I would want nothing less than what you did to ensure you came back to me."

Tears rolled down the bridge of Quatre nose. "I confess...I was frightened of what you would think of me if...when you discovered...;"

It broke his heart that Quatre would ever think he could reject him for such a thing and he pulled the boy into his arms, feeling the silent tears drip onto his bicep. "Don't ever think that, Quatre. You are not sullied. Do you honestly believe if what you had to do before I found you didn't make a difference, that this somehow would? Do you believe me sullied when I endured it years ago?"

"No," Quatre sniffled. "Of course I don't."

"Then don't ever think I see you that way. I've told you before. Your innocence does not come from what you've done, or what you've had to do." He pulled back and tapped gently on the blond's chest. "It's who you are. In here. Understand?"

Quatre nodded and wiped his tears away, looking up at him with eyes that were wet, but considerably brighter now. "'Ahabak, my Trowa."

He smiled and pressed his thumb against the soft lips he loved so much. "Ya lyublyu tebya, my Quatre."

***

Quatre leaned against the railing as he watched the Shinigami's anchors rise up from the water which poured down from the rusted trident-shaped prongs and the seaweed that stuck to them. Trowa stood behind him with his warm hands closed around his shoulders, a source of comfort, safety, and belonging.

"Last chance to tell me," Trowa whispered into his ear, causing the hair on his nape to stand on end.

He pulled the heavy cloak tighter around himself and shook his head. "It's not the time. Let them go. We'll see them again. Many times, I'm sure."

Trowa's arms folded around him and leaned back into the powerful chest. "How will you know it's the right time?"

He watched the figures milling about the deck of the Shinigami, hoisting the sails and guiding the ship away from the port. Distantly, over the brisk winds, he could hear Maxwell's voice shouting orders to his crew. "I'll know."

Of that, he was sure. Something...some instinct within him told him he would know when and where the time was right. And when that time came, he was going to slit Greenwich's throat from ear to ear.

Greenwich had been the worst by far, even though Quatre was buggered by at least half the crew. Most of them had only taken him once. It was only a select handful that saw fit to ravage him repeatedly with Greenwich not only taking him the most often, but in the most brutal ways. He was almost certain Maxwell knew nothing about it. Once he'd called off the buggery after learning of Quatre's identity, Greenwich continued to attack him at every opportunity, hidden where the captain's eyes were not looking.

He often wondered how many other young men, and perhaps young women, had met the same treatment at his hands and how many were yet to come. Greenwich was a beast, a monster. Completely lacking in humanity. Greenwich did what he wanted and not even his captain, it seemed, was respected enough in his eyes to follow his orders.

He knew most of the men who'd buggered him were likely just desperate for a warm body and would not have done what they did to him if other options had been available. He understood the need for pirate captains to allow their men to bed whores whenever they went to shore. Weeks, even months at sea could try even the most piously rigid of men and when faced with such temptation, biology took precedence over morality.

Not that any of that excused what they'd done to him. He knew it would take time for the memories of those nights of being pinned down, stripped, and buggered against his will, to fade into something that didn't take up so much of his thoughts. The nightmares were an inevitable side effect and it would likely be months, or even years before he finally stopped jumping at looming shadows.

But now he was safe, back home with Trowa and the men he'd come to trust. They were his family and there was no better place to heal from those wounds than being surrounded by those you knew would protect you. Now, when he woke in a cold sweat in the middle of the night and shook with terror, instead of finding himself alone in a cold and damp bilge, Trowa's arms would shelter him.

"Are you alright, lyublyu?"

He shook himself out of his trance and squinted in the fading daylight as a figure appeared on the stern of the Shinigami, wrapped in a dark cloak that matched the midnight shade of his hair, both of which flapped in the chilled sea winds. He watched the figure lean over the railing and even in the dim of twilight and the ever-growing distance between the two ships, he knew it was Heero looking back at him.

"I'm alright, Trowa."

"That's him, isn't it? The boy."

"Yes. Yes, that's Heero," he answered and lifted his hand at the figure in a bid of farewell. His heart ached something fierce, already missing his comforting presence. "I hope he will be well."

Trowa wrapped his arms and cloak around him, adding extra layers of warmth to his own, and pressed his lips against the crown of Quatre's head. "You are a kind soul. I hope you never lose that. I fear that you will."

"Why?"

"Once you kill, there is no going back, Quatre. It hardens you. It is not something I wish for you."

"Even when it's someone who deserves it?"

He nodded. "Yes. Even then. The taking of a life can sometimes awaken that darkness which lives inside every one of us. Even you, my sweet. It can make a man thirst for blood."

"Is that what it did to you?"

"Yes."

"But you are not a cold-blooded killer, Trowa." Quatre turned in the circle of his lover's arms and looked up into his handsome, wind-flushed face. "I know this because I see the love in you. The love you had for Catherine. The love you have for me and all of these men here. Such men who lack a heart do not care for anything, but their own gain. They will do everything to achieve that gain. You...you will do everything to protect those who matter to you. That is not possible in those with the blackest of hearts."

Trowa gazed down into the face he'd come to associate with everything good, right, and pure in the world, and saw nothing but truth in the sky blue depths. But still, he could not accept it. "You give me too much credit."

"I don't give you enough," Quatre assured him, a teasing lilt to his voice, to which Trowa couldn't help but laugh. "You are a man of honor, Trowa. Don't ever believe otherwise. Do you think Wufei would yield to your authority, or look upon you with the respect that he does if that were not true? Do you think, after everything you've told me, that I would be capable of loving you if that were not true?"

He smiled and stroked his thumb across a chilled cheek. "I suppose not. You are so wise for someone so young. You should have been an equal a long time ago."

"If I were equal, I may not have learned the lessons that I have. I'm a firm believer that our experiences shape who we are. Perhaps if I'd always been treated as an equal, I would still be a silly child. Spoilt and unconcerned about those around me."

"Is that a confession?"

Quatre blushed and glanced back towards the Shinigami. It was nearly completely dark now, but he could still see the faint shape of Heero's figure and what he thought might have been an arm, waving back. He raised his own, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet in his hope that Heero could see it.

It took only another ten minutes, or so before he could no longer see the figure. Too far for his eyes to see in the dark. He turned back to Trowa and hugged him tightly, pressing his cheek against the warmth of his chest. "Yes, I suppose it is. I was, you might say, a bit of a whelp as a child."

Trowa's voice was decidedly amused when he said, "Impossible."

He chuckled and kissed the patch of bare skin that peeked through the laces of Trowa's shirt. "I'm afraid not. I was...insufferable."

"What changed?"

"I realized that I was not, and could never be, what my father wanted. The idea of spending the rest of my life in the stifling rigidity of religious court and politics. The thought of wedding a woman, of...of bedding her made me sick to my stomach. And then - then the Prince's nephew seduced me and I found myself exiled. My outlook changed more than I'd realized at first." He pulled his head back and smiled up at Trowa. "But those experiences have led me to become the man that I am now. Those experiences led me to you."

"You truly are a wise one, my Quatre. Your insight astounds me and fills me with pride. I will never let anything else happen to you for as long as I live."

"You cannot promise that. Neither can I. Nothing is etched in stone, Trowa. The only thing we can do is hold each other close and endure what life throws at us together. That's all anyone can do."

"Holding you close is something I will never tire of," he said, bending down to steal a kiss.

"Will you two stop that. You're making me seasick."

Trowa threw his head back and laughed as Wufei joined them on the deck. "Love is in the air, my friend. Love is in the air." He slapped a hand against Wufei's back. "Best get used to it because I'm not stopping anytime soon."

Wufei waved his hand with soft scowl, but Quatre knew by now that he wasn't as boorish as he sometimes pretended to be. "Must you subject me to such nonsense?"

"Must you spoil our fun?"

"It's why you hired me," Wufei quipped, raising a kese of tea to his mouth. "It's freezing out here."

"It is," Trowa agreed and tipped Quatre's chin up. "Best to get you inside where it's warm."

"I'm fine. I will go when you do." He glanced between captain and first mate. "How long are we staying?"

"Until dawn," Trowa answered. "Then, my lyublyu, the Americas."

Quatre's eyes lit up, sparkling like crystalline pools in the torchlight. "The Americas?" His pretty mouth split wide in a grin of jubilance. "Oh, how exciting! I've been reading about the New World. I've always wanted to see it."

"And see it you will," Trowa assured him, charmed by his refreshing boyish eagerness. "In couple of months. By the time we get there, it will be just in time for spring."

"We could use some of that knowledge to draw up some better maps. Rieker is not as well-read on the Americas as you are," Wufei added.

"Of course. I would be happy to. I'll be glad to be of some use again."

"We must address his fighting skills as well," Wufei said to Trowa who nodded solemnly. It wasn't something he liked to think about, but it was something he'd accepted, especially after Quatre's abduction. "He was near-proficient when he was taken. He may have lost some of those skills, but it has not been that long. He should get them back rather quickly and then we can continue improving his technique."

"You will begin tomorrow morning after your duties," Trowa informed him and then looked at Quatre to be sure he'd been listening.

Quatre nodded. "Yes, that would be good. I'm ready."

Wufei rested a hand on the blond's shoulder. "I will wake you once I am finished and we will begin exercises on the main deck."

"Thank you, Wufei."

"I'm glad to have you back safe and sound, Quatre. The lads have missed you greatly."

Trowa gripped his first mate's arm. "Thank you, friend. I do not know what I would do without you."

"Your head would be on a spike, no doubt," Wufei sniffed and turned away. "If you'll excuse me, I'd prefer not to freeze to death out here."

"We'd best get you inside as well." Trowa pressed his palms against Quatre's icy cheeks. "You are frozen, lyublyu."

Quatre smiled up at him, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Then warm me up."

Chapter 17

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