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"Cartwheels"Written By: Kaeru Shisho Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Yaoi, AU Pairings: 3+4 Summary: For my 2015 April fool's story, a romantic
mystery in three parts. Quatre gets a letter which might be from fan
or a stalker, so he takes it to the investigative firm of Chang and
Yuy to get answers " Cartwheels" Part Three- Conclusion Heero Yuy's journal: I read the first few paragraphs of this sixth letter faxed over from Quatre's office with a touch of relief. No wonder I hadn't uncovered any of the facts. The War Office would want to keep something like the police detective's defection under wraps. An eminently satisfactory conclusion. I am sure Quatre feels that the guilty man's end is justified-it served him right for locking up his friend. So. Why is Quatre demanding a vid-call to discuss this? Then with the suddenness of a bomb, the confession of guilt by the Quiet Man himself! I can scarcely believe my eyes! I put in the call immediately. Quatre's face fills the screen. "I've read it a second and a third time. I'm... angry!" Quatre's cheeks are inflamed. "Still," he goes on, "he asked me not to judge until all his evidence is in." A reasonable request, I think. "But it is unfair! He should have told me right then and there. Not make me wait!" I remind him that the Quiet Man did promise to write seven letters. "I suppose you are right. In all fairness, I shouldn't refuse to grant him that. BUT STILL!" I agree. It is a cruel trick. So begins an anxious day. Quatre has given me his shuttle docking number, in hopes I will meet him there one last time the day after tomorrow, before he departs to L4. I hope to have something to tell him. This Quiet Man had better write a smash hit of a letter, one that contains whatever defense he can offer to explain his dastardly act. I have located restaurants, hotels, houses on streets that fit the world described in the letters, but none have the exact same names matching those in the letters. Same with the people, except that there is a Lucrezia Noin in the embassy, with whom I have an appointment-next week- and Lady Une is Treize Khushrenada's personal secretary and wife and has followed him to his new posting in Bratislava. She has not returned my calls. No surprise there. There is no record of a Max Church working with a Tsubarov in an Outlander spy ring. Ken Tsubarov is a renowned weapons engineer. Is it true that he has aligned himself with the Outlanders? Max Church. I laugh. Duo Maxwell fits the description to a "T", except he isn't that foul. He isn't villainous at all. He's a smart, clever man. We have crossed paths several times. I always thought if things were different, if he didn't work at a junkyard on L2, for instance, I might have pursued him. Might. The day drags on. News videos show border wars flaming up with the Outlanders, and I wonder... The following morning: a faxed copy of the seventh letter arrives! Slightly torn. With the note: "I was so excited to open it! Sorry!- Quatre. " (o) Letter 7 Dear Man of the Aviator Glasses, This is by far the hardest letter to write of all you have had from me. For twenty-four hours I have been planning it. Last night I walked in the enclosed garden and planned. Today, shut up in my room, I also planned, yet now when I set down to write I am still confused, still at a loss where to begin and what to say once I have begun. At the close of my last letter I confessed to you that it was I who murdered Captain Merquise. That is the truth. Soften the blow as I may, it all comes down to that. Not a week ago, last Thursday night at seven, I climbed our dark stairs and - where should I look for a defense? He had been most kind to me, kinder than I allowed you to guess from my letters. There was no actual need to do away with him. I did it for you. My only defense is that he knows I killed him! Even as I write this, I hear his footsteps above me, as I heard them when I sat here composing my first letter to you. He is dressing for dinner, and has invited me to join him. And there, my dear soul, you have the answer to the mystery that has, I hope, puzzled you. In my second letter to you, I killed him, and all the odd developments that followed lived only in my imagination as I sat here at my desk, plotting how I should write seven letters to you that would, as the novel advertisements say, rip your attention to the very end. Oh, I am guilty, there is no denying that, but so, in part, are you. How so? Go back to our first meeting in the hotel breakfast room. You must have thought about that by this time. I approached you, offering the napkin you had dropped. You pushed the aviators back onto the top on your head, exposing me to the shimmering brightness of your eyes. "You dropped this," I said. "Thank you!" you said. "You are very kind. Are you staying in this hotel?" "I am not, sadly. I've only come for the breakfast. It is said to be the best." I wanted to ask you out instantly, but I could tell a gentleman of your standing would require something more from me and some time. "What do you like?" I asked you that ambiguous question to learn a little about you. "Me? I am very fond of mystery and romance-" I would have liked to hear you expand on that, but your entourage of giant strong men, who had been hovering in the background, now circled and drew you away. You did not know it, of course, but in those words you passed me a challenge I could not resist. Making plots is the business of my life. I have made many. Perhaps you have even followed some of them; my books sell well. Or you have seen a play of mine? There was a mention of it in the placard at the Sanc Playhouse. That was the business which kept me in Sanc. The opening has come and gone, so I am free to go back home. "I promise you seven letters. I'll send them here. But to whom?" "Quatre-!" but even your name would be withheld from me, it seemed. And then you dropped your handkerchief. I was beginning to think you had a problem holding on to things, but when I picked it up and read the initials, I saw it for what it was: a ploy to clue me in on your name. QRW. Quatre... Winner? At the first opportunity I looked up the name and found Wikipedia had a personal biography on you and a picture. So, you see, that when you gave me your name, you granted me the privilege of those seven letters to convince you I was a worthy candidate of your attention. I looked, longingly, at your picture on the computer. So, he longs for mystery and romance, said I- then he shall have them! It was the tramp of boots above my head that showed me the way. A fine, stalwart, cordial fellow, the captain, Captain Peacecraft, for that was the real man's name, who has been very kind to me since I presented my letter of introduction from his cousin, Duo Maxwell, well, "kissing cousin" he said, as a joke. They are close friends. Great sense of humor in the both of them, although, Duo might be horrified beyond expression if he knew I had made him a spy and rogue of the worst order-or not. You might like them both. The dim beginnings of the plot were in my mind when I wrote that first letter, suggesting that all was not regular in the matter of Duo's (I hope you don't mind if I mix the use of the imaginary and the real names from this point forward?) note of introduction. Before I wrote my second letter, I knew that nothing but the death of the man in the room above me would do, and that had to be Captain... Merquise. I recalled the exotic knife I had seen on his desk, and from that moment on he was doomed. At that time I had no idea how I should solve the mystery, but I had read those four odd passages in the new vid personals and resolved that they must figure in the scheme of things. The fourth letter presented difficulties until I returned from dinner that night and saw a taxi waiting before our building's door. Hence, the woman leaving the rose-scented note. There was a weakness there, because I doubt any true spy ring would have use for a lady secret agent who advertised herself so foolishly. But the real Lady Une and her husband had left Captain Peacecraft a bubble bath gift set before leaving for Bratislava, and the scent had permeated his hair-I couldn't get it out of my mind. Time for writing the fifth letter arrived. I felt that I should now be placed under arrest. I had a faint little hope that you would feel sorry about that. Oh, I'm a brute, I know! Early in the game I had told the captain of the cruel way in which I had disposed of him. He was much amused, but he insisted, absolutely, that he must be vindicated before the close of the series, and I was with him there. A chance remark of his gave me my solution. You know Captain Peacecraft is also Sanc's crowned prince and is very knowledgeable in current affairs. Over dinner one night, he told me that he had it on good authority that the chief of the bureau for capturing spies in the Outlands was himself a spy. And so, why not a spy in Sanc's police headquarters? I did consider corrupting Preventers, but some of my friends would be very upset with me. I assure you, I am most contrite as I set all this down here. You must remember that when I began my story there was no idea of border disputes or of war. Now Sanc's border along the Outlands is aflame and in the face of the great conflict the awful suffering to come, I and my little plot begin to look, well, I fancy you know just how we look. Forgive me. I am afraid I can never find the words to tell you how important it seemed to interest you in my letters, to make you feel that I am an entertaining person worthy of your notice. That morning when you entered the Sanc-Astoria Hotel breakfast room was really the biggest in my life. I felt as though you had brought with you through that doorway, not only twelve of the most frighteningly serious body guards, but- oh, I have no right to say it. I have the right to say nothing save that now it is all left to you. If I have offended, then I shall never hear from you again. The captain will be here in a moment. It is near the hour set and he is never late for dinner. He expects to be part of the Expeditionary Force sent into the heart of the Outlands. I hope they will be kinder to him that I was! My name is Trowa Barton. I am a writer of mystery novels and sometimes plays. I temporarily live on the Sanc Palace Promenade at 19 Oracle Portico in two rooms that look down on the most wonderful garden of all the royal gardens in Sanc. That place is real, as is the magical gate. It is very quiet there tonight with the city hum a million miles away. Shall we meet at last? The answer rest entirely with you, but I shall be anxiously waiting to know. If you decide to give me a chance to explain in person, to denounce myself to you in person, then a happy man will say goodbye to this garden and these rooms and follow you to the ends of the earth and beyond - yes, to L4! Captain Milliardo Peacecraft is coming down the stairs. Is this goodbye forever, my heart's beat? With all my soul, I hope not. -Your Contrite Quiet Man. (o) Heero Yuy's journal: No wonder I haven't made the headway expected on a case like this, a writer weaving a tale to entice a reader into meeting him! I should get in my car and bullet myself over to the Oracle-pick up this Barton idiot and bring him into the office and...then what? Punch his face in? That would be satisfying, but not for long. Of course he hobnobs with Duo Maxwell and Milliardo! I could have bet my next paycheck that Maxwell was at the bottom of this from the start! I was surprised that Miss Relena played along, but, apparently, even she isn't immune to his charms. On second thought, before I have it out with Barton, I'll give Duo a call. On third thought... Chang. He must have guessed already that his boyfriend was the Captain and that's why he left this case to me. Was he in on it all the time as well? Chang, I will kill you! If you are reading this, beware! (o) Wufei Chang slammed down the journal he had been reading. Heero had filled it out while building the Winner case, and Wufei felt he had read enough for the time being. Time to call it a day. He grabbed his coat and dashed to his door. If he was lucky, he could make it out of his apartment before Heero made it over. Stupid case! It all started a few weeks ago. The sign over the door read: Chang and Yuy Investigative Services, but the young man with the appointment knew the pair provided a wide range of assistance that expended far beyond that of most detectives. "And what would you like me to do for you, Mr. Winner?" Chang Wufei asked. "Someone is sending these letters to me," Quatre replied. "There are two to date with the promise of more to come- seven total." Chang looked over the sheet of paper on top. "It's interesting that these are actually sent by mail, not email." He read the first letter in full then raised his eyes to meet the other man's. "This was written by a man." "Yes, how very astute of you to note that in his closure." Quatre stared hard at the Chinese man. "I am gay, if that's what you're asking." "I'm not asking you anything, yet." Wufei tapped his mobile device, sending a signal to the next room. "I'm calling in my partner-" "Putting me off because I'm homosexual is a crime-!" "-Heero Yuy is an equal partner in this agency." "Oh, sorry-" "He is best at handling cases like this." "Where sexual preference is a touchy topic?" "Where stalkers of wealthy clients are involved." Wufei finished patiently. Quatre swallowed hard. "I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions. On L4, the laws are very different. I've become sensitized to my rights." The door opened and the business partner walked in. "Hello, I'm Heero Yuy." "This is Quatre Winner." Wufei introduced him. "Who I would recognize anywhere," Heero said with a smile. On his lapel shined a small rainbow pin, advertising for all to see where his preferences lay. This sent a blush to Quatre's cheeks. "It is hard to hide when Winner Corporation puts itself into the headlines." They took chairs and got down to business with Wufei explaining the mysterious writer. "This letter is recent?" "Just yesterday. The first came the day before. I expect the next this evening, if he keeps his promise." "Is your concern for your safety?" Heero asked. Quatre bestowed upon him a self-conscious smile. "My bodyguards would say yes, and I suppose it should be. It could be a stalker, but there is something in the writer's words that I find intriguing. Oh, I know, you think I'm acting foolishly." "Not at all," Wufei assured him. "You can't be too careful these days, right Heero?" Heero frowned. "No, you can't. So, what do you want us to do for you?" "Find the writer of the letters!" "Have you met anyone lately?" Wufei asked. Quatre laughed. "Hundreds a day. It's my job. Many memorable people both men and women. None pop into my head as the type to do this." "Any admirers?" Wufei asked, undaunted. Heero looked at Quatre then his partner. "I'm certain he has many." Again, a blush returned to Quatre's face. "If you mean lovers, I can say no one new." Heero typed a short message, then asked, "Where have you been in the last, say, two months?" "Many places! L4, naturally, and several of the small satellites where our mineral extraction occurs. L3 for a short time. Mostly, I've been touring here on earth. I could have my secretary give you a copy of my calendar." "That would be helpful, thank you." Heero waited while Quatre made the call and gave permission to divulge any information Chang and Yuy might ask for. "As you can see, my schedule is very full." "Yes, if you like, you could save time and fax the letters to this office," Heero suggested. "I should appreciate that, thank you." Wufei moved to a computer. "I'll begin tracing those letters." After a few more minutes of talking, Quatre left and Heero went to his office to read the letters... Those damnable letters! Those letters got him into the spot he was now-and Maxwell. But if he included Duo, he would have to place some blame on Milliardo as well. Of course, the ultimate blame should rest on Heero's shoulders. If only Yuy could manage his own love life, Duo wouldn't have to stoop to such measures. Getting Heero to notice him had driven the crazy man from L2 to all kinds of plots. This was the most extreme yet. Wufei was very sure Barton could have found a way to win Quatre's affection on his own. It wasn't as if Trowa Barton was some mercenary terrorist on the lam! A famous writer of the literary tripe Quatre adored? They were a match made in writer's heaven! Stupid, stupid, Heero! Wufei looked at the keys in his hand and decided to pay his boyfriend a call on the Sanc Palace Promenade at 19 Oracle Portico, third floor. (o) Heero's first endeavor, based on instinct and sudden impulse, was not usually his best one to follow through on. Knowing this to be true, he placed killing Wufei on the backburner and re-thought his next choice of actions. Duo Maxwell. His mark was all over the place on this case. Max Church. Maxwell Church was the orphanage Duo grew up in and from which he acquired his last name. He hadn't tried very hard to hide this time. With further consideration, Heero's next move became clear. Duo was not hiding this time. He wouldn't miss seeing the outcome of his match-making gambit. Duo had been responsible for Wufei meeting Milliardo. Duo had kept up his friendship with Relena through his break up with Hilde and subsequent move (escape) to L2, where he was able to continue his employment at Preventers, working undercover at the scrapyard. Through her, he masterminded a complicated ruse, bringing the despondent captain out of his exile in the Outlands and into the arrogant, judgmental, but- Heero had to admit- also loving arms of his business partner. Heero also had to admit that it had improved Wufei's temper immensely, so, he supposed, he had Duo to thank for that. Often his thoughts wandered and ended up alighting comfortably on Duo. Sometimes in a very erotic fantasy. When Duo had been living with Agent Hilde Schbeiker, Heero fought his desires for as long as he could until he simply had to change jobs, or kill her, or Duo. Lucky for him, Wufei had tired of Preventers regulations and limitations at the same time, and so they both quit and started their own detective agency. Then suddenly, Duo Maxwell took an assignment on L2 and was gone. Maybe he would have out-grown his Duo-induced infatuation after that, healed the wounds of unrequited love, had Duo remained completely out of his life. But he engineered several run-ins, which his partner, Wufei, called intentional meetings. Intentional or not, Heero was always in the middle of some other stressful case and unable to spend any time with Duo. When he had maneuvered Wufei and Milliardo to a meeting of the minds and souls, as it turned out, Heero felt grateful to him. Duo had taken the shuttle all the way to Sanc to see his happy couple. Wufei had told him at the time that Duo had made the special trip just to see Heero, not that he believed that to be true. As Heero pointed out, they only crossed paths the one time. Once was all it took, though. He saw Duo just the one time, and then the protective barrier Heero had erected around his heart cracked and a flood of passions hit him- overwhelming passions and pain. He still adored Duo, could not ever tell him about it. How could he? Duo wasn't even gay! Heero could not handle the loss of him again. Duo would return to L2 and out of his life again. Heero closed the agency while Chang and Peacecraft took a month-long holiday, locked himself in his apartment, and grieved for what he couldn't have. By the time Wufei returned, Heero had climbed out of his depression and they were taking in cases once again. And then this. Surely Duo would want to come to Sanc to see the happy consequences. Quatre wasn't scheduled to return to L4 until the next day. Heero checked the shuttle arrivals, and discovered service from L2 landing in a few hours. So, instead of killing his business partner, that would remain a future possibility, Heero drove to the shuttle launch facility. (o) Trowa Barton, once he knew that his letter was delivered, took his place in the anxiety seat. There he writhed through the long hours of Wednesday morning. Not to prolong this painful picture, by afternoon came a telegram, brought to him by his trusty doorman. He tore it open: Quiet Man: I shall never, never forgive you. But I am flying tomorrow on the 887 shuttle to L4. Were you thinking of leaving Sanc soon? - Quatre R. Winner Thrilled beyond measure, he still had time to touch his patron for a little more advance for his next book, "I need a ticket to L4-exploratory... on behalf of a new novel." Milliardo chuckled, handed over the credits, an envelope addressed to QRW, and wished him good luck. When he left the house, a figure moved out of the shadows. "Is he gone?" Milliardo reached out to the young man and pulled him to his chest. "Yes, but it wasn't Yuy. Someday you'll have to face him." "Someday, I will," Wufei declared. "But not today." "Oh, most certainly not today. Today is for us." (o) Heero varied his activity from pacing the waiting room to watching the vid-screen flight-tracker until the shuttle from L2 landed safely. Without Preventers clout giving him the authority to see the passenger list, he had to wait with everyone else and watch the people deplane. One by one. Family clump by clump. And then Duo. Cocky walk, in spite of the carryall bag the size of a small pony. He sees me, Heero noticed then, and his throat hurt. His hands ached from fisting them so tightly. Duo's eyes widened and his face faltered, then he picked up his pace to the end of the exit ramp, where he dropped the bag, giving it a kick to the side, before trotting up to Heero. "Hi! I wasn't sure you'd come, but I'm glad," Duo said. "Hi. I wasn't sure either-that is, that you'd be on that," Heero said, stumbling over his words. "You look great!" Duo did look him over, smiling now. "I probably look like shit. You know how those long flights are-" "I do. You look..." Heero let his eyes roam over the other man, drinking in the vision of manliness he had so missed. "Don't say it!" Duo held up a hand. "I can explain the stains. This guy spilled his drink on me. It was an accident!" Heero had not seen any stains. "You look fine." "Oh? Well, thanks. I tried sponging them clean. I wanted to look my best." Heero pulled his thoughts to the here and now, back to reality, and sobered up. "Your... friends are not here." It just occurred to him that the first thing he should have done was to check on the major players in his case. Had he rushed to that terrace house to find Barton? No. Contacted Quatre his client? No. Had he done any damn thing to close the case? No, again. What had he done? He had come after Duo. He had come to see Duo. Duo, Duo, Duo. He was not over Duo Maxwell, at all. "Hey, babe, I ain't worried about the writer and his corporate manager. Tro's a great groveler and Quat's got a thing for bad boys. No, I'm here for you." Heero's most fanciful, amazing, improbable, and literally out of this world dreams had come true. "'Ro? You know that don't you? You know I just want to find a way to be with you, right?" Heero dazed by the news, stood in dumb fascination of the handsome man staring into his face. "Me?" "You are Heero Yuy, right?" "I have always been here in Sanc." "That's right, you have. Good point. I had to go, you know? I had to put some distance between me and Hilde, and you. I didn't want her to connect you with our breaking up." "Me?" "Yes," he said and he grinned. "Heero Yuy. You. She and I had a pretty good thing going on, 'cept I wasn't really happy. Being gay, I guess. I was fighting that, but..." His huge blue eyes gazed into mine. "Geez, 'Ro, you know I fell head over heels for you, right?" Heero shook his head; he was unable to comprehend this alternative reality, to make it fit the past as he had lived it. Duo blew the bangs out of his face. "'Fei was right. He tried to stay out of what was going on-he's really bad at interpersonal relationships, believe me, so it was probably for the best." Heero snapped out of his fog. "Your schemes that brought you to Sanc this past year-you intent was to see me?" "Hell, yeah! You think I'd go to that much trouble just to give those dudes their happy endings?!" With nothing to hold him back any longer, Heero closed the space between them and wrapped Duo in his arms. His lips found the other man's in the next second, and after that he was lost in a cloud of bliss. (o) The next day Trowa rushed to the shuttle launch site, bought a one-way ticket on number 887 to L4, and looked for the object of his affection. There. Quatre was standing, staring out over the tarmac. With a wildly beating heart, he approached him, not knowing what to say, but feeling that a start must be made somehow. "Please pardon me," he said, hoping he wasn't just babbling. "But I want to tell you-" Quatre turned. "I beg your pardon," he said. "I haven't met you, that I recall, properly." "I know," Trowa answered. "That's going to change now. I have a letter of introduction." With a look of surprise, Quatre took the envelope and opened it. "A letter of introduction-really it is! From Prince Milliardo Peacecraft. How impressive, Mr. Barton." "I must tell you," Trowa ploughed ahead, "I'm sorry I have such a keen imagination. It carried me away, really it did! I didn't mean to deceive you with those letters, but once I got started..." his voice faltered, his confidence faltered. "You know, don't you? You know that I love you with all my heart? From the moment you came into that breakfast room I-" "-Really, Mr. Barton-" "Call me Trowa, please? I adore you! What can I do to prove it? Oh, won't you believe me when I say I'm deeply in love-?" "In love with mystery and romance and in love with your own remarkable powers of invention, of that I am sure!" Quatre said. "I'm not sure if I can take you seriously." "But you can! Look! I bought a ticket to L4 with all my money. I'll have to stay there until I have written something to show my publisher. I will prove myself to you." Quatre wrinkled his nose. "I don't think L4 is the place you want to go, not if you have in mind a romance, with another man." "But you are going there!" Quatre took out his mobile device and for several minutes busied himself with shuttle schedules. "There must be a more suitable colony. A place for adventure and romance both-" "Romance, yes," Trowa said. He was eager to assist Quatre in his pursuit of this train of reasoning. "L2. I know L2 is good. L3 isn't bad either," Trowa suggested, his hope rising by the second. "Not L3; I was just there. L2? Yes. I could rearrange my schedule... and good luck! There is a shuttle taking off in an hour and it still has seats available. What do you think?" "If you are asking me to change plans, and accompany you to L2, then yes! I'll go wherever you go. My story will evolve appropriately." "Good. Well, let's get the tickets changed before my keepers try and stop me," Quatre said. "Does that mean you might love me, too?" Trowa asked bravely. "Oh, you'll have to wait until tomorrow." "I have to wait as long as that?!" "A little suspense won't hurt you. I can't forget those long days waiting for your letters." "I know! But can't you give me just a hint? A little one, here, now?" Of course Quatre had given him plenty of hints, but the man really wanted to hear those lovely words of affection. "I am without mercy," Quatre said, then laughed at Trowa's devastated look, and then he reached out and closed his finger over Trowa's hand. "Not even the suspicion of a hint, dearest, except to tell you that I'll say yes." The End.
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