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"The Agency: Meeting of Souls "Written By: Karina Pairings 13x6 [eventual], 5xS, 3x4, Others undecided at this time. Warnings: Extreme Alternate Universe setting. Unbetaed, Aussie spelling and grammar, not much else in the early chapters though it will involve murder, stalking and possibly some colourful language down the track. Some Out Of Character depictions are unavoidable considering the alternate universe setting. Rating: M [In Australia that would be mature adult 15+] Not sure with the new rating system about international ratings. Rated for violence and language and adult concepts. Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. That's about as plain as you could say it. Summary: The world took a very different turn with the acknowledgement of psychic abilities and training of select psychic individuals enlisted in elite fields such as law enforcement and politics. A grading system for the strength of psionic abilities was developed and those who were the top of the elite have been dubbed Prime Talents and are highly sought after. Elite institutions have been developed to mark, train and employ individuals with useable psionic talents. The colonies of canon Gundam Wing do exist in this fic and were constructed before the psionic system was founded. With the advent of psionics in open use in society younger people are appearing in positions of power as they are awakening to their abilities earlier and are highly trained in their fields of expertise. Archive: Gundam Wing Universe [gundam-wing-universe.net]
//…// Thoughts
Chapter 45 Une stiffened her back, half turning to face her secretary. "Prime Gabriella has returned to the city?" Molly Davies inclined her head in the affirmative, edging a step closer to the door at the tone of her employer's voice. In the last thirty minutes or so Une's temper, always uncertain even at the best of times, had taken a volatile turn. The woman was a terror to work for; the other personal secretaries for the executives of the office building expressed their sympathy to her each and every day. But the pay was good, it came with a hazard clause and despite Une's constant mood swings, Molly actually liked her job. It was not the worst employment Molly had had over the years, but some days were more trying on her nerves than others and the last few days... Well, she only hoped the situation would improve. Sooner rather than later. Generally Une, whilst being a bit snappish, was a fair woman to work for. It was hardly Molly's fault if the woman's chest paled into insignificance beside her own admirable cleavage. If she kept telling herself that then maybe she would eventually believe it actually made a difference to Une's temper. One day. "Yes, ma'am. Her personal secretary contacted me a few minutes ago to say that the Prime is currently enroute to the accommodation apartments to see Prime Khushrenada. Additionally he gave an estimated itinerary for the Prime's activities for the remainder of the day. Prime Gabriella will be moving on to Tsuberov after concluding her session with Prime Khushrenada, and hopes to be in attendance here at the Agency headquarters at approximately 18:00 hours. At that time, on the Prime's instruction, he requests that you be present for a briefing on Prime Khushrenada's condition and a consultation concerning any working restrictions that might be required." Une turned from her panoramic view of the city to blatantly stare at her secretary, a light frown steadily growing deeper as she considered the woman who visibly wilted beneath the weight of her attention. "Prime Gabriella's personal secretary called?" "Yes, ma'am." "Prime Gabriella does not have a `personal secretary' to call the organisation and make an appointment to see me. Prime Gabriella, being Prime Gabriella, simply appears in front of a body blown in on the strength of a category four wind and informs you of what your latest sins are; and deals out summary punishment accordingly." The frown had grown to a full on scowl. "I repeat, Prime Gabriella does not have a Personal Secretary." The buxom woman sidled a little more in the direction of the door. "With respect, ma'am, she does now. I could hear the Prime in the background and as it was a video call, I actually could see her. The call came from the hotel where the Prime is resident for her stay in the city." Une's glare did not falter in the slightest and Molly wilted a little more, edging toward the door but refraining from making a run for what she considered to be safer ground. Une was almost impressed with this suggestion of a backbone her secretary displayed. There might be hope for the physically over endowed idiot after all. She had better things to consider than oversized boobs and the lack of a spine. She did not need the distraction. "Out." Her executive secretary scuttled out the door with an admirable turn of speed and Une turned back to her view through the window. The best thing about her office was the view, it was her one balm in a world that was coming to a chaotic end in her opinion. She fervently wished it would do so on someone else's watch. One thing after another landed on her desk, day in day out, from mildly annoying inefficiencies to a full blown crisis and multiples of the same. It was a good day if only one world shattering event landed on her desk, but such was not to be the case this time around. In her honest opinion this job sucked, but she would not give up the position for anything. It was an addiction, raising her adrenaline levels, drawing her further and further away from the cloying grasp of her family and offering her the certainty that she was good at something other than being a breeding machine. They had never appreciated her for anything other than her bloodlines, but here... Here it was so very different. She was her own woman. Distractions, again. She needed to exercise the very discipline she demanded of her teams and get back on track. The question of the hour still lacked resolution. How was she supposed to section off a good sized portion of the city, evacuating everyone in the affected area and establish a safe zone? The evacuation had to be complete, including every registered tenant, every bum, hooker, pimp, drug dealer and homeless waif wandering the alleys and sewers. Yes, evacuating the area could be done, there was no doubt of that, but Noin was talking `now'. Immediate evacuation, not a procedure to occur in multiples of days or weeks. Effective immediately, sooner rather than later. The sheer logistics of such an operation... City bureaucracy did not work that way. It was likely to take days to organise the exodus of so many people. She was in the formative stages of the process of working out exactly who it would be best for her to contact to get this operation underway. Though she wished otherwise, it was not simply a matter of placing a call to the Town Hall and expecting the Mayor to accept, at face value, the need to evacuate entire city blocks. Nor was it in their favour that it was a `lesser' area of the city. A poor quarter, so to speak. Not quite the slums, but close to it. An area where there was no exact head count for the occupancy rate on a day to day basis. For every person the city records actually knew inhabited the area, there was likely to be at least three individuals who were not on any official records in any way, shape or form, sleeping, living and dealing there. How did you round up that many people and say you had them all, when you had no idea how many people actually inhabited the shadows at any time of any given day? Noin was asking the impossible. The Prime Clairaudient would be arriving any time now, the exact arrival time largely depended on the city traffic, and she had best have used that travel time to refine her argument to the point that Une was totally satisfied with her reasoning. Une would do her job, she would listen, nit pick, demand every ounce of detail, and then make her decision. Who would be best to call in first to receive this information? Not one person alone, she mused, it would be best to summon a number of the city officials. A core group would be required to be briefed on their little crisis and that group, of course, would include the local law enforcement agency. Joy. She was on such good terms with them at the moment. Just one more impediment to the smooth operation of what was going to be a trying mission. Yes, think of it as a mission and herself as the mission coordinator. Take out the personal... dislike... she held for the arsehole who had invaded her office recently and disrupted her staff. There with the unnecessary distraction again. Back on track. The arsehole would be dealt with in the fullness of time. The operation would be a massive logistical nightmare and, in the long term, she alone would not be suffering the pain of organising it, but she was likely to be the one who carried the can for whatever went wrong. The Blame Game was a game politicians were only too happy to play, so long as the finger pointing was not in their direction. They excelled at finding a scapegoat when one was needed. Une rubbed the bridge of her nose, contemplating the day thus far and wishing she could simply throw the lot in the `too hard' bin and head on home to bed. She had a headache and it was bound to get worse as the day wore on. It was simply way too early in the day for this kind of crisis and there was no hiding from it. Not that it was in her nature to let her side step the unpalatable. There was a job to be done, and if she did not step up to the plate and take responsibility, then who would? She had a job to do, but one could dream, yes? For a few minutes every now and then through the day, she could think longingly of her bed and closing the world out around her. So much nicer to contemplate a few decent hours of sleep rather than organising the evacuation of tens of thousands of people. Tension headaches sucked. It might yet develop into a full blown migraine if she was not careful. She crossed her arms over her breasts and rested her forehead against the cool glass. The temperature of the glass felt so good against her brow. She needed a distraction... something simple. Just a few minutes of distraction to allow her subconscious mind to dwell on the possibilities, and to come up with a miracle. Noin would be arriving soon to thoroughly ruin any prospects of the day picking up and then there would be no opportunity to distract herself, budding migraine or not. So... Gabriella had a Private Secretary? Yes, that would do as it came as more than a surprise that one had appeared out of the woodwork. Undoubtedly the old Prime had one, no doubt a full support team in the shadows, but one never heard of them. One never saw them. It was always just Gabriella appearing out of thin air with the wind at her back shaking up the world around her. Suddenly, publicly, there was a personal secretary? How, why, had that happened? Whoever it was now playing the part of secretary was an uncommonly brave individual, given the erratic and dynamic personality of the old Prime. No easy job, one that honestly would frighten her into quivering in a corner, sprouting copious quantities of gibberish and blacking out the world if it were offered to her. Une shuddered lightly, happy enough that it was not she who would be dealing with the woman on a daily basis. She might have liked the man's salary though, there would likely be a considerable bonus in there for exposure to highly dangerous and hazardous working conditions. Frighteningly, suspiciously, for Gabriella to have a public personal secretary, it hinted at unspeakable things. Unthinkable things, as in Gabriella staying in the city for an extended period of time. "Mein Gott! Nein, nein." she breathed. Ah, now wait a minute. She stilled, closing her eyes to the sight of the city spread out below her. Fool. Such a fool. What was she thinking? Une pursed her lips, possibilities dancing through her mind. Oh yes, yes, she was a fool, an idiot. It might really be as simple as that to get some action out of reluctant city officials. Simplicity itself. There was no side stepping the issue that she was required to deal with the politicians and officials who ran the city. Officials who were fiercely defensive of their positions and responsibilities to ensure a smoothly functioning city structure. The people did not appreciate disruption to their daily routines, and therefore the city infrastructure had to function smoothly. She needed to evacuate a rather substantial chunk of said cities real estate, and establish containment lines for an indefinite period of time. This would undoubtedly lead to disruptions for a good sized portion of the city population. Unhappy constituents led to unhappy politicians who might not survive the next round of elections, and therefore would not willingly cooperate with her plans. Her problem was how to sort out how best to tackle getting the politicians on side without stepping on too many toes and making enemies of people she would need for other cases to be solved. She needed to determine how best to tackle the actual clean up of a contaminated site once the area had been adequately secured. The clean up would require psychics of various fields, primarily empathic and telepathic individuals with, presumably, a smattering of clairaudients in their number. She doubted Noin on her own would be able to handle the matter. The point was, it would take a large number of psychics to complete the operation. From Noin's earlier initial briefing, it would take more telepaths and empaths than the city currently boasted. And the Prime, THE Prime talent in that very field was, at this time, within the city limits. Gabriella. The old harridan had proven time and time again that she was as tough as nails and would take no idiocy from anyone. Anyone, including the highest ranked politicians in the ESUN. She had garnered the reputation of being fearless, facing down anyone when she found a cause, and Une had no doubt about the old woman's ability to win. The woman was a dynamo, a force of nature no one could hope to contain. She was her solution to gaining the cooperation of the city officials. And to acquiring the required talents to deal with the issue. All she had to do was get in touch with the Prime and explain to her in detail the seriousness of the situation. She would need to provide proof of the circumstances, but that was where Noin came in. The woman was a Prime in her own right and if there was one thing Une knew, it was that a Prime respected another Prime from a differing field of expertise. There was not likely to be a personality clash or sabre rattling between the two elites. She would need Noin to speak with the woman and inform her of the evidence for the disaster Noin foreshadowed would befall the city if nothing was done to stop it. And as it so happened she was expecting Noin to appear at any time, certainly within the hour. She might even now be within the building, but she was surely not far away. Once she had Noin and they had gone through the evidence and made certain it was flawless, one did not present flawed details to the old woman, then it would not be much of a problem to catch Gabriella. After all, she knew the exact itinerary of the old woman, thanks to her newly in evidence Personal Secretary. Une smirked, satisfied with her deliberations. It might not be so difficult to make the politicians take them seriously after all. Everyone knew the reputation of the fearsome old woman. She might even get to like the old psychic. "Molly! Coffee!" ——————— Gabriella was feeling particularly satisfied at this point in time. She had not doubted his training, given his background. Her grandchildren in Sanc who worked within the palace in any capacity, were well versed in the proper protocols for every situation. This particular grandchild had worked directly under Pagan and she had no doubt his training had been rigorous and quite thorough beneath Pagan's guidance. Pagan had particular standards, after all, and accepted only the best to work beneath him. Certainly her youngling had sounded every inch the professional personal secretary for a person of prominence when he had contacted the Agency. His sudden appearance and placement as her assistant would lift more that the odd eyebrow, of course. She was well known to be a law unto herself, and it was a rare occasion that she travelled with a public entourage. Notably she was known not to travel with a personal secretary per se. She preferred to arrange her own matters in her own time, and in her own way. Rarely to the comfort of others. In truth she had a full and highly competent staff, it was just that they were never on immediate public display. At need a quick call could be made, as she had done before leaving Sanc to ensure that hotel accommodations for her grandchildren, and everything they could possibly need, would be on hand for their arrival. Her staff were present, but in absentia to the casual observer, as she preferred it, and they were extremely efficient. Making a vidcall, or by making direct mind to mind contact with her usual personal secretary and staff, was as close to her physical presence as she desired her staff to be. As a rule. This situation was an exception to the norm. He was... soothing to her senses. She needed to know his exact capabilities, to ferret out any bad habits he may have acquired, assess his skills base and his temperament. She had plans for her children. Not all of them would remain in her immediate reach, certainly not in her immediate presence, but she had plans that, if they were able but above all willing, they would find fulfilling and satisfying. And it must always be their choice. She would never directly order them to take up a particular position. He was... so astonishingly soothing to her senses. She needed to acquire a fully trained competent staff for another grandchild who would, in the fullness of time, make waves in psi society. She initially would keep him under her wing during his probation, but eventually she would cut him loose, as she had her Naughty Boy, and then let the world beware with those two running lose. It would be a sight to see, the pair of them making waves that would be world shaking in the fullness of time. For that to happen smoothly a competent staff needed to be assembled. A well oiled team who knew their place and their jobs and she would arrange that staff. Choosing only the best individuals suited to HIS personality. There would be no simple pointing and assigning just anyone to the role, this would be required to be handled delicately. It had to be just right. Gabriella did not do things by the half measure. She watched the city street for a long moment as the limousine glided through the heavy traffic. So many people going about their every day business, so many lives unconcerned with the big picture. Concerned only with their own lives, their families, yes, but chiefly with what happened to them as individuals. It was human nature, of course, and she understood that. It was the exceptional individual who looked beyond the `me' to the `us' for more than isolated, infrequent moments. "Next it is being Tsuberov you will be calling. Informing the Dean Gabriella is requiring health checks of Duo Maxwell, Quatre Winner and Zechs Marquise you will. Not to be subject to more or less than level five subject material are they, until present Gabriella is. Also additional requirement. Relena of Sanc to be confined to shielded quarters is, and given handbook, kinder grade, on telepathic protocol. Non negotiable this is, understand? Princess well might she be, but kinder, child, infant! This she is, given performance and lack of discipline. Not tolerating such disrespect will Gabriella be. Making clear to all Gabriella intends, that Gabriella insists on admirable restraint for all Psi." "Yes, ma'am." What he would be thinking of her naming the Crown Princess of Sanc a kinder, a child, she would have been amused to find out, but she would never peep at his mind. She was not one to bark about protocols and immediately break the rules herself... at least not obviously. He hardly looked disturbed by her vitriol as he inched closer to the controls of the vidphone. He was good at subjugating his body's clues as to the thoughts that went on in that pretty head of his. Eye candy. One was never too old to enjoy it. She settled deeper into the lush upholstery of the seat as the limousine wove through traffic, and watched as he put through the call, her eyes half closed, giving the impression she was dozing. She was liking this grandchild more and more, finding him to be a pleasure to work with. He had good instincts and sound training, and a good knowledge of the protocols to be used when in the presence of a Prime talent and, frankly, that surprised her. Sanc had no Prime talents, other than herself, and she had never been registered in Sanc. It was not her home after all, she was a gypsy, bound to no land, free to roam at will. That was the way she was, a free spirit. Though others might not agree, either now or in the past, on the boundaries of that freedom. Sanc certainly could boast high talents to be sure, a decent few level 8's in a variety of fields, of which this grandchild was one, and a few level 9's, but there were no actual Prime talents in any field to her knowledge. Yet the feel of this grandchild was a balm to her hyper sensitivity, and though much of that was natural charisma and restraint on his part, a good deal of it was training. It took a good deal of natural talent to be invisible when in plain sight; to register as a presence but not as an intrusion on the hyper sensitive awareness of the Prime telepathic / empathic mind. He was comfortable to be physically near, something she had rarely found in her long life. To her pleasure Adrian Carruthers was only the faintest of awareness to her psychic presence, even though he sat beside her on the wide seat, speaking with the University Master in a no nonsense tone. He was projecting calm authority and the inalienable right to order the much older, and very much more academically accomplished man, around. One might imagine him to be the Lord of the Manor and the University's Master to be a peon of times long past. Well, no wonder really, given he was a titled noble in Sanc, not just one of the `wild sown' cousins. He was legitimate, the heir to a Dukedom. He was confident in himself and his ability to command, not simply to serve. Yet he was the faintest brush of warmth, a soft `blue' glow to her hyper awareness. She could actually get used to having him close to her. He was very good at what he did, she decided, and she would need to be wary because of that very skill. For his sake. It might come to the point where she did not wish to part with him and that must not be permitted to become a problem. For her and especially for him. She needed to be careful. Long years had she lived, but death came to everyone in the end and Gabriella was well aware that her days were numbered. Science could do only so much to extend a human life and to offer some degree of relief for the physical weaknesses and pains of an aged body. She had largely enjoyed her life. It had been an interesting existence, one filled with events both good and bad. Long years filled with happiness, sadness, love and a good amount of hate, particularly in her younger years. Ah, she had known sorrow, such sorrow, and she had been forced into making hard choices. Painful choices. Choices that had left her weak and weeping at the price others had paid. It had been a far from boring life, but to be honest she was tired. She had had many years in which to review her life, the decisions she had made, both good and bad, and in the end she accounted the days of her existence as being a good life. It was not a decision she had come to lightly. She had done so much, affected so many, but at the end of the day she determined it had been a life well spent. One in which she had made a difference to the world around her, to the people who inhabited it, and those effects had been for the best. It was enough for her, who was her own harshest critic, to continue to live and to know that her life, now winding down, had been well spent. It would be good to rest, to lay down the weight of responsibility, for with great power came great responsibility. Rest would be welcome but such was not to be her balm as yet. She had more to do before she could permit herself that final sleep. That final, lasting peace. Her children must be provided for. Those of them who had been wronged in her absence must be cared for, the wrongs righted. At the least, justice should be given. It was her fault for not keeping a closer eye on the machinations of Sancian politics, but in her final days she would ensure her children through the years to come would be dealt a better hand. Starting with those she now surrounded herself with, these children she had taken from Sanc and had given a new chance to live. There was still time to do the job properly. —————————- Professor Jones slapped the file reader on the table and glared at the messenger who twitched, looking as though he would take a long step back though he actually did not move. Quatre paused with the teacup raised before his lips and watched as the Professor's aura chilled. He shuddered, strengthening his shields against the man's flaring agitation. To say the man was annoyed by whatever the message he had received contained was an understatement. Professor Jones looked about ready to snap the messenger's neck, but the reaction was, thankfully, brief. The emotional storm peaked quickly, flaring with Arctic chill and then was subjugated. The man was too well trained on the protocols of working with empaths and telepaths to forget himself for long. He was in the presence of a high talent empath and the need to control volatile emotion dawned on him as quickly as the rage had come. The chill emanating from him dulled down, muted, control established quickly. He straightened himself from his subconscious hunched position, squaring his shoulders. The messenger looked anything but relieved. "Inform the Master that I understand the instruction. You may go." "Yes, professor." He wasted no time in getting the door between him and the irate man. Trowa caught Quatre's eye and he shrugged slightly, the barest twitch of his shoulders. He had no idea what was going on, and he was unable to see the message still displayed on the reader partially covered by the Professor's large hand. He was not inclined to try the man's temper by trying to read it, or so much as twitching and drawing his attention until the professor had been given a bit of time to firmly establish his controls. Honestly, he had had enough of the tension in the technicians and professors working with him throughout the morning's long sessions. What he wanted to know was where Duo and Zechs were and what they had been subjected to when they were separated on their arrival. He had an idea of what would be happening, especially given his own experience, but no one would speak of them, concerning themselves only with the work they wanted him to do. Every look directed his way told him they were disappointed in him, angry yes, but mainly disappointed in him. He had broken basic training. He was only too aware of how he had broken the long established protocols everyone at Tsuberov was taught from the day of their arrival, but to be honest he had had little choice. Didn't they understand the situation? Really? Anyone would think they were criminals or something, instead of teenagers who were friends and who were helping each other in a time of need. Zechs had needed help immediately and there had been a known Prime talent in that exact field on hand. He knew the man, had known his face so there was no chance of mistaken identity. It was a part of his training as a Winner to know the faces of the people who influenced the Winner fortune and he could not mistake the Prime. Did they take him for an idiot who would permit just anyone to so intimately contact a high talent psi already in distress? He was not an idiot; he was competent enough in himself and his abilities to make on the spot decisions in a crisis situation. He would not apologise for any actions that he saw as being necessary to the well-being of his friend. Who was he to refuse that kind of specialist help when it literally walked through the door in such a timely fashion and offered to help? Who could say what might have happened if he had waited for a specialist team from Tsuberov to respond to an emergency call? Any delay from the past evidence provided by previous instances, might have proven more costly to Zechs. It was odd, unusual, this attack. Frankly it had scared Quatre how the attack had so suddenly happened. There had been no sign, no indications of an imminent incident days before the actual episode, as there had been in the past. No, Quatre believed himself to be in the right and he was heartily tired of being accused of terrible things. Though to be honest, and he would be fair here, it might indeed have been a terrible thing if something had gone wrong. The professors were trying to make a case for why the rules were the way they were, but regardless, it was an If. If something had gone wrong. But nothing had gone wrong. Trowa caught his eye and he straightened, forcing himself to stop dwelling on the `what if's' and intending to get back to basics. He wanted to talk to his friend, whom he would happily describe as his `special friend' if he dared. If he dared. He was a coward and he was going to have to make a decision at some point about their friendship and what he wanted it to be. They could not go on forever like they were and he wanted to keep in touch, be more than a passing acquaintance once they finished their education here. He wanted so much more than friendship. He wanted to talk to Trowa, to explain to him why he was in the situation he was, but he was unwilling to draw the professor's attention. If they could just talk without anyone listening he could explain and maybe Trowa could tell him if he had overstepped the boundaries unnecessarily. He didn't think Trowa would agree with the clinical assessment of the trainers, though. He didn't dare use telepathy either. Trowa looked haggard, exhausted and he wanted to know why he was at the laboratories instead of at classes. For him to look as tired as he did some deep level work must have taken place. The high calorie count of the meal spread before him could not be ignored. He would not break protocol again by telepathically touching Trowa's mind for fear he might inadvertently disrupt whatever procedure Trowa was taking a break from. As he looked up Trowa ducked his head, visible green eye flicking to the Professor, and he half raised a hand, shielding his face with a glass of orange juice. His lips twitched, in silence mouthing a message as his green eye burned with curiosity. Quatre was adept enough in lip reading to understand the silent message. `What is going on? What exactly did you do?' No real mystery there. Of course Trowa would be dying of curiosity to know what was happening and would want an explanation. And he would explain, he wanted to explain, just as soon as they had some assured privacy and the Arctic chill that was the professor's temper was no longer breathing down his neck. All he could do for the immediate moment was to mouth back `later', sip his tea and do his level best to look the picture of innocence. He had had enough of the disapproval and simply wanted a few minutes alone with his significant other. Significant other? Why did he have to dance around like this? Hide the fact that he wanted so much more from Trowa? But they were young, that might well be a factor of their relationship. The bright candle of youth flaring with passion only to gutter out at a short breeze and the flash of another pair of what-ever coloured eyes and a supple body... No. No, he had heard all of that from others too often. There was something especially significant about Trowa. It went deeper than the `fires of youth'. All hormones and no sense was a favourite catch cry of his tutors at home and he was done with that. He would need to... "It appears that there has been a change of plans for this afternoon's session, Mr. Winner." The professor's fingers clenched tighter around the reader. Drawing a deep breath Quatre forced himself to set the teacup carefully in its saucer and focused on the professor. He was the picture of polite attention, no trace of his rioting thoughts betrayed him and he knew the man was no fool. He would know Quatre was pissed at the way he had been treated and being a Winner, he was unaccustomed to being treated like an errant child. Tsuberov had been good for him, as largely he was treated exactly like the other students in general. It had been refreshing coming here, and he had no desire to leave it in an untimely fashion. His carefully blank features, deliberately schooled to not display emotion, would probably drive the man deeper into his anger, but Quatre was not inclined to care at the moment. He had been taught from infancy the need to project an attentive countenance, to hide what he was thinking and give his elders his full attention. "Yes, professor?" "The monitoring session is cancelled... for now. My apologies, Mr. Barton, for the inconvenience. Mr. Winner, you will return to the laboratory after your break and we will undergo another two levels of examinations. You have one hour to eat and prepare yourself whilst I assemble the team and we make preparations for the session." Quatre blinked, feeling his jaw loosen but stopping it from falling open. The man looked anything but happy, in fact it surprised Quatre that he had not crushed the reader in his hand, he was so tense. To say that he was surprised with the new instruction was an understatement, but he did not have to be so blatantly obvious about it. His father always told him to keep a poker face and he knew he sucked at it, but this time he would manage. "Another examination session? Professor? We have already worked through three levels of assessment. It has been determined that I am perfectly healthy, physically and mental.." "I am well aware of your condition, Mr. Winner, given I supervised your examination. You do not need to spell it out to me." He was almost sure he heard the grating of teeth and from the set of the professor's jawline Quatre decided that yes, the professor was grating his molars together. "Be that as it may, we are under instruction to assess your physical and mental capacity at this time up to level five. The Master has given his instructions and we are duty bound to comply. Is that understood?" Quatre scowled, shifting his gaze to focus on the table and resist the urge to punch it. For a long moment he pushed his meal around his plate and scowled, unseeing of the torture he submitted the fruit to. He was steadily getting pissed at the unfairness of it all, and that would not do. It would only serve to prove that he was more affected by the night's activities than he cared to admit at the present time. It was not so much the work expected of him as their attitude that was annoying him, but did he dare to protest further? Would having a temper tantrum do any good? No, of course not. A cold and clinical demand for a further explanation as to why he was subjected to this level of assessment might garner him some sort of further explanation... Or not, given the man's aggravation at this time. Would further questioning of any sort produce any change at all? He had spent all morning being poked, prodded and assessed and he was not keen on repeating the performance on an even deeper level for another few hours. That level of assessment might just show more strain than he was comfortable with. He was feeling `alright' but alright was not his usual self. He was uncertain himself as to the extent of his capacity at the present time. He was not comfortable with the idea of deeper level testing and he needed to at least try to avoid further testing. "The Master is in charge of the University, not the Laboratories. How can he..." "Enough. Perhaps level five is a better assessment level after all. I am well aware of the Master's jurisdiction, Mr. Winner. If you care to take the matter up with the one who actually gave the order for you to return to the testing routines, then I suggest you call Prime Gabriella and tell her how unhappy you are about it!" Quatre froze, staring at the man as though he expected him to grow a second head. He was... Horrified. "Now if you will excuse me, I am duty bound to get out of your range until I attain a higher degree of control than I currently enjoy. I feel the need to bash my head against the wall a few times to expedite that numb feeling I need to find, so you have one hour, Mr. Winner. Do not leave this room in the interim. Mr. Barton, your supervisor will return to attend you, remain here until then. " Quatre stared at the closed door for a long moment, blankly staring at the cool metal surface with its nondescript grey paint, his fingers curling inward, forming fists unconsciously. After a series of carefully controlled breaths, starting out on the breathless and ragged side, striving to reach for that professional detachment himself, he groaned softly and folded over the table. One hand swept his plate out of the way as he thumped his head against the table, his fists pounded the table top a few times and he was ashamed later to say that he whimpered. "Oh Allah... Allah, no. Not that. Not Gabriella." Trowa blinked, dumbfounded, both at the professor's tone and his abrupt departure, but even more affected by the blonde's defeated, horror filled whispers. He had no idea what this was all about, but he was dying of curiosity and he wanted an explanation. Just what had Quatre been up to? What had he become a part of overnight that had the professor in such a snit? Why was the head of the University calling the shots in the laboratories? The University was totally separate in hierarchy from the laboratories, though they worked in conjunction. Who was Gabriella and why would she have such a devastating effect on his friend? Oh yes, he wanted answers to rather a lot of questions, not the least of which was to the question of how Duo and Zechs were involved in the matter. Following an uncomfortable silence stretching over several minutes in which Quatre almost seemed to be sobbing quietly into the table's surface, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had thought Quatre would gain control of himself, but that appeared to not be on the blonde's agenda. At least not any time soon, and given they only had a limited time before a supervisor appeared, he would need to take matters into his own hands. He had to jog Quatre out of his self absorbed misery. It was unlike Quatre to behave like this. He had picked out the blonde's temper easily enough, despite his good control, but this was not temper. He knew Quatre on a deeper level than anyone at Tsuberov understood, with the possible exception of his room- mates. All of that anger, so tightly controlled, had now plummeted to a depressed misery. "Quatre? What's going on?" He laughed, softly, and there was a hysterical edge to the sound that set Trowa's hackles rising. He had heard that laugh from his friend before, on a number of occasions. He had only ever heard it when his father, the almighty Winner, as Quatre had snarled then, had made decisions that Quatre felt powerless against. It was a brittle sound filled with distress. "Quatre?" "Sorry. So sorry." Trowa sighed softly, running a hand through his long side bang, wanting to reach out and shake Quatre out of his mood. "Sorry for what? You are not making any sense, Quatre." "It's the end of the world. It's the end of... Everything. The end of the world." Well, that was certainly enlightening. "I... don't understand. What is wrong?" The fists gently pounding the table flattened out and slender hands spread over the surface, twitching every now and then, but at least he appeared to be relaxing. After a long moment he heard a sniff and realised that Quatre might actually have been crying and he cursed protocol that forbade him from touching the one he wanted to be far, far more than simply a friend. "Quatre?" It was indeed a tearful face that was raised from the table and those slender hands were quick to wipe away the evidence, but the blue eyes remained watery and there was abject misery in the low moan. "I'm doomed. Sooo doomed! Gabriella has taken an interest in me."
Chapter 46 |
