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"Friends "Written By: Karina
Series: Friends Pairings: 2+6 Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence. Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing or the characters. That’s the way it is. Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.
Aussie spelling and unbetaed. Summary: When Milliardo Peacecraft is abducted
and left to die a solitary death Duo Maxwell decides to take a hand
in the proceedings.
“Am I so paranoid I see conspiracy theories in everything?” Yuy snorted, his back pressed to a tree as he adjusted the cloth tied over his lower face. Night vision goggles covered the upper half, making it possible for him to see in this world of snow and wind and trees and offering some meagre protection from the elements. At his feet Chang tended the camp stove, positioning himself and the stove to take the best advantage of the thicket so that the unit was sheltered from the wind. It would be a frugal meal, but the hot soup would seem a feast in these conditions. Trowa was looking forward to it, eyeing the covered pot eagerly. He was beginning to think his companions would not answer him, not that he could blame them. They were Gundam pilots and Gundam pilots were paranoid at the best of times. “We can not be far from the chopper.” Yuy raised his goggles and rubbed at his eyes, a rare indication of his exhaustion. Trowa retreated behind his silence, concentrating on watching the snow filled night and wishing he had the mug of hot soup in his hands already. It would do much to thaw his aching fingers. It was bitterly cold and there it was again, that vision of a warm bed and warmer body. Daydreaming of Quatre and their bed served to make the cold worse, but it kept him going, slogging his way through snow drifts, stumbling over hidden boulders and buried bushes. Despite the improvement in conditions he still called it a bad night, one he would be glad to see end. He had expected from Yuy’s earlier comments to have reached Duo’s location by this time, but there was no sight of the helicopter. The GPS unit showed the choppers location to be some distance from their current position. It was not so much the howling wind and falling snow which hindered their progress, but the mass of snow through which they had to force their way. A great deal of snow had fallen in the mountains, far more than had fallen on New Port City. “You see conspiracies because there are conspiracies in everything,” Chang’s voice was muffled by the scarf. “Business, politics, it varies little. There will be something there, lurking beneath the respectable public front. Someone will have something planned to further their own ambition at a cost to others.” Chang straightened his back but remained kneeling beside the stove, no doubt grateful for what small warmth it generated. While conditions were heavier than they had expected, they had come too far to backtrack to the helicopter and wait for morning. Trowa looked about carefully, the world surrounding them tinted weirdly green by the night vision goggles he wore. If he could have found a better location, one offering more protection from the wind, he would have considered suggesting they pitch the survival tent and wait out the night. He might have suggested it, but he doubted the other two would have agreed. They were too close to the location of the helicopter the GPS unit was broadcasting to warrant that luxury. Neither of his companions would be inclined to linger any longer than heating and drinking the reviving soup would allow. “Une must know more. Little gets by that woman.” They would probably not appreciate the comment, but he was cold and tired and concerned. This entire affair was suspicious. It raised too many questions and he did not know if Heero or Wu Fei had been asking themselves the same questions. They gave every indication of being content to work for Preventers but he had learned, at long last, to question. For years he had not questioned, had not determined if his own personal ideals matched with his employers. To be honest he had had no personal ideals, he had simply existed, with no where to go and no family. Until he had met Quatre. In the last few years, as they had matured and Quatre had come into his own, Trowa had grown and learned more than the art of killing. He had a place he wanted to be, a person he wanted to be with and Quatre had taught him to question the fine lettering in a contract. Something smelt putrid, but could he do anything about it? Should he even try? They were under instruction to retrieve Milliardo Peacecraft. Retrieve him and that was it. Une had not told him to investigate the incident, merely retrieve the man and in the doing, retrieve Duo. “One has to ask if it is our place to question.” He was lookout, though what they expected to find wandering around in this weather, intent on inflicting harm upon them he did not know. Surely every animal native to these mountains was sensible enough to be tucked down in their dens and nests, intent on keeping body warmth and waiting out the elements. It was amazing how sensible animals could be, and how stupid humans proved themselves every day in comparison. Trowa scowled, not liking Chang’s comment at all. He had learned to question after surviving the war and realizing in Quatre he had an irreplaceable treasure. Burying his head in the sand of ignorance only permitted one’s enemies to sneak up for a killing blow and he had had enemies from a very early age. He had the scars to prove his close encounters from earlier, more innocent days. He was older, wiser, more enlightened now. He had a lot to survive for. “I like to know what I am working for,” Yuy’s quiet comment seemed to fill the darkness. “I like to know who is pulling my strings and why they are doing so. I like to know, now that I know enough to ask the right questions, if I am working for the right side.” So Yuy too had learned to question. Undoubtedly Chang had too. They had survived the war, their individual turbulent pasts and were too wise now to the ways of the world to be used as once they had been. Chang scowled at the snow feathering his arm. The arctic parka was waterproof and he could not actually feel the snow, but he glowered at it as though he could. He made no effort to brush it off; such would be wasted effort given the conditions. “Even then doubt remains, something happens and one questions if one is working for the right side.” “Or if there is a right side,” Trowa murmured. It was hardly the time or place for such discussions and he knew they all understood it, but the speculation was something to take their minds off the conditions. There had been discussions similar to this in the past, usually on the eve of action. During the fire fight there was no time to wonder if one was doing the right thing and after the mission there was usually too much to do. It was long after the fact, when any injured were dealt with, reports filled out in triplicate and one had time to draw breath that one had to wonder if what had been done was done for the right reasons. It was so easy to say what you did was for the good of all, to preserve the peace and you were on the side of right. No doubt the opposing faction thought the same. “A Black Ops unit,” Yuy stirred, sidling around the bulk of the tree in an effort to improve his shelter. “There have been rumours of one for a while.” Chang leaned forward, lifting the lid on the pot and peered at the steaming contents. “Rumours do not necessarily make for fact.” Trowa watched as the unit was shut down and the soup was quickly poured off into tin mugs and handed out. He was quick to doff his gloves to allow his fingers to feel the hot metal. The warmth was welcome, both on his skin and on its way down his gullet. “Where there is smoke there is sure to be fire,” Yuy responded. “I have heard the rumour from a variety of sources, though not from Preventers.” That came as no surprise to Trowa. The pacifist regime was big on discipline without killing and would not be seen to sanction a Black Operations Unit. Such units were licensed to kill, full of dirty tricks and would be a source of supreme embarrassment to the Pacifists if it should become public knowledge. Prventers had Special Operations Units, of which Trowa and Chang were a part. Black Ops would be kept separate from Preventer. “Informants?” “Yes.” Yuy almost buried his nose in the mug, allowing the steam to thaw his face. “There are whispers circulating in the underground, but no one will say anything directly.” “There have been fewer alerts in recent months. Might it be feasible Marquise is now considered expendable?” “An expedient kill?” Chang scowled. “Anyone in a Black Ops unit is considered expendable in the interests of the mission.” As once they had been considered expendable by those who had controlled them. Tools were useful only whilst one had a use for them. “Perhaps he is seen to have outlived his usefulness and has simply proven too hard to kill on missions.” Trowa suggested. His companions finished off their soup in thoughtful silence. Chang dismantled the cook unit and Yuy pulled on his gloves, bending to wash out his mug with snow. “If you want a man dead you assign him to impossible missions,” Chang commented. “If he returns from the mission you find a dirtier one; one that will ensure there will be no allowance for survival.” Yuy straightened, tossing his mug into his backpack. “And if he returns from that?” Trowa slipped a glove on and wiped his own mug out with a fist full of snow. “You arrange a hit,” Chang replied. “It is feasible. My guess would be someone was waiting for him as he returned from a mission.” Yuy settled the pack comfortably and dusted the snow from his heavy gloves. “He would not be easy to surprise, so someone would have to have been given access to the residence. They could have just killed him on the spot.” Trowa brushed the snow from his glove on his trouser leg and pulled on his remaining glove. “Perhaps they were meant to.” Chang finished packing the gear and straightened. “Perhaps instead of choosing a professional for the kill they chose someone with a reason to hate him, a reason to kill.” “You mean a loose cannon who had his own ideas; abducting Marquise from the house instead of sedating him and killing him neatly and coldly. He had to have his kicks instead.” Heero snorted, pulled his goggles over his eyes and wrapped a scarf around his lower face. “There is no shortage of weirdo’s out there. Nor is there a shortage of people with a pet hate against Marquise.” The muffled comment signalled their departure, as did the glance at the GPS unit. Trowa wrapped his face in his scarf and settled his goggles more comfortably across the bridge of his nose. //Not a pleasant thought and it means we will need to hunt more than one person.// If, he mused, they did not have the assignment taken from them when they returned with Marquise. Une had assigned them this mission, but there were others out there who would not want Marquise found; who would fear his retribution. If Une intended to have Preventers investigate the matter and those above her determined to squash the investigation… //It could get messy quickly.// Someone controlled the Black Ops unit and he doubted that person was Une. She headed Preventers and Preventers could not afford to be sullied by whispers of such a unit. Someone would likely want to stop any investigation from happening and given Marquise was, according to Quatre, alive, they would not want his glacial gaze turning on them. Marquise was warned though and would not likely fall victim to the same trick twice. //They will try again, only this time they will take more care; set a professional up against him. Take particular care to cover their arses.// Who these people were and where they were placed in the government hierarchy would depend on how quickly they acted once they learned Marquise was alive. They could be exclusively based in the military, business or government circles or, more likely, a combination of the three. “I hope Quatre has the good sense to stay out of this shit.” One thing he was sure about was that Marquise would be out for retribution and he did not want Quatre or Duo involved.
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