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"Witness Protection"Written By: Snowdragonct Disclaimer: Don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or the characters, more's the pity. This is for fun...no profit involved. Rating: R Warnings: Warnings: AU , yaoi, swearing (lots),
some OOC (probably), violence, drugs, sex, a naughty Duo (i.e. he
has a potty mouth and is a bit, er, slutty)…if you are wedded
to the “pure, chaste” version of Duo, he might be a bit
dark and crude for your taste…ditto for the other characters
in here…hey, Quat’s a lawyer…how much lower could he
get? Pairings: 1X2 eventually, 3X4 also eventually, (past 2X3, 6X2) A/N: I’ll apologize in advance that Zechs is, well, deceased right from the start. I like him a lot, and there’ll be mention of him…but mostly in the form of discussing/investigating his murder. Sorry. Summary: When Zechs Merquise is found murdered,
detectives Heero Yuy and Wufei Chang are tasked with the unenviable
chore of keeping the only witness to the crime alive long enough to
testify against the leader of the Oz syndicate, Treize Khushrenada. "Witness Protection"
On the way to the hospital I got hold of the officers on the scene at the explosion and found out the media was swarming the place and that there was one man dead and three had been taken away by ambulance. A small voice in the back of my head was chanting “please don’t let it be Maxwell” even as Wufei slid the car to a halt in front of the hospital. “At least the press hasn’t followed them here yet,” Chang muttered under his breath as we checked in at the main desk and found out the victims of the explosion had been brought to the emergency room. “It will,” I said flatly, more concerned with who was dead and who was alive than the media’s interference at this point. Considering the day I’d had, I didn’t dare get too optimistic. Twenty-five percent odds that Maxwell was dead just weren’t good enough. A uniformed cop was in the emergency room talking to Quatre Winner when Chang and I burst in. “Yuy!” The lawyer actually smiled at me, looking infinitely relieved, though a bit harried. “Tell me Maxwell wasn’t in that car,” I said bluntly. Yes, I’ve never been accused of having an excess of tact. He shook his head. “We were walking towards it—Duo, his friend Trowa, and me.” The blonde’s face went a bit bleak then. “My assistant, Rashid, was in the car.” I tried not to let my relief over the news show so much that Winner didn’t think I felt for his loss. I did. Really. But, shit! Maxwell was alive—or at least, not dead—yet. Thank God for Chang. He gave Winner an appraising look. “Are you all right, counselor?” “Yes, fine. Just a couple of bruises and scrapes. Duo and Trowa were in front of me.” Shit. Now I was picturing Maxwell and Barton comatose, with multiple fractures, burns, and who knew what other injuries. “How are they?” I asked. Quatre gave a shake of his head. “Duo has a concussion, at least, and some cuts and scrapes. He got knocked down by the blast and hit with some debris. Trowa got knocked out completely, and I think he may have had some burns—the stuff that landed on him was on fire.” “But they’ll both make it?” He nodded. “I think so. They took them upstairs for CAT scans and x-rays.” He looked rather impatiently at the officer in blue. “If this gentleman could finish taking information and let me go, I’d really like to find out the results.” I nodded to the officer. “Chang and I will take it from here. You don’t tell the media a goddamned thing, understand? No names…no casualties…no nothing!” “Yes sir,” he said quickly, closing up his notepad and nodding politely to Winner before walking away. “Shall we go see how your client’s feeling?” I suggested. Winner gave a slight smirk. “Still trying to procure his testimony?” “Obviously someone doesn’t want us to,” I pointed out. “That fact alone tells me it’s worth having. And the fact that someone tried to blow him up should convince your stubborn client it’s worth giving.” “If that doesn’t convince him, I will,” promised the attorney. We found out Maxwell and Barton were up on the sixth floor, so we headed for the elevators. And while we were walking, it seemed like the perfect time to find out the details of the explosion from Winner. “You care to fill me in on exactly what happened at your office today?” I asked. He sighed and nodded. “I had a meeting scheduled with Duo to discuss the case and his options. Since he left his motorcycle at Sanc yesterday when you two chased him, he got a ride from his friend Trowa Barton. They were right on time, parked in the lot behind the building, and came on in.” He darted me a shrewd look from the aquamarine eyes. “You know I can’t discuss the actual meeting with you—but I can tell you he was still dragging his feet about cooperating. It seemed like his friend might work on persuading him, so I gave up arguing and called Rashid on the intercom, asking him to bring the car around front for them.” He paused and swallowed hard. “I’ve known Rashid since I was a kid, Yuy.” I nodded, feeling genuine sympathy for his loss. There was just no denying the depth of the grief reflected on his face. “I’m…sorry,” I offered, knowing it was completely inadequate. But it was all I had. We got on the elevator in silence, and then he gave a wan, fleeting smile. “Thanks.” “The bomb must have been on a timer,” Chang spoke up quietly, his tone somber. “Starting the car probably started the countdown.” God! How close had Maxwell and Barton come to dying? I drew a shaky breath. “Sounds right,” I agreed. Winner had pulled himself back together, and resumed his tale. “Duo, Trowa and I were walking out of the building—we were maybe thirty feet from the car when it—.” He made a vague gesture with his hands, and then buried his face in them. “Oh Allah! Rashid—,” he sobbed. Chang patted him reassuringly on the back and I raised an eyebrow. My partner’s never been the compassionate type. But something about the lawyer’s overwhelming emotions seemed to get to him. I know it got to me. “I’m sure—it was quick,” Chang said soothingly. “He didn’t suffer. And a man who’s served your family so many years would surely have been willing to lay down his life to safeguard yours.” Where was he pulling this shit from? I’d never heard Chang wax so philosophical—at least not with a witness. And definitely not with a lawyer. He hated lawyers. But then again, seeing the smooth, shrewd Quatre Winner reduced to tears was enough to reach the coldest heart. “Don’t worry,” Wufei added. “We’ll track down whoever did this and punish them.” “And if your client will help us, we’ll prove Khushrenada was behind it, too,” I nudged. Chang shot me a scowl, and I glared right back. “Look—I’m not just trying to use this to our advantage,” I asserted. “We all know that no matter who planted the bomb, it was orchestrated by Khushrenada.” Winner had composed himself again, wiping his face with a handkerchief and stuffing it back into a pocket as the elevator doors were sliding open. He gave both my partner and me a somber look. “I agree with you,” he admitted. “But in spite of my personal feelings on the issue, if Duo’s afraid to testify, I can’t make him.” “Not even for Rashid?” Chang asked in surprise. Quatre shook his head. “Rashid is—dead. Forcing Duo into a dangerous situation won’t bring him back.” “Du—Maxwell’s already in a dangerous situation!” I pointed out. “Someone tried to kill him. Do you honestly think they won’t try again?” “What I think is irrelevant,” shrugged the attorney. “As of this afternoon, Duo still thought he could disappear on his own and look out for himself. I don’t know if that’s changed.” “If it hasn’t,” Chang snorted wryly, “then he’s more of an idiot than I thought.” “He’s no idiot,” I said, shaking my head. “He’s shrewd and street smart. But he’s also overconfident.” I put a hand on Winner’s shoulder. “Our Captain wanted us to charge him with murder, you know. If he disappears, she’s liable to go for an arrest warrant and have him picked up and thrown in jail. Tell him that running will only make him look guilty to the cops—and it won’t get Khushrenada off his back. He’ll have both sides after his ass.” Not that it wasn’t an attractive ass. It was. I’d noticed that much as he sashayed out of the interrogation room. Too bad his personality didn’t match his very alluring body. And how in Hell did my mind take off on that kind of tangent? With a growl and a slight shake of my head, I drew my attention back to the matter at hand—convincing the reluctant brat to testify. Winner had already started talking to the nurse at the desk and found out what rooms Maxwell and Barton were in. He also got an update on their condition; Barton was still knocked out, but the scans came back clear, and Maxwell had been admitted with a concussion and a couple of cuts needing stitches. We headed directly for his room. I had to admit, Maxwell looked a lot less obnoxious lying in a hospital bed with an i.v. hooked up to his tattooed arm. He seemed much younger, blankets pulled up to his chest and his braid trailing over one shoulder. And the pale face and neat line of stitches along his hairline merely made him appear all the more frail and delicate. But he caught sight of Quatre the moment he stepped in, and tried to sit up. “Quatre! Thank God you’re here! They won’t tell me if Trowa’s okay—nobody’ll tell me a thing!” “He’s fine,” Quatre said hastily. “Just—not awake yet.” “Fuck!” Maxwell leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes. “This is all my fault!” “Stop that right now,” Quatre chided, walking over and picking up one of the limp hands from the coverlet. “You can’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions. And Trowa knew perfectly well that you were in danger. He chose to drive you to my office.” “And he got hurt because of it,” Maxwell said miserably. “Because of me.” I saw the perfect opportunity to sway the braided man to my way of thinking. “He won’t be the last to get hurt if you don’t help us convict Khushrenada,” I warned. Maxwell’s eyes flew open, and he fixed a scathing glare on Wufei and me, finally aware of our presence at the door. “You! Get the fuck out!” I crossed my arms stubbornly. “Can’t. It seems my partner and I now have two murders to investigate, as well as three attempted murders.” I shook my head. “You attract trouble like flies on shit.” The indigo eyes narrowed at my uncomplimentary analogy. “I take care of myself.” “And a fine job you’re doing,” came my partner’s completely sarcastic jibe. “Bite me, asshole,” snarled Maxwell. I was a little relieved to hear the familiar litany of profanity—it reassured me that Maxwell was all right, in spite of appearances—and that my assessment of him as a punk and a thug wasn’t off base. He’d looked so vulnerable when we first walked in, that it threw me. But the hard professionalism now glimmering in the deep indigo eyes was clearly that of a seasoned street punk. “Khushrenada had your lover killed, and now he’s tried to do the same to you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” “Yeah—it means his reach extends all the way into your fucked-up precinct,” he muttered. “So don’t sweet talk me with promises of safety you can’t keep.” “I won’t,” I assured him, giving him a straightforward look. “If I say I can keep you alive to testify, I can. I will.” “Cooperating with us is your only hope,” Wufei added. “I don’t help cops,” came the stubborn response. “Then what about helping find justice for your murdered lover?” Wufei pushed. “Zechs is dead,” Maxwell said flatly. “Are you gonna kill the ones who did it if I point them out?” His indigo eyes darted from Chang’s face to mine, seeing our identical expressions. “Psh—yeah—didn’t think so,” he drawled snidely. “Then shut up about justice, and leave me alone. I’m not helping you.” “Then how about helping yourself?” I suggested. “You stay out there on your own, and whoever tried to shut you up today will have ample opportunity to finish the job.” “That’s my problem,” he shrugged, looking away. “’S not like it’d be a big loss to the world if they succeeded.” “Duo!” chided his attorney. “That’s no way to talk. Your life is worth more than that.” “Yeah, to me,” Maxwell replied evenly. “That’s why I need to get out of here. I can find a hole to hide in—take care of myself—.” “But it’s your life that’s at stake!” Quatre protested. “Tell them, Duo,” came a voice from the door. I spun, reaching a hand towards my gun, to see the exotic dancer from The Jungle leaning in the doorway, a bandage around his head, and another down his left arm. “Trowa?” Maxwell sat up sharply, pushing Quatre’s hands aside. “Tro’ are you okay?” “I’ll live,” shrugged the tall, auburn-haired man, sauntering closer. His deep green eyes fixed a concerned look on his friend, as he settled onto the edge of the bed. “I’d like to think you will, too. Tell them, Duo. Tell them who killed Merquise.” “They’re cops,” Maxwell spat, as if the very word was offensive to him. “Good ones,” Quatre assured him, sparing us a glance out of the corner of his eyes. “I told you, Duo. Yuy and Chang are two of the best.” The indigo eyes shot me a sullen look, and then turned back to Quatre, a trace of uncertainty entering them. “What will happen if I do?” he asked quietly. “They’ll put you in protective custody until the trial…hide you, if necessary…and then get you into a federal witness relocation program.” “No Feds!” Duo said sharply, eyes widening in alarm. “I told you, Quat—Zechs said they had agents on the payroll. I’m not going anywhere near the FBI!” “They’re the only ones equipped to relocate you.” “I’ll relocate myself. I just need enough money an’ I can make myself disappear all on my own.” “Don’t you think if you’re going to all that trouble, you should at least make Khushrenada pay?” I asked coolly. “Wouldn’t it make leaving your whole life behind more bearable if you knew he got what was coming to him first?” Revenge is a powerful motivator for some people, and I was guessing Maxwell was one of those people. In fact, the set of his jaw and the gleam in his eyes seemed to confirm my theory. And then Trowa took both of his hands, leaning in to brush a gentle kiss on one pale cheek. “I know how much you hate cops,” he said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. “They never did shit about Solo and the others, and not one of ‘em has ever done you a decent turn in your life. But if helping them helps you stay alive, it’s worth it.” Maxwell looked up at him, so utterly lost and vulnerable for an instant that it took my breath away. And Winner took the opening with a cunning born of years in the courtroom. “Duo—you should think about Trowa, too, and anyone else close to you. I know you’d never forgive yourself if they got hurt. I mean, really hurt.” Maxwell touched the bandage on Barton’s arm. “Yeah, I won’t,” he sighed. “Aw, forget about me,” Barton chided. “I’m fine.” He ran the back of one hand over Maxwell’s cheek. “But maybe you should worry about the kids, hm?” Kids? What the fuck was he talking about? Apparently Maxwell knew, because his eyes widened and his jaw dropped a little. “Oh fuck!” he breathed in horror. “Shit, Tro’. You’re right.” “He’s right about what?” Chang demanded sharply, breaking into the intimate moment. “You don’t have children, Maxwell.” His scowl deepened. “Do you?” Maxwell ignored the question, and turned a rather weary gaze to his attorney. “Okay, Quat. You win. I’ll tell the cops what happened, and I’ll be their witness in court. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that Khushrenada can’t get to anyone else that I care about.” Yes! Part of me was jumping for joy at our imminent victory over Khushrenada, even though I knew having an eyewitness account wasn’t a guarantee. But another part was still wondering what the hell Barton and Maxwell had been talking about. What kids?
tbc... |
