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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" Chapter Nine: Taking Statements The moment Maxwell agreed to cooperate, I felt a rush of anticipation mixed with dread. What if, in spite of his obvious fear of Khushrenada, the person he’d seen kill Merquise couldn’t be tied to the crime lord? I’d have a statement, which while it could convict a killer, might not destroy an empire. But, no. Maxwell had mentioned Khushrenada’s name so many times—shown such obvious reluctance to challenge the man—surely whatever he had to tell me would provide plenty of ammunition to use against the too-smooth executive. Chang was still glaring suspiciously at Maxwell, obviously fixated on the mention of children; but I wanted a statement as quickly as possible, so I tugged at my partner’s sleeve. “Chang…you take Barton out into the waiting room and get his statement, while I take down what Maxwell has to say.” “Barton?” “Yes—obviously Maxwell’s told him what happened. I’ll want to verify the accuracy of both accounts.” “Are you suggesting I’m making something up?” demanded the braided man, his face darkening with anger. “No,” I said hastily, seeing the same storm gathering in Winner’s eyes. “I just want to make sure that what you told Barton matches closely with what you tell me—to make sure you don’t forget to mention something to me that you might have mentioned to him. Plus, I’ll know your memory of the events is still clear, which will be very important to the prosecuting attorney.” “All business,” he muttered with a scowl. “You ever take a break, Yuy? Or do you fuckin’ sleep with your badge on?” Quatre let out a startled chuckle, and Barton grinned up at him. “So, counselor, you stayin’ here with Duo while the cop grills him?” “Of course,” smirked Winner. “Unless you’d like benefit of counsel as well.” “Naw, I can handle one uptight detective just fine,” replied the exotic dancer, leaning in to kiss Maxwell’s cheek again before standing up. “Just tell him the way you told me, love. It’ll be okay.” Maxwell nodded, putting a hand to his head an instant later. “Ah, fuckin’ headache,” he groaned. Barton reached out to stroke the chestnut head. “Lie still then. You don’t have to sit up to talk, y’know. And I’ll be back in to check on you after you’ve made your statement.” “Thanks, Tro’.” Wufei followed Barton out of the room, and I pulled a note pad from my pocket, walking over to stand by the bed. “Okay, Maxwell, start talking.” At that point Winner stepped in with a coolly assessing look. “Before he does, do I have your assurance that if he says anything self-incriminating he won’t be prosecuted for any criminal activities he might have participated in while associating with Merquise?” Wow. That was a mouthful. Maxwell saved me from having to reply. “Hey, Quat—it’s okay. Zechs never dragged me into anything illegal. Honest.” Winner shot him a stern look. “Just let me do my job here, Duo.” “You have my word that the department won’t press charges against Maxwell for anything associated with this case—as long as his testimony’s worth it.” The lawyer gave me a very steady look. “It’s worth it,” he assured me. Then he nodded to Maxwell. “You can go ahead now.” A vaguely speculative look entered Maxwell’s indigo eyes. “Uh—how far back d’you want me to go?” “Tell me anything pertinent,” I replied, not sure what he was asking. Winner patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Start with when you got to his penthouse that night.” Maxwell sighed and then shrugged. “Fine. We got in the door and headed straight for the bed.” Shit. Now I knew what he’d meant. “You don’t have to describe every minute of your evening!” I said quickly. He gave me a perfectly wicked smirk. “Y’might like it if I did.” “No. No I wouldn’t,” I assured him. Quatre was chuckling again, despite the gravity of the situation. “This isn’t funny, counselor.” He shook his head. “Certainly not—but your reactions are mildly amusing.” “Only to you,” I said sourly. Then I turned my attention back to Maxwell. “Just skip to where the killer showed up. Please.” He shrugged. “If you say so.” He half-closed his eyes, and from the way his jaw tightened, I could tell he was visualizing the unpleasant events. “We were asleep, more or less, when the intercom buzzed. Zechs answered, and let the caller in…told me to keep the bed warm and threw on a robe to go to the door.” He frowned slightly. “I decided to have a cigarette while I was waiting, and when I got up to get my lighter, I noticed it sounded like Zechs and whoever had come to the door were arguing.” “Were you able to overhear any of it?” I asked carefully, hating to interrupt the flow of the story, but also knowing any detail might be important. “Yeah—some guy was saying that Zechs had betrayed him—that he’d been seen meeting with someone from the police department.” Maxwell snorted wryly. “As if—!” He shook his head. “Anyway, Zechs denied it—said he didn’t know what they were talking about—that he’d never betray Oz. The other man laughed at him—.” His voice trailed off momentarily, and he looked a bit sick. “He said there was no use trying to lie about it—that he knew about Zechs’ private bank accounts, and that he’d been funneling money into them. He said it was a payoff.” Maxwell looked up at Quatre. “That wasn’t true!” he asserted. “Zechs had talked about putting money away so that some day he could retire—get away from that life. But I know he didn’t sell out to the cops!” “Did you see who was there making the accusations?” I asked, drawing his attention back to me—back to the testimony. “Yeah—eventually,” Maxwell shrugged. “First, I got dressed—threw on my pants and boots and a shirt, since it sounded like Zechs might need help. But as I was grabbing my knives and about to go confront them, I caught a glimpse through the back of the door.” He swallowed hard, his face going bleak. “Zechs was on his knees in front of Khushrenada, with two goons hanging onto his arms, and Une holding a gun to his head. I—waited a second, trying to figure out how I was gonna take out Otto and Trant without giving that bitch time to shoot.” “So Khushrenada was there in person?” I asked, almost breathless with excitement. “He was the one saying Zechs had sold him out.” “And did he say anything else?” I was hoping to hear that Khushrenada told Une to pull the trigger. We’d have them both—one for murder, and one for murder and conspiracy. Maxwell frowned thoughtfully. “I lost a minute or two rummaging through Zechs’ dresser looking for a gun—.” He shook his head. “If he’d just kept a gun in there, I might’ve had a chance—. But there was none, and I decided to just wing it with knives and hope that my being there would put a damper on their little party.” He swallowed hard, and I could tell it was becoming more difficult as he went. “Before I could make a move, Une asked Treize if she could ‘finish the traitor.’” “So you actually heard Khushrenada give her the go ahead?” “Give her—?” He shook his head, laughing bitterly. “Give her permission? He took the fucking gun out of her hand and did it himself!” Holy shit. My jaw dropped, and it was several seconds before I recovered my voice. “Could you repeat that?” I asked carefully. Maxwell fixed a burning gaze on my face, his expression darkening. “What didn’t you understand, Yuy? Treize Khushrenada came to Zechs’ penthouse in the middle of the fucking night and had Trant and Otto hold him still so he could put a bullet right between his eyes.” He turned his face away, his voice going hoarse with emotion. “Is that enough? Or do you want me to explain how it fuckin’ felt having the guy I loved get his brains blown out—watching them drop him on the floor like so much meat? Oh fuck, Quatre! I can’t do this!” He let Winner wrap his arms around him and pull him into a hug, whispering reassurances, and glaring sternly up at me. “Is that enough of a statement, detective?” asked the attorney coldly. “I—yeah—for now,” I managed, still in shock from both the revelation that Khushrenada had committed the murder in person and from seeing the show of emotion from the tough street kid. “I—I’ll just give you two a minute,” I stammered out nervously. “I have to run this by Chang.” I made the fastest exit in history, uncomfortable with the surfeit of grief the two men were sharing.
Chang and Barton were seated in the waiting area, both bent over my partner’s notes, and the former scribbling away. “Jesus, Barton! You should have told us the truth that night at the club!” I snarled, shaken to the core. He looked up in surprise, green eyes wide. “It wasn’t for me to decide that,” he said flatly. “You knew how much danger he’d be in!” And why the hell did it make me so angry? Somehow it felt to me like both Barton and Winner had done Maxwell a disservice by allowing him to remain silent as long as he had. His survival was a fluke—nothing more—and I had the overwhelming urge to drag him out of that hospital right then and there and get him hidden before Khushrenada’s assassins got wind of the fact that the bomb had missed its intended target. Chang gave me a puzzled look. “How—what exactly did Maxwell tell you?” he asked. “I take it you haven’t gotten very far,” I said snidely. “Tell him, Barton. Tell him what Maxwell told you five nights ago when he showed up at your apartment.” The exotic dancer shrugged, running a hand through his bangs. “He saw Khushrenada kill Merquise.” I got perverse satisfaction from watching my partner’s face pale and his jaw go slack. “Yes,” I snapped out coolly. “You heard right, Chang.” “We—we’ve got to—.” Chang shook his head. “Goddamn it, Yuy! There’s not a rock big enough to hide Maxwell under.” “No shit.” “How will we do it?” I shook my head. “Hell if I know. First, we’ve got to talk to the Captain—get her to assign a round-the-clock watch on his room.” “The room? We should have the whole wing sealed off!” “And paint a banner saying ‘Here’s Duo Maxwell?’” I sneered. “I don’t think so.” “Is he okay?” Barton asked suddenly. We both looked at him, and he gave us a frown. “Look, detective, I know you don’t give a rat’s ass about him—but considering the shape Duo was in the night he saw the murder—and you just made him relive it again—.” He finally just shook his head and stood up, pushing past me and heading into the room to check on his former fuck-buddy personally. I ran a shaking hand down my face. “I didn’t expect this,” I confessed. “I thought he’d just tell me Une did it, or one of Khushrenada’s other thugs did it. Hell, I got excited when he said Khushrenada was there in person. But that he’d dirty his own hands—?” “That does seem unlike a man of Khushrenada’s stature,” my partner noted. “Are you sure Maxwell’s account is—reliable?” I nodded firmly. “I am. Maxwell heard Khushrenada accuse Merquise of betraying him—selling him out to the authorities. From what I saw of the man, he’d take such a betrayal very personally.” Wufei nodded his understanding. “Treize Khushrenada struck me as a man who was not afraid of confrontation. I believe he would deal with a traitor face to face, as a matter of honor.” “Honor?” I snorted. “Khushrenada?” “Well, his own brand of honor,” my partner conceded. “He’d want to set an example—to make sure no one ever considered following in Merquise’s footsteps.” “That I can believe.” I was beginning to regain my equilibrium. “At any rate, we’re going to have to move fast on this. If we don’t have Maxwell out of this hospital by morning and on his way to a safe house, we may as well give it all up. Mueller said the price on his head was a hundred grand; with the depth of Khushrenada’s pockets, I guarantee that’s only the low bid. He’d pay ten times that if he had to.”
When we walked back into the hospital room, Barton had taken Winner’s place at Maxwell’s side, and had his good arm wrapped around the man’s shoulders, rubbing soothingly at his back. “You should never have let him walk out of the police station the other day,” Chang blurted to Winner. “He’s a grown man, detective,” came the calm reply. “As his attorney, all I could do was offer advice.” “—and nearly let him get killed!” I accused. “As if you give a shit,” Maxwell spoke up, glaring at me with a return of spirit. “Well, I do now,” I snarled back. The indigo eyes narrowed. “Fuck you!” he growled, turning his frustrated scowl to Winner. “I fuckin’ told you there was no point in helping the cops! I don’t want to do this, Quatre!” The blonde lawyer shot me a deadly glance before placing his hands soothingly on his angry client’s shoulders. “Hush, Duo,” he murmured gently. “It’s necessary, and you know it.” “They don’t care about keeping me alive, Quat! They just want their shot at Khushrenada!” “And they won’t get it without you,” chided his lawyer gently. “They have to protect you or they won’t have a case.” “He’s right,” I added helpfully, wanting to reassure Maxwell that testifying was in his own best interests, as well as ours. “Your testimony makes you worth your weight in gold to the department.” Maxwell glared balefully at me. “My testimony. Gee—thanks for nothing, asshole.” I glared back. “If you want me to say I’m worried about your pretty little ass Maxwell, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.” I gave him a frank, disinterested look. “All I want from you is your testimony against Khushrenada. And since you have to be alive to give it, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you that way. Understand?” “Love you, too,” he quipped mirthlessly. “At least I’m being honest about it,” I pointed out, looking to Winner for support. “There is that,” came the rather lackluster reply from the attorney. Winner fixed an astute aquamarine gaze on his client. “And if we’re to be totally honest, it’s not like you’re testifying out of some sense of civic duty, Duo,” he noted. “It’s simple self-preservation.” No shit. I knew damned well the only thing motivating Maxwell was survival. “Look, Chang and I have to go see the Captain and fill her in on this,” I told Winner. “I’ll have a couple of uniforms stationed at the door until we can make plans to get your client out of here and safely hidden away.” “Whoa! Wait—hold on a sec!” Maxwell demanded. “Quat—where am I gonna have to go?” “Relax—it’ll all be worked out,” Quatre assured him. “Yuy? Mind if I come along to speak for my client?” Just what we needed—an attorney thrown in the mix! “I don’t suppose I can stop you,” I shrugged. He grinned slyly. “Not really—seeing as my client is incapacitated at the moment.” He gave Maxwell a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Get some sleep, okay?” The braided man nodded with surprising meekness, and it suddenly dawned on me how exhausted he looked. “I’m gonna go back to my room and catch a nap, too,” Barton told his former dance partner. “Before the nurses find out I snuck out. You okay by yourself?” Maxwell gave a derisive snort. “Me? C’mon, Tro’. I’m always okay.” Barton pulled away from Maxwell and followed the three of us out the door. “Hey, counselor—you really think they can protect him?” he asked once we were out of his friend’s earshot. Winner nodded. “I trust Detective Yuy,” he said firmly. “Yeah, well—it’s not your life at stake, is it?” Barton asked rather snidely, turning to go to his room. Quatre caught his arm. “Duo’s my friend,” he said sternly. “I care very much about his life.” Barton relaxed slightly, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Sorry, counselor—I’ve just been a nervous wreck since Duo showed up at my door the night of the murder, y’know?” “I know—and I’m sure having your car blown up hasn’t helped your nerves either,” Winner said, his fingers gently sliding down Barton’s arm as he let go. “And call me Quatre, okay?” Well, shit—talk about a budding romance! I could see the warm glimmer of attraction in Winner’s eyes—and damned if it wasn’t reflected in the green ones looking back at him. I think the stripper might even have been blushing a bit. “C’mon Winner!” I said brusquely, breaking up their awkward little moment. “My boss is going to want to hear about this.” The lawyer tore himself away from the good-looking dancer and we headed down the hall side by side behind Chang.
We were waiting for the elevator when I remembered I hadn’t asked Maxwell about the kids. I sent Chang on ahead to call for a couple of uniformed officers to come stand watch, telling him I’d forgotten a few questions; and amazingly Winner didn’t insist on accompanying me back to Maxwell’s room. I think he wanted to be in on the procurement of security for his client. Maxwell was lying there staring at the window opposite his bed, a distant, distracted look on his face as I entered. But he heard my light footstep and spoke without looking at me. “Forget something, detective? Want another pound of flesh?” His choice of words startled me into pausing halfway across the floor. “Just—I need you to explain about the kids, Maxwell. Whose kids are they? Yours?” “That’s none of your business,” he growled. “It is if I’m putting you in witness relocation just so you can duck out on child support payments.” He looked at me with utter disbelief on his face. “Right, Yuy,” he snarled nastily. “I watched Zechs get fuckin’ killed just so I could run out on a couple of rug rats.” He shook his head. “You’re a goddamned idiot.” “Just tell me about the kids,” I pressed, determined to get at the truth. “I’m fuckin’ gay, you asshole,” he pointed out. “That kind of reduces the likelihood of my fathering any kids.” “You said a lot of guys shared your bed—girls, too—remember? During interrogation.” Had he thought I wasn’t paying attention? “I was yanking your chain.” I didn’t doubt that for a second. Baiting cops seemed to be second nature to him. “So whose kids was Barton talking about?” “He was talking about a fucking orphanage, okay?” Maxwell blurted in frustration. “The kids aren’t mine—but I help out there once in a while.” He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at me. “Satisfied?” I blinked, trying to reconcile the image of Maxwell volunteering at an orphanage with the hard-edged punk in the hospital bed. It just didn’t work. “Yeah,” I finally sighed. “If Winner will vouch for you on that, I’ll take your word for it.” “Fuck you,” he muttered sullenly. “Y’take my word that Khushrenada killed Zechs, but you think I’d lie about kids?” “I don’t know what you’d lie about,” I admitted. “And you don’t care—so long as it hands you Khushrenada’s ass on a silver platter,” he retorted. He had a point there, too, and I almost admitted it out loud. But no matter how badly I wanted Khushrenada, I wouldn’t suborn perjury. “I do care,” I said flatly. “Lies won’t fool a jury. It’ll be hard enough to sell them the truth.” “Yeah—if you’re any indication, it’ll be damn near impossible.” He looked away again, and breathed a deep, weary sigh. “Y’mind letting me get some sleep? I’ve got a killer headache, detective.” “Want me to have the desk nurse bring you something for it?” I asked out of reflex, nearly slapping myself on the forehead at the show of concern. “She won’t bring what I need,” he muttered. “Besides, once you leave, I expect the pain to subside.” “I give you a headache?” I asked wryly. “I meant the pain in my ass,” he said with a perfectly straight face, closing his eyes and settling deeper into his pillow. Fucking punk. Here I was about to make arrangements that would keep him alive and protected, and all he had was attitude. Attitude like that might actually be enough to get him through what I knew was going to be a long ordeal of hiding out, followed by grueling testimony at a very high-profile trial. But I vaguely pitied whoever got stuck on protection detail over the stubborn man.
tbc... |
