Another 'Oneshot' that got completely out of hand. I knew from the start it wouldn't technically be a 'oneshot', because it was always supposed to be a two-part story (two sides to a story) but I had expected it to be short enough to be comparable to a oneshot. Wrong! This work is almost exactly 50.000 words long (I've already completed it, but I've only proofread the first part as of yet) and it has been split into three chapters.

I feel like I have produced something different from my other works. I'll let you read to decide if that is true and whether or not it is a good thing and I hope you will share those thoughts with me.

Don't worry, I'm still working on my other stories. I'm also writing for "Brothers" right now. If this first chapter generates enough interest I'll peel myself away from "Brothers" just long enough to proofread part two and upload it Thursday or Friday and then I'll have the entire weekend to get back to "Brothers". I'm really trying to post/update more often to make up for all the long waiting periods from before.


Overall warnings: Angst, suspense, language, violence and sexual content (anal intercourse and mild bondage)

Warnings for Part 1: Language, suggestive themes, mild Relena-bashing


Part 1: Milliardo Peacecraft's POV

Part 2 & 3: Duo Maxwell's POV


Blue Divide

Part 1

The jarring, shrill cry of his desk phone cut through the silence in his office like a switchblade through flesh; sharply and violently.

He folded away one corner of the case file to glare at the ringing telephone, as if frightening it into submission had ever worked. No matter how incessantly he devoted his time and effort to slimming down the stack of files that appeared on his desk at the start of every day, workday or not, there would always be new cases demanding his attention. Co-workers, superiors and authority figures alike remained under the impression that, as the leader of the investigative team with one of the highest closing-rates in the state, he could solve their problems and everyone else's problems all in a day's work. And the higher up the ladder – social, political, or corporate – the more insistent they were that their case required a priority status.

He had a feeling that if he answered that phone he would be asked to let the stack of files on his desk grow fat and towering in favor of a new, 'pressing matter'. Which meant he and his team would likely be working the weekend after all, but he had no choice. Still though, there was no harm in making whoever was calling sweat a little. He took his time sitting up and reaching to take the phone off the hook.

"Senior agent Peacecraft." The sound of his coarse voice reminded him to take another sip of soothing tea. He couldn't afford to get sick.

"Good morning, big brother," Said the caller with practiced elegance.

He threw his gaze up at the paneled ceiling. "If you're calling me on my work-phone, you should address me as 'agent Peacecraft'."

"But you are much more likely to be cooperative if I'm less formal and more familial."

Milliardo tapped his fingers on the scratched surface of his desk. "You want something from me, then."

"Very astute." There was no point in denying it. She only called whenever she needed a favor.

"In that case, you should know better than to call," He shot back. "Because it's easy to hang up on you." He continued with the obvious lie: "I have to go, the chief is waving me over. Goodbye, Relena." He disconnected the line and opened up the case-file again, knowing that if she had called on official business, she would call back.

"It's a good thing I do know better."

He took a deep breath and released it in a sigh as he heard her crisp, controlled voice, noting the undertones of smugness. Milliardo glanced up at the doorway of his office and there she stood, Relena Peacecraft, in one of her fitted suits; charcoal grey, and a baby pink, silk blouse with bow-detail. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest, one manicured hand holding her cellphone, and her posture was tilted at the hips.

"Agent Peacecraft," She said purposefully and stepped inside, tucking her phone away in her purse.

An official visit, he concluded. He nodded and invited her to take a seat across from him, acknowledging: "State Attorney Peacecraft." He took a moment to tidy up his desk and straighten his tie, under her watchful, bemused gaze. It was all fun and games to hang up on her, as a brother was allowed to hang up on his sister, but the dynamic changed whenever she assumed her official position as State Attorney General and he had to represent himself properly as a senior agent of the state police force.

Relena probably mistook his formality as being intimidated by her success, not realizing honor and duty were the values he treasured, not ambition or achievement. This sentiment marked him as the black sheep in a family of politicians and legal officials; mayors, senators, judges, lawyers, a Secretary of State and, as of recent, a State Attorney General. Elected two years ago as the youngest SAG in history. A function that served as a stepping stone to greater things – everything in Relena's life was ultimately about attainting 'something greater', which was why she was always 'daddy's favorite'. Relena was driven to perform well and to please 'the common folk' in her pursuit of higher goals, which actually translated to her being an excellent State Attorney General, however calculating, self-involved and heartless.

He knew what was coming. It wouldn't be the first time for her to call on him to make her look good. He sat back and inquired professionally: "How can I help you, misses Peacecraft?"

She smirked at him. "You are so cute, brother."

"Relena, please."

"Fine." She heaved a sigh, bored by his propriety. She reached into her purse and produced a slim case file. She placed it on his desk and pushed it towards him, summarizing: "It was called in at four thirty this morning as an 11-44. A straightforward incident, at first glance."

11-44: Deceased person, coroner required. He flipped open the folder and started scanning the text. There wasn't much information yet, to be expected for a fresh case.

"White male, approximately forty years old, was found dead at a motel just off the 76 highway, right outside of Morgantown," She continued. "It appeared to be an accident at first. Maid found him in the bathroom. Severe trauma to the face and blood on the sink, suggesting an unfortunate slip. However, the detective on sight reported evidence of foul play and the initial investigation suggests a homicide."

"Look… Misses Peacecraft, local LEO's can handle a case like this. I don't see any reason for the state police to get involved."

She interrupted: "Sunburst French Creek motel."

Milliardo paused.

"Does that ring a bell?"

He nodded. "It's a known gay meeting-place. A pretty disreputable motel."

"If 'disreputable' is your euphemism of choice for an establishment where three other, separate violent crimes have occurred over the past six years, two of which lethal - all three unsolved -, then yes, pretty disreputable."

"It's still a case for the local police force," He insisted.

"Oh, yes, because they have performed their duties marvelously."

Milliardo shrugged his shoulder at her sarcasm. "I don't understand why you have adopted this as a cause all of a sudden."

"The LGBT-community has been criticizing the police force, the entire department of justice and all involved political heads. They are accusing all parties of not taking crimes against gays seriously and letting them go unsolved; the perpetrators unpunished, the victims unavenged. It is causing a public outrage that has the media salivating. You know how much they would love to get another lingering shot of those signs that say 'Your senator doesn't care about you if you're gay', 'Your police officer won't protect you if you're gay'. That's exactly what will happen when the story breaks at the morning news," She glanced down at her silver, diamond encrusted watch, "forty-five minutes from now."

He shook his head. "It sounds like a political mine-field. Why even get involved?"

Relena adjusted in her seat and regarded him with intense, blue eyes. "When reporters come to my office for a soundbite, I want to assure them that the DOJ takes crimes against the LGBT-community very seriously and that we put the best team on the case."

He eyed the mostly uninformative case file. "Normally, this is the part where I remind you that strong-arming a local police department out of a case doesn't really help an investigation. It creates animosity, a dick-measuring contest. Inter-departmental communication is non-existent and important information slips through the cracks…" He looked up at her with a knowing sparkle. "But I'm guessing local LEO's had no trouble signing the case over."

She bared her pearly whites in a grin. "No strong-arming required. Didn't even have to flex. They were eager to accept the help of the best investigative team of the state police."

He made a dismissive gesture. "Don't attempt to stroke my ego. They were happy to dump the responsibility on someone else, that's it. They know there is going to be media attention and they know the kind of shit-storm that will be unleashed if another gay-case goes unsolved."

"It won't go unsolved," She supplied confidently. "Not with senior agent Peacecraft and his team on the case."

He ignored her ill-veiled mockery as she dramatically referred to them as if they were some kind of league of superheroes. "Relena," He tried, "I'm seriously advising you to take this back to Morgantown PD. The team-" He scrubbed his face and then decided to inform her: "The team is not at full strength right now. Maxwell got back from his mandatory leave only last week. And there are… tensions." He knew it was unprofessional to say this to the State Attorney General, which was why he purposefully switched back to calling her by her first name, to let her know he was not divulging that information in an official capacity. He would never put his colleagues in a compromising position, he has spared them scrutiny and even serious repercussions before, but he also had to protect his sister. Even if she was a cold politician.

"It'll be fine, big brother. I have faith in you and in your team."

Although Milliardo appreciated the sincere vote of confidence, he knew she was putting her genuine feelings of trust to use to manipulate him. But while he could deny her as his sister, if she took the request to the chief, the case would be handed to Milliardo's team anyway and getting a scolding from the boss on top of the new assignment wouldn't benefit anybody. "Alright," He consented with appropriate reluctance and dread.

Ever since his dear sister took office as the Sate Attorney General of Pennsylvania, the closing rate of his team – the percentage of solved versus unsolved cases – had taken a hit. They were still lauded as the best investigative team of the state police force, but she had been dumping some difficult cases on his desk and not all of them turned out as success-stories.

"Thank you, agent Peacecraft." She got up from her seat and straightened her skirt. "I trust that you will find whoever is responsible so he can be brought to justice."

"Don't worry, Relena. I'll try my best to make you look good."

"When there is any progress, contact my communications liason, Dorothy Catalonia. You remember her, right?"

"Fondly." The way a seal remembers a great white shark. The woman with dead eyes had a way of mincing facts of a police investigation to sell it to the media as a nice little package that they were happy to gobble up. She didn't shy away from throwing officers under the bus in order to protect the reputation of her employer. He had to stand up for his fellow police officers more than once to protect them from the calculating way in which she searched the water for bait. She was an excellent problem-solver, but always at the expense of others. Of course, Relena didn't care about that.

"Keep us in the loop. We need to get a handle on this thing." She concluded with a courteous nod and then strutted out of his office with an entitled sense of confidence that had made her look taller than everyone by several inches, since she was just a little girl.

Milliardo counted the clicks of her heels on the poured resin floor. When he heard the elevator door close, he knew the coast was clear. He hoisted himself out of his seat, thought to take a big drink of tea and then headed out with the case file tucked under his arm. He walked down the hall and rounded the corner, ending up at the administrative office.

Seated behind the single desk in the room crowded with filing cabinets and towering stacks of folders, was a young woman with short, black hair, well-spirited as ever.

"Good morning, agent Peacecraft."

"Hilde, good morning," He breathed, he reached for the post-its available on the corner of her desk and used the pen from his own pocket to write down the name and the address of the motel. "Can you track down my team and tell them to meet me at this address? I know it's early, but-"

Hilde smirked. "I know. I saw your sister."

He chuckled sheepishly.

"I can call agent Chang and agent Barton for you, but Duo is already here."

Milliardo frowned at her and then at his watch. "It's five thirty." Agents were expected to be present at the office at seven thirty, Duo had the habit of never showing up before eight. The man knew just how much he could stretch the rules before he would get into actual trouble.

"I was behind him in line downstairs at the security check. That was half an hour ago."

"I guess there's a first for everything," He mumbled but he didn't trust the situation. Something was off. "Anyway, I'll take Duo. You call Chang and Barton, please?" He tapped the post-it with the address.

"No problem."

He waved her goodbye and backed out of her cramped office. Not bothering to wait for the elevator he took the stairs down to the bullpen where his team members had their desks. As senior agent he was forced to work in his office upstairs, exactly because important people like the SAG could show up and these were not the kind of people you welcomed into the noisy and crowded bullpen. That was considered inappropriate.

For a moment he was certain Hilde had been mistaken. But then again, Duo was a hard guy to miss and there was no one like him in the force. Not just his physical appearance with his tall stature and long hair that was always neatly braided, the distinctive rope trailing down the length of his spine – Milliardo himself had started braiding his own long, platinum blond hair when Duo made a case for the advantages of a braid versus a pony tail. Duo was also quite the character; 'boisterous' was the word they had settled on. Everyone in the office, from the janitor to the chief, knew Duo and liked him and everyone was on first-name basis with him. The agent had been sorely missed the past three months, since he got shot in the leg during the raid of a gang-house and had been taken off active duty and forced to take leave to deal with the physical and psychological ramifications of getting wounded on the job.

It seemed the American had bounced back gracefully, yet it caused Milliardo worry that he hadn't been back for more than a week and he was already behaving out of the ordinary. That was one of the signs that he, as team leader, had been trained to take note of. Milliardo had protected him so far and kept his secret safe, he wasn't eager for internal affairs to get involved. As far as Milliardo was concerned, problems with a team member were like a family affair; it's nobody's business but theirs.

Several officers greeted him as he walked into the bullpen and maneuvered around the jungle of desks and cabinets. He spotted Duo at his desk by the window, a far-away look in his eyes, ignoring everything around him. That definitely wasn't normal. Duo was normally like a Golden Retriever, excitedly responding to all activity, eager to be amidst everything.

Milliardo knocked on the desk like he would knock on a door and he offered the agent a smile when he looked up at him, dazed.

Duo was quick to change his demeanor. A silly grin spread across his lips. "Zechs! I should have known you would be at the office at fuck'o'clock."

"Don't call me Zechs," He corrected routinely. "We've picked up a case." He studied his friend's face, noticing the uncharacteristic stubble on his jaw and the faint bruise underneath the dark hairs.

"Cool." He jumped up from his seat and grabbed his jacket with was draped over the backrest. "Let's go."

"Are you really up for this?"

Duo stopped with one arm halfway into the sleeve of his jacket. "Of course…" He completed putting on the piece of clothing in slow-motion, eying his boss warily. "You promised you would get off my back when I got back on duty."

Milliardo leaned in close. "And you promised you would tell me if something was up."

He stared at the blond. "And I'm keeping that promise. There's nothing to tell."

"So there's no story behind that bruise?" He could feel Duo stare at him, "Or the fact that you come in at five in the morning and you're trying to hide that bruise with that hideous stubble?"

Duo groaned. "I'm not trying to hide anything! I had a stumble in the bathroom and forgot to shave. As you pointed out yourself, I'm not used to getting in at such an early hour."

"Alright." Milliardo almost felt bad for questioning Duo, but his past behavior had caused some trust issues between them and the agent really couldn't blame him for needing to be sure.

"Zechs, seriously. I'm cool."

"Fine… Don't call me Zechs." He gestured for him to follow him and they both headed down to the parking garage. Milliardo climbed into the driver's seat of the dark SUV and Duo sat down next to him. With effortless precision he steered the large vehicle out of the underground parking garage and onto the quiet streets.

No words were exchanged between them and Milliardo didn't like it. Duo shouldn't like it either, but the other man seemed perfectly content looking out the passenger side window, avoiding eye-contact as they headed onto the 76 highway. If everything was normal the younger agent would be quipping inappropriate jokes or at least inquiring about the case.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, wringing the leather cover underneath his fingers. "Did you go to the meeting last night?"

Duo turned his head to glare at him. "Yes, I went to the meeting, mom. As I go to all my meetings."

"Dial down the snarky attitude. I stuck my neck out for you."

"Don't worry. Your neck is fine." He studied the surroundings. "Where are we headed, Philly?"

Milliardo ignored his question and pressed on: "I'm not trying to get on your case or give you grief. I'm just looking out for you. It's my responsibility."

"It's not."

"It is, Duo," He barked. "You became my responsibility when I made the call not to report your drinking to IA."

"I'm alright, Mill," He assured earnestly. "You made the right call. I'm grateful for what you did, I won't let you down. I'm better now."

Milliardo nodded. He didn't want to have to question Duo's integrity. He considered the man a friend but above all he considered him a good agent; someone he had readily entrusted with his life since they first started working together years ago on the undercover squad. And when Milliardo had been given the opportunity to assemble his own homicide-investigation team for the bureau, he had been adamant about recruiting Duo, he was smart as a whip and a crack shot. But he knew that the kind of troubles Duo had been dealing with should not be taken lightly; the kind of troubles that meant he wasn't always himself, he wasn't always that friend, he wasn't always that good agent.

His actions had never gotten anyone in serious trouble, nor had it ever caused anybody harm, which was how Milliardo justified protecting him from the scrutiny of Internal Affairs. He had stuck his neck out for more officers in the past and it had always worked out for the better and his colleagues respected him for it, but sometimes Milliardo wondered if he had ever gone too far in protecting a fellow cop. He had always trusted he would know the line when he hit it, but ever since he covered for Duo's drinking problem three months ago, he worried if he might have already unknowingly crossed that line between right and wrong.

Duo's injury during the shootout became a blessing in disguise. He used the injury as an excuse to put the agent on mandatory leave, supposedly for physical therapy. In reality, the GSW was nothing but a flesh wound, he was back on his feet in a week or so. Duo needed the time off so Milliardo could sign him into a rehab facility. He had been in inpatient care the first two months, the third month he was allowed to go home on the condition of coming back for his daily group- and private sessions. To keep up appearances Milliardo had given him a ride to the office on occasion, where Duo would greet everyone with a fake limp and a fake smile.

At the end of the third month Duo begged him to allow him to go back on active duty and Milliardo, who had been monitoring his recovery closely, had agreed. If they had gone through the proper channels, that wouldn't have been his call and maybe it shouldn't have been his call. He was hardly an expert. But Duo was one of the best, the whole ordeal could have cost him his career and that wouldn't have been fair. He was one of the good guys. The job was about taking down the bad guys, not dragging good officers through the mud because they were having a hard time.

Duo snapped his fingers. "Mill."

Milliardo shook his head and glanced at him sideways.

"I'm okay," The dark-haired agent repeated.

"I trust you," He said poignantly.

"Good. Anything I should know before we get to the crime scene?"

"Too late," Milliardo said as he spotted the motel sign at the side of the road. "We're already here." He took the exit and swiftly drove the SUV into the small parking lot of the Sunburst French Creek motel.

"This is the place?" Duo visibly blanched.

"Yeah. You remember those other cases, don't you?" He parked the car and climbed out, taking the file with him under his arm.

Duo emerged from the vehicle slowly, staring at the yellow police tape that lined the front of the motel. "Uhh… yeah… Sure. Two violent beatings; suspected gay bashings, three victims ended up dead and two years ago there was that robbery, guest got shot in the abdomen, barely pulled through. No arrests were ever made. The media was all over those."

"And they will have a field-day with this one as well. If we don't solve it, it will be the fourth unsolved crime at this motel and we'll be the 'homophobic' assholes who didn't care enough to catch the killer."

They headed for the police tape and flashed a sergeant their badges.

"Where's detective Tsubarov? We're here to take over the case," Milliardo asked the sergeant.

The man nodded at an older gentlemen in an ill-fitting brown suit standing off to the side, talking with someone who appeared to be a motel employee. The sergeant held up the line of tape for them and they stepped onto the crime scene.

Detective Tsubarov spotted them and walked over. "You're the state boys, huh?"

"Pennsylvania state police, bureau of criminal investigation," Milliardo said habitually.

"Well, knock yourself out with this one. Sergeant Mueller will get you up to speed. I'm getting the Hell out of this snake-pit."

Sergeant Mueller emerged from motel room 102 at the end of the walkway and shook their hands for a formal greeting. "Follow me, come meet our John Doe." He headed back in the direction of the room and Milliardo and Duo trailed him.

"Motel front desk doesn't have an ID on him?"

"Room is paid for in cash, for an extended stay. The room has been rented by the same guy for the past couple of weeks."

"How was the body found?"

"Door was wide open. Maid wandered in when she came in for her early shift."

As they stepped into the motel room, Mueller explained off-handedly: "Coroner declared it foul-play. Chunks of hair had been ripped out of the vic's head, suggesting someone grabbed him by his hair and slammed his face into the bathroom sink." He paused at the doorway leading into the bathroom and gestured for them to take a look.

Duo idled by the front door but Milliardo stepped into the small bathroom and gazed upon the large body of the deceased male. He was on his stomach on the tiled floor, face down, a significant pool of blood around his head. He didn't need to look at his face, the crime-scene photo's included in the file accurately portrayed the gruesome trauma to his face; smashed-in nose and cheekbones, his complexion white and purple. The impact hadn't cracked the skull but preliminary cause of death was CHI: Closed Head Injury. The brain had swollen but there was no release for the pressure. The tell-tale smear of blood on the edge of the stone sink completed the story.

Duo appeared beside him for a quick look at the John Doe and then he went back to scouring the room for clues.

"Too bad," Sergeant Mueller concluded. "We had a bet going. I was sure it was just a sad."

Milliardo turned to look at him and questioned: "Aren't all deaths sad, sergeant Mueller?"

The officer chuckled. "No, not 'sad'. A SAD. S-A-D."

He stepped out of the bathroom and shot a look at Duo. "What's that? S-A-D?"

Before Mueller could answer, Duo supplied: "Slip-and-die."

"Exactly." Mueller nodded. "It looked like an accident."

Milliardo scrutinized the room, noticing the crooked painting, the smashed table lamp, the broken mirror and the unhinged closet door. "You bet it was just an accident when the room shows clear signs of a struggle?"

"Well, I interviewed the guest who stayed in the room next door and he said that whoever was in this room this night got pretty rough. Sexually. If you know what I mean."

"Yes, sergeant Mueller, thank you," Milliardo snapped.

"I thought their tumble in the sac could have caused the damage. That's a judgement error that is going to cost me forty bucks."

Milliardo glared at the man. "Is it normal for the Morgantown police department to use the death of a human being to play games and earn some pocket money?"

Mueller froze.

"Show some respect."

"Yes… yes, sir."

"Anything else to report?"

"No sir, we got the call that state police would be taking over. We've identified the witnesses but figured you would want to talk to them for yourselves."

"Yes, go outside, ask the witnesses to stay, we will be with them shortly. And then never step foot on my crime scene again," Milliardo warned darkly. "Or I'll personally make sure you will be directing traffic for the rest of your career."

Mueller nodded and stepped around Duo to get out of the room.

"Was it really necessary to make him nearly piss his pants?" Duo challenged.

"This is a sensitive case, the public is already accusing police officers of discriminating against gays and then a guy like that is making bets on a dead guy. If word got out, we would all be hung out to dry by our ball-sacs." He fished latex gloves out of his pocket and put them on so he could properly search the room. Their forensics team arrived shortly after and Duo asked them to give them a moment before they would all come in an crowd the room.

The closet and the drawers of the nightstand were empty. There was a small overnight bag on the desk and Milliardo rummaged through the contents but he found nothing to identify the John Doe on the bathroom floor. The bag only contained a change of clothes, a toothbrush and toothpaste and a strip of condoms. He moved to check the trash bin by the bathroom door. "Used condom," He noted. "Someone was definitely in this room with him."

"Yeah, because John Doe is not the guest who rented this room."

Milliardo looked up at him with questioned eyes.

Demonstratively Duo grabbed the shirt out of the overnight bag and held it up. "I don't think this will fit our big fella in the bathroom."

Milliardo came closer and expected the label in the hem. Sure enough the shirt was a small size and the victim was anything but small. "So the guest has a visitor, our John Doe, has sex with him and then… what? A lover's quarrel turned ugly? He kills him and flees?"

"But leaves his stuff and a dead body in the bathroom of his own room?" Duo challenged.

"Doesn't make sense…" Milliardo agreed. "But there's no phone, so he must've taken that with him at least. If we can get an ID we might be able to track the cellphone number." He looked out the door and spotted Barton and Chang getting out of their car and heading over. "You stay here," He instructed Duo, "Oversee the forensics team. Make sure everything gets done by the book and don't let any of those local LEO's onto my crime scene. We can't afford any fuck-ups on this one. Chang, Barton and I will handle the witnesses."

"Sure thing." Duo gestured for the forensics crew to come inside and start their work and coordinated with the coroner to get the body out of there and back to the autopsy lab.

"You don't mind baby-sitting the techs?" Mill had expected some measure of objection from the other agent.

"No." He smirked at one of the forensic guys who looked up indignantly at the idea of needing to be baby-sat. "Ask the manager if he ever saw the car our missing guy drives."

"Yeah, but I doubt the manager of a place of a place like this pays attention to license-plates."

"Make and model might be enough."

"Maybe." Trusting Duo to be able to manage the crew, Milliardo stepped out and greeted his other team members.

Trowa Barton was nursing a big cup of coffee to-go, looking tired, his suit – put on in haste – was disheveled. WuFei Chang was proper, composed and alert as always, ready to get to work.

"We have a homicide and a suspect on the run. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how important it is that we close this case, given the history of this motel. The sooner the better."

The two of them nodded, they were familiar with the previous, unsolved crimes that had taken place at the shady motel.

"We have a lot of people to go through. Most of them probably saw nothing, but we have to be thorough. I'll start with the motel manager and then the guest in 101, local LEO mentioned the guy heard something last night. Chang, you take the maid who found the body. Barton," He handed him the photo of the victim from the case file. "It's a long shot but see if anybody recognizes the guy."

Barton made a face. "His own mother could have a hard time identifying him…"

"I know, but we have to try. Be sure to give a description of his clothing; blue jeans, black boots, a black shirt and a brown, leather bomber jacket."

They split up to get to work. Milliardo headed over to the front desk at the other end of the motel where the manager had been instructed to wait for questioning.

The manager was a short, balding man who smelled like he hadn't taken a shower a couple of days. His shirt was stained with ketchup and mustard, his teeth were stained with tobacco.

"Hello, I'm agent Peacecraft, I'm heading the investigation. You are the manager, correct?"

"Yes," The man reached out to shake hands with him, in spite of his appearance he was perfectly polite. "Pete Grubinger."

"Room 102 has been rented out for an extended stay?"

"Hmhm. Couple of months now."

"Could you check your files to see since when exactly?"

He shuffled to behind his desk and started leafing back through a thick book, taking his time to scan each page. Milliardo tapped the tip of his pen against his notebook impatiently. Finally, the man found the date when the room was first reserved for the extended stay. "The first of April, no joke."

Milliardo scribbled down the date. "That's over two months ago. The guest has been staying in the room all that time?"

"No, he comes about once or twice a week for one night. Sometimes three times a week, but never consecutive nights."

"And you never asked for a name?"

"As long as they pay and don't cause any trouble, I'm not going to pester anyone for a name. People come here for the anonymity."

"Right…" He chewed on the inside of his cheek. He was reminded that the kind of anonymity these guests preferred would probably hinder the investigation. Witnesses tended to be not so cooperative when they had something to hide themselves. "Could you give a description of the guest?"

"Short," He started and then paused to think. "Dark hair, brown I think. But maybe black because he looked a little Oriental if I recall… although…" He frowned at himself. "I'm pretty sure he had blue eyes. But that don't make sense, unless he was a half-breed."

Half-breed? Milliardo's eyes widened at the blatant racism. So much for perfectly polite. "Brown hair, Asian or mixed-race features and blue eyes?" He verified.

"Yeah, but… I get them mixed up all the time. After a while, the faces blend together."

"What about the cars? Do they blend together as well?"

The man narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know what kind of car your motel guest drove, mister Grubinger?"

He folded his arms in front of his chest, he recognized the mockery. "A sedan. Blue."

"Could you be any more specific, sir? Make? Model? Do you remember any details of the license plate?"

"No." A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "But you can check for yourself."

"Excuse me?"

The man walked out of his office and waited for Milliardo to join him outside. He nodded across the parking lot. "His car is right there."

Milliardo followed his gaze and spotted an unimpressive blue sedan sandwiched between a silver German car and a red, banged-up truck. "And you're certain that's his car?"

"Yes."

"Can you give me a minute, please? I'll be right back with a few more questions." He was already walking towards the parked car. It was an old Ford, but well maintained. Milliardo fished his phone out of his pocket and selected one of the speed dials.

The phone only rang twice before it was answered. "Agent Lucrezia Noin."

"Noin," He hurried as a way of greeting. "Can you do me a favor and look up the registration for a license plate number for me? My whole team is out in the field and we have no time to waste."

"Sure thing." Noin was happy to help. She had been assisting them during the past three months as the team was a man short with Duo pulled off active duty and before then when he had gone undercover for a couple of months for an investigation.

He read aloud the combination of letters and numbers and Noin told him to hang on for a second. He waited with the phone to his ear, hearing her type on her keyboard. The fact that the car had been left behind didn't support his tentative earlier conclusion that the guest was the killer and was on the run.

"Yeah, got an ID. The car is registered to Hiroshi Yuy. Lives in Philadelphia."

He breathed a sigh of relief, at least they had a good lead and a place to start. "Put out a BOLO on him and could you text me the address?"

"No problem."

"Thank you, Noin." He relished her breathy chuckle.

"Don't sweat it. Good luck."

He said his goodbye and hung up the phone. He made eye-contact with WuFei who was across the parking lot. The Chinese man was still trying to get answers from the maid, but the woman was clearly too upset to talk and he had no idea how to deal with that. Milliardo discretely waved him over. Chang excused himself and left the woman to sniffle into the tissue she was clutching to her face and he jogged over to his boss.

"We have an ID on our guest," Milliardo explained. "Hiroshi Yuy. The address is in Philly. Get Duo, he's still in the motel room, and go check out his place. See what you can find. I'll text you the address."

"Right away, boss." He already started walking away.

"Chang?"

The man turned to face him.

"This is starting to look like a kidnapping. The clock is ticking."

WuFei nodded. "Yes, boss. No such thing as speed limits, I get it." He retrieved Duo from the motel room and the two of them got into Chang's car and sped off.

Barton separated from the gathered crowd and approached him. He handed back the photo of the John Doe and said: "No hits. Nobody knows him."

"That was to be expected."

"But you should really have a talk with the guest in 101, he didn't see anything but he hinted that he heard a lot. Might be helpful."

"Yeah, local LEO's mentioned something about that. I'll go talk to him, hope he has something useful. At least we have a name for our missing guest; Hiroshi Yuy. Duo and Chang are headed for his place now, but since his car is still in the parking lot-"

"Kidnapping," Trowa Barton interjected.

"I'm starting to get that feeling, yes. Check with Forensics, see if they've come up with anything so far. Come find me to brief me on the progress and then you head back to the office and start digging into Yuy's life. If this is a kidnapping there has to be a reason why they took Yuy and left us the Doe."

Barton nodded, quiet as ever and went to work.

Milliardo headed for room 101 where the guest was instructed to wait. They had purposefully kept the potential witnesses sequestered to avoid them influencing each other's accounts of the events. It seemed like this guy might actually know something that could be of help.

He checked the file for the name and knocked on the door. "Professor Eskridge? Agent Peacecraft here, I have some questions for you." He heard the man came shuffling to the door and he appraised the lanky, older fellow when he opened the door for him.

"Could you, please, not say my name so loudly, sir?" He begged pathetically. "What if someone overhears?"

"I apologize, professor Eskridge."

He hastily gestured for the agent to come inside. "Let's get this over with. I really have to go. I don't want to raise suspicions."

Milliardo stepped into the room but left the door ajar so Barton could come in later. "Professor, if you cooperate we can get through this quickly and you will be free to go."

"Fine. Although I don't understand. I already told that other officer everything. This is a senseless repetition of police work. No wonder cases go unsolved when they are handed from one department to another."

Milliardo pursed his lips at the unsubtle jab. "Sergeant Mueller told me you overheard your next door guest last night, could you please tell me what you heard, exactly?"

He laughed nervously and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Just the kind of things you expect to hear at a motel like this, really."

"I try to remain unbiased, sir. What things are you referring to?" He probed innocently.

He stumbled over his words as he answered: "I heard-… I heard two men have-… they-… Two men enjoyed each other's company, agent Peacecraft."

He reached up to rub his temple, hit with the first throb of a headache. "Just tell me what you heard, professor."

"The two men in the room next door were having sex. Quite loudly."

"Are you certain it wasn't a struggle you overheard?"

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "No, it was two men having sex. I could hear… them. Their moans. And the bed."

Milliardo nodded. It appeared Yuy and the John Doe were having a sexual relationship. "What time was this?"

"Well, the sex started around midnight. That's when the second guy came to the room. Before then the other guy was alone, he arrived at the room an hour earlier."

"You didn't see any of them?"

"No, I just listened- I mean, I overheard."

He raised his eyebrow at the slip. Professor Eskridge had booked a stay at the motel for the cheap thrill to eavesdrop on the sex-lives of other guests, he concluded. "And they got right to it?"

"Wasted no time." Eskridge blushed.

"Did you hear them say anything that could indicate if they knew each other from before or if it was a first meeting."

"No, when people talk at normal volume I can't hear make out what they say through the walls."

Milliardo noted the undertone of disappointment. "So you didn't hear them talk?"

"No. But I heard them fight."

He looked up from his notebook, intrigued. "They fought? What time was this?"

"After they fucked they were quiet for a while and I thought they had fallen asleep. But then, at one thirty – actually, it was more like five past half -, they started to shout at each other. First, one accused the other of being a coward and then the other guy called him a whore. And then one of them shouted: 'I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!' and then he stormed out."

"He actually threatened to kill him?"

"Yes. He left right after that."

"And what time was that?"

"A quarter to two."

Maybe it wasn't a kidnapping after all then and they were back to the first scenario of a lover's quarrel with deadly results, Milliardo thought to himself. "Thank you, professor, that was very helpful." He closed his notebook.

"Don't you want to hear about what I heard after that?"

Milliardo stared. "You said he stormed out."

"Well, yes, but then half an hour later I hear two guys knock on the door of 102 and the guy who was still in there opened the door and that's when I heard a struggle."

"Two men came in, you're sure?"

"Yes, they were talking to each other before the guest in 102 answered the door. Anyway, they fought. I heard stuff breaking and glass shattering. Everything went real quiet for a second and then there was more kicking and screaming and whoever it was that had come to the door dragged the guest out of the room and put him in the car that was parked right out front and the car sped off with screeching tires and everything. It all happened very fast, they were gone in like five minutes after I heard the knock on the door."

"Why didn't you call the police right away?"

"I'm not even supposed to be here!" He argued. "I have a wife and kids!"

Milliardo shook his head at him. "Did you at least look out the window? Get a view of the vehicle or the men?"

The professor scoffed. "No. Do you expect me, as a citizen, to put myself in harm's way to do your job for you? A job my tax-dollars are paying you for."

He took a moment to bite back an inappropriate response. He needed to be impeccable for this case, not cuss out witnesses. "Not 'harm's way', just a peek out the window," He said through gritted teeth.

Eskridge shook his head.

They both turned to the side at a knock on the door and Trowa poked his head into the room. "Am I interrupting?"

"No. We're done," Stated Milliardo. Addressing the professor he said: "Thank you for your help."

"Can I go now?"

"Unfortunately you have to stay a little longer. An officer will come by later to have you sign all the necessary forms before you are free to go." He didn't respond to the following sputters of protest and he joined his colleague outside.

"He pissed you off, huh?" The agent noted with a grin. He knew Milliardo was only keeping the man from leaving to inconvenience him.

"Yeah… Forensics come up with anything useful?"

Trowa nodded. "Lots of potential. We have the condom, of course, but also long brown hairs in the bed, semen on the sheets and fingerprints all over the place. Obviously most of those prints will be useless, it is a seedy motel room after all and the maid's manicure is much too nice for her to be able to do any real cleaning," He subtly nodded at the woman having a smoke a few yards away from them. "But some could belong to the people involved. Best of all, techs found the phone." He waved one of them over and he was handed a clear plastic evidence bag with a smartphone inside. "I had two guys search the parking lot and they found it in the bushes, must have been tossed as they left the parking lot. The screen's cracked, but it's working. No PIN code required or anything."

Milliardo accepted the evidence bag from the agent. "This is great, Barton. You head back to the office and start digging into Yuy's history, financials and phone records. I'll finish up here."

The tall man nodded and headed for his car.

Milliardo was approached by the coroner for permission to remove the body from the crime scene. After the agent's OK they rolled out the body of the big man in a black body bag on a gurney. Increasingly more reporters had gathered and they swarmed the coroner's van to get a shot of the body bag being taken away.

With his gloved hand he reached into the evidence bag and took out the phone. The cracked touch screen didn't always respond as readily – and the gloves didn't help either – but he was able to access the phone and search through the caller history. Nothing jumped out at him, the last call made dated back three days. He pressed on the icon for messages and the program opened showing the last text message conversation.

His heart jumped up into his throat making him cough and when he swallowed it back down he felt nauseous. "Fucking Hell," He croaked as he stared with disbelieving eyes at the name at the top of the exchange of messages.

Duo.

All the color drained from his face and he felt cold all over when he read the final message sent from Duo's cellphone number to Yuy's phone.

"I hate what you've made me do. What you've turned me into."

The cryptic message sent chills down his spine.

Duo knew Yuy. The implications of that realization frightened him. Surely WuFei would have told Duo the name of the guy they were looking for by now, heck they were probably already at the house, even if Chang hadn't floored it like he had asked him to. Why hadn't Duo called to tell him that he personally knew Yuy – who was looking more and more like a second victim?

Of all the cases, Duo had to be personally involved in a sensitive, high-profile murder and kidnapping… Milliardo's headache intensified.

He called over one of the sergeant assisting on the case and ordered him to get contact information from all the witnesses and guests and let them go for now. He stuffed Yuy's phone back into the evidence bag but he didn't had it over to the Forensic Team, he would keep it for now. He retrieved his own cellphone from the inside pocket of his jacket and dialed Duo's number.

"Maxwell," Duo said when he answered.

"Hey… How's it going?" Milliardo winced at his pathetic attempt to give Duo an opportunity to confess to knowing Yuy.

"Uhm… Good. We're done at the house, there's nothing here that looks like it has to do with anything."

"So, nothing to report at Yuy's house?" Milliardo held his breath and prayed Duo would say: Yuy? What a coincidence. I know a guy whose last name is Yuy.

Duo said no such thing. "Yep. Just a regular place. Clean and organized, but not in an alarming, serial-killer-kind-of-way."

He clenched his fist at his side, feeling the tremble of the tension travel up his arm. "Meet me at the station. Now." He promptly disconnected the line.

Milliardo climbed into his SUV and hurried back to the station. It would take a while longer for Duo and WuFei to get back from Philadelphia, but he needed the time to calm himself and to clear his thoughts, because right now he was thinking crazy things.

Of course he wasn't allowed the necessary peace of mind. His phone rang and he fumbled to put it on speaker and place it in the holder on the dashboard.

"Senior Agent Peacecraft."

"Milliardo," Dorothy started sweetly. "The initial news report just ran on all the local stations. Is there anything you can tell me so we can start with damage control?"

He squeezed his fingers tightly around the steering wheel. The last person he wanted to deal with was Catalonia. "I don't feel comfortable drawing any conclusions this early in the investigation."

She wouldn't be brushed off so easily. "But what about leads? Surely any detective worth his salt would have some leads right now."

He mumbled something unflattering under his breath. "Just tell them there was DNA-evidence in the room, that always makes people confident the case will be closed soon."

"DNA-evidence is useless if you don't have a suspect to compare it with…"

"Well then don't mention that," He snapped, ignoring the fact that she was fishing for more information. "I have to go now, miss Catalonia."

"I expect to hear from you again soon, with a decent update."

"Sure." He hung up just as he pulled the car into the parking garage under the station.

During the investigation their every move would be scrutinized. A personal connection to one of the victims was grounds for reassignment. Milliardo thought the excuse to hand over the case to another team would be welcomed, but the fact that Duo hid knowing Yuy, not to mention that ominous final text message, left an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

After forty minutes of pacing back and forth in his office, trying to decide how to approach the issue, a knock on his door announced the arrival of Duo and WuFei. He was quick to dismiss the Chinese agent, telling him to help Trowa dig. WuFei resented desk-duty, but he never argued with a direct order. He left swiftly and without a word. Duo remained standing there, in the doorway, quirking an eyebrow at his boss' odd behavior.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Please be honest with me," Milliardo begged urgently.

Duo shrugged and his lips formed that carefree smile that Milliardo really hated sometimes and now more than ever. "About what? I told you I'm fine. Jeez, you come into work early one day-"

"Hiroshi Yuy," Milliardo blurted and he watched his reaction closely, but Duo's face betrayed nothing.

"What about him?"

"Please admit that you know him."

Duo let out a laugh. "Well, I just went through his underwear drawer but that hardly means I know the guy. Certainly not more than WuFei, you should ask him what he found in the nightstand…" He winked.

Milliardo sighed and sat back on the edge of his desk. He felt like concrete was being poured into his gut. "Why are you lying?"

Defensively, Duo shot back: "I'm not lying!"

"Stop it! Just stop it!" He produced the evidence back from his pocket and he showed the agent the phone. "We found his cellphone in the bushes, Duo. You guys have been exchanging text messages. Clearly, you know him!"

Realizing he had been caught, Duo deflated and he tried: "It's not a big deal-"

"Why didn't you tell me? Why did you lie?"

"Because I knew the team would get taken off the case! You and I both know what happens to cases when they get shuttled from one department to another, from team to team. Every time a case changes hands, the odds of it going unsolved double."

"That's hardly an exact science."

"Call it a ballpark-figure. The exact numbers don't matter. What matters is that we are the best. So I had a choice, tell you I know the guy – barely, by the way – and have us booted off the case, or keep it a secret. It was a choice between giving the best odds and the worst odds, what was I supposed to do?"

Milliardo scrubbed his face with his hands. Duo appeared genuine and truthful, but he wasn't sure if he could trust him now. Searching for more information so he could decide whether or not he should believe his teammate, he asked: "How do you know Hiroshi Yuy?"

"For starts I know him as 'Heero Yuy'. And we met in rehab. As of late, we've been going to same AA sessions and meeting up once in a while. That's what we text about."

Milliardo narrowed his eyes but he had no way to tell if Duo was lying or not. The man was an excellent liar, which was why he had always been one of the best undercover agents. "What about that last text?"

"What last text?"

"I hate what you've made me do. What you've turned me into," He recited, he already knew the words by heart.

"That's private."

"Nothing is private in a murder investigation, Duo," He pressed.

"He was thinking about having a drink again," Duo said reluctantly. "I got mad at him. I didn't mean to treat him like one of those asshole counsellors with the 'strict-dad' act, but I was afraid he was going to lapse."

"When was this?"

"The day before yesterday. In the afternoon."

"You didn't see him again after that?"

Duo snorted. "No. And also 'No' to your real question."

"What was my real question?"

"If I was at that motel last night."

Milliardo nodded. That had been his real question. "You've never been to the motel?"

"No. Never."

He took a deep breath and said: "Okay. But you have to agree this looks bad."

"I had nothing to do with this," The agent assured him. "I can remain impartial and professional. I swear. I don't even know the guy that well. I don't know much about him."

"Alright. One last thing: If you met up with him the day before yesterday, why is the text message from last night? Around the coroner's estimated time of death?"

"I couldn't sleep. It's a freaky coincidence." He shrugged.

For whatever reason the simple and straightforward answer calmed some of Milliardo's nerves. He had to remind himself that the man standing before him was not some unknown suspect, he was Duo Maxwell, a decorated agent and a long-time friend. Duo was a good liar, but Milliardo had never had any reason to suspect Duo had ever tried to feed him a lie since he came clean about his drinking. They had been working together on-and-off for the past seven years, starting when Duo joined the undercover squad and then later when he joined Milliardo's investigative team at the Penssylvania Bureau of Criminal Investigation, where they had been team-member for nearly four years now. "I choose to trust you," Milliardo said meaningfully. "Don't make me a fool."

"I won't. So we stay on the case?"

"Yes, unfortunately I agree with you; pawning this off to another team won't help the investigation and it certainly won't make the state police look good if the media were to find out we dumped it on someone else."

Duo let out a hearty laugh. "Now I get it. Relena got you on this case. Otherwise the politics of it all wouldn't bother you so much."

"Gloat later, we have work to do."

As if on cue his desk phone rang. He ordered Duo to go down to the bullpen and split the work with Chang and Barton, hopefully they would find a new lead soon. Once he was left alone he answered the call as gruffly as ever, expecting it to be Catalonia or maybe even his sister.

"This is officer Alex, I'm at the crime scene, getting everyone's contact information as you said. The manager, mister Grubinger, was under the impression that he had to wait for you because you still had some questions, is that correct?"

"Fuck! Sorry, yes," After discovering the unsettling text message from Duo on Yuy's phone, Milliardo had forgotten all about completing his interview with the manager. So much for being impeccable, what a stupid mistake!

"Mister Grubinger would like to go home, he's been on shift for nearly forty hours."

"Please tell him to wait a little longer and make a copy of the log for room 102. I'll be there in about forty minutes with a couple more questions and to get the log and then he is free to go home."

"Sure. I'll keep him a little longer."

Milliardo hurried out of his office and briefly stopped by the bullpen to direct his team. WuFei and Duo were to keep looking into Yuy's history. So far they had come up with nothing noteworthy; no past hospitalizations, no prior arrests, no history of drug-abuse, no restraining orders, no gang affiliations, no substantial wealth, no family. Yuy was a loner, Duo confirmed this, but an upstanding citizen for all intents and purposes. He had been working as customer tech-support out of his home since he got out of college, which meant his phone records were useless because strangers were calling his home number from all over the state all the time, redirected by the company. Two nights a week the twenty-seven year old volunteered at the suicide prevention hotline. He paid his bills on time and never caused any trouble.

Trowa would hound the lab to make sure they made quick work of processing the evidence. He felt confident they were dealing with a kidnapping so the evidence for their case had priority over others. He was especially curious to know if the fingerprints of the John Doe set off any alarms in their system. As it appeared, the John Doe was an accomplice to the kidnapper who got away with Yuy. Yuy could have killed him, trying to fight off his two abductors. If they could identify the John Doe, his records might lead them to his partner. He wondered if Doe had been the one to have sex with Yuy that night, they would have to match his DNA with the semen in the condom or on the sheets. If it wasn't a match, the kidnapper who got away with him might have been the sexual partner, or someone unknown to them as of yet was involved in the sexual activity, separate of the following incident.

Forty-five minutes later he arrived back at the motel. The number of reporters had dwindled, but those who had remained swarmed around him, pushing microphones in his face and shouting questions at him. After saying 'No comment' about a million times Milliardo made it to behind the police tape where he was safe from them. In the manager's office Grubinger and Alex were waiting for him. The manager was understandably irritated.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting sir. I only have a few follow-up questions and then you can go home."

"Fine," He growled.

"We have identified the guest of room 102 as mister Yuy, thanks to your help with finding the car." He produced a picture of Yuy that they had pulled from his DMV record and he showed it to the manager. "Can you confirm this is the guest?"

"Yeah. Wow, I was right after all; Oriental with blue eyes. I'll be damned."

Ignoring his unnecessary racial commentary, Milliardo continued: "However, the deceased man that was found in the room was not mister Yuy. My colleague showed you a picture of the man we found, correct?"

"Yes. That busted-up face. Didn't recognize him."

Milliardo nodded. "Was it common for mister Yuy to receive guests in his motel room?"

"Always. He was never here alone."

"Different visitors, or the same person every time?"

"Same guy. They never arrived together. The guy who rented the room, this Yuy guy, you say, he asked for two keys. So him and the other fellow both had a key. They'd arrive about an a hour or half an hour apart. Yuy sometimes spent the night, but that other guy… he never did."

"Could you possibly describe him?"

Grubinger rolled his eyes. "Well, I could try, I guess I was right about blue-eyes, so…" He looked off to the side, searching his memory. "Real tall fellow," He started.

"Please, be as precise as possible. How tall?"

"Six feet? Probably a little more. I never saw this one up close, only from across the parking lot and in the dark, not to mention."

"I understand, sir," He tried to be sympathetic and patient. "Whatever you can recall could prove crucial. Please."

"He was pretty well-built, I think. Broad shoulders."

Milliardo scribbled down the description in his notebook. It wasn't very specific, but so far it did match the overall physique of the John Doe, so maybe he slept with Yuy, got into a fight with them and then waited for a buddy to come help him kidnap the guest, during which process Doe got killed. "Anything else?"

"Pretty sure this one was fully white."

"Thanks." John Doe was Caucasian. It wasn't much, but maybe once more information started coming in the description would end up being helpful after all. "Officer Alex asked you to make a copy of the log?"

"Yes." Grubinger reached for a stack of papers and pushed it towards him. "I made a copy of every page in the log when I saw the guys go onto the room. I kept track because there's no point sending in the cleaning lady if they haven't been in there."

"Right."

"It's possible not all their visits have been logged. My assistant manager handles business while I'm away. He is not as vigilant as I am. He might have missed a couple of times."

"That's fine, sir. Hopefully this will be enough to be of use." He tucked the papers under his arm. "Thank you for your time, you can go home now." He shook hands with the man and then turned around to go back to his car, but he had only taken a single step before Grubinger called:

"Hold on a second! I nearly forgot!"

Milliardo spun around. "Yes?"

"Seeing your hair reminded me of something."

He raised his eyebrows. "My hair?"

"Yes, I thought of it when you were here earlier, but completely forgot about it again. I really need to get some sleep."

"What did my hair remind you of, mister Grubinger?" He demanded.

"The guy, Yuy's visitor, the one with the second key, not the dead fellow," He rambled before he finally got to the point: "He had long hair just like you. Also in a braid. Always in a braid."

Milliardo's mouth went dry and his heart started to race.

"But his hair was brown."

Goddammit. "And he was here last night?"

"Arrived just before midnight."

"Did you see him leave?"

"No, but at midnight I lock the door to the office and I sit in the back and watch TV. I'm only here for emergencies after midnight; people ring the bell out front."

"T- Thank you, mister Grubinger." He ran out of the office and back to his car, evading reporters and photographers as he went.

Milliardo raced back to the station in record time. That sick, uncomfortable feeling had settled in his stomach again and it wouldn't be going away. Duo had lied to him. Again. He said he had never been at the motel but what were the odds of another man with long brown hair in Yuy's life? Then a memory from that day clicked; Trowa told him about the long brown hairs found in the bed. Duo's hairs. He was having some kind of illicit affair with the victim. He didn't even know his colleague was gay, in fact, Duo never mentioned anything about his personal life.

What did it mean? Was he seriously considering Duo's involvement in a murder and a kidnapping?

He shook his head and pounded his tight fist against the steering wheel. It couldn't be! Especially not now, not since he had been sober. He had some anger and violence issue before, but that was always the booze. Duo was a good cop and a friend and he had been better since he had gotten help. He hadn't had one of his outbursts since before he went to rehab, which was mostly why Milliardo allowed him to return to active duty last week. Had it been too soon? Had he started drinking again without Milliardo noticing?

When Duo was a drunk – although no one other than Milliardo ever found out he had been a drunk – he had a short temper and he could snap. He would pick fights with co-workers or get too rough with suspects. Some officers started calling him 'Two-face', referring to his ability to switch from friendly to dangerous in the blink of an eye, and his days in the undercover unit when he was the best at pretending to be a crook, almost too good, some people whispered in the hallways. He never took the nickname too seriously, because Duo always ended up being best buddies again with whoever he had picked a fight with. He seemed harmless.

It was tempting to storm into the bullpen and pull Duo aside by his collar and confront him with the new revelation. But he feared Duo would simply feed him another lie and it would taste so good that Milliardo couldn't help but swallow it whole. He needed more proof so Duo wouldn't be able to deny the truth and he would finally stop lying.

He couldn't do it by himself, so he discretely called Trowa to his office. Chang was a fine agent but he was a stickler for rules, if the Chinese man got wind of this, he would be quick to slap handcuffs on Duo and it wouldn't matter who was watching. Milliardo preferred to do things quietly. If, by some welcome miracle, it would turn out to be a misunderstanding after all, he didn't want any careers or lives to be irreparably damaged by this incident.

Before Trowa could meet up with him Milliardo took a seat at his desk and laid Yuy's phone next to the copies of the log. The text conversation with Duo was always about meeting up at their 'usual place'. Duo wanted him to believe that was some place innocent, but with an increasingly heavy feeling in his heart Milliardo started to realize that the text messages lined up perfectly with the dates that room 102 had been in use. Every time Duo and Yuy agreed to meet, Grubinger had a corresponding mark in his log. The long-haired man the manager had seen was definitely Duo.

Barton knocked on his office door and let himself in. "Something wrong, boss?"

With pale face Milliardo looked up at his teammate. "Sit down, please," He gestured at the chair across from his desk, where his sister, the State attorney General had been seated mere hours before. If his suspicions would be proven true – and it was starting to look that way – his entire team was in big trouble, but Duo most of all.

Trowa apprehensively took a seat.

Deciding there was no time to cushion the blow, the agent started bluntly: "Duo knows our missing person, Yuy, and he has been lying about it. He told me he barely knows the guy and I bought it, hook, line and sinker, but they know each other better than he has admitted. Duo has been meeting up with Yuy regularly, at the Sunburst French Creek motel. And he was there last night according to the manager."

"Jesus."

Milliardo nodded. He could tell Trowa was having a hard time processing it and he looked as shocked and perturbed as he had. "A couple of hours after the Doe's TOD and the kidnapping, Duo sent Yuy a text: 'I hate what you've made me do. What you've turned me into'."

Trowa stared a moment and then started to laugh uncomfortably. "What are you saying? That Duo killed our John Doe and kidnapped Yuy?"

"I don't know. But I do know that if this was any other case, any other suspect, we would be convinced we had our guy."

"But this isn't another suspect. This is Duo. He's not…" He made a dismissive gesture. "Yes, it looks bad, but we know him. He wouldn't do this."

"You're probably right. But as much as I hate it, I'm not convinced." He rubbed his throbbing temples. "We'll handle this quietly, for now."

"I don't know how long we will be able to keep this quiet," Trowa spoke up. "I was downstairs in the lab. The techs have already come up with a match for some of the fingerprints they lifted off the scene."

"Duo's?"

"Yes. I still don't think he did this, but now there is physical evidence he was in that room. I covered for him by telling them that he just forgot to put on his gloves while he searched the scene," Trowa and Milliardo both know that was a blatant lie. "They accepted the explanation but they aren't stupid, they are definitely suspicious now. He's on their radar. And they've already concluded that Doe's DNA doesn't match the semen from the sheets or the condom."

He ran his hand through his hair, not sure how to proceed.

"Did you know Duo was gay?"

Milliardo shook his head. "No, I had no idea."

"Me neither. Not that I ever heard about any girlfriends either, but I never thought… It's weird. I mean, you think you know someone."

"Yeah…" Milliardo stared into thin air. That was exactly the problem that had him so worried. They all thought they knew Duo so well, well enough to be able to state with certainly that he wouldn't kill or kidnap anybody. But how well did they actually know him?

"I guess it's possible that he's not gay. Just because he met up with some guy in a gay motel doesn't have to mean anything. It might not be his used condom that was in the trash."

"Maybe."

Trowa jumped up from his chair. "I'm getting back to work. The best way to prove Duo's innocence at this point is to find Yuy and ask him who was really responsible."

"If Yuy is still alive…"

"We'll find him, and he will exonerate Duo. Dead or alive," Trowa asserted and he walked out of the office.

Milliardo called after him: "Trowa, tell Duo I want to talk to him."

The agent nodded. "Shall I send him up to your office?"

"No. Tell him to meet me in interrogation room 2."

Trowa paused and it looked like he was about to comment on the request, but he pressed his lips tightly together and nodded in agreement instead.

Milliardo gathered all the accumulated paperwork on the case in his arms and headed downstairs to the interrogation rooms. He checked the observation room to make sure it was clear and he used his master key to lock the door, to prevent anyone from snooping on their conversation. He wasn't ready yet for other agents to start worrying about the things he was worrying about; that one of their own had 'gone off the reservation'. He had never seen it happen up-close, but he knew it did happen, more often than anyone dared to admit. It was always ugly and the effects spread through an entire department, the ripple could disband teams and dissolve trust, even between those who are innocent.

He wasn't ready yet to admit he might have made a huge mistake by helping Duo hide his alcoholism and letting him come back to active duty.

He took a seat in the interrogation room, with his back towards the two-way mirror, leaving Duo the only other available seat across from him; the 'chair on the other side of the table'. The chair that faced the mirror. The chair where they only ever seated people of interest, suspects and criminals. The last person Milliardo had interviewed, sitting in that chair, was a rapist and a murderer. He never expected he would ever have to ask a team member to take a seat in that chair.

The door opened and Duo stood there, holding the doorknob in one hand, the doorpost in the other. A sly grin spread across his lips and he was about to make a joke, but Milliardo silenced him and told him to take a seat, gesturing at the empty chair.

With his brows twitching into a frown the agent stepped into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. He paused by the chair, stalling with a quizzical expression.

"Sit down, Duo," Milliardo repeated, more strictly that time.

Duo sat down in that chair the way any cop would; insulted and indignant. "What's up with the new digs, Zechs? Office getting refurbished?"

"Don't call me Zechs." Zechs Merquise had been the name he had used during an undercover operation with Duo years ago. Milliardo had never been comfortable with pretending to be a criminal and as an undercover cop he had, at times, been forced to cross a line to keep up the charade, beyond which line you aren't really pretending anymore. The name marked a period in his life that he preferred to forget, but Duo still liked to tease him with it – it was a ridiculous name after all.

"What are we doing here, Mill?" Duo asked glibly. "What's going on?"

"You tell me. No lies this time," Milliardo bit back.

Duo leaned back in the seat. His demeanor shifted. A dark shadow settled over his eyes. Instinctively he knew the game of pretend was over. He must have known the truth would come out eventually.

When it was clear he wasn't going to volunteer any information, Milliardo decided to corner him with the information that he had already gathered. "You've been meeting up with Yuy at that motel twice a week, every week, for two months. You even ditched rehab a couple of times to meet up with him at the motel. And you were there last night. The manager remembers you, thanks to your braid."

He chuckled bitterly. "The goddamn braid." Absentmindedly he pulled the end of it into his lap and fidgeted with the strands of hair.

"Forensics have already matched fingerprints found at the scene with yours. I'm guessing the long brown hairs in the bed and the used condom in the trash are also yours, correct?"

"Correct."

In hindsight it was apparent Duo had been hiding his sexuality all this time by avoiding all talk about sex or romantic interests or woes, but Milliardo didn't understand why. He was a little insulted at the thought that Duo might have had him pegged as a homophobe. He knew the force wasn't as accepting as it could and should be, but Milliardo wasn't 'the force', he was a friend, right? Yes, Milliardo harbored some innocent bias: even though he had never suspected Duo was gay, now that he knew he was in a sexual relationship with another man, he somehow instantly pictured Duo being the one wearing the condom in the situation and the shorter, younger Yuy to be the one to ejaculate on the sheets. He realized it was a silly stereotype, but it was something he could deal with, something he would have amended if Duo had just been honest with him about who he was. He didn't know if he should be angry with Duo for not trusting him, or if he should pity him for not being able to entrust anyone with this secret.

Milliardo sighed. "Why did you lie to me about your relationship with him?"

"I already told you," Duo responded irritably. "I didn't want our team to get booted off the case because of my personal relationship with Heero. We are the best team and I want the best to be out looking for him."

"You had to have known we would find the link between you and Yuy soon enough."

"Of course I did," He snarled. "But I was hoping that it would take a while, so we would at least find a decent lead before then."

Milliardo shook his head. "What have you done, Duo? This looks so bad…"

"Come on! Obviously I didn't have anything to do with the murder or the kidnapping!" He crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively as he continued: "So I slept with Heero, so what? It is irrelevant to the case."

Milliardo let out a grim laugh. "Irrelevant? In any other case we would be convinced we had our guy. You were there last night, Duo. The guest next door heard Yuy have sex with someone and then they had a fight. That was you, wasn't? You slept with Yuy and then you argued." He watched Duo clench his fists. "He called you a coward. You called him a whore… And then you said you would kill him!"

Duo looked up at him with wild, dangerous eyes. "So I said something stupid?! What else is new?! It's like the guy next door from us said, I left! I stormed out! I didn't kidnap him or kill that other guy!" He shouted.

"What time did you leave?"

"A quarter to two and I didn't come back. I went home."

Milliardo glanced down at his notes. The time corresponded with what the professor had told him.

With uncharacteristic vulnerability, Duo said: "You know I had nothing to do with this. You know me!"

Milliardo stared at him. "Do I?"

Duo narrowed his eyes.

Milliardo shook his head and was trembling all over as he mused aloud: "Everyone calls you 'Duo', not 'agent Maxwell' and you know everyone by name. You hand out donuts when we close a case and you are always the one to remind me when I'm about to forget someone's birthday… You have all of us convinced you are our best friend, but nobody really knows you. I know nothing about you."

Duo looked panicked. He wiped his face with his hands and tried and failed to remain composed.

"I don't know what you do in your spare time. I don't know what kind of sports you like. I've never been to your apartment. I never hear you mention a girlfriend… or a boyfriend rather. I don't know if you have pet. I don't know why you keep your hair long. I don't know what you did last Thanksgivings, or who you celebrated Christmas with, or any holiday."

"But none of that is important," He argued. "You know me, you know I wouldn't…"

"You have a temper," Milliardo reminded him, "I've seen you snap. I know you can be violent and dangerous when you've been drinking. That's what I know."

He gritted his teeth. "I haven't been drinking, I told you!" He slammed his fists onto the table.

"You also told me you were in rehab two full months, you never mentioned checking out twice a week to go to that damn motel!"

"To be with Heero, not to get wasted! I haven't had a drink in months!" He was panting and his face was flushed.

Milliardo growled in response: "You can't seriously expect me to still be able to trust you." He wasn't sure what he was implying. Could Duo have done this? In spite of everything, he couldn't believe it.

They both jumped in their seat when the door burst open unannounced.

"Boss," said Chang gruffly, "A word?"

Milliardo would brush him off and tell him he was in the middle of something if it wasn't for the agent's furious expression. He had the sinking feeling that the cat was out of the bag. "Yeah." He stood up on unsteady legs and joined WuFei in the hallway.

"What are you doing?" Chang demanded, wasting no time. He nodded back at the interrogation room where Duo was waiting. "Are you protecting him?"

"I just had to talk to him first."

"He's a suspect, why haven't you added that to the case file?" Chang pressed on in an accusing tone.

"All we have right now is circumstantial evidence. The witness, the professor, said that he stormed out and that two guys came back. I'm not convinced Duo is one of those two guys. In spite of how it looks, he could still be telling the truth. His sexual relationship with Yuy doesn't mean he is responsible for the death and the kidnapping."

"He's sticking with the story that he left long before?"

"Yes, he said he went home at 1:45 and according to professor Eskridge that was half an hour before the two unknown men came to the room to take Yuy."

Chang chose that moment to show his boss a grainy photograph.

Warily, Milliardo accepted the picture and studied the subject; a tall man in black clothes walking into a store.

"Here's more."

Milliardo was handed another photo and in the photo Duo was clearly recognizable, facing the camera as he stood at the register. He was visibly upset. "Where is this?" He wondered breathily.

Chang didn't say anything from a moment and placed a third and final photograph on top of the others; Duo walking back to the exit of the store, carrying a bottle of water and a new pack of cigarettes. Finally, he explained: "I decided to check the gas stations nearest to the motel, on the 76. The one directly East, towards Philadelphia and the first one West, on the way back to Harrisburg. These security images are of the gas station ten minutes West of the motel. Notice the time stamps? He made those purchases at 2:28. The time-line doesn't match. Duo admitted that he was in the room but he claimed to have left at a quarter to two, right? But if he drove straight home, leaving the motel at 1:45, he should have reached the gas station on his way home to Harrisburg only ten minutes later. Actually, with the way Duo speeds, it should have been less than ten minutes." With his index finger he tapped the photos cradled in Milliardo's palms. "Instead, he stops at the gas station over half an hour later than expected."

Milliardo pressed his lips together tightly, left distraught by the news. "The witness said the two unknown men came back half an hour after Duo left. So that's a quarter pas two. And according to that witness the struggle lasted only about five minutes and then Yuy was put into the car and the kidnapper sped off. If the kidnapper headed towards Harrisburg they would have passed the gas station to the West a little less than ten minutes later… Which would be around two thirty. Fuck." The revelation caused his hands to shake.

WuFei, not known for his sympathetic nor empathetic abilities, expressed he wanted to take over the interrogation.

"I got this, Chang."

"It wasn't an offer, boss," He said. "I'm not sure if you can be impartial on this one."

"Excuse me?"

"You are known to cover for other agents when they've slipped up."

"Yes, when they didn't file a report or time or double-parked their car, not when they are suspected of a serious crime!"

"If you don't let me take over the interview you leave me no choice but to report the new developments to the chief."

Milliardo glared at the agent but he knew there was no arguing with the man when he was like that. He had to admit that he didn't mind not having to go back in there to face Duo, he felt sick to his stomach and WuFei had the right to question his ability to remain impartial. Duo continued to be able to fool him and he had to consider that his personal investment in Duo allowed him to be fooled. He was too desperate for the agent to be innocent after all. Chang had no such emotional investments. He could compartmentalize. Besides, the Chinese man was probably doing them all a favor by taking over the interrogation and not heading straight for Chief Khushrenada's office. "Okay," Milliardo agreed and he handed back the photographic evidence. "I'll continue to work the case with Barton. You get the full story out of him." He watched the agent disappear into the interrogation room without another word. He took a deep breath, straightened his clothes and headed to the bullpen to find Trowa.

He brought Trowa up to speed on all the disconcerting developments and inquired if Trowa had managed to dig up anything that would either prove Duo's innocence or get them any closer to finding Yuy. Unfortunately there were no clues leading them to the victim and no apparent reasons for anyone else to want to kidnap him.

"What about the John Doe in the morgue?" Milliardo questioned. "Did his fingerprints or DNA give any hits in our database?"

"I haven't checked yet if the computer finished the search. Hold on." He stalked over to his desk and typed in a password to unlock the screensaver. Both their curiosity was piqued by a blinking alarm at the center of the screen. "Looks like we got a hit." Leaning forward and resting his weight on his palms on the surface of the desk he clicked the message and a file opened.

Milliardo's heart skipped a beat. They could really use an ID on the John Doe to move the case along and – hopefully – in a direction that didn't lead back to Duo as their prime suspect. "Is he an old friend? Did we get a name?"

"No such luck."

Luck was nowhere to be found this cursed day, it appeared.

"His fingerprints match prints that were found at the scene of another investigation," Trowa summarized as his emerald eyes scanned the lines of text. "We don't have a name but…" He paused and gave his boss an ominous look. "Sets of his prints were found scattered around the White Fang clubhouse, the gang led by Quinn Carnbee, A.K.A 'Quinze'. That's the case Duo last went undercover for. Duo got shot during the raid of the clubhouse when we came to arrest Quinze."

Milliardo nodded. "Yeah. The investigation was actually a follow-up on an op Duo and I did together six years ago when we were both on the undercover squad. We could only get evidence on a couple of lieutenants back then. My cover got blown during the arrest but Duo was never found out, so when we got another lead last summer Duo went under again."

Trowa looked back at the screen. "It looks like our John Doe was a member of White Fang. Could this be some kind of retaliation? Duo's testimony will send their boss to prison for fifteen to twenty years, once the case goes to court."

"The gang has been quiet since the arrest. Most of the inner circle has jumped ship to other local biker gangs, using information and bits and pieces of the business as leverage to get accepted into the new crowd. White Fang itself is all but dissolved."

"So what does it mean that at least one White Fang member came to the motel? I think it could be some kind of personal revenge plot."

Milliardo leaned his hip against the desk and stared at Duo's abandoned workplace, deep in thought. "But why take Yuy?" He wondered after a moment of contemplative silence. "If a gang member wanted revenge they would have simply killed Duo. They have no use for Yuy."

"Maybe they intended to come for Duo but missed him by half an hour. They had to improvise, so they decided to kidnap Yuy." Trowa offered, his voice carrying a tone of hope.

"It's possible," Milliardo agreed cautiously. "But we shouldn't dismiss the other possibility…"

Trowa simply quirked an eyebrow.

"Duo has been part of that gang as an undercover cop for a total of almost two years. He was in deep. I know we don't want to consider it, but the messed-up time-line prompts a scenario that we cannot yet rule out: Duo got into a fight with his lover. He even threatened to kill him, that's how heated things got. Maybe he got so upset with Yuy that he called on the help of an old buddy he knew from his days as part of the biker gang. He waited half an hour for John Doe to get there and then the two of them went in to kill Yuy."

Trowa argued: "But Duo is a big guy and Yuy's, according to his driver's license, is nearly a foot shorter than Duo and weighs a buck twenty soaking wet. Duo wouldn't need any help to overpower Yuy. He could have killed him himself."

"True, although it does appear Yuy managed to get the upper hand on John Doe and slam his face into the sink, killing him, so he's stronger than he seems. But I'm not necessarily suggesting Duo might have needed more muscle to take him down. He could have called him in for his expertise on getting rid of a body. That could have been Doe's job when White Fang was still up-and-running. When Doe got killed during the attack, whoever the accomplice was – whether it was Duo or someone else – decided to take Yuy, dead or alive, but felt confident leaving Doe behind, probably trusting he would either never be identified or at the very least not linked to him. Leaving Doe but taking Yuy suggest there would be a link between Yuy and the remaining kidnapper."

Trowa exhaled loudly and ran his hand through his hair. He knew it was a valid scenario. "Normally, yeah, the body that gets hidden is the body that leads back to the killer. Whereas if the killer thinks a body won't lead back to them, they'll leave it behind. But this is all under the presumption that Yuy is dead. At the moment the evidence suggests kidnapping."

"Does it?" Milliardo challenged. "Kidnapping needs motive, in most cases of adult-abductions the motive is money. There hasn't been a ransom demand."

"He doesn't really have any significant funds," Trowa supplied. "He has a pretty decent savings account, but-"

"If anyone would be willing to risk going to jail for kidnapping for – what? – ten thousand dollars' worth of savings?"

"Eight," Trowa informed, glancing at the paperwork they had gathered on the victim.

"Eight. If they wanted that cash, they would have moved in on it already, they would have forced him to withdraw the money by now, but there has been no activity and now his bank account is on lock down thanks to the kidnapping." He consulted his watch for the time and concluded: "It's been a little over twelve hours since the abduction. No one has attempted to get any money out of this. I feel confident money was not the objective." He informed bitterly: "About ninety percent of adult abductions, not motivated by money, end in the death of the victim within the first four hours."

"Ten percent is enough for me," The tall agent said poignantly. "Whatever the nature of Duo's relationship with this guy is, Yuy obviously means something to Duo. I'm not giving up on finding this guy alive, it's what we do when a loved-one of one of our own goes missing. We move heaven and earth to find them. If Duo turns out to be innocent, I want him to know we did everything we could to not just prove his innocence but also to find his friend."

"Fuck. You're right." He scrubbed his face, he needed to focus. "But we find the victims by finding the kidnapper. I think we should keep following the trail Duo left. If the kidnapping of Yuy is not about money, I have a feeling it might be about Duo, for revenge, like you said. I think that by working through all the evidence that could implicate him, we'll eventually come across something that won't fit and that piece will lead us to the person responsible."

"So what's the strategy?"

"Start looking into Duo's phone records, home and cellphone."

Trowa made a face at the thought of snooping into Duo's personals.

"I know, but at the very least we might be able to prove wrong the theory that he called a hitman from the motel parking lot. So start with the cell." He paused and looked around, making sure they were out of earshot from other agents, before he continued in a more hushed tone: "Duo didn't take leave for physical therapy. He went to rehab for a drinking problem; Golden Horizons. I covered for him."

Trowa smiled sadly. "I know, boss."

"What?" He was more than a little perturbed to hear that. "How?"

He smirked. "I'm a detective."

"Right." Perhaps it had been silly of him to think they could hide such a huge secret from their teammates, but the lack of a reaction had always convinced him they had gotten away with the deceit. "What about Chang? Surely if he knew he would have reported it."

Trowa shrugged. "I don't know. Chang didn't report it to the chief, but he is also a good detective. I don't know what goes on in his head."

"Let's hope he is on our side and stays that way. We need him to find Yuy and the truth."

"I'll start on his caller history, cell, home and at Golden Horizons. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to check out Duo's apartment and then I'm going to swing by the gas station to ask if the store-manager ever noticed anything suspicious. Check on WuFei and Duo before you get to work on those calls, alright? See if Duo can explain that extra half an hour." He patted Barton on his shoulder and then started for the elevator. He hadn't even made it across the bullpen when someone barked his name most authoritatively and he stopped dead in his tracks. His tie felt tighter in that moment somehow and he had to resist the urge to adjust it before he even looked over.

As feared, chief Khushrenada was glaring at him from across the room. With a curl of his finger – like an angry dad – he motioned Milliardo to follow him. In silence the two of them went up two floors and ended up in the chief's office. Khushrenada demonstratively pulled out a chair for Milliardo and once the agent was seated the chief took lowered himself onto the corner of his desk, looming over the other man.

"Sir?" Milliardo finally spoke.

"I just got a call from our lovely, yet oddly intimidating State Attorney General – I believe you know her?"

"Yeah, I think we've met once or twice…"

"She inquired about the Sunburst French Creek motel case that she had apparently personally appropriated from the local police department and signed over to you, with the request to be kept informed of any significant developments. She called to inform me that you have disregarded that request and wondered if I would personally look into it."

The little wench went over my head, Milliardo thought to himself bitterly.

"Imagine my surprise when I go downstairs to inform myself on the case and the progress being made and forensics tell me that they've found the fingerprints of one of your agents at the crime scene."

He cringed. Trowa's clever lie about Duo neglecting to wear gloves at the crime scene during their investigation hadn't worked to keep them from making an official note of it.

"And two of your agents are currently occupying interrogation room 2." Khushrenada looked at him expectantly.

"Sir, I apologize for how this looks. Through a series of unfortunate coincidences agent Maxwell has been implicated in the case," Was his diplomatic response. "However, I assure you that we have a handle on the case and we can and will conduct the investigation in a professional and impartial manner befitting to the bureau."

Khushrenada rubbed his chin in thought. "You know that protocol dictates that an investigation should be handled by a team that has no personal connection to the case."

"Yes, sir. I'm aware this is not ideal. But this investigation can't switch hands again, not at this point. Not if we want to find the victim alive."

"If your agent is guilty than the victim is probably already dead."

"But what if Duo is innocent and we don't find Yuy in time because we felt compelled to hand over the case to another team?"

Khushrenada walked around his desk and took a seat in his large, leather chair. He briefly consulted the copy of the case file on his desk. "Do you think Duo is innocent?"

Milliardo took a deep breath. He considered lying, but then he reminded himself that only the truth could be of help at that point. No more lies, from anybody. "I don't know."

The chief nodded. "Thank you for your honesty. I trust that you can handle this. I know you've gone out of your way to protect fellow officers in the past, but I assume you agree that if Duo turns out to be guilty, he doesn't deserve protection."

"Yes, sir. If he is involved he will not evade justice," He readily assured him.

"Good. But now my problem is: How do I sell this to your sister? I'm obligated to inform her on these developments and she will likely press to get your team off the case to save her face." He grimaced.

"Public perception matters most to my sister, yes. You can use this to your advantage to persuade her," Milliardo advised. "Remind her how bad it will look if the gay kidnapping victim is not found in time because the state police wasted time trying to pawn off the case because they didn't think they could be impartial. And, if Duo is indeed innocent, it will look even worse; we will have rejected to tackle an investigation because we 'immediately' assumed our gay colleague was responsible and we didn't even fight to acquit him."

A smile spread on the chief's lips. "Thanks for the tip."

"Sure. She never listens to me, but I think if it comes from you she won't object."

"Alright," He pulled the phone towards him. "I'll deal with our overzealous State Attorney General. You clean up this mess. And hurry." He shot him a meaningful look.

"Yes, sir." Milliardo hurried out of his seat and out of the office.

He wondered if chief Khushrenada had also figured out the true reason for Duo's three-month-absence from the force and for a brief, selfish moment he feared what would happen to his own career if Duo was proven guilty and it was uncovered that Milliardo had snuck him into rehab and had, perhaps, prematurely let him come back to active duty. He fervently shook his head and he decided not to linger on it. He had more pressing matters to worry about. First priority was finding Yuy alive. Hopefully that was still possible.

Before going down to the parking garage to get his car and head to Duo's apartment and the gas station as planned, he dropped by the bullpen looking for Trowa, hoping for an update that was of use. But the tall agent was not at his desk. With a frown he headed down the hallway to the interrogation rooms where both Trowa and WuFei were waiting outside the door of interrogation room 2. Milliardo balled his fists when he noticed their clothes were disheveled and especially WuFei looked flustered and upset.

"What, in the Hell, happened?" He demanded, glaring at them both.

Barton explained: "I came to check on them, as you asked, and found them both on the floor trying to choke the life out of each other. I had to physically force them apart."

WuFei grunted and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "He lunged at me."

"Jesus Christ." He pointed an angry finger at the Chinese man. "I just assured the chief that we would handle this case in a professional manner. Goddammit." He turned around and took a few steps to distance himself from them. Taking a deep breath he composed himself and waited for his hands to stop shaking. He couldn't afford to have the team fall apart at this juncture. Yuy's life depended on them, as did Duo's. Confident his panic and concern wouldn't show, he faced his team members again. "Chang, did you ask Duo what his explanation was for the half-hour gap?"

He replied curtly: "He said he left the motel at a quarter to two, drove straight to the gas station, but sat in the car for a while trying to compose himself before going in for water and smokes."

"Good, okay, that's something. I'm going to take over the interrogation. Chang, you take a moment to calm yourself and then go through Duo's caller-history and financial records. Start with his cellphone records, to rule out that he called anyone for help from the parking lot at the motel. Trowa and I had figured that if he's innocent, he is still the clue to finding the people responsible and finding Yuy. Keep me in the loop about every little thing. Oh and call Forensics, have them send a team to the parking garage to search Duo's Jeep."

WuFei nodded and left in an instant.

Trowa gave him a questioning look.

"We have to cover our bases. I'm not saying we'll find anything, but we have to thorough. I know we want to exonerate Duo but we agree that the most important thing is finding Yuy, right?"

"Yes, sir," He agreed readily.

"You go do what I was planning to do: go to Duo's apartment and the gas station. Go to the gas station first and try to find out if there is a way to confirm that Duo arrived there at about five to two. Text me if you find anything."

The agent gave a nod and then walked away with long strides.

Milliardo released a deep breath and stared at the door to the interrogation room. He was apprehensive about stepping in there, which was novel to him. Interrogation was his strong suit, he had never felt out of his depth trying to get the truth out of a suspect, but no suspect was like Duo. As a former undercover agent, deceit came naturally and easily to him, that much had been proven, but on top of that, him and Duo had been working together for so long that Duo knew all his tricks, so he wouldn't be falling for any of them. He was left without an inkling on how to approach this particular suspect.

Before going in he headed for the watercooler down the hall. He produced the single strip of Ibuprofen he had stuffed in his pocket in case of a headache-emergency – he expected this case would be more than just a pain in the ass – and he swallowed a pill and washed it down with plenty of water. With the casefile under his arm, both hands were free and he carried two cups of water to the interrogation room. He nudged the door open with his hip and pretended to be unaffected by the state in which he found Duo.

The man sat slumped in 'the chair at the other side of the table'. His entire body seemed deflated. He had taken off his jacket and the shirt he wore underneath showed signs of the struggle he had had with WuFei; it had been untucked from his black slacks, it missed the top two buttons and the seams at his shoulders had torn. His face was deathly pale, offset by his eyes which were darker than Milliardo had ever seen them. His hands were on the table, limp, the knuckles of his right hand were freshly bruised from pummeling WuFei.

Milliardo took a seat across from him and wordlessly offered him one of the cups of water. "Well done," He bit sarcastically. Even though he pitied his team member, he knew better than to go easy on him. They had no more time to spare feelings or play games. If some other guy was out there, holding Yuy, they would have to move fast. "On the day you become a suspect, you decide to finally fight out that beef with Chang."

Everyone in the office knew that Maxwell and Chang didn't get along, making Chang the only person to openly dislike Duo, which didn't make him very popular. It was nothing personal, but their entirely different work-ethics didn't play well together. Chang was all about following the rules and sticking to protocol. Duo mocked this approach, his forte lay in bending – or even blatantly breaking – the rules, manipulating people into spilling the truth, threatening suspects and faking evidence to force a confession. Figuratively speaking Chang and Duo had butted heads many times before, arguing one method in favor of the other. There had always been tension between them and the situation had apparently caused them both to explode.

"He got on my nerves," Duo simply said, through gritted teeth.

"You lie to one agent and you fight with another," Milliardo shook his head in disproval. "How are we supposed to work this case if you keep getting in the way of the truth?"

"It's like I told Chang," He said the name like it was an insult in and of itself, "You're wasting your time with me. I didn't do anything. I'm not involved. You should be looking for Heero, not asking me stupid questions!" He slammed his fists onto the table and the water jumped up out of both cups and spilled over the side.

"You are our only lead, Duo. Whether or not you are guilty, we have to act on the information that we have and follow the trail as it appears before us. Right now, that is the trail you have blazoned."

"Then you're being led astray! This approach is only going to lead you further away from actually finding Heero!"

"If you are innocent," Milliardo emphasized the first word, "It is a reasonable assumption that whoever took Yuy, took him to get at you. Innocent or not, you are the key to finding out what happened."

"You should be looking into that John Doe. He's the clue! He's the accomplice to whoever has Heero!" He sat back and stubbornly crossed his arms in front of his chest. Looking off to the side, he declared: "I'm not talking to you. I'm not talking to any of you and let you waste your time on looking into me."

"Duo, you need to talk to me."

"No," He shook his head petulantly. "I'm lawyering-up. I'm not saying anything until I get a lawyer in here. In the meantime you can go out and actually look for Heero."

It was Milliardo's turn to slam his hand onto the table to get Duo to look at him and to take him seriously and he made it clear in no uncertain terms that – as is always the case – lawyering-up is only going to hamper the progress of the investigation. Not to mention that his lack of cooperation would only make Duo look all the more guilty. "If you didn't do this and you want us to find Heero alive, we are your best friends. Because if you tell us your side of the story we might be able to prove your innocence and in the process find the person who is responsible and hunt them down to get Heero back safely."

Duo stared at him. On the surface he was defiant, but underneath that unyielding layer was a depth filled with vulnerability and fear.

"You want that, right? You want Heero to be safe?" He observed his reaction closely.

"Yes. Fuck, of course I do," Duo answered. His voice wavered.

"Tell me the whole story, Duo."


To be Continued…

Guilty or not guilty?