Duo sighed, finally shutting down his computer. Three A.M., and he had finally just finished mopping up the mess that was left to him. An entire week of putting out fires, small and large, working odd hours and frequent days. Doing office work. He hated office work. He supposed this was Une's punishment for his slight two weeks ago. Pulling a muscle in his leg two days before a major assignment. In training, no less. And that left Duo still on base while his partner and friends were off with a major assignment. He sighed again, wishing he was on L2 and not trapped in no-man's land on the Preventer main base.
The mission he was missing out on was one he had been looking forward to for a while. A terrorist cell that had threatened, and managed to hit, some major shuttle ports on earth. Intelligence had finally tracked them down, on L2. His home colony. Une had decided to send the former pilots, citing they were the best option to deal with a major terrorist cell. It was an assignment rife with subtlety and danger, his favorite kind. The kind he was the best at. He stared dully at the blank monitor, hating the damned thing.
With another sigh, he was getting awfully good at sighing, he forcefully shoved the keyboard tray back under the desk. Even with a pulled muscle, he would have been an asset on the assignment. Especially since they were looking at explosives, which tended to be his area of expertise. Even Heero could not boast the skill Duo had. Of course, Heero was a close second to him. Not that it bothered Duo, Heero was a man of many talents, it was how he was trained. While the other pilots had been trained in specific fields, Heero had been made the jack of all trades. Duo grinned to himself.
At least this time on his own had given him time to think. To think about things he really should have a long time ago. During the war, at the very least. A certain pilot had been the object of Duo's interest since the middle of the war. Of course, the damned man was impossible to approach, and Duo was uncertain if the pilot even swung that way, so to speak. In his off time, Duo had been taking to spending time with Quatre. Not that he did not usually spend plenty of time with the Arabian. Quatre was his best friend, after all. They had long since developed a deep rapport with each other, practically from the beginning of the war. But without the presence of the other ex-pilots, Quatre and he had gotten around to talking about some touchy subjects. Specifically, the fact that Duo still pined over that certain gundam pilot. After plenty of discussions with Quatre, Duo had decided to make his affections known. He had decided to up front confess to the man he had been coyly watching for four years.
And so Duo was especially looking forward to the next week, when the other pilots were scheduled to return. At the same time he was nervous and dreading it. But he had at least five days to worry about it, it was now three-thirty A.M. and he wanted his bed. He pushed his chair back and ran a hand over his face. Both he and Quatre had never really developed facial hair, like some of the others had, so his face was smooth. He stood, kicking the chair back in place with his foot. At least he had the privilege of an office. Well, an office he shared with his partner. Who was off on the assignment.
As he walked out, he flicked the light switch off. The main offices were fairly dead, a few bedraggled agents still working, and the janitorial crew were making their rounds. He briefly considered hitting the gym, but no, he was tired. He could do that in the morning. He turned towards the direction of the sky bridge that connected the offices to the parking garage. He had to go up one floor for it, but his office was situated fairly close to the elevators. He passed only one person on his way to the parking garage, an agent he frankly could not recall the name of. He had to ride the parking garage elevator up a few floors, he always parked on the second to highest level.
In all fairness, he could have claimed an official parking space on the first level, but he didn't want to run the risk of his car getting scratched. His car, that he had lovingly built from the inside out, borrowing the garage on base to do most of the work. She was sleek, black, and beautiful. He had named her Scythe, superstitions died hard to him. He climbed in and started her up, she purred to life in a way only a top notch car could. He went to reach for the seatbelt and snarled when the damn thing jammed. He really needed to fix that damned thing. Or replace it. It jammed up more often than it worked. He sighed once more, too tired to deal with the bullshit of the jammed seatbelt at that moment. He would be fine.
He pulled the car out of the parking garage, swiping his badge as he left. Another swipe at the exit gate to the compound, and he was finally on the desolate road into the city. He loved this road, though. It petered through a small forest before it reached the city, and Duo loved driving through that forest. He hit the stereo and it blared to life, satisfying the American with the sound of an old hard rock band. There was a stretch of the road that hugged the side of a cliff, the base being on the top, and the city below. Part of the road stretched out straight for a bit, and a road ran perpendicular to the main road, it led to some sort of packing facility. Duo hummed along to a song he recognized as he reached the straight away. He glanced to the side and the sight of truck high beams was the last thing he saw.
Quatre rolled over with a mutter, grabbing the cell phone sitting on the nightstand. He checked the clock and almost groaned. Four in the morning. He had an important meeting that morning, and frankly, he needed his sleep to deal with that particular CEO. The woman was a shark in a fish tank, and had opinions about a nineteen year old running a corporation as big as Winner. Ones he did not need to hear, as he had heard them a thousand times before, from her and many others.
He did verbally groan this time. He could not sleep, which was not an unusual problem, but this was an uneasy feeling. Something was off, and he could not quite pinpoint what it was. He scooted upright in his bed and stared at the cell phone in his hands. Frankly, he was not sure why he had picked up the one in his hands over the one still resting on the stand. The one in his hands was a special one.
Maybe eight people had the number to this particular cell phone. It was his Preventer's phone, even though he wasn't an active agent, he did plenty of consulting work for them. His husband, however, was a full fledged agent. And out of town at that moment. Perhaps that was why Quatre was uneasy, it had been several months since Trowa had been sent away on an assignment. He was not used to sleeping alone, Une only pulled Trowa out on the more serious assignments. For all that she was, as Duo fondly called her, "crazypants", during the war, she was an excellent commander of the Preventers. She knew what her agents needed, sometimes before they themselves did.
Quatre felt bad for Duo, though. The braided man was clearly bummed out over being left behind, for all that he didn't talk about it. Quatre could tell, he always could tell. Especially with the ex-pilots, he was tuned to them in ways he wasn't with others. His empathy was a useful trait in most situations, and Quatre could read Duo like a book most of the time. He could even tell Duo's decision to make his feelings known to a certain pilot was a cover-up, in a way, for dealing with being grounded.
Quatre frowned at the phone in his hands, wondering once again why he had picked that one up. There were no new messages, no missed calls, it was silent. The screen lit his bedroom up slightly, and the phone's backdrop of the most recent picture of the pilots gathered together was staring back at him. He really should attempt to go back to sleep, he needed to be awake in two hours. He glanced down at the phone. Correction, one hour and forty-five minutes.
Suddenly the phone vibrated in his hands, and a cheerful melody rang out in his bedroom. He recognized the custom ring tone immediately. Une. One he did not hear often, and Duo often criticized his use of a cheerful tune to represent Lady Une. He quickly swiped a thumb across the screen to answer and held up the phone.
"Winner." Even through a phone, Lady Une upheld her presence. It marveled Quatre sometimes. Still, a call at four-fifteen in the morning meant something was up. Quatre's gut clenched. He honestly could not feel anything amiss, but that did not mean everything was fine.
"Commander Une, what do I owe the pleasure of an early morning call?" Quatre was always polite, it was so deeply ingrained in him. His gut would not unclench, and his worry only grew at the silence on the other side. Rarely did he find Commander Une at a loss for words, if that was what the silence was.
"There has been an accident, you need to come in." Was the reply a minute or so later. Quatre's gut clenched tighter. If he was being called in due to an accident, it meant one of the other pilots were involved. Or all of them.
"Who?" Quatre's voice cracked on that one word, and he was not ashamed of it. He almost did not want to hear the answer, though.
"Maxwell." It seemed they had devolved into one word answers, and Quatre detected a hint of an emotion in Une's voice he had never heard her express. Something was very wrong.
"I'll be in as quickly as I can." He managed, his gut twisting and contorting in ways he hated.
"Affirmative," was Une's reply, and she hung up her end of the line. Quatre hadn't thought to ask for details, but frankly, he would rather have them presented in person. He pulled himself out of bed and quickly dressed, grabbing what ever came to hand first. He snagged his business cell phone from the bedside table. Finally dressed in a button down shirt and black slacks, he slipped into the first pair of shoes he could find. He glanced down at his second cell and sighed. Pausing in what he was doing, he fired off a text to his secretary, informing her to cancel all meetings and such things for that day. Whatever had happened, he could tell it was serious.
And now that he was looking for it, he could clearly feel the absence of Duo in his heart. That, of course, did not mean the other pilot had died. Une would have said that right away. Merely, it meant he was likely unconscious. Which still did not bode well. He shoved both cells in his pocket and reached for his personal car keys. He practically flew down the stairs and through the sizable house. He and Trowa had settled for an extremely large house over a mansion, mostly because Quatre wanted Trowa to feel at home, and he knew the other man never did at any of the Winner mansions. Quatre booked it to the garage and flung himself into his car. If he really pushed things, he could get to base in forty minutes. And frankly, speed limits were a non-issue at the moment. He pulled out of the garage and started down the road, quite possibly breaking every traffic law ever created. His gut would not unclench and he was absolutely terrified.
The ride to Preventer's base was horrid for Quatre, and if someone had asked him about it days later, he probably would not be able to say much about it. Besides the breaking of aforementioned traffic laws. He made it to base in under thirty minutes, and he bolted into Preventer's medical. At least, he hoped he was supposed to go there. It was fairly empty for the time of day, and Quatre surveyed the entrance way.
He found Commander Une standing off to the side, clearly watching the entrance. She nodded at him and motioned for him to follow, and her normally stoic face held an expression that Quatre could not recognize on her face. He obeyed, however, and fell behind her as she turned and twisted through the building. Eventually, they reached an office he easily recognized as belonging to Sally Po. The woman was head of Preventer's medical, and as such, had a large office. The office was missing the woman herself, and Quatre's gut twisted even more. Commander Une motioned for him to close the door and he obliged, turning to find the Commander leaning against the desk.
Quatre was not one to fidget, but he was very worried and it tended to express itself in strange ways. He shifted from foot to foot as he waited to Une to speak. And he would not rush things, he could see on her face she was trying to formulate how to say things. That did not soothe Quatre's worry. Finally, the Commander spoke.
"At zero three three hundred hours Agent Maxwell was involved in a vehicle accident." She started, and despite knowing some of that, it still churned Quatre's stomach.
"Doctor Po received the call and he was brought in. I have not received much more information, as Doctor Po has been busy with Agent Maxwell. The information I was given was that Agent Maxwell was brought in with head trauma, severe internal bleeding and several broken bones." As she finished, Quatre blanched. He had hoped, wished, maybe even prayed for something not quite so serious. They were all made of strong stuff, but that seemed like far too much. The knot in Quatre's gut twisted farther than he had imagined it possibly could get.
"Oh Allah." He uttered to himself. He slid down into a chair, not trusting his legs at that very moment. Quatre could not recall ever having to deal with something that serious with his friends. Yes, there was life threatening wounds at times, but head trauma? That scared Quatre more than anything. He looked back up at Une, checking to see if she had any more to say.
"That is all I know, I am sure Doctor Po will have more information later, if you plan to wait." For a brief moment the Commander looked as distressed as Quatre felt. And then it was gone, if Quatre were a different man, he might have believed he had imagined it. But for once, Quatre could read Une. She was almost as worried as Quatre was.
"Of course." He whispered, looking down. Of course he would stay. He looked back up to see Une pushing herself off of the desk and striding towards the door. She nodded once at him and slipped out the door, closing it behind her.
Quatre sighed to himself, he was alone with his thoughts. And he did not like where his thoughts were going. He knew enough about trauma to scare himself. He sincerely wished he had more information. He checked the clock on the wall, and frowned. It had reached five in the morning. He looked down at the floor, trying to not reach out for Duo's consciousness. He knew he would not find it, and searching only deepened his depression.
He heard the door open and he whipped his head around, only to come face to face with Julie McCall. She looked quite bedraggled, at least, compared to her usual fastidiousness. Julie was a head nurse at medical, and one of the few nurses who willingly put up with the agents and their regular visits. She treated them all like her children, and Quatre quite liked her.
"Une said she called you, and that you were waiting here." Julie said, blowing into the office like a strong breeze. Quatre nodded at her statement.
"Good, I am glad you are here. I can fill you in really fast, and then I need to go." She said quickly, bending down to dig through the desk for something. Quatre stayed silent.
"Duo was brought in with a traumatic brain injury, but Une said she informed you of that. Initial tests showed pressure and bleeding, Doctor Po called in Doctor Bracket, he is on his way in. On top of that, most of his ribs are broken and there was massive internal bleeding. We have curbed that, there is still more that needs to be done, but he is out of danger in that area. His arm is also broken in several places. He is still in surgery." Julie pulled out a folder from the desk and nodded at Quatre as she finished speaking.
"I need to go now, there should be more information later." Julie said with a nod, breezing right back out of the room. The nurse's words did nothing to set Quatre at ease. Quatre closed his eyes, the situation seemed to get worse and worse. And what had Duo been doing to end up that injured? Duo was overly careful with his car, and if Duo was in that state, his car was likely wrecked. There were too many unknowns, and too many ifs, and it unsettled Quatre further. What if it was foul play? Intentional? If it was an accident, how did Duo end up like he did. Quatre shook his head, there was no point going down dead ends. He would just have to wait, wait for more information. The wait was going to be terrible.