Disclaimer: I don't think anybody cares about anything except whether or not there is money being made here. There isn't...Not one cent. Leave my wallet alone.

Notes: 2+1, 1x2, some slight Relena bashing that may or may not get resolved. R&R is much appreciated! I give you hugs in advance! It feeds the Muse (Muse is starving. Please feed her...him...it?). Enjoy!

In Your Image

Shit.

Another day, another mission. Never thought that I'd be caught in a situation that demanded the five of us to be shacked up in the same place. Usually, Une tries to keep us apart, you know, to prevent situations that may end up with all of us falling into the proverbial frying pan. Not that we couldn't handle any damn situation any baddie could toss at us...really. But apparently this time, the strategists claimed to require some intense firepower...or each of our skills to successfully complete their looney schemes. The latter, quite frankly, scares the living hell out of me since most of the time they use all five of us, I have to haul out of a firefight with my ass three seconds away from being well done or pumped full of holes. Although...that first option, under appropriate circumstances, doesn't sound too bad.

Down Maxwell, down. You have to remember you're heading towards the safe house from hell. Don't expect any play until the job's done.

Don't get me wrong. The guys have they're heart in the right place, but they can be a little too anal about certain things like the mission, which supplies to get, chores,...me shutting up and leaving them alone. The only one with half a decent personality would be Quatre. Hell, but it's not so much that he's a walking party as it is that he's the only other damn pilot that knows how to speak...at least that I know of. Sometimes I get the feeling that he doesn't think the world of me either, you know, two different worlds: filthy rich and dirt poor; but given the other options in the house, it seemed he deemed me the best out of the four to rely on for conversation.

In approaching the safe house, which is located in the middle of a wooded area (how cliché...I wonder who keeps picking them), the first person I came across was Wufei. Of course, never the idle Dragon, he was in the middle of his morning kata routine. Even though I was pretty sure he had already seen me, I slowed my steps so that I could watch a little longer before he stopped to greet me. Hell...if you could call a derisive sniff and a curt nod much of a greeting. Despite his arrogance, even I have to acknowledge Wufei's abilities as top class. Sometimes he's so good he makes me forget what an asshole he is and I begin to concentrate on the graceful movements made by the compact muscle of his exposed torso. Man did Wufei love to work out shirtless. The morbid little chunk of my brain responsible for my extremely healthy libido suggests that he does it to tease the hell out of everyone...that is, until the logical side reminds me of his heterosexual nature. Great...

Just as I expected, a few paces later Wufei paused in his movements, a sheen of sweat coating his face, neck, and torso; and looked directly at me. Well, shit...if I didn't just sit there and stare. It was all I could damn well do not to visibly swallow and drool. Down, Maxwell, down. Wufei took a slow, steady breath and gave that cold little nod and that damn derisive sniff as he turned away again to finish up. At least I didn't have to worry about my libido anymore.

"Hey, Wufei," I managed, biting back the bitter taste of anger and road travel, and headed straight up the steps leading to the front door.

Inside, I could already tell that Quatre had gotten there. For one thing, I saw a teacup steaming on the coffee table in, from what I could tell was the living room. What sealed the deal? Said teacup was resting on a doily neatly folded to work as a coaster. As if on cue, a smooth, pale hand reached from a place the wall blocked, probably a couch, and wrapped around the handle. Walking toward the room, I found that my guess was right since there he was, sipping his tea silently, reading a book with an almost nonchalant gaze. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd read that damn book before...leave it to Quatre to make me feel like gutter trash without even knowing I'm around.

"Hey, Quat, whatcha reading there," I asked as I tossed by duffle bag next to the sofa opposite of his chair and plopped myself right in.

"Oh, Duo! I didn't know you were here!" He graced me with one of those warm, infectious smiles that he's so good at and set his book aside. "I haven't seen you in a while. What has it been?" He tapped his lips with one finger in thought. "About three years?"

"Yup sounds about right," I grinned. Of course I didn't expect what happened next. One minute I'm playing the game "polite conversation" and the next, bam, my arms are full of Quatre. He just launched himself at me and the shock I was experiencing didn't allow me any other action but to return the embrace, if not as fervently. After a few moments, I tapped his back and cautiously asked, "Hey man, you alright?"

Quatre then removed himself from my arms and reseated himself in the chair, fixing the collar on his shirt. "Sorry Duo," he responded, his smile beaming, "It's just so good to see you!" He smoothed some imaginary wrinkles from his light pink button down shirt and tentatively asked, "When were you planning on contacting us?"

Okay...what? I certainly hadn't expected that. Hell, I didn't think we were that close in the war. I mean sure we all agreed to wear a Preventers uniform after -- I mean, what other job is going to pay that well without a college degree? -- but that didn't mean that we saw each other on a regular basis. Seven years since the Marimeia incident and I'd only seen everyone together about five times. This would be the sixth, but who was counting? Well, of course, that didn't count the handful of times I was teamed up with them individually for special assignments. Other than that, we pretty much stayed out of each other's way. Even when Une offered me a transfer to L1 so that I could partner up with Wufei or Trowa, I decided to stay on L2 with Hilde to help her manage the salvage yard on my off days. The others, I believe, went their separate ways as well. So what was the big deal if I didn't contact them? Psh, I didn't exactly see them going out of their way to hunt my ass down, so it really shouldn't have mattered. Really...

So why did I feel like I had the last foot of braid shoved down my throat? "Uh, sorry, Quat. I guess things just got busy back in L2. A while back, the main communication satellite got damaged so it was pretty tough to get a vid through without crossing lines in the lesser servers." I chuckled dryly. "So what have you been up to? You gonna tell me what this top secret mission's supposed to be about or what?"

A frustrated sigh fell from his lips and a pale hand ran through his messy golden locks, "So you haven't been debriefed?"

"Hehe, not since my last shower," I joked and was surprised to see Quatre blush.

"I-I didn't mean tha-"

"I know what you meant," I chuckled more sincerely. Now I remembered why he was my preferred pilot back in the days. No matter how old the joke got, it managed to make him jump and stutter over his words just as it did the first time he heard it. "Just tell me about the mission."

"We'll take care of that when everyone gets here," a third voice said, and I all but fell off the damned sofa. I swiveled around to see Trowa leaning against the doorjamb to the hallway, his arms crossed carelessly across his chest, as if he'd been there for a while.

"Trowa! You're awake!" Quatre practically exploded. If I thought his smile was bright before, I really didn't expect it go intensify ten fold when our favorite unibang made his unannounced appearance. Quite honestly, I was shocked because, damn, if that wasn't a look a recognized. I mean, I never figured Quatre to swing on my side of the fence since the more "obvious flamers" are more often found straight than not. I guess I thought it was too obvious to be true, or the pampered life with too damn many older sisters bred a childlike demeanor for him...apparently not. Children, at least the ones I've seen, don't give looks like that. What I hadn't expected was Trowa's low chuckle responding to Quatre's more-than-obvious interest in him. At that point, I couldn't help but wonder, 'Did I miss something?' Maybe three years of withdrawing completely had been too long.

I mean, my libido -- in case you haven't noticed -- is pretty damn healthy. Whether it's pitching or catching, I'm not really picky, as long as my lover is up for the Maxwellian challenge. Now, had I known that these two played ball my way, hell, I bet the war would have been a lot more interesting and a lot less stressful. I sure as hell would have had a different opinion about shacking up with them in a safe house...very different.

Don't get me wrong. I'm proud to say I'm not a loose man-whore. I take pride in my lovers; whom I choose to take or to take me. My taste runs very strictly and usually falls for the dark, brooding types. Well...not necessarily...they just have to look like they're the dark, brooding type. You know...dark hair, golden skin, strong built, icy glare and, well, if he just happens to be brooding...

Sound like someone?

Okay, I admit that my attraction to Heero was what made this mission seem both appealing and appalling. The guy can be a condescending asshole without even grunting, he's anal retentive, and has a temper fuse that's short enough to make Wufei look like Sister Helen, but face it...the guy is a wet dream dressed in a tank top, spandex, and tacky yellow shoes. Well, not all the time. We did room together so I got the occasional eye-candy whenever he stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, and I can tell you, the guy looks way better out of those clothes. Way better.

The room suddenly felt a little warm.

Of course, the appalling part is not at all about his stoic tendencies. It's because the last time I saw everyone, Heero and I had a huge disagreement and hadn't spoken since.

The time that had passed since I'd last saw him suddenly felt longer than what I remembered. After the war, it was very difficult for me to forget about him, not that I could ever completely forget. There was the occasional dream, but I would just bite it back and get to work, just like in the war. It had been a long time since I had allowed myself to really think about him, but I realized he still had the same effect on my heart as he did in my pants. Yes, Maxwell had it bad in the war, and it still hurt to think about it. Especially since the last time I heard, he was dating Relena 'Queen-of-the-fucking-world' Bitchcraft.

That girl has a tendency to really twist my balls. Sometimes, I like to believe that she does it on purpose (Then again...I'm pretty sure that she would rather be concentrating on Heero's to even think about messing with mine). Hell, right from the beginning, she got me on the wrong side of the tracks with Heero. To this day, I really can't believe he let me live after shooting him twice. Anyway, Relena managed to get continuously rescued, a teddy bear, and -- oh yea -- Heero's eternal devotion while loud-mouthed, annoying street-rat Duo Maxwell gets death-threats, a free vandalization of his Gundam, and one hell of a punch in the gut. Oh, and did I mention she's the reason Heero and I got into that huge argument? Surprise, surprise, right? She was basically forcing him to remain her damned bodyguard even after he decided to finally lay down his gun. At our last get together, I made the mistake of bad mouthing "Little Miss Perfect" and damn, if we weren't just one hair away from raising fists. Psh, trust me, if you had seen the look on Heero's face that day...you'd be shitting your pants too. I sure as hell almost did. All because of Relena, and you wonder why I feel the way I feel.

Don't get me wrong, I spent a good chunk of my life protecting that girl. Still do and I can confidently say that I would risk my life for her and her ideals. That is, unless that goal is Heero. But apparently she didn't have to try too hard to reach that one.

"Duo, are you alright," Trowa asked and snapped me out of my thoughts. His gaze was concerned so I know I must have had that bitter, pinched look on my face when I'm royally pissed off about something.

But no need to sour the mood. I gave both him and Quatre a crooked smile and said, "Sure thing, I guess I'm just a little tired from the trip. Une contacted me just as I got back from a stake out...A long, painful one. I didn't even have time to get debriefed," I shot Quatre a cheeky wink to see if he would blush. He did. "-- before I had to pack up and haul my ass over here."

"Why did you accept the assignment if you didn't know what it was?" Trowa asked, looking at me from behind that impossible wall of hair in front of his face. It wouldn't be the first time that I wondered how he piloted so well with such a hindrance to his depth perception.

"Well, first of all, Une didn't give me much of a choice," I raked a hand through my messy bangs, "but mostly, I was just curious as to what you guys were up to. Quat, here, was just reminding me of the amount of time that's passed since we've visited. This would be a good opportunity to catch up...even though I am a little worried about what type of crazy shit they're gonna get us into this time."

Quatre was delighted at the idea of catching up and Trowa seemed to accept my answer as well, chuckling lightly. Well, at least I was still on their good side.

But apparently, I speak too soon because at that moment, Wufei chose to walk in -- yes, sweaty, bunching muscles and all -- and frown at me. Now that I saw him up close, I could see that he had grown quite a bit. His frame wasn't as slim, and the smooth muscle that I was so accustomed to seeing had hardened and become thicker. Wufei is a manly guy and now his body, matured, had testosterone levels that finally caught up to his persona. In that moment, I would swear that even Heero would be shaking in his boots if Wufei was in a sparring mood. He'd definitely grown up.

Now that I think about it, Trowa and Quatre did quite a bit of their own growing up. Quatre, although it was hidden at first by his innocent demeanor, had grown taller, although he remained shorter than everyone else. The childlike roundness in his face had given way to that narrower, sharp shape obtained through manhood. His eyes were still that same deep sky blue, but they were a little narrower with the finest of wrinkles at the corners. They made him look wiser and older, yet that bright smile was the same, and it seemed to illuminate everyone and everything around him. Next to him, Trowa was a tall, dark pillar of strength. He had always been that way: quiet, reserved, strong, and reliable. Yet his shoulders had gotten broader and his chin more square. Even his eyes (if you managed to see both of them at the same time) held a dark promise to those who dare harm those he cared about. Together the two made an incredible sight. Wisdom and strength. Light and dark.

But now was not the time to sit there and gape.

"Something wrong, buddy?" I tilted my chin up to meet Wufei's eyes.

His frown deepened and he took a step forward, abs and pectorals jumping in fatigue and, perhaps, irritation. "I'm surprised you've come at all, Maxwell. Given the circumstances, I thought you would have already deemed this mission awkward enough to disappear from the map."

I mentally rolled my eyes. Verbally sparring with Wufei was probable, if not expected, at every meeting. Gratefully, I learned that retorting was much like riding a bike with respect to the fact that you never really forget how. So I cocked my head to the side in a playful way and sighed dramatically, "Yea well, I figured Une would track me down and embed a tracker in my femur if I managed to get out of another mission with you, 'Fei, so this time I decided to stick around. I suppose I've run from you and your bad temper long enough!"

Wufei's brow furrowed, but part of that look seemed confused rather than irked. Those features hardened into anger as he crossed his arms over his chest and growled, "What the hell do you mean?"

"Well, I can't avoid you all the time, Wu Fei. I'm the source of all the good stress in your life," I said matter-of-factly. Hell, I was equally confused. I wasn't even sure why he had been surprised that I had showed up. I always showed up for missions when asked. Hell, half the time I didn't even know what the hell I was getting myself into. I just always trusted Une and her mission planners to give me all the useful info I needed, ran in there, did my job, and returned to HQ as soon as possible.

"Idiot! I think you've been wearing that braid for too long. It's beginning to take root into your brain!" His eyes narrowed. "I meant, why you took the mission!"

Now I was pissed off. What the hell was he implying? That I had been selective with my missions? That, just because I was a Gundam pilot, I have some snobby standards checklist I have to go through before I accept a mission? I never turned down a mission! "Why wouldn't I take the mission? I've never turned one down yet...why should this one be any different? Let's just go, do our business, and get this over with so that I can have my report done by the time my seven o'clock show comes on. That's how they all are."

Well, damn...the look on Wufei's face just seemed to get worse and apparently that look was infectious because now Quatre and Trowa were wearing it as well. Uh oh...was this another classic braid-in-mouth moment for me?

"How can you speak of this so carelessly? Have you no respect," Wufei was turning red now and his breath was coming a little quicker than before. After three pants, though, he seemed to collect himself, clench his jaw and calmly say, "I never thought I would question your honor. Clearly I was wrong. The bonds created during times of extreme hardships apparently mean little more to you than your idiotic television show." And then he was gone.

Damn. I didn't think I deserved that one.

I turned to Quatre and Trowa, who looked very uncomfortable, and asked, "What the hell is up with him? He's worse than I remember!"

"Duo," Quatre murmured reluctantly, "Miss Une really didn't tell you anything about the mission?"

I studied him before replying, "No." I got up and placed my hands on my hips, "But now that my honor has been questioned, my curiosity has gotten the better of me. Anyone care to explain?"

"Duo," Quatre began, holding his hands out to calm me down, "maybe you should calm down fir--"

"Heero's been captured." Trowa said plainly.

My hands dropped, my mouth fell open, and I was magically sitting on the couch again. What the hell? My mouth felt incredibly dry. That couldn't be. Heero was supposed to be on the team with us, stopping meteors, bending steel, and saving the day as always. He wasn't supposed to be captured and held in some cell (probably unconscious because I'm sure if he was awake, he'd be giving them all seven layers of hell). Then I mentally kicked myself. This was a simple retrieval mission. Those were usually cake with an incompetent extract. Having to extract Heero, a more than worthy soldier, would be a breeze, right? My smirk returned. "Is that all? I'm surprised that we needed to be contacted. Heero is enough of a badass to get himself out of there, so we aren't going to have any trouble. What got Dragon Master's undies in a big scaly knot?"

Quatre wrung his hands nervously. Well that wasn't good. Trowa tilted his head so that his bang hid both of his eyes. Very not good. This was serious and a tiny chunk of my brain was just beginning to realize that this was something big. First of all...Heero's never gotten captured. Second, the rest of the fantastic five are here. Third, Une didn't give me any info on the mission...and now that I think about it, she's usually more persistent about it.

"Hey," I continued when the silence became uncomfortable, "It's gonna be cake, right?" The distress on their faces forced me to accept the magnitude of our situation. Those were faces that were prepared for the worst, faces that were prepared to find death. To find Quatre with that expression made me wonder if there was a chance that we might not get to Heero in time. That maybe Heero was already...

My world began to crumble, and I remembered that I had been harboring deep feelings for the man since I was fifteen. I was looking forward to seeing him, making amends after that huge blow-out we had. That blow-out over that stupid, blonde, clingy, manipulative...now's not the time, Maxwell. Instead, I took a deep breath, smoothed out wrinkles on my shirt, and raked a hand through my bangs. My grin was no longer mine, but an old friend's on whom I relied more than any other of the pilots during the war: Shinigami. "Alright then," I sat forward, rested my elbows on my knees, and folded my hands in front of my face, "I want to know everything. Every number, every name, every detail. We're getting out of here and bringing Heero back."

TBC