Witness the Phoenix by The Manwell

Summary: As Wufei tries to maintain his comrades' solidarity, he cannot possibly imagine that the big picture is much, much bigger than he'd imagined.

Pairings: 1+2+3 & 5+4

Warnings: Language, Angst, Sensuality, Shounen-ai PG-13

Notes: This story is the final installment in a 4-part series called The Possession Arc.

. . .

- One -

The Acting Director of the United Earth Sphere Alliance Preventer Head Quarters Division has never really cared for Mondays." To Une, it always seems as if the brief respite of the weekend is just long enough to recover from the headaches of the week before, but just short enough to prevent her from accomplishing anything significant or satisfying. That might be because she rarely indulges in a full 48-hour holiday. Or any holiday at all. And she has decided that her dislike of Mondays is not because she must drag herself back to work after a comfortable but too-short respite. She dislikes Mondays because they are intrinsically dislikeable.

Today has yet to prove itself to be an exception.

The report on her desk is not an enjoyable read. All one hundred and forty-two pages of it detail all of the ways in which Preventer forensics experts are sure the Zanoah Base did not explode. She'd been warned that the team's findings were inconclusive. But the actual reading of the report itself is an exercise in frustration.

Nearly as frustrating as the reports she'd received on a former war outpost maintained by the Bedouin in the Arabian Desert. All within had been found dead. All had died at roughly the same time. All had died from apparently the same cause. What that cause might be is entirely unknown.

Two unexplainable events of mass death.

They may or may not be connected, but she is very doubtful that they are merely timely coincidences.

She needs more information.

Information that Trowa Barton, Duo Maxwell, and Heero Yuy could quite possibly provide.

If they had indeed survived the explosion at Zanoah which, given what little evidence that does exist, is past the realm of Unlikely and tiptoeing across the border of Impossible.

And it seems she'd lost an agent right around that same time.

Chang Wufei has not reported for duty since the day before the inexplicable explosion at Zanoah. She can only speculate on his degree of investigation. Or involvement.

The black boxes Preventer agents had recovered at Zanoah had given no indication that Chang has infiltrated the base. It had only revealed the presence of Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, and Trowa Barton as they'd performed a security check of the facility. Dramatic though it had been to witness, the recordings had given no further clues as to the cause of the explosion. Although forensics had isolated the source of the blast, none of the surveillance equipment had been operating in that particular room at the time. An oversight, perhaps? But why such an obvious one when the Zanoah staff had known in advance that they could expect a security audit? Une reaffirms her conclusion: if it had been an oversight, it had been a deliberate one. What had happened in that room? And who had wanted to keep it a secret? She doubts that it was the work of Maxwell and his partners. Had another party been involved with the incident, or does the blame truly lie with the agents manning Zanoah?

So many questions.

Questions that Trowa Barton, Duo Maxwell, and Heero Yuy could likely answer.

But their bodies, as well as the bodies of many others, had never been recovered. In a blast of that magnitude, forensics had reported, it is highly unlikely that anyone within ten meters of the immediate explosion or present in the flame-channeling corridors would have left any identifiable remains. The medical examiner had authorized their death certificates only last week.

Which had brought her back to Special Agent Chang Wufei.

It had saddened her to issue the warrant for his detainment, but her regret had been far outweighed by frustration. Nearly two months have passed since the disaster at Zanoah, and she is no closer to finishing her report on it than she had been the day after it had occurred.

The only lead she has is a series of satellite photographs capturing the burned-out remains of what had been identified as Chang Wufei's personal vehicle. The lack of any human remains present at the scene seemed to indicate that no one had been inside the car when it had exploded. But as to who had driven it out into the desert, forensics has been unable to find any evidence amongst the puckered glass, buckled metal, and gutted interior. Although they had reluctantly concluded that the same type of mysterious explosives that had destroyed the car had also been used at Zanoah.

What had happened that day? Who had orchestrated the explosions? And what, in the name of God, had they used? Had Chang witnessed any of this? Had he been involved? Is he still alive? In hiding, a prisoner of some unknown enemy, or willingly conspiring to bring about another massacre?

However, since Chang Wufei is not present and able to deliver an account of his actions, she taps out an internal extension on her vidphone.

"Digital Forensics, what can I do for you, ma'am?"

Une asks her questions regarding the status of the Bedouin's computer database. Progress is still slow. Whoever had jammed the system had been quite adamant about making the information inaccessible. She tells the agent to keep working.

She disconnects the line and rubs her forehead.

Acting Director Une really, really hates Mondays.

And the small but utterly distinctive sound of a NeoGlock's safety being disengaged is simply the exclamation point on the end of her anti-Monday credo.

She is startled, too startled to even think to twitch. Her thoughts swirl with confusion. All of the NeoGlocks had been destroyed. As had all other conventional bullet-armed weapons. It is conceivable that even with the United Earth Sphere Disarmament, the Preventers had missed a few. But it is not conceivable that someone could have transported it into her private office completely undetected.

She struggles against reaching for the gun she knows she no longer wears. Une does know that the intruder won't shoot until he is sure he has her complete attention. But she cannot not notice him indefinitely.

And she's never been a coward.

It's hard to face, but the knowledge is blatantly evident: she won't be able to think her way out of this one. And she probably won't be able to talk her way out, either. But it's her best shot.

Still, what a way to go... and on a Monday of all days.

Surely, this is atonement.

Acting Director Une says, "You've got my attention."

"I know."

That voice...

Her head snaps up and she finds herself numbly absorbing the leather-and-jean clad form of Duo Maxwell. The NeoGlock held so easily in his grasp is a secondary detail.

She hears herself admit disbelievingly, "I've just read your death certificate..."

"I know that, too."

It must be the arrogance in his voice that coaxes one of her eyebrows into a skeptical arch. "You're well-informed."

"From where I stand, there's not much I can't know."

Her eyes narrow with speculation. "Then you should be able to answer a few questions for me, Mr. Maxwell."

"I could, but I won't."

She thinks she almost hears the click of the first bullet chambering. But of course, it already has been. Duo Maxwell would not have waited until now to finish that little chore.

She waits. This is Duo Maxwell's show. He'll fire when he's good and ready. But as the seconds roar by, her awareness of the office becomes more acute. The window is still locked. The door still firmly shut.

The door...

There'd been no soft scrape of wood against carpet preceding her visitor's entrance. No shift in air pressure.

But, how could that be possible?

In the swirling silence, she feels compelled to wonder aloud: "How did you get into my office, Mr. Maxwell?"

And finally, he smiles.

It is, without a doubt, the coldest smile she has ever seen.

And she knows: Duo Maxwell has broken.

He draws a slight breath.

He sights.

"Dreamwalker!"

At the sound of a new voice, Une manages to find her lost reflexes, diving behind her massive desk and its mountain of reports. In the same instant, the gun discharges with an eardrum-bursting explosion. Papers erupt. Plaster dust snows.

"Do not follow through with this!"

There is no reply.

There is only silence.

Une remains where she is and waits for her assistant to collect some back-up before barging in. From beneath her desk, she sees no foreign shoes crushing the bulk-ordered carpet. She knows she is alone.

With a sigh, she sits up and leans against her desk. She closes her eyes. She figures she only has about ten seconds to figure out how she's going to explain this.

Duo Maxwell – a dead man – in her office with an outlawed firearm.

And the second man... A man whose voice she knows very, very well...

A man she could not have possibly heard.

A man who, as far as she knows, is even more dead than Duo Maxwell.

. . .

"Come in."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"For what are you offering an apology, Walker?"

"This morning. Une's office. Maxwell."

"Ah, succinctly put. And why is it you feel compelled to apologize for the Dreamwalker's rash actions?"

"I failed the assignment. I'm sorry."

"Walker..."

"I was unable to destroy all of Zanoah's digital recorders. Nor have I been able to decode the Bedouin's encrypted files..."

"Walker..."

"I will accept the consequences of my incompetence."

"Walker, be calm. I will not reprimand you for failing to complete nearly impossible tasks. The information from Zanoah is now in the hands of the Preventers. That cannot be helped. We must look forward, not back. There is a solution."

"Is there?"

"Do not sound so doubtful of me, Walker. This day was destined to come."

"What will we do?"

"You shall return to your post at the Preventers. Your position there may yet be invaluable. And, of course, Une must be addressed; I will arrange for that."

"And Maxwell?"

"I am handling that matter personally. Do not concern yourself with it."

"I regret that I have not been of more assistance to you."

"You have always provided a wealth of assistance to me, Walker."

"If you say it, then it must be true, sir."

"It is true, my friend. It is true."

To be continued...