Present. 3.05 am.
His eyes were closed; there was no point in keeping them open- he wouldn't be sleeping. For hours he crouched in the darkness, where pitch was the only shade, and waited. Twice he had felt threatened to move, when some guard or other had wandered into the storage wing to see that everything had been left undisturbed by the passing day-workers- one man, in particular, had come close enough for the knife in the boy's hand to sink into his foot, but had turned nonchalantly from the space in favor of better lit grounds; at least, this is what Quatre had deduced, closing the butterfly softly and slipping it back onto his left forearm.
It was still hours more before a new presence slid through the darkness; Quatre's eyes remained closed, useless as they were and knowing already who it was. Touching two of his fingers to the blonde's wrist, Duo signaled his identity, and when Quatre pressed four of his own fingers to Duo's rounded wrist, it was an almost reassured gesture.
Opening his eyes as Duo aligned with him shoulder to shoulder, he was upset to see, or rather, upset to not see, that everything was still quite bleak and unlit. Unable to see more than a foot in front of him, Quatre reached down until he found Duo's right hand. Rapidly, he began to sign into the other boy's palm, turning his own palm over for the answers.
What time is it?
Three.
Heero?
Stable.
Wufei?
Level four... C position.
Trowa...?
Initiating second wave mission at four.
You?
They're all planted and ready to go.
I see.
For a time they said nothing; merely breathing back and forth in a companionable silence. If the specs were to be taken perfectly, they would be on the move soon, and Quatre was glad of it only if it meant there would be just a little bit more light in the nearly windowless manufacturing facility; darkness was a cloak he preferred not to wear.
---
One hour ago. 2.10 am.
Wufei let his head sink against the cool wall for perhaps twenty seconds; there were tiny reverberations running up from the floor that meant the staff were on the move. After hand-positioning Quatre in the warehouse, out of harm's way, he'd made his way into the base's intelligence building, which was relatively small, compared to the manufacturing plant two-hundred yards away.
He had- perhaps- ninety minutes now before Trowa would become the great actor at the factory's loading dock- a building connected to the warehouse by its front. In that time, while Heero was positioning at the gate, where they would make their escape in the general confusion, he would move to shut down the primary core, thereby eliminating the danger of allowing the enemy their re-surge capabilities, in addition to cutting off the memory components and rendering the computers useless and data-less.
Duo pressed his hand against Wufei's, wrist to wrist for a moment, and then was gone. With that, Wufei darted into the next hall; forty-five minutes to go.
---
Present. 3.32 am.
Infiltrate; Quatre had been in the warehouse section since dusk, slipping in behind under, behind, around, and over the last parts shipment truck, following Wufei's fox course with as much grace as he could muster. His part in the mission was, for all intents and purposes, backup. Night missions were not his forte, but his presence had been imperative for such simple reasons as numbers. It was a strange and unfortunate way to spend such an important day, but at least the were all together.
With this thought, Quatre grabbed Duo's hand and signed quickly, Merry Christmas.
Is it really? Duo's body language was surprised against the blonde's side.
Yes, the twenty-fifth started almost four hours ago.
I had no idea. Duo's hand moved a little slowly and he was slumping just slightly enough to feel.
It only just occurred to me. 24 December, Year. When they sent the specs, I didn't think anything of it.
I suppose a solider oughtn't.
Quatre frowned, and reached over, threading his fingers slowly through dead air to find Duo's bangs and then cheeks. He swept his thumb down, across the corner of Duo's mouth, and was relieved to find he was smiling. In turn, Quatre smiled back at him, knowing though that it would be difficult for Duo to see.
Still, when Duo grabbed and squeezed his hand affectionately, Quatre knew that, even blind in this place, he was with family.
---
Present. 3.50 am.
'His name is Robert Fowley, level 3 clearance, pilot-in-training for Leo, Aries, and Taurus models. Tell him Jonas is en route to Arabia; he'll believe you. Try saying 'graveyard' instead of 'night shift,' as well.'
The transmission ended with a short tone and Trowa whispered Thank you before Wufei shut down the link for good; it was three-fifty- ante meridiem- and Trowa steeled himself before opening the hangar-styled doorway; he knew that somewhere in the building, Quatre and Duo were waiting.
Robert Fowley jerked the gun squarely at Trowa's chest as he entered, "Name and clearance!"
A good soldier. Loose blonde hair, one cuff is higher than the other. Wide mouth, his shoulders aren't rigid enough. Easy-going. Trowa smiled softly and raised one open hand, "Carter, Jonathon. Level three."
Fowley's gun did not waver, but his expression softened at the stranger's standard-issue uniform and weapon, which was slung harmlessly across his back. In fact, this Carter fellow looked less dangerous and more downright amused. "Hey, it's nice to meet you, Fowley. I'm taking the second graveyard shift this week. Probably next week, too."
Trowa wandered in, relaxed and unguarded, moving to shake Fowley's hand, "It's Robert, isn't it? You can call me John."
The brunette stretched and smiled lazily, "No sense being uptight this late at night, right?"
"Where's the other guy?" Fowley was not suspicious- not entirely.
"Oh, Jonas? En route to Arabia, man."
Robert's expression halted, "You kidding?!"
A broad grin that made Trowa vaguely aware of the tightness in his jaw, "I know. It's crazy, isn't it?"
Fowley smiled, "It'll be me next!"
Trowa feigned a sort of bemused surprised, "Serious? Aries or Taurus? No... Leo, hunh?"
"No, no, Taurus," Robert grinned, putting his key-card into his pocket as he made his way to the door. "I'll tell my girlfriend about this, oh, man! Best fuckin' Christmas ever!"
Trowa startled, assuming the position Fowley had vacated and bringing his gun forward over its strap; "Have a good one, man!" The blonde clapped his shoulder and Trowa smirked back, flicking his wrist, "Sure!"
And when the hangar door closed Trowa sighed deeply. Christmas. It's Christmas day, today.
---
Thirty minutes ago. 3.20 am.
He was literally inches away. It would take only a minute to hack into the system and disable it- although it was a military base, being a non-mobile suit operation left it vulnerable to less than perfect wiring in the mainframes. Weapons being what they were, the tech rarely put great deals of effort into high-powered defense cores.
Still, Wufei was running through a very long, very startling list of "might-happens" and "what-ifs" that would make a hardened marine wet themself.
Tucked in the wall, disguised by florescent shadows cast desperately across the floors, he kept silently praying for only the best when he would slip from the vent and hack in, disable the secondary lock on the factory's core, in addition to the locks, over-ride codes, the defense systems... there would probably be enough time for all of it... probably, if, during the two minutes in which the core cell was vacated, Wufei could pull it off without being heard or better, shot at.
He smiled grimly. Some holiday.
---
3.45 am. 15 minutes to present.
He ran. He ran as fast as he could, avoiding the employees and stationed patrollers as best he could. Panicking, he took deep, shuddering breaths, waiting for a group of soldiers to pass calmly by. They didn't know yet- neither did the other pilots.
Someone was dead. Someone whose brown eyes had been startled, staring up at him from the pavement, blood pooling around his head and slowly creeping toward the scuffed brown of his tennis shoes.
Blinking, he'd swept the gun up from the pavement and beat a hasty path toward the intelligence offices, where Wufei would be. At least, he would be in fifteen minutes- and if everyone didn't die before then, then all the better.
All he'd had to do, having left the explosives to Duo, the operation to Wufei, the infiltration to Trowa and the backup to Quatre, was, as the saying went, drive the getaway.
He skidded to a halt beside the warehouse where Trowa would be around the same time; accordingly, Duo was already inside, with Quatre. Heero took a deep breath, his first instincts- to run away safely or to run and die safely- were difficult to quell in situations like this, but- for not the first time in his life- he had more than himself to think of.
So, he ran.
---
Present. 4.00
At exactly four, ten minutes after his brief message to Trowa, Wufei rendezvoused with Heero at level two, somewhere between C and D positions; the half-Japanese' shirt was matted with sweat, and there was a deep gouge in his upper shoulder where a bullet had lodged into his flesh.
"Problems?" They were running down the east hallway as he said this; and as Wufei said it, red and blue lights began haunting up and down the halls, accompanied by deep pulses of alarm sound, as if some enraged backup system had been activated.
"Yes," Heero's 'stability' had been compromised when a stray soldier on his cigarette break had leaned heavily against the truck Heero was hiding under. The motion had jarred the Beretta from its holster on the brunette's hip and onto the ground. In moments, he'd been forced to crab out from under the truck, incapacitate the hapless soldier, and run for temporary cover until four. Although it had been only ten minutes ago, the soldier had been discovered shortly after he did not return to his shift; perhaps one and a half minutes before Wufei had met up with him.
"I see."
---
Trowa let out a low whistle, long and blunt, before jogging over to the control panel and hacking into it studiously. It was not complicated. Of course, Fowley's key card was making it just that much simpler; but just as he'd shut down the security web, disabling the thirty percent Wufei couldn't reach from the first core, he was disappointed to hear an alarm siren wail through the facility. Sighing, he unzipped his jacket.
---
Quatre heard the whistle perhaps one half-second before Duo did, and was uncoiling gracelessly from the floor. He felt Duo rise beside him and let out a deep sigh of relief, "I'm so glad..."
Duo waited a moment, knowing that Quatre's eyes were readjusting. "Can you see it?"
The blonde drug his eyes down the dark space that Duo's voice had come from, until it hit a fuzzy white spot. "Yes, I can."
"Good," and Duo bounded off, toward the front of the warehouse, listening carefully for any stumblings behind him- the white ribbon wasn't one-hundred percent effective for Quatre. However, in dark situations such as this, it was the most reliable and inconspicuous method for getting from place to place; eyes like Quatre's, so used to the brightness of the sun and the sky reflecting off the sand of his home country, were not designed for the dark.
Moments afterward, they were washed in flickering red and blue lights, as Duo dove behind a crate, grabbing Quatre as he passed. "Something went wrong."
"Shit..."
Quatre motioned to the light creeping underneath the warehouse's door; "Trowa's over there. No other sounds."
Duo nodded, drawing and switching the safety off of a heavy .45, "One... two... three...!"
Together, they slammed through the unlocked door, where Trowa trained his rifle on them, chest high, finger half-cocked on the trigger; briefly, he locked eyes with each of them, and then, swinging the rifle back, began running for the exit, confident in the steps behind him.
---
4.05
Wufei and Heero made it, except for the bullet hole in the latter's shoulder and a large gash in the former's forehead, to the emergency rendezvous behind the factory at approximately the same time the other three pilots did.
Although sunrise had not quite broken over the mountains, the landscape was peppered with the halflight of early morning, and they were able to regroup.
Duo nodded toward the west, "Sun rises in the east."
Trowa and Wufei pulled small triggers from their pockets and held them together so that they locked with a soft clicking noise. "We'll have two minutes," Wufei said, eyeing the shadows coming closer and closer to the pocket of space they hid in.
Heero stood up, gently waving Quatre's hands off of him, "Let's get moving."
The original plan held that they, acting as confused soldiers, would jack a truck and drive off in the general confusion, going unnoticed in comparison to the series of explosions tearing up the weapons factory and warehouse.
"Two-hundred five?" Trowa asked, glancing up at Duo's smiling violet eyes as he pressed his thumb down on the release.
"All activated and accounted for, sir," Duo laughed a small, dark chuckle, and sprang after Heero, who led them across the plant's shipping ground to the north. As it tapered off into the main roads, they shot up and over the privacy fences and made it over just as the first wave of explosions shook the ground.
Behind them, the small unit of soldiers that had begun to follow them dropped to the ground, shrapnel embedding deeply into their backs, and in the case of two, their skulls.
Beyond the fence, rolling up from the shock, Heero began to laugh.
---
Present. 5.24 am.
The mine may or may not have been abandoned. Regardless, it made for a good base until the dust, as they say, cleared.
Just finishing the last stitch in Wufei's forehead, Trowa turned to the mine's entrance, where he'd been using the slowly filtering light to doctor the fifth pilot. "'If I were fierce, and bald, and short of breath, I'd live with scarlet Majors at the Base, And speed glum heroes up the line of death.'"
Quatre glanced up from his inert position against the opposite wall, where he'd been studiously catnapping. "Siegfried Sassoon?"
"Yes. The sun is rising."
Duo roused Heero from Quatre's side, "Look there, nature boy, we've lived to see another sunrise!"
The first pilot frowned deeply, having only recently given over to sleep with the overwhelming urge to continue running still in his legs, but he stood up, letting Quatre and Duo pull him, and went to sit at the mine's entrance.
Smoke from some ten miles off rose up in front of the balmy light, tinting it.
"'History could pass for a scarlet text, its jot and title graven red in human blood,'" Quatre murmured, folding his legs, and for a moment, almost going to lay on his stomach.
This time Wufei answered, "Eldridge Cleaver. Good one."
Duo frowned, "Hey, what's all this about? You guys getting all intellectual on me?"
"'When I am dead, I hope it is said, 'His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.'" Wufei turned to him and smirked, halfway to a real smile but reserved. "That was Hilaire Belloc, and you are uncultured."
Duo snorted, kicking Heero when he made a superior face in Trowa's direction, "The theme is 'scarlet,' right? I can do that. 'Mary and Carrie and baby Grace and Ma had all had scarlet fever. The Nelsons across the creek had had it too, so there had been no one to help Pa and Laura.'"
"Laura Ingalls Wilder?" Quatre seemed amused, but smiled in a kind way.
"Hell, yeah. The Sisters loved her. Read her all the time."
"'He offers the never-never land of convenient clichés. a world where statesmen say, "We've not heard the end of this," where people turn "scarlet with anger," where the price of gold goes "sky-high" and where the unsuspecting outsider "little knew what fate had in store for him." Heero said suddenly, from the ground between Trowa and Quatre.
Wufei and Duo stared a moment, though they went ignored, and Heero went on, softly mumbling, "Paul... Paul Grey."
And the sun rose on, the scarlet colors fading to rose and yellow and creamy blue as quietly as the sun slid up across the sky. Quatre had begun to hum, and it wasn't long before Duo was singing along. "-I'm telling you why! San-ta Claus is com-ing... to town...!"
They giggled like schoolchildren, letting their arms drop to their sides and ignoring the horrified expression on Wufei's face. Trowa patted Wufei's hand gently, "It's all right; no one can sing in key after destroying the lives of thousands of people."
It wasn't funny. It wasn't even remotely funny, but, sitting together in the dirty mine entrance, the rays of a new day slowly heating up the landscape and putting one more day between them and death, it was infectious; so when Heero began to chuckle, and then the laugh outright, it wasn't long before the other four boys were as well-- leaning against each other for the support only they could give one another.
It was only the twenty-fifth, after all.