Disclaimer: We do not own GW. We do own Mel-chan and certain other non-cannon things. You'll probably recognize them when you see them. At least the characters.

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Chapter 1

Conspiracy?

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Mel-chan was finally almost home from a long day of work. She only had a couple more blocks to go, no time at all on her motorcycle. Only there was a boy standing on the sidewalk, looking a little lost. He was a cute blonde, with large blue eyes, completely innocent in feature and expression. She pulled up beside him. "Hop on, I'll take you wherever you're headed."

The boy blinked, at the large red motorcycle and at Mel-chan in her extravagant, purple and pink gown. She stared up, smiling, her green eyes shining out of her round face. "Come on. I'm not going to kill you. Really."

He slowly got on the double seat. Mel-chan unbuckled her helmet and handed it to him. He hesitated, then took it. "Thank you." His voice was bright and warm, friendly and more like a child's.

Mel-chan smiled. "No problem. Where are we going?"

"Southside."

"Okay." She shrugged and revved the motorcycle, and they took off. Mel-chan was sorry they couldn't talk during the drive, but she could sense his relative ease. At least he wasn't afraid of the motorcycle or her, only a little tense. Fifteen minutes later, she stopped at the edge of Southside, the industrial section of their large city. "Where to now?"

"This is good." He got off the bike, gave her back the helmet, and bowed slightly. "Thank you for your help."

Mel-chan crossed an arm over her chest and bowed in return. "I was glad to help."

He held out a hand. "I'm Quatre Raberba Winner."

She shook his hand. "Please, call me Mel-chan. It would only cause you trouble to know my name," she said. Quatre actually looked—no, was concerned. "Don't worry about me. Be careful out there." She drove off, around the corner. She turned the bike into an alley, got off, hid it behind a dumpster, and snuck back in time to see Quatre walking down a back street between two warehouses. Considering that this particular section of Southside was dead and abandoned except for gangs and the homeless, Mel-chan decided to follow him.

At the end of the street, he paused. Mel-chan sprang onto a fire escape and scrambled up using her hands, her booted feet dangling. She reached the top just in time. Quatre was looking around. He kept going, and Mel-chan crept along the rooftop, following. Half a block further, he stopped, once again looked around, and unlocked and entered an old mobile suit warehouse. It even had the roof exit, thought it looked rusted shut. Mel-chan waited until he was inside. She smiled to herself and turned back.

"Hey, Sandrock." Quatre waved to the silent Gundam. He sat at a desk next to Sandrock and turned on his laptop. As it booted up, he thought over what had just happened. The young lady had definitely been unexpected. Completely friendly, but wearing an elegant dress and gloves while riding a motorcycle? Quatre smiled. It was amusing. And somehow, he didn't think she'd mind his thinking that.

"Good evening, Quatre." The computer's tinny voice broke into his thoughts. Quatre clicked, connecting the laptop to the wireless system available even in this abandoned area. Trowa's computer was on, too. Quatre typed a hello. When Trowa didn't respond immediately, he went to the kitchen to make himself some tea.

He was right. By the time he got back, the screen was blinking.

Nameless: Hello.

Quatre decided to sum up his experience with Mel-chan. It took a couple of times filling up the little messenger screen, but finally he had told everything he wanted to.

Nameless: She said it was dangerous to know her real name?

Sandboy: Yes.

Nameless: …I'm coming in to town.

Sandboy: Why?

Nameless: Because I am. Stay there.

("Nameless" has signed off.)

Quatre sighed. Mel-chan was unusual, but was whatever Trowa had in mind necessary?

Mel-chan sighed and stopped her motorcycle at the end of her alley. She dismounted and maneuvered the bike through the rubble of a building's left corner. She parked the bike in the lobby, then returned to the alley and went to a fire escape. It only took her a couple minutes to climb up the ladder to her window. She pushed open the window, slipped in, and went to the kitchen to make dinner.

The building had once been full of other tenants, but after the front corner was demolished by a mecha a year ago, she was the only one left. So it was pretty ease for her to recognize the sounds of another living being in her rooms. She continued chopping the vegetables for her soup, ignoring the person as long as they were in her bedroom. If they wanted her valuables, they could take those and leave.

When the person came out into her living room, she quietly put down the small knife for a larger one. "Who are you and what do you want?" she asked. The intruder walked to the doorway, and Mel-chan turned around. She leaned against the counter. "Well?"

Another boy, roughly the age of that Quatre from earlier. But this boy was taller, dark-haired, his face half obscured and hard as a mask. "Who are you?"

"Who am I? You're breaking into my house, and you're asking who I am? You could have just knocked." The boy didn't respond, so she turned back to dump the vegetables into the pot. "Do you want some soup?"

She could hear his surprise at the question. "Yes, I know, this isn't very typical, inviting an intruder to share my supper. But really, I can't help myself." She looked at him. "You're probably only a little younger than I am, and you don't look very healthy. So the least I can do is make sure you get a good meal. I'm sorry I don't have any money for you to steal."

"I wasn't going to steal your money."

"So what do you want then?"

"Who are you?"

"Why do you want to know? Besides, if that's all, you could have just asked the people at the clinic who work with me. You didn't have to bust in here, doing all this."

He glanced around. It was true, he didn't seem to have touched anything in the living room. He looked back at her. "You could just answer the question."

"I could. But then I'd be putting you, all the people you know, and a good part of the city in potential danger. So, are you going to stay for soup or not?"

"All right. You're coming with me."

She snorted. "Make me."

He pulled a gun from the back of his belt. Mel-chan turned around to her soup and threw the knife casually over her shoulder, past the boy's head. She reached for her gun, only the boy was too fast. Before she could pull the pistol out, the boy had wrapped one arm around her, holding her against the counter, effectively trapping the gun. His gun was at her head. She turned around to look at him, past the gun's mouth.

"Nice one. But you still have a problem. You have to get me out of here."

"I think I can manage that."

She smiled grimly, her hand on the pistol still. "Or we could call it a stalemate. You could go home, I could make my soup, we'll all be happy. It's your call, Heavyarms."

His green eyes narrowed, and he glanced at her hand. He knew. And he was thinking hard.

"And what does this have to do with Quatre?" she asked.

Heavyarms blinked. "Stay away from him."

"I'm not gonna hurt him. If I was going to hurt him, like all those gangs in his area, I would have shot him. I'm not a stealth person. If I'm going to do something, you'll know," she said. Heavyarms almost looked away. Mel-chan grinned. "Well, that knife trick was a bit sneaky." She moved suddenly, pushing him away enough to step forward. She let go the gun, grabbed both his arms, and turned to face him. "Obviously you're not a bad guy, since you know Quatre."

"Will you come talk to Quatre?"

"Only if you'll stop asking about my name."

"Fine," he said. Mel-chan grinned as Heavyarms added a silent, 'For now.'

She let go of Trowa's arms, and he released her. "So, lead the way."