In The Family
Chapter 3
Pocketful of Mumbles
By APs
Beta read by gothic-pixel
Disclaimer: I don't own it…
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"Mars?" Quatre was echoing him again.
Duo sighed, "You realize if you repeat everything I say, this is going to take twice as long and it's already a long story, trust me."
He'd expected to have to apologize as soon as he said it, but Quatre looked far less hurt than determined. Quatre had sprouted into an elegant figure, once he'd lost his baby fat, six feet even, long and slender. The guy was all warm, knowing smiles and smooth, confident motion. Duo absently found himself wondering exactly when the blond had grown into such a negotiator, though he suspected fatherhood and politics had something to do with it.
It hadn't taken much to talk the others into retiring to the bar area before getting down to the meat of the interrogation. They hadn't requested any bar staff to stay on for the two weeks and it was out of the way. He'd slipped into one of the corner booths with his back against the wall, smiling carefully when Wufei and Heero had flanked him on either side. Some things would never change.
"You went to Mars?" Quatre pushed calmly from across the table.
Duo rolled his eyes, "Yes and no. I piloted supply shuttles back and forth. Freelance stuff."
"We never heard anything about you from Wind," Wufei's eyes were mild, but his back was straight as a ramrod. He had apparently retained the stick up his ass, at least around the others.
"That would be because I was avoiding contact with /anyone/ that might have recognized me. I assume you went to Howard first when I-"
"Ran away," Heero cut across him impassively. The others all stared at him, but he was busy studying the prodigal's reaction. Duo studied him right back. Of all of them, Heero had changed the least, physically. He was maybe an inch taller than Duo, athletic with some weight behind it. Yet, something, maybe his voice or his posture or his eyes, whispered vaguely that this Heero was not the 'Perfect Soldier' of the war.
"We checked regularly with all your known contacts," Trowa supplied. Duo shifted his gaze. Trowa had become an impressive guy, all long limbed, broad shouldered, and wiry. He still radiated that dangerous calm, but he was practically sitting on top of Heero and neither of them seemed to notice.
"Of course you did," Duo managed a small smile. "How are they all doing?"
"Well enough. So, you were working as a freelance shuttle pilot for fourteen years?" Quatre had definitely become a force to be reckoned with, Duo decided as he let the smile drop.
He nodded, "Yeah, mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Jesus Christ, Quatre! Yes, /mostly/." He found himself leaning back into the booth cushions under the inspection of the others. "Ask a real god damn question if you want a real god damn answer."
"What happened to your hair?" It was Heero and after the initial shock all Duo could do was laugh.
"You like it? Always heard blonds had more fun," he scratched the back of his head, avoiding their eyes. They'd tried concern and shock, so next would be strong arm.
Cue Wufei, "What the Hell have you really been up to, Maxwell?"
It never ceased to amaze him how Wufei could make his second name sound like 'idiot'. The smile that spread across his face was so sharp it could have cut glass, "Your job, since you apparently can't handle it."
The answering punch was harder than he'd expected, knocking the room for a loop before he even felt it. When he looked over, Wufei was jerking his arm out of Quatre's grasp, a short Chinese rock of smoldering fury that couldn't even look at him. Check.
As Duo wiped his lower lip, the blond sighed, "We all know it wasn't the Preventers' fault."
"Right, because 'the actions of individuals are almost impossible to predict.'" Duo quoted sourly. He heard a soft pop and looked up to see the shattered glass in Quatre's right hand. The hurt had won out in his aquamarine eyes, but the anger that was mixed in there was not lacking in power either. Quatre broke eye contact without a word to watch the glass shards drop from his unharmed hand to the tabletop.
"It was a tragedy and you weren't the only one that was hurt," Trowa reminded him.
"No," he agreed after a long pause, his tone making even Wufei glance at him. He was weary, of the world and of this game. "No. I wasn't the only one that got hurt, but I was the only one whose face was plastered on the protest posters. You want to know what I was doing. Fine. I was hiding the connections of the /only/ Gundam pilot to have a publicly released photo to anyone I gave two shits about." Silence. There was nothing to say.
Quatre finally rallied enough to attempt to intervene, "Duo, the Preventers-"
"Yeah, the Preventers," Duo laughed. He held up a hand before Wufei could protest, "We all know Director Une is doing everything she can, but the Preventers are still a /covert/ organization. They can suppress a picture and hide certain OZ reports, but they /can't/ change the past. Une's already under fire for championing Mariemaia. Even Mars is too iffy, being a magnet for soldiers that couldn't adjust. Probably half that rock has a grudge against one or more of us. Zechs and Lu have it hard enough and if it went public that Une was harboring Gundam pilots, Preventers would be torn apart.
"And before you start, Q, you couldn't afford to help me any more than Une. If people put two and two together, which someone would, you could be tried for war crimes. That alone could plunge the Earth Sphere back into another pointless freaking war considering how many treaties you've helped negotiate. Trowa was lucky that he only had to change his last name. Relena's fighting for us tooth and nail, but we've all been squeaking by in the grey areas left by the war," he locked eyes with Heero to let him know he was no exception. The other man nodded, almost imperceptibly. They had an understanding which apparently still held true. "Point is we've done what we've had to do. Whether that was shuffling some papers, changing a name, or…"
"Or dropping off the grid to wage a private war and completely changing your appearance." Heero finished for him. Duo cursed their familiarity, running a self conscious hand through his sheered and chemical burned hair.
His smile made its return behind a shrug, "Hey, all they've got is a picture. Besides, I wear it well."
"You could have done that /with/ our help," Wufei finally deigned to reenter the conversation, though he kept up his rock impression fairly convincingly, eyes forward.
"Change my hair?"
Wounded obsidian eyes cut deep into him, "Confront /our/ enemies."
Suddenly, something clicked in Duo's head and he turned to each of the others, confirming it. Finally, scratching his scruffy cheek absently, he spoke, "Look, I never thought you couldn't protect yourselves."
Wufei's gaze didn't seem convinced, his stiff formality at odds with his eyes. Duo wished he'd just deck him again.
"I just figured you had a better shot at normal without the God of Death hanging over your heads," Duo laughed.
The others apparently found it less funny, especially Heero, "Hurt one, hurt all."
"That's it. We're done. I can't do this." Duo turned from Wufei and Quatre to Heero and Trowa expecting one of the pairs to get the hint and move.
"Duo, you know we can help," Quatre started diplomatically, despite the fact that no one had budged. The blonde was apparently still the strategist of the group.
He shot out of his seat and leaned over the table to come nose to nose with his Arabian friend before any of them could react. When he spoke, his voice was a soft growl, "They needed a scapegoat. You can't /help/ with that, Quatre Raberba Winner. And I refuse to see anyone else die for standing next to me, so /move/."
Quatre's eyes finally flashed that wounded looked Duo had seen so often during the war, but it was Trowa who spoke, "Your hand."
He looked to Trowa in confusion, then down at his hand. He had planted it directly on the remains of Quatre's poor glass and it was slowly starting to turn the tablecloth a deep red. He let his head droop, "Shit."
"Trowa, why don't we find a first aid kit?" Quatre stood without even a glance at Duo. Trowa nodded, patting Heero's arm as he got up without looking.
They were about to leave the room without another word when Heero's voice stopped them, "If you didn't come back for help, why return at all?"
Duo glanced at the seated man, but his face was unreadable, "I figured it was about time to give everyone the option of knowing the truth."
"Everyone?" Quatre echoed and Duo wondered if it was involuntary.
"/Everyone./" His smile broke across his features once more, "I'm sure we all remember what it was like to be fifteen, after all."
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Sally stretched and started on her eighth cup of coffee. Quatre had nearly demanded that the Preventer assigned to review his systems stay on site, which was only cleared with Director Une because the only Preventers she would assign to a case involving one of the ex-pilots so closely would be Sally or Wufei. Therefore, the room was much nicer than she'd become accustomed to, not to mention the coffee. Of course, she'd gotten much more use out of the coffee than the room, considering it was pushing four in the morning and she was still in the server room.
The colonial Winner household was surprisingly busy even when Quatre, and his children, were on vacation. In a day, the Preventer had met more Winner sisters than she had considered physically possible. She'd been surprised to find out just how many of them worked in the company and floored that they were all happy to not have Quatre's job. He'd been groomed to be the public face just as they'd been trained in certain fields and those that had decided to leave mostly preferred private lives. The Winner Corporation was, in fact, a nearly perfect 'family business'.
Anyway, Fahima Namir Winner, lady of the household and head of technological security, had met with her upon arrival. She was a small, curvy woman with a sharp tongue and clever fingers whom Sally had instantly found herself liking years before, despite the abrasive quality of her personality. Honestly, she reminded her of Wufei, plus sarcasm, though she suspected Quatre got to see a different side of her than anyone else. Now, as she headed back to the cool glow of her laptop and cradled the warm cup, Sally was surprised to find the woman already there.
"Good morning," the Preventer nodded over her coffee.
Fahima glared, "I haven't slept either, Sally, and I fail to see the 'good' in it."
The Preventer's brow knit, "What's wrong?"
"We found the backdoor our hackers have been using," she huffed as she typed.
Moving to watch over her shoulder, Sally jumped a little, "That can't be right."
Fahima turned and eyed her, "That code is not only obscure, but practically untraceable. It uses legitimate subroutines to grant universal access. Recognize it?"
"I think I might." Sally couldn't say that it smacked of Heero Yuy, chief of security for Foreign Minister Darlian, though she suspected her friend knew, anyway.
Fahima arched an eyebrow, "That's what I figured. We caught it when they made another attempt about fifteen minutes ago."
"Oh?"
"Yes. We also managed to retrieve a good deal of data before they realized what was happening and pulled the plug," the other woman had turned back to the computer, but Sally knew a smile had undoubtedly alighted on her lips.
"Is that what you're uploading?"
"Of course. Sally, we knew the first breach was from the Earth, but the subsequent attacks have apparently been routed through several colony only relays using two different encryption codes."
She sipped her coffee, "Which would suggest the mere utilization of a weakness left by an initial party."
"Exactly. I was hoping you could help save us some time and identify the encryption codes," she finished her typing and waved at the screen. Sally choked on her coffee and all she could do for several minutes was cough. Fahima waited.
Sally grabbed the small computer, "No, none of this can be right."
"Sally," Fahima tested after a few long minutes of the Preventer typing in furious silence. When her friend didn't answer, she tried again, but received the same response. Finally, she pushed the screen of the laptop down on Sally's hands.
"Ow! What are you doing?"
Fahima stared at her calmly, maintaining pressure on the computer, "Forgive my forwardness, but I took your reaction to mean you knew something."
The Preventer sighed, "I need to contact Director Une."
"Oh, no, Sally. You need to tell me who's been flouting my security for the past several months." They locked gazes.
"It's classified."
"It's my /family/."
"Alright," Sally sighed, she'd almost forgotten how protective the mother could get. Fahima took her hand from the computer and waited.
Sally unfolded the screen again, rereading it, "I haven't seen either of these since the Eve War."
Her friend crossed her arms, unsatisfied.
"One is a military encryption," Sally continued. "It was mostly used by the Alliance units that continued to fight after the Oz coup."
"You were in one of those, weren't you?"
Sally frowned, "Yes, but I was sure all of those units were terrestrial and disbanded a long time ago."
"Apparently some of their tricks have outlived them." Sally nodded, but Fahima cleared her throat, "And the other one?"
"It's a personal encryption."
"It's a Gundam encryption."
Sally's gaze shot from the screen to Quatre's wife, who smiled. It was rare, but sometimes she also forgot how astute the other woman could be.
"I thought so."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm not a fool, Miss Po," Fahima reminded her with a smile that was too predatory to be considered gentle. "My father and my husband may not speak openly about certain things, but that does not mean I'm ignorant. Now, was it Heero?"
Sally blinked in shock, "What? No!"
The small woman frowned, "But the coding was-"
"Yes, it was, or at least looked a great deal like it," Sally cut across her curtly.
"You don't think it was him?"
Sally actually chuckled, typing again, "I doubt that guy could get caught if he wanted to, let alone leave such a mess. This was too clumsy and haphazard."
The married woman watched her friend work. She sighed, her shoulders and eyelids slumping as her lack of sleep weighed heavily upon her. At that moment, there was nothing she wanted more than her husband's arms about her in bed. Her thoughts were drifting toward the moon when Sally let out a small victorious sound.
"What is it?"
Sally had gone from happy to bemused in seconds flat, "I cracked the personal encryption."
"And?"
"And nobody's heard from him in fourteen years."
Fahima fumed at her friend's continued dodging, "What does that mean?"
Sally looked up at her, turning the screen, "I honestly don't know. Can you tell me what these are?"
Displayed was a list of file names and data transfers. Fahima leaned closer to read, squinting at first, then her eyes flew open and she grabbed the computer. She started scrolling through the lists frantically, "No, no, no…"
"Fahima?" Sally leveled a flat glare at the other woman, who composed herself.
"It's the personal Winner archives, focusing on the war."
"Meaning what exactly?"
"Meaning they have a complete log of every transaction and correspondence any member of the Winner family made during the war." Fahima swore and spun the computer back to her friend, "Including incontrovertible evidence of Winner funding behind at least two Gundams."
Sally let loose a streak that made the other woman's simple explicative pale in comparison. She had a secure, private line open in a heartbeat and a tired Une appeared on screen in another.
"Water," she greeted Sally in careful neutrality.
Sally nodded, "Director. Suspect has become multiple, an initial perpetrator with knowledge of zero-one's coding, a possible Alliance splinter group and zero-two implied."
"Zero-two?" Fahima echoed in shock. Une looked surprised, but then fixed Sally with her best 'we'll talk later' glare.
"She knows," Sally waved the entire thing aside as unimportant. "Zero-four may be compromised."
Une frowned, rubbing her temples with a long slender hand.
"Director?"
Finally, she looked up again, "Be advised, we have reason to believe White Queen and zero-five may also be compromised. Her offices were raided and /our/ organization has been infiltrated."
Sally's mouth fell open. So that was why Une had picked up so quickly.
It was Fahima that took up the conversation, "Anyone claiming responsibility?"
Une smirked, which sent a chill up Sally's spine, "Our mole has been rather forthcoming of late, but it doesn't appear to be anyone we know, at least not intimately. They call themselves the Orphanhood."
"That sounds familiar," Sally frowned.
"It should. They galvanized in the aftermath of the Memorial Bombing."
Sally sat for a long time, "Have they been notified?"
Une shook her head, "We're in lockdown and no transmissions have gotten through."
"Understood. Water, underway," Sally cut the feed and the computer went dark.
"So?" Fahima's voice came soft and distant.
"Relena, Quatre, and Wufei may be in danger from a group of individuals that are brought together solely by their anger toward the Gundam pilots."
A small click came clearly through the darkness, "This is Fahima to shuttle bay eight. Would you kindly ready the shuttle for departure?"
"Yes, ma'am," came the response.
"Fahima? What are you doing?" Sally finally asked as the door was opened, letting in the soft hallway light and silhouetting the small Arabian woman.
"I figured we were heading to the Moon."
Sally stowed her laptop and shouldered her pack in one motion, "No, Fahima. /I'm/ going to the Moon."
Her friend blatantly laughed at her, "Nothing in Heaven or Hell could keep me from my family, Sally, so what exactly do you think your chances are?"
"Quatre would kill me if anything happened to you," Sally returned fire, but the shorter woman was unfazed.
A single thick eyebrow arched as that voracious smile returned to her ample lips, "Quatre's the least of your worries if anything should happen to /my/ children."
That chill went shooting up Sally's spine again, "This isn't a game, Fahima."
"Do I look like I'm playing?"
Sally gauged her friend carefully, then sighed, "/Only/ if you follow my orders."
"Of course. You're the boss," she laughed as she turned down the hall.
"Where are you going?"
She spun on her heel without stopping, "I'll meet you at the shuttle. I have to grab some stuff and make a phone call. Oh, and don't worry, they won't let you leave without me."
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I've squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises
All lies and jests, still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
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A/N – Thank you to my reviewers! I hope you're still enjoying the story. All reviews are still greatly appreciated! I want to know what you think.
Next Chapter – Something To Say No To