Warnings: alternate universe fic, language, shounen ai, YAOI (male/male sex), reference to yuri (female/female sexual relationship), angst, eventual character death & reference to torture

DISCLAIMER - I totally don't own Gundam Wing, but I do borrow that little corner of Animeland a lot. Without permission.


Recommended theme music for "Ruins" - the album "What if" by Earlyrise (Check them out on CDbaby's online independent music store or iTunes.) Their lyrics have a straightforward, "young" quality to them that I think matches Duo and Trowa's ages. Plus, I really like their music style and composition.


If you're following this story on my livejournal, it has been posted in two separate posts there due to LJ's word-count-per-post limit. See "Ruins - Part 3: Friends & Failure"


Ruins – Part 3 (Duo POV)

"Shit!" I swore, glaring at the dark ribbon of blood dripping off my thumb. "Not again…!"

"Here," Trowa said, inviting me closer with a flick of his fingers and pulling me into the bathroom for the third time in the last fifteen minutes. He rinsed the cut with bottled water, patted it dry with a fresh Kleenex, and began the process of sealing it shut with superglue from his pack. From slice to seal, the whole thing took, like, ten seconds.

Studying the other two sealed-up cuts on my right hand, I sighed. "I suck at knife fighting." I said this as I watched the blood – oddly orange when viewed through drying superglue – puff up in a thin line along the edges of the wound. Trowa applied another dollop and kept pinching my skin together.

"It's an acquired skill," he replied. "But a rifle would be too conspicuous."

That got my attention. "You actually think you can get one of those here? Just off the street?"

"Undoubtedly," he said, his attention still focused on my thumb as he gradually loosened his hold. "There isn't much a roll of American dollars can't buy in this part of the world."

"Except a miracle," I muttered.

Trowa pretended not to have heard me. "Let's give it one more go," he said instead.

"Hey, you're not gonna take my shiny toys away if I slice-'n'-dice myself again, are you?"

I got a half-smile for that. "We'll see."

It turned out that three was my lucky number, though. Trowa drilled me on different ways to pull the hunting knife from the back of my belt and the utility knife from my left side in such a way that I maximized its effectiveness in the first strike. I had to swallow back a bubble of bile once or twice when he told me where I'd be stabbing my attacker, but I had to admit that the eyes, throat, and balls were pretty sensitive areas and would probably deter a second attack if my first strike was on target.

"Do not hesitate," he told me when he called a halt to my shadow fighting. He stepped so close I could feel the heat of him all down the front of me. The reality made a mockery of my memory. He framed my face in his scarred, rough hands and whispered, "For your sake – for my sake – never hesitate."

I nodded readily, automatically. Maybe it should have bothered me that I'd confessed to a helluvalot with that single motion. Maybe it should have bothered me that Trowa would see it, know it, trust it. I swallowed thickly as I watched a warmth enter his visible green eye, softening his fierce gaze into something eloquent.

He kissed me slowly, chastely. It was all I could do to keep from glomping him again.

"Where's your jacket?" he murmured.

"Closet," I answered, knowing the moment was over and real life was waiting.

He gave me a tiny grin. "Cupboard," he corrected, turning away.

"Is not," I replied.

"Is so," he insisted, pulling my windbreaker off its hanger and handing it to me.

I rolled my eyes. "Not." I shrugged into my jacket as Trowa did likewise.

"Cupboard," he insisted lightly. I let it go. For now.

We hefted our packs and left the hotel. He'd reserved the room for two additional nights, but I had the feeling we wouldn't be coming back. I felt really bad about the crispy comforter we were leaving behind and kinda grossed out when I thought about how last night's clothes were folded up and packed alongside the few clean items (and the food) I still had in my new pack, but Trowa didn't seem to have a problem with it. I could only imagine the kind of stuff he was used to. Ugh.

The meeting location we'd been invited to was a place called Buddha Park and, as I'd already highlighted it for a visit while we were in the area, I was able to tell Trowa that it was about twenty-four kilometers outside of town. We rented a scooter with my driver's license. Trowa drove. Having an excuse to keep my arms around him for an extended period of time made the trip extremely memorable. Unfortunately, every pothole we hit bounced me against his back and the constant mashing of my pelvis against his rear made it memorable as well. In a not-so-nice way.

"Dude. Pilot around the meteor craters," I pleaded after the first ten minutes.

"Believe me, I am."

And that was pretty much all that needed to be said about the state of Vientiane's roads.

I kept my head down and my braid tucked inside my shirt where it was sandwiched between my new, inconspicuous backpack and my sweaty, itchy back. I gritted my teeth and wished for a La-Z-boy and central air. Not that I didn't want my dad back safe and sound. I did. In the worst way. But, damn it, modern conveniences made the list, too, y'know?

The park was every bit the tourist attraction it was touted to be. The only thing that outnumbered the moss-covered, stone statues of Buddha, various devils, and congregation of bohdisattvas (of all sizes and poses) was the sheer number of shutter-button-clicking sight-seers. Trowa cut the throttle down to almost nothing as he puttered through the dusty parking area, both of us scanning for familiar faces and indications of unfriendly ambushes.

"Four o'clock," Trowa told me. "Next to the reclining Buddha."

I glanced over there and—

"Ah. The fan from Japan." He seemed to be alone, standing there fiddling with his digital camera, spine stiff as people meandered around him lost in their own little winter holiday wonderland of exotic, sub-tropic off-the-beaten-path adventure.

It was easy to envy them their happy ignorance. It was even easier to hate them for it.

We parked the scooter and I carefully pried myself off the seat. Ouch. I was really hoping that Tro and I wouldn't have to go back the same way we'd come, but I didn't dare vocalize the wish. In this case, getting what I asked for could be… bad.

I refused to imagine all the could-be-worse scenarios as Trowa led the way in a roundabout route toward Heero Yuy, our newest friend-or-enemy.

He had to know we were approaching because he was still glaring at the statue in front of him like the power of his stare was keeping it from jumping up and doing a jig. Trowa stopped half a step behind Yuy and I stood next to the guy, trying not to put my hands in my jacket pockets. The jacket covered the knives nicely. They were just a flick of my wrist away, but it'd be moot if I got my hands tangled up in fabric at a critical moment.

I took a deep breath. "So, let's cut the bullshit," I proposed with stereotypical American bluntness. I was inviting Yuy and any potential cohorts to underestimate me.

Trowa played along; I could feel his glare of displeasure aimed at me.

Yuy didn't even look at us. "You want your father. I want to prevent Khushrenada from finding the artifact."

Well. That was about as lacking-in-bullshit as you could get. "So whaddya need us for?"

Yuy stiffened further, his gaze darting in my direction and then over his own shoulder at Trowa.

"Yeah," I confirmed. "He's part of the package. Take it or leave it, pal."

"The location," Yuy answered flatly. "I need the location of the artifact."

"Why don't you just follow Khushrenada?"

"I need to arrive before he does."

I shook my head. "It's a little late for that. They've got, what, a twelve-hour head start?" Assuming they'd left sometime yesterday afternoon and stopped for the night before continuing on at dawn this morning.

"Eight hours, forty minutes," he replied. "They're heading to Pakse in the south. By car."

"How d'you know that?"

"GPS tracking chips on the cars." Before I could play devil's advocate, he added, "Installed them myself."

"OK, so if they've already got that big of a lead…?"

"I have a helicopter."

OK, yeah. That would cut down the lead time. Especially if the rural roads were as delightful as Vientiane's.

Yuy continued, outlining each point of his mission like he was manning a hole-punch machine on an assembly line, "We'll avoid the jungle trails, get to the location first, and recover the artifact."

"And my father. He gets recovered, too. If I agree to this," I added.

"In that case, we'll also have to set up a distraction before pulling out."

I pointed out, "A distraction isn't going to help your anonymity."

"Depends on the distraction."

I still kinda felt like he was blowing me off. I had to ask: "Why not just put a gun to my head and make me tell you what you wanna know?" We both knew he had one.

His mouth quirked into a joke of a smile. "That's not my way."

"Uh huh." Suspicious and disbelieving? Me? Yeah. Totally. I decided to be obnoxiously American again: "You wanna be my friend because, if the artifact thing isn't there, you're gonna need my help finding it before Khushrenada does."

He didn't deny it. "Your mother, Lady Maxwell, came to us when she began to understand the nature of the gateway. We promised to help her destroy it."

"Who's this 'we'? You got a turd in your pocket or somethin'?"

Yuy glared at me.

I stared back until it was clear that he wasn't gonna answer my question. I asked another. "Is the gateway really that dangerous?"

"If it is real, yes."

"But maybe it isn't. Real, I mean."

"Given what could be on the other side, we cannot afford to assume it isn't or that it will never be opened."

Well, damn.

Yuy checked his wristwatch. "We're lifting off in fifteen minutes. Any other questions?"

"Terms," I corrected in the coldest tone I possessed. "My father comes back with us—" I gestured to Trowa and myself. "—in the helicopter. If I tell you where we're going, then you have to help us rescue him and you have to get us back to Vientiane."

He didn't even hesitate. "Ryokai desu," he said with a nod. "Agreed."

I blinked. It couldn't be that easy.

"Follow me," he ordered, turning away.

"No," Trowa interrupted. "Show us on the map." He gestured to me and I fumbled in my pockets for the best map I had of the immediate vicinity. "We'll meet you there."

Yuy glared.

Trowa glared back.

I snorted. "Um, yeah, you were way more impressive on your motorbike, man," I drawled at Yuy, holding out the map.

He jabbed a finger at a forested area about a half a kilometer up the road. "Fifteen minutes," Yuy reminded us.

Trowa gave him a humorless grin. It showed a lot of teeth. I liked it, but I hoped like hell he'd never have a reason to use it on me. "You're not going anywhere until we're aboard. Unless you'd prefer to tip Khushrenada off by flying that helo right up his arse."

Yuy didn't bother to reply. He turned on his heel and stalked away on the marked tourist trail.

Trowa and I headed off in the other direction. I took my time folding up the map as I grinned like a freakin' maniac.

"What?" Trowa demanded a little impatiently.

"You said 'arse'," I told him.

"Oh, bloody—! How old are you, Duo?" This was the first time I'd ever seen Tro look incredulous.

I answered, "Old enough to know you said a cuss word. A British-y one. And you made it sound pretty cool."

He snorted out a laugh.

I blamed the situation for the sudden emergence of my juvenile sense of humor. Jesus, but we were possibly a helicopter ride away from finding my dad. Getting him back, though… That wasn't gonna be all that simple, was it?

"We need a plan," I observed. "If this Yuy guy is on the level and we actually find my dad… yeah, we'll need a plan."

Trowa led the way, walking with the unhurried pace of the average tourist, back to our rental scooter. "We will have one," he vowed.

I tried not to look surprised when Trowa strolled right past our set of wheels and toward the frighteningly overgrown public bathrooms. Thank God he didn't actually go inside because, blind devotion or no, I was so not going in there. The front door looked like it was gonna eat me alive.

"We're not taking the scooter?" I checked once we were both out of sight of the people in the parking lot.

"They'd hear us coming."

"Yeah, but… they know we're on our way anyway, right?"

Trowa paused in his survey of the jungle. Maybe he was scoping out a trail or something. "Duo, there are varying degrees of flaming red bull's eyes. I'm trying to minimize ours."

"Oh. OK. I feel dumb."

His lips twitched. "Like an oke who can't read the hieroglyphs on the wall right in front of his nose?"

That killed every trace of humor in a single strike. I was instantly horrified. Showing off for Trowa and then teaching him a few Egyptian characters were some of my all-time favorite memories. Right up there with the shooting and hand-to-hand combat lesson… oh, and the long kiss goodnight. Of course. "I—I didn't mean to—" I swallowed. "Shit, I am so sorry, Tro."

"Stop," he said, stepping closer and pressing his finger to my lips. "I just meant that we all start somewhere."

"Feeling like an idiot?" I mumbled against his rough skin.

He shook his head. "You're not an idiot and you didn't make me feel like one, either."

Oh. I smiled with relief. Trowa gave me that little, self-satisfied grin of his and then pulled his hand away in order to crook a finger at me. Christ, was he sexy. Wherever he went, I would follow. That's how I ended up shadowing him through a mucky, humid jungle on a not-so-short shortcut to the supposed rendezvous point. I was sweaty and panting before long. The close, thick air was killing me and Trowa had to reach a hand back for me to take in order to haul me up an incline that my sneakers hadn't been designed for conquering. Trowa's boots handled it just fine, of course.

Footwear envy aside, I was relieved to see the helicopter through the tangle of vines and thick tree trunks. We were above the small clearing enough that Yuy was visible. He'd lost the jean jacket at some point and I got a look at the leather sidearm harness he had on over his green T-shirt. There were two pistols tucked up against his ribcage. He wasn't even trying to conceal them now.

Movement from the open loading door drew my gaze. I didn't know who I'd expected Yuy's partner to be, but some old dude with long, grey hair and a pair of weird goggle-type glasses wasn't it.

"If we wait any longer, we'll lose our advantage," he said.

Yuy didn't budge. "We'll lose it anyway without the exact location."

"The Maxwell boy doesn't trust you. He's not coming."

That appeared to piss Yuy off. "He'll be here."

The old man sighed. "Five more minutes," he agreed grudgingly.

Trowa tapped my arm and motioned for me to crouch down with him. "There's likely at least one more, a pilot."

"The old guy's not the pilot?"

He shook his head. "Prosthetic hand."

"Well, Hawkeye, what about Yuy?"

"He's ground assault."

I considered our options even as I made a mental note to introduce Tro to the wonderful world of Marvel-verse as soon as we got done being awesome and saving the day. It was just wrong that he hadn't gotten the Hawkeye reference. Dragging myself back to the issue at hand, I asked, "Can we take 'em if it comes down to a fight?"

Trowa nodded. "But I can't fly a helicopter."

"Me neither." Why didn't school prepare you for real life situations like this? Damn it, I knew I should've gotten into military RPGs back when they'd been cool. Now everything was zombie apocalypse. I mean, seriously. Zombies. Seriously? "Without the chopper, we'd have to get our hands on a Jeep or something." If we had a falling out with Yuy's group and had to make our way back to civilization on our own, it was gonna be a loooong hike.

"It's a risk," Trowa agreed.

If I'd been alone, I would have taken it and hoped for the best, but I had Trowa to think about. "D'you think it's worth it?"

"Yuy has given you more of a choice than the others who were after you," he pointed out.

"That we know about," I amended.

"True."

"Thus far," I added for the sake of showing off my smarts twice in a row.

"Thus far," he agreed.

There were too many unknown variables to be certain of everything… or anything, really. I let out a breath. Fuck. If I trusted Yuy and Trowa got hurt… but if I didn't trust Yuy and I never saw my dad again… "Fuck," I hissed. "I don't know what to do." There went my smart points.

Trowa's hand gripped my shoulder and I turned toward him. His palm traveled down to the center of my chest where he pressed it to the fabric and flesh over my heart. "If you don't take this chance, will you regret it?"

"Yes."

He smiled in understanding. "Then let's go."

Yuy didn't look all that surprised to see us when we clambered (well, OK, I clambered; Trowa just sort of strolled, damn him) from the jungle and into the clearing. He did, however, look relieved. He motioned us toward the chopper and I saw that Trowa'd been right about there being a third member of Yuy's team. The pilot was a tall, beefy, bald man of indeterminate ethnicity who was called, simply, "O". His copilot with the prosthetic hand was "J". It made me wonder where the rest of the damn alphabet army was.

"You have a name?" Yuy asked, directing the question at Trowa.

To my surprise, he answered, "No."

"Hm. Nanashi," Yuy continued with a nod, "if you or Maxwell need to suit up, help yourselves." I followed his gesture through the loading door to the far wall of the helicopter's hull.

"Holy shit," I choked out, letting Trowa help me up inside. Above us, the rotor blades were starting to turn. Yuy fetched a pair of flight helmets for us. Trowa was going over the offerings that had been secured to a convenient rack. He handed me a semi-automatic rifle that looked like a close cousin of the one he'd taught me how to use and two clips of ammunition before choosing one for himself plus a pair of pistols and a harness like Yuy's.

I was starting to feel underdressed.

"The location," Yuy reminded me now that Tro and I were armed.

I didn't have to dig into my backpack and consult my mom's notes; when Trowa had gone out earlier for food and whatever, I'd looked through them again. It'd helped pass the time. "Wat Dong Sao," I replied, and then I gave him the coordinates.

He relayed this to O as Trowa helped me with my helmet before putting on his own. I'd never ridden in a helicopter before and the liftoff was pretty anticlimactic compared to a jumbo jet's. At least it was smoother than driving, even if the whoop-whoop-whoop of the rotor blades made my ears feel numb despite the helmet cushioning.

I tried not to fidget, but it's damn hard to keep yourself from bouncing off the walls when you're going nowhere fast for three freakin' hours. I busied myself by glaring at the backs of the pilots' seats at the front of the craft. When I gripped the edge of my seat on either side of my knees, Trowa's hand moved inconspicuously to rest on top of mine. The move didn't startle me, but I glanced his way reflexively. Trowa was still leaning back against the skin of the hull with his eyes nearly closed. Heero Yuy seemed to be almost-sleeping as well, his arms crossed over his chest and his hands probably curled around the grips of each pistol, ready for action. I resolutely ignored him and turned my hand so that Trowa's palm fit against mine and our fingers interlaced. He looked completely relaxed, but his grip was so strong I was pretty sure his knuckles where white.

His inner tension made me wonder if we should have made time for a rematch before we'd cleared outta the hotel room.

Oh, shit. I let out a deep breath as heat surged through my entire body at the thought of last night, of his rough hands moving so carefully over my skin, of his mouth opening to mine, the taste of him destroying my mind. He'd devoured me without even trying. Damn. I'd hoped it would be good between us, but I'd never hoped for all that.

So… were we officially boyfriends now? Or more like friends with benefits? Or was last night a one-time thing?

Once my dad was rescued and safe, I'd get up the nerve to ask. And then dad and I were gonna have The Trowa Talk. No way in hell was I waiting until graduation to be with him if he wanted me. It was impossible. My dad and the board of directors at the company and our freakin' battalion of lawyers could just deal with the fact that I was in love with another guy. Although the whole South African mercenary thing was probably gonna freak them out more. I glared at my mucky sneakers. Well, I'd crank open a can of genuine, no-artificial-ingredients-included Whoop Ass when I had to. 'Nuff said.

Trowa's thumb stirred, brushing over the back of my hand. I turned toward him and caught the shimmer of curiosity and speculation in his visible green eye.

I shook my head and grinned. "Later," I mouthed rather than use the mic attached to the helmet. He nodded once with satisfaction and then glared in Heero's direction. I glanced over in time to see the guy's eyelids slide shut.

So he'd caught us. Big deal. He wouldn't be the last, I was sure. I gripped Trowa's hand tighter.

"We're approaching the target," J's gravelly voice said through the helmet speakers. "We're going to drop you boys on an outcrop near a river. Get ready to deploy."

Yuy was already up and throwing open the loading door. I reached for my seat harness, but Trowa tugged on my hand until I looked at him again. "Follow me," he mouthed, his expression deadly serious and even a little pleading.

I nodded. "I'll watch your back," I mouthed slowly.

He gave me a sexy, crooked grin. I wondered if it tasted the same as his other ones or if it was of a spicier variety. Damn, I was gone for him. In orbit. Sayonara.

Oh well. Moving along…

When Trowa unfastened his harness, I did likewise and let him approach the door first. It was probably a good thing he did, too. If I'd seen that glorified outcrop, I probably would've mutinied. But Trowa's broad shoulders blocked my view and then, suddenly, Yuy was handing me down to him before making the four-foot jump with enviable ease. I cringed back against Trowa as the chopper cut away from the ledge, blasting dusty, humid air at us.

Before I could get cranky about it, Yuy pulled out a handheld GPS unit and pointed toward a hint of what could be rock or stone in the steamy distance. "Three point seven kilometers that way."

Trowa squeezed my arm and took the middle position in our little caravan, following after Yuy when he strode off toward the edge of the lush, dripping-with-fog-condensation jungle. After the first five minutes, I was damn glad I was bringing up the rear. My sneakers were killing my ego with every slip and stumble. I always managed to grab ahold of something to keep myself from ramming into Trowa, but it was the whole not-cool-flailing-of-arms and comically-wide-eyes thing that I was very much hoping to keep to me, myself, and I.

And then, just when I was starting to wonder if Laos had poison arrow frogs or tree-dwelling venomous snakes – some critter that would make my day immeasurably worse when I squashed it by accident – we fought our way through an unusually thick wall of green ferns and found ourselves in an overgrown meadow, at the center of which sat a massive, dilapidated, moss-and-vine covered stone temple. It had one central entrance that I could see and the whole structure was tiered. Upon closer inspection, it looked like the entire building was made of steps – high, narrow, slippery steps, but steps nonetheless – right up to the roof where three, iconic, upside-down-beehive-shaped stone towers stood, lording over their jungle domain.

"Whoa," I said, shading my eyes from the afternoon sun as I tried to get a better look at the structure.

Yuy didn't pause to admire the scenery. He marched right over to the front steps and the main entrance. I meandered after him. Trowa placed himself between me and the surrounding jungle as I continued to digest the monolith.

It was old, that was for damn sure, but there was something about it that seemed off. I'd never been as geeked about Asian ruins as Solo had – he'd been something of an expert even when he'd been just a kid in junior high school – but some of the stones seemed unnaturally worn and rounded. I paused to examine one. It was a corner stone. Even ancient people would have known better than to use a material that was susceptible to erosion for the foundation of a building, especially one of great importance as this one obviously had been.

But wait… it wasn't just a few corner stones that were on the verge of cracking. There were too-smooth, too-crumbled blocks along the entire outer wall, spaced almost evenly, right up to the main entrance where Yuy was reaching for the ancient handle that had been carved into the rock.

"NO!" I shouted, jerking to a stop. "Don't touch that!"

Yuy froze, his fingers millimeters away from the door. At my side, Trowa had drawn a pistol and was scanning the area for whatever had set me off. Wild monkeys or rampaging elephants or something.

I gestured for Yuy to back away from the door. "It's a trap. You open that and the entire thing's gonna collapse. See?" I pointed above his head to the equally unsound blocks over the door itself and then to the others along the wall. "It'll fall like dominoes."

Exhibiting unprecedented care, Yuy retreated from the front steps.

"We need to find another way inside," I concluded.

Unfortunately, there didn't appear to be one. We circled the entire temple, but the front entrance was the only one on the ground level. Heaving a sigh, I planted my hands on my hips and looked up… and up… and up. Five stories up. At least.

The towers glared down at me, as if double dog daring me to come up there and spit in their archways.

"Is it safe to climb?" Trowa asked.

"Probably not," I admitted. It looked like the last time anyone had been by to perform regular maintenance and upkeep had been sometime around the fall of the Roman Empire. (Well, OK, maybe not that long ago, but you get the point.) "But it'll be safer than trying the front door."

I scouted for a section of the step-wall that was in acceptable condition. "Here," I finally decided, choosing an area that wasn't as overgrown with slick moss and had the majority of its blocks intact. "We should go up single-file."

Unsurprisingly, Yuy lead the way. Trowa brushed my hand in passing and then he was moving up the wall, scaling each insanely tall and panic-inducingly narrow step with grace. I suppose we could have let Yuy do this all on his own but, from the top of the temple, we'd probably have a better view of the surrounding land. Then Trowa and I could figure out a rescue plan.

Going up was torture, but I figured falling ass over braid back down would be worse. I gritted my teeth and clawed my way up the steep incline, accepting Trowa's hand and a moment's respite at the top. And when I'd caught enough breath to actually give a damn, I congratulated myself; it was one helluva view.

"How should we do this?" I asked Trowa.

He pointed toward what was clearly an overgrown road when seen from up here. "There's the trail." He scanned what was left of the meadow. "They'll probably park their vehicles here—" Another point. "—and if they leave your father in the car—"

"I'm going in after the artifact."

I blinked. Trowa stiffened. We looked in Yuy's direction. His hands were at his sides, empty, but I got the impression that he was prepared to reach for a weapon.

He added, "I need your help, Maxwell."

"Huh?"

He gestured unhappily to the stone structure beneath his feet. "I don't know anything about ancient ruins."

Well, this sure as hell wasn't my specialty. I opened my mouth to tell him so. Trowa put a hand on my shoulder. His expression was thoughtful. "Going inside may give us the best advantage."

"How so?" I demanded. I was all for kicking some ass, jumping in a Jeep with my dad in the back seat, and burning rubber the hell outta here. Except that I didn't know how far whatever was left in the gas tank would get us. And then there was the whole you-can't-burn-rubber-on-muddy-potholed-jungle-trails thing. Making our getaway in a helicopter while giving them the finger would be more poetic. And just plain more awesome.

Trowa explained, "We let the enemy forces divide themselves. If we know the layout, we can potentially trap a smaller group of them inside. If your father enters the temple with them, we can try to separate him from them and then make our escape. Or, if your father remains outside, we'll have fewer adversaries to deal with before we can get him back to the pickup point."

"Oh," I said. "That's… a pretty good plan."

Trowa smirked. "It has the best chance of working if we've reconnoitered the temple before they get here."

"Right. OK." I studied each of the towers carefully. The central one looked like it had withstood the elements better than the other two, so I headed there, watching my step carefully. The vines and moss covering the stone roof looked like they were the glue holding this place together, but looks were deceiving. The plants that had taken root in the crevices between the blocks were actually pushing the stones further apart, eroding them and – in the case of the moss – probably digesting them.

I thrust out a hand behind me when Trowa moved to follow in my footsteps. "Not too much weight in one place," I warned and, ignoring the wind which was bumping the rifle against my thigh and blowing strands of sweaty hair in my eyes, I traversed the roof. My palms were sweating by the time I got to the central tower.

"Duo?" Trowa called.

"Just a sec," I answered, looking over the tower, examining its structural stability. Then I leaned forward through one of its four archways and peered down into the gloom below. The light of the afternoon sun was at just the right angle to show me a second, steep-and-narrow set of stairs leading down into the chamber below. How thoughtful of the long-legged, tiny-footed people who had built the damn thing.

I turned around and grinned. Pointing, I informed my audience hovering tensely at the edge of the roof, "Stairs!"

Trowa started toward me before Yuy could claim the right to be next. I moved around to the other side of the tower and Trowa stood on my left while we waited for Yuy to cross the roof. Trowa put out an arm to keep me from diving down the steps. "You first," he told Yuy in a tone that only a moron would argue with. "It's your objective."

I knew I should probably go first. I was the one who'd been force fed archeology minutiae from the moment of my birth by an over-enthusiastic parent, after all, but Yuy didn't argue and I didn't dare suggest otherwise. Trowa and I still had to go inside and scope the place out, but I was guessing he'd had his fill of my suicidally daring King of the Crumbling Temple Show.

Yuy produced a flashlight and made his way down slowly. Trowa handed me one of his – I had no idea if he'd brought these with him all the way from Lagos or if he'd helped himself to them in the chopper – and then we followed.

"So much more fun on the way down," I complained, having to brace one hand in a very unmanly fashion on the steps above as I wedged my feet into the inconceivably stingy ledges, gimping my way down sideways. My Converse All-Stars were so not all-starring today.

As soon as I reached a flat surface that was wider than four-point-two inches, I scanned the inside of the temple. Creepy crawlies skittered away from the beam of the flashlight and I was glad for my long-sleeved jacket. Eugh.

Well, they were welcome to the walls. I stepped carefully along the debris-strewn floor, approaching what appeared to be the main gallery of the temple. Although the temple was something like five or six stories tall, there only appeared to be three main levels surrounding the center of the structure where a ginormous stone Buddha with eight arms sat smiling as centipedes trickled and cricked over its body. I shuddered in sympathy.

Trowa bumped me from behind, startling me. I almost squeaked. "Gogga gonna get you?" he teased.

"Gogga?"

He scritched two fingers up my arm, mimicking the movements of a cockroach-type insect. "Gogga gogga."

"Gah!" I objected, shoving at him and dusting the imaginary insect off my jacket sleeve. "You sick, sick, man. That's so not cool I don't even."

"You don't even… what?" he prompted.

"I don't even have the words for how not cool that was."

He grinned and squeezed my arm. "I'll go first, shall I? Give the beasties a skrik for you?"

I didn't know what a skrik was, but I gestured for him to go right ahead. "Skrik out, man."

We covered the top level, mapping out the collapsed walls and crumbling stairs. Away from the hollowed-out center of the temple, the floor was divided into two levels of smaller chambers, perhaps for the monks who had once lived, worked, and worshipped here. A place like this must've required a lot of attention… unless you liked gogga-gogga.

I shuddered. Gimme a nice, hissing snake any day. Hell, even a beady-eyed rat or a plague-infested bat. I'd pass on the cockroaches, black widows, and scorpions, k'thanks.

"Lots of places to hide your father if we have to go that route," Trowa observed quietly, passing the beam of his flashlight over the various piles of debris and the maze of still-standing walls and columns.

"Yeah, but he's not gonna be crazy about the stairs," I replied, eying the glorified toe-grips.

Yuy braved the dark, gloomy rooms above. I couldn't quite bring myself to take on more steps and bugs when there was a maze right here for me to learn and creepy crawlies a-plenty. Trowa and I had moved through about half the level (at my estimate) when we heard Yuy call out.

"Maxwell! There's something up here."

"How many legs does it have?" I muttered, but I headed for the nearest stable-looking staircase nonetheless. I tried to ignore the sounds of exoskeletons and pointy insectoid feet skittering in the dark as I homed in on the glow from Yuy's flashlight.

He looked up at me as I drew closer, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Look," he instructed me, indicating the object of discovery with an arcing gesture of the light.

I blinked at what appeared to be a metal chest. "That's not ancient." I crouched down, getting a good look at the locks, which seemed to be made of steel, and a poor grade of it, too. They were rusty. I'd never seen anything quite like them. I gave the chest a second top-to-bottom, end-to-end scan. The color and condition of the thing sorta reminded me of World War II memorabilia that I'd seen in museums during school field trips. I leaned forward and blew the dust and whatever off the lid. There appeared to be some kind of writing on it. Chinese or Japanese.

"Can you read this?" I gestured Yuy forward.

"Ah. It's a munitions chest. Japanese army."

"Japan hasn't had an army since World War II," Trowa contributed.

"What would it be doing here?" I asked, looking between him and Yuy.

Yuy answered. "Japan occupied this area briefly during the Second World War."

Scowling, I panned the area with my flashlight beam. "Is this the only one you've found?"

"Ah," he confirmed.

Well, this was weird. What were the odds that the Japanese army would have bothered to come inside this crumbling temple at all and then forget to take one lone box of shit with them when they left?

"Is it safe to open?" I looked over at Yuy. "I mean, d'you think there's a mine inside or something?"

"Some bullets or army rations perhaps…" Then he shrugged, expressing in eloquent silence that he really didn't have a clue.

I sighed and reached for the lid.

"Wait," Trowa whispered, playing the beam from his light over the wall above Yuy's discovery. "Look at this."

I did as instructed. "Ho—ly shit…"

I stood and gaped at what was written right there on the wall in what looked like black permanent marker. An illustration of a hand, then a quail chick, and a lasso. It was my name… in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. But, what was more… this was—

"My mom's handwriting."

Trowa looked up sharply. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, she always added this little scythe flourish to my name. A swoosh." I'd loved that swoosh as a kid. Looking at it now, the temple, the creepy crawlies, our ally of dubious motives all faded away and the past pressed forward. I remembered reading my own name – written just this way – on Christmas present tags; I remembered giggling as my mom signed my name with a swish on the toys I was determined to take to Hilde's house for playtime; I remembered that first afternoon spent sitting at our kitchen table while she'd shown me what my given name and my nickname would have looked like to the ancient Egyptians. She'd taught me their hieroglyphs. This had been our language. Me and my mom's.

"Oh, Christ," I choked. "She was here. She was right here."

I pressed my hand to the wall, uncaring of what might have been creeping or crawling or sliming or slithering over it as little as five minutes ago. I blinked my eyes, bit my lip, and forced the past back to where it belonged. I took a step back. Looking down at the chest, I said, "Open it."

No one objected this time.

Yuy fiddled with the latches and lifted the lid. Inside—

"Nani?" he hissed.

I reached in and grabbed it before he could take it. I turned the object over in my hand and… yup, there it was. His name.

"This was my brother's iPod." I could not freakin' believe it, but there was no denying it. It was the same model, the same color, and on the back he'd written his initials: SLM. Sherman Lionel Maxwell. Solo.

I stared at the gizmo in my hand. It and the pair of once-upon-a-time-state-of-the-art mini earphones had been sealed up in an airtight plastic baggie. If the battery hadn't burst and corroded the contacts at some point over the last eight years, I could probably still use the damn thing. Christ, I'd lusted after this when Solo had gotten it for his birthday. I'd driven Solo past the point of insane begging to listen to just one song on it.

Oh my God. What could have possibly convinced him to leave it here for me?

I looked up at my mother's handwriting. A chill shivered through me.

"Something else was kept in here," Trowa observed, pulling my attention back to the chest. I glanced down and, sure enough, there was a depression in the bottom lining. Something vaguely double-L shaped, like one "L" had been rotated 180-degrees and stacked on top of a second. It could almost have been a backwards "S" except it was far too angular. Well, whatever it was, it had been about a foot and a half long and each leg had stuck out for about eight inches at right angles. It had been something like four inches across from end to end, perfectly uniform.

"It's gone now," I agreed.

Yuy's shoulders slumped and, suddenly, I realized that this must be what he was looking for. The thing that had been taken from right here inside this chest was half of the key!

Holy fuck. It really existed. It was real and it was out there somewhere in the world.

I startled, looking down at the 2004 model iPod in my hand. Had my mom taken the key? Had she left Solo's music player for me as some sort of sign? Was there an audio file on this that would tell me where she'd taken this half of the key or what she'd done with it?

Wary and wondering if Yuy was drawing the same conclusions I was, I took a step back from him, stuffing the player into my jeans pocket. Suddenly, Trowa was there between us, bristling in silence… but Yuy still hadn't moved. He was staring into the chest, his hands on his knees, crouching on the grimy floor.

I have no idea what the guy was thinking or what he would have done. And I was never gonna find out, either; just then, the stones beneath our feet began to throb. All of us froze. Listened.

A rumbling slowly built and, though it was muffled through the walls and distorted as it echoed down the stairs from the roof, it had to be the sound of approaching diesel engines.

"Um, the plan?" I said by way of reminder, prompting Trowa to show-and-tell this awesome strategy of his that was going to save the day.

He nodded, but he didn't move away from Yuy. "If you're still going to help us, I need to know right now."

"I promised I would," Yuy replied tonelessly. "I will."

"Then we have to move."

I thought of the temple's fragile front entrance and I knew he was right. If Khushrenada decided to try the doorknocker, the three of us could be crushed in the resulting collapse. I didn't spare a thought for the creepy crawlies as I hauled ass back to the staircase we'd come down. The sunlight had thickened into the late afternoon variety, turning a rich gold in the time we'd been roaming and studying this place. I could see it spilling in through the base of the towers on either side of the one in the center, but there were no steps leading upward to either of those. Oh, super: there really was only one way out.

The three of us clambered back up the staircase as quickly as we could. In the surrounding meadow, the engines of robust off-road four-by-four Jeeps still chugged and growled. I thought I heard voices as well, but couldn't be sure. When I was a stretch away from peeking out over the bottom edge of the tower's open archway at the new arrivals below, Trowa grabbed my arm. My sneakers skidded against the slippery, worn stones and I almost lost my grip.

"The hell!" I hissed at him.

"Wait," he whispered back. On his opposite side, Yuy was crouching on the stairs, head just below the lip of the opening. "We'll wait until they're working. Everyone's staring at the temple now. They'll see us surely."

"Oh. Right. Obligatory gaping time. Gotcha." I tried to find a more comfortable seat. I couldn't.

"Be ready to run for the back edge of the roof if they try the front entrance," Trowa advised. "And stay low."

I nodded. Outside, I heard the engines cut and the sound of doors slamming. More than six doors. That meant they had at least two Jeeps. Or three with two doors apiece. I wondered if my dad was even now sitting out there, gazing up at where Trowa and I were hiding with our new friend. I wondered if he was OK – he wasn't gettin' any younger, y'know – and I wondered what I'd do about it if he wasn't.

"Hey," I breathed as the conversational jabber outside and five freakin' stories down continued to be completely unintelligible. "Gimme a preview."

Trowa quirked a brow at me.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to say it: "If they had to force him to talk… what should I expect?"

Trowa reached out and put an arm around my shoulders, drawing me right up against his side. He bent his head and whispered in my ear too softly for Yuy to hear, "He probably won't be able to use his hands."

What?! "His hands?" I mouthed back, fisting my own.

"The hands are highly sensitive and susceptible to extreme pain, but damaging them won't impair the captive's mobility, mind, or ability to communicate."

My stomach rolled onto a 25-foot-high diving platform and tossed itself over the edge. "Jesus Christ." I bit my lip to keep from gagging.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

I shook my head. "No. I'm sorry." I gripped his forearm to anchor myself as I closed my eyes and concentrated on taking deliberate, even breaths. "I'm sorry you know shit like that at all." Which begged the question of whether or not he'd ever been called upon to use that knowledge. I decided I couldn't think about that right now. Instead, a new horror was unveiling itself before me.

"Oh, fuck," I rasped. "Last night…" When I'd slept so warm and peacefully beside him, when he'd kissed me and I'd kissed him back, when I'd lost myself in the hot rush of his body heat and the sound of his voice… "Were they—?" I gritted my teeth and spat the question out, "Were they hurting him?"

Trowa sucked in a breath.

"No." I jerked my head away. "No, don't answer that. Stupid question."

"Duo," he insisted, growling at me. "You needed to rest and you needed to focus so you could be strong for him now. Your father will heal."

"But I should've—"

"You are doing everything you can."

"Short of hiring a private army." Of course I thought of it now.

"No," Trowa objected in a soft, quiet tone. "You would never be able to place so little value on human life."

I opened my mouth to argue. I shut it. He was right. There was no way in the world I could pay someone to throw themselves in front of a bullet just so I could get something I wanted. Even for my dad's sake. I could never do that. I instantly hated myself.

"Your father knows that about you," Trowa continued, "and he loves you for it."

Maybe that was true, but it wasn't very helpful. How had I gotten us into this? We were sitting on the equivalent of an ancient time bomb, waiting to see if some bozo down there was gonna hitch up his car to the stone door in an attempt bust into the place. We were one idiot away from running for our lives.

"He's gonna be pissed about this," I predicted darkly.

"And proud," Trowa argued.

I rolled my eyes and grumped, "How d'you figure that?"

In the next instant, he grabbed my braid at the base of my neck and jerked me toward him, and then he kissed me. Hard. When he pulled back, I just blinked at him, so shocked I couldn't even…

"Guess," he ordered me.

"Oh." That was all I said as I stared at the banked rage and fear churning the one green eye I could see, at the proud smile that tightened his lips. "That's why."

"Yah," he said.

I didn't know what to do with myself. I was torn between laughing, crying, punching him in the gut for yanking on my hair, and curling up in a ball so I'd never have to face the world again. My fingers tightened around the rifle at my side. Damn. I'd never really thought about what it would mean to me to hear Trowa tell me he was proud of me. It should have been patronizing, but it wasn't. It really, really wasn't. It scared me. It scared me that I could lose that before this was all over. I could fuck up and lose that.

I felt my other hand start to shake. Trowa grabbed it and squeezed my fingers tightly.

"No!" I heard someone – a man – say from over the wall and in the field below. It was a voice of authority, but I didn't recognize it. "The structure is too weak in this area to risk opening the door without stabilizing the stone casing first."

"Out of curiosity, what makes it unstable?"

I stiffened. I knew that voice. That was Mr. I-beg-your-pardon-while-I-read-over-your-shoulder-in-first-class. That was Treize Khushrenada. I was kinda surprised that he'd bothered to come all the way out here with his henchmen, but I guess if you wanted something done right, you had to supervise it yourself.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Twenty bucks said the greedy, power-hungry bastard's pants weren't even wrinkled from the ride.

The guy I was pretty sure I hadn't met yet explained grudgingly, "Many of these stones have been treated with caustic chemicals. They're little more than solidified chalk dust."

Well, wasn't that nicely vivid? At least it answered my question as to why ancient people would have used crappy stones: they hadn't. Someone else had come along and crap-ified them later. Maybe whoever had hidden the key here in the first place.

"Ah. Thank you, Professor Chang. As always, your assistance proves itself invaluable."

Rather than acknowledging the compliment, Chang barked out orders for someone (or several someones) to dig the hi-lift jacks out of the vehicles and, a few minutes of clanking and banging later, we heard the sounds of metal scraping against stone as they got to work. It looked like we were gonna be here for a while.

Trowa motioned for me to turn my back to him. I perched awkwardly on the steps while he rummaged in my pack. He then handed me a hunk of some kind of jerky and a bamboo tube of what looked like sticky rice. Food. Ugh. I was so not even interested. Interest was still back in Vientiane barefoot, lost, and reading the roadmap to Enlightenment upside-down.

"Eat," he instructed and, sighing, I did. Oddly enough, I felt better afterward. Less queasy and more alert. Still, for the record, waiting for the opportune moment sucks rocks. Slimy ones.

The acoustics of the temple amplified every metal clank and rough scrape, but no matter how hard I listened, I did not hear the voice I was waiting for. Hell, no one even mentioned my dad. I was beginning to wonder if he'd come along at all… which made me wonder if he'd already outlived his usefulness…

Crack!

I jumped and looked automatically in the direction of what had sounded like thunder on a clear, sunny day.

Cr-cr-cr-crk-k-k—!

No, it wasn't thunder. It was the door. Or maybe it was the stone casing and collapse was imminent.

CRACK! BOOM! Hisssssss…

Before I could swallow my heart back down into my chest where it belonged, a raucous cheer went up. Damn, that sounded like a lotta helpers. A small army of them. And it sounded like they were all expecting to get hazard pay bonuses now that they'd broken down the damn front door.

Trowa nudged my shoulder. That was our cue. I hurriedly wiggled and winced up to the roof. Now that everyone was probably too busy congratulating themselves to be paying close attention to movement above, we could scope out the scene. We stayed low and scanned the small, overgrown field. My gaze leapt from one Jeep to another (and there were six in all), finally stopping at the sight of a machete-armed Laotian opening one of the doors and impatiently motioning for someone sitting in the back seat to get out of the vehicle. I held my breath as my dad complied slowly, gingerly.

I could tell that he was keeping his face expressionless by some length of his pride. That damn British lord's pride. Even with his wrists bound in front of him and the fingers of his right hand bandaged, he stood tall.

"Squared shoulders, lifted chin! The mark of a good man is how he carries himself, Dominic!"

Fuck, I could still remember his lectures on the subject when I'd been a slouchy, sneaker-toe-scuffing kid. And here he was looking like he was about to hold court despite the bindings and bandages. Suddenly, I understood how it was possible to be furious with someone even as you were overflowing with pride.

But back to the bastard who was in serious need of an ass-whoopin'…

I glared down at the pompous and posturing supposed advocate of world peace. My fingers curled into claws against the weather-beaten stones. I felt Trowa's thigh bump mine in reminder. Yeah, I wanted to scream until the bastard's head exploded. And then I wanted to rip what was left of it off the sonuvabitch's Goddamn shoulders and stomp on it. I clenched my jaw. It was painful strangling that impulse into submission, but I'd wait for my chance. That was the only option that would help my dad now.

When Khushrenada waved my father toward the entrance of the temple, Trowa began squirming back to the staircase, tugging on my belt until I gave in and followed him.

"Can you contact O and J?" Trowa rasped at Yuy.

I almost burst out laughing. O and J. OJ. Duh. Of course.

Yuy nodded and pulled out a cell phone.

"Do it," Trowa commanded. "Pick up on the roof in twenty minutes."

With a nod, Yuy moved up the stairs, maybe to catch a stronger signal.

"Can we trust him not to take off and leave us here?" I mused, more abstractly curious than anything.

"He knows you have the iPod your mother left behind in your pocket. He's not going anywhere without that and, therefore, you."

And I sure as hell wasn't going anywhere without Trowa, so I guess we didn't have anything to worry about.

"C'mon," Trowa further ordered. I was kinda liking this assertive, take-charge version of him. Had the circumstances been different, I would've been tripping all over myself to catalog all the sexyisms he was exhibiting. "Let's get your father." He hooked his hand under my arm and led me back down into the temple.

My next question was "How?" but I didn't actually have time to ask it. From below, flashlight beams began playing over the muck-covered stones of the temple's main gallery. The sounds of footsteps were only seconds behind them. Trowa nudged me against a shadowed wall which provided us a decent vantage point from which to track the new arrivals.

"Spread out!" Khushrenada ordered cheerfully. "Look for a hiding place, an altar or a box of some sort. Summon the professor if you find anything that could be significant."

"And hurry," Chang added. "A few steel jacks won't hold that casing stable for long."

A translator conveyed this and there was a moment of confusion as the dozen hired henchmen scattered in all directions, beginning what could be called a systematic search only by a great stretch of the imagination.

"Wonderful," Trowa grunted, monitoring their chaotic movements.

I was more interested in Chang. He looked every bit as Chinese as his name. He also looked familiar somehow. It wasn't until he scowled in my general direction that it hit me: he'd been on the plane, too. I'd assumed he was the heir to some Chinese mega corporation or something, but he was a professor? The hell. The guy couldn't have been more than a year or two older than me. Where'd he get his degree? Outta a cup of instant ramen noodles?

Well, wherever he'd gotten it, it had impressed Khushrenada enough to bring him along on his little jaunt of terror through the Laotian countryside.

I watched Chang join in the search and begin bossily directing men where to look. Ah, the joys of midlevel management.

My father moved toward the Buddha. His captor followed.

"I'm sure you imagined you'd be standing here with your son," Treize Khushrenada said in an off-handed tone as he peered up at the mighty stone statue. I had to bite my lip to keep the bray of laughter contained. Hah! Shows what you know, you worthless pile of cockroach munch. He continued with manufactured sincerity, "My apologies, Lord Maxwell."

My dad kept his distance from the guy. I doubted it was because he was wary of him. I was too far away to be sure, but it was more likely that the slime bag was simply too repulsive for my dad to bring himself to stand next to him. "I have imagined many things, Mr. Khushrenada," my dad replied in a tone that I knew from experience promised Serious Trouble. "Some of which have already come to pass."

Whoa. Did my dad just threaten Mr. Big Shot Khushrenada? I think so!

Bonus.

Khushrenada seemed amused by this but said nothing else. The hired goons-with-guns quickly infested the temple, four on each of the main levels. Trowa drew me back even further into the shadows on the third level and we waited for our chance. I still didn't know how in the hell we were gonna get my dad up here and it was starting to really worry me. But Trowa was standing next to me, as calm as could be. Part of me admired him for it. Another part of me wanted to stomp on his foot.

I waffled back and forth between admiration and stomapage. I hadn't always been this indecisive. I wonder when that had happened. Or maybe I was simply getting better at self-restraint. So… did that mean that I'd gotten stronger or had my juvenile impulses weaker?

That sounded, vaguely, like that stupid chicken versus egg question. I'd ruminate on it later.

Instead, I alternated between staring at my dad, willing him to pick up on my psychic mind waves which were trying to tell him that I was nearby and getting ready to rescue him, and watching Trowa oversee the movements of Khushie's troops. It only took them about ten minutes of crawling through the rooms on the third level before I heard something that could have been a cuss word in Lao. Or maybe a "eureka!" I waited for it, knowing what the guy had just found and, sure enough—

"Plufessul Xang!"

Chang was charging up the steps before the last syllable of his very badly mispronounced title and family name finished echoing. The other searchers on this level swarmed into that one tiny room where the metal chest had been left. Flashlight beams on the first and second floors congregated near the stairs. Yeah, the Easter Egg Hunt was over with, boys. Time to turn in your baskets.

Five seconds after Chang disappeared into the maze of rooms, I heard him direct, "Take it downstairs and keep searching! The artifact could be hidden elsewhere in the structure."

This first task seemed to require all four guys who had been searching our level, leaving Chang behind in the room with my mom's graffiti. The other eight goon guys grudgingly returned to their survey of the other levels. But I was sensing that now was our chance: Chang was alone up here with us. Two against one.

Trowa shifted out of the shadows, motioning for me to follow him. It was time to go to work.

We ghosted through the level, keeping low and out of sight from the people below. (Not that anyone was looking up here. They were all oohing and aahing over that stupid chest.) We slipped up to the crumbling entrance of the room where Chang was probably focusing on trying to figure out that not-quite-hieroglyphic message. Trowa leaned forward to get a look at guy's position. He pulled back and whispered into my ear, "Wait five seconds and then make a little noise."

My eyes widened. Was he sure…?

"Trust me," he mouthed.

I nodded. He slipped into the darkness of the room in perfect silence. I counted to five. And then I took a deep breath, stepped into view of the archway and cleared my throat.

Chang was so deep in puzzlement over the swoosh my mom had written under my name that his nose was almost touching the filthy wall. In fact, he didn't even hear me.

I rolled my eyes. How embarrassing.

"Nihao," I sang on a whisper and that got his attention. He startled, turning his flashlight toward me and then suddenly, before the beam could make it all the way to the threshold of the room, both he and it froze. I moved into the room, avoiding the light, as I heard Trowa's voice hiss softly, "I have no interest in killing you, but I will if you do not cooperate. Understand?"

I shivered and waited for my eyes to readjust to the gloom.

Chang replied, "I understand."

"Do not speak unless I tell you to. Put your hands up. Right. Now behind your head. Good."

Trowa plucked the flashlight from the man's grasp and tossed it to me. I kept it pointing toward the wall where it wouldn't blind Trowa.

"Now," he continued, "call Lord Maxwell up here."

Ah, now the plan was comin' together. Brilliant. Trowa was brilliant. My admiration knew no bounds at this point.

I watched as Chang swallowed. His Adam's apple moved against the knife blade poised over his throat. I tensed at the hard look in the man's black eyes. He was furious even though Trowa had both his wrists in a very uncomfortable-looking grip.

"Do not make me repeat myself," he hissed, applying pressure and pulling Chang's hands further down behind his head, stretching the guy's triceps and threatening to dislocate a shoulder or two.

Chang complied with the request. "Lord Maxwell!" he shouted, his voice echoing out into the main gallery and below. "I require your assistance!"

There was a moment of curious silence from outside, and then the scuff-and-step of a familiar, measured stride.

"Do watch your step," I heard Treize Khushrenada say oily.

It wasn't until I heard the sound of footsteps ascending stairs, that I released the breath I was holding and started breathing normally. For some reason, I'd expected some kind of delay or refusal. Thank God we hadn't had to force Chang to give some kind of password like in the movies.

Every step seemed to take an enormous chunk of time. An entire age of the Earth. Dinosaurs could have re-evolved and gone extinct yet again what with how damn long it was taking my dad to haul his ass up here. Shit, I hoped that didn't mean he was injured on top of whatever they'd done to his hand, but there wasn't a damn thing I could do about that now except hope that he really was OK… ish.

Finally, after I'd nearly convinced myself that I was stuck in one of those slow-motion horror movie nightmares, I heard my dad's huffing breaths as he reached the top of the last staircase.

"Call to him again," Trowa prompted his captive.

Glowering, Chang did. "In here, Lord Maxwell."

I could just imagine the words my dad's pride wouldn't let him mutter: Fantastic. More bloody stairs. I clenched my jaw to keep the slightly hysterical chuckle from squeaking out.

My dad waited a moment, taking several deep breaths before tackling the next flight. When he'd reached the top, I waved the flashlight, signaling him closer with the beam. Then, I waited, alternately reminding myself to relax and then tensing right back up again, until he was a step away from the threshold.

"How can I be of assistance?" he asked.

And then he entered the room.

I was there in an instant, keeping the flashlight beam steady on the far wall even as I was pressing a hand over his mouth. "Shh, dad, it's me," I whispered. "It's Duo."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chang twitch. I almost bit my own tongue. Damn it. No doubt he was glancing at the name written on the wall and putting two and two together. Shit. Why hadn't I just painted a freakin' bull's eye on my forehead? Trowa was gonna kick my ass.

"Dominic?" my dad rasped in a hushed whisper. "What in the bloody hell are you doing here?!"

"Rescuing my old man," I retorted. "Duh."

Before my dad could start lecturing me or threaten to ground me for the rest of my natural life, Trowa instructed me, "Take him upstairs. Our twenty minutes are almost up."

"Copy that," I replied, setting the flashlight down on the floor and rolling it over to Trowa's foot. I started tugging my dad toward the door.

"Dominic," he objected softly.

I paused and turned toward him. I wanted to get him a good head start before Trowa did whatever he was gonna do to Professor Chang to keep the guy from alerting Khushers to our presence, but first dad and I were gonna need to establish some ground rules. "Tro and I have it all under control. Trust me for two more sets of stairs and then I will answer any damn question you have."

"Trowa?" he echoed, startled.

Damn. Of course he'd pick up on that. "I called. He came," I summarized… and then tried not to wince at that last word and the incriminating evidence on the second bed of our most recent hotel. "And, by the way, yes," I continued. "You and I are gonna have a talk about him real soon."

My dad actually chuckled. Here we were, about to make a mad dash through dank and crumbling ruins in a bid for escape, hoping for rescue (which may or may not be on time), and he was chortling.

"It's about time," was all he said.

"Duo, go," Trowa commanded quietly.

I nodded and pulled my dad out of the room. I timed it so that the footsteps of the guys being ordered back up to the third level to keep searching covered our departure. It felt like it took only seconds for us to make it back to the steps leading above. It's true what they say: the homestretch really is the shortest.

"Here," I told him, pushing him into the murky recess beside the stairway to heaven. "When you hear the helicopter, start up these steps. Watch your head – there's a tower above us."

"Where are you going?" He reached for my arm but I evaded his grip easily.

"Gotta check on Tro." And then I was dashing soundlessly on the rubber soles of my sneakers back toward the room where I'd left Trowa with Chang. The four Laotian goons were nearly at the top of the stairs and I had to duck behind a pile of crumbled wall and wait for them to disperse before I could risk a lunge for the steps.

At that precise moment, however, a slow drumbeat began to throb through the air. I held my breath and listened…

No, that wasn't a drumbeat and it wasn't slow. It was—

Whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop—!

The chopper was here. And, damn it, where the fuck was Trowa?!

I stood up. I drew the hunting knife from the back of my belt. I took a step around the rubble I'd been crouching behind.

And then—

Crack!

Hissssss…

I shook my head, blinking, as dust from above rained down on my head. No, not dust. Pulverized stone. Bits of stone. Like busted chalk.

Oh… shit.

CRACK! CLANG!

Hisss…isss…issss…!

I didn't waste time hoping I hadn't just heard one of the jacks on the front entrance giving way. Just as my own shout for Trowa got tangled up around my Adam's apple, the men on all three levels cried out and freakin' raced for the stairs. I moved out into the open, knowing they were all far too busy scrambling for the exit on the ground floor to worry about who I was, what I was doing here, or where I'd come from.

I raced to the staircase at the base of the room just in time to see Trowa wrestling with a very much alive and pissed-off-looking Professor Chang. He shoved the guy in the direction of the stairs and then drew a pistol when Chang swiveled back to him, hands fisted.

"You have risked everything," he hissed and then, with a murderous glare in my direction, he leapt down the steps and raced for the next flight of stairs.

Trowa didn't hang around pondering the guy's parting words. "Duo!" he shouted, equally unconcerned about being overheard. "Get to the stairs!"

CRACK!

CRACK! CRACK!

Hisss…

I held out a hand to him even as I started jogging backwards. And it was a good thing I had, too.

CRACK!

Hisss…

BOOM!

"Fuck!" I sputtered as dust rained down in a torrent and the stones beneath my feet shook. The ceiling opened up above us and a block came crashing down, smashing through the floor not two feet away, between us and the exit. If I'd been moving any faster, I woulda been pancaked. Squish! No need for confessions of the heart, then.

Trowa grasped my hand and tugged me back against him. I glanced above and then at the now-gaping hole in our path, then back up again. When the next crash came from across the temple, Trowa gave me a shove and I daringly jumped the space. Trowa was an instant behind.

"DAD!" I shouted. "GET YOUR ASS UP THOSE STAIRS!"

I could see him hesitating midway up.

The cracks of buckling stone, the booms of falling blocks, and the hiss of dust resettling echoed all around us. The air was growing thick with debris. I was getting seriously concerned that the towers were gonna be next to fold.

"MOVE!" I ordered him, racing with Tro toward the exit.

And then my worst nightmare swooped down into my waking life.

The towers fell.

To my left, the ceiling gave way and the stone monolith crashed through, obliterating its way through one level after another. Then on my right, the same drama of destruction played out.

"No, God, please…!"

But my prayer was too late.

I was too far away to do anything except watch as the sunlight illuminating my dad turned dark with shadow… and then crumbling stone.

"NO!"

I was barely aware of Trowa's arms around my waist, holding me back from meeting those tumbling blocks head on. I thrashed against him. At some point, I'd dropped the hunting knife which was just as well. I might have cut us both to shreds if I'd still had it in my possession.

And then the dust was settling and Trowa was shoving me toward the haphazardly piled blocks, aiming me toward the tiny window of sky we could still see.

"Dad! Dad! DAD!"

Trowa pushed and I grasped and pulled, squirming my way upward in a panic-fueled frenzy. I squeezed my way through the narrow fissure, kicking and punching my way free.

"DAD!"

I shouted, but I didn't see him. I reached a hand back for Trowa, felt his fingers grip my wrist and, bracing myself against whatever was beneath my sneakers, I pulled him through. Once he got his hips through the opening, I was scrambling up the cracked and broken stairs, shoving at the bits and pieces of what had once been a magnificent tower.

And then, just inside the hollowed-out stone cap, I found him.

"Dad!" I dived in and reached for him, grabbing his arms and pulling at him.

He didn't budge.

"Trowa!" I screamed and suddenly he was there, but instead of his hands joining mine, he was gripping the edge of a stone slab as if he could somehow lift it. He couldn't of course. The thing had to weigh like five hundred freakin' pounds and I just could not understand why he was worrying about that when I needed his help over here—!

My father's face twitched. He groaned. He'd been knocked out, but he was gonna be OK.

"C'mon, work with me here, old man," I begged breathlessly. The temple was cracking, booming, and crumbling around us. Another metallic clang of a jack snapping under stress punctuated the temple's death throes. Above us, I could hear the chopper's rotor blades beating at the air, thrashing and shaking the fragile structure.

Trowa gave up on lifting. Bracing his shoulder against the block and wedging his feet against another mound of rubble, he started shoving.

It was at this moment that I realized why he was so focused on the damn block of stone. It was lying on top of my dad's legs.

Oh God…!

"Dom—inic," my dad coughed just as cold realization speared me through the chest.

I shook my head. "No. No way. You're coming with us!" I ordered him pulling on his dust-covered arms. But it was no use. Trowa couldn't budge the stone. I couldn't pull my dad free. The temple was collapsing around us.

"Go with Trowa, Dominic," my dad said, his voice weak and raspy. So unlike him.

"I'm not leaving you behind again!" I screamed.

"Go," he repeated, his gaze piercing.

"No…"

The remnants of the staircase beneath us trembled, fragmented in a series of cracks that rang out like gunshots. Suddenly, Trowa's arms were wrapping around my waist, pulling me away. The instant my hands slid off my dad's arms, his eyes slid closed and his lips curved into a smile. He looked peaceful. Relieved. Hopeful.

How could that be?

I was so confused I didn't know if I was running or struggling or just letting myself be dragged.

My dad… I had to get to my dad…!

"Duo, please!"

He was just there! Just there! Just…!

"I can't do this without you. Please, DUO!"

Trowa. Trowa was shouting at me. He needed me. But my dad…!

"I'm not leaving you here!" he roared.

Leaving…? No, I wasn't leaving my dad here. I was not leaving him—

"Duo." This time, Trowa's voice was soft, beckoning. I blinked and looked at him. "Do you love me?" he asked. I blinked again. I felt the vibrations of the grinding stones against the soles of my feet.

He didn't wait for me to answer. "Then come with me. Please."

Something in me shifted. The metaphysical ropes that had been binding me to my promise not to leave my dad behind… They snapped. I grasped Trowa's hand.

I'd never run a race over a tumbling, jutting, breaking road before. I almost tripped once and Trowa hauled me up. Then, he almost fell and I pulled him after me. An instant later, the helicopter was right in front of us and Yuy was reaching out a hand. Trowa shoved my arm into it as he grabbed the side of the loading door and braced his feet on the chopper's landing skid.

When I took my next breath, I realized I was being lifted up – the whole machine was lifting away – and the world was crumbling beneath us. Dust plumed up into the air again and again with every booming crash. I helped Yuy haul Trowa into the cargo hold and then I was staring out at the still-crumbling ruins. I felt Trowa's arms around my waist as he anchored me where I knelt by the open doorway.

All I could do was cling to the threshold and watch as the stones fell inward, crashing and clapping against each other like thunder.

Boom… boom… boom…!

I just sat there and watched.

On the western horizon, behind the grey veil billowing up from the ruins, the sun was setting.


NOTES:

The Buddha Park (about 25 kilometers southeast of Vientiane) is not surrounded by jungle according to Google Earth. Was this another use of my Artistic License? Yes, I think so.

Wat Dong Sao (the temple) is a fictional temple located in the real Dong Hua Sao National Park in Southern Laos. It's based on Ta Keo (a real temple) which is located in Thailand.

On the subject of Ass versus Arse, I'm actually not sure which one is more common for English speakers from South Africa, but I really like Duo's amusement over Trowa's use of the latter.


Other notes on South African English, Lao pronunciation, and Mandarin:

Gogga = a bug, creepy-crawly (pronounced GOH-gha… I think, emphasis on the first syllable)

Skrik = a fright

I tried to give the title and name "Professor Chang" the correct pronunciation slant in Lao, using the wikitravel site as a guide.

"Nihao" means "hello" in Mandarin Chinese.


ALSO - I'll be finishing up the next chunk of the Tomb Raiders story ("Appearances") and starting on the next ("Prom Night") before I start posting updates again. In the meantime, I'll be sharing some more one-shot continuations from the TooT-verse. AND, while "Ruins" is very action-y, "Appearances" and "Prom Night" are not. I need my fix of relationship stuffz and character development. So there. More action-y goodness will reenter the story in "The Quest" (which follows "Prom Night"). OK. That is all.