Disclaimer: This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

Thanks for the reviews I received on this story.

The Well

Chapter 4

"Can I have a cup of coffee? Your House Brew, please." Trowa Barton looked up at the waitress. He hadn't even opened his menu, while his companion was still reading it front to back like it was some kind of gripping novel.

"One coffee…" the young woman turned toward Quatre. "Are you ready to order, too?"

"I'll have coffee as well, but I still need a few minutes to decide what to eat."

"No problem at all. Take your time. I'll be right back with your drinks."

As she left the blonde looked over to his bodyguard. "Are you really only having coffee?"

"I already ate earlier at home. I'm used to having breakfast soon after I wake up."

"That was 3 hours ago. Besides, they have great food here. I can't even decide what to have."

"What happened to Crepes?" Trowa wanted to know. "If I remember correctly they were the very reason we had to visit this place today."

"Sorry, I think you misunderstood." Quatre smirked slightly. "I merely pointed out that they only serve crepes on Mondays. I never said I wanted to eat some, did I?"

"No I suppose you didn't," the other youth admitted.

As the waitress brought their coffee and then returned to the bar, she passed a young man who had just entered the small eatery.

"Morning, Hilde," he greeted her.

"Morning, Wufei. Alone today?"

"Why, did you miss me?" a second youth asked as he walked in behind his friend. He was wearing his chestnut brown hair tied into along braid, and a wide grin on his face.

The waitress huffed in a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "Like a hole in the head, Maxwell. Let me guess… the usual?"

"You know, one of these days I'm going to surprise you and order something completely different."

Quatre's gaze followed the two young men as they headed for an empty table. "Look, isn't this the guy who won last year's Kung-Fu Regionals? I believe I saw a picture of him in that school newspaper you were reading yesterday."

"Yeah?" Trowa looked up briefly. "I don't think I read that article."

"Hmm…"

"What?"

"I thought he would be a little... "

"Bigger...? You are talking Kung-Fu, not Sumo wrestling, right?"

"That's not what I was going to say," Quatre chuckled quietly. "He just seems so unassuming."

#

"So, what do you think about Yuy's offer... about us renting rooms at his house, I mean." Wufei asked as he slipped into one of the blue vinyl covered seats.

"I like it...not the idea of having to share a bathroom with you for another year, but hey, you can't have everything, right." Duo grinned cheekily, earning himself an insulted huff.

"What's that's supposed to mean?"

"You are always so picky."

"Picky, as in always having to pick up after you?" Wufei shot back. "But if my sense of cleanliness bothers you, we can always check if there are any apartments with two bathrooms available."

"Speaking of checking...You are being checked out." Duo tapped his friend's leg under the table. "Three o'clock."

Turning his head slightly to the right Wufei huffed. "Very funny, Maxwell." The table he was looking at was occupied by three little, old ladies, involved in a conversation about knitting and needle point.

The other youth rolled his eyes. "My three o' clock. The little blond; he is cute isn't he?"

"Hmm...."

"Maxwell, your order is ready," the girl behind the coffee bar called out. During school breaks, when the shop was short on staff, most regulars didn't mind picking up their food at the counter.

"You know him?" Duo asked as he rose to his feet.

His friend shook his head. "Never met him; don't know who he is."

"Let's see if we can change that." the braided young man smirked .

"Maxwell!" Wufei lowered his voice as he glared at his friend. "What are you planning?"

Duo just winked at him. "Relax, Wu."

Wufei's gaze followed him all the way to the counter where he picked up his food. What in the world are you up to?

##

"Excuse me!"

"Yes?" Quatre looked up. The young standing next to the table gave him a friendly smirk.

"Mind if I borrow you salt and pepper for a moment. The ones on our table don't seem to be working."

"Ah...yeah sure...Help yourself."

"Thanks." Duo looked at him from the side as he reached for the two little white shakers. "New here," he asked casually. "I don't remember seeing your face...es before."

"Yes, we just moved into town a couple days ago," the blond confirmed.

"Well, at least you found already one of the most popular hangouts in town."

"That's what I heard, but...," Quatre looked around at several empty tables and let the rest of the sentence hanging in the air, but Duo understood anyway what he was trying to say.

"Ah, don't be fooled. Once the new semester starts this place will be so packed that people will share tables."

"Really? Umm..." Quatre eyed the plate the young man was holding in his hand. "If you don't mind asking, what is this that you are having? It looks pretty good."

"This...?" Duo turned around where the young waitress was cleaning up a table. "Hey, Hilde, what do you call this again?"

"Bauern Früstück."

"Bauern... Fru...stück...?" The foreign word rolled heavy from Quatre's tongue.

"Yeah. It's a German recipe," Hilde explained as she came closer. "Basically an omelet made with roasted potatoes... bacon... onion...ham...eggs..."

"Hmm..." Quatre frowned slightly. "I must have missed that on the menu."

"You didn't. It's not on there. You see, one morning I was throwing breakfast for the staff together, using up leftovers from the night before, when Duo here walked in and demanded to try what we were eating..."

"and I am having it ever since."

"Oh, I see." Quatre gave a little sigh. "That's too bad."

"You want the cook to make you one?" she asked and then with a look at Trowa. "Or two?"

"You sure it's not too much trouble?"

"It's alright. Might take a few minutes, though."

"Thanks. That's okay. Trowa, you're going to have one, too?"

"No, I'm fine. I'll take a refill on the coffee, though."

"Coming right up." As the waitress turned her gaze fell upon the salt and pepper shakers in Duo's hand. "What's with the condiments 'stealing', Maxwell. Why aren't you using the ones on your table?"

"Because they aren't working."

"That's strange, they worked just fine when I refilled them this morning."

"Well, they aren't now. That's what you get for using cheap plastic stuff. Tell Howard to invest a few bucks and by something better."

"Stop complaining, Maxwell." A male voice came from somewhere in the kitchen area.

"Not complaining, just stating the facts." Duo shot back cheekily. "That's Howard," he explained directed at Quatre and Trowa. "He bought this place some 20 years ago or so... Nothing has changed since, including the out-of-date Hawaiian shirts he still wears."

Hilde laughed. "I am waiting every day for Tom Sellek to call and ask for those shirts back."

"Well, I'll better go eat this before it is completely cold," the braided young man gestured at his plate. "You guys wanna join us at our table?"

For a moment it looked like Quatre was going to accept the invitation but after exchanging a quick look with his friend he smiled apologetically. "Maybe another time. We have to leave soon anyway."

#

"Am I allowed to make friends, or is my father also paying you to keep people away from me?" Quatre asked after Duo and the waitress had left.

"I'm not quite sure what you mean, but I assure you, the only thing I am 'paid for' is to keep you safe."

"Oh? Then the look on your face when we were invited to the other table, was just your normal anti-social expression?" The slight hint of sarcasm in Quatre's voice was hard to miss.

"I'm sorry if it appeared that way." Trowa apologized, but it was not quite sure how sincere he was about it.

There was a extended moment of silence as they sipped their slowly cooling coffee, until Hilde came heading their way with a plate of food, large enough to feed a small army.

"Looks like your Farmer's Breakfast is ready," Trowa noted.

"My what?" the other youth gave him a slightly confused look.

"Farmer's Breakfast. If I'm not mistaken, that's what ' Bauern Früstück' translates to."

The waitress put the plate own in front of Quatre with a friendly smile. "Enjoy."

"Thanks. I'm sure I will; this looks delicious." As the young man reached for the silverware rolled into a napkin, he gaze to his left at Trowa. "I had no idea you speak German."

"After High school a friend and I decided to go backpacking through Europe for a couple of months," Trowa explained. "We never got further than Germany. Our money was stolen and we ended up working on a small family farm in Bavaria for a few weeks. That's where I picked up a little German."

"Ah, yeah?" Quatre gave him a cheeky grin. "What was her name?"

His bodyguard gave an amused huff, but didn't answer.

"I see, 'the gentleman doesn't kiss and tell'." the blond teased.

"Exactly." Trowa confirmed. "And right now I think the 'gentleman' had a little too much coffee and needs to use the 'gentleman's room'."

"I hope you are not expecting me to go with you."

"No, but I expect you not to run off without me."

This time it was Quatre who huffed. "If you are referring to the other day at the mall... I was just going to look at a shop across the street. Don't worry, me and my breakfast we'll be here when you get back."

##

Duo waited until the tall, dark-haired, young man disappeared behind the door to the restrooms before he rose to his feet and walked back to the table where Quatre was now sitting by himself.

"I figured you might need these back now," he said as he returned the salt and pepper shaker he had borrowed earlier.

"Thanks," Quatre mumbled around a mouthful of potato and eggs and gave the young man a nod.

"You boyfriend seems to have a bit of a jealous streak."

It was a very casual remark, but Quatre's head snapped up and he quickly swallowed. "He isn't..."

"Your boyfriend...or jealous?"

"Neither," the blond replied, but the sudden hue of crimson in his cheeks was hard to miss.

Acting like he didn't notice Duo smiled apologetic. "Sorry for the implication. By the way, my name is Duo Maxwell."

"Quatre...Winner."

"So... how is the food."

"It's great... really. I think they should put it on the menu."

"That's what I have been trying to tell them for weeks now. But hey..." Duo shrugged. "What can you do." With a casual nod in Quatre's direction he strolled back to his table and grinned at his friend who was waiting there. "It's him, I knew it."

"It's who?" Wufei frowned. Even after all this time, he sometimes had sometimes trouble following his friend.

"Our very own school VIP."

"What makes you say that?"

"He denied that the dude he is with is his boyfriend."

Wufei's frown only deepened. "You lost me there. The fact that he isn't gay makes him a VIP?"

Rolling his eyes Duo gave his friend a long look. "For someone with your IQ you are a little slow sometimes, you know that? When I say 'VIP' I mean the guy everyone is talking about, the politicians kid. Remember Milliardo mentioned that he met him the other day and he had a bodyguard with him. So I figure if 'Mister Handsome' isn't a jealous boyfriend..."

"...he has to be the bodyguard?" his friend concluded.

"Bingo. But aside from that, his name is Quatre Winner. Last night I did some research on the internet, because I couldn't sleep..."

"I keep telling you not to drink all those sugary sodas after dinner."

"Yes, Mother, I'll remember it for the future. May I continue?"

"Please do. I am dying to find out how that brain of yours works," Wufei shot back. Someone listening to them might have never have guessed that the two of them were best friends.

"Like I said I was doing some research. Treize said that his father is a member of the UN Council and might even be next in line to replace the Secretary General, and when I checked that out the name Zayeed Winner came up. I admit the name Zayeed indicated Middle Eastern decent while the kid looks more like he is born in Scandinavia... but what are the changes that there are two council members by the name of Winner?"

"Not very high." Wufei replied.

"So you admit I am right?"

"I'll only admit that you are making more sense than when this conversation started."

###

Closing his cell phone, Trowa Barton looked up at the sound of the office door being opened. He had been playing games to kill time while his charge was in the meeting with their advisor.

"...no, I think I'm all set, Professor. Thank you." Quatre stepped through the door, followed by a man in his early sixties with slightly graying but obviously colored hair, and a olive completion that might have made him a very handsome and attractive man in his youth.

"Very well, Mister Winner. If there are any problems or questions, don't hesitate to come by or call." The professor shook hands with the blond before turning toward the young man waiting in the hall. "You must be," A brief gaze at the papers in his hand to verify the name. "Trowa...Barton?!"

He quickly checked the name again, something that didn't escape Trowa's trained eye.

"That's right. Is there a problem?"

"No, not at all." The man gave him a friendly smile. "I'm Professor Diciasetto; I'm only filling in for your regular advisor who called in sick this morning. Shall we go inside?"

"One moment, please." Quatre spoke up. "I'll be at the library, Trowa. Pick me up there when you are done here."

The bodyguard opened his mouth and for a moment it looked like he was going to object but then he just nodded. "See you in a while."

As the two men disappeared behind the closed door, Quatre headed down the long hall of the administration building. From one of the tables at the small lounge near the entrance, he picked up a flyer with a map of the campus.

Outside the building the young man squinted into the sun and looked around. He checked the map trying to orient himself and find the quickest way to the library. This place is huge, it might take a while to figure out where everything is. Looks like I have to follow the Campus Center Drive past the athletics fields and that should take me right where I want to go.

Stuffing the paper into his pocket he started to walk. But suddenly after a few hundred yards the center drive ended and the young man found himself surrounded by green lawn, flower beds and park benches. This is definitely not the athletics field, he realized, and with a sigh he pulled out his map again. Alright, where did I go wrong?

"Hello there."

Quatre nearly jumped. He had been so absorbed in what he was doing that he never noticed someone approaching from behind. He turned, then smiled as he recognized the young man. "It's you."

"You look a lot better today." The tall, blond studied him for a brief moment. "By the way, I'm Milliardo Peacecraft. I don't think I caught your name the other day either."

"Quatre Winner," he introduced himself. "So, you are going to school here too?"

"Used to," Milliardo replied. "I graduated last Spring. Today I am only here on an delivery errand," he explained. "My... housemate left his 'umbilical cord to the world' at home."

At Quatre's somewhat puzzled look the young man laughed. "His PDA. He insists that he can't live without it, yet he keeps forgetting it."

"Maybe he just knows that he can rely on you to bring it to him if he does."

"You are probably right," Milliardo admitted. "You are alone today?"

"My friend has a meeting with his advisor. I figured I'd check out the library while I wait for him. But..." Quatre's smile turned a little sheepish. "I can't seem to find it."

"The library?" Milliardo asked. "Well unless you are talking about the one in town, you are walking in the wrong direction."

"Really?" The young man took another look at the piece of paper in his hand. "But according to his map it should be right here."

"Let me see." Milliardo only took one gaze then snorted. "Of course."

"Of course?!" Quatre echoed.

"Every year at this time when the new students arrive some jokers replace the flyers put out by the administration, with their own, slightly altered version. This time they weren't even that inventive." the older youth pointed at the compass rose on the very bottom of the page. "They scanned a page, flipped it vertically and reprinted them. They fixed all the street and building names but not the compass directions."

Now Quatre felt even more foolish for not noticing it himself. "Thanks. So I guess I just have to turn around and take the opposite direction?"

"Let me take you there."

"Are you sure? I really don't want to trouble you."

"Na, it's no trouble at all. It's practically on my way."

##

The library was nearly empty which wasn't really surprising considering that the new semester wasn't starting for another few weeks.

Quatre looked around, and caught the attention of the librarian, a stern looking woman with dark hair. She looked up from the book she had been reading and gazed at him from over her little rimless glasses.

"Can I help you?"

For a moment the young man wondered if those glasses were a job requirement for librarians, along with that expression that could give any drill sergeant a run for his money, but he managed a friendly smile.

"Where would I find old yearbooks?"

"How old?"

"well.... mid 60 to mid 70 perhaps."

"Anything after 1970 you will find on the left side row 5 shelf 7. The older issues we have started scanning into the computer system, and you will need to have an access card for that."

"How would I get one?" he asked. "Sorry, I just transferred here."

"I can make you one; you will need your student ID."

"Thanks. I'll start with those books and if I can't find what I need I'll come back."

"Very well." With that her attention went back to the novel in front of her, as though he didn't exist anymore.

Quatre made his way to the bookshelf she had indicated. Luckily there were several copies per year and he managed to find one of each yearbook he was looking for. Books in hand he found himself an empty table nearby, and reached for a pencil and piece of paper.

The idea of checking out yearbooks had come to him last night, when he was lying in bed going in his mind over the strange dream again he had. Since this was a college town it was only fair to assume that the young people in his dreams had been students. First thing in the morning he had called his eldest sister catching her just before she left for work. With her help he was able to find the titles to two of the songs that had played on the radio in his dream. Considering their date of release and some other clues he got from clothes and hairstyles Quatre figured that those people must have been students sometime in the late 60s to early 70s.

He decided to start at 1975 and work his way backward from there. Trying to recall the faces from his dream he slowly flipped through the pages. The first three books held nothing, and Quatre was beginning to wonder if he was wasting his time when his eyes caught a picture of a couple of guys in front of a old convertible car. He recognized both, and his heart started to pound. The somewhat faded printing next to the picture identified the young men as Peter Sievers and Tim Shaw. He remembered Shaw to be the one who had teased him about his music in the dream. At least now he knew their names.

Encourage by his success Quatre continued to flip through the book and a few pages down he came across another familiar face. It was the young man who had called out to him first, threatened to drink all the beer on his own. His hairstyle was slightly different; parted in the center, but there was no doubt that it was him. Excitedly Quatre searched for the name next to the picture and his eyes went wide. Wow, this is...weird. I'll have to show this to Trowa.

He quickly wrote down those names that he had found, put the books, except for the one from 1972, back onto the shelf, and headed for the Check-Out counter, just as his bodyguard walked into the library.

"Trowa, over here," he called out, earning himself a displeased stare from the librarian.

"I'm sorry," Quatre apologized as he grabbed the other youth by the arm and pulled him back to the table where he had been sitting.

"What's going on?"

"Look at this..." He flipped the yearbook open to the page he had marked earlier. Making sure to cover the text under the picture with one hand, Quatre pointed at the young man with the dirty blond hair and the sideburns. "Guess what his name is?"

There was a long moment silence before calmly Trowa replied. "I don't need to guess. I know him. This would be the real Trowa Barton."

________________________________________________________________________________________

TBC

Author's Note: I wish everyone (belated) happy Holidays and a wonderful New Year. I hope it will please some of you to know that one of my new year's resolutions is to complete at least one or two of my unfinished stories in the new year.