Toxic

Chapter 10: Wake Up

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon or Gundam Wing.

Sally was officially disconcerted with how disastrously silent the Palace was. Her Black Ops boots made a clack that ricocheted off of the high walls and remained her only companion. She'd never been to the Palace quite so late (or early?) but for some reason she'd imagined that there would have been just as much security—if not more—during the later hours as in the day.

The entire night had been nothing short of strange. She'd exited the precinct around one A.M., leaving Ami Mizuno with the strange parchment and the demand of no more than thirty more minutes' work. Black Ops had received a notice not too long before that that a farmer had found a disemboweled woman on his land. Sally had dispatched Noin to the scene and ordered Heero to pick up Makoto, who wasn't answering her phone.

Letting her agents do their job, Sally had gone home to get some well-needed shut-eye. She woke up maybe three hours later to a harried phone call from Noin, blubbering something about a monster, a body, so much blood, and the Corbeu Brotherhood. Not really comprehending her Sally dressed and headed for the Palace.

Now she walked the halls to the conference room, where Noin had said they would meet with the queen. Which is why Sally found herself reeling in shock when the queen suddenly ran across the hall before her.

"N-Neo-Queen Serenity!" she said before she could stop herself. Her voice reverberated off of the crystal walls, startling both herself and the royalty in her presence.

Tears marred Usagi's creamy cheeks as she froze. Her head spun in surprise.

"Director Po," she breathed.

"My Queen," Sally said, taking quick steps towards her with worry swimming in her eyes.

Usagi held up her hands, waving them and trying to stop the encroaching woman. "Director, please wait—"

Sally broke the breadth of the hallway and was immediately greeted with two guards sprawled on the ground. By the look of it they were unconscious. Sally gasped and whipped out her gun, breaking all protocol and immediately grabbing the queen's arm. Her eyes swiveled left and right and she began to drag with queen with her down the opposite end of the hallway.

"Neo-Queen Serenity we need to get you out of here—"

"Wait!" Usagi yelled, yanking her arm back. "Stop, it's not what you think!"

Sally's eyes still surveyed the room suspiciously, both of her hands now gripping her gun. In a haze of confusion she walked back over to the guards, kneeling and placing her fingers to their pulse to confirm life. She looked up.

"What's going on?"

Usagi leaned down next to Sally and placed her palms to the two men's heads. The tears had stopped flowing but her face still shone with glistening remnants as she turned her eyes to face the head of Black Ops.

"Director Po, I need you to keep this quiet for now," she demanded gently yet hurriedly.

"My Queen—"

"Go down to the conference room and tell everyone that the meeting has been rescheduled for tomorrow. Midday. Then go home and get some sleep."

Sally wasn't understanding what was happening. No wonder the Palace had seemed so quiet. Were all the men at the posts like this? Where were the roving soldiers and how had she missed their vacancy? Why was the queen asking her to keep it quiet?

"I-I don't—"

"Sally, please!" Usagi whispered crisply, beginning to focus on the men beneath her palms. "Tomorrow," she said again, her eyes closing as a warm, white light began to emit from her palms.

Sally's eyes widened as she stood and slowly backed away. It was the first time she'd witnessed the magic of the world that they claimed. She felt a calming confidence waft from whatever enchantment Neo-Queen Serenity was placing over the guards and suddenly felt inclined to trust her.

"Tomorrow," she confirmed with a nod, swallowing, turning on her heel and heading towards the conference room. Behind her she left the focusing queen, her magical hands, and all of the questions she harbored towards the predicament and her peculiar behavior.

"Oh and Sally?" the queen said quietly again.

Sally turned to face her, feeling somewhat humbled and oppositely chided as the queen called her by her first name. Usagi's eyes remained closed as she worked whatever magic it was on the men before her.

"You live within the city limits, correct?" she asked, her voice now light, angelic, and distracted. Usagi's eyes scrunched as if she were trying to hear something soft, her small, rosy lips slightly frowning in her concentration.

"Yes…" Sally was not sure why she asked.

"Good." And the queen said no more.

Consumed with confusion, Sally turned and briskly walked to the conference room.

Ami didn't know if she was more tired than she'd ever been but it sure as hell felt like it. It was kind of hard to compare being drained of energy…bleeding out…and, you know, dying, to being just plain sleepy. But Ami almost wished that she were in pain; pain was somewhat of a pestering old friend, something her mind was registered to combat. Sleepiness was an unusual beast, a hypnotic and hallucinogenic affliction that caused the room to bend and her eyes to droop.

She led Trowa down the halls that remained beneath the Palace's primary floors. She wasn't taking him to the main internal hospital, but rather a small offshoot that was situated between lower level guard posts. They walked into the ragged light, not saying a word. Ami, in one fluid motion, waved to a silver table offhandedly and continued strolling to a large, silver cabinet.

Trowa meandered over to the table and pressed his palms to its frigid surface. With surprising grace that Ami did not manage to witness, he lifted his body and twisted, sitting upon the chilly top. He laced his fingers together and placed them comfortably in his lap, swinging his legs slightly as Ami made her way back to him with a bundle of objects.

The bluenette couldn't help but think he looked slightly like a child at the doctor's office, waiting to be examined. She smirked and set the bundle of things beside him. Then gently, without a word, she began to remove his old bandage.

Pleasantly so, almost disconcertingly so, his presence was comforting. Ami didn't feel the need to make small talk as she unwound the gauze and their silence held no uneasiness. It was like they were on the same page, like they'd known each other for some time. Their minds were so in tune.

Soon the bandage was off and Ami tossed it in a nearby bin. She returned to inspect his forehead carefully, wiping the flesh wound with a clear, stinging liquid. Luckily it wasn't infected and primary hemostasis was already setting in, scabbing over and working wonders to protect Trowa's skin. A tender, pink ring rimmed the once bloody mess.

Ami must have been too absorbed in her inspection of his wound to notice how invasive she was of his personal space. She applied a small dab of a healing cream to the wound and gently spread it around his injury with a gloved hand. Without taking her inquisitive eyes from his forehead, she pulled off the glove and nonchalantly tossed it in the bin. Still not pulling back, she reached over and grabbed a bandage that she'd already prepared and pressed it to his head. Her attention was only drawn from pressing the bandage in the precise location when she felt something bump against her nose.

Startled, she looked down and her vision became a wash of luscious green. His eyes stared back at her curiously, not in the least bit alarmed by her close proximity. Ami could see the small flecks of hazel that dotted his irises and a baby smattering of freckles over his nose. His nose…

Suddenly Ami pulled away with a small shriek. What her nose had brushed against…had been his nose. She reached up and wiped at her own vigorously, a phantom tingle replacing the actual physical touch. A heavy blush consumed her face and neck.

"I-I'm so sorry, I was just too intent on checking your injury and I—I'm sorry, I was in your personal space and—" She tried to explain further but Trowa, unperturbed, cut her off.

"It's fine," he said sternly, and then sat in silence.

Ami stood there in a haze of embarrassment, not quite sure how to proceed. She went to move towards him but hesitated, not quite sure if he wanted her to continue dressing his wound.

Trowa noticed her uncertainty and, quite contrary to his usual passiveness, wanted to remedy her reluctance. Reaching out he grabbed her wrists and tugged slightly, the young medic stumbling the breadth of the small gap between them. Manipulating her arms, he lifted both hands to the large patch of white that dominated a portion of his forehead, indicating that she needed to finish her job.

Ami swallowed dryly and nodded, taking control over her own limbs as his hands dropped away. She couldn't help the minute tremble in her fingers as she finished applying the bandage. Her heart pattered with the infernal beat of nervousness, only serving to enhance the pounding in her head and the desire for sleep.

"You look tired," he said, a small utterance that would have made her jump had she not been so weary.

Ami could only muster a small smile. "I am tired," she responded, finishing her ministrations and pulling back as if to admire a work of art. "There you go," she continued, "that should heal just fine, perhaps we could even get Hotaru to—"

"I'm sorry."

Whatever words had been ready to leave Ami's mouth suddenly froze, her mouth stuck like a tiny O. "P-pardon?"

"For shoving you into the wall. And tying you up. I'm sorry."

He didn't really sound sincere to Ami, perhaps that was because his facial expression did not shift, but she appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. "I accept your apology," she responded, pulling a small, squished piece of metal from her pocket, "And in return, care to tell me how you managed to acquire your injuries?"

Instead of immediately responding, Trowa fiddled with the zipper on his hoodie, pulling the metal down with a painstakingly slow pace. Ami watched, not knowing how to respond, as he shrugged out of the material. She saw a flicker of pain in his eyes as he crossed his arms and grabbed the hem of his shirt. Then, congruent with a tangy whiff of homelessness, he pulled the shirt up and off in one fluid motion.

Ami stood her ground with a progressively reddening face. She looked from his naked upper body to his face, trying to portray her confusion at his act but she felt the deep rouge that settled into her cheeks must have portrayed a different story. Well, it was a true story, one of deep admiration for his…muscles…but it wasn't the one she was intending to tell.

He looked to her expectantly and Ami wanted to slap her forehead. She was only slightly mortified, having forgotten his second bullet wound. Gently Ami approached him with hydrogen peroxide, reaching out to remove the bandage she'd wrapped around him that night. They were close now, her arms circling his abdomen and unwinding the gauze. His stunningly clear eyes locked with hers.

"I got caught," was all he said.

Ami swallowed again and was relieved when she felt the tail end of the gauze. She pulled back, finally exhaling from unknowingly holding her breath. She made a general circular hand movement for him to continue and explain further while reaching for the peroxide. "You got caught doing what?"

Trowa hissed slightly when she placed the cotton ball to the sensitive area and for the first time Ami witnessed some semblance of fatigue flash across his features. His mask didn't immediately return but it did eventually and Ami felt it somewhat warming to know that he was comfortable enough, or tired enough, to let the stone-like façade fall away to a more personable veneer.

"Setsuna asked me and…" he paused as if having said too much, running a hand through his dirty hair.

Ami squinted, reaching for the healing cream. You and who?

"I told you I'm part of a fighting ring, right?" At Ami's nod he continued. "The location of the brawl is texted only hours before it's going to happen." Trowa visibly relaxed, the cut outlines of his abdomen releasing when she began to wrap the warm gauze around his midsection once more. "Once you arrive the fighters are chosen at random." He suddenly yawned.

"Let me guess," Ami said, her voice much steadier than she thought it'd be given their immediacy. She taped the end of the gauze and quickly stepped back. "You got chosen to fight."

"No."

Ami raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, trying with all of her might to keep her eyes trained to his face and not his strong body. "No?"

"No." He rubbed his knees with his hands and leaned forward, looking at the ground. Ami stared at his knuckles, the skin there worn and bruised, rough and calloused. "About a week ago I…fell out of graces with the Gamemaker. As one of his top fighters I'm supposed to excel in my duels, especially when another High Roller brings in a floozy he's trying to build up."

Ami's head was swimming with so many questions. Gamemaker? High Roller? Why was he referring to himself like he was some pawn?

"My mind wasn't in the fight…I'd been having these strange dreams…" Trowa drifted off, cradling his tired head in his hand.

"About what?" Ami asked quickly, not wanting to miss her chance to ask.

"Giant…" she could see his eyes searching for the word, something unknown and antiquated, foreign yet so, so familiar, "…Mechas."

Ami felt her world shrink, felt the room begin to close in on her as she tried to keep her eyes from revealing the connotation of his utterance. Was Trowa…was Trowa actually regaining his memories?

"Anyway," he continued, "I was put on a bye-week as punishment but showed up anyway at the behest of Setsuna. Two men in the ring are a part of the Brotherhood—Pierre Henry and Marcel Lefevre. She asked me to follow them to see if I could find where Francois Elan rallied."

Ami suddenly felt annoyed. "So you knew about the Brotherhood before we brought it up?"

Trowa looked up at her, his usual stony mask slipping back into place. "Sure, but its actual relevance was beyond me." Their eye contact lingered. "Needless to say it didn't go over very well."

Unnerved by his now intense stare, Ami cleared her throat and looked away. "Did you get anywhere?" she asked anyway, placing the small bullet into her pocket. It concerned her that the small golden object was military grade…if someone from the Corbeu Brotherhood was using hollow point slugs, was the gang being fed weapons by a CS or Black Ops mole?

"Only so far as the Waisuke district on the east side."

Ami was quiet for a moment and Trowa watched her carefully. He could see how tired she was not only by the bags sitting prominently beneath her eyes or the pink twinge that surrounded them from the constant rubbing, but also from the sheer lack of energy in her posture. Her shoulders were slumped forward as if carrying the weight of her head.

"You should sleep." He shrugged his shoulders at her small harrumph. "You won't be of any help tomorrow if you're stalking around like a zombie."

Ami's eyes swiveled quickly back to his face. "I do not stalk," she said in rebuttal, lifting her fingers gently to her face with a concerned look before muttering, "and I do not look like a zombie."

Trowa smirked and stood, the length of his strong torso extending. Now that he was standing, Ami could see that his pants were slightly too loose. They hung on his hips daringly, fighting to stay at an appropriate level. The bold V that led her eyes elsewhere beckoned otherwise. Ami snapped her eyes back to his face and was brought out of her revere by his voice.

"No, you don't stalk. You shuffle." Ami opened her mouth to once again refute his statement but Trowa cut her off. "And you don't look like a zombie, you look overworked." Her crossed his arms over his chest.

Ami was swallowing cotton balls. Was he trying to do this to her or was he not even aware of the way his chest looked like that? Unfortunately she was almost positive it was the latter. It was hard to tell an unwittingly attractive man that he was being unwittingly attractive.

"Can we shower now?"

It took Ami's brain a moment to register exactly what he'd said but when it was finally roused from its momentary lapse into la-la land, it came out comprehending only the perverse connotation of his suggestion. "E-excuse me?!" she asked, not able to hide her flustered appearance anymore.

Trowa raised an eyebrow. "I figured if I'm here there must be a locker room or something I can use. I simply assumed you would desire a shower as well." He gave her a once over.

Ami looked down at her bedraggled form and recognized that he was most definitely right. Bath, not shower, but he was right. She thought about the Royal Guard locker room and all of the questions she would have to answer by bringing him there. With a small moment's hesitation she finally came to a conclusion.

"There's no locker room," she lied. "Follow me."

Trowa trailed after the shuffling woman out of the room.

It was alarming how easily Ami settled back into the Palace lifestyle. She didn't necessarily have her bath drawn by a hand maiden but she might as well have. Even given the hour, at her passing insistence she'd been brought bath soaps, men's clothes, and sheets with such rapidity that Ami wondered about the magical quality of the staff.

She was lucky her ensuite bathroom was quartered the way it was; the hallway opened to a large and ornate vanity (which Ami rarely used) that was set into a spacious cove. It then broadened and opened out into a white tiled floor. Directly to the left was a giant glass pane with a door holding fast to the middle. A skylight made of crystal domineered the roof, in which a large showerhead sat prominently in the middle of. A white bench sat across the center wall, next to which a golden, metal shelf held soaps and shampoos of any variety. Trowa was in there at that moment.

Ami herself was currently huddled in a cozy, white clawfoot bathtub that sat in a manufactured apse made of crystal. It was around the corner of the shower, the tiled floor wending towards the left. As long as Trowa kept his word and remained tight to the right side of the wall he wouldn't see her. Not that he could peep anything beneath the solid layer of bubbles Ami had drowned herself in, but she'd rather shy from that predicament anyway.

She ran her warm, wet hands through her hair. She had a couch in her room that she insisted Trowa rest on in a small, manufactured living area. There lay fresh clothes and some sheets for him—given his previous outfit Ami required that he throw the tattered, smelly garments away.

But for all her preparedness she'd still erred in her sleepy haze. She'd had to remove Trowa's bandaging after she'd just secured it so that the man could shower. Bringing the supplies with them, he'd insisted that he'd be able to recreate the bandaging she'd so diligently applied on his own.

Ami sighed and hunkered down into the warm water. It was so nice to be off of her feet, to be enveloped in the warm hand of the bath. The sweet scent of whatever was in the bath lulled her into a hazy fog. Ami shut her eyes and shifted into a more comfortable position, letting the steam infiltrate her nose and warm her inside and out. Just for a moment, she promised herself, she'd keep her eyes closed just for…a…moment…

A hand reached down into the water and grabbed her arm.

Ami sputtered and gasped, sitting up and yanking her soggy arm back in fright. She shot her eyes to the right, where the intruder had let go of her arm. Trowa sat by the side of the tub garbed in a white shirt and boxer shorts, his head turned with a hand shielding his eyes.

"What are you doing?!" she asked breathily, suddenly wary of him. Why the hell had he grabbed her arm?

"You fell asleep in the tub," he responded calmly.

Ami's wide, exhausted eyes looked down to the water she sat in. Deflated bubbles huddled in clumps on the top of the water, swishing around like gliding clouds. Half of her body was covered by the bubbles and half of it was not. She wiggled her toes. The water was lukewarm. Her fingers were pruny and grey. She looked back over to him in astonishment, shoving her hands into the bath to cover her more private body parts.

"I—I—"

"I only looked around the corner when you didn't respond. You were in REM, there was no waking you so I chose to come over."

A sudden redness started to take over Ami's body as he stood with his back to her and began to walk back around the corner. Her mouth gaped as she looked down to the steadily clearing water.

"D-did you—"

"Only briefly," he tossed over his shoulder, disappearing around the white, tiled corner. "You should probably get out. You'll get sick."

A soft click signified that he'd left the bathroom but Ami sat in a muggy weight of embarrassment. She sat in the tub for maybe fifteen more minutes. She didn't move, nor did her expression change. Her face was contorted by astonishment, wide shaking eyes staring into nothingness, mind crazy with a wonder of what body part he'd seen.

Suddenly Ami scrambled out of the tub. She grabbed a plush towel and wrapped it around herself as fast as she could. Her feet slapped on the tile as she left wet footprints leading to the door. Pushing the handle down gently she peeked out through the crack and stared into the small living area.

There lay Trowa on her couch, already asleep, lost in probably the most comfortable slumber he'd been graced with in his life. He was on cushions, not concrete. He was covered and warm instead of bare and cold. He was safe from the elements, clean, and in a room where he was protected. The stoicism had melted from his face in sleep and Ami found that he looked oddly sweet and young.

With a sigh she tiptoed out of the bathroom.

She'd been swimming in images, either memories or visions (she couldn't remember), for the better part of her nightly mental escapade. Her eyeballs swished back and forth beneath their lids, the thin skin and lashes fluttering in a twitter of restlessness. Sweaty hands unconsciously kneaded warm sheets, having been clenching and unclenching for hours. Her forehead was beaded with a worrisome damp as she grimaced in her nightmarish sleep.

But for all its encompassing wretchedness the world that she'd been consumed in, the one she knew held an uncanny importance, suddenly slipped away like a slippery rope, sliding through her hands with an oily precision. She tried to keep her grasp on it, fervent on keeping an inkling of hope, on holding tight to what she knew she shouldn't forget, but alas nature took over.

Rei's body steadied in her sleep, finally seeming to rest. Then slowly, her tired eyes opened. Bloodshot sclera framed weary purple irises as she slowly blinked.

It had happened again.

Rei sat up slowly, like she hadn't just been sleeping. She was consumed by no grogginess because she'd never really slept—in fact, Rei felt more tired than when she'd laid her head down to rest. Worry marks soon wrinkled the vertex of her eyebrows as she placed a clammy hand to her chilly forehead, almost trying to pull the images from her brain. They were gone though, and Rei knew that she would not be getting them back.

Her head fell back against the backboard of her bed, the cherry wood groaning slightly with the newfound pressure. Rei closed her eyes once again, simply wanting to sleep. She felt a nauseating bout of spinning warp her brain and her senses so she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and fitting her face into the crux provided.

Why did she have to be the one burdened with this "gift"? It drained her, really. Especially when strange things like this happened. Sometimes she wondered if her saucy attitude was really just a repercussion of perpetual sleep deprivation.

When the spinning only seemed to get worse Rei swallowed then sighed and pulled her head from her knees. The previous night came back to her then and all Rei could fathom to do was groan in both frustration and sickness.

They'd been up late into the hours of the morning, succumbing to a series of annoying debacles. Minako and Wufei had not returned to the room. Rei had understood Minako's departure, but Wufei's she found suspicious. Also, the queen never made an appearance. Sally Po had appeared after dozens more minutes and explained that the Queen had called for a subsequent midday meeting instead. Needless to say, Rei's mounting displeasure with the haphazard structure of her return was beginning to bubble at the top of the glass. It truly didn't help that there was now something far more nefarious tainting her mind.

The first time hadn't happened long ago and she remembered the exact same welling unease within her chest. It had been the morning before she'd had her talk with Quatre…that morning she'd had a dream. What caused another groan of aggravation to bubble from her throat was the fact that Rei was not able, no matter how hard she tried, to recollect one iota of information from that dream. Not a picture, not a word, nothing. The only thing she could remember was a drastic, heavy sensation of pure disquiet churning in the pit of her stomach.

That feeling had returned.

She knew that she'd dreamt again, that awareness was a function imbedded deep within her consciousness. What she'd dreamt, however, eluded her once again and left her with a residual, sickly feeling. Rei looked down and placed sore hands to her stomach, not quite able to determine how she felt about the physical ramifications of her otherwise subconscious endeavor.

Her ability, her foresight and senses were trying to tell her something, trying to reveal some sort of vital information. She just knew it, she could feel it. But since there was a glitch somewhere within her, something preventing the pervasion of vital information to her usable brain, her body was adhering to the brain's request and shifting the info from mental to physical sensitivity.

She tossed an eye to the clock by her bed and watched as the digital numbers taunted '9:34' right back at her. Rei turned her eyes back to the ceiling and ran a hand down her tired face. She'd gone to bed approximately five hours ago and felt no immediate urge to fall back asleep. Her mind was working precariously around the edges of the information she could not detect, trying with all of her might to divulge what exactly she'd seen in her "sleep".

Rei leaned over and peeked out of the sliver between her curtains and her window, revealing a tauntingly sparkling Crystal Tokyo. The single beam of light cut across her face, splitting her features disproportionately. She looked down with blank eyes as the line of light sliced down her torso and bed. She kept her head bent, facing her body and bed but lifted her eyes to watch the scope of Crystal Tokyo's blatant unawareness.

She suddenly felt annoyed that the people of the city were totally oblivious of the governmental storm brewing within its capitol's palace. She felt annoyed and yet she admired them, admired their blindness and their carefree unknowing of the fact that Crystal Tokyo's foundation, and even perhaps the foundation of all of Crystal Earth, was about to be rocked to its molten core.

Throwing the covers from her body, Rei slid her legs around and got out of bed.

Minako felt almost hung over. Her head pounded with a persisting dull beat when she awoke. She waited for the pain to die down as her mind escaped the cloudy haze that followed deep sleep. But when it refused to do so she acknowledged the fact that her heavy crying and daunting stress had given her a stuffy headache. She could feel the uncomfortable stiffness in her swollen eyes as she squinted into the day's sun from her bed. Lifting her arms above her head she stretched, a small squeal squeaking out of her nose. Feeling relatively well rested she turned to her clock to see what the damage was, given their late night. Much to her disheartened surprise it read just a few minutes past ten in the morning.

So much for lots of sleep.

She smacked a hand over her eyes and groaned, covering her face as the night began to filter back. Then something permeated her nose, a warm scent that made her heart give a mild jump. Minako's eyes shot open. A smell had wended its way into the lines of her palm and stained her skin with its memories. She held her hand above her face, watching as her fingers fought to stay steady. Hesitantly she brought her hand to her nose and inhaled. She pulled her hand away sharply with a drastic frown, as if the smell had been rank. Then, feeling intrigued, she leaned up and inhaled deeper. It wasn't a putrid stench—in fact, it was quite the opposite. It was a sweet and feeble musk…something like jasmine incense. Her hand…it smelled distinctly of…Wufei; it smelled of his own hands, of his chest, of his neck and his hair. Minako swallowed, the dry sensation unsettling. She'd nearly forgotten about what had happened the night before.

She'd kissed Wufei. She'd kissed Wufei. She'd kissed Wufei.

Minako's hand reached out wildly and seized a nearby pillow. She pressed the expensive plushness to her face and promptly screamed into its depths. Memories came flooding back of their split second downfall. She remembered her hands tight around the collar of his shirt, pulling him as close to her body as she could muster as his hands ran hotly through her hair. She could remember bending to his dominating stature as his lips worked furiously against her own. Their bodies had been so close…so close, she could almost feel his tight grip on her just from the memory. She remembered the warmth of his mouth on hers and the rapid connection of their eager lips, of her own desperate need for him in that moment.

Minako pulled the pillow away and let it flop somewhere off the edge of her bed. Her brain disobeyed her conscious order and continued to remember the rest of the night.

Wufei had pulled away first. It was abrupt but not careless. He'd pulled his lips from hers like they'd been shocked, the crisp suction of their mouths pulling apart breaking Minako's furiously lustful trance. Her eyes had opened.

His hands slid from seizing her face to gripping her shoulders. Their noses still barely touched but Minako was looking down, unable to bring her eyes to his. This wasn't going to work and she knew it. It had been an emotionally encouraged slip. No matter what feelings fluttered in her chest Minako knew that whatever had just happened between them would be nothing but a dream by the next day.

"Minako…" he'd started, taking a small step back, his hands still gasping her shoulders. The blonde sighed. She'd known what was going to happen even before she'd kissed him. It was not necessarily an action that was emotionally void (in fact it had been quite the opposite) but within the confines of their already established relationship they would have to be careful. In essence, giving in to their desires was not a part of their duty.

Somebody cleared their throat and the two jumped miles apart. Minako had grabbed her shoulder shyly and glanced towards the door where Sally Po stood, sticking her body out just far enough to relay her message. When they'd been told that the meeting was rescheduled they nodded, followed Sally into the building, and went their separate ways without a word.

Minako gave a tiny whimper after remembering the scene like a movie playing in her head. If anybody, anybody, knew what had happened they would be done for. She and Wufei would most likely be out of a job and be subjected to years worth of scrutiny.

And then she remembered exactly why she'd been in such a horrible emotional state in the first place.

Minako suddenly had no desire to get out of bed and face reality.

Yeah, so, kinda boring but it had to happen. Hope at least Ami's part was fun!

Yami Nocturna: Here's some more! :D Wow, that's such a nice thing to say, I really appreciate that. The reference to Game of Thrones literally made me squeal haha. I'm so, so, so glad you like it and I hope you continue to read it! Thank you so much for your support!

JPandS: I'm guessing this is you? Haha, I'm pretty sure it's you! I am on such a Wufei kick right now, he's making a splash in my other story too. I really like writing him super mature. Like, if I were writing a story about them in high school he'd be so different. But him like this…mmm. Haha, seeing the aftermath of his make-out sesh with Minako is something I'm looking forward to writing. Thanks for complimenting my writing! I really appreciate that. Duo and Usagi have got a super funky relationship. I'm not really sure how it's gonna pan out yet. I had an idea in my head like five years ago when I first started writing this but who knows what that was. Yeah, there's a lot going on right now. I don't think everyone will be in the same place for awhile which makes writing chapters hard since I like to include everyone. But they'll all definitely have a little something spicy in them ;) I looooove Duo. And now that he's free he gets to see technological advancements and trends and things that he hasn't witnessed over the past decade and more so his scenes could potentially be very funny. But I definitely like his more serious side too. He's got that great dichotomous personality. I love Hotaru too! I feel like she as a person and Saturn are so different and yet infected by one another so it's fun to write how I feel they combat each other to make up her personality. Thank you so, so much for your review! I hope you come back, you definitely keep me writing!

aquafina rain: Oooh yes! I'm glad you like Makoto and Heero together! It's most definitely a no-no situation and will only get way, way more no-no. I have lots and lots of plans for those two. Their connection will be super fun to write. I like Duo and Usagi's weird relationship hahaha. I don't remember where I was originally going with it but I kept it because I like the weirdness of it. Something will happen with it haha, I'm just not sure what yet. Also yessssss, Saturn vs. Hotaru is so, so, so much fun to write, I love it. I'm glad you like my balance :) haha. All of them and their memories are important! It's a weird little twist I put into the story that I think a lot of people forgot about (including myself at one point, oops! XD) but it'll come full circle later! Thank you so much for your review, I always get excited when I see you've written something :D

Nerf: Noooooo, where did you go? This makes me so sad! Well, thank you so much for even the brief acknowledgement you gave, it made me really excited that you read my story! I'm glad you liked what you read and I really, really appreciate your review. Hope you come back soon!