"Auda! Abdul! Did you just get in?"

"You were expecting these two?" The stern young Preventer agent stationed outside Quatre's door posed the question like a delivery man whose conscience would only be assuaged by an official signature.

Of course, the team assigned to protect him would never have allowed the two Maguanacs to be here if Quatre hadn't informed them of Abdul and Auda's impending arrival already. He couldn't exactly say it was a surprise to see his two old friends, either. He just didn't expect to see them so soon, and waiting for him in his hotel room.

No sooner could Quatre reassure the young agent than Auda seized him up in a great bear hug. Taller though Quatre might have been, Auda had no trouble lifting him a few centimeters off the ground—much to the horror of the Preventers in the room—exclaiming, "Master Quatre! You're alright!"

"Careful, careful, careful!" Abdul warned him, catching Quatre's wince. "And you say I'm the clumsy one."

" 'Cause I have a cargo jet with a Leo-shaped dent in the side of it that says you are."

While Auda muttered a warm apology, giving Quatre's good shoulder a squeeze, Abdul wrapped his arms about Quatre with the kind of strong yet mindful embrace befitting an old explosives expert. "Good to see you in one piece, young master!"

"Thank you. Both of you." In their presence, Quatre's soul glowed. As much as he sometimes wished they would stop with that old formality—and as much as they stubbornly refused—the Maguanacs still had the power to make him feel like a member of their family with nothing more than the warmth in their voices. Even if Quatre hadn't been born from an artificial womb as they all had, he remained an irreplaceable part of their brotherhood. And Abdul and Auda in particular had made it their duty long ago to make sure Quatre never forgot that.

"But you really shouldn't have bothered," he said. "As I could have called you up to tell you myself, I'm fine. No need for you two to drop everything going on in your lives just to see me."

Abdul sobered. "Fine? You call what those terrorists did to you fine?"

"It was all over the news," Auda explained while his friend fumed. "The stations wouldn't play anything else. I'm telling ya, they were going on like it wasn't just you who dodged a bullet. Next thing you know, L4 is claiming it's part of some conspiracy against the colony—"

"Nonsense," Quatre said. "It was about my past as a gundam pilot, nothing more."

"Which is what we suspected from the start," said Auda. "What with all those threats coming in since you announced it. Doesn't change the facts, though. Rashid was furious. He said if that Sakamoto fellow had just done his job like he was supposed to—"

Abdul made a noise to silence him. Apparently Quatre wasn't supposed to know about his driver's true purpose there.

"It's okay," he told them. "I already know all about Mr. Sakamoto."

Abdul and Auda visibly relaxed at that, one more weight lifted off their shoulders.

"Which leads me to wonder why Rashid wouldn't want me to be fully informed about my own staff." Quatre crossed his arms over his chest, to the best of his ability. Now it was coming back to him, why he had been dreading the duo's arrival. "I'm not a child, and I don't appreciate being treated like one. I have every right to know if the man he's hired to watch over me is a goddamn Preventer."

Auda shrugged. "What can I say, Quatre? You know the last thing Rashid would want to do is dishonor your wishes. But you refused to travel with a security detail during the one time you really needed one. What were we supposed to do, huh?"

"We all know how much you value your independence, but first and foremost we want you to be safe," Abdul agreed. He glared at Quatre over the top of his dark glasses. "You are safe now, right? Sakamoto at least knows how to sweep a vehicle for explosives?"

Quatre chuckled at that. "I'm sure he does."

But the two had a point. As did Rashid. Though Wufei was standing behind him, Quatre could all but see the satisfied smirk on his old comrade's lips at hearing someone else agreed with his misgivings. I'm sure he's just dying to rub it in.

Quatre spread his hands. "Alright. You all win. I was wrong to insist on traveling alone when there was a threat out there on my life. Lesson learned. Happy?"

Wufei couldn't keep silent anymore. "It's a start," he said as he crossed the room.

Quatre ignored him. "And I'll listen to you guys from now on when you say I need better security." He could promise that much, even if he didn't always put their advice into practice.

"That's more like it. You might be good, Master Quatre, but this time you really got lucky," Auda scolded him. "Lucky to be surrounded by people who could take good care of you when shit went down."

"You act like this is the first time I've been shot." But Quatre wasn't about to argue with Auda's point. It was true. He was fortunate to be among competent friends when the would-be assassins made their move. Even if one of those friends, the one to whom Quatre owed the most, was currently not speaking to him.

Which he wouldn't mention to Abdul and Auda if he could help it. The last people he wanted to bring into an argument between himself and Trowa were the Maguanacs. Quatre's high opinion might have been reason enough for them to accept Trowa as an honorary member of their brotherhood, but that would only make Trowa come out worse if they suspected him of betraying their "young master".

"Well," Quatre said, "now that you're here and have assured yourselves that I'm still alive, what do you two plan to do?"

One look between them was enough to tell Quatre the two Maguanacs hadn't given the idea much thought. "Master Quatre," Abdul said, raising a suspicious eyebrow at him, "you're not trying to get rid of us already, are you? We just arrived!"

"My point exactly. I know how long the flight is from the L4 cluster, and I know what it takes out of you. Where did you book your room?"

An awkward cough indicated to Quatre that a room had yet to be booked. Abdul admitted, "We didn't quite get that far."

Quatre managed to stifle a laugh. Really, it was just like them to forget something so crucial.

"Let's see if we can't get you accommodations nearby," he said. "And then, will you two do me a favor and take a little time for yourselves? We can catch up properly over dinner. There's a Middle Eastern place near here that I keep passing, and I'm curious to try it."

"Dinner might have to be take-out, but I'll see about the room," Wufei offered, and stepped away, one hand to his ear.

He ushered his reluctant young agent away with him.

Quatre let out a sigh, taking in the sight of his two old friends—who were more like older brothers or young uncles to him, to be honest. Always there when he needed them, even when he was too proud to ask for help. Despite all of his grumbling, he was more thankful for their sacrifices than he could ever properly express. "It really is good to see both of you!"

It felt good to sit back and listen to someone else talk about their life for once. A couple of hours spent hearing about Abdul and Auda's wives and kids over good food that reminded them of home worked like an eraser taken to the cluttered drawing board of Quatre's mind.

Though it served as yet another reminder that his busy campaign schedule left him little time to see his extended family who were the Maguanacs. Those of them who hadn't taken up positions in the company, that is. Those of them who had settled down and stayed on Earth or moved to other colonies, even if the latter still happened to be in the same cluster. Things might be different once this race was over, however it turned out, and he might have the time to begin to make up for his absence from their lives, but Quatre knew better than to fool himself with false hopes.

Never enough time in the day. This must be how Father felt, he mused as he saw Abdul and Auda out the door.

As a young boy, Quatre had looked up to no one as much as his father. And as a teenager, swore up and down that Zayeed Winner was the last man whose footsteps he would strive to follow in. Yet that was exactly what he had done, whether intentionally or not. Taking up the mantle of leadership because someone needed to, and Quatre had the means and the will and the Winner name to do it himself. He wouldn't say he was particularly ambitious. But had his father been any different in the beginning?

Quatre couldn't say. His father wasn't around to ask. He only knew the Winner name was a heavy one to bear, and the only reason he didn't usually feel the full brunt of that weight was that he'd been acclimating himself to it since childhood, bit by bit.

Now, alone again after the diversion of Abdul and Auda's company, he was once more aware of the letter from Heero in his pocket. Not once had it been very far from his person since that afternoon, and the more Quatre wondered what could be in it, the more fearful he was to open it.

But he couldn't very well dispose of the thing, either, despite how easy Wufei had made that option sound. That letter had traveled twelve years to reach Quatre, and not reading it would be a disservice to Heero. Quatre understood how Wufei had felt, at least, all that time his promise had gone unfulfilled. What a discomfort that burden must have been to bear.

I will read it, of course, Quatre told himself. I must. Eventually. He owed Heero that much. Just so long as he didn't have to read it now.

He didn't have the time to give it a second thought, in any case, when his mobile rang.

It was the stern young Preventer agent. "Sorry if I disturbed you, sir, but I thought you might want to know Foreign Minister Darlian is approaching your door. Would you like me to turn her away?"

Quatre had to smile. One way or another, this young man was taking his duties far too seriously. Though Quatre was beginning to suspect it was not out of resentment for being assigned guard duty, as he'd first thought, and more out of admiration. Maybe for himself, but more likely than not for Wufei.

"That's alright," Quatre told him, wondering how Relena would react if she knew her element of surprise had been blown. "Thank you, but I think I can handle her myself."

He had a vague idea what she wanted, and it wasn't unwelcome. Though Quatre had a busy day ahead, starting early the next morning, including several interviews scheduled at different locations around the colony, he really didn't feel like turning in any time soon.

Relena seemed startled when he opened the door not seconds after her knock.

But only for a split second, her surprise quickly replaced with a coquettish smile that made Quatre wonder if she'd already gotten a head start on him.

"Ms. Darlian. Are you here to ask me out?"

"Well, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for a nightcap upstairs." She matched Quatre's conspiratorial sarcasm pound for pound; and when she drew the Today magazine from behind her back and waved it next to her ear, he understood the reason for it. "The new issue hit the stands today. I thought you might like some reading material that doesn't have your face on the cover."

Quatre had nearly forgotten. He was looking forward to not seeing his face staring back at him the next time he walked by a newsstand. "Please tell me there's not a single mention of me in there."

Relena hummed at that. "I don't think I can do that. However, there are some letters to the editor that you might appreciate for their particularly eloquent vitriol, if you happen to find yourself in a masochistic mood."

Quatre had to laugh at her insight. Just another thing the two of them had in common. Neither could escape the compulsion to know what others were saying about them, no matter how terrible it was. If they ever took themselves too seriously for that, then God help the ESUN.

At least the first interview was at a radio station. It hardly mattered how Quatre looked or whether the little bit of sleep he'd been able to get after that late night in the hotel lounge showed on his face.

A quick breakfast with Abdul and Auda followed, allowing Quatre to add something substantial to the tall cup of coffee he'd been nursing all morning.

Then it was off to the colony administration complex, where they set him up in a staged room and sent one major television news reporter after another in to ask him the same general series of questions. At least it gave him a break from rushing around for a few hours, the dialog was civil, and there were no surprises. When all was said and done and it was off to the next photo op with a local representative, Quatre could confidently say everything had gone rather well.

Not that he didn't collapse on the sofa when he finally made it back to his room.

"You'll see it all on the evening news," he mumbled into the couch cushion, waving off the Maguanacs' questions as to how his day went. Reluctantly, he remembered his manners and sat up. "How was yours? Did you two make it down to the museum like you planned?"

Abdul and Auda had expressed their eagerness to see the MS exhibit the night before, when Quatre assured them what Trowa had done with their donated suits—allowing visitors a hands-on experience with their old modified Tragos—was brilliant. But Quatre would much rather hear their reactions after the fact.

To say Auda and Abdul were proud of the display was an understatement. Neither one of them particularly missed the action since the wars ended, but they were mobile suit pilots through and through. They appreciated the capabilities and limitations of the machines, as well as all they had symbolized for people fighting tyranny. If Trowa had misrepresented the Maguanacs in any way, Quatre was sure he would have heard about it.

Instead, the technical details they raved about were overwhelmingly positive. "That fellow of yours really outdid himself this time," Auda said.

At Quatre's slow blink, Abdul started. "Wait. What do you mean, 'that fellow of yours'?"

"Not whatever you were thinking. I'm just saying, Trowa's done so much for Master Quatre over the years, he's practically family. Why, what did you think I said?"

As the two went back and forth in that vein, Quatre stifled a laugh. They kidded him about his relationship with his old friend, but if they knew just how dear Trowa was to him, they didn't let on.

Which was just as well. Quatre didn't want Abdul and Auda holding anything against Trowa for his sake. Not when they'd just come back from his exhibit with glowing reviews.

A knock at the door cut the two's bickering short. "I hope you don't mind," Quatre said as he got up to answer it. "I invited some company."

"Quatre! It's been too long, man."

"It's only been two days," Quatre said as Duo stepped into the room, grocery bags in his hand that were spotted with raindrops from the drizzle. "Oh, Duo. You guys didn't have to bring anything. I thought we would just order up from the kitchen."

"I know. But we figured you'd be getting tired of room service by now." And then Duo was jumping forward to shake hands with Abdul and Auda. Quatre couldn't remember the last time they had all seen each other, but the Maguanacs always did have a bit of a soft spot for Duo. Fellow orphans had to stick together.

"It's just some drinks and sandwiches we picked up from the kosher deli," Hilde said, reaching up to exchange a brief, gentle hug with Quatre. "How are you holding up?"

"Much better." After all the times Quatre had been asked that in the last few days, and all the various people who'd asked it, his answer never felt as easy and genuine as when he was giving it to friends.

But he was still eager to change the subject. "Here. Come on in. I can't remember, Hilde: Did you ever meet Abdul and Auda?"

"I think we did," Auda said. "On MO-II, after that last battle. Master Quatre was in hospital for a patching up, if I remember right. Funny way history has of repeating itself."

"That's right! I knew I recognized you two from somewhere," said Hilde. "Wow. Was it really that long ago?"

"We heard you and Mr. God of Death here got hitched," said Abdul. "And about time, too. Our congratulations are long overdue."

Quatre shot Hilde a guilty look. So now they knew he talked about them to his other friends. He wondered if Duo was the same with his coworkers, or if he and Hilde had a different code of silence where their old war buddies were concerned. Especially when one of them was as public a figure as Quatre Winner.

Or maybe it was just the passage of time that made the atmosphere in the room suddenly feel as tight and stifling as a shrunken sweater.

Duo being Duo, however, if he noticed any awkwardness at all, it only made him that much more determined to shrug it off. "Thank you, fellas, but I'm afraid you're congratulating ancient history. We've got bigger news than that to share with ya.

"We're having a baby!" he blurted out before Hilde could get in a word. "Can you believe that? Me, raising a little brat of my own?"

The news worked more beautifully than Quatre could have dreamed. Auda and Abdul never wasted any opportunity to tell another interested soul all about their own burgeoning families, and certainly not when they could compare notes and pictures with new—or soon-to-be new—parents.

For a couple of men devoted to a brotherhood of test tube babies, who once swore allegiance to their makeshift family as though they had no parents, Abdul and Auda had transformed into proud husbands and fathers in the past ten years. Though their children were also gestated in artificial wombs, if anything, their own upbringing made them more determined to make sure their children grew up without the stigma they had suffered.

Quatre could see the same traits in Duo, as well. His old friend remained modest in company about his ability to be an adequate father, but Quatre saw right through it. As immature as Duo might perpetually act, in many ways, underneath it all, he seemed more mature than Quatre felt.

A kid on the way will do that to you. But that couldn't be the whole story. He looked at Duo and Hilde, or Wufei with his devotion to his career, even Trowa and Dorothy—though God forbid, the last thing Quatre could see them doing was having children of their own—and he thought of what he had lamented to Relena the other night:

All his old comrades, his longtime friends, were moving on with their lives. Hitting milestones that were appropriate for adults their age to hit, and slowly but surely putting the troubles of the war and their parts in it behind them.

And here Quatre was, a whole colony cluster practically laid in his lap, all the people who lived and worked there depending on him, and he felt stuck. Trapped in the past as the rest of the Earth Sphere moved on around him.

Where did he make a wrong turn when everyone else went right? For that matter, was theirs the kind of life he really wanted for himself? And if not, why did Quatre envy them so much?

This wasn't working. He'd asked Duo over so he might free his mind for a few hours, drown his worries in friendly conversation, and instead those worries were roaring back with a vengeance. Excusing himself for a glass of water, Quatre headed for what little escape the kitchenette could offer him.

He'd just turned back around, glass in hand, when Duo came over to join him.

"So, what's up?" he said under his breath.

Quatre blinked at him. He kept the easy smile on his lips, though he was sure by now Duo could see right through it. "What do you mean?"

Duo sighed and rolled his eyes. Yep, transparent as a sheet of window glass.

"I don't mind you asking us here to play distraction for you and your friends for a while," Duo said in a low voice so the other three—laughing away at some story Auda was telling about when his daughter was an infant—wouldn't hear. "But you're not as good an actor as you think you are, Quatre. Not to be brutally honest or anything, but you aren't."

Quatre let his smile fall at that. No use keeping it up. "I'm sorry, Duo. I didn't mean to use you two like that."

"That part's no problem. Abdul and Auda're good people, and it's been way too long since we saw 'em. Besides, they're giving me and Hil some great free parenting advice!"

He leaned a hand on the counter, and Quatre wondered if Duo meant to block his escape or if it just worked out that way. "Right now, though, I'm more worried about my old friend. So what is it, Q? The press hasn't exactly been fair to you lately."

"They've been fair enough," Quatre said. It wasn't nearly as bad as it looked from what made it to broadcast.

"Then what? You and Trowa get in a fight?"

Quatre didn't need to answer. The look on his face apparently said enough.

And Duo looked like he wanted to swallow his tongue. "Oh. Sorry, man. I wasn't actually serious—"

"Don't worry about it," Quatre cut him off. "I know I'm making a bigger deal out of things than they rightly deserve. The last thing I want to do is drag someone else into our mess."

As understanding as Duo was, Quatre couldn't do that to him. He had to fight his own battles. Just as he'd been doing since the day he took Sandrock and went to Earth. This wasn't the first time Quatre had felt like all the various troubles in his life were joining forces to create the perfect storm. He would weather this one just like every other.

"I do appreciate your looking out for me, though," he said. "To be honest, I envy you and Hilde. You've got your nice, quiet careers, and no one cares whether you were mobile suit pilots way back when, on this side or that, or whether you're scheming against the Earth Sphere as we speak. Or a dozen other ridiculous things I've been accused of. You could just take off and disappear if you wanted to.

"But what's more, you've got each other to fall back on, and a family on the way." Whereas Quatre had thrown away his best chance at that kind of happiness. "You have it easy."

"Easy?"

Quatre looked up at the defensive tone of Duo's voice. That wasn't the part he'd thought his friend would take issue with.

"What part of what we've been through do you think is easy?" Duo muttered. "We've had our rough patches, just like anyone else. A family, huh? You any idea how hard it was for us to conceive? How long we tried? How many times we failed? We've been trying to get pregnant a helluva lot longer than we've thought about being married. Did you know that? We didn't even care if we had the whole traditional thing going so long as our kid had parents who loved him, and a roof over his head. But being born and raised in space hasn't exactly been good to either of us, and those procedures ain't cheap, especially on a Sweeper's salary. That is, if they even take. But then, I shouldn't need to tell you what that's like."

That was a low blow, but Quatre couldn't say he didn't deserve it. And not for forgetting his friends didn't have access to the all but limitless funds he did.

It was the lengths they would go to, the pain and hardship they would willingly put themselves through in order to have a child together. That was something Quatre could only imagine, and even then only in his wildest dreams. He'd given no thought to how difficult Duo's struggle must have been, to say nothing of Hilde's. Sure, Quatre knew what challenges to conceive faced Colony-born parents. He had them in his own family's history.

But could he put himself in their shoes, truly feel what they felt—the anguish and uncertainty and the particular breed of self-doubt that was part and parcel of becoming a parent?

Once again, the answer was clearly no.

"So don't tell me that the life I've been trying to build for myself and the people I love has been nothing but smooth sailing."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea, Duo."

And Quatre meant it. He felt as though he was seeing Duo with new eyes. Though of course the truth was the other way around: It was Duo who had changed in the last twelve years, whereas Quatre had stayed much the same.

Perhaps realizing he had gone a hair too far, Duo straightened up and stepped back. "That's okay. I never came out and told you about that stuff, either. How would you have known, right?"

Still, Quatre felt as though he could have made an effort to learn. Once upon a time, he'd been able to read people a lot better.

"Forget I said any of that, Quatre," Duo said with an uncomfortable scratch of the head. "The last thing I want is for you to feel obligated to help us out. That's why I never said anything. You've been good to Hil and me—too good, to be honest—but there's some things we just have to handle on our own. No matter how much they might set us back in the short run."

Quatre offered him a smile by way of apology. "I didn't know that's how you two thought of me."

"Well, you gotta admit, that's just the kind of guy you are. I know you don't have a problem throwing around big chunks of change for friends in need, but you put us in a helluva spot when you do it. It's a debt we can't pay back."

Maybe he was right. Even if the last thing Quatre desired of his friends was remuneration, he knew he would feel the same way if their situations were reversed. Somehow stock assurances that Duo had done more than enough to make them even didn't seem right at the moment.

When Duo clapped him on the shoulder and gave it a brotherly squeeze, Quatre knew he didn't need to say anything.

He allowed himself to be pulled back into the conversation, as Duo dropped back down in his seat, took up his bottle of beer, and said, "What did I miss?"

Hilde beamed as she said, "Abdul was just telling me how playing classical music for babies in the womb can improve their math and reading scores."

"It worked for my oldest, at least."

"Wait a minute. I thought we agreed I was gonna introduce the little guy to heavy metal!"

"When our child is reading, Duo, you can do whatever you like."

"Alright, alright. . . . But what if it's classic metal?"

His friends' company might have offered a brief mental respite, but it could only delay the inevitable. Once they were gone, not even the television could keep Quatre's thoughts from wandering.

And they inevitably wandered back to Trowa.

Seeing Duo and Hilde so happy only made it worse. Of course, Quatre couldn't begrudge them anything. They had no idea what feelings they stirred up inside him. Or how, watching them tease one another like old chums, he pictured Trowa and Dorothy acting the same way when they weren't out in the public eye. When he did so, it felt like a part of Quatre was slowly dying.

Did we ever have a chance at that kind of happiness? It seemed so easy to convince himself now, that once he and Trowa had been so close, and if not for one major misstep he might now be the one in Dorothy's place, going home to Trowa each night, catching him up on another day over one of Trowa's simple camp dinners. Waking up to him in the morning. It was so, so tempting to believe that if everything had gone a different way, the two of them would be together today.

Together, and happy.

Unable to stand the glare of the black television screen, but equally unable to bear turning it on and subjecting himself to that noise all over again, Quatre pushed himself to his feet, and went to the window.

Through the raindrops on the glass, the colony at night shimmered and wavered like a reflection in a lake. Car lights snaked silently up and down the streets below, pedestrians scurrying to escape the spray churned up by tires and make it to the safety of the next awning.

Quatre could have been any one of those pedestrians, ten years ago, on a similar street on Earth. Tugging his jacket up over the back of his head in a futile attempt to stay dry as he hurried home. Unconcerned about the time, just wanting out of the downpour, and into the arms that should have been waiting for him.

It could have been a night just like that one.