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.

windwraith: Sorry, I forgot that I hadn't put Sugar and Whips back up yet. Last summer some joker with too much time on his hands hacked into my site and deleted all of my stories. I decided to go over the stories one by one and check them for errors , make a few little adjustments here and there before reposting them. S&W should be up soon after I am finished with Well and Junkyard.

The Well

Chapter 25

"Where are you going?"

"I don't think it's any of your business." Mike snapped at his friend as he pulled on his jacket. Trowa was leaning, with his arms crossed in front of his chest, against the doorframe to the living room.

"Does it have anything to do with that phone call from Professor D. Why is he calling you this late?"

"Are you listening in on my phone conversations?"

"I was not!" Trowa defended himself. "The phone rang and I picked up at the same time as you. When I realized the call was for you I hung up. I am not checking up on you, I am just concerned. You have been acting strange, Mike. What's going on?"

"Strange? I don't know what you are talking about?" Michael Chapman gave a forced laugh. "You are starting to sound like my mother. If you need to know I am meeting the professor because he has offered to buy some of my music. If this all works out there will be enough money for us to go to Canada, the way you had planned it."

His friend didn't seem completely convinced by his charade. "Do you want me to come along?"

"No, I can take care of myself. I'll see you later." On his way out the door Mike turned his head, the faintest of smirks on his lips. "You you really need to do something you might wanna go grab some more beer. I think we'll have some celebrating to do when I get back."

"...the current high pressure front will stay in place for at least another few days giving us more of the unseasonal warm weather we have been experiencing for the last week..."

With a yawn Quatre blinked away the last traces of sleepiness and opened his eyes. The TV was running and he was lying on the couch in the living room. I must have fallen asleep while watching the news, he realized. A quick gaze at the clock display on the DVD player told him that he could have only nodded off for a few minutes. Just long enough for another strange vision, he thought.

In the armchair to his right Trowa was going through some photos it looked like. With music classes canceled for the afternoon, the two young men had driven home right after their lunch at Howard's.

"You having trouble sleeping again?" the brunette asked, never taking his eyes off the picture in his hand.

"Just a little." Quatre admitted as he swung his feet over the side of the couch. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing really."

The young man rose to his feet, looking over his friends shoulder as he did so. "Is that your little niece? She is adorable."

"Isn't she?"

"Well, I think I'll jump in the shower. That should wake me up. Want to do something later?"

"Got anything in mind?" Trowa looked up.

"See a movie maybe, I don't know. You think of something," his friend shrugged as he shuffled off. A few minutes later the shower upstairs started to run.

At almost the same moment the front door opened, as Leia returned from here lunch meeting. Trowa could hear her take off her shoes and put her purse down before she walked into the room.

"You are home already."

"Afternoon lectured got canceled," he explained, as he gathered up the photos he had been looking at. "Music classes."

"Ah, right."

"How was lunch?"

"Very nice, thanks."

"I didn't realize you and Professor Khushrenada knew one another. Why didn't you ever tell me about it?"

She stopped on her way to her room and looked back at him with a shrug. "I don't know. We met a long time ago. I hadn't even thought about him anymore until I ran into him last week at your school."

"Does he know?" Trowa finally looked up and straight at her. "That he is Mariemaia's father, I mean."

Her brows furrowed. "How...?"

"I looked at some pictures you sent me. It wasn't that hard to put two and two together once Milliardo mentioned that Treize was under your care at about the same time when Marie would have been conceived. Did you tell him?"

"Quite frankly that's none of your business, Triton."

"He has a right to know. I don't think it should be up to you to decide if he can be part of his daughter's life or not."

"Stay out of it, Triton. I mean it."

She walked away, but stopped again at the door to the guest room, her hand already on the doorknob. "Are you going to take me to the airport tomorrow morning or do I need to call a taxi?"

"Of course I will. Just let me know when."

"Thanks." Leia slowly opened the door. "Are you planning on telling him?" she asked without looking at him.

"It's not my place to tell anyone." Trowa replied."But I think you should."

##

Closing his eyes as he let the powerful jets massage his neck and shoulders, Quatre gave a satisfied sigh. The warm water seemed to rinse away all the tension he had been feeling, but the sense of tranquility only lasted a few moments.

The young man suddenly found himself walking toward a car. It was dark outside and the lot wasn't exactly well lit. The car, from what he could tell a powder blue Chevy Vega, was the only vehicle in sight. Behind the fogged-over windows he could see someone move, and when he banged against the door the driver window was slowly rolled down.

"You are late!" A voice, that he instantly recognized as Professor Diciasetto's, barked at him.

"You wanted to see me?" he heard himself say. "I take it that means you have given my 'suggestion' some thought."

"I have," the teacher confirmed. "And I am sure we can come to some kind of arrangement."

"I'm glad to hear it. How soon can you have some money for me?"

"That might depend on the amount you are asking for."

A noise from behind should have probably warned him, but by the time he realized it it was already too late. He tried to turn when something heavy hit him at the side of the head, slightly behind his left ear. A sickening crack was the last thing he heard then everything went dark.

When the darkness slowly and slightly faded Quatre assumed that the vision was over, but then he heard voices... Low and muffled like they were coming through some kind of haze. He tried to blink, but his eyes...his body wasn't obeying him. He couldn't move...he couldn't see... he could only hear those broken muffled voices, feel a piercing pain in his head and smell what was probably his own blood."

"...been thinking? You never said anything about killing him. Damn... So much blood. Maybe he is still alive...need to call... ambulance."

"Get a hold... No other way. He would have bleed you dry."

"...no killer. I'm going to call... Police."

Someone laughed. "...tell them what? Who do you think...believe? You or me? Yes, that's right... In this together. ...help me get rid...body."

He could feel someone grab him by his arms, and he wanted to scream against the pain. Then everything went black again, and Quatre thought...hoped it would be over now.

But then the blackness lifted again and he was once more faced with the terrible sense of drowning that he had experienced twice already. But this time it was worst than before. As he tried to scream for help his lunges filled with water and he head began to spin. His hand reached out, desperately trying to find something to cling onto as he felt himself being drawn into total darkness.

A thud and a sharp pain in his right elbow brought Quatre somewhat back to his senses. Moments later the door to the bathroom and then to the shower was ripped open.

"Quatre!" Trowa turned off the shower then kneeled down next to his friend who was just opening his eyes, groggy and disoriented.

"What happened?"

"You fell, passed out...? I'm not sure. I heard the thump when I was coming up the stairs and found you on the floor." Trowa explained as he reached for a towel and draped it around his friend. "I am calling an ambulance."

"No! There is no need."

"Like hell there isn't."

"I'm fine." Quatre insisted as he with Trowa's help got to his feet.

"Good, but if you don't mind I'd rather hear that from a doctor or paramedic"

"Is everything alright in there?" Leia's voice came from outside the bedroom. "I heard a noise and the Triton running up the stairs."

"Quatre passed out in the shower and fell," her brother explained. "Can you come in and take a look at him?"

"Wait a second," the other youth protested, his ears turning bright red. "I'm not even dressed."

"Relax," the young woman told him as she crossed the room."I am a ICU nurse, remember? I have seen more naked men than a gay-friendly nudist colony." She chuckled.

"Still, I'd like at least to put some boxers on, if you don't mind."

Leia gave another laugh as she turned on her heels and left the bedroom. "I'll be in the hall, call me if you are ready."

#

About fifteen minutes later the young woman finished her 'examination' with a shrug. "I can't really find anything wrong with him. His pulse was a little erratic but even that has slowed down now."

"That's what I have been trying to tell him. I'm fine." Quatre was lying on his bed, wearing not only boxers but also a pair of sweat pants, while Trowa watched from a chair by the window.

"People who are fine don't usually pass out without reason," she pointed out.

"I didn't really pass out," Quatre insisted. "I just got light-headed and slipped when I tried to turn off the shower. Must have been standing for too long under the hot water."

"That could do it."

"I always get light-headed when I am in the hottub, too."

"Alright, I suggest you take it easy for a while," she told him. "Rest or get some sleep. Next time turn down the water temperature."

"Will do, thanks." The young man gave her a soft smile then turned toward his friend. "Could you get me some water, please?"

"Sure."

Trowa left for the kitchen and by the time he returned Quatre was alone in the room. "Mind telling me what really happened?" he asked as he set the water glass down on the nightstand.

"I think I just experienced Mike's murder."

"What?"

"And it was not Di...umm Kovalski who killed him?"

Trowa gave his friend a surprised look. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." Quatre confirmed. He told his friend in detail about his vision from the moment Mike approached the professor's car until he had felt him drown in darkness. As he remembered the feeling, his hand instinctively searched for Trowa's. The memory alone was powerful enough to sent shivers down his spine.

"You are trembling. Are you sure you are alright?"

"I'll be fine?" Quatre nodded. "I just need some rest. Will you stay with me? I don't want to be alone right now."

###

"You want what?"

"Go back to school, tonight." Quatre had slept, peaceful and without any nightmares, with Trowa by his side. It seemed as though the bodyguard acted like some kind of protective barrier between him and those dark visions. Jokingly Trowa had once called himself Quatre's own personal dream catcher.

Right now however, as they were still lying next to one other on Quatre's bed, the young man didn't look very amused. "Have you lost your mind? You know, I would blame this on you hitting your head too hard earlier, if not for the fact that you always come up with these crazy ideas."

"I just want to find out who really killed Mike and Trowa. Don't you understand? With the professor's confession in his suicide letter the police is closing the case. The real murderer might never be caught."

"Is it really that important to you?" Trowa asked softly as he turned toward his friend. Reaching out slowly he brushed away a few strands of blond hair that had fallen over Quatre's face.

The other youth lowered his gaze. "It is important to me. Not only because they deserve justice but... Trowa, I haven't lost my mind yet. But after what happened today, what I saw and felt... I am not sure how long I could hold on to my sanity if this continues. And I don't think it will stop until Mike finds peace."

"I am sorry, Quatre.". The blond didn't resist as Trowa pulled him into his arms, but rested his head against his friend's chest."I can't even imagine how hard this is on you. But I am concerned about you, and there is so very little I can do to help."

"It's alright. You are helping more than you might think. It's just that I want to get this over with."

"So, what exactly are your plans?"

Quatre pushed away just far enough to raise his head and looked up. "In one of my visions Mike found some sort secret compartment in Professor Diciasetto office. It occurred to me that Diciasetto was using that very same office until the day he died. Maybe he was also still using the hiding place. I know it is a long shot but if we could find anything..."

"You mean some kind of document or note implicating his partner?"

"Like I said, it's a long shot, but..."

"..stranger things have happened." Trowa nodded "I understand. But I don't think tonight is a good idea after what happened to you in the shower. What if you pass out again?"

"But tomorrow will be too late."

"Why is that?"

"Didn't you hear the sheriff say he will have his men go over the room one last time tomorrow and then hand it back over to the school. The first thing they will probably do is replace that lock the police broke open."

"Hmm... I got your point." A few strips of yellow police tape were much less of an obstacle than any lock. "Then I'll go by myself, tonight." Trowa decided firmly.

"You don't know where to look."

"You can tell me."

"That's just it. I'm not sure either." Quatre admitted. "But if I would be in the room I would know where Mike was standing in my vision."

"Let's assume we do find something; what then? You know Bonaparte would not be pleased if we were to hide things from him again. I have no desire to spend time in jail for abstraction of justice. Not to mention how your father might react."

"I know, I know. I am not planning on withholding anything. I thought if we do find something, maybe we can just make sure the sheriff and his men will find it too, tomorrow."

"How? By painting a big red arrow and write 'search here' underneath?" Trowa laughed.

The other youth chuckled as well. "I was hoping something a little more subtle would do."

Trowa grew suddenly serious again. "You do realize that if you are right and Diciasetto is not the killer, he could have been forced to write that suicide note confessing to the murders..."

"...which could also mean he might not have willingly jumped off that roof. Yes, the thought has crossed my mind." The blonde nodded. "One more reason to find out who he was working with."

"One more reason to let the police do their job," his friend pointed out.

"But they are convinced that Diciasetto is the killer and don't have any reason to look anywhere else, at least not without a good nudge in the right direction."

Trowa sighed. "Alright, you win. But this will be the last time I'll give in to your crazy ideas. Now try to get some more rest."

Quatre smirked softly as he settled down and huddled against his friend's chest again. "Yes, mother!"

###

"Damn..." Cursing quietly Quatre shook his flashlight as he once again pushed the little black power button.

"What's wrong?" Trowa's voice from beside him. In the dim light of the windowless corridor, the black-clad young man seemed to consist of little more than a disembodied set of hands and his head. Quatre probably didn't look much different himself, he realized.

"The flashlight isn't working," he complained.

"You changed the batteries, didn't you?"

"Me?" The blond asked, his voice laced with surprise. "I thought you said you changed them."

"No. I told you to change them. " Trowa groaned and his friend gave a sheepish:

"Oops."

"There should be another light in the emergency kit in the car. Stay here, I'll get it."

Quatre watched his friend disappear into the darkness, then the door to the music hall opened and closed in a very eerie fashion and even the last of the footsteps faded. The young man pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders, but the shivers running down his spine didn't have anything to do with the chill in the air. Following the row of yellow emergency lights along the wall, he slowly made his way to the end of the hall where the former professor's office was located.

The pale light reflected off the yellow police tape that had been strung across the door frame. Quatre put down the useless flashlight and peeled away the tape at one corner, just far enough to create a hole he could slip through. Instinctively, he almost reached for the light switch, but stopped himself at the very last moment.

At least the room at two windows, and the moonlight was strong enough to illuminate the office. That, combined with the fact that his eyes had began to adjust to the darkness, gave him a good view. As he looked around his mind instantly replayed the vision in which Mike had been confronted by Professor Diciasetto, after having broken into his office. Quatre's eyes focused on the old-fashioned radiator beneath one of the windows. That's where Mike had been kneeling in his dream.

Even so the school was now on a modernized, heating and air-conditioning system, the old heaters had been kept in place for emergency use, which came in handy last winter during a city-wide power outage.

The young man slowly made his way toward the window. This is where Mike was standing when I saw him.

He crouched down and reached behind the radiator. No spider webs, please. I hate the feeling of touching them. His fingertips started to roam over the smooth wood panels covering the walls. To his relief the school's cleaning crew seemed to be very thorough. Suddenly he brushed over a raised edge in the wood. He could feel a very narrow gap between the panels and when he dug his nails into it, the panel popped right out. Bingo!

Quatre set the wooden board aside. Even in the dim light he could see the hole in the wall he had uncovered, but it was too dark to see if anything was inside. He reached into the square opening and his fingertip felt paper and something harder, maybe a thick folder or binder. By now his heart was racing in a mixture of excitement and anticipation. Double Bingo.

The beam of a flashlight that suddenly flickered to life not only startled but also blinded the young man. Quatre raised one hand to cover his eyes as he jerked around. "Trowa?"

"No, I believe I saw Mister Barton heading toward the parking lot just a few moments ago."

"Headmaster Stiller" The young man asked. "What brings you here?"

"The same as you I believe. So if you would hand over whatever you found just now, I'd greatly appreciate it. Slowly please; don't try to be a hero." The short, bulky man, emphasized his thread by waving his right hand. In the glow of the flashlight he was holding in his other hand Quatre could make out the metallic glint of a gun. He swallowed, mouth suddenly gone dry.

"If you shoot, someone is bound to hear it," he pointed out even as he, ever so slowly handed the papers to the other man.

The headmaster actually shrugged. "With everything going on here who will blame me for shooting first and asking questions later, when I discovered a burglar on school grounds in the middle of the night," he replied calmly, coldly. And the worst part about it was that he was probably right.

"Still," Quatre argued. "Then you would have to explain what you were doing here to begin with, wouldn't you?"

Stiller laughed. "Dear boy, I am the headmaster, why wouldn't I be at my own school?"

Another good point.

"Is there anything else?" The older man asked as he took the paperwork from Quatre.

"No, that's all."

"I have to admit I am impressed. I have been searching for his little hiding place for three nights without success. How did you know where to find it?"

Ignoring the headmaster's question, Quatre had one of his own.

"So you are the man working together with Professor Diciasetto on his little scams? The man who killed Mike Chapman?"

"Alright, now I am really impressed. I didn't think anybody had figured it out yet. But regrettably you are too smart for your own good. Mister Barton might be back soon, so you and I will take a little trip, up to the roof of the administration building. I've heard the view from there is breathtaking, especially at night." Stiller waved his gun toward the door, gesturing for Quatre to get moving. "Unfortunately there is something very odd about that roof; people keep jumping off of it. Such a tragedy"

The young man didn't move. "Why did you kill Diciasetto, or should I call him Kovalski? I thought the two of you were working together."

"He was a moron and a coward to top it off." Stiller spat, his voice filled with distain. "He was shaking in his boots after you called him. Just like he was shaking back then, when that Chapman fellow tried to blackmail him. Thirty years...why did you have to come and dig up the past that should have been left buried?"

"Michael Chapman didn't think so. He wanted justice, for himself and for his friend...Did you know that he was still alive when you threw him down into that well? That he was fighting for his life until his lunges filled with mud and water and he couldn't breathe anymore..."

"Enough," the headmaster snapped. "Get moving, unless you want me to shoot you tight now and here."

"I don't think so." Quatre shook his head firmly. as he pressed his arm against his body he could feel the little rectangular object tucked safely beneath his shirt, in the waistband of his black pants."Your game is over, headmaster. I suggest you put down your gun now."

"Or what?"

"Or I won't be held responsible for the consequences."

Stiller frowned slightly. "Have you been smoking funny cigarettes, Mister Winner?"

Taking a deep breath Quatre steeled himself. "I think now would be a good time," he shouted, while at the same time leaping to the left, trying to find cover behind the professor's heavy writing desk.

###

Trowa ran as fast as he could. His heart was drumming against his chest and his lunges screamed for more air. His feet pounded the pavement in a rhythm that vibrated through his entire body.

The young man wasn't sure what had caused him to turn and look back when he reached the parking lot. But the moment he saw the dancing beam of light behind one of the windows in the music hall, he knew that something was terribly wrong.

He had almost reached the building when the sound of a gunshot echoed through the quiet of night. His heart nearly skipped a beat. "Quatre!"

Without even knowing it he reached for his own gun, as he dashed down the long dark corridor. When he stormed into Professor Diciasetto office moments later, he was prepared for the worse. But what he found was an obviously scared and wide-eyed headmaster Stiller on the floor staring into a gun that was hovering in mid air only a few feet from his head.

"Quatre, for god sake, I asked you to wait in the corridor. What happened?" Trowa panted as he braced himself against the desk. His legs felt like rubber and he knew it would only get worse once the adrenaline rush was over. "And what about you, Alexander? You were supposed to keep an eye on him..."

"Trowa."

"...not play into his crazy ideas. You know..."

"Trowa!"

"...one of these days he is going to get himself killed."

"Trowa!" The blonde's shout finally got the other youth' attention.

"What?" Trowa snapped.

"You can chew me out later, I promise I will listen for as long as you want me to. But first I think we should call the police... And maybe an ambulance too. He looks like he is about to pass out on us."

Turning his head Trowa gazed at the fallen headmaster, who was still staring into his own loaded gun. A wave of relief washed over him now that the danger was over and he knew Quatre safe. He couldn't help the smirk that crossed over his face. "I think he looks like he has seen a ghost."

TBC

Author's Note: