Trowa is the only one in the hotel room when he returns. He's sitting on the floor, bent in two with his chin against his shins. Heero raises his eyebrows, glancing around as he shrugs off the jacket and drops Quatre's scarf where he'd found it. Trowa stares at the scarf and shakes his head. "Quatre was looking for that," he comments.

"Where is everyone?"

"Duo was driving Wufei crazy. Quatre decided to bring Wufei to the Maganacs's warehouse so he can decide if he wants to move Altron there."

"And Duo?"

"Was deathly bored and decided to tag along after all."

"I'm sure Wufei appreciates that."

"I appreciated it," Trowa replies, smirk half-hidden behind the fall of his hair. He sits up and stretches. "Where were you?"

"Hospital." Trowa's eyebrows raise. "I went to see your long-lost niece."

"Ah," Trowa comments. Heero kicks off his sneakers, sits down next to him on the floor. "How was that?" he asks, watching as Heero stretches forward. He's not as flexible as Trowa is, but he can bend enough to grasp his in-steps with his hands. Trowa places a hand on his back, careful of the burn, presses gently to deepen the stretch. "Don't forget to breathe."

"She looks like she'll survive," Heero comments. "I don't know how you do this so easily."

"Natural talent," Trowa replies. To prove it he folds neatly into a king cobra pose, back arched and bare feet against his head. Heero sits up, rolling his eyes.

"This is what I meant by showing off," he comments, shoving at Trowa's leg. Trowa allows himself a small smile, lying down with his head pillowed on his bent arms. "I don't know why I went," he admits.

"Atoning," Trowa replies without hesitation. "You have an addiction to atonement. Noventa, Relena…Mariemaia." Heero snorts and leans against Duo's bed. "At least this one's still in the same city."

"What, didn't enjoy our road trip?"

"Would've been nicer if there wasn't a war on," Trowa replies and then sits up once more. "And if we weren't smuggling a Gundam around with us. And if you weren't on a suicide mission."

Heero shakes his head and doesn't bother to hide his smirk. "Picky." He stretches his legs out, feels the bandage pull at his skin. "So, Dekim did discover you."

"I never denied it." He's quiet for a moment. "Just ask."

"Why not just answer?" Trowa remains silent and Heero sighs, nudges Trowa's thigh with his toes. "You said you had to prove your loyalty. What did he ask you to do?"

Trowa folds himself into a lotus pose, breathing deep and quiet. Heero studies him silently, disregarding the sudden impulse to brush Trowa's hair aside to see his face more clearly. Instead, he matches his breathing to Trowa's and stares at the pattern on the bedspread behind the taller pilot. He hadn't taken the time to appreciate how truly garish the blue-red-green pattern was before.

"Nothing you're imagining," Trowa replies finally. "I had to tell him what happened to the real Trowa. What happened to his body. If I'd refused he was prepared to have Wufei execute me in front of the rebels."

"And Wufei would have done it," Heero states, eyes returning to Trowa. Trowa hums quietly, eyes closed but shoulders still tense. "How did he know that you were telling the truth?"

"I guess it was fortuitous that they were recruiting out of the base they used before the war," Trowa replies.

"They never got rid of the body?" Heero asks, surprised. "That seems reckless."

"Doktor S didn't want to chance it being discovered floating in space before I got off the base and we didn't have a heat source strong enough to burn it completely. That base is always under construction, it wasn't hard to find somewhere out of the way to stash some remains. Especially once they'd been made more compact."

Heero looks over to where the laptop is plugged in and charging on one of the end tables. "Were you talking to Catherine again?"

"Yes, she sent the schedule for the circus's travel dates. They'll be in L1 on the first, figure I'll head that way once we're officially released." Trowa shifts so he is staring out the balcony doors. "Have you decided what you're going to do?"

Heero's quiet for a while, thinking it over. Finally he sighs, nudges Trowa again. "You want to go get something to eat? It's been a while since the apples at Preventers."

Trowa turns his head to look at him. "Yeah, I could eat."

. . ... . .

They end up finding a food truck a few blocks away, near a small city park. There's a moderately long line of people standing and chatting in small groups as they wait their turn. They watch two children, a brother and a sister, running around with a young puppy, throwing snow at each other and laughing.

"The colonies try to match Earth." Heero glances at Trowa when he speaks, sees that he's looking up at the cloud cover where light flurries of snow are beginning to fall. "But they always miss the smell," Trowa states.

Heero breathes in, smelling the crisp winter air. "Scientifically we're just smelling fewer odors than usual," Heero replies. They move up in the line and Trowa shakes his head.

"Can you honestly tell me the smell here is the same as in space?" he asks.

Heero takes a few more deep breaths. The air is fresher, more renewed. It isn't the same recycled air and water that the colonies rely on. "No," he replies. "It's natural," he adds. Trowa nods, holds a hand out and watches the flurries collect in his palm, melting away as they warm from his skin.

The little girl squeals as her brother dumps snow over her head. The dog breaks away from the children, leash trailing in the snow. Heero crouches, holds a hand out and smiles as it licks his fingers. The children are too distracted playing to notice their pet missing, their parents busy placing their orders. Heero picks up the trailing leash, scratches behind the puppy's brown ears. One ear is standing, the other still flopped over.

Trowa smiles when the puppy places its front paws on Heero's knee, stretches and licks at his chin. "Baz!" the boy cries, looking around. Heero scoops the puppy up, carries the squirming body over to the children. Trowa watches, amused, as it chews on Heero's jacket collar. The little girl hangs back behind her brother as Heero approaches.

"Voici votre chien," Heero says.

"Merci beaucoup, monsieur," the boy replies. "Allons-y, Baz." He takes the squirming dog and Heero returns to the line. Trowa watches the way the little girl stares after Heero. The puppy grabs the end of her scarf and she laughs again, distracted.

"Do you miss Earth?" Heero asks when he's back beside Trowa. They watch as the mother calls the children up to the food truck, fixes the little girl's knit hat so that it's more secure.

"Sometimes," Trowa replies. "It's one of the bonuses of staying with the circus, constantly moving back and forth." He looks at Heero as they move up the line again, the family with the children and dog moving off to a park bench to eat at. "Do you miss the colonies?"

Heero shrugs. "I never settled in one long enough to miss it," he says before stepping up to the counter to order.

Trowa studies the people while Heero calmly orders their crêpes in French, one wild mushroom with gruyere and one brie with roasted tomatoes. The crêpes are large and warm and they wander down one of the park paths as they eat.

"You weren't that subtle," Heero says between bites.

"Was I trying to be?" Trowa asks, licking some of the sauce from his fingers. Heero rolls his eyes and holds out a napkin for him.

"What will you do about Heavyarms?"

"Quatre thinks it'll be better to wait until the spring to detonate them. He's worried the cold will interfere somehow."

"Is that his theory on why Zechs was able to rebuild Wing so accurately?"

"Probably," Trowa agrees. "It'll also give us time to move the Gundams out to a secure location."

"So you are going to use the self-destruct." He takes a bite, chews thoughtfully. "Wufei won't join you."

"I didn't think he would," Trowa agrees. They turn onto the main street, heading back toward the hotel. The snow is falling heavier now, collecting in their hair, dusting their shoulders. "I think Quatre has a good chance of convincing him to get rid of Altron on his own, though." Heero nods and Trowa bumps his arm gently. "What about Zero?"

"It's in bad enough shape that the detonator should get rid of it for good. They can't move it yet, maybe it should just stay buried."

"That would be an act of aggression," Trowa comments. He drops his empty wrapper into a city trash bin as they pass. "Blowing up the Presidential House isn't exactly a declaration of peace."

"Or, blowing up the Gundam could be a statement on the seriousness of peace."

Trowa shakes his head and tilts his head back to stare up at the flurrying snow. "I visited the bunker. You'll have your work cut out for you. Not just the Preventers either – it's still clogged with reporters and spectators."

"It's not like I haven't infiltrated enemy territory before." He catches Trowa's eye and frowns. "You know what I mean."

Trowa sighs and buries his hands in his pockets as they wait for a changing light. "You aren't going to tell the others about this plan, are you?" Heero shrugs and steps out into the street as the light changes. Trowa sighs again and follows him across the street. "Wait a few days at least? We tried so hard to reduce casualties, I'd hate for it to be for nothing."

. . ... . .

Wufei is in the room when they return. He's bent over the table, whetstone in one hand and sword in the other. There's a small bottle of oil next to him and discarded room service plates on the far end.

"Where are Quatre and Duo?" Trowa questions, hanging his jacket in the closet to dry. He shivers in spite of the heated room and Heero frowns at him as he hangs his own jacket.

Wufei looks up from where he's examining the sword blade. "They went for Thai," he replies. He returns his attention to the sword in his hands. "I had a headache."

"Duo?" Heero asks.

"Winner," Wufei mutters and Heero smirks. He imagines Quatre spent a good portion of the afternoon trying to convince Wufei of his plan. Trowa quietly collects his belongings, disappears into the bathroom. A few minutes later the pipes in the walls groan as the shower turns on. Heero takes a seat across from Wufei, pulls out his gun and begins disassembling it.

"What do you think of this self-detonating nonsense?" Wufei asks, voice quiet.

Heero shrugs. He tilts the handgun for better lighting, checks the slide carefully. "Quatre believes it's the right thing to do," he replies.

"I know. He was very impassioned while we were moving Nataku to the warehouse." Wufei pauses, looking at Heero. "I asked what you thought of it."

"Duo made a good point. The Gundams were a symbol of the colonies' desire for peace. They have that now." He fiddles with one of the bullets, running his thumb over the tip of it. "Maybe this is our chance to stop fighting."

Wufei's quiet, considering. Heero checks the barrel, begins to reassemble the gun. "What about Barton?" Wufei asks. "What are his thoughts?"

"You could ask him," Heero counters.

Wufei sets his sword and whetstone down in front of him. He carefully runs his thumb along the edge. "I don't think we're on the best terms right now," he states wryly.

"You might be surprised, he's pretty forgiving," Heero replies.

Wufei studies him for a moment. The pipes groan again as the shower shuts off. "I suppose he is. He did forgive Winner for the amnesia, didn't he?"

Heero shrugs. He rechambers the magazine and sets the gun aside. "It's up to you, Wufei. No one's going to force you to detonate Altron. Just remember, someone out there will always want to have the most firepower, why set the bar high?"

The bathroom door opens and Trowa pads out silently. He walks over, takes the seat next to Heero and grabs the medical bag. Wufei raises an eyebrow and Trowa shrugs. "Part of his parole," he comments.

Heero's eyes narrow, but he obediently removes his shirt, as Trowa steps behind him. He takes the bottle of antibiotics Trowa hands him, dry swallows two automatically. Trowa peels the bandage back, fingers light against his skin. He maneuvers Heero until the burn is properly lit by the overhead light. "It's looking better," Trowa comments.

Wufei gets up, sheathes his sword before placing it and the whetstone away in the bag he'd brought with him. "Can we trust Winner's judgement?" he asks, looking over at the other two pilots.

Heero feels Trowa's hands still on his back. "I think so," Trowa says, voice loud in the quiet room. "He's always seen peace as attainable. Maybe we're looking for imaginary battles."

Wufei nods, sits down on the rollaway bed and watches as Trowa resumes his work on Heero's shoulder. "Maybe," he agrees.