Warnings: This fic is a sequel for 'Rapiers and Scimitars', it may be wise to read R&S before reading this. ^_^ This fic does contain violence, angst, lemony lime, sappy Duo & Hilde Maxwell, preggie Hilde, temperamental Dorothy, and anything else my demented mind and the help of my complaining muse named *drumroll* Muse *^_^*
Clowns and Spies
Chapter Four
It was a somber trio of Preventers that walked into the shuttle port. Duo
shoved his hands into his black jacket pockets and stared through dark
sunglasses. His face was drawn in a tight frown as his gaze drifted over
his companions. He hadn't slept in forty-eight hours and it was beginning
to show. He hadn't seen his pregnant wife in forty-eight hours. He hadn't
showered in forty-eight hours. He had, however, spent two sleepless nights
calming the press and issuing an investigation for three murders.
Quatre Raberba Winner ran a hand through his oily hair, making a face as
he wished for a bath. He wiped his hand on his khaki pants and sighed.
He was also tired, but had been allowed a quick nap earlier. He glanced
at Duo and marveled at the American. Duo had proven himself worthy of being
Preventer Head the last two days. The braided American had handled the
situation with a level head, yet still had time to issue orders to his
own team.
A yawn escaped past Sally's lips and the two men glared at her as yawns
burst free from their own mouths. She smiled apologetically, "Sorry."
"Interesting welcome party." A laughing feminine voice teased and three
heads swerved to stare at a smiling Lucrezia Noin. She had one hand placed
on Zechs's arm and a ring glittered from where it hung on a thin silver
chain around her neck. The sight of the trio's haggard faces instantly
caused her smile to fade. "What's happened?"
Duo sighed, "Not here. The news doesn't know, yet, and they don't need
to know."
Zechs's eyes narrowed, "Where's Relena?" Noin placed a reassuring and restraining
hand on her fiancé's shoulder. Preventer Wind had stiffened at Duo's
words and Sally exchanged a glance with Lucrezia.
The American glowered at the ground; "She's fine. At least physically…
Heero's with her. Now, I'm not going to stand here forever." He spun around
and stalked out of the port, Quatre sighed and jogged after Duo while the
others watched.
"I've never seen him so stressed…" Lucrezia whispered, her hand slipping
from Zechs's shoulder as the tension slowly left the man. Sally shifted,
rubbing her tense neck.
"He has reason to be stressed. Come on and I'll show you. Duo's right about
the news. Right now, its better if it's kept silent." The former doctor
motioned towards the two's bags. "We've a car waiting outside and you'll
be briefed once we reach HQ."
Noin watched Sally worriedly as she picked up her brown bag with its Preventer
logo and followed her friend outside.
*
Dorothy ran a finger along the outline of her lips, wiping away any extra
lipstick. She stood back and viewed her image, allowing herself a confident
half-grin. Her blonde hair fell in curls around her face, a shining golden
ribbon tying a few curls away from her face. Bright golden eyeshadow and
lipstick decorated her features and matched her outfit. The clinging gold
bodysuit left nothing to the imagination, which had been the point. It's
plunging neckline and the slits at the hips and calves suited her just
fine. She wore no shoes and was rubbing white chalk on her hands when the
door opened and Trowa walked inside.
The Duchess turned around and eyed his costume. The clown costume strangely
enhanced the man's looks and he held a half-mask in his left hand. He stared
at her then shook his head. "You're next."
She checked her image again, ignoring his expression of disgust at her
vanity. Dorothy faced him once more, smirked, and walked out without a
word. The acrobat raised an eyebrow at this, but merely followed her outside
and to the tent. She calmly waited at the edge of the tent, her eyes watching
Clay for her cue. Trowa stood behind her and once again the triplets giggled
and pointed at them. The acrobat ignored them and placed a hand on Dorothy's
shoulder. "I'll watch the crowd. If you see anything, signal me."
She smirked; "Of course, mother." The Duchess looked away as Clay easily
caught Jamie's hands and the couple swung back and forth. Dorothy faced
Trowa and her smirk widened, "How about a good luck kiss?" She peered up
through long eyelashes and her lips tilted upward with delicious grace.
His emerald eyes watched her and his face slowly leaned forward and Dorothy's
eyes widened a fraction as his lips lowered toward hers.
"You're on."
He spun her around and with a small push, Dorothy entered the ring. A slight
flush painted her cheeks as she sauntered forward among applause from the
whistling audience. The ringmaster announced her as, "Our newest young
star, the talented and daring Lavender Gladius!"
Even as she waved to the crowd and climbed the ladder leading to her bar,
inside she seethed. He had purposefully made a fool of her. He had used
her own tricks against her and she'd nearly… Dorothy posed before gripping
her bar and pushing off, allowing her lithe figure to swing through the
air. She wouldn't worry about what had just happened. He had surprised
her and unfortunately there was nothing unusual about that concerning who
he was. But she could plan revenge and she was a master at
that fine art.
She swung her body upward, wrapping one leg around the long rope that held
the bar. One hand still held onto the bar while she waved with the other.
The audience applauded and Dorothy smiled as she gripped the bar once again
and pushed. Her leg unwrapped from the rope and she stood straight, her
arms holding her weight. She dropped her legs and swung downward then up
so she was sitting on the bar and holding onto the ropes. She slowly stood
on the bar and grinned as she began to climb one of the ropes. Years of
thievery, the art of spying, and fencing had gifted her with great balance
and strong arms. It was those reasons she'd chosen trapeze. Assassinations
could include doing dangerous feats in the air with merely a thin rope
to support you.
She wrapped her left leg around the rope and held on with one hand as her
body leaned backwards, the other leg stretching outward. Dorothy began
to slide back down to her bar and placed a foot on the long white pole.
Her left foot touched the bar, joining her right, and the Duchess's eyes
widened as the foot slipped. Her eyes wildly went upward to where the chalk
on her left foot had been wiped off on the rope higher up. Sweat had formed
at the bottom of her sole and she clutched to the ropes as she sought to
regain her balance. The bar was now trembling beneath her, the ropes swaying
with it, and she tried to lower herself in a sitting position. Another
trapeze artist was already hurriedly reaching for his own bar and she nodded,
realizing what he planned.
The bar was shaking now and causing her body to tremble with each jolt.
Panic did not grip the Duchess for she didn't fear death. Instead she tried
to calmly act as her left foot fell onto the bar, only to slide off once
again. She fell forward, her tight grip on the rope causing her to not
fall, but now her right foot had left the bar and it was swinging too fast
for her feet to find purchase. The other artist was now on his bar and
swinging slowly, trying to gain the velocity to reach her. She bit her
lower lip and loosened her grip on the rope just enough to allow her hands
to begin to slide down the rope. The rope's harsh fibers burned into her
palms, but she ignored the pain until her chin was level with the bar.
Slowly she released her right hand and gripped the bar, then came her left
hand… The bar and rope had slowed into a steady sway and she easily grabbed
the bar. Salty sweat caused the lacerations to burn and the chalk to…
He was close now… So close, but Dorothy knew even as the chalk was eaten
away by the sweat and the cuts on her palm began to both itch and pain
her…
Her hands slid off the bar and Dorothy fell.
*
"And there's no evidence?" Lucrezia asked as the Preventer council sat
or stood in the meeting room. She stared at the pictures before her, showing
the remains of Michael Trisp and his room. She ran a finger along the picture
of the gruesome message; 'Failure is not an option'.
Duo shook his head, "Whoever did this knew what they were doing. The explosion
was probably set mere seconds before his death. It hints that the two are
connected, the explosion a distraction as the killer set to work." He leaned
back in his chair, his feet propped up on the table. "We have a few suspects,
but no substantial evidence."
"Who?" Zechs asked from where he stood behind the sitting Noin. He picked
up the file containing Michael's information and flipped through it as
Sally answered.
"Une's cell was situated just before Michael's and we do not know what
she did during the time Quatre fell unconscious and when he awoke. We do
know that she was found standing before the cell, a dead Preventer at her
feet and a brutally murdered prisoner before her."
"However, Michael's death took time and Quatre swears he had to have fainted
when the explosion was set off. He and Une found Preventers still helping
medics when they left the tunnels. It points to reason that whoever killed
Michael did so while Quatre was still conscious and questioning Une." Duo
stared at the ceiling and Quatre winced at his words. The American was
probably right and it was shameful to think that the killer had been murdering
Michael while he was sitting in the cell right across from Michael's.
"Or Michael could've been dead before Quatre even talked to Une." Sally
voiced, "Midii Une was summoned to Michael's cell and was late for a meeting
with Duo. No one knows where she was between the time she supposedly left
Michael's cell and reappeared during the chaos after the explosion."
Duo sat up, his feet falling off the table, as he hesitantly picked up
the last file sitting at the bottom of the three suspects' folders. "And
then we have…" He glanced at Quatre, but the Arabian wouldn't meet his
eyes. "Quatre Winner. Who left to question Lady Une without authorization
and we have only his word and Une's that he passed out." Both Lucrezia
and Zechs jerked at the third suspect's name and turned to stare at the
blonde Winner. The American leaned forward, "Quatre, why did you go to
Une's cell without authorization?"
Quatre glanced at Sally; "I received a message upon reaching earth from
Sally. It was encrypted and I must have decoded it wrong. I thought it
told me to interrogate Une."
The former doctor raised both eyebrows; "But I didn't send you a message,
Quatre."
Lucrezia opened her mouth, but was intercepted by loud knocking. Duo groaned
as they turned to stare at him as he was closest to the door and stood.
The braided American opened the door and raised an eyebrow at the figure
standing outside. Wufei glowered at him. "I need to speak with you, Maxwell."
Surprised, Duo excused himself from the meeting and followed Wufei.
*
"What's up, Wufei?" Duo asked as the Chinese man led him to Michael's cell.
The room had been kept the way it was, except for the removal of Michael's
body, and searched thoroughly. They had found nothing, but evidence that
Michael had been trying to sabotage the lock's wires with a pen. Where
the pen came from they didn't know, yet. Lab was still working on it.
"A theft has been reported." Wufei answered his eyes on the words that
seemed to mock them. Failure is not an option. "Doctor Sian
has informed me that a container of perchloric acid is missing. It was
being stored separately from the other chemicals and was just recently
discovered missing. They're unsure of how long it's been stolen, but their
last supply check was two weeks ago."
Duo rubbed a temple, "What does it do?"
"Contact with skin causes skin burns, pain, but its most dangerous when
inhaled. The fumes damage the lining of the throat, nose, and lungs." Wufei
kneeled, his eyes on the open lock with its numerous colored wires. He
frowned as Duo sighed and shifted his weight.
"Why would someone steal an acid?"
The Chinese man looked up, meeting Duo's tired violet eyes, "Not why would
they steal it, but who are they planning to use it on."
A grim silence blanketed the room.
*
Dorothy stared at the ground as she came to a sudden jerking halt, a hand
wrapped around her wrist. She looked up and into the coldest emerald eyes
she'd ever seen. Trowa hung from his bar by his legs and reached out to
grab her other wrist. His muscles stood out like granite as he held onto
her. She had been too involved in keeping her balance to realize that the
other trapeze artist hadn't worn the correct costume… She opened her mouth,
but his eyes narrowed. "Don't." The single word came form his lips in a
low, dangerous tone and the Duchess pressed her lips together.
It didn't take long for them to safely reach the ground and the audience
wildly applauded and cheered, believing the fall had all been an act. Trowa
gripped her hand, but it was a tight, unpleasant grasp. They bowed to the
audience, then Dorothy was unceremoniously pulled out of the ring and into
the privacy of one of the empty storage tents. He released her hand and
she watched as the acrobat literally trembled with rage as he faced her.
His face was pale and drawn, his emerald eyes seeming to sparkle with deadly
intent, and panic flooded the woman. That surprised her more than anything
he could now. She was scared.
"Trowa, we're on." Catherine quietly walked into the tent, her eyes watching
the two worriedly. She knew what had happened out there was no planned
act.
The acrobat hesitated, then sharply nodded and stalked out of the tent,
following his sister. Dorothy watched the two leave and slowly fell to
her knees. This was what she had wanted for so long. To anger the stoic
acrobat, to get a reaction out of him, and suddenly she wished she hadn't…
He had seen a part of her few had ever seen, vulnerability. In that brief
second, she'd feared the man. Feared what his quiet rage could do to her.
Because in that second, she had seen her own anger reflected in another…
She had destroyed people and their lives with such quiet anger… And to
be faced with such anger from another…
She buried her face in her hands and shuddered.
"Heero, how is she?" Duo asked as he faced his partner's image by vid phone.
In the background he could see Relena facing a fire, her feet curled underneath
her as she held a cup of coffee. Heero glanced toward the Minister before
answering the American.
"As well as can be expected." He spoke hoarsely and wouldn't quite meet
Duo's eyes. "She's canceled her meetings for the week."
"Good. She'll need the rest. How are you, buddy?"
Silence was his answer and Duo grinned slightly.
"I'll take that as fine. Have you received the information?"
Heero nodded, "Perchloric acid should be stored till used. Whoever stole
it is planning on using it soon." He glanced over his shoulder as Relena
shifted in her chair.
"Heero, how can you suspect Quatre? Everyone thinks I'm an idiot for even
mentioning it and only because you pointed out the evidence backing me
up did I even bring it up… But still why? He's our friend." Duo watched
as Heero frowned slightly.
"He doesn't have a reliable alibi."
They sat in silence for awhile, then Duo yawned and forced a grin. "Well,
I have a meeting. See ya, Heero." Duo hesitated then added, "She'll be
okay, Heero. She's a strong woman."
Heero stared at the American then slowly nodded and cut off the connection.
Duo stood as his office door opened, allowing Midii Une to walk inside.
She stood before his desk as he slowly sat back down. She held her folder
in one hand and he motioned for her to sit. "Have you read the information
inside that file?"
"Yes, but I don't understand what exactly you want me to do." She stated
as she eased her small frame into the comfortable chair.
"I want you to be available when needed. The Duchess Catalonia is under
special Preventer protection under guise as a civilian. Since you trained
with her, I suspect you understand that she can handle herself quite well
in that area." Duo studied the woman sitting before him, wondering how
much he should tell her. How far did her loyalties of friendship lie? Why
had Michael called her to his cell? Where had she been during those crucial
minutes between the explosion and the discovery of Michael's death?
Midii smiled slightly, "Where is she then?"
He leaned back, "The fewer people that know her exact location, the better.
You and a few others consisting of a team led by myself are merely given
the barest of details, that's more than most know. You are to continue
your regular duties, but if the Duchess should need our immediate help,
you will be one of the Preventers to rush to her aid. Understood?"
She nodded and stared at the small picture frame of him and Hilde. Midii
tilted her head and bit her lower lip before softly speaking; "You don't
trust me, do you? I know I'm a suspect for Michael's murder." She met his
violet gaze; "I didn't kill him."
Duo eyed her, his face unusually stern and suspicious then slowly he looked
away. "You're dismissed." A small sigh escaped from her lips as she stood
and left the room.
*
He didn't know where she was and at the moment he didn't particularly care. That was what Trowa repeated in his head as he opened the door to his personal trailer and walked inside. His furnishings were plain and functional; the only color was a vase of daffodils. The acrobat stared at the flowers then slowly turned his eyes toward the woman that stood beside the table holding the fresh flowers. She had changed out of her costume and now wore a pair of shorts she'd borrowed from Cathie and surprisingly one of his own shirts.
"I will not apologize." She stated simply once he'd closed the door and taken a step forward. "Nor will I thank you for saving my life. You chose to save my life and I believe that as it was your decision you should accept responsibility and not look for gratitude." Dorothy glared at him as if waiting for him to contradict her, when he made no move to she nodded once. She sat down and crossed her legs. They watched each other as time slowly ticked by. Dorothy's face was unnaturally void of her trademark smirk or simpering smile. Trowa blinked as outside cheers and laughter echoed outside.
The Duchess raised an eyebrow and glanced at the clock hanging on his white wall. "It's nearly midnight. Another year. AC 205."
She uncrossed her legs and stood, outside people began to get louder and louder as midnight slowly approached. "Do you have a resolution?" The blonde studied the man before her with soft blue-gray eyes.
"I have the same one every year." He answered, breathing in the sweet scent of daffodils. Trowa glanced at her hands where thick, white gauze had been wrapped around her palms. "To try and follow a very wise man's advice."
Dorothy tilted her head at him, "And that would be…?"
"The only way to live a good life is to act on your emotions."
She raised both eyebrows, "Oh? Interesting."
"You, Dorothy?" He kept his eyes on her small pale face as she looked away, focusing on the flowers she'd so lovingly arranged earlier. No answer came from her lips and he slowly nodded, accepting her silence.
"TEN!"
They both looked toward the closed door as the yells from outside penetrated the quiet. "Countdown." She murmured and he glanced back at her sharply.
"NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN!"
"Trowa."
"SIX! FIVE! FOUR!"
Dorothy smiled as she stepped closer, "Payback's a bitch."
"THREE! TWO! ONE!"
Her lips brushed against his as she whispered, "Happy New Year, Trowa."
The Duchess's lips pressed against the acrobat's and outside the people cheered.
*