Um, the usual: I do not own Gundam Wing or the characters (though sometimes I wish I did) except for Mia.

Cautions: Cursing, Some Violence (though it sucks), Yaoi-ness, Firearms ... those sorts of things. And now, on with the story . . .

Chapter Three: Closure

"There has been a rumor of a small but powerful faction just outside of L2. At this particular time we are not sure what their intentions are, but they can't be good."

All five Gundam pilots were strewn around Heero's laptop in the living room, anxiously listening to Sally Po fill them in on a new situation that was currently on the rise.

"We do expect, however, a public announcement some time tomorrow, so be on the look out for it; it may mean another mission for our five favorite people." At this Sally allowed herself a grin and paused, sitting back in her chair awaiting any questions.

"Have there been any mobile suit movements?" Heero asked professionally.

"Only a few," Sally answered. "It's all very unclear and unprecedented. That's why we must be careful; there haven't been any other movements such as this so far."

"Under what circumstances would we be called into action?" Quatre asked.

"Only if there is the potential danger of harming any L2 citizens or the extensive mobilizing of troops from their faction."

Sally took a moment to take a look at her audience: Heero and Quatre were sitting in chairs right by the laptop, Duo was lying on the couch staring at the ceiling with an unnatural grimace on his face, Trowa could be seen sitting in an armchair not too far away, and Wufei was leaning against the wall staring at his shoes with a troubled expression on his face. When none of them questioned her further, she spoke again. "I will contact you if we receive any more credible information. Until then, be careful, some of our agents have seen a few members of the faction on various colonies, even in your neighborhood. Po out."

The video screen flickered and died, returning to the normality of Heero's desktop. No one said a thing. A feeling of soberness and anxiety hung thick in the air as they all sat there with their own thoughts. After several minutes, the only movement was that of Duo jumping up and off of the couch and running up the stairs, mumbling audibly, "I didn't really mean it."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Later that night all had gone to bed relatively uneasy, just as they always had when the implications of a mission haunted them. Quatre and Trowa rested in each other's arms, while Wufei lay awake. But he soon reasoned that if he were to never get any rest that his fighting skills would be horrendous; thus he, too, fell asleep. Then there were the two that seemed to be having the most trouble.

"I thought she was gone, Heero," Duo said quietly. "I really did. One day she just disappeared, and I figured she fell victim to the war. It's not like that was anything new..."

"Duo," Heero interrupted gently. "Duo —"

"But it just wasn't like her... she was too clever, too quick. She never would have gotten caught," Duo continued, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes at the lightest blink. "Why didn't I see that until now? Why, Heero?"

Heero looked down to the boy resting on his bare chest, fighting tears as he spoke from his heart. It would be terribly inconsiderate to interrupt with what was on his mind now, so Heero took to stroking Duo's unbraided hair, hoping to calm him down. The last few days had been anything but normal, turned upside down by one female. The one female that had raised many questions in Heero's mind, questions that he knew, now matter how inconsiderate, could not wait to be answered....

"Duo?"

"Yes, Heero?" Duo replied, stifling a shaky yawn.

"Duo, I need you to tell me something, and I want you to be completely honest," Heero said firmly.

"Of course, Heero."

"Do you like her?"

Duo yawned. "Of course I do, Heero, that's a silly question."

"No, Duo. I mean, do you love her?"

"..."

Heero's heart clenched at the sound of no response. Slowly, with all the courage he could muster, he stole a peek at his love, hoping to be able to at least decipher his expression. Heero soon relaxed, however, allowing a smile to creep up on him. Duo had fallen fast asleep, unbraided hair spilling around his angelic facade; a frame that captured his innocent beauty, Heero thought to himself. Stroking his hair a little longer, Heero leaned forward to place a kiss on Duo's forehead and rested back to stare at the ceiling in thought.

Racing through his mind was everything Sally had told them, everything he had read, his emotions, and his instincts. He tried not to piece Mia into the puzzle for Duo's sake, but he simply couldn't help it. There was definitely something going on with that girl, and Heero was set on finding out just what that something was.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Pass the sugar."

Trowa slid the small, glass sugar bowl towards Heero with a swift flick of his wrist. Heero caught the thing before it fell off the edge of the table and spooned several mounds of it into his coffee. Silence hung thick in the air; the only sounds were that of toast buttering, munching, the sipping of coffee, and the rather annoying tick of the wall clock.

Tick... tock... tick... tock.... Beep!

All five pilots looked up to the video phone on the counter, staring as it continued to beep and the screen flash with the warning of an incoming transmission. Almost immediately after sharing a glance, they jumped up from their chairs and crowded around it, hoping it was Sally phoning to give them some good news. Heero pushed a button and the screen flickered to show their messenger. It wasn't Sally.

"Well, well, well... what do we have here? The new Breakfast Club?" the person sneered.

"Who the hell are you?" Duo asked. The man was one they hadn't seen before, dressed as though he belonged to some sort of Satanist cult. The only color he wore was black, his hair was black -- even his eyes seemed to be that dark; and hanging from a thin gold chain on his neck was a triton with the prongs bent over to the left encircled in a... well, circle.

"Who I am is not important. It's what I have that is. I seem to have something special of yours, Duo Maxwell."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, never having been a fan of mind games.

"Please, avert your attention over my shoulder," the man ordered. The camera was moved and focused in on a figured clad in all black as well. The curves of the figure proved it to be a woman, a woman whose long, silky black hair was blockading a proper view of her face. She was bound by chains that held her legs together, and chains that held her suspended from the ceiling by her arms; the position made her look like a living crucifix.

"Mia..." Wufei whispered, realization dawning. Heero remained stoic, Trowa placed an arm around a sickly-looking Quatre, and Duo opened and closed his mouth in angry shock.

"Mia! Mia, look up. Can you hear me? It's Duo." Inside, his mind was praying that she wasn't dead, it would be all his fault if she was. "Mia!"

"I'm afraid she can't hear you, Mr. Maxwell," the man said mockingly. "But..." he raised his voice, which carried and echoed eerily throughout the room, "Mia, my dear, say hello to our guests."

For a moment she didn't move, and she made no indication of ever moving again. But slowly, ever so slowly, her head began to rise and the curtain of her hair fell back onto her shoulders exposing a blank, expressionless face. Her almond skin seemed pale and there was a ripe, purpling bruise surrounding her left eye. Mia's eyes were, in fact, the only thing that made her look alive, and so clearly etched within them was a desperate cry for help.

"You sick bastard, let her go!" Duo lunged towards the video screen, and the only thing that kept him from smashing the thing into a thousand pieces were the firm grasps that Heero and Trowa had on either of his arms. "Son of a bitch! Let her go!"

"Now, now, Mr. Maxwell," the man chuckled calmly, "is that anyway to speak to her captor? I'm afraid that your language is not acceptable." He turned the screen away from Mia and back to himself, "You can give me an apology when you come for a visit. And you will be coming for a visit, Mr. Maxwell; your little girlfriend's life depends on it."

The screen went dead. Duo wrenched free of Heero's and Trowa's grasp and grabbed the screen, shaking it as though it would bring back the picture. Frustrated, he slammed it down to the floor and stomped on it with a ferocity that was enough to smash it into a million pieces.

"Duo," Heero started, reaching an arm forward to both comfort and stop him. "Duo, stop it."

Duo slapped Heero's arm away, but complied, seeing as it was broken enough anyway.

"Kisama!" Slam! Wufei's fist connected solidly with Duo's jaw, sending him flying backwards into Heero who stumbled slightly but caught him effectively. "Now how the hell is he supposed to tell us where to meet him?!"

Before anyone could even respond, the doorbell rang furiously — six times in quick succession — and there were several knocks on the door. Heero stood Duo up quickly before grabbing his gun from the back of his boxer-shorts and going to investigate.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"So what exactly is our plan?" Quatre asked. It had been two hours since their mysterious phone call, and the Gundam pilots found themselves on their way to a meeting with the Preventors unit currently working on the case.

"We don't exactly have one yet. We're waiting to see if Sally's got any other information," Lucrezia Noin explained, leading them all down a hall bustling with activity. However, things began to quiet down as they got closer to the meeting room. "I must warn you," she began, pausing in front of a pair of large oak doors, labeled "Preventors" in embossed gold lettering. "Miss Relena is also in there, and last time I saw her, she wasn't quite... stable."

The pilots exchanged wary glances as Noin opened the doors and they entered the meeting room. It was bright with the sun and unnecessarily lit lamps along the walls. In the center of the room was a large, round table, at least twenty cushioned chairs set around it, several of them already taken by Preventors. They recognized Sally Po immediately, and —

"Heero!"

Said pilot flinched upon hearing that oh-so-familiar screech of his name, and Relena Peacecraft–Dorlian had practically leapt up from her chair and over to him, where she gave him as formal of a hug as she could, guiding him to a chair placed, conveniently, right next to hers. Duo sat on his other side, and the other pilots filtered into sitting positions in much the same fashion; albeit, of course, with no screaming girls tugging on them. They all exchanged glances again, Relena really didn't look so well. Her eyes were wide, red-rimmed, and puffy as though she had been crying and as though she hadn't slept. Her clothes and hair were slightly disheveled, and if anyone knew Relena personally, she always took pride in appearing her best for formalities such as these. Not only for that, but also for maintaining her cool, calm, and collected composure.

Noin gave him a look that clearly said 'I told you so,' and took her place next to Sally at what was obviously the 'head' of the table. Sally nodded to a tall, muscular man standing to her left who immediately went to Relena's chair and whispered something in her ear. Seemingly having caught some composure in the time everyone was getting settled, she nodded slowly, and quite reluctantly stood from her chair, making her way out of the meeting room with the man. She gave one last desperate look to Heero before the man closed the door and she was cut off. They heard her sobs echo until she was far enough away and out of ear shot.

All of the pilots looked expectantly and Noin and Sally. Noin sighed, and began to explain. "Miss Relena was on L2, promoting the newest idea of the Unified Nation's in the long plan for ultimate peace. A small group began to protest quite rudely — the group we believe comes from this new faction — and soon it turned violent. There was a pure riot, and shots ended up being fired. We think they were there to make an assassination attempt on Miss Relena, because she is so well-loved by the people."

"Not only that, but because she is an advocate for the so-called Rebel-Gundam Pilots," Sally continued, eying Heero, Duo, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei warily. Noin somewhat struggled to regain her composure. "We think that this does not have much to do with the Nation's peace plan. Or, perhaps, it does, and they're trying to get the Gundam pilots out of the way so that their path is clear. Quite fortunately and unfortunately, someone was there to stop the shots fired at Relena. Pagan was killed saving Relena's life."

Silence hung thick in the air as the pilots absorbed it in. Relena almost died, and Pagan did die, because of them, the Gundam pilots. But at the same time, they were slightly puzzled.

"But ... what has Relena so upset?" Duo questioned. "It's not like she's never faced violence or a gun in the face before." He flicked a quick glance to Heero, then back to the two women. But it was Quatre who answered him.

"Pagan was Miss Relena's only connection to the only family she's ever known," he replied. "He's been with her since she was born, counseling her, comforting her, keeping her somewhat the child that she is and keeping her from completely being transformed by the responsibilities she has taken on." He paused, then, "He was what kept her sane, in a way."

Silence had fallen once again. Although they were all trained to be courageous and do what they had to do, it was somewhat difficult to execute plans when there were so many risks involving so many people who were close to them all.

"It is obvious, then," Heero began, "that Relena is to be placed under high security."

Sally Po nodded, "Absolutely."

"It is imperative that we do that," Noin added.

"But we must also discuss what we are going to be doing in order to get this under control," said another, male, Preventor. The seven of them nearly started, they had forgotten there were two others.

"Correct," Sally replied. "Gentlemen," she continued, speaking to the two unknown Preventors, "I need you to stand by in the Video Communications Center. Please alert us if there is any knew developments pertaining to this case."

"Yes, ma'am," they replied, standing and leaving. The pilots had a feeling they resented having to leave, however, and, ultimately, had a feeling that those two were not going to continue working on the case. Directly, anyway.

Once the door had closed again, and the men's footsteps faded away, Sally Po and Lucrezia Noin turned back to the pilots.

"We received a mysterious phone call," Duo started, and thusly the whole story poured out. They explained the Satanic looking man, his female hostage (who they explained as an old friend), and showed them the note and package that had been left upon their doorstep. The note read: See you within 48 hours. And left a set of directions and an address of location.

"We have yet to open the box," Trowa said, once Noin and Sally pulled it towards them. "But we are fairly sure that there are no explosives in it."

"It wouldn't be the asshole's style," Duo added. Sally pulled the cover from the box and knit her brows in confusion. Whatever was in there was covered in black tissue paper. She slowly dismantled the wrapping, and drew out a small and seemingly hand-sewn black teddy bear. Around its neck were several strands of long, silky black hair, tied tightly into a bow, and dangling from it was a small, silver, heart-shaped locket that looked extremely delicate. On the front of the locket was a Chinese rune engraved in thin lines. They all turned to Wufei, the former Chinese scholar.

He didn't look back at them, but gently fingered the rune. "Courage ... protection." He paused, pursing his lips a bit. "Love."

"So then it's not some sort of hidden message," Noin concluded aloud. Her brow creased.

"No," Duo replied, his voice tight, "it's hers." He picked the bear up from the box and placed it on the table. He moved to open the locket, just as Sally voiced a question.

"What is her name?" she asked.

Duo succeeded in prying open the heart-shaped locket. On the inside of it, looking back up at them all was a picture of two young children, a girl with long, silky, dark hair and cinnamon colored eyes; and a boy with long, wavy chestnut hair and indigo hues. She was giggling and smiling at the boy, who was grinning mischievously, his eyes alight.

The question hung in the air, and they were all mildly surprised when Heero answered, slightly stiff, "Mia. Mia Maxwell."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The meeting lasted several hours more, well into the night, until everyone had been talked hoarse. They'd only come up with a sketchy plan, if that. But one thing had been decided: they had 48 hours to rescue this young woman and dismember this faction. Sally Po had done some digging around in the computer resource lab, using the information and description the Gundam pilots had given her. They discovered his name, his basis (which matched the address given) as well as his connection to the faction. The odd thing was, he seemed to be the faction. Or at least the leader of it.

The pilots retired to on-premises rooms, which were shown to them by both Sally Po and Lucrezia Noin. They had a long day ahead of them, and they all wanted to be right there so as to make optimum use of their so-limited time.

Before retiring for the night the pilots congregated in Heero and Duo's room, sitting around a table that was off to the side of the bed. All of them except for Duo, who was lying on the bed on his back, arms behind his head. He hadn't said a word since the teddy bear had been found and the pilots expected that the small bulge in his pocket was the teddy bear; he'd taken it with him.

"What do you think they're after?" Quatre was asking, frustrated. "It doesn't make any sense. I thought the people realized something after Dekim Barton manipulated Mariemeia."

"There are still those out there who would rather cause destruction," Trowa answered confidently. "They know no other way but war and violence."

"Yes," Heero agreed, "but why does this concern us, and not the Romefellar Foundation?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Wufei asked irritably. "We were the ones who inhibited the space colonies from complete control."

"But we didn't fight just against them," Quatre said. "We fought both Zechs and Treize in that war."

"They don't give a damn about that, Quatre, don't you see?!" Wufei stood. "Whether we fought against both of them doesn't matter. We fought against Zechs and therefore the colonies. Whether we fought Treize as well is of no concern to them. We still fought them." He slammed his fist onto the table, causing Duo to look over at him. Wufei's face, though contorted with fury, was a perfect mask that hid all else. But Duo saw the frustration, anger, and, he thought, worry behind the angry sparks in his eyes. He turned from the table, kicking away his chair, and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Trowa asked.

"To yank the big stick out of his ass," Duo said, finally speaking.

Wufei tugged open the door. "Fuck you, Maxwell." And he left, slamming the door behind him. Duo went back to staring at the ceiling.

Wufei hastily made his way down the hallway to the room he'd previously decided he would take. It was one of the few rooms that contained a small, quiet, and neat atmosphere. He took the key from his pocket and entered, not bothering to flick on the lights. He went straight to a small cabinet and took out several things: four fat, white pillar candles, a small wooden box which smelled of his incense, an empty coke bottle which had been washed, and a small, silver lighter which was intricately carved with dragons and Chinese runes. He took these items to an unoccupied corner of his room, placing them down as he grabbed a small area rug in the front of his bed. Wufei set this down and sat on it, so that he was facing the corner. He organized the candles so that there were two on either side of the coke bottle, for symmetry. He then grasped his lighter gently in between his palms, crossing his legs in an Indian-style position and bowing before his small, makeshift altar. Wufei lit the candles one by one, muttering a dedication as each wick welcomed flame.

"For clarity," he began, lighting the first candle, then he lit the others, one by one. "For protection. For courage." Then, softly, "For love."

He bowed once more, inhaling the warm wisps of smoke each candle subtly gave off, now going by the light that danced on the walls. He opened the small wooden box, removing two sticks of incense. Wufei held the lighter up to the Sandalwood scented stick, setting it alight. He waited a moment before blowing the flame out and placing the smoking incense into the coke bottle. "For vision." He then picked up the Jasmine scented stick, closing his eyes and letting the fragrance wash over him. Wufei felt his skin flush and he quickly lit the incense, waiting a moment before blowing it out and placing it, smoking, into the bottle with the other. "For Mia."

Wufei bowed again, palms together, before standing fluidly. He went back over to that same cabinet and took out a small box, so small he could enclose it within the palm of his hand. Wufei took this back over to the mat and his altar, placing it down on the floor. He then tugged at the bottom of his shirt, bringing it up and effectively over his head. The silver chain around his neck glinted and sparked as the candles' light playfully rebounded off of it and something small and circular hanging from it. Wufei let his hair down and once again sat with his legs crossed, Indian-style. He moved the small box in front of the coke bottle and bowed in front of his altar. He deeply inhaled, the smoky scents of burning wicks, Sandalwood, and Jasmine entering his mind, flowing in comforting waves over his entire body. Wufei felt himself flush once more, and exhaled with disciplined timing.

He set to meditation.

"Please, spirits, I ask of you to guide me, to protect me," he said earnestly. In that moment, all buried emotions poured out from their locked box, leaving Wufei feeling tiny, lost, and utterly alone. "Show me my path, let me see the light." He paused. "Nataku, forgive me, for I have doubted your existence. You live. You have always lived. You were alive in the spirit of my Meiran, your courage and independence possess many others. Please, share with me your enlightenment."

Wufei regulated his breathing and cleared his mind, falling into a deep meditative state that he hadn't reached before. He would have pulled away, but he felt warm and safe, and in the back of his mind, he could have sworn he saw a pinprick of light to be reached. He began to blindly run for it, this meditative Wufei, yearning for the comfort and the knowledge that light would have for him. His mind was racing.

Tell me what to do ... Help me. Protect me. Guide me. Oh gods, tell me if it's over. Am I to go on? Is she still with me? I've run for too long, but she has found me. Why does she bring me so much pain? So much confusion? Mia ... I have to save her. I love her.

How can you love her? You don't even know her.

But she looks like Meiran ....

But she isn't.

She's special. I love her.

She's going to die.

No! I will find her. I will save her. It is my destiny.

And what of her own destiny? Her date with demise?

I will find her. I love her.

You don't know her.

Yes. Yes, I do know her. She looks like Meiran.

She's not! The voice hit his mind with such vehemence that Wufei's body jumped and he gasped in a jagged breath. He felt scolded and foolish.

Tell me, he begged. Please, tell me.

What is it you feel, child?

Desire. For the past. I want the past back. So many lost years ...

And?

Wufei concentrated. He felt the light growing closer. Renewal. C-closure. Affection.

The past is gone, Wufei. Meiran is gone. Meiran will never return.

Why does she hurt me so? Why does she frighten me? Meiran never did that.

She is not Meiran. Meiran was never your destined.

Then why did losing her —

Because you grew to have a familial affection towards her. You must move on. Mia is her own person.

I love her.

You can't. You don't know her. She is not Meiran.

She is not Meiran ... she is Mia. She is Mia. Not Meiran. She is ... beautiful, humorous, independent, courageous, proud .... She's ... Mia. Special.

You must let go.

I can't let go. Please ... help me. Show me my path ....

You already know your path.

And just like that a jolt of electricity shot through him, Wufei felt his mind clouded by the light he had been so desperately reaching for. Slowly, he became aware of his breathing, extensively labored, as though he had been running non-stop for hours. He felt his quickened heartbeat, the sweat pouring down his face and his chest. He felt an aching loss of emotion. Wufei felt a drop on his hand ... and then another. Wufei Chang, Gundam pilot, proud, Chinese scholar, stuck in his own ways with justice and weakness, was crying.

"Do not allow this foolish weakness," he said to himself. But it didn't work, his heart wasn't in it. Wufei had just had a major revelation: he'd been hypocritical of himself. He had always been against weakness, especially of showing weakness, which especially meant crying. But he also considered weakness to be stupidity. Burying all of his emotions and his past had left him with a lot of pent up energy and emotions which he'd attempted to put away forever. Mia had somehow unlatched the basket in which they were being kept, and he was overwhelmed with them all. To think he could deny human nature had been stupid. Wufei had been weak all along.

Wufei did some breathing exercises to calm himself down. The few tears he had shed were gone, and he felt himself renewed with strength and purpose. He felt knowledgeable and, in a way, blessed. Slowly, Wufei opened his eyes, mind alight with the path he was to follow. With delicate and precise motions, he unclasped the chain from the back of his neck, staring at the article hanging from it for a moment. He then held one end of the chain, and held his hand out, palm open, beneath the other. The object that had once been suspended on this fine, silver chain slid right off and into his palm. Wufei placed the article into the satin-lined box he retrieved from the cabinet, and quickly clasped the chain back around his neck. He picked up the box and observed the object inside: it was a ring, silver like the chain, and small, fit for a feminine finger. On its band there were carved dragons and, at the widest part, the old L5 crest of the royal family.

Wufei drew in a deep and shuddering breath. The incense had long since burnt out, and the open window to his right doused the candles, leaving him with only the faint, almost non-existent light of the moon. His fingers twitched, and the box snapped shut with a resounding click.

"Rest in peace, Meiran," he whispered.