Zodiac, Full Circle
Virgo

AN: For all relevant information about this fanfic, read the first bit of the prologue. Thanks to nayloushka_9 for beta-reading.


The dark clouds hovering over Vienna did not hold back even a single one of the droplets they were carrying. They hurled them to the ground below with great zeal, and left nothing lacking cover dry. The rainfall had nearly emptied the streets. A feeling of gray permeated the view out of the window of the taxi cab. Quatre sighed, made sure he still had the umbrella and cheap raincoat he had bought at the spaceport, glad he took the advice to buy the items from the Preventer courier that had met him there.

The cab made another turn, wheels splashing in the puddles gathering in the cobblestone streets. The courier had given a quick set of new instructions; meet Heero and a contact at a specified Vienna address, and search through the Romefeller archives for clues on Ziegler, his key, his research and his co-workers - some of whom might be in the possession of another piece of the key.

The vehicle came to a halt, and the driver tapped the meter before extending his palm to Quatre. He didn't speak; didn't have to. The driver couldn't speak English anyway; Quatre had figured that much out when he tried stating where he wanted to go. Still, they got by. Cabdrivers tend to be very good at breaking language barriers; this one was no exception. He checked the meter reading, reached for his wallet and counted up the right sum, rounded upwards to the nearest bill. The driver reached for the spare change box, but Quatre waved him off. The driver grinned and clutched the bills. "Danke schön."

Quatre smiled, nodded, readied his umbrella and stepped out of the cab. The wind had died down some, but the weather was still more than intense enough to soak both him and his backpack, if he wasn't careful. He shut the car door behind him, studied the building before him as the cab drove away. The iron gate was ajar, the only visible opening in the red brick wall surrounding the courtyard of the old museum. There was a small plaque by the gate; 'Ersach Museum, founded 3 AC.'. Another, much smaller plaque was below it, briefly stating the museum had roots far earlier than that, though the current building mass had been erected at the top date.

Quatre stepped into the paved courtyard, careful to close the gate behind him. There was no lock. The paved yard was empty, short of two parked cars near the main entrance. Presumably, there was another gate on the far side of the museum - the one he had just come through, wasn't large enough for cars. He could make out a figure standing by the great oak door. Heero. The other looked up, mild frown all the greeting mustered. Unlike Quatre, Heero had no raincoat, nor an umbrella. His unbuttoned denim jacket was as soaked as his matching pants and traditional green tank top. Quatre's smile faded to concern as he hurried over.

"Heero! You're going to catch a cold walking around like that."

Grunt. "The doors were locked and our contact isn't here. None of the ledges here are wide enough to provide shelter from the rain, because of the wind."

Quatre handed him his umbrella, put aside his backpack at an almost-dry spot close to the door, and began unbuttoning his raincoat.

Raised brow. "What are you doing?"

"I'm giving you my raincoat. It's not much, but it might warm you up a little."

Uncomfortable with the idea, Heero frowned. "Quatre, I-"

Smile. "It's okay, I can manage with just the umbrella. It isn't like we have to wait for much longer, is there? I thought I was going to be late..."

Bluntness. "You are."

Mild blush, sheepish grin. "Oh."

Heero glared towards the gate. "Our contact was to show up more than thirty minutes ago. Had I known he'd be late, I wouldn't be in this state. I would have sought shelter - an overpass, or an open store - anything I could find."

Quatre put the raincoat around Heero's shoulders, received the umbrella in return, moved to stand as close to the door as he could and pulled Heero closer. Thus, the umbrella above and Heero before him providing sufficient shelter from most of the rouge droplets at the mercy of the wind. "So, everything went fine at L2?"

Shrug. "I guess. We didn't find the amulet, though. Hilde did."

Puzzlement. "You mean Duo told her about-"

"No. She doesn't know what this is all about, but she stumbled across a token while Duo and I were away looking for it." He clenched his teeth, fought a mild shiver. "I think someone else knows, though."

"Oh? Who?"

"I don't know yet..." Another shrug. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid."

Quatre flagged a brow, not sure what to think.

Heero half-smirked at him. "Someone tried to access Howard's belongings while we were up there. When I heard Wufei had vanished, that tiny event suddenly seemed much more important."

Sigh into smile. "Maybe so... I'm sure we'll hear from Sally and Duo on Wufei's condition soon. Isn't it better to avoid jumping to conclusions?"

Faint snort. "Probably..."

Pause. Quatre looked toward the gate. The street beyond was quiet, except the uneven rainfall putting the storm drains to good use. He remembered a question or two Trowa had indirectly given him to ask Heero, and searched for the best way to phrase them. It might not be the best of times to ask questions, given that Heero might take flight rather than answer - and right now, his shelter was desired. Still... "Uhm... Heero?"

"Hm?"

"Uhm... Why did you visit Marshal Noventa's grave?"

Heero's eyes momentarily widened in surprise, but he shaped that into an accusatory glare soon enough. "How did you know-"

"A hunch, that's all," he lied, not very convincingly - but it didn't matter. He pressed on. "Heero, do you still blame yourself for-"

Heero looked away, and might very well have turned and walked away, had not Quatre grabbed a hold of his shoulders.

"You do, don't you? Heero..."

Growl. "That's none of your business, Quatre."

The frown transformed into resigned concern. "You're my friend. I'm making it my business. Heero, you couldn't know that-"

He made a half-hearted attempt to wrestle away, failing. "Look, I don't want-"

Quatre tightened the grip of Heero's shoulder, twisting Heero back into line of sight. "It could have been anyone of us, Heero - it just happened to be you." He sighed, looked down. "It happened to be you..."

Heero took a deep breath, rid himself of most of his anger that way, as well as his frown. "Yes, Quatre. It happened to be me. Therefore it's my problem, not yours - not Trowa's, not Duo's, not Wufei's. Mine. This is my burden to bear."

"Heero, that's stupid, and you know it. You've paid your penance already, several times over - we all have."

Back to scowl. "Have we? We botched up the original Operation Meteor twice, but we still triggered two wars. If we'd simply self-destructed from the get-go, then-"

"Then the Alliance would still be in power, or OZ and Romefeller would have had more trouble arranging their take-over, or the colonies would have built more Gundams, or something else entirely. Don't bother with 'what if' situations, Heero. They have no meaning."

Angry grunt. "We still killed."

Quatre hesitated, fearing a potential minefield ahead. "Yes..." He resumed eye contact. "Heero, we all have regrets - things we're not proud of. Do you think I don't have nightmares? I blew up whole colonies, Heero - do you have any idea-" Glare. Yes, of course he had. Quatre cut himself short there, sought another angle of attack. "It's the past, Heero. We have to work towards the future now. We only have the present in which to do things; we can't undo the past, or even bits of it."

Nod. "Which is one reason I try to remember my mistakes. I don't want to make them again."

Quatre opened his mouth to argue, but Heero gave him an even cooler glare, making it clear that particular conversation was over. He decided to let it go, for now. Sometimes, you had to give someone time and space to work things out on their own, or at least work them long enough to help them put together the pieces afterwards.

Minutes in silence passed. Another gust of wind sent a fresh batch of droplets at them. Quatre held up an arm protectively, shirt sleeve growing damp.

Heero gave a faint snort. "This is stupid - you should take the coat back. At this rate, we'll both get soaked."

Amused, Quatre smiled. "No, this way either both of us get sick, or neither of us. If we catch a cold, we might as well endure it together, don't you think? Being sick alone is really boring. Better to have a friend with the same problem."

Grunt, lopsided smirk.

"Look, I'm only thinking of-"

A third voice interrupted. "Of the best of others?"

Startled, both boys turned to the new arrival, the young lady slowly approaching them, covered by a transparent umbrella and a great, golden raincoat. She was smirking under her bright forked brows. "Young master Winner, you can be so predictable, with your great compassion." She snickered. "Heero Yuy, Quatre Winner, my two favorite Gundam pilots - how can I help you on this fine day?" She made a slight gesture towards the cloud cover.

"Dorothy..." Heero flatly stated. "You're our contact?"

Dorothy nodded. "Lady Une informed me the two of you needed to search the Romefeller archives, and asked me to assist you. Welcome to Ersach Museum, gentlemen - and more importantly, the wing of it holding what is left of the Romefeller archives." She collapsed her umbrella, fluttered it in the wind. "Shall we go inside? I can make us some warm tea - and by the looks of it, you two could use some."

Quatre stepped aside, let Dorothy approach the door. She picked a key from a coat pocket, opened the door and led the boys inside.

-------

The great oak doors opened to a great, dark hallway. The main passage took a turn to the left some distance ahead. Dorothy led them through a narrow door on the right, into a small study, bookshelves along all four walls, with gaps only for three doors, a single window in the far wall, and the fireplace to their immediate left. Quatre asked permission to light it up, something Dorothy granted before heading out another door, into an anteroom serving as a tiny kitchen, going good on her promise to make tea.

"Heero, you need to get out of those wet clothes - you'll catch a cold."

Heero shrugged. "I don't get sick that easily." Even so, he took the denim jacket off, and put it over a stool next to the now lit fireplace.

Quatre suppressed a chuckle, and dug around in his backpack, fishing out a towel. "Here, take this." He tossed it at Heero.

Whom caught it, only to stare first at it, then at Quatre.

Whom couldn't hold back the snicker any longer. "Go on - it's clean."

Heero grunted, but nevertheless used it to dry his wet, unkempt hair at least some. He glanced over at the side door, and hastily removed his tank top as well, wringing it up to remove the worst of the water. He placed it next to the denim jacket, tried wringing that up a little too, before toweling himself as dry as he could. He handed the soaked towel back to Quatre. "Thanks," he muttered.

Quatre hesitated at first, but then took the towel, spreading it out next to the stool. He chuckled. "You're welcome, Heero - oh, I'm sorry-" He went for his backpack again, and retrieved a white cotton T-shirt with a big yellow smiley on it. "Here."

Now Heero really frowned, gaze of ice.

Sunshine was over him, however, and he knew he'd soon lose. "Oh, come on... It's dry, you know."

Thaw. Spring came early.

Dorothy returned with a full tea tray just as Heero slipped the T-shirt on, the opposites of expressions now upon him, T-shirt hugging his still damp form, given that it was a size or two too small for him. She smirked, but didn't comment beyond that. That is, until she had put the tray away on the small coffee table opposite of the fireplace. "There's no need to be shy - feel free to wring up those pants of yours too, Yuy. Really, I wouldn't mind."

The sour end of Heero's expression scale glared daggers at her.

She was unfazed. "My, it was only a suggestion..." She gestured for the boys to take a seat, and poured up three cups of warm water from the kettle, offered a selection of tea bags and tiny crackers on a plate, playing good hostess. Heero declined by glare, Quatre sighed at him and accepted the offering.

Dorothy dipped a bag in her water hurriedly before wringing it up around her spoon. Her eyes were fixed on Heero the whole time though, the two of them in an undeclared glaring contest. At last, she admitted forfeit and sampled her tea, before putting the cup aside. "So, gentlemen - why did Lady Une request I play librarian for you?"

Quatre took a cautious sip of his own tea, satisfied with the taste. "While Romefeller has handed over copies of most documents, there are a few that the foundation has been reluctant, at best, in handing over. We need to check a few of those - membership records and any records of meetings or social gatherings arranged through the foundation, from present date and back some twenty-five years."

Raised forkbrow in surprise. "That would be quite a sample of data for simple browsing."

Quatre chuckled good-humouredly, and put his tea cup down on the table. "The big span is just a precaution - what we're authorized to dig through, with the requisition papers Lady Une gave us. We're really looking for information regarding a single individual, a former Romefeller member, who appears to have vanished some twenty years ago."

Dorothy nodded. "Do you have a name?"

"Ziegler. Herbert Ziegler."

She mulled on the name for a few seconds. "No, I do not believe I have heard that name before - but then again, it was before my time in observing Romefeller intrigues." She stood up, smirking. "I'll get his membership files from the archives. Which part of his social roster do you want?"

"All of it," Heero cut in. "We need to know as much as possible about this man, including any and all friends, contacts or business partners he might have had within Romefeller."

She nodded again. "You are aware the foundation records won't hold much more than what meetings, parties and social events this Ziegler attended? The records kept here usually hold the list of participants, times of arrivals and departures, maybe a topic - it is rare to find even a brief referendum of meetings, let alone-"

Frown. "We are aware your members kept most of their secrets well hidden. This is just for starters. If we know who he dealt with, we might get the leads we need."

With a shrug, she walked over to the third door, the only of the trio that was locked. "As you wish. Please, have some more tea. This might take a few minutes." She inserted and turned the key, and was gone, door snapping shut behind her.

Heero sat down in the chair next to Quatre, and ran a hand through his unruly hair. It was still damp. Quatre chuckled, but cut it short when Heero shot him a glare. The grandfather clock in the corner was allowed to play solo for a while.

Quatre cleared his throat. "Heero, you really should try some of this tea. It's quite good, and you look like you could use some. No offense."

Vague grunt. "No thanks."

Quick glance to the other's arms. "Heero, you're practically shivering, and you have goose bumps. Just admit you're a little cold, it won't hurt you." Cautious smile. "Not admitting it might. Despite your claim, you aren't impervious to sickness. I've heard stories."

Heero frowned in reply, and briefly tried to glare the friendly smile away. He failed. With a sigh, he took the last tea cup and held it out to Quatre. Soon enough, they both had a brew to sip from. Heero didn't comment it with words, but his body said thanks through the vanishing goose bumps.

The door to the archive opened, and Dorothy emerged, precariously balancing a stack of thick binders with a manila folder sliding about on top. She kick-locked the door behind her, and walked towards a desk at the far end of the room. Quatre intercepted her, and took some of the binders to ease her load. A huff later, Heero followed suit, albeit taking one more binder, leaving Dorothy with just two. He was first to the far side too, and unceremoniously dumped the binders on the desk plate with a satisfying thump. "Leave the binders, and I'll get started," he ordered as he sat down in the rickety, old office chair. Sensing Quatre was about to object, he amended "We need to search through this quickly - and I work faster alone and undistracted. Any other way would be inefficient."

Quatre wasn't happy about it, but accepted it as true, in this case. Heero's mind was best suited for this type of machine-like task. He left his binders, and Dorothy followed his example.

"Are these all of it?"

She chuckled. "Heavens, no." She handed Heero the manila folder. "This is a copy of his membership record. Those," she pointed at the binders, "are a small selection of the social calendars and meeting logs covering some twenty-five to nineteen years ago. You said he disappeared after that, did you not?"

Heero nodded. "Fine." And he got started, soon enough distanced from the world around him, entirely focused on the task at hand.

Dorothy shot Quatre an amused smirk, and got a friendly shrug in return. They left Heero to his pursuits. "Efficient though he may be, that task is bound to take quite some time. Would you care for a friendly game of chess?" Dorothy indicated the chess board set up by the far wall.

Quatre nodded his acceptance, and they set up the pieces. Dorothy chose black.

She gave a most sinister smile. "Black never clashes with gold, you see."

The blond shrugged it off. Dorothy's word games had lost quite a bit of effect over the years - especially following the chaos of their last battle. When someone stabs you for real, their words alone have little harmful effect. "Your move."

And another battle began, slowly at first, a pawn moved so, a more powerful piece thus, a few lost along the way. "Dorothy," Quatre began as he moved a knight forward. "Forgive me, I have to admit I was a bit surprised to see you here - I was under the impression we were to meet an archivist, or a historian, or a-"

She laughed, positioned a pawn. "Oh, but you are, my dear."

Perplexity.

Another pawn stepped forward. "You see, although it is not official yet, I have begun working together with this museum to gather a proper record and exhibit of the history of warfare, especially the more recent years. History in the making, and all that. Some time ago a good friend told me to 'quit sulking and stop living in the past'." Smile, eyes momentarily shut. "I suspect she was getting weary of the foul mood I was in at the time." Snicker. "Regardless, I decided to do something about it - and I found a way to keep living in the past, yet be in the present. Our work here might not be appreciated under the current public sentiments, but in time, it will be an important contribution, I'm sure."

Quatre's already raised eyebrow shaped an even narrower triangle. On the board, he countered her move, preparing his defenses.

"Oh, is it so hard to believe I have friends, Quatre?"

His expression softened, and he shook his head. "No - no, not at all. I didn't mean to-"

She waved him off. On the board, the onslaught began, the black peasant army on the march. "Oh, quite all right. I have grown somewhat fond of being thought... unstable."

The last word was spoken with such a flat, ill-omened tone that it made Quatre quite uneasy. The black knights cutting into his line of pawns didn't help, despite how he tried getting his rooks in position, and use his bishops to provide badly needed sanctuary for the humble white masses. "Uhm.. Your friend - You mean Relena, right?"

She nodded, her dark knights continuing the massacre, both surging forward in reckless moves, aided by the few black levies still on the board. "Yes." Cautious smile. "Isn't it strange, Quatre? She and I are so unlike one another, yet we keep drifting together. I'm almost ready to believe there is some truth to the whole concept of 'opposites attract' - my continued friendship with miss Relena certainly suggests as much, does it not?"

Quatre suddenly realized her plan; the knights weren't attacking his pawns, or even his bishops - they were heading for the king, which had precious little room to maneuver. Dorothy had a slight edge on him now, and she was obviously going to push it. "That may be..." He sighed. "I don't know - maybe opposites still have a lot in common."

"Oh? How so?"

He saw a solution, took care of one knight with his queen, saving him from a defeat. "They both care deeply for whatever topic they are at ends over."

Mild surprise, cackle. The remaining knight avenged his comrade in arms, removing the white queen, only to die at the hands of a vengeful king right after. Her attack was deflected, but Dorothy wasn't much bothered by it. "You may be right, Quatre. You may be right..." She shot a glance over at Heero. Three of the binders had already been put aside, whichever useful scraps of information they had contained now copied into Heero's mind. "Ever the efficient machine. If there was ever someone other than myself who were slow to pick up on the end of all wars, it would have to be him. He still obsesses over his tasks, just as he once did over tactical operations."

Quatre shook his head, and began his counterattack. With the black knights and all but one pawn gone, his many pieces had room to maneuver - though he made cautious moves. The game was not over yet. "You're wrong, Dorothy. He has changed too - it's subtle, but it's there. I'm not sure exactly how he has changed, but I don't get quite the same feel from him anymore."

Quirked forkbrow. "Feel? That famed empathy of yours?"

Their moves were quick now, and the center of the board was their battleground, one piece after another falling. Quatre had an edge in numbers, however, and he used it to the best of his abilities. He smirked, both at Dorothy's comment, and at a new battle plan. The white army advanced. "It isn't empathy. It's more like a strange, intuitive sixth sense. Sometimes, I just pick up these... these auras, and-"

"Empathy," she flatly stated, valiantly defending her king on the board - though with heavy casualties.

Quatre chuckled and sent his last two pawns forward, under heavy protection. "If you insist. My point remains, though. He has changed. We all have, in our own ways."

Dorothy rolled her eyes, tried crushing the little entourage with her remaining pieces, even throwing her king into the effort. "Vague. Philosophic. Utterly unsubstantial."

It was too late; Quatre's escort had reached the end of the board. "And true." Two farmgirls turned queens, and a few moves later, they had the nearly abandoned black king trapped. "Check mate."

Snicker. "Perhaps..." She tilted her king, though didn't let it fall, merely moving it around under her fingertip.

Quatre felt ill at ease with the sudden silence. He turned to the other ex-pilot. "Heero?"

"Hn?" came the reply, sour and preoccupied.

"Have you found any leads yet? Anything Dorothy and I can do to help?"

Sigh within snort. "No, and yes. Be quiet, and don't disturb me." And he went back to his task, making it clear he'd ignore any further attempts at contact.

Quatre sighed. Dorothy snickered. "So.. what is it you two are really looking for? I take it this Ziegler is a lead, but I can't quite grasp why the Preventers would want someone who hasn't been heard from in nearly two decades."

Quatre glanced at Heero, as if for guidance in what was too much information to divulge, and what wasn't. Of course, the other didn't notice, and would not have approved of any disturbance. In the end, he figured if Lady Une trusted Dorothy, they should too. "We're looking for a key."

"A key? What sort of key? Data key card, regular brass key, Rosetta stone, ceremonial key to some city or other...?"

Quatre grinned, shook his head. "Not quite. Ziegler left a sealed lab behind, and rigged it so we couldn't open it without a key."

"That must be quite an impressive seal."

"More like destructive." He bit his lip.

Dorothy opened her mouth as if to enquire further, but stopped herself. "I see..."

After momentarily closing his eyes for focus, Quatre continued. "It's not a regular key - it's shaped like a donut - A golden disc with a hole in the middle. It's filled with circuitry and mirrors, designed to interact with a panel in the door in a very peculiar way - that bit is still being researched on by Preventer agents. Also, it can be split apart into twelve distinct pieces, each of which apparently manipulates the current and light differently, apart from having a unique electronic signature. The good doctor split the key apart before he vanished, leaving us to search for not one, but twelve objects. We have found two of the twelve pieces."

"Intriguing," she said with a slightly bored tone, still toying with the black king.

Quatre didn't appear to notice. "Ziegler marked each piece with a member of the zodiac. We have the Aquarius and the Leo, and we're hoping to track down the rest. Those two were in the hands of old acquaintances of Ziegler, so we hope that by investigating his ties within Romefeller, we might find leads to more pieces of the key, by finding his friends and associates."

"Pieces of a hollow circle..." Dorothy muttered as she considered the shape of an individual piece. "And with a symbol of the zodiac on the surface?"

Quatre nodded.

She held up a finger. "Wait right there - I think I know-" She stood up, turned to Heero. "Heero, are you done yet?"

"Almost," came the answer. Heero was busy skimming the last binder.

"Did you run across the name Webster? David Webster?"

Heero paused to think. "I'm not sure. Maybe."

She smiled. "Well, look for it again. I'll go get something, I'll be right back." Before either boy could react, she was out of the room, once more in the archives. Heero glanced at Quatre, got a smile and a shrug in return. With a nearly inaudible grunt, he went back to the binders, Quatre coming over to read over his shoulder, much to his chagrin; it was almost as if the blond inferred he might miss something if left to himself.

Moments later, Dorothy returned with another manila folder. Triumphantly, she sauntered over to the desk, and placed the folder down, patting it twice. "I knew I had seen something like that before."

Heero and Quatre shared a glance, then both went for the folder. Quatre got there first by virtue of being closer. Within the dossier was a brief description of one David Webster, some personal information, some relating to Romefeller, a small synopsis of accomplishments worthy of Romefeller's attention - and thus their archives, and most important of all, a photo record. As if neither boy could spot it soon enough, Dorothy tapped a black-and-white picture featuring the same David Webster in full Romefeller regalia, and with one very important detail. To emphasise this, Dorothy reached for a magnifying glass resting on the table, sliding it across the photo. Around David Webster's neck was a triangular shape on a leather strap, and on the shape there was the vague outlines of a young woman, the contour of a bare breast showing.

"Well, would you look at that..." Quatre mumbled, mesmerized with another discovery.

Heero was less so, and immediately opened one of the binders, flipped through a good third, and began searching in more detail. Minutes later, he had found an entry. "Here. May 14th, 177 AC - a meeting where both Ziegler and this Webster participated. A few other names too, we'll have to run those by headquarters. Topic says... 'Rosebuds'?"

Dorothy laughed. "Rosebuds? Let me see." She did so forcibly, tearing the binder away from Heero, and laughed some more. "I can't believe it. Silly old men and their secret societies..."

"Dorothy, what are you talking about?" Heero asked, more than a little miffed at having the binder ripped out of his hands so easily.

"It's code. Quite old Romefeller code. It was meant as a joke when it was made, a simple jest to the intricacies and secrecies of other closed foundations. Either one of the participants thought it was clever to use a code, or they did so to make a joke. Either way, it was a silly idea."

"I take it the code isn't secret?"

Chuckle. "Hardly. It's historical, and public knowledge - in the relevant circles, that is."

Frown. "Then why bother with labeling the meeting at all, and recording it?"

She shrugged. "To extend an open offer of invitation to others within the organization, usually. They may have wanted people to know about the meeting."

"And what does 'Rosebuds' mean, then?"

"Financing. It was a fundraising meeting. The code doesn't suggest what for, though." She glanced at the binder again. "I know some of these names. All investors, if I recall correctly. Long-term investors."

"Long-term?"

She nodded. "The kind who won't expect a return on their money for several years, or even decades. They have money to burn and time to wait, if there's enough of a profit involved. Two of these were reputed for their gambles in investing. One was lucky. The other one is dead. Suicide, I think. Or euthanasia by loan shark, perhaps."

Quatre almost instinctively took a step back at her smirk.

Heero simply shook his head. "Regardless - if this Webster holds one of the pieces, we'll have to pay him a little visit. Do you have his address on file, or-"

"Oh, but there is a problem," Dorothy interdicted. "As I recall it, the piece of jewellery Webster wore was a grayish white, not golden." Smirk. "I think I know that color well enough to remember when I see it."

Grunt.

"Wait, you know him?"

Impatient sigh. "Yes, Quatre. I know him. Of him, at least. I wish I didn't, but I did have the displeasure of meeting him from time to time."

"What-"

"He considered himself somewhat of a playboy, even more so as he aged. Never mind he wasn't anywhere near the kind. He never married - which doesn't surprise me. He suffered from chronic unfaithfulness. The rumors has it he was engaged many times, but each and every one of those engagements were broken before they could be publicly announced in good society. Money is one thing, social stature quite another. He had the nerve to hit on me a few times, too. The last time, he left with a bruised ego and two broken fingers. He did not bother me at social events after that - not that there has been all that many since the war."

Quatre blinked, shook his head. "Are you sure it wasn't gold-colored?"

She nodded. "Yes - and he wore it almost religiously, if the rumors are to be believed. He supposedly considered it a good-luck charm in his conquests." Snicker. "Going from his track record, I'd say it was anything but that. Although... I can't remember him wearing it during the last few gatherings."

Heero grit his teeth. "So, you don't think he has it anymore?"

"Oh, David Webster doesn't have much of anything anymore - other than peace, perhaps."

Comprehending frown. "This record doesn't-"

She shrugged. "When the war was on, much of the updating of records was delayed. The end of the fighting permanently halted most of it. I'm still gathering funds to remedy that, but what's left of the foundation considers other pursuits than their history important. Their own amusement and welfare, for example." She huffed in contempt.

"So he's dead. Great."

Snicker. "Only for a few months." She ignored the glare. "Oh, don't be so glum about it, Heero. I'm sure he didn't take the piece of jewellery you seek with him to the grave - although, that would ease your search, wouldn't you say?"

Quatre intervened before Heero's glare could show real annoyance. "Dorothy, if he left it, hid it or entrusted someone with it - do you have any idea where, or with whom? We really need to-"

"Actually," she cut him off, "I have a fairly good idea where it is."

Heero flagged a brow. "You know where- did he give it to you?"

She shook her head. "No - not directly, anyway. I didn't think of it before, but now it makes sense..."

"What does?"

Serene smile. "Oh, he gave a few donations to this museum over the years, some replicas of famed works of art, some genuine. The fakes were quite exquisite, and our experts have had a hard time deciding which was which. I believe it was a practical joke on his part. If there's anything the poor man learned in his quests for companionship, it was that nothing ever came easy." She chuckled. "Not the 'things' he wanted, at least."

Quatre perked up. "You're saying it's here? The locket is here?"

She shrugged, took a few steps towards the door leading to the main corridor. "Probably. Among the things he provided this museum is a statue, a Venus de Milo. It is probably a fake, and was put in storage for that reason. It is still quite a nice work of art - but it has-"

"A locket?"

Nod. "At first, the curators thought it was part of the statue, and thus dismissed the statue as a fake - until a few months ago, when they realized it wasn't made of marble, merely colored and amended to look like it. The amulet itself and the thin necklace it was strung on was attached to the point of being cemented to the statue, but obviously not a part of it. They wished to remove it, but they didn't dare risk harming the statue - since it might be real."

Quatre wrinkled his nose, searched his memory. "But the real deal is exhibited in Paris, isn't it - at the Louvre?"

Her smile grew sly. "Yeees..." Brows high. "You think money can't procure stolen art, or exchange the real with copies so good nobody would notice?"

His eyes shimmered. "You have reported this to the Louvre, haven't you?"

"Why? We don't know if what we have is the genuine article. Until we do, why cause alarm? If it is fake - which is very likely - we would want to exhibit it as a duplicate. If it's the real thing... Well, we would cross that bridge if we come to it."

Heero had almost had enough. "So the piece is here, but is stuck on a chunk of marble."

Laugh. "That should just about sum it up, yes." Again, she ignored the frown. "Oh, come on, boys. We'll find you your little trinket, and a way to loosen it. The chief curator should know exactly where in the storage room the statue is kept. I'll go get him. Oh, and don't make the suggestion of merely chipping the piece off in his presence. He has a weak heart, except for art and history." And with a shrug and a chuckle, she was out the door.

Heero began to follow, but was held back by Quatre. "Heero, if the statue is real, we have to be careful not to damage it in any way."

Grunt. "Our objective is to save people, not art." He tore himself free of Quatre's loose grip, but it was too late. Once in the hallway, there were no traces of Dorothy, and several directions and doors to choose from. Not wanting to do nothing, Heero walked through the main arch doorway into the museum, ignoring the exhibits. Quatre was quick to follow. They came to a fork. "You go down that way, I go this way. If you find her, shout." He didn't bother waiting for a reply, or even an acknowledgement. He knew Quatre had heard him well enough, and he knew Quatre would hesitate, but obey.

And he was right. Quatre opened his mouth to speak to the retreating backside, but simply sighed instead. If nothing else, he would get to glance at whatever artifacts the museum held - he had to admit to himself he was curious.

Two aisles down, Quatre came upon a side arch with a great banner above it; 'ways of war; pre-historic to present'. From where he stood, he saw showcases with arrowheads, blunt stone axes and other assorted ancient weapons of war. There were plaques all around. Quatre continued down that direction, slowly advancing up through the ages, several sections branching off down other aisles; one for the Roman era, another for Napoleonic times, a separate one for each of the three so-called world wars. The main hall came to an end, and turned off into a final room. He froze in the doorway, gaping, short of breath.

He must have stood there for several minutes, for he suddenly became aware of the sound of approaching footsteps. They were still far down the main aisle, and he reacted immediately, walking towards the sound, knowing it was Heero. He did not want Heero to see this, he decided. Some things were best left forgotten, especially now. Quatre ran to meet him out in the hallway. "Not this way, Heero - it's a dead end. Why don't we-"

Heero gave him a glare, and walked past him. Quatre hurriedly caught up, and extended both arms to block Heero's path. "You're hiding something, Quatre. What?"

He relaxed his arms again, glad Heero halted. "Heero, please - let's just go back the way we came. I'm sure-"

A tight grip came upon his shoulder, almost tossing him aside. Heero strode forward, and made it around the corner before Quatre could even speak. All he could do, was follow, and bear witness.

Heero was immediately lost in thoughts - a good deal of which resembled nightmares. He stared at the familiar metal face, his jaw loose, making faint attempts at mouthing words, but not finding the air to pronounce anything. The massive skull set up on a column pedestal over by the far wall seemed to grin at him, at least the half that showcased the torn interior, rather than bruised faceplate. He would recognize that face anywhere - that of Wing Zero, left half of the faceplate torn away to reveal the framework and broken circuitry once concealed by gundanium skin.

Quatre grew concerned. "Heero..." he asked softly, but gained no response. "Heero," he reiterated, a little firmer, put a hand on the other boy's shoulder. He slid down to grab a hold of Heero's arm, tried to pull him out of there, away from the memorial to the past. Heero barely budged at first. At the third attempt, he let himself be dragged out of the way, back into the hallway.

Even with his back to the grim metallic skull, and around a corner, Heero remained too baffled to speak, a mixture of shock and surprise flooding his mind, not to mention memories tied to that machine. Bits and pieces the zero system had once scrambled now stirred to life again - and it hurt. He clenched his teeth, shook his head, channeled surprise and frustrations into anger and vindictiveness. Quatre gave him a concerned look; almost as if he sensed the change in him. The blond was about to ask when Heero got a target for his rapidly accumulating ire.

Dorothy approached rather stealthily, smirking. "So, you saw it?"

Frown. "Dorothy, what the hell is that doing here?! Wing Zero's parts were to be completely destroyed - melted down. I was told - what is that doing-"

She laughed, which did nothing to cool Heero's flaring temper. "Oh, it was supposed to be demolished - but the Ersach Museum, upon my suggestion, decided to... negotiate with the government about that - and you saw the result." She folded her arms. "As you very well know, only the cockpit was undamaged enough for repairs to even be thought possible. The piece of gundanium, plasteel and ruined electronics in there can't do anything. The circuits are fused beyond anyone's ability to even deduce their exact function - and the head is mostly a sensor package and ornament, anyway. The rest of your suit was melted down, as requested. What's in there isn't a weapon - it's a relic."

Quatre placed his hand over Heero's clenched fist, lowering it. "Dorothy, why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell Heero?"

Dismissive shrug. "I didn't feel you needed to know - at least not before the exhibit could open. We wanted to make it a surprise for everyone."

Heero relaxed a little, uncurled his fists and mellowed his almost snarling frown to merely greatly annoyed. "That it was, if nothing else..." He threw a glance over his shoulder. "I hoped never to see that thing, or any part of it, ever again."

She smirked. "Well, gentlemen... Surely, these machines which your very lives depended on not long ago, should be expected to feel somewhat like a lost limb, no?" Solitary chuckle. "At the very least, we, three of the four ever to endure prolonged exposure to the Zero command and control system, should know how subtly a machine can engrave itself on the fiber of your being, given the right interface?"

Heero grunted. Quatre momentarily avoided her eyes. "Still..." Quatre raised his chin. "Still, you should have told us. Technically, the remains of the suit were Heero's. He was to decide what became of them."

Snicker. "You prove my point, Quatre - 'the remains'? Oh, you boys awarded your machines souls, and-" Dorothy stopped herself as a new angle came to her. She straightened a little and took a few calm steps forward. "I'm sorry, Heero," she began softly, "I didn't think you'd react to... the exhibit, as if we had put a friend's head on a pike to show the public."

Heero closed his eyes for a few moments. It was hard to tell if the trembling eyelids were because of left-over anger or tears wanting out. Whichever it was, Heero had it under control soon enough. "It's only a machine - but you had no right to steal-"

"I told you, we didn't steal anything. The ESUN government thought it prudent to keep at least a few key artifacts to remind people what the machines of war looked like. A warning, if you like."

Heero bit his lip, keeping back a few choice words. "It shouldn't be here," he finally mumbled. "It should be obsolete now." He closed his eyes, let a snort in resignation go. "A relic belonging to the past, just like me. We're both obsolete."

Dorothy merely gave him a puzzled stare. Quatre connected the pieces, however. "That's not true, Heero. Your friends still need you. Your friends will always need you, Heero - and you have many friends. More than you know, I think..."

Heero glanced at him, but didn't dare give a sarcastic reply. Quatre's eyes were hard and sincere, and they made it quite clear Quatre would hear no argument. He looked to Dorothy next, but saw no reason to rage further against her, either. His own feelings surrounding the - the exhibit he'd just seen - were irrelevant. Maybe Dorothy was right; maybe showing the shattered face of the most powerful mobile suit ever made would show that even giants could fall. Power isn't the ultimate thing. He learned that lesson early in the war, and for that he was glad. To think yourself invincible would only get you killed, in the end. "The statue?" he finally enquired.

She smirked, opened her mouth to say one thing, paused, and said another. "Of course. Please follow me, gentlemen."

She led them back through the exhibit, giving the occasional comment on certain displays. Quatre politely kept the conversation from being a monologue; Heero remained silent and glum. Past demons had paid a visit, and he focused on getting rid of them rather than hear Dorothy's opinion on various forms of warfare. There was little new or surprising there, anyway.

The hallway they followed ended in a great iron double door. Dorothy searched her key chain for another key, and unlocked the large padlock. With some effort, she pushed the doors open, the old metal hinges creaking loudly. "This is the storage room. I suggest you take a deep breath now - in there, there isn't much fresh air." Smirk. "There isn't much fresh of anything in there."

The boys exchanged looks - a focused frown to a fatigued smile - and followed her in.

It was a mess. There were crates everywhere, some tightly packed, some open, a few empty. Shelves standing freely on the floor were stacked from floor to ceiling with smaller crates - and in a few cases, artifacts showing to the open. Evidently, these were considered less valuable, to be exposed in such a fashion.

All of it was meticulously labeled, however - but only a trained eye could actually spot a pattern in the chaos of crates and shelves; the labels never seemed to match properly. Heero had the strangest feeling of deja-vu.

"And the statue should be right-" They rounded a corner. "Here."

And there was nothing, except a big, empty square on the floor, dust layer showing recent footprints. There was a faint outline of a large frame in the dust; the footprint of a big cargo crate - but there was no statue.

Puzzlement. "I don't understand... The professor said-" She sighed, momentarily closed her eyes and shook her head. "He probably gave me the wrong numbers. This is space 54/13-2. I'm sure of that."

She turned around, brushed shoulders with the boys, and kept going. "Are you coming? You could search every crate here, if you'd like - but there are probably several hundred that are big enough to contain the Venus de Milo statue."

Quatre shrugged, gave Heero an apologetic smile, and followed. After a quick look-around at the amount of crates to judge Dorothy's words, Heero did too.

He didn't feel like gaining that many wooden splinters for so little payback, anyway.

And so, they were back in the museum hallways one more time. At the end of a corridor they arrived at a square-carved door. She knocked twice, and a distracted, stressed voice with merely a minor accent shouted through. "Yes, what is it?"

She opened the door. "Professor Wordstrom, I brought the guests I spoke of earlier, and-"

The short, elderly man with bushy gray sideburns and an unbalanced dark hair piece slammed together the sizable tome he was browsing, and glared at the three over the brim of his round spectacles. His annoyed expression broke into a smile in an instant. "Ah, yes, yes, yes - Please, gentlemen, sit down." He waved towards a small wicker couch group tucked away in one corner of the office, stacks of papers and books covering the table. Or perhaps there was no table, merely a big stack of books at the core replacing it as well. It was quite impossible to tell the difference. "So, did you like the statue?"

Dorothy cleared a seat for herself, the ex-pilots followed her lead. "Professor, we couldn't find it. It was not in storage - at least not where you said it would be. Are you sure you gave me the proper directions?"

He rubbed his chin, and went over to a cluttered desk at the far side of the room. "I know it's in here somewhere..." He shuffled - or, rather, dug - through the various folders and papers there, and triumphantly brought out a specific one. "Ah, here they are!" He walked over to the others, and sat down, opposite of the pilots, Dorothy on his left.

"And that is?" Heero asked, a sour impatience to his tone of voice.

The professor was oblivious, and smiled back. "Oh, these are the documents pertaining to the Venus de Milo statue." He opened it, skimmed the text with his finger, tapped one section of the page. "Here. See, Fraülein Catalonia - I was not mistaken." He pushed the documents over to Dorothy, one finger on the spot marking the statue's location; 54/13-2.

"So it would seem... But it wasn't there."

Wordstrom flash-frowned, and skimmed further. A photograph of the statue slipped out, and slid over to Quatre. He picked it up, and looked at it, almost mesmerized. The professor noticed, and grinned. "Beautiful, isn't it? Even if it were a copy, it's breathtaking."

Honest face. "Is it a forgery?"

Sigh. "We don't know. Not yet, at least. Not that it matters all that much - even it if were, it would still be a lovely piece - an almost perfect replica, short of the necklace." Chuckle.

"Fine - but where is it?" Heero impatiently asked.

"Hm? Oh! Right, right, right." Wordstrom returned to the papers, sifting through a few more. "Ah, here it is. Professor Helmer apparently sent it off to another restoration firm for analysis three weeks ago - 'Schultz & Sohn'. It was scheduled to be returned to storage two days ago, though." He rubbed his chin, mulling it over. "Excuse me, gentlemen, Fraülein." He reached for his phone, checked the folder and dialed the number given. He waited for several minutes, but there was no answer. Resigned, he put a chubby finger on the cradle. "This is peculiar. My pardon, one more call." He quickly dialed another number, though only three digits. An internal call, Heero deducted.

After two rings, there was an answer. Wordstrom rambled away in accented German, but Heero knew the language well enough to follow most of the conversation. The professor inquired about the statue, naturally, wondering why it hadn't been returned, if professor Helmer knew of any delay, and why this unknown firm had gotten such a fairly prestigious task in the first place. He couldn't hear the direct answers, but the little words Wordstrom barked back made it clear something was amiss.

More importantly, that what could be considered a bribe was involved. "Vielen Dank, Walter," Wordstrom ended. He turned to the young trio, and gave a sheepish smile. "Well, it seems we awarded the analysis to a relatively new company. Even so, Schultz & Sohn has all the paperwork in order, and evidently, the firm offered the museum a considerable monetary donation in return for being the next to get a look at our Venus de Milo."

Heero frowned. "But they didn't answer the phone."

Slight concern came to Wordstrom. "No... But there could be any number of reasons why they didn't answer right now. Maybe they're out to lunch, or some such. Since it is new, it might be a fairly small business. I suggest we wait a few hours, and-"

"Did you have an address?"

The curator looked down at the folder. "Why, yes, but-"

Heero snatched the file, grabbed a pen and a blank piece of paper from the cluttered desk, and hastily copied it down. "Dorothy, do you have a car here?"

She smirked at him. "Certainly. I'm not yet so reduced in assets I can't afford to keep my preferred method of transportation." She hastily ended her sentence in order to catch up with the boys. Heero had grabbed Quatre's wrist and dragged the blond along back towards the study for their luggage at Dorothy's first word.

In a matter of minutes, they were heading towards Wagnerstrasse 41B, where the firm Schultz & Sohn was allegedly based.

-------

Dorothy's car turned out not to be the monstrosity of a golden limousine she once favored. Instead, the vehicle she led them to was a quite common pale blue four-seater sedan. Quatre expressed surprise. She gave a sly smile and a slight snicker. "You see, this one is far easier to drive through the cramped city streets - and not to mention find a proper parking spot for."

She told Heero to get the roadmap in the glove compartment and give her directions. Other than Heero's curt announcements of 'left', 'right' or 'straight ahead', and Quatre's cautious reminders of various traffic rules following violations or significantly flexible interpretations of them, the drive was a peaceful, if hurried, affair.

The pale blue car screeched to a halt at Wagnerstrasse 41B, pulling halfway up on the sidewalk. The street was a small one, and not in the best part of town; quite the contrary. Only a few shops at street level appeared to still be in business. Most were either locked up warehouses or boarded-shut condemned buildings. There was no sign at or above the door, no bright letters spelling out 'Schultz & Sohn' in an arch across the big front window. The exhibit booth directly within was empty, and the red velvet wrinkled and torn in several places. It was not especially inspiring.

Quatre approached the glass, covered his eyes to block out what little exterior light the rainy skies of Vienna permitted, and peered inside. He saw the broken remnants of a bench in the far corner, a toppled chair in the center of the room. On the far side of the door, there was another counter; an intact one, with an antique cash register mounted on it. A door presumably leading to a backroom was half ajar, but he couldn't see anything through there; the angle was wrong. "Looks abandoned," he informed the others.

Heero frowned, stepped up to the door and knocked. A minute went by. Dorothy studied the windows of the second floor. Ragged curtains and cobwebs adorned them. Heero knocked at the door again, a little harder. There was still no answer. He outright banged at the door a few times, just to rid himself of frustration. Quatre caught his arm before his fist could make another impact.

"Don't," the blond stated. "There's nothing here, Heero. Someone obviously used this as-"

They both heard the racket; the sound of china being broken, stone split, pottery shattered. They had two seconds to think of what they had heard before they heard it again - and then the time for thinking was over. Heero and Quatre exchanged only a brief glance, but it was all it took. "On one," Heero ordered. Quatre nodded. "One!"

They ran for the door, braced their shoulders and impacted it at the same time. The old wood didn't have time to creak; it shattered. The half-rotten boards around the rusty lock couldn't hold. However, the two boys had expected a slightly tougher resistance, and their own force, along with pieces of the door, made them stumble and fall by the cash register. From the anteroom they heard frantic shuffling, and the creaking of another door. Heero got to his feet, and stormed towards the other room.

He barely registered the many pieces of broken marble spread out on the floor, or the crowbar that had evidently given the armless lady countless new fractures. Hurriedly stepping through the field of sharp-edged white stone, he made it to the far door; wide open as the perpetrators had left it. A car engine starting. He knew Quatre was right behind him, and pushed on, out the door-

Crimson car. Two men. Gun, aimed his way. Before he had time to think, his instincts had made him jump back, and the first bullet raced past him, barely a breath away, to lodge itself in the doorframe. A second and third bullet followed, one skidding inside the room and burrowing into the wall, the other speeding down the empty alley. Quatre broke Heero's fall, but the two again tumbled to the floor. Heero felt a slight stab at his arm; one piece of serrated marble had scratched him. Four stitches, a cool, detached inner voice from the past informed him. From outside, they heard tires squeal as their suspects drove off. Another voice joined the first, just as calm, chiding him for having grown too lax; for doing something as stupid as running right out of his cover and into an enemy line of fire. Heero ignored both voices as well as the throbbing pain in his arm, and rapidly got to his feet. "Car!" he barked, then pulled Quatre to his feet and dragged him along in the direction of Dorothy's back. He nearly tossed the blond into the backseat, and had only one foot inside the car himself before he shouted "Go!".

Dorothy obliged; the pale blue sedan raced down the desolate street. Heero reached in between the front seats and grasped at the map, ignoring his bleeding wound. "Where?" Dorothy asked. Without waiting for an answer, she turned right at the first intersection, assuming the alley would end somewhere in that direction.

"Dark red station wagon, driver, one passenger. Look!" She did, but saw nothing. Heero hastily folded the map at the relevant section, tried tracing where the alley would end- "Next right - and step on it!"

She did. They were pushed even further back in their seats. Quatre fumbled with his seat belt, but the corner was upon them before he could finish, and he found himself squashed between the door and Heero. Heero hissed in pain as the wound was aggravated further. Five stitches, the inner voice said. "You're bleeding!" the alarmed voice on the outside said.

"So are you," Heero barked back. "Dorothy, the car?"

"I can't see- There!" She pointed at the far end of the street; the tail of a crimson station wagon veered left. She hit the gas pedal again, dodged trash cans and other motorists as she saw fit, and left dents and bruises where need be.

Quatre quickly checked his own injuries. Sure, he'd taken a few scratches by that fall to the floor, but they were barely more than grazes. From what he could see, Heero had a fairly deep cut. "Dorothy, first aid kit?"

She shook her head. "Don't have one. Hold on." She hit the breaks, let go, made a sharp turn threatening to send them into a tumble, but thankfully falling back to all four wheels as she straightened out and raced in pursuit of the other vehicle.

Heero checked the map, tried to figure if there was a shortcut, an upcoming road block, anything that might give them an advantage. He barely registered the sound of tearing fabric, but winced as the same remnant of a silk shirtsleeve was wrapped around his wound. He scowled at Quatre's apologetic smile.

"It won't hold for long, but-"

"Thanks," Heero offered, and returned to his maps. Quatre obstructed the task as he reached across him. "Hey, what-"

Demonstratively, he pulled Heero's seatbelt down and fastened it, grinning. "If you won't consider your own safety, then I guess I have to." Then, he quickly fixed his own belt. Dorothy's pale blue eyes shone in the rear view mirror. The pure joy they showed sent shivers down Quatre's spine.

"All buckled up, boys? Then I won't hold back any longer." And she didn't; roaring the engine to new heights. The next turn was nowhere near as comfortable as the previous two - but at least the seatbelts did what they could to keep them in place. They were gaining, but not by much. Even on this dark and rainy afternoon, the streets were fairly crowded. Dorothy dodged her way through the cars and trucks alike, the red car ahead struggling to do the same. Heero had grown slightly pale, possibly due to blood loss. Quatre had also gone pale, but almost entirely from Dorothy's reckless driving. With a quick glance in the rear-view mirror, she saw both faces, and laughed. "There is nothing like the morning and afternoon rush hours to teach you how to drive aggressively, gentlemen." She slid through to the other lane to the angry horn of a semitrailer.

Another intersection, down an avenue. Dorothy took the turn a little early, and they ended going down the wrong lane. Dorothy swiveled through the oncoming traffic as best she could, honking the horn whenever she could spare a hand from steering. They were still gaining.

Quatre struggled not to gnash his teeth when a thought struck him. "Heero, those men were armed! We don't have weapons - how are we supposed to-"

Adrenaline gave the answer. "Ram."

The blond chewed air. "You're not serious."

Sharp glare.

"You're serious..."

Cackle from the front seat. "Too late to jump out now, mister Winner." They skidded in between two sedans; one side mirror torn off in the process. "Oops."

Grunt. "Your car."

At last, they reached another intersection. Dorothy brought them over in the right lane, still a little distance behind the art thieves, still gaining- Heero saw the muzzle of a gun. "Down!" The first bullet they didn't even hear; it slammed into the engine of a truck behind them. The second impacted their windshield, cracking nearly all of it into white obscurity. Dorothy covered her face with one hand, hit the breaks. To her credit, she didn't panic and let go of the steering entirely. However, it was enough to make her lose control for a precious moment, and that was all it took for the truck behind them to close the distance, hit, spin them around and send them off to the side, where another car hit them head-on. Thankfully, both impacts had been at fairly slow speeds, but the car was close to a wreck, the trunk crumpled up like an accordion, and the left front tire bent out of shape, along with the left front - but the passenger cage was almost intact.

The three just breathed for a while. Quatre made a mental checklist of his body parts, ensuring they were still all there. Dorothy let loose a grin and a small cheer. Heero frowned, and nearly growled. "We lost them." He unbuckled his belt, slammed his fist to the headrest before him. "Damn it! We lost them!"

Dorothy turned to them with a smirk, ignoring the motorists and passers-by gathering around their wreck. "Mister Yuy, I would appreciate it if you didn't vandalize my car."

Quatre broke out smiling, and started laughing, unable to halt either. Noticing Heero's transitory puzzlement and consequent frown didn't help matters. Whatever the crowd around them thought, it couldn't be good - but surviving always is; and it's an eternal cause of joy - while it lasts. The laughter lived on as sirens approached.

-------

"Now, hold still, bitte," the doctor ordered.

Heero obliged. While they'd been lucky to escape from the car crash with as little injury as they had - and even more fortunate to escape penalties for the damages and reckless driving they had accumulated during their little chase, they had lost the Virgo amulet to- He thought about it for a second. To the enemy - whomever the enemy were. They would have to find out, and when they did, retrieve the piece. They needed all of them, after all.

"Done," the doctor said, fastening the bandages. "You will have to change this regularly," he chided with his slight German accent. "You would also be wise to avoid stress in the near future."

Heero nearly smiled at that. Oh, that would be easy - especially when Lady Une found out about all this. Losing the locket was bad enough. To get the insurance claims for their little joyride on the budget would not make matters better; quite the contrary. He said his thanks, and left.

In the waiting room, he found his friends. Quatre and Dorothy had also been treated for nicks and bruises, as evident by various Band Aids, scattered so liberally they almost looked like a kind of Indian war paint at a distance, against all traditions applied after the battle rather than before.

"Any leads?" he asked Dorothy.

She shook her head. "I gave the local police all the information they could safely have - an art theft gone wrong, officially - but they haven't found anything - that is, they haven't found the amulet or the thieves. They found the car at a parking garage near the main bus depot. With our vague descriptions of the perpetrators, and the low classification of the crime, they can't very well close off and screen all public transportation."

Heero nodded. "That's to be expected. They're as good as gone, then. We can't afford to make this matter public."

Dorothy consented. "Any idea who they were?"

Heero sat down between Quatre and Dorothy. There was ample room. "Not really - though, there was that incident back on L2..."

"Think it's the same group?"

Shrug. "Maybe. These guys seemed more... tenacious. Maybe it's all coincidences." Frown. "I hope Sally and Duo have found Wufei - I have a feeling he has some answers."

Quatre nodded. "Or we might get them from his kidnappers. Either way, something odd is definitely going on here."

"There's a leak in the agency. Or several."

Nod.

"Have you contacted Lady Une yet?"

Quatre shook his head. "I tried, but she was still out of reach. She hasn't reported back since she and Trowa left L1." Sigh. "I hope they're okay..."

Snort. "Those two could survive anything. One got a bullet through her chest and lived, the other survived an attack from Wing Zero's buster rifle, and floated around in space as debris for a while."

The blond looked like he'd just sucked on a lemon. "Don't remind me..."

Heero shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We'll head back to Headquarters, and gather the rest of the team there. I think we need to have a talk - coordinate our efforts. Dorothy, would you-"

"Keep investigating from this end?"

Curt nod.

She sighed, slumped her shoulders a little. "I suppose... It will probably be quite droll, compared to whatever adventures you two are in for." Smirk, snicker. "Then again, I suppose being here will be much safer, and far more comfortable. I would ask for you to keep me posted, but-"

"We can't do that."

Nod. "Yes, I know. You need to tighten security, and I'm not likely to get a clearance as a Preventer field agent any time soon - the ESUN President doesn't think too highly of me, for some reason."

Quatre gave her a concerned glance. "He disapproves of your history?"

Dorothy shrugged, pushed a stray whisker of blonde back where it belonged. "There's that, I suppose - and being rather frank with him on politics during the last social event we crossed paths at probably wasn't too wise." Smirk. "But it was very satisfying. For a man that appears to be fairly bright, he has surrounded himself with quite a few bad advisors. I tried to give him a more... balanced view of things."

Heero gave a very slight smirk of courtesy, and got to his feet. "We'd better get going, Quatre."

The blond nodded his agreement, got up and started walking down the corridor. "I'll make another call."

Frown.

"Look, there's no harm in using regular Preventer channels to gather our little group. Our enemy knows about us now, obviously - and they have to know we suspect infiltrators. Also-"

"Fine," Heero cut in. "Make the call - make sure Headquarters tells the others to gather there ASAP. We need to talk."

Quatre nodded, and went on his way.

"Dorothy, you realize-"

She straightened up a little and covered one hand with the other. "That I'm not likely to find any trace of the thieves? Why, yes, I understand that - but they destroyed the Venus de Milo statue, and for that I wish compensation. I'm sure a study of the pieces will find it to be a fake, but it was still an exquisite fake, and quite the potential source of income for our little museum. I do not take this matter lightly." She narrowed her eyes, and it took little imagination to see pillars of fire within them.

Heero nodded, expression stern. "No rash actions. This is still a Preventer operation, not your most recent vendetta."

Momentarily baffled, she broke out in soft laughter. "Intriguing point of view, Heero. Very much so." She composed herself into stiff formality. "As you wish. I will merely search for the bullies, and let the judicial system, flawed and cumbersome as it is, handle the rest."

Heero was about to retort, when Quatre came jogging back to them. "Heero, Dorothy - Lady Une has been in touch with headquarters, and basically requested the same thing we wanted. She didn't say anything in specific to the switchboard, but I get the impression we aren't the only ones to have encountered the enemy."

Scowl. "A coordinated effort?"

"Or multiple enemies. Either way, it's bad."

Heero nodded, and began walking down the corridor, Quatre in tow. "Then let's not waste time." He looked over his shoulder. "Keep us posted, Dorothy."

She stood up. "I will - best of luck, gentlemen." She waited until they were out of earshot before adding a mumble; "...but if you're not hasty, I might have to renege my promise." She momentarily relaxed, uncovered and untangled the crossed fingers on her right hand, pumped her fists twice, and went to conduct her own investigation.


-end Virgo-
-TBC-