A/N- Yeah so I got no reviews on the first chapter, but we're still gonna try. Cause I have a story to tell.

Small Packages

Chapter 3

Quatre strained to hear what his friend was saying to the little girl upon leaving his office. There was a solemn air about the tyke as she stepped into Quatre's office, her hand clutching two of Wufei's fingers tightly. To his astonishment, the Chinese man allowed the contact, patiently guiding the child towards Quatre. He squatted in front of the girl, dark eyes regarding her seriously. "Megan, I'm going to leave now. You stay here with Mr. Winner."

Grey eyes flickered between the two men as though she were nervous. The emotion evaporated after a few moments, replaced by an innate curiosity. "Yes, Mr. Chang."

"Be good."

There was a slight nod from the girl as she launched herself at Wufei, throwing chubby arms around his neck. "Will I see you again?"

"Of course, child. Now I have to go. Mr. Winner will let you call me on the phone if you want to."

"Really?" Those expressive eyes peered at Quatre once more as she released her hold on Wufei. She spoke to Quatre for the first time. "Do you promise?"

Quatre nodded reflexively. "Of course."

"I guess that's okay then." She flashed a bright smile at Wufei before turning around to climb clumsily into the antique Louis XIV chair in front of Quatre's desk.

Wufei gave a slight smile and nodded to Quatre. "I mean it. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all."

"Thank you Wufei."

With those words he was gone. Quatre leaned on the corner of his desk to regard his husband's would-be daughter. He studied her closer, now that he had a moment to think. She was small for her age, perhaps she got that from her mother. The seemingly bottomless grey eyes had to have come from her, as did the curls. Quatre had no idea what the woman looked like, or even who she was beyond the limited information Trowa had given him. There was a marked resemblance to Trowa in the face. The same nose and chin. Even her lips. Her hair, bound into a ponytail at the back of her head was the same shade of auburn as his husband's.

"May I call you Megan?" He started, hoping this was a good way to break the ice.

She blinked at him before nodding. "Yes. Are you my Papa's husband?"

It was Quatre's turn to stare blankly. "I… um… yes. At least I think so."

"How can you not know for sure?"

"It's… complicated." He responded weakly. Quatre exhaled heavily, reaching behind him to grab the container of chocolate covered strawberries he kept on his desk to sate his sweet tooth during the day. "Would you like one?"

"No thank you, I'm allergic to strawberries." She frowned. "Do you have any Mountain Dew? I like Mountain Dew."

"You're allowed to drink soda?" He grimaced. The last thing he needed was a hyped up 5 year old.

Sheepishly she shook her head. "No. Mama says they make me hyper."

"Then no. I'm sorry. You can't have one."

"Oh." They lapsed into silence.

Quatre's office door swung open to reveal his oldest sister. He sighed in relief. Just in the nick of time. "Iria! Thank you so much for coming." He pushed himself off his desk and strode across the room to embrace her.

She chuckled. "Quatre, it's not as though I don't see you every day. I work three floors down. Now what's the emergency?"

The blond stepped aside to gesture to Megan. "I have someone I'd like you to meet."

Iria's brows shot up, knitting together in confusion. "Um… hi." She waved to Megan, then spoke to Quatre. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Megan Hanahan. I need you to take a sample of her DNA and compare it with Trowa's."

"Trowa's? Does he know about this?"

"Nope. Not yet. I just thought I would take care of this part." He led his sister back to where Megan sat, clutching her lion tighter.

Iria angled the second chair to face Megan's. "Who is she, Quatre? Please explain to me what's going on."

"Well you know the woman who…" He paused, cutting his eyes to Megan. "That's not important. There's a possibility that she may be Trowa's daughter. I don't want to go into it right now. I'd just like you to do a test."

His sister's jaw dropped in astonishment. "Trowa has a kid?"

Quatre massaged the bridge of his nose to fend on an encroaching headache. "Yes. I mean… I'll know for sure when you do the test. Will you do it?"

"Of course."

"How long until you have the results?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"On if you'll let me use your laptop."

Quatre furrowed his brow. "Sure."

"In that case, I have just the gadget for it. I put it in my bag to take home to play with tonight. It's a hand held unit that analyzes and maps DNA in just a few seconds. It's brand new on the market. So far only the Preventers and us have one. They're cost prohibitive for practically everyone else." She set her bag on the desk beside her, blithely pushing Quatre's nameplate out of the way. She opened it and pulled out the machine, focusing her attention on the child. "Okay, Megan. I'm going to do a real quick test on you."

The girl's eyes grew round. "No needles!"

"I promise, no needles. It won't hurt a bit." Iria reached into the bag and brought out a swab. "You see this? I just need you to open your mouth and let me rub the inside of your cheek to get a sample of your DNA. DNA is sort of like a name tag that lives inside you and can help tell us who you are."

The fear disappeared, replaced by a giggle. "I know who I am."

"That's good. But this is for us grown-ups, so we can keep a copy of your nametag in our computer. Do you understand?"

Megan responded with a solemn nod, promptly opening her mouth. Quatre watched her comply with a heavy heart. They sat in silence for the few seconds that it took to get the swab they needed. The seconds stretched into minutes as Iria carefully mixed the solution for the sample, dropping a few drops onto the test strip to be mapped. She glanced up at Quatre. "Almost. It just needs a few seconds to proc-" The unit beeped, interrupting her. "Process. And we're done."

Quatre watched as she rose from the chair and hooked a small cable from the device to a printer. "I'm just printing out a hard copy for you to show Trowa. I'm also going to print out a copy of his to reference the two."

The younger man nodded. "Whatever you need."

Iria moved behind the desk and logged into the company medical database while waiting for the printout. Almost without looking, she reached below the desk and retrieved the paper from the printer. "Just give me a few seconds here, baby brother."

He nodded again, crossing his arms to restrain the impulse to fidget. It wouldn't do for the President and CEO of the largest corporation in existence to be nervous. The printer whirred to life once more as she printed out the map of Trowa's DNA from the database. This done, Iria pushed away the laptop and retrieved the fountain pen from where he'd abandoned it on the corner of his desk. She worked in silence for a few minutes, making marks on the page at seemingly random places. At last the released a deep breath and leaned back. "Well, I'd say the results are conclusive."

"And they are?"

Iria gestured to the two printouts, indicating the markings. "A child is a perfect genetic blend of it's parents. The possibility of two people even sharing two of these same patterns on the map is a million to one."

Quatre stared blankly at the papers. "I don't understand."

"Basically it boils down to the fact that Megan has a great deal more than two of those markers. In the sample I've just compared, it's pretty clear that the two are related. Quite frankly, there's no way the sequencing could be so similar unless she were his child. Genetically at least."

He nodded in understanding. "I see." Quatre straightened slowly and folded his arms once more. "Thank you, Iria."

"What are you going to tell Trowa?"

"The truth, of course. Listen, I'm going home for the day. I'll call you tomorrow. I think I'm probably going to end up taking some time off, a few days at least."

"You know, Quatre… I know this is sudden. But think about what Megan could mean to Trowa and to you. And I'm not just talking about as the first female heir to WEI either."

Quatre gritted his teeth and forced a smile. "Thank you, Iria. I will remember that."

As he ushered his sister out the door, the wheels in his mind began to turn with the staggering new information she'd just presented him with. A daughter. Trowa had a daughter. A child… what did this mean for his husband? Furthermore, what did it mean to their relationship?

"I do believe that's all gentlemen. Are there any questions?" Une's eyes roamed over the gathered group, small though it was. There were only three of them present. Her eyes nailed Duo as she added with a smirk. "Comments from the peanut gallery?"

He answered with a lopsided grin of his own. "I'm good, Ma'am."

"In that case, this review is hereby closed. Agent Yuy, Agent Maxwell, both of you are dismissed. Barton, please wait a moment. I'd like a word in private." She rose from her seat and followed the other two men to the door, closing it once more after they were gone.

Trowa watched impassively as she turned to face him, hands clasped behind her back. She studied him with a measuring expression for a few long seconds before speaking. "Barton…" She paused, then sighed before beginning again. "Trowa, against my better judgment I have let you go on for the last week without saying anything, however it disturbs me to see you this way."

He lifted his chin, not speaking. Emerald eyes sparked dangerously, betraying what she knew to be the temper her usually level-headed officer possessed but had never fully unleashed.

Anne dropped into the seat across from him and leaned forward, lacing her fingers together and holding them to her lips as she considered her words carefully. "I'm not speaking as your commanding officer here, Trowa. I'm saying this as your friend. I'm worried about you. We all are. Everyone can see it but you. You've become sullen, withdrawn. You're work is slipping and other than the rest of the pilots, you have the entire division terrified to even look at you. You don't speak except to snap or make one word responses."

His expression remained set as he regarded her, deathly still. His outward calmness was what startled her the most. "Trowa, I don't know why you are reacting this way to the death of a confessed criminal, or what relationship you had with her in the past, although from the tapes I gather you have had interaction with the accused at some point. You need to take some time off and sort this out. If you don't you risk endangering not only yourself but the lives of your teammates. That said, it's my job to inform you that I am suspending you with pay for the period of 2 months pending a psychiatric evaluation by the doctor on staff."

The glint in those dangerous eyes flickered in rage. His face contorted in uncontrolled anger. "You think I'm crazy!" The chair in which he had been sitting toppled over with the force of his movement as he surged to his feet to lean across the table. Trowa was not a large man by any means, he'd grown taller and broadened a bit in the shoulders, but had retained the lean elegance she'd come to recognize as an innate trait. His fist crashed onto the wood of the conference table with a sickening crack as the bones broke. He didn't even seem to notice as he loomed over her, his face darkened in fury. "There is nothing wrong with me, Ma'am." He spat the words out, twisting the last word into an insult. "You don't have any right to do this."

She rose to lean on the table, meeting his eyes levelly unflinchingly. "You'd better watch your tone, Barton. I am your commanding officer. I'm doing what's best for my people and that includes you. You can either take the leave I'm giving you or you can quit, which I know for a fact you won't do."

Trowa straightened and sneered, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his badge. He placed it vehemently down on the table. "I'll be keeping my gun, since it's not issue and belongs to me."

"Barton? What the hell do you think your doing?" She stared at him in disbelief.

A derisive snort emitted from him as he pushed the badge at her, sending it skittering in her direction. "I'm quitting."

He straightened and gave a mock salute. "Take your organization and your suspension and shove it up your ass." With those words he spun on heel and marched from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Une sank back into the chair, staring after him in disbelief.

Quatre carefully steered the car into the garage. He glanced in the rearview mirror at the little girl who sat so quietly in the backseat. Leo the lion was clasped tightly to her chest as she stared out the window. He killed the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt, twisting to smile at her. "We're home. This is where you'll be staying for a while."

"Does my Papa live here too?"

"Yes. This is our home." He exited the car and opened the back door. He was grateful that his car had come with child safety locks on the back door. He'd turned the on once as a prank on Duo, and then had found himself unable to disengage them. At least they had served their purpose on one occasion. She slid from the seat and followed him into the house through the kitchen door.

Rashid greeted him at the door. "Master Quatre, there is some sort of misunderstanding you may wish to attend to. Master Wufei brought over luggage and left it in our care. He said it belonged to a little girl and…" The large man paused for breath, noticing Megan who stood just inside the door. He straightened to his full height. "Master Quatre, should I see to unpacking the Lady's bags?"

He nodded briefly. "Yes, Rashid. This is Megan Hanahan. She'll be staying with us for a while, at least until permanent arrangements are made." Quatre gestured for her to come forward. She took a few hesitant steps and then latched onto Quatre's leg. "Megan, this is Rashid. He's a very good friend of mine and although he might look a little scary, it's just because Allah made him that way so he could watch over little girls like you and keep them safe. Isn't that right, Rashid?"

Aqua eyes nailed the older man, daring him to disagree. Rashid cleared his throat and nodded. "Uh… yes. Of course."

"Who is Allie?" Megan questioned in a small voice, unsure of whether to be scared or intrigued by the hulking figure.

Rashid knelt in front of her and broke into a smile. "Allah." He corrected gently. "It is our name for God."

"Ooooh." Her eyes lit up in understanding. "My Mama talked to God every day. She said I could to. And she also said that if I ever get sad cause she went to heaven that I could talk to God and he would tell her everything I said."

"Your Mama sounds like a very wise woman." Rashid nodded solemnly. "Now, perhaps it is time for you to take a nap since your eyes seem to be drooping a little."

"No!" She stated emphatically, stamping her foot, inadvertently bringing her shoe down on Quatre's foot. His mouth formed a silent 'o' of pain.

Rashid smothered a grin and looked at her sternly. "Yes. You will be like a wilted tulip by the time dinner rolls around and you do want to have some lovely roast lamb, do you not?"

Megan's nose wrinkled. "Yuck. I want a pizza with sausage and lots of cheese."

"I'm sorry, Little One, but we do not have sausage in this house. We will find something you like, I promise. But for now it's off to bed with you. You may nap with my daughter, Amala. When you wake the two of you will play together and be great friends."

"You have a little girl?"

Quatre sighed in relief as he grip loosened. He leaned down prying her gently away. "Amala is my neice. She's five, too. Now go with Rashid. I'll see you in a couple of hours. I promise."

She hesitated. "Will my Papa be here tonight?"

"Yes, and you want him to see what a good girl you have been, don't you?" Quatre smiled hopefully.

Megan nodded, and reluctantly allowed Rashid to take her hand, leading her upstairs to the room where Amala routinely took her afternoon naps.

Quatre watched them go, kicking off his shoes and socks and loosening his tie. He tossed it, his dress shirt and jacket over the back of a nearby chair and padded barefoot to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup of the bitter Turkish blend coffee. Rashid returned to find him hunched over the table, rubbing his eyes wearily. The older man lowered himself carefully into the seat across from Quatre. He studied him closely for a moment. "Why don't you go rest yourself, Master Quatre?"

The blond shook his head. "No, I have some things to work on."

"Work can wait. I won't pry, but your eyes can never lie, Master Quatre." He paused, then continued more softly. "Master Quatre, you are exhausted. You've been so worried about Master Trowa this last week that you have neglected yourself. If you don't get some rest I will be forced to call the doctor."

Quatre sighed. "You won't let me get away will you?"

"No."

He tossed back the rest of the rapidly cooling coffee and shuddered. "That is vile." The stoneware mug was placed on the table with a soft "clunk". "Promise to wake me up in an hour? I want to be awake when Trowa gets home. I need to talk to him before he sees Megan."

"Of course, Master Quatre."

The young man nodded gratefully and stifled a yawn, suddenly realizing that he was in fact dog-tired. He shuffled up the stairs, still barefoot, heading gratefully for his room and his nice, soft bed.