Marshaling the Troops

Two days till Christmas, and counting

"L2 has been attacked." Une stood at the head of the conference table, her countenance severe and tense, her arms crossed over her chest in an almost defensive posture. She had reverted to her 'Lady Une' phase, including the bun and glasses, which only thickened the mood of despair. Quatre, Trowa, and Heero sat along the right side of the table, while Wufei and Duo sat on the left.

The Chinese pilot sat curled up in his chair, with his head nestled in his arms. It wasn't the usual posture for a meeting, but then this wasn't a normal situation. Crutches were leaned against the chair next to him, a fact that he seemed to be trying to ignore. His leg, hidden by the table, was encased in a splint and mounds of roughly wound bandages.

Heero sat with his arms folded on the table, his eyes trained on Une in a respectful gesture that did not register, even to him. To his right, Trowa sat lounging back slightly, as if he were relaxed. To those who knew him, however, he seemed to be a tightly wound spring, ready to jump at any moment. Quatre sat beside his lover, his fingers tented authoritatively, his eyes resting on Une with a slightly glazed expression. Duo leaned forward in his chair, his knuckles white from the fists he had clenched upon the table, his eyes sparking with anger.

"What? What happened? I thought that colony was being protected now! Who did it?" The American pilot berated Une, his questions filled with rage and fear "Was anyone hurt?"

"We don't know." Une sighed, and propped her glasses up slightly to rub at the bridge of her nose. "The attack knocked out our communications. We haven't heard a thing since the assault started, which was about 1:00 p.m. yesterday. We need three of you to fly to L2 and assess the situation. Wufei, you obviously cannot go because of your sprained ankle. Quatre, I know you are needed here to deal with the strikers. Therefore, Heero, Duo, and Trowa shall be going."

The Chinese and Arabian pilots sighed in unison. They had both known they would not be going, and that there was no really reason to come to the meeting. But they had gone anyways, just in hopes that Une would not have a mission that would require their loved ones to be away for Christmas. Unfortunately, their hopes had been quite painfully dashed.

Une gave them a sympathetic glance, and then focused on the three going on the mission "I need you to be ready to leave as soon as possible." She said briskly, then turned and swept out of the room to avoid facing the unassigned pilots.

"This is going to be the worst Christmas ever." Duo whimpered, laying his head against the table. His comment echoed around the silent conference room, as if the walls themselves agreed.

Christmas Eve

Quatre awoke on the morning of Christmas Eve to the beeping of his alarm clock and the feeling of an empty bed. Trowa had left the day before, and Quatre had found himself with nothing but the striker's problems to work on. Therefore it wasn't all that surprising that he had managed to clear up the crisis the night before after a three hour-long conference with the union leader. And now he had a whole day to himself…

The blond man crawled out of his bed glumly, his soft blue eyes reflecting the sadness that the rest of his face showed. He stopped in front of the full-length mirror in his room and glared. Too long, messy blond hair, weary blue eyes with bags under them, baggy red pajama bottoms, and one earring. The gold hoop in his left ear had been acquired on his 18th birthday after a large quantity of alcohol and a debate with Trowa. Trowa had won, and henceforth Quatre Raberbra Winner had worn a small golden hoop in his ear.

God, when was the last time he had thought about that earring? His mind quickly supplied the answer; the last time Trowa was on a mission. Quatre pushed that thought out of his mind and stumbled towards his bathroom, muttering darkly about evil thoughts that should mind their own business.

His vidphone rang harshly from its position on the table he was in the process of hauling himself past, causing him to jump and curse fluently in several languages for a short period of time. After he had regained his composure he hit the 'accept' button, not overly surprised when Wufei's face appeared. What did surprise him, however, was that the other man had his hair loose around his shoulders, and seemed to be wearing black silk pajamas. He hadn't even known Wufei had silk pajamas.

"Hello, Wufei." The Arabian said glumly, kneeling by the table to that only his face showed. He wasn't embarrassed, just too lazy and tired to stand up.

The dark haired man on the other line grinned weakly "How would you like to get together? You know, early Christmas celebration and all that."

Quatre smiled slightly, mentally cursing himself. Sure, Trowa was out of town, but he still had other friends that he could visit. And Wufei was missing two lovers…he needed the company more then the young tycoon did. Quatre nodded, his smile becoming more genuine "I'd like that. I really would."

Whoa. I surprised myself with that chapter…not the longest, but at the same time…it is. I'm very proud of myself. This was supposed to be all fluff, but I've managed to slowly get better at tension/angst/non-WAFF stories. Go me. I also spent a lot of this chapter on details about the characters…I think I have seriously improved. I really hope this didn't depress anyone. Don't worry; it all has a happy ending!