Ah, time to reply to reviews:

Wolfkun: (helpless laugh) Couldn't help but to take a couple of stabs at Trowa. He's so much fun to putter with, considering how stupendous and infallible they so nearly made him in the anime. Making him commit human errors then ridiculing him for it is half the fun of fanfics. :)

GundamPilot03: Thanks much for the praise! This was one of my hardest works to produce, thanks to the plot (STILL hunting that thing, and it's running like mad) and lack of motivation to produce it at times. But I digress - here's more story! (presents with flourish of her hand and cheesy trumpeting erupting from the background, a la Imperial butter commercials)

Disclaimer: I in no way own Gundam W. Don't sue; I'm simply an E-5 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

-BEGIN FIC-

08:13 Hours --

"I don't know. I just relate to it easily. Chess is… it's like life. It helps me think, helps me strategize. It's like I can take all the plans in my head that relate to life and test them on the board to see if they work."

"You strategize using a Chess board?"

"Hai. And it usually works very well. Chess… it's very insightful. It replicates real life so very well… all the unpredictable pitfalls… all the plotting that's required to reach your goal…"

22:04 Hours --

Trowa shifted in the overstuffed chair, glancing off to his side as the young woman slowly bowed, her veil sweeping past bronzed skin as she gracefully backed out of the room.

He'd never expected to see this manor again.

And he'd never expected that on his last visit he'd not seen it all.

Trowa had never seen what he could now call Quatre's War-Room.

This room was very new to him. He'd never seen that particular black and white Persian rug with the golden Celtic knots running along its borders and dominating its center. He'd never seen the four tables at its corners, each holding a chessboard in a different stage of some ongoing game. He'd never seen the tall, sweeping, arching, graceful golden lamps that sprang from the corners of the room towards the center, accentuating the pyramidal shape of the chandelier that hung there. He'd never seen the huge open windows framed in perfect symmetry by their white gauzy drapes.

Leaning against the high-swept backrest of the rouge throne-like chair he was seated in, he returned his gaze to the glass table before him.

The table, set in the very center of the room so its base rested on the giant detailed knot in the center of the plush rug, was thick and heavy, supported by a rectangular and thin aquarium. Trowa stared, bemused, at the yellow tang, two percula clowns, pigmy flame-angel and small shoal of firefish as they raced eternally around a tall, flourishing stalk of open-brain, bubble and polyp corals. Trowa supposed the filtration unit was located in the floor below, with the lack of visible hoses, tubes, or electrical wires in the area.

The table's top itself was thick and beveled along the edges, its top etched into squares of clear and translucent white. Sixty-four squares, in all.

Trowa's fingers lightly caressed his golden knight, his callused pads feeling the fine detail put into the exquisitely carved armored man upon his mighty, rearing steed.

He was still marveling at the quality of the pieces he was expected to play with. Both players' pieces were identical to the smallest curve. Pawn foot soldiers knelt behind their shields, spears in hand and helmets resting upon curly-haired heads. Bishops stood tall in their priestly robes, bibles in hand, hats rising from their heads with their cross emblazoned upon them. Queens sat in regal thrones aside their bearded kings, both bedecked with gems and jewelry. Rooks, or rather castles, were towering spires surrounded and topped with spiraling, fierce dragons with gleaming ruby eyes and sharp claws.

"It's your turn, Trowa," Quatre said, his smile in place as he leaned back in his matching chair, looking almost lost amongst the giant cushions.

"Aa."

The golden figure was swept from square G-8 and deposited on F-6.

Quatre's smiled remained unchanged as he reached for his platinum pawn.

10:00 Hours --

Trowa stared out of the murky motel window.

He'd already ventured out of the complex, having searched for clues to their whereabouts after Quatre had taken the Jeep to retrieve some necessary previsions.

Disappointingly, Trowa had found no hints to his location outside.

They were in the middle of a huge grassy expanse surrounded by mountains, hills and cliffs which were topped by forests that spanned farther than his eye could follow. Those forests he knew. They were the same clumps of trees that surrounded the OZ base he and Quatre had just escaped from.

Other than that, no single sign of civilization could be seen except the road and the remaining foundations of what must have been the other buildings of the way-station he seemed to be trapped in.

The only building remaining was the crumbling motel he was temporarily calling home.

And how it was that this decimated building had electricity running to it was beyond him.

Sighing as he stared at the sky outside, Trowa leaned back on the rickety chair. 'Of course, Quatre had this planned. He probably arranged for it before hand.'

'He had this planned since the start.'

'Did he plan on me being there as well?'

Trowa frowned as he turned his stare from the sky outside to the cracked ceiling within the dank room.

22:10 Hours --

Trowa frowned.

Quatre's fifth move had been to castle. Rook to F1, King to G1.

He had his knights out in force, along with a trio of golden pawns.

Quatre had already moved a pawn, a both of his bishops, and a knight.

The castling was the only move that reminded him of the last game they'd played. It was a safety maneuver, sweeping the king out of the way of oncoming attack.

Trowa glanced at his own pieces, pondering his next move.

"Take your time, Trowa. We've got plenty of it right now," Quatre piped in happily.

"Aa."

"I wouldn't do that."

Trowa looked at his hand as he rested his fingertips upon his bishop. 'Now, is Quatre telling me this because he doesn't want me to move this for it'll make his chances of success more remote? Or does he mean to actually help me?'

'No telling with him. Better not to trust.'

Trowa moved his bishop as he planned.

Listening to Quatre hiss, he glanced up. "By the way."

"Nani?" Quatre asked, even as he reached for yet another pawn.

"I've been meaning to ask you a few questions."

"At another time."

"Really."

Quatre sighed and looked up. " I'd happily tell you everything you want to know. I know you have a lot of questions regarding my… behavior. Especially as of late, neh? And I know you have questions about that base, and the mission. But I can't tell you."

He slowly moved the piece. Pawn from F2 to F3.

"Not yet, anyway. Maybe later."

"How much later?" Trowa asked, his eyes narrowed as he moved his bishop from G4 to F5.

"Later. Once we're out of this area."

Trowa simply sighed as Quatre moved another pawn from B2 to B3. He knew that he wasn't going to get any answers today.

10:30 Hours --

Trowa's eyes opened once more as he heard the Jeep rumble up to the house. Apparently, there was civilization somewhere nearby. Quatre had been gone for less than forty-five minutes.

"I'm home!" Quatre called as he stepped up to the door, his arms burdened with a pair of grocery sacks.

Trowa stumbled towards the door, his joints stiff from being banged around in the OZ cell and the Jeep, and wrenched it open.

"Thought you might be hungry, so I did some shopping. And I got you a new batch of bandages, some more Ben Gay, some Neosporin and some more Asprin, and…"

"Aa. Thank you."

Glancing over, having been thoroughly interrupted, Quatre simply smiled and handed one of the sacks over. "Enjoy."

"Hai."

Trowa glanced inside.

Mmmmm… cereal, milk, plastic spoons and a pair of bowls.

'Yum.'

22:25 Hours --

Trowa allowed a small smile to play along his lips as Quatre's smile faltered slightly, his eyes acquiring the slightest shimmer to them.

"Aaa ah! You're forcing me to surrender my pawn. Clever, Trowa. Very clever."

Quatre made his twelfth move, sweeping his pawn from C4 to B5, ready for taking.

Trowa responded silently, taking it with moving his own golden pawn from A6 to B5.

Quatre shrugged, gripping the platinum bishop and moving him from A4 to B5, capturing Trowa's foot soldier.

Trowa's hand readily captured his knight, preparing to sweep him over to capture the other errant bishop and remove him from the line of danger of being captured.

"Uh uh, Trowa-kun," he heard Quatre's voice laugh softly. "Move that knight, and you're in check."

'Damn,' Trowa's mind scowled. 'Didn't even see that one. How did that occur so quickly? Hmmmm….'

He decided on his bishop instead. B5 to C6.

10:50 Hours --

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going back, Trowa."

Trowa arched an eyebrow. 'He's going back? Right when the search for us will be at its hottest?'

Quatre smiled as he rummaged around under the bed.

'What kind of fool are you, Quatre?'

Straightening his stance, Quatre smiled at Trowa, laying a hand upon his forehead. "Lay down. Behave. I'll make certain you're picked up shortly." Pushing back with his hand, he easily caught the taller boy off-balance and sent him to his seat upon the bed.

Frowning, Trowa laid back as ordered.

Quatre resumed rummaging.

22:40 Hours --

Trowa watched in horror as Quatre's 14th move claimed his rook.

Glancing over the board, the emerald-eyed boy mentally kicked himself. He'd let Quatre maneuver him into a position where the only piece he could move without sacrificing anything to the blond boy was his queen.

Out of options, Trowa laid his finger atop the jewel-bearing piece and swept her from D8 to A8.

Quatre readily replied, taking his knight from A3 to C4.

Scratching his chin, Trowa stared at the board, attempting to figure out just what the boy was thinking, casting his pieces into such a chaotic array.

They'd spent the last batch of minutes eagerly capturing pieces, Trowa staring as every move he'd cast only succeeded in allowing Quatre in capturing yet another one of his precious pieces.

On Trowa's side of the board rested a pawn and both of the platinum bishops.

'Both bishops, which had been relinquished with no worry in his eyes. He was more panicked over that pawn than he was over the bishops…' his mind reflected.

Quatre had claimed two pawns and a knight.

And now he'd added the golden rook to his collection.

Trowa's pawn leapt from H7 to H6.

Quatre's knight responded not even seconds later, heading from F6 to G8.

Trowa's brow furrowed. 'Quatre's going after my knight, eh? Well, if he thinks he's going to get another one of my pieces, he's sorely mistaken.' He hurriedly moved his endangered hero from F6 to G8.

Quatre smirked.

'What? But my knight is out…'

And, with a leap of a platinum knight from D5 to C7, Quatre lifted a golden pawn.

'He wanted… oh shit.'

"Check."

10:55 Hours --

Trowa cracked open one eye and stared at the platinum-haired youth.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

Click went the gun as its safety was flicked off.

"Hai. Stay put. I don't want you getting hurt."

Trowa arched a brow. "Injuries are to be expected, Quatre. I'm already injured, as you well know."

"Well, then, I don't want you getting hurt further. At least, not this early in the game."

'The game…?'

Quatre smiled, noting Trowa's arched brow. "Kidding, kidding! I don't want you hurt at all, 'kay?"

"…. Right."

Nodding, the slim, fragile-looking boy lifted the AK 47 and slammed the pump back along its barrel. With a heavy click emanating from it, Quatre shoved the pump back into place, assuring that the massive weapon was properly loaded. Grinning, he nodded.

Beretta AR 70/90 strapped to his back, AK 47 in hands, .357 Magnum in holster at hip and as Trowa had noted when he'd watched the Jeep pull up from Quatre's afternoon sojourn, a Ground-to-Air Missile Launcher.

Resisting the urge to chuckle, Trowa's mind noted the fact that Quatre looked like a very twiggy remake of the ancient hero Rambo, ready to bring the fires of Hell to the OZ base in the mountains beyond.

Smirking at Trowa, Quatre snickered quietly. "Don't worry. Everything'll be fine." Tossing a service-revolver to Trowa, he nodded. "In case you need to defend yourself.

And with that, the weapon-decked boy marched out of the room.

22:42 Hours --

Trowa was still staring at the board.

He'd yet to move his pieces after Quatre had called Check.

Considering his options, Trowa mentally scowled. They were surprisingly low.

The only piece he could move to stop the check was his king, which meant he couldn't move his powerhouse piece out of danger.

His queen was inevitably going to be captured.

Sighing, he took his king from E8 and deposited it back on the board at D8.

Sure enough, his queen fell victim to Quatre's platinum knight.

'Oh yeah?' Trowa thought vindictively as he took his bishop from C6 and plopped it on A8, stealing away Quatre's offending knight.

Quatre smiled. "Yeah," he whispered, as he took his other knight to D6 and stole away a golden pawn.

"Hmph," Trowa uttered, his lips curved in a smile as his bishop traveled from F8 to D6 and reigned holy justice upon Quatre's remaining knight.

Quatre swung his pawn down from D2 to D4, still smiling happily.

Trowa folded his hands, staring at the pieces. Then, with slow determination, he moved his pawn from E5 to D4 to capture it.

Quatre's hand arched gracefully over the board, taking his platinum queen from her starting place of D1 and dropping it at D4, capturing Trowa's previously triumphant pawn.

"Checkmate in six moves."

Trowa's mind envisioned himself scowling.

19:58 Hours --

Trowa stared as the summer sky slowly faded with the onset of night.

He could see the explosions from where he was laying.

Graceful fireballs arched towards the heavens, long tendrils of flame like fingers as they sought to grasp the sky above.

A knocking at the door startled him.

His hand was immediately before him and gripping the gun that Quatre had left as he found himself already on his feet and hiding behind the door. He waited patiently.

The knocking sounded again. "Message for Trowa," a voice softly said, its tone distant and inattentive.

Ripping the door open, Trowa blindly reached out with his free hand and gripped. Coming in contact with fabric, he dragged the body of whoever was clothed in said fabric into the room and slammed the door shut again. His gun instantly at the person's forehead, his eyes narrowed, the boy snorted.

OZ soldier.

Browens.

He recognized his face from the interrogation cell.

"Message for Trowa," he repeated, his voice still distant and faint.

"Speak," Trowa demanded.

The man slowly blinked, then extended his hand, offering Trowa a sheet of paper that was tinged with soot and blood.

'Huh?' Trowa's free hand claimed the sheet immediately.

The soldier seemed to start at this, and rubbed his head, closing his eyes, his voice stronger and more clearly identifiable as that of the soldier called 'Browens' as he said, "What the hell… where am I?"

Trowa stared at the first few letters on the page. Lifting his gun, he fired one single bullet between the man's eyes, then continued reading.

'Shoot the messenger. Proceed south on the road. Await pickup. You'll know him when you see him. Quatre.' Trowa shook his head as he shoved the paper into the back pocket of his jeans. 'What kind of message is that?'

Shrugging, Trowa opened the door. Best to do what the letter said. Quatre, obviously, had this planned from the start. Or had altered his plan to include him.

Whatever the case, there was an organized escape.

That was fine with Trowa.

He'd rather be walking than in that musty room any longer, anyway.

22:45 Hours --

Trowa frowned as he moved his knight from G8 to F6. 'If nothing else, when Quatre takes my bishop, I can swing my knight down to defend my king. Then, he can't take my knight without sacrificing his queen to my king….'

Quatre's hand moved his rook.

'Rook from A1 to C1?'

'Crap. He's going to swing them down and checkmate me.'

Trowa tried to move his knight from F6 to D7, leaving it in position to defend his king, not seeing many other options at that moment.

Quatre's queen swept from D4 to H8.

'What? He went after…'

'He's got my other rook.'

"Check!" the angelic voice piped happily.

Frowning, Trowa sighed and swung his knight from D7 to F8, blocking the Queen.

'Well, if he attempts to take my knight, my bishop takes his queen. But that doesn't solve the problem of his damned rooks. So come on, Quatre. Move your queen. That's what you're going to do, right?'

Wrong.

Quatre swung his other rook out of hiding, taking it from F1 to D1.

'Huh? Woah! He's going to pin me with his rook. He's going to sweep one rook down to get my bishop, then have his queen take my knight… how to block, how to block the pin…'

'Move my other bishop!'

The golden holy-man moved from A8 to C6.

That golden piece was swiftly claimed by a platinum dragon-bearing castle that moved from C1 to C6.

Trowa nodded. Checkmate was unavoidable. Out of moves, he simply stepped one of his few remaining pawns from F7 to F5.

20:26 Hours --

Trowa staggered as he walked down the road.

The cool night air did help to refresh him, but his injuries were certainly catching up with him.

It didn't matter.

Trowa's gaze turned heavenward as he heard the rushing approach of engines.

His stare remained unimpressed and unconcerned as the huge black mobile suit dropped onto the road in front of him, large thermal scythe held to its right, its left hand extended.

'That guy from New Edwards that Heero keeps talking about. Duo.'

"A're? You? The bastard that pelted me with missiles!"

Trowa simply nodded as he climbed aboard the machine's hand.

"Fuck! Of all the people Quatre asks me to rescue, it has to be you… well, at least this way I can properly chew you out for denting my damned Gundam, eh?"

Sitting without comment, Trowa simply hung on as the reckless pilot blasted off again, taking him in some unknown direction towards what he assumed must be safety.

22:51 Hours --

"Checkmate."

Trowa nodded as Quatre's hands left the platinum queen at square F8, neatly pinning his king between queen and rooks. "Good game," he said, his eyes genuinely soft as he extended his hand for the customary after-game shake.

Grinning, Quatre took his hand and gave it a firm jostle. "Thank you for the challenge!"

The large oak door of the room swung open. "Oi, Quatre-kun, Johnson's here to talk to you."

'Johnson…?'

"Said it's about Waverly. Some new info he got from Lesley, or something… I don't ask."

"Ah! Good. Thank you, Duo-kun!"

Trowa stared as Quatre left.

'Waverly… Lesley… Johnson…' he thought, seeking the connection in his memories that conveyed familiarity.

22:20 Hours, Yesterday --

"Johnson, Browens, stay to control the prisoners. The rest of you are dismissed."

00:05 Hours --

"Hello, Johnson. Lesley. Is this one behaving?"

"Hasn't moved an inch, sir."

"Good," the captain's voice continued.

"The other one cooperating yet?"

"Not at all," he muttered. "He eludes to one thing, then completely abolishes any suggestions he gives with his next statements."

"Sounds like he's going to need some persuasion to tell the truth, neh, Cap?"

"Yes, he will."

"Get Sargent Waverly. He should be able to offer some interesting insight on what is to be done with this irritating little captive of ours."

19:58 Hours --

OZ soldier.

Browens.

He recognized his face from the interrogation cell.

"Message for Trowa," he repeated, his voice still distant and faint.

22:52 Hours --

Trowa's eyebrows arched over flat emerald eyes as he watched the platinum haired youth leave with his braided friend, leaving him alone in the huge chess room.

If questions had been bubbling in Trowa's skull before, they were boiling over the brim now.