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MikaSamu: Hey, I don't mind people being greedy and wanting more! I've always wanted to write more of this plot, but lack of enthusiasm on the part of those reading it almost killed it (I'm very happy I started posting on fanfiction . net, otherwise this probably wouldn't stand a chance of ever being concluded). So thank you for enjoying it! Here's another one!

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-

12:27 Hours --

Sunlight oozed through the room, filtered mildly by the thin gauzy white drapes that cascaded from the rods running above the huge bay windows that dominated the west wall of the room. Illuminating off-white walls and gold trim, it scattered its prismatic rays across the room in varied rainbows as it passed through the beveled edges of the windowpanes. Every once in a while, the huge palm tree that rose to the south side of the window outside would shiver with the passing of a gust of wind, its huge fronds swaying and casting black shadows across the room, shading the golden lamps and heavily detailed Persian rugs before slowly bending back into position to allow the sun's light to fully bathe the room again.

Leaning back in one of the two plush chairs that occupied the room, encased in the warmth and comfort of overly stuffed off-white cushions and thick pillows, Trowa rested his arms upon the armrests as he turned his emerald gaze to the bed that dominated the room's center.

Ignoring the spiraling corner posts and the lacy scrollwork of the golden headboard and foot board, his eyes found their target - the small lump that laid in the center of the massive pile of off-white blankets, scrunched under their protective layers.

Duo Maxwell was sulking.

"It's not that cold, Duo."

"HA! The blankets are nice and cool. I'm comfy."

Moments of tense silence passed.

"I'm sorry."

"There ain't nothin' you can fucking say to me, Trowa. Not after blasting my damned foot out."

"It was a clean shot. The doctor already said that you should be fully recovered within half of a month. It's only a flesh wound, after all."

"Only a fucking flesh wound, he says."

"If I'd have used a higher caliber bullet, I may have taken your entire foot off."

"Fuck off."

Trowa simply shrugged, keeping his gaze on the sulking lump.

"Alright, alright…" the wavering voice came again from under its shelter of blankets, "I forgive ya."

"…."

"Shit! You were talking up a storm 'bout two minutes ago, and now you can't even say, "Thank you, Duo. How big of you." God damn it… whoever taught you common courtesy ought to be drug out into the street and shot."

Arching a brow, Trowa simply shrugged again.

"It really doesn't matter to me."

The blankets shuffled.

"Now, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Shoot."

"Where have you been?"

22:39 Hours, Yesterday --

Trowa held his gun at ready, keeping his hand lightly resting upon the whimpering and squirming boy's shoulder.

"Stay down," Trowa softly hissed, his gaze darting from left to right, attempting to put together an escape route for himself and his injured companion before reinforcements came down upon them.

"Like I have a FUCKING choice! ARGH!" Duo rolled slightly, gripping his foot in his hand, pressing his thumbs against the wound to stave the slow flow of blood that oozed from it.

Trowa chose to ignore the braided pilot's wailing, noting his actions in the corner of his mind. 'At least he's sane enough to remember to apply pressure. That should keep him from passing out. Shock of pain will keep him awake. He won't be losing much more blood.'

Lights began to shine upon the hilltops he'd previously been stationed on.

'Reinforcements are coming. Damn.' "Can you stand?"

"DO YOU HAVE A GOD DAMNED BRAIN! NO!"

Frowning slightly, the taller boy hoisted his wounded companion over his shoulder, chose a direction, and ran.

12:40 Hours --

"Heh. Where have I been? Just sittin' on my ass in a shack 'bout twenty miles away from here."

"In the town to our west?"

"Yep."

"What were you doing there?"

"Being completely lost and not knowing which damned way to get back here! What the fuck do you think? That I was goin' to raves and partyin' my head off?"

Trowa shrugged.

"Who captured you?"

Duo huffed a sigh from under his blankets even as his hands snaked out from underneath to grip the top of the sheets. Slowly scooting them down the bed, the boy struggled into an upright position, his unbound hair cascading around his shoulders and pooling under the blankets. "That's the weird thing," he finally started, looking at Trowa with eyes glazed from the pain medication he was on.

"What?"

"I wasn't really captured."

Arching a brow, Trowa crossed his legs, waving for a servant's attention. "Keep going. Do you want some water?"

"Yeah, that'd be great. So anyway," he continued as Trowa sent the servant on her way, "it certainly fucking FELT like I was being captured at first, ya know? Suddenly there's this wonderful crack across the back of my skull and I've got little white starts floating before my eyes, then everything goes black and I'm feeling grass poking up my nose but can't fucking do anything about it. And so then everything just kinda fades away into this wonderful black curtain of nothingness that says, 'Hey, Duo! It's pleasant here! You know that pain in your skull? Well, it's gone! There's nothing here for you to feel! It's black!' You know what I'm sayin'."

With the slightest of amused smirks on his lips, Trowa nodded.

"So anyway, I open my eyes some time later and find myself in this crappy little mattress in the middle of this drafty-ass cabin. So I'm thinking, 'What the fuck!' and all of a sudden, that guy… what's his name… Chad. Chad Lesley. He comes marching into the room."

'Now we're getting somewhere…' "Mm hm."

"Yeah. So he looks at me, and says, "Well, glad I got you out of there in time." So I'm like, "What the hell? What do you mean? And what the fuck did you crack my skull for?" and he's just sayin', "You were targeted." So I just kinda looked at him. I mean, what was I supposed to think? Oh, yeah, I was targeted? There were even more jerk-off OZ soldiers with my name on their bullets that were running about looking for me than I'd previously suspected? That I'd been found in Quatre's haven out here? Shit. Thanks."

Trowa arched a brow, then noticed that, yes, Duo was turned on the bed, graciously smiling at the maid who delivered a huge glass of ice water to him. Turning his head to his left, he nodded to the other servant and took his own drink. Lifting it to his lips, he sipped it carefully.

"So anyway," Duo continued after wetting his throat, "he tells me all this shit about him and Xavier suspecting James Waverly the torturer all the while and thinking that his loyalties to Quatre were more than a little questionable. Which, frankly, I think ALL their fucking loyalties are more than a little questionable, but that's just me."

'I thoroughly agree. But go on,' Trowa's brain muttered as he sipped his water and nodded.

"So he says that he saw James dicking around with the television before you and Xavier and him went out to the garage. So he claims that while I was out waving goodbye, he checked the TV and found it bombed. Which I doubt, but hey…."

"It was rigged."

"It was?" Duo asked, his violet eyes widening slightly.

"Aa."

"Fuck. Anyone hurt?"

"Some servant. Blown to pieces."

"Damn…."

"But continue. Did he give you a reason for knocking you out instead of just telling you what was going on?"

"Yeah, he did. But it was really fucking lame. He told me that because I didn't trust him or any of them, that I would have just blown off his worries and suspicions and gotten myself killed in the process, or started to look at HIM suspiciously when he wasn't really the person after my life."

"Good excuse."

"Yeah, just really fucking lousy method."

"He had to get you out of the way."

"What, should I fucking be grateful or something?" Snorting, Duo hugged his blanket-covered legs, cradling his head upon his cushioned knees. "I had a god damned concussion. Can still kinda feel the headache."

Trowa simply nodded.

"And now a question for you, Trowa."

"Yeah?"

"Why the hell were they targeting me in the first place?"

22:47 Hours, Yesterday --

Trowa nearly snarled in frustration. It was difficult maneuvering when toting a body.

He could feel the pressure of incoming mobile suits. He could feel them coming. He could sense the soldiers bringing up the pursuit. He could hear the roaring of vehicle engines.

'We're not going to make it out,' Trowa's brain surmised as he kept his stoic face, running for all he was worth with Duo now quite unconscious from all the jostling, the pain, and the blood that had rushed to his head.

Once more, he spotted headlights.

Cursing, Trowa brought his run to a halt, ready to throw down his weapon.

He resumed running, heading towards the Jeep, when he saw the figure in the driver seat wave towards him.

Jumping into the back of the vehicle, ungracefully depositing his fellow pilot onto the bench beside him, he glanced over his shoulder at Xavier.

"Drive."

"Way ahead of you! Hold on, buddy."

Trowa barely kept his balance as the vehicle bounced off down the road.

13:03 Hours --

"Why the hell were they targeting me in the first place?"

'Good question. Think, Trowa, think. There's a rational explanation for thi…'

Trowa's mental monologue drew to a complete halt as it brought up a memory clip from a few days past.

22:56 Hours, 5 Days Ago --

"Very true," Chad said, "but you forget that you're talking about what I call your most perfect strategist. His weapon is his intellect, Mr. Maxwell, and he has that in excess. He'll be able to compensate for any unexpected turns."

08:13 Hours, 7 Days Ago --

"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…"

13:04 Hours --

"Of course," Trowa quietly muttered.

"Of course what?"

Trowa glanced up, partially surprised that he'd spoken those words out loud. Lowering his gaze again, he stared at his hands, a small frown playing on his lips as he let his shoulders relax.

"Have you ever played chess before, Duo?"

"Yeah, a couple of times. Sister… Sister Helen always made me play during the evenings on Sundays 'cause I would always refuse to serve as alter boy for the evening masses… I always told her that one mass on Sundays was more than a God I didn't revere needed from me." Laughing softly, his tone carrying bittersweet shadows to it, he closed his violet eyes and shook his head.

"Then tell me. The object of the game is obviously to maneuver the king into a position where his capture is inevitable. Accomplished through…?"

"Your pieces."

"How many pieces do you need to do this?"

"Um, bare minimum of two, I think."

Trowa nodded. "One piece can't do it on its own, right?"

"That's right," Duo said with a shrug, "but I still don't see where you're going."

"They've been trying to get rid of the pieces on the board. Isolate each piece, and you can capture it easily."

"Hmmmm… so you're suggesting that they're treating this entire dilemma like some defunct game, tryin' to kill every piece to keep us from capturing their King or something?"

"Precisely. King is mission completion. The data we need, and base destruction if desired."

"Makes sense," Duo muttered, scratching his chin."

Trowa nodded, then blinked.

"And now, because of their actions, the queen's alone on her own board."

'Quatre….'

tbc...