Review replies:

MikaSamu: Thank you very much for your glowing review! Keeping the main characters IC is a task I take to heart, and I'm happy that people are recognizing that effort. And thank you for your compliment on my original characters – sometimes making OCs something more than cannon fodder can be tough. (little laugh) How's about another couple of chapters? (rings gong)

YiyangYoung: Glad you're still enjoying this! Yeah, I'd just come off watching Goldeneye (Q!) when I can up with the chandelier idea. But for this fic it seemed incredibly adequate and not too out there. (grin) As for who's targeting Duo, that'll be answered later… (insane cackle (hey, you said that's alright!))

fruits of Eos: Ah, you remember this one, eh? Then you'd be happy to know that the reviewers here have managed to revive this plot from the grave – I've actually got the motivation to write again. Makes me happy to be playing with my spies and my plots again. (smile)

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-

20:50 Hours, Yesterday --

"So," the braided boy said in between spoons of food, "they're basically all conspiring against each other."

"Aa." Nodding, Trowa looked at his own plate of food. For some reason, he didn't have much of an appetite. Even though he'd yet to have eaten since the noon hour, he couldn't look at his food as being anything flavorful or desirable. His stomach even agreed with him, murmuring acidly every time he considered taking a fork full of curry and rice and shoving it into his mouth.

Duo chewed, swallowed, and waved his fork in Trowa's direction. "So let me get this straight. Those three OZ soldiers are probably all against us, yet they're against one another. That's the only thing that's keeping our asses out of the fire right now."

"Correct."

"And Quatre's running amuck at this guy Channok's place, trying to pump information out of the guy concerning something called the Romefeller Foundation."

"Aa."

"And Quatre's probably in considerable danger."

Trowa's silence was the only answer Duo needed.

"And we aren't going in after him because he said it would only succeed in further endangering his life?"

Trowa nodded mutely.

"Fuck."

'I fully agree, Duo. I'm just as frustrated as you are.'

"Well, I don't know about you, but I ain't sittin' by for this."

"Duo, we can't…"

"Can't fucking make a move? Bullshit. There's always a move that can be made, right?"

"If we make any moves, we'd be endangering Quatre. Not just the mission. Remember that."

"I know, I know. So that means that breaking him out'll just bring heat down on us. And we don't need anymore heat, considering how deep of a vat of shit we're already in."

"Yep."

"What do you think I'm suggesting? Infiltrating? Sending spies?"

Trowa arched a brow. "Aren't you?"

"Nope. Dude…" Sighing, rubbing his head, Duo focused one violet eye on his companion. "Think about it. The reason his life is endangered is…?"

"They already know he's a spy."

"Right. So they've got security on his like fucking nuts, probably. And if he does anything to escape or report, he's gonna be fucking blown away, no matter how much this Channok guy likes him. Right?"

Trowa nodded again.

"So we can't go in and get him. That'll blow whatever remnants of cover he has left completely away, and let them know that not only has he been in contact with us, but that he's probably given us information that we just haven't found yet or something. But that doesn't mean that we just gotta sit on our asses waiting for Quatre's go ahead."

"Oh?"

"Why don't we tap their security grid? Watch what's going on ourselves? It would give us a better working knowledge of what the fuck's going on, and alleviate some of our worries 'bout the little guy."

Trowa stared blankly.

'He just came up with…. I was just out-performed by…. I can't believe this.'

Smirking, Duo tapped his forehead with a slim index finger. "There IS something up here, you know."

"Only problem is getting into their computer system over the remote connection. They've got plenty of firewalls up against anyone coming in on an outside line. Their security is very tight. I failed breaking into the system at the OZ base we detonated. Quatre disabled that one. How do you expect us to get into a Romefeller Archive?"

Duo stretched his lanky body, folding his hands over his head and groaning as his back popped a few times. "Directly interfacing with it. Plugging the damned thing into a phone line. Bypassing their firewalls at the source. Basically, going and pulling the fucking plug. Their system goes down, they start doing a quick reboot, right?"

Trowa nodded.

"So, before they get to that point, you just switch plugs from a direct terminal to a phone line. We get remote access, and have just bypassed security provided you log on before they reinstall their security profiles."

'Makes sense. However…' "This does require someone to be on the premises for this to be done."

"I know that."

"I'm a hot target."

"Yep."

"The others…"

"Ain't going. I'm doing it."

"You?"

"Yep."

Trowa frowned. "But what about your foot?"

Grinning maniacally, Duo chuckled. "As you said, it's just a flesh wound. It's bandaged so fucking much that I can barely feel it. No big pain in my ass. I can function with it."

"Really."

"First lesson they taught me was how to ignore pain," Duo quietly stated, nodding, his face suddenly serious. "I'm just as capable as the rest of you. Don't worry. It's my buddy in danger. I'm not letting anything stop me from ensuring his safety, even if it places my own person at risk."

09:16 Hours --

Trowa sighed quietly as he clicked the mouse again, changing images.

Duo's little plan had worked like a charm.

He was on the security grid.

Seated in Quatre's high-backed black leather chair in the Winner heir's office, sunlight streaming into the room through the huge panes of beveled glass behind him, Trowa lounged in comfort as he peered at the static-ridden and fuzzy images played out before his eyes by the cameras that were connected to the OZ mansion's server. From his position, he had access to nearly everything, and was fully exploiting it.

However, the files he instinctively felt Quatre was after were privately archived and password-protected. Committee logs, mission statements, meeting minutes.

'Those are what he's after. And he's probably seen them, but is in the same situation I'm in. Look, but can't touch. How very frustrating.'

His eyes narrowed, he was skimming through the information he could access, absorbing as much of it as possible.

'Hm. OZ's operations in space are only partially sanctioned, eh? Interesting.'

'And information on that Treize Khushrenada fellow. If that Chinese pilot were here, he'd be jumping down my throat for this, neh?'

Flick went the screens.

'Communications monitoring? Interesting. Password protected? Can my little program handle it?'

Clicking on his Codebreaker 3001 icon on the desktop, he waited for the inevitable success or fail message. 'Hope this isn't like those other archives, with fifteen plus digit passwords.'

"Success."

'Fabulous.'

Tapping in, he arched a brow as he was presented with a line of frequencies and phone line numbers that were flashing if activated.

'Very interesting.'

Selecting one, he clicked on it.

Immediately, a hot and steamy conversation between a soldier and his spouse who apparently hadn't seen one another in months spilled over the computer's speakers.

Simply arching a brow, Trowa flicked that one off and selected another.

21:40 Hours, Yesterday --

Trowa was calmly pointing the layout of the mansion out to Duo, tracing along the map he'd drawn with a slender index finger.

"So right 'bout here is where you suspect it is, eh?"

"Aa."

"Actually, Duo, the computer server is here."

"AUGH! Damn, man, don't sneak up on us like that!"

Trowa was also trying to quell his pounding heartbeat, though without the same commotion that Duo resorted to. His eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at Xavier Johnson, who was smirking, leaning over the map, pointing over Duo's shoulder.

"So, what are you two planning?" the OZ officer questioned, his smile cheerful and friendly.

"Nothing you need concern yourself with," Trowa said quietly, shrugging as if without care.

"Yep. Just two friends conspiring together. Nothin' you need to stick your nose into."

"I'm not feeling trust here for some reason," Xavier said with a sigh.

"Gee, you fuckin' think?"

Trowa had to fight his face to keep from smirking. 'The Deathscythe pilot sure is entertaining.'

17:33 Hours, Yesterday --

The five sat in silence, watching Duo's pace through the channels do nothing but increase.

'He's nervous. His hand is trembling. That's what's making his finger press so rapidly on the button.'

Frowning, Trowa rose from his seat and stepped across James' knees to stand before Duo. Lightly placing a hand on his fellow pilot's shoulder, he sighed. "Want to get something to eat?"

"Sure. Nothing on, anyway," Duo said with a quick grin, tossing the remote into Waverly's lap and nearly running out of the room with Trowa hot on his heels.

As soon as they were safely in the dining room, Duo nearly collapsed into the nearest chair by the table that he could reach. "Fuck…"

"What's wrong?" questioned Trowa, his eyes carrying the slightest hint of concern in their emerald depths.

"I… just… shit. I don't trust any of them. It's like sitting in a room filled with fucking vultures ready to pick the flesh off your bones…"

Trowa nodded, frowning himself. He'd gotten that same feeling.

"Plus not to mention that one of those mother fuckers is the guy that was gonna blast me to smithereens."

Trowa's eyes widened. 'That's right. No WONDER he's nervous. Especially with Waverly speaking so casually about the explosion that was meant for Duo. About Duo not being in the 'body count.''

"I just wanna blow the bitches to Hell." Snorting, Duo plopped back in his chair and punched his fist sharply down onto the table top, making the candlesticks that were upon it shiver and topple over.

09:31 Hours --

Trowa decided to click the button as it flashed, indicating that the line was active.

Instantly, his eyes widened as he read the information displayed concerning the call upon his screen.

'Going from Base: A19-043 to Unk: 2/394/399/8257? That's…'

He listen to the ringing of the phone as it was projected over the computer's speakers.

'That's here! That's one of the private bedroom lines, isn't it?'

The line picked up immediately.

Narrowing his eyes, Trowa carefully listened.

"Yo. James."

"James, listen."

Trowa's pounding heart came nearly to a stop. 'Quatre!'

"Am doing."

"I don't have much time, so better have a pen and paper ready."

"Got'cha, kid," James' voice cracked over the flimsy speakers.

"Move the rook from D5 to G5. I think you can figure out the strategy from there."

Trowa listened as James Waverly gulped quietly. "I… understand."

"I'm sorry, James," Quatre's voice quietly sighed.

"I understand. They're on to me?"

"Yeah…."

A long pause dominated the line for a moment.

"I'm sorry…" Quatre's voice whispered.

"Hell, don't worry 'bout it, kid. I knew the price when I started."

"James…"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

"Sure thing."

Click.

Trowa listened to the dial tone.

tbc...