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-

22:43 Hours --

Trowa stared down the sites of his gun, keeping the forehead of his steadily approaching target perfectly centered in his line of vision. The blaring of the alarms above and around him and the glistening red light that filled the hallways beyond the stairwell that lead to the cellar he was standing in and filtered throughout the room didn't cause him to so much as blink as he stared the intruder down. "Stop," Trowa growled.

Still, the stumbling man approached without hesitation. The only thing that seemed to be slowing him down was the dragging of his toes along the concrete floor below him.

"Stop, or I'll shoot," Trowa warned one final time, squinting his eye as he peered along his pistol's barrel.

Chad Lesley apparently either did not hear him or was not listening, continuing to walk towards him with his dark eyes wide and unseeing. Light trickles of sweat ran down through his moustache, the perspiration making his face glisten in the faint light thrown by the lamps of the hallway upstairs.

Trowa cocked the gun, staring into the portly man's eyes.

He paused, his eyes widened in shock.

'He looks just like…'

19:58 Hours, 9 Days Ago --

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.

22:44 Hours --

'He looks just like that other OZ soldier…'

02:06 Hours, 8 Days Ago --

"But still, I feel rotten about it…"

"He would have betrayed us anyway. You know that."

"Yeah. Stop being so hard on yourself. He was getting himself slaughtered on his lonesome."

"… Hai."

"You can't be letting a small setback like this upset you so much, man. So some news leaked to Bradshaw, and Browens had to be sacrificed. Hell, you gave him a better end than he could ever have hoped to meet…"

"Enough! I've heard enough…."

Trowa simply frowned, his finger remaining firmly upon the receiver pressed into his ear canal.

22:45 Hours --

Emerald eyes nearly rolling out of his head, Trowa lowered the gun before pulling the trigger.

The shot rang loudly through the cellar, its echo drowning out even the wailing of the alarm system.

Holstering his gun, Trowa walked over to Chad Lesley to check the man's wound.

The man named Chad was wailing in pain, clutching his leg. Blood oozed between his fingers as he tightly grabbed his thigh in a vain attempt to stem the flow of the vital liquid that rushed from the clean puncture wound that ran through his flesh.

Shaking his head, Trowa yanked the man's belt off his body and quickly secured it around his leg to create a makeshift tourniquet. Pulling it as tightly closed as he possibly could, he nodded. "Keep pressure on it," Trowa muttered to the man.

Chad glowered at him, his face completely animate with emotion for the first time since Trowa had seen him in the dirty little in-town club over a week ago. "Why the hell did you shoot me!" he snarled.

"You were attempting to pass me. I had to stop you."

"I was? Don't lie to me, boy…" Letting his head fall back, Chad whimpered, his shiny face pale, his lips loosely open as he attempted to calm his breathing.

"I'm not."

"I don't even know how I got down here!"

20:02 Hours, 9 Days Ago --

"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?"

22:46 Hours --

Green eyes opened wide, he stared at the gasping and whimpering OZ soldier.

'It's so similar. It's TOO similar.'

'Quatre…'

02:07 Hours, 8 Days Ago --

"You can't be letting a small setback like this upset you so much, man. So some news leaked to Bradshaw, and Browens had to be sacrificed. Hell, you gave him a better end than he could ever have hoped to meet…"

22:47 Hours --

'Quatre will understand what's going on. It's time he explained this.'

Trowa frowned.

'It's time he explained everything.'

19:48 Hours --

"He's awake!" Duo's voice screamed from upstairs.

Instantly, Quatre was on his feet and tearing up the stairwell, heading towards the bedroom chamber that held the previously comatose body of Xavier Johnson within its confines.

Trowa sat for a moment, watching the boy run off, his brain in an entirely different realm of reality.

Currently, he was reflecting on the fact that the front of his chest was getting cold without Quatre leaning against him any longer.

'Damn it.'

Then he paused.

'Duo said he's awake. Questioning time.'

Trowa was up like a flash as well, tromping up the stairs into the bedroom.

Stepping into the room, he walked over towards the large, plush bed that dwarfed the adult man who laid upon it. Staring without emotion at the beaten, pale form of Xavier Johnson, he crossed his arms over his chest as he came to a halt behind Quatre, who was kneeling at the bed side with his hands resting near that of the OZ soldier. Duo, leaning against the wall, seemed to be keeping a careful watch over the entire gathering.

"Xavier?" Quatre whispered softly, lightly touching the man's arm.

"Ungh," the man said, his eyes remaining closed to the world.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like warmed over shit. Can I get some more rest, please? Head hurts… just woke up for some water…"

"Oh. Alright." Nodding, Quatre rose and walked towards Duo. Lightly laying his hand upon the braided boy's arm, he nodded and slowly pushed him towards the door.

Trowa remained by the bedside, having noted the look that was shining in the depths of Quatre's eyes, barely hidden by the false mirrors of tears and sorrow.

'You want me to question him? Great.'

Leaning over the bed, Trowa frowned. "You're going to tell me what happened."

"After some shut-eye, alright?"

"No," Trowa snarled quietly. "Now. I want to know what happened."

Xavier coughed deeply, before turning his gaze away from the boy's face. "Lesley."

"Betrayed you?"

"Betrayed us all."

"Clarify."

Groaning quietly, Xavier turned back to face Trowa, his pale face contorted with pain that rocketed through his frame. "He's not working for Quatre. Not even for OZ. He's working for Kesslinger."

Trowa narrowed his eyes. 'Kesslinger. That sounds familiar.'

03:45 Hours, 8 Days Ago --

Trowa was slowly beginning to develop one heck of an ache in his jaw from clenching it so hard for so very long.

Over an hour later, and Quatre was still seated at that mysterious man's table.

Trowa's brain calmly relayed the information he'd gathered from the bug he'd planted on Quatre's shirt across his mind's eye.

The man's name was Gregory. He was a friend of James Waverly. He was also affiliated with Douglas, whoever that was. He was working as a computer consultant and had been called in to check out some sort of security breech and a virus that couldn't be repaired. He was usually stationed out on the eastern seaboard of the continent of North America, but had been ordered to travel out here to assist in repairing and reestablishing the network that had apparently been broken into by Rebel forces.

08:20 Hours --

"Answer my question." Trowa's eyes narrowed into dangerous emerald slits.

"Fine. But I don't believe you're going to like the answer."

Trowa silently awaited Xavier's revelation.

Sighing softly, the soldier turned his gaze to the television, folding his hands in his lap. "He's with Channok. Gregory Channok. An affiliate of Douglas Kesslinger, friend of Col. Tuberoff."

'Gregory….'

20:57 Hours --

Trowa crossed his arms as he walked once more into the bedroom that housed Xavier Johnson. "I trust you're rested enough to speak now," he said.

Arching a brow, Xavier struggled into a partially upright position and flashed a wane ghost of his usually cockeyed and cheerful grin. "Statement, not a question. Sure, sure. I'm well enough."

"Then tell me about Chad Lesley."

Plopping back onto his bed, Xavier sighed quietly. "He was the one behind everything. Didn't even see it coming, you know. He had me thoroughly convinced that it was James who'd infiltrated us."

"Why would he infiltrate his own organization?"

Snorting, Xavier looked over at him. "Don't give me that shit. James told you, didn't he?"

"Told me what?" Trowa arched a brow.

Chuckling, Xavier shrugged. "Guess he didn't. Oh well. Was liable to get out sooner or later."

"What was liable to get out?"

"The fact that we're spies for the Rebels, not the Alliance, OZ, or Romefeller."

Trowa narrowed his eyes. 'That's exactly what James said, isn't it?'

00:14 Hours --

"Hey, no worries, kid. That's what I've got in mind." Smirking, the man stretched as best as he could with his hands lashed behind his back. "After all, once they discover that I've been working for the Rebel Alliance and spyin' on their stupid asses for the last four years, they may just consider trying to plea-bargain with me. Service for them against my employers in exchange for my life."

"Four… years…?" Duo whispered quietly.

Trowa was simply staring, his eyes widened with disbelief.

"I'll inform H that you won't be contacting him for awhile."

"Thanks for covering my ass, kiddo."

Quatre smiled, lightly caressing the older man's cheek. "No problem."

20:59 Hours --

Trowa sighed softly. "So what is your purpose here?"

Xaiver stared at the ceiling. "Since my cover's fully blown, you want me to tell all, eh?"

"You got it."

Closing his brown eyes, Xavier began to mutter quietly, "We were here to assist Quatre with his infiltration of the Romefeller society. Our mission was to discover their ultimatums and keep current on their objectives, as to better deduce the movements of OZ and to predict the actions of the Earth Sphere Alliance that would be derived in reaction to OZ's moves. To get this information to those who are in charge of your little guerilla war here on Earth so they could better direct you and assist you in winning this thing."

"Really."

"Yeah. Quatre communicates regularly with them. It's his strategies that are evaluated by them and forwarded on to you. Lately, he's just gotten approval to do as he wants… use their IPs and all to move you on his own… but that really has nothing to do with us."

"Continue on Lesley."

"Looks like he's working for the guy Quatre was after. Kesslinger's one of the guys who works directly with the Foundation. Knowing what he's up to is like knowing exactly what they're planning to do with themselves, because he's that incredibly influential."

"So he tried to kill you?"

"Chad must've figured it out. That James and I were on to him. So while you were gone, he tried to off me. Think he was also after Quatre's plans, too. We've been together, the four of us, since Blondie was fourteen. He knows the kid's in charge. He knows that the mainframe holds all the keys to what the Foundation could possibly ever want to know about the future movements of the Gundams. I tried to stop him, but I'm no match for him. Bulldozed me right over."

Trowa frowned, gripping on every word that spilled from Xavier's bruised jaws.

He left the room only after the man had passed out once more from the drugs that coursed through his body combined with the battering he'd received earlier.

22:56 Hours --

With all of the commotion, it didn't take long for the other two Gundam pilots to make their way to the cellar. Duo had immediately taken to getting Chad to a room and getting someone to attend to his wound. Trowa stopped Quatre, and held his arm as everyone slowly filtered out of the room, following the braided pilot and his charge.

Trowa stared at Quatre long and hard.

Quatre stared right back, refusing to give into the suggestion to squirm. "What, Trowa?"

"Tell me everything."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because… I don't know everything."

"Then you're going to tell me what you DO know."

Quatre sighed quietly. "I promise you I will. But right now… this isn't the time for it."

"Then answer one question."

"Yes?"

Trowa frowned, and quickly described the encounter he'd had with Browens over a week ago. Quatre, predictably nodded, but appeared genuinely shocked when Trowa snarled that Chad had the same glazed look in his eye and had surprisingly similar behavioral patterns.

"What did you do, Quatre?"

"I did nothing to Chad!"

Trowa's eyes narrowed.

Bowing his head, Quatre sighed. "It's an experimental drug. Truth serum. You're familiar with that?"

Nodding, the green-eyed boy frowned.

"Enhance it. Double the molar strength."

"It would kill the person you administer it to, Quatre. The acids in that serum would eat right through their veins."

"Not if you stabilize it with an alkaline base."

"Really."

"Yes. That's how it's done. That's what it is. And what it does is open the victim to suggestion."

"Brainwash in a syringe?"

"Aa. It numbs the brain, slows the thinking process, but leaves your mobile functions intact. It allows you to force another to carry out simple tasks. And, with their thoughts slowed to the point of being nonresistant…"

"You mean it's liquid-mind-control?"

"Basically."

Laying a hand on Quatre's shoulder, he frowned. "Both you and I know that isn't possible. You aren't telling me the truth."

Quatre's aquamarine eyes flew open as he stared at Trowa.

"Just tell me, Quatre."

Lowering his gaze, he sighed softly. "I wasn't lying about the serum. It does, indeed, numb the mind and make a person susceptible to suggestion."

"However?"

"It doesn't completely lower the barriers of the brain. That's impossible."

"So how does it work? How would you control another mind?"

"You…"

Trowa nearly snarled in frustration.

Catching the hint, Quatre gulped. "It only works with those who are gifted. Gifted with abnormally strong psychowave presence."

"Meaning?"

"The mind-controlling application of that particular drug only works for newtypes."

23:31 Hours --

Duo glanced up as the other two pilots finally arrived in the room that currently provided shelter for both him and Chad. "Finally decided to join us, eh?"

Quatre shrugged solemnly as Trowa nodded. They both walked to the edge of the bed.

Chad looked at them with weak, wild eyes. His gaze settled in particular upon Quatre.

"Tell me," Quatre whispered softly.

"You're not the only one around here."

"Not the only one strong enough to utilize it?"

"No."

Quatre bowed his head. "He was using you for cover, wasn't he?"

Chad slowly nodded.

"And by now, he's made his escape."

Duo and Trowa looked at one another before bursting from the room as one.

"No fuckin' way!" Duo wailed as they broke the door to Xavier's room open.

Trowa grimaced, looking at the empty bed.

tbc...