Disclaimer: If you failed to notice the disclaimer on the first few chapters, allow the author to reiterate: I do not own Gundam Wing or any other characters contained within. No money has been made from this story.

Author's note: Figured out which god's which? Some are pretty easy, but some a tad bit hard to peg. That's part of the fun. Each character will reveal little parts of themselves that are similar to the god they once were. You will gradually begin to see how that god applies to the character. I hope you all are enjoying this. Just so you know, not all relationships will be boy/boy. There are some m/f. Sorry if this part is dull.

Warnings: Drama, maybe. Confusion, must likely. Mindless ranting, of course.

Chapter 4

Hidden Phone Calls

Footsteps.

That was the only sound as he lay in the bed. His own breathing seemed to have been put on mute. Or maybe it was because he was holding his breath?

Footfalls.

The individual wore heavy shoes. Each fall left an echo behind it. The sound held a crispness that screamed: boot. The man was definitely large, for while the walk was brisk, the steps we spaced far apart in their approach. He would be here very soon.

Boot steps.

The man was just on the other side of the wall. He rose quietly from the bed and slid down against the wall.

Silence, then a softly made but loudly heard knock.

"Master Quatre," the deep voice asked, "are you sleeping?"

Silence. He shifted in his position beside the corner and crawled toward the door slowly. A moment's pause before the footsteps resumed and faded out to no more than a pitter-pat.

He stood up and opened the door, peeking down the hall to see Rashid round the corner. He pushed his blonde hair back behind his ear and gazed back the way Rashid had come. No one was coming from that direction either.

Quatre Raberba Winner released the breath he held and began walking down the hall after Rashid. Rashid came and checked on him every night now to ensure he had went to bed. He'd been suffering from insomnia lately and the large man had grown concerned.

Quatre, though very trusting of people, most of all Rashid, had the inclination that maybe Rashid was really checking to see if he slept so he could go off and do something he didn't want "Master Quatre" to know about.

Quatre's skills at following people weren't up to Heero Yuy's standards, but following the giant was very easy. Rashid, while watchful, never looked behind him, so Quatre didn't have to dive into some hiding hole whenever Rashid felt eyes on his back. Quatre was starting to think Rashid was only leading him on and knew he was back here.

Rashid paused at a door and knocked on it. Quatre recognized it to be the room currently occupied by his sister Aisha, who was visiting him. His sister opened the door and brief words were exchanged. The door closed and Rashid went about his business down another corridor.

Part of Quatre wanted to interrogate his sister on why Rashid spoke with her. Another part rationalized that maybe Rashid was checking to see if she had fallen asleep or chose to work late as usual, for security reasons. Another part pondered whether the man had a thing for his sister, but he quickly killed it. Aisha had a man over in Milan that she was practically engaged to, and Rashid wasn't even her type.

Quatre continued to follow Rashid when a slight buzz was emitted from the large man's waist. Rashid pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt and spoke into it. Rashid's voice carried easily to Quatre's ears.

"Yes?" A pause as a response was made. "I'll be there shortly; have him wait again. You'd think he'd stop calling."

Quatre's curiosity was peeked and he continued after Rashid, now curious as to who had called. He heard no phone. Had Rashid taken to monitoring and screening his personal calls now as well? Quatre decided that he should to talk to Rashid tomorrow morning.

Rashid entered a room that Quatre recognized as the security room. While the Maganacs were many, the house was huge and cameras had been set up to aid them. Quatre had often thought of ordering the large group to move on and let him be, but he kind of felt safe with his own personal SWAT team at the ready.

Quatre stood outside the security room door and listened for voices. Rashid's he could easily pick out. He thought he also heard Abdul's, but he wasn't certain. The two spoke briefly before another voice was heard.

"May I please speak with Quatre?"

Quatre's breath halted; that voice was so familiar. He KNEW he knew who it was, but the face that went with the voice was hiding back in his memory with no desire to resurface.

"Master Quatre is sleeping," Rashid said, with obvious disdain. "You should call earlier."

"I did," the voice said, "but he was engrossed with the violin."

Quatre's mind searched for when he played the violin that day, but failed to find it. Rashid was lying to the caller.

"You seem to have bad timing," Rashid said simply.

"Bad timing is lethal in my line of work, and I do believe my timing is excellent."

Quatre pondered at why Rashid was being rude, but quickly dismissed that thought as he began to wonder exactly what the caller did for a living. What kind of job could leave you dead if you are too slow?

Silence came from the room and Quatre was tempted to open the door and find out what was going on when the sound of footsteps began to approach. He glanced down the corridor he had come from before he dashed into the room across the hall. It was the library.

The footsteps passed and Quatre exited the library when he was sure the guard had turned the next corner. Quatre crept back to the security door to find that the conversation had continued in his absence.

"Why do you insist on keeping me from speaking to Quatre?"

"We do not appreciate your kind here, boy," Rashid said with obvious venom, "Let Master Quatre be."

"What do you mean 'my kind'? Quatre and I are more similar than anyone else I know."

"I know why you wish to speak with Master Quatre. I am not a blind man. Leave him be. He needs not such things."

The call must have ended then for no reply had been given and footsteps approached the door. Quatre dashed back into the library as Rashid exited and headed back down the corridor after the guard. Quatre poked his head out and walked across and opened the security room door. Abdul was sitting in a chair and glancing over various monitors. One of the screens was blank, and Quatre was sure that was the one Rashid had taken the call on.

"Hello, Abdul," he said approaching the monitors to search for Rashid, who was searching through the kitchen.

Abdul glanced over at Quatre in surprise, apparently having not noticed him on the monitors while he had followed Rashid. Quatre guessed that had something due with the book that rested in his lap. Quatre didn't comment however and merely looked down at the control board and looked for the phone toggle.

"Who called?" Quatre asked casually.

There was a silence as Abdul pondered whether or not to obey Rashid or Quatre. Abdul decided on the middle route and pointed to a small display on the board. Quatre pressed a scroll button so he could see the last call. It had been from a public phone so no ID was present. But the location was there. The call had come from Paris, France.

Quatre could not recall anyone he knew from Paris so he assumed that the caller was traveling through it. Who did he know that traveled? He searched his memory to find several people fit that requirement, so it needed to be narrowed down.

Quatre applied what he knew: the voice was male and had no accent; whoever called was also young, but had a slightly wary tone, which spoke that the caller had some experiences behind him; and the caller claimed to be more like him than anyone. This narrowed it down quite a bit. And Quatre was utterly surprised when it occurred to him who it had to be.

Trowa.

He hadn't seen Trowa since Mariemeia, which was three years ago, but Trowa was the only person who was anything like him, with the exception of the other pilots. Trowa traveled with the circus. Timing in the circus was important, especially when knife throwing with one's sister and aiding in acrobatic routines. Surely Trowa was the one who wanted to speak with him.

But why did Rashid not want that to occur?

"Abdul, why is Rashid keeping secrets from me?"

Abdul seemed to not hear him for a moment, but he sighed and stared at the screen in front of him, "He worries about your well being, Master Quatre."

"Why would Trowa be a danger to my well being?"

"I'm not sure, Master Quatre. Rashid sees things I do not."

While the response did not answer the question, it did confirm that Trowa had indeed been his caller. Quatre felt a flutter in his chest. He suddenly longed to speak with the pilot, but how does one contact the circus? Surely Trowa was no longer near the phone he had just used. He would have to catch him next time he called. Which means he'd have to follow Rashid again.

Quatre bid Abdul goodnight and headed toward his room. He would deal with Rashid tomorrow. His thoughts were occupied with his green-eyed friend. Why had Trowa called? Was he in trouble? Had something happened to the circus? To Catherine?

Quatre changed into his usual bedclothes, a light colored shirt and drawstring pants. He lay down in his bed and thought about Trowa. He pondered why such a voice had eluded him earlier. Trowa has spoken in a tone he had never heard before with Rashid, which made he sound unfamiliar. Quatre wondered if Trowa's hair was the same. Quatre smiled as he remembered the long bangs that hid Trowa's beautiful eyes from sight.

Quatre drifted off thinking about Trowa, and Trowa invaded his dreams.