((Okay, this is most definitely not my favorite chapter, but I felt the need to reverse my direction and tie up loose ends. Plus I've had a few people who are curious about Trowa and his thoughts on the blonde (anyone who knows me knows that doesn't mean he'll get him ), and then how Wufei's getting involved. I apologize to anyone who's wondering about Trieze and his 'wicked ways', but I promise we'll be getting back to him in the next chapter. So, forgive the long ramble?))

-----

Once again, Trowa found himself awakening with the world pounding and breaking apart around him.

His head was a throbbing core of agony, eyes feeling like they were burning in his sockets, and he had no idea what time it was. Truthfully, he didn't care. The bone-deep itching in his leg seemed more important right now. Through his cloud of fever thickened confusion, he felt his dry aching throat begging for liquid, and that he realized, had been his reason for slowly returning to real life… Well, that and the commotion going on down the hall.

He could hear Duo's sharp voice drilling into his mind like an ice pick, and then a low murmur of someone else. Probably trying to calm him from some mundane tragedy. Or maybe from Heero's, as always, blunt answers. For some reason, nothing seemed to get under Duo's skin so quickly as their stoic leader-figure, and vice-versa on Heero's part. If that's what it took to make a good couple, Trowa thought he could be happy dying alone. In the privacy of his room where no one could see, Trowa snickered wryly.

Opening his eyes and actually focusing them proved to be almost as hard a task as shifting his leg towards the side of the bed. He was in the middle of the lumpy mattress, which made it even more of a problem, something he knew was the result of not having a certain little body beside him to remind him to stay on one side.

Quatre.

Wufei's words came back to him, and flashes of the strange scene he'd witnessed before crawling back to this room. Quatre was missing, off on a mission… Or if he was lucky, maybe back already.

Again came that troubling thought that maybe he needed his blonde companion a little more than was normal, but for now he pushed it away and returned to the task of pulling himself out of bed. If Quatre was back, he'd talk to him about vanishing without a word (mildly scold in his own way. That was all one needed when dealing with his little friend), then check over him for injuries, and at last drag him back into the dark of their room and lay the blonde down so he could get some form of restful sleep… And perhaps, though no one would ever be able to drag that confession from him even with death as a threat, get some kind caring for.

Amazing how a man who didn't like to be touched normally and enjoyed not associating with the world on a general basis, had come to appreciate the feeling of a soft cool hand on his forehead, and a gentle worried smile directed just at him. It made you feel special. But that was just Quatre. Even if he hadn't liked it, the blonde still would have tried to fuss over him.

Hadn't he spent three days last month after a mission caring for Wufei's broken leg, an accident from a hasty escape, despite the Chinese man snapping at him at every opportunity and trying to stubbornly do everything for himself? Quatre had just smiled and nodded to Wufei's sharp words, rather like he was dealing with an old temperamental animal that he knew couldn't help itself. Even he'd been forced to smile at the scene, and Duo didn't even try to hide his laughter whenever he passed. There was just something cute about seeing Wufei laying on a couch red faced and sputtering while Quatre brought him food and tucked him in.

So, freshly motivated and hopeful (not that it showed in his glossy green eyes and as par usual blank expression), Trowa managed to haul himself upright, then began the long, treacherous and limping expedition out into the living room.

By the time he reached his target destination, little beads of sweat dotted his forehead from his efforts and each step with his bound leg felt like he was shooting it… Though putting it and himself out a misery, like a lame horse, was sounded better and better. But something told him it was more than worth it.

Duo sat on the couch with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, face turned to the side and expression one of seriously perturbed pouting. Heero sat on the other end of that furniture, his laptop open and set on his legs, and his fingers clicking rapidly over the keys in that makeshift electronic melody that he preferred. Of Wufei, there was no sign yet. Nor of Quatre… And since he didn't hear anyone moving in the kitchen, music coming from somewhere, or the happy humming that usually accompanied his happy little friend, his hopes went plummeting.

His first thought upon seeing them both like that, was that he'd been right about it being a lovers' squabble. Then Duo looked back to Heero and again started the angry whines that had originally awoken him, making everything painfully clear in record time.

"Can't one of us at least go check? Just to make sure? I mean, we don't have to get involved, necessarily, since it wasn't our mission. We could just-"

"No."

Duo was unfazed. "Well, what about tracking the vehicle he took? To see if he's on his way home, or still off somew-"

"No."

"Maybe we could try to get a hold of the Docters and see-"

Heero growled and lifted his eyes from the screen before him, though his fingers never ceased in their typing. "Duo. No. Just no. Will you please go do -something-? You are driving me mad, and I've got a lot to do."

The braided boy visibly wilted under that harsh reprimand, dark purple eyes growing large and shiny even as Trowa watched from the hallway arch. It was a little like watching a pet grow scared and slink away from what had been a trusted hand before now. Animals, he at least understood, and with that comparison, it was obvious to him that Duo was actually hurt and not just using the 'puppy-eyed' look to get what he wanted.

Not that Duo would show that expression for long, it was quickly replaced with one that was worse in it's own ways. He hopped off from the couch and crossed his arms tightly over his black clad chest, scowling down at his boyfriend and snapping- "Ya know, sometimes you can be a real prick, Heero!"

Cobalt eyes again lifted off the screen before him with dull confusion as he watched Duo turn on his heel and stomp away, then met with Trowa's when the braided boy had to pass him to continue on to his room to sulk.

"Trouble?"

Heero blinked, features going neutral as he realized he had a witness, then gave a snort and lowered his head back down. "Not really."

Quatre here or not, he wasn't ready to even try to return to his bed, and so the lengthy pilot continued on his awkward path, this time aiming for the couch that Heero was occupying. After a minute he was settling on the plush, lop-sided surface and sighing quietly in relief.

"He's just worried."

Seeing he wasn't getting off that easy, Heero gave him a dry look and nodded. "I know. But right now, there isn't anything I can do. He comes to me like he thinks I'm a superhero sometimes."

"So?" Trowa shrugged, "To him, you are."

"He needs to know better then. I can't stop everything he doesn't like or fix it, and I don't intend to try. Sometimes, stuff just has to be left alone."

Trowa listened to all of that in silence, then looked down at Heero's computer screen, spotted the little program that was tucked off to the side with the blinking red dot in it, and had to keep from smiling. Of course he's tracking him. Not for Quatre most likely, but because -nothing- comes between Heero and missions, whether they are his or not. "So… Where is he?"

The darker pilot blinked, looking down at the computer before giving a mild frown. If it's not Duo, it's the rest of the world. "The motorcycle has been in the same place for hours. Judging by what I know of the terrain and the maps I compared it with, it's in a forest… About four miles from a military compound. Wherever he is, he's still finishing his mission and hasn't returned to it for a while."

He didn't like that. Not one bit. "Or something came up and he -can't- return to it."

Heero's shoulders tensed, as close to a wince as the stoic pilot got. That sounded exactly like something his boyfriend would say, and something that had crossed his mind. "I know."

"Is that what you think happened?"

"… I read his mission perimeters, Trowa. It was a simple one. It was meant for two people, but that was just a precaution, and one -could- have handled it alone." Now confronted or perhaps just asked by someone he could stand hinting at his own worry too, Heero's words emerged in a quiet tone that was almost dismissive. Trowa that it might be what he was using to hide his actual concern, no matter how little it was, for one of his teammates. "But calculating the time we think he left this morning, what the mission entailed, and then the layouts of the base that I've gone over… He should have been finished almost four hours ago. And even wounded, he would have been able to make it back to his vehicle in that time."

Trowa was tempted to agree with Duo's crude label at that time, but he held it back as his own mind racked over the possibilities. "If he could come back, he would. You know that. And the bike was in top condition when we checked it last week, so it isn't that. He's not stupid enough to just wander off after completing a mission, not before reporting it and especially not before coming back and letting us all know he's fine. And he definitely wouldn't just walk away from it. He's like that, Heero."

"I know… Something's gone wrong. He was either caught during his mission, or…"

That unfinished sentence hung chillingly in the air, both of the serious young men knowing exactly what followed after it, and neither liking it. Trowa suddenly felt like 'or' was probably the most hateful word in the dictionary. Or he's dead. He was killed… Someone caught him wandering around and shot him. Probably in the back without ever seeing his face. It was thinking about how that sweet face always had a smile for him that got the brunette moving again.

"I'm going after him. If he's alive, then I'll find him and bring him back."

Heero actually had to snort back laughter, motioning to Trowa's broken leg and flushed complexion with one hand before stating in his typical blunt manner- "You'd never make it. You'd get yourself caught when we don't even know if he's alive or not. So don't be a fool. I'll go."

He said that with such a determined tone, that for a second Trowa wasn't up to arguing… Then he looked over Heero and actually rolled his eyes as he pointed out - "You're hurt too."

"Not as badly as you. I'm also used to working with injuries."

"That doesn't mean we need the added risk. You stand just as much risk as getting caught because of them as I do." Trowa smugly informed him of that fact. Truthfully, he knew Heero was right about his own wounds though, and knew as much as he wanted to be the one to find and rescue the little blonde of their team, it wouldn't be happening one way or another. But he wouldn't just pass it off to someone who might not be able to do it either. If Quatre was alive, he wanted him back here safely. The sooner the better.

"I can handle myself, Barton." Heero was close to growling now as he glared at the feverish boy beside him.

"You're still hurt. If he's been caught, he needs someone who won't be limping in to get him out or start randomly bleeding from wounds and pass out before he even gets to him."

"I can-"

That was all Heero managed to snap out before the calm voice from the doorway cut their arguments to shreds with it's soft interjection. "-I'm- going after him."

Both cobalt blue eyes and the one visible emerald from Trowa turned towards the speaker.

Wufei was leaning against the wall where Trowa'd been only moments before, though it felt like hours to the ill pilot on the couch, and he had enough sense to recognize Wufei probably made a much better image then he had then.

The Chinese pilot was dressed in his usual pristine outfit of white, managing to look both impossibly clean and untouchable in their grungy little safe house. His golden tanned skin giving the perfect picture of health even from within the dark corridor, and without the 'beneath-him' scowl that Wufei typically wore, Trowa thought he looked… Peaceful. And deadly in his own quiet efficiency.

His face was a little flushed, and the just-below-the-chin length hair was free and still damp from an earlier shower. The ebony silk strands danced gracefully along the skin of his neck and face, one stray cluster sliding across his cheek and kissing the swell of his mouth. With the exotic dark almond of his eyes above that, and the way he silently moved away from the wall and strolled into the room, Wufei looked like royalty in their midst.

Just looking at him made Trowa want to go take a shower and get dressed. Maybe he couldn't compare in the end, but lounging in dirty clothing around such a figure made him feel rather slug-like. A sideways glance at the storm that passed over Heero's expression made him wonder if perhaps the same wasn't true there. But at the very least, just the image Wufei presented made the ill brunette feel a little more confident in the matter at hand.

Heero was another matter. Offering a moody 'hn', he dropped his gaze back to the screen before him. "Why should you go? I know the layout at least. I have a good guess where he'd be if they caught him."

"Then you'll tell me."

Trowa kept quiet, but was inwardly congratulating the brisk business tone from Wufei. He would be going in the end, despite whatever debate Heero might be feeling up to, of that Trowa had little doubt.

"You haven't read the mission perimeters. It would be foolish to send you in blind like that. I'm more capable in this circumstances."

Wufei snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at the injured forms on the couch. "If being wounded makes you more capable, then Winner is as good as dead. I will simply read whatever you've found before I go. But I will be going. Barton is right about sending someone damaged after him, and that narrows it down to myself. I'm fine… Duo only has a few wounds, but between the two of us, this is more in my field and you know it."

Yes, he knew it, but that didn't mean Heero had to like it. In his own way, he had come to think of the four other boys as -his- team. Despite what Duo in private frequently called his 'I stand alone' complex, they had somehow fallen into the role of a team, and not even he was immune to that. He'd gotten used to leaning on them in one for or another. When it came to places he needed to be and couldn't get, Duo had a point about it being easier to pick the lock than to blow the door up. He kept things from ever seeming too dire and lost, making sure they all could laugh even through the pain. And he often envied Trowa's natural grace when he watched the taller pilot move around, the silence that followed him was effortless. If they were ever caught an interrogated, it was Trowa he was least concerned of leaking. Wufei was that perfect pillar of strength, but that was at the same time as occasionally emitting this perfectly calm aura. Heero had yet to truly see him break down and for that he respected him perhaps more than anyone else. And then there was Quatre… It was almost too easy to dismiss the blonde as the weakest of their team and one who really had no place in battle… At least it was easy until you saw the plans he could come up with. Heero was trained to be able to create new routes and alter his missions as circumstances arose, and for the most part he was good at it. But more than once when he was positive they'd come to a dead end and was prepared to fall directly into his rather violet defense mode, Quatre had turned to him and listed off sometimes an obscene amount of other possibilities he never would have considered. Just looking at a computer screen simulation, Heero had watched him come up with flawless formations and attacks. So weak in body and with his intense emotions or not, that was another teammate he now needed in some way.

And now that teammate was in trouble, and he was supposed to sit back and just wait?

"Fine. You'll go. But you will be wearing a transmitter, like he should have been. I want you connected at all times so that we know if you need back-up, or if you can't find him. If something comes up, we can be here to figure out how to proceed and direct you from here. Understood?"

Wufei nodded his agreement. By the gruff tone that Heero's voice had taken, he also understood to even start to argue about that little thing would probably to get a 'no' answer again… And he didn't want to waste any more time.

"Take the other bike. You can follow the same path he took, maybe it'll turn up some trace of what happened to him." Heero's lips turned down slightly in a frown when he lowered his eyes back to that small program in the corner. "If you find him, get him out then. If he's too injured to ride, just get him out of the base and we'll come back for him later. … If he's dead, leave him."

Beside the darker brunette, Trowa felt his world sway from another feverish wave, and those words seemed like they hung around him mockingly. He's not dead. He can't be dead. This is war and we all die, but he isn't dead yet. Not like that.

Wufei knew all too well that if Quatre had been caught, the chances of them shooting him on the spot were high… But worse, if he wasn't killed immediately, he was probably kept for information. The idea of Quatre locked somewhere and screaming as they questioned him and prod him with various devices made his stomach turn. He would have gone to get any of them, these members of his odd makeshift clan, but this one… After how many times he'd watched the boy he'd originally dismissed as weak and just another spoiled child who wanted to play at war care for their team, how often he'd seen him go out of his way on mission with no care for danger to himself just to pull one of them out of gunfire's way… There really wasn't any other option in his mind. It was almost divine justice.

-----

Less than an hour later, Heero stood at the dirty window of their safe house and watched the smoke dissipate into the air, all that was left of Wufei racing away on the motorcycle he thought was best for this mission. There was something almost reassuring about the figure the black haired boy had made as he put on the masking helmet and then stepped over and onto the shiny bike. There was no hint of someone barely more than a child himself going out to get involved in something to big for him. He looked… Purposeful.

When Duo came up and slipped an arm around his waist to murmur a grudging apology in his ear, Heero felt secure enough about the situation that had shifted out of his control to turn and gently pet one hand over the long mane of hair his lover sported, to reassure him now and to tell him of what had come about. Time, he supposed as the last of that vehicle smog vanished like a dream into the cold air, to fix the things that he could.