DISCLAIMER: I do not own Gundam Wing or any song by the Smashing Pumpkins. Don't sue; I am simply an E5 in the USN, and thus have no money. So ha.

-BEGIN FIC-

the useless drags, the empty days
the lonely towers of long mistakes
to forgotten faces and faded loves
sitting still was never enough

Here Is No Why

-- 01:38 --

"You look much more determined now, Mr. Barton."

Remaining silent, Trowa contented himself with staring out across the vast expanse of dark desert that sprawled towards the distant horizon than turning his gaze to meet that of his walking companion's. Arms crossed over his chest and hands clutching the thin jacket he wore tightly across his body, he shuddered as the chill of the early morning air caressed his skin with its dry cold touch. A breadth of a huffed sigh eased from his nostrils in reply to the older man's inquiry, followed by a hint of a shrug of his frozen, hunched shoulders.

"Good," James stated flatly. "Meaning that you'll be more likely to cooperate with me."

"Don't count on it," Trowa replied.

"Oh really?"

"Xavier didn't tell me everything. And he hinted that you might know more than you're letting on to."

"And you trust him more than you do me."

"He's not the one who double-crossed us last time we'd met," Trowa blandly grumbled.

"Ah, but he is," James chortled. "He, as much as I, was the back-stabbing fuck-face who made your lives hell."

"He didn't beat Quatre."

"The kid allowed it to cover for our activities within Bradshaw's base. Blame him, not me. Shoot the fucking messenger, I swear."

Trowa turned his gaze, glowering at James. "I still don't trust you. I don't trust him either, but you have much less of a kosher reputation in my book."

Smirking callously, winking one hazel eye, James clucked his tongue. "Careful there, kid. You're letting your emotions show."

Stiffening, his eyes veritably glowing with rage, Trowa turned his attention away from his walking partner and returned his gaze to the direction in which the motorcycle they'd taken to reach their desolate location was stationed.

"So, what did he tell you?"

"Nothing that concerns you. Otherwise you'd have been invited in as well."

"You're about as subtle as a fucking brick, kid."

Silence overtook the pair as Trowa refused to grant his partner the dignity of receiving a reply to his statement.

"There's the bike. Sooner we get back to the hotel, the better."

"Really," Trowa flatly grunted.

"Yep. After all, I've got work to do."

"Work? What does it concern?"

A chuckle leaking from his throat, James shook his head. "Nothing to do with you or little Mr. Winner. It's a side job of mine that I've been putting on hold for quite some time. Just got to find some shit out."

"So I'm not invited to eves drop."

"You can listen in all you fucking want. You won't get what's going on."

"You think I'm that dull?"

"No. Just that uniformed."

"Really."

James nodded.

"We'll just have to see."

Arching a brow, James glanced over at his stoic companion as Trowa shoved his hands more deeply into the warmth of his jacket pockets. 'Hmm. 'We'll just have to see,' huh? What is it you think you know, kid? Why is your aura so strong with confidence?'

Glaring at the horizon, James let a huff of breath explode from his lungs, carrying with it the exasperation that flooded his mind.

'What did Xavier tell you?'

-- 16:24 --

'Wonder if the kid's tried to escape from that hotel room to try and reach Mr. Winner yet.'

Calmly shifting his stance, James dropped to one knee before the neatly groomed mound of grass before him. Twirling the red rose he'd purchased a few minutes earlier idly between his fingers, he sighed as he stared at the granite marker that stood opposite the small mound of his person.

'That is, if Xavier's told him what's going to be occurring. However, that's something I highly doubt. It's not good for either of us to make any preemptive strikes at this point in the game. Best just to wait and wait some more, and his employer knows that. The kid's on to what we're planning. He's already a few steps ahead of the program and Xavier has to know that; otherwise he wouldn't have approved of me bringing bang-boy into this mess.'

'Besides, Century Discover can't afford us making a mistake at this point. If it could, it would have made its intentions more public. Moved on to step two. The fact that we're still in the initial setup means that Xavier hasn't spilled the beans yet.'

'Which means I've still got time….'

The blood-red rose found its home atop the upraised grass, its ruby petals shining brightly in stark contrast with the lush green grass. Glancing down at the delicate flower for but a moment, he nodded once before returning his staring gaze to the marker.

'I certainly hope you're resting in peace, Theresa. That you're not rolling over in your grave, knowing that I'm still doing this.'

Rising to his feet, he sighed quietly.

'I hope you're not pissed with the fact that I'm carrying on with the plan that killed you.'

"Never imagined you'd bring your sorry ass back here."

James' shoulders instantly tensed as the breath he'd drawn but moments earlier froze in his lungs, refusing to ease from his body. His eyes slowly narrowed of their own accord, their hazel coloration dark and displeased as his lips curled into a sneer, revealing tightly clenched teeth. "Xavier," he acknowledged, his words substituting fully for the nod of the head that normally would have accompanied his greeting, "what the hell. Didn't think you visited graveyards."

"Same could be said of you, old friend," the lank man said with a chipper smile gracing his angular face. Walking towards the grave's visitor, his hands stuffed in his acid-washed jeans' pockets, he nodded his greetings. Coming to stand next to James, he pulled his hands free of his pockets and quickly tucked in his loose, unmarked white t-shirt. Lifting one hand and brushing its fingers quickly through his shortly cropped russet hair, he glanced over with innocent chocolate-brown eyes and chuckled. "Didn't think you were one to reminisce on the past."

"Always have been. I pay homage to those who've died because of what I've done."

"That's surprisingly sweet of you, James," Xavier cooed.

"You, though. I didn't think you were one to come slinking around the graves of those you've murdered."

Shoulders drooping, his smile fading, Xavier sighed. "Don't tell me you're actually still sore about that."

"Nah." A casual shrug easing the tension that raced through his statue-stiff body, James forced a chuckle from his throat. "Told you before, dumb ass. It was a relief getting the ball and chain off my ankle. Being free is much preferable to being locked down into a dull life like that. Seeing the possibility to continue with the old ways is better than stagnating under that stale thumb, in that unchanging world, without any hope for a man like me to ever see real happiness."

Arching a brow, his lips curling into a sneer, the taller man chuckled. "You so freely speak so about her and that life? And yet you get so pissy when I speak about your little girl."

All semblance of a smile faded from James' lips. Glaring at his counterpart, murder burning in his eyes, he hissed softly, "It's different this time."

"Is it really?"

"Yes. And if you dare think of harming her, I'm going to wrench your arms off your body and beat you to death with them right after I gag the shit out of you with whatever will be left of your shirt after I unload a clip into that ugly fucking body of yours."

"Huh." A smile replacing his sneer, Xavier chuckled. "Nice to see that you actually care about this one, James."

Closing his eyes, he turned his face back towards the grave before letting them open once more. "Of course I care for this one. I actually have the possibility to live the life I want, yet still have her when I'm finished with the setup and execution of all of this, provided I survive. Hell, could have just sat back and watched things toss themselves into place, but your fucking self just had to interfere."

"You wanted me to interfere. Otherwise you wouldn't have left yourself so open, and her so vulnerable."

"Say whatever you want."

"So, why is it you let yourself be cajoled like this, James?" Arching a brow, Xavier flashed a genial smile. "You're following nearly the same path you strode upon when I had to remove Theresa from your life to get your lazy ass moving. It's almost as if history's repeating itself, save that the rock you call a heart flutters every once in a while for this chick you've got stashed away."

Clearing his throat, he sighed quietly. "It's not as if I didn't care about Theresa also. I just couldn't see any hope in the life that involved her for the plan to develop. That's why I let you interfere instead of leaping into the foray running the moment my feet hit the ground like I have this time."

Turning towards the simple grave, Xavier bowed in homage to it. "I see, I see. Of course, though, I don't believe you worth shit – you've always been such a lying bitch. Just leaves me with my own speculations about all of this."

James shook his head. "And you're wrong. I did care, despite what you like to believe, despite what you like to remind me that I allowed it to happen."

"I know what I know, you feel what you feel. It's the past, and nothing either of us does can possibly erase what happened. I hold regrets too, you know. But I'm not one to let those regrets affect my present or decide my future. You seem content to allow that to happen."

"Sure."

Walking away from James' side, Xavier bowed politely before the tombstone before walking along side of it, brushing dust from its top with a casual swipe of a callused hand. Finishing his brief bout of maintenance with a pat of a hand upon the tombstone's top, Xavier faced James and smiled. "At least you can know that she didn't suffer for long. At least I made it quick."

"Yeah."

"Better death than Chad would've given her."

"Yeah."

"And look at it this way. If she wouldn't have been a necessary sacrifice, we would never have gotten as far as we have."

James silently nodded.

Walking past the perfectly still man, Xavier let his eyes narrow, his friendly smile fading once more into a predatory slit of a sneer. "Still, it was such a loss. She was a great woman. Would be a pity if it had to happen again."

Fist clenching tightly at his sides, James' lips turned towards a scowl as his hazel eyes closed.

"Best be careful with your actions, James. Remember; failure won't result in the end of your life alone."

As Xavier wandered out of the graveyard, his white t-shirt and jeans clad body fading into the distance, James let his eyes open once more.

The wet blood droplets that pooled on his knuckles, oozing from his palms, raced towards the ground to splash into the steadily growing puddle that had over the course of the conversation formed at his feet.

'He's threatening me.'

'Nothing but empty threats.'

Shaking his head, he turned sharply on his heel, marching towards the distant parking lot where he'd left his bike.

'Nothing but empty fucking threats.'

Straddling the motorcycle, he turned the ignition and revved the engine, listening to it growl. Moments later, he was tearing down the road, speeding towards the hotel he'd claimed as his temporary home with the banged ex-Gundam pilot.

He suddenly had the urge to make a phone call.

-- 12:05 --

Leaning back in his chair, James' foot waved back and forth in time with the steady thump of music that poured from the cheap radio/alarm clock's thin, worn speakers. Closing his eyes, he lifted his beer can to his lips and slurped thirstily of the golden liquid held in its depths, letting a content belch slip from his lips a few moments later.

"So you plan to sit around and drink until Quatre arrives," Trowa snorted, his flat eyes empty while his voice carried the slightest hint of annoyance upon its roughened edges. Folding his arms on the table they both sat at, he sighed and dropped his chin to rest in the cradle his arms made, staring at his inopportune partner in the small hotel room.

Putting down his beer, James grabbed the box of Ritz crackers he'd bought in the last convenience store they'd passed on their way back from the desolate deserts they'd visited in the darkness of the last night and shook it, spilling a few salty wafers into his hand. Stuffing them into his mouth, he chewed and nodded, leaning back in his chair, giving a small tape recorder that was stationed beside his hand on the table a slight tap. "I'm doing something productive. Shut up so I can listen, will you?"

Emerald eyes narrowing, Trowa shook his head. "What is it you think you're doing? And why are you worried about missing anything? You can replay whatever conversations are had later."

"Hmph. So you mean you're gonna flap your lips at me till you pry some answers out of me, eh?"

"Got that right," Trowa stated, his lips twitching slightly to hint towards the smile they longed to make.

"Fucking hell." With a snort, James sank more deeply into his hotel chair, his hands folding on his stomach. "Fine. So you want to know what I'm doing?"

"Yep."

"Listening to truckers on CB."

"If you're going to lie to me, could you at least make it a believable one?" Trowa sighed.

A sharp bark of laughter made its way from the longhaired man. "Fine, fine. I'm listening to see if that little dick-weed Xavier's going to be conversing with anyone anytime soon. Wondering if he's caught on to the fact that his little rental is bugged."

"You planted a microphone in his car."

"Yep."

"So you really don't know what's going on?"

A snort leaked from James' nose. "Whatever that bitch told you, I don't know shit. Not this time. I got dragged in just like you did, kiddo. Some lives got threatened, some promises were made, and so here I am, passing on the favor. All I know is that this ain't got nothin' to do with the ideal future I want. Xavier's got his wires twisted somewhere; he's lost sight of the goal, I think. Either that or the greedy bastard's just in it for the money. Don't know."

"You claimed you worked together."

"We did."

Trowa smirked slightly, his lips turning in a subtle, soft curl. "You two seem to hate each other."

"What can I say? The man's an obstinate prick. Always gets in the way, always going off on some random tangent, always an insubordinate ass making life more difficult than it needs to be."

"Then why not just murder him? After all, you were the one who proclaimed that the institution of murder is something that becomes quite easy to indulge in when one gets used to it."

James shrugged his shoulders, causing his body to slip further down into the warmth of his chair's cushions. "Because the fuck-head's useful. Sometimes his wild traipsing down wild far-flung roads reveal a useful bit of information or an entirely separate path that more efficiently leads us towards our goals. Sometimes he stumbles across something relevant entirely by luck that any person actively searching would have missed. And he's just good damned cannon fodder."

"Really."

"Ain't no love lost between us. Just partners." Reaching up, his hand slunk along the top of the table, blindly groping for his beer. Coming in contact with its smooth cylindrical container, he lifted it carefully from its place and brought it to vanish into the cushions of his thickly padded chair.

As minutes of silence stretched between them, filled only by the occasional slurp of beer or the crunching of a Ritz cracker being chewed and eaten, Trowa ventured to speak again.

"If you aren't interested in what's truly going on here, why are you spying on Xavier?"

The return of the empty atmosphere that had dominated but seconds before left the emerald-eyed boy frowning.

Voice calm and quiet, the older man finally softly answered, "Because I don't trust that little slime-ball."

"But you're partners."

"He hasn't given me enough of the details behind this for me to even consider him as a partner."

Arching a brow, the teen frowned. "Then why exactly are you working with him? For Quatre?"

"…. Hardly."

"Then why?"

"Because."

"Because it not an answer," Trowa pointed out.

"It's the best answer you're going to receive," James retorted.

As silence fell over them once more, Trowa just stared out the window, watching as the shadows of the thin and wispy clouds that roved in the highest stretches of the atmosphere danced over the ground, leaving the dusty tan landscape in deliciously cool shade for but a moment before sliding away, baking it mercilessly in the hot desert sunlight once again.

-- 13:55, 8 Days Ago --

The caller smiled his most friendly grin, brown eyes open and bright as he ran a hand quickly through his shortly cropped and spiked brown hair. "Nothing much, old buddy. Just have a proposition for you. A bit of a job, you might say."

"Proposition, eh? Sorry, Xavier, but I retired awhile ago. You know that. Otherwise I'd still be working for Kesslinger, running around in the colonies instead of here in Butt-fuck Alaska freezing my ass off."

Nodding, Xavier lifted his own drink to his lips and took a sip. "I thought as much. Otherwise it would have been easier to track you down. It took me half a year to locate you, you know."

"Glad to hear I was that well hidden. Wasn't even trying. You must be losing your touch, man… I'm in the fucking phone book."

"Heh. I should have thought of that," Xavier chuckled, shaking his head. "But anyway, are you certain you won't even hear my proposition out?"

"Pretty fucking certain. My girl won't be happy if I left."

"Your girl…? Since when did you have… I can't see how….."

Rolling his hazel eyes, the man took a long swig off his bottle and grunted. "Not daughter, you shit. My girl. The one I'm living with."

"Oh, gotcha. When do I get to meet this one?"

"Never, prick."

Xavier smirked. "And why not?"

"Because. She doesn't need to be associated with ass-wipes like you. Plus I know what happens when you drop by for unexpected visits. You're almost as bad as I am."

Shaking his head, Xavier laughed. "Not even, old buddy. I couldn't come close to you when it comes to murder."

Smirking at his friend, the man chuckled softly, menace lingering in his voice. "Don't even fucking lie. I know what you're like."

"Well, if you know me so very well, then you'd think again about listening to my little proposition, my friend. After all, I know where you are. Otherwise I'd never have been able to call you, especially considering that I didn't use the phone book to track your ass down."

Smile vanishing, he leaned forward, his hazel eyes narrowing. "You wouldn't fucking dare."

"Try me."

"Fucker!"

Xavier smirked, lifting his drink and sipping from it once more. "You know how it is, my old friend. The purpose, the plan, the job is everything. Ruthless behavior is necessary to bring the plan into being and to successfully see its end. And if ruthless behavior is needed to bring a means to an end, then it must be used. After all," he started, taking another sip before continuing, "you can't be there twenty four hours a day, seven days a week to protect that which is precious to you. And you can't be on the ball and aware of everything that's surrounding you at all times, either."

"Now you're stooping to threats."

"Because you're necessary, and threats are all that move you at times. Right now seems to be one of those times when you won't respond to anything other than threats, which you know are in no way idle. You don't move, I will. And as you know, I'm as dedicated to the completion of whatever job I'm assigned to as you are to your almighty plan."

"Shit," the man snorted, leaning back, glaring at the monitor coldly as he relied on the backrest of the stool to hold him upright, "how am I to know that you'll even do anything? You're a chicken-livered shit-brain after all. Never been capable of much."

Chuckling quietly, his smirk turning more menacing than before, Xavier leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table upon which the videophone he was using sat. "But I am capable of murdering your little girl. Maybe not you, but your girl would be easy prey. And I'm willing to do such, if you don't listen to my proposition – and agree to assist me. The person I'm working for could very well bring about the future we've desired for so long; the very future that was stolen from us could be achieved by following this new path. I want to see it happen. I want it more than anything. I want the happiness that was stolen from me, the life that was taken from me, returned. And I'll do anything to retrieve it."

"Even if it means selling yourself out, Xavier?"

"Never stopped either of us before. First Kesslinger, now my newest employers for me. For you, I'll be damned if I can even start to count."

"But why me?"

"Because you're the only one I can trust to pull it off."

"You expect me to work with you after you've threatened her? And you're expecting me to fucking abandon the life I've finally found to follow you and your ridiculous plots into whatever future it'll craft, one that's likely to destroy the one I've already made?"

"You have before, my friend. Family, obligations, jobs and normal lives have never appealed to you for as long as I've known you. After all, weren't you the one who shrugged off the fact that I killed your last precious little interest? And why did you shrug it off? Why'd you make up the excuse that you were better off without her leeching off of you and holding you to the stagnation of an ordinary family-man life? Because you know that the future we both seek would be ideal for both of us, giving us everything we could ever desire with our filthy, greedy minds and hearts. Because you know that I'll not let you go without reward if you cooperate with me, nor will I let you go unpunished if your refuse me."

The man snarled softly, "You lousy bastard…."

-- 17:01 --

'He's stooping to threatening me.'

Taking a sip of his beer, James closed his eyes, his frown remaining firmly in place.

'Reminding me about the days and mistakes of the past, about people I've tried so damned hard and long to forget about, about events I've tried to run from instead of sit on for the rest of my life. Why the hell is he doing this to me?'

'Could it be that he's simply trying to provoke me into moving? Trying to get me to get my ass in gear and work with their plan?'

"Mind moving your foot?"

"Sure thing." Lifting his boot off the table, James let his chair thud back onto all four legs to sit upright.

"Thanks. Couldn't see the TV through you."

Nodding once, the longhaired man returned to scratching his head, contemplating all that had occurred that day.

"So the day after tomorrow, right?"

"Say again, kid?" Arching a brow over a hazel eye, James frowned. "Wasn't payin' attention."

"Obviously," Trowa retorted with a quick, clipped shake of his head. "Day after tomorrow. That's when Quatre's going to be here, isn't it?"

"Should be. Provided nothing goes wrong." Provided he's as ahead of the game as I'm thinking he is. If so, he won't encounter any problems. If not…."

"What do you mean by 'provided nothing goes wrong'?"

"Provided that the people who want his pasty blonde ass smeared across the starry fields of space don't off him."

Trowa's entire frame stiffened.

"Don't worry 'bout it," James said with a shrug. "Kid's already ahead of the game. I doubt he'd go stumbling into any fool trap those morons could set for him."

"That means he doesn't need either of us," Trowa observed.

"Wrongo. Things've been progressing here, more than even I've expected. I don't know if he's completely on top of everything that's been happening; I just know that he's ahead on the game that's being played in space. Earth's been wandering down its own happy path, blindly staggering under the clouds of bliss without seeing the storm that's brewing in them."

"What do you mean by that?"

James chuckled softly. "You'll come to find out soon enough, kid. No reason for me to indulge you."

"If you spill, we'll be better prepared."

"Precisely. No reason for me to indulge you."

"You… want us to be unprepared."

"Yep."

As silence fell over them, Trowa glaring and James staring at the backsides of his eyelids, the older man leaned back in his chair once again, keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground to keep himself from falling over and to allow Trowa's view of the television to remain unobstructed for that moment when he should choose to return his attention to it. His mind slipping back into quiet contemplation, James sighed softly, lifting his beverage once again and taking another slow sip.

'If you were prepared, nothing would work out as planned. Things've got to flow as they are to succeed.'

'That's probably why they're so worried about the Winner kid – he has the greatest potential for fucking everything up. Which is why they've got planned what they've got planned. That much is easy enough to determine.'

'But why Xavier got me involved… he knows my skews towards everything that's currently in play. He knows I'm not going to follow every verdict past by our employer.'

'And why he had to so forcibly get me involved… had to leave me virtually no choice but to follow him in this insane little escapade…'

'No doubt, that shit-bag has something up his sleeve. Or he has some ulterior motive of his own, for which he needs either assistance or a scapegoat.'

'Damn you, Xavier…'

'What do you have up your sleeve?'

-- 06:46 --

"You know, for you claiming that Mr. Johnson is nothing but an incompetent moron, you certainly are taking quite an interest in him."

Glancing over at his green-eyed roommate, James shrugged. "He knows what's going on."

"You said you weren't interested."

"Need to be interested enough to save my own life."

Arching a brow, Trowa flopped down in the chair opposite of James Waverly at the small table that occupied their two-bed hotel room. "Oh really."

A sharp chuckle leaking from James' throat, he nods once. "Listen, kid, got my own thing I need to do right now. You're bugging the hell out of me. Why don't you get some rest?"

"Tell me what you're going to be doing."

"No."

"Or I won't stop bothering you."

"Talk all you like, kid. Can't do much to distract me."

Trowa frowned. "I'll sing."

"You'll WHAT?"

"Music will annoy the piss out of you. I'll sing something catchy if you don't tell me what you're doing."

Rolling his eyes, James opened his laptop and pressed the power button. Long quiet moments went by as he began typing, his eyes narrowing in concentration. Christ, what is all of this?' he thought as he poured through the information he'd gleaned from the network he'd remotely accessed, shaking his head. Go to find one little bit of information, and-

"We represent the Lollypop Guild! The Lollypop Guild! The Lollypop Guild! And in the name of the Lollypop Guild, we wish to welcome you to Munchki-"

"SHADDUP!"

"I'll continue."

Burying his head into his hands, James snarled. "Bastard. Fine. You want to know? I'll tell you a few details."

"You won't tell me everything?"

"You know the details of the plan?"

Trowa blinked once, confusion evident on his face. "What plan?"

"Precisely. Even if I tell you everything, you won't get half of it it'll never be relevant to you. So I'll tell you what you need to know, if only to get you to shut the hell up for a few hours so I can get what I need to get done finished."

James's eyes narrowed as Trowa's lips curled into a smile. "Deal."

tbc...