Review replies:

Yurikitsune: (smiles and breaks out her killer gerbil (Munchkin is fierce, damn it! Fierce like a kitten), then dashes like the Road Runner on a caffeine high to ff. net to set the white rodent upon the gremlins that haunted chapter 8's review feature) Hopefully that works! (evil little laugh) Anyway, thank you so much for the review(s)! To answer your question, I do play chess frequently (though not that fabulously – ChessMaster continually kicks my ass), and the queen is NOT usually a regularly sacrificed piece - you were correct in that assumption. That's Quatre's own spin – he sacrifices his powerful pieces so his pawns can swing in and surprise his enemies. Can't say I've ever envisioned Quatre in a poofy pink dress (usually doujinshi takes the need to imagine it away. Evil! The boy's a… well, BOY!), but now I'll be cackling helplessly every time I read that scene. Thanks. :P And I WISH I wasn't posting due to a vacation. It's due to my ship pulling out and going to the med, and probably the Persian gulf as well. Yay. Sometimes I love my job, being in the Navy and all – other times I wish my place of employment would sink so I'd never have to return. :)

MikaSamu: Ah, thanks for the review! (gush) The true message of the game. Heh heh. It'll be figured out in full later. Don't want to spoil anything, after all! Thank you for reading this, and I hope my next chapters are just as satisfactory.

Pandora-chan: Glad I got you your Quatre fix. :) And glad you liked the fluorescent green shirt. Given the chemistry between James and Trowa, I couldn't see something like that NOT happening. (laughs) Sorry if the chess is confusing, but hey! It's… well… necessary. And meant to be confusing. :P And as for the end, that has yet to be determined – unfortunately, there can't be an angsty death – damned attempting to keep in timeline! Damn it all! Can't kill people before Blind Target and Endless Waltz. (cry)

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, therefore I have no money. Ha.

A/N: Notes concerning things/places in the fic are located at the end of the chapter.

A/N 2: Big huge graphic scene of self-gratification in this chapter. If it makes you feel uncomfortable, skip it (not the chapter, the scene). Please don't choose to flame me because of that scene – if you're going to flame me, make it over something worthwhile. :P

-BEGIN FIC-

Hidden thoughts and alibis
my secret thoughts come alive
without a care in this whole world
without a care in this life
it's what you take that makes it right

Porcelina Of The Vast Oceans

-- 13:12 --

Quatre leaned back in his chair, his eyes lightly closed and his lips curled with the slightest hint of a smile as the wind whistled in through the rental car's rolled down window to tousle his blonde locks wildly about his pale face. His hand, draped outside of the vehicle, tapped softly on the exterior panel of the car in time with the music that thumped from its speakers, the ancient lull of classic jazz pumping merrily with flashy saxophone singles and the bright roar of guitar play with accompanying heady drum displays. His head lolled back to rest on the headrest of his plush car seat, a sigh escaping him indicating his satisfaction and ease with his surroundings at the moment.

Trowa kept his eyes carefully on the road, taking care to not break any traffic law lest he be pulled over by the ever-diligent California Highway Patrol. He wasn't certain if his Colony Driver's License would be valid on the Earth, and he didn't want to test his suspicions that it wouldn't be. After all, it would be a bit difficult for him to explain exactly how a boy barely sixteen years of age was permitted to drive a motor vehicle without a licensed operator accompanying him. Also it would be a touch complicated explaining how they'd managed to come into possession of the rental car they were currently driving, as the laws of the Earth Sphere and the business world still held that no person under twenty five years of age might rent a car. Yet here they were, driving down the freeway system of the Golden State in a rented Mercedes Benz E430W (1) thanks to Quatre's ever faithful chauffeur who had more than gladly taken the Bentley Arnage R he was in charge of to its garage for some well deserved care and storage and signed the paperwork to acquire the rental for them, if only to get himself out of having to escort them across the entirety of the coast.

He glanced over at his partner in the vehicle, stripping his eyes from the road for the barest hint of a second to ensure that Quatre was at ease in the vehicle. Seeing him humming calmly and his head bobbing slowly in time with the music, Trowa smirked and returned to his task of getting them to their destination safely.

He'd yet to ask Quatre why exactly they were going to the Aquarium of the Pacific (2). For some odd reason, Trowa couldn't bring himself to pester the young blonde about the strange choice of destinations for them this day. He was still reflecting on the night that had just passed.

Trowa hadn't thought that simply spending time with the blonde would make him so relaxed and happy. It was not the first time they'd shared a hotel room.

It had been the first time, though, that they'd shared a bed.

Before when they'd roomed together, they'd met before Quatre had selected a hotel room. He'd selected a two bed suite at the Star Regent, leaving Trowa to sleep in his own supremely soft queen sized bed, lost in the confusing swirl of the mission parameters he was to follow with the New Edwards base that next morning, the heady scent of the herbal shampoo he and his partner in Gundam piloting had used in the showers they'd taken before heading to bed, and the soft breathing of that partner from the other bed that was lost in the thick darkness of that room. It had been a restless night spent listening to Quatre's quiet inhalations and exhaling than finding refuge in such similar relaxation, dealing with the odd sensations that quelled within him.

The night that had just come to pass had left Trowa even more ill rested and tired with the coming of dawn. He'd not gotten a single wink of sleep the entire night.

They'd begun on opposite sides of the bed, both with their own segments of the large comforter and soft Egyptian cotton sheets. Trowa had closed his eyes, listening as Quatre's breath slowed and calmed, indicating his slippage into the dark realm of sleep that he felt he was soon to enter as well.

Then he'd discovered that Quatre was a closet-snuggler.

Trowa had remained awake all night, his nose buried in the warmth of soft blonde hair that smelled faintly of jasmine, his chest warmed by soft breath that was not his own, his mind fighting desperately to keep his hormone-ridden body under control as Quatre's arms rested lazily across his lean stomach and held him loosely.

He'd made certain to wriggle his way out of the soft yet possessive embrace before the blonde stirred with the first signs of awareness to save him the embarrassment of knowing he'd been clutching him all night long and to relieve himself of what would certainly sully his reputation in the other boy's eyes.

All the coffee he'd drank that morning to ward off the tiredness that came with lack of slumber was making the road veritably dance before his twitching eyes as he drove down the 710, now barely ten miles away from their destination.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked why I chose this location," Quatre suddenly asked, catching Trowa entirely off guard.

Blinking once, he glanced over. "I just figured that such was more information I'm not supposed to know."

Laughing, the blonde shook his head, tapping still in time with the music on the silver exterior panel of the Mercedes' door. "There's very little you aren't supposed to know. However, you simply have this wonderful knack for asking for just that information."

"I see," Trowa replied, returning his gaze to the freeway, changing lanes to get onto the right road once the freeway came to its termination.

"Ask if you like. I'll tell you if something is something you aren't allowed to know."

"I'm still curious about why I'm not allowed to be privy to the information I want."

"Because telling you would either destroy your ability to react as I expect you to, would cause you to carry more concern for me than is necessary, would put other lives at risk because you would either not agree with their motives or wouldn't know better than to relay such information if asked to thinking it to be unimportant, or would be something I simply don't know."

"I see."

"Please don't be so bitter," Quatre softly said, opening his dark sea-blue eyes and turning in his seat to face Trowa. Drawing his arm in the window, he sighed. "I'm sorry that I make it sound as if I'm simply utilizing you. I'm truly trying not to."

"It doesn't much matter, does it?" Trowa said quietly, turning the wheel of the car to get onto Aquarium Drive. "I'm already wrapped up in this. There's no turning back now, I suppose, no matter how much I want to run away. Once a part of the plot, there's no escaping."

A defeated laugh left the blonde. "You've got that right. If I'd had that knowledge years ago, I never would have taken up my role in this escapade myself. I would have gotten out while the getting was good."

"I see. You're saying you're trapped?"

Looking out the window, Quatre sighed. "As trapped as Relena Dorlain is in her position, as the rest of the Gundam pilots are by their roles in the war, as the ex-soldiers of OZ and the Alliance are in their new, unfamiliar lives. As trapped in this exercise of survival as Xavier is, as you are, as James is. Trapped by my own devices into a mad dance I now can't escape and can see no end to."

"Who's behind it?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know."

Trowa frowned. 'The ease of that answer… he knows. He's just not telling me.'

'More information I'm not supposed to know, eh Quatre? What's your reasoning behind not telling me this time? Too many lives in danger?'

'Or drawing more concern to you than you feel for some reason is necessary?'

-- 07:11 --

Trowa slowly removed himself from the pale arms that encircled him, his movements careful and slow not only to keep from jarring the sleeping blonde out of his slumber but also out of complete necessity. Lifting one of Quatre's tiny hands, he paused for but a moment to study it as he cradled it in his own. Delicate, perfectly manicured fingernails rested in his own dark palm, tipping pale fingers that lead to a slender, fragile-looking hand that looked like a finely crafted work created of porcelain. Small, elegant digits that laid upon his own heavily callused hand. It took every measure of self-control that Trowa could muster to not squeeze that small exquisite hand before putting it down on Quatre's side then slipping off the huge bed.

Slipping a pillow down to Quatre's slowly seeking arms and smirking as he clutched the feathery offering readily and buried his head against it with a happy little sigh, Trowa shook his head before slipping off to the bathroom. Stripping himself of his boxers, he closed the door behind himself and turned on the lights with a flick of the switch, blinking and squinting as the florescent white light shed by the tubular bulb that rested in its fancifully scrolled casing flooded the small white-tiled and white-walled room, casting almost blinding radiance about his person. Rubbing his tired eyes, he stared at himself in the mirror.

Dark bags lay under tired, bloodshot green eyes, highlighting their emerald coloration while contrasting sharply with his lightly tanned skin. Grunting softly, he rubbed his eyes again.

'Damned Quatre kept me from getting to sleep….'

'Damned Quatre, with his soft skin and his light breathing, sleeping on my chest….'

Lowering his hand, he lightly brushed his fingertips over the slightly damp feeling skin that lay taunt, stretched over the muscles that protected his ribs and his heart. He could still feel the soft touch of fine blonde locks sprawled across his skin, electrifying to the touch. He could still feel the whisper of breath brushing over his skin, its touch tingling and tickling, softer than the softest of rose petals or feathers could ever be. He could still feel the heat of skin upon skin, the soft perfection of the blonde's cheek upon his chest, the slightest movement of his lips upon his flesh as he breathed and muttered unintelligible gibberish in the depths of his sleepy dreams. He could still feel every inch of contact that had occurred between them while Quatre slept burning his body like wildfire that refused to be quenched. He could still feel the effect having the young man against his body, pressed hip to hip with him, had brought upon his frame.

A hearty blush came across his cheeks as he stepped into the shower and turned the 'cold' water faucet on. Trembling fingers quickly pulled the knob that would direct the flow of icy water from the faucet to the showerhead that protruded from the wall above his head.

Trowa shivered as the cold spray of water that erupted from the showerhead drenched the front of his body, its frigid tendrils snaking along his flesh, teasing his neck, his chest, his stomach, his groin, his thighs. Icy cold touches poured across his body, unforgiving with their chill.

It wasn't helping.

He could still feel the burning of Quatre's breath upon his skin, still feel the scent of his hair in his nostrils. He could still feel the warmth of his unintentional touch pounding through his blood, warming him from within, making the water's vain attempt to ward off his excitement futile.

Turning the 'hot' water faucet a touch to get some warmth to mingle with the cold spray that assaulted his body, he sighed softly in defeat. And, reaching with one hand, he picked up the hotel-issued bar of soap that always managed to mystically appear in the showers of every hotel he'd ever stayed in and unwrap it. Staring at the bar for but a moment, he nodded before setting it to his skin, determined to wipe the intoxicating touch and the luscious smell that lingered over his flesh away before it drove him mad with longing and want.

He whimpered softly as he dragged the bar across his chest, cheeks flushed as he inadvertently teased his own nipples with the slippery soap, drawing it in circles around his hardened dark nubs. Biting his lip, he drew his other hand to his chest, lightly rubbing the other fleshy protrusion with a quiet moan.

Trowa groaned, working slowly and intentionally, trying desperately to replace the blonde's touch with his own.

It wasn't working.

He found himself imagining that it was Quatre lightly brushing his nipples, pale fingers with their perfectly manicured nails gently kneading his chest, pink colored lips parting and rubbing his aching skin.

Eyes closed, he groaned quietly, letting his hand slowly slip from his nipple, moving the bar of soap down the smooth skin that covered the rigid, chiseled muscles of his stomach.

Quatre's imaginary touch slipped down his stomach, his hands smooth and tender as they played with the ridges his abdomen sported, his lips brushing his flesh, trailed shortly by his soft bangs. Trowa staggered slightly, leaning against the wall behind him for support, eyes squeezed shut as he felt the gentle touch find its way between his legs, slowly rubbing along the length of his engorged cock, teasingly circling the ruby head it was tipped with.

The hand with the small bar of soap circled his manhood, tightly squeezing it.

Hissing, Trowa let his head loll to the side, his mouth falling open with soft, desperate pants as his hand pumped along his member, tugging at loose skin as it slid forward and back. His legs giving out from under him, he let himself carefully slide down the shower's white wall to sit upon the white-tiled floor. Spreading his knees apart, he roughly jerked on his manhood, crying out with the force of his own touch.

Crying out with the force of his – no, Quatre's - touch, feeling Quatre's fingers sliding from his nipple to find their way between his legs, feeling his gentle hand tenderly squeeze his testicles before snaking lower, his ability to focus on anything else - the water that pounded him, the warm floor beneath him, the smooth wall behind him - faded and failed him.

Trowa whimpered as he imagined the blonde's touch, his own fingers slowly dipping into the tight, hot, forbidden regions of his being to softly caress the virginal flesh there. Biting his lip, squirming as his own intrusion of his own body radiated along his nerves like fiery ice, he cried out as he pressed into his flesh and tightly yanked on his cock. All he could see was Quatre in his mind and his heart, servicing him as he'd serviced those he'd laid with in the past, taking him for his own, letting him take his blonde hair into his hand and direct him to service him as he pleased. All he could feel was Quatre's touch, gentle yet hard enough to stimulate every nerve in his inexperienced body, teaching him all the knowledge Quatre had gained in his years, letting him claim Quatre for his own and possessively make him belong to him and him alone.

All he felt as he came was the burn of the blonde's touch still lingering upon his skin and the cool electric brush of his hair upon his chest when his body stiffened and shivered, his seed coating his fingers as he shook and cried with the force of his self-driven orgasm.

Sitting on the floor of the shower for a few moments, panting softly as he attempted to regain awareness of where he was and what had just occurred, Trowa slowly opened his eyes. He slowly regained his feet even as his cheeks burned with realization of what he'd done….

Of what he'd done, and what he'd imagined while he'd done it.

-- 16:41, Yesterday --

Trowa rubbed the towel vigorously as he stepped out of the bathroom, grumbling as he felt its soft cottony material rub viciously over his scalp. He was once again fighting a losing battle with his hair, cursing the mysterious persons who were his long dead parents for passing on to him the genes that brought about the incredible thickness of the brown mop he sported, making it impossible to wring the water out of and making it spring fluffily to life before his face, unable to be wrestled into any vague semblance of control, when left to dry naturally.

Glancing over, the blonde smiled at him, his dark blue eyes sporting laughter even though his lips did not carry it. Shaking his head, he went back to reading his paper.

Giving up for a moment, Trowa laid the towel over his bare shoulders. Stepping into his jeans and drawing them up his well-formed legs and his baggy lion-print boxers, he zipped them up and hooked his fingers into the belt loops they sported as he strode across the giant hotel room to stand beside Quatre, reading over his shoulder. "Stock's doing well for you, isn't it?"

"It's down two points. No big loss. Our next merger will more than compensate for that."

"I see," Trowa said, a slightly lopsided slant taking his lips.

"So, Trowa, what have you been up to since the end of the war?" Quatre casually asked.

'Ah, perfect opportunity to find something out,' he mused silently even as he answered, "Nothing much. Been working at the circus with Kathy."

"That's all? Nothing new in your life?" A wry grin took the blonde's lips as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "No love interest?"

Trowa's face was as bland as he could possibly craft it to be.

"I guess not," Quatre said with a giggle.

"No. Nothing new. And in your life?"

Waving a hand, Quatre huffed softly. "Other than this whole assassination thing, it's been alright. Overwrought with stress and worry and flooded with too many meetings and more constituents annoying me every moment of every day than I could possibly shake a stick at, but still rather alright."

"I see." Trowa's lips tilted at their edges to form a slight frown. "You aren't lying to me, are you?"

"Why would I lie?" Quatre said, staring at him as innocently as he could, eyes wide and filled with hurt over being recriminated.

"Just wondering. It's just rather odd that you're targeted for assassination, especially if you've been doing nothing more than managing your business."

"Yeah, it is odd," Quatre quietly agreed. "I have a few theories…."

"Tell me."

"They aren't solidified yet, Trowa."

"Tell me anyway."

The blonde frowned before shaking his head. "I can't do that."

"Why not?" Trowa asked, his voice carrying the slightest tinge of peevishness upon its edges.

"Because I don't want you jumping to conclusions just yet. And I don't want you adjusting your reactions because you think you might know something that may or may not be true."

Trowa sighed quietly. 'It's exactly like half a year ago. He's evading every attempt I make at getting information out of him.'

'Damn it, what did I ever do to deserve this frustration?'

-- 08:31 --

Trowa crossed his arms as the blonde's voice leaked from the bathroom, proclaiming that they were going down to Long Beach that day. "Why?" he questioned again as he flopped down on the edge of the bed.

'Bad idea,' his brain reminded him as immediately the soft warmth of the bed, still drenched in the scents of both him and his partner, met his awareness. Grunting he rose from the bed and chose a chair instead, lest his body react in accordance to what his hormones were wanting rather than listening to his mind.

Quatre's voice answered him, muffled by the bathroom door and the hiss of water spraying from the shower nozzle within the room's confines, "Because I want to go to the Aquarium."

"The Aquarium?"

"Yep!"

Shaking his head, Trowa sighed and leaned back in his chair. 'We're going to the Aquarium. Instead of moving forward with whatever plot he's got going or trying to find out who's trying to kill him for what reason, he wants to go to a damned public aquarium. Damn it all, why? Why is he acting so irresponsible?'

'Why is this almost like last time? Running around the problem instead of just going in and solving it.'

"You'll want to wear something cool. It's going to be a steamy day today," Quatre's voice erupted from the bathroom.

"I didn't pack any."

"Then borrow something!"

Trowa rose from his seat, resting his hands on his hips. 'Be damned if I'm going to wear a button-up rose-colored dress shirt….'

After rooting for quite some time through Quatre's luggage, he'd finally emerged with a pair of jean shorts that must have been overly long on the blonde but would serve him in a pinch and a white t-shirt with a picture of a gerbil in a microwave proclaiming that it was 'Gonna do something to you. Something bad' upon its back. Quickly dressing, he found the shirt fit him comfortably and the shorts hung nearly to his knees, leaving his bare feet prepared for the pair of sandals that were a touch to big that had mystically appeared in his duffel bag; no doubt, sandals that were a gift from James. Slipping them on, he glanced at the mirrored wall that was the closet's door and nodded. 'Something cool, eh? I suppose this will have to do.'

A few more moments passed before the hiss of water stopped and silence emerged from the other side of the bathroom door. Trowa calmly seated himself back in his chair, watching as the door cracked open to allow steam to billow forth from the white-tiled room beyond, bathing the mirror that graced the wall behind the sink and coating it almost instantaneously in a thick layer of fog. Quatre walked casually out of the yawning orifice that lead to the bathing chamber, his white hotel-issued towel hanging loosely around his nearly nonexistent waist and being held in place only by the overly large knot that had been carefully worked into it.

Trowa stared, his eyes unconsciously taking in every detail portrayed to him.

He did not see the nearly faded marks left upon the white flesh by torture's whips and knives, nor did he see the old scars left by shrapnel, glass, and wire-created electrical fire burns that came with piloting the mobile suit Sandrock during the war. He did not see the angry slit that punctured his body right between his ribs and as Trowa knew ran through clear to the other side of his lithe frame, granted to him by the rapier wielded by Dorothy Catalonia during the chaotic climax of their battles upon the Space Fortress Libra. He did not see the reminders of war or of pain, or the scars of past use and abuse both as pilot and infiltrator.

Trowa saw nothing but perfection, taking in the supple, smooth lily white skin, the soft curves, the hint of subtle yet strong muscle under that deceivingly beautiful flesh, the hard lines of a fit body buried by a veil of delicacy. He saw nothing but the gentle pastels that made up the young man before him, gold so pale it shone nearly white in the florescent light-bulbs' glow and skin so unmarred by the touch of the sun it looked like finely crafted porcelain.

'God, he's beautiful.'

'I don't care if I am being dragged along in some insane plot that makes no sense and does nothing but put me at risk of being slaughtered.'

'I'm doing this for him. No other reason.'

Watching as the blonde made his way to his suitcase and instantly had a pair of dark denim jeans that would very nicely fit him, a pair of plain black silk boxers and an eggshell blue polo shirt in hand and was marching back into the bathroom to get himself dressed, Trowa sighed very softly.

'You've already taken my heart. Take my life if you want.'

'It's what you take that makes it right, right?'

-- 13:20 --

"I can't believe it took that long to find a parking place!" Quatre groaned as he got out of the car and stretched, reaching for the ceiling of the parking garage with intertwined hands.

Getting out of the car, Trowa shook his head. "Must be busy today."

"Must be," Quatre agreed, even as he started marching towards the staircase that would inevitably lead them to the ground level floor and then to the sidewalk that traipsed towards the giant, glistening building that was the Aquarium of the Pacific, Quatre's intended getaway from the chaos he was now apparently trapped in.

Catching up to the blonde with a few long, easy strides, Trowa stuffed his hands in his jean-shorts' pockets. Looking over at his companion, he felt his lips form a slight smirk. "So, tell me. Why the Aquarium?"

Grinning, Quatre flashed Trowa an easy, carefree wink. "Because I want to get away from it all for today, and I love fish. And no single accountant or lawyer would ever possibly think to track me down here."

"That's the only reason?"

"Pretty much, yeah. I'm playing hooky from my diligent business cohorts."

Trowa had to cover his lips as he quietly laughed when Quatre stuck the tip of his tongue out of his mouth and squinted his eyes while wrinkling his nose. "Bad boy."

"Heh. What'cha gonna do about it? Spank me?"

Trowa nearly tripped as the blonde laughed and walked ahead of him, his pace increasing with the marvelous sight of the ticket counter looming before them, beckoning for them to approach and lob money at the cashiers behind the Plexiglas wall.

They entered right beside one another, Quatre handing their tickets to the door usher and receiving the stubs in return. Setting foot into the cool-aired building, Trowa breathed a sigh of relief at being removed from the already skyrocketing temperatures that were making themselves known outdoors even as Quatre merrily bounded over towards the first of the museums multitudes of living exhibits.

Glancing around, he carefully took stock of his surroundings. The place most certainly was crowded, as he had suspected. To his left was a gift shop swarming with children and their parents searching for souvenirs. Further back to his left, he saw a huge tank reaching from the ground floor to well above the lofty top of the second, stretching what had to be nearly thirty feet in height, the silvery flashes within its dark confines betraying the presence of its aquamarine inhabitants. Before him stretched dark, almost haunting corridors awash in gentle blue light and carrying names of Pacific Ocean regions above them. Red Sea, Coastal North America, and so on were merrily lit above each orifice, inviting persons to explore their confines. A staircase right before him lead to the upper story, which as far as his emerald eyes could discern held more of those titled orifices and a bridge leading to what he discerned must be the Scuba Café the brochures told of. To his right laid the other end of that staircase from the second story and the restrooms, plus the entrance for those persons that had season tickets to the Aquarium along with a large coppery globe with information signs posted upon and around it. And above him stretched a huge, life-scale model of a blue whale and its month old calf, suspended from the ceiling by giant wire cables.

Turning on his heel, he stared at his surroundings. It was clean and well cared for, bordering on lavish even as it screamed minimalism and provided huge open spaces for the crowds that sought to fill them. Blinking a few times to get his bearings straight, he turned and walked to Quatre, finding him before the aquarium that faced the entrance of the building – the only aquarium residing outside of those dark corridors – watching colorful fish slowly swim back and forth before their coral laden backdrop.

"Aren't they beautiful?" Quatre softly sighed, watching as Yellow Butterflyfish and Imperator Angelfish swam peacefully with Green Chromis and spectacular Rainbow Wrasses.

'Perhaps coming here wasn't such a bad idea after all,' Trowa's mind mused as he began to lose himself in the splendor of the relaxing display before him.

Soon the crowd forced them to move, but they came to discover that this was in no way a loathsome development. Rather they were swept along to tank after tank, the variety held within the glass walls more than enough to keep them entertained and intrigued, staring at uniquely shaped fishes such as the Unicorn Parrotfish with its giant protrusion erupting from what could only be referred to as its forehead and the gracefully sweeping branches of the delicate Fern Corals. They watched as sharks swam peacefully with smaller fishes, gliding above them in the tubular tunnel that made up the giant reef tank that was the star attraction of the Aquarium. They surveyed tuna swimming before them, their silver bodies sparkling and shooting off with unimagined speed with the barest flick of a widely forked yellow tail. They laughed at the underwater antics of the rescued sea lions that danced in their own private chamber, and chuckled at the playful sea otters.

Trowa was smiling by the time they decided to head to the Scuba Café and eat before heading back outside to pet the sting rays and watch the sea lions from above, to watch the tidal pools and stare at crabs and muscles under the hot sun that hovered above in the sky.

Quatre grinned slyly at him, winking. "See? I knew that coming to the Aquarium would be relaxing."

"Yeah," Trowa replied.

He managed to not lose his stride as Quatre's arm found its way around his waist.

However, he did come to a complete stop as the bullet ricochet off the rail a few inches before Quatre, skittering away and slamming into the giant blue whale that was suspended from the ceiling, knocking a chunk of blue concrete off of its left pectoral fin.

tbc...

1) See it at: http/ www. mbusa. com (remove the spaces. Sorry, but the entire link's hellishly long, so I didn't directly post it.)

2) Wonderful place! If you're in the area, GO! It's fabulous in real life! gushes I wanna go back… I love the Aquarium… sniffle sniffle Damned crappy east coast Aquariums just don't cut it. sob See it at: http/ www. aquariumofpacific. org (once again, remove the spaces.)