Review replies:

Yurikitsune: Thanks again for the reply! And even if it gets cut off, I still appreciate the fact that I receive such thorough reviews from you. :) It's nice to know people are paying attention to every little detail. Sorry to cut this reply short, but I've got to get a whole bunch of stuff done before deployment… nngh. Nngh, I say!

Pandora-chan: What kind of sequel to 'Once' would this be if Duo didn't pop up in one way or another? The boy refused to be left out. (smirk) I bet later on, though, he regretted it. Oh! Spoiler. I'm stopping right now. As for a DH side story, there's a bit in this tale that should get you smiling – and if I end up actually finishing the plot one year, there will be plenty more to satiate you. Thanks for reading and reviewing! (huggle)

DISCLAIMER: I in no way own Gundam Wing or any song by the Smashing Pumpkins. Don't sue; I'm simply an E5 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

-BEGIN FIC-

Your strength is my weakness, your weakness my hate
my love for you just can't explain
why we're forever frozen, forever beautiful
forever lost inside ourselves

Thru The Eyes Of Ruby

-- 11:01 --

Trowa bowed his head in an attempt to blend in as much as was possible with the milling crowds that surrounded him while still keeping his gaze focused on the tall, strongly built blonde man in the brown business suit before him. Following at a distance at which he could be discrete and unnoticed, the ex-pilot struggled to keep up as the man wove through the crowd with relative ease and the obvious aura of worry trailing in his wake. He apparently was running late for his flight.

It had been a long night for the green-eyed boy, which only heightened the intensity of the struggle he was having attempting to tail the man without being noticed. First, a night spent outside of a hotel room in a city called San Dimas hiding in the bushes and keeping himself conscious so he wouldn't chance missing his newly found prey's exit had left him with cramps in his legs, a crick in his neck, and scratches on his arms that he swore would be the death of him if only due to the itching they caused to race along his tender skin. It had been a cold desert night, and exposure to that chilly air both in the bushes and on his motorcycle had done nothing for his comfort and indeed had begun the development of a cold.

Trowa blew his nose into a hanky he'd mysteriously acquired and moved on, his puffy eyes narrowed.

After that long night in those unforgiving bushes, his prey had bolted from the room, muttering something about being late as he jumped into his car. It was all Trowa could do to get onto his motorcycle and follow the driver, praying he wouldn't be seen or suspected as he mimicked the black Honda's errant weaving through traffic and attempted to keep an eye on it.

Then he'd ended up in LAX, one of the most notoriously crowded, unfriendly and noisy airports on the West Coast of the North American continent.

He'd been trailing this unnamed man for two hours now, watching him go to the ticket booth, following him through the security checkpoints, tailing him to the lobby. And now, he was following him to the gates that lead to flight 3349, a non-stop high-speed space flight bound for the LSAS, the Lunar Space and Air Station.

Perhaps it was the cold uncomfortable night that grated on his nerves, but more likely it was the knowledge that he was about to lose his most convincing lead on the plot to murder Quatre that he'd yet discovered that made him as irritable as he was that morning.

Trowa cursed under his breath as he came to rationalize that he had only two choices. One was to go back to Quatre and confirm that the boy was indeed safe and not running amuck, getting himself into more trouble than he could escape from. He could do as he was directed to do by the man he'd first worked with when he'd been dragged into this fiasco, who was now apparently captured somewhere in Santa Barbara by their shared enemy.

Or he could follow this new lead to the truth behind the assassination attempts on his friend into the depths of space, leaving Quatre in the capable hands of Duo Maxwell.

As he slid around yet another person that impeded his progress, he scowled, reflecting on everything he'd learned thus far.

-- 20:21, 10 Days Ago --

"I'm not here for small-talk. I don't care how you are or what you've been doing for these last six months."

"Alright, point taken." His smirk still upon his lips, Xavier Johnson slipped into a chair and shook his head. Leaning against the table, his elbow resting firmly against its top, he pressed his cheek into the cupped palm of his hand. "You do already know that there's someone after the life of Quatre Raberba Winner, don't you?"

"I've been allowed to be aware of that. Otherwise I wouldn't be here," Trowa said with a snort.

"Alright. There's some suspicion that it's a radical terrorist group who opposes to the peace promotion that he's heading. They want him out of the picture to throw the Earth Sphere into chaos and utilize that situation to begin another war, one which would possibly secure them a foothold at the head of rule on its termination."

"Something like what Romafeller originally intended?"

Xavier chuckled. "More like what Dekim of the Barton Foundation had dreamed about."

Trowa let his eyes widen.

"Yes, I know all about Operation Meteor. Don't be so shocked, kiddo! Despite what that jackass outside has told you, I'm not as incompetent as I look."

"I never believed you were incompetent for a moment," Trowa truthfully admitted, narrowing his eyes. "I believe you, like Duo, play the part of the chipper fool to turn people away from the suspicion that you actually know much more than you let on. You hide your knowledge, your awareness of the situations that surround you, and your intellect behind a mask."

Arching a brow, Xavier finally let his lips fall from their smile. "I see."

"Please, continue. What group is this, and why are they only targeting Quatre? Certainly Relena Dorlain would be as much of a probable target for such a purpose."

"Well, here's what I know. From what my employer has told me, it's not simply because he's a representative in this fight for peace. It's also because he's from the colonies. The same stigmatism isn't held towards Ms. Dorlain as she's a simple earthling, and can't be held to the expectation to understand the pain and the loneliness experienced by the colonies as Mr. Winner should be able to. He's become Earth's lap dog, and the people are angry."

"And how does your employer know this?" Trowa asked softly.

"Because he's been petitioned by this organization to join them in their quest to overthrow the current reign of the Earth Sphere and assist in their rise to power."

"And how could your employer do this?" he pressed on.

Xavier shrugged as he calmly confirmed, "Because my employer was once CEO of a weapons manufacturing enterprise. Though he's since turned his plants to colony-based manufacturing in an attempt to assist in the repair of the damages done during the battles of the last few turbulent months that preceded the Eve War, his reputation as a weapons manufacturer remains rather widely spread and well known."

Trowa arched a brow and frowned. "And why would this person be concerned for the continued welfare of Mr. Winner? Certainly he could make more profit from turning to weapons manufacturing once more."

"My employer is not a person who wishes for war, Mr. Barton. He, like most other people in this new era, is enjoying the taste of peace and the joy of doing something to benefit people rather than doing something that brings harm to the innocent populous. And he has had the wisdom to see that Mr. Winner's assassination would indeed bring about the turmoil this terrorist organization is striving for, and being a fan of the boy who's very company has assisted his own in their combined efforts to bring peace and quality life to the members of the colony population, he wishes for his continued existence."

"Mr. Winner's subsidizing him?"

"Yep."

Trowa rubbed his forehead. 'Very roundabout story, but it all makes sense. Damn. What if he really is telling the truth…?'

"And what's the name of this organization?" Trowa ventured.

"You know them well enough. They're the remnants of the White Fang."

-- 22:46, Yesterday --

"But on a more serious note," Duo interrupted, scratching his chin, "isn't this remindin' you of what happened… ya know…?"

"Six months ago?" Sighing quietly, Trowa crossed his arms. "Almost."

"But not quite, 'cause it seems like it's a totally different plot, right? I mean, instead of Quatre bein' the aggressor now, he's seemin' to be the hunted, yeah?"

Trowa nodded in response.

"But… think about it, Tro. There's still some nefarious purpose goin' on, right? Someone's still tryin' to do somethin' that we're tryin' to stop, and those two jackasses who made our fuckin' lives miserable are in all over it. I mean, they weren't in on anythin' 'xcept what happened that time, yeah?"

-- 11:20 --

A frown taking his lips as he continued to jostle through the uncooperative crowd after his escaping prey, Trowa mentally snarled. 'What if Duo's right? What if this really IS a continuation of what began those six long months ago? If it is, then how does it all tie together?'

'And if it is, would HE have denied it?'

-- 10:50, 7 Days Ago --

"Obviously. I'm asking what you're reading from the conversation, not what they said. I know exactly what they said, just as you do," James Waverly snorted.

Remaining silent for a few moments, Trowa's emerald eyes matched the hazel stare of his companion. "They've been lying to me, attempting to get me to not trust you for some reason. And they've really told me nothing, just as they've so informed you. We're both lost in the dark."

Leaning forward, gathering the device off the table with a swoop of the hand, James rose from his seat and walked to his suitcase. Dropping it onto the clothing bundled within the luggage, he nodded once. "Bingo."

"But why would they do that?" Trowa quietly mused.

Walking back to his seat, James flopped back down onto it and sighed. "Because both of us are being set up."

"Why would anyone be after me?"

"Not you, you pompous jackass. Me and Quatre."

Arching a brow, Trowa leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and his chin upon his hands. "Why are they after Quatre in the first place, Mr. Waverly?"

"Because he's an obstacle."

"To what?"

"Their plans."

"You mean the plan?" Trowa asked, arching a brow. "The plan you're always harping on?"

"Wrong plan, kid," James replied with a smirk. "Not our plan. Their plan."

"Who's?"

"Can't tell you that."

Rocking back in his chair, his lips twisted with a scowl of frustration, Trowa grunted, "Damn it. This is starting to sound a lot like the last fiasco we were involved in."

"Why do you say that?" James asked with an amused glint lighting his eyes.

"Everything I wanted to know was something that I wasn't allowed to know. All I ever got was 'I can't tell you, Trowa.'"

A barking laugh escaped the older man. "Well, we have our reasons, you know. The more people that know, the worse it is for subterfuge."

-- 11:22 --

Trowa's mind snorted quietly. 'The plan. This supposed plan that's been behind everything that's happened to us since those events six months ago, the plan that Quatre was attempting to derail, or to manipulate to his own usage. The plan that this plan supposedly isn't a part of. What if Duo was right? What if it truly is a continuation of it?'

'Which leaves the question – what's it really about anyway? What the hell do I really know about it?'

-- 20:59, 189 Days Ago --

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

Xavier 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 Romafeller 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 IP's 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.

-- 08:22, 188 Days Ago --

Trowa frowned, listening to Quatre.

"Kesslinger is the key to success. To know his mind is to know the mind of the Foundation. Word is that he's the ear-piece and brain behind Dermail's maneuvers."

"So that's why you've been trying to learn about him."

"I've been trying his affiliates since the self-destruct attempt that Heero pulled off." Ignoring Duo's small, discouraged sigh, Quatre continued. "It was then that I realized that the OZ organization, directed by the Romafeller Foundation, was seeking not an end to the tyranny of the Alliance as they've promoted, but rather to replace them in power to bring their constituents under their wings and sap off of the economic revenue that would be generated for them. The added boost in financial power would fund further mobile suit production,"

"And make total control of the colonies by force a feasible option."

"Correct. However, due to recent events and the obvious display of hostility towards their previously planned methods by the colonies as displayed through the Gundam attacks, they've changed their strategy. And it's because of this change that I've been attempting to learn all I can of the man who's been behind their most recent developments."

"The Mobile Doll system?"

"That, and the sudden change in their attack patterns. It's more like they're attempting to let us fade into oblivion, ignoring us while we reap havoc upon their stronghold. Like they're deliberately focusing their attention and resources to another endeavor."

"Hm."

"Knowing their intentions is the only way to know how to deal with them. As we've seen, they've already gained partial control of space… I just want to know what they intend to do with it."

"And for that, you needed Kesslinger."

"Yes. And for him, I tried to maneuver through Browens, who was a member of the Foundation Council and through Channok, who is an associate of Kesslinger's. I've been trying to figure out what he's planned, what he's leaked, what he's discovered, what he's tested…"

"Any success?"

"Some." With a mild, humble shrug, the boy sipped his coffee.

"And so now what are you planning?"

"Now I have to wait."

Trowa arched a brow.

"I have to see their next move before I act. That's all. I just fear that my lack of information about the way their planning to obtain their goals may send us astray once again. And considering the current attitude of space, I fear what the repercussions of another failed maneuver will bring us."

-- 11:24 --

'But this 'plan' wasn't only involving Romafeller's motives durin the War, was it? It was something deeper, something more substantial. Something that's got to be key, but that I have no clue about.'

'If the plan was what they told me it was six months ago, then it would have been resolved, and Mr. Waverly wouldn't still be harping on about it still being in motion. About their plan not being 'the plan' but rather some side plotting that had nothing to do with whatever he and whoever he's really working for have in motion.'

'Do these plans interfere with one another? Is that why the bastard's cooperating with myself and Quatre, attempting to stave off the attacks that have been focused on him? Or do they correlate with one another, and he's simply trying to get our trust? Or are they even involved with one another at all?'

'If they weren't, why would he be bothering with Quatre? Quatre MUST be key to the success of this 'plan' that he's been working on for so very long. But how? And is he actually aware that he's key, or is he being used without his knowledge much like Duo and I were being used during much of that fiasco and throughout most of the War?'

'Damn it all, why is it that the thing I suspect is probably key is the one thing I really know absolutely nothing about?'

His thoughts were derailed as he dodged another person dragging their rolling suitcase through the long passageway that stretched between terminal gates. Snorting, he set his gaze once again on the retreating blonde man's back and hastened to catch up.

'And what the hell does this guy really have to do with what's going on? Is he possibly the one that Mr. Waverly told me I wouldn't ever meet? Or is he just another lackey?'

-- 20:08, 10 Days Ago --

Trowa nodded once. "Going to continue? You've yet to tell me about the here and now."

"Xavier's not the one behind everything that's happening now. You, kid, won't meet that party. Xavier simply has more information than I do seeing as how he was hired directly by our employer, and thus has more to tell you. I'm more of a third party here than anything; I don't know everything that's happening on this end of the spectrum, and frankly I really don't care to know everything that's going on. This has nothing to do with what I want out of life anymore. That much I've discovered. It won't affect my survival, and it won't affect my ultimate goals. The only thing in my life it'll interfere with, so far as I've seen, is my bank account and perhaps my prospective timeline for getting certain things done."

Turning a curious eye to his companion, Trowa frowned. "So-"

"We're here," James Waverly interrupted with a nod. "Best head on inside before it gets much colder, kid."

-- 11:25 --

'He could be the one behind this entire scheme. He IS someone that Xavier Johnson's working for, but is he actually the mastermind…?'

Trowa's nearly running pace soon came to a halt, leaving him staring as the suit-sporting blonde he was trailing handed the flight attendant at the gate his ticket and hurriedly rushed through to make it to the cabin of his shuttle before they closed the vessel's hatch.

He couldn't follow if he wanted to ensure Quatre's safety. He wouldn't be able to inform Duo to seek the blonde out if he stowed onboard. He didn't have any number with which to keep in touch with the braided ex-pilot.

Gritting his teeth, he stood at the large window that made up the wall of the terminal lobby, glaring at the shuttle that pulled away from the building, slowly turning and rumbling under the power of its engines as it rolled off towards the distant runway.

'Damn it!'

-- 22:38, Yesterday --

"Having some problems there, mister?"

Trowa's heart nearly stopped. Turning on his heel, he stared.

Behind him, as black as the night itself, a lank figure walk towards him with an easy, strolling gait. Violet eyes pierced the dark shadows that surrounded them both, glistening from under the veil cast over the heart-shaped face by the soft fall of chestnut colored hair that glistened in the faint light that spilled from the hotel office's interior.

A casual wink and a cheerful smile met Trowa full on, even as slender fingers found their way to the end of a long, trailing braid and twined into it, tightening the black twist-tie that held the immaculate weave intact. "Fill me in on what's going on and why exactly one of my dearest friends went calling me in the middle of the night pleading me to help you out, and I'll take that guy in the hotel room. No payment, no problem. Call it a one time special."

"Duo!" Trowa finally managed to gasp, staring at the familiar form of the pilot of Deathscythe Hell. "Quatre called you?" he continued, once the initial shock of seeing him wore off.

"Yep. In the middle of the damned night, too. Not like I wasn't lookin' for him anyway, ya know." Plucking at the end of his braid, he let a frown steal onto his lips. "I've been lookin' for him for awhile, ya know. He's my best friend, and I wanted to meet up with him for some fun. Maybe some tea and stuff and some chatter. But he's not on schedule. He was supposed to be back home today, seein' as how he should've finished up business down here."

Trowa let his eyes widen again. "Do you typically stalk him?"

With a wild little laugh as he continued to play with the end of his braid, he winked at Trowa and flashed him the debonair smile he wore constantly during the struggles of the War. "I only stalk my friends, buddy. I wanna make certain you're all alright, ya know?" A blink of an eye passed and that smile faded slightly as he continued, "I've just lost way too many. I'm not about to go losin' anyone I consider my best friend and, well, extended family to nothing so stupid as an accident or something."

Trowa nodded. "Alright. Let me fill you in on what's going on, as far as I know."

As the tale concerning the attempts on Quatre's life and the lies of Xavier Johnson coupled with the rather unnerving participation on behalf of their old nemesis/partner James Waverly and the apparently strong but unknown motivations behind the mysterious stranger who'd had yet to have a name plastered to him rolled from Trowa's tongue, Duo's face simply continued to fall from its carefree, chipper façade into a serious, contemplative and for the most part stoic countenance.

"And my largest problem at this moment is going to be tracking down that black Honda. There are too many of them in this accursed state for me to be easily able to find it."

Duo scratched his chin, his frown still in place. "Tracking the Honda's no big deal. I've got its license plate number, and tapping into any police satelite'll give you his location as of five minutes ago."

Trowa allowed a brow to arch.

A wild grin momentarily lit the other boy's lips as he sniggered. "How is it ya think I know where all y'all are? You're easy 'cause of that damned circus of yours and Hee-chan's fuckin' impossible due to the fact that he wanders around on foot and gets rental cars. But 'Fei and Quatre? Simple. Just gotta keep tabs on Quatre's schedule, and trace the Jeep from Hell."

"I see."

"But on a more serious note," Duo interrupted, scratching his chin, "isn't this remindin' you of what happened… ya know…?"

"Six months ago?" Sighing quietly, Trowa crossed his arms. "Almost."

"But not quite, 'cause it seems like it's a totally different plot, right? I mean, instead of Quatre bein' the aggressor now, he's seemin' to be the hunted, yeah?"

Trowa nodded in response.

"But… think about it, Tro. There's still some nefarious purpose goin' on, right? Someone's still tryin' to do somethin' that we're tryin' to stop, and those two jackasses who made our fuckin' lives miserable are in all over it. I mean, they weren't in on anythin' 'xcept what happened that time, yeah?"

"Not directly."

Arching a brow, Duo let a corner of his mouth twitch. "Clarify on that, Tro. You don't have to conserve words here."

A slight narrowing of his eyes that screamed 'I was getting to that and then you interrupted me,' and a shake of his head accompanied Trowa's quiet explanation of, "Waverly was apparently involved in the rise of the White Fang. Xavier seems to have been keeping tabs on everything that occurred at the end of the Eve War. They've been playing their parts, simply without us being aware of their interactions."

"I see." Duo dropped the tip of his braid and shook his head, letting his hands find his hips and tapping his foot on the hard asphalt of the parking lot. "So what if this is a continuation of the plans that they had going during the war? They're just being more discrete about it?"

"I wouldn't know," Trowa truthfully answered.

"Three word monster?"

"…."

"Fuckin' hell, man. Some things just don't change."

"The license plate number? I don't have all night."

Nodding once, Duo slipped a scrap of paper Trowa's way. A receipt from Burger King for a shake and a Whopper Combo with a hastily written series of numbers on its back. "An' best thing is that it ain't no rental car, my friend. No Enterprise or other company sticker on it nowhere. An' I doubt a rental car would have a lollipop imbedded in its back seat an' a child carrier with punch stains on it in it, either."

Trowa nodded. "Good luck," he simply answered as he turned on his heel and walked towards his motorcycle, precious slip with information in hand.

Duo simply waved at his back before haughtily trotting into the office, slamming his hands onto the counter therein and brightly bursting into conversation with the man behind that counter as was obvious from the wide smile and rapid movement of his mouth as seen through the large glass windows that made the interior of that office visible to the outside world.

Mounting his bike, Trowa calmly took off down the road, not a question dancing in his mind about the black-clad ex-pilot and his convenient appearance nor of his capabilities.

The only question in his mind was concerning where he could quickly get computer access and track his retreating vehicle.

-- 12:55 --

Trowa dismounted the V-Rod, shaking his head. The recent disappointment of losing the man he was following was still sitting heavily on his conscious.

Walking to the door to his hotel room, he swiped the card, giving a breath of relief that three days away from the hotel had not diminished his ability to enter.

'Well, that's because it's under Mr. Waverly's name, and he isn't exactly available to check out any day soon. And because Quatre's here.'

Opening the door, Trowa peered in. "I'm back," he ventured to say into the dark silence beyond, even as he walked in.

The room appeared unchanged. However, it was unoccupied.

"Quatre?" he called out.

When no answer met him, he began to panic. Looking desperately through the room for any evidence that the boy had been there recently, he scurried about rampantly cursing the fact that with the disaster area that was contained within the hotel room's wall it would be difficult if not impossible to find any evidence of recent inhabitation, of a struggle that might have removed the recent occupant from its confines, or of anything that might have been constituted as useful information.

"What are you doing?" a voice erupted from behind him.

Trowa nearly fell over before regaining his composure and turning. "Where were you?"

The equally shocked blonde let a worrisome smile meet his lips. "Shopping for supplies. Where were YOU?"

"Looking for leads. Hey." The initial greeting finished, a frown met Trowa's lips. "You knew that, though."

"I did?" Quatre began, arching a brow.

"Of course you did. You, after all, called Duo in to help me."

The large bag of groceries the blonde was hugging protectively to his chest nearly fell out of his arms. Hurrying to the bed, he let the laden bag fall out of his now limp limbs as it desired, then turned his gaze back to Trowa. "Duo? I never called him."

It was Trowa's turn once again to be shocked. "You didn't? He told me that you'd called him in the middle of the night to come down and assist me."

"Trowa, I never made that call. I wouldn't lie to you concerning this. I don't want any of you involved in this mess that's revolving around me. It's bad enough that you're here… why would I involve Duo in on this as well, and put more of my friends' lives in danger?"

Trowa stared at the blonde, his eyes huge. "Then…."

"Someone using a voice-coder, probably. The big question is who, and for what purpose," Quatre sighed quietly as he sat down on the bed and shook his head.

Trowa silently stalked over to the blonde, and sat down beside him. "You're worried about him, aren't you?"

"Just like I was worried about you all this while. I have so few actual 'friends' to claim. I can't stand to think of any of you getting hurt or killed on my account."

Trowa sighed quietly, watching the boy's considerable emotional fortitude begin to give way, tears beginning to develop at the corners of his eyes. 'Damn it. Who did this?' he venomously mused, his internal monologue dripping with hatred. 'Who dared to upset him like this?'

Control over his actions lost, Trowa slipped an arm around the blonde's shoulder, eliciting a startled gasp from Quatre and a stiffened posture from himself as he came to realize what he was doing. Shrugging off the urge to release Quatre from his clumsy embrace, he instead pulled him to his chest and wrapped his other arm around his slim frame as well. Holding him tightly, he sighed, his breath rustling soft golden locks. "Don't worry. Duo can take care of himself."

Trowa shivered as thin fingers curled in his shirt, holding it tightly as the cherubic face pressed itself into the soft fabric that covered his chest. "I know that. But you can't accost me for being worried about him."

"Right," Trowa agreed, lifting a hand to rest atop of Quatre's head, holding him as tenderly as he dared.

In silence they sat, encased in each other's comforting embrace, forever frozen, forever beautiful, forever lost inside their own cascading emotions and inability to put them to words in one another's presence – forever lost within themselves.

tbc...