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

-BEGIN FIC-

Too late to turn back now, I'm running out of sound
and I am changing, changing
and if we died right now, this fool you love somehow
is here with you

Galapogos

-- 07:41 --

Trowa padded quietly from the bathroom, a soft white towel wrapped around his waist and his soaking wet hair caught in the folds of a second towel which was being vigorously rubbed over his scalp to attempt to absorb some of the massive quantities of water his thick brown mop captured in its locks. Crossing the threshold from hard tile to only slightly softer carpeting, the boy made his way to the bed that did not have beer bottles circling it as a barrier against invading persons and to the boxer-clad youth that was lying atop that bed on his belly, cell phone pressed to his ear. Seating himself upon the edge of that bed, listening to it creak in protest with his added weight and feeling it bow and the blankets below his frame rumple, he set thickly calloused fingertips upon the other boy's bare back. Not a single word escaped his lips; he stared at the boy with hooded emerald eyes, taking in his position. Narrowed blue eyes that shined dark as expensive sapphires glared at the wall, lips pressed into a thin disdainful line, shoulders tense and fingers drumming on the pillow they rested on, Quatre's body language spoke of stressed anticipation.

Trowa, carefully avoiding the dental floss stitches he'd put into the pale skin so short a time ago, lightly rubbed the bunched muscles under that deceivingly soft porcelain skin in a vain attempt to bring some small measure of relaxation to the wiry bundle of fiercely nervous energy that laid in the center of that bed.

After many moments had passed, a thin and tinny voice speaking over the cellular phone's small speaker filling the silence that had tried to dominate the room during that time finally falling silent and awaiting a reply, Quatre sighed softly. "I see. Thank you for the report. Keep working on the second one, alright? I'll see about the first personally."

The voice spoke instantly. Trowa's sharp ears were unable to catch the exact words that spilled from the phone, but he judged by the tone it carried and by the quickness after Quatre's proclamation that it had begun to speak that whoever it was on the other end of the line was desperately protesting the blonde's decision.

Quatre didn't listen to the voice. His fingers deftly found the 'end' button on the phone, terminating the call with vicious swiftness. Bowing his head as he tossed the phone carelessly onto the shared nightstand between the beds, uncaring as it clattered against beer bottles and disturbed an empty Macaroni and Cheese box, he let his shoulders sag. "Can you do that a bit to the right, Trowa?" he quietly asked, his voice weary.

"Sure thing," Trowa replied, setting both of his strong, long-fingered hands to the task he sought to complete. Rubbing the smaller boy's back gently yet firmly, Trowa allowed his emerald eyes to drift shut.

He forced them to remain closed, lest the boy he massaged turn his gaze and catch the glimmers of lust Trowa was certain would be glowing for all of the world to see in his irises.

Trying to ward his mind away from the delectable fantasies that it was creating from the simple joy of touching the boy he'd been finding himself slowly tossing his heart to, he cleared his throat and forced his attentions onto his curiosity and his frustrations over their current situation instead. "So who was that?" he began, attempting desperately to regain the business-mode his brain had been saddled with during the time he'd been removed from the blonde's side and spying on Xavier Johnson and his unnamed contact who'd escaped him by fleeing to the moon.

Quatre's shoulders tensed. Trowa frowned, redoubling his efforts, digging his thumbs more firmly into the smooth flesh of his fellow ex-pilot's back.

After nearly a minute had passed and the red digital numbers on the radio alarm clock had finally clicked to a new time, Quatre sighed quietly. "One of my contacts."

"Waverly?"

"No," Quatre replied. "Rather someone who's looking for James. She was calling me with bad news."

"Am I allowed to know what transpired?" Trowa asked quietly.

A small shrug of his shoulders slightly jostled Trowa's hands before Quatre continued. "If you wish. She failed finding him. Just found out that he'd been last seen on the PCH at a Shell gas station about ten miles out of Santa Barbara, accompanying some woman in her GMC. Old truck, too. Half rusted according to my contact. And last time she saw him was about a week ago."

Trowa allowed a small frown to come over his lips as he reflected on the conversation he'd overheard that had progressed at Xavier Johnson's rented, bugged car.

-- 03:10, 5 Days Ago --

Trowa turned up the volume on the receiver as the static finally broke.

He narrowed his eyes as he listened to the conversation that poured over the microphone in the absence of the loud engine noise that Trowa realized had been dominating earlier.

"He failed?"

Trowa narrowed his eyes. 'Xavier.'

"- s, he d i-. They ma - ip away in do - n," a voice Trowa failed to recognize said, breathing just outside of the small receiver's limited range for clarity.

"Hmm. Well, this is pro - ng to be an interesting de - ment, isn't it?" Xavier's voice answered, before continuing with, "And wha - f the other one?"

"Se - red, for th - me bei -."

"Perfect."

The loud roar of the engine being started was nearly deafening. Trowa quickly fished the microphone out of his ear and tossed it onto the table, rubbing his ear after it exited the channel and wincing. Reaching over, he calmly turned the receiver off.

'Secured...?'

-- 11:12, 5 Days Ago --

'Secured...'

Scratching his chin with his free hand, his right still laying on the covered blonde's arm and tenderly holding him still, Trowa closed his eyes.

'They were speaking about Mr. Waverly, I'll bet. And by 'secured' they have him. He's been captured. Or he returned to them to report to them...'

'But if he's working in conjunction with them, he would probably have been the sniper at the Aquarium. Quatre would be dead. Of that, I'm certain; that man is more competent than whoever it was that struck at us.'

'Getting information from him is obviously out of the question. I have to do this on my own.'

'I HAVE to find out what's going on.'

-- 07:56 --

Trowa allowed his lips to fall and form the frown that was on the forefront of his mind. "That ties in with what I heard Xavier say."

Quatre turned his head slightly, one darkened eye peering over his shoulder to stare at his companion. "What was that?"

"He was speaking with someone about us escaping, and having Mr. Waverly secured."

Quatre managed to stiffen completely. "You're kidding... when did you hear this?"

"About five days ago," Trowa said with a small nod. "Pretty much right after we escaped the assassination attempt at the Aquarium."

"No..."

"You're worried?" Trowa asked.

A nod and a sigh escaped the blonde as he slumped, flopping completely down on the bed and tossing his arms lazily to his sides. "Yeah. If he's been captured, it complicates matters. He managed to derail what I was doing earlier by coming across more information than he was supposed to. Indeed, he wasn't supposed to be involved at all. I didn't plan on him leaving Alaska."

Trowa arched a brow. "You keep careful tabs on him, don't you?"

A quirky smile flitted across Quatre's lips. "The man's one of my greatest allies... and one of my most potentially dangerous enemies. I never keep him out of my line of sight. It's unwise to turn your back away from someone who has enough information about you to undermine you completely and enough competence to eliminate you without you even knowing he was after you."

Emerald eyes blinked.

"Simply put, while I'm fairly certain I know what he'll be doing and what his motives are due to the fact that I know his mindset well enough and understand his honor code, I don't trust him as far as I can throw him. The man's a double agent, Trowa. Just the kind of person you NEVER trust, no matter how duty-driven or friendly towards you they are. If he and I ended up on opposing sides of any operation that would lead to his goals with my death, he wouldn't hesitate in pulling the trigger."

"Yet you're worried about him?" Trowa asked.

A sigh and a nod from Quatre answered his question before he replied. "Yes. Even though I don't trust the man, he and I are on the same side this time. While I'm not entirely working towards the completion of the plan, I do help preserve the peace he's enjoying during this stage of his life with the person he's found to fill the void that's been eaten into his soul with the passage of time. And while he's on my side, he's my most valuable ally. I'm sorry, Trowa."

Trowa smiled faintly and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I believe I understand. It's because he's always just one step behind you, isn't it?"

"As annoying as it is that he's that hot on my heels in all things, yes. I don't have to lead him. He acts on his own without needing to be lead or informed of anything. He either cooperates beautifully with my plans as I unveil them, or creates his own plots to coincide with my own."

"I thought you said he derailed your plans by doing that?"

"He did. But I've adjusted. And now that he's been captured and is out of my field of vision, everything's been thrown askew again." Quatre shook his head slowly.

Trowa scratched his chin, silently pondering. 'That was the problem last time, wasn't it Quatre? Every time you attempted to make a move, your plans were derailed. Every time you came close to catching your target, those who were supposedly working for you hindered your progression. Was that their focus last time? To stop you?'

'To keep you from catching the one you were after?'

Quatre's voice interrupted Trowa's thoughts. "I suspect that during our last encounter, two of those three were betraying me. Apparently the Romefeller Foundation was offering a much better price than I was for their services."

Trowa blinked. "Hm?"

Shaking his head, the blonde sighed. "Their constant derailment of what I'm doing. This time it wasn't intentional, as it was during our last run together. This time it was the result of someone coming across too much information and making his own plans, attempting to correlate with my own but screwing up completely in the process. James is usually a lot more competent. But, of course, everyone is human and everyone is capable of mistakes from time to time."

"So you're saying that-"

"That this is different than last time, Trowa. That this time there are no double agents betraying me, altering my plans as we go. That the one who still lives, the traitor who escaped the assassin's touch, has already made his intentions well known. There is no deception this time. And..."

"And?" Trowa pressed.

"And I'm suspecting that he's the one responsible for his involvement this time. That it was his intention to disrupt my plans."

"So he could strike against you while you were adjusting the board?"

Quatre nodded. "Precisely."

-- 09:30 --

Trowa had been mulling over everything Quatre had told him silently, attempting to put together everything he knew and everything he had recently discovered.

'God, this gets worse every time something new is revealed, doesn't it?' he ruefully thought.

Quatre glanced over at him from his seat at the table and smiled wanly. "Penny for your thoughts."

Trowa shook his head. "Trying to figure things out."

His faint smile fading from his lips, Quatre sighed softly. "Best of luck to you. If you figure something out, would you mind sharing?"

Trowa stared, his emerald eyes veritably glowing with shock. 'He... doesn't know what's going on...!'

-- 20:10, 7 Days Ago --

'His play was so incredibly sloppy. Why? What was his focus?'

'Or was that his point? That he has no focus, and he's simply blindly running about in a vain attempt to stop whoever it is that's striking out against him with no plan or focus because he also has no clue what's really going on?'

-- 09:33 --

'That was the point... that was the point!'

'You're lost. You're running scared. And you're too focused on your own survival to utilize your friends to assist you. That was the point of that game! My God, it took me a week to figure that out!'

Trowa resisted the urge to slap his forehead.

"What?" Quatre softly asked, turning down the volume on the TV, diverting his attention from the continuing news report to focus instead on his friend.

"I just figured something out," Trowa said with a snort. "I finally figured out what you were showing me on that board."

Quatre simply nodded.

"Just one thing, Quatre... I know that you don't know what's going on, who's behind it or why. But, have you played with the idea that it could be that same guy? It's too much of a coincidence to bypass - the surviving men who were involved with the battle between that guy and you are involved again. It's another plot that's seeking to stop you, though this time it's trying to kill you instead of simply derail your efforts. This time they're the aggressor instead of you. Do you think-"

"That it could be revenge? Or some plot to undermine me? Find out what I'm doing and put a stop to anything I might have underway before I can accomplish it?" Quatre finished for him.

Trowa silently nodded his head.

"No," Quatre said simply, decisively.

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because of what I was shown."

-- 13:18, 17 Days Ago --

As he walked out of the ground-floor lobby almost thirty minutes after leaving the office that occupied the top floor of the huge skyscraper, the man smiled slightly, listening to the conversation that rolled from the small ear-piece he had discretely sitting in his ear-cannel.

"Yes, Mr. Winner. An attempted security breech while you were at lunch. We can replay the tapes for you if you like, but the one that would have given us the best view of his activities was covered by a soda can at the time he was trying to break into your office," one voice, husky and deep, rumbled.

"Really. I see. Thank you, Mr. Shulman. You can give me those tapes in an hour, yes?" a second voice quickly said, its tenor light and almost uncaring as it sighed.

"As you wish, Mr. Winner," the first voice replied. With the sound of footprints walking away, the second voice sighed softly.

"I suspected as much. Interesting setup, too..."

'He found the board,' the man reflected, listening carefully to the sounds coming through his receiver.

"So that's what you're planning," the light voice muttered softly across the earpiece.

"What was that, Mr. Winner?" another voice piped in.

"Nothing, nothing. Just looking at something... seems a bit out of place, is all."

"I see. The chessboard?"

"Isn't at all like it was left."

-- 09:40 --

"So it was changed?" Trowa asked.

Quatre nodded. "There was no onyx king. And the only piece that could save me was a rook."

Trowa shook his head. "I don't comprehend what that means."

A small smile took the blonde's lips. "That's because you've never played against Mr. Waverly before, my dear friend. He was showing me what was going on in the camp of my enemies through the board."

"How?"

"No onyx king. That means that Douglas Kesslinger isn't involved. This isn't something involving the Plan. And that's exactly why the white rook was the piece that was able to save me from the fires - because this has nothing to do with what James wants to come to pass, because this has nothing to do with Kesslinger's world of the future. This is a plan that runs askew of his dreams, and so he's helping me. No, Trowa, this isn't a repeat of what happened six months ago. Though most of the same players are on the board and are on the same sides they were on before, there's a different mastermind manning the opposing pieces in this game."

-- 12:05 --

Trowa lounged on the bed. Quatre was busily watching the noon stock report, which frankly was boring the acrobat to tears. He wasn't invested in anything, thus it didn't hold any particular interest for him.

Instead of paying attention to the ways of the world and the money that ran it, he was mulling over his dilemma.

'Someone's out to kill Quatre. Why is unknown.'

'That someone is utilizing Xavier Johnson, who was also the traitor who ran everything into the ground for Quatre six months ago. He's after him again.'

'Somehow James Waverly got pulled into this, and unintentionally screwed over Quatre's plans though he was actually trying to work for Quatre's best interests. He's trying desperately to protect Quatre from those who are after him, and has ended up getting captured for his efforts.'

'Which could possibly be why he pulled me into his schemes. Because as even he told me, he was being targeted as well, because he 'knows too much.' Meaning that he has an idea of what's really going on. And he probably knew that because he had an inkling of what's going on and was working for Quatre's benefit that he'd be taken out of the picture, leaving Quatre vulnerable and alone. Like Quatre was demonstrating on the chessboard, he was abandoned and working alone, not having any support pieces to utilize, not attempting to utilize them for fear of losing them to his enemy while he had no clue as to what his enemies true strategy actually is.'

'Xavier is pretty desperate about diverting all of Quatre's assistance away from him. That's why he was attempting to get me to distrust James when I met with him out in the desert over a week ago. Because if I didn't trust him, I wouldn't go along with his plans, and would completely divert any and all assistance that would be rendered to Quatre. And if I didn't cooperate with Quatre's ally, I wouldn't be placed to protect him. So he lied through his teeth to drive me away.'

'Someone, very likely those who are after Quatre, showed interest in Sandrock Gundam. Somehow they were able to locate that suit, but the Maguanacs intercepted them and moved it so whoever was after it couldn't obtain it.'

'So not only is this about Quatre but also it's about his suit. About his Gundam. Why his in particular?'

'Or is his the only Gundam that's simply been found? Maybe his isn't the only one that's targeted...'

'Anyway, Quatre suspects that whoever's after him wants him dead because of his governmental position and the power he has in the reconstruction of the world. Xavier suggested that as well in that sea of lies he was telling me... what if part of what he was saying was true?'

'What if the White Fang is partially behind this?'

-- 20:21, 11 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 Romefeller 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."

-- 12:39 --

'White Fang... and Xavier Johnson's employer, who is very likely the head of this little operation to see Quatre dead. A well known weapons manufacturer, and its CEO. I'll have to research that.'

'Weapons manufacturer, and interest shown in Sandrock Gundam...'

'Does this entirely have to do with the Gundams? If it does, then why haven't the rest of us been under attack like Quatre has?'

'And who the hell would know that he was actually Sandrock's pilot? The name of Gundam 04's pilot's been lost to the War, according to recent history. Therefore I doubt there's a tie there to what's going on.'

'But it all comes down to this weapons manufacturer. Xavier Johnson's employer. Maybe it's that blonde guy I was attempting to trail that managed to slip out of my grasp by fleeing to the Moon.'

'And Xavier Johnson is missing. There's been nothing over the bug that's planted in his car. The tape recorder got him cursing about nearly missing the LAX exit due to assholes, though..."

'Maybe he was going up to meet the guy who escaped me? And maybe, if he did, Duo's on him...'

'God, I pray Duo's on him. I'd go myself, but...'

'But that's not what Mr. Waverly intended me to do. He had purpose in putting me where I am. He had reason to put me at Quatre's side.'

'He pulled me to protect Quatre, not to solve his dilemma or figure out exactly what's going on. He has me here to protect him, to free himself to discover what the motives behind Quatre's unknown attackers actually are. He wants me to preserve Quatre's life. Which I'm going to do, damn it. And not because that's what Mr. Waverly wants me to do.'

'Because he told me six months ago. And he told me in his letter. He loves me.'

'No matter what happens, Quatre, I'm here with you. In life, in death, it doesn't matter. I'll be here.'

tbc...