Security Measures
The Weaver Atropos
And then woke up hungover--

Duo wasn't sure when he became aware that he had left everything at the spaceport. Sometime afterwards, after having run a good four or five miles, he had realized he had no money, identification, or clothes.

He certainly couldn't go back to his apartment. He'd already terminated his contract with the landlord. Nevermind the damned man hadn't even attended to his needs; he hadn't had running water for the better part of three months, yet still paid the rent as though he were living in a lavish five-star hotel.

A hotel…

He would've gone to one if it weren't for the money issue. He'd left his credit cards in his wallet and, despite it all, he damn well didn't feel like going back to the Spaceport to claim his belongings. If anything, that anal officer that had checked him would turn in the stuff to the Spaceport's 'Lost and Found' department, and he'd go pick them up later.

But he wouldn't, didn't want to go back if that man was going to be there. His gaze—however enticing it might have been—was too penetrating and intimidating for him to handle. It reminded him of things he didn't want to remember.

It made him aware of what he was missing.

With a frown, and realizing he really only had one place to go, Duo made a point of changing directions and making his way downtown. He looked upwards when he felt a pelt of rain hit him squarely on the nose. It was dark already, and by the time he got to the bar, it'd probably be raining horribly, but he'd risk it. It was either sleep at the bar, or catch pneumonia on the park bench.

It wasn't as though he had never been through that before.

He just hoped Trowa wouldn't mind his rooming with him until he mustered enough courage to revisit the Spaceport. Somehow, he had the strange feeling that the young officer had kept his documents instead of turning them in.

Maybe Trowa would get them for him. The tall brunette knew how to handle himself, after all. He was as quiet as the young officer had been—less impetuous, even. But…Duo doubted Trowa would get involved in his affairs. The waiter was of the belief that one had to learn to vouch for himself. He'd offer him advice, but not much else unless Duo were in dire need of it.

The violet-eyed youth was a good five-more blocks from the locale, which was a small bar adjoined to a larger, more mainstream club. The two were often referred to as one and the same, though they weren't, and Trowa often shifted from one side of the place, to the other, waiting on tables. The boy had an apartment atop the Ecstasy—the name of the bar-club—and had a habit of letting Duo crash whenever the occasion merited it. And, as of late, Duo had been scarce around the place.

It was too much of a bad influence.

He was of the situational type. If he were put in so tempting a position, then he surely would react to his surroundings. Trowa knew that much. Whenever he visited his stoic friend, he'd end up dead-drunk, or fooling around in someone else's car...And that ground on Trowa's nerves.

…Which was why he'd been hesitant to come around. The last time he'd shown his face, he'd gotten into a fight that had nearly gotten Trowa fired and the two had had a glorious argument afterward—Trowa with his incriminating gaze, and Duo with his flailing arms and accusatory shouts.

He winced at the memory. He knew the young man wouldn't be mad at him; curious, maybe—perhaps even a bit teasing at his absence, but certainly not angry. Trowa wasn't the type to hold a grudge. Still, he was tentative about entering the bar when he finally arrived. It was more out of shame than any real fear.

As he was debating whether he should turn back—soaked to the bone as he was—the door to Ecstasy opened, and a tall, curious brunette spied him with an almost amused expression. "Hey, Duo."

Duo nodded his greeting, shivering despite himself, and cast his friend an apologetic smile. "I…I missed my plane."

A single, chocolate eyebrow rose.

Damn it, but did Trowa's expressions make him feel stupid. "Some officer stopped me, so I couldn't go through in time."

At that, Trowa nodded, used to bailing his friend out of jail for his repeated slipups and Freudian slips. Duo glared. "I didn't do anything. The damned guy just got it in that I had something he wanted. Nearly made me strip for it."

Catching the forlorn expression, Trowa stepped aside to let Duo walk through, pausing just enough to toss the garbage bag he'd brought outside into a nearby trashcan.

Inside it was considerably warmer and, and even though the pulsating beat of the club gave him a pounding headache, he was glad to be in shelter. "Go change. Stuff's upstairs."

With those words and an absent push, Trowa sent Duo in the direction of his apartment, pressing his keys into the youth's hand.

It had been a while since he'd been up there. Running his fingertips down the arm of Trowa's plush, velvet-covered sofa, he plopped down experimentally, shifting left and right until he melted into its soft contours. "Now…this is the life."


"So, do you think you could run a check for me? On a certain," the young officer glanced downwards for a moment, scanning the maroon passport in his hand, "Duo Maxwell?"

Another young man, with dark ebony hair and slanted, exotic eyes, looked curiously towards him. "Any particular reason why, Yuy? You're not usually the type to get involved in matters of the Lost and Found. There's a box for that, you know."

That last bit was said in amusement. "I would leave it there. If not for the fact that I doubt he'd come back for them. He's afraid of me, for some reason or other. Besides," Heero dug out the rest of the documents from his pockets, "he left enough stuff behind for anyone to steal his identity."

The ebony-haired man nodded. "Yeah, all right. Come back in a few days. The check will be done in two or three hours, but then I've got to scavenge through the results. You'd be surprised at the amount of Maxwells in the area…though none have the name 'Duo' as far as I know. Is that what they call him, or his name?"

"His name, as far as his passport and license say."

"Allright then. I'll give you a call on Wednesday."


God, but had it been a while since he'd had a warm shower. His last landlord had taken it upon himself to save money by cutting the hot water in his apartment. He wouldn't have even lived in that dumped if it hadn't been so close to his workplace. At least Trowa didn't mind.

"Not like I'd listen to him if he did," on that final thought, Duo stretched languidly, yawning a bit as he reached for the shampoo at the far right edge of the bathtub. Trowa's hair was so cost effective. Duo had learned, through experience, to buy shampoo bottles by the dozen, since he used them up after two or three showers. His hair was awfully difficult to take care of. And yet, he would never consider cutting it. Not at all.

The young man gathered as much of his hair as he could, stooping down a little to catch it at the very tips, and lathered it up in sweet, coconut smelling shampoo. It was better than the generic brand he used. Apparently, if your shampoo lasted you a near two-months, you could afford the nicer stuff. "Now there's a lesson to be learned."

Duo worked his way upwards slowly, closing his eyes and wondering what time it was, when he was vaguely aware of the ringing of a telephone. He decided to disregard it, knowing full well it'd stop ringing before he even doused his hair, climbed out of the shower, and went to answer it. He tuned it out by habit, humming an old song to himself, only mildly aware of the cacophony the difference between it, and the pounding from downstairs, created.

After his hair was washed and the water began running cold, Duo pushed aside the curtain of the shower, momentarily debating to go downstairs or not, and decided against it. He felt a bit sick as it was, and he didn't want to risk getting into a row with Trowa. Especially not after the youth had received him so nicely.

He dried himself with an old, well-worn terry towel, and sighed sleepily. The stress of the day was catching up to him.


"You fell asleep early last night."

Emerald eyes studied him curiously, "I half-expected you to come downstairs and find trouble."

Duo grinned lopsidedly at his friend and rubbed wearily at his eyes, "Yeah, well…I was dead tired." The young man paused for a minute and sobered a bit, "Listen, Trowa—do you think you could do me a favor?"

"That depends," his eyes glittered curiously, "what is it?"

The braided youth heaved a sigh as he spooned himself some fried eggs, dipping them into ketchup before chewing thoughtfully. "That guy—he has all my stuff."

"What guy?" The look in Trowa's eyes changed from amused to guarded. He'd borne witness to enough of Duo's escapades to know half of what the young man did tended to get him into trouble—and into infinitely more heartbreak.

"At the spacesport. When I missed my plane."

"I meant to ask you about that—" Trowa rose and removed the pitcher of coffee from the brewing machine, "—why exactly did you miss your flight?"

"That guy…he had it in against me. I don't know."

The sadness in Duo's amethyst depths was unmistakable. "Nothing else?" Trowa had only seen his friend that upset one other time…and it had taken him years to mend—even now, he wasn't as he had once been.

"Can you?"

Trowa took a sip of his coffee, "Pick up your stuff?"

"Yeah?"

"Only if you come along. I don't intend on being questioned by an officer on why I need someone else's personal belongings."

Duo smiled gratefully. "Thanks."


"There you have it, Duo Maxwell—twenty two years old, works as a mechanic, apparently from L2…and, here's the doozy…apparent protégé of a so-called 'Professor G'. Name ring a bell?"

Heero shrugged, "Not particularly." He did, however, have the funny feeling he'd heard about the man before.

Wufei quirked a brow at his apparent thoughtlessness, "Intelligence 101—first year Preventer training…this guy here—" he pointed at G's name for emphasis, "is one of the five responsible for orchestrating a failed rebellion a few years past. And this guy," now he pointed at Duo's grinning picture, "is likely to have been one of the recruits that actually acted out the plans. Master and puppet all in one."

Dark prussian eyes narrowed slightly, "You mean the Professor G—from the Sweepers?"

"The one and only."

"And how can we be sure this one here," he pointed to Duo, "is involved?"

At the question, Wufei give a bit of a shrug, wrinkles crinkling his forehead, "We can't…but there's a pretty good chance. The guy's twenty-two, lives in sub-sufficient conditions, yet has connections to one of the more powerful men in the underworld."

"So why isn't he rich?" The story didn't seem to fit all that perfectly together.

"We don't have any concretes…but it's a fair bit to assume he has no idea exactly how influential G is. My guess is that the kid thinks he's working for the bettering of something. Doesn't realize he's playing the Pinocchio to some Gippeto."

"That's your only guess?"

"Or, alternately," he glared at Heero a bit for the man's assumption, "he worked for him in the past, and no longer does. That would explain his living conditions. G might have blacklisted him for something he did, or refused to do."

"Sounds more plausible."

Ebony eyes focused on his, "Sounds less complicated, you mean. What's your interest? He's a bit of a street kid."

A small smirk tugged at the corners of Heero's lips, "He's older than you are, why call him a kid?"

"You're evading my question, and he looks like one."

He did look younger. At least in his teens. And that braid did very little to assuage any assumptions otherwise. From what he had gleamed from their encounter, Heero could also guess half of it came from the man's vibrant personality. Still…he'd been pressed up against that body—though not with sensual intentions—and he couldn't rightly well deny that that body hadn't been one of a man. "There's something about it—"

Wufei seemed a little displeased. "You're telling me you're using police security to satisfy some curiosity?"

"Not exactly. I'm not entirely convinced of his innocence in regard to what was stolen from the Vice-Foreign-Minister."

Black eyes narrowed, "What was stolen, exactly?" News hadn't reached his department, yet. Though it would—and soon. If the field-detectives couldn't find something, the work was turned over to the capable hands of intelligence soon enough. Normally, Heero would have been working with Wufei, but under the circumstances…the former of the two had found himself transversing with rookies—under the guise of 'showing them the ropes.' He knew Heero hated field work and sympathized with the man. It couldn't be much better when you had a whole lot of incapable teen hopefuls, already training for the Preventers.

"Communications device. Nothing incredibly valuable. At least…not until you brought up the G connection. In light of things, that little satellite system might prove a lot more valuable to whatever organization G's supporting."

"You think he knows?"

"We might have to send recon to figure that out. I don't think detectives at this point would be prudent. Better to sniff him out in his premises first. That way we have a sort of dossier on him before he guard's up at a detectives visit."

"What about you?"

"Me?" the mossy-haired man seemed startled, "What about me?"

"You seem to be a weakness to him; and you've already had an encounter. Why not look into it? It's a good a chance as any for a promotion."

Heero frowned. "I don't do field work."

Wufei smiled teasingly, "Think of it as cryptography with a twist. We're all symbols…and you've got to get to symbol Duo…and figure him out, before you'll get the coding to symbol G. How's that for motivation."

The Japanese man rolled his eyes. "Not very good. See you around."

"See you."


Sexy Duo likes reviews, too...