I've been looking over the fic as it appears on and am appalled to see that I have so many mistakes in it. Sigh. I really need to find a beta reader.Any one out there interested? No one on this end cares about what I write.

Statements and Comments

The glaring light of the small room hurt his eyes a little, but that was almost irrelevant. Trowa was familiar with the scare tactics that most places used on criminal suspects when reason didn't seem to be working.

This place was undecorated, with only the table and chairs, one of which he was sitting in, and the 'mirror' that was really a one-way window on the eastern wall. Trowa sat at the north end of the table, counting seconds in his head, wishing he still had a watch. His mind was speeding at a rapid pace, first reciting the math models he had to know for physics class, then jumping over to what he knew so far about their predicament, and then over to wondering if Napoleon was one of Heero's ancestors (they both were short and crazy. Well, okay, Heero had grown a lot in the past two years, they all had, probably because they were getting ample sleep and not living off of space rations, which probably had been stunting their growth). Basically he let his mind wander, staring off into space, but not at the door, not at the window, not at the neat stack of papers in front of him. He wondered what the others were doing.

After what he deemed to be a hundred and sixteen minutes, plus what ever time he had spent filling out the papers, the door in the southeastern corner, on the far side of the window, creaked open. Stepping in was a uniformed officer, and two men in business suits, one in his late thirties, the other probably in his early fifties. The officer stayed by the door while the detectives took the remaining chairs, both sitting across from him, their faces brought into high relief by the overhead light bulb. One of them motioned for the papers, and Trowa slid them over.

The older one flipped through the papers while the younger one tried to smile.

"This is a bit of a nasty business, but it should get cleared up easily enough. Your school sent over your homework for today, so you won't be missing anything in the meantime." The man said. He had sandy blonde hair, so dark that it was almost brown, and light blue eyes.

Trowa's only response was a slight raising of his eyebrows. The man must have misinterpreted that look.

"Yeah, I know. All this trouble and you still can't get a break from school. You'd think they'd let you slide this one time, but that's teachers for you."

Trowa figured that this one would be the nicer of the two, the one that would try and get his trust and convince him to open up. The older detective made a coughing sound, and set the paperwork down.

"I am Detective Maurice, and this is Detective Michals. We're here to talk to you about what happened yesterday." The older detective said. He was balding a little, and had salt-and-pepper hair. Trowa nodded but said nothing. "If at any time you feel you need a lawyer, you are within your rights to ask for one." Trowa again was silent.

"We have had some trouble contacting your legal guardian." Det. Maurice stated.

"That's because I don't have one." Trowa said equally as simply.

"Are you a ward of the state then?"

"I don't think so. To my knowledge, I'm not even a citizen."

"Doesn't surprise me, most of the kids up at that school are foreigners." He took a pen out of his jacket pocket, and clicked it open. "Where are you from?"

"The L3 colony cluster." Trowa said.

"Which part?"

"All parts. I traveled a lot."

Det. Michals had taken over reading Trowa's papers. "You left a lot of blank spots. And you didn't even put in your name."

"My name is irrelevant."

"No, it's not." Det. Maurice almost growled. "I don't care how cool you think you are, but you need give us a name."

"Trowa Barton. That's t-r-o-w-a-b-a-r-t-o-n." He spelled out his current alias for them, and Det Michals wrote it down.

"That's better." Maurice grumbled.

"There's a lot of other things missing." Det. Michals said, and slid the packet half way over the table.

"I filled out as much as I could."

Det Maurice snatched back the papers. "Don't be difficult. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner you can go home…er, back to school."

"I'm not trying to be difficult." Trowa said, but only Det Michals seemed to hear.

"What's your social security number?" Det Maurice demanded.

"I don't have one."

"Place of birth?"

"I don't know."

"Parents names?"

"I don't know."

This last part seemed to take a moment to sink in. True, they probably both thought he was being difficult before, despite Detective Michals seemingly open and friendly nature, but now he had given them a reason to suspect otherwise.

"Bithdate."

"I think I'm seventeen."

Again, a nanosecond pause.

"That's not what I asked."

"Unfortunately, I really have no better answer for you."

"Next of kin?"

"Hmm." Trowa wasn't sure how to answer this. "I don't really have any. You could just put down one of the others, we tend to just get lumped together for these things anyway," This did not need further explanation. "There's also a girl back home who's like a sister to me."

"But no blood relatives?"

"Not unless I've got a bastard child or two running around somewhere."

They systematically went through the papers, trying to get him to tell them where he had gone school previously, driver's license, birth certificate, anything they could use to confirm who he was. There were about five sheets of paper that Trowa had filled out to the best of his ability, but most of the spaces were still blank. About halfway through, the usually passive young man had reached his limit of this.

"I told you that I had filled out all that I could. Is there a point in going through all this when I have nothing more to add?"

"I see you have put down prior military service." Det. Michals pointed out. "How did you get into the royal armed forces without any identification?"

"I lied."

The men blinked at him. "About what?"

"Just about everything." He could see they provably didn't understand. "Look, I only mentioned it because it specifically asked about 'Prior military enlistment,' and it's true that I was enlisted. But I was only there to spy on General Une, so you can't expect me to have been truthful in what I put down on the recruitment forms."

"You were a spy?" Det. Michals said in disbelief, but Det. Maurice hushed him up.

"Boy, am I to understand that you have no legal means of identifying yourself?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"You have an employment history. How did you manage that, or did you lie to them to?"

"At first, yeah, I was using my job as a cover for during the war. But I made a lot of friends, and I liked it there, so they let me back in after the fighting stopped, no questions asked."

Det. Maurice humphed, but moved on. "Where were you at one-forty-five on November second, one-nine-seven?"

"Um, in Spanish class."

"Can anyone vouch for you."

"My friend Duo. The Spanish teacher, Mrs. Ole. And about fifteen other kids my age. Oh, and I think there might be some security footage."

"What do you know about what happened in class room 1704 at that time, and the actions of one Yui Heero?"

"Heero attacked Zechs."

The detectives seemed a little surprised for some reason. Maybe they had expected him to deny the possibility of Heero's guilt.

"And where did you hear this from."

"Duo and I were escorted to the dining hall after class let out. We heard some bits of what happened, namely, that Heero and Quatre had gotten into a fight, and people kept describing the third party to us. And then someone said that they recognized Milliardo Peacecraft from his television address two years ago, and we were able to piece together most of it from there. And then Quatre told us more after he got back.

"Where were you at eight-fifteen on the same day?"

"I don't know." The detectives didn't like this answer, so he hurried to clarify. "I don't have a watch, so I'm not sure of specific times."

Det Maurice took a deep breath. "Can you describe the events taking place, starting in the school dining hall after sunset, and ending when you returned to school…much later."

"Quatre came in the southwest entrance. He told us there was something wrong with Heero, so we went to get him. We carried him to the hospital, checked him and Quatre in, and then went back to campus."

"In more detail, please. Specifically, the altercation between you and your friends, and four officers of the law."

'Ah', Thought Trowa. 'We get to the point.'

"Three policemen walked over with us to meet Quatre. Quatre was trying to tell us about Heero, but the cops interrupted. He finally got to finish, and we went to go get Heero. One of the cops grabbed Quatre, and he didn't like that." This, perhaps, was an understatement. "The other two cops tried to stop him, and the rest of us stopped them. Then we left."

Det. Michals was taking notes. Det Maurice continued. "Where did Mr. Winner lead you to collect your friend?"

"To where he had left him."

"Please be more specific."

"Somewhere in the woods."

"At any time, did you encounter people in the woods, members of the search team out looking for your friends?"

"No. we avoided them completely."

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely. No one ever finds us unless we want to be found." There was a veiled statement of power here. The detectives were smart enough to get the idea that this kid and his friends had been brought in only because we let you.

"Where do you go next?"

"The nearest hospital."

"Did you go directly there?"

"No." Det Michals looked up from his notes, seeming to think that this was going to be good. "We didn't really know were the hospital was, so we might have wandered around a little bit. We went there as quickly as we could, though." Det. Michals was slightly disappointed.

"What happened at the hospital?"

"We had some trouble getting medical attention for Heero. He didn't have any of the legal stuff, or a medial history, so they weren't too willing to help out. I think they were waiting for the police to arrive and take care of things, too. We eventually got Heero a doctor and a room, and we had to go through much of the same thing for Quatre, but at least he was awake to answer questions. We went back to school after that."

"Why didn't you stay at the hospital with your friends?"

"We had to get back to our dorms before curfew."

Det. Maurice snorted. "Don't play me kid." He muttered. "Were you three not informed by the officers at the scene to stay put and come in for questioning?"

"I was, I'm not sure about the others, though."

"And why did you disregard that request?"

"Because it was a request, not an order."

"And do you usually ignore officers of the law?"

Trowa shrugged. "I haven't had much experience with them."

"And why did you this time?"

"Because I didn't care."

"Why not?"

"'Why not?' Why would I? They haven't got any authority over me."

"A police officer is a representative of the law, the government, and the country. They have quite a bit of authority."

"Not my government. Not my country. It's not even really my planet. And I haven't done anything wrong, so the law can't touch me."

Det. Maurice grumbled again. "When you entered that posh school of yours, you signed agreements to abide by school and local law-."

"I signed nothing." Trowa allowed a small dip in his voice, showing his own impatience. "Nor did any of the others. We were dragged here against our will to be paraded in front of rich, fat, important people, who study us like lab rats for signs of disease and weakness. It wasn't our idea to come here, and we certainly weren't given any choice in the matter."

The two men looked slightly stunned, and Trowa realized that he had been using the tone he usually reserved for people he was about to kill. They were probably scared. Whoopsie.

Any further unpleasantness was stopped when a beeper went off. Both men checked their little gadget at the same time, and then Det. Maurice motioned to ward the door.

"We'll be right back." Det Michals followed his graying and balding partner.

Trowa was left with the distinct feeling that someone behind the glass had called them back before they agitated him to much. He didn't like the feeling of being watched.

He wondered what the others were doing.

Heero groggily woke up some time around noon. Quatre was about six feet away in a bed of his own, reading a text book, and the millionaire put his reading material away as he heard his friend stir.

"Heero-san, ogenki desu ka."

"Iie, chigaimas-s-s…" one hand flew to his temple, and investigate the pounding there. He dimly heard Quatre's voice ask for someone to get the doctor, and the thudding of feet signaled that they were, indeed, not alone in this room. Heero sluggishly tried to get his body moving, but he seemed rather numb, and felt like all his limbs were extra heavy. He recognized the effects of some kind of sedative, or painkiller.

"Quatre-san?" He questioned weakly, "Why can't I move?"

"They pumped you full of drugs. I can vouch that it wasn't anything damaging, but I couldn't order them not to put the stuff in you. I have no authority here."

"S'okay." He was having trouble getting his lips to move. More feet arrived, and he heard some one talking in Danish to him, but couldn't get his brain to work and decipher what was being said. Feeling rather apathetic about it, he just ignored the voice, and the blurry face that oozed into his line of vision.

"Quatre-san?" He weakly called again. "Why am I here?"

"There was a fight."

"Hnnn." Heero digested this. He was content in the knowledge that Quatre would tell him details later. "Quatre-san?

"Hai?"

"Koko wa doko desu ka."

"Koko wa byouin desu."

Quatre was patient with his friend, knowing from experience that no being able to control one's self was a scary experience. The doctor contented himself with checking over the teen, shining light in his eyes, taking a pulse, looking over the charts on what he was on. This man seemed more reasonable than the police that periodically could be heard yelling out in the halls all through the night, and didn't try to force Heero to talk in a familiar language. He relied on Quatre for that.

"How is he doing?" the doctor asked Quatre.

"He seems disoriented. No quite awake yet. But he's getting there."

"What language is that?"

"Japanese. We think it's his first language."

"He certainly doesn't look Japanese."

"Not surprising, his coloring is all wrong. But he has an Asian face, and he remembers speaking Japanese as a child, so we just assume that he's half and half.

"Do you really have no idea where he comes from?"

Quatre deemed this as too personal, and the doctor got the hint and didn't pry. He inspected Quatre much the same way as he had Heero, and left after a word with the guard.

Evidently, someone had been waiting for the prisoner to wake up, as a plainclothes detective dashed through the door moments later. He had a note pad and pen in hand, and stalked past Quatre's bed over to Heero's.

"Hey you, kid." He called to Heero, who was staring blankly at the ceiling. "I have to talk to you." He got no response, so he reached over and shook Heero gently by the shoulder. Heero's hand weakly gripped the man's wrist and tried to pull him off, and his eyes found the man's face.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Quatre advised. "He's awake, yes, but he's still mostly out of it. You can ask him questions later."

"Quatre-san? Kono hito wa dare desu ka."

Quatre assured him that it was nobody bad, and the detective stopped bothering Heero, and looked to Quatre instead.

"You're that other one."

"That other one what?" Quatre said seriously.

"That other soldier that piloted a Gundam. You're one of them."

"Yes, that would be me."

"I need to ask you a few questions."

"I already gave my statement to the police. And further remarks on the matter will be made in the presence of my lawyer."

The detective couldn't argue with that.

"Quatre-san?" Heero called. When Quatre didn't answer, he called out again.

"Hai, Heero-san?"

"Where'd the Wing Zero go?"

"You blew it up, remember?

"Oh, right."

"What did he say?" the detective asked.

"He's still babbling. Thinks he's fifteen again."

"Ah. I see." The detective looked down at his pad of paper, but couldn't think of anything to write.

The matter was quickly resolved when General Une herself showed up on the doorstep of police headquarters, and started pulling rank. Wufei had used his one phone call to dial up his old work, and now not only did the police commissioner have to explain why he was interfering with a matter of global importance, but Wufei also got to inwardly gloat as he rubbed the fact that he really did know General Une in the face of the officer who had brushed it off earlier at the hospital. The three weren't off completely; there was still the fact that they had put two police officers in the hospital, and the matter of the missing firearms, but they were escorted back to school under the watchful eyes of the Preventers. They arrived in time for a quick lunch, and were allowed to attend classes as long as they stayed close to their assigned babysitters. Coach excused them from P.E. so that they could go around and talk to their teachers about the classes they missed, and get another copy of the homework, seeing as they had left the assignments back at the police station.

They were allowed to go visit Quatre and Heero after that. Officially, they were going for a questioning session at the hospital, but they were grateful for small favors.

The General was all business, and cut them no visible slack just because of a common past. She gathered their statements, and put them under house arrest at the school until this was cleared up. The boys weren't sure if she was joking or not, for she looked so serious, but it just wasn't like her to realize that they had been off campus more often in the last twenty-four hours than they had been in the last two months, or that they were breaking that arrest by coming to the hospital, or that Heero and Quatre should probably be confined to the hospital instead, especially if Heero really was crazy.

He didn't seem crazy (ier than usual). He was pulling out from under the last of the drugs when they came in, and after his questioning, he had been administered more (doctors orders), and had promptly gone to sleep. After a sharp conversation with a nervous doctor, the General extended the injured boys arrest to a three week furlough in the hospital. Quatre was the only one who protested, saying he would miss school, and that his injuries were not that serious, but then the nurse came in to administer the painkillers for his broken digits, and the blonde's next move was to start flirting with the General herself. That might have weakened his argument just a little.

Wufei was never prouder of his former boss than when he and Trowa and Duo realized her motives behind containing Quatre in the hospital when it wasn't absolutely necessary.

"Miss Winner! Care to comment on your brother's newest transgression against your family policy on violence?"

Pricilla ducked her head and quietly said 'no comment.'

"Over here, Miss Winner! What do you think of your brother's involvement in the war?"

"Who is your brother seeing after his emotionally devastating relationship with Dorothy Catalonia?"

"Miss Winner! Pricilla? Miss Winner?" Pricilla hunched lower, and hid behind one of her friends, and said more loudly and firmly 'No comment!"

A swarm of reporters swooped down on the school, trying to talk to any one who knew anything about what had happened. The witnesses were cautioned by the Preventers that this was an ongoing investigation, and that any media involvement may result in legal action taken against the person who talked. The newspapers and T.V. stations realized it was probably a good idea to steer clear of anyone who might anger the police, and so turned to whoever could give them the juiciest second-hand point of view on the situation. And with the school housing so many public figures, the reporters knew every loophole in the rule of visitation, and had had years to fight for the right to interview (harass) people on school grounds.

For once it was a good thing that Quatre had so many sisters. Pricilla had been pounced on by older, wiser members of the family who knew her love of attention and gossip. She had been threatened in so many ways by so many people to keep her mouth shut that it actually got through that she shouldn't do anything to damage the company's image any further.

It was amazing. One international incident that balanced millions of dollars was all it took to get that girl to finally shut up.

Longest. Chapter. Ever.