Relinquish the Soul

A Gundam Wing Fan Fiction by The Manwell

Sequel to Savor the Darkness

- Three -

"Director Une, this just came in. It's urgent."

The Acting Director of the United Earth Sphere Alliance Preventer Head Quarters Division looks up from the documents arranged neatly on her desk with an air of impatience. It seems to her that "urgent" is the magic word today. She's tempted to inform the messenger that he'd best take a number and get in line, but regretfully forces the words back. Such is the price of professionalism.

With an inaudible sigh, she accepts the sealed envelope. And she isn't pleased to note the Preventer Intelligence Department insignia embossed into the manila cardstock. Frowning, she tells the departing agent, "Close the door on your way out, Patterson."

"Of course, ma'am."

Resigned to nothing but bad news, Acting Director Une isn't as surprised as she could have been regarding the note's contents. Still, she certainly hadn't anticipated the magnitude of the disaster. She forces herself to read the report three times before opening up a secured vid feed channel.

"Agent Sam Riley here. Ah, Director Une. I see you got my note."

Knowing she must be the personification of pallor, she replies tightly, "Yes. I did. Very interesting. This should be looked into."

"Of course. I'll assemble a team immediately."

"I would appreciate it if your colleagues and yourself made discretion one of their top priorities in this matter."

"I understand, ma'am. I'll keep you informed of our progress."

"Very good, Agent Riley. Une out."

Shutting off the vid, Une glances down to the scrap of paper in her hand. It had once been last month's cafeteria lunch menu, but now it is the bearer of distressing news. But better this than a computer generated print-out which would have come from data stored in the Preventer network, accessible to innumerable people of various security clearances and agendas. At least now, Une has a chance to contain the situation. At least for a few precious hours.

And – hopefully – that's all the time Riley's team will need to identify the person or persons responsible for the complete and utter annihilation of the Zanoah base.

oooOOOooo

"We're approaching Zanoah air space, sir."

Rashid nods. "Good. Maintain course." He ignores the restless shifting of his blood brothers. He knows they are concerned about aggressively trespassing on Preventer territories. But if Rashid's suspicions are correct, then there will be no one to refuse them passage over the desert base.

Beside him, Abdul asks too softly for the others to hear, "You believe Master Quatre has already reached Zanoah, don't you?"

Thinking of the silent tombs that had once been a thriving Bedouin compound of commerce, Rashid nods. "It would explain the sudden cessation of surveillance activity."

Abdul nods although he does not look pleased. "Yes, that's true. But for Master Quatre's sake, I hope you're wrong."

Rashid nods back. "As do I, my friend. As do I."

"Sir! I have Zanoah on radar."

"Activate video feed," Rashid orders, reaching forward to turn on the vid screen at his command station. He knows the picture won't be very good. They're still significantly out of range for a good visual of their destination. But even though it's blurred and inconsistently buzzing with bursts of static, Rashid recognizes what he sees.

Over his shoulder, Abdul mutters a swift, short prayer for the dead. And there must be many, many dead. The kind of complete destruction that had recently visited the still-smoking ruins never leaves survivors. After fighting alongside Master Quatre in the Eve Wars, Rashid and his brothers all know this to be true.

Still, the question is hesitantly asked: "Sir, should we prepare to land?"

Rashid studies the sensor readings and slowly shakes his head. "There's no reason for us to linger here," he replies, saddened by the destruction before him. "Maintain heading and speed. We must find Master Quatre."

"Yes, sir."

"Let's hope he's still out there somewhere," Abdul murmurs under his breath.

Rashid hears him but says nothing in way of admonishment. "This explosion was recent. He can't be far. We'll find him soon."

There's a faithful – if half-hearted – chorus of "Yes, sir!" throughout the shuttle cockpit. But Rashid ignores the downtrodden tone. He will not reprimand them for expressing what he also feels. As a leader, it is his duty to lead by example. So he swallows his own foreboding and does exactly that.

oooOOOooo

Wufei resists the impulse to shift in his seat. Instead, he recurls his fingers around the steering wheel and stoically endures the heavy silence. He's no stranger to silence, certainly. Often it is his place of solace. But he finds no rest in this tense, thrumming quiet.

The engine is an insistent growl and the shards of loose gravel kicked up by the tires are memories of gunshots against the undercarriage. He scowls into the distance, trying to will the distance between him and Duo to shorten. Something had happened at that base. Something that defies human logic. Something so alien Wufei can barely withstand the faintest impression of it. And the feeling of dread that had stolen his breath when he'd seen the remains of Zanoah has not dissipated. Wufei wishes fervently that his previous attempts to call Duo's cell phone – as well as both Heero's and Trowa's – had been successful.

Somewhat reluctantly, he asks his companion, "Can you feel them at all?"

From the passenger seat, Quatre sighs. "It's faint," he replies in a tone of warning.

Wufei glances at him and commands, "Tell me."

The quick, wry look Quatre directs toward him is ignored. He states flatly, "Apprehension. I can't tell any more beyond that."

Wufei snorts out an unhappy breath and wishes he dared drive faster along the seldom-used desert road.

"Now it's your turn."

"What?" Wufei barks.

"What did you see at Zanoah? Why did your vision affect you like that?"

He's not sure he wants to discuss this with Quatre. Although the young man seems to have Duo's best interests in mind, Wufei is not comfortable giving voice to the impossibility he'd experienced. But he doesn't have the luxury of forgetting it. Grudgingly, he offers, "The fire... was not... random. It had," he sighs angrily, "a consciousness. Like something primitive. A predator."

Quatre frowns but says nothing.

Unable to endure the leaden silence, Wufei mutters, "But that isn't possible."

"Isn't it?" Quatre wonders aloud in a light tone. "Six months ago, you thought it wasn't possible for vampires to exist."

Wufei snorts. Glancing toward his passenger, he takes in the sight of Quatre's drawn and strained features. "Six months ago you didn't look like a vampire." He shakes his head and states blandly, "You look like hell, Winner."

"Ever the gentleman," Quatre mutters. And for an instant, it seems as if he's about to say something else, but in the end subsides.

After that indecisive moment, Wufei grudgingly suggests, "You should get some rest."

"I'm fine."

"No, you are not," he hears himself insisting. "You gave me too much energy and now you're exhausted."

Arcing a brow, Quatre smoothly offers, "I'll take some of it back if it's really bothering you that much..."

The predatory grin curving Quatre's lips forces a very slight but nervous shifting from Wufei's restless body. His scowl deepens and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. Seeing this, Quatre coughs out a sound that's almost a laugh and that seems to be enough to retire the darkness within.

He continues: "I'm a little tired, yes, but not exhausted." He rolls his head toward Wufei and grins invitingly. "It takes more than recharging your batteries to bring me down."

The relaxed banter eases his white-knuckled grasp on the steering wheel. "Could have fooled me."

"This is a first. I usually can't fool you at all."

Wufei grunts. "Congratulations, Winner."

"Thank you, Chang."

The sound of his family name spoken in Quatre's voice unsettles him. He thinks that this is perhaps the first time Quatre has ever used it as a form of direct address. And he remembers a time when his first name had been irreverently used by this young man, countless times a day. And accompanied by a smile that had always forced Wufei to forgive him the transgression.

"Do you still remember what it was like to be friends?" someone asks. And it's not until a second voice answers that Wufei realizes he'd been the one to make the inquiry.

"That was a long time ago, it seems."

"Things have changed."

"Yes. Yes, they have."

Wufei once again tightens his hands around the wheel and resists the urge to articulate his dissatisfaction with the most recent changes. Now is not the time. And it only takes a brief reminder of the raging creature from his vision to sharpen his focus. Regrets, apologies, and might-have-beens will have to wait. He's far too wrapped up in the momentum of this mystery to juggle those emotions as well.

oooOOOooo

Heero glances in the rear view mirror and asks the question he already knows the unsatisfactory answer to: "Still no change?"

Trowa shakes his head. "No change."

Heero glowers at the road ahead and growls. Both he and Trowa know that their Keeper had been shot only once. And with a tranquilizer dart at that. But now, as the hours have crawled by and Duo has not regained consciousness, they begin to wonder...

"It's likely the commander used something other than the common UESA approved sedatives." Heero doggedly resists glancing at his passengers in the back seat, but resentment makes his voice gruff. "If Zanoah were still standing and its occupants alive, we might have had a hope in hell of finding out what she dosed him with."

Trowa sighs. "Let it alone, Heero. I can't answer your questions."

Heero's eyes narrow and this time he does glance in the mirror at his Bond Brother. "Can't or won't?" he cruelly insists.

Through his teeth, Trowa tells him, "Can't, Yuy. I have no explanation as to what we experienced or why."

Glumly, Heero replies, "I think the why is self-explanatory."

Trowa looks up, a wary question in his shielded eyes.

By way of answer, Heero nods toward the still-limp figure draped across Trowa's lap and supported by his arms. "The bitch threatened Duo with a lethal dose of sedatives. She provoked you."

Trowa Barton blinks. "Can you hear yourself, Heero?" When Heero doesn't retract his implication, Trowa blurts, "Listen to what you're suggesting. There's no possible way that a person could–"

"You explain it, then! Because it sure as hell wasn't me, Barton!"

The silence that follows seems even more powerful than Heero's outburst. And because Trowa has no way to explain the phenomenon they'd experienced as they stood on the verge of capture within Zanoah, he says nothing.

Instead, he pulls his mobile phone from where he'd stowed it in the mesh pocket behind Heero's seat. He checks the display and notes that – finally – he has reception. Breathing a sigh of relief, he speed dials Wufei's number, hoping he can make arrangements for Wufei to meet them. Hopefully with Sally and some medical supplies as well.

But he's informed that the number he's dialed is out of service.

So he resigns himself to a longer wait with another discouraged sigh.

"If he doesn't wake up within the hour, we're going to find a secure location and check him ourselves," Heero insists.

Trowa doesn't answer, although he wants to. But he knows Heero is well aware of the fact that neither he nor Trowa have the equipment or the expertise to accurately assess Duo's condition. It is – in fact – a measure of Heero's profound fear of losing Duo that he suggests such a potentially dangerous action at all. And because Trowa shares that fear, he does not bother to refute him.

End of Chapter Three