Author's Notes:

Here's the next installment. There's a lot of talking and a bit of OCness, but the former is pretty much needed for the set-up, so I hope you don't mind.

As usual, reviews are very welcome and highly valued.

More explanations at the end of the chapter.

EDIT: I almost forgot - I've referenced "Battlefield of Pacifists" here, and also put a great deal of "Blind Target" in. Oh, and I'm still not considering "Frozen Teardrop" canon. No. Not yet. I am still in denial.

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not mine.

Lunar Ember Presents

A Gundam Wing AC Fan Fiction

Death and Taxes

Chapter 3: Chess Pieces

Her room within the Preveters' safe house was fairly large and comfortable. Aside from a cozy sleeping area, it had a small bathroom, a kitchen with an awkwardly huge refrigerator, and even an entertainment nook with a flat-screen television and a brand new game console (which had probably been Duo's idea). Behind the creature comforts, however, were hidden storage cabinets to secure confidential materials should the place be compromised. It also had spaces for a year's supply of military rations, water, and even a few weapons and bullet-proof vests. It was a bunker through and through, but one that had down pillows and soft cotton bed sheets.

Relena relished the pillows and rubbed her legs against the covers as her eyes adjusted to the dark. One of the things she liked about her glamorized cell was that it didn't open directly to a corridor: for security reasons, it led to Heero's room. She could only leave either through his quarters or through the secret passageway behind her closet. Of course, she wouldn't access the latter without proper cause, so she was left with the first option.

She shifted in her sheets, suddenly aware of the fact that he was just a few steps away.

It seemed that he was still awake as light filtered through the gap under their shared door. She had always wondered what Heero did at night. Work, most probably. Or he would be tinkering with his guns. Sometimes, she wondered if he even slept.

As if her thoughts conjured him, the door opened soundlessly. He didn't seem to expect to find her awake.

"Anything the matter, Heero?"

"No. Just checking on you."

"I'm fine. Go sleep."

She was about to settle in when she saw him stall. He peeked back in, his face silhouetted by the lights from his room.

"I smell blood."

"What?"

Confused, Relena squinted as Heero flicked the lights on. Her covers were pulled away from her and before she could protest, she felt his hand on her injured arm.

"What happened to your bandages?"

It was only then that she noticed that her wrappings were marred with red, and blood had seeped a bit through the blanket that Heero now held. She almost blushed in embarrassment. "I took a shower and tried fixing them myself."

"You could have gone to the clinic, or at least gotten Sally to look at it."

"I didn't want to disturb anyone at this time of night."

"Foolishness," he said as he stood. "You'll end up infecting it."

He padded towards his room and returned with a first aid kit. Silently, Relena watched him as he worked on the wound. Heero still had his slacks on, but now he only wore an undershirt, revealing his lean, sinewy arms. He could've destroyed me easily a long time ago if he wanted to, she thought. It was almost a wonder that with all the strength she knew he possessed, his fingers could move so deftly and gently over her skin.

Breaking the silence, Heero nodded towards the stack of sheets on her night stand. "You've been going through the clippings again."

"Yes," she sighed. "I have to know if there's anything about the embezzlement."

"There's nothing about it on the papers."

"True, but the effects are already being felt. Some members of L2's Farmers' Union have been starting protests about where their promised budget is. Good thing they're not yet big enough to garner the headline." She winced at the slight pressure on her arm. "What they have on the front page is news on the latest shooting. There's also an editorial about the Preventers not being the efficient agency that as it once was, and another saying that the World Nation Treasury should cut its budget." She furrowed her brows. "What do they know anyway?"

"You can't really blame them," Heero said. "Although our primary objective was to protect you, someone was still shot within the perimeter. Though I would think that most believe that it was a botched hit, and that Gunnar was just collateral damage."

"Most do," she agreed. "But there are some who have started looking into who he is."

"He used to be very visible online. His accounts are automatically public information, but with Une's precaution, I doubt that they'll be able to dig deeper than we allow them to."

For a long moment, she only heard the soft hissing of bandages being pulled in place. When Heero spoke again, his voice was low, flat, and almost inaudible. "You do know that this is more complicated than the incident with the Perfect Peace People and the remaining factions of the White Fang."

His eyes remained on her arm, but his tone barely hid his concern. Not liking his sudden somberness, Relena leaned forward and softly jibed, "Nothing would be more complicated than the incident with the White Fang."

She smiled when she saw that her meaning wasn't lost on him.

Relena didn't know why she suddenly felt brazen. The clumsy kiss he gave her in the hanger of that doomed colony during White Fang's almost resurrection was never talked about. Both had taken it for what it was – a kiss is a kiss – and both had asked nothing more from it. She knew even back then that it would be juvenile to do so, and was comforted by the fact that Heero Yuy never did anything without reason.

However, it now seemed to be a great springboard for unsolicited humor.

"Relena." He said her name deliberately. "This isn't something you should be joking about."

"I wasn't joking about the scam. I was joking about the kiss."

"You shouldn't be joking about that either."

"Why not?"

"Because it's something serious."

He said it without awkwardness or embarrassment. Where the Heero Yuy of old would have dismissed the topic with angry denial, the man that he was now accepted things the way they were. Oddly, having him admit that the kiss meant something did not come as a surprise for Relena.

"You're a complicated man, Heero Yuy."

"On the contrary, I'm quite simple," he muttered as he secured the last of her bandages. "It's just black or white. Yes or no."

"So would you do it again?"

She blurted it out without thinking, and the look on his face told her that she had pushed it too far. His sudden mask of stoicism made her nervous, and she almost turned away from the sound of his reply.

"Maybe."

She blinked.

Maybe? "Maybe?!"Relena stood as he cleared her bed of dirty gauze and followed him back to his room. "You said it was only yes or no!"

"Yes."

"Then why 'maybe'?"

"Because."

"Ugh!" She rolled her eyes in frustration. He was toying with her. Who would have thought that Pilot Zero-One had a twisted sense of humor?

"Heero – "

"Better put a robe on."

She stopped in her tracks. She had totally forgotten that she was standing in his quarters in only a pink tank top and a pair of worn-out shorts. Heero noticed her discomfort and almost looked amused. "You have visitors."

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "Wait, what? Who would want to see me at this time of night?" Nevertheless, she did as she was told. When she crossed back to his side of the room, the door was already open, revealing one of his subordinates with a surprised expression on his face. It seemed that he was just about to buzz on the intercom when Heero had opened the door.

"S-Sir! I - "

"It's okay, boy," the woman behind him said. "We'll take it from here."

When the light revealed the two people who came in, Relena confusion melted in an honest smile of relief and happiness.

"Welcome back, Noin, Milliardo."

Thankfully, her little dining table could accommodate four people. Relena poured coffee for all of them and sat across Noin, looking up at Heero who stood leaning on the kitchen counter. He gave her a quick glance before returning his focus on her visitors, and the line of his jaw told her that he now meant business.

"I'll never get used to your short hair, Milliardo," she started, knowing well that the two men would start bickering if she didn't do so.

"Mars is too dry, and he keeps on getting red dust on his head," Noin smiled. "Do you know how much shampoo he consumes in – "

"I'm supposed to be dead," Milliardo cut his partner off with a glare. "If I want to at least have a semblance of anonymity, it helps to change the way I look, even just a little."

"It looks good," she said truthfully.

"Thank you."

"As amusing as it would be, we didn't come here to talk about his hair." Noin sipped her coffee. "Lady Une thinks that we would be more useful in the investigation than in the Mars terra-formation project for the time being." She looked at her with a gentle expression. "I personally didn't mind. I was quite worried about you."

"As was I," Milliardo nodded. "I know that this is such an ungodly hour for a visit, but I wanted to see how you were. I guess that it's good that you're still awake."

"Oh, it's no problem at all," she gestured dismissively. "Heero and I were just talking about the news clippings I've been reviewing." She wasn't exactly lying. "But you could've gotten a few hours of sleep before heading here. I know you're both tired."

"There wouldn't have been time. We'll be leaving for L2 at first light."

Relena tilted her head. "You'll be working with Trowa?"

"Yes."

"But won't they recognize you?"

"Do you think they would even think twice about the identity of a poor government employee?" Milliardo steepled his fingers as he settled back. "Even if they thought I looked like Milliardo Peacecraft or Zechs Marquis, they would question their own judgement and pass it off as irrelevant. People are such that they don't accept truths that are already in front of them."

"Plus he cut his hair," Noin grinned.

"You are all right, though?" Her brother continued, deliberately ignoring Noin. "If you'd rather that I be the one to stay with you – "

"I'm fine, Milliardo," she smiled reassuringly. "I'm healing quite well. Besides, Heero's always with me, keeping me safe."

The older Peacecraft glanced at the man silently watching them and muttered, "That's what I'm worried about."

Noin continued to explain that she would be joining the two as support. "Quatre will also be there. It's a good thing that the Winner Foundation is sponsoring the construction of a nature reserve, since it requires him to frequently meet with several agencies on a regular basis. I don't think anybody would suspect a multi-billionaire to be working with the Preventers."

Relena nodded. "You better keep each other safe." The four mobile suit pilots have been playing the game of politics and espionage longer than she, and although she didn't like the idea of throwing them into the lion's den, she knew that she shouldn't worry about anything.

Wufei tried to ignore the loud yawn that echoed in the Field Operations office. He liked going to work before everyone else just so he could get a headstart in peace and quiet, and it slightly dismayed him that he already had company so early in the day.

Well, he thought. At least it's Sally.

"G'morning, Wufei."

"Good morning."

"Looks like Duo hasn't been harassing you, huh."

He snorted. The CID Head had been sleeping in the Complex since his team began decrypting the thumb drive, and for some reason, he liked annoying Wufei with random jokes at six in the morning.

Sally placed a cup of coffee in front of him as she always did when she arrived for work. He nodded his thanks, sipping it black as he browsed through the sheets on his desk.

"What are you reading?"

"The ballistics reports the police crime lab sent us."

"Oh yeah. I browsed through my copies last night," she told him as she turned on her computer. "It seems that these assassins like Bor rifles."

"Why wouldn't they? They're efficient. Military grade."

"And we use them."

Wufei glanced at her. "And we use them."

Sally began to idly check her email. "So do you think that renegade Preventer agents are behind this?"

He thought for a moment, then replied. "No. They're professionals, I'll grant them that, but their handiwork isn't as clean as I initially thought it was," He placed his cup down. "These people are still a bit inexperienced for weapons of such caliber. However, it seems that they do have connections from within as well as the money to acquire Bors."

Bor sniper rifles have been known to hail from the former nation of Poland, with a manufacturer established long before the Colonies were. Such weapons were powerful and were not easily acquired due to the cost as well as the paperwork that came with them, leading to the conclusion that those who were behind the hits were not a rag-tag group of dissentients – they had monetary and political backing.

"It could really be Kraz, you know. Just like what Gunnar admitted." Sally sighed, leaning back on her chair. "But we need to prove that."

"In truth, Kraz has never struck me as someone who's corrupt."

"Oh? How so?"

Wufei furrowed his brows and placed the sheets back into a folder. "I've met him several times. He is very passionate about his work. He wants to change things, and has a strong sense of justice." Folding his arms over his chest, he suddenly felt frustrated. "I find it hard to believe that he can do something like this."

Sally gave him a sympathetic smile. "People change, Wufei. Some for the worst."

He never liked her tone when she spoke to him like he was still sixteen. "I do know a thing or two about human nature." He huffed and stood.

"Where are you going?"

"None of your business."

Sally followed him out of the office. "You're going to get a bagel, and I'm coming with you."

Wufei scowled. He never liked how much she seemed to know him either.

The corridors were silent, still devoid of the day-shifters that normally filled them with chatter. His partner exchanged a few pleasantries with an old janitor they passed before falling into step with him.

"You're right about the hits," she said. "They're not too clean. How many shots were fired at Alex and Relena?"

"Nine."

"You've got nine shots and six misses from two gunmen. It's almost like they were just getting used to their toys."

"One clean shot would have done it. Two at the most," Wufei said as they boarded the lift. "You're really going with me to the cafeteria?"

The older woman shrugged. "Why not? I'm hungry. Besides, better me than Duo, right?" She grinned at him and pressed the button to one of the lower floors. The elevator began its descent. "The first gunman seemed pretty trigger happy. Six shots and only one got through."

"A lucky shot to Ahlström's knee."

"The second gunman seemed to be more in control."

Two shots caught by Ahlström and one that grazed Darlian. "The Foreign Minister was fortunate that they targeted Gunnar during the second incident. The shooter didn't kill him, but the hit was cleaner, more professional." The lift jolted to a stop and they walked out to the hallway. "It makes me ask why they allowed themselves mistakes. Bor rifles have low recoil force, so I don't think that they would have had any problems with that." He gave her a sidelong glance, waiting for her to agree with his opinion. Sally may be a medic, but there was none in the Field Operations Division who knew guns as well as she did.

"You're right, but the last time I tested a Bor, I found the bipod a little annoying," she said, tapping her chin in thought. "It sits too high. It makes it hard to shoot prone. And the second gunman seemed to be shooting prone."

The second incident was to keep Gunnar quiet, but the first was to put Darlian down. Stupid as it may sound, maybe they were really just getting used to the rifles, Wufei thought. But why risk a botched hit? And why take extra care to leave almost nothing behind and clumsily drop a thumb drive? He couldn't shake the feeling that he was overlooking something.

"Let's get something to eat," his partner said as they entered the cafeteria. "Our brains need breakfast."

The scent of warm bagels wafted to his nose. As the two settled at the end of the food queue, Wufei mumbled, "It doesn't seem like the idiot would be showing up."

"Hey, you two!"

Sally looked at him with an amused expression. "You were saying?"

"Lady, lady" Duo winked as he approached. "Looking gorgeous today!"

"So are you," Sally chuckled. "You seem quite perky for a guy who almost doesn't sleep."

"Of course I am! Always greet a new day with a smile." He placed an arm around Wufei's shoulders. "Yo, Wuffles -"

"Stop calling me that."

"Une approved my request to have Gunnar help out with the thumb drive, but only with one of your sweepers guarding him."

"What, you couldn't guard him yourself?"

"Hey, I'm a busy man..." Duo stepped in front of him and held him at arms length. "...But not too busy for a joke."

Wufei growled. "No."

"What did the flower say to the other flower?"

"No."

"It said, 'Hi, bud!' Get it? Bud?"

"Oh god – "

Sally laughed as Wufei cut the line, snatched a bagel, and marched out the cafeteria.

"How was your trip?"

"It was pleasantly uneventful."

"That's good."

Trowa, Zechs, and Noin had arrived at the L2 Space Port in two separate commercial flights after a little over a day of leaving Earth. Zechs went his own way with Noin, deliberately ignoring Rashid as the older man waited for Trowa to come out. They weren't supposed to be acquainted, after all.

Now him and Trowa sat facing each other as the limousine weaved through the traffic of L2's main thoroughfares. The latter, who was to act as a Winner Foundation scholar recommended for a job, wore a simple off-white dress shirt and a pair of brown slacks.

"Kraz wants to meet you right away," he smiled. "I think he wants to gauge whether or not he can trust you."

"I see."

"He'll like you though. You rarely ask questions."

"Should I be asking him questions?"

"No," he said, meeting his green-eyed gaze. "But you will still need to get answers."

Quatre knew why Une had picked the circus performer as part of this mission. Trowa, who was used to wearing different faces and changing names, knew how to melt into the shadows. Although Heero had a similar ability, the helmsman of Wing Zero didn't have the vagueness and the insipidness that his comrade could call upon at will. Trowa could become more than a ghost – he could become nothing if he wanted to.

As the limousine turned to a street lined with government offices, Quatre took on a more familiar tone.

"Trowa, I know that you know what to do, but watch yourself around Kraz," he said as concern seeped into his features. "He seems to have changed somewhat. Even his wife is worried about him."

That seemed to catch is attention. "How so?"

"I don't know. Something just feels off about him." He lowered his voice. "He's different from who he was before."

Trowa nodded, looking out the window. "Maybe he's putting on a mask. Or taking off one."

The vehicle rounded into the driveway of the colony's House of Representatives, coming to a halt at the main entrance. Quatre put on his coat and adjusted his tie. "Well," he grimaced. "This is it."

Rashid gave him an encouraging nod as he opened their door. Quatre stepped out and waited for Trowa, but was surprised to see a different person alight after him.

This man didn't have the neutral expression that the former pilot usually wore. Awe and intrigue lined his features, very much like a greenhorn on his first day of work. He nervously straightened his creased sleeves before looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for instructions.

Quatre smiled. You never cease to amaze me, my friend.

Feeling more confident about his role, he smartly buttoned his coat and led the way into the building.

The House of Representatives boasted of large, Romanesque pillars that supported the lobby's high ceilings. The receptionist looked up at the sound of their footfalls on the marbled tiles and greeted Quatre warmly, almost flirtingly.

"Use the third elevator to the right," she intoned. "The first two are closed for maintenance."

Arriving at the floor where the colony's representatives held office, the two walked through a long corridor that smelled of both old documents and new computers. They passed several darkly-tinted automatic glass doors that were ornately decorated with golden plaques etched with names, and when they finally reached their destination, Quatre pressed the intercom.

"This is Quatre Raberba-Winner. I have an appointment with Representative Kraz."

No sooner than the door opened was Quatre's extended hand clasped into a rough handshake.

"Glad to see you Quatre. Nice suit."

"Thank you, Representative," he said, giving the burly man his warmest smile. "No secretary to open your door for you anymore?"

"Maegan was asked to work for some huge conglomerate with offices on Earth," he said as he walked them into his receiving area. "She said the pay was good."

The pay is always good in my company, Quatre thought. Aloud he said, "As you requested, I'm here with a suitable replacement. I'd like you to meet Tarquin Hall, one of the recently-graduated scholars of our Foundation. Tarquin, this is Representative Marcus Kraz."

Trowa stepped forward with a smile and shook the Representative's hand. "It's an honor to meet you, Sir. Mr. Winner has been telling me about everything you've done for L2."

"I hope they're all pleasant," Kraz chuckled. "Quatre is such a handsome liar."

"Oh, I've never lied to you, Sir!"

"So you say." The older man focused on Trowa, his flint-colored eyes a hard contrast against his seemingly jolly disposition. "You seem to be a reliable boy. Tell me, would you say that you're a curious sort of person?"

"I'm only curious when you tell me to be curious, Sir."

The older man slapped his belly and laughed.

"I am already liking you, Tarquin! Come," he said, leading them through another door and into his main office. "I'd like you to meet one of my associates. You'll be handling the paperwork of some of her supported projects once you start. Mr. Winner, you may have met her during one of our Christmas parties."

"Why yes, Marcus. He and I have met several times before, and in the most interesting of situations."

Quatre hid his surprise with a smile as familiar glacial eyes met his.

"Dorothy."

To be continued.

End Notes:

I don't really know what a safehouse looks like, and since my Google-Fu is weak, I more or less made up my own. But fear not, there are other things about in this chapter which seem insignificant but are actually based on research:

- Bor sniper rifles: They're real, and they're really from Poland. Of course, the one here is a new model, though I retained the issue about the bipod which I read in some reviews I managed to find.

- Travel time: I am no astrophysicist, so I don't know how long it actually takes to travel from Earth to space. However, I found that it currently takes about five to six days to travel from our little blue planet to Lagrange 2. Then I thought, "hey, this is AC". Since space travel seemed pretty common by then, I shortened Trowa, Noin, and Zech's trip to a day. Hooray for creative license!

- Government: I think that colonies are pretty huge and pretty populated, and that representatives are still needed to, well, represent districts and sectors. Of course, everyone is answerable to ESUN.

See you next chapter!