"I'll kill him…"

Heero got to his feet in an instant and strode purposefully toward the door with Quatre and Sally shouting his name behind him. But Heero didn't hear. There was too much anger filling his mind to care what they thought. He'd suffered this Corporal for far too long, and the abuse of Duo Maxwell had been the last straw.

He barely saw O'Keefe raise his hands before him in a gesture of surrender. Every ounce of pent up rage coiled in his middle, and Heero let forth a right hook that caught the Corporal straight in the mouth and sent him staggering through the half-opened door. The fat man clutched at his face as he stumbled, and wound up on his rear in the middle of the foyer.

"You sick, sadistic bastard!"

Something had snapped inside of him. All his restraint had gone. Heero marched after O'Keefe, poised for another hit. And as the Corporal rose to defend himself Heero connected with a second solid hook to the face. Down O'Keefe went again, and now a commotion began. Everyone who had exited the room at Quatre's behest had been in that foyer, and though apparently none of them had seen Heero throw the first punch and seemed surprised to watch O'Keefe come barreling through the doors, they had most certainly seen the second devastating blow, and this set them to action.

Half a dozen people cried "Heero!" and "No!" including Relena, who looked perhaps dizzier now than she had prior to leaving the room. In the end Heero landed one more glancing blow to the Corporal's shoulder before Milliardo, Trowa, and Wufei restrained him, and by this time every armed military man in the room had his gun trained in Heero's direction.

"Who are you?" Heero roared as he pulled against the restraint. "What the hell kind of person are you? How can you watch what just happened and be amused?"

"Shut up, you idiot," Zechs ordered.

"I've been shut up long enough, damn it," Heero growled. "I'm going to absolutely kill him!"

With a great heaving sigh, Milliardo wrenched Heero back against the now closed doors, and slapped his hand over Heero's mouth. He held it there firmly. "No," he growled with cold finality. "You're going to shut up before you get yourself arrested."

By now O'Keefe had gotten to his feet, and he glared daggers at Heero. He wiped a stream of blood from his chin with his hand and regarded it angrily. But all the same he motioned for the armed guards to stand down. "That was a cheap shot, Mr. First Gentleman."

Heero had never in his life had such a burning desire to tell a man where he could stick his cheap shot. But Milliardo had an iron grip on him, and it didn't seem that he was going to be let go any time soon. So Heero put every bit of the hatred he felt into a glare so intense that O'Keefe backed away a step, intimidated.

"This has been an emotional day," O'Keefe reasoned to the room at large, suddenly cool-headed. "We'll recess for the night to allow everyone, the Master Sergeant included, a chance to recover and get our heads back in the right place."

Heero jerked against Milliardo, Trowa, and Wufei again, but he gained no more ground than he had the times before.

"Ladies and gentlemen," O'Keefe said, "we'll reconvene tomorrow at 0800."

And then he left the room, followed by a contingent of guardsmen.

When the room had cleared but for the Peacemillion crew and a few remaining guards, Trowa and Wufei relinquished their holds on Heero's arms. But Milliardo did not. He held there unmoving and unflinching until Heero stopped fighting back.

"Are you quite finished?"

Heero didn't move. So Milliardo let him go with a rough shove and rounded on him.

"What were you thinking?" Milliardo scolded. "You, in the political position you're in, coming out here and beating the tar out of a military officer? Do you have any idea what that's going to look like? Do you have any idea what the press will print?"

Heero crossed his arms defiantly, but if he was honest with himself, all of his energy had played out, and now his head was beginning to clear he felt foolish. "He deserved it…" he argued meekly, but his eyes were on the ground, and a dull ache had entered his punching hand. He looked around sheepishly at all those staring wordlessly at him, and each person wore an equally horrified expression as the next. That is, all of them except for Noin, whose smile seemed to occupy her whole face.

But that expression faded immediately when Quatre came wearily through the door. It seemed that seeing him was all anyone needed to remember the horrific events that had just taken place.

"What happened?" Howard asked Quatre. "In that cockpit, what happened?"

But Quatre could only shake his head, resigned, and shrug. "Duo is safe for now. He won't be waking up for a while, though. I made certain of that," he explained, and when Hilde gasped at the words he elaborated. "I sedated him heavily, I mean. I worried he was going to hurt himself." And then Quatre turned to the uniformed men in the room. "Could you please help Sally Poe get him to his quarters? I'll follow as soon as I've got my equipment moved out and the area cleaned up. She can assist you with anything you need until I get there."

The men moved into the room at once.

Heero didn't want to stay around to watch Duo being extracted from the room. It'd been hard enough getting him out of the cockpit, watching him flail around in complete delirium, but the thought of Duo Maxwell an unconscious heap was still more difficult to stomach. It wasn't fitting for him. Even after his capture, even after he woke from stasis, Duo had spoken and moved and talked, at least to Heero, and though he'd certainly not been as animated as he had in years past, it was something. Now he was just still.

His head hanging, Heero walked toward the door. "I need to get out of here," he said flatly, and he put his hand on the door's handle. "I need to clear my head."

He didn't turn around to see anyone exchanging glances, but he could imagine the looks they were giving each other. Relena had to have told them how he'd been so exhausted last night, how he'd simply collapsed onto the bed and fallen asleep in the same position in which he'd landed.

"It's fine," he heard Quatre say, and Quatre's voice was genuine. "There's not a lot else to be done around here. All of the excitement is over for now, I'd say. Sally will help get Duo situated in his room and I'll clean up down here. Don't worry. I'll stay with him again tonight, same as I did last night. It'll be okay."

Heero nodded and walked out.

ф

Duo woke from a dreamless sleep to the sound of distant voices. They were not disturbing voices, not unhappy voices, not in any way alarming. In fact, they were familiar. They sounded happy.

He opened his eyes slowly, squinting against bright light, and as his senses returned to him he began to hear the pitter-patter of raindrops. He was on Earth. He'd been at the trial. He'd been in the cockpit. His gut flooded with nervousness.

Duo stared at the ceiling for a time, listening to Sally and Quatre talking in hushed tones. It had to be them; it was the only conclusion that made sense. They had been in attendance. They were his medical attendants. It must have been them that helped him out of the cockpit and into this room.

Quatre stifled a laugh. "Watch it again," he said. "Okay. Look...Right...There!"

Sally laughed, and she did not hold it back. "Brilliant. I had no idea he got two more hits in..."

Duo pushed himself up, resting on his elbows, and he looked in the direction of the voices. Quatre and Sally were indeed there, their backs to him, and they appeared to be bent low over a laptop.

"What a stud," Sally said lightly. "I never knew Heero could throw a punch like that."

Quatre shrugged. "Neither did I."

"Let's slow it down again," Sally laughed. "I bet we can pinpoint the frame where O'Keefe wets his pants."

Duo stretched and flexed his aching hands. He looked at his fingers. The middle and ring fingernails on his left hand showed the remnants of blood deep in the cracks and in the cuticle, under the nail. They were red and sore but unbandaged.

"Oh! You're awake!"

Duo looked up. Quatre had sounded supremely startled, and Duo realized at once that his consciousness had been discovered, not that he had been trying to keep it a surprise. He didn't say anything as Quatre rushed over and Sally turned around to watch. He didn't resist when Quatre helped him recline back down on the bed.

"You probably shouldn't try to get up," Quatre said. "I sedated you so you wouldn't hurt yourself. I doubt it's all worn off yet."

Duo shook his head. "I hallucinated..." he whispered.

"Yeah," Quatre affirmed. "Badly."

"They kept you in too long," Sally added in explanation. "You're probably sore."

Duo nodded. His whole body hurt. He didn't feel much like talking, either.

"But if there's a bright side," she added, "you earned a new personal best on your flight simulations."

A grunt and a weak, insincere half-smile were all that Duo could offer in reply.

"You're going to do that voluntarily mute thing again, aren't you?" Quatre asked, downcast.

Duo looked away, ashamed. It wasn't that he didn't want to say anything; it was that nothing that felt important would come to mind. This, compounded by the overwhelming guilt and embarrassment he felt over what little he remembered made his stomach churn.

"I won't make you talk," Quatre said. "And neither will Sally. But you're eventually going to have to say something in the courtroom." And then Quatre turned to Sally. "Will you get the sharps for me, Sally?"

Sally rifled through a bag on the table and produced a needle and a bottle that Duo recognized at once as the Quell. She brought it to Quatre, and Quatre methodically prepared the injection.

But when Quatre brought the sharp close, Duo grabbed his wrist and held it at a distance. "No," he said firmly.

"No?" Quatre replied. "What do you mean, no?"

"No," Duo repeated, more emphatically this time. He looked Quatre square in the eyes. "No."

Quatre lowered the sharp and looked to Sally, who shrugged. And then Quatre said, "You don't want this anymore? You don't want the Quell?"

Duo nodded.

"Well," Sally said, "I guess that settles that."

But Quatre wasn't satisfied. His forehead knit with concern. "Are you sure about this, Duo? Are you sure you'll be able to handle things?"

Duo looked at his feet, tucked tenderly beneath a military-issue blanket. He didn't know if he'd be able to handle things. Without suppression, the stress of simply being on the Peacemillion had driven him to mania and sickness, and that was among friends. When suppressed by the drug, he'd still felt all the bodily signs of hysteria while sitting in the courtroom answering questions. In fact, it was only due to the Quell that he'd not rushed from the room in a blind panic. It seemed an unwinnable situation no matter what he did.

"Look at me and tell me what you want."

Duo met Quatre's eyes with intensity. "I don't want it."

And then Quatre's face split into a wide smile. He replaced the needle's cap and extended it back to Sally, who replaced it in the bag without fuss.

"As bad as today was," Quatre said, "you and Heero have made me a happy man."

Duo eyed him curiously. What had Heero done?

"He doesn't know, Quatre. Let's show him the video."

And then Duo put the pieces together. The conversation that Sally and Quatre had been in the midst of when he woke must have been about Heero. But who had he punched? And why?

Grinning wildly, Sally brought forth the computer and situated herself on the bed between Duo and Quatre so that both could see the monitor. The screen displayed a large, bold headline that read "First Gentleman Strikes First Blow!" That in itself had been mildly amusing, but the video and poorly worded article below was what made it truly funny.

Sally started the video, and Duo watched raptly. The video displayed grainy security camera footage that showed the foyer leading into the courtroom. People were gathered into groups and appeared to be involved in conversation. He could see Hilde and Howard and Zechs in the frame, all of whom wore expressions of distress. And then, at the ten second mark, the courtroom doors flew outward, and the fat Corporal O'Keefe came barreling through, propelled by a force unseen and clutching at his head. And then, just as he was getting to his feet, Heero followed, his fist leading the way. He had practically flown from the room.

Quatre and Sally laughed heartily as the second blow fell.

Down the Corporal had gone again, and Duo felt a weak smile tug at the corner of his mouth. And then Heero swung again, only to be pulled back last second by Milliardo, Trowa, and Wufei. Quatre laughed again when Heero was wrenched clear off the ground by Milliardo's strong arms.

"His feet aren't even on the floor!" Sally snorted. "Milliardo handled him like a five-year-old!"

And then the video ended.

"It's good to see you smiling," Quatre said to Duo genuinely, and Duo felt marginally better as a result of watching. "I'll go call the hotel and let everyone know you're awake. Do you have anything you'd like me to tell them?"

Duo shook his head.

"Do you want me to invite them to visit if they can?"

At this suggestion, Duo paused. He wasn't sure he wanted a room full of visitors so soon after waking up. He wasn't sure he'd be allowed visitors to begin with. Certainly the video of Heero acting like a fool had raised his spirits somewhat, but he still felt half dead and nervous. So he sighed and shook his head, but then reconsidered slightly. "Hilde," he said. "Invite her."

Quatre nodded and left to make the call.

And Sally, her face still lit with mirth, said, "Let's watch it again. This time in slow motion."

ф

Heero spent much of the evening lying atop the bed in his suite, staring out the balcony window at skyscrapers and heavy clouds. There wasn't much else to be done but wait for the rain and wish that it was late enough to sleep.

He'd asked politely not to be bothered, and for the most part everyone complied. Relena left shortly after returning to the hotel to entertain the media, and she hadn't come back since. Milliardo and Noin had gone off to god knew where, and the remaining had cooped themselves up in their respective rooms to view news conferences and consider what was to be done next. A comfortable quiet had fallen over them all.

The sun had long since passed below the horizon when Relena came bounding in, apparently in high spirits despite the now pouring rain.

"I take it the press wasn't horrible?" Heero asked, deadpan.

Relena plopped onto the bed beside his legs and looked out the window with him. She rubbed his calf affectionately. "This is what you've been doing all night?"

Heero shrugged, and his arm tingled with pins and needles. He flexed his hand to ward them away. "Beats anything else going on around here." He pushed himself to sit. He didn't like how Relena had dodged his question. "How was the press?"

Relena shrugged, and she still seemed happy. "I think I entertained more questions about you than I did about the trial." She paused and pecked a light kiss on his cheek. "You should see the scandalous things they're printing now. Did you know that you're a wife beater?"

The sensationalist headlines printed by the media had long ago become a point of amusement for the two of them, but this time Heero couldn't find the comfort in the joke. He'd let his emotions get the best of him, and even though he knew his assault of the Corporal would cause some backlash he'd hoped that it would somehow stay out of the papers.

"Don't worry about it," Relena said. Then she added thoughtfully, "I chalked it up to exhaustion and stress about the court martial. It wasn't entirely a lie, I suppose. Did you sleep at all?"

Heero shook his head.

"Well, you ought to come out for a while. We've got a section reserved and my brother and Noin came out to visit for a while. He asked us all to come downstairs."

"He's not the kind of guy who wants to visit," Heero declared skeptically. "What does he actually want?"

Relena shrugged. "How should I know? But I think you ought to come, even if you just sit in the corner like you do."

"We need to be worrying about the trial..."

Relena nodded. "You're right, we do. But we also need to worry about ourselves, too. You've done nothing but lay up here and give testimony for two days, and before that all you did was sit at your computer or work on that stupid machine. You need a break. Did you eat dinner?"

Heero shook his head. "I don't need a break," he argued. "This is my break. Besides, I need to be away from the public eye, not sitting in a hotel lobby chatting it up like nothing happened today."

And then Relena said the magical words, the words that would get Heero to do most anything. "It would make me happy if you would reconsider."

Heero heaved an enormous sigh and flexed his hand again. "Fine," he breathed. "Let's compromise. You go and invite them up here in the name of privacy. We won't need a security detail if we're in here anyway, except for whatever is posted outside the door. But if this turns into stupid political nonsense, I'm going to bed."

Relena nodded with a wide smile. "Get yourself cleaned up," she said. "I'll be back in a few minutes." And then she left again, and Heero retired to the shower.

The ten minutes between Relena's departure and reentry into the room was easily the most relaxing in Heero's recent memory, and he couldn't be certain whether it was the quiet, the reprieve from the rain, or the heat of the shower that did him the most good. By the time he heard quiet voices rolling in from the suite's living room he'd resorted to just standing there, his forehead pressed against the cold tile with lava-hot water rolling down his back.

But eventually the water went cold, and Heero dried and dressed and exited the shower to find the suite's sitting room crowded with people. He was still rubbing a towel absently against his head as he dropped lethargically into a chair beside Relena, landing half on her leg. She seemed to take no note and moved to accommodate him mid-sentence.

"You look comfortable," said Noin from across the room. She presently reclined on a couch between Milliardo and Howard, who each sipped delicately from glass cups of clear liquor. A bottle sat on the coffee table between them all. Noin seemed to be in better spirits than she had been that morning during her testimony, as she wore another wide, toothy grin. "I never got a chance to compliment your boxing this afternoon."

"Don't mention it," Heero said dully, and he looked away and rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. "I got a little carried away is all, and..."

Howard interrupted him with a hearty laugh. "I know you're not apologizing!" he said, and suddenly he'd pushed a glass across the table. Heero had no idea from where he'd procured it, and how he managed to pour it so covertly. Perhaps Heero's exhaustion was warping his senses. With a nod, Howard said, "That's for you, kid," and raised his own half-empty cup. "Here's to you, Mr. First Gentleman, for doing what every single one of us in that room wanted to do today."

Heero accepted the awkward toast with a shrug, and drained his glass in one. Whatever was in the glass was potent, and it burned. He shook his head, stared at the cup, and then, as if in afterthought, he glanced at Relena. She was presently staring at him in amusement. He noted the conspicuous lack of a drink in her hand with some dismay.

"I don't mind," she said happily. "I'm going to be company for Noin anyway this evening. You boys can have your fun."

"What's the occasion, anyway?" Heero asked, relieved. "This stuff is..."

"Expensive," Milliardo finished for him, pouring again. "Old and expensive."

"We figured that we hadn't really had the chance to sit together since we got back from Mars," Noin explained. "And besides, we need a little bit of celebration lately." She patted her stomach gently. "Knowing all of you, this is the closest I'm likely to get to a shower."

"So where are Trowa and Wufei and Hilde then?" Heero asked, noting their absence. He tossed his towel onto the coffee table and drank.

"Trowa and Wufei were downstairs with us for a while. We all had dinner while you were up here brooding," Relena said, and then she shrugged. "But you know they're not very sociable anyway. They didn't want to come back here."

"And Hilde?"

Heero had been moderately worried about her. She'd seemed so distraught during the trial.

"Quatre phoned a few hours ago to say that Duo was awake again," Howard explained, slightly subdued at the mention of Maxwell. "And he's okay, I should add. A little sore in the hands, but who wouldn't be after fifteen minutes at 500APM." Howard's eyes had gone slightly misty, his voice soft. But then he waved his hand before his face as if fanning away an insect. "Hilde insisted on heading back to the base to sit with him for a while. I thought about going myself, but I didn't want to overload him too soon. Hilde, Quatre, and Sally will take care of him just fine without me."

Heero nodded and sipped. There wasn't much else he could do.

Over time the conversation turned to happier things: babies and family and returning to regular life, and by the time the bottle was half empty Howard was inquiring as to when Heero and Relena were going to start a family of their own. It was all they could do to exchange awkward glances and dodge the question. That was not a topic Heero was ready to broach. He doubted he'd ever be ready for that.

"Ah, well," Howard sighed at length, and he slammed his empty glass on the table a little too hard. "I've clearly made you young kids uncomfortable. I'm off to bed, in that case. We've got another early morning ahead of us."

As if on cue, Noin nodded. "I probably ought to go back to our room, too," she said to Milliardo, and she used his shoulder as a brace to stand. "You can stay here for a while if you want."

"I'll help you to your room," Relena said.

And then Heero and Milliardo were suddenly alone, and Heero felt an unmistakable shift in the air. Milliardo grabbed the bottle and refilled his own glass, then reached across for Heero's.

"I should probably quit for the night," Heero said, on alert. "I didn't have dinner, and like Howard said, we've got to..."

"Just shut up and take it," Milliardo ordered, and he poured into Heero's glass as Heero sat dumbfounded. "I need you to be well and fully drunk. We've got some things to discuss."

Heero's face screwed up in indignation. If there was one thing Milliardo could have said to open him to the idea, it was certainly not that. "What do you mean?"

"A few weeks ago my sister invited me and Noin to a party. You just happened to be there," he paused and took a greedy sip of his own drink. "And as I recall, by about the fourth round you were quite talkative."

Heero felt his face growing hot. He stammered in a lame attempt to rebut. He couldn't.

"I'm not saying that's a bad thing, mind you," Zechs continued nonchalantly. If anything, he seemed slightly amused by Heero's embarrassment. "We both need to be a little more… Open minded… Than usual to have the kind of discussion we're going to have. And that's what this is for," he shook the bottle at Heero playfully, and then drained his own cup with a grimace.

At a loss, Heero followed suit. His interest had been piqued. It wasn't often that Zechs was so mysterious.

By the time the bottle was nearly empty, Heero had forgotten his embarrassment, and it seemed for a while that Milliardo had forgotten his purpose. They simply sat in quiet, listening to the rain and drinking. Heero felt refreshingly lightheaded by the time Zechs spoke again. His extremities had gone fuzzy and warm.

"Well, I think we've about had it," Milliardo said, placing his glass gently down. And then he drew his feet up on the couch and eyed Heero with intensity. "How are you feeling?"

Without thinking, Heero let forth a short and stupid-sounding laugh. And then his drink was gone, his glass on the table beside the others. He curled in his chair and returned the icy stare. "So now that neither of us will remember this conversation, what is all this for?"

"What do you think of all this trial business?"

Milliardo had turned serious so quickly that Heero had trouble following. "Is Relena still downstairs?"

Milliardo nodded. "I told Noin before we ever got here that I needed to talk to you in private. They're probably asleep," he said, gazing at the clock on the wall. Heero looked, too, and noticed that it was past midnight. "I don't want to be up much later, myself, if I'm honest. So let's have it. What do you think of this trial?"

"I think it's bullshit," Heero said bluntly and then his hand was over his mouth, not in a startled way, but in a smug and slightly thoughtful way. He hadn't meant to speak so forthrightly. The words had simply come out, but Zechs didn't seem to mind.

"Mm," Zechs agreed. "So we're in agreement.

Heero raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Milliardo smiled slyly. "See, this is why I wanted to you to be drunk," he mused, and Heero felt himself leaning forward awkwardly, interested. "I think something fishy is happening here."

"What do you mean?"

"Is that all you can say?" Milliardo said with a laugh. "You're not just talkative when you're drunk, you're stupid, too. Think about it. This whole situation is ridiculous. We've got an entire colony destroyed, a charge of inhuman war crimes, and there's a Corporal overseeing the court martial? Not just that, but a Corporal who has personal ties to you?"

Heero stared. He'd never considered it in that light before, but now that Zechs had laid it out so plainly, it hit him like a sack of bricks. "Oh."

"Where are the Generals? Where are the senior officers of the Air and Space Force? I understand some of them would be away dealing with the uprisings in the colonies-they're threatening war now, you know... Or maybe you don't, I don't know how much attention you've been paying to the news. At any rate, where are they? There's no way that all of them would be too busy for something of this magnitude. You'd think there'd be some high ranking old man looking down on all of us, not some fat forty-something with a grudge."

"You're right," Heero agreed. "It's weird."

Heero felt stupid, and not simply for the fact that he'd not seen the oddity. His brain was chugging along, severely slowed by the alcohol. He was still stuck on the Corporal having a personal vendetta against him.

"Stop over thinking," Milliardo snapped. "That's the whole purpose behind this. You over think everything. I need this at face value."

At once, Heero snapped out of his thoughtful daze and stared at Milliardo. "You got me drunk so I wouldn't think?" he asked instinctively.

"Exactly," Milliardo affirmed. "I'm going to be talking pretty heavy conspiracy here. That's not something you want to overanalyze, at least not as logically as you normally would. We need to think like idiots. We need to think outside of the bounds of sense."

"So what's the point?" Heero asked, and he sat straight, his hands folded between his knees. "Why are you bringing this to my attention now?"

"Because I want to know why," Milliardo said pointedly. "I want to know why this Corporal. Why is it him that's in charge of this."

"Maybe he called in a favor," Heero said before his mind could tell him the idea was absurd. No Corporal would be able to call in such a ridiculous favor, not for a trial like this. "But that's stupid," he added when his brain had caught up to his mouth. "There's no way..."

"But what if there was a way? I saw how that fat old man was acting toward you at that party. I've seen the way he's been treating you now that you've publicly shut him down. You say he wanted to recruit you, he's been pushing to recruit you for years, right?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Heero shrugged. He'd never bothered to ask and never bothered to consider. Military recruitment officers had been hounding him since the war ended, since he declared he wouldn't kill any more.

"I don't think you've been asking enough questions while I was away. That's what I think," Milliardo said dryly. "Now I'm going to say something to you and I want you to think about it."

"You just told me that you didn't want me to be thinking..." Heero said confusedly.

Milliardo didn't acknowledge this. "Your wife is the Secretary General of the whole Earth Sphere Nation. You are one of the most highly trained and well-practiced assassins alive. Or at least you used to be before you went all soft in front of your damned computers with your silly programming and encrypted messages."

"I don't want to talk about that," Heero said, and it was truth. He didn't enjoy speaking about his past even when he was sober, let alone when his brain wasn't capable of filtering his thoughts away from his mouth. "That's got nothing to do with any of this."

"You idiot," Milliardo spat. "Of course it does. Think about this. You're a trained killer. You love my sister, I hope. You'd do anything to protect her. Not only that, but you can hack any database you set your mind to, you can get in and every piece of information imaginable is available to you, right?"

Heero glared at Milliardo, unwilling to dignify him with a response.

"Yeah, I thought so. You and Maxwell..." Milliardo shook his head as if clearing out cobwebs. "You've got the same skill sets. And they wanted both of you. Why? Because you're perfect soldiers. Well they got one of you when they enlisted him, didn't they? And since they enlisted him they've been relentless about you, haven't they?"

"I don't see your point."

"They probably would have tried to get me on board, too, if I hadn't gone off grid. What about the other ones? Chang and Barton, were they approached?"

Heero shook his head, confused again. "Wufei works with the Preventers unit. He's been under contract since AC196. And Trowa is just about as off grid as you were. I only hear from him once every few months."

"And Winner is too well-known and too well-respected to enlist."

"I'm going to ask you one more time to tell me what the hell your point is here."

Milliardo drew a deep breath and sat straight. "My point is that these people wanted you for something. I bet if you dig deep enough you'll be able to make a connection between the men who've been recruiting you and this DeSchepper lady Noin told me about. I bet they were working together."

Heero blinked hard. Certainly he'd misheard. "What?" he asked incredulously. "Where'd you get a stupid idea like that?"

"My wife," Milliardo said flatly. "She was asking me earlier about the funding for this project you worked on, for the mobile suit that Maxwell was test flying the day they were captured. They talked in court about the funding for the project, about who was supposed to be in charge of it, and Maxwell denied any responsibility. So who was responsible? And why couldn't they find records? I mean, O'Keefe blew it off when Maxwell said he didn't know about the records. You'd think that that would be a point of interest for them, to figure out where the money came from. Besides, no twenty-something girl is going to be able to get enough cash to pay for such an enormous build without some kind of governmental backing. Not a girl you've never heard of before."

"It was filed under that mining company," Heero argued.

"Have you ever seen or heard of a machine from Landmark Lunar?"

Heero stammered. Milliardo was right. "How did I not see it?"

Milliardo shrugged. "I didn't either. Not until Noin said something."

"What am I supposed to do?"

Milliardo shrugged and shook his head, getting to his feet with the slightest stagger. "I don't know," he said honestly. "But I figured that of all the people I know, you're the most qualified to figure it out. You brought a computer, I imagine?"

Heero nodded. He never left home without his laptop.

"You get some sleep tonight. God knows you need it; you look like death warmed over. But you and I are going to pay attention at trial tomorrow to try and get some more details, and then we're going to do some serious digging."

Milliardo began making his way toward the door, and Heero rose to follow him. His feet felt as if they had been encased in concrete. He made his way to the door sluggishly, and Milliardo turned back around to watch.

"That's the other reason I wanted you drunk," he said, and now his face was blank, his voice containing a hint of concern. "I didn't want you staying awake to dig for anything tonight. Now go lie down and sleep. I'll escort Relena up here myself."

But all Heero could do was stand and watch him go, his head spinning from more than just the alcohol. And then, minutes after the door had closed and Milliardo's footsteps had receded down the way, Heero stumbled to the bed and collapsed.