Loyal reviewers, ye rock royally. This chapter is a bit longer than the others, but the characters that dwell inside my head (who strangely do not belong to me) refused to shut up.

Let's hear it for those who really own the Gundam Wing boys, for without them putting the show in our lives, the number of yaoi fanfics in America would be reduced by half. Or more.

Yay sexy gay terrorists.

Quatre cast a bored glance over his desk, the polished maple forgotten underneath layers of paperwork, most boasting the crest of the Winner family and a blank line awaiting his name. With a pout of resignation, he picked up his pen, ready to attack the mounds of evil sheets before him. Although his sisters had presented him with acceptance when they learned of his desires to join the Preventers with his friends instead of immediately taking on his duties as heir, they had yet to halt the downpour of 'important documents' requiring his approval.

Like the addition of an extra bathroom in the L1 office building really needed his grand approval.

Fiddling with the embossed cap of his pen, he tried to will a distraction his way. A mission. A new rebellion. A call from his ticked girlfriend after he forgot the one-week anniversary of their first kiss. Heero could threaten to kill her repeatedly and still have her love. He wasn't allowed to momentarily forget a redundant anniversary. He didn't quite think that fair.

Needless to say, the phone failed to ring. But as he pushed the cap aside to again raise his pen, the door to his office flew open, revealing a smiling Trowa on the other side.

"Oh, am I interrupting?"

The pen flew back down to the desk. "Not at all! Come in a take a seat, my friend. You know you are always welcome in my home."

Trowa took the seat across from Quatre, pulling the chair around when he couldn't see the blond properly above the stacks of paper. A beaming smile crossed his face, one never witnessed before by his best friend. "You're a genius."

"That's very kind of you to say! Um, but what for?"

Unsure how to phrase his response without sounding like a giddy schoolgirl, Trowa rescued the discarded writing utensil and scrawled a message on a blank envelope: Wufei said he loves me. The second he held the note up, Quatre squealed and jumped over for a hug, nearly sending them and the chair flying backwards.

"That's so wonderful! I'm so happy for the both of you! How did it happen?"

Laughing softly, Trowa returned the hug before Quatre returned to his seat. "Well, I told him the truth behind our game. Expecting him to be angry, I started to leave, but he told me he loved me too. He even kissed on me."

"Do I need to call in a censor?"

"Ah, no. Nothing really sexual happened after that, but it was very nice all the same. He helped me off the floor—long story—and we spent the rest of the day fooling around in the kitchen. By fooling around I mean cooking. Or him teaching me how to cook. Then we ate dinner on the porch, wrapped together in a blanket even though it wasn't cold. And when I started to go to the guest room to sleep, he pulled me into his room so we could lie beside each other all night."

With expert practice, Quatre held back a chuckle at Trowa's uncharacteristic enthusiasm. "Can I tell him now?"

"Who? Heero or Duo about the truth?"

"No. Wufei about how many times you've called me lusting over him."

"Quatre!"

"He should know."

"He probably has figured it out by now. And I was not lusting. I was simply admiring."

"Spying on him while he exercises in the morning is simply admiring?"

"That is seizing an opportunity to study the glories of nature around me. Wufei shirtless, sweaty, and passionately focused is glorious. But I really should stop doing that—I forgot about some sausages frying yesterday and they burned."

Quatre let the chuckle go and he patted Trowa's hand. "It's good to see you cheerful." A sad flicker crossed his blue-and-green eyes at a recalling of a memory. "Maybe it beneficial to you that we never happened?"

"Beneficial now, yes. Is that the reason you tried so hard to push Wufei and me together? Out of guilt?"

"Partly, but you really were getting rather pathetic."

"Gee, thanks. At least I didn't spill hot tea over my crush's lap."

"Relena forgave me for that. Now only if she would forgive me forgetting the anniversary…"

As Trowa starting probing into the anniversary problem, the beeper on his hip sounded off in an all-too-familiar ring. "I've got a solo mission. Immediately. Will you call Wufei and tell him where I've gone? He had to run by the office to drop off some files he rushed through this morning, but he should be home soon."

"Of course, Trowa." Quatre balanced on the edge of his chair to give Trowa another hug, his heart suddenly worried without offering a reason. "You'll be careful, won't you?"

"Yeah. I've got someone to come home to now. And send Relena some flowers at least, alright?"

Leaving a fretful Quatre behind, Trowa learned during his rushed briefing that a six-manned mission team had failed to report in or return home at the designated time two hours ago. He was flown north up to a mountain range recently plagued by rebel activity and thereby by Preventers agents. The rebels had been hoarding illegal weapons and using them to inspire hatred against the united earth sphere alliance, trying to regain their cultural identity by forcing nations to divide once more.

Trowa almost sympathized with them. Citizens across the world were worried about losing their unique culture backgrounds and traditions without boarders defining who they are, and numerous more were struggling with the absence of fees or taxes placed on their exported goods.

But terrorizing innocent cities was not the correct way to voice their concerns, so Trowa circled the base where the mission team had been sent to recover smuggled firearms. The sky in the mountains was already black, sending down occasional flakes of snow. Locating the back entrance of the building, Trowa stilled when he saw the silhouette of a woman sitting by the door, guarding the way with a rifle.

Tiptoeing forward, silent even while treading upon dirty sleet, Trowa pressed himself against the wall. The guard remained motionless, so Trowa let out a breath he had been holding, forming a cloud of white in the chilling air. The guard's chin was tilted on her chest, so Trowa inched forward with slightly less caution, raising his hand up in the air to strike from behind until he saw the trail of matted blood running down the guard's neck. Tilting the woman's head, Trowa found a bullet hole behind the corpse's ear.

Deciding either this rebel had been taken out by the mission team or by his own people, Trowa pushed by the dead into the building. Expertly finding the underground room where the weapons were supposed to be stored, all he found was several empty boxes, already turned over and apparently ransacked by the mission team. Planning on returning outside to see if their were any tracks leading away from the building, Trowa wanted to gain access to the roof first to get a panoramic view of the surrounding area. According to the blueprints he had quickly scanned over before leaving headquarters, there were no stairs leading to the rood, so he spotted the ventilation system, the useful steel canals which were often his ally during the war.

When he jerked on a metal panel above him, a lifeless body nearly fell on top of him as it started to fall head-first to the ground with the steel sheet. Like the guard, he had also been shot behind the ear and was clothed in the rebel uniform. Studying the physical features of the deceased man for a moment before placing the body on the ground, Trowa shuddered when he discovered this was not one of the rebel's faces he had memorized through blurred photographs at headquarters weeks before. This was Preventers Agent Cody Lawson, the young American who was often found sharing old music files with Duo on company computers.

He now knew what happened to the mission team. Anger rose in Trowa's throat when he realized they had been played, walking right into the rebel's deathtrap while they smuggled their weapons to a completely different base. Trowa reasoned the dead Preventers had been dressed as enemies either in a morbid attempt at mockery, or as a trap for any foolish agent like him sent on rescue. Crossing Lawson's arms over his chest in a symbol of respect, Trowa decided not to tempt his chances and started to beat a hasty retreat.

As if on cue, the ground under his feet started to rumble and he heard a series of detonations thunder in the opposite site of the building, continuing while rapidly heading in his direction. Using his acrobatic skills, Trowa jumped up several flights of stairs before leaping into a storage room in the stairwell. The heat of fire seared across his back as the impact of an explosion caught him in his leap, throwing him against the room's concrete wall and rendering him unconscious as the base crumbled around him.

He was cold, almost as cold as the days he drifted among the stars, losing his memories to the white scatter of lights puncturing the blackness of space. Trying to feel around him in the dark, his legs moved against layers of dirt and his left arm refused to respond. Trowa wondered if he should be experiencing pain, but his body seemed too frozen to care. Dust trickled down across his neck, muffled booms ringing in his ears, and a subdued voice he couldn't distinguish echoing above him.

Suddenly, he was lifted upwards and the pain he wondered at before made its presence known without mercy. He tried to scream, but a darkness having nothing to do with the absence of light closed in on him once more. When he came to again, the world was still dark and painful, but at the same time it was also warm, calm, and smelling slightly like sterilization. Realizing he was in a raised bed with an oxygen mask, he removed the offending piece of plastic and sat up.

"Oh, you're awake! Good."

"Sally? Why am I in the hospital?"

"You experienced a shard of shrapnel entering your upper left arm, bruised ribs, relatively ninety-six hours without food or water, and temporary blindness due to flying debris. You were lucky. How do you feel?"

"Oh." Trowa felt around his eyes, not finding any wrappings to cut off the light as he expected. "How long will it be until I can see again?"

"We're guessing a month, if not a little longer."

Gritting his teeth at this aggravation, Trowa strained his hearing again to catch activities in the world around him. The rustle of Sally's starched uniform sounded from beside his bed, along with the clanking of plastic tubes against metal. He guessed she was placing a new packet to feed into the IV stuck in near his elbow. Machines beeped in the rhythm of his heartbeat. "Is anyone else here?"

"They only let doctors and family in. We can't call your sister until the papers about your mission clear."

"The mission failed. The team was killed off before I got there. The guns were probably never in that building in the first place. We were fed false information."

He felt a gentle hand pat his right arm. "We can't win them all."

"Were any of the mission team rescued?"

"No, Trowa. I'm sorry. The bodies of Agent Sarah Dix and Toturi Takagawa were found outside. The rest are assumed to have burned up in the explosions."

Waiting a few moments, listening to the scratching of a pen to paper, he shifted uncomfortably while brining up another sensitive subject, but one that would thankfully get his mind off of the fallen. "Sally, we haven't really talked since Wufei and I…"

"Don't worry. I'm glad he found someone." She flicked Trowa's nose playfully, encouraging him to lay back down. "Especially someone so cute. Besides, Wufei's your problem now. You get to deal with his stubborn ass."

"But it's a very attractive ass."

"Too bad it's got a stick stuck up in it. I'm surprised you complimented his backside aloud."

"It's the drugs." Trowa shook his head side to side on the pillow, trying to clear his mind but only making his head feel heavier than the rest of his body. Even without his sight, the world around him suddenly seemed fragmented, like a bullet after impact. Trying to divert his thoughts away from bullets, like the one in Agent Lawson's head, he attempted to focus on his surgeon again. "What was in that? I feel like I'm floating."

"Just a generous dose of pain killer. You're getting drowsy, so go ahead and get some more sleep."

"Yes ma'am."

For the first time in Trowa's life, he was woken up by the pressure of another's lips to his cheeks, his mouth, his brow. Groaning softly, he reached up and grasped onto silky hair, a familiar velvet texture assuring him of his own survival, as did Wufei's tear-stained cheek against the back of his fingers. "They let you in?"

"I punched out the doctor who kept telling me I couldn't. Then Sally let me back before I hurt anyone else. The others are trying to go through Lady Une to get in."

"You've been crying. Why have you been crying? I'm not scarred horribly, am I? Can't see a damn thing."

"I'll be your eyes until your sight clears, my gardenia."

"Don't call me that. You haven't answered my question."

Wufei kissed Trowa's forehead again, almost glad the older man couldn't see the red circling his onyx eyes, the evidence of little sleep and less food. "You nearly died."

"I'm hard to get rid of. So if you think you're ever going to break up with me, tough luck on that."

"Tough luck if you ever wanted me to try. Are you in any pain? Do you want me to get you anything?"

Trowa tugged on the hair he treasured dearly. "You sound weary. Take a nap up here with me, if you can avoid the tubes. Then you can smuggle me in a nice, juicy hamburger." Wufei obeyed the simple command, dropping out of the conscious world instantly with the warm and fortunately alive body pressed up to his. Waiting until the sleeping man's breathing evened, Trowa searched for and nearly violently pressed the button which would directly administer a new dose of sorely needed painkiller into his veins. "Sweet dreams, Fei."

Arriving home a few days later, after fighting off his sweetly concerned but incredibly overbearing friends, the first task Trowa wanted to do was take a bath. Getting sponged down by the nurses was not only humiliating, but also never left the French man feeling thoroughly cleaned. After allowing Wufei to fuss over him only long enough to run the tap, he shooed the shorter man out so he could slowly get himself out of his clothes and bandages.

Carefully easing down into the hot water, Trowa felt around the rim of the tub for the soap. Not coming across the slippery square, he stood so he could grope into a nearby cabinet and find a new bar. As he stepped forward to extend his reach, his foot made contact with the missing soap, throwing him off balance and plunging down into the tub. Spitting out a few curse words, as well as a few mouthfuls of water, at the pain shooting down his ribs, he aroused Wufei's attention.

Wufei quickly ran into the bathroom, bursting through the door to find his ticked off boyfriend sitting in the middle of his bath. Besides where Trowa was holding his sides which were colored in dark purples, blues, and blacks, everything seemed in order. He relaxed, brushing back plastered brown bangs from unfocused emerald eyes. "Are you—"

"Don't you say a word! I can handle this on my own."

Wufei bit back a laugh as he reached down in the water for the soap, lathering up a washcloth and running across Trowa's back. "And deny me the chance to see your gorgeous self unclothed? I think not."

Trowa arched against the soothing cloth, wearing a smile if nothing else. He may not have secured the mission or the soap, but he seemed to have caught Wufei pretty well. "Mmm. You present a convincing argument."

"You present a delicious image. If you weren't currently in unstable physical condition, we could really make bath time fun."

"Hmph." Trowa leaned backwards again, not completely sure how much he was revealing, but hoping it was tempting. "Can't we make bath time fun anyway? You could join in me in here, you know."

"Actually, there's an important discussion I want to have with you, and it's best to introduce this topic while you're relaxed."

Trowa frowned, bringing up his knees to cover himself. "You mean when you have me at a disadvantage. I'm already blinded and disabled, what more do you want?"

"That was not my intention at all."

"And it apparently wasn't to see me naked. What the hell is it?"

"I want you to quit mission work."

Trowa caught the washcloth, throwing it in the direction of the voice near him, frowning when it missed and he heard it slap against the jade tile walls. "You're having a bad reaction to my accident. You've ruined my soothing bath and I don't want to talk about this now."

"Why not? Your lack of vision hardly impedes your ability to verbally debate with—"

"Do you always have to talk like an aristocrat when you're upset?"

Wufei rubbed the bridge of his nose with a damp hand, a burning sensation pricking his eyes. "Please listen to me, Trowa. They called me the night your building collapsed. Do you have any idea what it's like to hear someone you don't even know tell you the person you love is dead? Do you have any idea?"

"They thought I was dead? But I was obviously searched for. If they counted me as KIA, why would Preventers bother with the search?"

"The search wasn't through Preventers. Quatre, Duo, Heero, and I ignored headquarter rules and went to the building site ourselves. We dug in the rubble for three days. Quatre located Dix and Takagawa immediately, but it took three days before Heero finally found you wedged between a broken wall and a section of the collapsed roof."

"So you all figured I survived and rescued me. I'm greatly appreciative."

"We weren't expecting to find you alive. Heero had you cradled in his arms before he even realized you were breathing."

"Death is a part of this job I've accepted."

"It's not acceptable for those who love you!" Wufei stroked the shoulders of his boyfriend frantically, trying to make him understand the meaning behind his words, despite knowing the concept of placing love over duty went against everything drilled inside Trowa's head. "Please consider another job."

"But what else could I do? I'm not intelligent like you and Heero, or political like Quatre, or good with people like Duo. I'm a solider. That's it. That's all I've been trained for."

"You could be an instructor for the Preventers. We've been searching for anyone talented and patient enough to teach new recruits that don't have any previous fighting experience."

"So instead of killing others, I'd be showing others how to kill?"

"If you feel better by painting it in that light, fine. But you'd still be protecting the peace you helped create—isn't that why all of us eventually gravitated to the Preventers? You'd just be protecting peace in a different way. By passing down the legacy."

"And this would make you happier?"

"Considerably."

Trowa's jaw tensed as his fists curled under the water. Fighting was his why of life, as natural to him as breathing. But he didn't want to attempt imagining how Wufei had felt after the phone call. Wufei had only been in love with him for a short time, in contrast to Trowa's love for Wufei spanning over a year. If he ever received a similar call…The calls Lawson's young widow would be receiving soon…"Under one condition, Chang."

"Name it."

"You become an instructor too. You're bored in your desk job and instructors make almost the same amount of money. Between the two of us, we'd could still live here. And although you are short on patience, you love marital arts."

"I love you more than any martial arts. If your heart desires it, I'll become an instructor too."

"I hate you right now."

"I understand."

"And I love you so damn much."

Wufei smiled with relief, slipping into the bathtub completely clothed in order to once again fully embrace what he had almost lost. "I understand that too."