Disclaimer: I don't own the GW characters – am just borrowing to torment for my amusement

Warnings: Swearing, yaoi, violence, general angst, possible OOCness (ages since I've written fanfiction so may be a little bit rusty)

Pairings: 1x2 , 3x4 a hint of one sided 5+2 (unreciprocated)

A/N: Song for this chapter is Baby, You Wouldn't Last a Minute on the Creek by Chiodos.

Chapter Four

This is probably the best not to mention the worst idea…

The cup of java tasted good and strong. It was late and it was a twenty four hour café. The waitress smiled at me as she refilled my coffee and I gave a nod and a wink. She was a sweet girl but my German was only passable. Hilde had taught me enough words to get by years ago and I'd barely improved on them in the intervening years. Most of the words I remembered were swear words so no use in polite conversation. Berlin was a great city and I felt a bit guilty for my space boy tourist persona.

I looked out to the rain soaked streets and then back inside. There were very few people around, a teenage couple were sharing pastries and coffee, probably trying to sober up before they caught the train back home. There was an old guy sat on a stool who was reading the paper. Seemed a bit late for the day's news. It was nearly eleven at night. I sat back and saw commercials on the television set before the eleven p.m news programme. There was no sound on but I could guess the main story. It was the same story on front of the newspaper.

The programme began with the usual newsreader and then the image cut to Quatre. It was a press conference regarding the L2 Project. He was looking older and a lot more harassed than last time I'd seen him. He wore a suit and his blonde hair was slicked back a bit more than I remembered. I lip read a little of the announcement.

"A long neglected colony… the support of the Earth Sphere… new technologies…."

I zoned out a little to see Quatre's statement had finished and the press were asking questions. I'd read that the L2 Project wasn't running particularly smoothly and I could see Q look frustrated at one particular question and left the podium.

A spokesperson for the Winner Corporation, a young and beautiful woman, took over the podium and the news cut from that story to something else.

"Still trying to fix everything with money, Q," I said under my breath and took another sip of the coffee.

I was waiting for Wufei like a good boy. It had been three weeks since I'd walked out on him at the snazzy hotel and it had been all of three days after that when I got back in touch with him. I knew he'd be taking heat for my recklessness and I also kinda knew he didn't mean to keep me and Heero apart. I'm guessing it was part of his job, part of his, you know, duty to the Preventers to keep his assets safe and whether that meant keeping us apart, then he'd do that. I'd not tried to find Heero. That was just plain stupid. I knew how my identity had been completely erased and the only way I'd find him was with Wufei's help and I didn't blame him if he never wanted to help me again. After all, I had quit.

I contacted him with my reports because I wasn't an idiot despite all the evidence to the contrary. They needed my reports for prosecution so I wrote them in a tiny, dark hotel room, with a newly acquired laptop smoking out of the window. It hadn't been easy but it felt a lot easier than doing it in the coldness of a Preventer field office or safe house. I typed for two days solid then sent them, closed down the laptop and thought about throwing it out of the window but I kept it knowing I was now traceable and he'd be in touch. And he'd got in touch – asked me where I was, asked me to meet him, wired the sizable pay cheque into one of my bank accounts and I'd held him off for a few weeks. Until now.

I still didn't want to go back. I did mean it. I didn't want another undercover job. I kinda wanted to be plain old Duo Maxwell again. Maybe mend some bridges. Ask Howard for a job. It all sounded like a great plan but then I looked back to the television. Yeah, I thought darkly, he wasn't travelling to Berlin to give me a severance package. I knew why he wanted to see me. Let's get the band back together, one more job before retirement and all that shit. And I remembered that in most cop movies it's always that one last job that gets you killed, ain't it? I shook my head, my bangs in my eyes and stared into the coffee cup.

I could've not contacted him. I could've just disappeared somewhere. But it wouldn't have lasted long, the Preventers knew fucking everything and knew every account, every alias, every goddamn step I seemed to take. I was glad I'd at least got rid of the tracking chip. Least now I wasn't a red dot on a computer screen. When I'd left 'Fei, I'd dumped the ID docs the Preventers had cooked up for me and contacted a guy I'd known while I worked with my last bunch of friendly gang bangers – he provided me with decent docs and I was able to leave the good US of A without sparking a Preventer arrest. Which was good. I'd decided to land in Europe but didn't really care where. I knew to keep away from Sanc but apart from that, the rest of the continent was up for grabs. It ended up being Berlin. And it had been good for me.

My mind drifted back to the present. I'd only been in Berlin for three weeks. Usually my down time was longer and since I'd actually quit, it should be over. I looked over to the television as the news reporter recapped the Quatre story. Yeah, it so wasn't over.

"This seat taken?"

I looked up, a little startled by the man now in front of me. He was always so goddamn quiet. I gave him the once over – no Preventer jacket or identification and then nodded and gestured to the seat. Wufei didn't look like he belonged in a random café in the middle of Berlin but then I found that he never looked like he fit in when he met me. I sometimes wondered if in all the random places we met – the cafés, libraries, bars and the diners – people thought it was kinda weird that a guy with braided hair slouched while a Chinese dude sat ramrod straight and talked. We must've looked kinda odd together.

"Nope, go ahead. The coffee's great here."

"It's eleven at night, Maxwell, surely coffee is an unnecessary stimulant?"

"It's eleven at night – it's a very necessary stimulant."

The cute waitress girl approached and offered coffee. Wufie signalled no and ordered tea in perfect German. Damn, how the hell did he know that? Suppose once a scholar or something like that. She looked at me and gestured to the coffee pot.

"No, no more caffeine – but pie would be good."

Her English wasn't great but she understood me enough to bring 'Fei's tea and me a slice of warm apple pie. Wufei looked disapprovingly at my choice of food but didn't say anything. His body was a temple, I suppose. Surely he knew after the last time I'd seen him that I wasn't going to listen to a lecture. He'd be thinking how I'd not had my medical after the last mission, how I'd left bleeding from removing the tracking chip and how I'd looked like shit. Usually after missions, I stayed at a secret location and was fed nutritionally balanced meals while I tried to gain back weight and muscle density. Working in gangs always meant I didn't sleep or eat properly. I came back skinny. Always did.

He did his usual once over. "You look better."

"Yeah, the down time has done me good – this is an amazing city," I gestured with my fork at the surroundings. You wouldn't get a sense of the city from the café but it was a cool city. And I had put on a bit of weight, I'd found a boxing gym to work out at – I'd done all the things I should do. Just by myself. Small talk done I looked straight him.

"You know I'm not angry at you, 'Fei. I know you were only doing your job."

"I'm glad you understand."

"Though to me, lying doesn't seem that honourable."

It was a little dig but he brushed it off. "It was concealing the truth. Neither of you directly asked."

I shrugged. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

We sat in silence for a moment, he looked over to the television which was on commercials. They were currently advertising a sleek looking silver car.

"Are you taking the pills?"

I took a bite of the pie and looked him in the eye. He knew I'd been prescribed them and that there had been a supply in the go bag when I'd taken it. What he didn't know was I'd thrown them down the toilet. They were meant to help me sleep and even out my mood.

"What do you think?"

"I'll take that as a no?"

"'Course, I'm not putting some chemical into my body. My bodies a perfect fighting machine."

He raised his eyebrow at my pie.

"A guy's gotta eat."

It was as though he had a list of things he needed to say as we avoided the elephant in the room. We weren't secure in the café but he must have thought it would be safer to meet me here than in a hotel room. Maybe he was worried I would strangle him. Or something.

"Did you get your pay cheque?"

I nodded. "One payment made by anonymous wire to Drake Noir received."

"Drake Noir… Duo, really?"

"Thought it made me sound like a bad TV detective. Kinda cool, huh?"

He shook his head in despair. He still didn't get my sense of humour. Don't suppose after all this time he ever would as he looked me up and down. He was really studying me, a habit that I'd got used to but still he disturbed me. His face never gave away much – he could be a world champ poker player. He looked at my hand and his eyes narrowed. "Take off your jacket."

"You know you should buy me dinner first before you ask me to strip."

"Duo…" he growled.

"Fine," I said, taking off my trusty leather jacket.

His eyes widened as I threw it on the seat next to me and went back to my pie. I shrugged at him. "What's up, 'Fei?"

"When and what?"

"What?" I said, smiling.

"Those."

"They are tattoos, artwork imprinted into the skin via needles and ink. A culturally significant symbol synonymous with rebellion and crime though more acceptable than they used to be," I said sarcastically, pretending I was reading a dictionary definition.

"Maxwell, they are permanent."

"No shit, Sherlock."

His eyes took in the images, scanning my arm. "They link you as a Gundam pilot."

"They don't… I could just be a fan boy or something."

He looked at me with a level of disapproval I'd expect from my mother, you know, if I'd ever actually had one. I looked back at the television letting him stew for a second. He downed his tea. I didn't expect him to understand and I didn't want him to. I'd decided to get them and that was that. What had he said? Don't do anything stupid. This was my stupid thing. It had taken three sittings and it had hurt like a bitch – I'm man enough to admit it, and I'd been short on time so one bit hadn't healed properly before the guy did the next bit but it looked pretty awesome. A guy at the boxing gym had some great ink and spoke English enough to go with me and help me describe what I wanted to the tattooist – I wanted to call the dude Hans as that woulda amused me but I never caught his name. It was a whole therapeutic exercise – the pain had made me forget – it made me forget the kids and where that cocky son of bitch Jamie ended up and whether I'd fucked it up for the kid for being friendly and where Heero was and whether he thought about me.

Black eyes scanned the whole arm, from the small stars around my wrists, to the black and grey shading that linked the images, the cross, the angel, the silhouette of Deathscythe on the inside of my arm with the only colour being the green of the Beam Scythe. The tattooist didn't give a shit why I wanted what I wanted. I suppose the war was being forgotten.

"You are an idiot," he said finally.

"Noted."

"Fine."

We sat in silence as I finished my pie.

"Look 'Fei, I meant what I said, I quit, I'm done… you've got Heero, you really don't need me."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't need you. I would have let you go," he said heavily. "I have orders."

He brought out the manila envelope with the words Asset 02 written on the top. Subtle. Always thought it was stupid I was still 02. Maybe it was just a private thing. My eyes darted around the café. The young couple had gone and the old dude was still reading his paper. The waitress was leaning on the counter texting on her phone ignoring us. I grabbed the manila from him and opened it. The file had some words on the front that made my heart stop for a second.

"No, 'Fei, you promised."

"Duo, it is entirely necessary."

"Then use one of your other assets, I said not back to L2. Anywhere but back there."

He nodded, remembering the conversations early on. I'd always said not L2. He knew enough to know that my childhood had not been roses and candy. He knew that it had been rough, as had all of us, except Q but he knew that I was particularly adamant about that – no L2.

"I wouldn't be asking if I had another asset capable." He stopped and took a deep breath as though he really didn't want to say what he had to say. "Heero is there now but is unable to integrate into the group. It needs someone who is more… street wise."

"Heero… you want us to work together?"

"Yes."

"So he knows I'm alive?"

"Yes."

My heart did a little somersault thing in my chest. For some reason, it made me feel a lot better that he knew I'd not died in some gutter or whatever he thought had happened to me. He'd probably think I'd done something reckless and got myself killed in a bar fight or something. He always thought I acted a little too recklessly. That I had a death wish or something.

I tried to be, you know, cool and nonchalant but I could hear how my voice sounded as I spoke. "How'd he take it?"

"He punched me."

I chuckled darkly. That was such a Heero thing to do – fists first, questions later. Maybe that meant… fuck it, I honestly didn't know what it meant. "Hurts don't it?"

He only nodded as I peeked into the file as though the pages would burn me and then I saw Q's face.

"The L2 Project?"

"Trowa got in touch with the Preventers recently. Since the L2 Project started moving forward, Quatre has started receiving death threats of a more serious nature."

"Quat's always had death threats, that's nothing new," I said shrugging.

I knew Quatre, as the only visible one of us, was the one that received the death threats and had an extreme level of security. Trowa had taken over his security detail years ago. It made sense, it gave Trowa an excuse to travel with him as their relationship was kept under wraps and Tro understood, like all of us, how the terrorist's minds work. Everyone wins. I couldn't imagine him approaching the Preventers if it wasn't serious.

"So… how bad?"

"There are some examples in the file."

I nodded and flicked through to see a few copies. They seemed to be on a theme. Mostly about leaving L2 alone otherwise… you know, boom!

"They don't seem that bad. Could be written by kids."

Wufei seemed to be losing patience. "It's Winner we are talking about. Could you at least show some respect for someone who fought alongside you honourably?"

"Wow, 'Fei, you haven't pulled the honour card on me in years."

"I am finding you frustrating."

"I noticed."

I flicked through the file, arriving at the information about the gang but the information was sketchy. There were long lens pictures of a few members and the leader – a guy called Dallas. They were based in a rundown area of L2 in a hospital that had been closed for years. The numbers of exact members was anywhere between fifteen and twenty five. All male and mainly early to mid twenties. Some had military training and they had been involved in weapons trading. They seemed to have managed to come by some guns and some explosives. The information was vague.

"Heero doesn't have much."

"Heero is as good as you but unsuited to this work. He had nothing of your… flair. That's why I need you."

I tried not to say anything snarky about me being the better asset for this job. I wanted to joke that I was his favourite but damn, that was a bit childish and also brought to mind the weird feeling I got from him at times. I put the file down. I closed my eyes for a few seconds. I thought about my memories of L2 – the promise I'd made to Solo. No, I was meant to get out and keep running and never look back. Too much shit. And then I thought about Heero. I couldn't stop the little tap dance that my heart was doing but I also felt the dread in the bottom of my stomach. Fuck, he'd thought I was dead for years and it was gonna be like "hey, baby, I'm back!" And I wasn't sure what anything had meant between us. I kinda was okay not seeing him as after all this time undercover I wasn't a hundred percent sure who I was anymore. But Q…

"Fine, I'll do it. Last job though, 'Fei. No more Preventers. No more undercover. You forget me and I forget all of this."

"You have my word."

"Not as good as it used to be but I'll take it."

I think that comment hurt him a little along with all the other little digs I'd made but I kinda thought he deserved the hard time. He passed over another envelope and then rose to his feet, looking around the empty café and put some money down on the table. He put his hand on my shoulder for a second and I looked up at him, straight into the black eyes and he opened his mouth to say something then stopped, and just walked away.

I watched him leave, seeing him pull up his trench coat against the rain and he was visible for a few seconds before he crossed the road and disappeared. I opened the second envelope to find the shuttle tickets, the new ID docs and my new identity. I smirked at the name.

Domino.

It sounded kinda stupid at first but then I looked through the information. I liked to make things fall it seemed. An explosives expert.

I put all the documents and the file back in the envelopes, folded them up and put my jacket on and shoved them into the inside pocket. I put some extra cash on the table – remember, folks, to always tip your waitress – and left to pack my shit back up.

And I wasn't gonna think about Heero.

Fuck it, just did.