Warnings: Swearing, yaoi, violence, general angst, possible OOCness (ages since I've written fanfiction so may be a little bit rusty) m/m sexual relations – limey/lemony, slight sap, Duo abuse

Pairings: 1x2 , 3x4, 5+2

A/N: Song for this chapter is Hell is for Heroes Retreat – mainly for the line that the chapter is titled after. Finally some Quat and Tro... been waiting 18 freaking chapters to get them into the fic!

Chapter Nineteen

Do You know Me, My Brother?

The words in my defence kinda die on my lips. I'm not a criminal? This is not breaking and entering? I'm not armed and with a bag filled up with ammo? Maybe the first thing would be that I'm not dead considering that was the popular belief but that was a redundant statement. I was obviously not dead being that I'm stood in front of him so I just take a second to see what the hell he's gonna do.

I'm still armed. I would unarm me first but he hasn't moved. It's like he's a goddamn statue. All good posture and straight backed. Must be all that circus shit. Or maybe the years standing beside the earth sphere's richest man. Whatever. I guess he's thinking. Calculating. Working things out. His eyes drift to my raised arms and his eyes narrow at the tattoos. I'm guessing the idea of me being some deadbeat criminal becomes more believable with them decorating my arm – old clichés and all. Plus I have just trespassed. Oh yeah, there is some blood on my hands – literally. Antoine's.

Since I'm not particularly awesome at silence and I have never known how to react around Trowa being that I know, never really got him at all, I just blurt out the next statement.

"I'm an undercover Preventer."

It's not a lie. I am still a Preventer just an unsanctioned one with the blessing of Wufei. So it's like I'm sanctioned to be unsanctioned.

"Ask Wufei."

I get a slight hint of reaction. I knew that Trowa had been in touch with Wufei at the beginning of this entire stupid goddamn operation. It was his intel about Quatre's death threats that had led us to this little friendly meeting. His face barely moves but it does move. Jesus. Trowa and Heero should play poker. They could be world champs at bluffing and not giving anything way. Think they could even take down Howard and half the Sweepers and that is a tricky thing. The gun doesn't waver but I can tell he's figuring stuff out.

"I went into deep cover in the Preventers three years. I'm working the death threats on Quatre. We were given intel that the gang were using this warehouse and we came to check it out, didn't figure it would be you guys, you know?"

He says one word that he gets outta my rambling statement.

"We?"

I don't get chance to respond as there's a silent approach from the corridor behind Trowa and a click of another handgun.

"Duo's telling the truth. He's an undercover Preventer like I am."

Heero's voice is steady and totally controlled even though he is pointing a gun at a friend and ally in some kind of overly protective shit. I think about going for my own weapon which is easily accessible and joining in with the whole testosterone and phallic imagery of pointing guns at each other.

"Heero," Trowa says quietly and he doesn't flinch at the weapon pointed at his own head and maintains his weapon in the direction of my face – straight between the eyes.

"Maybe lowering the guns would be a good idea? You know, this lil reunions gonna go better if we all have our heads."

"I'll lower mine when Trowa lowers his."

I want to laugh but I seem to the only one who finds this hilarious. You know, people who are not former Gundam pilots might see a friend they haven't seen for years and be like, hey, awesome to see you, and all. The default option might not be to draw a weapon. But then I look like I was up to no good – trying to hack into a security system, sneaking through a window I'd just broken and had a handgun tucked into the back of my jeans. I looked like I was bad news. And when you haven't seen someone for three years, yeah, a little caution is probably required. But maybe not one with so much hostility.

The stubborn battle of wills seems to be on going. My arms are starting to fucking ache. I'm being all good boy and pretending to be surrendering and they are not moving. Then there's a small acknowledged movement from Trowa and he starts to lower his weapon and Heero follows suit at the same snails pace. I don't move my arms. Not yet.

"I need your weapons." He looks first to Heero who reluctantly passed over the handgun and then the bag. He folds his arms across his chest and leans in the doorway as Trowa approaches me. I slowly reach behind me for my weapon as I don't really want to be felt up by him – not that he isn't a good looking guy or anything but I was kinda ready to knock his lights out, old ally or not.

"Knife."

Heero's eyes catch mine and I smirk and reach for my knife in my pocket before handing it over. Heero knows I don't like being without a blade. Can deal without a gun but I feel naked without a knife. I don't have the brute strength of Heero so I need something reassuring. I decide not to be asshole and he's now weighed down with the amount of weaponry.

"What the hell is this place?"

"The L2 base of Winner Corp."

"You're kidding me , right? This is, like, a total shit hole."

"This is ground level. You need to see the basement." There's the tiniest bit of humour there – I'm now imagining marble and chandeliers. Usual Winner opulence. "Follow me."

I gesture him to lead the way and Heero hangs back and lets him pass so that we walk side by side. I notice that Trowa's talking very quietly into a communicator but pick up enough of it to hear that he is telling the security team to get Quatre and warning them about visitors. Seemed like this was gonna be a proper reunion. Aw fuck. I end up awkwardly rubbing my hands on my jeans expecting to get rid of the blood before seeing Quatre for the first time in three years.

We arrive at an elevator that has an out of order sign on one side of the door and a button that looks totally disabled. It seems that the level of technology to activate the elevator is more advanced as the doors spring open at a slight wave of a keycard – fancy. Feels like a long time since I've been around so much tech. All the undercover ops leave me in the company of the scum of the earth – somewhere without a leaky roof is pretty awesome and I don't regularly get to play with tech anymore. Kinda miss it.

Trowa gestures for us to go first and we do. The elevator is so shiny it nearly hurts my eyes and the doors swishes with a close and Trowa uses one of the two buttons. B. There's G and B. Not a lot to the place, I guess. Up or down. The elevator doesn't start immediately and I'm kinda amazed that Heero is already stood, arms folded across his chest and head bowed slightly in a more relaxed pose than I thought possible in the middle of a mission. Yeah, I knew he and Trowa had stayed in touch so that he had more faith that we were safe but still, I wasn't letting my defences down straight away.

"Barton."

That's when I guess what we were waiting for. Voice recognition. Think it's a kinda amateur alarm system as I could now work out a way to infiltrate. Steal keycard. Get recording of voice. Enter. But then, this was probably more complicated than your average L2 thief could manage and infiltration kinda was my speciality so I don't criticise as we move downwards quickly.

Trowa doesn't say anything else, just shifts the bags of weapons on his shoulders and occasionally glances in both of our directions. Correction. Heero he basically ignores – he's focused on me. Suspicious much? Or does he really just damn dislike me? Right now, the feelings mutual buddy.

The elevator pings open and Heero looks up finally and we walk out onto a walkway suspended above a large room that has been turned into some kinda command centre. I can see plans and laptops over a series of tables. I can see scale models of buildings. The room could probably fit at least three Gundams in but is being used for models of hospitals and schools and university campuses. Seems really out of steps, you know. Weird. And then it oddly reminds me of Dallas' plans in the doctors consulting room – plans that were the opposite of these – these were all the intention to build stuff and Dallas' were all the intention to take stuff down.

There are rooms going off the walkway – they look like offices but some seem to have been converted into living quarters. It doesn't look really Winner-esque – it's like an underground bunker. Comfortable enough but not really fancy living and all. Reminds me of Peacemillion and the Sweeper ships I'd spent my time on as a kid and the amount of people working give it that impression of being a lived in place. I kinda like it. Not as intimidating as walking head first into a usual Winner residence but then I suppose they were in hiding. Living among the riff raff kinda was awesome cover. I'd expect him to be at the fancy hotels. So would anyone trying to kill him. Not here.

Not leaving an office to the side and taking a second to look at Trowa - a puzzled look crossing his face at the duffle bags before turning baby blue eyes to us. Apparently he'd been given no warning. Which I think on Trowa's part is kinda cruel.

"Nice digs, Quatre, seems like you've come down a little in the world since the last time we met, huh?"

He blinks and takes a second to register us. I look at him – he's grown taller and doesn't look as try hard without a suit – he's in well fitted and tailored jeans but hey, jeans, nonetheless and a pale blue shirt. The casual thing suits him better than the whole suits, I always got the impression on vidscreens he looked too young in them and was wearing daddies cast offs. Trowa had the height for them and plus he always looked a little older than us anyway, Quatre not so much. Too blonde or something.

It amazes me that it only takes those few seconds for him to compose himself – guess that's what comes from all that fine breeding and all, and he's shaking hands with Heero in a very, well, formal way and then he walks over to me and I realise we've both grown in height a little so that we're pretty much eye level – he's a touch taller but hey, he probably has better genetics than me plus a far superior childhood so I'm not gonna bitch.

It's an awkward one arm hug thing we do – I'm guessing this would be a lot more expressive if he was more sure that I wasn't some badass criminal and if I wasn't awkward about the fact I have blood on my hands and his shirt is pale. They know Heero is golden being that he'd been in touch in last few years but I'm kinda an unknown. Trowa's totally trusting the fact that I said I'm an undercover Preventer and Heero's word. Suppose its heart warming. Maybe going through a war together creates bonds or something.

We part and I have my hand behind my head, scratching the back of my neck beneath the base of my braid and his eyes scan the tatts as well. I'm gonna make a comment on Winner Corp becoming more accepting of people with tattoos and who look alternative but he gives me this small smile.

"We thought you were dead."

"I went into deep undercover work. You guys had to think I was outta reach, you know."

There's an uncomfortable silence. There's three years and probably a lot of anger and hurt here – yeah, going undercover was quite a selfish decision in its own way. I decided I didn't want to officially die – I could've had 'Fei arrange an explosion. Could've had him do something that they didn't think, didn't wonder and didn't try and find me.

The whole awkwardness of the situation and the fact that neither me or Quatre are saying anything must've freaked out Trowa as he just decides to leave the situation. Kinda what I'd like to do. Actually felt more comfortable in the District than here. More at home. Less like an asshole. Or still an asshole but not one who had caused a great deal of hurt to people that he cared about.

"I'm going to reset the perimeter trips."

"I'll join you," Heero said.

Trowa just nods in acknowledgement and it's like they're weird non-talking best buds again. So goddamn easy but then there really wasn't any bad blood between them. I'd been, bluntly, a prick to Quatre and I should apologise but then is three years too long to just say sorry? Fuck knows. I'm not well versed in people staying or reappearing into my life – they usually die, pure and simple, and that's easier to deal with. They're gone. Get over it. Pick myself up, brush myself off and survive. Yeah, never had to play nice and make up until recently. Suppose me and Heero had done pretty well but then we punched each other and fucked. Which obviously I couldn't do with Quatre being that, well, that would be like screwing a brother or something and plus we're both attached.

Heero squeezes my wrist briefly before going back towards the elevator and Trowa gives him back his gun and his bag. I don't get my weapons back. I feel like pouting but instead lean a little back on the railing trying to look casual.

The touch is brief between me and Heero but I realise that Quatre's eyes drift to where our hands have just touched – considering I've just walked back into his life after all this time, he's reading me like a goddamn book again. Seeing that touch between us makes him raise a slight eyebrow and I shrugged my shoulders.

"We're working shit out."

"Good," he said and then didn't seem to know how to continue.

I didn't know either. As the most chatty of the five of us and the most, well, sociable and least monosyllabic we should just start talking but I'm shit out of anything and this seems totally wrong – to be here, in an underground bunker on L2 when me and Heero have just tortured a guy, it just all makes me feel a little more self-conscious.

"Should I start at the beginning or something?"

He glances over my shoulders and I notice that we are being watched very closely by what must be his security team and just generally his staff. There seems to be very little work going on down below as there's a level of interest and suspicion at the new arrivals. Namely me.

"We'll talk in my office – no spectators."

I look behind at the staff and plans below and then follow him into the room he'd just come out of. The room is both office and private quarters. It's cozy. It's obvious that Quat and Tro are sharing the space – the bed is two small uncomfortable military grade bunks pushed together, the covers made with the precision. I idly wondered whether it was the merc or the millionaire who did that. A desk has been moved to near the centre of the room, a laptop and papers litter the surface and it's all so… war time like. Really does remind me of Peacemillion. The only time the five of us got to be a team. Gundam team go forth or something cheesy. Make it sound like an old cartoon.

"Nice."

"I suppose you'd call this roughing it for me?"

There's a slight hint of bitterness there – a little more steel underneath his words than I remember Quatre having but the past three years had not been roses and candy, I guess. Responsibilities, death threats and shit. Gotta become harder – gotta not be the boys we used to be. I acknowledged long ago that the boy I'd been disappeared – gone after too many shit holes and criminals and draining jobs.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"For which part?"

"All the parts… the pushing you all away, being a drunken jerk and then disappearing. I kinda thought you'd give up on me, you know… think I was the loser ex-pilot who got beaten up in a bar fight and rotted in some ditch somewhere. Thought you'd get over it."

I'm not looking at him purposefully. I look at the papers and see that there's print out from the news feeds about the hospital explosion. It makes me swallow as I see names of the dead Preventer agents listed and I then decide I can't look at that so actually look up at Quatre.

"I thought you weren't dead for so long. Knew it somewhere deep down that you weren't but… I started to give up."

"Sorry."

"You couldn't give us any clue?"

"Meant to be super top secret, you know. Seems Heero didn't get that memo, though, keeping in touch with Tro and all."

He sighed deeply, put his hand through his blonde hair. "We tried to find you for years. I paid private detectives. Hackers. Anybody."

"Well, should've just asked Wufei. He's my handler and boss of this dinky little operation."

That must hurt a little, I guess, as he'd been keeping a whole load of big secrets from us all. Me and Heero not knowing we were both working for him. Quat and Tro not knowing that we were both undercover. Not letting them know I was alive, at least, and you know, okay and shit. His eyes give something away but we don't move to get comfortable. Doesn't offer tea. Not that I want to play and pretend civility. Always made me uncomfortable anyway. Remembered visiting him during the war when he first returned to the old family company in space and wanting to be out of the fancy digs.

"The L2 Project… came with a lot of trouble."

Evasive tactics. I'm always so good at them. Change the subject and let's not talk about how I feel. I've apologised which I'm feeling is enough right now so I'll leave it at that. Don't want to get all mushy in what was still an undercover operation – we weren't off the clock. Just a diversion. Suppose when I got a moment with Heero we could work out our next move – think of someone else to threaten and torture or something to get near to Dallas and Roth. Yeah, head still in the game, Duo. It may be a nice little reunion but we're still working and still rogue agents. Our staying in the Winner Corp underground bunker was not gonna last and I was fine with that.

"In a weird way, this has become a vacation. I'm unavailable to everyone from my Personal Assistant to the Board of Directors. I can work on the L2 Project undisturbed. I see Trowa for more than the forty five minutes in the gym at six am. It got to the point where I forgot that we used to have sex… that he wasn't just my bodyguard."

I admit, though I am very aware that Quatre and Trowa were sexually active during the wars and spent some "special" quality time together aboard Peacemillion after Tro's memories returned, that I have never, remotely ever thought of them having sex. I think it shorted my brain out. I suppose he was used to my very blunt ways of talking about this – I'd basically just said to him after Heero's self-destruction that "I was fucking 01" – which, is a quote and I felt one that accurately defined that relationship at the time but talking about him and Tro? Weird. Does not compute or something. I decide to ignore the sex comment and go with the rest of his words.

"Sounds like I was kinda harsh on you," I said, quietly.

I didn't think for one second at the time about the shit he got for being the only male Winner child – didn't think about the pressure and expectations and his goddamn job. Plus, he'd lost his father pretty damn nastily during the war – had a really difficult and complicated and, well, guilt-ridden relationship with Trowa and I never really flipped the coin over to see his side. I knew I felt fucked up, knew that at sixteen wasn't dealing with peace too well and missed Heero like hell. Totally selfish – everything's about Duo or something. Heero had already pointed out that everything wasn't about me but yeah, I've figured my shit isn't that important. Wow. This must be maturity.

"You needed time. I tried to pressure you into acting too quickly. I should apologise for that."

"You don't need to apologise for trying to give a dumbass money, Quatre. Really, this whole thing seems like totally my fault."

There's a pause and the mood seems ever so slightly lighter but then I look around at all these plans. The hospitals, the community centres and the schools.

"Was this all…" I stumble over my words. Damnit. "Was this all to, like, reach out to me?"

I don't meet his eyes. Yeah, he ain't that kid I knew anymore but I think this conversation has strayed too far into emotional stuff for me. Yeah, older Quatre was less likely to get all emotional but still, avoiding eye contact seemed safest.

"It started that way," he said, walking over to the white board with numbers. Costs. Wow. Large costs. "Then I just figured this colony never really got the shot the others did… then it just became about helping the people."

"Very… charitable."

"Not too much… there's money to be made here, too. Not everything is charity."

Charity – that stupid conversation we'd had on the lawn at Relena's stinking party all those years ago. Maybe if I'd not been so stubborn, he may have just given me enough cash to start up a business and I'd have paid him back not ended up where I was now.

The door opened and the memory of that conversation fades. Heero looks ever so slightly wary, maybe wondering if we'd had some kinda fight or something but instead, we're just stood at opposite ends of the room looking casual. They both enter knowing we haven't ripped each other to shreds. See we are more articulate. Managed to have a conversation without weapons.

"Feels like we need Wufei ranting about justice… make this into a proper Gundam reunion or something."

I don't get any laughs – not that I expect any as the four of us stand in a room together for the first time since the wars. Heero breaks the silence.

"I have a plan for getting to Dallas and Roth."

I just stare up at Heero. He has that slight frown thing going on – that crease of brows that means he's thinking really carefully over his words. He glances between me and Quatre and then towards Trowa who looks a little put out. Which I'm guessing it's because they've been discussing this plan and Tro doesn't like it. I am guessing that I won't either.

"We need to draw them out."

"And how to we do that, genius? The place is crawling with the Preventers, he ain't gonna do anything until he's sure that it's time for the end game."

There's a one word answer.

"Bait."