Disclaimer: This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

'The Museum' is a short story set in my Ghost Detective universe set during the last days of 'The Junkyard' while Duo and Heero are still out of town, and at the beginning of 'The Piano'. Hope you enjoy!

The Museum

Chapter 3

"Is everything alright?" Trowa threw a quick look in Quatre's direction as he waited for the traffic light to turn green. They had dropped off Wufei at work, stopped at a little jewelry shop to buy a present for one of Quatre's sisters and were now finally on their way home. "You have been awfully quiet ever since we left the museum."

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking."

"About?" The brunette wanted to know?"

His friend shrugged. "Stuff. Seeing Dr Hazzir again brought back a ton of memories. You know he was the first person - aside from my family, of course - that knew about my...'gift'. I'm not sure he fully understood but I could talk to him and he helped me make some sense of things."

"He does seem like a decent enough guy," Trowa agreed as he turned on the blinker and changed into the left lane. "And very down to earth for someone of his fame and position. His concern about that injured security guard speaks volumes."

"He once told me that spending so much time researching death has given him a special appreciation for life. I wasn't sure then what he meant by that but I think I am starting to understand now."

"Life is precious, you don't need to be an expert in dead things to know that." Trowa pointed out.

"True," the other youth agreed. "But most people don't consider their own mortality until faced with death in one way or another."

"I suppose."

Silence fell once again over the car's interior, until Quatre suddenly raised his head, as though he had made an important decision.

"I need to speak to Treize and Milliardo," He declared.

"Ummm...," His friend frowned a little. "Well, go ahead. I haven't heard of any law stopping YOU from using your phone while I am driving."

"No, I mean in person."

"Now?" Trowa's frown deepened. After all it had been less than two hours since the group had split up outside the museum.

####

"We are back!" Treize announced as he walked into the house. He had taken Cabal for a walk to the local shopping center to pick up a couple of things they were going to need for dinner.

As he let the dog off the leash the professor's eyes fell upon his leather briefcase, the one he was keeping all of his school papers in, and he frowned slightly. He would sworn he had left it on top of the shoe bench and not beside it.

And then when he entered the kitchen to put away he groceries he knew why. There on the table sat his black laptop, which he knew had been in the briefcase when he had left. Mystery solved.

"Milliardo," he called out, a hint of disapproval in his tone, while he put the vegetables into the fridge. "Next time you use my laptop at least put it back where you found it."

"Why would I use your laptop?" His lover's voice came back from the living room.

"You didn't?"

"Of course not. I do have my own computer, as you know."

"But..." The professor frowned then suddenly dropped his shoulders. "Oh no! Don't tell me..."

He reached for the laptop, turning it around so that the screen faced him and pressed the power button... Once...twice...and a third time. There was no sign of life, no flickering of the power light, no sound of the hard drive booting up.

"Not again." Treize swallowed a curse. "Alexander Khushrenada!" He yelled, clearly annoyed "Get down here, at once!"

The hollering brought Milliardo into the kitchen. "What's going on?"

"He broke the laptop again," the professor grumbled "How many times did I tell him to stay away from the electronics? How many times?" He repeated as he felt the ghostly presence draw near. "One would think you would know better by now."

"Oh come on, I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose," his lover tried to appease him. "And it's not like he tried to hide what he did either."

"That is not the point." Treize insisted. "I have all my notes on that computer. Notes that I need tomorrow morning at school. Heero is still out of town. If I can't find a place that get the hard drive working again I will have to redo everything. And..." He emphasized with a pause. "Whatever I have to pay for the repair or a new computer it will be coming out of your movie rental budget, Alexander, is that clear? What in the world did you need to use a computer for, anyway?"

The ghost disappeared, only to return a few moments later with one of the brochures they had brought home from the museum.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Treize frowned as the booklet dropped down on the table in front of him.

A sudden gust of wind turned the pages to an article about the Egyptian exhibit.

"Oh no, don't even try to change the subject. We are not going back to the museum." The professor declared firmly as he closed the brochure. "And we are far from done here."

Apparently Alexander begged to disagree. He opened the booklet again to the same page.

Treize's frown deepened into a scowl, and Milliardo wondered if this was the time for him to step in, just as the door bell rang.

Saved by the bell. Or so it seemed. With a last glare directed at his great-grandfather, the professor walked out of the kitchen to answer the door.

"Trowa Quatre?! How are you?" He would have been lying if he wasn't surprised to see their friends.

"Is this a bad time?" Trowa asked. "It sounded like you guys were...well... having a bit of an argument."

"Oh no, come in, please. It's just... Alexander seems to keep forgetting that ghosts and electronics don't mix. He broke my laptop again. But anyway," the professor added as he led their friends into the living room. "What brings you here?"

"We have to go back to the museum!" Quatre announced plainly and firmly.

Treize's head snapped around. One of his eyebrows jumped up in surprise. "Is this some kind of conspiracy?"

##

"Something happened at the museum," the young man tried to explain a few minutes later when the four...five of them were sitting together in the living room.

"Yes, we know." Milliardo replied softly, exchanging a long look with his lover.

"I'm not talking about the break-in and such."

"Not?" The professor asked surprised as he gazed at Trowa questioningly.

The young man simply shrugged. "Don't look at me. He refused to tell me anything until we got here."

"So, then what are you talking about?"

Quatre sighed. "Remember when you guys went to the giftshop and I left to use the bathroom...? Well let's just say the bathroom wasn't the only place I visited. When I came out I felt a presence and thought it was Alexander. So I followed it."

"Followed it where?" Trowa demanded.

"I might have sneaked into the staff only section of the museum," Quatre ducked his head at the admission and gave the young man a sheepish look.

"Quatre!"

"See, what's exactly why I didn't want to tell you earlier. I knew you would get angry before hearing me out."

"I'm not angry. I'm just...fine go on."

"So I eventually ended up in some storage room in the basement. I truly though I would find Alexander down there."

"But you didn't." Treize assumed.

The blonde shook his head. "It wasn't Alexander, but someone...something was there. And it was angry...very angry. I'd never felt such strong emotions, such resentment and anger... Frankly, it scared the heck out of me. I got out of there as fast as I could."

"Hmmm..." Trowa mused. "The security guard is alive, isn't he? So it couldn't have been him. I mean he would have a real good reason to be ticked off."

"No, I don't think so." Quatre shook his head. "This...thing was old and powerful. It had a long time to get to the point it is now."

"Then what are you suggesting?"Treize leaned back in his chair and looked at the young man firmly. "Someone else might have died at the museum, some time ago?"

"Frankly, I don't know what to think yet. That's why I want to go back..."

"You can't be serious, Quatre. Do you really believe I would let you go back to this place after what you just told me?" Trowa looked at his friends, expecting them to back him up.

And they did.

"Trowa is right, there is no saying what could happen," the professor pointed out, and even Milliardo nodded in agreement.

"I know I know." Quatre replied. "Trust me, I'm not crazy enough to enter that basement again. At least not before we know more. I just want to go back to the museum. Something there isn't right. I can't put my finger on it quite yet, but I have a feeling there is more to this whole break-in story than it seems... What?" The young man suddenly frowned. "Slow down Alexander you are making no sense."

"What is it?" Treize wanted to know. Even he could feel the intensity of the ghost's presence rise. It usually meant that Alexander was angry or very excited about something.

"I'm not sure what he is trying to say. Alexander, what do you mean by "its the wrong mummy?"

"What mummy?" Milliardo frowned.

"I don't know. Like I said, he doesn't make sense. All he keeps sayings is that's the wrong mummy."

"There weren't any mummies at the museum, were there?" Treize said. "I mean, they would be in the Egyptian exhibit, wouldn't they? And we never got to see that."

"Well..." Trowa mused. "Just because WE didn't get to see it doesn't mean he didn't, right? After all he went off exploring on his own, didn't he? And he was gone for..." The young man's eyes suddenly went wide and he swallowed as he took an involuntary step backwards. "What the...?! I think he just flicked my nose."

Quatre bit his lip, trying not to laugh.

"Nose...Knows! I guess he is trying to tell you that you are on the right track," Milliardo concluded. "So you DID sneak into the Egyptian exhibit, didn't you Alexander?"

"That still doesn't explain what he is talking about," his lover pointed out. "All we know that 'it is the wrong mummy" whatever that means. Alexander, is that what you were doing on my computer; researching mummies? Quatre, maybe you can figure out what he means."

"Well, I guess it's worth a try."

"Ah...on second thought, let's work on that in the car," Treize checked his watch. "If we want to get back to the museum before it closes we'd better leave now. Alexander, you are riding with Trowa and Quatre!"

####

"You want to know what...? If all my mummies are accounted for? This is some kind od joke, isn't it?" The expression on his face made it very clear what Dr. Snyder thought about the question asked by his visitors.

"I assure you it is not."

"With all due respect, Professor...Khushrenada it was, wasn't it..."

Treize cut the man off with an impatient hand gesture. "Please, Doctor, spare us the 'with all due respect' part. We all know that 99% of the time it is followed by something not very respectful. I do understand your reservations and I can tell you don't believe us. But perhaps you could at least indulge us. I mean what would be lost by going upstairs right now and checking on the mummies just to be sure?"

Snyder exchanged a brief look with the sheriff then finally shrugged with a sigh. "Very well. If that's what it takes to convince you that you are wrong."

Sheriff Bonaparte nodded. "I agree. I think we all will sleep a little better once we are sure."

It had been a quarter to six, just before closing time at the Browers and he had been on his way out after a long night and an even longer day, looking forward to a cold beer, a hot shower and a soft bed, when one of the museums' interns had caught up with him and told him that someone was asking for him at the front desk. When Bonaparte returned to the desk and realized who that 'someone' was he knew instantly that it could be a while before he was going to see his bed.

"Well, shall we go then?" he suggested. "The quicker we get this over with the faster we all get to go home, right?"

Leading the way, Dr. Snyder showed the small group to the second floor south wing where the Egyptian exhibit was located. The two policemen who had guarded the staircase earlier had left by now; probably when the museum closed.

"We currently only have two mummies on display," the director explained as he unlocked the door to the room with his key card. "And they have been here at the museum for six months now. A way to drum up interest ford the Egyptian exhibit you could say."

"Judging by the number of people that showed up for the opening today it seemed to have worked," Milliardo remarked as he looked around.

For him and his friends, Alexander excluded of course, this was the first look they got of the exhibition hall. The large room was decorated to resemble the inside of a Egyptian pyramid, down to very realistic looking electrical torches which flickered to life moments after they entered. Along the walls several chairs, replicas of furniture found in actual tombs, invited visitors to have a seat and rest while taking in the ambiance of the exhibit.

"Indeed," Snyder agreed. "Of course the break-in last night put a bit of a dampener on things."

He walked over to the display of a well wrapped body resting inside some kind of Plexiglas box. "As you can see, the mummy is protected not only by a very sophisticated alarm system, but also by this climate-controlled chamber which can only be opened with a special security code."

"Just out of curiosity, where and how do museums acquire mummies these days," Trowa wanted to know. "I mean it's not like they can go dig them up themselves anymore."

"There are different ways. In our case they are on loan from the Museum of History, Chicago. This particular one was a donation from a private citizen years ago. He had come across it after buying an estate in an action and decided he didn't want to keep it. But where it came from and how it got into the possession of the precious owner nobody knows."

"I heard it was very fashionable during Victorian times to own mummies and give big 'unwrapping' parties for entertainment," Quatre said. "But this one looks perfectly preserved. So I guess it might have been in the hands of a real collector or so."

"Yes, that's very possible. Now these...," the director continued as he approached the second display. The mummy, enclosed in Plexiglas just like the first, was also resting inside a coffin with a large ornate lid exhibited beside it. "...are the remains of a nobleman who died during the 18th dynasty, the time of Tutankhamen. According to the cartouche on his sarcophagus, his name was Meriptah and he served as the governor at a small province in the East and was... Oh my gosh..." The director suddenly turned several shades paler. "This is...impossible...," he stammered, as he staggered backward. His knees seemed to give out and he would have surely collapsed to the floor if not for the speed with which Alexander moved one of the chairs behind the man.

Quatre drew a sharp breath and exchanged a quick glance with his friends. But Snyder was too stunned to even realize what had happened, and fortunately the sheriff who was leaning over the sarcophagus studying the mummy, hadn't noticed it either.

"Are you alright, Dr Snyder?" Treize asked concerned.

"Uh...What? No! No, I am not alright. I am ruined!"

"Ruined?" Sheriff Bonaparte turned his head. "Why?"

"Because this is not MY mummy?"

TBC