A/N: Hello again! Here's a big thanks to those who reviewed/put this on alert! I appreciate your interest and I hope I can keep it!

Also, I'm in the market for a beta, so if anyone's interested, feel free to PM or email me. I'm looking specifically for someone who can help me with keeping everyone in character, specifically concerning Middie, Hilde, and Trowa.

Thanks for reading,

-picimadár

P.S. For anyone confused by the way I'm laying out this story, I'll be posting a linear timeline of it on my profile after a few more chapters.

When You Run Among Shadows

Chapter 4: Regret

November 20 A.C. 200, Colony X-18997

"Can I top yah up, Mistah?" asked the well-endowed waitress, a tray filled with mismatched glasses in one hand, gesturing to his empty glass with the other. He simply nodded, and the woman whisked the glass away and replaced it with a full one. Winking cheekily, she gave him a brief pat on the shoulder as she walked away, crowing in her thick drawl, "I knew yah weren't finished yet!"

He never used to drink, before.

Lately, however, the intoxicating fluid had become his crutch, dulling the pain he felt inside and out. The solitary man ran a hand through his thick, brown hair. It was a human attribute, needing something to depend on. In his line of work trusting another person was not an option, but the bottle never disappointed.

Out of habit he examined the exits, noting the people standing near them, mulling around, chatting. A group of young men, carousing and laughing; three older women, unwinding after work; and a young couple, sitting across from each other, holding hands. He lowered his deep blue eyes, settling them back on the cup of dark fluid in front of him.

He never used to sit alone before, either.

His brow creased as he checked his watch for the third time. 8:15. Neil was late, as usual. Although occasionally haphazard, Neil Carmichael was always loyal and diligent. Punctuality, however, was not one of his strong points.

"Sorry, man!" his company gushed apologetically, careening through the small bar's entrance. "Although you're probably used to it by now, huh?" The man sat down across from him at the small table, signaling a waitress, who quickly walked over while fixing her red curls. "Oh, I see why you get here early, you just wanna scope all the cuties before I get the chance!"

"Is there anything I can get for you, sir?" said 'cutie' asked shyly, avoiding both their gazes.

"Yeah, just gimme a rye and coke," the second man replied, smiling. The young girl nodded fervently, turning and practically running back to the bar.

"Wow…. I gotta start getting here on time, before you scare all of 'em away!" Neil stripped off his coat before leaning back casually in his chair, stretching his long legs. The silent man continued to stare at him, not appreciating his attempt at humor.

He used to laugh.

"Oh, come on now!" his black haired friend continued jovially, "you know I'm just messing with you, Caden!"

While his friend was served his drink from the same high-strung waitress, Caden briefly swirled the deep brown fluid around his glass before raising it to his lips and quickly draining it.

He used to be Heero Yuy.

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Thousands of miles away, Quatre Winner woke with a start.

He could feel it, a pain deep in his chest: the pain of loss. This pain, however, was not his own, but a residual sigh of regret passed on from another. Since he was a child, Quatre had found himself incredibly susceptible to the emotions of others. These feelings were passed along through their expression, their speech, but sometimes he could grasp even more than what intuition alone could reveal. He could feel someone else's pain after losing a loved one, the heated boil of anger, even the cool, penetrating grip of death as it took a life. Most of these came only as passing whispers, however for the people he was closest to, those he had a deeper connection with, Quatre always seemed to feel each of their emotions uniquely and strongest.

Blue eyes searched for a bedside table, hands grasping the clock. 2:15 am. Quatre groaned, throwing himself back down into his pillows. This is the third time this week, he internally groaned, rolling onto his side. Someone was hurting, their heart torn between two equally horrible options. Quatre could feel it, each time the chilling apprehensions of what could happen inched into this person's mind. He knew just from the sheer strength of it that someone he loved was falling apart.

Relena…, Quatre thought sadly, remembering the feelings that threatened to drown even himself during her months of hopelessness. Until then his 'gift' had seemed useless, its effects on him even dreaded, but that night he truly experienced why he had been given it. He shivered as he remembered placing his call to Trowa. Shaking with raw terror and dismay, Quatre had known what had happened to her long before Trowa reported back. Thank God, he had thought, thank God I even thought to call.

Since then, Quatre had been extremely careful with his 'inside view' of people's hearts. He tried not to see everything, hating the invasion of privacy, but all the same, he no longer tried to stop the foreign feelings from entering his consciousness. He had learned a way of identifying which strong, invading feelings came from those he was closest to, desperate to keep an incident like Relena's from repeating itself.

It wasn't her, tonight. Relena's feelings always came over him slowly, like a fog, seeping into his least pressing thoughts before eventually consuming even his actions. These new, dark, lonesome impressions were different from any Quatre had experienced in years. In the beginning they were infrequent, coming on strongly and sharply, before quickly passing over. Now, they were flooding him almost daily, waking him from deep sleep and startling him when awake.

Quatre sighed deeply. Deciding it was useless to try and continue sleeping, he climbed out of his oversized bed and crossed the room, powering up his computer.

As it booted up, the blonde young man reached for the nearby telephone, but hesitated before dialing. It's only 11:30 there, he thought, concluding that his intended target would be awake. The phone rang exactly twice before the line connected, the voice on the other end expectedly gruff.

"Chang here."

Quatre smiled, happy to hear his old friend's voice, regardless of how aggressive it may have been. "Hi Wufei, it's Quatre."

There was a noticeable huff on the other end. "Is there a reason you're calling me at this hour? It's 2:30 there, Quatre. Go back to bed."

"W-Wait!" the younger of the two men stuttered, "There's something I need to ask you!"

"Well then spit it out. I don't have all night, and neither do you. The Summit's in a month, you know."

Quatre sighed. Stupid summit. "Yes, I'm aware. It's not… well, important, I guess. It's about Heero," he admitted.

"You know I can't tell you anything more than you already know," Wufei answered sharply, but harshness couldn't hide the man's utter frustration from Quatre. "For all we have, he's dead. Or hiding underground in the Sahara. Or sailing the Panama Canal."

"Wufei, he's in space."

Not knowing how seriously the man would take his "mind-reading thing" as Duo would call it, Quatre braced himself for a possible onslaught, but it never came.

"That's what you think? What makes you so sure?"

"I don't think it as much as I feel it," Quatre tried to explain, "Lately I keep getting this feeling that someone's feeling horrible. That someone's gotta chose between bad and far, far worse."

He could feel Wufei's incredulous irritation. "It's the same feeling I got when he destroyed Libra," he practically whispered, "It's the same feeling I got the night he disappeared."

"Exactly the same? There have been some threats made recently, Quatre. Perhaps it's just someone else nearby," Wufei brushed off the information as gently but firmly as he could manage, refusing to believe what he was hearing.

"Goddammit, Wufei! It's not a coincidence. Heero Yuy is alive and in space!" Quatre immediately regretted yelling. There were better ways to convey how he felt, but the raging headache and lack of sleep certainly weren't helping anything.

"What do you suggest I do, Quatre? If Heero doesn't want to be found, we won't find him. It's just the way it is."

"Well, he obviously doesn't want whatever is being laid out for him either! Wufei, we have to find him, or something horrible is going to happen. We both know what Heero's capable of. I'd rather be hunting him as if he were the enemy than have him show up and confirm he is!"

Quatre waited while the other man silently digested his suggestion. "Quatre, just be careful. Relena isn't the only one people would like dead," Wufei said slowly, "You're coming here to Brussels for the Summit soon. Get here early. I'll see what I can do by then."

Quatre sighed, but didn't know what more he had expected to come of the conversation. "Thank you, Wufei," he answered, fatigue beginning to show in his voice. "I appreciate you listening. I'll come in a week early; I don't think I can manage more than that, unfortunately."

"That's fine, Quatre. Take care of what you need to first. Heero Yuy is Preventer business, and things otherwise have been slow. I'll look into it right away…. But I think it would be best if you kept the others in the dark for now," Wufei advised after a moment.

Quatre voiced his agreement and a brief "Good-night" before replacing the phone onto its base. He knew exactly what was implied by 'the others'; it was the reason why he had chosen to call Wufei instead of someone closer, or more amiable. Quatre didn't know how Trowa might have reacted, but he knew better than to approach Duo or Relena before they had more solid evidence.

Standing and stretching uncomfortably, Quatre made a mental note to purchase a more comfortable desk chair before returning to bed. Turning his pillow over and rearranging the sheets a few times, Quatre hoped that whatever Heero was battling with, he would make the right choice. Or at least a choice, so I can get some sleep!

---------

Wufei hung up the phone quietly, running a hand down his face. Heero Yuy is alive, he thought dryly, forcing himself to accept it. Of course, it's a more likely possibility than him being dead, after all.

Hearing footsteps in the hall, Wufei turned around quickly, grabbing his gun off the nearby coffee table and aiming it toward the noise. He quickly lowered it after realizing who had entered the room.

"Are you going to do that every time we're here?" Mingmei asked, an eyebrow raised with concern and irritation.

The man simply lowered his head apologetically. "I'm unused to the noise at night. If you haven't noticed, I don't have many visitors here," he replied, his sharp tone contradicting his posture.

"Well, that's a great excuse. I'm sure Mai will be as understanding when you point that thing at her," she shot back airily, turning on a heel and walking to the kitchen. Wufei simply let out a low growl before following her.

"I would never hurt her, and you know it. It's my job to protect her." Wufei practically challenged Mingmei to argue with him, insulted that she would insinuate he would ever endanger those he swore to protect. "It's also your job. Did you ever think of the danger you put us all in by coming here?"

Mingmei set down the kettle she had been holding heavily onto the stove. "I know exactly how much danger we're in, Wufei. Did you ever think of how dangerous it is for us back at home, in space!?" she retorted angrily, her voice rising as she turned her back to him.

Wufei wanted to yell at her, to shake her for being so careless. How on Earth did I let this happen, he thought to himself, his hands becoming fists. Why the hell did I agree to this?!

"Ming," he said, straining to control himself, "you are home, here."

It had been the wrong thing to say. "Really?" Ming laughed sarcastically, "Oh yes, I feel so welcome when I get home from work, open the door, and see you there leveling a gun at me!" Wufei opened his mouth to argue, but she wasn't finished. She turned and jabbed a finger into his chest.

"You know, I had to give up a lot of goddamn things I wanted to be able to take care of our daughter. I live in the safest part of town. I have a legitimate job. I take Mai to school every day and I'm there early to pick her up. When I'm gone, I make sure she's with someone I absolutely trust to keep her safe. She is everything to me, Wufei."

All he could do was stare at her, surprised with the sudden uncharacteristic rant. "Ming, I never said you had to give up your life for this," he started, trying to diffuse the situation before they both woke the young child sleeping nearby. "We've both had to make sacrifices. I've made a lot of changes too, and I'm trying to make things easier for both of us. You should have told me this was how you felt. I would have done something. I would have~"

"Would have what, Wufei? She can't stay here with you. She's too young. It's too dangerous." Brushing off his attempt at and apology, she sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. I meant for all that to come out more…. Eloquently," she apologized quietly as her eyes brimmed with tears, turning away from him.

Wufei would have continued the conversation, but the kettle's whistle cut him off. Instead he examined the young woman as she went about preparing tea. Her sleek, black hair was held up by a deep violet clip, slightly curling at the ends from the day's styling. She wore a short, simply patterned robe, tied tightly at the waist. It was a deep green, her favorite colour. Wufei slowly approached her, wrapping his hands around her middle and kissing her on the neck.

"Wufei, if you don't get out of my way, the tea will burn," Mingmei said quietly, turning around without breaking his hold. Wufei leaned in and lightly kissed her lips.

"Let it," he whispered, pulling her closer into his embrace.