Waking Up In Vegas
Chapter Thirty Nine
Quatre sat down abruptly tears forming in his eyes. He collapsed into the chair that up to then, Trowa hadn't noticed. Truthfully, until then, he'd never even realized they were in Quatre's living room.
"Oh, Trowa... Trowa, I'm so sorry. I never meant for anyone to get hurt."
"What do you mean, Quatre?" The taller man asked, coming to kneel in front of the blond. "Please... just tell me what's going on."
"It's all my fault," Quatre sobbed. "Jezzy, Iria, now Cathy and Delana... all my fault."
"Quatre!" Trowa grabbed him by the shoulders. "Snap out of it and *talk* to me. What does your sister's death and my house burning down have in common?"
"Me," Quatre said meekly. Heero was right. Hell... Heero was always right.
"Pardon?"
"I told you... Heero was going to be put on trial for accidentally killing a 'little' girl with our companies new missile system?"
Trowa nodded, recalling some conversation as if it were years ago... though it was only a few days.
"Well... the reason they never actually *charged* him with her death was because it wasn't just our missile. It was an entirely new missile guiding system. The military didn't want the bad publicity on it, and they eventually realized it was all mis-communication and it could have happened to anyone."
"Doesn't change the fact that she's dead," Trowa pondered aloud.
Quatre lifted his eyes to Trowa's green ones. "But she isn't. The girl who died in that warehouse... it was Jezzy."
Trowa's eyes widened. "Jezebel... that blond girl with the helicopter? Heero's *sister*?"
"Thinking he'd killed her? It almost tore him apart," Quatre nodded. "And you don't want to know what the rest of her family went through. Her adoptive mother... she was the one who gave to order to fire. Her adoptive father was the one who sent her into the building. But in the end... it was all my fault. I never should have built that stupid thing. People want it now... and they're stopping at nothing to force my hand in the matter."
"Quatre?" Trowa asked, sitting back on his heels, keeping his hands on Quatre's. "My, God, Quatre."
"That was the last test of the system," Quatre went on, refusing to meet Trowa's eyes. "When Jezzy tried, she accidentally took down a fishing boat that got too close to the ship we were aiming for. Pirates were on that ship. They'd killed Seventy-Three civilians when they attacked a cruise liner a month before. No one died on the fishing boat, but three people were severely injured. One almost didn't make it. The second test... the second test," Quatre swallowed. "I... I piloted it. The coordinates got mixed up. I still don't know what happened. I... instead of the rebel camp, I hit the town ten kilometers away. Fourteen people died. The entire town was decimated." Quatre blinked away the tears. "I killed them all, Trowa. Four women, five men and five children. Children, Trowa. I killed them. I never should have built that monstrosity!" He burst into tears, and Trowa's arms automatically went around him.
"What did you build?" He whispered into the soft blond hair. "Quatre... what did you build..."
"Neural interface," Quatre rambled. "It allows the pilot's mind and the computer to pretty much combine. Complex equations carried out before you can barely form the thought. Being able to precisely control advanced robotics from hundreds, maybe millions of miles away. The military decided to hook it to the missile control for precision maneuvers that would take the guesswork and miscalculations out of missions with narrow and precise parameters. So we did. We made the worlds most advanced missile guiding system."
Trowa's hand dropped away, his green eyes wide in horror as the whole truth struck him. He knew in his own soul he could accept blood on Quatre's hands. Quatre was still Quatre. Howard had been off to war, once. He'd killed people in the name of goodness, in the name of his country. That didn't change the way anyone felt about him. To Duo, Delana... and even to Trowa he was still Howard.
But what had Quatre built? It sounded like something from some horror movie. So not only had Quatre killed with this thing... but it was still sitting there... waiting on someone else to come and use it. Quatre had built a weopan of mass destruction.
"You what?"
Quatre looked away, unable to face the pain, shock... horror in his husband's eyes. "It wasn't meant to be like that, Trowa. I wanted to *help* people. The practical applications for that technology... do you realize how many lives could be saved? What we could do? Research on the moon... in the Marianas Trench. In hostile locations? Rescue missions in collapsed mines and buildings... in *fires*. If people would just stop with all the fighting, then we could..."
"People will always fight, Quatre," Trowa snapped. Quatre winced. It was the first time Trowa had raised his voice at him. Trowa's voiced dropped again. "People will always fight and look for ways to *win* the fight. No matter your intentions, Quatre... this machine of yours. It's a fucking doomsday weapon. As long as it exists, people will try to use if for wrong. It should be destroyed!"
"But... think of the lives we could save..."
"And how many lives must end before you save *those* lives?" Trowa asked calmly, emerald eyes meeting aquamarine once more.
Quatre's face paled. Cathy... Delana... Jezzy. They had barely survived. The people in that town... and Iria... Iria died for this. Fourteen people had died as a result of the machine. And one person had already died *for* ZERO.
And... that was fifteen people too many.
The shot rang out... and Meg flinched as the wood beside her head exploded, tiny splinters raining down upon her. Her eyes snapped open in confusion and surprise.
"Alejandro?" she whispered, bewildered. The man with the gun was collapsed in a heap upon the floor, and her husband was standing there behind him, a frying pan clutched in his hands. Some blond haired girl was there, too, running in just as Alejandro gasped, dropping the pan and moving to his wife, while the bronze haired Jasper stood looking shell-shocked as he followed the blond in.
"The kids are out back by the Navigator." she told the man who was busy hugging his wife and comforting his daughter. "Ali, get her and the kids out of here. Get them all in the car and get them as far from here as you can." She handed over a cell phone and the Navigator's keys to Megan as she liberated the gun from their attacker and pressed it into Ali's hand. "Speed dial 08 is Allelujah Haptism and Marie Parfacy- my parents. Just tell them Jezzy gave you the phone and what happened and they'll set you up a a hotel or something for a while. Head south, as far south as you can. Steer clear of big cities," she warned as an afterthought, as she remembered that she might be dealing with Terrorists. "Okay? Go."
Jezzy turned silver eyes to Jasper. "Go with them," she said. Jasper amazed himself at finding himself shaking his head.
"No. I'm not abandoning you here."
He was almost unprepared for the laugh she let out as she kept an eye on Meg and Alejandro leaving out the back door of the Maxwell-Chang household.
"Jasper, you're not abandoning me. This is what I do. I fight to protect those I love, any which way I can. I've been doing this for years. I've killed people just like these guys before. You're not a soldier. I am."
"I'm staying," he replied, the look in his eyes firm and resolved. She sighed.
"Okay." She opened a closet door, pleased to find a few ties. She grabbed them, and made quick work of knotting the unconsious man into binds, so that he couldn't move when he woke. With a quick spurt of genius, she gagged him as well.
With a bit of Jasper's muscle to help, she moved a couch in front of the door- which was barely haging by it's hinges after the lock had been shot and the door kicked in. She piled small tables on top of it to completely bar the door. It wasn't much protection, but it was worth a shot.
"What are we going to do," Jasper asked, peering through the blinds even after watching the Navigator disappear down the road. He couldn't help but wonder if his friends would be okay.
"Well, Trant there is just a grunt; I've come across him a few times before. I'm willing to bet that Mueller and Nichol are not far behind him... and Alex, too, probably. Those three are always a team; guns for hire to the highest bidder. It's like the three stooges, only cruel and really *not* funny. ANd with guns instead of cream pies."
"That doesn't sound good," Jasper pointed out. "What are we going to do now?"
"Well, first, I'm going to dump this idiot out back. Preferably near an ant hill," she smirked wickedly. "Then I'm going to..."
*Crash*
Jasper and Jezebel were thrown back as the large glass doors across the room- the unguarded patio doors- exploded inward, glass shattering everywhere.
"Otto," the girl hissed as she caught sight of the man barging in the door. She hadn't planned on him. Trant, Nikol... Mueller... yes. But she'd not have expected Otto. Damnit. The other's she'd know from *before*, but Otto she'd met during her recent stint as a maid in Tsubarov's house.
The man reloaded the shotgun with a pump. "Well Jenny Grace, the quiet little maid. The told me to keep an eye out for you. Wasn't really expecting it, though. How *are* you doing these days, anyways?"
"Better than you," she spat, barely managing to push herself and Jasper out of the way as the floor where she was standing exploded with the gunshot. She skidded, pulling Jasper out of the still open back door. The wind was still blowing, whipping her hair around her as she took off across the yard into the woods behind the house.
"RUN!" Jezzy's voice was almost lost in the wind as she tore into the sunshine, tennis-shoes thudding rhythmically against the moist earth underneath her. Jasper almost didn't hear her shout, but he saw her running, and decided the best course of action would be to follow her.
It was either the sweet, charming, funny girl he'd just met this morning... or the crazy pshyco behind him waving a gun. It didn't brook much contest in his eyes.
Damn, but that girl was fast. For such a short person, she certainly had a long stride; it took all he had to keep a few paces behind her. Soft spring dirt squished under their feet as they ran all out. Tree branches and bramble all clawed at them, snatching at hair and skin and cloth as they fought their way through the thick forest. It was probably only a matter of ten or twenty minutes, though it felt like hours, when they burst into a clearing...
And came face to face with the barrel of a gun.
Jezzy skidded to a halt, Jasper almost colliding with her.
"Jezebel Hartisan. Well, if the dead ain't walking," the man in front smirked, his Beretta leveled right at Jezzy's chest. "And here I thought it was Jesus that came back from the dead, not the tramp. Damn books'r always getting things wrong."
Jasper growled at the slight to his religion, but Jezzy placed a hand out to still any move he might make.
"Mueller," she sneered. "Should have know it was you. What? Nichol too good to get his hands dirty anymore?"
"Nah. Nichol's got bigger fish to fry than the likes of you. I'd say that Sandrock is probably short one CEO right about now."
Jezzy's eyes hardened. "Like hell. No way a jerk-off like Nichol would succeed in killing Quatre."
Mueller shrugged. "Dunno, baby-doll. But I don't care." The gun cocked. "The boss'll pay handsomely for you, no doubt. If we can't catch that ass-hole Yuy... you're the next best thing."
Jezzy scoffed. "Of course you can't catch Heero. He'd trounce your ass if you got close enough. And I *ain't* your baby-doll!"
"Not yet... but I'm sure the boss'll be *very* generous once you've outlived your purpose." He leered, and Jasper noticed Jezzy's t-shirt was torn and ripped in very provocative places.
"Go to hell, dick-face," she spat.
"Already been there," he grinned. "They kicked me out."
And then... he fired.