Bishi Pile Challenge:

Major challenge response: Wind, Conspiracy, Assassination,

Minor challenge response: Longest Night, Crystal, Murder

Word count: 3,181

Series: Friends 2: Friends and Enemies

Author: Karina

Pairings: Zechs + Duo, Trowa x Quatre

Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters.

Warnings: No apology given for Aussie spelling, but fair warning given.

Character Challenge: Duo, Zechs, Quatre

Chapter 20

He ached.

Even in the dream, and he knew this was a dream, everything was too surreal to be anything other than one of his dreams. Even in the dream his 'body' ached, a 'physical' reflection of the stress he had been under over the last few days... and was still experiencing.

It was bad enough Marquise had cut him off, redirected him with a few well placed words, intending to go it alone in hunting down those who had marked him for death. He was expected to sit out the hunt, a hunt he wanted to pursue, and now there was Quatre and his superhero complex.

He pressed his dream hands over his 'eyes', shaking his head against the thought. Superhero. That was not exactly fair, he supposed, but the bat cave sure as heck was like something out of a graphic novel or movie. There was no doubt about it, superheroes were alive and well hundreds of years after their invention. He should know. He had had an up close and personal tour of the bat cave after all.

Somewhere, off in the nether reaches of his dream, he could hear his dead moaning. The sound carried on the non-existent yet perpetual wind that blew through this place. A zephyr of 'air', or whatever it was that passed for air in this reality, carrying with it the moans and whispers of the discontent, the displaced, the unfairly dead. The agony of those who had died at his hands... and those who had died if not by his hand, then had died because of him.

His dead, who crowded into his dreams, moaning and calling out their despair, their lost dreams, the names of their loved ones... who reached out for him, to him. They were there, haunting him still, but why were they so distant this time around? Why did he hear them from afar and why did they draw no closer? He was accustomed to them crowding him, pulling at him, accusing him, wailing before him.

Everything was different and it disturbed him.

He looked about him yet again, lowering his hands from his face, curious and determined to find what it was that made this dream different. There had to be a reason after all; there was always a reason. It was a curious place. More a bit of 'nothing' really than a something, a some place. Featureless, no shape or form. More a glow of light than a real 'place' reflected in his subconscious. It was disturbing to say the least, being 'nothing', but if nothing else, it was a haven from his dead.

He had gone to ground, though Marquise would not have expected this result when he had told him to run, to make himself scarce. He had, in a sense, done what the man wanted though it had not exactly been his choice to do so initially. He had determined to present a low profile and only if he felt the need had he intended to pretty much vanish from the face of the Earth. Perhaps literally. As it turned out, without any effort on his part, that was basically exactly what he had done.

How long he would linger in this sanctuary birthed of Quatre's fertile imagination he had no idea, but until the heat was off and those who might pursue him lessened their vigilance, it would certainly do. For now.

He was good at running and hiding, even if he did not particularly care to do so, as with the situation at present.

Warm flush of... curiosity? Well, yes, he supposed he was curious about the place. It was understandable that he would wish to know more. He did not even know exactly where he was, somewhere in Sanc certainly, but as to where in Sanc...? That question had not, as yet, been answered by Quatre.

And just how many people did Quatre have running this place? How had he managed to sneak - and sneak was such an understatement given what he had witnessed - the construction of the base past Preventer's sharp scrutiny? This was exactly the sort of set up Preventer went to great pains to sniff out and remove, preventing clandestine organisations from growing to the point where they caused unrest on the world stage. Yet despite the very efficient organisation set up to eradicate this kind of problem, Quatre had succeeded in constructing this massive complex in a very private valley that was potentially not all that far from New Port City and the power centres throughout Europe.

Sanc's landscape worked in Quatre's favour, there was no denying that. The wild spaces of the country were pretty rugged, the mountains inhabited by few people. But to manage to construct such a sizeable facility with state of the art equipment and have not even a whisper of it reach his ears...?

Something stirred on that minuscule current of air and he peered around him, looking into the glow, seeking some feature that was not there, trying to peer beyond it. The whispered voices and the moans were, if anything, more distant now. It felt like there was something... someone... standing just beyond his sight. Someone was hiding; someone who was as good as him at being unnoticeable whilst standing in plain sight.

He flinched, though his 'body' barely registered the move. It had almost touched him he was sure, just skimming beyond his actual form, there but not there, passing. It knew he was there and it was stalking him.

Was... it?

A shimmer in the light, something somehow changing, reassuring, offering something that might almost be protection. Almost. The light skim of something that was curiously no threat but more... more... Something else he could not quite determine, but definitely curiosity moved it.

A sanctuary in the middle of nowhere, close enough to the hub of the country to monitor the life beat of the world. The thought almost took him by surprise, so distracted had be become by the 'something' he was sure lurked out there in the 'nothingness' that was this place. The facility was designed, if he chose to believe Quatre, to work with those people who were... different, for want of a better word.

Different?

Had someone... moved behind him? Whispered? No. No, he was thinking too much. The strangeness of this place was putting him off. There was no one there, he could see that every time he looked around. He was allowing himself to be upset by the not quite void, the nothingness, the otherness of the 'here'. He was allowing it to get to him and causing him to imagine those 'things that go bump in the night' with ridiculous amounts of... of...

Fear was too strong a word. Regardless of what it was that stirred his reaction, it was both ridiculous and childish. He was no child, he had grown up a long time ago and only children were frightened by nothing.

Quatre...

Almost a whisper but again he was alone, solitary, jumping at shadows that could not exist in all this light.

Quatre? Well, Quatre was an annoying asshole on occasion. One never knew what he was capable of doing, or saying, from one day to the next.

His... bat cave...

He... No, there was no one behind him, no one whispering. The only whispering was the moans of his dead carried on the zephyr.

Too fertile an imagination, that was what was wrong. He needed to distract himself and he supposed Quatre and his 'house of surprises', the bat cave, was enough to do it. Thinking about that would surely get his mind off the strangeness of this space and this weird-assed dream in general. Maybe it was all just his subconscious demanding he settle this whole thing in his mind whilst he slept... Yes, that was it. So, he just needed to stop thinking of the strange light that surrounded him and the distant moans of his dead and... and start to remember his reactions to the events of the day. Remember his introduction to the perfect super hero's abode.

Well, how else could he describe what Quatre had suggested? What he had constructed here in the middle of nowhere... It was a sanctuary and training facility for those who had... who had...

Nah, he just could not say it.

And Quatre had gone further, revealing that he thought that he, Duo Maxwell, was... was one of... ! Because he had gone after Marquise, Quatre now named him as one of THEM.

Psychic.

The word seemed to hang in the still air. In a remote, disconnected fashion he realised that the moans and whispers were gone now. His dead were gone. It was just Duo and the light and that word.

Quatre wanted what was nothing more than a dream. He wanted a place where he and others with 'abilities' could find peace and a sense of belonging. Quatre wanted to draw others who were like him, who had that extra... something... and learn about them. To learn to accept what they were, what 'others' could do, what they were capable of, and not be viewed as... the terms were derogatory to say the least.

Monsters. Oddities. Freaks. Abominations. Get used to being considered mad or, at best, simply weird. Definitely not 'one of the guys' material.

It had proven to be one of the longest days he had known. Long because there had been no real opportunity to rest, because he had been worrying over what to do, what to say, where to go... In the end Quatre had whisked him away and he had ended up punching the bastard for his secrecy, he was not going to apologise or take it back; the prick had deserved it! He was supposed to accept being brought out to this remote location in the back of beyond and... He had basically been kidnapped!

But oh God, the bed had been heaven when finally he had collapsed into it!

A warmth he could almost equate to 'understanding' brushed his awareness. Offering some degree of comfort he was only too happy to accept.

The tour of the cabin had been quick enough, but the tour of what lay hidden beneath it had been something else again. Behind the winter cattle pens and storage rooms in the cavernous space that served to disguised the complex, lay a series of laboratories, barracks rooms, mess hall, meeting rooms and offices. The mountain was honeycombed with caves lurking in the shadows of the 'public complex' and not many of them looked entirely natural.

By his estimation a few hundred people could be accommodated with ease, and he was uncertain if he had viewed it in its entirety. No doubt Quatre could magic up a bit of extra space if he needed to, and that was just plain scary.

Why?

The question seemed to hang in the air, replacing the other disturbing word he did not wish to acknowledge. Somehow 'why' was not as disturbing to him as 'psychic'. He supposed that should worry him, but at the moment he really was too tired to care. The voices, his ghosts, were in absentia and that meant it would be a rare night when he could get some quality sleep.

If he ever got out of this weird assed dream.

Why? Why what, Mr. Subconscious? What, why, do you want to know? Why did I knuckle down and let Quatre bring me here instead of heading out and going it alone? Why did Quatre build this place? Why is Quatre such a paranoid prick? Hell, they were friends, I can call my friend that, it was not like he was the only one who was overly suspicious. Why am I such a paranoid bastard?

He was every bit as paranoid as Quatre, the primary difference between them was that he just didn't have the cash flow to get away with expressing his paranoia in the same fashion as Quatre could.

Why?

Still with the why? Ah well, why not? Think it out, think it through and then thumb his nose at the world like he usually did. Flip it the bird, even moon it! Why not?

Quatre pretty much was a law unto himself and, yes, he was paranoid. There was good enough reason to be, but if his own subconscious wanted to be a bitch and want something more... Well, he could deal with that. Provided he got some sleep before the voices, his dead, came back to haunt him.

Was it worrying him that much that he would disturb his own sleep with questions about it? Probably, he acknowledged. He hated not knowing everything and, whilst Quatre had the best of intentions, he had his own depths of paranoia to placate.

Quatre claimed to want to monitor the pulse beat of the world, to nip trouble in the bud before it sprouted dangerous roots. But it was not just that; Quatre wanted more. He wanted a place, a secure place, where the weirdos of the world could live and work without being considered to 'be' weirdos. Quatre wanted to learn about others abilities, to develop and train said abilities and he wanted...

He wanted to NOT be alone, to NOT be unique.

Yes, Duo mused, that was a large part of it he was sure. Quatre had always been different and it was not his family position or money that had marked him. Space Heart, they called it, but Quatre was quite adamant that there were others out there with the same, and varying, abilities. He wanted to gather those who shared these 'extra' perceptions of the world and give them a...

Well, Duo mused, he supposed what Quatre had been leading up to was that he wanted them to find acceptance, a home.

The glow surrounding him dimmed, speedily but gently, no abrupt transition from light to dark, no feeling of abandonment, of being thrust into a cold and dark place. Duo felt an assurance of well-being enfold him as the darkness came, a gentle caress at first then an enfolding, comforting absence of light.

An assurance he would enjoy dreamless sleep.

Crystal blue eyes flickered beneath carefully lowered lashes, barely a quiver of the pale lashes betraying eye movement. A quick flick to the door, body motionless, seeming relaxed in sleep whilst he listened. Footsteps beyond the room, moving past the door, a regulated, measured stride. The stamp of military issue boots was unmistakable.

Moving past, no hesitation, no pause, moving on past, fading...

A little time yet then. He was being observed, of course, he had no doubt his every move was watched, but watch all they liked, they had no way of monitoring what he was doing, and that would grant him time. He needed a few more hours before he acted to escape this place.

He had intended to go to ground, to vanish and bide his time, patient but determined to hunt those who hunted him. Duo had offered to hunt with him, but he could not allow it. He was considered to be dangerous and on this hunt there would be a second attempt, be it in the short term or the long term. Knowing his enemy, biding his time, knowing the right time would come.

They would keep trying, covering their tracks when they failed, and maintaining a low profile. Each attempt would be harder to spot, even harder to thwart. It would be no easy thing, nor a quick hunt, determining exactly who was behind this assassination attempt.

If not for the indeterminate time required for this hunt he have taken Duo Maxwell up on his offer.

Vanishing from sight, though never from mind, he wanted the bastard to sweat, running yes, but with purpose not in fear. Taking his time to establish safe houses and secure protocols, gathering together a team of agents who, like he, who would have been likewise targeted... Yes, time was to be his friend, patience was to be nurtured. but now...

He could not discount the potential. There might, after all, be a sanctuary for him, for them, to escape to.

If he dared to involve others in this mess. Others... Gundam pilots. Could one actually keep them out of it?

One could but hope.

Treize would have been proud of him, keeping them busy for so many hours with their interrogation, saying absolutely nothing even as he answered their questions. Six solid hours. The debriefing had been entertaining in that sense, but he had been physically and mentally exhausted and time had not been his friend. Fatigue he had known would lead to mistakes, but he had persevered and after considering the debriefing he did not think he had erred.

For the moment he had a little breathing space, but he could not relax and he could go on for only so long without food and rest.

The nanobots were at work to bring his physiology up to scratch, but food and rest were a required part of that rehabilitation. He had eaten, testing the food with the use of the nanobots for unwanted contaminates, an automatic precaution when you wore the name Zechs Marquise. Thus far there had been no attempt to drug him to get their answers, or simply to poison him and quietly dispose of his corpse. That would come, when they deemed he had lost his edge of suspicion, but he planned on being out of here long before then.

One or all of those men who had debriefed him might have been in on the planned assassination, or they might have been trying to garner information on what he knew for their own hunt. Someone was playing dangerous games and when they had targeted him a whole new game had started. Whether they knew it or not.

Relena was the pacifist in the family. He was something else entirely.

He needed to determine if it was necessary to run to Quatre Winner's sanctuary, uninvited, his very appearance on the doorstep proving that he was one of those that Quatre intended to protect and use. Or would it be better, wiser, to keep his freedom to move initially, to keep that solitary independence and establish his own network? Running would mean his use of facilities designed for this kind of search would be limited for an extended period of time, but he would not involve those he sought to protect, who had saved his arse. Seeking out Winner would mean he might have assistance in this hunt. He might be able to offer sanctuary to the others who would be in similar circumstances to his own should they have survived what he was sure would have been a mass cleansing of the 'troublesome' agents.

He alone had not asked troublesome questions.

But, despite the benefits that could be gained, did he really want to involve Winner, and especially Maxwell, in this mess? Did he have the right to involve them?

End

Karina Robertson 2013