Disclaimer - I don't own Gundam Wing. Just in case anyone out there thought that maybe I did…

Warning - I wouldn't even know where to start with this one. Um….Reader, beware.

Note - Many, many thanks to my two wonderful beta readers, Kaeru Shisho and Snowdragonct for all their help. This one is dedicated to you; of course, you may not want it given what happens!

Duo, Distracted:

'This is all just really confusing for me, you know?' We were in the kitchen the next morning and I was making us grilled cheese sandwiches. Well, I was trying to, anyway. It wasn't quite going according to plan, but having something to concentrate on was keeping me from going into total emotional meltdown.

'I've basically spent the last five years coming to terms with the fact that the two of us were finished, and trying to get on with stuff, and now this happens and I don't know how I'm supposed to react.' I slid the spatula under the first sandwich, flipping it over, and wondering why all the cheese was leaking out. It's not supposed to do that, is it?

'Does that make any sense? I mean, I thought so often about getting in touch, 'specially that first year.' God, I'd dialled his number so many times, always losing my nerve and hanging up before the first ring. There were countless emails I'd deleted before pressing 'send', even a couple of real letters I'd written on paper. I think I still have them somewhere.

'And then I ended up doing some really stupid stuff, and it all ended up in the papers, and I couldn't see why anyone would want to be with me after that.' OK, the first sandwich was ready to be tilted out of the pan. Well, they're done when they're black, aren't they?

'But, shit, I really don't know. Any time we did meet up, it was just so freaking awkward and I really thought I'd just ruined it all and there was no way we'd ever be able to get back together.'

Hmm, the other sandwich wasn't going very well either. Maybe I should have put oil or something in the pan?

'I thought it might help if I could just talk about all this, but I'm getting even more confused now. There's the whole Trowa thing as well as everything else. What am I supposed to do? Tell him I want to get back with my ex-boyfriend, who happens to be the one true love of my life or whatever, just as Tro's in serious trouble of his own. I mean, there's no way I can do that to him, not now.'

Bloody Maxwell's Law. If one thing can possibly go wrong, you can be sure it will, and then everything else in my life will follow suit.

'I think these are ready to eat, anyway.' Granted, they didn't look particularly appetising - the toast bore a fair resemblance to lumps of charcoal, and the cheese had all dribbled out to form pools of black gloop. Still, food is food. 'And you're not exactly coming up with any brilliant suggestions, either. I don't know if you'd even like me being here full time, or if you can stand me for a few days but that's about it before you get sick of having a permanent house guest. Well? Anything to say, sweetie?'

Honey gave her breakfast a disdainful sniff and pointedly looked away.

'You're spoilt, Honey-bunny, you know that? And from what I hear, you didn't have the easiest start in life either, so you shouldn't be so fussy.'

Well, in her defence, the sandwiches did look - less than appetising. Instead, I got up and fetched some of her biscuits, as a thank you for being such a good listener.

'Maxwell's sodding Law,' I muttered again. Twelve hours or so ago, things had all been pretty near perfect. I'd had a nice day; I was going out for dinner with Heero; I was looking forward to seeing Trowa soon. No major dilemmas on the horizon.

Whoever invented cellphones deserves to be shot. Mine was lying by my plate, stubbornly refusing to ring, although I'd left the message, flagged urgent, over an hour ago, and I couldn't help poking it with a fingertip, trying to provoke it into action.

Damn, but I'd actually been holding Heero's hand when he took that call in the restaurant. I'd reached out to him, and his fingers had closed gently around mine. It had been the briefest possible contact; then he was on his feet and snapping questions into the 'phone and we were both rushing outside to the car park.

I'd ended up driving home, illegally as I'd had a couple of glasses of wine over dinner, but Heero had just thrown me the keys and it was such a pleasure to be driving again that I hadn't bothered to object.

Quat had disappeared; that was what all the fuss was about. He and his fianceé had spent Thursday evening at an engagement party, at a house belonging to one member of the incredibly fecund Winner family. They'd stayed overnight and left early on Friday morning; the happy couple and two of the Maguanacs acting as bodyguards. By lunchtime, one of Quatre's older sisters, who was supposed to be meeting the pair of them for morning coffee, had eventually become worried about their failure to turn up. She'd contacted Rashid, who'd taken over from Trowa, as Head of Winner Security, who'd straightaway sent out a couple of search parties and then contacted the local police force, who'd presumably taken one look at the identity of a possible missing person, and called Preventers.

I personally couldn't see what was the big deal at first. Periodically, Quat just got sick of all the Winner hoopla and took off by himself by a bit. He was probably tired of the fuss over his engagement, and just wanted to get away for a couple of hours; it seemed something of an overkill to start all this kafuffle.

Of course, the first thing the Preventers had done was to find out whether Mr. Winner had any enemies, such as ex-partners or former employees who'd left in less than optimum circumstances, and Quat's assorted sisters had happily pointed their manicured fingers at one Trowa Barton.

Cue to a couple of Preventer agents turning up at the circus, and hauling Trowa off to 'assist in enquiries.' They'd held him for six hours without making any formal charges, before he'd been allowed to make a 'phone call. He'd called Heero, of course, and Heero had spent most of the drive back to the house trying to find a colleague in Madrid who was willing to go down to Preventers HQ and represent Trowa.

Once we got back to the house, he spent a couple of hours on the house 'phone, either pulling in favours from old colleagues in the Preventers, or trying to find out what was happening on L4. I'd eventually given up after two am and just gone to bed, since there didn't seem to be very much I could do to help out.

I hadn't slept, of course. I could say it was because I was all worried about Quat, but it wouldn't be true. He'd probably either wanted to get away for a bit, or else it was some sort of sneaky plan to implicate Trowa in - abducting him or something.

Anyway, it sounds a bit on the callous side, but Quatre Winner had been the last thing on my mind. The really scary thing was how much I'd enjoyed my evening with Heero. How very easily all my defences against him had crumbled.

There'd been that fleeting moment of contact at the very end; I'd even used his name once.

Bastard.

I get really, really tired of calling myself stupid all the time, but sometimes it's the only name that fits how incredibly stupid I am. He hadn't needed to do very much, had he, to have me falling at his feet again? He could just disappear from my life, for years, with virtually no contact, and he thought all he had to do was take me out for a fancy dinner to an intimate little restaurant, and I'd have let him take me upstairs and screw me on one of those damned four-poster beds.

Shit.

Because - I don't know if I would have or not, if Trowa hadn't called. Weird that I actually had Quat to thank for that, in a backhanded sort of way.

Trowa. My boyfriend. Well, sort of; even if we weren't actually an official couple, there had been some sort of commitment and I cared about him. A lot. He'd never hurt me or abandoned me or kissed a girl in front of me. He'd never laughed about me with Quatre.

I'd eventually given up the ghost of pretending to sleep at around seven, and went down to the kitchen, meeting Heero on his way up. He'd been damn lucky that I hadn't knocked him down the stairs at that stage, the way I was feeling about him. Instead, we'd have the briefest of conversations; Trowa was still at the Preventers Office in Madrid, but no formal charges had been made and he would be free to go as soon as some paperwork had been completed.

It was my 'phone's turn to ring shortly after that. Up 'til then, it hadn't occurred to me that I should be worried about Quatre - he was probably shacked up somewhere with his pretty little blonde bimbo; hell, he'd probably stage-managed the whole thing to get Trowa into some sort of trouble. Although, if I let myself think about that, it didn't really make any sense. I mean, he'd have to turn up at some point.

Then I took that call from Theo Fichtner and - everything changed. My own fault, undoubtedly for getting involved with someone who was former White Fang, even if he was a friend of Zechs'.

I gave my 'phone another couple of jabs, moving it around the table and willing it to ring. Of course, when it did, it took me by surprise and I grabbed it without bothering to check caller ID.

'About bloody time! What's happened? Did you manage to find him?'

'Ah, Duo? This is Trowa. What's the matter?'

Oops.

'Tro? Shit, I'm sorry. I just thought it was um, someone else calling. What's happening? Are you OK?'

'I'm fine, honestly. Released as of fifteen minutes ago.'

'That's brilliant! Seriously. What did they say? They do know you're not involved?'

'They don't know that, but they can't prove otherwise,' he said flatly. 'There isn't any real evidence against me, though, so they don't have any legal reason to keep me here. The lawyer Heero recommended was amazing. I think they'd want to throw away the key otherwise.'

'Oh. Well, that's good. At least you're out.'

'For now. Duo, I really need to talk to Heero. Can you put him on?'

'I think he's asleep right now, Tro. Can't I just take a message and get him to call you back?'

'Sorry, Duo, but I really need to talk to him. My lawyer wants a word with him too.'

'Oh, fine.' I teased, starting upstairs very slowly: really not wanting to have to go into Heero's room when he was asleep and probably all - naked and whatever. 'I get it, Barton. I'm not good enough for you any more?'

'You're way too good for me,' he responded promptly. 'And I swear I'll talk to you properly soon. But unless you've acquired a law degree in the last week, I still need to talk to Heero?'

'I know a bit about law as well, you know. From helping Heero study when he first decided he wanted to be a lawyer. OK, just hold on a sec, Tro. I'll check that he's awake.'

No answer when I tapped at his bedroom door. Or when I knocked a little louder. Damn, I supposed I could hammer at the door and yell at him, but it seemed a bit rude when I was a guest in his home. He was stretched out across the bed, one hand clutching the blanket he'd pulled over himself. Normally, he's awake at the slightest sound, but I had to give his shoulder a shake; I did wonder how much sleep he'd been managing to get over the past few days.

'Duo. Hey.' He blinked, one hand shifting to sweep his hair back. 'What time is it?'

'Just after eight.' I proffered my 'phone. 'Trowa needs to talk to you.'

Heero did gesture me to stay, but the thought of it was too intimate, to sit on the side of his bed and listen. Instead I closed the door behind me, and sat on the top step, listening to the low sound of his voice.

Damn. I should have studied law; then I could be the one talking to Trowa. Heero had suggested it, once or twice, when he saw me reading over his textbooks, and I'd just laughed at the idea of someone like me attending a university.

I'd settled for helping him study and found I'd actually enjoyed most of it. Looking back, those were some of times we'd really managed to get on best; both focussed on something, like being back in the War. Of course, it probably hadn't hurt that we'd usually taken the text books to bed with us….

''Ro, if we ever split up, which of us would get custody of my hair?' God, it was impossible to believe; that once I'd actually been able to joke about us not being together, that I'd been so sure of him that I could contemplate us ever not being together, a possibility as remote as the moon.

'That would have to be me, as the primary caregiver.'

'But I'm the - what's it called? - the biological parent?'

It took me a couple of seconds to realise that Heero's hand on my shoulder wasn't just an unusually vivid part of my little daydream. Then there was a confused little interval where part of me wanted nothing more than to lean into him, another part was desperate to get away and my legs urgently needed to be crossed. I almost fell down the stairs, trying to get it together and by then, he was sitting beside me on the top step, close enough to touch if I moved ever so slightly.

'Uh, Tro said they're letting him go. That's right?'

'They don't have any real evidence. Apparently, the L4 Preventer Office was rather enthusiastic in contacting the Madrid Bureau and naming him as a possible suspect.'

'Charming,' I muttered. 'Nice to see they're still such an impartial organisation. I hope they're going to apologise to Trowa.'

'His lawyer's working on that.' He grinned suddenly. 'Personally, I think they should apologise for ruining our night out. I hadn't expected it to end quite like that, had you?'

'Uh, no.' Simple enough question, really. I hadn't known what to expect, what exactly he was going to tell me. I could still remember the brief, warm pressure of his hand squeezing mine.

'I think we need to talk,' he suggested softly, shifting just enough that his arm brushed mine, and then reaching one hand to touch my braid. It probably hadn't even been a conscious gesture; but it came directly after my daydream, and was the last little thing I needed to explode at him. Fuck, but it was terrifying; how very badly I wanted to be with him all of a sudden, how very completely he'd been able to annihilate five years of estrangement.

'I don't think so,' I snapped. 'What was the plan for last night, as a matter of interest? Get me drunk enough that I'd let you take me upstairs and screw me? You really think I'm that fucking easy that all you have to do is buy me dinner and pay me a few compliments?'

'Duo, of course I don't. I didn't mean...'

'Sure!' I snapped back. ' I know exactly what you meant, what you think of me. Just an easy, casual fuck, right? That's all I ever was to you, isn't it?'

'Duo, that's not what I think! I never thought that about you!' He stretched out one hand to touch my shoulder. Bad move.

'Get your fucking hand off me, Yuy! I know exactly what you think about me, what you said to Quatre. Just a cheap L2 whore, that's what you said right?'

'I swear to God, Duo. I never once thought those things about you. Never. And I never said anything of the sort to Winner. I hadn't even spoken to him in years, until you asked me to visit him in that clinic.' His hand hovered between us, obviously wanting to touch me, but not quite daring to reach out again.

'I would never, in a million years, think that about you, Duo. Never. And I would never talk about you like that. I can't believe you'd think that about me.' All kinds of emotions warring there in those few words, threading through his voice. Oh, definite concern above the rest, concern that he'd hurt me, caused me any sort of pain. But there was a tinge of anger and pain in there as well, that I could believe him capable of such of thing.

Well, maybe I wouldn't have. Once.

'Sorry.' It wasn't the most gracious apology ever, mumbled into Honey's neck, but I couldn't not believe him. I wasn't sure if I ever had, really, thought him capable of saying those things, but sometimes it's just - easier to believe the worst. To take those things Quatre had said and use them to shore up my defences against him.

'I'm sorry. It's - well, it was Quatre, you know. And I was having a really rough week. I'd been on this disastrous date, and then Tro arrived and he was totally screwed up, and then Quat called and basically abused me to hell and back for stealing his boyfriend and said all kinds of stuff, and some of it just sort of hit home, you know?'

'I don't know what's up with him at the moment.'

'No. I keep meaning to ask you, what did Quat say to you? When you visited him in that clinic on L4?'

'Nothing that made any sense. He was really heavily sedated and the doctors only let me stay for a few minutes. I don't know; he talked about Trowa and something about L3 and - seriously, I don't think he even knew where he was. He was talking about the War and something about the Colonies. Why?'

'Just wondered. That whole suicide thing didn't make a lot of sense. I mean, this is Quatre. He knows bloody well how to kill himself.'

'According to Tro, he's been acting irrationally for months now. Tro's better off without all of that. Anyway, he should be here by lunchtime.'

'Tro? Coming here? Today?'

'Didn't I tell you, upstairs? Cathy's insisting that he takes a couple of days off; well, he'll probably kill himself on the high wire if he's worried about whatever Quatre's gotten himself into, so I can see her point. I suggested he might as well come here. You don't mind, do you?'

'Uh, no. Of course not.'

Fuck.

Trowa.

Boyfriend.

Remember him, Maxwell?

The one who was being interrogated by bloody Preventers while you were off cosying up to Heero? And possibly doing more than that if the 'phone hadn't rung? That Trowa. Who really does not need this right now….I mean, his last boyfriend had apparently turned insane or evil or straight; so the last thing he needed or deserved was for his current squeeze to start doing the dirt. No way. I so wasn't going to go there.

'The thing is, I don't know if you mind him sharing your room. If you'd rather not, I can make up the couch, or put a mattress in my study.'

Right. Well, I suppose he had to find out at some point. And Trowa would be a convenient bulwark against Heero making any more moves on me, right?

'Of course he can share my room. You don't mind if we push the beds together, do you?'

'I'm sorry?'

'Yeah.' Shit. OK, better off just to tell him, stop any more little intimate moments like last night. 'I suppose we could share one bed but they're pretty narrow for two, given that Tro's so tall and everything.'

'I see.' He said it in that clipped, emotionless tone I'd always hated. 'I hadn't realised you two were together. Of course, you can do whatever you think best.' He stood up. 'I'm going upstairs to dress. Then I have to go into the office for a bit; I should be back for dinner. Tell Trowa to call my cellphone if anything else happens.'

Honey, watching him leave, whined softly. Dogs are supposed to be good at picking up on tensions, aren't they?

'You don't have to look at me like that, OK? I know. I'm stupid. I mess everything up.'

For something to do, I went up to my room and moved the furniture around.

Damn.

I knew Trowa would never try pressuring me into anything, but if we were a couple, then he might quite reasonably expect us to have sex at some point. Especially when I'd arranged for us to share a room and a bed.

'It's not that big a deal, really, is it?'

Honey, who'd followed me up and was sniffing around my shopping from yesterday, gave me a disdainful look.

'Come on. There are probably millions of people all over the universe who'd kill to sleep with a guy like Trowa. Don't know why I'm so worried.'

No big deal. Right.

I mean, it wasn't like I was totally shooting in the dark. Trowa was one of my best friends; one of the few people in my life whom I trusted totally.

It wasn't like we hadn't seen each other naked before; we'd helped to patch each other up a couple of times during the War and he's never been particularly shy when it comes to wandering around naked after a shower or whatever.

It wasn't like I thought he'd be into anything too weird in bed. There was a time when Quat and I had - told each other everything. I knew Tro was flexible and creative and had a lot of stamina. He liked to play around with assorted gadgets and gizmos, but nothing overly hard core. He was partial to a little bondage, and he preferred being on top, although he wasn't adverse to occasional experimentation.

I hadn't planned to change clothes, but bits of charred cheese had mysteriously attached themselves to my shirt. It felt strange, dressing for up Trowa Barton, and in the end I kept it casual. A pair of black jeans and a leaf-green cashmere sweater. It's not a colour I normally wear, but Lucca had convinced me it would set off my hair, and Tro loves green.

There wasn't a lot to do after that but wait for him to arrive. I tried to clean the pan I'd used to make breakfast, before giving it up as a bad job and hiding it at the back of a cupboard. After that, I sat on the couch and waited, letting my thoughts chase each other, trying to concentrate on Trowa rather then Heero, who'd left without saying anything else.

It was a huge relief when the doorbell rang. Honey catapulted past me once the door was open, greeting Tro with such enthusiasm she almost knocked him over.

'Someone's glad to see me, anyway.' He looked up at me over an armful of wriggling, over-excited dog, a definite glint in his own visible eye. 'Why don't I get a welcome like that from you?'

'You really want me to tackle to the ground and lick your face?'

'Absolutely.' He gained his feet in one fluid movement, and pulled me into a tight hug.

'God, Duo, I've missed you so much.'

'I missed you too. I'm so sorry about all this shit. Did you eat on the 'plane? I can get you some lunch if you like.'

'Coffee would be great. I'll just put my bags upstairs. Where's Heero?'

'Gone to the office for a few hours; he probably won't be back 'til this evening. You've been here before, right? It's the room at the top of the stairs. I hope you don't mind sharing with me.'

'Oh, this day just keeps getting worse,' he teased.

Damn, why couldn't he have wanted tea? Or a nice glass of juice? I headed off for another battle with Heero's coffee maker, jabbing buttons at random. I mean, it's a machine for providing hot drinks; it's not exactly rocket science. Then again, I could handle the rocket science.

That hug in the hallway had been more of a comfort thing - nothing too overt or boyfriendly about it. Maybe he'd reconsidered; maybe he'd decided we were better off as just friends. Of course, that might raise other issues. Maybe I was better off not being single for a while.

'Red switch on the side, Duo, and then click the first lever,' Trowa spoke, very close behind me. Then one hand lifted my braid aside and he kissed the back of my neck. His lips barely brushed my skin, but nonetheless set off a whole series of shockwaves further south, especially when he pressed the kiss deeper, letting me feel a little dab of his tongue.

'I noticed you've been changing the décor upstairs. I take it you've told Heero about us?' His glance was quizzical, with a definite something else lurking below the surface, something I wasn't quite sure I wanted to look at.

'Mmm. You don't mind, do you?'

'Of course I don't. D'you mind if I turn on the TV? Just to see if there's anything on the news.'

We both sipped our coffee, Tro on the couch and me in the armchair Heero usually took, while Trowa channel surfed; it was slightly weird - just how much he was at home in Heero's house. I hadn't realised he'd visited all that regularly.

'Sit beside me, Duo. Please?'

'I'm sorry about all this. About whatever's up with Quat.'

'Not my problem any more. And definitely not yours. Duo, you might want to put your coffee down for a minute.'

'Why? You think I'll get hyper if I drink too much caffeine?'

'I know you will. But I'd rather you didn't spill it all over Heero's nice couch when I kiss you.'

'Oh.'

Oh, indeed. He is a - very accomplished kisser. Lips and tongue and the occasional bite, which then had to be soothed and teased better.

'Is this all right?'

'Mmm.' It was - rather a lot of things, and a mere 'all right' didn't come close to describing any of them.

It was so wonderful that it was easier to shut down my brain and let other parts of me take over for once, let myself crawl into his lap and sprawl all over him. He seemed pretty happy for me take charge, at first, just lying back against the cushions and letting me have my evil way with him.

I was actually doing this.

I'd almost forgotten it; that heady rush of power, when you have someone stretched out beneath you and everything you do; every touch of mouth and fingertips and even a waft on air in the right place elicits a groan or a gasp or a goose-pimpling of sensitive flesh. Oh, he was so very sensitive, in some places, was Mr. Trowa Barton, moaning as I flicked my tongue around his nipple and arching up against me.

'Oh, God, Duo! That feels …'

'Good?' I teased, resting my chin on his stomach and grinning at him. It wasn't all that easy to believe, that I was seducing Trowa of all people, and he seemed to be loving every minute of it.

'Incredible,' he growled, reaching out to tangle one hand in my hair, and pull me to him for a kiss. Then there was a brief moment when the world whirled upside down, and I was flipped on to my back and he was the one on top.

It was probably the sort of move Quatre liked. All masterful and dominant and nothing that I felt remotely comfortable with. I don't think my brain even had a chance to engage before he was sagging back against the cushions with blood pouring from his nose, courtesy of my elbow jabbed into his face.

'Oh, Trowa, I'm so sorry. Shit, Tro, I'm really, really sorry.' We were in the kitchen, and I was applying tissues and ice-packs and the contents of Heero's first aid kit along with profuse and repeated apologies. Thank God, his nose wasn't actually broken, but it had taken over ten minutes to stem the blood and he was going to be sporting a highly impressive black eye. 'I'm so fucking sorry.'

'Stop saying that, Duo. It's my fault if it's anyone's,' Trowa gave me a rueful little grin. 'I shouldn't have rushed you like that, not here where anyone could walk in.'

I couldn't suppress a little shiver at that, knowing exactly who anyone would be, and he pulled me closer against him.

'It doesn't matter. I'll make it up to you tonight. OK?' Another slight shiver, which I guess he took for - something else - as he only laughed. 'I'm sure we can find an excuse to go to bed early, don't you? And lock the door?'

Oh, bliss. Making up and making out with Trowa, with Heero in the next room. Had to wonder how thin his walls were.

'Don't look so worried, Duo. Please. We won't do anything you don't want; you just have to tell me what you like.'

Heero.

Damnation.

Where had that come from?

OK, this was all getting just a bit too much.

'Tro, I think we need to talk about a couple of things.' Damn, but it hurt me just to look at his poor face. I hadn't even hit the eye which is usually hidden by hair. Still, maybe he could start combing a different way until he healed a bit?

What did I say about cellphones being a curse, the way they ring at exactly the wrong time? Forget it; they're a miracle; it was a miracle that mine rang just then, saving me from having the Sex Talk with Trowa.

Yeah, the Talk would have better than the call, actually. It was Theo Fichtner on the line.

'We found him. He's dead.'

Shit.

'I never meant it to happen. Seriously. I didn't think anything like this was going to happen. I thought it would just be routine surveillance. I didn't really think it would be dangerous. Not like this.'

Oh, God. It was all my fault. Another victim for Shinigami.

The call probably lasted another minute, tops. Manner and possible time of death. No particular efforts to hide the body. No media or police presence at the scene so far.

'I'm sorry,' I said again, uselessly. I didn't know if they'd even known each other.

'Each job has its own risks,' Fichtner told me in his precise English; then there was a buzz of static, and voices in the background. 'Mr. Maxwell, I suggest you turn on your television set. Immediately. Good day.'

Deep breath, Duo. Need to hold it together for a bit more.

'Tro?' He looked up expectantly. 'There's something I have to tell you.'