Brain Waves

Weiss Kreuz/ Gundam Wing crossover

By: Lazeralk

Standard disclaimers apply

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The gloves came off easily, then the stupid tie and crisply ironed shirt. Trowa didn't mind the shirt and pants so much as the gloves. They were annoying and he took great pleasure in tossing them into a bag on his nightstand.

Quatre slipped into the room and lightly traced his fingers down his lover's back before going to his side of the room and digging around in his bag.

"Chardonneret?" asked Trowa, pulling on his normal jeans and turtleneck.

"Yes love?" said Quatre, glancing up at him and pulling a length of ribbon out of his bag that Trowa recognized as the tie to the uniform of the last private school they'd been in.

"Is something wrong?" Trowa asked, frowning at his lover.

Quatre bit his lip and coiled the ribbon around his hand while he put his bag away and motioned Trowa over to him. He sat down on the bed, back to the headboard and waited for Trowa to get comfortable.

"Talk to me angel."

Quatre gave a small sigh and gathered his thoughts.

"My space heart has been throbbing lately. I feel like someone is dangling something in front of me and I can't reach it. The feelings that I'm picking up on are like…like hearing whispers through a door and not being about to understand the words. I feel something but it's all fuzzy and I can't figure out where it's coming from. All of us, that is, all of you guys, have a very distinct…I don't know, flavor. I can tell when a feeling is coming from Wufei, and Duo could have that same feeling but I could tell the difference. Understand? All four of you could be feeling the exact same thing but I'd be able to tell which feeling went with who."

"I understand." Said Trowa, letting his little lover sort though his feelings verbally.

"But this isn't like that at all! It makes me nervous, I want to know where that feeling is coming from and I want to know what it means." He said crossly, glaring at the tops of his shoes.

Trowa suppressed a grin.

"I'm sure you'll find it out soon enough love, now what are you doing with that ribbon?"

"Oh this? Duo lost his hair tie on his last mission and Heero has forbidden anyone from leaving the house, so…"

"Ah. That's very kind of you chardonneret."

Quatre blushed; eyeing the small, amused smile that Trowa gave him and returning it. He hopped off the bed, gave his lover a kiss and went to search for the longhaired American.

Trowa paused, mulling over Quatre's words. Come to think of it, he had a slight feeling of foreboding himself. His soldier's danger sense was tingling ever so slightly. He frowned, and then jacked a bullet into the chamber of his gun before tucking it at the small of his back.

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Heero hit a few keys on his laptop, watching his program decode the new batch of orders. A paired mission for him and Wufei; information retrieval and demolitions, a solo assassination mission for Quatre, and a typical base destruction mission for Duo and Trowa. He downloaded all the parameters and specs onto separate discs for each of the pilots.

He found Wufei reading the newspaper and sipping coffee in the kitchen, Quatre tying a black ribbon around the end of Duo's braid in the living room and Trowa in his own room. They gathered in the kitchen and Heero handed out the discs and gave each pilot a sketch of their objectives.

"Ok. Let's split. See you guys next week, the safe house in the mountains ok with you guys?" asked Duo.

"No, we'll meet at an apartment complex in down town Tokyo." Said Heero.

"Huh? Why?"

"That's what the orders say." Answered Heero, turning his computer screen around so that the others could see the memo at the bottom of the page.

"Oh. Well if that's what the geezers want, then I guess I'm cool with it. Who's it rented under?"

"Wufei."

"Kay, see you in Tokyo. Bye!" said Duo and he dragged Trowa out the door towards the forest surrounding their temporary home.

"Hey wait!" cried Quatre and he sprinted after them. Heero and Wufei watched as the blonde threw his arms around his lover and kissed him soundly before letting them go off to blow up OZ resources.

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Quatre stepped out of the airport terminal in Berlin and blended in with the crowd as he retrieved his luggage. A taxi ride to the outskirts of the city later and he was breaking into the residence of his target. Mathew Rauffer was the chief commander of the three OZ bases in Germany; he was a strong supporter of the Romafeller Foundation and had to be eliminated.

Rifle in place, he settled himself on the second story balcony and waited for his mark to approach the front door. He took his finger off the trigger while the wave of emotions from his target washed over his space heart. He couldn't afford to give away his position until he was sure of the kill. Once the feelings had subsided, he sighted and let the air out of his body. He pulled the trigger, watched the body go down and was slipping through the window before the screaming started.

He tore apart his gun and threw the pieces into a black bag. There was a servant's staircase at the end of the hall, which led to the kitchen. The kitchen had a small door that opened to the garage for trash disposal. He was out the door and down the street in under a minute.

He glanced down the way, shouldered his bag more firmly and had only a moment of surprise when a large hand connected with his temple. His body hit the pavement with a thump and darkness swallowed his vision.

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Schuldig, Mastermind of Schwartz, took a long drag on his cigarette as he eyed the blonde boy on the bed in front of him. Esstet had just brought him in and was in the process of amplifying his power. The redhead licked his lips and reached for the chart hanging at the foot of the bed.

"Passive talent. Great." He snorted, flipping through the pages. He read a few lines and then hung the chart back on the hook.

"Good luck kid, try not to break." He tossed over his shoulder as he left the room and the unconscious boy behind.

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Quatre woke to the smell of cigarette smoke. He kept still, his breathing even and his vital signs as normal as possible. He heard cloth rustling and shoes squeaking softly as someone turned around.

"Good luck kid, try not to break."

Quatre fought not to frown as feelings came pouring into his space heart. Sadness, resignation, pity, a soft sort of failure. He didn't understand. Hadn't he been captured by OZ? Wasn't he going to be interrogated or tortured or something? Why would his enemies pity him?

He sat up, glancing around the empty room. He checked himself for injuries and found that he was fine, other than the throbbing bump on his head. His clothes seemed untouched, but his knife was missing from its sheath on his ankle. The bag with his rifle was gone also.

Quietly getting out of the bed, he moved towards the door, hoping he could escape unnoticed. The door opened the moment he touched the knob however and he jumped backwards, landing in a defensive crouch.

"Ah, you're awake then. Good, good. How do you feel Mr. Winner?"

The man was older, maybe in his forties, but solidly built and wearing a white lab coat. Quatre guessed he was a doctor of some sort and relaxed his guard a little, noting with interest that the man knew his name.

"I feel ok." He replied tightly, willing to be civil if not trusting.

"I see. That's good to hear Mr. Winner." He paused for a moment, regarding the boy with a calculating gaze.

"I'm going to be frank with you. You have not been captured by OZ, as you believe. The organization that now holds your life is called Esstet." The doctor explained, looking the blonde teenager in the eyes, his expression serious.

"Esstet recruits, trains and employs psychics Mr. Winner. You have just been recruited."

"I have just…excuse me?" said Quatre, confusion chasing across his face.

"You have just been recruited to Esstet. Here you will be trained to use and amplify your existing psychic talent. You are an empath, a level seven one at that. However, your talent is passive."

"What does that mean? Level seven and passive?" asked Quatre, glancing about the room for a means of escape. No way was he staying here. Trowa was waiting for him.

"Psychic powers are classified as passive or active. Passive talents include empathy, precognition, telepathy and the like. Active talents would be things like pyrokinesis, telekinesis and such. Rather, active talents have a direct effect on the physical world, where as passive talents do not."

Quatre decided that the bedside lamp would have to do for a bludgeon and then he'd take the doctors coat and glasses and see if he could find a way out. Once he was clear of the building, he could get a transport back to Japan.

"As for the level system, talents are rated by their impact on a scale on one to ten. The scale is different for active and passive talents and also for each type of talent. You will come to understand in time."

Quatre's eyes narrowed.

"And you? Are you a psychic too?" he asked the doctor.

"Why yes. I'm a telepath. I already know that you plan to knock me out with that lamp over there and make a break for it. I would advise against it. The building is very secure and there are psychics here who would immediately know that you were out of place."

Quatre glared, his face settling into hard lines. So what if the building was secure? So what if he was surrounded by potentially hostile psychics? He had a mission to complete and he would by Allah complete it. He tried not to think about what he was going to do, he just let his body move.

He feinted low, picturing the full kick in his mind even as he slammed his fist into the man's face. The doctor's body snapped backwards and he drove his other fist into his stomach. Quatre checked his vitals and stripped the man of his lab coat and glasses. He also picked up a necklace that looked to be some sort of insignia and a key card.

He donned his disguise and walked calmly out of the room. People passed him in the halls, their faces drawn in grim lines. Not a single person was smiling. He paused, and leaned against the wall, only to draw back with a sharp hiss.

His space heart shrieked with pain. He looked around; searching for the person whose pain he was feeling as he rubbed his chest.

"Whatcha' lookin' for?" asked a voice from behind him. He turned and found a tall man with long ginger red hair watching him with a lazy smirk.

"I can feel someone's pain, but I can't pinpoint it." He answered.

"Don't bother trying. Everyone is in pain here. Everyone. The walls soak it up until even they hurt to touch and listen too. I can hear them screaming, the walls I mean." Said the redhead.

"I'm Quatre."

"Schuldig."

"Nice to meet you."

Schuldig licked his lips, and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his olive green suit coat.

"You're the new kid huh?" he said, giving the blonde a sideways look.

"I guess you could say that. I transferred here." Lied Quatre easily.

"Don't bother kid. I'm the strongest telepath Esstet thinks they have. I'm an active talent." Laughed Schuldig.

"I thought telepathy was a passive talent." Said Quatre, giving the man his full attention.

"It is. Normally. C'mon, no one will ask questions if you're with me." He said, turning down the hall and walking a few steps before looking over his shoulder to see if he was following.

"Explain." Said Quatre, walking beside him. They turned a corner and walked down another hall, Schuldig talking all the way.

"The doc explained about the difference between an active and a passive talent right?"

Quatre nodded.

"Well, I started out as a passive telepath, but as I got older, I found that I could do things. Telepathy is the ability to read minds right? Well, really we hear others thoughts as if they were our own, but that's it. Me on the other hand, I can alter peoples memories, change their dreams, give them thoughts they didn't have before. I can isolate parts of the brain and keep people from moving, seeing, hearing…anything. I can kill by shredding someone's psyche. I'm an active talent telepath, understand?"

"I guess. What level would that make you?" asked Quatre even as his guard clamped down and his training took compete control.

"In my case, I have two levels. I'm level ten passive, level nine active."

"Oh. What did the doctor mean by amplify my talent?"

"That." Said Schuldig as he stopped in front of an open door. A young girl was strapped to a table, wires running in and out of her body. Her fingers twitched, her head jerked from side to side as several men in lab coats adjusted machines around the room.

"What are they doing to her?" Quatre gasped, one hand over his mouth, the other clutching his chest.

"Breaking her. They're breaking down her mind and rebuilding it." Answered Schuldig, face calm.

"C'mon. Let's keep moving." Said the redhead, pulling the blonde away from the doorway.

Quatre shook himself, throwing up whatever shields he had to block the emotions out. They walked down more hallways, each looking exactly like the last. They didn't speak for a long time. Quatre was absently mapping the place as they walked, his eyes catching markers that would normally go overlooked. He flexed his hands, fingers itching for a weapon. He felt so exposed when he was unarmed.

He hoped Trowa wasn't too worried about him. He almost smirked, his tall lover would certainly be worried if he were one second late. He was already three hours overdue by his count. Trowa must be throwing a fit.

I'll get back to you lover, just wait for me. I may be in a bit of a bind right now, but I'll come home to you. Love you Trowa, he thought toward his lover, picturing smiling green eyes in his mind.

Schuldig glanced down at him, eyes narrowing. He sighed loudly, raking a hand through his unruly hair. He concentrated on the boys mind, slipping into his psyche with expert ease. Once there, he planted knowledge; several ways out of the building, which people to avoid and where he could find weapons. Then he slipped out, and kept walking as if nothing had changed.

They reached a door and Schuldig opened it to reveal a room similar to the one that girl was in, accept that it was empty.

"Sorry kid, and good luck." Said Schuldig, slamming the force of his mind into Quatre's. The boy dropped like a stone, falling into the telepath's waiting arms.

The redhead deposited the boy on the table and mentally alerted the doctors that he was ready for the amplification procedure. The doctors thanked him and he walked out of the room, fingers reaching for a fresh cigarette.

"Damn." He breathed to himself. "I'm getting soft."

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End part 1