Regarding pairings... Some mystery arrangement involving Wufei Chang (you'll love it; trust me) + established Duo/Trowa + established Hilde/?

Warnings include bombs and bombings, language, assorted violence, same-sex pairings, Wufei being pissy 24/7

A NOTE ABOUT TooT-verse CHARACTER NAMES:

Gerald Yukitani (a.k.a. Heero Yuy)
Joseph "JC" Cross (a.k.a. Duo Maxwell)
Tristan Armstrong (a.k.a. Trowa Barton/Noname/Nanashi)

Book cover by Sarasan
a.k.a. t_shirt1x2 on LiveJournal

Chapter 9: The Path of Enlightenment

"Relena!" I called softly, spotting the huddled form of the Foreign Minister crouched in the dark, under the desk of the office space just off the surveillance room. Either she or Wilhelm had had the presence of mind to remove her from the scene of the confrontation. My relief was the only thing preventing me from shouting.

When she didn't move, I tried again, using a form of address she was far more likely to associate with me rather than her abductor, "Foreign Minister. It's Agent Chang. Are you injured?"

"No," she informed me, her voice creaking like a dusty teeter-totter. She cleared her throat once, twice. "No, I'm fine. Manning?"

"I've placed him under arrest. You are safe. Come on out."

"I can't see anything."

"Would you like some assistance?"

She held out a hand in my general direction. "Yes, please, Wufei."

Holstering my weapon, I crossed the room slowly and with deliberately loud footsteps so that she could track my progress. "I'm here," I offered, "reaching for your hand now." And then her clammy fingers were wrapped around mine. "Watch your head," I murmured, placing my other hand on the top of her head to guide her out from beneath the desk.

She drew a shaky breath. "I know it's going to get in the way of your sidearm, but I would really like a hug."

Without a word, I guided her closer and wrapped my arms around her. Hers went around my chest and squeezed. Apparently, the foreign minister made time to work out. There was no other explanation for her formidable, vice-like grip.

I cued my earwick mic and reported in. "Suspect secure. The foreign minister has been reacquired."

"Let me talk to her," Schbeiker demanded.

As the foreign minister released her hold and stood back, I lifted the earwick from my own ear and said, "Talk to Hilde." I brushed my fingers over her ear in the darkness so she'd know to anticipate the earwick. I fitted it in place and then curled my fingers around the foreign minister's elbow.

"Hilsie?" she gasped. There was a pause. "No, no, he didn't— No, nothing. He was trying to keep me safe is all."

I unclipped the small flashlight from my belt, clicked it on, and handed it over. She squeezed my arm in thanks, and then I left the room.

Wilhelm was still lying on the floor. He was curled up in a ball, whimpering. I could only image the agony. Which I did. I imaged it with great relish. I almost wished I'd had the privilege of delivering the blow. This certainly matched the physical pain Barton had experienced. I could only hope that Maxwell had instilled the fear of the unknown into this piece of human waste. An emotional pain equal to that of his victim's.

An eye for an eye.

The reminder of Maxwell's role had me scanning the room. I spotted the small object Maxwell had tossed with the intent of directing Wilhelm's final shot away from his position. I picked it up. It was a small travel-sized bottle of liquid. I opened the cap and sniffed. Alcohol. Of course. I located the abandoned Taser in the armory that Wilhelm had ransacked and carefully cleaned the contact points. I owed Barton and Maxwell that much.

I then returned to the utility room. Reversing the power outage was a simple matter of flipping the breaker switches back to "on." I squeezed my eyes shut and removed the goggles. Once my eyes adjusted, I regarded the still-open vent. My climbing rope dangled down and coiled on the floor. Maxwell and Yuy were gone as if they'd never been. I thought of the small container of alcohol. It was in my gear pack. I would have to dispose of it before (or if) I was required to hand over my gear for testing.

"Agent Chang?"

At the foreign minister's call, I returned to the side room where I'd found her. "Yes?"

"Agent Schbeiker would like to speak to you."

I accepted the earwick and replaced it in my own ear. "Chang," I said. This time, she didn't ask me to prove it.

"We need to discuss extraction."

"Send a team down to secure the scene and remove the suspect. I'll bring the foreign minister up after they arrive so she can give a statement."

"Good." That single word released a blast of pressure that I could sympathize with. "Good work, Chang. Who knew your little reconn. would turn into a rescue?"

Ah, so that's how we would be handling it.

She signed off, "I'll see you in ten, boy-o."

"What's wrong with Manning?" the foreign minister inquired, leaning around me to peer into the next room.

She would undoubtedly think that I had been the one to crush the man's private parts; there was no one else here, after all, and I couldn't be sure that she'd heard Maxwell's terrible grating whisper. She'd probably been covering her ears against the ringing blast of each gunshot.

I arched a brow at her. "Really, Foreign Minister Darlian. I'm aware of your support for total pacifism, but even you must be familiar with what a shoeprint between the legs looks like?"

She blinked at me.

"Nice work, by the way," I congratulated her.

"Was it?"

"He deserved it."

She snorted softly. "Yes. Yes, he did." Her gaze shifting once more to Wilhelm, she mused, "I guess I don't know my own strength."

"Adrenaline," I supplied helpfully.

"That must be it."

Reinforcements arrived with Schbeiker leading the charge. The following twenty minutes unfolded at a blistering pace with which I was familiar: secure the scene, remove the suspect, record preliminary statements.

"Who took Wilhelm down with a kick to the nadsack?" Schbeiker asked, lifting a brow in the foreign minister's direction.

Relena drew herself up. "I think I'm entitled to defend myself." I silently applauded her haughty tone and misleading words. It was a shame Maxwell couldn't be here to appreciate it.

"We'll need you to come to Preventers HQ to sign an official statement," I dutifully droned. As I did so, I palmed the small bottle of alcohol and slid it into Schbeiker's jacket pocket.

The foreign minister's gaze flickered down, catching the transfer, but she showed no reaction whatsoever. "I understand."

Indeed she did. Relena Darlian understood what was required precisely – we all did – and we worked in concert to ensure that everything appeared precisely as it should.

"Any word from Nichol on the female suspect?" I asked.

Schbeiker shook her head. "Surveillance techs are combing through all angles now."

I frowned. That meant that Maxwell was back behind the monitors, possibly shoulder-to-shoulder with a squinting and disheveled Barton.

"I cleared the second floor, east wing myself," Schbeiker added quietly and I nodded in understanding. No doubt it had been Winner to do the brief but necessary honors. At least Barton and Maxwell's makeshift surveillance station wouldn't be discovered by someone under Nichol's command. Or, ancestors save us, Nichols himself.

I forced my attention to the task at hand: no one would benefit from me wondering how and when the two of them would be making a quiet and invisible exit; they couldn't go anywhere at the moment given the overwhelming numbers of active agents scouring the remainder of the estate.

"Come with me, Foreign Minister Darlian," I began.

"Yes, I need to return to the summit immediately."

Oh, dearly beloved and departed—!

"We have not identified or apprehended the individual who caused the explosion," I reminded her curtly.

"I appreciate your concern, Agent Chang, but I'm not going to sit in a windowless room while I'm needed. It's my responsibility to restore order."

Schbeiker just sighed. "Come on, then. But you might want to take your shoes off before we start up the stairs."

"Good advice," she agreed, levering her high heels off and gesturing for us to lead the way.

Lead we did. At least until the foreign minister donned her heels once more and emerged from the Peace Building, at which point, she took a cleansing breath and straightened her shoulders. Chin held high, she addressed the milling throng on the front lawn beyond the main entrance, "If I could have your attention, please, everyone!"

Awareness rippled through the crowd. Faces lifted and camera lenses gleamed in her direction. "First and foremost, please locate all your staff members. If anyone is not present, please notify the nearest member of staff or a Preventer agent."

I bit back a smirk: all of the uniformed staff were Preventer agents.

"Please do this now if you haven't already," she directed and then waited as people rearranged themselves upon the lawn so that attendance could be quickly tallied.

I found no one missing. I did not see any uninvited participants, either. "The numbers match," I murmured to Schbeiker.

"Yup, I got the same."

Wherever our suspect had gone, she was not here.

"Is it safe to proceed?" the foreign minister asked Schbeiker.

"As safe as it ever is. There don't appear to be any immediate threats, ma'am," she replied.

The foreign minister took a moment to weigh that before turning her attention to the attendees, "Ladies and gentlemen. Our second order of business is to express our whole-hearted appreciation to the Preventers for their quick response."

Foreign Minister Darlian lifted her hands and began an applause that swept through the assembly. I was probably scowling. The director would likely complain about that as well once she saw us on the afternoon news.

Regardless, I remained alert, scanning the crowd, looking into each face, searching for the woman who had not been Sylvia Noventa.

"And now we will honor our responsibilities to all the citizens of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. The purpose of this summit is to give each and every one of your groups the opportunity to be heard. To do more than simply promote fairness in trade arrangements between the Earth and the colonies. We are here to ensure that all trade values are fair."

She'd said much the same at the opening press conference, but I didn't doubt that much of her message had been shoved aside by ego and grandstanding.

"I will now call for a vote," the foreign minister announced, "on the Fair Trade Index of After Colony 202. The values reflected in the table will be the new standard. Transportation and import fees between resource suppliers on Earth and the colonies will be subsidized whenever needed to guarantee fairness. I ask those of you with a vote to cast to indicate it now. 'For' or 'against.'"

With a wave of her hand to the nearest representative, it began.

I would not have been surprised to learn that it was the quickest session of congress in recorded history.

The following press conference was not so orderly or brief.

"Foreign Minister! Foreign Minster! Ma'am! What was the cause of the explosion we felt this morning?"

"Everyone, thank you for your concern. The Preventers are conducting an investigation. Please direct all your questions regarding this morning's disruption and evacuation to their representatives. I, for one, am very grateful for their presence. The Preventers ensured that everyone remained safe. And their continued support has enabled this summit to meet its aims. The ESUN is indebted to this invaluable organization of elite men and women who work tirelessly to ensure peace and safety for all."

Schbeiker and I stood beside the foreign minister through this question and more, listening as she responded to each inquiry and every challenge with sincerity.

I was at a loss to explain how she could have found the energy.

When she at long last stepped down, the press let her be, turning their attention to the bureaucrats who were eagerly waiting their turn for a slice of lime light. Though the press was blatantly dissatisfied with the lack of information regarding the power outage and evacuation, they did not harangue the attendees beyond inviting those present to share their observations and speculations. After all, it would not do to aggravate potential interview subjects or earn themselves a ban from the Peace Building grounds.

As the politicians jostled for the chance to tell their tales, one separated himself from the rabble.

"Relena!" Winner greeted with quiet relief, striding across the lawn of the Peace Building to take her hand. Yuy was, as ever, a step behind him. "We lost you in the confusion inside. I was very glad to see you made it through."

"I'm all right," she replied, cutting directly to the question he hadn't articulated. Then she reached for Yuy's hand. "Thank you."

He didn't acknowledge it in words. He never did. Yuy did not accept thanks for actions that he believed were right. Nor did he apologize for them.

He did do something unexpected, however: he moved toward her and wrapped his arms around her without a word, putting himself between her and the crowd on the front lawn. She leaned her head against his shoulder and smiled, allowing herself a moment. I was surprised by Yuy's show of affection, but then I heard the front entrance swing open one more time.

I looked up and watched as Wilhelm, upright and mobile… even managing a bit of dignity in each step, was marched over the threshold. The medical team had apparently managed to relieve some of his pain. His chin was held high and a jacket had been draped over his cuffed hands, covering the majority of the wet spot upon his trousers. There was little that could be done to cover the vomit stain on his shirt sleeve.

It only took a moment for one cameraman to cue his pontificating counterpart and then – as if each and every news anchor were somehow wirelessly connected via satellite – they turned toward Wilhelm, moving in like sharks catching the scent of blood.

Wilhelm ignored their shouted questions. The wind ruffled his filthy hair as he scanned the assembled evacuees. He turned in our direction, a hard gleam in his eye. It was a mad light, and it suddenly flared into an explosion of pure and utter hatred.

"You bastard!" He lunged, his teeth bared in a snarl.

For an instant, I thought it was me who had drawn his unrestrained hostility, but no, he was looking beyond me, over my shoulder. I did not have to turn and confirm with my own eyes that Relena was standing there in the protective circle of Yuy's arms. I understood then that Yuy had anticipated the arrival of Wilhelm and his entourage of agents and had deliberately placed himself between Relena and her abductor.

Her abductor, who had no concern whatsoever for the fact that both Winner and myself were present. His quarrel was not with his arresting officer or a rising lobbyist who was twice as charming and memorable as Wilhelm himself. No, his quarrel was with the man formerly known as Heero Yuy.

Wilhelm spat, "You piece of filth! Get your hands off of my Relena!"

Schbeiker and I exchanged a look.

There was more the man felt compelled to scream and screech, but none of us had any interest in indulging him with our attention.

Schbeiker approached the foreign minister as I reached for my car keys… and then recalled that I'd parked beside Schbeiker's vehicle in the basement parking… which was currently cordoned off with crime scene tape. As we herded the foreign minister to a safer distance, I utilized the earwick to demand a set of car keys. To any Preventer vehicle on the premises.

One of the junior agents jogged over to relinquish hers and lead us to the car. I did not envy my colleagues who would be forced to deal with the excited press and even more agitated Wilhelm.

"Well, now we know who the bastard Gundam pilot is," Schbeiker mused.

"Yes," Yuy intoned flatly. Both he and Winner had elected to assist us with escorting the foreign minister off of the lawn.

I glanced over as Winner reached up to rub the spot in the center of his own chest, fighting a pained frown. "That is a lot of hatred," he observed in a quiet voice that carried no further than the five of us.

Just then, the man screamed so loudly that we could hear his incomprehensible babble over the clamor of the news reporters.

"Holy cheese, Gerald," Schbeiker coughed out. "Wilhelm doesn't just hate your guts – wha'ju do to him?"

"Nothing permanent."

I drawled, "All evidence to the contrary."

Relena reminded him, "Manning hated you from the moment you tore up my birthday party invitation."

Yuy admitted, "And I beat him in fencing class."

Relena hesitantly recounted yet another instance of Wilhelm's pride being wounded, "And I asked you for a dance."

"You made me dance with you," Yuy corrected.

"Yes, I did do that, didn't I?" She grinned cheekily.

Wilhelm continued to scream and rage, spittle flying, as he was led to a different vehicle. I placed myself between him and the foreign minister.

The racket was hardly conducive to fond farewells, but just before the foreign minister took a seat in the back of our volunteered vehicle, she asked Yuy and Winner, "Will I see you before you head back to space?"

"Let's have dinner," Winner wheedled.

The foreign minister set a time and Winner locked it with a smile.

Schbeiker gestured for the foreign minister to get in the car and, miracle of miracles, the woman offered no protest whatsoever.

"Winner," I began.

"Yes, Agent Chang?" he replied with genuine curtesy.

"I would like to speak with you before your departure if that is convenient."

"Yes, Wufei. We'll have time." And if he didn't, then I didn't doubt that he would make it.

I slid behind the wheel. I didn't bother to wave as I pulled out into the road. Instead, I focused my attention on returning to headquarters by an indirect route. I had not forgotten about the suspect who hadn't been apprehended or her possible co-conspirators. I was also considering an unpalatable version of events in which we arrived in the Preventers underground garage at the same time as Wilhelm's escort. I had no intention of allowing the foreign minister to cross paths with the man. At least not until he was secured in either an interrogation room or lock-up.

The car ride was a silent one. We were all simply too exhausted to think beyond the present moment let alone speak.

I wished with every fiber of my being that this could have been the end of it – I wished that the transport of Foreign Minister Darlian to Preventers HQ was the final task of our assignment.

Of course it wasn't.

As Schbeiker escorted Relena Darlian to a meeting room, I procured something for our witness to eat from the cafeteria. I spared a thought for Noin's habit of offering food and drink to suspects, but quashed the niggling suspicion that my actions might be in any way similar.

Foreign Minister Darlian had just begun writing out her statement when there was knock on the door. It was Nichol.

"The director wants all senior agents in the situation room. STAT."

It was a summons we could not refuse. I surreptitiously passed my earwick to Relena before following Schbeiker out.

When my partner gave me a grateful look, I replied with a blank expression.

"As you are all aware," the director was saying as we entered the largest meeting room in the building and took our seats among two dozen colleagues, "there was an explosion at the Peace Building this morning. The source has been identified as a news van located near a power grid access node in basement parking. Clearly, this was premeditated. We have a suspect, Manning Wilhelm, in custody and have already discovered a call placed from this cellular phone to a burn phone moments before the explosion. We suspect he triggered the detonation."

The tension in the room strangled even the thought of whispering to a neighbor. An attack had occurred in the Peace Building. On Preventer territory. In our jurisdiction. In our very presence. The director did not have to tell us this was unacceptable.

"Several of you may be assigned to this investigation. If you are, it will take priority."

No one offered a protest. I doubted anyone felt the need. All of us were shocked and infuriated by this transgression.

"Also, it has been confirmed," the director continued, "that there was an explosive device planted in the underside of the carpet of the Peace Building auditorium. It has since been diffused and removed from the premises. Our technicians are currently working to identify the precise compound. The trigger appears to be attached to a rudimentary antenna wire. With a signal amplifier such as the one collected from the head table on the auditorium stage, someone outside the building could have easily detonated the explosives."

She gave us a long look. "Given the scale of this circumvented attack, I believe it is safe to say that the Peace Building would be little more than a dusty crater if events had proceeded according to the terrorists' plans."

The assembled agents digested that in silence.

"It is imperative, now more than ever, that we identify the perpetrators. We'll begin with groups who have demonstrated animosity toward the office of the foreign minister, colony trade negotiations, and any chatter relating to an attack on the Peace Building itself."

I raised my hand.

The director looked in my direction. "Yes, Agent Chang? You have something to contribute?"

I stood up and pointed out, "The carpet was installed before the summit. The laser sight that warned us of an impending attack was discovered on the second day."

"Yes," the director agreed, "what is your conclusion?"

"We have to consider the possibility that the laser sight was a deliberate plant meant to provoke a response from the Preventers. It's possible that the purpose of the laser sight was not to single out an individual, but to draw us in. The target may have been us. All of us. The Preventers organization itself."

My warning was met with silence. Not even Nichol jumped to his feet to rebut. All of us were very aware of the fact that no assassination or attack had taken place before the Preventers had unleashed their full force upon the summit.

"A fair point, Agent Chang. Thank you. We will investigate this angle as well," Director Une announced.

I sat back down. Schbeiker elbowed me. When I glanced her way, she gave me a nod of acknowledgement. Whatever came of this investigation, she would have my back.

I felt the knot of muscle between my shoulders unwind. Not even meditation had been able to release tension this effectively. In fact, I had been bearing this particular burden even since Yuy had announced his intention to leave.

I was no longer alone. No longer believed I was alone. No longer felt alone.

Well. That was rather enlightening; it appeared that I now had a partner whom I trusted. It was an inconvenient time and place to be experiencing an epiphany, but I could not deny that it was true.

I trusted Schbeiker.

Though I had been referring to her as my partner prior to this, I felt the truth of it now: we were partners.

That didn't mean I had any interest in venturing into her office any more frequently than absolutely necessary.

"What's so difficult about stopping by my office before you head home, Chang?" she demanded as we neared the point in the hallway where we would go our separate ways, at least until the foreign minister finished her private briefing with the director and we could deliver her back to the Peace Building.

"There's only so much chaos and horror a man can stand in a day," I told her and she smirked.

"Fine. I am a modern, independent woman, after all. I'll pick you up."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Dinner. Tonight. My treat."

I opened my mouth to object. All I required was a hot shower, a comfortable bed, and twelve uninterrupted hours of blissful silence.

"Shut up and take it like a man, Chang."

"And you would be the expert on either of those subjects how?"

She walked away with a laugh. I, with a smirk.

Completing the required field reports from our assignment took nearly twice as long as usual. In my exhaustion, I nearly mentioned aspects of the past forty-eight hours that would have incriminated Barton and Maxwell as well as Schbeiker and myself for recruiting the assistance of two pilots who were technically on vacation.

"Let me see your field report," I demanded when she knocked on my office door some time later. I held out mine in a mute demand for her to check it. She slumped into one of the visitors chairs across from my desk and we exchanged documents in silence.

I ticked phrases that seemed leading, unsubstantiated, or otherwise questionable. She circled. The reports rustled softly as we handed them back.

"Director's office in fifteen?" Schbeiker checked.

"Yes." My report would be sufficiently edited by then.

It was.

We handed in our assignment summaries and collected the foreign minister. Schbeiker drove. The Peace Building looked normal from a distance, but I was well aware of the teams that were going over each and every crime scene in the estate.

"It is structurally sound?" the foreign minister asked of the damaged section.

"We won't know for sure for a few days," Schbeiker admitted, "but each wing of the building was designed to stand on its own. You'll be safe in the residential area."

I was mildly surprised to find that the foreign minister's rooms were unoccupied. Forensics had evidently come and gone. I brushed a smear of fingerprint power off of my hand as the front door swung open.

"Would you like some help cleaning up?" Schbeiker offered. The bedroom door was closed, but I doubted the condition of the room had been altered since I'd last seen it.

"No, thank you. I'll take care of it myself."

Schbeiker and I assigned a security detail to stand guard outside her apartment door and headed down to the basement to see about recovering our respective vehicles. Shrapnel had left score marks in the paint and smatterings of dust coated an entire side of my car, but I was pleased to have it back. I was less than enthusiastic about washing it, however.

Schbeiker's car was also undamaged for the most part. She handed off the keys to the vehicle we'd arrived in to a stranded junior agent and we headed for our respective modes of transportation.

"So," Schbeiker drawled, "I'll be over at six-thirty."

"For what?"

"We're doing this dinner thing, Chang. Don't give me that sourpuss face."

"I wouldn't if you'd take 'no' for an answer."

"Hah! Good luck with that. Remember – I know where you live."

She proved it, ringing the bell at six-thirty precisely. "No karaoke," I ordered.

"Absolutely not," she promised.

Resigning myself to a tedious evening of sickening one-on-one camaraderie, I slouched behind the wheel of my car and followed Schbeiker's lead out into the evening traffic.

I was half-expecting an obnoxious combination of noise and stale cigarette smoke at some dive or other, but the taillights of Schbeiker's car directed me right back to the Peace Building.

"Are we having a picnic under the stars?" I sneered.

"Nope," she replied easily. "Guess again."

I sighed. "This really isn't necessary—" I began, suddenly tired of the game we'd been playing for the past three days.

"It is, Wufei," she quietly interjected. "It really is. Humor me. Please."

With a second sigh, I allowed her to usher me into the building, though the grand foyer and up the staircase to the third floor in the north wing. We stopped outside the foreign minister's apartment. Schbeiker didn't bother knocking. She reached out and opened the door.

Within the room, three people looked up from the dining table.

"Yukitani," I greeted. "Winner. Foreign Minister Darlian."

Thankfully, she didn't remind me that I'd managed to call her by her given name earlier. "Hello, Agent Chang, Agent Schbeiker. Won't you join us?"

I inclined my head, acquiescing. Schbeiker dropped her keys on the sidebar, draped her jacket over an armchair, and claimed the seat beside the foreign minister. Yukitani glanced between Winner and myself.

"Wufei," Winner began, standing, "it looks like we have a few minutes before the food is brought in…"

I reached for the door and held it open in silence. I was not going to have this discussion with him here of all places. We walked in silence down the length of the hall until we came to an open sitting area beside the main staircase. The sun was setting beyond the high windows.

I remained silent for a moment, wondering if Winner had concocted some sort of speech he was eager to recite, but he simply stood next to me, his hands in his trouser pockets, and waited for me admit to what had so offended me.

"Why did you choose Yukitani?" I finally managed. Hearing the words spoken aloud unfurled a thin, angry ribbon within me and, before he could respond, I growled, "And don't insult me by looking surprised that I would ask."

Winner nodded. "I'm not surprised. Relieved, actually. It took you long enough to say something."

"What?"

He gave me a long look. "I didn't choose Gerald over you because he was a better friend."

I felt my lip curl into a sneer.

"This was not a competition," Winner continued. "I didn't choose Gerald because he was a better man, either."

I snorted and turned my attention to the sunset. "That is not—"

"And I didn't choose Gerald because he was a better agent."

"Of course you didn't!" I snapped. "We're virtually interchangeable!" Which was the whole point! If Yuy had been the clear choice, I wouldn't have had to ask.

"No, you're not," Winner insisted quietly. "Gerald was a good agent. He always did the right thing, but quietly and behind the scenes. You, on the other hand… If someone is wrong, you are the first to call them on it. You work for justice and peace at the top of your lungs, even when you don't say a word. You are not the lone wolf you believe yourself to be, Wufei. You are a leader and I had to give you the chance to become that man. The Preventers is the best place for you, the right place for you, and they will need you in the future."

I stared at him. Gaped, even. One by one, moment by moment, everything became clearer:

I recalled the director's visit to my hospital room and her disappointment in my mediocre professional performance. It now made a certain kind of sense from this point of view. At the time, I'd been furious with her for holding me and my actions to an impossible standard, but she'd been pushing me intentionally. The director knew I was capable of more. She was simply trying to make me see it.

I thought of the senior agents' meeting earlier this very day. She hadn't been irritated or even surprised by my observation. In fact, she had included it among the objectives of the investigation. She had considered my input as if it had come from a colleague rather than a subordinate.

I had a very real future with the Preventers. Why had my eyes been closed to this?

I blinked and Winner's proud smile came into focus.

"There. That's the Chang Wufei we all know."

I had no response to that except to acknowledge the truth of it.

"And you're going to do great things, my friend." He extended his hand to me.

I grasped it. "I thank you, Quatre Raberba Winner."

"Don't thank me for your accomplishments," he chided kindly. "We're just trying to stay out of your way."

And I respected that. I respected him and Yukitani. I even respected myself.

I swallowed thickly. It had been several very long months since I'd felt this centered. I spared a thought for regret; I could have – should have – discerned all of this myself. The evidence had been there, right in front of me, but I hadn't seen it.

I was seeing it now, however. And that was something far more worthy of my focus.

Winner and I both turned at the sound of footsteps. From the third floor kitchen, which supplied the occupants of the residential wing with meals, two uniformed staff wheeled a service cart toward the foreign minister's apartment. Though I knew that Maxwell and Barton were still on the premises and likely still conducting intensive surveillance, I studied the face of each server carefully. I recognized them and recalled the details that their background checks had revealed. It was unlikely that they were a threat.

I was not satisfied with that vague generalization, but until we had evidence to investigate, there was little to be done. Life must continue on.

"I'm sure you'll get a lead soon," Winner said with confidence in that damned infallible tone of his.

I was not inclined to allow him to soothe my nerves with regards to this. "We shall see what a thorough review of the surveillance reveals."

He nodded amicably. "It was a good thing you trusted your instincts today."

"Have they ever steered us wrong?"

"Instinct? No. No, I don't believe so."

Misinformation, however, was another story entirely. With no information – misleading or otherwise – to consider, there was no reason for Winner and myself to delay our return.

Dinner was pleasant. Far more pleasant than I would have thought possible a week previous. Winner spoke of his plans to attend the grand opening ceremony of the Earth Sphere United Nation's newest colony.

Which wasn't actually new at all. It was my colony – my home – rebuilt down to the last park bench and dumpling shop.

"I've also arranged my schedule to attend," the foreign minister volunteered. "Though I haven't yet submitted a request for Preventer agents to accompany my assistant and myself."

"Oh, I'm sure the director will find someone," Schbeiker remarked. Her gaze didn't shift in my direction, but it didn't have to. I knew she fully intended to apply for the assignment. As her partner, it would be assumed that I would go as well. I scowled at my water glass as ghosts found their way into the room, hovering just beyond my field of vision.

"Well, it will be wonderful to see a friendly face there," Winner charmed her and then his eyes sparkled with mirth. "I don't suppose your assistant will have an evening off?"

Schbeiker snorted with amusement. "I guess your face isn't friendly enough, foreign minister."

Relena ignored the jibe. "Quatre Winner, are you finally going to ask Sylvia out on a date?"

"If I am?"

Relena bit her lip in an attempt to contain a large smile. "At the very least, it will clear up the rumor that you and Agent Chang are on the verge of resolving your lover's spat."

I coughed. "What—" I coughed again. Damn it all to shame and cowardice, how could I be choking on my own breath? I finally grated out, "What is this nonsense?"

"Really, Relena," Quatre chided her. "You ought to be able to see past all that. Wufei and I are as in love as ever."

I snarled, "A misleading albeit accurate statement. Don't point that idiotic grin at me, Winner. I am not amused."

"Explains why Slyvia was so leery around you," Yuy muttered between bites.

I supposed it did. "If Winner has caught her eye, then she's more than welcome to him."

"You don't mean that!" the man had the gall to protest complete with wounded expression.

"Perhaps not," I conceded. "I can only imagine how much more nauseatingly optimistic you'll be on the throes of new love."

He smirked. "How kind of you to notice."

I blinked, glanced at Yuy who offered a slight shrug of confirmation, and then I regarded Winner critically. Did he indeed feel genuinely fond of the woman? If so— "You have my blessing to court her to your heart's contentment."

With that, I resolved to discontinue my participation in the topic. Thankfully, Yuy spoke up and offered an update on Mia Une. Mia Une – formerly Mariemeia Khushrenada – and Yuy still exchanged letters. Weekly by the sheer volume of content the man was able to report on.

"The Matraball will be held soon," Relena mused aloud. "Has Mia mentioned attending?"

"No."

I smirked at Yuy's curt tone. He wasn't answering the foreign minister's question – he was refusing the one that was sure to follow.

"You might volunteer to accompany her," the woman predictably mused.

"She's fifteen years old," Yuy replied flatly.

I had been wed even younger than Mia was now, but I did not volunteer this. Not even to watch Yuy twitch, which would have been extremely entertaining.

"I've instructed her on how to incapacitate an assailant," Yuy admitted and I swiftly turned my thoughts away from the past.

I drawled, "Clearly, that's something she'll find far more beneficial than your presence."

Yuy stiffened; the blow had found its intended mark. When I'd last seen the girl, she'd been twelve years old and irresistibly charming. I could only imagine how those qualities must have matured over the past three years.

"She trusts you," I stated. "Be there for her."

I did not have to remind him of the less than savory motivations others might have, be those individuals pimply, pubescent males or unscrupulous, ambitious politicians. As far as I knew, the director's adoption of Khushrenada's daughter was a matter of public record.

"I am there for her," he retorted and the subject was closed much to Schbeiker's dismay. She pouted until the dessert course was served. I barely glanced at the concoction before sliding it wordlessly in her direction.

She smiled but didn't thank me. Yuy's brows lifted as he noticed the exchange and then his lips quirked into something that might have been a smile. After years of working side-by-side, the man knew that I would never accept thanks for something that was done out of reason rather than kindness: I was more than content with my cup of tea and had no intention of eating anything sweet. If I didn't give it to Schbeiker, it would simply go to waste.

Schbeiker, it seemed, had already deduced the same.

Yuy gave me a nod, which I returned. It was unspoken, but I understood immediately: he was wishing my new partner and myself the best. Though my blessing to Winner on the courtship of Sylvia Noventa had been mocking and irrelevant, Yuy's blessing for Schbeiker and myself was both sincere and appreciated.

As Master Long had told me countless times in my youth: life is change.

Perhaps I was finally ready to accept that truth gracefully.

Yuy and Winner departed shortly thereafter – they had an evening flight to Washington D.C. before they would be returning to space – and I fully intended to depart just as soon as I'd finished my tea. I would undoubtedly need the caffeine for the journey home.

"Hold up, partner," Schbeiker said as she sensed that I was about to excuse myself. She glanced at the foreign minister, who hesitated the briefest of moments before nodding. "There's something I—we want you to know."

I held up a hand to forestall the confession I was reasonably certain was coming. I glanced from one of Schbeiker's haphazardly abandoned personal items to the next, ending with a knowing look at both women.

"There's no need to explain. Thank you for inviting me into your home," I told them, looking from one woman to the other.

They undoubtedly had good reasons for keeping their relationship a secret – the director would never allow Schbeiker to join the foreign minister's detail if she were aware of it – but it was not my place to judge. It never had been and never would be.

"Take care of each other," I said, hoping that neither would be as foolish as I had been all those years ago. If words could wound, then perhaps they could also enable; Maxwell and Barton had clearly taken the same advice to heart. Perhaps it was presumptuous of me to feel gratified by their success, but I was pleased on their behalf nonetheless.

"Hot damn," Schbeiker mused with a wide grin. "When did you figure it out?"

I smirked behind the rim of my tea cup. "The night of Wilhelm's first little correspondence. You left your briefcase, which contained your laptop and confidential files, in a heap next to the front door. That is not something one does anywhere except in one's own home."

Schbeiker glanced at the foreign minister, offering a sheepish expression. Relena merely smiled and reached out to give her hand a quick squeeze.

It was getting late and, though I was no longer tired, I truly did desire solitude. It had been a genuinely long day.

"I wish you both every happiness," I concluded, setting my empty cup down and rising from the table to see myself out.

"Er, speaking of happiness," Schbeiker began, standing and pulling the foreign minister to her feet.

I stopped and turned, uncertain that I would thank her for what she was about to say, but allowing that it was important to her to utter it.

"It's about more than just the two of us taking care of each other," she tried to explain, pausing to chew her lip as she searched for her next words.

"We take care of our family," Relena finished. She rounded the table and held her hand out to me.

For the second time in as many hours, I gaped in silence.

Schbeiker joined Relena's side and nodded in response to the question I had no words to articulate.

"Don't deny it, Chang. I can tell you've always wanted a couple of sisters to harass you."

I lifted a brow. "Is that what this is?"

Relena nodded, hand still outstretched. "We'd like it if you'd allow us to consider you our brother, Wufei."

"We're not trying to pull anything kinky," Schbeiker added, lifting her hands in a universal gesture of good faith. "We just really want you to be a part of our family. If you want that, too."

I supposed I just might. Perhaps. Still, I hesitated.

"You know, you'd make some lucky kid a really great dad—" Schbeiker suddenly said.

"Hilsie!" Relena hissed. "Now is the best time to bring this up?"

"Yes," Schbeiker resolutely stated. "It is. Family's important to you, isn't Wufei? It's important to us, too. It's what we want. They could be our kids if you're open to that."

Relena looked braced for an explosion of impressive magnitude, but Schbeiker was correct. Somehow over the past three days, she had sussed out my views on the subject. Was she also familiar with the traditions of my people? My marriage to Meiran had been a typical one: negotiated by our families and arranged by the elders to ensure the continued bloodline of the clan.

For the past eight years, I'd abandoned even the thought of having a family. What could one lone man bring to such a venture? But here, now, two women were offering me a chance to contribute to their family. The burdens of providing financially for children would not fall solely upon my shoulders. Nor would I be expected to offer emotional support exclusively to a wife.

I confirmed, "Fatherhood – rearing children – without the demands of cohabiting with a spouse? That… is appealing," I admitted. In addition, raising children with these two strong, honorable women would be a privilege.

I reached out and finally accepted Relena's hand.

Schbeiker leaned forward and punched my arm.

"There's no rush," Relena added, but her smile was luminous.

"I will insist on a medical procedure," I warned them both. "None of this kissing nonsense—"

Schbeiker threw her arms around me and placed a messy, wet kiss on my cheek.

"—control yourself, woman!" I scolded, but my free arm was already coming up to give her shoulder a brief squeeze.

"We'll all have a contract drawn up beforehand," Relena assured me and that was comforting. A partnership such as this without a contract was like a shuttle without a heatshield.

Schbeiker stepped back and looked at me with teary eyes and a smile that she couldn't bite back. It stretched literally from ear to ear.

"I'll see you at the office tomorrow morning," I told her. "800 hours, Schbeiker."

"You better believe it, Chang."

"Good night, Relena," I said.

"Good night, Wufei."

The sound of the door closing quietly behind me was especially loud in the empty hall. Loud, but not final. I felt my lips curve into a smile. When I picked up my feet, it did not feel as if I were pushing against the past.

In my pocket, my phone buzzed once. I checked the number and made my way to the office that Maxwell and Barton were still utilizing. Mindful of Barton's discomfort, I knocked once upon the door, softly.

Maxwell answered and gestured me within. He hovered beside the threshold, obviously unwilling to invite me deeper into the room. As Barton was likely still recovering, I respected Maxwell's unvoiced request.

I could hear someone moving about in the side room, perhaps packing up their unused equipment.

"Look, man," Maxwell started awkwardly, "you should know… you have brothers, too."

Fury overcame me. An angry breath surged into my lungs, burning me from within.

Maxwell held up his hands. "I'm not sorry about eavesdropping – neither of us are," he admitted for both himself and Barton. "We worry about you, OK? And we wanted you to know that we know. Just in case you need to… I dunno… not be alone with it."

I let out my breath warily. "This is not a lecture." It was nearly a question rather than an observation.

"Well, it sort of is. I mean, if you're a shit to Hilde, I'm gonna be duty-bound to kick your ass."

"You and whose—"

He lifted a hand and mutely pointed to the next room and the former mercenary within.

"Ah. Point taken." I glanced around, noting that the monitors were still set up but much of the other equipment had been removed from the tables.

"We'll be gone by dawn," Maxwell promised.

"Off to Egypt?"

"No. Not… not this time."

There was no regret in Maxwell's posture or tone, but there was a stubborn tilt to his head and a hard glint in his eyes. His response confirmed my suspicions: Egypt had not been a vacation destination for them. It was work. It was more of what they did in anonymity for the Preventer teams that flew out and landed in enemy territory under their watch.

"Don't," I urged him. "Submit what you have to Intel and Operations anonymously."

Maxwell snorted out a cynical breath. "Yeah, right."

He knew as well as I did that there was no such thing as an anonymous source. All sources could and would be traced and identified.

I sighed. I was loathe to allow myself to get dragged into this mess-in-the-making, but I could not in good conscience let them continue on as they have been. "There's also such a thing called a confidential informant."

Surprisingly, he didn't shrug the offer away. "We'll think about it."

We. It boggled my mind that Maxwell's first instinct was to speak in the plural.

"In the meantime, here's a freebie. Camera 116-H, time stamp 10:28, upper right."

I felt my pulse pick up.

"There's no clear view of her face," Maxwell warned me, confirming my suspicion that he and Barton had finally located the female suspect, "not even our cameras can help ya out there – so get your ass to the sketch artist a.s.a.p. But she's got a cluster of small birthmarks below her left ear on the side of her neck."

Well. It was a place to start at least.

"Thank you," I told him. "Thank you both."

Maxwell rocked back on his heels in a full-body shrug. "You'd do the same for us."

I did not deny it. "Look after yourselves."

"Always." Maxwell's gaze slid in the direction of his absent spouse and I saw pure need transform the man's face. Maxwell would rather die than allow today's events to be repeated. Somehow, the devil-may-care rebel-in-black from the war had grown into a man who needed his partner – needed Barton in the same way that he needed to eat, to sleep, to breathe. Maxwell – the most obstinate and evasive of all of us – had accepted the fact that he was half of a whole, a part of something much greater than himself.

I did not expect that I would ever form that type of connection with another person, would ever evolve to need one and only one being in my life. The very thought was daunting. Unsettling. Unsatisfactory.

Looking at what Maxwell and Barton had together, I could see that I did not want the same. However, I did want to be part of a family. Brothers and sisters and children and traditions. Checking homework at after the supper dishes had been cleared away. Tying shoelaces and zipping up jumpers. Afternoons spent on a park bench at the fringe of a playground.

For the first time in more years than I cared to acknowledge, I was looking ahead to the future with a sense of contentment rather than resignation.

"Cross," I said, drawing the man's attention. I held out my hand. "It was… an adventure. As always."

The ache in the man's face disappeared beneath a wide grin. He took my hand in a firm grip. "I think I just heard you use capitals, man. Way to go!"

With a shake of my head, I left.

Though I wanted to go home – wanted to bathe and then sleep well into next week – I returned to the office and volunteered to assist with the security footage review. I started with the cameras in zone 115 and worked my way up. An hour later, I pointed out the suspect. She was precisely where Maxwell had said she'd be. Then I sat with the on-duty sketch artist.

Then I went home.

I ate the last of Barton's fried rice, washed the foreign minister's makeup off of my face, and fell into bed with all the grace of Maxwell after a wrestling match with Yuy.

I slept for ten hours and then I went back to work.

Schbeiker and I were assigned to the investigation into the attempted bombing of the Peace Building, but evidence was slim. Our suspect had never been arrested – a search of the database revealed no one with a birthmark pattern identical to hers. There were no other indications that she'd infiltrated the summit before that fateful morning; she had waited for the Preventers to order Sylvia to steer clear of the foreign minister before making her move. Which suggested that she – or her group – had had some hand in encouraging our suspicions in the first place.

I had not seen this level of detail in an op since Operation: Meteor.

The very thought of someone other than the five of us being capable of such a layered and delicately balanced mission was more than enough cause for concern.

The case remained open.

When Schbeiker mentioned the trip to L5 that the foreign minister was planning, I did not object to accompanying her.

The shuttle ride was long. There was some confusion at docking and our ship was shunted from one port to another until at last we could disembark.

I was home.

I was home, but not to stay. No, this place, though built to the same design as the colony that I'd grown up on, was different in subtle ways. It was like a dream in which one's memories are warped through the lens of a racing mind. It was a relief, in a way, that the past could not superimpose itself on the present.

The day of our arrival, Miss Noventa had the evening off and was likely being entertained by Winner. I'd left Schbeiker and the foreign minister to their own devices. Perhaps Yuy was getting caught up on his correspondence with Mia Une. I spent the hours bracketing artificial dusk wandering the streets, looking into the fresh faces of the new colonists.

The ceremony was held at noon the following day and the streets were crowded with celebrants and vendors. There was music and there were streamers.

I didn't stay for the festivities.

I went to the field of flowers that had somehow escaped the development ambitions of the space architect. The knoll I'd sat upon with my dying wife was gone. Shifted. But that didn't matter. I chose another and sank down into the too-short grass, sitting beside flowers that were too small and pale compared to those in my memory.

I sat and closed my eyes. At once, everything was precisely as it should be. Even the soft breeze that had carried away her final breath.

It was time for me to release her. It was time for me to free my family and let them move beyond to the place they were meant to be. It was time for the dead to rest. Their memory would not be extinguished, for I would tell my children their stories. The past would no longer torment me. Instead, it would guide me.

Meiran, be with me always, I implored.

Not for my own sake, but for the sake of the future generations to come. My children. Our children. The children of our clan.

I opened my eyes and regarded the rolling field before me, awed by what it embodied. This was not an end. It was a beginning.

Notes:

Before you think I've written a het!Wufei here, lemme just say: a person can be any sexual orientation in the known universe and still choose to have children. "Tag" isn't about Wufei finding happiness in an exclusive sexual partnership (which he may yet do in TooT-verse… when or if he decides he's ready for that). "Tag" is about Wufei finding a family to come home to – homecoming – building a foundation from which to finally launch yourself into all that you want your life to be.

Is TooT!Wufei gay? For that matter, is Duo? Is Trowa? I NEVER REALLY SAY – and this is the whole point of the relationship-side of the fic – it doesn't matter what your sexual orientation is as long as you're happy with the people you allow close to you, as long as those people give you what you need to be a better version of yourself. Also, regarding "Tag" specifically, sex may not necessarily be facet of a happy life.

In summary: I have no comment at this time about Wufei's sex-life.

Regarding technical things, I know nothing about bombs aside from random ideas I've gathered from TV crime dramas. And can you blame me for being a little leery of Googling this kind of thing? So, be kind to me on the bomb-details front, m'kay?

Who is this mystery woman who is not-Sylvia? Hopefully, we'll find out in another Duo/Trowa POV fic. Stay tuned for that and Tag continuations! I hope you'll take a few moments to let me know how you liked Tag.

PLEASE NOTE: Due to sexual content, I may NOT be posting all "Tag" continuations here on this site. There will be links posted on my Live Journal account (username: TheManwell) if you are interested in my other 2x3 fics. Please mind the rating and warnings! Thanks.