Bishi Pile Challenge: Challenge response to Wind, Nightmare, Conspiracy, Murder, Resolution, Rescue, Memories, Anger, Veteran, Information Word Count: 4,212

Series: Friends 58/58

Author: Karina

Pairings: Duo + Zechs, Quatre x Trowa

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

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters. That's the way it is.

Warnings: Not a death fic despite how it starts.

Many thanks to Katie for betaing Friends and to ShenLong Deb for some last minute feedback.

Character Challenge = Duo, Zechs and Heero

Chapter 58

It would begin soon. The rotors of the helicopter turned lazily as the engine warmed up and the pre flight checks were completed. It was bitterly cold in the belly of the machine and he tried not to shiver as Chang moved past. He could not afford to show weakness beyond what was obvious and, truth to tell, Chang would be the last person he would willingly show his vulnerability to.

The killer of his… friend… was not necessarily his friend.

Petty. There was no time to regress to sulky schoolboy and in the light of harsh reality, Chang was low on his list of priorities. Amusingly enough the man would be insulted if he knew how low his standing graded. Of the three former Gundam Pilots on the helicopter none he would dare fate to name a friend… and only one he might consider to be an ally.

It was cold and he envied Chang his Preventer issue clothing. There, that was why he picked at the idea of Chang being in his life; it was freezing and Chang looked anything but cold.

He could lie to himself, so long as he acknowledged he was lying. It was when he started to believe those little half truths that he would be in trouble.

The cold was a minor discomfort and inconvenience after all; soon enough the nanobots would raise his core temperature. With conscious brain activity the nanomachines would work to keep a body active even as, during the attempt to kill him, they had worked to shut down physical functions to preserve his life. With the nanobots emulating hibernation how long might he actually have been able to survive the extreme cold had Maxwell not arrived?

Thankfully it had not come to that.

The wonders of modern medical science. He should have been dead years ago and he was still alive, still breathing and still wishing… what? What was it he wished for? Death? Did he want to die? Did he want to give it all up and have it end, once and for all?

He would find relief in an ending.

An end to the looks, to the whispers, to the sly innuendo from people too afraid to come right out and accuse him of the most heinous acts in the long list of atrocities mankind had committed against his fellow man and Terra Firma. Few dared to say anything to his face, but he was well aware of the looks, and he was certainly not deaf to their whispers. However giving up was not in the nature of any of his persona's. He well might be a sorry excuse for a human being, but he did what he could, where he could.

For one such as he, who had dared all, there was no forgiveness from his fellow man.

Peacecrafts had been fighters for the peace for generations; they did not fight with guns and weapons of steel, but with words and ideals. How easy it was, even for a Peacecraft, to revert to that older, more basic humanity. The Survivor.

He was a survivor; one who gritted his teeth and endured whatever came his way because something basic, deep inside, refused to lie down and die at another's behest.

It was pretty much a certainty that none of the three pilots would keep him company on this last leg of the flight to New Port City. He would have the time to reflect and prepare himself for what was to come and have little chance of being disturbed.

He resisted the urge to try to peer out of the window in hopes of catching a glimpse of the other machine. That helicopter was more crew friendly than this military machine with its basic heaters and devotion to functionality. The Winner Enterprises helicopter would shadow them back to civilisation, keeping Maxwell warm with its wonderfully efficient heaters while he froze his arse off in this purely functional mode of transportation.

Preventer was a paramilitary organisation and their equipment reflected the basic nature of their business. Efficiency, functionality and no frills to soften the agents, not that an extra wattage of power to improve the heating could be considered a luxury, given the extremes of temperature Sanc could inflict on her people. But given none but the pilots flew in them on a daily basis only the cockpits were heated to any degree of comfort.

There was a time he would not have entertained thoughts on the inadequacies of heating a helicopter on a mission. Still, appropriate clothing gave one a different perspective to lying on a stretcher, practically in the buff, with a few blankets to stave off the chill.

He could hear Yuy on the radio to Preventers Headquarters, notifying Une they were inbound with a firm projected E.T.A. at last. Seventy six minutes? Not long to set his thoughts to surviving, to gearing up for another fight to preserve the dream of his father and his sister.

A peaceful world where wars were no longer fought, where blood did not flow freely in the streets as man contested with his fellow man for the right to stand that little bit taller.

Seventy six minutes to bring out the warrior. Seventy Six minutes to dust him off and face those waiting on the tarmac. They could be his executioners, whether they were or not it made no difference, he needed them to miss the persona of the warrior watching them as intently as they watched him.

Seventy six minutes…no, closer to seventy five now.

It was time to psyche himself up to the constant need to be alert physically and mentally. He needed to give no sign that it bothered him.

Knowing his killer could be standing beside him with a smiling face, or standing across from him and waving a welcome… he could be a kilometre away in a tall building with a high powered telescopic sight and a gun with enough grunt to blow his head off.

He, or she, could be anywhere, but he was warned. They would not find it easy to take him down now that he knew what he could expect.

Lies, deception, evasion, rare moments of honesty when it suited… they would try it all, but there were times when they could not hide from him. Times when no matter what they did their guard would be down. That was his time to hunt and hunt he would to find the rotten apple in the barrel.

Who was it that had taken down his security system and permitted the killer entry to his home? That one would have to be found, and quickly. Those pass codes were classified and known only to a few. They would fear his return… if they had a single working brain cell geared to survival in their heads.

He would need to isolate those responsible as efficiently as his abilities allowed. Shockingly circumstances had changed and it was no longer only his life at stake. If it was just himself at risk he might have played, taught them what it was to be the hunted, what it was to fear; but not now.

The life of a brilliant eyed young man who had braved a mountain blizzard to save his miserable hide demanded he not emulate the cat and play with his prey.

How similar their circumstances were. Maxwell was likewise ostracised from the community of man. Marked purely because he had the misfortune to have his face shown to the public and be identified as a Gundam pilot.

A terrorist.

The world had little tolerance for those who fought for the masses and failed to consult said masses on their wish to be fought for.

Zechs bared his teeth in a feral grin.

Such a funny world it was; a cruel and sad world. Humanity had no idea what it needed; or how to get what it thought it wanted. Humanity could turn on you as quickly as it lauded you a hero. From one day to the next things could turn full circle and you would not know if you were to be celebrated and fêted for saving civilisation as it was known, or be accused and convicted and reviled for perpetrating heinous crimes.

Once upon a time he had thought humanity to be worth the pain and the loneliness and the loss. To save civilisation the constant cycle of war bleeding into war over and over again… it had had to stop. A few brave souls had made a stand, and of those people those who had died were the lucky ones.

They had been forgiven by their fellow man.

Those who survived were forever marked, a few more so than others.

Gundam pilots had been terrorists and reviled as such, yet now were accredited with the saving of Earth and civilisation. Irony, thy name be humanity.

What a paradox for it to be Maxwell isolated and reviled, the sacrifice to the populace that the other pilots might find a niche for themselves in normal society. It was Maxwell who knew how to live while the others struggled to find themselves.

Not that any of the five had designated their individual roles to be played in the aftermath. Maxwell's face was known, the public and press did the rest.

And he? Ah, well, he was in a league all of his own. Such an honour. He was the bad boy, the greatest terrorist of all; Milliardo Peacecraft, the Commander of the White Fang. Someone had to be the bad boy so that Treize could be the shining light that would bring about the saving of the planet.

It was the greatest irony to have the son of a warrior family seen as a pacifist fighter, a man who was unafraid to fight for peace and lead the world against the hordes that represented the darkness of war and destruction and death. Forget that the opposing side thought of themselves the same thing.

Doubly ironic that the son of murdered pacifists should be the greatest villain the world had ever produced.

Who was he really? Who was Milliardo Peacecraft? He didn't know and if he didn't how could the rest of the world know with such certainty who and what he was? He was a dead man and he had to remain dead or endure until his death four short walls and a solid door. A tiny cubical in which to live out his sorry existence.

That would truly send him mad.

Who was he?

He had had many names in his life, short though that life had been. He was still in his twenties and life stretched out a long way ahead of him… unless those now targeting him succeeded. It was time to move on again, time to start afresh, give himself a new name.

He had been Milliardo, cherished by his mother and called her Sweet Thing, embarrassing to a six year old, but looked back on fondly by the man that child had grown into. Zechs had replaced the 'boy' of those who feared for their lives to be caught sheltering the one time Prince. There had been varying code names used in military missions after Lake Victoria. Since then enough people had called him 'Bastard', with varying degrees of venom, that he could answer to it readily enough. In Preventer he had been called Wind and beneath the shadows cast by his current employers he had been known as Black Opal.

Those persons now moving to take charge had wanted to name him assassin, executioner and murderer and now sought to remove him from the picture, enabling them to arrange matters to best suit their needs. He would not allow it and they would need to learn the Black Opal was inclined to retire the name and not have others sully it.

His next code name might, perhaps, best be something along the lines of Nightmare.

There would be time enough to decide what to call himself when he had dealt with the little problem of someone wanting him dead. Survival first, then escape to a new place, a new life. He had done it before, he could do it again.

It was all that was left to him to do.

Ten minutes. That was all the time he had before the proverbial shit might hit the fan.

When he landed the helicopter he would have no option other than to face whatever reception committee awaited him. While it was not certain, in his own mind Duo was sure it would be Preventers waiting for him, perhaps even Une herself. The big question would be their motive for being there.

If Marquise was right about the people he worked for and the changes taking place amidst their ranks, then Duo had cause to second guess any gestures made toward him. A return of the ruthlessness that had marked the old Federation could see someone wanting him controlled quickly and efficiently.

If, by some turn of fate, they proved to be short handed and did not have sufficient men within reach to call on, then it was not beyond the realms of possibility that they might enlist Preventers.

Possibly it would be Une herself. They would be more concerned with Marquise initially than in him, but if they had Une in their pocket…

Might, maybe, possibly… Oh he was going to be a paranoid bastard from here on out.

There was the possibility Une might not be as familiar with the organization as he suspected. With Une you could never be certain of where she stood and what games she might be playing. The woman who headed Preventer was the same woman who had seconded Treize Khushrenada and Duo knew her to be a trained assassin, not merely an administrative genius.

He did not doubt Une had her own agenda.

There were so many ways she might react to his involvement in this matter, but however she responded he was sure she would be unamused. Potentially she could decide to make a move ahead of any request that might be forthcoming by this black ops group to contain him.

It was also possible she might go so far as to offer him a commission in Preventer, yet again, sweetening the deal by offering it as a protection from the black ops organisation.

Would she admit to knowing about this group that worked in deep shadow? Would she admit, even to him, to being aware of them? From what Duo knew of her she would have her own plans for using them.

//How many games is she playing? Khushrenada had fingers in a whole lot of pies and Une would have known about them… just like Zechs seems to know a whole heap more than people in high places are comfortable with.//

No, Une was far from being a fool and was not likely to admit to anything. He had to wonder at the depth of her involvement and whether or not Preventer was compromised by her contact with them. He was uncomfortable just thinking about how often she might have used their services.

How ruthless would they be? How far had they fallen from grace?

//I don't know enough, that's the trouble. Zechs only told me sufficient to warn me to be on my guard. I know just enough to be aware, and not enough to work with.//

How was he supposed to bring a resolution to this fiasco? Simple answer, he was not expected to. Marquise did not want him getting involved, though he already was, simply because he had gone up the mountain. Given the little he knew, realistically what could he do to influence events?

He was in no less shit than Marquise.

There could be a bullet out there with his name on it, or a knife, or a vial of poison or…

//Hold up there, Maxwell, stop firing on all jets and slow it down.//

Allowing his imagination to run wild would solve nothing. They would have to be more subtle, more inventive in how they took him out.

//It sure as hell would be made to look like an accident, after all they wouldn't want to have an investigation into the death of one of the best hated terrorists on Earth, now would they?//

He had to deal with this properly and speculating when he was supposed to be on an approach path to Sanc airport was not the soundest decision of his life. Rather pathetic, actually…

Yes, receiving information from the tower beacon; right on mark.

//Time to call the Tower and…//

The blast of sound actually startled him.

His mobile was ringing?

Duo looked in astonishment at his pocket from which the cheerful strains of Deathscythe's alarms were blaring at him and mentally slapped himself. He had forgotten he had the device as it was inoperative up on the mountain in the teeth of the blizzard. He'd tucked it away that first night in his jacket pocket and promptly forgotten about it, focusing instead on surviving the old fashioned way.

//Nope. Not going to answer it.//

He had trusted his friends to trust him, and three out of the four had turned up and basically denounced him as a fool. Not the first time they had done so either. He was really getting tired of that attitude. He was no more an idiot for not working for Preventer than they were for working for the organisation.

No, he was not going to go down that cycle of negative grumping again. He had travelled that road innumerable times and it had left him with a foul taste in his mouth. Enough was enough.

Now he had an intriguing puzzle to solve.

He had resources. He had contacts in some very dark places that he might be able to gain some small knowledge of the goings on of a government sanctioned black ops unit. These people made it their business to know what happened out of the public eye… and they would not be above corrupting it to make use of it themselves.

Might that not be a part of the problem? Had a syndicate or conglomerate of dark bedfellows meddled in the pie? Someone was and that someone appeared to not want Marquise as a part of the organisation. That suggested they were afraid of him.

"Oh alright already!"

Damned phone refused to shut up and disturbed his train of thought and he had to contact the control tower and receive landing clearance…

Unknown number? Duo stared at the small screen in honest surprise. He had a very secure telephone line and no one outside of a very select few should have his number. Duo growled softly as he pressed receive, eyes skimming the control panel, noting the beacon strength, his proximity to the airport...

"Who the fuck is this and you better have a good explanation for having this number!"

"Heliport 37. Fifteen minutes."

The phone went dead but Duo knew that voice. He sucked in his breath and wondered why his 'something is wrong' itch was not itching… or maybe it was. That sense of wrongness, of disaster waiting to happen, had not really settled down since he had the urge to go up the mountain. The unease had become so much a part of him since Yuy, Chang and Barton had turned up that he would probably think it odd when it did stop… which was not now.

Quatre.

Quatre had called him, failed to openly identify himself, and had given him a location and a time limit in which to get there.

//Okay…//

Duo drew the thought out, giving himself a second or two to consider the situation. Trouble, that was obvious, but what could have bothered Quatre enough to set up a meeting in secret?

"Ah damn, Kitty Kat, what have you done?"

He had an uncomfortable feeling Quatre had meddled in something he should have avoided. It would have been after the departure of Barton from New Port City. Trowa might have been the only one to contain Quatre, and Une had assigned him to the team going up the mountain. That blonde bombshell he called his friend was a magnet for trouble and if something sparked his curiosity…

"Shit, shit, shit and more shit! What did you do? Trowa is gonna blame me and give me hell when he finds out!"

Heliport 37? That was a private heliport in a zoned rural/residential district of Sanc… and far enough away that to reach it in fifteen minutes he would have to skip landing in New Port City.

So Quatre wanted him to avoid landing and was afraid of ears listening, even on a handset that Yuy had supposedly secured against bugging.

Well shit, what was he supposed to do?

He wanted to investigate the organisation backing Marquise and he had hoped to get a glimpse, maybe some photos, of the pick up crew… but he could not, would not, abandon Quatre to whatever ants nest he was digging.

"Well… I suppose I could arrange to get the CCTV footage from terminal security… maybe dig some info out of Trowa later. If he ever talks to me again after finding out about this! I did promise Marquise I would butt out and go underground for a while, but… damn!"

He would just have to trust Marquise knew his people and hope they did not shoot him at the terminal.

"Sanc Tower, this is…"

—————————————————

Yuy's head snapped up and he glanced over his shoulder, inclining forward enough to enable him to look back along their flight path. Wu Fei swore softly as the helicopter dipped before Yuy pulled it back to level flight and then sat there, scowling at the instruments.

"What was that all about?! You will smear us all into the concrete the way you are flying!"

For a long moment Yuy made no response to Chang's venomous tone. He was more than accustomed to the man's penchant for verbal critique. When he did speak his voice was carefully expressionless, his hand solidly on the flight stick.

"Maxwell's done a bunk."

Trowa's head snapped up and he hissed in alarm. That was just what he did not need! Now he was going to have to inform Quatre that Duo had snapped, yet again, and taken off. Only this time he had legged it with a Winner Enterprises emergency helicopter! Could he not have waited, talked to them in calm and neutral surroundings… and above all waited to speak to Quatre?

"What?!" Chang let loose with a stream of inventive rhetoric in Mandarin and tightened his grip on the edge of his seat. "The man is a fool!"

Heero grunted, offering no comment, his gaze shifting to the doorway into the body of the helicopter. What would Marquise think of Maxwell taking off without a word of warning? He knew Marquise had warned Duo to go to ground, but he had not expected Duo would actually do so; certainly not before he saw Marquise safely back to New Port City.

Personally Heero thought it was for the best, none of them had heard the last of this mission. He had the disturbing notion it would haunt them for some time and ruin all of their carefully thought out plans for their futures. Marquise was not someone you could ignore and he had been frighteningly accurate in how he had read them back in the cabin.

Try as they might to be normal not one of them had really come close.

Marquise was not the sort of man to let an attempt on his life pass him by without taking decisive action. Someone had come very close to killing a man who was notoriously hard to kill. Marquise should have been dead at least three times over, near as Heero could figure it. But on this occasion someone had gotten close enough to take him down and he had almost died as a result.

If he had been the target, Heero knew he would tear the Earth and Colonies apart until he found the responsible bodies and explained to them the error of their ways.

If he had been the target and survived as Marquise had, he would have hunted them down and killed them. Quickly, neatly, expediently. The bodies would never be found.

He did not think Zechs Marquise would be content to discretely remove the perpetrators from the picture, making the world a better place for their unremarked on departure.

One thing he had learned from associating with Relena and browsing through archives kept by the family for centuries, was that Peacecrafts were a funny breed of humanity. They had a habit of taking things personally, as demonstrated by Marquise hunting down and killing those responsible for the murders of his parents; all of them had been dead by the time Zechs reached the tender age of nineteen.

Marquise was older now. He had grown up. Necessity had taught him to be patient, cold and calculating. His was not exactly a forgiving nature.

And he had grown to be very good at what he did.

End

Karina Robertson 2010

Hi there

Sorry for the delay on this chapter, its been re worked a number of times.

The second installment of Friends will now take over from Friends and while I'm still not sure of what to call it, it could be something as inventive as Friends 2 or perhaps Friends and Enemies. Undecided at the moment, but I do hope you will continue to read when the new chapters begin to come. At the moment I would think the first should be ready around the first couple of weeks of February, or there abouts.

Karina