Disclaimer: This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

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A special Thank You to Kt for beta reading.

Blood Ties

Chapter 46

He was back at Wunü, fighting for his life. Around him he could see the bodies of fellow guardians, none of which he recognized. The battle field… no, the killing field was scorched in places, blood soaked in others. He had never seen such carnage before.

His heart was beating as though it was trying to smash its way out of his chest. In his hands Nataku lay silent and dull.

Ahead of him something… someone was moving. A shadow at first that became clearer as it grew larger. The figure of a demon, armed with a sword, slowly solidified. Wufei still couldn't see his face but there was something familiar about the way he moved.

The demon approached, and something inside Wufei screamed to defend himself… to kill him before it was too late. Yet he did nothing. He just stood there, petrified.

The attacker raised his sword, a slender blade that seemed to pulse with energy. He struck with force, swiping the blade across Wufei's neck.

Only at the very last moment he finally recognized the demon's face. Treize Khushrenada! Then everything went black.

####

"I thought you were leaving on the Red Eye?"

Heero didn't even flinch. He had gotten used to Spotted Deer popping up seemingly out of nowhere, and stopped wondering a long time ago how he did it. The sheriff was leaning against the trunk of a tall pine tree, a cup of steaming coffee in both hands.

"I was." The young man rolled one shoulder in a shrug. Behind him the sun was slowly rising over the mountains, bathing the entire forest in a soft golden light. "Changed my mind. The flight was probably overbooked anyway."

"Probably," Joe confirmed dryly. "All those people desperately needing to get to California on a Monday night."

Heero snorted and turned his head toward the sun again. He was sitting cross-legged in the grass, the dampness of the morning dew slowly soaking through his jeans, remembering the countless times he and Odin had been watching the sun rise together outside their cabin.

"I don't know," the young man suddenly admitted. "But I have a feeling that once I leave I might not be coming back for a very long time."

With Odin gone there seemed to be less reason to return here. The cabin felt cold and empty without him. Which was one reason why Heero, had spent the last night at the reservation.

"Hmm…" the sheriff grunted as he settled down beside him. He seemed to understand. "Just remember you still have friends here… family. And those pups…" he gestured in the direction of the village where the three young werewolves were probably still dead asleep. " look up to you. They seem to think you are the best thing since sliced bread. The ancestors know why."

"Yeah," Heero agreed, a hint of smirk on his lips. "I don't get that either. What's so good about sliced bread?"

####

He saw her the moment he walked into the breakfast room of the Montage Hotel, sitting alone at a table for two, absorbed in the menu. She looked no older than 35, her hair was dark and full, hanging open over her shoulders in long waves. Dressed in a wool pant suit; black pants and a short gray jacket accentuated in black, she looked ready for the office or a fun day of shopping.

He noticed a waiter in a white blazer heading toward her table with a glass of orange juice. A smirk crossed his face as he lengthened his step. Catching up with the waiter, he took the tray from the surprised man and put his finger over his mouth. The young man blinked but fortunately seemed to understand and nodded in acknowledgement.

She still was reading the menu when he stopped beside her table and set down the juice.

"May I suggest the Parma Eggs," he proposed smoothly. "And perhaps some company? A beautiful woman should never sit alone."

She looked up, surprised for a heartbeat or two, then recognition crossed her face and she smiled.

"Treize!"

She rose, grasped his hands and leaned in to kiss his cheeks.

"I did not expect to see you. "

He returned the smile as he raised her hand to his lips and placed a ghost of a kiss onto her fingers.

"When Luther told me you were staying overnight I simple could not resist. You should have called me; we could have met for dinner."

"I assumed you would be too busy. But sit down, join me." She gestured at the chair across the table, then waved for the waiter who had been watching the scene from a distance. "Another menu please."

Treize shook his head at the man. "No need. I'll just take some coffee."

He waited for her to sit down again before settling into his own chair.

"I read in the paper about your grand opening. How many businesses dto you own now?" she asked.

"Four, not counting the new one. And I did buy a little bookstore recently, but that was really more of a diversion than an investment."

"Oh! You really have been busy."

The incubus prince smiled modestly. "You would be surprised how difficult it is to keep up with the demand. But enough of me. How are things going for you?"

"We are doing great; expanding as well. This year alone five of my girls graduated with law and medical degrees."

"That's wonderful. You have been working hard for it. So, tell me, how long will you be staying in town?"

"Only until Luther and the girl return, I'm afraid. Thanks for loaning him out to me again."

"No problem at all. He enjoys it. But are you sure you can't stay a bit longer? How about a tour of the spa; treatment included, of course," he offered.

"Tempting; very tempting." Her eyes grew a shade darker and for a moment there was a tone in her voice he hadn't heard in a very long time. "I'm afraid, I'll have to take a rain check, though. Our jet is scheduled for takeoff in two hours."

That elicited a raised eyebrow from Treize. "You have your own jet now?"

"Oh gods, no." She gave a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh. "That would be rather hypocritical, wouldn't it? Considering how long I refused to even buy my own car. No, a… acquaintance was flying into town for a business meeting. He offered me a lift, but he needs to be back in Eugene by noon."

"I understand," the incubus prince nodded, but the disappointment in his voice was hard to miss. "Perhaps another time."

"Perhaps." she agreed.

####

"Another missing persons report?" Detective Parker crooked his neck to read the top page of a stack of papers on his partner's desk as he set down a large cup of coffee beside it.

"Three." Otto confirmed with a grim nod. "But it seems as though at least one of our missing isn't missing anymore."

"Oh?" Parker took a careful sip from his own cup, burned his tongue and swallowed a curse.

"Jonathan Ells. You remember him?"

The detective nodded. He had taken the missing person report himself. Ells was a local business man, young a computer genius who made his first million while still in high school, by selling an idea to some high tech, electronics firm. After college he started his own company together with a buddy who ran the business end of their firm while Ells came up with new ideas and inventions. Said buddy showed up at the police station a few days earlier to report his business partner missing. Apparently Ells had left for lunch and never returned for an important meeting that afternoon.

"So he just showed back up?" Parker asked; not that he was really surprised. He had suspected that would be the case. Somehow the young computer genius didn't fit their profile of the other missing people. None of them had disappeared during the day.

"Uh huh. Somewhere in rural China; dead." the lieutenant confirmed dryly. "I just got off the phone with the local authorities."

Parker nearly choked on his coffee. "Did you say Chino or China?" he clarified as he settled down on the edge of the desk rather than pulling a chair close.

"China." Otto replied. "Business trip… pleasure trip, who knows? I guess he forgot to tell his partner about it."

"Do we know what happened?"

"From what I was told… or what I understood through an unstable phone connection and broken English Ells had been mauled by wild animals or something. His body was found in an mountain region near some popular tourist attraction. They had an Earthquake in that area too around that time. Maybe that set off the animals... maybe they just didn't like Americans. Your guess is as good as mine? In any case, it looks like a tragic accident. They will contact our Embassy and have the body shipped back home."

"Well, one less missing person for us to worry about, I guess." Parker confirmed.

"Speaking of missing persons... Any luck getting in touch with Samantha Middleton yet?" Otto asked.

His partner shook his head. "I left a note at her door this morning, asking her to get in touch. We will see if she does."

"Hmm…" the lieutenant grunted. "The forensic team finished up with the van, too. They lifted the victim's fingerprints, Kyle Saunders' and a couple more they are still trying to identify. They also found traces of blood, and vomit in the back, consistent with the story Saunders has told us."

"You didn't think he was telling us the truth?"

"Maybe not the whole truth. I don't know. I just can't shake the feeling he is hiding something… something important."

"He is been through a lot; might be scared," the detective guessed. "I probably would be."

They talked a few more minutes about the three new reports that came in, but Parker seemed somehow pre-occupied.

"What's wrong?" Otto finally asked.

"Huh?" Trent snapped out of his musings.

"You've gotten all quiet and distracted on me. Am I boring you?"

"No, sorry. I'm still thinking about that guy Ells. How the hell did he get to China?"

"Come again?"

"His partner, when we talked he hold me Ells was deathly afraid of flying. Wouldn't go near a plane for some reason. I mean you don't overcome that kind of fear just like that, climb on a jet and take a quick 13 hour flight to China. To do what? Go hiking in the wilderness?"

"What are you suggesting?" the Lieutenant frowned.

"I don't know." Parker shook his head. "It just seems weird. So many things have been weird lately, wouldn't you agree?"

Otto shrugged. "The world has become a weird place. If I try to think and worry about it too much I might want to hide under my pillows and never get out of bed in the morning."

###

No way! You are just making this up. There is no such thing as weresquirrels… is there?

The lanky wolf with grizzled brown fur looked questioningly at Heero. Ryan, the largest of the pups had been teasing him all morning about the noises they were hearing from outside their cabin every night.

Weresquirrels? Heero had to try hard not to laugh. Honestly I don't know. I have seen only werewolves and bears, but I hear some shape shifters can transform into buffalos or birds…

And not to mention, every once in a while you might come across a wereidiot. Kirsten gave her brother a meaningful glare.

Hey! That was uncalled for. He nipped at her hind leg than took off as she chased after him.

Don't pick on your sister. Takashi joined the pursuit and within moments the trio was rolling across the floor, barking, growling and baring their teeth.

Heero didn't try to stop them. It wasn't his fight. The three of them needed to establish their positions on their own; it was the way of the pack.

Suddenly Takashi tensed. I smell something.

Food?

Maybe. Blood. Over here! He sniffed the ground near his feet. But it's faint.

Maybe a buried carcass? Someone's leftover prey? Kirsten suggested, as the two male wolves already started to dig.

Now Heero could smell it as well. Instinctively the hackles along his spine rose. It was the scent of blood, alright; human blood... and not just any human's. Before he could tell the young wolves to stop digging they paused on their own.

What's this? Takashi pawed curiously at the top of the metal box they had unearthed. A treasure chest?

No! It's a stash box.

A what?

A place to hide stuff you might need in an emergency… clothes… food… money… Kirsten explained. We set up dozens of them in South America with our parents.

Is it one of yours? Ryan looked at Heero.

The large wolf had all but forgotten about this one. He and Odin and buried it years ago, when they first started hunting together. He very much doubted that the clothes stored inside would still fit him. But that was the least of his concerns now.

Ryan! Heero barked. You and your sister, go find the sheriff and bring him here as quickly as possible. Takashi and I will stay.

####

His mind was drifting in and out of consciousness, shifting between periods of dreams… nightmares and dark nothingness. Every time the darkness lifted he became more aware; aware of the light around him… of people moving about… of voices talking to him comfortingly… of the pain. The pain was the worst he had ever experienced. It was not physical pain as much as it was mental anguish; grief…sorry and fear so agonizing it made him yearn for the sweet comfort of nothingness.

"You have got to wake up," a voice suddenly told him. "There is much to do for you yet."

He recognized that voice; he was sure. It was the same voice that had spoken to him on the battlefield, encouraged him to fight against the demon's hold. Who did it belong to? He wanted to ask the question, tried to move his lips to speak, but his body did not want to obey his commands. Instead of coherent words he only managed to form a few garbled sounds.

Someone spoke to him, from a distance this time, mumbling gentle words of comfort. Something cool and soothing was placed onto his forehead. He relaxed, almost slipping back into unconsciousness.

"No, you can't let go. It isn't your time yet." the voice urged. "You are still needed. I'm sorry. Nobody should carry this much pain alone. But you are strong, and you are not alone. Remember that, Little Dragon. Now wake up!"

Little Dragon! Someone else had called him that. Who?

The incubus, he remembered.

A wave of fury surged through his body as he recalled the nightmares that had haunted him. Suddenly he was sure that those nightmares weren't dreams. They were memories; not his own, but someone's memories. The demon… he spoke like he knew him. He said he would make him remember.

'You are still needed' That's right, he decided. I have to make him pay for what he did. I have to wake up.

The darkness around him began to lift. Gentle hands replaced the cool cloth on his forehead. A familiar voice was singing quietly; a song he remembered from his childhood. His eyelids fluttered; opening them was hard work. His lips felt dry and heavy. He tried to move them and somehow managed a weak:

"Mom!"

####

"Are you sure?" Sheriff Spotted Deer was crouching next to a blood stained shirt, examining it carefully.

"Positive." Heero replied. He and the three teens were back in human form now, dressed in loose fitting jogging pants, t-shirts and cheap canvas sneakers; standard werewolf attire, easy to discard and cheap to replace. "He wore that shirt the morning he…"

The young man broke off, unable to finish the sentence. His eyes went to the blood-soaked fabric surrounding two bullet holes; one in the left shoulder the other lower, closer to the abdomen.

After the siblings had gone off to fetch the sheriff, he and Takashi had finished unearthing the stash box. They had opened it only after Spotted Deer had arrived.

"The first aid kits are gone," he continued. "We made 3 or 4 of them, basically just Ziploc bags with some bandages, painkillers and super glue."

"What else is missing?" the sheriff asked whilst he placed the shirt carefully into anevidence bag.

"The emergency rations."

"So, Odin Lowe was shot but survived," Takashi concluded. "He was able to dig up the stash box, took care of his wounds, changed his shirt and grabbed supplies. That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"I suppose." Spotted Deer grunted.

"But if he is alive, why hasn't he come back or at the very least contacted anyone?" Kirsten put everyone's concerns into words. "I mean, even if he hasn't watched the news and heard that he is presumed dead, he must realize that people are worried about him."

"He might have his reasons." Takashi gave a uncertain shrug.

"He might," the sheriff agreed.

He pulled off the latex gloves he had been wearing while handling the contents of the box, labeled the evidence bag and put it onto the passenger seat of his jeep.

"We should be looking for him!' Ryan jumped to his feet. "He is injured. He might be out there needing help, or worse… the Hunters might have captured him and…"

"No!" Joe's voice left no room for argument. "My men and I searched this area already. If he was still in the mountains we would have found him. Until we know better we have to assume that he, like Takashi suggested, has his reasons for remaining missing. This…" he continued with a all-inclusive gesture. "needs to stay between the five of us. We won't talk to anyone else about it. And, we won't run off trying to find or 'rescue' Odin. Heero?!"

The young man's jaws tightened. He wanted to argue that Ryan might be right, that Odin might need their help, but he knew that was just his emotions talking. Odin Lowe was a Park Ranger, he had lived here and knew these mountains like the back of his hand. He was also a werewolf and he at one time had been a Schwarzer Jaeger himself. And Spotted Deer knew Odin better than anyone. If he thought it best to do nothing, he was probably right… as difficult as that was to accept.

"I agree." He nodded, even if a little reluctant.

####

Only three tables on the outdoor terrace of Antonello's Café were occupied when Quatre Winner arrived; one by a group of college-age guys with laptops and physic books, the second by a mom with two boys sipping lemonade and talking loudly about the movie they had just watched; the last by a middle aged man with full, dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard that accentuated his featured. He was wearing an expensive Italian silk suit and fashionable sun glasses, in spite of the overcast sky. The moment he saw the man, Quatre remembered a scene from years earlier; an event he had all but forgotten about.

He was sitting at one of the tables in the hospital's cafeteria, drawing, while his father was talking to one of the doctors at another table just across the room. The two of them had been visiting his mother, like they did most afternoons since she had been admitted for another round of treatments.

"That's a mighty fine dog you are drawing, young man," a voice, deep but gentle, suddenly said from beside him.

Quatre crocked his head, looking up. The man was tall and strong, with dark hair and a bushy beard of the same color. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of reflective sunglasses. He looked a bit like Santa Claus… if Santa Claus dyed his hair, invested in a gym membership and hired a fashion consultant.

"You must be Quaterine's boy?" the stranger said.

"Quaterine is my mom's name." he confirmed. "But I'm not drawing a dog. It's a horse."

"Of course it is!" the man leaned closer. "Silly me, for not seeing it right away. Must be the light in here."

"Maybe if you would take off your sunglasses." the boy suggested, ever so helpful.

"Maybe!" the man chuckled as he reached out to remove them.

His pupils were of the most intense shade of blue, but somehow his eyes didn't seem to match. His right eye didn't move in the same way the left one did.

"What's wrong with your eye?" Quatre asked with the innocent curiosity only a child could muster.

"Oh that. Well…"

"Quatre!" His father's voice interrupted their conversation.

Zaheed Winner didn't look happy as he hurried toward them. For a moment Quatre wondered if he had done something wrong, but then he realized his father wasn't glaring at him but at the stranger at his side.

"Quatre." His father pulled his wallet from his pocket and removed a couple of dollar bills. "Do me a favor and get me a can of soda, will you? And maybe a candy bar for yourself."

"Sure."

He slipped off his seat and skipped over to the vending machines, leaving his father and the strange man alone. When he reached the machines he looked back and noticed the two men arguing with one another.

Zaheed Winner was a tall man, but next to the stranger he seemed petite. Yet that didn't stop him from getting right into the man's face. It was the first and only time Quatre had ever seen his father furious. He clenched his fists and for a moment it looked as though he might punch the other man. But then the stranger put his sunglasses back on and with a last look in the boy's direction, walked away.

Nearly fifteen years had passed since that meeting at the hospital and it had completely slipped his mind. Why could he suddenly remember it so clearly, he wondered?

He walked over to the table, clearing his throat. The man… his grandfather, looked up. It was an awkward moment to say the least.

"Hello again." he finally said.

"Hello Quatre." His grandfather gestured at the chair across the table. He spoke with a slight accent; Germanic… Norwegian maybe; it was difficult to place. "Please sit. I'm glad you came."

"My mother would have wanted me to. She always used to remind us about the importance of family." he replied, a clear hint of reproach in his voice., as he settled down.

The older man pushed aside the Smartphone he had been working on, and removed his sunglasses. That's when Quatre noticed what his six year old self hadn't been able to realize. His right eye was artificial. Although it was skillfully done, and matched the real one in color and shade, it still looked a little 'off'. Realizing that he was staring, the young man tried to find something else to focus on and suddenly noticed the large, black bird on the back of his grandfather's chair. A crow? No, it was larger than any crow he had ever seen in the city, with shinier feathers and a tuff of soft feathers on the top of its bill. A raven then, Quatre concluded. The animal was perching calmly at the edge of the backrest, pruning its jet-black feathers.

A waitress appeared with a glass of something that looked like iced tea and set it in front of the older man.

"Can I get you something to drink as well, and maybe the menu?" She smiled at Quatre.

"I'll take a lemonade, extra ice," he said. "and one of your butter croissants."

"Right away."

She left, scribbling his order down on her notepad.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. To their right, the two little boys were re-enacting a scene from the move they had watched, shooting finger blasters at one another across the table and blasting each other with the Force.

"Why am I here?" Quatre finally asked. "I mean why after all this time have you suddenly asked to see me?"

"Your twenty-first birthday is approaching; according to your laws you will be coming of age soon."

"Exactly my point," the blond replied, registering in the back of his mind that his grandfather used the words your laws, as though those same laws were not his own. "You had more than twenty years to get together. Not like you didn't know how to get in touch."

"I'm a very busy man, Quatre."

"Ah, yeah. So I've noticed. You didn't even find the time to show for your own daughter's funeral," Quatre made no attempt to keep his bitterness out of his voice.

The comment sparked a brief flicker of irritation in the older man's eye.

"Yes, you certainly are Quaterine's boy, no doubt about it. She had always been exasperatingly direct, too."

"Yeah well, it's one of many talents I have inherited from my mother… or so I have been told."

"Quatre! I can tell you are angry, and I do understand your resentment toward me. But do not pass blame until you hear my side of the story. It was not my choice that I have not tried to contact you before. In fact I did, once. Do you remember what happened?"

It was a rhetorical questions, obviously, so Quatre didn't bother to answer, but waited for his grandfather to continue.

"Afterwards your mother made me swear that I would keep my distance until the time came that you would be old enough to make your own decisions. Your father insisted that would not be until you became a legal adult. I only kept my promise. You cannot fault me for that."

The waitress chose that very moment to return with his order; providing Quatre with a convenient excuse to halt the conversation. He picked up his glass of lemonade which was so cold that little pearls of condensation were forming on the outside. The beverage was refreshing with just the right degree of tartness. The ice cubes were made of lemonade, so that they didn't water down the drink. Silently the young man chewed on one of the little frozen pieces.

One thing was certain. It had been easier… much easier to be angry with his grandfather before he knew the whole story. So his mother didn't want her own father around his grandchildren while they were growing up? He wanted to ask why, but instead Quatre said:

"Technically I still can't make my own decisions just yet. I mean, sure I can drive a car, or join the military. I can go to war, kill people or get myself killed. But I can't even decide to legally get drunk for a few more weeks."

The slightest ghost of a smile curved his grandfather's lips."I see you inherited your mother's sense of humor as well. She used to be known and feared for that sharp sarcasm of hers."

"It's one of my better qualities I have been told," Quatre replied dryly before looking up. "Gra…" The word seemed to freeze on his tongue. He frowned slightly. "What can I call you? I don't think I'm quite ready to think of you as 'grandpa' yet."

"And I do appreciate that." A few more laugh lines showed around the corners of his mouth. "I don't think I'm quite ready to be called 'grandpa' yet. And to answer your question… I have many names. But most know me as Odin."

Odin! A picture formed in Quatre's mind, an illustration from an old children's book his mother used to read to him; Norse myths and folklore. The illustration showed a man with long dark hair and a Viking beard. He wore an eye patch like a pirate and held a glowing spear in his hand. On each of his shoulder's perched a large raven. A caption beneath the picture read: ' Odin (sometimes also called Wodan) Norse god and ruler of Asgard'

He still remembered most of what the book had said about the man, all of the stories and legends, but one fact stood out especially in his mind.

"Ha… ha… ha ha ha," Quatre let out a string of bubbling laughter, earning himself a raised eyebrow from his grandfather.

"You are… Santa Claus!"

There it was again, that brief flash of irritation in his blue eye. Then the older man pursed his lips.

"Santa Claus, that's not normally the way most people would address me. The Allfather, yes. The Wanderer, perhaps, or sometimes The Wise One. Lord Odin even… in a pinch…"

"What about Kris Kringle?"

T.B.C.

Author's Note: