Warnings: Slash, Lime

Pairings: 2x4x2, 1x5, 3+4 (unrequited)

Disclaimer: These characters and the anime they come from are not mine, no da.

AN: I can't believe it is finished!!! OK, it took me almost a year and a half to finish it, but it is all done! Um, pretty please tell me how you liked? Was the ending a disappointment? Did the lemon suck? *Braces herself* Seriously, I can take it!

Normally at this point, I thank all the reviewers who were kind enough to support the fic throughout its development. Unfortunately, it has jumped locations so many times that many people would be very hard to track down. *Bows very low* So please let this humble thanks suffice. Truly if it were not for your continued support this fic would never have been completed despite all the obstacles encountered along the way.

Chess

Part VII - A new game?

by Xellas M.

"Not one WORD of this gets back to the guys, do you hear me?"

"But, Duo, we look so pretty!"

Two stewardesses, one short, blonde and pretty and the other taller, brunette and obviously extremely cranky carefully picked their way through one of the largest public spaceports on Earth.

"That's not even funny." Duo snapped back at his lover.

"It's not MY fault you didn't have a plan for getting back. I'm just making the best of a bad situation. Has anyone ever told you that you have gorgeous legs?" Quatre asked, amused. He'd dressed in drag before, at the Club, so even the high-heeled pumps they were forced to wear were nothing new to him.*

One of the most notorious criminals - or heroes, depending upon who was asked - of their time, Deathscythe pilot 02, winced. It was, after all, entirely his fault that they had raised every possible alert to the Oz forces with their arrival. However, his lover appeared to be enjoying the cross-dressing a little *too* much and almost entirely at his expense.

"Not one word." Duo insisted. "They're probably not going to be too happy with us as it is."

Quatre sensed the anxiety flowing from his partner as though it were his own. Ever since they'd first made love, he had a great deal of difficulty filtering out the braided pilot's emotions. It was as though his carefully maintained shields didn't even exist. This had worried him, at first. Fortunately once Duo went into action, obtaining the uniforms and sneaking them on board their return flight, Shinigami had taken over, leaving Quatre free to act without distractions.

"They're not going to do anything that will weaken the team. Eventually, they will adjust." The blond comforted his companion, hoping he was correct.

"WuFei's gonna freak." The American muttered sullenly.

"Then we'll just have to make out in front of him until he gets used to it." Quatre replied with a sly grin. "Wanna practice?"

If the blond thought Duo wasn't going to take him up on that just because they were both disguised in female clothing in the middle of a crowded spaceport, then he apparently had a few things to learn. The braided "stewardess" stopped dead in the middle of the walkway (which fortunately was on a conveyor belt), and pulled the smaller man into his arms.

Fifteen minutes later, they were both busy trying to simultaneously hide erections under tight skirts, fix their smeared makeup, and decline the offers of several gentlemen travelers wishing to join the hot lesbian couple.

"What *is* it with straight men and lesbians anyway?" Duo muttered, blissfully unaware that had they been dressed as men, the women would have been every bit as interested.

* * * * *

Eventually, the pair made it back to the safe house. Much to their chagrin, Hiiro, WuFei and Trowa were all at home and apparently had nothing better to do than demand explanations from their wayward comrades. Duo and Quatre were hustled into the living room and placed on the small couch. The other pilots pulled up chairs in front of them, and WuFei even went so far as to turn on a small light above their heads.

"You've endangered all of us." Hiiro began the interrogation. There was no jealousy in the Wing pilot's heart; there was no emotion whatsoever. It did not matter what their reasons were or what they had or had not done, only that pilots 02 and 04 understood that compromising security in that manner was inexcusable.

"I apologize. It was my idea," began Duo truthfully as always, "but it was important."

The expression on Hiiro's face did not change. The American sighed and chose his next words very carefully.

"Quatre and I had something we needed to work out, something personal. We did not want it to involve the rest of the group."

"However, we should have told you we were going first." Quatre finished. His large aqua eyes were shadowed with guilt. With a single look he expertly conveyed the impression that they'd made a mistake; that they hadn't thought of what they were getting into and were now very sorry. It was a look designed to put even hardened, seasoned terrorists at a loss.

After a full week of spending time with the blond pilot as his real self, it was unexpectedly surreal for Duo to be confronted with the empath's timid façade. Even though it shouldn't have, it surprised him when his teammates took the blond's meek face and tone as a given.

Hiiro nodded, slowly. His fellow pilots appeared to understand their error. Although there was no guarantee that it would not happen again, prolonging this discussion would be of no benefit. He understood that although Duo and Quatre's methods differed greatly from his own, they had value. Better to simply account for this possibility when making plans in the future.

"Just what was it you had to work out?" Trowa demanded, picking up where Hiiro had left off. He knew the reason, or close enough. But it was vitally important to the green-eyed young man that Quatre admit it openly.

It was time. "We have something we need to tell you guys." The violet-eyed pilot began. He reached over and grasped Quatre's hand gently, as though the smaller boy truly was as fragile as he chose to appear.

The blond smiled up at him encouragingly. Now that the dreaded moment had come, there was almost a sense of relief. At last it would finally be over with, one way or the other.

"Quatre and I are a couple."

Dead silence fell upon the room.

Hiiro nodded, once, in recognition and stern approval. He had, of course, reason to suspect as much before the pair had disappeared. Once he had solid proof he would have brought up the subject himself. If either Trowa or WuFei was unwilling to accept this development, the team could dissolve immediately, which was unacceptable. This was something that needed to be addressed and worked through as a group if they were all to survive.

Not to mention that even the Perfect Soldier could not criticize others for a relationship he had once tried to pursue himself.

Trowa stood up stiffly. His one visible green eye was haunted. It flickered upon Duo for an instant and hardened, a reminder of his promise to the braided pilot should he hurt the Arabian. It then rested upon Quatre and softened slightly.

"I am very happy for you both. Take good care of each other." He said at last. The words were truly meant. He would have killed himself to please the Arabian had he been given the opportunity. As it was, he would be content to simply watch from the shadows, doing everything in his power to ensure Quatre's happiness. It hurt, but at the same time there was a strange sense of relief. He would rather die than fail his friend and deep down, he knew he was not ready for the responsibility of a real relationship.

That did not mean Trowa wished to stay and face the new couple. The pain was too fresh. He left the room quietly and began packing his things. Whenever it all became too much, his sister Catherine was always there for him. To say she did not have much of an opinion of his fellow pilots, Quatre in particular, was an understatement. Fortunately, she also seldom asked questions.

Quatre smiled over at Duo and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Two down, one to go. Piercing blue, anxious violet, and hopeful aqua eyes all turned to Chang WuFei.

The Chinese pilot was sitting stiffly, his gaze locked onto his comrades' entwined hands. His face betrayed nothing of his thoughts.

The empath reached out, hoping to sense what the black-haired pilot was not saying. However, Quatre recoiled at his first light touch to WuFei's heart. There was endless disgust, deep and bitter hatred that it was difficult to comprehend. The shock was like ice water to the blond's system.

It did not make sense. Like Hiiro, the Arabian was well aware of the sexual preference of all the Gundam pilots; he had felt WuFei respond to men. These feelings were always tied closely to those of admiration. They had been very strong after his encounters with Treize and were occasionally present around Hiiro. Too late, the empath realized that that Shenlong's pilot might not consciously be aware of their true nature. WuFei always had been very difficult to read. His emotions were simply more complex than most, tied as they were to rules and situations.

Quatre was familiar with denial, having dealt with his father's throughout his childhood, but his father had never felt hatred toward homosexuals. His father had simply pretended it was something a person could change if he tried hard enough. The Arabian had, of course, encountered other individuals throughout his life who chose to hate what they could not have. Still, he had expected better than that of WuFei.

Duo stiffened as his hand was suddenly gripped so hard it hurt. He glanced over at his lover. Quatre's serious answering look left no doubts as to WuFei's reaction, that it was bad. Not just normal, every day bad, but the kind of bad that threw their already doubtful future into certain ruin. He alone was completely unsurprised by this development, having seen enough hate crimes during his youth to recognize some of the triggers.

"You are both dead to me." WuFei finally spoke, his voice laced with utter loathing. "I respected you, and you lie on your backs like weak females." Rage burned inside the normally quiet pilot. By the standards of his people and their ancestors, Duo and Quatre had just openly confessed to the most shameful thing imaginable. The only honorable course for them would be to commit suicide. Yet there they sat, flaunting their deviation, touching like… The Chinese man's stomach lurched and could not even continue the thought.

What had made him think these were warriors who could help him fight for Justice? The enemy had more honor than these freaks. He had to leave, immediately, before he could disgrace Nataku further through his association with the unworthy.

"I will be going. Do not try to contact me." WuFei remarked, his voice acid, as he left his former teammates behind.

"'Fei, wait - " Duo began, but the Chinese pilot did not stop or turn around.

Unexpectedly, Hiiro rose to follow him. "I will straighten this out. Don't do anything rash." The Perfect Soldier cautioned as he marched stiffly out of the room.

Left alone with his partner, Quatre pulled the taller man into a tight embrace. Gently, he stroked Duo's cheek and whispered words of comfort.

"What have we done?" Was all the violet-eyed man would say.

* * * * *

Hiiro alone knew better than anyone why WuFei could not cope with their friends' announcements. Having read psych reports the Chinese pilot had not even seen himself; his rejection and denial came as no surprise. Hiiro knew, but he did not understand. His training had clearly illustrated the need for a soldier to be able to adapt, to reject teachings that proved to be a liability. Only for WuFei, those teachings were almost all he had left.

But only almost, and that is what Hiiro had to try to make him see. It was a mission for which he was ill equipped; normally it was Quatre's job to take care of the mental health of the pilots. Unfortunately this time that was out of the question. There was no one else.

The Japanese man reached WuFei's door. Uncharacteristically, he took a deep breath before knocking sharply. When he received no answer, he pushed the door open.

Chang WuFei had been packing as though his life depended upon his speed. Nausea and hysteria threatened to overcome him in waves. He needed to meditate, to clear his mind and soul, but not in this house. It was unclean now.

He ignored the sharp knock at his door. Probably it was Quatre, it almost always was at times like this. Perhaps if he stayed quiet enough, the effeminate boy would just leave, would go do whatever disgusting things he wanted to with the other queer. In retrospect, it wasn't so surprising that Duo was like *that*. After all, he was only a street rat and couldn't be expected to know any better, but the Arabian had come from a good family.

When his door was pushed open abruptly and Hiiro marched in, WuFei was relieved. At least, he was relieved until he saw the death glare on the Japanese pilot's face. There was something even more terrifying about it than the look he normally wore to battle. That look was empty, even when the Wing pilot was laughing. This look clearly stated that the grievance was personal. Very little was considered personal by the Japanese boy and as far as WuFei knew, the only time Hiiro had ever gotten this angry before was in Relena's defense. That situation had turned out quite ugly. This was quite probably one of the most dangerous situations Chang WuFei had ever faced.

"Hiiro." WuFei stated calmly. He did not pause in packing; to do so would be cowardly.

"You can't go." The blue-eyed pilot's voice was bland.

The Chinese man did not reply.

"You know too much about us. I cannot let you leave."

Shenlong's pilot hadn't thought of that. Truth be told, he wasn't thinking much of anything, his judgment too clouded by emotion.

"Better dead than to live dishonorably." WuFei meant that, every word. With a calm he most certainly did not feel, he reached for his sword, prepared to fight his way out if that was necessary.

"To die would be selfish. We need you alive." Hiiro responded. His blood began to pound as his irritation at pilot 05's irrationality became more than he could suppress.

"Then let me leave." The black-eyed pilot was not going to back down.

"No." With great effort, the Japanese man forced down his growing anger. "There has to be a better way."

WuFei's sword remained down. Truly, he did not wish to fight Hiiro, who was still a warrior whose skills he very much respected. "How can it not bother you?" He asked, at a loss.

"I'm gay too." Came Hiiro's reply.

Ebony eyes narrowed as the Chinese warrior began to raise his sword.

Hiiro did not appear to notice as he continued calmly, "So are you."

"You lie!" Icy terror clenched WuFei's heart at that announcement. He would not accept his supposed friend's words as the truth. It was this fear, or rather its unknown source, that prevented him from striking.

Hiiro snapped. All of the passion he'd buried so deeply came lashing out at once and found a target. He'd wanted Duo, badly, but hadn't taken the opportunity when he'd had the chance. All because he had refused to acknowledge the human being he still was inside. He had adapted now, learned to practice what he had always preached: be true to your feelings.

Now WuFei was making the same mistake but his was unforgivable. His actions could cost them their lives and more importantly, the entire war. Drastic measures were called for, to make him see what he should have known all along.

Hiiro said nothing, simply began to approach WuFei with slow, measured, controlled steps.

The Chinese man swallowed, his instincts fighting for dominance: fight or flee. Trapped in the middle, he could not move, could not do or say anything. Intense blue eyes pinned him to the spot, growing closer and closer with every step the Wing pilot took.

Finally, they stood nose to nose. "You are gay. You are attracted to men. Specifically, you are at least somewhat attracted to me."

The last thing Chang WuFei felt at that moment was lust. His stomach was doing unmanly things, lurching around so badly that it left him unable to argue.

"Maybe we can help each other." The Japanese man said softly, half to himself and half to the petrified warrior standing before him.

Knowing that he would not get a response, he grabbed WuFei roughly and pushed him against the wall. Before his startled victim got his bearings back and begin a fight to the death, the blue-eyed man placed a very firm, if inexperienced, kiss square on the Chinese man's lips.

A fresh wave of panic washed over WuFei when he realized what was happening. Panic, and shame because he had not avoided his teammate, or even made a move to discourage him. Hiiro's rough lips were still moving on his own, causing the sickening lurches in his stomach to become something…different. The shock allowed understanding to slip into in the black-eyed pilot's mind. At his ultimate core the Chinese pilot was a creature of honor. He had been able to deny his urges only until directly confronted with them. Something that began to resemble acceptance followed this admission. He was barely even aware of his movements when he stopped resisting completely and his arms reached up to pull the Japanese man closer.

The heat, the exciting challenge of the kiss, brought a rush like battle to the hearts of both men. It was a physical combat, a duel to make the other submit with nothing more than pleasure as a weapon, sublimely exhilarating. A true warrior cleared his mind of all distractions during battle. No room was left for shame or doubt as the two, once begun, could not fail to take the fight to its finish.

The two pilots would have a difficult paths to follow, but at least they would not have to travel them alone.

* * * * *

Duo and Quatre were still nestled in an unhappy embrace on the couch when they first began to hear strange noises coming from down the hallway.

"They're fighting." Duo said, dread beginning to creep up on him.

Quatre held his lover tightly as he carefully reached out with his heart. What he encountered from Shenlong's pilot's room brought a very sexy, knowing smile to his face.

"They're not fighting. Actually…everything is going to be alright." The blond waited for understanding to appear in his partner's violet eyes before leaning up for an impossibly sweet kiss.

* * * * *

~Owari

* And we're talking the 1980's super-spiked heels here. Any man that could walk on *those* would definitely not have any problems piloting a mobile suit. ^_~