Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Justitia ❯ Chapter 4

Additional Warning: Reference to Extreme Torture within. Don't read if this disturbs you.

Justitia 4: honour - the quality of being honorable and having a good name; "a man of honor"

Trowa walked into sub-level four with a small frown etched on his face. He had spent the day beforehand playing games with Marie in Wufei's office and talking about Wufei. He had tried several times to wheedle out of Marie exactly what the Russia mission had been to no avail. Either she knew exactly what he was trying to get her to talk about and was evading him, rather well, or she just didn't have any clue. Trowa somehow doubted it was the latter.

So he had come to archives in the hopes of tracking down the mission report. If there was one. Because there wasn't one on the computer system.

"Can I help you?" It was the small archivist he had seen with Marie the day before last and she was looking at him as if he had just walked into her room while she was getting dressed, which was not a good thing.

"Yes, I'm looking for a report that doesn't seem to be filed on the computers?"

"Well, that's odd…which report is it exactly?"

"I'm not sure of the numerical code. It was a Russian mission some point in the last twelve months I think." Trowa gently herded her toward her filing cabinets.

"Agent name?"

"Chang Wufei."

"Oh," the archivist paused, "that mission report." Her hands shook a little as she backed up from the filing cabinet and headed for the shelves. Trowa followed at a more sedate pace, the curiosity of what was in that report damned near driving him mad, but he reigned in his impatience as she pulled a massive box out from the back of one of the shelves and started shuffling through the files inside.

"Are they…" Trowa narrowed his eyes at the familiar handwriting written on each folder. "Are they all Chang's missions?"

The lady smiled at that, shaking her head a little.

"These are the reports up until the Russia mission. After that he started filing his reports by computer, directly to Une."

Trowa's mind gaped but nothing showed in his outward appearance. No on reported directly to Une! That was madness, and everyone had to create paper copies of reports and have them signed; that was just how it was done. So why was Wufei the exception? What was it about those missions that had them kept off the records?

The archivist made a small satisfied sound and stood up, a fat file in her hands.

"I'll need it back, and I would prefer it if you didn't let anyone know I let you see it…" Trowa just nodded in understanding and headed for the door, but he went downstairs rather than upstairs, having heard that Duo would be in at some point during the day. The last thing he wanted to do was explain exactly what he was reading to Duo Maxwell. Besides, Wufei's office was much more to his liking.

The monitors were flooded with computer prompts. Not a single wallpaper was in sight. He watched the weird video footage for several minutes before several of the squares began to catch his attention. It was night on the little images and the corridors were only dimly lit, but he knew blood when he saw it and it was everywhere. Shadows rested against walls, still and unmoving and lights were flashing, casting sickly colored glows over everything but there was no sound. It was all silent. Still, Trowa could hear it, in his choked memories.

A flash of movement caught his eye and his gaze switched to that monitor. There was the familiar flash of gunfire, figures running and then a flash of steel that made Trowa's blood run cold. He glanced aside at the laptop only to see the small figure directly on top of Morson Base.

"Wufei…" Trowa sat down in Wufei's chair and booted up the main computer, completing the download and sealing off the information, detaching the link with whatever computer Wufei had used to hack in. There was still another link though so Trowa sent a communication request to it, waiting impatiently for a reply as the monitors continued to flicker with life and struggle.

Sally appeared on the screen.

`Trowa?' She was barely audible, wind whipping her hair all over her face. She appeared to be traveling at a rather high speed, in the dark, in Antarctica. Trowa momentarily questioned her sanity before deciding it must have been rather necessary for her to have agreed to it.

"What's happening?"

`Where the hell are you?'

"Wufei's office."

`Then you can't help. Sorry, gotta go.' And she killed the line. Trowa growled low in annoyance and turned his attention back to the security feed. Sure enough there was another flash of gunfire on one of the monitors and he slammed his hand down on the freeze button just as a shadow shifted into view. Trowa pulled it up on the main screen and sat back, just staring and wondering if maybe, just maybe…this was normal.

Wufei was dressed in dark clothing that looked drenched in blood, face splattered with it, hair dripping red droplets, plastered to his face and neck. There was a gash across his left cheek that looked awfully like a bullet wound to Trowa and he was favouring one leg. There was a katana in one fist, a pistol in the other. It was the scariest thing Trowa had seen since the war ended. None of them fought like that anymore. Did they?

Trowa put the image as the main monitor's desktop, then reached over and pulled the Russia report into his lap.

He wished he had never opened it. By the time he was finished he wished he could pretend it was some sick bastard's idea of a joke. But he understood why Wufei only reported to Une, why there were no longer paper copies of his reports, why Wufei was kept on sub-level seven, tucked nicely way and to all intents and purposes ignored. If it got out that these kinds of things were happening; that people were flouting the new disarmament laws to such a degree…there would be no peace.

But he still wished he had never opened it. Ignorance was, after all, bliss. He was distracted by the lack of movement on the monitors, fear suddenly growing in his gut, but then the strangest thing happened. All the monitors showed a flash of red, and then went dead, the feed lost. Cut. Destroyed. Mission complete. Wasn't it? Trowa shuddered to think as he stole a glance at the new desktop wallpaper.

His fingers brushed against a thick, smooth surface at the back of the report and he quickly pulled it out from the large report file. And then he just stared some more because there wasn't really anything else he could do.

"Agent: Captured," he read the words aloud, trying to make them fit the picture in his mind but it didn't work, until he looked at the photo the words were printed across. Then it fit all too clearly.

It was a photo of Wufei, in snow camouflage pants with not top, three bullet wounds clear in his chest, oozing blood and puss and he couldn't imagine what else. He was filthy, hair loose and scraggly, face pale, thin, worn…and he was pinned to a wall with a katana through the middle of his right forearm. Trowa traced a finger over the sword in the picture and shuddered, because he could have sworn it was the one in the picture on the monitor.

Marie's words were ringing in his head and he realized she knew, that at some point she had seen this photo, not to mention Wufei after the mission. The question was why had no one been told? He should have known; should have been able to help in the recovery, except Trowa had a sinking suspicion there had been no recovery. The date on the photo matched the first few days of the mission…the report followed on for three months after that date…And Trowa knew the rest. Knew what Wufei had done, knew what it must have cost, but he couldn't make the report match the person he had known. Could not imagine what had happened to make him take such measures…until he looked at that photo. And then he thought he might almost understand.

Trowa tucked the photo away in his pocket before returning the file to archives. He had not intended to go upstairs today, but changed his mind. There was someone he really wanted to talk to. So he caught the elevator to the top floor and stalked into Une's office, completely ignoring her secretary, the look on his face enough to stall the two security guards at the door, and he took the empty seat in front of Une and just waited.

Une barely blinked, just finished the paper work she was doing before she nodded for the guards to close the door.

"Barton. Is there something I can help you with?"

Trowa just matched her stare, blank for blank as he dumped the photo on her desk.

"Why wasn't I told?"

Une's eyes flickered to the photo and her mouth creased into a dark frown. Trowa didn't care. He should have been told…Should have been there, or somewhere…anything but being in the situation he now found himself.

"You are not privileged to that information, Agent Barton." She sat back in her chair, steepling her fingers in a manner that was eerily familiar.

Trowa did not reply, just continued to stare, unmoving. He was not leaving that office without some kind of explanation. Une sighed heavily at the hard stare and slumped forward in her chair, resigned to the inevitable. It seemed to Trowa she had known this day would come but that she had hoped it wouldn't. He could not blame her.

"He was dead, Trowa. They tortured him to death, do you understand what that means? He was tortured to death by a Russian terrorist faction of the Chechnyan army. Do you understand that?"

Trowa's hands wrapped around the arms of his chair as he sat a little straighter.

"He's not dead." They said captured, not dead. Captured, but at no point did the report say released or escaped…

"Do you really want to know Trowa? Is this really what you want?"

Trowa swallowed, throat dry and raspy, but he nodded. He could not turn aside from this; he would not be…weak. Dishonorable. Unjust.

Une pulled out her glasses, put them on and folded her hands across the desk, the very picture of someone Trowa would rather forget, but he understood the need for that façade the moment she began speaking.

"They disabled him with his own katana as you see in the photo. They then made sure he could not run away by cutting the Achilles tendon on his right leg and he still fought them, so they shot him three times in the chest. They then dragged him thirty miles through the snow behind their vehicle to where they had already captured a full team of our agents.

"They cut a hole in his stomach with a rusty spoon," Une said coldly, fingering the edge of the photo. "Then they pulled out his intestine and nailed it to a roundtable of fellow agents, tying his hands together under the chair. They made him watch as they nailed each agents tongue to the table, and then they nailed his tongue down too and when they could not confess to their crimes they were shot in the head. Only he ripped his tongue free of the nail and confessed; he told them every lie he could dream up and they knew it was untrue, so they nailed his feet to the ground and left him there for three days. On the day they packed up their camp two of the soldiers came and they sawed his teeth into points, telling him they were giving him `wolf canines' so he could kill the vultures that were pecking at the flesh of the other agents when they came for him. And then they freed one of his hands and left a gun on the table with a single bullet in it and left him there."

Une sat back in her chair, picking up the photo from her desk and stroking the edge as she studied Trowa's face over its edge. He couldn't move, didn't dare try to speak. Why hadn't they been told?

"Oh, and they took his shoes."

The boots. That was why Marie bought Wufei new boots. The mission must have been just before Christmas, to which Wufei wasn't invited because no one had seen him for three months and Duo had wanted to invite Une instead since they'd been seeing a lot of her at that point…Why hadn't Une said anything?

"Preventers assumed him dead after two weeks elapsed without contact. A week later we received that photograph and assumed our fears were confirmed. As is Preventer policy, the case was closed and his next of kin were informed."

"He doesn't have any next of kin," Trowa ground out, eyes fixated on the way she was stroking the edge of the photograph, almost lovingly.

"Exactly, Trowa. No one was told, except me, because I closed the case. Three months later we received word every one of the targets was dead and the mission completed. Chang Wufei turned up in my office a week before Christmas and asked me where his office was. I told him where we had put his things and that was that. He unpacked the boxes on sub-level seven and I haven't heard a peep out of him since. I send him missions when he shows up at the office and other than that I go out of my way not to disturb him."

Trowa slumped in his chair wearily, feeling thoroughly sick.

"Why. Wasn't. I. Told."

"You didn't ask, Trowa. I waited every day for one of you to ask about him; to ask anything even remotely related to him but you never did. Which makes me wonder why you're asking now…" Une raised an inquisitive brow.

"Marie. Marie…took me to his office a few days ago."

"Ah…She says it's quite interesting there. Is it?"

He smiled in spite of the pain under his skin. "Yeah…it's interesting." There was no other word for it, really. Une just smiled faintly, almost knowingly and he wondered how often she snuck down to take a peek while no one was looking.

"You're…protecting him, aren't you?" Trowa said softly, seeing the connections between Wufei, Marie and Une all too clearly. Une seemed…amused by the question.

"Not especially, no. I don't really think he needs it. After all, as you pointed out…he's not dead and I myself cannot understand how that's so. I give him dangerous missions, but I let him deal with them his way. He has access to everything in this building; his security pass is equal to my own. He does not have to file reports to anyone but me and hence answers to no one; I don't care what he does so long as he comes back alive. But, yes, to a certain degree I protect him. I protect him from the people in this building who cannot understand him; who would destroy him for the decisions he has made without understanding why he made them. Those same people who treat Marie like she's some sort of monster when she's just a little girl trying to do what she is told. I protect him from the political world that would love to throw him in a prison and lock away the key and in return he does the jobs I couldn't legally ask anyone else to do. He's a ghost and I don't like it, but he's alive."

Une took one deep shuddering breath and exhaled heavily and Trowa had a glimpse of what that little speech had cost her; of what the entire affair had cost her, and then her face closed over once more and she was Lady Une, head of Preventers once more.

"So, can I help you, Agent Barton?" She held out the photograph and her expression clearly said she expected it to be returned to its correct place.

"Ma'am I would like to take a short vacation to Antarctica. Just a day or two."

Une chuckled at that, picking up the next pile of paperwork on her desk.

"We can give you a ride home in two days time, but you'll have to find your own way there. I understand McMurdo Base is rather nice this time of year, and they have a shuttle leaving Argentina in twenty hours." Une didn't once look up from her paperwork.

"Thank you Ma'am." Trowa quickly got up, turning to leave when a stray thought occurred to him. "Ma'am it's almost the weekend…"

"Your point?" Une looked up from her papers, more than a little amused, and blatantly curious.

"Well, I was wondering if Marie would care to take a few days vacation with me."

Une laughed outright, leaning back in her chair to fold her arms over her chest and stare at him pointedly over her glasses.

"She doesn't go anywhere near anything even remotely dangerous and you are responsible for any bruise on her body, do you understand? Oh, and I want her at school at 9am Monday morning."

"Understood," Trowa smiled softly, leaving the office quietly to Une's soft chuckling. The security guards gave him strange looks and Trowa supposed it was not every day that someone left the head of Preventers chuckling to herself over a pile of paperwork. He didn't bother going to his desk, taking the elevator to the ground floor and heading to sub-level seven from there. He packed up Wufei's spare laptop, which was still connected to a transmitter Wufei was obviously carrying, he grabbed an empty art book off the top of the pile in Wufei's drawer, and he locked up just in time to be in the foyer as Marie's school bus pulled up outside and she hopped off.

"Trowa," she waved to him curiously as he came to meet her and he took her hand, leading her around the back to the garage rather than having to go back inside and risk being spotted by…well, anyone. He really did not want to have to explain.

"Do you have a warm coat? A really warm one, for the snow?"

"No!" Marie spluttered, looking up at him, completely confused.

"What about a beanie? Got one of those?"

"No!" Marie walked around to the passenger side of his car and got in while Trowa started it up. "Where are we going?"

"Antarctica," he grinned at her and she just gaped at him, eyes wide, disbelieving.

"No way! We're going after Fei? That's so cool! How'd you get Une to let us go?"

Trowa basked for a brief moment in the awe of his one momentary fan before he let his mind tick over into mission mode. They had ten hours to get to Argentina. There was most certainly no time for a shopping spree. He headed for the airport.

"Wufei's laptop is in my bag, get it out."

Marie fished out the laptop and followed his instructions, connecting to the internet and running a search for extreme climate clothing stores in Argentina. They found one close to the Port city they would be leaving from and Trowa had Marie pick out some clothes, charging them to his credit card and having them shipped to the shuttle they would be taking to Antarctica.

They ended up being directed to a shuttle from the airport, sanctioned by Lady Une for Miss. Kushrenada's vacation. Marie just laughed at the stumped look on Trowa's face and climbed on board.

They were in the air before either could think to blink and Trowa finally looked down to find Marie chewing on the inside of her cheek, deep in thought.

"Credit for the cancer causing pain in the membrane?"

Marie snorted at that, but looked up to show him what she was looking at on the laptop. He was amazed to see Ug Boots scrolling on the page, all shapes and sizes lined in the finest sheepskin. She'd managed to find the store a few mere blocks from where their shuttle would launch from.

"Which ones do you want?"

Marie pointed to a pair of dark blue ones with bright pink fur inside and Trowa clicked the buy now option.

"What size?"

"Six."

He then opened the men's page and flicked through, choosing the plain beige ones with white wool for himself.

"You've got big feet," Marie noticed idly before she pointed to another pair on the site. Trowa looked them over quickly; black with dark red wool inserts calf length and fully insulated. He promptly bought size seven, which made Marie grin.

They spent the rest of the trip playing online packman. Trowa lost nine games straight.

It was a simple thing, to drop by the Ug-boot shop on their way to the launch port, and Trowa was able to amaze Marie with his fluent Spanish. Of course, she then one-upped him by speaking Russian to the guy who led them to their room on the shuttle.

"You're rather good at that," Trowa noted as he packed away the last of their bags.

"What, Russian?" Marie just snorted, shrugging off her coat in the heated room. "I have to stay ahead of Wufei. He learns way too fast."

Trowa just smiled at that, wondering if Marie was aware of Wufei's chosen profession prior to becoming a Gundam Pilot. Still, it was interesting…that Wufei spoke Russian. Trowa had been curious as to why Wufei had been sent on a mission to Russia, but none of the other pilots spoke the language so he supposed it made sense.

"Trowa…why are you doing this?"

Startled, Trowa turned to find Marie sitting calmly in her seat, looking up at him expectantly. He sat down slowly, not really sure how to answer, not even sure he understood exactly what Marie was asking.

"Doing…what exactly?" He asked quietly, seriously.

"This," Marie waved her arms about the cabin. "Going after Wufei, taking me with you. Trying to…make me smile. Why?"

Trowa folded his arms across his chest, suddenly cold, and tried to think of the right answer but there was no right one and he thought maybe, just this once, it might be right to just tell the truth; to go with what he felt as Heero had once told him to do.

"Because I care about Wufei a great deal and have been remiss in my friendship with him. Because I think you and Wufei are suffering and I want to end it, if I can, or at least share the pain, if that's what it takes. And because you have a lovely smile and I didn't see it, before you decided to share it with me because you were lonely." Marie was wide eyed, not having expected that answer at all, but Trowa was not finished. "And…because…I should be with you. I should be suffering, if you are. I should be in pain; it should be mine to share. I should not have been smiling when you were not."

They sat together in silent contemplation, each lost in their own thoughts, Trowa trying to gauge whether his explanation was satisfactory or if he had somehow made a mistake. It was Marie who moved, changing seats so she was beside Trowa, lifting the arm rest and lying down in his lap, hands curling tight around one of his knees. Her back was shuddering slightly and Trowa knew she was holding back tears. He wondered if anyone had ever told Marie they loved her, and if they had…if she had believed it.

"He won't listen, you know. He won't…hear you."

Trowa let his hands fall, one to rest in her hair, the other reassuring on her back, rubbing in small circles as if calming a small animal. He couldn't keep the small, tight smile from forming, and he didn't want to. It was…shared pain, after all.

"Then we will have to find some other way to tell him so he doesn't have to listen."

Marie laughed at that, but it was a choked, teary laugh that tore at Trowa's heart. Neither moved until the shuttle landed at the Antarctic port where a sled was already waiting to take Miss. Kushrenada to McMurdo, a penguin ready to greet them in the passenger seat.