Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Knowing ❯ Chapter 3

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

***

"Preventer Shade?"

I nodded in acknowledgement and closed the shuttle door before holding out one hand in greeting. "Detective Jackson?" I inquired.

"Yes," he replied as he shook my hand. He eyed the cane in my other hand with a certain degree of surprise.

I met his questioning look calmly. Shrugging slightly, I told him, "I can get by without the cane when I have to but the doctor made me promise to use it as much as I could." And he had. Except that he'd meant to use it instead of the crutches, not instead of doing without entirely.

The very best bullshit inevitably contained at least a kernel of truth. It sounded a hell of a lot more convincing that way.

Except that it evidently wasn't enough to convince Jackson. Damn. Okay, time for Plan B.

I sighed heavily and admitted, "Okay, so I'm really not supposed to be on field duty yet. But it's *my* damn partner that Preventer Stone left behind. And the only reason he was stuck with Stone in the first place was *this*." I gestured disparagingly at the cane. "If I'd been back on duty, things would've gone down a hell of a lot differently."

Jackson nodded warily. "You mentioned on the phone that Stone had blown the case and you were going to have to fix his mess." He cleared his throat and observed, "I suppose that I shouldn't ask if he's officially off the case or whether you're officially here."

I could see why Jackson had been Officer of the Year in his district for the past three years running. And why he had the best goddamn solve rate in the region.

"Probably not," I said blandly.

He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then blew it out slowly, looking off into the distance. I waited patiently. If he decided that he didn't want to get involved, there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop me from going ahead with the rescue alone. I could take him down without causing any serious damage and be back on the shuttle in ten seconds or less.

But if I was reading him right, that wasn't the way things would go down. He wanted that narcotics operation shut down and he wanted it to happen *now*. If his department was going to get credit for it, so much the better.

I really couldn't fault him on that. This operation was producing a damn nasty designer drug that was addictive from the first hit but took a long time to show its ugly side effects. Its users would truly be "feeling no pain" while high yet they could function *almost* normally. It was virtually impossible to overdose on it. In short, it *seemed* the ideal drug. And from a seller's standpoint, it was. "Freebies" resulted in virtually guaranteed repeat buyers. And buyers could keep taking the drug for a very long time with no immediately apparent negative effects. They would gradually build up a slight resistance to its effects and would need larger and larger hits but that was about it.

But tests had proven that as the addict's liver worked to breakdown the drug, the liver itself was damaged. Not to the point of immediate failure - but enough that it couldn't repair itself as quickly as the damage was being done, especially as the size of the hits increased. And as liver function deteriorated, the kidneys were inevitably affected too. Eventually, equally inevitably, one or both would fail.

This was *not* the sort of operation that any law enforcement operation wanted in their backyard. And we had enough evidence to shut them down. What Une was still digging for was proof of something beyond the narcotics operation. Despite all evidence that this was strictly drug-related, she kept looking for ties to rebel groups or weapon smuggling. After reviewing everything that the Preventers had on the case, I honestly didn't think there was anything there to find.

Jackson sighed heavily and turned his gaze towards me. "So, what's the plan?"

I couldn't stop the grin from spreading across my face. "The plan is simple. You tell me *your* plan, then I make suggestions."

He gave me a decidedly startled look.

"I told you on the phone, Stone and I don't do things the same way. I've got a plan if you don't have one ready but I'd rather see yours.

"You're the locals. You're the ones with the knowledge of the area and the way these people operate. You're the ones who can tell me where they're probably holding my partner. I'll help you as much as I can but getting him out is my primary objective." Assuming, of course, that Heero was in any condition to *get* out. All I had to base that assumption on was a gut feeling that he was alive and the knowledge that he was the most damn stubborn, hard-to-kill man I'd ever known.

Jackson gave me one last considering look before starting towards a blocky van parked at the edge of the landing field. "Follow me. There's a map of the area in our mobile command unit. I'll show you what we had in mind."

***

Given an excuse to move and move fast, Jackson wasted no time getting an operation underway. He had the respect of his superiors and that meant that what he asked for, he got. Not without a certain amount of bitching and moaning, but he got it. Watching him interact with his superiors - and his fellow officers - made it more than clear just how fucked up a situation Heero and I had been putting up with. Our solve rate was just as damn impressive as his but in our case, we didn't get either the support or the respect that should have warranted. Not from our fellow officers and sure as hell not from our superiors.

Commander Une had no compunctions whatsoever about using our abilities but that was the only value she placed on us and every other agent. She still thought in military terms. Black Ops terms, at that. Everyone under her command was just another soldier, all equally expendable in the course of achieving whatever goal was being pursued. Every case, every mission, no matter how nonthreatening, was equally critical. Be it gunrunning or gambling, if it was of sufficiently wide scope to be handled by Preventers, each and every case was treated as a threat to peace. That was the kind of thinking that had led to Une's decision not to send a rescue mission after Heero immediately. A full investigation of the narcotics operation was more important to her, despite the fact that there had been no evidence that the key suspects were using their ill-gotten fortune for anything other than the personal indulgence of living in the lap of luxury.

I made up my mind. The Preventers was, by and large, a good agency. They fulfilled an important role. But with so much ex-military brass at the top, it was less of a paramilitary organization and more of a military one. One that was in danger of perhaps becoming a bit - overzealous - in its fulfilment of its purpose. "Quis Custodiet Custodes Ipsos?" I murmured softly as I pulled three sealed and addressed envelopes from my pack of supplies. The age-old question. Who guards the guardians...

"Detective Jackson?" I handed the envelopes to him. "Just... in case," I shrugged in response to his questioning look. He leafed through them, his eyebrows rising higher at each successive address revealed. Not surprising. While Chang Wufei wasn't exactly a household name, he *was* in the news occasionally thanks to his role in the L5 revitalization project. And it would be tough to find any reasonably well-informed adult in the Earth Sphere who didn't know who Quatre Winner and Relena Darlian were.

"If I don't reclaim them - mail'em," I told Jackson simply. If Heero and I didn't make it, someone was going to have to make sure that Preventers came under some careful scrutiny. We might not be close to any of those three personally at this point but I knew where they would stand on the less-than-ideal conditions at Preventers. The agency needed someone to take a serious look at its priorities. It wasn't a case of actual *corruption* - not yet, anyway - but this last incident - Une's decision to treat Heero's mission as if it were Black Ops and essentially abandon him based on Sorenson's opinion that he was either dead or dying - was one hell of a warning flag. Preventers needed some long, hard looks directed at it and its daily operations; those three had both the position and the drive to make damn sure that it came under that kind of scrutiny.

Jackson nodded slowly and turned to place the envelopes somewhere safe. I finished reorganizing my pack, shifting the first aid kit to the bottom and placing the smoke and gas grenades on top. I rechecked my bandaged knee, making sure that it had enough support, then downed a precautionary painkiller. I knew damn well that my leg was going to hurt like hell in no time flat; there was no fucking way that I could use even the cane once we started to move in.

"The last units are moving into position now. You ready, Shade?"

I gave Jackson a rather grim Shinigami grin in response. "Let's get this fucking show on the road."

Apparently, the winery we were moving in on was producing something other than wine. It had been a legitimate business up until a few years ago when the owner died and his son inherited the place. Now, there was no way that the vineyards produced enough grapes to be responsible for the heir's income. Nor did the vats produce nearly enough wine to fill the extensive underground cellars. They would make an ideal location for a drug lab.

I was hoping that they also made a virtually ideal location to hold a prisoner.

"We move in fifteen minutes," Jackson told me. "Make the most of it."

I nodded once, sharply, and adjusted the headset he'd provided me with. Jackson had offered one of his men to partner me on this but, even with my bad leg, I'd move far faster alone than with a partner unused to working with me. So while they were busy presenting warrants and starting the official search in the winery's main building, I would be searching the cellars for any sign of Heero. They were giving me a fifteen minute headstart to get in position and start my search before they made their move. Other cops would be watching the perimeter to stop any escape attempts - or attempts to dispose of an inconvenient prisoner.

Slipping out of the command van, I froze in mid-step as a quiet, "Good luck, Shade," came over the com channel. It had been a long time since anyone other than Heero had directed those words in my direction. Just as long since anyone other than I had directed them in Heero's. It brought home to me yet again just how fucked up of a situation we had been living in for far too long. Something was going to have to change. Heero and I deserved a better life than the one we'd been living.

But first, I had to get Heero back.

***

The loading dock in back of the facility provided my way in. I headed straight for the access door alongside of the big bay doors. It was locked but only with a standard commercial passcard-based lock and alarm, nothing that provided even a modicum of challenge. I had the cover off, wires yanked and shorted, and door open in under a minute. I then spent a few more precious seconds cramming the wires back inside and wedging the cover in place again. It would pass a casual glance and with the raid beginning in less than fifteen minutes, I wasn't worried about it holding up to a more careful examination.

The winery accepted deliveries and loaded trucks in the early morning hours only. *Very* early morning. That meant that at this point in the late afternoon - almost early evening - there was no one in the loading area. Just stacks of boxes waiting for tomorrow morning's shipping schedule. Probably at least some of the cartons contained more than the bottles of wine that they appeared to. I didn't waste my time checking; that would be up to the local cops.

Slipping through the access doors leading towards the wine cellars, I visualized the blueprints I'd memorized of the winery's interior. They dated back to the previous owner's time so there would doubtless be some discrepancies. It was highly likely that a portion of the cellars had been sealed off to prevent visitors from stumbling across the winery's real primary operations. Health inspectors and buyers from various stores and restaurants would be in and out on a fairly regular basis; the public areas would have to be kept completely innocent in appearance.

Once I was within the cellars themselves, I had to keep a careful ear open for any indication of workers. The vats themselves were aboveground, thank god, or I would be dealing with a *lot* of employees since there were grapes being processed right now and that involved constant monitoring. That did not rule out the presence of workers - legitimate winery employees - in the cellars entirely but it reduced the probability of encountering very many this late in the day.

Though there were certainly a *few* people around... I ducked quickly into one of the storage rooms and hid in the shadow of a rack of casks as I heard footsteps approaching. I held my breath as the individual passed the doorway, the light from the hallway momentarily darkened as it was blocked. I waited while the footsteps receded before cautiously peeking around the corner of the doorway. A brief glimpse of a coverall-clad back was all I saw as the worker headed back the way that I had came in. Despite my impatience and sense of urgency - my lead-time was slipping away rapidly - I forced myself to wait a few more moments before resuming my search.

There had been considerable debate over the timing of the raid. In theory, it would have been better to hit the place either in the early morning hours while a pickup or delivery of questionable nature was being made or right in the middle of the day, while the maximum possible number of employees were onsite and could be detained for questioning. Both times were ultimately ruled out due to one simple fact: the probable imprisonment of a Preventers agent, one who was believed to be injured, possibly critically. Instead of delaying the raid until the next day in order to hit at one of the optimum times, the operation went into action absolutely as fast as the necessary units and equipment and warrants could be scrambled.

A distinctly different decision from Une's. And even more proof that the Preventers agency was seriously overdue for a reality check.

Glancing at my watch, I grimaced. Nearly two thirds of my lead-time was gone and I hadn't even located the drug lab. I was certain that Heero would be held in its general vicinity, well away from the possibility of casual discovery.

I picked up my pace, ignoring the immediate protest from my knee. Once the raid began, Heero would become a major liability. Hell, the whole lab would be and the quickest way to destroy the evidence would be to blow it. There would be more than enough chemicals in there to incinerate the actual lab equipment and any existing stock of drugs as well. If an inconvenient prisoner were to be taken care of in the process - well, there wouldn't be anything left to prove it.

Five minutes left. I pushed myself into a run, gun in one hand and smoke grenade in the other. Caution wasn't an option now. I had too much ground left to cover. Best guess said that the drug lab would be in the furthest portion of the wine cellars. Rather than wasting time checking the rooms opening off of the corridor I was running through, I headed straight down it. Abruptly, the corridor ended. Considerably sooner than it should have according to the blueprints.

I swiftly checked the wall for any sign of a hidden switch or release. Nothing.

Reviewing the blueprints in my mind, I realized that there should be wine storage rooms on both sides of the hall here. There weren't. One side had a closet labelled "Cleaning Supplies". I gave the closet door a cursory check for alarms, found one, and shorted it. An instant later, I was inside and searching for a way out.

Finding the latch for the concealed door was easy. Too easy. I couldn't find any sign of an alarm but the inconveniently located broom holder - no one would ever hang a broom or mop or anything else in that corner, it was too awkward to reach - was just too damn obvious. I didn't much like the fact that I had no way to know what was on the other side of the door either.

No choice. I had to trigger the latch and hope that Shinigami's luck hadn't quite deserted me.

Before I could do so, however, there was a sound and the door began to move. Crap. Nowhere to hide.

I stepped back as far out of sight as I could get and waited. I didn't want to use the smoke grenade then find out there was only one person there; the smoke would undoubtedly set off detectors and draw a whole lot of attention that I really didn't need. On the other hand, if there were more than two or three people coming through... I was going to regret not having already tossed the damn thing.

As the door slowly opened, voices became audible. Three for sure. Fuck.

I yanked the pin on the smoke grenade, counted, tossed, counted, then sucked in a last deep breath and dove through the narrow opening, door jamb scraping shoulder and hip painfully. I didn't care, I'd overcompensated to make sure that the opposite knee *didn't* hit anything; it was giving me enough trouble already.

Rolling to my feet, I came up with one shoulder blade pressed against the wall and kept moving forward. I had to get clear of the smoke before I ended up handicapping myself as much as my opponents by getting too much of it in my eyes or inhaling it. I caught a split-second, hazy glimpse of motion before one of the men was on me.

This was where being a Preventer really sucked. I couldn't shoot the guy except in defense of myself or an innocent and even then, I couldn't do so until he indisputably proved he deserved it. And if I *did* shoot him, I was still supposed to try to keep him alive for questioning. Things had been a hell of a lot simpler during the war.

It was a foregone conclusion that when the guy slammed into me, my bad knee would twist and give out. I knew that. Was prepared for it.

It still hurt like hell.

I decided that as far as I was concerned, having his hands around my neck and trying to throttle me was pretty indisputable proof that the guy was indeed trying to kill me and I was therefore entitled to use deadly force to stop him. By some miracle I had *not* dropped my gun in the scuffle and I managed to bring it up against his side. I don't think he even registered its muzzle pressing into his gut. I couldn't afford to wait for him to notice it; I was already seeing spots. I pulled the trigger. His hands tightened for an instant in reaction then slackened and I managed to shove him off of me.

Before I could drag myself to my feet, another gun went off. I instinctively rolled even as it fired and the shot ploughed along the surface of the Kevlar vest before striking the wooden floor of the cellar. I kept rolling until I was facing the shot's source, then returned fire without taking the time to aim. While the woman was ducking in reaction to my first wild shot, I took aim and fired again, a solid heart shot that dropped her instantly. I looked for the third person but the door back into the closet was closing.

Suspect number three had gotten away. Crap. And after all of this noise, any chance of sneaking through the place was shot to hell.

A glance at my watch confirmed that sneaking wasn't going to do much good anyway. The raid had started by now. I was certain that it wouldn't take long for word to get down here and then all bets would be off as to how things would go down. I didn't know whether it was just paranoia that made me so sure they'd decide to blow the lab or if that was a legitimate evaluation of the situation but I was pretty damn certain this place would be going up in a fireball.

I switched my headset mike on and warned, "Shade to Command. Come in Command. Over."

"Command to Shade. Go ahead. Over."

"Shots fired. Two suspects down, one at large, headed into main winery. Drug lab entrance through cleaning closet at end of hallway in wine cellars. Broom hanger in northeast corner probable latch release. No sign of Sky. Continuing search. Over."

"Acknowledged. Primary team sweeping main building. Secondary entering cellars in two. Over."

"Acknowledged. Shade over and out."

Two minutes before the team would be entering the wine cellars. It would be another five to ten, depending on resistance, before they reached my position. That was too long; I couldn't wait.

Gathering my nerve, I cautiously tried to rise. It hurt. A lot. And I could feel the swelling puffing out around the edges of the support bandage which was definitely *not* a good sign. But despite the pain, the knee bore my weight. Speed and agility had definitely taken a nosedive but I was mobile. Though I intended to keep that side next to the wall if at all possible; I doubted that the knee would handle another fall. Best to keep support in easy reach.

I barely glanced into the rooms I passed. Just enough of a check to ensure that Heero wasn't there and there was no threat waiting to nail me the instant that I turned my back. The first couple of rooms just contained boxes of the type used to ship the wine. Whether they were empty or filled with drugs, I didn't know and I didn't waste time checking. I just kept moving. Much more slowly than I liked - but moving.

The next rooms were filled with chemical drums and gas cylinders. Shit. Even a cursory check was enough to make it quite clear that if they torched the place, it was going to be one hell of a big bang.

Pressing onwards, I could see a bend in the corridor ahead of me. Comparing my location to the blueprints and the map of the area, I realized that this was where the cellars turned to run along the edge of the cliff overlooking the river. Jackson had remarked that according to local legend, they'd been used by smugglers back when the water level was higher and the cliff less unstable. Now, however, the caves along the cliff had almost all collapsed and the river was so low that it was at least a thirty foot drop from them.

The section of cellars running along the cliff had been condemned and ordered sealed years ago; Jackson's sources hadn't reported anything about them having been reopened and put to use. But they obviously had been. The actual drug lab had to be down there. As did Heero. I could hear anxious, excited voices coming from down that corridor. I was going to have to get down there fast. But first, I had to report in. This was too big to leave for those behind me to discover on their own. They needed to be forewarned.

I ducked back down the hall and into one of the chemical storage rooms. "Shade to Command. Come in. Over."

The response was gratifyingly prompt. "Command to Shade. Go ahead. Over."

"There's enough chemicals here to blow the whole damn place off the map. And the condemned cellar section is open and in use. Believe lab and Sky both in that area. Voices confirm presence of suspects. Over." I gritted my teeth and eased my weight off of my bad leg. Maybe I'd have to take the support bandage off; the swelling around it was getting pretty bad. I wasn't sure it would hold me without the bandage, though. And if I took it off, there was no way I'd ever get it back on again; there was too damn much swelling. Hell, there was too much fucking swelling to get it *off*, I'd probably have to cut it off.

"Warning acknowledged. Putting fire and rescue on standby. Will advise teams to proceed with extreme caution. Your status? Over."

While Command was speaking, I was busy transferring smoke and teargas grenades from the backpack to pockets and belt. I wanted them out and ready for use. There wouldn't be time to be digging for them once I started around that corner towards the drug lab.

"Continuing search. Shade over and out." My breath hissed out sharply as I put weight back on my bad leg. I'd have popped another painkiller if there was any chance it would kick in soon enough to do any good. But it wouldn't. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, the sharp pain from that providing enough distraction from my knee to get me through that first agonizing step. Once that first one was out of the way, momentum and sheer mulish stubbornness kept me going.


As I walked - well, limped - towards the corner, I donned the protective goggles and readied the thin, self-adhesive membrane that would serve as a gas mask. It had a pretty short useful life; the teargas would saturate it to the point of uselessness fairly quickly. But it was better than nothing and a hell of a lot more convenient than the more effective but very bulky breathers that provided the next level of protection.

I peered cautiously around the corner. There was a lot of frantic activity taking place but it seemed pretty disorganized. I pulled the pin on the first gas grenade and started to count as I walked towards the activity. By the time someone noticed me, I'd already tossed the grenade and slapped the membrane over my nose and mouth. It immediately adhered, conforming to the shape of my face. Breathing through it was like trying to breathe through a heavy blanket. Possible but stuffy.

Shouts started. I threw a couple of smoke grenades and forced myself to a faster pace. The pain in my knee flared - it felt like I was grinding it into broken glass with every step that I took and at the same time the muscles and tendons were tightening dangerously, twitching and threatening to spasm. The silhouette of a gun barrel had me firing instinctively. The man's forehead blossomed red and he dropped. Someone reached for the dropped gun and I shot again. The chest shot flung her against the wall. She slid down it to lie in a crumpled heap.

Ahead of me, at the edge of the area affected by the grenades, someone got smart and disappeared from the hall for a moment. When he returned, he was using Heero as a bodyshield. If the asshole could have seen my face under the mask, he'd have wondered why I started to grin at the sight.

Heero didn't look so hot; he was damn pale and the bandage wrapped around his head was stained with dried blood, a lot of it, but then that was typical of scalp wounds. His hands were bound behind him and his shirt was torn and stained on one side. A hint of bloodstained gauze showed through the tear. He obviously wasn't too steady on his feet - it looked like the arm wrapped around his throat was actually holding up some of his weight. His captor had a gun pressed against his temple. Heero's eyes met mine and I could see him struggling to focus. His lips moved silently, counting down. On one, he went limp. Staggering slightly under Heero's weight, his captor swore and was forced to shift his hold. The gun left Heero's temple for an instant and I fired.

My first shot shattered the man's gun hand. The second silenced his shriek of pain permanently. Heero went down with him and rolled to pin the gun down and prevent anyone else from grabbing it. I was at his side in an instant, one hand keeping the gun ready for use despite the hall's sudden emptiness, the other pulling a knife from an ankle sheath. Heero raised his hands away from his back and I sliced through the plastic bindings around his wrists with a certain amount of difficulty. His wrists were so swollen that it was difficult to slide the tip of the knife between skin and plastic without cutting skin in the process, especially with only one hand and half of my attention on our surroundings. I managed to only nick him slightly with the tip.

Hands freed, Heero rolled over and sat up slowly, wincing as his arms dropped limply at his sides. "Your knee?"

The smoke and teargas were already clearing, sucked away by the ventilation system. I pulled off my membrane mask; its usefulness was pretty much gone anyway.

"Don't ask," I muttered grimly. "Gonna need a hand up." I'd dropped down on the good knee in order to cut Heero loose but I really didn't think I could make it back up again.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Heero said as he struggled to his own feet, "but what the hell are *you* doing here?"

I knew what he meant. At the start of this, I'd been far from field ready. At this point, if I looked half as bad as I felt, I probably looked at least as bad as Heero. "Stone's an asshole and Une's an ice-cold bitch with a conspiracy fixation," I told him flatly. "I'm - not exactly here officially. Jackson and the local cops are making the bust. Jackson's smart enough to know what questions *not* to ask. He'll get the bust and I'll take the heat. Une's gonna be real pissed. If I'm lucky, she'll only take my badge."

I grabbed Heero's outstretched arm and he managed to drag me to my feet. I clutched at him and swayed for a moment before the nausea and dizziness faded. "Shit." I blinked a few times and the spots finally faded.

Abruptly, the headset crackled to life. "Command to all units. Evacuate immediately. Repeat, evacuate immediately. Fire in chemical storage. Repeat, fire in chemical storage. Please acknowledge in order."

Swallowing hard, I held up my hand in a "wait" signal as Heero started to question me. I headed back to the bend in the corridor, Heero following close behind. He'd appropriated a gun and had it in his hand but I doubted he could use it yet; the circulation in his hands had been pretty damn restricted.

We didn't really need to look around the corner; the heat was intense enough to curl the hairs on my arms before we even got there. But a glance around the bend was enough to confirm that the passageway was completely blocked by flames and they were spreading rapidly.

I listened as the other units all acknowledged the warning and reported their positions. They were all on the other side of the fire. Finally, I was the only one left to report in. "Shade to Command. Located Sky, injured but mobile. Acknowledge evacuation order but cannot comply. We're on the other side of the fire. Over."

There was a long moment of silence, then the response came back, "Acknowledged. Will send fire crew in immediately. Over."

"*NO!*" I shouted desperately. "Do *not*, repeat, do *not* send in a fire crew. It's too dangerous." I thought rapidly, searching for a way to convince them. Jackson wasn't the type to abandon anyone but those chemicals would blow long before a fire crew could contain the flames enough for us to pass through. "Check the lab analysis for details on chemicals involved. Fire department will confirm hazard level. Over."

Heero caught my elbow and turned me away from the fire. He prodded me into motion so I limped along beside him, still monitoring communications. Finally, a reluctant response came back from Command. "Fire department confirms. Jackson wants me to ask..." The voice broke off and I could hear a faint, horrified demand, "*What?* I will *not*..." There was some crackling from the headset and after a moment, Jackson's voice came over it. "You still have your gun and ammo? Over."

Oh. No wonder he'd freaked out the dispatcher. "Yeah," I answered. "We won't go slow," I assured him. And we wouldn't. We both knew how to make it quick and virtually painless. Better that than burning to death. But the speed that Heero was forcing me to match was giving me a faint hope that maybe we wouldn't "go" at all. He knew how bad I was hurting; he wouldn't be asking me to practically run if he didn't have a damn good reason. No point in mentioning that to Jackson though until we knew for sure that there *was* another way out.

"Don't forget to mail those envelopes," I added as an afterthought. "Shade over and out."

As soon as I slid the headset off and draped it around my neck, Heero said, "There's been heavy rain for the past few days. One of the men was complaining that there'd been another cave-in down this way. Somebody else made a crack about taking his girlfriend down to watch the sunset through the gap. I don't know how big it is but..."

"It's definitely worth a try," I agreed readily. Behind us, there was a boom and a blast of hot air washed over us. A quick glance back showed the flames spreading down the hallway towards us, licking hungrily at the wood flooring and spreading up the walls. We both managed to force our battered bodies into a jolting run.

Everything from that point on was a complete blur. I have the very vaguest memory of finding the gap. Of frantically digging with knives and bare hands to enlarge it. Of looking at that god-awful drop and hoping like hell that the water here wasn't *too* shallow.

But I have no memory whatsoever of jumping. And although the water wasn't too shallow, it *was* full of rocks and I had the incredibly bad luck to crack my head on one underwater. So it's not surprising that I have no memory of anything that happened after that. Nothing until I woke up in someplace that felt a hell of a lot like a safehouse. I had a pounding headache and a throbbing knee and I felt like I was going to throw up any second. But Heero was sleeping restlessly beside me, alive and looking at least marginally better than he had before, so absolutely nothing else mattered. I closed my eyes and willed myself back to the healing embrace of sleep.

***

"I - you said you'd be lucky if Une just took your badge. I wasn't sure how much trouble you were in..." Heero hesitated uncertainly, avoiding my eyes. He took a deep breath, then blurted out, "No one knows we survived. We're in one of J's old safehouses. The supplies were still usable so I haven't had to leave since we got here. Your concussion had me worried, though. I was afraid that I'd have to take you to a hospital..."

Holy shit. We *were* at a safehouse. And everybody thought we were dead?

"Umm, I don't think I was in *quite* that much trouble with Une..." I ventured hesitantly.

On the other hand, I *had* essentially stolen a fucking *shuttle*. Not to mention a whole shitload of teargas and smoke grenades... I'd violated a direct order... Wrecked Une's plans for further investigation and ruined any chance of finding a link between the narcotics operation and rebel activity... Put the credit for a major drug bust in the hands of a bunch of local cops instead of Preventers...

"On second thought - maybe I was," I admitted. It simply hadn't been an issue worth worrying about at the time. Getting Heero back was all that really mattered. I propped myself up a little further on the window ledge and stifled a yawn. Damn, I hated concussions. The effects lingered for fucking *months* sometimes. Especially the headaches and general weariness.

"We're legally dead. We could - start fresh. I still have accounts from the war. Blank identities that were never used..." Heero said, watching me carefully as he restlessly paced the room.

A fresh start. Well, it wasn't like we'd be leaving anything worthwhile behind. Jobs we'd learned to hate. A handful of casual acquaintances that were at least polite and a lot of other people who hated or resented us because of who we were. A few former comrades who'd drifted out of touch due to the passage of time and physical separation.

I took a sip of hot chocolate from my mug to delay my response a bit longer. It seemed strange that there really weren't any reasons *not* to stay dead and start over as someone else. Just a lot of reasons why we *should*.

Turning my head, I said softly, "Heero." He stopped his uneasy prowling immediately and turned towards me. "Yes."

He smiled, bright and beautiful, and crossed the room in two quick strides, kneeling on the window seat and leaning over to kiss me so gently and tenderly that he left me yearning for more. "We'll need new names," he murmured quietly. "You pick for me and I'll pick for you?"

I nodded my agreement. That would be better than trying to choose for ourselves. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes for a moment, testing my resolve. Yes, I was sure. "Haircuts," I stated firmly. "Drastic ones. You cut mine and I'll cut yours."

Heero gave me a look that was part shock, part horror, and also just the slightest bit intrigued. "Duo?"

I pulled my braid over my shoulder and stroked it lightly. "It's way too recognizable, Heero. And... it's part of the past." I struggled for the words to explain more clearly.

Heero stopped me with another kiss and a soft, "I know."

And meeting his eyes, I could see that he did. I managed a smile and informed him, "Buzz cut for you."

He laughed.

"I'm not joking," I warned.

"I know." The asshole laughed again. "Jaw length, I think," he said, tilting his head thoughtfully.

Yikes. Well, I'd said "drastic". "Okay," I agreed. "Go get the scissors." Before I could lose my nerve.

Heero gave me an understanding smile and started out of the room. He paused in the doorway to look over his shoulder and murmur, "Love you."

I smiled, slow and soft and loving. "I know... And I love you."

"I know."

And with that, he was gone. Only this time, I knew that he would be right back again. Back to take the first step towards our new life together.

I could hardly wait.

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