Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Road To OZ ❯ Two ( Chapter 2 )

The Road to OZ (2/?)

by Anne Olsen

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) - PG13 - Action, drama, angst. Gundam Wing/Stargate SG1 xover.

Pairings: - Gundam Wing: 3x4, 1x2, 5+S.
- Stargate SG1: Non specific (at this stage although this may change as the story progresses.)

Summary: When a gateway is unintentionally opened, two unrelated missions become one desperate struggle for survival. SG1 and the Gundam pilots must join forces to take control of a weapon that could affect the future of both their worlds.

Kashie's drawn some gorgeous fanart for chapter one which you can see here - http://www.psinergy.com/dryerspace/shadesandechoes/gw/graphics/rto_kc1.jpg

Archive: http://www.angelfire.com/ab7/shadesandechoes/gw/GW.html

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the boys in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Stargate SG1 are owned by Stargate (ll) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Products.

Thanks to the beta team: Bast, Hex, haraamis, Gina, Spaceseeker, Anon, and Meg.

Comments to: anneo @ paradise.net.nz

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Chapter Two

"Incoming travellers," the loud speaker was still blaring, when Jack stepped out of the wormhole. Glancing around, he let out a sigh of relief at the familiar sight of the SGC. Not that he didn't trust Daniel to dial home, but after the eighth and ninth chevrons had encoded, he hadn't been sure what the hell to expect.

"Close the iris!" Jack yelled. "And I need a medic here." The titanium barrier closed behind him, yet he felt no pity at the sound of several muffled thuds which signalled that at least a couple of the soldiers had tried to follow them. Nichol hadn't been the flavour of the month even before he'd taken a pot shot at Daniel.

Jack saw Quatre rub his chest and shiver. The kid frowned when he saw Frasier examining his friend. Carter was right; the other boy didn't appear to be much older, although it was difficult to tell from this distance, especially with the weird bang obscuring half his face.

"Trowa?"

"He's in good hands," Carter reassured Quatre. The boy's head fell back, and he went limp in Jack's arms.

"Medic!" Jack yelled again. While he knew that the kid had been hit with a tranq, he didn't like the way in which Quatre had rubbed at his chest before passing out. Easing the boy onto the ramp, Jack stood back to let the medics move in. "Team status?" he snapped.

"I'm okay, Colonel," Carter reported.

"I am unharmed, O'Neill," Teal'c replied, his face impassive as usual.

Directing medics to load Trowa onto a gurney, Frasier began her examination of Daniel. "Dr. Jackson appears to have been drugged," she said. "His symptoms are similar to the boy's but I'll know more after I've done a CBC and tox screen. He's also going to have a nasty bruise on his face from where he hit the ramp."

Jack winced.

"He was unconscious when he came through the gate, O'Neill," Teal'c said.

"Rub it in, why don't you?" Jack muttered under his breath. He cleared his throat. "The kid with the brown hair is Trowa," he told Frasier, "and the blond is Quatre." Glancing at Trowa, and back to Quatre again, he noticed for the first time the similarity in their clothing. Matching jackets, dark trousers and shirt - it was definitely a uniform of some kind, and he doubted they were trying out for the school track team.

General Hammond approached the ramp. "What happened, Colonel?" he asked. "And who are these boys? This was /supposed/ to be a simple recon mission."

"Someone forgot to tell the Goa'uld that," Jack snorted. "We barely made it out of there in one piece."

"Unless the Goa'uld have started using tranquilliser darts, there's something else going on here that you haven't told me yet. Once Dr. Frasier clears you, I expect a full debriefing, Colonel." Hammond's expression hardened. "Does the other boy have the same symptoms, Doctor?"

Frasier was now hovering over the gurney onto which Quatre had been loaded. "Yes, sir." She held up a tiny dart and carefully put it into a sterilised bag. "This was in his shoulder, General. I'll run some tests, but I suspect it contains traces of a neurotoxin of some kind."

"Why were these teenagers shot with tranquilliser darts, and how did Doctor Jackson manage to get involved?" Hammond was wearing his 'what the hell have SG1 gotten themselves into now' look.

"He was in the line of fire…sir," Jack answered. "As to why; do you want the short version or the long version?"

"The short version…for now. I'll expect you and your team to report to the briefing room once Dr. Frasier has given you all a clean bill of health."

"We came, we saw, we kicked butt." Jack shrugged. "Oh, and I think we pissed off the natives. Guess they won't be inviting us back for Thanksgiving."

Frasier gave her team a nod, and they began moving out. As the men carrying Trowa passed him, Jack put a hand out to stop them. The boy's arm had slipped off the gurney, and the movement had pulled his unzipped jacket away from his chest to reveal a square bulge. Curious, Jack cautiously slipped his hand inside Trowa's pocket - he hadn't forgotten how comfortable Quatre had seemed handling the gun - to retrieve a CD.

******

"How overdue is overdue?" Duo asked Une. Quatre was a stickler for schedules, and while Duo didn't know the mission specifics, Une wouldn't have used the word lightly.

"Twelve hours," Une answered. "Which is why I've sent for you." She paused and gave each of them a nod.

"You want us to go in after them and provide backup if it's required?" Heero asked, getting directly to the point as usual.

"Yes, " Une answered. "We received information that the remnants of OZ and White Fang are working together on a weapon with the potential to shatter the peace we've all worked to create."

Duo snorted. "You'd think they would have gotten the message that weapon building is a big no-no by now." He frowned. "What remnants of OZ and White Fang?"

"Not all of them surrendered their weapons after the Mariemeia incident," Wufei reminded him. "Even with the enforced armistice."

"And peacetime isn't openly welcomed by everyone," Sally said. "With the mobile suit and weapon factories being closed down, a lot of people don't see it as progress, but more as loss of income."

"We risk our lives to end the war; fight, so that others don't have to, and these idiots are worried about the state of their bank balance?" Duo wasn't impressed.

"Money and power is often a powerful motivation," Une said. "But motivation aside, it's important that these people are not allowed to go ahead with whatever they have planned. The Preventers were formed to keep the peace, and although we do get involved in other matters from time to time, it has always been our priority." She studied the information in front of her for a moment. "Our informant supplied information leading us to believe that OZ is using an abandoned resource satellite in the L4 colony cluster as their base of operations."

Heero raised an eyebrow. "L4?" His next question didn't take a great leap to figure out. "This satellite wouldn't happen to be owned by Winner Enterprises, by any chance?"

"Yes, it was," Une replied. It wasn't surprising; after all, Quatre's family did own most of the controlling interests on L4.

"I bet Cat was pissed about that one," Duo muttered.

"He wasn't impressed, if that's what you are implying, Agent Maxwell." The tone in Une's voice was a reminder that she was in charge and that he should watch his language.

"Right," Duo nodded. He'd wondered why Quatre had been involved in this, as he wasn't a full-time Preventer like the rest of the Gundam pilots. Instead he split his time between the Preventers and running his family business, with the understanding that if his expertise was required for a particular mission, he would be available. He'd also admitted to Duo that he missed the adrenaline rush of the events of the war, and that he couldn't face the thought of spending 24/7 behind a desk. This was a compromise.

"Further research by Agent Winner also suggested that some of this operation might have been funded by money embezzled from his company." She paused. "He was quite…persuasive in his arguments to be included in this mission. I had planned to assign another agent to accompany Agent Barton anyway, and the two of them do work extremely well together."

Quatre /could/ be very persuasive when he set his mind to something. Une wouldn't have stood a chance. Duo grinned, imagining Quatre's reaction when he'd discovered that someone was using his resources to build a weapon. He wouldn't want to be in that person's shoes once Quatre got the information that he needed to prove it.

"So what /exactly/ was their mission?" Wufei asked.

"They were to infiltrate the resource satellite…"

"The /abandoned/ resource satellite," Duo interrupted, unable to resist the smart-ass remark. Heero kicked him under the table.

"Find whatever information they could regarding the weapon, and get out again without being discovered." Une ignored Duo's comment and continued with her explanation. "Agent Barton radioed in to confirm that they'd made it onto the satellite without incident, and that he would report in when they had completed their mission."

"Either they were discovered, or someone was expecting them," Heero frowned. "My conclusion would be the latter. Trowa managed to infiltrate OZ during the war; this shouldn't have posed any problems."

A nasty thought struck Duo. "Think about it. Stealing money from Quatre to make weapons isn't something someone without a death wish would attempt. However, stealing money to make weapons, and then leaving a trail of breadcrumbs behind to lead someone right where you want him…"

"That's ridiculous," Une said. "I sent Winner and Barton because they were the best agents for the job. We didn't discover the link to Winner Enterprises until after I'd assigned Barton to the case."

"And you assigned him because you needed a practised infiltrator, which just happens to be Trowa's field of expertise?" Heero snorted. "I very much doubt that just anyone could get past Quatre's security measures. He designed them himself and then asked me to test the program for him. The only way someone could have done this without Quatre noticing sooner is if they were working from the inside, and left the trail when they were ready to be discovered, knowing…"

"…how Quatre would react to the information," Wufei finished. He didn't need to add the obvious; designing a scenario requiring Trowa's skills, and then revealing this information would have ensured getting two Gundam pilots for the price of one.

"It's too much of a co-incidence," Duo agreed. "But why the hell would they target Tro and Cat? Unless…" He paused and twisted the end of his braid around his fingers, before turning to Heero. "I remember that OZ used you and Tro as test pilots during the war and imprinted your battle data onto the mobile dolls. Could they be planning something similar?"

"You're reaching, Agent Maxwell," Une said. "This is a simple mission gone wrong. Even Gundam pilots occasionally run into the unexpected and need help."

"I'm sure Lady Une knows what she's doing," Sally said.

"Does she?" Duo struggled to keep his temper under control. "You said earlier that this was a joint operation between the remnants of OZ and White Fang?" None of the pilots were comfortable with the fact that former OZ and Alliance troops made up a large proportion of the Preventers organisation. Although the war had been over for nearly three years, there was no love lost between the two. Une had promised that their identities as Gundam pilots wouldn't be revealed if they agreed to work for her; but giving five teenagers command of crucial missions had only added to the tension between them and the other operatives.

"I know that we were once enemies," Une began.

"But?" Duo asked. If she'd sent Trowa and Quatre into a trap, based on information she'd received from some former OZ bastard, she'd better make sure that her life insurance was up to date. Sally gave him another warning glance, but Duo ignored it. He trusted Sally, but she hadn't been captured by OZ, worked over, and then thrown into a cell to await execution.

"We're on the same side now."

Une might be, but that didn't mean her informant was. It wouldn't be the first time that someone had played both sides to his or her own advantage.

Heero's voice was cold. "Who supplied you with the information?"

"Someone I can trust," Une replied. "Someone I have trusted in the past…with my life."

"You're not trusting him with /your/ life," Duo rose to his feet. "You're trusting him with Trowa and Quatre's."

"And I'll take responsibility for that," Une snapped. "I'm running this operation, Maxwell, and I expect you to remember that."

"This informant worked with you in OZ, didn't he?" Duo kept pushing. "Was he aware that Trowa and Quatre were Gundam pilots? Did he suspect Trowa of being a Gundam pilot while he was undercover?" Duo's eyes narrowed. "I know Trowa destroyed Deathscythe under your orders, because he knew his cover was in jeopardy. Was this guy the reason his cover was in jeopardy?"

"I can not reveal the identity of an informant." Une addressed her next comment directly to Duo; her voice was calm, yet cold. "Agents Barton and Winner are twelve hours overdue, so I am presuming they have run into something unexpected. Therefore, I am sending in two teams to investigate and provide backup if necessary." She handed them a folder each. "This is the same information that they were provided with. Agent Chang, you and Agent Po will be one team. Agents Yuy and Maxwell will be the other."

She paused. "Good luck. You've already fought in two wars. Hopefully you won't be required for a third."

******

Trowa opened one eye gingerly, then shut it again as another wave of nausea hit. The last thing that he remembered was being pulled behind that strange podium after he'd taken the tranquilliser dart that had been meant for Quatre.

Quatre. Where was Quatre? Picturing his lover in his mind, Trowa reached out for him through their empathic link only to find…nothing. Even when they were apart, or Quatre was asleep, he always had a sense of what Quatre was feeling; he should /know/ if Quatre was injured or needed help. This gaping hole, this darkness, could only mean two things.

It made sense that if they'd both been captured, Quatre would have been given the same drug as Trowa. After all, the dart had been fired at him in the first place. Without knowing what sedative had been used, there was no way of knowing how long the effect on their connection might last.

The second option was one that he didn't dare contemplate.

Biting down on his lower lip, Trowa slowly counted to ten, opened both eyes this time, and frantically searched the room.

/Cat, please. Be all right./

He couldn't help the sigh of relief when he saw Quatre in the bed next to his. The other pilot was still unconscious, but Trowa could see the steady rise and fall of his chest and the lock of blond hair blown gently by his breath.

Reaching again, Trowa felt a slight tickle against his consciousness, and then it was gone. On some level, Quatre was fighting to reach out to him and restore their link, but the sedative must have shattered their empathic connection. It wasn't the first time that it had happened; but those memories didn't offer any reassurance.

Damn it. Why did Quatre always have to play the self-sacrificing hero? There had been no need for him to surrender in order for their plan to work. But of course that small detail had never stopped him in the past. When Quatre made up his mind on a course of action, it took a fair amount of persuasion to convince him to change his chosen path. Living with a strategic genius had definite drawbacks when it came to attempting to win arguments.

"How are you feeling?" A woman wearing a white coat gave him a smile as she walked over to his bedside. "Trowa, isn't it?"

Trowa nodded; he didn't see the point in denying information that the enemy already possessed. Nichol had addressed both him and Quatre by name and by their pilot designations.

"I'm Doctor Frasier," she introduced herself. "Do you want something for the nausea? That's a very powerful sedative you were given."

"No," Trowa replied. More drugs would mean a longer recovery time. Although she was offering to ease his discomfort, it didn't mean that she would give him something that would.

Attempting to pull himself into a sitting position, he found himself hampered by something firm around his arms. Padded restraints? It wasn't like OZ to be concerned about the welfare of their prisoners. But then, they'd used tranqs instead of bullets.

/"Unfortunately we need both of you."/

Nichol's words repeated through his mind, and he frowned. Need? For what? Before he could act, he needed more information. It would also be foolish to attempt to escape before Quatre regained consciousness; Trowa knew that he wouldn't get far until he'd recovered from the after effects of the sedation anyway, and leaving Quatre behind wasn't an option.

Cautiously, he flexed his legs under the bedclothes, only to find that they were free. If he could somehow manage to reach one of his knives, then maybe he and Quatre stood a good chance of escape.

"Do you have a headache?" Frasier asked.

"No," Trowa lied, shaking his head, and immediately regretted it as the room spun sickening.

"Really?" Frasier frowned. "I can't treat you properly if you don't answer my questions honestly, young man." Although the doctor was small in stature, there was something about her tone that suggested that she was used to being obeyed.

"I have a slight headache," Trowa admitted. "But I don't want anything for it." He paused, glancing over at Quatre. "Thank you." Feigning co-operation could buy them valuable time.

"Your friend will be fine," Frasier told him. "Once he's slept off the effects of what he was given." She paused. "Is there anything else you need?"

He managed a thin smile. "You could remove my restraints."

"I'm sorry, that's not possible. You and your friend are possible hostiles, and the safety of the SGC comes first."

"SGC?" The uniform she wore under her coat was definitely military, but it wasn't one that he was familiar with. Une had said that OZ and White Fang had joined forces, but he doubted that they would waste valuable funds on designing themselves a new uniform. Unless they'd joined forces with a third organisation…

"Stargate Command," she answered. "Try to get some rest; I'll be back shortly."

Stargate Command? Whatever this new organisation was, any information regarding its existence had been hidden extremely well. Trowa watched her leave, noticing her exchanging several words with the two guards stationed outside the door. He examined his surroundings, hoping to find clues as to the identity of their captors and anything that could be used to his and Quatre's advantage.

There were two other beds in the room; Quatre was occupying the one next to his, and there appeared to be someone in the bed to Quatre's right. Trowa lifted his head from the pillow and wriggled up the bed as far as his restraints permitted, but he was unable to get a good look.

The door swung open, and Trowa shifted back into his original position quickly. The man who entered was tall and slim; his hair was peppered with grey, although it was difficult to gauge his age. Late forties, Trowa guessed, maybe fifty. The guards on the door nodded in deference to the newcomer, confirming Trowa's suspicions that this was someone further up in the chain of command.

The man stopped by the bed closest to the door and approached its occupant. He shook his head and muttered something under his breath, but Trowa was unable to make out what it was.

Looking up, the man locked eyes with Trowa and walked over to him. "Glad to see you're finally awake, kid," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Restrained," Trowa said. It had been a while since someone had referred to him as kid. "And you are?"

"Colonel Jack O'Neill," he replied, not missing a beat. "And /you/ are?" O'Neill pulled up a chair and made himself comfortable. Trowa recognised the tactic immediately; make friends with the prisoner in order to encourage him to lower his guard.

"Trowa," he replied. "Trowa Barton."

"Well, Trowa," O'Neill leaned back in the chair, "do you want to tell me what you and your friend…"

Trowa ignored the pause and waited for O'Neill to continue. If he wanted information supplied, he was going to have to do better than that.

"What you and your friend were doing armed to the teeth and being hunted by your friendly neighbourhood bad guy?" O'Neill continued. "Interesting collection of weaponry you boys had. Carter's having a ball trying to figure out what kind of metal one in particular is made of. Don't suppose you'd like to fill me in on the details? It would save one hell of a lot of time."

Damn. They'd found their knives and, more than likely, the CD with the information that Quatre had downloaded. It was to be expected he supposed. No military operation would restrain their captives without frisking them first.

"I'm not going anywhere," Trowa nodded towards the straps fastening his arms to the bed. "Suppose you fill me in on some details; you seem to have me at a disadvantage, Colonel."

"We're on the same side, kid…Trowa," O'Neill rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to thank me for saving your butt and answer my questions. Haven't you been paying attention to the script?"

"According to my script," Trowa replied, "you release me and my friend, thank us for saving /your/ butt and answer all /my/ questions."

There was a moment's silence, then O'Neill laughed. "Cute, but no dice. Trust is something that has to be earned, and you're not exactly playing ball." He leaned back in his chair again and studied the ceiling. "Let's try this again."

"If you insist," Trowa said, adopting a bored tone. Maybe playing for time until Quatre woke wouldn't be difficult after all.

"Are you always this difficult?" O'Neill asked. "Your friend got all the good manners when they were handing them out, didn't he?" He sighed. "Okay, right. Let's try this another way. You ask me a question, and then if I answer it, I get to ask you one."

Trowa nodded. That sounded fair to him; O'Neill was perfectly within his rights to /ask/ a question. "Where are we and what is Stargate Command?"

"That's two for the price of one," O'Neill grinned. "But as I'm in a generous mood today, I'll answer both. Of course this means I get two questions in return."

"Of course," Trowa agreed with that reasoning.

"You're on Earth, in a medical facility. Stargate Command is where our Stargate is situated."

Stargate? What was a Stargate? Although he was curious, Trowa did not want to push his luck; it was more important to work out where they were first. "Where exactly on Earth?"

"You've heard of Earth?" O'Neill raised one eyebrow. "Tsk tsk, and you've never bothered to invite us over for dinner? Haven't you guys heard of interplanetary relations?"

"Of course I've heard of Earth," Trowa stared at him in disbelief. "Even the smallest child in the colonies has /heard/ of Earth." This conversation was taking a turn for the weird. Nichol knew who they were; even if he hadn't shared the knowledge with O'Neill, surely the man would have recognised their Preventer uniform.

The door to the infirmary opened again, and Doctor Frasier re-entered the room. "Any idea when Daniel's going to stop playing sleeping beauty," O'Neill asked.

She shook her head. "According to the tox screen, he'll be out for a while. The neurotoxins seem to be taking longer to work their way out of his system." Frasier frowned. "I'll know more when I run further tests."

"He will wake up though, right?"

"Yes, Colonel," Frasier replied. "It's just a case of when."

"My turn to play twenty questions now," O'Neill turned his attention back to Trowa. "Why was Nichol hunting you and Quatre?"

"I don't know," Trowa replied honestly. Surely if O'Neill was working with Nichol he should already know the answer? Either Nichol hadn't told him or he was part of a separate organisation and not connected to OZ or White Fang.

O'Neill snorted. "You don't know? Look kid…"

"Trowa."

"Look…kid, the way the deal works is like this. You asked questions which I answered, now it's your turn. Didn't your parents teach you how to…"

"Next question," Trowa interrupted. He didn't remember his parents, nor did he know who they were. This wasn't a subject that he wished to discuss with O'Neill, and it had nothing to do with the mission. "I…"

The link between him and Quatre suddenly opened with a rush; the room did a crazy dance as it spun wildly. Guilt, fear and anger washed over him, and he inhaled sharply.

"Doc, over here," O'Neill was by Trowa's side in an instant, easing him back down onto the pillow.

"Trowa!" Quatre's scream filled the infirmary. He was thrashing against his restraints, trying to break free. "Heero, please! You've got to save him."

"We need some help in here, " yelled Frasier. She was attempting to hold Quatre down, but he was fighting her. The guards whom Trowa had noticed outside the door earlier were by her side in an instant. One of them placed his arm across Quatre's chest to restrain him further, and Frasier began preparing a syringe.

"Heero, no! Trowa's dying…" Quatre's voice dissolved into muffled sobs, but his eyes were still closed.

"No!" Trowa suddenly realised why the emotions that he was feeling were so familiar. But Quatre hadn't had one of these nightmares for over a year. What the hell could have triggered it?

"He appears to be having a reaction of some kind," Frasier said. "I need you to hold him for me, while I administer something to counteract…"

"No!" Trowa yelled. He took several deep breaths and tried to focus on calming Quatre through their connection. Quatre grew quiet for a moment then began moaning softly, his head still moving from side to side. "He's having a nightmare…" Whatever Frasier was planning to give him it ran the risk of severing their link once more, and any chance he had of calming Quatre would go with it.

"Hell of a doozy of a nightmare," O'Neill muttered.

"It's…"

/It's not just a nightmare, it's his memories./

Trowa couldn't…wouldn't tell them the truth. Quatre had destroyed several colonies while using the ZERO system; if they discovered that he was the Gundam pilot responsible… Nor could he allow them to find out about his and Quatre's empathic connection or their relationship, as that information could be used against them.

O'Neill had said that trust needed to be earned, but he had yet to give Trowa any reason to trust /him/.

"Trowa!" Quatre groaned, his voice starting to rise in volume again.

"O'Neill, please," Trowa asked. "I know…I know how to calm him. You have to trust me."

"Trust you?" O'Neill snorted. "Why the hell should I?"

"Because he needs you to," Trowa said quietly, noticing the strained look in O'Neill's eyes as he glanced between the two boys. "I promise I won't try to escape. Please."

"If we could do this without more drugs, it would be better for my patient's welfare," Frasier answered O'Neill's unspoken question.

"Right, kid," O'Neill began undoing Trowa's straps. "I'm trusting you this far, but that doesn't mean I'm trusting you further." He paused. "And in return I'm expecting some answers. Some proper answers, not this smart ass crap routine you've been giving me, okay?"

"Okay," Trowa agreed. For now, his priority was Quatre; he'd worry about the consequences later. Pulling himself into a sitting position, he bit down on his lip after the room spun again. The link between them was wide open and Trowa couldn't understand why. Usually the only thing that triggered it to this degree was when they made love; Quatre's natural ability to shield usually kept everything in check at other times.

Focusing on getting to Quatre, Trowa crossed the couple of feet between their beds as quickly as he could. Placing one hand on Quatre's forehead, he began stroking his brow and speaking calmly. "It's okay, Cat, I'm here. It's okay. It's just a dream."

He repeated the words over and over like a mantra. They'd worked through Quatre's guilt and memories - at least as far as they could. Quatre hadn't had any ZERO related nightmares since they'd moved in together, and even before that none had been this severe. Whatever the drug was that they'd been given, it must be at least partially responsible.

"He's okay now," Trowa met the concerned looks of Frasier and O'Neill after Quatre's breathing began to even out. He looked down and saw that he was shaking.

"It's okay, kid, I've got you." O'Neill caught Trowa as his legs buckled under him. Frasier grabbed the chair that O'Neill had been sitting in before and helped Trowa into it.

"Thank you," Trowa said, nodding towards Quatre. He paused. "You didn't need to do that."

"Kid…" O'Neill began. "Trowa, you've still given me no reason to trust you, but maybe I've given you a reason to trust /me/." He shook his head. "I haven't a clue whether you're friend or foe at this stage, but…give me a break, okay? For crying out loud, I'm not about to see some kid suffer from whatever the hell that was, when there's an alternative."

"Colonel," Frasier interrupted. "He's waking up." She glanced over at O'Neill, and he shrugged.

"Lose the restraints," he said, "but I'll station a couple of extra guards /inside/ the room. They owe me, and Trowa promised that he wouldn't escape." O'Neill turned to Trowa. "Try anything kid, and I'll have the pair of you in handcuffs so fast…"

Trowa gave him a tiny nod of thanks as Quatre opened his eyes and met his gaze. The other boy smiled. "Trowa," he said. "You're okay."

"Quatre," Trowa began but O'Neill interrupted him with a cough.

"Sorry, kids, but you can play catch up later. Now you're both awake…" He paused. "Would one of you like to explain what the hell just happened?"

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End of Chapter Two

TBC

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