Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Thin Red Line ❯ One ( Chapter 1 )

Thin Red Line (1/?)

By Anne Olsen

Rating : This fic has been rated in accordance with the approved TTFF rating system.

OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) - PG - Action, drama, angst, romance.

Author's notes: This story is part of the 'Triunity' canon based arc, which is a joint project with my partner in crime, Sakura Rose. For further information please visit the series archive at http://www.angelfire.com/ab7/shadesandechoes/triunity/triunity.html

The writing soundtrack for TRL is 'Thin Red Line' by Glass Tiger.

Pairings: 3x4, 1xR, 2x5

Summary: The shuttle transporting Relena, Quatre and Trowa to a political conference is hijacked in an endeavour to reveal the identity, and exact revenge, on a specific Gundam pilot. But it's five years after the Eve Wars, and people change. Or did they always have a predilection for attempting stupidly heroic things in the name of love?

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 broken bones or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Thanks to: Sakura for many hours of plottage conversations on AIM, beta reading, the summary and the soundtrack. Also to Bast for beta reading, and encouraging the … evil, and Anon for beta reading and fic stalking.

Comments to: anneo @ paradise.net.nz

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Chapter One

~ AC 200 ~

The shuttle was reminiscent of a morgue; the hum of engines echoed through the stillness as its passengers lay pale and unmoving.

William Davis sighed. Dropping to his knees, he rolled up the right shirtsleeve of the man sprawled on the floor of the shuttle. Finding a suitable vein he flicked the syringe before quickly injecting the downed bodyguard with a powerful sedative.

The information given by his employer strongly suggested that Trowa Barton may have been a Gundam pilot, hence the order to ensure he was kept well sedated until they reached their destination. It was interesting that Barton had managed to get from his seat to the aisle of the shuttle before succumbing to the effects of the sleeping gas; this only served to fuel Nichol's suggestion that the young man had been much more than he'd claimed to be. Lady Une may have refused to heed Nichol's warnings during the war, but others had taken note and stored the information for later use.

Handcuffing Barton's arms behind him, Davis then secured his legs with a second set of cuffs. Although his regaining consciousness after the combined dose of sleeping gas and injected sedative was highly unlikely, Davis didn't intend to take any chances, especially considering the careful planning which had gone into this operation.

"The shuttle is secure, sir," his second in command confirmed. "We should be at our destination in approximately one hour." Smythe gestured towards the shuttle's other passengers, Quatre Raberba Winner and Relena Darlian-Peacecraft, his lips turning up into a thin smile when he noticed Winner's arm around her shoulder, and the way she leaned into him in sleep.

Davis frowned. There had been rumours that Quatre Winner had married a year ago, but no one had been able to discover any information regarding his bride. Winner's circle of friends and acquaintances didn't appear to have grown, which suggested that if he had wedded it would have been within that group. Hell, the guy spent more time in the company of his bodyguard than anyone else - his wife would have to be a very understanding woman. And she'd have to be willing to take second place to his twin positions as head of Winner Enterprises and one of the driving forces behind the upcoming peace talks. The young lady presently asleep on his shoulder could fit all those criteria rather well, especially considering she was the other delegate the success of those talks depended upon.

"Very good, Smythe," Davis answered.

"Do you wish me to restrain them as well, sir?" Smythe asked, glancing at his watch.

"No, that shouldn't be necessary," Davis told him. "They don't pose the same threat as Barton." He laughed before adding the obvious, "and I very much doubt Mr Winner has the recovery time of a Gundam pilot." Rolling his eyes, Davis couldn't help but feel some degree of sympathy towards the young man. Representative Darlian-Peacecraft had at least been involved in the war to some degree, even to the extent that she'd come into close contact with the Gundam pilots; the information she possessed on that particular subject was also a big factor as to why she'd been targeted. But, in comparison, Winner had led a sheltered life as the pampered only son of one of richest families in the colonies, and Davis doubted he was prepared to handle what was to come, given his pacifist background. Winner's ability as a skilled peace talk negotiator wasn't going to deter his employer's determination to see this scenario through to the end, whatever that end might entail. No, his role in this was simply that of a hostage and bargaining chip, but it could be interesting to see how far Barton would go to protect the man he had been hired to guard. According to research a friendship had grown between the two but would that friendship, and loyalty to an employer, rate higher than giving up the identity of a specific Gundam pilot?

The low groan took Davis by surprise, and he glanced down again at Barton who lay unmoving where he'd been secured to the base of one of the seats.

"He's still out," Smythe confirmed, drawing his weapon.

"I'll check Winner," Davis told him, moving closer to the blond. Winner's eyes opened momentarily before he slipped back into a state of semi-unconsciousness. "More sedative. Now!"

"There's no way in hell he should be waking up," Smythe muttered, after handing over the syringe.

Winner groaned again and re opened his eyes. "What the?" He glanced between the two men, then struggled to his feet as he noticed the still figure on the floor. "Trowa!"

Ordering Smythe to restrain their captive, Davis quickly emptied the contents of the syringe into Winner's arm. "Your bodyguard is merely drugged, Mr Winner," he explained. "And it would be in your best interests to stop struggling and let the sedative take effect."

"And Relena?" The sharpness in Winner's tone didn't mesh with Davis' earlier conceptions of the young man. The blond pulled away from his captor to check on the welfare of the girl, giving them both a glare as Smythe pulled his hands behind his back, cuffed him none too gently and forced him to return to his seat.

"If you've…harmed…" The sedative entered Winner's bloodstream and his voice began to slur. "I'll…k…" His head fell forward as he lost the battle to stay awake.

"That was interesting," Davis remarked. He bent to examine the girl, but she didn't appear to be waking up.

"Do you want me to give her a dose too?" Smythe asked.

"Just restrain her for now," Davis replied. "We have limited supplies and I'd prefer to use them only if we need to." He cursed under his breath. "Damn gas must have been faulty. I knew those suppliers weren't to be trusted."

"Unless Winner just has an unusually high tolerance for the stuff," Smythe pointed out. "It's not unheard of."

"True," Davis conceded. "Either that or we've got ourselves two Gundam pilots for the price of one." He laughed, shaking his head. "Pacifist Winner's son piloting a Gundam during the war? No, I think you must be right, Duncan. Poor sod's just unlucky enough to have a higher tolerance than normal…"

******

Duo brushed his lips against Wufei's, one finger tracing the outline of his lover's cheek. A solitary ray of sunlight sneaked through a hole in the curtain, illuminating them both in the half darkness of the room. With deliberate slowness, Duo allowed his finger to continue downwards, pausing to pay special attention to the taut circle of one nipple before following that action by pulling it gently through his teeth. "Sure you don't want to stay home today?" he teased. "I'm sure I could make it very worthwhile."

A moan escaping his lips, Wufei caught Duo's free hand with one of his own and rolled them both over so that he was on top. "Is that a promise or a threat?" he asked, the huskiness of his voice revealing just how much the suggestion appealed.

"Depends," Duo said, halting his administrations momentarily. "Of course there's also the problem of convincing Une that we've both come down with some horribly fast acting and very contagious disease." The office pool for 'best excuses to counter Une's policy of come to work unless you're in a pine box' was running at an all time high at present, and Duo had very definite ideas regarding what he and Wufei could do with that money. Besides it would be criminal not to attempt to better that piss poor excuse Agent Abrahams had come up with the previous week.

"I don't see that being a problem," Wufei told him. "But of course if I do the research to find the disease, it's only fair that you be the one to call in sick."

"Hmmm?" Duo's reply was lost as Wufei's mouth began an exploration of his throat, nipping and sucking at the sensitive area at his breastbone. They were definitely going to be late for work today, even if they didn't…

"Oh shit," he exclaimed as the staccato rings of the vidphone brought him back to reality. "Want to get that, Fei?"

"Want to explain what I'm doing in your bed, Duo?" Wufei countered, running a gentle hand through Duo's hair. Although the two had been living together for several months, only their closest friends knew their living arrangements were more than platonic. It had taken them long enough to admit their growing feelings for each other, only doing so at Trowa and Quatre's wedding a year ago and, as they were still adjusting to life together, both felt the time wasn't right to make their relationship public knowledge just yet.

"Yeah, okay, I'll answer it," Duo muttered under his breath, annoyed that the precious few minutes they had left before work had been rudely interrupted. "Maxwell," he growled at the phone, settling himself on the seat in front of it and angling the screen so that the caller wouldn't see Wufei.

"The shuttle is missing," Heero stated, coming straight to the point without even going through the motions of a 'good morning'.

"Shuttle?" echoed Duo. He frowned and decided to skip the social niceties as he noticed Heero's concern. To the average man in the street, there wasn't an obvious difference between Heero's normal tone and this, but Duo knew better. He'd known the guy for five years and fought a war alongside him - Heero was worried. Correction, Heero was shitting himself. "Define missing," Duo continued, switching to business mode. "How overdue is it?"

"An hour," Heero confirmed. "If they'd run into any unexpected trouble Quatre would have radioed ahead. You know what a stickler he is for timetables."

Duo nodded, aware of Wufei moving around behind him to grab clothing and make himself presentable. "When was the last you heard from them?"

"I spoke to Relena shortly after they left Earth's atmosphere," Heero said, "and they were running to time then." He paused. "Apparently communication with the shuttle was lost about half an hour after that, about the same time they disappeared off the radar screen."

"Who was piloting?" Wufei asked the question as he leant over Duo's shoulder, one hand resting on the small of his lover's back, to get a better view of the vid screen.

"This wasn't a Winner shuttle," Heero told them. "They'd been offered transport by the conference and decided to take the opportunity to go over some last minute strategies."

"Anyone else on the flight?" Duo asked.

"I've done a thorough background check on both the pilot and co-pilot, as did Trowa before they left." Heero frowned. "The longer they're missing the less I like this scenario. If whoever is responsible has taken out two Gundam pilots, they're very organised and must be working to an agenda of some kind."

It made sense. If these guys had managed to get past both Heero and Trowa's security measures, they were good. Too damn good. "Do you think it's Relena and Quatre they're after or...?" Duo's voice trailed off. No, with Une's help, they'd all covered their tracks extremely well. No one knew the identities of the Gundam pilots.

"Their presence is essential to the success of the peace talks," Heero said, his expression grim. "I…suspect once the talks are over they will be released." At the slight hesitation Wufei and Duo exchanged worried glances. Heero Yuy didn't hesitate in these situations; it wasn't part of the strict mission parameters he adhered to. What the hell were they missing?

"She'll be fine, Heero," Duo attempted to sound more reassuring than he felt. "And so will Quatre and Trowa…Oh shit." Another thought struck him.

"If the shuttle hijacking is in relation to the peace talks, Trowa is of no use to them." Wufei put Duo's thoughts into words. "The only reason he was on that flight was because of his role as Quatre's head of security."

"And because he doesn't trust anyone but himself with the safety of his husband," Duo's voice dropped to a whisper.

"He's right," Heero said, his tone so low that Duo barely heard him. "If I'd done the same this wouldn't have happened. I should have piloted that shuttle."

"You don't know that." Wufei furrowed his brows together in concentration before he spoke again to fill the sudden silence between them. "Duo and I will meet you on L1 as soon as we're able to secure a Preventer shuttle. The disappearance of the peace talks' two key delegates certainly comes under the organisations jurisdiction, and I doubt it will take much to persuade Une that we are the agents best suited for the investigation."

"Thank you," Heero reached over to kill the transmission, then paused. "You might like to dress first, Duo. It's chilly on L1 this time of year. Yuy out."

"Huh?" Duo glanced down after the screen went blank and blushed. "Bastard," he muttered. In his haste to angle the screen away from Wufei, he'd completely forgotten about his own state of undress.

"Heero has a point," Wufei deadpanned, taking a step back and giving him the once over. "Personally I have no problem with the present view but I'm not prepared to share it with either Une or the occupants of L1." He bent over to pick up the trousers Duo had dropped on the floor the night before.

"You just don't want me to freeze my ass off," Duo blew his lover a raspberry, pausing to admire the view in front of him. Catching the trousers as Wufei threw them at him, his tone turned serious as he sat on the end of the bed and began to dress. "There's something up with Heero. This isn't like him at all."

"I agree," Wufei brushed his lips across the top of Duo's head as he came to sit beside him. "When we reach L1, we'll talk to him."

Duo nodded, his mind still digesting the information they'd been given. "They'll be okay. They have to be." He laughed, but there was no humour in it. "Gundam pilots go down fighting and we look after our own. If some asshole has hurt them, they won't live to regret it. No one threatens our family, Fei, no one."

******

"Trowa?" The voice grew insistent and Trowa gingerly opened one eye to see if the room had stopped spinning. It hadn't so he closed it again. What the hell had he been drinking last night?

"Trowa?" It was a female voice.

"Go away, Cathy," he muttered. "My head hurts." Trowa attempted to wriggle closer to Quatre; if he had to get out of bed to deal with this, he couldn't see why his husband shouldn't as well.

What the? Trowa opened his eyes again, blinking rapidly to clear his vision as he found his movements hindered by something hard around his wrists and ankles. No, the voice wasn't Cathy's, it was…Trowa struggled to remember through the fog. "Relena?"

"Trowa?" She asked again. "Are you all right?"

Ignoring the thump thump in his head and the churning of his stomach, Trowa searched for the source of the voice. The floor and walls of the unfamiliar surroundings were a drab grey concrete, the only light source in the unfurnished room a barred window above a single heavy wooden door. Relena was sitting on the floor, hands folded in her lap, a heavy metal band fastened around her wrist to a chain which was secured to the wall behind her.

To her right, unconscious and propped up in a sitting position, his hands shackled above him to a metal circle fixed into the wall, was Quatre.

"Quatre?" The aura of perspiration surrounding his lover's head reflected eerily against the dim light of the room, leaving Trowa with a feeling of dread as he noticed Quatre wasn't moving.

"Cat?" Trowa's voice rose in pitch as he fought to keep his rising panic under control. I can't feel him. Why can't I feel him? He closed his eyes, searching desperately for a sense of that familiar touch against his consciousness, but there was nothing. The empathic connection they'd shared since just before the end of the war was empty, dark, dead. After several minutes he forced himself to reopen his eyes, but he couldn't rid himself of the sense of complete and utter loss.

"I think he's been drugged," Relena told him, her concern reflected in both her voice and facial expression. "I heard them talking when they bought us here." His gaze lingered on Quatre before he forced himself to turn away and concentrate on what Relena was saying. "He'll be okay," Relena gave him a brave smile. "You haven't been awake for long either, remember. I'm guessing they gave the two of you something stronger than what they gave me. Obviously they don't consider me as much of a threat, but I'm sure they have no idea who…"

"No," Trowa shook his head in warning. "The room could contain listening devices. Until we know what they want, be careful what you say." Could the drugs be interfering with Quatre's ability and Trowa's awareness of him?

Why would they user a stronger drug on himself and Quatre and not Relena? Quatre's family were pacifists, if whoever had snatched them had done so because of the peace conference why would they consider him to be a threat? Trowa could understand them not taking any chances with himself. After all he was Quatre's personal bodyguard, and because of that role it would be presumed he was able to handle himself in order to carry out his job. However very few people were aware of just how capable Quatre was; their role during the war as Gundam pilots had been well concealed from all but a select few. Trowa twisted his head upward, confirming his suspicions that while Relena's restraint was at waist level, his was similar to Quatre's; designed to either give the option of standing or sitting with hands above his head as he was now.

"Do you have any idea where here is?" The more information they could gather, the better chance they had of escaping once Quatre woke. Trowa tested his restraints again before turning back to Relena. In time he could free himself, but it would pay to ascertain the number of guards and the reason they'd been brought here first. He and Quatre could handle themselves in unarmed combat but there was no guarantee of victory against overwhelming odds. They'd also have to wait until the effects of whatever they'd been given had worn off and considering Quatre's present condition, that was going to take some time.

Relena shook her head. There was fear in her eyes but she hid it well. "I don't know if we're even on Earth. The last thing I remember is Quatre reassuring me that everything would be okay after you went to talk to the pilot."

He remembered Quatre shaking Relena when she'd passed out, but events were fairly sketchy after that. If only he'd taken more notice of Quatre's growing unease sooner. Whoever had taken control of the shuttle had been efficient; he and Quatre had taken action as soon as the telltale hiss of gas had begun to fill the cabin. Leaving Quatre to protect Relena, Trowa had headed for the cockpit, gun in hand, but whatever he'd been hit with had taken effect too quickly. Sensing Quatre's own losing battle to stay awake, he hadn't even made it as far as the end of the aisle before his weapon had fallen from senseless fingers as he too was forced to surrender to the blackness.

The room spun again, and the contents of Trowa's stomach did a sickening dance before settling. "How are you feeling, Relena?" he asked, with the realisation that their friend would also be feeling the after effects of the sleeping gas. Hopefully with not having had the same dosage the effects might be less, but her reaction still wouldn't be on par with that of a Gundam pilot. He and Quatre might not have had their physiology tampered with the same way Heero had but their tolerance levels were still a lot higher than what would be deemed normal.

"Nauseous and I need to use the bathroom." Relena turned her head towards the wall and dry retched. "Okay, now I don't feel quite as nauseous but I'm sure it's not going to last for long." She sighed. "Maybe it's a good thing Heero's not here."

"Good for Heero or good for whoever's behind this?" Trowa commented dryly. He knew what he'd like to do to the person responsible for Quatre's present state. Heero's reaction if he could see Relena in chains and suffering from the effects of post sedation would be no different.

"Both," Relena replied. She pulled on her restraint and attempted to edge closer to Quatre, but without any luck. "Damn," she cursed.

There was a slight brush of something against his consciousness, then it was gone. Could Quatre be waking up? If the connection between them was re-opening because the drugs were wearing off, it was weak, and no where near the strength it usually was at this physical distance. Trowa wished he were closer to his lover. Quatre would be feeling like shit, and Trowa wouldn't be able to offer the support he needed; wouldn't be able to hold him close to reassure him they were both okay.

Confusion. Momentarily panic. Concern. The emotions chased each other through the suddenly open empathic link before Quatre groaned and lifted his head, his slightly out of focus gaze searching the room frantically. Finding Trowa, he visibly relaxed and managed a shaky smile. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Trowa replied. "How are you feeling?"

"As though I've been hit by a squad of mobile dolls without my…" Quatre's voice trailed off and he glanced upwards to examine his restraints before pulling at them half-heartedly. "You?" His eyes moved slowly to the left, then repeated; Trowa recognised the code signal querying the presence of listening devices and he nodded before giving the answering response for 'unsure - caution advised.'

"I have one hell of a hangover." Trowa strained his eyes in an attempt to examine Quatre in the dim light. His lover was still pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he seemed to be growing more aware with each passing moment.

"Hangover sounds right," Quatre moved his head from side to side gingerly, then winced. "The last time I felt like this was when we went out with the guys before…I swear I have no idea how Duo holds his alcohol." The night of their bachelor party was one Trowa knew he'd never forget - at least the part of it he could still remember with any degree of clarity. It hadn't been a traditional party by any means, but then that was more than appropriate as their relationship, according to most of Quatre's family, wasn't. It had been their idea to keep their marriage out of the press and avoid any unnecessary scandal, but he knew Quatre was becoming less and less enamoured with the idea as time passed. After this peace conference they were going to announce their relationship publicly and begin wearing their wedding bands where they could be seen, instead of on matching chains around their necks.

"The effects of the gas alone aren't particularly nice, I wouldn't have wanted to get a dose of whatever they gave you on top of it."

When Quatre turned his head to answer Relena, Trowa heard a sharp intake of breath. "Quatre," he asked, "are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Quatre reassured him, "though I suspect it's going to take a while before the room stops spinning." He smiled ruefully. "I made the mistake of coming around too soon and they injected me with some kind of sedative before the effects of the gas had totally worn off." His voice grew quiet. "I saw you on the floor and…" Quatre swallowed and pulled himself together, obviously remembering their conversation could be overheard. It wouldn't pay to give away any information that could give their captors an advantage over them, and that included learning about his and Trowa's relationship so it could be used against them.

"I'm just relieved both of you are okay," Relena said, smoothing over his momentary lapse. "I was thinking the worst watching you hang from those chains, seemingly dead to the world," she shuddered.

"I haven't even asked you how you're feeling," Quatre realised, "and I didn't do a very good job of keeping you out of danger."

"Don't start the guilt thing, Quatre, there was no way either of you could have seen this coming." Relena sighed. "Heero would have done a thorough security check, and if these people got past both he and Trowa, they must be very organised."

"This is what worries me," Trowa remarked grimly. "The fact they must have injected me with the sedative very shortly after the gas took effect suggests the plan was to abduct all three of us. If this is peace talk related why is my presence required? It would make more sense to get rid of excessive baggage the same way I suspect they got rid of the original shuttle pilots."

"The two I saw on the shuttle for the brief time I was conscious weren't the pilots you investigated." Five years after the war, it was still difficult to shake the natural instinct of sizing up potential threats before entering a battlefield. Even though he trusted Trowa implicitly, Quatre had made himself familiar with the security measures connected with the conference; he and Relena had put in too much work for this to crash down around them. "Is it possible they were expecting you to come around sooner than we were? They certainly seemed surprised by both my awakening and …umm…comments."

"Comments?" Trowa arched one eyebrow, suspecting what was to come. His husband had an over protective streak a mile high when it came to his nearest and dearest.

"I think I threatened to kill them."

"You'll have to stand in line," Trowa began. "You think?"

"I was busy fighting taking another nap," Quatre shot Trowa a familiar glare, "and you were dead to the world and trussed up like a turkey at the time." He sighed. "Very well trussed up in fact, which confirms they weren't taking any chances." Quatre shook his head. "I have a very bad feeling about this, Trowa."

His unspoken question echoed through Trowa's mind. Did these people suspect they were dealing with a Gundam pilot? And if so, how was this connected to the peace talks?

The sound of metal against wood interrupted his thoughts and the door to their prison opened to admit two men and a woman, none of which he could remember encountering previously. "Hello, Mr Barton, Ms Darlian-Peacecraft, Mr Winner," the woman said. "I believe Mr Winner has already made the acquaintance of Mr Davis and Mr Smythe."

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage," Quatre said, his tone polite although Trowa could feel the cold anger beneath it. "Ms?"

The woman brushed a strand of auburn from her face. "All in good time, Mr Winner." She stared at each of them in turn before finally locking her gaze on Trowa. He met it unflinching, not allowing his fear for the safety of his husband and their friend to show in either his expression or body language.

"I'm especially pleased to finally meet you, Mr Barton. I do hope my employees haven't been too rough with you. After all, it's not every day that one gets to meet one of the famous Gundam pilots."

Trowa chose to ignore her but she laughed. "Come come, I have it on good authority that you piloted a Gundam during the war, Mr Barton." She paused. "I do have a slight problem though, regarding lack of information, which I hope you'll be able to help me with."

When he didn't answer, she shook her head, her eyes misting over in remembered emotion. "You see, I lost someone close to me in a Gundam attack, and I'd like to thank the pilot responsible…personally."

******

End Of Chapter One

TBC