Disclaimer:

I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters. I just love them to no end and have a very twisted imagination. Please be aware that I am extremely poor so suing me will do you no good. Thanks.

Warning: NC-17 / Lemon Yaoi / Explicit Language / Angst / NCS / Violence / AU

Pairings: 3x4 / 1x2 / 5+S / More to be announced

FYI: Inner thoughts -- [ Flashback ]

Author's Notes:

Hey guys. My God, it took me FOREVER to get this chappy out, didn't it? I'm really sorry about that. Life was just relentless in its pursuit to keep me distracted and extremely busy. Anyway, get ready for a lot of abuse in this installment of Trials of the Heart. My poor Quatre. I really did a number on him in this one. *grins proudly* Woo hoo!

Be warned that ch six will be a little slow in coming. Updating five fics regularly isn't an easy task, let me tell you. The next update will depend upon my muse, my free time, and . . . well, my life in general. I will, however, do my best to get the next chapter out ASAP, so please bear with me guys.

Well, that's it for now. Thanks so much for your patience and support. I hope that this chapter will be to your utter enjoyment.

Thanks again,

Forsaken

Trials of the Heart

He was rocking, moving back and forth in a rhythmic motion that seemed somehow familiar to him. Confused, Quatre fought to free himself from the numbing darkness holding him in limbo, but his body wouldn't cooperate with him. It was like fighting against a strong current of water, struggling to get to the surface. Fear washed over him in waves, as his senses began to sharpen and sounds began to echo within his mind. What . . . He gasped suddenly as pleasure pooled into him, penetrating the haze he was in.

Something was happening to him.

Pleasure once again spiked through him, as he felt his legs being raised. Strong hands were molding his hips, gripping him tightly and Quatre hissed as pain intermingled with the pleasure he was feeling. What's happening?

The sounds began to register then, becoming louder and clearer with each passing second. Quatre's heart began to pound in his chest, as the terrifying realization of what was happening began to drum through him.

Moaning.

Gasping.

Panting.

Flesh hitting flesh.

Oh, my God . . . No . . . Please, no! he cried into the darkness that was beginning to fade away into a dull gray wash of nothingness.

But no matter how much he wished for it, how much he pleaded for it all to be just a horrible nightmare, Quatre couldn't stop the noises from echoing around him, couldn't deny their existence or their meaning. Wake up! Wake up!

Blue-green eyes opened and Quatre found himself staring up into a pair of frighteningly familiar dark brown eyes.

Fyren!

He could feel 'him' then. Could feel Fyren's body thrusting into his own in a slow and languid pace. Shock slammed into him and Quatre opened his mouth in a silent scream even as tremors of desire racked his slender frame.

"You're awake," Fyren whispered into his ear, as the pace of the brunette's thrusts quickened. "God, Quatre. You feel so delicious. Always knew you would."

No! Stop! God, please. This isn't happening. This isn't happening! Quatre screamed inwardly, feeling helpless and afraid. Pleasure shot through him again and a deep moan escaped his already parted lips. He had no control over his body, over the sensations pouring into him and Quatre felt as if he were about to shatter.

What had Fyren done to him? Why was he enjoying what the man was doing to him? He was being raped yet all he could do was thrash wildly beneath his violator. The drug! It's the drug doing this to me. Oh, God.

"Feels good, doesn't it Quatre?" Fyren asked him in between panting breaths. "You're enjoying this just as much as I am."

Quatre tried to respond, tried to shake his head in denial, but all that came out of his mouth was yet another moan. His dazed eyes locked onto Fyren's, their blue-green depths conveying his horror and sense of betrayal, as he tried once again to move his limbs, to do anything to show his protest at what was being done to him. But try as he might, Quatre couldn't make his body obey his commands. He couldn't move, couldn't speak . . . couldn't fight back.

Fyren's weight came off of him suddenly and Quatre winced inwardly as he felt the man's large erection slip out of his body in one fluid motion. Cold air danced along his naked skin, causing Quatre to shiver in response a moment before he was suddenly flipped onto his stomach.

One of his arms came to land outstretched by his side, limp and useless, while the other arm remained pinned beneath him. The mattress dipped behind him, near his legs, and panic washed over him as he felt Fyren's body draw itself near. Rough hands skimmed his back, causing Quatre to shiver once again. His arm was pulled from under him just before his numb legs were moved wide apart. He felt something soft, a pillow perhaps, being placed beneath his abdomen, elevating his hips, keeping his behind positioned in a clear invitation.

Quatre's eyes widened, as he felt the head of Fyren's shaft press against his throbbing entrance. He tried to move again, a part of him still refusing to give in, to allow his captor to have him without a fight and managed to fist his hand over the white sheets of the bed. Faint needles of pain rushed through his finger tips and Quatre's heart skipped a beat, hope blooming within him. Move, Quatre. You have to move now before he ---- Move, goddammit! Move!

His body, however, would not heed his pleas. It wouldn't give him the hope he needed to convince himself that he would somehow find a way to escape the nightmare he had been plunged into. Tears began to fall anew from his resigned eyes, eyes that were locked onto the hand that had grown limp once more, as he was entered in one swift stroke.

Back and forth, he felt himself move in time with Fyren's quick and hard thrusts. Quatre moaned as something inside of him was struck and he felt himself harden even more. What are you doing, dammit? You are not enjoying this. No, dammit. No.

But he was. He fucking was.

"God, Quatre. You're so tight. So incredibly tight."

Quatre closed his eyes, wishing he could bring his hands up to his ears so that he could block out the man's husky words, block out the sounds the heated body behind him was making as it took him. But he couldn't stop them from resounding within his mind, couldn't stop feeling the sizzling heat coursing through him.

It was hopeless. Hopeless . . .

Fyren's hand moved away from his hip, skimming around his waist, to descend slowly toward Quatre's neglected arousal, gripping it, pumping it, milking it until his vision swam and lights began to dance before his eyes. The coil that had been tightening in his belly snapped suddenly, releasing a myriad of sensations throughout his inert form and Quatre couldn't hold back the cry that was wrenched out of him as his climax shattered him.

Lifelessly, he lay on his stomach, panting and shivering, as Fyren continued to thrust inside him. He heard a hiss and then a low groan come from the man now moving frantically behind him and Quatre found his hips being lifted off of the pillow that had been holding them in place. He was rammed into one last time before he felt a stream of warmth jet into him, signaling Fyren's fulfillment.

Exhausted and beyond pain or pleasure, Quatre's eyes began to close, his mind blocking out the world that had betrayed him yet again. Despair tried to bleed into him, to make its presence known, but the feeling vanished quickly, as it was swallowed whole by the darkness consuming him. Sounds once more became distorted and muffled by the dark layer of nullity wrapping itself around him, holding him close, embracing him within its comforting folds and Quatre allowed his eyes to close in surrender.

A solitary word, however, managed to escape his swollen lips before he floated completely away into the land of nothingness.

Trowa. . . .

"Quatre!"

Trowa shot up in his bed, panting and sweating, his eyes darting around the darkened room, as he tried to figure out where he was. He ran a trembling hand through his damp hair, trying to calm his quaking heart.

"Just a nightmare," he whispered shakily to himself when his mind finally registered that he was in his bedroom.

Trowa flung the clinging sheets away from him. He wasn't going to get anymore sleep, not with the faint traces of that nightmare still plaguing him. It felt so real. As if Quatre had called out to him, asking for his help.

"Shit," Trowa cursed and jumped out of bed, annoyed with himself.

He walked over to the open window across from the bed and stared out into the night. Dressed only in his pajama bottoms, Trowa shivered as a cool breeze blew into the room. He didn't move away or closed the window. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his trim waist and ignored the air biting into his skin. His green eyes latched onto the full moon up high in the night sky, and Trowa felt his heart clench as a memory emerged to haunt him.

[ "What are you doing over there?" Trowa asked, as he stared at Quatre from where he was lying on the bed.

Quatre turned to him then, with a brilliant smile on his face and Trowa's breath caught in his throat at the beauty he was beholding. The moonlight shimmering through the window was cascading over his beloved, washing Quatre in a heavenly glow that seemed to give the blonde an almost unearthly appearance. He was beautiful. Utterly beautiful.

"The moon's full."

Trowa smiled in understanding, knowing how much Quatre loved looking at a full moon.

"It's so pretty, Trowa. I just love how it lights up the sky."

Trowa slid off of the bed, naked as the day he was born, and walked over to where Quatre was standing near the window. He closed his arms around Quatre's slim form and held his love close to his chest. In silence, they both admired the brilliant moon.

After a few minutes, Trowa lowered his lips to place a gentle kiss on the golden hair brushing softly against his chin. He felt as if he were about to burst from the love he was feeling at this moment for the man who had opened his heart.

"I love you," he whispered, before he turned Quatre around and claimed his lover's mouth.

They broke the kiss and Quatre sighed, resting his head against Trowa's chest. "I love you, too, Trowa. So very much."

Quatre suddenly looked up at him and Trowa blinked in confusion at the almost panicked look within Quatre's blue-green gaze. "What is it?"

"Promise me something, Trowa."

"Anything."

Quatre raised a hand to Trowa's face and slowly caressed his cheek. "Promise me that you'll be with me forever. That no matter what, you'll love me."

Not really understanding what had prompted Quatre to voice such a request, Trowa nonetheless spoke reassuringly, "I promise, Quatre. I'll love you and be with you forever."

Eyes the color of a clear blue sea glittered with tears of joy as Quatre's face broke into a brilliant smile. He came up on his toes and kissed Trowa with so much passion that Trowa barely managed to get them back over to the bed before he proceeded to ravish the writhing blonde he loved more than life itself. ]

Trowa closed his tear-filled eyes and leaned his head against the cool window pane. His breath hitched and his frame began to tremble as he tried in vain to hold back the sobs threatening to escape his already fragile control.

"I'm sorry," Trowa whispered, his wavering voice cutting through the silence of the room. "I didn't keep my promise to stay with you . . . Didn't love you as I was supposed to."

His voice broke on those last words, and the flood of tears he'd been trying to contain suddenly broke free. Trowa fell down to his knees, unable to hold himself up, and began to cry silently, rocking in place as memories of times he'd taken for granted and now desperately wished to regain ran through his mind.

"I'm so sorry, Quatre," he cried. "God, I'm sorry!"

Anger at himself intermingled with the pain of losing his lover and Trowa simply . . . reacted. He moved onto his knees, raising his fist, and smashed his hand as hard as he could right through the window.

The sound of shattering glass echoed into the silent night, as Trowa slumped back down against the window sill. Blood ran freely from an open wound on his hand, but Trowa didn't notice the crimson liquid dripping onto the floor, didn't notice the stinging in his arm or the shards of glass now in his hair, glittering over his naked back. He wouldn't have cared even if he had. He was too lost in his misery, too emerged in his emotional pain to care about the physical ones. Nothing mattered anymore. His life was now as worthless as it had once been before a golden angel of mercy had brought him into the light, giving him a taste of happiness . . . of love.

He was alone yet again, but this time out of his own volition.

Time passed endlessly for Quatre, as night gave way to day. He found himself lying on his side on Fyren's bed, smelling of sex and feeling dirty and used like a whore. Fyren had taken him several times throughout the night, allowing him only brief moments of reprieve. He'd been injected the last time around with a sort of sedative, keeping him blessedly numb to everything, even his own thoughts and he was grateful for it. The last thing Quatre wanted was to think about his own stupidity, to remember what had happened, to deal with the pain reality would surely bring once his mind cleared.

He wanted to forget. Just to forget.

"Time to wake up, Quatre," Fyren's voice sounded from behind him. "We have to get going."

Quatre blinked slowly and shifted his clouded gaze over to where Fyren was now standing near the foot of the bed. He found himself not afraid of the man who'd raped him repeatedly during the night. Instead, Quatre felt resigned to the man's presence. After spending an entire night with the man, being afraid no longer seemed to matter. But he was angry. Deep down inside, beneath all of the self-loathing, beneath the drug induced calm he was under, anger was a living thing inside of him. A live wire, that when given the chance, would explode into violence. Of that Quatre was sure, as his blue-green eyes locked onto the brunette.

Never before had someone merited his hatred, not even those who'd betrayed his trust and his love. Quatre's heart clenched at the thought of his family, of Trowa and immediately shifted his thoughts back to the man whose death would more than please him at the moment.

Fyren bent over him and Quatre shivered, knowing that the sheets were barely covering his naked form. Dammit. The last thing he wanted right now was a repeat of last night's performance. However, it was apparent by the way he was being lifted into a sitting position that sex was not on the brunette's mind. For now, at least, much to his relief.

"Shit, that sedative really did a number on you, didn't it?" Fyren commented, as he struggled to keep Quatre balanced long enough to get him dressed.

All Quatre could do was sway in place, limp and helpless, being held only by Fyren's strength, as the other man dressed him, in clothes that weren't his, as if he were an invalid. That's what you are, dammit. God. You can't even hold your head up!

Once dressed, Fyren gently lifted Quatre into his arms. "We've got a car waiting for us out back. Just stay quiet and try not to fidget." Fyren moved his lips to hover near Quatre's ear, as he continued. "I don't want to hurt you Quatre, but I will if you make it necessary for me to do so. Understand?"

Quatre glared at the brunette. You already hurt me, you fucking asshole. And what the fuck do you expect me to do? I can't even feel my body, let alone move it!

He wanted to scream, angry beyond belief at what was happening to him. However, he had to admit that being angry was better than being afraid. And he was. So very afraid. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest, hear the pounding in his eardrums, as anxiety rushed through him. Why was Fyren doing this? Who had hired him? What would happen to him now?

Cold washed over him, rousing Quatre from his thoughts. He opened his eyes and tried to look at his surroundings from underneath the blanket covering his face, but he could only catch glimpses of the outside world.

"Remember what I said, Quatre," Fryen whispered through the covering blocking him from sight.

"Is he in one piece?" a deep, masculine voice asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Yes, he is. He's excellent really," Fyren replied in a smug tone.

Quatre winced in pain, closing his eyes quickly, as the blanket was lifted off of his face, exposing him to the harsh rays of the sun.

"Exquisite," the stranger's voice purred. "Vincente will be quite pleased."

Quatre felt the arms holding him tense all of a sudden and his mind latched onto the name that had just been spoken. Vincente? Why does that name sound so familiar? Think, Quatre, he commanded of himself, as fractured thoughts began to filter through the thick fog his mind seemed to be under. It was no use, however. One by one, the small pieces of memory began to fade, becoming lost within the depths of his sluggish mind.

The blanket was set upon him once again, startling Quatre out of his thoughts. He breathed a sigh of relief; the fear that had grabbed a hold of him in that one instant still coursing through him. He'd felt exposed, helpless, and very much afraid. He still was. God, what's happening?

"Nicely done," the other man said, approval lacing his words. "Now, go quickly. His fellow 'Preventers' may already be on your trail."

"Don't worry," he heard Fyren respond, his voice serious and hard. "They'll never find him."

Quatre swallowed in trepidation at those ominous words. Shivers ran up his spine and he trembled in response. A moment later, he heard a car door open and he felt himself dip. There was some shifting done before Quatre found himself settled on Fyren's lap, facing the back of the passenger seat. The car door slammed just before the blanket was removed from his face. Quatre blinked, trying to focus his hazy vision, as he was shifted yet again to face his captor.

Fyren stared at him, a grin playing at his chiseled lips. "We're on our way now, Quatre. My employer will be most pleased."

Say something, dammit! Prove to him that you're not weak! "Wh . . . Who?" he managed to ask, determination driving him to regain some control of his unresponsive body.

Fyren's brown eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Well, well, well. You really are a treasure, aren't Quatre?"

A finger slid slowly across his cheek and Quatre pulled his face away.

Fyren smiled. "So strong," the brunette whispered, moving back to stare into Quatre's demanding gaze. "Who is my employer? Is that what you're trying to ask me?"

Quatre frowned, his eyes boring into the sarcastic brown ones locked onto his own. You son-of-a-bitch. Answer me, dammit. Just fucking answer me!

"My employer wouldn't appreciate his identity being revealed as of yet, so I'm afraid that you're just going to have to wait a bit longer, Quatre. But," Fyren's smile widened, "I 'can' tell you that he's an old friend of your father's."

Quatre's eyes widened. My father?

"You see, your father refused to partake in a certain 'merger' proposed to him by my employer, thus angering him to no small degree," Fyren informed him, his dark eyes suddenly angry. "A plan was set in motion shortly after. A plan that has taken over a year of 'my' life to fulfill."

Fyren suddenly shoved his hand into Quatre's hair, grasping the golden tresses in a tight hold and Quatre winced from the pain.

"Do you have any idea what you've cost me, Quatre? Any at all?" Fyren pulled Quatre closer, their lips barely an inch apart. "I was forced to infiltrate Preventers, Inc. Forced to work for the organization responsible for 'my' father's downfall. All because 'your' father didn't have the balls to get a little dirty."

Quatre let out a small whimper of pain when Fyren's lips crashed onto his own. It was a brutal kiss and Quatre could feel his teeth digging into the inside of his mouth, drawing blood. He tried to move his head, tried to pull away, but the hand latched onto his hair would not relinquish its hold over him, forcing Quatre's compliance. Stop, dammit. It hurts. It hurts!

Fyren broke the kiss, as if hearing his plea, and pulled Quatre away painfully by his hair, wrenching a gasp from him. His watery eyes watched as the brunette licked his own lips, savoring the traces of Quatre's blood upon them. Fyren reached out to him again, this time slowly, and proceeded to rub a finger in a semi circle over his skin, smearing the thin trickle of blood that had trailed down the corner of Quatre's mouth.

"My father was destroyed by the scandal," Fyren continued, as if the kiss had never occurred. "He committed suicide in his cell three months after his indictment." Fyren grabbed Quatre's chin, surely bruising the fair skin beneath his fingertips. "Because of your precious Preventers, Inc., my father died and left me to deal with the consequences of his mistakes."

Quatre winced as the grip over him tightened. Stay calm. Don't focus on the pain. Shit . . . .

It was hard though, to look straight into the eyes of someone who was obviously not completely stable. It was even harder still to deal with the oppressing darkness pressing against him. He could feel the pain, the devastation, and worst of all, the fury emanating from Fyren. Waves upon waves of negative energy were pouring over him and it was taking all of Quatre's remaining to strength to prevent the darkening aura around the brunette to bleed into his own.

Fyren's turbulent feelings were hurting him, dimming the light he carried inside of him and once again, Quatre cursed the 'awareness' that constantly ate away at him, that had plagued him his entire life. He was weakening, losing the battle to stay awake, the barrage of emotions assailing him, beating away at his already fragile shields.

"Now, I'm forced to pay off my father's debt," Fyren said, unaware of the agony his very presence was causing the blonde in his arms. "To work for a man who'd kill me without a second thought." Dark brown eyes latched onto dazed blue-green ones. "Your father earned his ire by refusing his offer. That one foolish act not only sealed your fate, but mine as well."

Fyren looked away to stare out of the car window. "You were chosen to be used as an example of what would happen to those who chose to follow your father's path and I . . ." Fyren's voice grew hard. "I was chosen to make sure that my employer's plan was carried out."

The finger that had been brushing softly against Quatre's skin, suddenly dug in deep and hard, scraping tender skin. Quatre closed his eyes in pain, pulling his face away instinctively, wishing that he could somehow move his hands, move anything to stop Fyren from hurting him further.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you're hurting, Quatre?" Fyren asked into Quatre's ear. "How arousing you are?"

Fyren's tongue traced his earlobe and Quatre grimaced in disgust. Get away from me, dammit! ""Sttt . . . Stop!" he blurted.

"I want you to feel pain," Fyren whispered, ignoring Quatre's panicked plea. "To feel misery, to feel all that I've felt for the past year." Teeth sunk into tender skin. "I want you to know what it's like to lose your dignity, your self-respect, all that you hold dear."

Fyren's teeth bit into him harder, making him bleed and Quatre groaned, his face a mask of agony and fear. Malevolence brushed along his skin, saturating him, leaving him gasping for air. Too much. Too much . . . .

The pain began to drain away, as his mind finally drifted into unconsciousness. Sounds became faint and distant, echoing within his mind like a fading memory. Quatre rejoiced and allowed himself to once again slide away from the world of men and into a place where nightmares ceased to be.

"Duo, are you getting dressed?"

At the sound of his lover's booming voice for the third time that morning, Duo winced and shot off of the bed. He looked over at the alarm clock on the night stand and cursed. Shit, he's gonna kill me.

"Almost," Duo replied outloud, as he scrambled about the room looking for something decent to wear, his eyes darting to the closed bathroom door about every three seconds. "I'll be done in a minute."

"Don't make me have to dress you myself, Duo,"

"Yeah, yeah," Duo mumbled. He zipped his pants up, a bit too quickly, and screamed at the top of his lungs when the metal zipper caught onto something other than his briefs. "Shit! Ow, ow,ow!"

Jumping up and down, cursing all of creation, Duo frantically pulled at the zipper in hopes of salvaging what was left of his abused member. To his utter devastation, the thing refused to cooperate. "Oh my, God. Oh, my God!"

The bathroom door suddenly opened to reveal a startled, half naked Heero. "What? What's the matter?"

Duo looked at his lover, his teary eyes pleading for help. "Zipper's stuck," he answered weakly, his shaky hands still pulling at the zipper.

Heero blinked for a moment before he moved to help him.

The stars that had come to twinkle all around Duo began to fade along with the mind-blowing pain that had been ripping into him, as Heero managed to unsnag the zipper. Grimacing, Duo looked down at his crotch and checked out the damage. Relief washed over him when he saw nothing but a small patch of pink on his skin. No blood. No mutilation. Thank you, God.

He looked up at Heero and threw his arms around him, thankful for having been saved from castration. "Thank you, thank you, thank you !"

Duo frowned when Heero's shoulders began to shake. He released the brunette and stepped back to find a red-faced Heero looking at him. Violet eyes narrowed as he noticed that his lover's lips were twitching.

"Are you laughing at me?"

Heero only shook his head and turned around, heading back to the bathroom. A faint snicker escaped the usually stoic brunette, however, as he reached the doorway.

Duo's eyes widened in outrage. "Sonofabitch, you are laughing at me!"

Heero rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

Fuming at the sound of laughter coming from the other side of the wooden door, Duo marched up to it and angrily banged on it. "Hey, I'll have you know that what just happened was excruciatingly painful."

The laughter picked up a notch and Duo stomped his foot. "Dammit, it's not funny, Heero. I could've been seriously injured."

The laughter became muffled, as Heero obviously tried to stop laughing, but it only got louder again a moment later. Completely annoyed at his lover's insensitive reaction to his almost dismemberment, Duo huffed and walked over to his dresser, determined to finish dressing and find someone that would be more comforting.

Five minutes later, Duo stood in front of Quatre's room. When no one answered his knock, he carefully opened the door and peered into the room. "Quatre?"

Receiving no reply, Duo entered the spacious room and stopped dead in his tracks. The bed was made up, appearing as if no one had slept in it. "What the fuck?"

Fear shot through him, but he willed it aside, allowing logic and reason to guide him as he walked to over to the night stand. He picked up the phone and dialed the office's number. Tapping his foot, he waited impatiently for someone to answer. Questions were whirling around in his head, along with anger directed at himself for having brushed aside the feeling of anxiety that had been plaguing him last night. Please be there, Quatre. Please, please . . .

"Preventers, Inc. This is Dorothy. How may I help you?"

Duo rolled his eyes. "Dorothy, it's Duo."

A pained sigh sounded through the phone. "What do you want, Duo?"

"Is Quatre there?"

"No, he hasn't come in yet. Why?"

Anger suddenly intermingled with the fear now gripping him, as a thought came to mind. "Do me a favor, Dorothy."

"And why should I?" the blonde asked haughtily.

I so don't need this right now. ""Listen to me, Dorothy," he hissed into the phone. "I need you to see if a Fyren Wallis checked into work this morning. He's from the Southern Division on the thirteenth floor, I think."

"Fourteenth," Dorothy corrected. "What's going on, Duo?"

Hearing the seriousness in Dorothy's tone, Duo closed his eyes and tried to calm down, knowing that he'd gotten through to the woman. "I don't know, Dorothy. But until I do, I need you to find out if that guy's there."

"Not a problem," Dorothy replied. "I'll call you as soon as I find anything out."

Relief washed over him. "Thanks, Dorothy."

Duo placed the phone back on its receiver and stared at it for a moment; thoughts of Quatre were running through his mind, gripping at his heart. Violet eyes suddenly darkened, transforming into cold and deadly orbs of dark amethyst. He moved then, walking out of the room, his stride determined and deceptively calm, and headed toward his bedroom to find Heero. Duo's fists tightened at his sides, as his mind began to shift into a mode that only those close to him knew even existed.

It had been a long time since he'd taken a life. But as he approached his bedroom, Duo knew that he would once again spill another's blood if anything happened to Quatre. No one would be able to stop him from exacting his revenge.

'Death' would once again walk among the living.

The shrilling of his cell phone had Wufei struggling to unclip the blasted nuisance from his belt. "Why must they insist on calling me while I'm driving? I 'hate' that."

Maintaining his gaze steady on the road, Wufei clicked the phone on. "Chang here."

"Hello, Wufei Chang."

Black eyes narrowed at the sound of the familiar feminine voice. "Ms. Une."

"I have that information you were inquiring about in regards to the Bosca file."

Wufei's grip tightened over the phone. "What did you find out?"

"Apparently, Bosca sent in an operative to infiltrate Preventers, Inc. about a year ago."

"Dammit, why? What are they after?" asked Wufei, angry at the thought of having a traitor among those he worked with.

"The reason behind their scheme is still unclear. We were, however, able to narrow the possible suspects down to four men. I'll be sending their files to you in a moment."

"Good. I'll contact you again once I've gone through them. Thank you, Ms. Une."

"No need for thanks. I was only doing my duty."

Wufei ended the call and had to wait but a moment before the phone rang once again. He hit the 'send' button and watched patiently as the files downloaded. Once finished, he began to sift through the files as best as he was able to while he continued driving.

Tires suddenly shrieked and the car swerved almost into the other lane, as Wufei slammed his foot down on the brakes. Wide black eyes stared in horror at the third file Une had sent him, recognizing the face smiling at him from the small screen.

"Son-of-a-bitch!!!!"

TBC . . . .

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