Title: What I Need
Part: Eleven
Pairings: 4+Cathrine
Warnings: Violence

People swarmed everywhere, like clusters of brightly colored insects. They lined the sidewalks, pressed against the barriers erected by the police, and circled the squad cars and ambulances. Counselors were doing their best to treat the traumatized employees that had been weeded out of the building as the terrorists swept the floors, and the police were attempting with minimal success to keep the entire mess as far back from the building as possible. In a situation such as this, anything could happen. Even a bombing.

Perhaps worst of them all, stood the hordes of reporters, hoping for any message to report back to their bosses but 'status unknown'. Of this large group with their cameras and their tape recorders, four broke away and approached a lone officer. He faced them, his expression clearly disdainful and annoyed. Managing a crowd of rowdy, frightened people was not what he would call an ideal day on the job.

The men were wearing suits, and the woman a dress, but if the expression on her face was any indication with the way she kept tugging at the skirt in irritation, she wasn't overly thrilled with it. Neither was the reporter with the unusually long hair. He had loosened his tie to the point where it was nearly falling off him, much to the consternation of the dark-eyed, immaculately dressed man next to him. By-standers would say that one would go far. As for the other, stress was merely getting to him and he would soon take a leave of absence for burn-out. The silent one with the beautiful eyes... Well, who could tell.

The woman stepped forward, flashed her press credentials and pointed to the case she carried with her. After a few more words were exchanged that the other competing reporters could not hear above the din, she indicated to the three men with her. It was more than apparent she was attempting to get through, which they all found amusing. Obviously the officer was not allowed to let the press into the building. They ran the risk of being injured. But the prospect of dying in the line of duty brought such glory, they were immediately envious at the thought and ridiculed the four all the more.

They were more than a little stunned when the officer stepped aside and allowed them to pass the barrier.

"Why am I the one that has to carry the camera?" The long-haired reporter complained, as they stared up the steps.

"Because you were the one best suited to manual labor," the smartly dressed one replied snidely. "And do you have to be so unprofessional?" He added, staring at the disheveled tie and shirt with obvious distaste.

"Hey, I was taking a little creative license here. Haven't you ever been to the movies?"

The other's expression stated he clearly had not.

"Geez. What do you do in your spare time? Work?"

The woman's lips twitched, and she confirmed, "Yes."

The tallest of them offered no comment, seeming content to listen to the banter of his colleagues.

The man whose social life was in question eyed them all coldly. "Let's just do what we came here to do."

As her hand touched the handle to the sheer glass door, she leaned down, put her lips close to her collar, and seemingly spoke into nothing.

"Teams one and two to three."

Seconds passed. "Team three."

"We're at the intended target. The mission will commence as planned."

One short, terse word. "Roger."

Eyes the color of blue swept over them, barely able to contain their excitement. "Let's go."

They strode into the tiled lobby with purpose, looking neither right nor left, and approached the two armed terrorists guarding the entryway to the elevators. Neither looked overly pleased to see them, especially not when they took notice of the camera the braided one hauled on his shoulder. Guns raised, they stepped forward to meet them.

"No one is allowed in here. Get out before you get hurt."

She offered her most charming smile. "Can't we have just one tiny interview? Our bosses are already on our cases because we can't bring them anything."

Their faces remained impassive. "No. Get out."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure you won't get in all that much trouble..."

Annoyed by the persistent woman, their focus centered on her, they weren't aware of the two empty-handed reporters fanning out on either side of them. Both moved with a quiet purpose that fascinating to see in motion. And when they were close enough, they struck in a flurry of movement that was barely detectable. Simultaneously, they slammed their fists into their respective targets carotid artery, looped the other arm around that to apply pressure, and had them both lowered to the floor all in a matter of seconds.

The camera man immediately set his camera down, popped two latches, and pulled out a gun. "How come you guys get to have all the fun?"

"Shut up, Maxwell," the dark-eyed one replied, accepting a gun from the woman and a headset with a single earphone, microphone attached.

"Lighten up, Wufei," Duo replied, falling in next to the tall, thin one.

"Duo, you and Trowa will sweep all the floors and keep Heero informed of your progress so you can meet at the exact same time. Wufei and I will stay down here and keep an eye on these two."

Duo saluted. "Roger that, Major Po."

Sally grimaced. "Just get out of here."

"Team two, checkin' out," Duo replied. "Ready to rock and roll, Tro?"

With a small smile, Trowa slid an extra gun over his shoulder. "Roger."

* * * *

He had a single gun strapped to his thigh, a black pouch at his waist, and the same tattered jeans and faded tanktop. From his vantage point behind a jeep in the basement level parking garage, he could see two men near the rear entrance. His study of the blueprints told him he needed to get past them, inside, and in the second door on the right. That would take him to a maintenance room, where he could use whatever means necessary to climb up and undo the ceiling vent. Once there, he would crawl inside undetected and continue on to the fifth floor just above Quatre's office.

Then, he would wait for the signal from the other team.

Brows pulling together momentarily in concentration, he took something from the pouch and pulled the top off. In the same fluid motion, he rose, reared back, and threw it with such precision, that it landed directly at the feet of the intended targets. Smoke immediately billowed out and around them in one massive cloud, obscuring their vision, but giving him the advantage he needed to rush in. He took them out with two direct blows to the neck, both of which crushed their throats beyond repair.

Stepping over their fallen bodies, he knelt down beside one and picked the radio from his waist.

"There's noise in the hall outside the maintenance room. I'm going to go check it out."

Releasing his thumb, he waited.

"Whatsa matter, Alpha six, forget the greeting? Anyway, report back after you see what's up."

"Alpha six, out."

That had been close enough. He knew that by mentioning something in the general area, he could radio in and possibly be scolded for not stating which team he was, but also be told which team he was. That would make things easier for Duo and Trowa. If this was Alpha six, it stood to reason that each floor going up would be a team number below that. If not, he would leave it to them to figure it out. All he knew, was that one simple mistake, any one at all, that could make the man responsible for this suspicious, then that was it. They might as well turn around and leave, because Quatre and Relena would be dead.

His face hardened with resolve as he rose. If something happened to them, he wouldn't rest until the man responsible was dead. It didn't matter if he had to hunt him to the edges of space. He would do it.

Slipping through the doors and down the hall, he was forced to use a lockpick to enter the maintenance room. Once inside, he found an abandoned desk in the far corner. He drug that beneath the vent, boosted himself up on it, and slid his fingers between the large gaps. Bracing himself, he gripped them tightly, and wrenched down with all the strength he had in his arms and back. The metal groaned, protested, and then gave after some more struggle. He tossed it aside, pulled the dead guard's radio from his waist, and reported in.

"This is Alpha six. It was a rat."

There was silence, and then laughter. "That boss wants to know if you shot it?"

A test? It was difficult to tell, but given the amusement in this man's voice, he would wager the person he was supposed to be would have shot it. He was not particularly adept at reading other people, but two lives could possibly depend on his answer here.

"Alpha six? Something up? Respond."

"Yeah, Alpha leader, I shot it."

Silence again, this time, stretching out beyond what he was comfortable with. Had he made an error? A man arrogant enough to empty an entire building and take two very known, important people hostage, certainly had a high degree of confidence. He would not call himself Alpha one. He would call himself Alpha leader. All others below would not be allowed to be 'one' either, because that would signify that they were on the same level as he. They next team, then, would be Alpha two. But if he was wrong...

His muscles grew taut with tension, and sweat gathered along the nape of his neck and across his forehead. This was not his area of expertise, determining the actions of others. He got in, took care of whatever needed to be done, and got out. It didn't matter to him who was on the other side, only that they were his targets with good reason. He would have rather the need to fight never confronted him again, but that couldn't be helped. Relena and Quatre needed to live because of their importance, and he would see that they did.

He was about to consider other options, when the radio snapped with static.

"The boss says not to unnecessarily use ammo. He says if you can't control yourself, he'll have to pull you."

Agreement did not seem to be what the man was looking for, if the tone of his voice was any indication.

"It was a big rat," he replied, injecting as much insolence in his tone as he could manage.

"Just control yourself, all right? And get back to your post."

"Roger. Alpha six, out."

He had passed that test, for now.

Grasping the edges up the vent, he curled his arms under and swung himself up, grunting with the effort of hauling his entire weight on just his arms.

Flattening himself out in the tightly cramped space, he spoke into the headset he wore.

"Team three to one and two. Did you get all that? Each floor up will be a number below Alpha six."

"Roger, Team three. Team two'll make certain we use the right code when we report in. We're on floor two at the moment, by the way."

"I'm heading in. I'll let you know when I'm in place."

"Gotcha. Team two, out."

For now, unless something went wrong, that would be the last contact.

Wedging his arm in next to his body, he pulled a small can from his waist and a mirror with a long handle that was reminiscent of the type you saw when you went to the dentist. Without hesitation, he sprayed it out in front of him, watching as the fluorescent mist fell. Roughly two meters, where the passageway reached a intersection, sat a laser trip wire. It was invisible to the naked eye, but not when it was covered with a radioactive substance.

It was annoying that it would take extra time to get through the added security, but he had expected it. The mirror would refract the light, allowing him to cross, and then pull it back, letting the laser fall easily into place.

It was time to get moving.

Clamping the mirror in his teeth, the can held securely in one hand, Heero began moving purposefully toward the trip wire.

* * * *

Relena sat as still as she could, and with as much composure as she could muster under the circumstances, ever aware of the eyes on her belonging to the man who sat behind Quatre's desk. A single sound, the slightest change in expression or posture, and she could have given everything away.

She knew who it was that called themselves Alpha six. It had been over two years since she had last seen him, but she would have known that voice anywhere. Heero. He was here, somewhere in the building, and that meant she and Quatre had nothing to fear any longer. It didn't even occur to her to think he was in with the terrorists. She remembered his words, after Dekim Barton was stopped and Mariemaia was subdued. He wouldn't want to fight, not unless there was a good reason. And he was always there when she really needed him.

Just never at any other time.

If she and Quatre could just hold out a little longer, she knew Heero would be here. The problem was, they were both running out of things to placate and distract the man with. It was very apparent he was fast losing patience. Like a true businessman, he wanted what he had come here for, and he was no longer willing to wait for it. Looking at him, at the way with which he had easily taken control of Quatre's office and made it his own, she thought he would kill them if that was what he had to do to get what wanted.

Heero. Quatre's fingers momentarily tightened on the edge of his wrist, before he let them fall relaxed in his lap. There was no doubt that the voice on the radio had been Heero. If Heero was here, the Preventers were not far behind. He didn't know whether it was saddening, or ironic that it took a situation of this magnitude to get them all together again. Was that how it was always going to be? Friends born of the threat of war, meant to only meet up when that threat arose again?

"You need only call off the conference tomorrow. Retract the signing of the agreement, and that will be enough."

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Quatre squarely faced the man who sat in his desk as if he had every right. Did the man really think him foolish enough to believe that, that would be enough? There would be something else displeasing to him, and then something else after that, until their actions stumbled into one another like dominos and set off enough discord for another war. It might take months, or years, but it would happen. And regardless of the time span, whether it was today, or five todays from now, he couldn't allow it to happen.

"And after that?" He asked calmly, giving no indication of his inner anxiety.

The terrorist shrugged elegantly. "Who can say what tomorrow will bring?"

Relena leaned forward. "Do you want another war, Mr. Yuy?" And Quatre marveled at how she managed to say that name without choking. "Because that is what will happen if you continue on this course; needless suffering and the destruction of all that we have achieved since the last devastating war ended."

He raise his hands, splaying his fingers in the air to punctuate his words. "Such elegance, such passion. It's truly a shame you waste yourself defending the interests of the Earth."

Her expression closed off, became cold. "I represent the interests of all the people, colonists and Earth dwellers alike."

"And can you accurately and partially achieve that, Vice Foreign Minister Darlian, who was born and raised on the Earth?"

She settled back carefully. "I love the colonies as much as you."

For a quick, frightening moment, his amiable mask slid away.

"Do you, really, Miss. Darlian?" He asked softly, his eyes dark and unforgiving.

"If you love the colonies so much, then why do you press to destroy everything they've become?" Quatre interjected, attempting to pull the man's attention away from Relena.

Those hard, calculating eyes focused on him. A smile surface, tinged with a dangerous edge. "Death in the face of freedom is considered an acceptable sacrifice."

He felt anger, hot and sharp whip through him. It took every effort to keep his voice level. "And what gave you the right to speak for every citizen in the colony?"

To their surprise, he threw his head back and laughed.

"Hypocrisy, Mr. Winner, was not something I expected from you." Before Quatre could answer, the man turned his question on him. "What gave you five Gundam pilots the right to be the voice of the colonies? Hm? And did it stop you, that you didn't have the approval of every single citizen?"

A dilema he had often forced himself to consider. One that he had never had an answer for.

"What you're doing is different, Mr. Yuy, so do not confuse your actions with the heroic ones of the Gundam pilots." Relena interrupted, a bit of bite to her tone.

He tapped his chin with his finger. "There's that passion again. The Gundam Pilots mean something to you... Or should I say, just one pilot in particular?"

"We did not come here to discuss my personal life," she corrected, her tone once again frosty. But she couldn't quit mask the slight jerk of her hands.

"No, indeed..." He replied thoughtfully. "So let us cease this meaningless banter. I came here for a reason. I am no longer willing to wait for that reason. I want the signing called off, and I want it now. If you disagree... Then I will have you killed."

* * * *

Fourth floor. Only one more to go. Duo stood beside Trowa, his shoulder pressed into the other's arm as he extended a small mirror around the corner and checked the hall for guards. As they figured, there were two of them stationed just near the elevator. So far, the others had been taken out with minimal difficulty. He had a few bruises, and a blood nose, but hey, you had to take what you could get. The only scratches Trowa had on him was one just above his eye, and one across his left cheek. All in all, they didn't look half bad for two guys who had taken on four trained terrorists.

Trowa drew the mirror back and looked to Duo. To keep from allowing the terrorists time to radio in, they had been throwing smoke bombs, and then darting into the mess to neutralize them. While effective, it was time consuming and left them open for injuries. Unfortunately, the AK-47s given them by Sally Po had no silencers. The sound of the gun discharging would have alerted the guards a floor above to their presence. This way, at least, they could take them out and then radio in.

Holding up a bomb, he released the trigger and nodded to Duo to be ready. Without waiting for affirmation beyond Duo's nod, he slipped around the corner and hurled it at them. It exploded in a blast of thick smoke, completely engulfing the terrorists so that no part of them could be seen. Duo, his weapon slung over his shoulder so that it bounced against his back as he ran, skidded past Trowa and down the hall. It was almost difficult for him to keep up with the pace, and he had longer legs than Duo. It had been said before that Duo had more energy than any one person ought to be allowed, and this easily validated that.

They burst into the cloud of smoke at nearly the same time, going instantly for the radios. Duo punched one from the target he had settled on and then went for the gun, vaguely aware that Trowa did the same. No words were exchanged, as he ducked a blow and landed one roughly in the center of the terrorist's abdomen. His fist plowed into soft, unresisting flesh and he had the supreme pleasure of hearing the sharp intake of breath as the man gasped.

Trowa spun around, catching the terrorist upside the head. The man stumbled back, and into the elevator doors. Trowa followed, snapping out a punch that missed. His fist slammed into the elevator instead. Rather than react to the pain that shot through his knuckles and radiated up his arm with such intensity, his head immediately started pounding, he lashed out with his foot and kicked the man's legs out from under him. As the man fell, struggling to get up almost upon impact, Trowa shook the fist out, hoped it wasn't broken, and went back in for more.

Duo jerked to the side, and swung full around, bringing his palm up to shove the edge of it into the man's throat. In retaliation, the terrorist threw himself at Duo and drove them both to the floor. They hit hard, Duo knocking his elbow against the tile. Pain erupted, and to add insult to injury, the vibrations associated with what was called the 'funny bone' worked together with the agony to keep him nearly immobile. Consequently, he wasn't fighting back as much as he should, and when the man smashed his head into the floor, his only thoughts were of the bright flash of stars dancing suddenly before his eyes.

Trowa slipped first to one side, then to the other. Each time the man struck out, he waited until the last minute to move away. It was obvious that it frustrated him, which was exactly what the ex-pilot wanted. He kept it up, until it was all the man could do not to simple hurl himself at Trowa and hope he didn't miss. So, for the second time in two weeks, Trowa vaulted over someone, and snapped their neck.

Duo rolled away, kicked out with his booted foot, and caught the terrorist directly in the knee. There was an audible crack, and a small cry, as the man stumbled to fall on one leg. Now came the part he dreaded. The part where he killed. But he consoled himself, as he pushed from the floor, and drove the flat of his palm under the man's nose, that if he didn't kill him now, one of his friends would die later. And maybe, it was enough, as the terrorist collapsed, blood leaking from his nose and mouth.

Maybe.

Barely winded, Trowa grabbed a radio and immediately went for the elevator. Duo followed, rubbing at his elbow, and scowling. The rode it up in silence, and then cautiously made their way onto the fifth and final floor. No call came for an update, so they didn't attempt one. Rather, they scouted the hall, and were relieved to find the door outside Quatre's office was only surrounded by the lifeless forms of previous body guards.

Quietly, Trowa said, "Team two to team three."

"Team three."

"We're in position. On your signal, we will follow."

"Roger."

Now, they waited.

* * * *

Watching her pace back and forth was beginning to grate on his nerves. It was obvious she wished to be in on the action, rather than standing down here, baby-sitting two unconscious men. For that, he couldn't blame her. He just wished she would stand still. It was very distracting, and showed an extreme lack of self-control. While he might have wanted to do the same both out of boredom and restlessness, that did not mean he was going to give in to the urge.

Sally paused, turned, and walked back the other direction. Aside from the snatches she had received on the headphones, which were an open airway to all of them at once, she was unaware of the status of the others. Not that she was worried. She trusted them all to hold up. After all, they had made it through one war, a more than one mission, and an almost war without dying. It was simply the fact that she wanted to be out there with them. She liked being a part of the action, accomplishing something. All this standing around was really starting to get to her.

"Can't you stand still?" Came Wufei's slightly annoyed voice.

She stopped, turning to stare at him. Was every emotion always so reserved with him? Didn't he ever once want to give in and have a complete fit? It was damned annoying, because he made the rest of them look exceedingly human.

"No." She replied abruptly, and continued with her pacing.

Wufei resisted the urge to shake his head. Women. He had never been able to completely understand them, and he doubted he would be able to anytime soon.

That was when the first one stirred.

Wufei straightened, gun trained on the awakening man.

The other started coming to shortly after. Sally, having caught sight of it, cracked her knuckles, set her gun aside, and started for him.

"Woman, what are you doing?" Wufei demanded, knowing that he hated being addressed that way.

"Having a little fun," she replied, her tone clipped, as she hauled the first one up, snapped her fist back, and hit him in the face.

"It would have been simpler to kill them to begin with," Wufei muttered, setting his gun aside and meeting the other just as he rose unsteadily to his feet.

But he didn't want to. He had seen enough death in the war to last an eternity. It always amazed him that people wanted to shed more. Must everyone come from death? Wasn't there one thing they could achieve without having to kill someone for it?

Sally grunted as she took a clumsy punch in the shoulder. She supposed this was very unprofessional of her, but then, she couldn't seem to bring herself to care that much. They did, after all, have to keep these two occupied while the other teams finished what they needed to up on the higher floor. Since she wasn't overly fond of killing anyone, she would just test his fighting skills.

Spinning aside, Wufei lashed out with his hand, striking the man in the back of the neck. He was only half-trying, because the man was still a bit shaky from awakening, and Wufei did not consider it a fair fight. Mostly, he was watching Sally run the other terrorist in circles, and admiring her fighting skills. For a woman, she was very strong. It was in more ways than just physical, however. Working with her these last two years had only re-enforced that.

"Are you playing with him?" Wufei questioned, as he slipped out of another attack.

Sally ducked a punch, clipped him neatly under the chin, and snapped, "Yes! They can't get away can they? So I'm just having a bit of fun..."

Wufei resisted the urge to sigh. There was never any arguing with this woman. It was a waste of time.

Shrugging, he decided this would at least provide them with some form of exercise.

* * * *

Quatre was in the process of rising, wanting to provide some form of shelter for Relena should the terrorist make good on his word, when there was a sudden movement from above. Heero hit the ground with an audible thud, and, intense eyes focusing on the door, opened fire. Rather than fire back, for fear of hitting their boss, they scattered and hit the ground for safety. Some, however, fell because Heero's aim was as accurate as it had ever been.

On a startled half-gasp, Relena rose, and with her, went the terrorist. Her eyes followed Heero's movements as best she could in the few short seconds that elapsed, and so she was unaware of the danger she was now suddenly in. Face a mask of fury, the man who called himself 'Mr. Yuy', brought his gun up to bear. At first, as his mind was trying to process everything, Quatre thought he was going to shoot Heero. But as the gun swung around, it was trained instead, on Relena.

He moved. He had no other choice, no other thought. It seemed too slow, as if he wasn't going to make it in time, even though they were standing so close together. All he knew, was that one moment he was standing, the next he was pushing past the air as if it were a barrier. Time itself seemed to extend, as if it knew he wanted to hurry and wasn't cooperating. The sounds around him faded, until all he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears, and the rough press of his breath against his chest.

And then, as he hit her, and they fell, the world exploded in violent slashes of color, sound, and pain. It spread through his chest like wildfire, searing a burning path from his lungs to shoulder.

As they landed, he tried to twist in the air to take the brunt of the fall, but part of his body still covered hers. There was an undeniably sticky warmth pasting his clothes to his skin, and breathing was already troubling him. It felt as if someone had filled his lungs with water, and he simply couldn't get a breath out past it.

"Quatre!" He blinked, as he felt hands probing him.

Snarling, Heero swung around, not caring whether or not Duo and Trowa had fulfilled their part of the mission yet. Dropping the gun to one hand, he used the chair for leverage, vaulted over Quatre's desk, and kicked the terrorist hard in the chest. The man stumbled back, hitting the boarded window as the gun flew from his hand. There was an unmistakable crack, and while Heero would have rather it be the man's ribs, he knew it was the window.

"Let's see if you can go out the way you came in," he mused, and the lack of inflection in his tone, the look of complete satisfaction left the man before him cold with a kind of terror he hadn't felt since entering the office. Heero could see it in his face. And he reveled in it.

He spun, kicked him hard, heard the wood bow. He snapped his foot out again, chest level, and heard the protest. But he didn't stop there. He continued on, until the wood finally gave way, and the terrorist, in too much pain to offer any kind of fight, teetered dangerously on the edge. Smiling, Heero delivered the last and final blow, and watched as the man vanished through the opening, taking wood and glass with him.

As he turned back, he was vaguely aware of Sally talking in the headphones, giving them directions for Quatre's care until she got up there.

Each breath coming in shallow, painful gasps, Quatre tried to offer Relena a reassuring smile. Her face and white suit were smudged with blood. She looked so frightened, that he felt the need to tell her that everything was going to be all right. Unfortunately, he couldn't seem to form the words. Instead, he closed his eyes, only somewhat conscious of Duo yelling at him to open them, because he planned on haunting him into Hell if he died.

He tried to laugh. It was too much of an effort. So instead, he relaxed, felt the fluid rise into his throat, close off his breathing, and let he weariness claim him.