Toxic

Chapter Two: Who Am I, Who Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon or Gundam Wing.

“Rusted brandy in a diamond glass…”

Rei shivered, though goose bumps did not rise to her flesh; the thick, warm, air of the nightclub made any chill impossible. She shivered from the mere poetic genius of the lyrics, from the perfectly painted picture those words created in her head. Her hair was let loose tonight and it clung uncomfortably to her back, slick with a light sheen of sweat.

“Everything is made from dreams…”

Though she loved the song, this statement was as far from and as close to the truth as anything could possibly be. Ever since the Great Freeze it was as if her high school years, the years of impervious youth, were shoved to the back of her mind like a dream. Her previous friends felt like dreams, her Senshi days felt like dreams, the pain, the dying, the satisfaction of saving the entire world felt like the brain’s manifestation of entertainment during a long night’s sleep. But when she also thought of dreams Rei thought of aspirations, of happiness, of reaching one’s goals. That definitely hadn’t happened.

“Time is made from honey, slow and sweet…”

It would have been nice to think this, Rei thought, but the unfortunate fact of the matter was… no. Just straight up no. Absolutely not.

“Only the fools know what it means…”

Again, unfortunately yes.

Her warm hand brushed a man’s shoulder and his eyes slowly traced the curvature of her hips as she passed by. When the weight of her body pressed against his he wound a hand around her hip.

“Temptation…I can’t resist…”

Rei wended her way sensuously back towards the stage, her back remaining the only face her audience gazed upon until she slowly turned around. Her eyes glided along the vast audience that stared at her with eyes filled with mystery, wonderment, lust. Usually these things did not unnerve her but for some reason tonight a tiny tingle crept up her back. When her sharp violet eyes hit the back area by the door she immediately knew why.

…

The club was empty; paths lighted by some candles flickering here and there, acute light from the dimmed bulbs above, and the disarming white from the moon through the windows. The band members circled on the stage in a quiet jam session as Rei helped pick up glasses and bottles strewn along empty, ruffled tables and the grimy floor.

The club was her perfume: her hair smelled like smoke, her neck like a cheap scent, her hands like alcohol, and her body like sweat. It was a wonder anyone could find her attractive. She set the empty cups at the bar and sighed. How long was she going to do this? How long would she sell her looks and voice for appreciation and money? She would give up singing if it got her out of this ungodly place but she wasn’t very good at much and waitressing just didn’t pay well.

‘Is that what I’ve come to?’ she grimaced to herself, ‘have I given in to money?’ Her wallowing ended quickly, however, and she snorted. ‘It takes money to get out of this damned city.’

Rei sighed and turned from the bar, right into someone’s chest. She backed away and sputtered for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, looking up. Her eyes connected with dark blue orbs and her heart fluttered. It was a face she hadn’t seen in awhile, one that brought back a flush of memories, some good, some bad, that made her throat tighten and a yearning to enter her heart for her teenage years. She smelled just as Rei remembered.

“Haruka,” she exclaimed breathily, a small tinge coming to her cheeks as said girl smirked.

“Rei,” was her simple response as she gave her a look over. When an eyebrow rose Rei frowned and haughtily placed her hands on her hips.

“I know you don’t like it, and neither do I, but the inimical glare was frankly unnecessary,” she retorted to the gaze as Haruka gave a throaty laugh. Her amused response evoked more anger on Rei’s part as she turned away and continued to collect filth from the floor.

“Rei,” Haruka said, her tone softer this time as she placed a hand on the younger girl’s warm shoulder. “I didn’t come here to chastise your chosen line of business—”

Rei spun around, flinging Haruka’s hand from her shoulder. When the blonde looked addled Rei tried as hard as she could to make her disposition completely clear. She wet her lips and glared at Haruka from the corner of her eye. “My chosen line of business?” she said quietly, simmering in a pool of rage. Her hand fisted at her side and the other crushed a can with a metallic snap.

“I’m not leaning on any shoulders here, Haruka. I don’t want any help. After…” she looked away and swallowed harshly, mental visions of her grandfather flashing through her head. Trying to prevent the grievous look that always marred her features at the thought of him, she cleared her throat and rubbed her forehead. “After grandpa’s death and the shrine’s destruction I needed to find a steady holding again. I hardly find this fixation permanent. I blame your cursoriness for your sharp words, not you, but that doesn’t give you the right to say them.” She dropped the smashed can into a bag. “Especially to me.”

Haruka sighed. It was the same old Rei in a new shield. Before, she remained the cool, confident girl, the mysterious bombshell who threw any man’s heart on the ground and stomped on it. Her emotions were in check, except when she bantered with Usagi. The blonde smirked at this, but it soon faded to a worried frown. Now she posed as a pessimistic person whose frequent elegiac expressions and sensual efficacy revealed a much more complicated mind.

“Well that’s partially why I’m here.” Rei’s sharp eyes looked up. “We need someone to sing in our upcoming concert. The people who tried out were good but I’m looking for something a little edgier, and I’ve heard you sing before.”

Rei ran a hand through her raven hair and walked over to the bar, setting the bag on a chair and turning to face Haruka, who’d followed. “And why should I come sing for you? We’ve never been pals before, even prior to the Great Freeze.”

Haruka shrugged, grabbing a beer bottle and grimacing at the ash and alcohol mixture inside. She set it down and looked to the muck that tarnished the ceiling. “It’d be hell of a lot better than here,” she mumbled, taking her hand and wiping it on her pant leg. “That wouldn’t be the only requital either,” she said nonchalantly, swinging a small bag back over her shoulder and heading towards the door. “We’d spend some time together, you, me, and Michiru, plus you would get to meet Quatre.” The way she said his name, however, did not incite any excitement to meet him.

“Quatre?”

Haruka’s mouth twisted downwards. “I suppose I shouldn’t rag on him too much, he really is a sweet guy.”

“But?”

“But… you know, despite knowing she’s gay and all, he’s got a thing for Michiru. Not really afraid to show it either.” Haruka bit her lip and gave Rei an up and down look, earning a raised eyebrow in response. “Hopefully when you show up he’ll have something else to obsess over.” Haruka smiled. “Trading the sweet music queen for the smoky singing temptress.”

Rei threw a piece of trash at Haruka, said girl batting it away with the back of her hand. “Anyways, you’ll meet him when you come.”

“If I come, “ Rei responded, setting her stance and giving Haruka the firmest look she could muster.

“Oh, you’ll come.”

Rei just wanted to wipe that cocky smirk off of Haruka’s face with her own fist, but instead restrained herself to clenching it at her side. “And why is that?”

“Because the song you’d be singing is Con Te Partiro.” Rei’s eyes widened a fraction and Haruka gave her a salute.

“See you on Saturday,” she smiled and walked out of the door, into the dark street.

Before Rei’s mind could even begin to wrap itself around the situation that faced her there was another person who walked into the door. Snapping out of her current whirring mental state, she placed a hand up. “I’m sorry,” she said, “we’re cl—”

“Is Jiro-san here?” a deep, calming voice asked.

His long arms were stuffed almost haphazardly into a dark blue sweatshirt and his legs were covered only in a pair of loose, black shorts. What caught Rei’s attention was not his overbearing height, or the way he sort of slouched to her level, but the huge swollen eye that almost protruded from his otherwise handsome face.

When she didn’t respond Trowa took a hand from his pocket and scratched his head. “Look lady, I don’t have a lot of time and I need to speak with him about someth—“

“Weed,” she said quickly, almost as if it had been pushed forcefully from her lungs. She blinked rapidly before looking back up to his face. Usually when she confronted someone about buying weed from her co-worker they’d sputter or get angry with her. This man, however, simply blinked his one able eye and shrugged.

“If you want to be blunt.”

The words spewed from his mouth unconsciously. Trowa was not one to usually make jokes but when Rei threw her head back and let loose a relieving, hearty laugh he was glad he’d done it. It vivified her, turning a sultry, melancholy looking bar singer into a brightened, amused, beautiful…woman.

“He’s through that door to the left,” she said, a smile still painting her lips as she pointed behind her. Trowa nodded and followed her finger, disappearing behind the door and slinking away from Rei’s interested eyes.

Makoto kneeled next to the body, pulling her jacket closer to her skin as she inspected her newest case’s naked body. He lay motionless in the middle of an ally way, arms crossed delicately over his chest, as if he’d already been sent to the morgue in a body bag. His body was pale and cool, a slight sheen lying upon it due to the night dew.

She traced a finger in the air along a large tattoo of a cross that stained his arm before outlining the smoker’s patch that rested in the middle. He seemed normal, mid thirties perhaps and a fine build, a small bruise on his hip that could have been from anything. His fingernails looked clean of skin particles but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. Taking a small tool from the bag at her side she took a sample and placed it in a small bag, planning to give it to Ami later.

If one were to merely glance at his body they would see nothing wrong, perhaps he’d had a stroke or some other fatal catastrophe, but if your eyes wandered from his body to his face it would have been a whole different story. His lips were calm, slightly gaping, and the rest of his face lay untouched…except for his eyes. Streaming down the sides of his face to pool and crust in the curvature of his ears were streams of blood.

Makoto pursed her lips and stood, walking around the scene, eyes peeled for any marker as to what could have happened, camera prepared and shooting away. Others buzzed around her, blue “CS” jackets whizzing by as they prepared to take the body back to Crystal Services for inspection. She heard the body bag zip and was prepared to hop in the truck to leave when something fluttered inconspicuously down the ally way, closer to the dumpsters at the end.

Makoto looked behind her and, with a moment’s decision, followed after it. She heard the truck start and a call of her name but ignored it for the moment, reaching down and grasping the small, yellowing parchment that now lay in her hands. Seeing if it was anything important she began to unfold it, trying to hurry carefully when she felt a few raindrops hit her shoulders and nose.

It was a difficult fold but she had the parchment open in seconds and flipped it upside down to see if she could understand the writing placed upon it. It wasn’t Japanese, nor was it English. It didn’t look European in any way. In fact, if she had to best describe it, it looked most like Egyptian hieroglyphics. Her eyebrows creased when she realized that they were not, in fact, the latter.

And then a specific symbol caught her eye. It was a heart, with an arrow pointing downwards towards the bottom of the paper. It looked astonishingly like Ami’s old Mercury symbol. She looked over the characters more, trying to shield the paper with her body as she moved towards the truck and climbed in. Then, as if she’d been hit with a Luna Mind Meld her mind began to recall these sorts of symbols. They were curvy, crossing, and straight, ones she’d once seen carved into dilapidated pillars and a floor that held no roof. She’d seen them in a place that held no oxygen, where a thriving civilization had once roamed. She’d seen them when she was in middle school, when she’d taken that life-changing excursion to the Moon.

The letter was written in Lunarian.

…

Ami sat quietly in her chair. Her eyes swiveled left and right as she watched people dart inside from the rain pelting down onto their makeshift newspaper umbrellas. The water on the ground melded together in a watercolor pallet of lights, reflecting objects in odd shapes and distorted versions of their actual selves. Ami tilted her head to the side and placed her pencil tip precariously on the edge of the paper. Gently she began to make light strokes, outlining this shape or that.

Her firm concentration was terminated when someone came barreling into her lab, huffing and puffing and mumbling her name ungraciously. Giving a sigh Ami turned and was not quite surprised to see an almost drenched Makoto leaning heavily against the jamb of her door, cradling something cautiously in her hands.

“Ami,” she huffed, swallowing and trying to catch her breath. “I… just ran all the way down here…” Makoto placed whatever she’d been holding in her hands on the cold, silver surface of one of Ami’s lab tables and backed away, throwing her coat and shirt to the ground and placing her hands on her knees.

“I can see that…” Ami mumbled, walking to the back of her lab to grab a towel, then proceeding to throw it at her friend’s head. Makoto caught it before it hit her and gave an incomprehensible thanks. She used the towel to try and dry the wet patches of her tank top before leaning over and drying her hair. Forgetting about the towel she dropped it on the ground and walked back over to the letter.

“I found this at the crime scene,” Makoto said, handing Ami the letter. “Male, Caucasian, mid thirties. He was found naked in the middle of an ally, only thing that seemed wrong, and was obviously wrong, was the fact that his eyes were bleeding.” Ami took the letter with a frown, not looking at it yet but staring at Makoto with a perturbed expression.

“His eyes were bleeding?” she asked.

Makoto nodded fervently. “Yes, yes, but that’s not the big thing here Ami—“

“Makoto, that’s a very big thing! How many deaths have you seen with bleeding eyes?” Ami shuffled around her lab, starting this program and that, getting out tools and whatnot. “I’ll have to see if Dr. Wisner will allow me to stand by during the autopsy,” she said absentmindedly, pushing her glasses up her nose and fiddling around in her lab.

Makoto sighed, placing a frustrated hand to her forehead. Whenever they were hit with a case that Ami found interesting it was nearly impossible to get her to focus on anything else. As she scrambled around the lab Makoto picked up the letter and calmly strolled up to her friend, who was shuffling around a cabinet. Taking her shoulders she spun the girl around and shoved the letter into her face.

“If you find bleeding eyes fascinating Ami, you’ll surely see this as a trip.” Ami took the letter and held it a little farther from her face, where she could distinctly read the symbols. “I found it at the scene.” A flush came to her face and her heart pattered in excitement. “Ami, you won’t believe this, it’s in—“

“Lunarian…”

Makoto, her mood at first dampened by the fact that Ami had figured it out so quickly, shrugged her shoulders and pulled away, running a hand through her hair with excitement. “Yeah…what do you think it means?”

Ami had yet to pull her eyes from the paper, blue orbs glued to the curvilinear symbols that cultivated on the page. She was silent and if Makoto didn’t know better she could have sworn Ami was actually reading it. Her body remained still, her arms holding up like a statues, and her fingers held the paper as if it would burn her. Her eyes, however, shifted quickly and methodically over the parchment, analyzing each section, each part of data. When she spoke, it almost scared Makoto, who had become accustomed to the silence.

“Have you told—?”

Makoto snorted. “If I had do you think you’d be seeing it right now?”

Ami gave a knowing look and said, “point noted,” before setting the paper down on the table. She took a seat on a chilly stool and cradled her head in her hands, her brain working at magnitudes it hadn’t in awhile as it processed just exactly what this letter could possibly entail.

Makoto noticed her downtrodden expression and her eyebrows curled in confusion. She figured that Ami, like any other interesting case thrust their way, would be jumping for joy and licking her lips in excitement. Instead she looked worried, almost nervous as her fingers massaged her lightly shaking head and her eyes scrunched tight into a multitude of creases.

The brunette placed a hand to the scientist’s shoulder and her friend sighed. “Ami-chan…” she began, not knowing exactly what to ask her, except perhaps the acutely non-imploring and bland question of, “what’s wrong?”

Ami took her head from its soundly shaking cradle of her hands and shook it slightly. “Makoto…” she began, taking the letter in her hands once again and looking over the symbols. “This is not good. Not good at all…”

Makoto waved it off. “What?” she asked, drawing out the sound and giving her friend a hearty clap on the back. “Pish-posh my friend, this is a case that’s going to go down in the books.” She gave a grin and a fist pump. “I can feel it!”

Despite Makoto’s jolly efforts, Ami’s depleted look did not diminish. She stared at the paper in worry, flashes of past years, of what she could remember, flowing through her mind’s eye like a torrent of water. Maybe she was worrying for nothing… but maybe her trepidation was legitimized in the fact that this letter, written in Lunarian, could possibly ruin the solidarity and profound restfulness of Crystal Tokyo. Perhaps even Crystal Earth.

Makoto’s look softened and she took a seat, propping her head on her fist. “Ami-chan…please, what is it?” she asked cautiously, softly almost to cater to the blue haired girl’s sudden mercurialness.

Ami turned on her seat to face her long time friend and was glad, despite its slightly contorted meaning, that she had someone to share this unfortunate burden and information with. She picked up the letter from her previously uncontaminated counters and held it by the corner for her friend to see.

“Mako-chan, this letter is written in Lunarian.”

Said girl raised an eyebrow and leaned back. “Is that all you’re worried about?” she asked, thinking Ami’s suddenly foul mood had to do with her strive for perfection. “That we won’t be able to translate it?”

Ami shook her head. “No. In fact, I’ve already translated some of it from what I remember in the past.”

Makoto crossed her arms and lightly humphed, jealous of the fact that Ami could still remember something they all used to know fluently. Given it had been thousands of years ago.

“No,” she said again, staring at the paper in the cautious way she had before, causing Makoto to lean in worriedly. “It’s not that. It’s the fact that it’s written in Lunarian.”

Makoto looked at the paper in earnest determination, hoping that staring very hard at it might evince just what the hell Ami was repeating. Okay, so it was written in Lunarian. So what? She stared harder, wondering if it was the content of the letter that had her nerdy friend all jittery. That process failed, however, when the only words she could remember related to any of the symbols painted gracefully were ‘here’, ‘sighs’, and ‘tree’.

Why the hell do I remember the word ‘sighs’? Makoto asked herself, shaking her head and leaning back. “Ami, I just don’t foll—“

“The letter. Is written. In Lunarian,” she said fiercely, boring her eyes into Makoto as she glanced again at the paper. The tenseness growing in her shoulders began to release when Ami saw Makoto’s eyes widen in a daunting realization. The green orbs grew gradually and stared incredulously at the now harsh symbol of reality that was held in Ami’s hands.

She brushed her fingers over her lips, a nervous habit she’d acquired over the years. “Shit…” she mumbled behind the appendages, knee now bouncing in an anxious manner. What she was restless for, Makoto didn’t know quite yet. “The letter is written in Lunarian.”

Ami nodded. Now that Makoto realized what she had, she deemed the air fit to articulate their new circumstance. She gave an almost amazed bark of laughter, forced harshly from her throat. “People know that Neo-Queen Serenity has the Ginzuisho, they know now that there are otherworldly forces at work. Mako-chan,” she said almost frantically, shaking the letter and bringing her voice down a few notches, “you may have forgotten it but only a select few know that she is actually from the moon.” Makoto bit her lip, curse words shooting throughout her head. “Us, Makoto, her Senshi! We are the only ones!”

“Shit,” Makoto cursed again, only silently this time, keeping a hand over her mouth. “Ami this means our cover is blown. I was meant to find that letter, somebody knows who we are…”

Ami shook her head. “Not only that, Mako-chan, but we are not, in fact, the only beings who know that she’s from the Moon, who know how to potentially read Lunarian.”

Makoto’s heart shot into her throat before dropping like a rollercoaster into her stomach. She reciprocated Ami’s previous position and cradled her head in her arms. “And to think… after years and years of otherworldly peace…”

“Yeah, to think…a Youma. And a smart one at that.”

Heero stared at the auditorium; a grand, ostentatious and gaudy thing it was. Spinning gold coated sky blue ceilings and plush, red, velvet seating swam across its open spaces, catering to the bums of thousands of people. He’d heard the performers before and lucky for him they were pretty good, which would take his mind off of the glitzy hall they would play in.

He stood by the back door, arms folded securely in front of him as he leaned against the wall. His eyes scanned the room quickly and efficiently, the buzz in his ear reciprocating exactly what he saw. It was all clear. A prestigious Minister from Madrid was visiting Crystal Tokyo and, on this beautiful night, was taking his wife from a long day of international relations negotiations to a quiet and melodious concert. It was Black Ops that was assigned to the duty of protecting him, of guarding his precious life. And so Heero stood, watching and waiting.

He saw the Minister stand from his plump seat and pushed himself from the wall, wondering if there was a commotion or a possible disturbance. He took a step from the wall and placed a finger to his ear, trying to hear what the other agents were saying about the situation.

His concentration was interrupted when someone bumped his arm, causing the top part of his body to slightly lurch, before he quickly caught his composure and turned to face who’d hit him. When he saw the culprit his anger lessened but his demeanor stayed the same: cold, focused, hard.

It was only some girl and her friend, one garbed simply in a flowing, modest black dress that brushed her knees. The length of the other dress was the same but it assumed a dark red color with a more plunging neckline, into the crevice of where a peculiar necklace disappeared.

“Sorry!” she apologized, giving him a quick look over before grabbing her friend’s arm and pointing to a certain vicinity, perhaps where their seats were. Heero’s eyes narrowed. The second girl had been wearing a similar type of necklace… and he could have sworn he’d seen their faces briefly before.

Acknowledging that the Minister had only been standing to let an older couple easily walk into their seats, Heero assumed his position glued to the wall once again as the lights began to dim.

With the familiarity of the two females swimming aggravatingly in his brain, Heero pulled at the neck of his tuxedo, the unfortunate repercussions of being assigned to a case at a concert. He hated the damn thing; formal attire was a pompous reminder of just how little money someone attained, in his mind. There was a flood of applause as the performers graced the stage and took their positions.

As time passed Heero labeled it as a good concert, not one of their best but it was nearly impossible to lay a black mark on the trio that assumed the stage. One of them was even a person he’d known for a very long time…

His critique stayed firm until a girl walked out onto the stage. As she approached the microphone waiting for her it was now clear that she was, in fact, no girl. Her slim figure was accentuated by the most appropriate curves and a delicate, white dress draped her body. The fabric seemed almost diaphanous, haloing her body in a graceful curtain of luscious fabric, and yet it was oddly acceptable. Her hair contrasted spectacularly against the dress, a deep raven balancing innocence and reality as it brushed against her soft shoulders and vanilla garment. A single white ribbon twisted into a bow rested upon her head in a makeshift headband.

If the audience found her appearance wondrous they were pinned to their seats by the sheer etherealness of her voice. Heero expected classical, melodious, almost opera like seeing as how the song was Italian. What exuded from her vocal chords, however, was far from tight and prim. It gave him a dangerous feeling as it moved over the audience in a beautiful sensuous wave of music and they began to sway with it as if hypnotized.

The lines of the com in his ear were silent, not a breath being taken, not a murmur of appreciation or a comment on her beauty, just pure silence. It unnerved him, how a singular feeling could captivate an audience of thousands. His eyes scanned the crowd methodically again, searching for any flaws, any movement other than the ocean like sway of the dedicated listeners. When his eyes picked up nothing his eyes wandered of their own accord back to the beacon standing on stage.

The three players in the background ceased as the song came to its conclusion, her voice the only note reverberating throughout the hall. A single last line that morphed into a warm, thick feeling for the audience that left shivers rolling down their spines.

“Io con te,” she sang, the last echo rebounding off of the high ceilings and settling lightly like confectioners sugar on a delicate pastry over the audience.

I’m with you. How fitting.

The note remained in Heero’s ear for a moment and he studied the girl—woman, once again. Deep eyes and a perfect face with a crafted dress that made her look like some Greek goddess were the only things that marked her being. But instead of making him swoon (as if) or calming him into a peaceful, happy mood (get real) like it did for the rest of the audience, it made Heero suspicious. He didn’t really know why until his eyes wandered to her neck. The sound soon turned into a cacophony of notes when he noticed that same necklace rested almost mockingly around her heck and hid beneath her dress.

After a pregnant pause the audience erupted into cheers and whistles, members standing until the entire auditorium stood in appreciation. The singer smiled and backed away, almost surprised that the audience valued her voice so much. Her eyes swooped over the crowd and Heero watched as she gave an especially large smile to the girl who’d bumped his arm and her friend. If possible, the one in red seemed the most enthusiastic out of the whole audience, whistling loudly and cheering, her friend beside her clapping so hard her hands were turning red.

Heero almost clucked his tongue. What a reprehensible display.

Quatre stood backstage with a smile teeming with an air of excitement. Rei had been absolutely fantastic! She wooed the crowd in ways he hadn’t even known possible. The only other time he’d seen an audience in such a state of awe was during one of Michiru’s greatest solo performances.

He smiled at the thought of her and turned back towards his comrades. He’d already spoken to the Minister, an old acquaintance of his family, and exchanged pleasantries. The foreign man now stood swapping words with Rei, whose face was flushed with embarrassment over his praise and excitement from the whole rush of performing in front of such a prestigious audience.

Quatre watched serenely as Michiru placed a hand to Rei’s shoulder and nodded in agreement to whatever compliment the Minister was giving. Seeing the two standing next to each other brought a whole new thought into his mind. Before, there’d been absolutely no one who could compare with his unrequited love interest, Michiru. He couldn’t even explain the strange attraction he had to her; it was as if she was a magnet and he was drawn to her by laws he couldn’t even fathom.

Sure there were other women he found attractive but there was a certain je ne se quoi about her and he hadn’t known what it was until he heard Rei sing. Before, he hadn’t even compared her with Michiru. Sure she was gorgeous but there was still that pull towards the violin goddess. But after tonight, Quatre felt a pull towards not only the one he’d had feelings for for so long, but for Rei as well.

It was their unbridled efficacy. Their power to produce such an effect over their audiences and the uncharacteristically beautiful music they were both able to produce. Quatre was glad he wasn’t standing near them or else Rei’s excitement and Haruka’s brooding glare his way would surely have messed with his emotions in a way he didn’t want to be known publically.

Instead Quatre opted to look around backstage for anyone else he knew, any other person to made idle chitchat with. What his eyes landed on made them open wide in surprise and shock, not to mention a small smile quirk onto his lips. He took slow, positive steps towards them, almost raising an eyebrow at the fact that the person did not sense him coming. Quatre stood next to his nonsense-chit-chat-victim and opened his mouth to speak when said victim beat him to it.

“Quatre,” they acknowledged, eyes finally turning from the Minister and the small, bustling crowd to his formally attired, smiling self.

Quatre chuckled at this, knowing full well that it was foolish to think that he wouldn’t have seen him coming. “Heero,” he said politely back, said man giving a small nod in return. “Protective detail for the Minister, I presume?”

“Correct,” was Heero’s only response as his eyes slid back towards his charge and the women he spoke with. His eyes narrowed when he saw the same necklaces around the necks of the other two performers he’d seen; Haruka Ten’ou and Michiru Kai’ou. Five women, five similar necklaces, none of them showing what rested at the crevice of the small linked chains, what pendant rested between their breasts.

“Did you enjoy the performance?”

“I was not here for the performance, Quatre,” Heero responded, turning his astoundingly monotonous eyes towards his former companion.

The blonde rolled his eyes. “It’s not like you’re deaf, Heero, your eyes and ears are not quite the same thing, if you remember.” A small glare was sent his way and Quatre shook it off. “Plus, you forget who I am.” At this Heero looked away and Quatre smirked. “I know you enjoyed it. Rei’s voice is lovely, isn’t it?” Heero didn’t respond and Quatre turned his imploring eyes back towards the chatting group. “My question is why are you suspicious of her?”

It was Heero’s turn to look at Quatre while the latter kept his eyes trained on the happily talking group. More people had joined, two females in fact. They all seemed to know each other and Quatre’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t know if the questions swimming in his head were his own suspicions or Heero’s constant distrust.

The agent turned his head from the blonde when he noticed the questioning look that crossed his face and saw that the woman who’d bumped his arm and her friend were getting acquainted with the Minister.

He was put on full alert mode, finger to an earpiece as he heard the same alert statements from his fellow agents. Who were they? Without another look or word to Quatre, Heero strolled up to the group with a purpose, his long time, well… friend right behind him as he took his position next to the Minister.

Before he could coldly reprimand the women and speak quietly with the Minister, the blonde female performer, Haruka if he wasn’t mistaken, cleared her throat.

“Minister, I would like you to meet two of our long time friends Ami Mizuno,” she said, waving towards the blue haired girl, “and Makoto Kino,” this time referring to the girl who bumped Heero’s arm. Heero gave her a longer, slightly colder stare than he had her friend.

“Pleased to meet you,” the Minister said, holding out his hand to shake both of theirs, his thick accent making him even more enjoyable. “Ms. Mizuno, you look so familiar.”

She laughed, a tiny, tinkling thing. “We’ve met once before, though under much more stressed circumstances.”

“Oh?”

“I was in Germany for studies, speaking with a professor who giving a presentation at a conference you were at. I don’t quite remember why but we were arguing about the effects of ciprofloxacin,” her eyes rose to the ceiling as if she were remembering something from a long time ago. The Minister gave her a questioning look and Heero, knowing exactly what ciprofloxacin was gave her meaningful glare.

“Cipro…I’m sorry, what?” the Minister asked.

Ami blinked. “Oh, you know, ciprofloxacin, the synthetically manufactured antibiotic used to combat anthrax.”

The Minister turned to his wife, who surprisingly turned out to be a bit of a translator for him and explained what she meant. His eyes lit up as he began to remember the situation. “Oh yes, of course! The conversation got very heated and I remember walking over and making a foolish little joke about selling cases of it to pay for the ludicrous price of the hotel to try and… oh what is the word? Quell, perhaps? Yes, quell the fires of your professors heated temper.”

Ami giggled again. “Yes, that was it! After all, 100 cases cost about a half a million dollars!”

They laughed and joked, Heero wondering just who on Crystal Earth this blue haired girl was. He stared at her for a long period of time, trying to gage her reactions to certain comments and see if there were any hidden meanings in the words she spoke when she did. Obviously she was smart, there was no doubt in his mind about that, but how she put her smarts to use he didn’t quite know…

The group grew silent for a moment and Quatre took the time to do something that made Heero want to hit him very hard. “Everyone, this is my long time friend Heero,” he said, keeping the last name a secret for obvious reasons.

They greeted him with various hellos and he nodded back, his eyes still trained skeptically on Ami. Makoto watched him patiently with a glare. Why was he staring at her friend with such contempt? The others didn’t really seem to notice, Rei was still flushed about her performance and the others still under her spell. Ami noticed it a little bit but was too impersonal to let it bother her.

It bothered Makoto.

He excused himself quickly and walked away, around the corner. Strange, Makoto thought. Considering the wire in his ear he was most likely a part of the protection detail assigned to the Minister, so why was he scurrying away out of sight of the Minister? Her brows creased as a look of confusion and anger sprung across her features. Placing a hand to her friend’s shoulder she whispered, “I’ll be right back Ami, I have to use the restroom,” before stalking after that cold-hearted bastard.

She’d walked away before Ami could respond and the blue haired girl sent a worried glance in her direction before looking over her shoulder in the other direction, where she could distinctly see the outline of the women’s bathroom.

…

“Hey!”

Heero turned around slowly to face the girl following him, the annoying one who’d bumped into his arm. She walked quickly, considering the heels she was in and stood just barely under his height with them on. Her flushed face eliminated any source of intimidation she could have possibly mustered as she pointed a finger in his direction.

“What is your problem?” she asked furiously. Heero gave her an impassive look, placing his hands in his pockets and her annoyance grew. “The others may not have caught on to it but I could see those glares you were sending in Ami’s direction.”

She pulled away and placed her hands on her hips like a mother scolding a child. “What the hell was that for? Ami is probably one of the nicest people on this planet! She doesn’t deserve the scrutiny of someone like you! What do you think gives you the right to—“

“Who do you work for?”

Makoto froze. For some reason the five words he spoke seemed stronger than the many she’d just spewed at him. He was so commanding, so cool that it almost frightened her. It was like some cheap scene out of a movie: the flustered female lead scolding the tempting male correspondent who immediately turns the tables, his distrust for her not evident until that very moment. He pulls out the gun and asks those pithy, catchy words—“who do you work for?”

Makoto’s anger rose. “What’s it to y—“

He grabbed her shoulder and shoved her back against the wall. The surprise on her face was all too readable and he used her momentary stunned demeanor to demand an answer.

“I said who do you work for?”

Makoto tried to move her arms but they were steadfast in his iron grip. Goodness how she just wanted to spit in his face…”who says I have to work for anyone? I thought it was Ami you were suspicious of here!”

Heero gripped her shoulders a little tighter and her hands rose to his forearms to try and pry them away. “I’m observant, not dumb,” he stated coldly, not budging and inch. “You work together. Now, one last time, whom do you work for?”

Makoto had had enough. “Alright already! We work for the Crystal Services, okay? I’m a field agent and she’s our forensic specialist. Will you let me go now?” Heero still hadn’t let go and Makoto’s loosened attitude tightened back around the wheel of anger as she could feel the bruises forming on her shoulders. “Hey, I told you, now let me go before I scream.”

“You’re not going to scream.”

Makoto raised an eyebrow. “Oh reall—“

“Who do you really work for?”

She rolled her eyes and gave up struggling. “Look pal,” she said, exasperated, “I already told you, the Crystal Services. My badge is in my bag if you don’t believe me, now let me—“

In a quick motion Heero reached out and grabbed at the necklace resting between her breasts. At first she thought he was trying to cop a feel and got extremely offended. But when Makoto realized that he was going for her necklace a fire ran through her veins that hadn’t in a very long time.

Heero had his fingers clasped around the chain and a split second later he found himself against the wall, her arm pressed uncomfortably to his neck and her other hand clasped tightly around his that held the chain.

It was only at this moment that Heero realized her eyes were green, a swimming absinthe depth of fury that flashed before him.

“Let. Go.”

He didn’t. Instead, he yanked it harshly and brought her face close to his. “If I find out that you or any of your friends are a threat to this city, country, or planet, I swear I will take you down and make you suffer.”

Makoto put her face in his to prove that she was not intimidated. “Ditto, you bastard, if I ever catch you glaring, even looking at my friends in that manner ever again.”

Heero loosened his grip on her necklace but his glare held steadfast. Makoto pulled her arms away from his neck and his wrist and was prepared to walk away. She took one step and Heero yanked her by the necklace again, earning a tiny yelp on her part as she all but crashed into him.

Makoto pressed her hands to his chest to push away and, fortunately for her, Quatre chose that exact moment to walk around the corner. He’d seen them both stalk off in this direction and was wondering if things were all right. When he found them in a slightly compromising position Quatre figured that everything was just fine. Despite that, he couldn’t help from exclaiming, “Heero!”

Said man leaned down and whispered in her ear, “if I catch you, and I will, I’ll kill you,” soft enough that Quatre couldn’t hear.

Makoto was disturbed but put on a front, easy enough from her Crystal Services training. She smiled brightly and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Before giving his chest a little tap. “Right back at ‘cha, babe,” she grinned, fixing her hair and pulling up the straps of her dress, which had become lopsided in their tussle. She turned to Quatre and walked his way. “You know how it is,” she said, feeding on his belief that something had happened and giving him a wink as she passed him.

Heero watched her go, not willing to acknowledge the slight pain he had in his wrist or the irritation in his throat. A woman had never bested him before, and he planned to keep it that way.

Quatre looked astonished. “Heero!” he exclaimed again, which was really getting on the brunette’s nerves. “I didn’t know you were attracted to women!”

Eh, so slight OOC on some accounts, not quite as spot on as my last chapter, I’ll admit. But in all honesty I had a lot of fun writing this chapter haha, I’m so excited to write more interactions between Rei and Trowa :) Next chapter I’ll focus more on Minako, Wufei, Rei, Quatre, Usagi, perhaps a little of Ami and Trowa, and finally Duo will show up! Absolutely love him; I can’t wait for his character to make an appearance.

TopazDragon: Wow, thank you for you compliments, they mean a lot! I loved writing the scene between Minako and Usagi, their friendship is oddly unique to me and I can’t wait to elaborate on it. I hope this chapter kept you equally as captivated :)

suisei no mitsukai: I’m very happy that you and other people are finding the Usagi/Minako scene believable, that was my entire goal. I want to put something more than fluff and action (though there will still be plenty of that, I suppose) in this story because I want to build off of the relationships that could potentially grow and weaken between the Senshi over time, and the already strained one between the Pilots. Thanks for you review!

Requiem of Fire: Haha, thank you again for the compliment on the Usagi/Minako scene, all of this makes me so pleased with it. Frankly you’re right, reality is a bitch and I’m pretty sure Usagi didn’t see this coming. I have vague ideas of how I’m going to introduce how they split up in detail, but hopefully it will be as up to par as the rest of the emotional stuff. As for my Rei characterization…hmm, she’s a little rusty right now, almost a little too soft for my liking but that’s how I want to start off with her. She’s a bit different for the moment and, oh my goodness, I can’t wait to write the confrontation between her and Usagi—it will be so much more intense than any of the others :)

reina shirahime: Haha I just absolutely love writing scenes with Trowa, his character absolutely fascinates me and I’ve always assumed he’d be somewhat amusing in his blatant-like attitude. I also found his response to Rei in this chapter highly amusing. I hope you enjoyed it as much as the last!

TristaDin: I am SO excited to introduce Duo’s character. I think revolutionary fits him to a T in this story. The whole thing has a crazy background that includes Usagi (oh snap!) that is just utterly ridiculous. He becomes really important later on in the story :) Thank you for your appreciation of my character portrayal! Not so good this chapter (Makoto and Rei are a little too flighty for me, I suppose) but I promise it will get better again.