Alpha Target
By Famira Damaris

Disclaimer: I own nothing, much less any rights to any anime series including Mobile Suit: Gundam Wing. Sure wish I did though.
Author's Note: As this is the first chapter of my first fanfiction, I'll be deciding if I should put the rest of the story up based on reactions to this first chapter. Brackets stand for thoughts, \s stand for remembering feelings or bits of conversations. I've also reformated the story so it is easier to read. Thanks for reading! ^_^

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Alpha Target
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It was born to me of things
that are not of this land,
of kingdoms and kingdoms lost
that I had and I lost,
of all things living
that I have seen die
of all that was mine
and went from me.
- Gabriela Mistral "Land of Absence"

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Chapter 1 - Indigo Falcon

AC 199, January 2
L4 Colony, Indigo Falcon

The speech was against biological warfare. Recently, there had been rumors circulating over certain suspect countries of the World Nation, rumors that labs within their boundaries were creating biological weapons to ignite another war. There wasn't any way we could prove that the suspect countries were guilty of this type of genetic manipulation, this unspoken taboo, and so the rumors had flown for the past year and a half. The accusations had risen in emotion and tempo, and even Foreign Vice Minister Darlian was unable to do much to pacify both sides. It was decided that the most prominent figures for each country (or area, as some people have started insisting them to be called) would do what they could to calm their people, through speeches or televised announcements, or any other means. This speech today would hopefully quell the anger that was dividing the Colonies on the matter, for the Colonies, though not directly involved with the rumors of biological weapons being developed, chose sides, and this strife was threatening to result to blows, if given enough time. Quatre, as the new head of the very respected Winner family business, was voted to deliver the speech. I remember that day, for I had been present at the meeting that very hour; Quatre had stammered, caught off guard, and had asked whom the other choices for the representative of all the Colonies were. There had been none suitable choices, and so Quatre had taken the responsibility. I wasn't sure if I was personally glad he had taken yet another burden on his shoulders, but I kept my opinions to myself, as I usually did.

After all, wasn't the fate of the whole more important than the individual's own misgivings? Who was I to object, what with the two year anniversary of the end of the endless waltz that was finally broken? So I kept silent and approving.

Today was the second of January, a cloudless, sunny day just after the New Year. Today was a good choice for any pacifists to choose to speak, as it was not only after the New Years, it was also not far from the day the countries as one finally discarded their Mobile Suits and weapons, advisors insisted. The year was AC (After Colony) 199, a full two years after the "Mariemaia incident", as Duo would most likely say. Sometimes, whenever I think of the other pilots, I have to wonder what they have been doing for the past two years. Yet...whenever I glance over at Quatre, I know I'm not sorry that I didn't go off on my own like the others most likely have done. For once in my life, I'm not alone - my sister Catherine and Quatre are the anchors in my life that have kept me from getting swept away into the maelstrom. I've always been comforted by the fact that they will be with me as long as I live, a loving relative and a very close...friend. No one should be alone, I've started to realize, for alone a person can't pursue growth, of soul and mind.

The speech was to take place in an L4 Colony, which coincidentally happened to be the very Colony that Quatre had represented when he had been in possession of his Gundam. The famous (or infamous, depending on your view) Magnanac were not present in the auditorium...at least not in any seats that I could see them. From what little I knew about them, I supposed they might be scattered around the building, keeping a close eye on their "Master Quatre". Still, I think I could understand why they didn't just stand up at the stage with him - not only would that be an unnecessary display of strength, it would also give the appearance that Quatre was worried and raise alarm throughout the colonists.

Which would not help the already tenacious situation.

The auditorium was filled to nearly maximum capacity; the second level was closed off. Close to the commercial and residential areas of the L4 Colony, the Indigo Falcon was an immense building. Much like its namesake, the auditorium was predictably a purple-blue in interior color (outside was a more uniform steel gray) with sweeping arches and curving supports, much like the supple wings of a bird of prey, I suppose. Most likely the effect the architects had desired, the decorative rafters swept toward the stage and the podium. It was interesting that an auditorium built for the sole purpose of politics actually had more in common with a theater - the style reminded me strongly of one of those opera theaters that I had once went to with Quatre and one of the representatives from another Colony. Much like an opera house, the Indigo Falcon had a level designated primarily for V.I.Ps, a small, dark balcony-alcove - currently that level was empty. Instead of a patriotic feeling, there was one more of gentle awe. Probably one of the reasons the Indigo Falcon was chosen to be the site of the L-4 Colonies-wide speech, out of hundreds of other possible choices. The ground level was a flood of flashing lights from cameras and murmuring voices, filling the air with the chatter of conversation.

I glanced at my watch. One thirty. Just about time for the speech to begin. Quatre was sitting next to me in one of the trio of folding metal chairs. He was outwardly calm, and I had little doubts he was composing himself to stand up to address the crowd. I had confidence in him, and, as the current official in charge of the city was giving an introductory monologue, I hesitantly gripped his hand in mine and gave a reassuring squeeze. He returned the gesture warmly, somewhat surprised, and slid his arm away reluctantly as the city official finished her part and stepped away, glancing at the Arabian expectantly. I leaned back as Quatre stood up and headed for the podium, the governor sitting in the chair next to the one that Quatre had previously occupied. I felt the corners of my mouth quirk the slightest bit in a smile. Quatre had worked so hard for this moment, and I was positive his efforts would pay off. The chatter of the audience cut off, as the Arabian took the podium.

"Thank you all for your attendance," Quatre began. He gathered himself, "The stars look rather bright today." There was an appreciative laugh from the crowd at the small joke referring to the number of paparazzi scattered around the auditorium, whom were clicking away frantically with their cameras. Quatre waited for the quiet rumble of chuckles to die down, before continuing on a more serious note, "However, the matter in discussion is unfortunately not humorous, nor is it something to make light of...biological warfare has always been a separate battle tactic than other conventional types, the subtler side. Biological weapons are the third prime cause of the top three viruses plaguing both the Earth and the Colonies today - and these caused by only human *accidents*. The Rembrandt disease is one reminder of what happens when what was thought to be a secure facility was in actuality not, when human life had to pay the ultimate price for a single mistake..."

I remembered the Rembrandt epidemic, a year ago. From the news-vids and the confidential files that I had access to, allegedly a laboratory, once devoted to developing biological weapons in the form of bacteria, had been working on a cure to a new strain of virus which had the knack for developing primarily in space and taking a week or less to mature before attacking the host. Somehow, during the procedure of the process, the contained samples had gotten out of the lab, and had quite literally massacred one of the L2 Colonies. The Rembrandt virus was quite deadly to those born in space, and there had been a huge population decrease from the mere two weeks that the virus had escaped before the quarantine could be set and the virus contained once more. From what I had last heard of the Rembrandt disease, the laboratory had been closed down, and the surviving citizens of the Colony had been evacuated to another neighboring Colony so the infected one could be sanitized properly. Just mentioning the word "Rembrandt" would instantly grab anyone's attention and give rise to unconscious hisses of fear - if it could happen to one Colony, it could just as easily happen to another. I could see Quatre's ploy was a good one. No one wanted the Rembrandt incident to be repeated.

"Human life is more precious than the emotions of curiosity or fear. After all, why would anyone tinker with the genetic code if they aren't curious, or develop weapons unless they are afraid? There must be no reason to fear...after all, the war is over, and peace should be our objective goal," Quatre said earnestly, "Fear will only cause more pain and death, because fear is the cause of war. In the past, fear has bred insecurity, envy, and zealous ambition. In turn, weapons were made as a defense against fear..."

["But though the weapons have been made and put into use, the driving fear has still remained."] I knew Quatre's speech quite well myself, having gone over it with him during the recent months.

"But though the weapons have been made and put into use, the driving fear has remained," Quatre paused for a slow breath, glancing around Indigo Falcon. He continued, "We must not give a reason to fear...accusations with little substance will not help, instead only instill more fear in the hearts of the fearful. We preach peace, yet we find it so easy to point fingers..." He fell silent, and though I couldn't see his soft aquamarine eyes, I could sense they were clouded with memories. He glanced up, fingers tightening on the edge of the podium, "However, the wars of the past do not teach that caution is uncalled for. The threat of laboratories manufacturing biological weapons cannot simply be ignored. Thousands of more lives could be lost if a biological weapon was set off in a Colony, or targeted at a part of Earth. We must do what we can to prevent another Rembrandt incident from happening, on purpose or mere human error, and retain our new-found peace..."

Quatre continued on with his carefully prepared speech, and I found myself glancing idly around the auditorium. I made sure not to look directly into the audience - not only was it impossible to make out any faces in the dark mass, the flashing lights of the ever-present cameras would surely blind me. Still, I couldn't help risking a quick glance. Somewhere inside Indigo Falcon, sitting in one of the ground level chairs, I knew Catherine was present. She had leave from the circus, (I had requested mine several months ago in order to assist Quatre), and had promised she would lend silent support. [I know her word is trustworthy. She's probably getting a kick from seeing me sitting like a dead weight on the stage.] I muffled a snort of disdain at my turn of thought, scanning the second tier of Indigo Falcon. [Strange the officials left the balcony curtains drawn. I thought they would have shut them since that level's closed off...] I thought to myself, about to glance away.

Something glinted off an object.

Instantly, I refocused on the area. The gleam that I had thought I had seen had originated from the middle balcony, directly across and above the podium that Quatre stood at. During the days that I had still been in possession of Heavyarms, I would have been immediately suspicious, even to the point of going to investigate and making sure to bring as much firepower as I could carry. However, the days of the battle were long over, and my instincts were far from their prime. I didn't get up, for I knew that would look odd if I were to leave suddenly with no explanation. I regarded the balcony in question for a moment longer, wondering if I was becoming prone to imagining things. Nothing appeared to answer my suspicions, and I glanced away. [Probably just light reflecting from the cameras] I told myself. [Start paying attention to Quatre's speech, Trowa, and stop being paranoid.] I gave up on trying to find something to tack a suspicion on after another lingering minute, turning back to the speech.

"...Peace is our objective, and that is something we must always remember as we strive to achieve our goals. Peaceful means are always the better choice than the path of fear and violence-" Quatre was cut off with no warning.

I was halfway out of my seat from remembered-instincts, as time seemed to slow down to an agonizing, evitable crawl.

BANG!

-sharp flash from the balcony –

- a small hole tearing through Quatre's black vest, ripping through the white dress-shirt underneath -

- screaming from the audience -

- a small gout of red blood spurting out of the sudden wound in Quatre's chest -

- his blood -

- out of –

- body -

- aquamarine eyes wide with shock -

- Quatre taking a feeble, surprised step backward, falling, slowly collapsing backward –

- blood starting to trickle down one side of his mouth -

- a rising crescendo of screams of the other people, bodies rushing to stand up -

- a roar in my ears, Quatre sinking limply to the floor –

- red staining the white –

- Quatre! -

"Quatre!" I shouted, and cruel time seemed to resume normal speed. I practically flew to his side, only seeing out of the side of my eye the people from the audience stampeding toward the exits and the people rushing toward the stage. I ignored all others, paid no attention to the chaos erupting around me. My vision, my world, narrowed down to only encompass the stricken Quatre's in my arms, bending down helplessly over the fallen Arabian.

"Quatre." I cried, "Quatre!"

I was dimly aware of people crowding around, a familiar voice - Cathy - shouting something among several unfamiliar roars of other voices. I closed my eyes in an effort to drown them out. Quatre was all that mattered. He lay limply on the floor, not responding to my pleading or the dull white noise of voices in the background. A thin streak of blood was slipping down the side of his lips, and I was struck by a strong sense of horror at the unearthly pallor to his skin. He looked cold, so cold, yet I could still feel a warmth from him, that I could sense was already fading away. [Quatre! Quatre, don't leave me!] I cried mentally, and with a sudden feeling of frantic urgency, I fumbled with Quatre's shirt, my vision blurring. I could barely see my hands, rapidly become red with his blood, trying futilely to find a heartbeat, a sign, any sign that *he* was still among the living.

Somewhere in the corner of my mind, I was desperately reciting prayers I had thought forgotten, appealing to any and all higher powers that *my* Quatre wasn't leaving me alone. Alone, alone again to be dead and cold inside. Arms were pulling at my shoulders, unintelligible words shouted. I resisted. [What are you doing, I have to stay with him! Why aren't the emergency units here?!] I wailed silently at the grabbing hands' sheer stupidity. They continued trying to pull me away, though I was trying to stay as close to Quatre as I could. With a growing sense of immeasurable sorrow, I finally realized what they had already seen, as my search for a heartbeat ended:

Quatre Raberba Winner was dead.

It struck me like a solid blow, this realization, and suddenly I was unable to breath. I gasped for air, aware of somewhere in the distance being pried away from the Arabian. I heaved, on my knees besides Quatre's body, for oxygen. My thoughts had dissolved into incoherency, a babbling string of nonsense, fragments that no longer made any sense or were of any importance. All I knew through the confusion was sadness, familiar emptiness, liquid welling at the corners of my eyes. I saw only Quatre in stark detail - my hands - the mask-like faces around me - the floor - all blurs, meaningless blurs. I saw only him, clasping one of his slack lifeless hands in my own, cradling his head in my lap.

Gone. Forever.

I had failed to protect him...my Quatre...dead...

I knew I was mumbling a word over and over to myself - *his* name, perhaps - as for the first time, tears actually *poured* from my eyes. I was falling apart, and I-did-not-care. Quatre-loss...

"Trowa!" Cathy's arms wrapped around my shoulders, as I rocked back and forth. I lost myself deeper in the mixture of shock and sorrow, only catching little of the orders being shouted around Cathy and me.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Shock -"

"-hospital, over a hundred -"

"-suspect-"

I sat, staring dully at the closed eyes. Never again...those beautiful eyes...next to me, Cathy was making a strange movement, shifting aside to let someone else through the crowd. I paid no attention, head bowed. I felt a pang within, remembering how I had never shown Quatre how much he had actually meant to me. An unfamiliar emotion surge through me, a tidal wave of pure rage and sorrow. This was not only my fault...

Someone had killed Quatre. Someone had taken him from me. I nearly bit my tongue as I felt my teeth grinding against each other. I hardly felt the pinprick in my neck, or noticed I was growing woozy.

That someone was going to die.

Over and over.

For Quatre...

I had one last glimpse of him before I was swallowed up in a black oblivion and could see no more.

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I came to in degrees. I had been swimming in a hazy fog, a gently drifting smoke that had swirled my senses in and out of awareness. Muffled voices had tried to break through, but another had resisted, snapping them away. For a moment, I couldn't remember anything, and I stifled panic. [Where...I...Quatre...?] The wafting fog slowly dissipated, and I found myself sitting with my head between my knees, staring at a very unfamiliar plastic chair.

I remembered at that moment.

I must have made a noise of anguish, for someone was at my side. I tried to lift my head, but a wave of dizziness assaulted me, my temples pounding. I felt bile rising in my throat, and I was close to becoming violently sick. I gagged, coughing.

"Ride it out, Trowa. It's just the tranquilizers wearing off."

I continued gagging for a few long moments, and panted for breath, leaning on my knees with my elbows for support. A gentle, supportive hand placed itself on my back, as I blinked my eyes at the white plastic seat. The hand never left once, waiting patiently until I had caught my breath.

"Try sitting up. The doctors said you're going to be dizzy, that you might be sick, but it's only temporary." I recognized the voice. Cathy.

"I-I'm alright," I mumbled. [No, I'm not alright! Quatre's *dead*!] I felt my eyes start to have that strange burning sensation, and my emotions must have been more obvious than I had thought, for with no warning, Cathy hugged me, her strong voice breaking.

"I'm so sorry, Trowa!" A sorrowful squeeze of surprisingly strong hands around my shoulder, "I'm...so sorry."

I closed my eyes, tears threatening to overwhelm me again. There was no need to reply with words, and I sat in her arms, silently. Outwardly I was stoic, inwardly a blubbering wreck. My tears for Quatre flowed from inside, a torrent that wouldn't stop. My eyes, though, to a vague horror, were quick to dry, and I found that, though I *wanted* to cry physically, I couldn't. We sat huddled against each other, Cathy lending her support.

[Quatre...It was my fault...my...fault...I never told you...how I felt...]

"Is there a Trowa Barton here?"

I glanced up. A nurse was standing at the door of the room -a crowded lobby, I saw now- and looking about. She was rather young to be working in a hospital, and it was showing, from the harried and drawn expression on her face. The other ten people didn't bother to acknowledge her presence, glancing at watches or muttering quietly amongst themselves. Cathy nodded to the orderly, I fixing dull olive eyes on her.

"You're Trowa Barton?" she asked.

"Please...I'd rather you didn't call me that." I said. [The only one who has the right to give me a name was Quatre...and now I have no name again...] Cathy flashed me a worried glance.

" ...There is someone to see you, sir," the nurse opted to turn away. She gestured with her clipboard for me to follow, disappearing back into the dark hallway. I trailed after her with Cathy, still somewhat light-headed. Cathy was quiet, and the only thing she would say to me was a remark about taking it easy.

"He's waiting in there," the nurse pointed at an open room, sunlight streaming through the doorway. She turned to Cathy, "Please, wait outside."

"Alright. Trowa, I'll see you later, okay?"

She left. The nurse was quick to following, my silence no doubt unnerving her. I took the moment to compose myself, made sure I didn't appear as terrible as I felt, and entered the hospital room.

The room was impersonal, a small room dominated by a pristine bed and curtains. My attention, however, was drawn to the person sitting in the chair near the window, glancing out with that same sharp focused stare I remembered so vividly from the two years ago when I had last seen him.

Chang Wufei.

The Chinese Preventer swiveled in his seat at the sound of my approach. He certainly hadn't changed much over the passage of time - he still wore his hair in an excruciatingly tight ponytail, still had that burning stare that sometimes made one feel like he could see into the depths of your very soul, and still had the straightforward attitude. One thing, however, was slightly different about him. I couldn't quite put a finger on it, but somehow he seemed changed, softer in his demeanor. I didn't say anything, however, keeping my silence.

"It's been awhile," Wufei said, standing up out of his seat. He stiffly offered the chair to me, which I declined wordlessly.

"Why are you here?" I asked. I knew even for me I was being rude, but Wufei didn't seem to notice.

"Doing my job as a Preventer," Wufei paused, and I was startled to see he was actually worried and uncomfortable, "And...I need to talk to you about what happened today."

"What happened at Indigo Falcon?" I demanded, "Why is Quatre-what happened after..." I choked, unable to finish what I was saying. The Chinese boy - no, closer to a man now - gave me a moment to gather myself.

Wufei sat in his seat, folding his arms over his chest, businesslike, "Apparently, someone was able to sneak up into the restricted second floor. After the shot was fired off, the person fled, probably through the way he got in the first place, by the roof."

"How do you know the killer is a 'he'?"

Wufei bent over, and picked up a neat folder that had been lying on the ground near his feet. He held it out, and I stepped across the room, took it from his hands.
It was a half-finished report, I could see that as soon as I opened the folder. I scrutinized the written section, but the information was obscure, and didn't reveal anything to me. I forced my raging emotions down, relying once again on that cold pit inside of me that had been a part of me as long as I could remember. Papers, more documents that told nothing, witness reports - it looked like a dead end.

I was about to close the folder when I caught a glimpse of the shiny edge of a photograph. I pulled it out, setting the folder down next to me as I slumped, rather than sat, on the bed edge. The picture was of the roof top of Indigo Falcon, taken from an aerial view. I stared.

"That photo was taken by our helicopter," Wufei commented, "The Preventers were assigned to circle around the whole Indigo Falcon block. The man in the picture is probably the assassin. He's directly responsible for the injuries sustained in the stampede of people caused by panic, and not only is the blood of Quatre on his hands, at least fifteen people are dead, and over one hundred wounded, since Indigo Falcon was filled to full capacity."

It was actually a good photograph, considering the camera was probably moving. The man in the picture was captured racing across the gently curving rooftop, a lean individual with spiky silver hair. That, however, didn't tell much, as I myself knew several people whose hair had whitened prematurely. Still, the picture was good enough that I could distinguish that he was tall and lean, and from the looks of his frozen stride, he was probably from Earth. The people of Earth and of the Colonies had different ways of walking, because of the differences in gravitational orientation. People from Earth generally put more effort into walking then was necessary. Wufei most likely had already figured that out.

"This is the killer?" I asked flatly, glancing out at the Chinese soldier through the screen of my hair. He nodded.

"We're pretty sure. We're closing all outgoing traffic from the Colony. He couldn't possibly have left, so we hope to trap the bastard," Wufei sounded confident enough, but I was sure he was hiding any of his true feelings on the matter.

"You think there are more people involved." It was a statement, not a question.

Wufei hesitated for the briefest fraction of a second before cautiously nodding, "You're right. This hospital is crowded because we're keeping all the people from Indigo Falcon here under surveillance..."

I felt the claws of anguish reaching up within, "You think I was involved?" I was torn between being furious and shocked. I waited expectantly for his affirmative, and was surprised when he spoke up.

"Actually, no. You were standing right in front of everyone. You couldn't have passed any signals even if you *were* involved," Wufei leaned forward, "Besides, I don't believe *you* would have ever had any part in this. Whoever did this coordinated Quatre's assassination with the bombings."

"What bombings?"

"Two street car-bombs went off in two separate locations three miles away from Indigo Falcon, five minutes after we took that photograph of the assassin. A residential building and a laboratory - we're investigating them right now to find out what we can, but there isn't much we can do."

"What are you going to do about this man?" I switched subjects abruptly, keeping my voice carefully controlled and cold. Wufei stared hard at me. I returned it blankly, and for a moment our eyes locked on each other. The Chinese Preventer was the first to look away, his expression giving away that he didn't like what he saw.

"We'll be conducting a Colony-wide manhunt," Wufei was met with silence and he continued, "This man will not get away with this - justice will be dealt."

"That won't bring Quatre back, will it?" I snarled bitterly.

Wufei closed his eyes, suddenly looking exhausted. He continued speaking.

"No. Nothing will. I'm sorry about Quatre, but you also have to realize that we also have a duty. We no longer can act on a personal basis anymore, Trowa."
"Don't call me that name anymore! I am nothing, a no-name," I struggled to remove the unfamiliar emotions dwelling within me. I noticed Wufei was giving me a sympathetic, knowing look. Suddenly I wanted to rip that expression off his arrogant face. [How can he pretend he understands? He...he didn't know what it was like between Quatre and I! He would only have said our natures were "perverted", with his damn traditions!]

"I do understand, Nanashi."

I looked up at those words, taken by surprise. The Preventer had his slanted obsidian eyes fixed on me. It was almost as if he had guessed what I was thinking. I stared dumbly.

"I've known all along. Nanashi, you're not the only one who's changed since the war," Wufei gave a sad smile, "I used to be blinded by old tradition, unable to see what was in front of me, or refusing to believe in anything unless it was perfectly black and white. I was aware of how close you two were, but I always looked the other way before the Eve Wars."

"You..."

"Knew along. I'm not the same man I was during the war, Nanashi. I've long overcome any prejudices I've nurtured in the past."

I refused to meet his eyes, glancing away. Here Wufei was, far more honest of his faults then I could ever be. I was never worthy of Quatre in the first place, corrupted with my own selfish feelings as I was. Suddenly the words were tumbling out of my mouth, as if I had lost control.

"I never told him how I felt. He'd tell me he liked me, and I-I never said anything in return. I never admitted that I felt the same way - I should have said something, anything. But-but I didn't. I took him for granted - and I failed to protect him! How do you expect me to react to this?!" I almost exploded, "It's my *fault* he's *dead*, Wufei! Why did it have to be *him*? He was giving a *peace* speech! I should have taken that bullet for him; I was also his bodyguard, dammit!" I felt a shudder wrack my shoulders, and I stared down at my hands, all the strange emotions draining out of me once again. My voice dropped to a whisper, and I felt like I had been shaken like a rag doll by a dog, " I...never said a comforting word in return to him, not one and...and I-I never had a chance to say good-bye..."

Wufei was silent. He sat very still, like a statue, as I sought to gather myself once again. Rather than try to retreat from his silence, like I wanted very much to, I bowed my head. It was then that Wufei spoke up, his words carefully slow and clipped, stiffly, and it seemed as if he was repeating a past lesson.

"Mourning honors the dead. I was taught that when I was young, that the dead command a certain amount of respect, no matter one's rank or cause of death. However, I was taught, mourning also brings corruption of the mind," a long pause, then he continued, as if he didn't like what he was saying, but knew it was the right thing to do, "The longer one mourns, the more perfect and flawless the dead become. Anger grows and turns the mind toward obsession, and with this turning, one will only see what he wants to see, not reality as it is. It's good that you mourn for Quatre, but...one day you'll have to continue your life where you left it, and let your guilt over something you had no control over go. You can't keep haunting yourself with ghosts of memories and building Quatre into the perfect human."

I stood up silently. [He doesn't know me. Quatre...never had a dark side to himself.] I avoided Wufei's black eyes, turning away. My thoughts, burning with fury and anger, sudden turned over a new, insane idea. I latched onto it with desperation, purpose suddenly dispersing my depression. [Yes-s-s...that's what I'll do. For Quatre. For my poor, cold, dead Quatre. He would do the same for me] Another crazy thought [Afterward...I should join him...] But this, I knew, despite how much I wanted to believe I would join him, was something I wouldn't be so quick to act upon the urge. But it was the least I could do to repay the pain I was feeling to this man, this man who had taken Quatre away from me. A thousand times over - make him feel what I felt multiplied, before he died at my hands. I felt my eyebrows furrow, as I realized what I would do with stark clarity. I faced toward the door to go.

"Nanashi."

I half-turned, glancing at the Chinese Preventer through my bangs. He had stood up, but had made no motion to step forward.

"What?"

"Don't become another Chang Wufei, bent only on revenge and blind to all else. It's an empty existence that took me sixteen years to realize. Don't make the same mistake."

If he expected an answer, he wasn't getting one. I exited the small room - I had to prepare for more important matters now. No matter where Quatre's killer hid, or how fast he ran, there would be no escape. I didn't have time for meaningless warnings.

[This will be for you, Quatre]

To be continued...
>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Well, that's it so far. I haven't gotten any reviews yet. e_e Alpha Target's basically the name of the first part (with a bunch of long-winded chapters) in a series of fanfictions that describe the threat of the Rembrandt disease (always a reason why I'd make up such a thing). The orders are Alpha-Trowa, Beta-Wufei, Gamma-Heero, and Omega-Duo. Alpha Target's the only one with a first person POV, but I haven't even gotten half-way through it yet. -_-; Oh well. There's so many good writers here, makes me feel all small and insignificant. O_o Alpha Target doesn't really have much to do with the other Targets, except explain why Quatre is gone and why Trowa seems to vanish. But I probably won't get the other Targets done. *sighs* Oh well. I seem to say that a lot.

[10/29/01] Well, I didn't change anything except make the format easier on the eyes.

- Famira Damaris