Pairings: to be established Heero and Duo, implied Quatre & Trowa.
Genre: action, adventure, light romance.
Warnings: shounen ai, foul language, a little bit of violence.
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters belong to Bandai, Sunrise, Shotsu Agency. Fic written for entertainment purposes only. No money is made off of this.

Summary: Freelance adventurer Duo Maxwell is hired by multi-billionaire Quatre Raberba Winner to find a certain artifact that must restore his father's name. Soon, Duo's to find out that there's much more behind this simple commission than he could ever have imagined...

Author's notes: Fic influenced by the "Tomb Raider" concept (some references to the games and movies, not a crossover fic!). Feedback is greatly appreciated. Extra Author's note: This was the original entry to the GWyaoi.Org Novella Challenge 2006. Since then, I have severely edited and re-written the fic (especially the ending, as several reviewers pointed out it was rushed and not satisfying. I agree).

Extra Extra Author's note: I tried to construct a Japanese equivalent to God of Life as opposed to Shinigami, God of Death. I asked someone with greater knowledge of the language, and settled for Inochi no Kami = Inochigami. This is strictly my interpretation and more than probably not grammatically correct, but it fits the story. *hides artistic license*

The Rolls Royce moved majestically over the driveway, the silver colored car moving at a slow pace, driving up to the large mansion basking in the early morning sunlight. It was half past seven; only the sounds of a few birds were heard, as well as the continuous motion of water. It cascaded from the large fountain in the middle of the driveway -- a magnificent sculpture of seven nymphs carrying large urns, bathing at the edge of the basin. The rest was silence as the car pulled up, engine nothing but a whisper, grinding to a halt in front of the wide stairs leading up to the large front door.

"I must say, Maxwell Manor certainly trumps everything I have ever seen before," the chauffeur said out loud, tone of voice casual, but respectful. "Except for your real estate, of course, Master Winner."

"It certainly looks impressive," one of the two passengers on the plush backseat agreed, a young man with blond hair and striking blue eyes.

"The pictures I saw of it certainly failed to bring out the splendor that is the Manor as we see it here now... What do you think, Trowa?"

The other passenger stared out the window, his fingers resting on the keyboard of a laptop perched on a foldable table. His eyes, partially covered by his chestnut bangs, were unreadable.

"Very impressive, indeed," he said. It looks like late 16th, early 17th century to me. The architect really had an almost megalomaniac notion of grandeur in mind, judging from the dimensions and proportions of the house. It looks remarkably well renovated and maintained, though."

The blond shifted a little, adjusting the thick, dark blue scarf around his neck even though it wasn't particularly cold in the car. Quatre Raberba Winner, a son of the Arabic desert, was notorious for feeling cold. He was used to heat and sun, not the temperatures of a rainy, British autumn. He shivered.

Trowa Barton, simply wearing a light coat and seemingly unaffected by the chilly weather, focused his attention on the laptop, information scrolling over the screen.

"I was quite correct," he said, without sounding smug. "The earliest written records of Maxwell Manor have been traced back to 1674. The first bricks were laid after the Third Anglo-Dutch War, when the Maxwells played a great part in England's defense during the naval conflict. A recommendation letter concerning a Solomon Maxwell is the first reference to the family -- he had the Manor built and expanded during his rise in the army."

"Yes, the first of a grand family of entrepreneurs, adventurers and governors," Quatre said, a smile tugging at his lips. "They participated in revolts, wars and strikes, but also knew how and where to see opportunities and take their chances -- a family history many are jealous of."

"According to the layouts and designs available, the Manor has been maintained in its original state throughout the centuries, despite the later documented additions, damages and renovations," Trowa added. "All in all, it is one of the last intact remaining monuments of British architecture."

He shut down the laptop and pocketed it into a briefcase, watching the other attentively.

"... and to live there all alone," Quatre heaved a sigh, shaking his head. His fingers clenched nervously at the fabric of his pants.

"I doubt Duo Maxwell is all alone," Trowa snorted, reaching for Quatre's fingers to unwind them. "After all, even the tabloids can't keep up with his pace of visiting every trendy night club, party or rave known to mankind."

"You know what I mean," Quatre interjected, throwing him a slightly scolding look, but not letting go of his fingers yet. Trowa snorted again, less loudly this time, and snapped the briefcase closed with his other hand.

"Shall we go?"

"I will be here until you request me again, master Winner," the chauffeur said before stepping out of the car to hold the door open for him.

"Thank you, Pagan." Quatre nodded to him as he stepped out himself, inhaling the fresh morning air as he huddled in his scarf.

Trowa walked around the Rolls Royce and came to stand next to Quatre, keeping a close eye to him as he was taking in the Manor, its dark rooftops strangely clashing with the tender colors of the early morning light.

"Let's get this over with," the blond gritted through his teeth.

"Are you... are you sure you want to go through with this?" Trowa asked, lowering his voice. "I know why you want to do this, Quatre..." a surprisingly gentle tone was added, "... but maybe, maybe you should better let this rest."

"I can't," Quatre all but snapped irritably. "I have to do this. I can deal with business mergers in my sleep, I can hold myself up against boards of directors. I deal with the stress and the tension of the corporate world. I have developed Winner Enterprises International into what it is today. I'm not afraid of taking the last step. I'm obligated to do this -- for myself, for my family, and most of all, for my father."

Trowa muttered something inaudible under his breath. He knew about the other's deepest wish of restoring his father's name -- Winner Sr. having left his mark on far more things than the old man could ever have dreamed of. It was slowly turning into an obsession for Quatre; the only reason why he had agreed to travel with the blond CEO all the way to England to talk to a certain Duo Maxwell was his promise that this was the last step they would take. Winner Sr. or not, the man already had more influence on his son's life than he was willing to admit. Trowa certainly didn't deny the importance of it all to Quatre -- but there was a healthy line between passion and obsession.

"I want to do this," Quatre suddenly said out loud and was already up the stairs before Trowa realized he was moving. Hurrying after him, he took the stairs two at the same time, reaching Quatre as he loudly rang the bell. The massive brass bell, fit for a ship and a not-so-subtle reference to the family's naval connections, covered up a rather modest -- and old-fashioned -- sign with "Maxwell Manor" engraved on it. The echo of the bell resonated throughout the whole mansion.

Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his woolen coat, Quatre stared intently at the large oak doors carved with an intricate Greco-Roman pattern. This whole mansion was breathing and living history -- from every brick to every tile, it spoke of ancient traditions and rituals, lives coming and going, generation after generation. It would be a privilege to live here, going back into time with every step in the large corridors, but with the comfort and facilities of the modern, present day. Lost in thought, he didn't notice the door opening at first -- but as soon as Trowa stiffened next to him, Quatre straightened as well.

A butler, impeccably dressed in black and white, gazed at the two standing in front of him.

"Good morning, gentlemen," he spoke, his voice neutral but warm. "Welcome to Maxwell Manor. Guided tours are on Tuesdays and Thursdays only from ten to twelve and two to four. Groups only, for individuals on appointment only. What can I do for you?"

"We're here to visit Mister Maxwell on behalf of mister Quatre Raberba Winner of Winner Enterprises International," Trowa was quick to reply. He whipped out a business card so fast that the butler couldn't follow the movement; with a nod of his head, he took the small, white card with golden lettering and studied it. Winner, and especially Winner Enterprises International, was a widely renowned name, of course. Everyone knew about the young, charismatic businessman who successfully had made the switch from the heavy mining industry to the electronics and computer branch. W. E. I.'s core business had always been asteroid mining and the processing of natural resources at the space colonies, at L4 in particular. The company slowly became discredited when rumors of collaboration with the enemy started during the infamous Eve Wars a few decades earlier. Earth and the colonies were at war with each other in a turbulent time when factions and unities were formed and broken faster than one could blink, and the lines between enemy and friend were thin, confusing and easily discarded.

The Winner family fell out of grace when scandal after scandal hit them: severe audits proved that the bookkeeping showed holes to pilot a mobile suit through, several family members openly took a stand against each other -- something that had been extremely satisfying for the running tabloids, and they'd latched onto it with a ferocity that reminded Quatre of vultures -- and the colonists themselves revolted against working in the Winner mines. When one of the satellites of the colony exploded with fatal results, the whole family's future looked bleak. It had taken all of Quatre's diplomatic skills to keep at least one part of the family together throughout the years, especially after dismissing his father as head of the family. It had been an incredibly tough time for the young heir, but assuming his father's position was the best thing he could have done.

Quatre had no ties to the wars, as he'd been a toddler when the last one ended, and he'd grown up on Earth, outside of the colonies. With this 'blank' record and his youthful enthusiasm and good spirits, he tried to lift the negativity that surrounded the Winner name. Establishing contacts and building up and maintaining new and existing relationships had been time-consuming, but Quatre finally managed to succeed in his goal. W.E.I. was a force to be reckoned with on the international markets, and was a good hit on the stock markets. Quatre's best decision to date was making the switch from the heavy mining industry, which was unavoidably connected to the wars, to computers and electronics, the booming business after the end of the very same wars.

"Mister Winner, did you have an appointment?" the butler asked.

Trowa sported a baffled look for a moment, but quickly pulled up a neutral expression.

"I'm very sure mister Maxwell will make some time for him, if he's not too busy with his hangover from one of his parties, that is..?"

"Trowa..!" Quatre immediately reprimanded him, but couldn't keep from chuckling softly. "Mister Maxwell's late night's escapades are none of our business."

"Mister Winner wants to see him," Trowa addressed the butler again, not taking 'no' for an answer. Besides, no one ever refused to receive Quatre Raberba Winner and survived for another week in society; especially if they already had a fickle reputation like Duo Maxwell.

The butler studied the business card again, obviously torn between his master's wishes and the fact that it was Quatre Winner standing in front of him -- he knew about the consequences when slamming the door shut in the CEO's face. He finally nodded again and put the business card into a pocket of his vest, bowing slightly.

"Very well, gentlemen, I will see what I can do for you. Master Maxwell usually is at the gym at this hour."

"Thank you," Quatre said, inwardly amused at the surprised look on Trowa's face when hearing the butler's words. He stepped inside, his Berluti's sounding hollow in the immensely large hall. Trowa mumbled a similar response and fell back, walking behind Quatre as he kept a close eye on their surroundings.

"This is magnificent," Quatre breathed as they followed the butler, craning his neck to take in everything that there was to see. Polished Italian marble adorned the floor, the large stairs showing up in front of them carved from the same material, the banisters sporting a similar Greco-Roman pattern as the door. The crystal chandeliers were Titanic-sized, the millions of lights a nightmare for every cleaner. The walls were furnished, the tapestry thick and mostly woven in dark colors, representing hunting scenes and mythological events.

"The birth of Aphrodite," Trowa said as he studied one of the large panels. He didn't touch the fabric, respecting it far too much to ruin it, but his sharp eyes took in every detail of the handcrafted work.

"The kidnapping of Persephone..."

"The Gorgons." Quatre was standing in front of a rather gruesome panel. "Medusa's head with the snakes for hair... I don't think I would want this to hang in my hallway."

"Master Maxwell is carrying on the tradition of his father and his father before him," the butler interjected. "To respect the architecture and layout of the Manor and to change as little as possible. This work has hung here since the late 1880's. Besides, many of the art and objects here are better protected and preserved than any museum could possibly do."

The man was obviously used to visitors wandering around to admire the tapestries, as he waited patiently for Quatre and Trowa before making a movement with his arm to indicate they could continue their walk. They didn't go upstairs, but went to the right instead, directly into the east wing. Quatre wondered briefly who would be doing all the housekeeping here -- there were no servants or any other personnel but the butler in sight, yet there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere, and the large windows were spotless.

"It is like a museum in here," Trowa commented, noticing the displayed suits of armor with interest. Carefully modeled around faceless mannequins, they represented several centuries of warfare, and he recognized the eras of the Spanish Armada, the French Revolution, and the American Civil War in the uniforms and armor, lined up evenly spaced.

"There's even a samurai here," Quatre pointed out, admiring a tall doll outfitted in an 18th century's armor, the fabric embroidered with dragons and the breast plate shining enough to reflect his mirror image.

"Complete with tachi," he added, seeing the long sword firmly attached to the doll's right hand. "Is this all authentic?"

The butler shook his head. "No, these are exact replicas," he said. "Displaying originals like this in a hallway, vulnerable to dust and clumsy visitors, would be quite risky. The authenticity of every object in the mansion is certified by renowned doctors and professionals from various museums and institutions, all widely or internationally acknowledged as experts in their respective fields. Master Maxwell, of course, chose to show replicas around here as the originals need specific conditions for storage and preservation."

Quatre whistled, impressed. As an art and history lover himself -- though he preferred Art Deco to ancient artifacts -- he mentally tallied the possible value of all the displayed costumes and armor, and if these detailed works were only the replicas... he really didn't fancy paying the insurance bill.

"This way, gentlemen, please," the butler said, guiding them further down the hall. After the armor and other military uniforms -- leaving Trowa to wonder if the Maxwell collection restricted itself to specific eras, excluding the recently ended Wars -- female mannequins were showing robes and dresses, once again reflecting the development throughout the centuries. Amused, Quatre said out loud that his sisters would have more fun with the 18th century dresses in particular -- richly embroidered, made from the finest fabrics and materials available. The mannequin showed a light green Sack dress, one of the most popular styles of gown worn at that time, decorated with trimmings applied to the bodice and stomacher, pleated, ruched and beaded all into one. Conveniently bypassing the notion of the uncomfortably tight corset a woman had to put on first to be able to even fit in one of the dresses, Quatre was in awe about the costumes and the decoration of the east wing.

Meanwhile, Trowa had long noticed the high-tech security system -- hard to see, but it was there -- the tiny eyes of cameras, undoubtedly connected to a video circuit; the barely visible magnetic strips on the costumes; the even harder to notice small wires connecting every object to an ingenious alarm. If anyone thought to rob the Manor of its treasures, it would be more of a sport to get in and out unnoticed than stealing the actual treasure itself. Trowa was sure there had to be more security measures -- cameras, magnetic strips, and wires wouldn't keep the professional burglar from trying. He couldn't recall, however, if there'd been any public reports about someone breaking and entering the Manor; either no one had tried before, or it had been kept silent.

"We're here," the butler announced and opened the plain wooden doors to a large room which completely felt out of place with the rest of the mansion. It was a state of the art fitness center -- the colors were hellishly light and bright, the floors covered with dust free linoleum, and the amount of equipment was more than enough to turn even the flabbiest, laziest bum into a slim and well-toned person.

Quatre squinted a little; after the rather dark hallway, the intense light of the fitness room was hard on the eyes. After a few moments, his eyes were adjusted enough to make out that there was someone in the back, working out on the rings.

The butler moved forward, apparently not expecting the others to follow him here. His footsteps were brisk and fierce, walking over to the man doing inverted crosses on the apparatus dangling from the ceiling.

"Master Maxwell... Master Maxwell!"

"This looks like a torture room, not an exercise room," Quatre whispered to Trowa, mentally thanking his metabolism for his slim figure, as pulling weights wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. "I prefer a sauna or a hot tub instead..."

"You don't stay in shape with saunas and hot tubs only," Trowa whispered in return, a scarce smile tugging at his lips.

"It's a good thing I always go for a walk after lunch then, isn't it?" Quatre replied dryly as the butler was increasing the volume of his voice to get the other's attention.

"There are other ways to stay in shape... and is he deaf or something?"

"I don't know," Quatre said, focusing his attention on the butler again. "He could be so deeply concentrated on his routine that he simply doesn't hear us."

He'd barely finished his sentence when suddenly the other man let go of the rings after a few forceful swings to gain speed, dismounting from the apparatus as he moved in mid-air.

"Double somersault with a double twist. Nice," Trowa remarked dryly when he landed on the mat, arms stretched out to keep a perfect balance.

"Master Maxwell, please," the butler said, slight annoyance in his voice. "How often have I told you..."

"...not to listen to music while I'm training," the other finished his sentence, calmly but certainly amused. He removed the small earpieces of his audio player. "Really, Hillary, nothing can happen."

"You could not hear me," the butler objected.

"I saw you long before you were even crossing the room," he retorted, making a dismissive movement with his hand. "You don't ever bring guests in here, though. What's up?"

"Master Maxwell, Mister Winner is here to see you," Hillary said, not bothering to introduce Trowa as he hadn't asked for his name earlier. "He does not have an appointment, but Mister Winner is well..."

"...known, yes, I know," he finished the man's sentence again. He picked up a towel from a stack on the floor, wiping his hand dry and clean before offering it to Quatre.

"Duo Maxwell," he said curtly.

"Quatre Raberba Winner, and this is my associate, Trowa Barton," Quatre said before Trowa had any chance to, as they shook hands. Duo nodded, withdrawing his hand to reach behind his head to snap a tie, freeing a large braid from its confinement.

Quatre's eyes widened when he saw the amount of thick, chestnut hair dangling over Duo's shoulders, reaching his waistline. The tuft tickled Duo's bare skin as the scanty tank top he was wearing had ridden up halfway across his midriff, revealing a six pack that a lot of people would kill for. Stretching unabashedly, Duo didn't look at his guests again as he dumped the used towel unceremoniously on the floor and said: "Very well, do give me some minutes to freshen up. Bring them to my office, all right?"

"As you wish," Hillary turned towards Quatre and Trowa again. "If you would like to follow me again, gentlemen...?"

Quatre stared, wondering about the man's lack of manners, and could do nothing but to stammer an affirmative answer in response. In all his years as a businessman -- and even though he was still young, he had quite the experience -- Quatre Raberba Winner had never come across someone as... indecent and ill-mannered as this Duo Maxwell! Coming from a rich culture that valued the proper way of introducing oneself and cultivating a social image into perfection, Quatre bristled inwardly. It must be because he's an American. Americans are always that rude. Stealing a glance at Trowa, he wasn't sure if the other was thinking the same -- Trowa appreciated good manners and proper introductions as well, so he probably felt offended. There was no time to ask about it now, as the butler was leading them through another hallway yet again -- this one far more modern, with simple oak floors and fairly common patterns in the carpet, the walls richly decorated with paintings from modern and contemporary artists. No ancient objects here; it was empty and hollow compared to the rich entrance and hall, as if someone had done his best to make this decoration as contrasting as possible.

Duo Maxwell's office was an extension to this more modern part of the mansion, different from what they'd seen before. Wherever the mansion was majestic and proudly displaying its rich past, this office was trendily styled and decorated with chrome and plastic. The walls were plastered with framed posters of touring schedules and pictures of bands Quatre wasn't really sure he wanted to hear the music of. No plants or anything really personal lightened up this office, rather small in comparison to the rest they'd seen of the mansion. No pictures, only a few novelty statuettes and a large collection of phrases and sentences that would make a great bumper sticker collection -- if one appreciated that kind of humor. A large vault-like cupboard was in the corner, a small table placed next to it, supporting a wireless printer and a scanner. The large center piece, the desk itself, was clean and empty, be it from a laptop and three plastic briefcases, every one of them filled with paperwork. Quatre and Trowa installed themselves into the two chairs in front of the desk, waiting for their host to return, while Hillary left them to take care of the catering.

"My apologies to keep you waiting," Duo said the moment he barged through the door, immediately walking over to the desk and plopping into the large, comfortable chair behind it. He had showered extremely briefly, Quatre noticed; the braid was still wet, and his large bangs were plastered to his face. The intensity of his violet, blue, no, purplish eyes struck him -- despite the rude exterior, this man wasn't as superficial as he appeared to be.

"It's an honor for me to receive the Winner heir and CEO of Winner Enterprises International," he continued, voice deep and rich in timbre. He almost looked genuinely serious -- but Quatre wasn't so sure of it. It was difficult to read this Duo Maxwell. Due to his experience in the corporate world, Quatre knew how to judge people and how to place them -- the slacker, the braggart, the coward, the one-trying-too-hard-to-be-an-enigma, the tough guy... but aside from his earlier impression that Duo was simply rude, he couldn't make anything of the other man, except for the feeling that everything was... raw about him. The way he'd been standing in the gym, sweaty, shirt sticking to his skin, radiated nothing but unadulterated sexuality, and the way he was sitting behind his desk, even as nonchalant as he appeared, was pure... power. Not in terms of corporate power, not in terms of wealth or money... just simply power, a personality that stood out, raw and edgy and... maybe uncontrollable.

Quatre refrained from losing himself too much in thoughts. He had promised himself, his family and his father, to do this, and he would continue to do so -- even if he couldn't get along with the other. He had faced ordeals ten times tougher than this. After all, it wasn't that he needed to be friends forever with Duo Maxwell -- he just wanted him to get the job done.

"It's an honor for me to be received at Maxwell Manor," he answered smoothly, ignoring Trowa's grim look. He knew what the other had been thinking about. "I must compliment you on your collection -- the art, the decorations, the objects..."

"It's a bitch to do the dusting around here," Duo grinned. "My ancestors did a good job of building up the collection, leaving the preservation and maintenance of it to their offspring. I decided to continue their will of keeping them safe and in one place here."

"Such modesty," Trowa muttered under his breath, resulting into Duo looking quizzically at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Mister Maxwell..."

"Duo, please."

"Ah, Duo," Quatre said soothingly, "your expeditions to remote countries and continents has been documented rather excessively. You have mapped shipwrecks, you have discovered tombs and retrieved artifacts from places everyone held impossible to even reach. Until a few years, when you..."

"I'm not much of a traveler anymore," Duo interrupted him. "I'm mostly occupying myself with the cultural heritage of the Manor and maintaining the Maxwell collection, as I said before. I'm discussing several exhibitions with museums right now."

"Yes, I know -- your butler was kind enough to point out to us that Maxwell Manor is open for limited guided tours. Your artifact exchange with several museums is lively, and your doors are always open for graduates in the history field."

Quatre laced his fingers together. At his orders, an extremely thorough research on Duo Maxwell's background had been conducted in preparation for this meeting. It was a public secret that since the last few decades, the family's finances were torn and shot. Liquid funds were as good as nil and the real wealth was confined in the impressive collection, impossible to sell. Bound to the stipulations and rules of the foundation Maxwell Sr. had installed to keep the collection together, Duo was unable to sell off any objects anyway -- art swaps and lending out artifacts for temporary exhibitions were allowed, but selling was out of the question. It was the only leverage Quatre had in the upcoming conversation, but it should be more than enough.

"It really is a shame that your... career ended so abruptly," the CEO continued. "Not only did it grind the expansion of your own collection to a halt, the archeological world lost a very distinctive member. Was it because of your brother's unfortunate death, or because of your previous partn..."

"Sometimes people part for other reasons than simply business," Duo interrupted him again, and the sharp undertone was very audible. Quatre straightened himself in his seat. Raw. Passion. Power. Nobody crosses this man's path twice without remembering him... and not many will cross his path twice to begin with.

"State the nature of your visit, Mister Winner. We have dealt with enough pleasantries."

Though Duo's voice was less then pleasant at that very moment, Hillary entered the room again with a silver tray, handing out coffee and tea as requested, movements calm and composed. He bowed slightly to Duo before leaving the room, the tension still tangible.

Quatre nodded at Trowa, who opened the briefcase and took out the laptop, proceeding to boot it up in silence.

"Are you familiar with the Never-Ending Circle, Duo?" he suddenly spoke, even though he hadn't received permission from Duo to call him by his first name.

Duo shrugged, a carefully neutral expression on his face. "Every circle is never ending. It goes round and round and round..."

Trowa tapped at the laptop screen. "Not a never-ending circle, but the Never-Ending Circle. A very unique artifact, representing the circle of life and death in several legends and myths. It's believed to be able to decide over life and death, its wielder being the responsible one for bringing -- or denying -- death onto the world."

"Interesting," Duo said, "yes, I've heard of this Never-Ending Circle before. Not much is known about it, people aren't even sure what it's supposed to look like. A few mentions here and there in myths and legends, varying of it being a ring with powers, or a scythe, representing the God of Death. Unfortunately, as you said yourself, my career ended very abruptly. I have no intention of picking up where I left off. If you came all the way out here to ask me to hunt down this particular artifact, you're at the wrong address, sorry."

Quatre tapped at his armrest. He already suspected Duo being reluctant -- now he had to bring his only leverage in.

"That's really quite a shame, Duo. This mansion looks extremely well-kept and cared for, but I can imagine such an estate must demand much out of you. The time and money that is involved..."

"Excuse me, is that some kind of threat?" Duo was quick to ask. "Because if it is, Mister Winner, then rest assured that I don't respond kindly to threats. I'm sure you have reports on my financial situation, so you know to the penny what's going on here. I have no interest in putting my life at stake to retrieve some kind of artifact that's supposed to 'rule over life and death'. I have a mansion to maintain."

"You haven't been on any expedition since your departure with Heero Yuy," Quatre continued. "The both of you were responsible for quite the spectacular discoveries. The tomb of Qualopec, if I'm not mistaken, the retrieval of the Iris, the dagger of Xian..."

"Sometimes people part for other reasons than strictly business," Duo repeated, his voice hitting even a lower tone. "My endeavor with mister Yuy ended with mutual consent."

Quatre exchanged a quick look with Trowa, before Duo straightened himself, turning around his chair a little.

"Do tell me why my break-up with my earlier companion... bothers you as much?"

"Two simply have more chances to succeed at this particular retrieval than only one," Trowa replied without skipping a beat. "We have reasons to believe that the Never-Ending Circle is an... adventure that could grow above one's head."

"Why did you come to me and not to Heero, then?" Duo asked. A familiar and a hard to forget feeling was nesting in the pit of his stomach. For all the times that he said he didn't have any interest in picking up where he left off, there were these feelings of regret and longing, the adrenalin already slowly building up, the curiosity running through his veins, his interest piqued.

"Mister Yuy was indisposed at the moment," Quatre answered. "We located him at a terribly inconvenient place, and we believe you have the best papers for this kind of job, next to him. We know you hunt for sport, not for the money, Mister Maxwell...Duo. I'm prepared to pay a substantial amount of money to your foundation or any other fund of your choice, if you're prepared to retrieve the Never-Ending Circle for me."

"That's quite the proposition," Duo said. Mimicking Quatre, he laced his fingers together, elbows propped on the tabletop of his large desk. He looked sternly at the two in front of him, his mind racing. He'd been offered similar propositions before; large sums of cash for the retrieval for this or that artifact. He could've used the money, put it towards the maintenance of the mansion and the collection, but Duo Maxwell never sold himself for a job to simply retrieve an artifact that 'would be looking so nice on the mantel piece." His reputation as an adventurer who traveled all around the world to discover the most exotic of objects was solid, even until this day -- though it had all ended abruptly with the death of Solo, followed by the break-up with Heero. Everything they discovered, everything they lifted from ancient temples, shrines and ruins, was in service of history or science -- never for wads of cash. What the Maxwell collection had to offer was gathered by ancestors, purchased at auctions, obtained by heritage or marriage, not by selling out the most prized pieces. The Maxwell brothers, and later Duo and Heero, had profited from the revenues of the mansion and their sponsored trips.

However, it had been a while since anyone had offered him something like this -- what was going on in Winner's mind? The Never-Ending Circle wasn't a piece of cake to find -- not even for him. He'd have to do extensive research on it, as there was so little known... he narrowed his eyes. He wasn't going to consider this, money or not.

Quatre suddenly turned towards Trowa and nodded, to which he promptly turned the laptop around, showing the screen to Duo.

"The Never-Ending Circle holds the interest of many, but few actually know more about it than what can be regularly found on the Internet or in libraries. Those who do know about it however, are quite... fanatic in their research."

"You want me to track down a barely documented artifact?"

"That is, if you agree with us?"

"I haven't agreed to anything yet." Duo shook his head, resorting to drumming with his fingers on the armrest. "I don't agree to a ghost hunt for an object that no one even knows what it looks like."

"You've hunted less than similar ghosts," Quatre said, "or did you dive in the Bermuda Triangle for a fun holiday? Skiing on Swiss glaciers is your idea of having a good time?"

When Duo didn't respond, he went on: "You used less than flimsy hints or vague scriptures on shards and pieces of artifacts to hunt for other relics. Until now, you managed to find even the most obscure and most hidden of objects. I'll provide you with all the information and funds I can give you."

"I'm not into this line of work anymore," Duo said, albeit reluctantly. He wasn't exactly uncomfortable discussing this, his interest piquing with every spoken sentence, but this was just simply...something he didn't do anymore.

"I understand the problems," Quatre said. "Losing your brother and your partner isn't something to be taken lightly, and it's logical for you to not want to return to...ah, the field so soon again. However, searching for this artifact can bring you back to where you belong, where your interests lie, make you return into a world that's fitting you like a glove..."

"You don't know a thing about me," Duo interrupted brusquely, voice turning icy. "Look, I don't care how much this artifact means to you. I have one of the world's most unique and largest private collections to maintain, and I have many requests and offers to deal with..."

"I can't imagine that you prefer staying cooped up in the mansion, despite its splendor, to the thrill and excitement of a real adventure," Quatre pressed. "I can provide you with anything, even with enough funds to keep the collection and manor out of any financial predicament for a long time to come. You can set your own price."

Duo frowned, narrowing his eyes again. "I'm not that poor or desperate, Mister Winner, unlike you," he snarled.

Trowa shot upright in his seat. "We can sit here and discuss this normally or we can leave and you can dream all about your bands and follow them around the world like a groupie and not as a respected adventurer," he blurted out.

"You should leave," Duo said, voice nothing but a growl. "Right. Now."

Part 2

Quatre raised his hands in defense. "Gentlemen, gentlemen!" He tugged at Trowa's sleeve who already stood up, ready to leave. "Sit down. Now."

Ignoring Duo's rather surprised look when Trowa obediently sat down, clutching at the laptop, Quatre said: "Show him the information we gathered and I will do the talking." He turned to Duo again.

"My apologies, Mister Maxwell... Duo, for myself and for my... associate, Mister Barton. There's no need for thinly veiled threats or hurtful barbs. Forgive my rudeness." He took a deep breath. "I'm not here for business purposes only. Much of my motivation is personal. I want you to find this for myself and my family's sake. The Never-Ending Circle was the last artifact my father was researching, and I have great reason to believe he was killed for it."

After he had finished his sentence, silence reigned in the office. Duo leaned back in the armchair, the chair gently squeaking under his weight.

"Outsiders shouldn't be conducting research on mythological artifacts that are out of their reach anyway," he said after a minute of silence.

"My father was a well-renowned archaeologist," Quatre objected.

"A small correction -- Winner Sr. was known for his massive funding of commercial excavations that ended up harming tribe and country, disrespecting nature and traditions as he went. Just as my travels and discoveries were public, his were too -- and everyone in the archaeological field was abhorred by his common use of fucking dynamite to gain access to a hidden tomb or a buried temple."

"My father wasn't the one using those methods," Quatre objected again, yet cringed. It wasn't without reason he made the slight alteration to his business name, adding a simple "International" to it as to mask the link with the previous owner. "Treize Khushrenada and Zechs Merquise were in charge of the excavations. They were responsible for the execution of the work, not my father -- he guided the operation from behind his desk."

Duo snorted. "Book wisdom! Pulling at the strings of an excavation instead of standing in the field, sifting through rocks and dirt for that one, unique find? What kind of archaeologist is that? That's someone who has lots of money and is able to finance a boy's dream, making a wish come true for himself, no matter how much damage there will be done."

"Mister Winner Senior has done extremely..." Trowa spoke up, but Quatre raised his hand. Disgruntled, he fell silent.

"Good boy," Duo couldn't help but remark, a smirk firmly on his face. Quatre ignored it, reaching over to Trowa to take the laptop from him and put it on Duo's desk.

"My father was a good man," he said, voice a mere whisper. "He made his mistakes and he had his faults, just like I do... just like you do, like anyone does. His greatest mistake was to believe he could lead a multi-million dollar company by blindly trusting the goodness of mankind, unfortunately. He worked hard to keep everyone satisfied, to keep his workers content, and he made the wrong decisions that made Winner Enterprises slide off to the wrong side of the war. My father took all the blame and he was discharged from the family."

Duo nodded, listening attentively. His eyes darted to the laptop, curious as to why Quatre had put it on his desk -- there was only text on the screen, the letters too small to make out from this distance.

"My father decided to retreat from public life, and, as you said yourself, finance a boy's dream and make his wish come true. Archaeology had always been one of his passions, and with some of the revenues of the company, he financed many private research facilities and excavations. He left the physical execution of everything to Khushrenada and Merquise, knowing that he wasn't fit or capable enough to do it himself, and he trusted them. Once again, my father's trust was misplaced. Khushrenada used the freedom he'd been given to do his own research, and set up his own network to retrieve artifacts and sell them...and somehow, my father died for it."

"I'm sorry, Mister Winner..."

"Quatre," he offered.

"Quatre," Duo repeated, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I'm sorry -- I don't know where you got the impression from, but I don't do detective work. You're better off at the local police station, or you can hire a private investigator. I'm for artifacts only."

"Don't you think I tried?" Quatre said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "No one was really willing to help me, Duo. You have to remember that the Winner name still carries a negative load to it, as people tend to forget the positive, but never the negative. I still have to be careful about what I say, what I do -- most of the time, I have to be extra careful just because I'm bearing the Winner name. I managed to rebuild the company and expand it, trying to cleanse our name, but I couldn't take away the stain; the stain from my father's death, a wasted death."

Duo pursed his lips. "I do tend to stay away from personal involvement, Quatre." It felt strange to address one of the most powerful CEO's in the world with his first name, but he'd given permission himself. "If you have done any research about me, you should know that I don't want to be involved with retrieving artifacts for purely selfish or personal, emotional reasons."

"Please read up on the artifact," Trowa said, voice curt and controlled. "When the Never-Ending Circle is retrieved, we'll conduct our own research on it, each going their separate ways. That would leave you to having no more involvement. Just the artifact."

Duo frowned a little, but pulled the laptop towards him and started reading.

"Is this all the research?" he asked, eyes skimming the text. "There's not even an accurate description of the artifact. This is a collection of rumours and myths, vague descriptions of objects that are believed to be the artifact in question -- I don't know if, should I even accept it, I can work with this!"

"Duo, you've been working with fewer leads than this," Quatre tried again. He wasn't going to beg -- a no was a no -- but he wouldn't leave Maxwell Manor before knowing he'd tried to the best of his abilities.

"That was when my brother was still alive," Duo snarled in return. "I'm all for the adventure, for the excitement and the thrill; but he was the one for the planning, the calculating, the research. Ever since Solo died, I haven't gone on any expedition, as you were so kind to point out."

"My apologies," Quatre said. "It wasn't my intention to tear open old wounds, though I have inadvertently done so."

Duo straightened himself in his seat, rubbing over the bridge of his nose. "Look, Quatre, what's this really all about? There are lots of other people out in the archaeological sea. You mentioned my previous partner, Heero Yuy -- he'll be happy to help you if you give him the right price, and I don't think there's much haste involved in this. I can even give you a list of people who are all but willing to help you, when provided the money and equipment."

"Beside you and Heero Yuy, there's no one else who can do this," Quatre said. "It's all about retrieving this mysterious, mythical artifact, something you're both experts in. I know it exists, my father knew it exists -- his money, his trust was abused by Khushrenada and Merquise to find this object, and he was subsequently killed for it!" he added, furiously.

"We can't go to the police with our suspicions," Trowa took it from there, as Quatre hid his face behind his cup of tea, cheeks burning from anger.

"As Quatre mentioned before, the Winner name still carries a negative connotation to it, and he worked very hard to get where he is now. Any negative press or words will throw us back to where we started, and neither he nor the memory of his father deserves that. It will stir up some controversy if there's a public investigation to a death which has been ruled of natural causes previously."

Trowa threw a worried glance towards Quatre, but continued nevertheless. "Mister Winner Sr. kept very detailed journals about his research and progress. There is something of the Never-Ending Circle to be found in his work, and there is a part of this artifact already uncovered and in our possession."

"Why didn't you say so immediately?" Duo said, incredulous. "I was under the impression that barely anything was available about the object!"

"You have to understand that I'm... very careful about all of this," Quatre said, placing his teacup back on the desk again. "I can't go and throw all this around in plain sight. Heck, my family doesn't even know I'm doing this, even though I'm doing it for them... My sisters locked everything away, securing it out of my reach. They wanted me to concentrate on W.E.I. and leave father's legacy for what it was -- just a bunch of journals of a man with a dream of uncovering an absolutely mythological and unattainable artifact. I agreed; at that time, I thought it was for the better to focus all my energy on restoring our name and getting back into business before everything was completely lost and we would lose everything we had left."

Quatre shivered. "My father is a follower of the theory that the Never-Ending Circle is the tool of the God of Death -- a scythe. It's the most common theory, and it was confirmed by the first piece that was found -- he managed to locate it close to Cuba's seabed, off the coast of the Guanahacabibes Peninsula." It took him three tries to pronounce the geographical name, and a little frustrated, he pointed at the laptop. "It's written all down in his journals, and you can read up on it whenever you want. In any case, the piece convinced my father that the Never-Ending Circle is made out of two components, the staff -- the uncovered piece -- and a blade, to form a scythe together. Khushrenada and Merquise found it because of his directions, his guidance, after countless hours of study and dedication."

Tapping with his fingers against his lips, Duo was raking his brain, as Quatre's story was ringing a bell, especially after naming the Peninsula. "I think I remember that happening, though it was never disclosed what exactly was uncovered," he slowly said, cursing himself mentally for not recalling the details.

"You'll probably remember it from the media coverage of the illegal training facility that was found there at the same time," Trowa supplied. "The recovery of the part of the Never-Ending Circle was completely overlooked in favour of the spectacular unmasking of the plans of Quinze, a fighter for colony independence."

"Right," Duo said. "He was preparing for another war with his White Fang organization."

"Exactly," Trowa confirmed. "The reports on the artifact were completely snowed under, forgotten in the light of the military coup Earth just escaped from."

"Where is this part of the artifact?" Duo asked when the others remained silent. Trowa shook his head, sending his bangs flying.

"The staff was brought back by Khushrenada and Merquise to be locked away in the Winner's vault, for study purposes, and for as long as it would take to find the other part. Mister Winner was still studying it at the time of his death, and it was put into the vault by Iria Winner, Quatre's eldest sister, as to leave his legacy in... peace."

"From being tampered with," Duo remarked dryly, but quickly went on to another topic. "Those men...Khushrenada and Merquise...they're not known in the archaeological world. Khushrenada sounds familiar, though. I think he's been here once, to admire the costumes and armour."

"Treize Khushrenada is a rising star in the Romefeller Foundation. I've added some information on them to my father's reports," Quatre said. "The Romefeller Foundation holds up ideals to promote and improve history research and awareness. They sometimes fund excavations or restorations of ancient paintings and the like. Their interest lies mostly in the Victorian eras, and they're well known for their meetings and balls -- the dress code is Victorian, of course. The money behind that Foundation is almost... limitless."

"If they can back up so much financial power, why was Khushrenada working for your father?"

"I'm not really sure. I think it was simply a joint venture, combining money with experience," Quatre commented. "Khushrenada did the fieldwork together with his ally Zechs Merquise, and the deal was that they got to keep everything but the Never-Ending Circle. With the recovery of that artifact, my father hoped to get at least his own name restored, and maybe get himself into the archaeological world."

"Na?e," Duo clacked with his tongue.

"Na?e but noble," Quatre said, tone of voice soft. "I owe this to my father, Duo. Once again, I'm prepared to donate a substantial amount of money towards the Maxwell collection, the foundation or the mansion itself, or to one of your charity funds. The Maxwell Foundation, for example...? I know how much money and effort you put towards that particular goal to provide education for deprived children."

"You said you were afraid this case could grow over one's head," Duo shot back. "But still you ask it of me, of one person only."

"We have more faith in someone who's more socially involved and has a great love of history and art himself, instead of asking a materialistic reward for his efforts. We knew you would at least listen to us, no matter how much the press likes to depict you as an international jet-set playboy type."

Duo's grin turned in to a genuine smile. They had come to an understanding. Quatre Raberba Winner was indeed, as his reputation preceded him, tough as nails without losing his human touch. An oath to his father. Maybe there were more similarities between them than he could ever have imagined himself.

"Fine. I'll go search for this Never-Ending Circle for you," he said, and he didn't imagine the sigh of relief, as if there was a great burden falling off of the CEO's shoulders. "If I manage to retrieve the artifact for you, you'll donate an amount of five million pounds to a foundation of my choice."

"Agreed," Quatre was quick to say before Trowa could even interject. "I'm very pleased that you're willing to help us, Duo."

He pulled out a card from his jacket pocket. "This is my personal cell phone number... only a dozen people on Earth and the colonies have it. You're allowed to call it anytime, anywhere, anyplace. If there's something I can do to help you, don't hesitate to call."

"Tempting," Duo said, suppressing a wave of annoyance. As if the man thought he couldn't deal with anything on his own! The Maxwells had a solid reputation, established after their impressive record of discovering and retrieving artifacts all over the world. But this was his first trip without Solo... going solo. The irony almost made him snort, but he refrained from the visual reaction and took the card.

The CEO took out another card from his jacket pocket. It was a laminated employee card of some sorts, and Duo strained his neck to look at it. Quatre pushed it towards him, over the desk.

"This is the only thing I can give you," he said. "This will get you into the offices of the W.E.I. building here. You have about six minutes to log in as an employee, otherwise the alarm will go off." He heaved a small sigh. "I trust you to retrieve the first part of the Never-Ending Circle from the vault without making too much of a mess." Muttering an "Iria will kill me as soon as she finds out", he continued: "We'll leave the laptop here for your convenience. You can find any information on the artifact, Khushrenada and Merquise, the Romefeller Foundation and all of my father's reports and journals on it. He didn't believe in modern technology much, but he kept a dictaphone with him at all times. His secretary transcribed them for me."

"Very well, I'll read up on it," Duo nodded and stood up from the chair as Quatre rose as well.

"I thank you once again," Quatre said, and even Trowa mumbled his thanks as they shook hands. As if someone had rung an invisible bell, Hillary entered the room to show the guests out, bowing for them slightly.

"Don't forget -- call me anytime, and keep me up to date on your progress," the blond CEO stressed once again before leaving the room, Trowa not looking back one single time. Duo nodded, waving with the card and waiting until the door behind them had closed, before flopping back into the chair.

"Christ, Maxwell, what have you gotten yourself into?" he voiced out loud, hand raking through his large bangs. It had been two years since Solo had died, on that cursed trip to what they thought had been the discovery of Atlantis...a loose end, but they had unearthed signs of an ancient civilization. To this day, professors and doctors were busy studying the shard fragments they had found, if only to continue in the honour of Solo.

"Asshole!" Duo said out loud, not really sure if he meant himself or his brother. They'd been such a great team, completely in synch with each other, both passionate about their discoveries...a little too passionate. It had been just sibling rivalry, a healthy competition between the two of them to find the most exclusive, the most mythical, the strangest of artifacts -- it hardly mattered in the end, because they always ended up drinking to each other's success, sharing their findings in every way possible. If only Solo had vacated a minute earlier the last time. If only he, Duo, had had more time to get his brother out of there...but in the thrill, the excitement of their discovery, they'd been too reckless, too caught up...

...and after it was all over, Solo's body had washed up on the shore, with shards embedded in his hands and arms, as if clinging to the pottery could've saved his life. The markings were unique enough to turn the whole archaeological world upside down, sparking heated discussions about a civilization predating Atlantis itself... but it didn't bring back Solo Maxwell.

Duo had been standing at his grave, a black scarf woven into his braid, cursing the stupid expedition, cursing his stupid self, cursing his stupid... curiosity. If it weren't for his idiotic enthusiasm and curiosity, Solo would've never thought of searching out action and adventure himself. He was a bookworm, fast on his way to become a well-respected teacher and doctor, destined to write volumes of books and essays on several archaeological subjects, to be cited in dozens of students' dissertations and papers. Duo had been anything but that -- he liked to read, but only comics and 'easy' suspense and horror novels, not the thick scientific or historical works -- that was where Internet was for.

Being in class and sitting still was an outright nightmare for him -- Duo was always outside, running, laughing, sun or rain, mud or sand. He was the one to discover things by trial and error, experiencing life by simply trying things, forbidden or not, living life at its fullest, every moment of the day. Duo would rather get stung by an insect and live through the pain or discomfort than sit at home reading about the insect in question and not knowing how it looked like in real life. He'd been the one to break his bones during his practice of extreme sports. He didn't believe in book wisdom, though he acknowledged their importance for research -- after all, he wasn't cocky or stupid enough to think he knew everything. Some things in life could only be found out by books -- for the rest, he wanted it to experience with his own hands or mind.

Duo scratched the back of his head, sighing as he planted his feet on his desk. Why had Quatre Winner really sought him out? Did he truly believe that Duo Maxwell was the only one capable of retrieving the artifact? He hadn't gone on an expedition since Solo's death. Before, he'd been away with either his brother or with Heero... Heero.

"Asshole," he repeated again. Heero Yuy had left him at an extremely bad time, and they'd barely spoken to each other ever since -- Duo didn't feel the need to talk to someone who'd shown his true face at such a horrible time. Hugging himself, as if he could feel warmer that way, he tried to suppress the memories forcefully, even though he knew he was unable to. They had been together for over four years. Heero had been everything to him -- and he thought he meant everything to Heero as well. Everything about Heero had been perfect -- the way he laughed, the way he talked, the way he went about things...and the sex had been mind blowing, that was for sure. No one else could ever match the stamina of that man. It brought back a goofy smile on Duo's face, reminiscing how they had been all over each other and how they liked to use the craziest of places to get...

"Master Maxwell?"

"What?" Duo startled out of his thoughts. "Yes, Hillary, what is it?"

The man held one of his characteristic silver trays in his hands, covered with a pure white cotton cloth. Smirking, he yanked the cloth away to reveal two pristine Uzi's.

"I think you will be needing these, Master Maxwell," he simply said.

"Have you been eavesdropping?" Duo laughed a little, his eyes darting towards the guns. His fingers were strangely itching. The man shook his head.

"It was quite obvious why they have come all the way out here to talk to you. Mister Winner is not in any business liaison with you, so I figured out it must have something to do with a mission...or rather, a commission."

"You're right," Duo said. "It's a tricky one, though. Hardly any information on the artifact, multiple parties involved..."

"I am sure you will do just fine," the butler said. "After all, you have been trained by the best, Master Maxwell. And it will do you good to get out of the house with something else in mind than partying."

Duo scowled a little, but left it at that. "I guess I needed a reality check, huh?"

"You know yourself the best, Master Maxwell. You never failed to point out your shortcomings, your weak and your strong points," Hillary continued, lowering the tray a little. "You were never afraid of being extremely hard on yourself either."

"It's all that there is in life."

"There is more to life than death and the feeling of being abandoned." Hillary shook his head. "I shouldn't be the only one in this mansion beside you, Master Maxwell. The manor should be filled with laughter and excitement, just as a couple of years ago."

"May I remind you that it wasn't my choice that he walked out of the door?"

"It was Master Yuy's choice," the man said. "Not a good one, if I might say... but it was his choice. What you want to do with that is your choice."

"I just need to get the hell out of this place," Duo grumbled and got out of his chair again, straightening himself. "Get me Hilde Schbeiker and have her report here as soon as possible. Hook up my laptop to national and international libraries and databases and establish a video conference."

"As you wish," Hillary said, still upholding the silver tray. Duo grabbed the Uzi's, holding up the large weapons, and mirroring the smirk on the butler's face.

"I love it that I never have to tell you to get my guns."

"Christ, Maxwell, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"...what you want to do with that is your choice."

"Exactly," the young man muttered as he lowered his binoculars. From this position he had a good view of the office on the east side of the manor, and he was completely covered by the bushes and trees of the garden. He knew his way around here perfectly, and a wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he removed his headset. After hearing the loud click of the office's door, he knew he wouldn't be getting any more information for today. Despite his sharp eye and quick wits, Duo Maxwell had never found the bugs in his office that transmitted every sound -- after all, Heero Yuy used the best equipment that could be found, and if it wasn't available, he would build it himself to his exact specifications.

Straightening himself, muscles protesting after being in the same crouched position for so long, he clicked off his little recording device. If anyone would ever find the transmitter -- an overly zealous cleaner, or maybe Duo himself -- they wouldn't be able to track it back to him. Heero smirked. He was one of the best in his field -- he would've opted for visual transmission as well, and he couldn't wait to test out the camera he specifically designed -- but well, a camera was easier to spot than the audio bug. He needed to adjust his design a little, until it was perfect -- then he'd find a way to install it. I'm still watching over you, even though you think I've left you for good, Duo. His smirk turned into a scowl. He couldn't deny that the man's words had hit home. Yes, it was not a good choice. It was a poor decision.

"Too late for that now," he told himself softly but firmly. Suppressing a wave of melancholy, he turned around to leave, his mussed dark brown bangs ruffled by the wind. Too late. It can never be too late...it just can't. "Though I wished you would've listen to me, Duo..."

Slinging a bag over his shoulders, Heero disappeared, using the cover of the trees to avoid being picked up by the cameras of the security system. As unseen as he believed himself to be, he was unaware of the slanted, ebony eyes following him.

"How's your visual?"

"Looking good. How's yours?" Duo answered, not bothering to muffle his voice -- he had to speak out loud because of the wind at this altitude. He touched the glasses he was wearing, securely strapped around his head, his bangs flying. Adjusting the intensity of the glasses, he smirked when his vision immediately sharpened. Night vision was darn handy when you were on top of a building far past midnight, with nothing but a huge distance to cover to get what you wanted...or needed.

"Excellent, good image...are the glasses heavy?"

He tapped at the mini camera on the frame. "Not that heavy, but I wouldn't want to wear them for a whole night. How many?"

"There is no night crew, and the cleaners have already left. I counted five security agents: three down in the hall, and two making rounds, totally at random."

Duo snorted, putting on his gloves. "That's one hell of an alarm they're putting all their money on."

"You've studied it yourself, you know exactly the kind of alarm they have. Besides, there's nothing much to swipe from the offices anyway -- the candy machines are the only valuable things!"

"Very funny, Hilde," Duo said, briefly snickering. Hilde Schbeiker was not only a very close personal friend, but also the perfect person to back him up, as she had done before during his travels. Hilde was crazy about gadgets and designed them herself; her quick and practical intelligence enabled her to find a solution for anything. Duo trusted her completely, working together with her from the moment he started his travelling, first with Solo, then with Heero. Hilde hadn't asked any questions when she had been called, not hesitating for one second to cooperate.

"All right, Duo, ready to go? Remember, you have only six minutes to shut down the alarm system. If it counts more people than there are logged in, you have a very big problem."

"Right," Duo said, rubbing his hands. He was dressed in all black, feeling a little weird -- he hadn't worn these type of clothes since his last adventure...the search for what they believed was to be Atlantis. Hilde had designed and manufactured the garments, calling it her greatest invention to date. It was nothing short of a costume, skin hugging tight and made out of a leathery, latex type of material that was able to absorb the brunt of major impacts in a fight or from a fall. On top of that, it adjusted itself to extreme temperatures, so one could never get overheated or hypothermic. It even withstood bullets to some extent; it wasn't exactly Kevlar, so a bullet would go through, but the material was dense and sturdy enough to slow it down, reducing the impact.

Combined with his usual steel-toed boots, firmly laced, and his trusty belt around his waist, the gun holders resting against his thighs, the straps looping around his upper legs with his Uzis, some knives and other small utilities immediately at his disposal, he was ready for action. God, had he missed the action.

Duo adjusted his glasses for the last time and nodded. Solo for the first time. For the first time solo...let it rest, Duo Maxwell. It's up to you now.

"Let's do it," he said.

"The wind is at a good angle and speed. Good luck! Talk to you soon!"

"Going offline," was Duo's answer as his hands grabbed the lines. He wrapped them tightly around his fingers for a good grip. The fabric of his gloves was the same material as the rest of his clothing, so the lines wouldn't cut into his hands. Adrenaline rushed through him as he took a deep breath and ran forward, the large wings of his paraglider inflating from the generated air pressure. It brought a smug smile on his face; he'd always been very good at running, he once approached the national record on short distances -- one advantage of always being outside. The edge of the building was in sight and he leaped forward, using the concrete edge to launch himself into the air, while tugging at the ropes to get the glider under control.

The European division of Winner Enterprises International was seated at a large corporate building, occupying the top four floors. Human resources, payroll accounts, general bookkeeping and secretarial services were concentrated here, whereas the American division was mainly focused on marketing and sales, and the Middle-East division on research and development. With the headquarters located at Cairo, Egypt, Quatre Winner had built up quite the real estate portfolio around the globe, and he even had at least one office at every space colony.

Duo mused a little as he pulled at the ropes to adjust his trajectory, enjoying the wind and the flight. How would it feel to be in charge of such a multinational, and to be responsible for so many people? Winner Sr. clearly couldn't handle it, displaying an almost childish nature when it came to trust and faith in his people. His ideals and principles had turned against him, fallen into the hands of less than scrupulous people.

It was so easy to find a scapegoat, and this man had been a perfect example. He was there at the right time, at the right place, and in his naivety he'd done nothing but to walk right into their trap. Treize Khushrenada and Zechs Merquise. Duo remembered them better than he'd care to admit -- the tall Khushrenada had discussed with him for hours on end about the soldier uniforms from the Victorian era, and had offered him obscene amounts of money for the authentic objects, obviously not wanting to take 'no' for an answer. Duo had refused, appealing to the stipulations of his father's foundation -- nothing from the collection was up for sale, it was intended only for the purpose of gathering information on historical facts, or for exchange with museums -- even though the wads of cash had been very tempting. Bound to the stipulations of the foundation, it was sometimes very frustrating to have hardly any liquid funds, knowing that the real wealth was stuck into the collection. However, Duo hadn't hesitated for one second to decline the offer. Merquise hadn't said a single word during the conversation -- Duo had forgotten all about him until he had to all but throw the both of them out when it was obvious they wouldn't get their way.

The wind was good, and this angle was perfect -- he would land on the rooftop within a few minutes. The GPS on his wrist indicated his position and he adjusted the cords once again, not feeling any of the strain due to the material of his gloves. He had to lose height now or he'd overshoot the building. Shifting around, he pulled down the trailing edges of the wings, causing them to fold in, reducing the glide ratio accordingly. Concentrating, Duo steered towards the rooftop, grinning a little when getting a visual on the surface. Good ol' Hilde, she's been thorough with her preparations as usual, to the tiniest of details. She'd studied layouts and floor plans of the building, determining the consistency and materials of the rooftop, studying satellite images of the building to calculate the flying route and the best -- and most unnoticed -- place to land. He could've done it all himself, having enough experience under his belt to calculate his trajectory with his eyes closed, but Hilde had always done this when she was still working for him and Solo, taking lots of tedious chores out of their hands.

Duo lined up for approach, using his speed and the wind to fly in at the right angle. Flaring the wing to minimise forward speed, Duo touched down on the rooftop and ran forward, trailing the glider behind him until he came to a stop.

"I've landed," he said simply, establishing the connection between him and Hilde again.

"All right," her voice came through, crackling a little. "Remember, six minutes from entry."

"Yes ma'am," Duo answered, folding up his glider and the harness in such a way that it didn't take up much space and wouldn't be easily noticed. Hiding it under a pile of construction rubble, Duo moved ninja-style over the rooftop towards the maintenance entrance, his fingers searching quickly for his soundless screwdriver. Good ol' Hilde and her love for gadgets, he praised her again silently.

Unscrewing the bolts of the door was easier than to try to open the lock; Duo had lock-picking skills, but Hilde hadn't been able to find any information about the lock and he didn't want to waste too much time. It was Iria Winner's decision to keep her father's research and the first, uncovered part of the Never-Ending Circle in a safe at this particular division of W.E.I., leaving it simply there, out of her brother's reach. Quatre hadn't gone into details about it, but it had been pretty clear to Duo that the Winner family kept very different opinions about their father's activities and the destination of his legacy. Duo took a deep breath and braced himself as he mustered up all his strength to lift the door out of its hinges. It was rather heavy and it took him three tries before he managed to wedge it so far open that he could fit through it.

"Where are you now?" Hilde's voice crackled, a slight interference due to the building's structure.

"Almost in," Duo responded, placing the screwdriver back in his belt and after a moment of hesitation, took out his special flashlight, turning it on and checking the stairs leading down. He snorted disdainfully. So, sister Winner had bothered to make sure the safe was at least difficult to reach -- he couldn't imagine a laser trap being a standard component of a modern security alarm.

"What's the problem? You're not moving."

"I don't want to set off the alarm immediately," Duo replied, voice low; the transmitter would pick up the softest of whispers but after all those years it was a habit hard to shake.

"Bugger," Hilde muttered under her breath.

"Don't panic. It's hardly worth a sweat."

"I can see if I can log in to the building's network and shut it down..."

"No dice," Duo said. "That would only alert them. It's no big deal." He clicked with his tongue and reached for his backpack, taking out small mirror fragments to alter the laser's direction. It would take him some time, but with some careful movements and using the mirrors in the right places, he would be able to avoid stepping into a laser beam and setting off the alarm. Duo went down the stairs, somersaulting forwards to take the last obstacle, wiping the sweat off of his brow.

"That certainly wasn't part of the alarm system," Hilde said. "I didn't know..."

"It was probably added later," Duo thought out loud. "We've both seen the plans of the alarm system. No laser was mentioned; it's not your fault."

"Winner's sister?"

"I guess so." Duo shrugged. He knew Hilde was writing it down anyway -- it was such a familiar routine they worked with, as if there had been no time between the last expedition and this one. Touching the door in front of him, Duo noticed it was opened simply by using the handle. There was only a straightforward "No entry" sign on the other side of the door -- either the personnel was extremely obedient, or they knew about getting fried by the laser on their way up. Using his small flashlight, Duo checked the top floor: maintenance only. He made his way over to the large cabinets, hiding the electric panels pertaining to the building's electric system that fuelled the elevator and alarms.

The architect of this building was either plain silly or plain lazy to put all the maintenance on the top floor; he probably thought or was overconfident that no burglar would take the effort to approach from the roof or go all the way upstairs to eliminate the alarm. Duo had no problem with the shiny lock on the cabinet; it was a standard one that hardly put up resistance to his lock-picking skills. Duo attached his flashlight to a Velcro strap on his shoulder to have his hands free, and quickly located the panel for the alarm system. It was rather state of the art: it continuously scanned the building on body heat, counting the presence of people and connecting it to the number of people logged into the system. It would be triggered when it simply counted more people than the number logged in; tricky, but not impossible to override.

Hilde informed him of the six minutes again, counting down every thirty seconds. Duo took off his backpack again, frowning in concentration. He blew impatiently at a few bangs hanging in front of his eyes; his long braid was safely tucked way in the collar of his clothing. He grabbed a laptop out of the backpack, booting it up in record time. He didn't allow himself the time to lose himself in his thoughts -- this laptop was built by Heero, his boyfr... Former boyfriend, he growled to himself. It was twice as small as a regular laptop, its processor and software more advanced than any other...no wonder, as it had been Heero who had designed and built it. Gritting his teeth, Duo inserted the card that Quatre had given him directly into the control panel, a miniscule cable attached to it, feeding data to the laptop. It had been the only help Quatre had been able to give him -- the simple employee card to log onto the system. The advanced software started crawling through the personnel and administrative files to crack the password.

"Four minutes..."

Duo's eyes couldn't keep up with the amount of data rolling over the small screen. The software was tracking down the right password to go with the employee card. Quatre hadn't been able to tell Duo everything about the building or the alarm system, as he barely visited the European Division, the research and development in the Middle East being much more important to him. Once in a while he made a tour around his divisions, but well...he was the CEO, not the one to know every little detail. Trowa would have to find out for him, and there simply wasn't enough time for that. There was only one person extremely good at hacking, who didn't even need a program to do so, and it wasn't Duo Maxwell. Heero... He cursed very softly. He was just as good as Heero, he only needed a little more time...time he didn't have. Time he had run out of before...another minute he'd needed when saving So... There! The cursor blinked, showing an impossible password, a jumble of letters and ciphers, and Duo quickly entered it onto the panel, fingers dancing over the keyboard.

"Thirty seconds..."

"Mister Roswell has logged on."

"Excellent," Hilde answered, the snicker audible. "Proceed."

"Why thank you," Duo answered dryly, removing the employee card, disconnecting it from the cable. Mister Roswell would probably run into trouble the next time when logging in; there was about to be someone who'd ask him the question what he did at work at two after midnight.

"All right, off to the safe," Hilde's voice crackled through the link. Duo took a few minutes time to take care of his laptop, the card and the cable, to make sure he wouldn't leave any trace. He was assured that his fingerprints couldn't be lifted from anything he touched due to his gloves, but a strange computer cable in this particular cabinet would raise questions. Hoisting the backpack over his shoulder, Duo located the exit and he jogged towards it, avoiding making any sound despite his heavy shoes.

Part 3

The door to the maintenance floor was locked as well. Duo used his lock picks again, in complete silence, halting every now and then to listen to the sound of footsteps. Hilde had said that the security officers made their rounds at random; they could be anywhere. It was a nuisance; usually security personnel was deliciously predictable. Fortunately, Hilde was keeping an eye on movements in the building by scanning continuously for body heat, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Not to Duo's surprise, there was no one at this particular floor. The lights were dimmed -- despite the relative darkness, he noticed the cameras and estimated the distance between them. Where his former boyfriend had been good with computers and electronics, Duo was unmatched with his ability and skills in stealth. Using the dim spots and blending with the shadows, he was able to duck and avoid the range of the camera, remaining unnoticed.

Crawling along the wall, keeping his pace light but steadfast, he mentally counted the office doors. The safe was located at the director's office, one Campbell Grant, Quatre's leading supervisor for this division. He turned around the corner, his eyes shining with excitement when discovering the right door. With a few steps Duo was entering the large office, and he whistled softly.

Campbell Grant had it made; this was more than just decadence, luxury, to an extent that it was almost embarrassing. For some reason, Duo didn't believe that Quatre, who had seemed rather modest to him, would've agreed with the decoration of this particular office. The Monet on the wall was genuine, and the statuettes on the handcrafted cherry wood file cabinets looked pretty exclusive too. His boots were treading a colorful hand-woven carpet, and Duo's flashlight revealed more evidence of a man who either did such good work that he was being rewarded with all this luxury, or was using certain funds to finance his taste for the finer things in life.

Shaking his head, Duo recalled the layout of this particular office and went to the northwest corner, past the impeccable mahogany desk with not a single piece of paper on it, just a laptop standard. He opened the door of a large walk-in cupboard, keeping the noise to a minimum. The shelves on the left side were stocked with office supplies, and on the right was a large rail supporting a dozen of fancy suits. Hugo Boss, Versace, Ralph Lauren... not bad. Grant could change easily into something else when recieving guests; Duo even noticed a large ironing board for the last-minute clean-up of a shirt or a tie. It didn't hold his interest of course, and he crouched down, his goal in sight.

"Fuck."

"What's the matter?" Hilde had been silent, standing by in case he needed her.

"What was in Winner's papers about the safe again?"

"Don't tell me you forgot the code..."

"There's no fucking code to be used on this one..."

"How can that be?" Hilde sounded genuinely surprised, as much as Duo was. Winner Sr. had been so meticulous with his research and his notes, even writing down his own personal combination for the safe in his will -- an eleven ciphered code he'd strung together from the birthday of his son, his own age and apparently a few random numbers.

"Bugger," they both said at the same time. Duo touched the safe -- it was much smaller than it had been described, even another colour -- and there was no doubt about it: this was another safe. It had been replaced. Maybe the artifact and the rest of Winner's notes weren't even in here. He examined the safe, trying to think of a way to open it.

"Apparently, the family decided to get a new one," he said dryly.

"What kind? What's the model?"

"It's not like anything I've ever seen before. No keypad, no visible lock...I guess it opens to voice recognition, or else a DNA-analysis or iris scan..."

Hilde remained silent, awaiting his orders. Duo straightened himself again, idly walking back into the large office. He looked around, but there was nothing at first sight that could help him out. It suddenly struck him that there was another desk in the office, a much smaller one than Grant's; it was the secretary's workspace, a tidy desk with a brass name plate engraved with "L. Noin". He heaved a sigh. There was nothing that stood out, nothing that could help him here. Solo was smart. He would at least have figured out what the lock on the safe responded to, and would come up with three solutions to open the thing. Duo groaned -- he'd always been the one to fly by the seat of his pants, trusting a back-up like Hilde to help him out.

Everything in this office was locked down -- fireproof, bombproof, foolproof...Duo heaved another sigh. He could try to start up the secretary's computer and crawl through her files in hopes of finding something about the safe, but he had the sinking feeling it wouldn't be that easy. He'd never get the safe open, and he could kiss all of Winner's research and the artifact goodbye. Annoyed, he walked around the secretary's desk once more. It was spotless clean, there wasn't even any waste in her bin. Next to the keyboard of her computer was the wireless mouse, and a small wooden box that held two Waterman fountain pens. Next to that was a slender remote control, metallic gray. Duo shone his flashlight on it. It wasn't hard to miss, and there was no TV in the room, nor a sound device. He picked it up and studied it, as he started to grin. He looked at the safe, still in view, and turned on the remote.

"Hilde, my dear..."

"Oh God...what illegal things are you going to ask from me now?"

"Nothing much..." Duo all but purred, walking back to the safe. "You brought your equalizer, didn't you? Scan the building and lock onto the remote control I'm holding -- I'm sure you can pick its signal up. Next, scan frequencies -- when we hit the right one, the safe will open."

"Duo, that can take forever," Hilde complained, though he could hear the clicking of computer keys in the background. "Frequencies are a bitch to detect..."

"We have good equipment," he said curtly, keeping the remote control aimed at the safe.

"I know," Hilde whispered. She pursed her lips. She hadn't build this particular piece of equipment all by herself, as she prefered working on gadgets. When Heero had still been involved with Duo, he had helped her, his technological insight had proven to be very valuable. She avoided naming him and adjusted her headset a little before turning on her equalizer and tuner, the equipment softly humming. "It's scanning now..."

"Good."

"Duo..."

"I know," he answered and there was nothing but silence. He patiently waited, still alert for the guards. He didn't have much time left, and everything depended on Hilde and how fast she'd be able to find the right frequency. She didn't disappoint him. Suddenly, the remote beeped with a high tone and was echoed by a loud click; the door of the safe popped open.

He put the remote aside, made his way over to the safe again and pulled at the door, revealing the contents. The safe looked smaller on the outside than it was in reality; he had to reach all the way into the back to grab a bundle of papers. Duo eyed the bundle for a few seconds before stuffing it into his backpack. There was nothing left in the safe but a small box. That had to be the artifact. Duo reached for it again and held up the small box, checking it for carvings, or any other conspicuous markings. There were none, and he lifted the lid to take a better look inside. He had enough experience with artifacts to know that especially the smallest and ugliest ones often were the most powerful and most sought after, but this...tiny stick had even him baffled. This...this twig was a part of the Never-Ending Circle, an artifact supposed to rule over life and death? It looked fragile, puny and...not the least bit impressive. It was small, the length of a man's finger, and it had a diameter of five centimeters, if not less. Was this some kind of stunt, or a practical joke? He did notice some ancient markings on the artifact as he held the box closer to his flashlight. It faintly rung a bell -- the markings looked familiar somehow -- but he didn't have the time to carefully study it. Duo closed the safe, closed the box, stashed it into his backpack and quickly straightened himself, turning around to leave the room and --

"Holy fuck," was all he said. One, maybe two millimetres closer and he would've been decapitated. The bright yellow colour of his flashlight was reflected blindingly in a perfectly polished and extremely sharp katana, its blade positioned with the tip against his throat. The wielder of the sword, a young Chinese man dressed in a white gi, stared intently at him.

"You have no business here," he drawled slowly, as if speaking to a small child.

"I doubt you have any business here either, pal," Duo answered dryly, moving his hands down slowly.

"Don't try to reach for your guns," the other said matter-of-factly. "You'll lose your head faster than you can draw them."

"Wanna bet?" Duo asked.

"Do not waste my time," the other said curtly. He lifted up his hand, holding the katana in perfect balance with his other hand. The blade didn't waver for a second when he switched hands. "Give me what you found in the safe."

"No can do my friend, do your own dirty work," Duo growled, his mind racing. Who the hell was this guy and what did he want with the Never-Ending Circle? The katana...Duo's expert eye already told him that it was an authentic, traditional sword, not a cheap copy. From whose collection would that particular example have been stolen? This kind of weapon wasn't for sale on just any corner of the street.

"Nice katana," Duo tried, refraining from visibly swallowing. "Where did you swipe it from, or did you make it yourself?"

"Silence," the other barked. "Give what you found in that safe to me. Now!"

"Don't tell me you weren't smart enough to figure out how to open it," Duo mocked. Hilde was silent -- the transmitter had picked up the other's voice, and she knew he was in trouble. Maybe she was already starting up rescue plan B...but he couldn't rely on her to come rescue him all the time. He was Duo Maxwell, damnit, not a damsel in distress.

"I suggest you should not find humor at the expense of my family's honor," the man said. "I do not kill for pleasure or for sport, only when it is really necessary. Do not make it necessary, Duo Maxwell."

"That's so very sweet of you," Duo replied. How the hell does he know my name? "Get that sword out of my face, and then we'll talk."

"Dump the backpack," the other snarled. "Give its contents to me. Whatever you obtained from the safe belongs to me and my clan."

He adjusted the position of his hand and slowly moved the katana higher. The tip of the blade tapped against Duo's chin. "I am fast," the man hissed. "Do not try anything with me, or you will regret it."

Duo took a small step backward, but the other followed him immediately, keeping the katana so close to him that it grazed his skin.

"Ouch!"

"Now!" The other reminded him.

The alarm, it suddenly dawned Duo. If he could stall for another six minutes, the alarm would detect a new presence in the building, not logged into the system, and it would be tripped. For some reason, he couldn't imagine the other having gone through the trouble of logging in under another employee name. On the other hand, there was the loose, confident way he was standing, as if he had all the time in the world and as if he'd been here for a while, simply waiting for Duo to figure out to open the safe and claim its prize.

"Fine," he huffed, and moved his shoulders as to shake off the straps. Deliberately taking his time, Duo sunk to the ground to open his backpack, his eyes not leaving the other.

"All right, I'm taking it out now...but you have to tell me why this belongs to you or your clan. Winner has done the research, made sure it was unearthed and claimed..."

"Winner is nothing but a fool," his adversary interrupted. "He should not have messed with forces he did not understand, especially when life and death are involved."

"Ah, so you believe in fairytales as well..."

"Give it to me, now."

Duo took out the box, slowly. Damn. He should've switched the artifact immediately with something else, but he hadn't expected to be surprised like this. He quickly let go of his idea to switch the artifact right now, knowing that he could be fast enough to pull it off. This person...his eyes were so intense, furiously intense, and Duo had to suppress a shudder. This was someone he shouldn't cross, this was something he couldn't bluff his way out of. He'd dealt with worse before, and he wasn't about to lose an artifact for which he had gone through so much effort for, just to simply hand it over to someone who happened to wield a razor sharp katana. This was a commission, a commitment...his eyes lowered for a fraction of a second to get the box further out, and he felt the blade scrape along his neck again.

"Don't get any ideas."

"Jeez, I already shaved this morning. Have a little patience..."

The stranger waved his hand in front of his face. "Give it to me, right now. Stay out of this. It is going way over your head."

"You're fucking repetitive," Duo snorted, reluctantly putting the box into the other's hand, fingers still clutching at it. "Whatever you're planning to do..."

A sudden pain exploded through his body, a short, but blunt strike at the joint of his shoulder and neck, his head feeling heavy within a matter of seconds.

"Wha...?" was the only thing he said before darkness claimed him, his limbs feeling heavy, not obeying his body anymore. As his eyes rolled into the back of his head, Duo wavered and toppled over, falling into a boneless heap on the floor.

Holy fuck... He groaned, the throbbing pain paralyzing him, disorientating him. Duo tried to open his eyes, but found it impossible to do so. What was going on? He parted his lips, wanting to speak -- his voice was hoarse, and he made an unidentifiable sound, unable to form coherent sentences. The noises he heard were strange to him, and his mind was trying to puzzle the pieces together. There was one thing he immediately recognized, though -- the thrumming sound of an engine. He was moving, he was being transported. A car, train, boat?

"Shh, Duo, it's okay," a female voice whispered, close to his ear. It was Hilde's -- his brain fortunately wasn't that fogged or sluggish to not recognize the voice of one of his best friends. His lips curled into a vague smile, a smile of relief. Smacking his lips, he wanted to speak her name, but decided against it -- not only didn't he trust his voice, but she also put her finger on his lips, shushing him. As long as he didn't know what exactly was going on, he had to trust her -- and Hilde was loyal and reliable, so he didn't protest. It didn't take long before a cup of water was pressed against his lips and he parted them, welcoming the taste of the cool liquid.

She took the cup away, even though he would've loved to have had some more. Reclining into the pillows, Duo tried once again to determine where he was. Hilde was close to him and she wasn't panicked. Someone was driving whatever vehicle he was in, and he wasn't tied down; he was lying on a small bed, his arms crossed over his chest. Carefully, he moved his limbs, groaning as he felt the heavy weight of his steel-toed boots. There were blankets piled on him rather sloppily. He didn't feel pain anywhere, no broken limbs or ribs as far as he could tell -- there was a small concentration of pain at the base of his neck, radiating through his shoulder and upper right arm, and a burning sensation in his lungs. The next second, he started to cough violently, body jerking on the small bed.

"It's all right Duo, here, take this..."

Blindly, he reached for the one talking to him, grabbing Hilde close to her chest. She yelped and almost threw the cup of water in his face.

"Duo!"

"Jezus fuck!"

"Duo, calm down!" She placed her hands against his shoulders and pushed him firmly back. "Lie down. There's nothing to get worked up about -- you inhaled lots of smoke, and God knows how long you've been lying there..."

"How long...what?"

"Drink some water first. Here."

Once again a cup of deliciously cool water was put against his lips and he drank greedily, droplets spilling down his chin. The liquid was burning his throat, but he kept drinking, emptying the cup. His memory abandoned him at the moment; he couldn't recall anything about smoke -- the building hadn't been on fire, had it? Coughing again, he longed for sleep, hours and hours of sleep... Frowning, he forced himself to open his eyes, cursing loudly again when they immediately started to tear and thick drops of salty liquid dribbled over his cheeks.

"It's all right." Hilde's voice again, repeating the same words over and over again, "you're going home. We've taken care of everything."

"Aww, fuck," Duo said and smothered the rest of a rather colorful string of expletives in the thick cotton towel she handed him, unable to keep his eyes from tearing up.

"We?" he finally managed to croak out.

"Yes, we. Yo, Duo!"

"You can't be serious!" His voice was back to squeaky and high-pitched, like a kid who had just hit puberty, and he cringed visibly. "Is that you, Howard?"

"Can't talk now kid, I'm driving," the man all but sang cheerfully, sounding as if he had the time of his life. To Howard, this was probably the time of his life.

"Catch yourself some sleep, kid," he continued, "you need it. Your eyes are going to be sensitive due to the shit they've thrown around. Common reaction to teargas."

"Teargas? What the hell?"

"In the office," Hilde explained. "We were able to get you out of there by posing as rescue workers. I knew you were in trouble when I heard the other guy's voice, and Howard was the only one I could think of. When I called him, the alarm in the building went off -- not the security alarm, but the fire alarm. As soon as the firemen arrived, we went in and immediately to the top floor. We found you there, out cold, with the teargas..."

"Just great," Duo said, voice muffled by the towel. He felt like bawling his eyes out -- the stinging was horrible, and his pounding headache didn't help either.

Howard...he should've known the man would help him even if it was in the middle of the night. The man had worked for his father and had proven himself to be very resourceful and dependable, and just as loyal and trustworthy as Hilde. If there was anyone able to get someone out of an impossible situation, it was Howard.

Hilde rubbed over his back. "You have to give your eyes some rest now, Duo," she said. "Dabbing at them with the towel is only irritating. Lie back, try to get some sleep. We're on our way to Maxwell manor, I've already called Hillary."

It was almost as if he could hear her smile -- not that she was laughing at him about the situation, but because of genuine relief that everyone was safe and sound. Hilde had been one of the closest friends to stand around Solo's grave, and though she gave herself for the full 100%, there was always that hint of worry and fear that something could go wrong. She didn't want to say farewell to another Maxwell... Heaving a sigh, Duo allowed himself to be tucked in, the rough towel being replaced by a cool cloth to cover his eyes. Starting to feel relaxed, Duo drifted off, knowing that he was in safe hands.

He wrapped his fingers around the large mug, greedily inhaling the scent of coffee. Duo carefully took a sip, almost burning his tongue, while he watched Hillary serve his guests their drink of choice.

"I can't thank the both of you enough," he said again. "Only you can pull it off to pose as rescue workers to get me out of a tight situation." He rubbed at his eyes. They were all red and puffy as if he'd been crying for nights to no end -- despite the more than ten hours of sleep he had, it hadn't lifted their sensitivity. Duo squinted a little; it was rather dark in the room as Hillary had closed all the curtains. The butler had chosen for one of the darkest, stuffiest, and terribly old-fashioned rooms to receive guests -- it had been one of Duo's father's treasured rooms. His impressive book collection on historical and archaeological matters was displayed in heavy oak cabinets, a prize collection that made every museum drool. Duo hated everything about this room, feeling as if he was locked up in a cage. However, the dark colours and dim light were better for his sensitive eyes at the moment.

Howard nodded, wearing his ridiculous sunglasses even inside the manor, as well as his Hawaiian t-shirt, the bright colors screaming enough to discern them from the dark background.

"Your eyes will need some time to recover," he said, holding a cup of tea that had more milk in it than tea. He stirred the concoction, all but licking his lips in anticipation. "Teargas is a hideous bitch."

"Any idea who could've done this to you?" Hilde sat on one of the couches, perched on the armrest; she was nursing a hot chocolate with whipped cream.

"We found you unconscious on the floor, an empty can of teargas next to the safe. You could've been in a lot of trouble if we hadn't gotten you out of there in time."

"Never change a winning team," Duo muttered, sipping his coffee again. "I'm not really sure about who did it. He was of Asian decent, that was pretty obvious." But why the can of teargas?

"It wasn't Heero, was it? If he was, then I'll choke the life outta him..."

"Howard, please," Duo said dismissively, but he was unable to hide a small smile. No matter how much time had passed, they immediately picked up where they had left off. Howard wasn't a violent person, but he could get carried away in certain situations -- and one of these situations being his 'son' ending up hurt. Though the elder man had never said it out loud, Duo knew he was regarding him as his son -- Howard and Maxwell Sr. had worked together in their younger years. Duo owed lots of his training and the development of his skills to Howard. The man had even trained Solo when he started to get interested in the active field of archaeology. The heavy burden of guilt on his shoulders when Solo died was so great that both Duo and Howard didn't know how to deal with it. They fell out of contact soon after his funeral, only staying in touch with a very occasional e-mail...it was good and comforting to know the man was still willing to immediately come to the rescue. Secretly, Duo didn't expect it to be any otherwise; Howard was just as stubborn as him.

"It wasn't Heero. He wasn't tall, more like my height, dressed in traditional white gi..."

"You mean keikogi?" Howard interrupted.

"Yes, definitely, but I don't know which martial arts. Besides, the guy seemed more of Chinese decent than Japanese...it was a little long for a gi anyway..."

"Go on."

"Black hair, tied back in a ponytail, ebony eyes...very intense, very angry eyes. As if he was spitting on me for taking that artifact. He kept insisting that it was his, and for his clan. Oh yeah, that I should stay out of this, as I was getting way over my head..."

"As always," Howard snorted, but it sounded almost affectionate. It made Duo want to stick out his tongue at him, and he did so, eliciting a childish giggle from Hilde.

"In all seriousness now," she abruptly ended her giggle fit, "whoever it was, we can try to identify him. I can set up access to local, international and federal databanks to sift through. Who knows, if he has ever had a brush with the police, we can find him."

"Agreed," was Duo's answer, before he lost himself in his thoughts. The man had addressed him by name, and knew he was carrying guns, even though the flashlight had shone directly into his face. It had been impossible to see the rest of his body, let alone the guns. Duo couldn't recall much but being knocked out, and he had the bruise to prove it. He was very sure though, that the other hadn't carried anything like teargas. Something else must've happened after he had lost consciousness, but it eluded him as to what exactly.

"Damn, you got yourself one hell of a commission." Howard's voice jerked him out of his thoughts. Duo put his cup aside, not really surprised that the man had found the Winner laptop and was reading through the notes at his leisure. Duo wasn't in the least offended by Howard's actions; he knew he had only the best intentions, and it only added to his own feelings of guilt for not keeping in touch with the man. It stuck to him like a tarnished wound -- Duo had been so caught up with his own feelings after his brother's death that he'd failed so see the grief and sadness of those around him.

Curling up on the couch, Duo nodded. "The Never-Ending Circle."

Howard whistled. Hilde looked at him over the rim of her mug.

"What's that?"

"It's all to be found in Winner Sr.'s notes," Duo said, pointing at the laptop. "I was commissioned by his son, Quatre, to retrieve the research and a part of the artifact -- the first part has been uncovered already, the second one hasn't been found yet. Indications about its location are probably in the other part of the research."

"Obviously, there are more people after it," Hilde stated.

"No shit. I thought the artifact was just a rumour, like so many, its myth being so vague that I didn't give it any priority or second thought."

Howard was scrolling through the text, his fingers touching the screen every now and then.

"Winner might've been overly na?e in some ways, but he wasn't far off with this," he said. "I think he attributed the right theory and thoughts to the artifact -- that the Never-Ending Circle isn't a ring or any round object, but the instrument of the God, or any other entity of Death."

"It was some sort of staff in a box," Duo snorted. "If it were to have a round head and a little thicker, it would make a nice dildo."

"Wouldn't you know." Hilde made a face, though it was hard for her to suppress her laughter.

"Moron," Howard said out loud and the sunglasses slid a little over the bridge of his nose, revealing his eyes glittering with mirth. He turned serious again quickly, tapping at the laptop.

"You didn't read up on everything, did you? Here...Winner's theory could be very much the right one. A circle has no end, goes round and round, thus is never-ending. This circle in particular represents the continuous cycle of life and death. Every life ends with death, and from every death there's the birth of a new beginning, life."

"How can life be born from death?"

Howard shrugged. "Isn't it a part of every religion, to believe that after death there's a new beginning? If you believe in reincarnation, you start a new life after you die..."

"That's not reincarnation, that's recycling!"

"Duo...every new life lifts you to a higher plane, of course. I'm not a specialist on religion, but well, people who believe in God believe they join Him in His kingdom after they die. The eternal life -- and thus, life after death, never-ending circle."

"But one should have to die and die again to start a new life and thus start a circle..."

"You have to see the bigger picture, Hilde, and it's of course just a myth...like so many."

"It's interesting," Duo said, shifting in his seat. "The question is, to which mythology is the Never-Ending Circle tied to?" he asked, tilting his head a little. "Roman, Asian, European...?"

"I think Asian, but that would require me to dig deeper into the material. Winner Sr. made quite the assumptions and he's rather off with certain points, but his theory does hold some strong arguments. I really think his theory is the best so far."

"The dildo was found close to Cuba, though."

"Would you please refer to it as a 'staff'?" Howard asked dryly. "And you, Duo Maxwell, should know better than anyone about the mysterious ways artifacts can travel, and can end up on the complete other side of the world. Call it Destiny or Fate, then. Here..." He turned the laptop around, "Winner Sr. is trying to prove here that the Never-Ending Circle, as it represents life and death, is in fact a scythe. The staff and the blade are the two components of the scythe."

"The scythe of the Grim Reaper," Hilde breathed.

"The God of Death," Duo supplied.

"Shinigami."

"Shinigami. But that's one God of Death only."

Hilde threw them both a confused look.

"So...this Shinigami has lost his scythe or something?"

"That's how it's been told in certain myths," Howard continued. "Shinigami, or any God of Death, is one of the eldest and most primal gods of any world. Death is simply everywhere, a part of life, a part of every cycle. Death can't be escaped, it's just...there. The earliest portrayals of any God of Death depict him with a scythe, using it to reap the souls, so people would die. Without death, there can't be any life. Like I said, I have to dig into the material and study local and specific folklore, but I'm sure there has to be some kind of myth or legend out there of Shinigami losing his scythe."

"The God of Death being tricked," Hilde nodded. "Just like how Demeter tried to get her daughter back from Hades, or how Psyche was almost allowed to return to the world of the living...but what could have caused the scythe to split up in two, and how are we going to find the second part?"

"Winner Sr. was kind enough to provide us with the first part," Duo said.

Howard grinned.

"...and kind enough to provide us with enough material to find the second part," he continued. "It'll take some time, but if we follow his train of thoughts, I think we can locate the blade after all."

"The staff was found close to Cuba," Duo repeated, rubbing again at his eyes, hissing softly as he felt it still stinging. "The blade of the scythe could be there, but I take it Winner Sr. had the place combed. I haven't got a fucking clue where the blade could be, especially since we don't know where and how it broke in the first place. There's no record or document whatsoever about that."

"Maybe it didn't split voluntarily," Hilde suggested. "Who knows how long it lied at the bottom of the sea before Winner Sr. dug it up -- forces of nature could've done their work, or maybe someone willingly broke the scythe in two, as to keep people from trying to wield it."

"I'm sure some strange, magical power will be attributed to it," Duo said, looking around to see if Hillary had left something to eat, despite having had breakfast just a few hours ago. "As in, whoever completes the scythe and wields it, will have power over life and death?"

"I guess so." Howard pursed his lips. "People seek the fountain of youth, the mystery of eternal life, so why not the power over life and death itself? It's good enough of a reason for a lot of people to give it a try. Imagine what you can do if you can decide over one's life, or life in general? Power like that in the wrong hands could destroy all of mankind."

Hilde shivered, suddenly losing interest in her hot chocolate. "But aren't humans above that now? Look at where we are -- we have every bit of technology at our disposal, we have a logical or a scientific explanation for everything. We build space ships and colonies and we travel through stars, racing past the sun, we know every corner of every country..."

"We're nothing in the eyes of Gods and monsters," Howard muttered. "We fought like barbarians; we still fight like Neanderthals, only we now have laser beams and Gatling guns instead of clubs and rocks. All this modern technology, and what do we do with it? We build space colonies to escape our overcrowded Earth, and we have the gall to act surprised when conflicts rise there as well, perfectly mirroring the world we tried to leave behind."

"And as long as there are still people who don't hesitate to abuse others, and hold their own gain over others..."

"It can't be all bleak and grim like this," Hilde objected. "Anyway, even if you have the power to rule over life and death...what's there to gain? Eternal life for everyone? Death is an essential part of life. You can't stop it or rule over it."

"It could be possible if you have the complete scythe," Duo mused. "That's the point of this discussion. With the Never-Ending Circle complete in your hands, you can wield the scythe at your own will, cutting the life thread of anyone you want to, and make sure the ones you love will never die."

"That's playing God."

"Exactly. And if you're a rotten apple, you can use that power to gain more power, establish a nice war and make billions out of the warfare. Just an example. I don't think this is what Winner Sr. had in mind, though."

Howard shook his head. "What I gather from this is that the man simply wanted to uncover the artifact, in an attempt to triumph over his adversaries and over the people who have misjudged and abused him. By finding the Never-Ending Circle and presenting it to the archaeological world, they would have to take him seriously, and it would recover some of his name and status. I don't think he ever considered the implications of the artifact..."

"Or the consequences."

"What consequences?" Hilde asked.

"Some artifacts are better left alone," Duo said, slightly bitter. "Some aren't meant to be uncovered, or brought outside the place they've been hiding in. The myths surrounding them are there for a reason -- they serve as some kind of warning, but especially nowadays people see it rather as a challenge than a warning. Sometimes powers are involved, forces you can't name or ever held for possible."

"You're the one to know," Hilde nodded. "You've seen some of it first-hand. I'm only the one behind the scenes."

Duo threw her a grateful smile and stretched, shifting his legs around.

"It still leaves us with an unknown Chinese warrior with a katana who has taken the staff from me and the second part of Winner Sr.'s research. I have to call Quatre and tell him all about it. He'll probably be informed about it already, but I want to give him my version of the story. The true version, not the version of some gossiping, speculating tabloid. Then, we have to work our asses off to retrieve both parts of the artifact and keep anyone from joining the pieces."

"I thought so too," Howard said. "Good for you I've got quite the time on my hands..."

"Time enough to do this kind of work again, old man?"

"Who are you calling old?" Howard snorted. "I was digging up tombs while you were still running around in your diapers!"

"That's what I mean, old," Duo teased, head snapping to the right because he heard the door open. He had to squint his eyes immediately because of the light, but Hillary closed the door quickly behind him, carrying a new tray of refreshments, with the newspaper stacked neatly on top of it.

"My apologies, Master Maxwell," he said, "but I think there is an article in today's newspaper that you simply must see."

Duo lifted the newspaper off the tray, grinning as his helpful and handy butler had put a magnifying glass on top of the newspaper so he wouldn't have to strain his eyes to read the article. Blinking, he took up the magnifier and stared at the article.

"Treize Khushrenada is about to throw a party for the Romefeller Foundation?"

"Actually, Master Maxwell, it's the annual charity ball of the aforementioned Foundation, and the veritable highlight of the high society. Not only is everyone with a name in the archaeological world invited, but also celebrities, officials, influential people. If I may remind you, which I will be doing anyway, you receive an invitation every year as well, Master Maxwell."

"Don't tell me..." Duo stared at him.

"I expect it to be delivered either today or tomorrow."

"Into the lion's den?" Howard grinned.

"Hey, have I been known to do anything else?" Duo objected. He laughed a little, about to put the newspaper away when he suddenly stiffened. His grip on the magnifier became painfully tight as he leaned over the large printed picture next to the article. Howard frowned and exchanged a confused look with Hilde. Hillary busied himself with bustling about with the dishes and the new refreshments, quite curious as to what Duo was doing.

"What are you looking at, Duo?" Hilde finally asked, her voice bewildered.

"I'll be damned," he said softly. Howard stood up from his chair and closed the distance between them, looking over Duo's shoulder to see what got him all worked up. It was a picture of Khushrenada, waving to people, on his way to some kind of club he was reported to have visited 'until after midnight'. The main focus on the picture was Khushrenada himself of course, with impeccably groomed hair, bangs carefully styled to frame his high brow. A large part of his entourage had been captured on the picture as well -- to his left was Zechs Merquise, platinum blond hair tied back in a messy ponytail, behind them some burly bodyguards, and behind them...

Howard squinted his eyes, noticing the Asian features of the person standing completely to the left, wearing a white gi.

"Well I'll be damned," he repeated. "Is that the guy who attacked you?"

Hillary stopped his work and Hilde made her way over them as well, so everyone was leaning over Duo's shoulders, all trying to look at the picture.

"He can barely be seen..."

"He's a part of Khushrenada's entourage," Duo said, voice brimming with anger. "The bastards! They want us to do the dirty work and as soon as we're finished, step up to the plate and claim the honor and credit for themselves. Quatre told me that his father entrusted Khushrenada and Merquise with the execution of his fieldwork, naming him the chief executive officer, in charge of unearthing the artifact. Khushrenada had access to everything, equipment, funds, you name it. He was the closest to everyone and everything, and it was all taken away from him when Winner died. I bet my life's worth that Khushrenada's interested in the Never-Ending Circle himself, and it must've been quite the blow to him that Iria Winner shut his work down, depriving him from finding the second part."

"Are you sure?" Hilde asked, hesitant. "Isn't that a little too far-fetched..?"

"Work your magic fingers for me." Duo grinned as he rolled up the newspaper and tapped her on the shoulder with it. "Scan the picture, enlarge it and see if you can work with it to get a good shot, so we can identify the guy."

"Sure thing!" She showed her impish, tomboyish grin and took the newspaper from him.

"What are your plans, boss?" Howard perked up again. Back into business. Just like the old days. Duo's grin became menacingly wide.

"First of all, this year I am going to Khushrenada's charity event to meet the man myself. I want to find out what his weak points are, I want to know how he does business, how he's organized, what all these people are doing around him. Hilde, I want layouts of everything concerning the location of the ball: escape routes, access routes, everything. I want you and Howard to keep researching the Never-Ending Circle and dig through every little wad of paper to find out if someone else has done research on it. Check the international databases for the identity of the Chinese guy, and get any piece of information you can get on Khushrenada and his Romefeller cronies. Keep me up to date at all times. Howard, you're on stand by for everything. Hillary, I want to wear Armani."

"At your orders, sir!" The three of them chorused, and Hilde mock-saluted, joined by Howard.

"Get lost," Duo laughed. "I've given you your orders, now I get to rest. Shoo!" He sure hoped his eyes were back to normal before the ball, otherwise he would look ridiculous.

Part 4

The impressive black Lincoln stretch limousine slowly came to a halt in front of the red carpet leading up to the Khushrenada mansion. Duo brushed a speck of dust from his suit. He didn't care much for the impression he would make -- he never cared much for anyone else's opinion of him, unless it was the opinion of people who mattered to him. He pinned a flower on the lapel of his jacket, knowing that he looked absolutely stunning. His formfitting Armani tuxedo was black with velvet lapels and was combined with a dark red cummerbund and a black, silk shirt. The fabric of his tuxedo had been sprinkled modestly with a mist of silvery glitters, a detail that would catch everyone's attention for sure. His long braid, shiny and glistening from the amount of expensive hair care products used, was tied off with a piece of the same fabric and color as his cummerbund. The tabloids were going to have a field day with the arrival of Duo Maxwell; he was finally going to be spotted at an event for the high society instead of drinking or partying in a shady night club.

He had been photographed a thousand times over, and featured in gossipy articles sneering at him for drinking himself almost into a delirium. God, but did I have lots to flee from, Duo thought to himself. After Solo's death, he had fled archaeology and history, and had run right into bars, clubs and parties, as long as he could forget. The Romefeller Foundation Charity Ball was the most important society event tied to his field of interest. The majority of the guest list had been comprised of the most well-known key figures from national and international archaeology circles, together with top experts and professionals, professors and doctors, all known and recommended in their own line of work. To top it off, the Foundation had invited celebrities to get the money really rolling for charity purposes. Duo recognized most of the names and pursed his lips. Almost every one of them had visited the Maxwell Manor at least once, the famous and magnificent collection was an attraction to anyone interested in archaeology. Well, with Quatre Raberba Winner's commission under his belt, it was time to announce that he was back in business -- and no one, absolutely no one, fucked Duo Maxwell over, and certainly not for any dusty ol' artifact.

The door of the car was opened for him and Duo got out. His eyes -- still a little sensitive from the incident with the tear gas, but the swelling was down -- were protected by a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses as dozens of flash lights went off. A woman from national television almost broke the heel of her shoe in her hurry to get to him and to be the first one to ask him why he was here at the Romefeller Foundation Charity Ball -- wasn't this the first time ever that he attended?

Duo showed the woman a brilliant smile, glad that the sunglasses hid his eyes. Khushrenada hadn't cut back on media attention; it was more or less expected he would invite the press to get as much publicity as possible, all in the name of charity. Duo refrained from snorting and started to walk over the carpet, taking his time as he talked to several journalists and posed for some pictures, knowing that the large part of the attention went to his distinctive braid.

Showing off his brilliant smile and vaguely answering any question that got too personal, he made his way over to the entrance. Two bodyguard-like butlers were waiting at the large doors for him to hand over his invitation. Hillary had been right; the invitation had come the next morning. The first thing that Duo had done however, was to call Quatre and tell him everything what had happened at the office.

The CEO had been appalled. He had already received the news about a 'disturbance', but had no idea about the tear gas, let alone Duo being knocked out. It took Duo quite some time to explain that everything had gone according to plan -- until the Chinese young man had popped up out of nowhere.

"I have no idea who he is, yet," Duo told Quatre, glad that he wasn't talking to him face-to-face. The CEO sounded quite irate, despite his secret help. He had expected Duo to have the first part of the Never-Ending Circle, not other, mysterious people rummaging through his building. "I don't know if he's responsible for the tear gas, and his babble about the Never-Ending Circle belonging to his clan certainly came as a surprise to me."

"A clan, you say? Well, I'll certainly have Trowa look through our personnel files and maybe we can come up with a name." Quatre was even moreso baffled by the switched safe. "I really don't know what happened to it."

Duo had grinned on the phone, noticing how Trowa was upgraded from "Mister Barton" to "my associate" to "Trowa". While they were talking, Duo uploaded the scanned picture from the newspaper and e-mailed it to Quatre's secure, personal e-mail address. If the CEO could help him identify the mysterious Chinese, the better.

"Do you know who could've replaced the safe?" Duo regretted that he hadn't taken a picture of it; now he only had a general description to work with. Quatre didn't have the answer to the question.

"Lucrezia Noin is the secretary of that particular branch. I'll talk to her about it, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

The conversation had been brief and Duo hadn't heard from Quatre since; as he'd been busying himself with the preparations for the charity ball, he expected the CEO to be busy covering up all leads and inquiries about the 'disturbance'. Of course Quatre couldn't risk being discovered at encouraging Duo to break into his own offices just to get a hold on the contents of a safe... a safe that had been replaced, and had been the target of that strange Chinese warrior.

Duo left it to Hilde and Howard to work on the case as he'd instructed them to. Hillary had been pleased by Duo's plan to attend the ball, and had worked hard to get him to look at his very best for the event. Duo had teased him by dressing up in his 'party gear' on purpose -- tight leather jeans, mesh shirts, torn shirts, shirts with prints on them that made the loyal butler almost faint -- and after being exposed to a few more horrible shirts, Hillary had ordered Duo to get into the Armani tuxedo he just had tailor-made. At first, Duo had frowned, the black fabric and cut reminding him painfully of the suit he'd worn at Solo's funeral.

After an excruciating discussion, Duo had finally conceded. He'd put on the suit and rolled his eyes as he forced his feet into polished shoes, almost blinded by the shiny coating. His eyes had been treated with camomile and special eye drops. Hillary had made sure he followed doctor's orders and stressed the need to be careful with his vision. Albeit grumbling, Duo knew his butler knew best and took his prescribed hours of rest, even though it bothered him.

After showing his personal invitation, one of the bodyguard-butlers reached for the brass handle of the door and opened it for him. Duo, naturally impatient, was getting fed up with the ooh-ing and aah-ing of the press and photographers, and hopped inside.

It felt like travelling back in time. Most visitors of this mansion experienced the same feeling, as the perfectly replicated Victorian interior left nothing to the imagination. Everything was carefully decorated with amazing attention to detail; from tapestry to the carved panelling, the chandeliers and the paintings on the wall. The dress code for the event had been Victorian too, but Duo hadn't completely honored it. He wasn't fancying wigs or the pompous frills that came with the Victorian dressing style; the silver decoration on his tuxedo was more than festive enough decoration to him. Duo entered the large ball room, following the music. Most men were wearing modern tuxedos, ridiculously overpriced, and with a flower pinned to their lapel. He spotted quickly a few males who had complied with the dress code; their dandy outfits were very fitting for the era, rich in detail and probably uncomfortable to wear. The women however, especially the female celebrities, had gone to great lengths. The dresses were eccentric in color and style, and not a dime had been spared to outclass the other. With one small glance, Duo had already counted up to five million pounds worth of jewellery, worn by several ladies in their hair, or around their necks, wrists or fingers.

"What pompous shit," Duo muttered under his breath, while stuffing his Ray Ban into a small pocket.

"Champagne, sir?" The waiter next to him materialized out of nowhere, holding up a brass tray with the champagne flutes. He was dressed in a simple uniform, wearing a powdered wig; he was probably sweating like a pig, but he did a good job of not showing any discomfort.

"Thank you," Duo answered a little snottily and took a flute from the tray. He half expected heralds prancing around to announce the name of every guest arriving, but nobody looked up when he mingled himself with the crowd.

The ball room was huge and stunning, with the same attention for details like the rest of the mansion. Duo wandered around, sipping his champagne, admiring the decorations and the architecture. The ceiling was supported by marble arches at least twenty feet high. It was absolutely breathtaking and Hilde hadn't exaggerated when she had described it to him, pulling the information from articles on Khushrenada. In a prior interview the man had admitted he owned this mansion -- an estate like this, in the middle of the city, was worth a fortune. It wasn't as large as Maxwell Manor, but still... Duo knew from experience how much it took to keep up with such an estate, and not only the financial part.

Keeping an eye on the crowd, Duo was subconsciously searching for the Chinese warrior. He wasn't really sure if he'd show up. Amusedly, he nodded here and there and waved a few times. There were so many people, it was easy to play hide and seek. Khushrenada himself wouldn't make an entry until midnight; at that hour, he would announce the total of the money raised for charity. Until then, the orchestra would entertain the masses, playing a waltz -- Tchaikovsky, his classical trained mind provided -- and people were either on the large dance floor, at the overloaded buffets, or simply holding conversations with each other, networking their way around.

Duo recognized a lot of people; he noticed the familiar faces of those who'd been at the mansion before, who'd been close to the family or to his father. Maxwell Manor had been an open house to anyone; it had all fallen apart after the deaths in the family. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he knew the main reason why people were so hesitant in approaching him. He wasn't anything like Maxwell Sr., and he had chosen to close himself off from visitors and friends after Solo's death. Solo dying and Heero leaving him had been too hard for him to take -- the tough Duo Maxwell, the kick-ass, bad-ass Duo Maxwell, had been bawling like a baby in the year when his whole world had crashed down on him.

He ignored the curious stares as much as possible; he heard the whispered rumors, he saw the looks people were throwing at him. No doubt they were puzzled about why he was here at this year's well-organized charity ball instead of some kind of rave. It was no secret that Duo preferred clubs or bars over high socienty events like this.

Sipping of his excellent -- and obviously expensive -- champagne, Duo played innocent and returned friendly greetings to people, mentally attaching their names to their faces. He decided not to approach any of them yet; even though he could always use more information on Khushrenada, he wasn't here to ruffle any feathers...yet. Very little was known about Khushrenada; Hilde had tracked down a few interviews and a photo shoot, and from Winner Sr.'s notes -- he was gushing over the man's diligence and his tight grip on the strict excavation schedule -- Duo didn't have much to work with personality wise. Khushrenada was known in the archaeological crowd for his less-than-traditional methods, but what about the man in person? If he was ever going to find out where the staff of the Never-Ending Circle was, Duo probably had to tie Khushrenada down and torture the answers out of him. If only he could find the Chinese warrior and confront him...

"When did you accept the invitation?"

His body immediately stiffened. A cold, clammy hand seemed to wrap itself around his throat. Duo pursed his lips, temporarily lost for words when he heard the voice. That voice. He should've known, of course, but he had hoped to avoid him...after all, the mansion was large enough...Duo turned around, slowly.

"Since yesterday, actually," he said, turning up the snotty tone in his voice as his eyes raked over his ex-boyfriend and...settled on the hand he was holding with...a woman.

"Duo, allow me to introduce you to Relena Darlian Peacecraft...Relena, this is Duo Maxwell, curator of the internationally renowned and famous Maxwell collection and estate."

"It's an honor," the woman said, her voice pretty and soothingly. She extended her hand, wrapped in a perfect white, satin glove, a small golden band with sapphires adorning her ring finger. Duo took her hand gently and pressed a gallant kiss to it -- no need to act as a brute in presence of his ex.

"I've read about the extent of your collection, Mister Maxwell," Relena said, smiling at him. "Your work is a valuable asset to the world's archaeological past. It's good to know that there are still people caring so much for history, wanting to teach our children about how our ancestors lived and worked. We could all use your example to learn and to appreciate the wonders of the modern days."

"I take it Treize Khushrenada cares for the world's archaeological past as well." Duo returned the smile, nodding pleasantly at her and estimating her tiara and the rest of the jewellery she was wearing at almost half a million. Now he knew the reason why Heero was with her. He made for a good bodyguard.

She laughed softly, as if he'd told her a good joke. "Mister Khushrenada values history, but mostly its exterior," she said. "This," she made a wide gesture with her hand, "is all decoration to bring history to life. Not many value the real meaning behind it, or are risking their lives to bring history alive again. Considering that, my condolences still, Mister Maxwell."

His voice turned cold. "Thank you," he said curtly, turning his attention to Heero. He looked as handsome as ever in his suit, almost a mirror image of Duo's -- black and with an Italian cut, the lapels velvet and smooth, the flower firmly pinned to it. What was he doing at the hand of Relena Darlian Peacecraft?

The daughter of the vice minister of Foreign Affairs barely needed any introduction. She matched perfectly with Heero's suit, her dress not completely Victorian, but exclusive and more than beautiful, the rich fabric stressing her strongest features. Her long hair was braided and carefully positioned around her head to form a crown, topped off with an exclusive tiara heavy with emeralds, the green stones sparkling in the light of the many chandeliers. He couldn't place the sea green sash she was wearing, a silver seven-pointed star with another emerald holding it in place on her hip. The Darlian Peacecraft family was widely known and admired for their skills in politics and diplomacy, and their roots went back to very ancient royalty, even though Duo wasn't exactly aware from what monarchy. This family held many positions in national and international government, advocating pacifism and global disarmament. Not everyone was happy with this rather influential family; sadly, Relena's father, the very first minister of Foreign Affairs who had achieved many peace treaties, had been assassinated a few years ago.

She had to be here because of the charity she endorsed, but why was she holding Heero's hand? Good friends or more? The Queen of the World -- as many people had named her -- was unmarried, and a beautiful young woman to boot. Was Heero her lover? After all that he had been through with Duo? He had to forcefully suppress his jealousy, conveniently ignoring the raw fact that if Heero had been Relena's lover, he wouldn't have shown it as openly as he was doing now. Press and photographers were swarming all over the place, and any possible love interests of the Queen of the World would make headlines...and he knew Heero to not be open about anything in a public place.

"So nice to see you again," Duo said to Heero, unable to keep the cold tone out of his voice. He reminded himself to stay calm -- he had a commission to think of, not to rehash unsolved issues between him and his ex-boyfriend.

"I didn't expect you here," Heero murmured. "You're looking good. Very good."

"Thank you," Duo said, and left it at that. A painful silence fell. Relena looked a little quizzically from one to the other, before trying to strike up a polite conversation again.

"That's right -- Heero told me everything about you and him working together. You've been on such wonderful expeditions together, uncovering so many artifacts!"

"Ma'am, it's not all butterflies and roses," Duo retorted, "but more like stinking in your clothes because there aren't showers available. You're basically just trying to survive. We were often in the middle of jungles or deep into the mountains -- dangerous environments without any comfort or luxury, and despite the few good discoveries we made, there were a lot of missions lost or unfruitful because of set-backs or simple bad luck."

Relena tilted her head a little, the warm smile still gracing her lips, her silver earrings -- also adorned with emeralds -- dangling with every movement. The way she was holding Heero's hand and her envelope purse with the other, she was the epitome of the perfect princess, or rather the Queen of the ball.

"I think it's rather fascinating, Mister Maxwell. Have you ever considered writing a book, chronicling your travels?"

"I lost interest after my brother died," Duo replied brusquely. Relena could be genuinely interested, but he didn't care. This was exactly the reason why he didn't attend events like this; it all felt like a huge charade to him. It was a fa?de; this decoration, these clothes -- he preferred action, to be outside and discover the world by himself, instead of holed up with Queens and professors who had no idea how real life worked. This fake world was why he had kept his distance, away from everyone, and visiting nameless clubs and bars, drinking to forget, even if he could only forget for a moment. The Queen of the World was talking to him and she very well could've recited her shopping list. He had never cared for it -- Solo neither, Heero neither. They had been a trinity: Solo did the planning and made all the preparations; Heero was in charge of anything computers, electronical and practical matters; and he, Duo, was the expert on guns and adventures in itself. It had been a mistake to get back into the business again, thinking he could do it on his own...everything and everyone reminded him of Solo and his useless death. He should've stayed home at the manor and continued living like a hermit. He could spend his time as the curator of the collection, amidst archaic uniforms and dusty artifacts, and leave the exploring and adventuring to someone else. And probably go mad from loneliness or something.

"My apologies," the young woman muttered, her eyes seeking out Heero's, a little helpless.

He made a soothing motion towards her and said: "Solo Maxwell's death was a great tragedy to us all."

"So great that you couldn't even make it to show up on his funeral," Duo spat, and he turned around to leave before he would get himself into a fight.

He vaguely noticed Heero reaching for him, trying to stop him, but he brushed him off -- he wasn't interested in creating a scene, and he had a commission to finish. Retrieving the Never-Ending Circle was the first and last commission he would do on his own. He had felt sorry for Quatre, and allowed compassion for his obligations towards his family and father to rule his own decisions.

Feeling rather miserable, Duo made his way through the crowd, swaying from left to right as not to bump into anyone. Why the hell did Heero have to be here, and why did he have to cause such a flood of emotions? You've dealt with this before. It's over between you and him. You cried over it, and now you're only wallowing in self-pity again. Do you really think your brother would want you to see crying again? Get your act together, Maxwell. This is the right moment, the perfect opportunity to get back into business. You're not the kind of person to sit behind a desk and sift tediously through paperwork every day. You can prove you can do this on your own -- maybe it's painful in the beginning, but your victory will be all the sweeter when you pull it off on your own. You know you can do this. No matter how much you want Heero by your side, this commission is the perfect opportunity to show that you're back in business, and that's final!

Duo grimaced and wondered why his own conscious was so stubborn and repetetive, but he grabbed another champagne flute from a passing waiter's tray and almost downed it in one big gulp before he realized what he was doing.

"Keep your head clear, Maxwell," he mentally chastised himself and put the flute away. He had always been so good at keeping up his mask -- why did it always break so easily when Heero was around?

Because he had confided in him, because he had trusted him...because I thought we were going to be together forever. Duo heaved a deep sigh before collecting his bearings and he turned around again, facing the people caught up in their activities -- dancing, eating, drinking, talking... He had come to this charity ball for a reason and he'd better make use of the moment. It was his own fault anyway -- he should've known Heero would be here. And with the Queen of the World, no less. Duo checked his watch. It was getting close to midnight, and people were getting excited, the buzz of Khushrenada's arrival growing stronger with every passing second. Just another fifteen minutes and the man would appear, his own greatest guest.

At the exact hour of midnight, it was typically Khushrenada to use the special moment out of fairy tales, it would be announced how much money had been raised for charity. Every eye would be focused on Treize Khushrenada and his cronies, and not on Duo Maxwell. He wouldn't be missed...not at all. A large balcony overshadowed the ball room. The grand stairs leading towards it, was exactly the spot where Khushrenada would make his appearance; the man knew dramatics.

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. Moving towards the back of the ball room, Duo used the large shadows casted by the marble pillars to disappear from sight. The closer it was getting to midnight, the more excited the guests became, and people were moving forward to gather around the balcony, awaiting their host's arrival.

The lights were dimmed and the live orchestra stopped playing, only to assume a tension-increasing drumroll. Duo snorted, but used the brief moment when the lights were dimmed, to exit the ball room, slipping past the guards without getting noticed. He didn't have his headset, his guns or his trusty backup of either Hilde or Howard this time; Duo had gone to the ball to gather information on Khushrenada and to find the Chinese warrior if he was really lucky. Finding the Never-Ending Circle in this mansion would be a bonus.

Duo had hidden blades upon his body to defend himself just in case; this was a recon mission, not a 'get into a fight' mission. Snooping around, not fighting. He firmly put every thought of Heero out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. He mentally checked the layout of the estate he had memorized. Personal quarters and offices were located at the first floor, roughly above the ball room. The staircases were at the end of both the north and the south wing; his best chance was to find the small, hidden staircase -- for discreet use by personnel only -- to get to the first floor. Duo passed the many doors in the hallway, using the dim lights to his advantage; he assumed Khushrenada had a closed video circuit system set up and he didn't want to be caught on tape. He was going to need all his proficiency in stealth.

At the end of the hallway he could choose between going left or right; the small corridor to the left went to the garage and other quarters that weren't of any interest to him. The corridor to the right connected the large wings of the mansion with each other, and would lead him to the staircase and the rooms on the first floor. Confident, Duo went to the right and found the stairs, carpeted thinly and showing signs of intense use. He was glad he wasn't wearing his steel-toed boots; they would've made an awful noise on the worn and creaky wood. He went upstairs, stealthily, concentrated on his environment and any noises. Hilde had found out that Khushrenada used this estate as his personal residence when he was in the country, receiving guests, but when he was out in the field, he stayed at the most luxurious hotels. It had boggled Duo's mind why Khushrenada was working in the first place -- the man obviously had more than enough money to lead a comfortable, easy life. He might just be someone fascinated by archaeology and simply playing around in the field, just like Winner Sr.. What was his interest for the Never-Ending Circle exactly, and, if the Chinese guy worked for him, what was the connection between them?

A picture wasn't enough evidence to tie the Chinese to Khushrenada -- they were photographed together, but that was really all there was to it. It didn't have to necessarily mean they knew each other. It was a complete mystery to Duo why Khushrenada had been working for a man like Winner Sr.. His theory was that Khushrenada had only took the position as to obtain the artifact for himself. What does he want with the instrument of a God of Death?

Another small corridor, connecting the servant quarters to a second kitchen. He could hear people bustling about: something clattered on the floor, it sounded like someone dropping the lid of a pan, followed by a string of curses. Dinnerware and glasses, and the scent of delicious food -- reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything yet, his stomach growling as to get the point across -- Duo had wondered why the previous owners or the architects of this mansion had decided to build a kitchen on the first floor when there was already one on the ground floor. Maybe it was for personnel only; but Duo wasn't here to ponder about architecture. The doors to the kitchen were closed, just like every door of the servant quarters. No one was in sight, he could just hear them talk and move behind the doors, obviously busy. They were working instead of waltzing under a chandelier in a fancy decorated ball room.

He had memorized the location of Khushrenada's private quarters. Even though he wouldn't be missed at the ball, he couldn't spend all his time snooping around here. If he got caught, he couldn't hide behind the excuse that he had been looking for the bar either. Duo had a rapid tongue and a smooth talk, but he doubted he could talk his way out of this if someone were to find him way up here. As he moved along, he had to go around corners, go up another staircase and walk down another long corridor, before he found the quarters belonging to Khushrenada. Despite being on another floor, Duo could hear a thunderous applause. Apparently, the man had made his grand entrance -- good, as long as everyone was occupied with the charity and Khushrenada, no one would think of going after Duo Maxwell.

Of course his office was locked. It didn't pose much of a problem to Duo, who used one of his blades to slip it between the door and its post, lifting the lock easily. He had at least expected some nifty, ingenious or electronical alarm; apparently Khushrenada didn't think he needed proper security for his own office. It was suspicious, and Duo moved very carefully, checking for laser traps, cameras, anything out of place. Turning on his flash light that was no thicker than a common fountain pen, he wasn't the least bit surprised to see the luxurious and lavishly decorations and furniture. Campbell Grant could learn something from the master; this was by far outshining his office at the W.E.I. branch. Every piece of furniture was an exclusive, hand-made product and it smelled like it had been recently unwrapped out of plastic, straight from the maker. Either that, or Khushrenada wasn't here often enough to give his office a personal touch. The huge desk in the middle immediately caught Duo's attention; he noticed a laptop still running, the screen faintly glowing. Next to it was a stack of papers, neatly bundled together. Two pens -- Parkers, of course, engraved with Khushrenada's name -- lied in the exact center between the laptop and the stack of papers.

Duo hopped behind the desk, eyes darting around to see if there was something of use to him. If he could only find a clue, one little bit of information on the Never-Ending Circle, on the Chinese warrior, a connection...his hand went to the stack of papers, but there was nothing in it that he could use. Letters of people inquiring for commissions, appraisals, money, a little bit of attention. Nothing on the artifact, and nothing in Chinese. With a sigh, he turned his attention towards the laptop. The cursor from the word processing program was blinking. Khushrenada was either sloppy or had left in a hurry; Duo leaned forward to read the text the man had typed, briefly wondering why the prodigy child of the Romefeller Foundation didn't have a secretary to write his letters.

The sound of a gun being cocked to his head didn't really surprise him. Duo didn't even look up. There was only one person in the world capable of being this stealthy and walk up to him without a sound, and holding a gun to his head to boot.

"Christ, Heero, you've got to stop pointing guns at people," Duo said, annoyed. "Especially if they're your ex-boyfriend."

"An ex-boyfriend with a very sneaky attitude," Heero said, not moving the gun away. "What are you doing here? This is Khushrenada's office."

"Thank you for pointing that out to me," Duo answered. "I really didn't know. To answer your question: I'm just snooping around. And you? Are you his bodyguard, or are you looking for something as well?"

"I'm not looking for something," Heero said, "you already got the commission."

"Don't tell me you envy me as a competitive professional," Duo answered airily.

"I'm not envying you, Duo. Just answer the question."

"I already told you, I'm just snooping around."

"That's not an answer, Duo. You know what I mean. Khushrenada doesn't appreciate people snooping around. I thought you had more class than that."

"What do you know?" Duo snorted. "You have no right to say you thought you knew something about me. You lost that right about two years ago."

"Quit it, Duo," Heero said, annoyance audible, but he withdrew his gun.

"Look pal, you fucked up and fucked up big time. Duo Maxwell doesn't like to be screwed over," he said, cheeks heated with anger. "You work for Khushrenada, right? You..."

"He hired me for the same reason Winner hired you."

The same reason? Duo was dumbfounded for a moment. Khushrenada wouldn't hire him to restore his father's name. It's only about the artifact and what it does.

"So...I guess it's a race between us then, eh?" Duo said, a grin returning full force. "I never thought of that." It wasn't very uncommon to commission multiple people for one and the same artifact; Duo, when together with his brother and Heero, had raced other teams for a discovery.

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into," Heero said, his voice heavy with the warning. "This is too much for one person alone, Duo."

"Do tell me," Duo answered.

"What were you planning to do with Winner's data?"

"What else but heating my fireplace with it?"

"Quit it. You had Winner's data. What were you planning to do with it?"

"I had it, yeah, and you know very well what I was planning to do with it if I still had it. Now that you're here and followed me into this room to put a fucking gun to my head has showed me that you know exactly what I was planning to do."

"Duo," Heero said softly.

Duo couldn't resist for long anyway. He lowered his eyes, unable to glare back. This was Heero, not an enemy. As much as he told it himself, Heero was not the enemy. His voice took on the same, soft tone.

"Why are you after the artifact, Heero?"

"The same reason as you are -- I was commissioned."

"But why? Khushrenada was commissioned by Winner Sr., and now he commissions you? To complete the Never-Ending Circle? Why are you working for Khushrenada? For the money?"

Heero cringed. "It's not like that, Duo. I made mistakes..."

"Why don't you go back to your perfect little doll?"

"Relena Darlian Peacecraft isn't a damsel in distress..."

"I thought she was, as tigthly as she was holding your hand."

"You're pushing too hard," Heero gritted his teeth. "There's no need for all of this..."

"Fuck off, Heero Yuy," Duo hissed. "I don't need you. I needed you once, but you didn't pull through -- worse, you chose the worse time of my whole life to abandon me! And..."

"A lover's quarrel? How...sweet," a rich, dark voice spoke out loud in the office. Both Duo and Heero snapped their heads to the right as Treize Khushrenada, accompanied by his usual entourage, entered the large room. "Gentlemen, you made enough noise to be heard on the other side of the ocean."

"Good evening to you too," Duo answered. "You have a nice ball."

"My pleasure," the man answered. "I was hoping you'd come this year."

Duo narrowed his eyes, counting silently how many men were in the room by now. Zechs Merquise, silent as ever, was standing next to Khushrenada. His position was unclear to Duo, but he knew Merquise had been Khushrenada's friend and ally for as long as they knew each other; and the gun holster on his hip was more than obvious. The others, nameless goons dressed in a ridiculous uniform that couldn't be tracked down to any historical era, were standing up straight like a personal army, ready to draw a gun and fire when necessary. There was no sign of the Chinese warrior.

"It's good to see you, Duo Maxwell. The archaeological world is so boring without your dazzling presence. You don't know how much I rejoiced when I heard that you took up your...active participation in expeditions and commissions again. How good of you."

"Wouldn't you know," Duo said. "What's the kind of game you're playing here, Khushrenada?" He turned the laptop around, showing the half-finished letter in the word processing program. "A letter offering your services as chief supervisor of an archaeological dig in Vilcabamba, Peru? I especially like your references to the Winner excavation and your excellent expertise in fieldwork. What's the problem, man? Can't find something you want, or don't want to spend any money on it yourself?"

"Mister Maxwell, do I look like the type who needs to cut back on spending?" Khushrenada snorted disdainfully. "I have enough funds at my hands, liquid funds, not old money rotting away in some dusty collection. My offer for the samurai uniforms still stands, by the way."

"Despite the dust?" Duo inquired.

"Despite the dust." The man had the guts to smile. "After all, I have the best tailors and craftsmen who exactly know how to preserve that kind of fabric."

"You should've asked them to preserve the kind of fabric you're wearing as well," Duo said dryly, his eyes raking over Khushrenada's extravagant costume.

"Armani looks very good on you, Mister Maxwell. Don't make me want to ruin it."

Duo remained silent, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. He stood straight up, his eyes blazing fiercely and his mouth a tight line -- he wasn't afraid, though the situation was starting to get ugly. Never show them your fear or worries. Always act like you have the upper hand. His eyes darted back to Khushrenada. Merquise could be a little trigger-happy, and the other goons looked about ready to draw and fire even without the command of their boss.

He obviously had to get out of here. No one in the room was on his side -- he didn't consider Heero -- and he didn't have his usual backup or support. His speed and accurate aim with knives wouldn't help him much when facing ten people with guns. Heero had been silent, strangely so -- he almost seemed meek in the presence of Khushrenada. Duo felt his blood starting to boil, but strangely enough his anger wasn't entirely focused on Heero. He was not his enemy, Khushrenada and his mysterious Chinese friend was; and he had to stay calm and composed.

"What's your deal with the Never-Ending Circle?" he bluntly asked. Khushrenada showed a mock-hurt expression.

"You talk as if I'm planning to do evil, bad things with it," he said. "I'm just a collector, like you...and I've always fancied the rarest and strangest of artifacts."

"Let me get this straight. You simply worked for Winner because he financed and organized the expedition, right? It saved you a lot of trouble, with someone else doing all the research for you. All you had to do was to supervise some work and collect the artifact at the right moment, taking all the credit for it. You abused the man's naivety to make yourself look better."

"Winner was a good man, but stupid," Khushranada agreed, staring at his nails as if they fascinated him. "He was blindly pumping money into his unrealistic dream of restoring his name and credibility by trying to find a nearly impossible to find object."

"Nearly impossible, but not impossible. With his help, you did find the staff."

"Which you stole from the Winner vault."

"I retrieved it by request, and it was stolen from me. You have fooled the father, but you can't fool the son. He wants his father's name restored..."

"How noble and utterly pointless."

"...as he believed Winner Sr.. was murdered for his discovery."

Silence fell. Even Khushrenada was speechless, and it took him a precious minute before he turned his lips into a cruel smile, immediately followed by boisterous laughter.

"Murdered? He should've called the police instead of commissioning you to find the rest of the artifact, Mister Maxwell. I'm sure an autopsy will rule out any unnatural cause of death, if all this suspicion about murder is true. There wasn't much lost with him."

"His son believes he was murdered for the artifact, Khushrenada. What happened? Afraid that a stupid, bumbling semi-archaeologist would succeed where you couldn't, despite all your money and your fame? You didn't want him to run off with the honor and credit of finding one of the world's most mysterious and mythical artifacts, believed to give its wielder the power over life and death?"

He shook his head. "You are off by a long shot, Mister Maxwell. Winner wasn't a friend of mine, he was my employer. He was the founder of the expedition and hired me as supervisor to retrieve the artifact. We were grateful for his extensive research, as we didn't know exactly where to look for it. We were extremely lucky to find the first part and with his death, the expedition was ended, called off, finished. Do you really think I would murder the hand that fed me, especially when Winner was working and researching on finding the second half? I'm merely...expanding my horizon, following my own way as I continue to look for the Never-Ending Circle. I'll readily admit that the artifact is fascinating. It's not a crime admitting that you want a certain object."

"So you don't shun any method of retrieving it, using Winner and his facilities shamelessly until his death, and then you go on to find someone else to rope into your plans."

"I would call it 'collaboration'," the man answered, tone flat. "Such hostility, Mister Maxwell. You should've enjoyed some more champagne and maybe a little bit of dancing this evening, instead of snooping around."

Duo shrugged. "What else do you expect when one's attacked by katanas and tear gas? Applause?"

"Katanas and tear gas," Khushrenada repeated, his voice still flat.

"Oh, so you mean that the Chinese guy isn't working for you? This is a total surprise to you?"

"Don't tell me our famous adventurer can't handle a little setback," Khushrenada suddenly sneered. "Everything goes in our business, Mister Maxwell, especially when it involves such a priceless artifact as the Never-Ending Circle. Don't take it so personally."

"Well, if everything really goes in our business, you shouldn't be so upset over finding me snooping around here."

"Touche?" Merquise said, the first thing Duo heard from him since he entered the room. He couldn't help but grin. Khushrenada's lack of response told him he didn't mind the critique from the other man. Interesting.

"Touche and between a rock and a hard place," Khushrenada said, pursing his lips. Duo didn't like the look on his face; as if he was scheming to kill him. Too many witnesses, and was Khushrenada really capable of murder? He wasn't so sure of it. Quatre believed his father was murdered, and Duo had never stopped to think that Khushrenada might be the murderer -- why would the man indeed kill him, as he was financing the expedition? However, he was starting to feel uncomfortable. Merquise's expression was neutral, but his hand was close to the gun holster on his hip. The goons looked like they all needed a brain transplant, and Heero... Heero's face was painfully neutral too.

Hilde, Howard and Hillary knew where he was. The Maxwell name was still a very important one, and his death would raise questions, no matter what. It was a creepy staring contest, with Merquise, Khushrenada and Heero staring at him, and Duo staring back. Were they gauging the consequences of his death? Were they contemplating killing him, right here, right now? Was Khushrenada really prepared to go all the way, and more importantly, was Heero going to allow him? Duo wanted to talk to Heero in private, without accusations, without...feeling guilty about how he treated him. It was easy to fling anger and accusations around without hearing the other side of the story...

"I suggest you go home right now, Mister Maxwell," Khushrenada broke the silence, "and do not bother coming back, ever. You're a serious mood killer."

"I do the best I can," Duo said, clenching his hands into fists as two of the largest goons approached him. He wasn't about to go down without a fight, but these two outweighed him, not too mention they were twice his size. He could reach for his knives fast enough to give these guys a nasty surprise. A spark excitement ran through him when he saw Heero moving slightly, fingers at his guns -- that was enough movement for Duo to know that Heero had his back, just like the old days.

However, the burly goons didn't approach him for a fight. They took him brusquely by the arms, forcing him to walk, escorting him right out of the office. With a disappointed look on his face, Duo had no choice but to walk with them, both men poking him to keep moving. Grimacing, he was led all the way down, his companions not leaving his side for a second. This was a different way then he had come; he got dizzy from all the corridors, hallways, corners and stairs. Finally, one of the goons opened a large door and yanked at his arm to push him outside, all but throwing him out.

"Well yeah, fuck you too!" Duo snarled, staggering, flailing with his arms to keep his balance. The door closed behind him before he could add more expletives, and he huffed indignantly. Annoyed, he yanked the crumpled flower from his jacket, and threw it on the ground.

"Stupid fuckers!" He looked up and snorted. It was typically Khushrenada to have his goons thrown out any unwanted guests through the personnel entrance. He was going to have to walk all the way around the estate to get back to the large driveway with the red carpet. Heaving a sigh, he started walking. There was nothing else he could do right now and the night was cool and breezy -- an excellent opportunity for him to clear his mind.

He arrived at the main entrance, still littered with the press, taking pictures of guests leaving. It was far past midnight and Duo wanted to go to bed. He wanted to think about everything but the Never-Ending Circle and Khushrenada.

"Your limousine will be right up, sir," the head valet nodded at him, and Duo made sure to tip him well when the black Lincoln stretch drove up.

"How was your evening, sir?" The chauffeur said. Duo mumbled a non-committal reply, dropping on the backseat and stretching his legs. He wished for Howard, or even Hilde, to drive the car, but Hillary had insisted on this limo and chauffeur to make a good entrance. It was fine. He was going to be home real soon anyway.

Duo closed his eyes as he rubbed his temples. He shifted on the backseat, almost dozing off in the tranquility of the car. It started to dawn him that the limousine was driving faster than usual -- were they on a highway? They didn't need to take any highway back to Maxwell Manor.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked.

"I'm sorry Mister Maxwell, but there's this...idiot tailgating me," the chauffeur answered. "I try to enlarge the distance between us, but he keeps coming back..."

Duo shifted around again, squinting his eyes at the bright lights shining into the rear window of the limo. Whoever was behind him, he was way too close...as the lights approached too fast and too bright, Duo subconsciously braced himself for the hit, cursing out loud when glass splintered all over him.

"What the hell!"

"I'm calling the police!" The chauffeur's hand went to the car kit, thick fingers pressing the buttons. Duo had barely time to brace himself for another hit, and sparks flew around when metal hit metal at very high speed. The chauffeur yelped in fear, losing concentration for a moment and the vehicle veered to the right, almost driving off of the road.

"Fuck! Pay attention to the road! I'll call the police!" Duo's hand went inside his jacket, plucking out his cell phone. Thank whoever who made them this small, he thought bitterly as he tried to dial, his fingers cut from the glass. He stared through the open window, trying to make out the characteristics of the car hitting him. It was a van, black as the night itself, no license plate...and the limo was rammed from the left, the impact to great and unexpected that Duo lost his cell phone. He cursed loudly, grabbing wildly around to find his phone, only to cut himself more on the glass. The sound of roaring engines was deafening -- there were two cars trying to get him off the road. He knew this road very well -- in another few miles, it would meet up with a very rapidly flowing, very deep river. Duo could put one and one together just like anyone else. They were trying to drive him into the river.

Shit! Duo climbed forward, really wishing that Howard had been behind the wheel instead of the scared man. "Get yourself into the passenger's seat! I'll drive!" he bellowed. The chauffeur made panicked noises, and gripped the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.

"I...I...!"

"Go! Just fucking move!" Duo started to tug at the man, forcing him to move. He couldn't blame the chauffeur; the car was hit again, metal slamming into metal, the sounds were horrible. It was scary, Duo was scared himself, but adrenaline had taken over. He knew how to drive -- he wasn't going to die in a car crash like this. He pushed and kicked, working the driver out of his seat. "Come on! We don't have time for this!"

He slid onto the driver's seat just as the car was bumped from the rear again, and Duo was thrown forward, hitting his head on the steering wheel. "Fuck!"

Hissing in pain, he finally settled himself behind the wheel as the chauffeur climbed into the passenger's seat, bewilderedly. He wasn't of much help, he was panicked and in shock -- and if Duo didn't do something fast, they would be pushed off of the road and plunge into an ice cold and deep river...fuck! Could this be Khushrenada's work? Had he decided to want him dead after all, ruling over life and death even without his precious artifact?

Asshole...! He yanked at the wheel, gritting his teeth. They had him in a classical pincher movement; one car behind him, one car next to him, and a nasty curve with a river coming up pretty fast. Khushrenada wasn't going to get his way!

"Buckle up!" Duo yelled, doing the same as he pushed his foot onto the gas pedal. The limousine bucked, not picking up on real speed -- Duo groaned. How was he supposed to escape his pursuers with a sluggish car like this? Pursing his lips, he kept his eyes on the road, stealing a glance at the chauffeur who frantically buckled up, silently mouthing prayers.

"Relax," Duo yelled at him, hearing the irony in his own, slightly panicked voice. "Keep your body relaxed!"

"We're..." The man stuttered.

"Can you swim?" Duo yelled.

"Wh-what?"

"Can you swim?!" Even so, they wouldn't survive going down the deep end of the river. If the crash of the car in the water didn't kill them, they would surely die of hypothermia.

"I have a wife.. and kids!" The man blurted out. "We.. we're..."

"We're going to crash, but we're not going to die," Duo said, mentally slapping himself for his bad choice of words. The man stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers and huddled into himself. The remaining window on his right shattered into a million pieces.

"What...?"

Gunshots. He heard it too! Duo steered more to the right, cursing mentally. Chasing and shooting -- if this was Khushrenada's doing, then he was thorough...and he was going to pay for this, the pompous moron. Duo solemnly swore to find the Never-Ending Circle and use the scythe on him -- that was, if he managed to get out of here alive.

The screeching of metal on metal didn't stop, and they were hit from behind again. Duo groaned as the safety belt cut in his skin. Every window was shattered now, glass spilling on every seat. He frantically pumped with his foot on the gas pedal; why wasn't this a Mercedes, for crying out loud? Just another mile and his pursuers had every chance to drive him off the road!

"Hold on," he said. He didn't check up on the chauffeur if he had heard him, as he was too busy with the car and a final, mental prayer; this was a stretch limo, and with a little bit of luck, he could make use of it and get out of here alive... with a sudden tug on the steering wheel to the left, he forced the front of the limo against the car driving next to him. Hot sparks flew around, scorcing his skin whenever they touched him, the screeching sound was horrendous. Hold on. He took a huge gulp of breath before he slammed the brakes.

The van behind them totalled the back end of the stretch limousine, ripping off metal when the engine ploughed into the other car. Metal, fabric and wood from the interior of the limo crumpled like a piece of paper, glass flying around, the accompanying horrible sounds indescribable, and Duo didn't realize how hard he was screaming himself until his voice gave out of him. The limo got into a spin, and despite his earlier advice to the chauffeur to keep his body relaxed, every muscle and every fiber of his body tensed up, preparing for another hit, preparing for another slam, preparing for...death, perhaps.

Finally, there was nothing more but silence.

The deployed airbag had saved his face from smacking right into the steering wheel. The force from the impact had yanked and twisted him around in his seat wildly and violently and Duo groaned, his muscles protesting and aching. His mind was racing. What happened to the other car and the van? There was still danger... he wasn't safe yet. He quickly looked to the right, noticing the chauffeur. He was leaning into his airbag, unconscious. His arms dangled limply, body tightly strapped in, saved by his safety belt. A little blood was visible -- he'd been cut by the glass flying all around, but at least he was breathing and not fatally wounded. Duo fumbled for one of his knives while his other hand undid his own belt.

Carefully, Duo managed to open the door, hissing once again when he stepped right into glass. He wasn't wearing his usual combat boots -- this would end up as a hole in his shoe, but he couldn't care less. Duo walked to the car to the left, but the open doors were tell-tale signs. There was no one in it. He trembled, his body running on adrenaline, but the shock of the crash was getting to him. The knife in his hand wavered. He wasn't able to defend himself, not like this. Groaning, he turned around and made his way over to the van.

It was abandoned. The airbag had deployed as well, and there was blood on the fabric. The driver had been cut loose; Duo touched the safety belt, neatly cut in two. There was nothing in the van at first sight; rental cars perhaps, with false names and fake ID for the paperwork. He punched the car seat. Damn it!

"Oh my God! Are you all right?" An elderly woman stood next to him, horror and shock written all over her face. "You young people and your darn thirst for speed! We saw it happen! I told Burt that you youngsters were driving way too fast!"

"Ma'am..." Duo started, but shivered violently the next second. The cool air had become freezing cold, and to make matters worse, it started to rain lightly. He managed to slip the knife back into its original position before the woman could notice it.

"We better not keep standing in the middle of the road," an elderly man friendly said. Another car was approaching, its bright lights almost blinding Duo. "We have to warn the police and make sure that all traffic is properly handled."

It was a busy road, even in the hours after midnight, and Duo was grateful that people were willing to help him. The driver of the second car, a young guy who had gone to the movies with his girlfriend, whipped out his cell phone to make the calls. Meekly, he stepped to the side, with the elderly couple talking about how they returned from visiting their grandchildren and how reckless and irresponsible today's youth was... he allowed the words to wash over him. He was cold and tired, and desperately longed for a bath...and for Heero to be with him. In the middle of the night, after this horrible event, he wanted to be held and comforted as the adrenaline was wearing off, and realization was hitting him. They had tried to kill him. Cars and guns, to get him off the road, to make him plunge into the river and drown... he could hear the vast torrents of the river in the distance, and when he was given a blanket by the first cop to arrive on the scene, he gratefully latched onto its warmth.

Part 5

It was late, very late when the police car drove up to Maxwell Manor. Duo, wrapped in blankets, was dozing on the back seat. His ears were still ringing from the screeching sounds of metal on metal, his eyes were still showing him the memories of what had happened, like a CD playing over and over again. His body couldn't quite stop trembling. Paramedics had examined him after arriving at the scene, telling him that he was in shock -- it had taken Duo quite some smooth talking to not be brought to the emergency room. He insisted that he was okay, that he could deal with it. He wasn't injured but for some cuts and scrapes from the broken glass, and he finally managed to distract the paramedics by focusing their attention on his chauffeur. The man had gained consciousness, only to lose it immediately again; he wasn't in any state to answer the questions of the police, and he was taken to the hospital right away. Duo was exhausted and wanted to go home. He didn't have an explanation for the disappearance of the other drivers either, and when the police questioned him, he could only repeat that he wanted to go home. Through the years, the Maxwell family had always been on good standing with the local police force and their commissioner and much to Duo's relief, nobody gave him a hard time and offered him a ride home.

While they were driving, Duo was thinking about what happened, but aside his ringing ears and the flashing images in front of his eyes of the car hitting the limousine, full impact, there was nothing his mind could come up with. He was drawing a total blank here, not even thinking of Khushrenada or Merquise...strangely enough, he was thinking of Heero, of being held, of being protected. He looked at his hands -- still trembling -- and wished that he was home already.

As if the man had psychic powers, Hillary was waiting for him on the large steps of the Manor, every light on, the large oak door wide open. Genuine concern etched his face, and he quickly descended the steps as the car came to a halt.

Hillary all but yanked the door open. "Master Maxwell, you are so late...what happened?"

"Nothing much," Duo answered too lightly, as he got out of the car. He looked completely dishevelled and his voice dropped a little when he asked: "Any news?"

The butler heaved an overly dramatic sigh. When both the Maxwell brothers still were going on expeditions, he was used to get news from all over the world about the trouble they got themselves into, be it with any political force, the law or bad people in general. Duo apparently still had that perfect nose for trouble, judging from the police car that had brought him home and the state he was in. Duo already started to climb the steps, and after a quick "Thank you" to the two officers in the car, Hillary hurried after his master.

"Master Maxwell, I will call the shiatsu therapist to see you as soon as possible, and you need a bath, and your suit...!"

"Any news?" Duo repeated stubbornly, shedding the jacket and dropping it unceremoniously on the hallway floor. Hillary shook his head and closed the door. The loud echo made Duo jump. The butler pretended not to notice and turned around to pick up a few files from the small mahogany side table.

"Miss Schbeiker identified the Chinese man for you," he said, handing Duo the first file. Hillary cringed when Duo flopped down on one of the large sofas, shoes scraping over the fragile fabric.

"Chang Wufei, presumedly the last descendant of the infamous Chang clan in charge of the L5 colony and their subsequent self-destruction," the butler supplied.

"That happened ages ago, during the First War between Earth and the space colonies," Duo murmured. "He's far too young to have witnessed that."

"Exactly, but the Chang clan was not eradicated with the tragic self-destruction of L5. Apparently there have been some...stray, or estranged, clan masters and descendants in the rural, more secluded areas of China. Wufei is believed to be one of those, raised in the most ancient and fanatic traditions of the Chang clan. A dragon is their sign, of course -- and their gi is a variation on the gi we know from the Japanese culture, only theirs is longer. Slightly impractical, but well...that is their tradition, I guess."

Duo leafed through the papers, not bothering to read the small text. "No criminal record, no education or job records...not even an official identification, nothing! This guy is a ghost! How in the hell was Hilde able to find him?"

"You will have to ask Miss Schbeiker yourself," Hillary said, grinning uncharacteristically. "I am sure she will be very pleased with your...ah, compliments."

Duo laughed, regretting it the next second as his ribs started to ache. He'd been damn lucky to survive such an accident with only cuts and bruises. His body was aching all over, but that was nothing compared to the injuries of his chauffeur. It had been fairly obvious the man had broken ribs and a concussion, maybe even a skull fracture -- he made a quick mental note to check up on the man soon. The driver of the car that had rear-ended them should've been dead by force of the impact; how could he have gotten away? Duo shivered and swung his legs over the sofa. He stood up and swayed a little to the left before he found his balance again. Yes, he really needed to go to bed.

"What about the other file?"

"Master Howard wants to talk to you about the artifact, the staff in particular," Hillary said. "He has found something in late Master Winner's notes and was able to find some legends on the subject. He also managed to expand on late Master Winner's notes. He spent the entire day studying them."

"Good ol' Howard," Duo muttered. "As soon as possible, or...?" Knowing Howard, he appreciated being called immediately, no matter what the hour.

"As soon as you got home, Master Maxwell. He didn't mind the time."

"I thought so. Oh, one more thing, Hillary..."

"Yes?"

"Have my office extensively swept for bugs of the tiniest and most annoying kind," Duo said, though his voice lacked any vehemence. "That'll be all."

"Of course, Master Maxwell. Thank you, and have a good night."

"Good night," Duo replied, not bothering to stifle a yawn as he tugged at his shirt. He had forgotten that he had thrown his jacket on the floor earlier. It was morning already, he could see the sun rising through the large windows. He didn't need another reminder that he needed some sleep. He was exhausted.

Lost in thought, Duo crossed the large hallway, his steps smothered by the thick carpet. The same carpet was put in all the rooms on the first floor, except for the music room. His father had installed a wooden floor there to heighten the acoustic experience. Duo never played on the grand B?endorfer, he had loathed the boring music lessons. Solo had adored the piano, and that was the only reason it was still in the house.

There was no sound but the ticking of the large clock in the hallway. It was so loud he could even hear it all the way up here, on the first floor. A small shiver ran down his spine. The clock was one of the many heirlooms of the Maxwell family, a monument still standing century after century, simply ticking. Duo shivered again. The clock reminded him that he was living all alone at this huge mansion. Sometimes it gave him the shivers as if his time was running out, literally. No more time to be with someone, no more time like the time he spend with Heero. His feet moved, one in front of the other. Hillary had his quarters on the ground floor, and even though Duo valued him as a friend, he wasn't family.

Duo opened the door to his bedroom, trying to steer his train of thoughts towards more pleasant things. A hot shower for example, with some of that new shampoo he recently discovered? This Armani suit was itching, he felt like a dressed up chimp. He took off his watch and dumped it into a copper bowl on a sidetable. Snapping the tie on the end of his braid, Duo walked over to his bed, yawning again. He picked up the phone, a small smile gracing his features as he had no trouble finding Howard's pre-programmed number. Even after everything that happened, he hadn't dared to erase the number of one of his best friends. As the phone rang, he unbuttoned his shirt and sat down on the bed, taking off his shoes.

He heard some faint mumbling and grunting on the other side of the line and said: "Howard? You're awake? Do you want me to call you back at a decent time?"

"No, no, Duo, it's fine, I wanted to talk to you," the man answered gruffly, and Duo overheard the creaking of bedsprings as well as rustling of fabric -- Howard was probably putting on a robe.

"What is it you got?"

"All right, listen to this. I have searched everywhere for information on the Never-Ending Circle -- the two parts, the staff and the artifact in general, comparing everything to Winner's notes. We're very lucky that he has been so meticulous in documenting his research; he had scanned pictures and drawings of the staff, and I used your equipment to magnify and study it."

Duo nodded, listening to the other man. He didn't object to him using whatever he needed.

"And?"

"I managed to track down the first and oldest of legends concerning the artifact. It mentions a certain power that broke the scythe in two, and that same power will awake when the parts are reunited again. Apparently, the God of Life and the God of Death ruled together the Earth and the universe as we know it. The God of Life initiated the circle of life of course, and the God of Death ended it, and then it started all over again. Death was never painful, and never feared. More so, death was welcomed at the end of one's life, knowing that dying was simply the beginning of another life."

"Sounds like some kind of utopia to me..."

"However, the people...ah...'invented' murder. Like Cain killed his brother? But death was only granted by the God of Death himself, that was the power he had. For whatever reason, people discovered they could take each other's lives. As such, they devaluated their life's worth in the eyes of the Gods, as it was never meant for people to decide when their time had come, or when to start a new circle of life. The God of Death broke his scythe in frustration because people ended lives of their own, instead of him."

"Bitchy," Duo said.

"The scythe being broken in two doesn't influence its working when it's reunited again," Howard continued. "Thanks to Winner's hard work, we know how he managed to locate it. For instance, he kept an eye on all kinds of rods and staffs when they were offered at auctions or black markets, and he had a lot of contacts in the field. He was the first to presume that the artifact was broken -- a complete scythe was far more conspicuous and would be noticed."

"Go on," Duo said, standing up from his bed and wandering around aimlessly while shedding his shirt. Finally, he sank in one of the large chairs, hand trying to undo his belt.

"I studied the staff to the very detail. Khushrenada and Merquise managed to lift it from Cuba's seabed, off the coast of the Guanahacabibes Peninsula, thanks to Winner's preliminary research."

"Oh yeah, the 'lost city'," Duo said. "That was marvellous to explore."

"Indeed," Howard agreed. "Winner has written about how he was able to trace it exactly to that location, but that's far too elaborate to tell you right now. Believe me, it took him years and quite a bit of money to get so far."

"I can imagine. And?"

"Like I said, I studied the staff itself to the very detail and noticed some very interesting, almost familiar markings. Makings that Winner wrote off as being unimportant, thinking it was the ravages of time."

"Markings?" Duo perked up.

"Some kind of inscription," Howard explained. "I haven't been able to identify it, let alone translate it. I'll come by in the morning... hmmm, make that the afternoon, to show it to you in person. Duo, I think it has something to do with the Sanq Kingdom."

"What?" he shot up straight in the chair.

"No shit Duo, this is really real. I studied Sanq religion and mythology for years, and I used some of my own research to compare the markings. I was at least able to trace it back to the earliest discovered scriptures, but I think this incription even predates those."

Duo was silent. Sanq was almost the same as the Holy Grail in his field of work. The country itself, so small that it hardly deserved the name, had been abandoned by its population since decades. Once, it had been a wonderful nation with an independent capital, basking in wealth and prosperity...but war had taken its toll when the land was manoeuvred and crushed between several conflicting political ambitions and factions, and Sanq's persistent pacifistic point of view had led to its downfall. Its rich history however, was a source for continuous excavation and research. If anything, many agreed that the former kingdom of Sanq was a hidden treasure and unexplored archaeological area.

The royal family, the Peacecrafts, had been living in exile for decades as well, meanwhile making their way up in governments and political functions. Relena Peacecraft was their most prominent -- and prolific -- descendant. Relena. Holding Heero's hand.

"How the hell did it end up in Cuba?"

"How the hell should I know?" Howard retorted. "That's a question you never ask, Duo. Artifacts always pop up at the worst and strangest locations possible, you know that. It's our sport to track them down and uncover them."

"Your sport, maybe," Duo snorted.

"No, your sport too," Howard immediately shot back. "You're good on your own, but as a team you're unstoppable. Solo, Heero..."

"Solo ended up dead because he waited too long, and I was a young pipsqueak who thought he could take on the whole world," Duo answered bitterly. "Heero left because of God knows what, and I haven't even considered going on an artifact hunt ever since..."

"Then why did you accept Winner's commission? You must've felt that you were ready for it, Duo, otherwise you would've said no, without hesitation."

"I only accepted it because if I succeed to find the fucking thing, Winner would donate a substantial amount of money to a trust fund of my choice," Duo answered, a little snippy. "A fund that doesn't have anything to do with the collection or the Maxwell family."

"You have an impressive heritage to bear, don't keep adding to it," Howard said. "Sooner or later, your back's going to break."

"My heart's already been broken, I think my back can take it," Duo snorted. "I'll talk to you first thing when I wake up. Thank you, man."

He quickly disconnected before Howard could answer, all but throwing the phone on the floor -- the plush carpet would break its fall -- and he buried his head in his hands tiredly. He wasn't trembling like before, but he still couldn't shake the images of the crash. He wanted to sleep, sleep for an entire night and day, but his body wasn't allowing him to, no matter how exhausted he felt. It was silent, blessed silence, and he was just about to get up and move over to his bed, when a soft voice suddenly spoke:

"I'm sorry."

"Jesus fuck!"

"That's another way of putting it..."

"Quit sneaking up on me," Duo said as he turned his head frantically around. "Where the fuck are you?"

"Here," Heero said and disentangled himself from the dark bedpost -- nothing but a mere shadow moving. Duo hadn't turned on the lights in his room but for a small lamp next to the chair he was sitting in.

Duo shook his head. "Christ, Heero, it's been a very rough night. I don't feel like...What are you doing here anyway? We've only seen each other a few hours ago. You're trespassing, by the way."

"I know. I came here because we have...no, we need to talk," Heero said, raking his hand through his hair, tousling it even more. "By the way, your alarm system still is in perfect condition. It took me at least four tries -- impressive."

"We are finished talking," Duo answered him curtly.

"Goddamnit Duo, will you shut up and listen to me!"

He cowered in his chair, curling up foetus-style. Hearing Heero swear was something akin to the world coming to its end, and he protectively drew up his knees to his chest.

After a few seconds of silence, Heero closed the distance between them and sank to the floor, sitting cross-legged as if he was a casual visitor, just dropping by. He heaved a sigh before starting to talk.

"Duo...I don't know where or how to begin. I know that with saying 'sorry' not everything is forgotten and forgiven, but this...this is going to tie in with everything that happened in the last years. I care for you, Duo, I lov...Duo, I loathe everyone who's hurting you and I'll do anything to protect you."

As Duo remained silent, he continued: "This... case with the Never-Ending Circle is too much for one person alone, Duo. You have no idea about the things that have been going on, and it'll grow above your head soon."

"You said that before... how about indulging me?" Duo said, wrapping his arms around his legs. He tilted his head a little. The dim light cast shadows on Heero's face, expressing the intensity of his blue eyes -- Duo felt that pang in his heart again, that familiar feeling of...longing and wanting. He had heard the little slip-up as well and reminded himself not to see or read into things that weren't there. Maybe it was an honest slip-up. Maybe.

Heero raked another hand through his hair. He never made repetitive movements -- to Duo, it was the unmistakable sign of severe trouble brewing.

"Duo...at the same time your brother died, Relena was kidnapped."

Duo's eyebrows went up. "What? Really?"

"Really," Heero nodded. "She was invited by Duke Dermail of the Romefeller Foundation to talk about her father's legacy. Before he died, he had established the first peace treaties with the colonies. When she arrived at his mansion, she quickly found out that she wasn't going to leave...Dermail wanted her to be a spokesperson for the Romefeller Foundation, to turn her into a puppet and use her charm and influence for his own ambitions. She could either agree, or agree -- he left her little choice."

"Spokesperson? Since when does Romefeller have any political ambitions, and how does that tie in with the Never-Ending Circle?"

"She's a Peacecraft," Heero said soothingly. "A descendant from a royal bloodline, a family that has played a prolific part in world history. Her name and her appearance are equal to trust and peace in this world. Dermail simply wanted to use her for propaganda purposes, as he had plans for Romefeller to become an active political party."

Duo shifted his legs a little, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. "What kind of political party? Why do they want to venture into politics? Romefeller's just a stuck-up club for spoiled kiddies..."

Heero showed a weak smile. "There's much more to Romefeller than that, Duo. Why else do you think Khushrenada is such a prominent member? They have influence everywhere -- the corporate world, the entertainment business, even porn and gambling -- you name it, you can find a link back to Romefeller. It was only a matter of time before they would end up in politics."

"And why the pretty princess?"

"You've met the guy next to Khushrenada..."

"That Merquise guy?"

"His name isn't Zechs Merquise, but Milliardo Peacecraft."

"Holy fuck!"

"Exactly," Heero said, stretching a little. He threw a longing look at the comfortable chair, but remained sitting on the floor.

"Milliardo Peacecraft works for Treize Khushrenada? I still don't see what it all has to do with the artifact."

"Dirty business," Heero muttered. "I don't know to what extent, but a dirty game's being played. Milliardo Peacecraft participated in the war, as an active member of the resistance when Sanq was trampled by the military. He has blood on his hands, blood that doesn't belong on the hands of the heir of a family that is such an advocate for peace that they choose to have their country invaded by foreign forces and who reject any form of fighting or weapons."

"So he fought for the survival of his country," Duo said, a little grouchily. "At least he fought, instead of surrendering like his family. How many people know of this?"

"He was smart enough to not fight under his real name, choosing to go by Zechs Merquise instead, complete with mask and cover-up of his true identity. Still, there are people who know who he really is. If his secret comes out, it will immediately be connected to Relena and her prominent position in the world's peace order."

"The brother of the Queen of the World has taken up arms and killed, going against everything his family stands for," Duo nodded. "It would be a huge scandal."

"Massively," Heero agreed. "Not only would it affect her, but the entire family as well. You know they hold high positions in power, and when the Peacecrafts are forced to resign, entire governments are going to be overthrown. They're the ones responsible for keeping the peace -- without them, there's immediate war upon us. No one, but absolutely no one can maintain the foreign relations between the colonies and Earth like them."

"Christ...is Romefeller deliberately pushing for another war?"

"Sort of," Heero replied. "Like I said, I don't know the full extent of everything, but I do know that there's something very fishy going on. Both Relena and Milliardo are forced into doing things they don't like as to avoid international conflicts. Relena is silent and won't say anything to discredit her brother, and as long as Milliardo works for Khushrenada, his secret is safe, leaving his sister unharmed. Milliardo used to be a playboy who was tearing into his heritage faster than anyone could say "Black Jack", but he wasn't a criminal. He fought in his younger years for something he thought was good and just at that time. There was a war going on, and he saw his country going under because his father refused to defend the borders and couldn't keep the foreign army from invading. How he ended up working for Khushrenada is a mystery to me, but they're both protecting each other; brother helping sister, sister helping brother."

Duo was now the one to rake through his bangs, ruffling his chestnut hair. "What a mess...but I still don't see the connection between the Peacecrafts and the Never-Ending Circle."

"I'm not really sure about that either. Fact is, Khushrenada wants to have it more than anything. I'm afraid he's going to try to really use it. Duo, we both have seen many strange things, we both know that legends and myths can be true, and we both know that certain powers are not meant to be trifled with."

"Tell me about it," Duo shivered. He wished he had left his shirt on...it was chilly in the room. He had planned on immediately going to bed after calling Howard. Lowering his eyes a little, he looked at Heero.

"So the artifact ties somehow in to the Peacecraft family and Khushrenada, or is that a coincidence?"

"I'm not really sure what the exact connection is," Heero repeated. "Khushrenada has Milliardo working for him, and he follows him around. I don't know how Khushrenada found out about Milliardo. Thanks to Winner Sr., they discovered the artifact and managed to uncover the first part. Khuhsrenada plays the part of a greedy archaeologist who wants it simply for the thrill of having it, but I know better. He's far too smart, and if there's any power tied to the Never-Ending Circle, he'll be sure to find a way to unleash it."

"The power of life and death in his hands. He can start or end a war simply by swinging the scythe. He can hold the world in the palm of his hand just by the threat of war."

"Controlling life and death isn't a power that should be in the hands of a mortal..."

"It should be in the hands of a God."

"Shinigami?"

"Any God of Death who knows how to handle a scythe. This artifact is dangerous, and with so many people chasing after it, each and everyone of them with different motives..."

"Very different motives," Heero admitted.

"Why did Khushrenada hire you?"

"He wanted me to localize both parts of the Never-Ending Circle. He couldn't get his hands on the staff anymore since Iria Winner had sealed it into the safe. I wanted to retrieve the staff myself from the safe, but you were ahead of me."

"What about Chang Wufei?"

"He's not a killer," Heero immediately said. "He works for Khushrenada as well, it has to do with his honor. I don't know why, but he's taken some oath, a vow to work for him because he was defeated in a swordfight once. He believes strongly that the Never-Ending Circle belongs to his clan and should be returned to the Changs."

"For revenge of the destruction of L5." Duo hugged his knees to his chest, getting chillier by the second. "Wielding the power over life and death over millions of colonists who didn't do a thing and only watched when L5 chose to self-destruct."

"Chang has too much honor to be blinded by simple revenge, Duo."

Heero suddenly rose to his feet and walked towards the bed, tugging at the large blanket lying on it. When he returned, he draped it around Duo, careful as if tucking in a child. Heero's fingers briefly touched his bare skin when putting the blanket around him, and this time his shiver wasn't from any chill. Heero took his time, putting much more effort than needed to drape the large piece of fabric around Duo's shoulders, making sure he was completely tucked in.

"So, Chang works with you?"

"I barely know him," Heero said, voice soft. "He comes and goes whenever he wants to. I'm not sure about his connection to Khushrenada, and maybe there's no other connection than the moral obligation he's feeling. I didn't know that he went after you until I saw the Winner notes and the staff in Khushrenada's office."

So Khushrenada has the first part after all. "You have placed bugs in my office, right?"

Heero was silent.

"How else could you have known that I accepted the commission and was going to be at the charity ball?"

"I have placed bugs in your office," Heero admitted.

"Fuck you," Duo answered, though it lacked any anger.

"I just want to keep an eye on you. I kept tabs on Winner as soon as he approached me for the artifact -- I knew you were the next he was going to."

"Why did you decline his offer?"

"I was hard to approach," Heero said, "indisposed as I was, climbing in the Himalayas."

"Did you find anything?"

"Nothing much but snow," he answered.

"Liar."

"Duo...You have every right to be upset with me," Heero said. "I wanted to be at Solo's funeral. I knew how devastated you were with his loss."

"If people...close to you get kidnapped, the priority is different," Duo said, voice flat.

"She's very close, yes."

"I didn't know you were so thick with royalty."

"We studied together at the Gabriel's Institute."

"Classy," Duo said. Of course, it would make more of an impression if he knew how prestigious the school was. He had received private tutoring after he had been expelled from several schools. He just wasn't the type to still still in class and obey boring teachers.

Heero was silent, studying Duo from the angle where he was standing. Duo wasn't tense around him, he was rather at ease with his eyes closed, dark lashes brushing his cheeks, his head tilted a little. He didn't know if it was from plain exhaustion or that Duo was simply feeling so relaxed no matter the situation.

"Why don't we talk about this after you have rested," he said, nudging Duo gently. "You're tired, and we have much more to discuss. I overheard you talking at the phone, and..."

"We're not going to work together, forget about it," Duo answered grumpily. "Get out of the house, Heero. You gave me an explanation as to why you failed to show up at my brother's funeral, and I accept your apology for it. You could've told me earlier, though. If I knew, it wouldn't have hurt so much as it did now. I never knew Relena meant so much to you. You could've avoided lots of pain and hurt."

"I know," Heero said, matter-of-factly. "It was a mistake I'm not going to repeat. You taught me so much, and I threw it all overboard the moment I was...separated from you. I forgot about important things in life because you weren't there..."

"It wasn't like I dropped from the face of the Earth, you know."

Heero placed his hands on Duo's shoulders, the fabric of the blanket preventing him from touching bare skin.

"I made a mistake, Duo," he repeated. "A very big mistake. After what you've been showing me, after what you've taught me, I still made a mistake. However, I never stopped loving you...I never stopped caring for you. What I did, was wrong...I deserve to be scolded -- but please listen to me, Duo. This is going to be too much for one person. I want to help you, I don't want to see you hurt. I don't want to see you in pain."

"I know," Duo answered drowsily. "I'm a jerk. I'm sorry. It's just that I keep grudges." He barely realized he was leaning into Heero's touch, shifting around when his fingers started moving in lazy, massaging movements.

"You have a big, warm and open heart," Heero said. "It was my mistake for breaking it. That's not going to happen again, never. I don't want to see you hurt again," he whispered, continuing the massage. "I'll personally take care of that."

"Hmm-mm," Duo muttered, revelling in the comfort and warmth of the blanket, the relaxing sensations of the massage lulling him into sleep. His breathing evened out and his head sank on his chest. He didn't notice Heero lifting him up from the chair and carrying him over to his bed, lying him down as his fingers clutched at the other's shirt.

Part 6

A live orchestra provided the background music in the restaurant. Pleasant, but not really his taste. Even though he knew his classics, Duo never cared for it, unless it was combined with heavy metal. He hoped that Quatre hadn't reserved a table too close to the orchestra, as he wasn't in the mood for violins howling in his ear. Heero walked next to him with his usual confidence. His face carried a neutral expression, though his eyes darted over to Duo a few times more than was necessary. A waiter guided them to the reserved table, guest list in hand.

Quatre immediately rose when he saw them, glancing briefly at Heero in surprise, before extending his hand to Duo.

"Duo, so good to see you!"

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience," Duo said, adding a "Quatre" a few moments later. "I'm glad you could make it on such short notice. Mister Barton, how are you doing?"

"Fine, thank you," the other muttered. He didn't look very happy -- Duo almost took pity on him. He could only imagine the amount of work the personal assistant had to do to squeeze this last-minute lunch in Quatre's already extremely busy schedule.

"You said you had news about the Never-Ending Circle. No trouble is too much for hearing any news on it, especially since you said you couldn't discuss this on the phone."

Duo nudged Heero. "Quatre, this is Heero Yuy."

"Ah, the one we couldn't reach," Quatre said, beaming at the both of them. "Did you enjoy your trip in the Himalayas, Mister Yuy?"

"It was very refreshing," Heero said dryly. Quatre made an inviting gesture with his hand.

"Please, sit down."

Duo preferred to break the latest news about the artifact to Quatre in person, but not in the CEO's office. He suspected it might be bugged, and Khushrenada already had too much of a head start to get more information handed to him on a silver platter. As he sat down, the waiter popped up at his side to ask for his choice of drink. After settling on the menu -- Duo was hungry as he skipped breakfast after all the events of the previous night -- he focused his attention on Quatre.

"You probably wonder why I brought Heero with me," Duo started. It hadn't surprised him in the least to see Heero still around at the Manor, despite telling him explicitly to get lost. Deep down in his heart, he was thankful for Heero staying, even though he hadn't said it out loud. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, but not really...friendly either. It felt weird and awkward. "After all, you know everything about our unfortunate break-up."

Quatre nodded, not wanting to admit that he was quite curious. He was a renowned business man with quite the influence, but he wasn't inhuman. He was also known for his empathy towards people around him, even to his business partners. Quatre was far too strong to be taken advantage of, but he was the one to think first of the social and human factor when negociating another business takeover or merge. W.E.I. was focused on the employees and their human capital, and even in the worst of times, the company looked for reasonable solutions instead of firing people without thought or consideration. It was conveniently forgotten that Quatre had set up an international business in just a few years, expanding rapidly and progressing on the electronics and technology market. They only saw his bright smile and blue eyes -- but his strong point was his diplomatic character and his stern belief that he did his business by cooperating with people, not waltzing over them. Quatre was someone who dug himself into something with the same ferocity as Duo was passionate about history and artifacts -- something they had in common.

"The answer is simple," Duo continued. He was stubborn, but not stupid. It might be a blow to his pride, but Duo knew when to ask for help. "As you mentioned in your first conversation with me, the case with the artifact is growing over my head."

Quatre heaved a soft sigh. "I thought it might, because of Khushrenada's involvement," he said. "Though I hoped for a swift...conclusion to it all."

"Khushrenada isn't even the biggest danger," Duo dropped his bomb. "Romefeller is behind it."

Silence. Both Quatre and Trowa were mulling over his words, and just as Quatre was about to speak, their dishes were served. As the waiters occupied themselves with everything on the table, setting the plates, refilling drinks and bustling about, Duo took a slice of the garlic bread and nibbled on it. When the waiters left, Quatre sipped his tea before addressing Duo.

"You mean the Romefeller Foundation? I thought they were a harmless society for promoting historical knowledge and re-enactment of the Victorian lifestyle."

"Khushrenada is simply one of their pawns," Heero supplied, stirring his soup. The silver spoon hit the rim of the porcelain bowl. "They're active in every field imaginable, and as they've been pursuing political goals recently, I wouldn't keep them from planning to take over the world."

Duo took over. "We're not really sure why they would want the Never-Ending Circle, but..." he paused for a moment to look at Heero, "...Romefeller desires power and influence. A good friend of Heero was involved, and it looks like a hornet's nest: a conflict of interests, personal gain, blackmail...and I've experienced myself that they don't like to be thwarted. They have the power and the means to look for the second part of the artifact, now that they have the staff already."

Quatre laced his fingers together, ignoring his salad. "I see...and Romefeller is looking for the Never-Ending Circle to stress their ambitions, to gain power? I don't see the connection."

"Your father unearthed an artifact which he hoped would bring him fame, and restore his good name," Duo said, tapping with the piece of bread on the table. "Instead, he unintentionally opened a cesspool filled with shit that stinks to high heaven."

Trowa stopped eating.

"The discovery of the staff close to Cuba was all over the media, and led to the sudden -- and unwanted -- exposure of a training facility of the so-called White Fang movement," Heero said. "A man called Quinze was their leader. The facility was dismantled, and all of Quinze's plans and designs for new mobile suits, as well as his personal journal detailing his coup for the independency of the colonies, were destroyed."

"I remember that," Quatre said. "It's been so long ago, I was too young to really see the big picture at that time. I do know that Earth and the colonies escaped a bitter, hard war. Again."

"White Fang is tied to the Romefeller Foundation." Heero dropped his bomb. "I can't disclose everything due to the...delicate parties involved, but I've seen and heard enough to know that they share mutual interest and are partners at certain levels. I don't know enough yet to determine the intensity and level of their contact.."

"Hey wait a minute," Duo said, almost choking on a walnut. "You never told me that!"

Trowa looked from one to another. "Romefeller, White Fang... I don't get it, what does a rebel faction have to do with the search for an artifact?"

"White Fang doesn't care for archaeology," Heero snorted. "They only care for money and weapons, while claiming they fight for the independency of the colonies. My personal opinion is that they are selling themselves out to the highest bidder, and wage war for whoever wants to disturb the fragile peace between Earth and the colonies."

Quatre was astonished. "All because of my father digging up an artifact close to Cuba?"

"I'm sorry," Duo said. "It seems your father has been used in a weird, complicated game. He's been moved around like a pawn to fulfill certain other people's selfish needs. His money and research has been used by Khushrenada and the Romefeller Foundation to locate the artifact, and if his death was a murder, as you believe...then he was murdered for finding out more than they wanted him to. He simply fulfilled his usefulness to them."

Quatre drew his lips into a tight line, fingers bending the fork he was holding.

"What about the artifact?" he asked, coldly. His other hand was strangling the napkin as if he could murder the fabric. No matter how friendly and empathic Quatre Winner was, personally and in business -- he wasn't going to lose this particular game, and whoever was responsible for murdering his father, was going to answer to him. In excruciating detail.

Duo brought the others up to date, including the car chase, the shooting and the disappearance of the culprits. He kept an eye on Heero to gauge his reaction when he told about it -- where Quatre and Trowa gasped in horror and shock from the violence of the chase, Heero merely stared into the distance. Waiters interrupted him a few times to clear the plates and refill their drinks, while Quatre and Trowa were listening to him in rapt fascination. When he finished, Quatre looked a little taken aback and muttered irritably under his breath.

"My sisters are going to kill me," he said bitterly. "They made very clear that they didn't want me to pursue father's research. It must've been their intuition, because I'm almost starting to regret opening this can of worms."

"White Fang must be behind the car chase," Heero said, avoiding to look at Duo directly. "It's exactly their modus operandi, and they have the man power to set up something like this. Romefeller doesn't want to do the dirty work, of course. They're too busy with their decadent charity balls."

"I'm sure your sisters only had the best intentions for you in mind," Duo answered a little sourly and he frowned at Heero. "I'm sure that no one was expecting this kind of involvement from a rebel faction -- why would they? Your father was searching for something he was really interested in, Khushrenada for something he wanted to use."

"Use how?" Trowa asked. "Discarding Romefeller, Khushrenada and White Fang -- it's just an artifact."

"Even 'just an artifact' can tip the scale to one's advantage," Duo said. "Judging from all the trouble Romefeller went through, even hiring outside muscle, the artifact means more to them than just the honor of finding it. A lot of people in the archaeology world are there for the credit of the first find, treasure hunters searching for that one mythical object that has eluded mankind since the dawn of time. Romefeller had Khushrenada working for them who worked for Winner Sr. who did all the research and the funding, and voila, as soon as both parts were found, they could run off with it, using it for God knows what...and if you know what the Never-Ending Circle means, God certainly knows what you will be doing with it."

"What does it mean, Duo?" Quatre's voice still held that distinct chill, though it was not aimed at anyone sitting at the table.

"Actually, Howard was the first to figure it out. He's a very good friend of mine, and he studied the staff meticulously. He thinks the staff is the handle of a scythe, the instrument of the Grim Reaper."

Quatre dabbed at his lips with the crumpled, satin napkin. "I remember from my father's notes that he was referring to a 'God of Death' who supposedly lost his tool," he said. "A very vague and almost-forgotten legend about him wandering the earth and taking care of souls -- not by killing them but by guiding them to the afterlife -- until mankind discovered how to take one's life without the God of Death's intervention. After the first murder was born, the god either lost or broke his scythe."

"Exactly. Howard found very interesting inscriptions on the lower half of the staff. He didn't manage to identify it exactly, but he's convinced it's an ancient language, as once spoken in Sanq."

"Sanq?" Trowa almost spat out his tea. "The holy kingdom?"

"That's one way to name it," Heero said calmly. "Sanq is being referred to as a holy kingdom in quite a number of tales, but it's nothing but withered ruins, covered by nature. Hard to get through, it almost has the density of the Columbian jungle."

"It sounds like you've been there before...?" Quatre asked.

Heero merely shrugged, the movement repeated by Duo.

"Sanq is rumored to hold many artifacts, but it's pretty much overrated. The country is shrouded by so many myths and legends that it's hard to see the trees for the woods. You have to understand that people made those legends up." Duo paused to sip of his water before he continued. "Besides, the nation was all but abandoned a little over forty years ago, shot to ruins because of the invading forces. Everything what even looked like an artifact has been plundered and sold all over the world. No one of the royal family took their heirlooms with them as the invasion and evacuation was sudden. That's where the legends stems from. Rubble left behind, the tragic story of a royal family leaving everything behind to escape from the invaders of their peaceloving kingdom. There's even a 'legend' that the castle of Sanq was built on a veritable treasure trove, but like I said -- it's pretty much overrated."

"So the staff bears scriptures from Sanq," Quatre recapped, frowning. "Fascinating."

"We have reasons to believe we can find more information about the scythe in Sanq, or maybe even find the other part of the Never-Ending Circle there -- the blade," Duo said. "Howard's busy deciphering the inscriptions, but I doubt he'll find a useful clue. It'll probably say 'property of Shinigami? or something like that."

"Duo," Heero nudged him.

"In any case, Sanq holds the best options for us now," Duo said, smiling when he saw Quatre politely hiding a small laugh behind his hand.

"Name whatever you need, and I'll be sure to provide it," the CEO was quick to say. "I commissioned you for this, and I'm more than prepared to fund the entire operation. I want that artifact, Duo, and I want Khushrenada to be exposed as the liar and manipulator he is."

"We retrieve the artifact, the rest is up to you," Duo said. "That's the deal."

"Deal," Quatre repeated. "And...we, hmmm?" He looked amused. Duo suddenly felt his cheeks flush, as the man was pointedly looking at him and Heero, and he knew what he was thinking.

"Business partners only," he murmured, and the color burned on his cheeks. Duo Maxwell took great pride in never telling a lie, but sometimes the line between a lie and a twist of the truth was very shady. He realized that he had been talking as 'we' during the entire conversation, and his cheeks burned even harder. Quatre sipped the last of his tea and had the audacity to wink at Duo.

"I trust you to split the commission evenly," he quipped.

Duo liked trains; for some reason, he preferred trains over boats or planes. He always felt terribly confined when travelling. A plane was claustrophobic and the food was horrible, and a boat was too slow and too rocky. He preferred action, and despite the steady cadence of the train, lulling him into a strange sense of security and comfort, he still had the feeling that he was really moving, going forward -- onwards to a new adventure. He didn't know why he felt this way -- he was used to speed, to get somewhere fast and to throw himself head over heels into the situation. Travelling by train also gave him some time to...mentally prepare, he thought to himself. It would take at least three more hours to reach the border. From there, traveling into Sanq would be impossible with regular vehicles. Hopefully Trowa had been able to arrange for the Land Rover they requested; but Duo trusted Quatre's ingenious personal assistant.

He supported his head with his hand, looking outside at the passing landscape. Nature was quite luscious around here, with a variety in vegetation only wild growing plants and trees could offer. It would be even more varied and wild when they got closer to Sanq; nature was given free rein there, claiming back the once inhabitated land. Why did no one return after the war was over? Did they want to leave it behind because of the memories tied to it? Just...let it be? Sanq was hard to reach, only adding to the myth. In fact, travelling by train was the only option -- flights to and over Sanq territory were forbidden by an international convention, and it was impossible to approach it by sea; the massively huge and steep cliffs and wild forest on that side of the border were unclimbable and impenetrable, offering no openings.

Shifting in his seat, the fabric of his clothing rustled, albeit barely. He had packed several outfits, variations of the basic costume Hilde had designed, using her invention of fabric that protected him against severe temperature changes, was very difficult to rip or torn, and had kevlar-like characteristics: up to a certain point, it would even protect him against the impact of bullets. This particular outfit left a part of his midriff bare, as it was warm enough in the train to show some skin, and he knew Heero liked it. A smile tugged at his lips; it was almost as if no time had passed and he was on the move with Heero, on the road for another expedition. He had to remind himself firmly that this wasn't the case; Heero worked for Khushrenada, and was willing to work with Duo for whatever reason. He simply hadn't left and had packed his things to travel along with Duo, and Duo hadn't protested. It was bothering him that he didn't know what exactly Heero's motives were. Was he trying to find and retrieve the Never-Ending Circle alone, or to protect his pretty princess, Relena Peacecraft?

The door to the compartment slid open and Heero entered, carrying a small, plastic tray.

"I thought you might like some coffee," he said.

Though he had lived his whole life in England, Duo had unmistakably adopted his mother's American side and influence -- he preferred coffee over tea and frankly, he was baffled by the whole British obsession over flavored dishwater. Bah! He showed Heero a grateful smile and took the paper cup from the tray.

"I also brought sandwiches, would you like one?"

"Sure," Duo said and took one from the tray -- ham and cheese, not bad. He carefully unwrapped it, not paying attention to Heero shifting around, finally deciding to put the tray next to him as the table was too small. He picked up his own coffee and sandwich, and followed Duo's example to stare outside the window.

So familiar, so comfortable...almost the same, but not quite. Duo recalled vividly all the times they went on an expedition -- he and Heero, feverishly looking for artifacts, searching for tombs, studying scriptures, riddles and discovering hidden palaces and temples. Good old times...but there was this wall between them now, huge and fragile at the same time. The familiarity and comfort of them being together was overshadowed by awkwardness and distrust. The comfort of their old days, the days they used to work together as partners, friends and lovers, was replaced by a heavy tension of both their previous mistakes and grief still lingering between them. Duo heaved a soft sigh, but kept staring out of the window.

Heero moved his fingers over his watch, synchronizing it. "We'll be at the border in less than three hours from now," he said. "From there, we'll pick up the Land Rover and continue our journey inland."

"And no rest for the wicked," Duo replied.

"Huh?"

"We went by car and plane to get here on the train, crossing four time zones at least," Duo said, taking a bite from his sandwich. "I'm beat."

"Duo, we need to work quickly," Heero said.

"Why? As far as we know, Khushrenada doesn't even know where to look for the second part of the Never-Ending Circle, or did Winner Sr. write more down in his research? After all, I didn't get to read his notes from the safe."

Heero shook his head. "Khushrenada didn't share that kind of information with me, you know. I never got to read it myself. He won't be exactly happy if he hears about me working together with you, though he'll probably forgive me for it as long as I end up handing the artifact to him."

Duo showed a lazy grin as he was eating his sandwich. "He'll probably think you're double-crossing him, and will send his men after you. Lucky you!"

"I doubt that," Heero answered curtly. "Khushrenada is a man for who the end satisfies all means. He wouldn't care if I worked together with the devil himself. Nevertheless, Duo, this is serious," he waved with the sandwich wrapper. "He won't hesitate to send men after me, after you, as soon as we've found the scythe. I don't want to find the Never-Ending Circle for him, but for the both of us."

"What do you mean, for the both of us?" Duo asked incredulously.

"For who we are. We know how to deal with such artifacts, we respect them and treat them as how they were meant to be treated -- I don't want someone like Khushrenada to end up with a potentially dangerous artifact as the Never-Ending Circle. It could be a weapon of war in his hands...You know how to deal with such objects, or are you really planning on giving it to Winner?"

Duo hesitated. It had been pure financial reasons why he had accepted Quatre's commission; he'd always played for sports, donating the artifacts to a museum. "As far as Quatre is concerned, he doesn't care for the artifact itself. He will put it on display for the whole archaeological world to rejoice -- all that he wants, is the damn thing to be uncovered, so he can fulfil his father's legacy and restore his name, crediting him for all the hard work."

"He shouldn't have gone through all this trouble. He should've let it rest. The completion of the artifact will bring up Winner's name in the papers again, that's for sure...but besides the good things, the press will certainly be all over the bad things again, magnifying the man's earlier mistakes. Winner Sr. should be left in peace -- he suffered enough from his own naivety, because people shamelessly abused and deceived him. Nothing good about the dead, but leave them to rest."

Leave them to rest...Duo shivered, though it was far from cold in the train. He wasn't wearing a coat, as the fabric of his clothing adjusted itself to his body temperature -- he was never really cold or warm, but now he felt goosebumps all over his skin.

"Cold?" Heero asked amusedly.

"Sort of," Duo muttered in return, latching onto the hot coffee, drinking it a little too fast.

"Three more hours to the border," Heero repeated. "Do you want to take a nap or something?"

"No, I can sleep later," Duo said. His body felt tired and jetlagged from crossing several time zones, but his mind was clear and bright, not in the mood for resting yet. He kept staring at Heero, the way he was eating and sipping from his coffee, every movement calm and controlled.

"How is she?" he suddenly asked.

Heero almost choked on his coffee, before looking bewildered at Duo. "She?"

"Relena," Duo answered.

"Relena? What makes you think...?"

"The way she was holding your hand."

Heero put his coffee down, the look on his face sobering.

"Relena is a good friend, a very good friend. I don't have any interest in her as a significant other, something I told her pretty early, and she accepted it. It was difficult, because she harbored a crush on me before I had even sorted out for myself what the line between love and friendship was. I've known her all my life, Duo, and I wouldn't want to miss her."

"You never told me about your high-school sweetheart," Duo pouted.

He nodded. "It's true that the intensity of our friendship... well, there's hardly any intensity, I guess. She has always been my friend and she always will be, but with the nature of her work and the circles of society she moves around in, it's hard to meet up every so often. We do keep in touch, and it was the first time in three years that we actually saw each other again, at the Romefeller charity ball."

"Darlian was her father, right? He was killed on L2?"

Heero nodded again. "A fanatic," he said, talking about the killer, not Darlian. "We lost a good man that day, an honest and respectable negotiator with compassion, advocating for peace in the best way possible. He passed this all on to Relena."

"When did she figure out she was a Peacecraft instead of a Darlian?" Duo reclined lazily, wrapping his arms behind his head.

"It was after Darlian's murder," Heero said. "he died in her arms, telling her with his last breath about her true origins. The Peacecraft family had her adopted because they feared kidnapping, abuse, or a murder attempt...little did they know that Darlian would become a target of fanatics, hoping that the peace negotiations would blow up, literally."

"That's really intense," Duo said. He almost felt ashamed about how moping and jealous he'd been behaving. He decided to change the subject. "Why all this trouble for what is believed to be the mythical weapon of the God of Death?"

"You remember that Cuba incident, right? The training facility that was exposed? That was an unfortunate setback for White Fang. They were preparing a coup, even rebuilding those damn mobile suits! After Quinze's imprisonment, they quickly relapsed into terrorists for hire. I read some of Quinze's plans -- it was a very careful orchestration of maneuvring people into the right position, moving pawns into the key position of the game he was playing. He could never have pulled it off without Romefeller's strategic insights. If they are truly aiming for the ultimate takeover, Earth and colonies together, Romefeller and White Fang together would succeed, if it weren't for the discovery of the training facility and Quinze being imprisoned at the moment."

"Morons," Duo grumbled, finishing the last of his sandwich. "Wars and fighting and weapons..."

"If the Never-Ending Circle really works when reunited, it's a devastating power," Heero said softly, not letting go of his gaze at Duo. "Though I expect Romefeller only to use it as their status symbol, in a display of their power, I'm fairly sure White Fang would really try to get it to work, legend or not. I repeatedly told them about the dangers, and they seemed to have gotten the message...but you never know."

"No, you never know," Duo said and smiled, before looking out the window again. He knew what power could do to people, especially when it derived from ancient artifacts. Maddening, dangerous power of life and death, and there were still morons who thought they could wield it at their own conditions and with their own free will. No matter what age or what world, people were still willing to follow whatever organization as long as they were promised wealth and power. So many were willing to follow a strong leader who knew the right words to speak, the right emotions to appeal to, the right...weapon to wield for his actions.

A sharp whistle of the train shook Duo out of his thoughts. "Are we there yet?" He blurted out.

"No, at least ninety minutes left," Heero replied, looking up from a magazine he'd been reading. "You dozed off a little..."

"Huh, yeah..."

"Do you want some more coffee?"

"I know that's your secret," Duo grinned at him. "You and your incredible stamina, in every aspect...you owe it all to caffeine."

"To caffeine and the person opposite of me," Heero answered in all seriousness. He stared at Duo, unfazed by his grimace.

"I'm not in the mood for relationship-talk right now. Business only."

"We once started out as business only," he said, voice neutral. "I really don't think I deserve the anger you keep throwing at me, Duo. I would really appreciate it if we could talk about it as decent...humans. As the friends we were once...and the lovers..."

"You knew about the car chase, right?"

"What?" Heero asked, thrown off guard. He tightened the grip on his magazine. "What are you talking about?"

"After Khushrenada threw me out of his office. Don't fucking bullshit me, Heero. You knew of White Fang and their involvement. You knew they were going to chase after me!"

"No," Heero said, back straight. "I work for Khushrenada, but I don't know his plans to every detail. I never knew he would take steps this far, if it was Khushrenada to begin with. He might be a dirty player, but he would never risk something like this."

"You should have thought of that sooner! You could've at least warned me!"

"I'm not the only one making mistakes, Duo."

"I didn't fucking ask for my brother to die!"

"And I didn't ask for my friend to be kidnapped and to be involved in a complex, changing-the-world type of conspiracy, leading back to an ancient artifact that is supposedly of the God of Death and was uncovered by some money-blazing moron who thought he could restore his name with it!"

"Ouch," Duo muttered.

"You're such a jerkass sometimes, Duo," Heero said, grouchily. "Let it rest."

"You're so sexy when you say bad words," Duo said, pulling his knees up to his chest. He wasn't done yet, however. "I accepted your apology, as you explained yourself to me. It still doesn't make up for all the time you didn't even fucking try to reach me!"

"I made a mistake -- a very grave mistake. I'm not afraid to admit that I was a jerk, that I was too occupied with other things and other people than you at that time, but I never. stopped. loving. you. I still love you, Duo Maxwell. I always have, and I always will."

"And what's next? Kiss and make up?"

"I would kiss you to heaven and back if that would get you to shut up," Heero growled, without any anger in his voice. Duo snorted, but he couldn't help grinning.

"Who knows when you'll get your chance to do that, Yuy."

Heero said nothing in return but simply gazed at him. Duo shifted around in his seat once more, this time stretching his knees and settling himself into a position to sleep, to kill the remaining hour of their travel. He closed his eyes and didn't move when Heero put a thin blanket around him, mumbling a soft "thank you." Let it rest. Maybe it was for the better if he did. The ghosts from his past; the mistakes he made; Solo. The souls of the dead were still haunting him in the present day, and he hadn't given them or himself any rest. How hard does it have to be to put something behind you? Being confronted with Heero again reminded him of all the good times they had, their passionate relationship, their professional workmanship, the times they spend together -- talking, loving, laughing, sometimes fighting, but always together. There was no one he loved as much as Heero Yuy, and he couldn't get past himself to admit it to him...again. He was too stubborn to admit he made mistakes as well, too stubborn to be hurt again...even though he was only hurting himself by reacting to Heero this way. Let it rest. Rest, Solo Maxwell. Rest, Duo Maxwell. Rest your soul and look forward to what the future brings...don't let the past weigh you down. It felt like a weight was indeed lifted from his shoulders -- Duo fell asleep, content and comfortable.

It took them another two hours to get off of the train, find all their luggage and get a taxi to their hotel. The evening was already falling and Duo stifled a yawn behind his hand. He noticed Heero was unusually silent -- he was often silent, but this was a different kind of silence -- and he knew from experience that the other was tired as well. The only thing left for them to do was to pick up their Land Rover, and Quatre Winner's influence reached far enough, even in this small village close to Sanq's borders. They were provided with the best of the best; Duo wolf-whistled when he saw the black Defender 110 SW with heavy duty axles, perfect equipment for their rough journey into the kingdom.

"Trowa really knows how to do his work," he remarked amusedly, mentally thanking the personal assistant while checking the specifications of the car, popping the hood open and whistling again at the impressive engine. Heero signed the designated papers and recieved the keys in return.

"Let's get back to the hotel and freshen up before going out to dinner," he said, casually, as if they were on holiday.

"Is that a date?" Duo shot back, and opened the door to the Land Rover. He hoisted himself up to sit down on the passenger's seat and marvelled at the height.

"If you want that to be," Heero said, fiddling with the keys.

"You're as romantic as ever."

"That's why you love me so much."

"In your dreams..."

"Which are only revolving around you..."

"Only me?"

"Only you?"

"Liar."

"Nerd."

"Who are you calling a nerd, computer geek boy?"

"Oh, shut up and enjoy the view or something!"

Duo laughed out loud.

"It's a date, then."

Heero chuckled. "God, Duo..."

"Yes...?"

"Race you back to the hotel and the shower!"

Heero won the shower race, but Duo wasn't a sore loser. While the other was in the bathroom, Duo went around to check his luggage and prepare his backpack for tomorrow. They would drive to Sanq first thing in the morning, crossing the border just a little after sunset. He took his Uzis out of their casing -- he had special papers to carry the weapons wherever he wanted, clearing him from any trouble if anyone asked him about the guns. Checking their magazines and clips, Duo nodded to himself, satisfied. His equipment was in perfect condition, thanks to Hilde and Howard. They had said nothing in particular when he told them that he was going on the expedition with Heero but a simple "Good luck," though Howard had send him an e-mail that if he were ever to run in trouble with Heero, he just needed to give him a call and he would fly out himself to take care of business.

Heero. He heaved an almost love-sick sigh. Was he really falling for him all over again, or was he simply picking up where they had left off? Had he really locked away his feelings for the other all these years, only to have them replaced by feelings of anger and grief, and petty jealousy? He wasn't really sure. Duo was never the one to analyse his relationships in-depth...Heero had been his first, and as far as he was concerned, his only. There was no one as perfect as Heero, and he didn't care how sappy it sounded. Heero was perfect, a little too perfect sometimes...until Solo's death. Duo closed his backpack, checking the straps once again. Heero had failed to show up on his funeral because of Relena being kidnapped. It hurt...not that Heero had chosen his friend over him, but because he simply never said anything. There was so much more to Heero, and sometimes Duo was afraid he would never understand him completely at all. A relationship was built and based on mutual trust, not on keeping things from each other. Duo knew he was far but perfect himself, and he was willing to give their relationship, to give Heero, another chance...hell, he should be glad if Heero was willing to give him another chance, after the aggressive attitude he'd been showing him. He had never known himself to be so full of petty jealousy when Relena was concerned, and to hold onto grudged for so long.

"The shower's free."

"Thank you," Duo said and straightened, putting his backpack close to his bed. He turned around, looking at Heero and almost moaned, being reminded how...physically perfect he was.

"Something wrong?"

"No, not at all," he was quick to answer, relieved that at least his voice was normal.

"You looked a little...bothered, for a moment."

"I'm not bothered..."

"All right...you can hog the warm water all you want now."

"Very funny." Duo's hand already went to his braid to snap the tie.

"You know, you could probably cut back on the costs of your hair ties if you were to take them off, instead of snap them off."

"I buy them in bulk, and I doubt it strains the budget all that much."

"Did you take the commission for the money?"

Duo halted mid-movement, keeping the tuft of his braid in his fingers.

"Excuse me?"

Heero turned his back to him to pick up some clean clothes, unfolding a dark blue shirt.

"The commission. What did Winner offer you?"

"You know, you raise 'being blunt' to a whole new level, Heero."

He had the small satisfaction of seeing the other flinch, but Duo was already bullying forward.

"But if you really want to know, I took the commission for the money, yes -- I didn't see the purpose of going on an expedition without my two best buddies if it weren't for Quatre to donate money to a fund of my choice. What noble goal did you have in mind?"

"I had to live," Heero murmured. "Paying my bills..."

"What, your pretty princess didn't want to foot it?" It was out of his mouth before he realized it -- again -- but Duo's mouth often worked faster than his mind.

"I see my reputation preceded me, just like yours has," Heero answered dryly. "Or were you too busy sticking your head into beer kegs and now you can't cough up the money to pay your bar tab?"

"That's a low one."

"Not lower than yours."

"You used to never accept commissions for money, only for the artifact's value for the archaeological world. We never got paychecks, Heero!"

"You used to never drink but one mixer in a whole week," he snarled. "I read all about you in the tabloids, mister Popular Party Goer of several consecutive years!"

"I heard about you in all our circles, Mister Sell Out," Duo growled. "How you dared to ask money for your efforts, how you dared to make profit of what we used to do for free -- only expenses paid, and the artifact to the respective museum or institution!"

"I had my reasons," Heero said, putting on the shirt.

"I had my reasons too," Duo yelled and turned around, stalking towards the bathroom as his hair was already unravelling. He bit his lower lip, not knowing if he wanted to scream in frustration or to laugh in despair. Why were they bickering like this? Like enemies, like foes, after all they shared, after all they'd been through? Duo looked at himself in the mirror, suddenly taken aback by the bitterness on his face, the anger in his eyes. Why was everything with Heero so confronting? Why did he feel like he had to justify himself...why was he slipping, falling into some kind of abyss? Where did all this aggression come from, and why was he constantly blaming Heero? Was he afraid, or just immature? He knew he couldn't live out his life alone and... die alone? A life without Heero, without ever admitting that he himself had been wrong too?

The shower helped him to feel refreshed, but not to get a clear grip on his thoughts. Duo wrapped a towel around his hair, the wet strands immediately soaking the fabric. He stretched languidly, taking another towel from the stack to wrap around himself, stepping out of the damp shower cabin.

"I think Papo Sorfu is a nice place for dinner, if the place still exists...?"

His voice died in his throat when he was greeted by the empty room.

"Fucking typical," Duo snorted, though he couldn't deny the pang he felt -- a sudden fear of Heero having left him. He reminded himself not to immediately think the worst of it; Heero might have stepped out to make reservations, get some supplies, or make a phone call, whatever. Duo quickly went around the room, and checked if their luggage was still there -- and indeed, Heero's bag was still lying against the dresser. So he hadn't left him...

Duo pursed his lips, but then continued to dry himself off and braided his hair with harsh movements, fingers tugging at the strands. He didn't like it how Heero could create such a turmoil concerning his feelings, but Heero did something to him that he couldn't place a finger on -- it wasn't only love, but also safety, and stability. Duo scurried around to put his clothes on and choose once again a costume from Hilde's collection, this one hugging his skin as usual, covering him from head to toe. The nights could be cold here and the material would regulate his body temperature. Duo suppressed a wave of annoyance.

Heero was a grown man, and he didn't know why he had left. He shouldn't feel abandoned -- they were both adults, they should be doing better than this childish game of attracting and repelling. I want this to work out. He wanted to trust Heero again; he wanted to not keep adding his own mistakes to the mix. Mistakes...why did he have to make them in the first place? Why couldn't everything just be perfect? And why couldn't he just simply let it rest?

"Because you're a moron, Duo Maxwell," he said to his mirror image. "You expect to fix things in under twenty seconds, and you expect people to abide your every whim. That's enough of that -- no more moping and pouting. What are you, sixteen?"

Out of habit, he stuck a few knives on his person. The knives were treated with Hilde's special coating, so no metal detector would ever detect them. Hilde had always been good with practical things like this; Heero was the genius when it came to electronics and computer equipment. For now, Duo didn't want to think of their upcoming expedition. He was hungry and wanted to see if his favorite restaurant was still in business. He quickly left the room and took his keys and wallet with him. Too bad that Heero had stepped out, he'd been really looking forward to dinner together, but his appetite was too great to wait for the other.

Duo inhaled deeply when he left the hotel and merged with the crowd on the main street, the only asphalted street in the small town. It was the last town before Sanq's border, and the last place to get good supplies and something to eat before trekking into the rough country. The population was kind and helpful and wore colorful clothing; too bad the temperature was so chilly, or Duo would've thought he was in Mexico. The air was thick and heavy, nothing like a warm, comfortable blanket -- more like an imposing, strangling hand around the throat.

Nobody looked at him twice, this town was used to treasure hunters, archaeologists and strange folk. Not even if he'd been carrying his Uzis, the crowd wouldn't blink. He followed the crowd, picking up his pace, and after a few minutes he reached the center of the town: a large square where everyone gathered to meet up with friends, to get water from the surprisingly clean fountain and to eat at one of the many restaurants, conveniently located all around. Sure enough, the scent of hot food was mouth-watering, and his stomach reminded him that it had been quite a while since his sandwich on the train. He could do with a hearty meal, and to his utmost pleasure he saw the sign of Papo Sorfu buzzing; even after all these years, the owner hadn't bothered to replace the lights in his sign, rendering his restaurant's name to a Pap or u. Amused, Duo walked around, checking out some other restaurants, glad to be walking after all the hours cooped up in the train. The square was as usual crowded, natives talking loudly, children running around, the few tourists here and there wandering obtrusively around with their digital cameras and loud cell phones.

A row of cars -- outdated ones, reminding him of Cuba -- was lined up around the square, in front of a particular restaurant. Duo had never heard of the Gato Gado before, but it had to be one of the most popular establishments right now. People were lining up to be admitted, dressed up as if they were visiting a soir?. Amused, Duo decided to go back to his original choice of restaurant but couldn't keep from eyeing the cars, spotting a few elderly American models, and...

...a familiar white garb, though the outfit was not completely the same as when he'd seen him first. Duo narrowed his eyes, his fingers slightly twitching. He couldn't possibly be mistaken -- he had a photographic memory, and this guy had made enough impression on him to be never forgotten -- that, and the katana strapped on his back was a pretty good reminder. Only in this town no one would give you a second look, not even with a sword on your back -- it was just the way things were. This time, Chang Wufei was wearing a dark blue tank top embroidered with a dragon, its red and yellow scales glittering in the street lights. With the color of his tank top fading into the darkness of the night, it almost looked like a live dragon had wrapped itself around his body, the intricate details even visible from this distance. He was wearing a loosely knotted black belt around his white pants, and soft, flat shoes to complete his outfit. Hair pulled back tightly in a ponytail, his dark eyes focused on Heero -- it was him, and Heero was talking to him.

Silly me, I thought you really had both our interests in mind, not Khushrenada's. Chang was leaning rather casually on an open car door, the engine still running. He made a relaxed impression, as far as a guy with a katana on his back could be relaxed, and Heero was talking to him. Duo wished he knew how to read lips; his curiosity was almost killing him. The conversation was broken off abruptly as Chang suddenly adjusted the katana on his back and hopped into the car, which drove off immediately. Heero turned around and started walking towards the Gato Gado, leaving Duo to wonder if they'd seen him. What the hell? It would be of no use to follow Heero. He immediately knew when he was being followed; and Chang was by car, and probably miles and miles away from here. Heero claimed that Khushrenada couldn't care less whomever he worked with, as long as it paid off victoriously for him in the end -- the Never-Ending Circle, and to hell and back with everyone else. But seeing Heero with Chang together, like friends talking to each other, felt like a stab in the back. This was the same guy who had thrown tear gas and stolen the first part of the artifact and Winner's notes from him. His appetite had vanished, and that upset him even more. Duo decided to confront Heero back at the hotel, and he wasn't going to rest until he heard exactly what was going on.

Part 7

The hotel suite was rather luxurious, compared to what was available. Sanq's borders weren't exactly a hot spot for international tourists and there wasn't much choice in accomodation. The two bedrooms were seperated by a smaller room the size of a broom closet, which they had used to stash all their luggage and equipment. A miniature size 'living room' completed the suite -- two wooden seats with flat, hard pillows, a dented coffee table and something resembling a chaise-lounge, complete with stained, worn upholstery..

Duo waited up for Heero to return, but as time passed by and there was still no sign of him, he decided to go to bed. He tried to fall asleep, annoyance and worry fighting for dominance in his heart. He hated not knowing what was going on, and not being able to decipher Heero once more. He never had to distrust him, they had been in a loving relationship where Heero's love and dedication were simply unquestionable. But what was he supposed to think now, having seen with his own eyes that Heero had been talking to someone he couldn't trust? Chang Wufei, tied to Khushrenada in some way, the katana wielding warrior who stole the first part of the Never-Ending of him.

Growling, he turned around in the bed, refusing to think where Heero could be and what he was doing. He had wanted to give the other an earfull, but blissful sleep was claiming him slowly but surely. Duo didn't like to think in a pessimistic way, but he knew better than to expect to get an answer out of Heero. Even under the greatest pressure or in torture, Heero Yuy didn't talk. With a sigh he turned around again, taking the mass of blankets with him, snuggling into the warmth. Duo propped his hand under his chin. Yes, sleep, finally...he could almost feel himself slowly sinking away, the darkness tugging at him, his eyes heavy, his breathing slow...and there was an undefined, creaking sound coming from his door. Duo's other hand went under his pillow, fingers clenching around the Uzi he'd hidden there. The irony of it all was that he couldn't force himself to be fully awake. His body and mind registered the soft noises, the presence of someone else in his room. It felt like a dream sequence, something unreal, and he doubted if he was agile and fast enough to pull out the Uzi and fire if this person proved to be a burglar. Duo forced his breathing back under control. Footsteps, slightly muffled by the carpet. Someone was approaching his bed. His fingers cramped around the gun. Stay calm. Stay calm. Why wasn't he awake? Why couldn't he open his eyes?

It took all of his remaining willpower to not gasp out loud, to not shiver or moan, as he felt warm lips pressing to his cheek. Rough lips, not soft, etched from weather and wind, carrying a scent with them that he longed to smell again and again. He knew how those lips tasted, he knew how they liked to be kissed, he knew how they could turn into a warm smile, meant only for him.... By all means, Heero should've noticed long by now that he wasn't really asleep, yet he continued to kiss him -- feathery light, across his cheek, close to his temple. It was soothing, and it brought back mixed emotions: he wanted to turn around and throw his arms around him, pulling Heero with him on the bed and strip off his clothes and kiss him like mad, but on the other hand he didn't want to give in, the wall between them too high, the bond too fragile to be repaired with just a few kisses. Before he knew it, the footsteps moved away from him again, leaving his skin cold and untouched. His tight grip on the gun under his pillow loosened itself as sleep overwhelmed him, the kisses lingering in his mind.

The Land Rover had no trouble whatsoever dealing with the road -- that barely even deserved the name 'road' since the asphalt left much to be desired -- and the engine was purring like an oversized cat. This part of Sanq country, so close to the border, was accessible fairly well; Duo snorted as he thought back to the flyers he'd seen in the hotel lobby: tourist agencies offering excursions to visit the 'deep, mysterious heart of Sanq'.

Only people who had been to Sanq before knew that the tourist excursions wouldn't lead too far or that deep into the country -- in the course of time, Sanq had turned into an unpredictable jungle as nature took back what was hers, and wildlife and vegetation had developed accordingly. No wonder it was protected by many international laws -- Sanq was now acknowledged as a natural wildlife preserve, and the only excursions allowed were for research purposes, studying the plants and animals under strict and professional guidance. If tourists paid enough, they could participate in sightseeing excursions, but no travel agency in their right mind would allow tourists to wander around in the jungle on their own. Quite a few natives were making a good living off of these guided tours. Duo and Heero, albeit not tourists or researchers, had crossed the border with official papers -- it wasn't hard to get the right papers if you knew the right people. Nonetheless, as Sanq didn't promote archaeological research, it had taken them quite some bribery to waive the rule that a guide should accompany them. They didn't need anyone, and they didn't want any guide to trek along with them.

As Heero was driving, Duo sipped a little water from his bottle. Strapped into his seat, he'd drawn his knees up to his chest, leaning against the door to look out of the window. He was very grateful that Trowa had provided them with a Land Rover -- an open jeep was unable to withstand this rough jungle. The lower tree branches bashed against the roof of the car continuously, and sometimes Duo winced. He really didn't want to imagine how the Land Rover was going to look like as soon as they were finished with their expedition.

The sturdy belt around his waist shifted a little, exposing the holsters with the guns, as well as the row of clips mounted on them for easy and quick change -- another nifty invention of Hilde's, enabling him to reload his guns within a matter of seconds instead of digging around in pockets or his backpack for new ammunition.

"You aren't suffering, are you?" Heero suddenly asked.

Duo looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"What you're wearing," Heero said, chuckling. "It must be very hot. Have you forgotten that the weather in Sanq is all but tropical?"

"No, I haven't," Duo said, slightly miffed. "You should've recognized this fabric -- it's Hilde's special design, thank you very much. It adjusts to any change in body heat or outside temperature. I'm never hot or cold."

"You're always hot," Heero said lamely, then stared in front of him. This road might be the most accessible, but it was slowly crumbling down, decades of lack of maintenance taking its toll. The Land Rover shook and bumped along, its double axles getting a heavy workout.

Duo pursed his lips a little before grinning. "My, my, I think you just made an erotically suggestive comment, Heero my dear."

Heero didn't answer, but kept his eyes on the road as if in trance. His gloved hands rested casually on the steering wheel, and he didn't blink when tree branches hit the roof or windshield, or when the car bumped through another pothole. Duo focused on the window, simply looking outside, and tried to not pay much attention to the shaky and bumpy ride. Bad roads were probably the least of their problems, and he wanted to avoid developing a headache.

They hadn't said much since breakfast. Duo had waited patiently for Heero to start talking, to explain what happened yesterday, why he had left the hotel room and met up with Chang. He wasn't really surprised when no explanation left Heero's lips, acting like nothing had happened. Duo had been torn by either keeping silent himself or forcefully asking Heero, but decided at the last moment against asking. Instead, he would give Heero the opportunity to respond later, when they had arrived at the heart of Sanq's capital...when there was no one around to disturb or to overhear them. He had proceeded finishing up his gear, adding bottles of water and some more provisions, as well as a small first-aid kit. He even arranged for extra provisions for Heero, earning a soft, but genuine "Thank you" in return.

"Thank God for GPS," Duo muttered as he pulled the device out of his belt and stared at the small screen. The few available maps of Sanq were outdated; it was hard to document the changes the wild nature added to the country, and the former inhabitants hadn't bothered to draw a proper map to begin with. They had felt so safe in their own little nation, protected by the royal family, that they had slowly started to stand outside of the rest of the world. A true utopia that finally crumbled under the heavy weight of their collective na?ety and blind faith; how the Peacecrafts could ever think they were safe from war just by simply hanging onto their principles of peace, astounded him.

"The Royal Palace is not far off now," Heero said. "It's a good thing Howard used satellite imagery to track it and log it into the GPS. That saves us a lot of time of searching around."

"A good thing, yes," Duo answered. "My ass is going to be so black and blue from all this shaking and bumping around."

Heero tugged a little at the wheel. "These roads aren't exactly paved with gold, you know."

"More like paved with blood." Duo quickly sobered. Decades ago, tanks and trucks loaded with war materials had driven through here, flattening every building, killing thousands of innocents, while the Peacecrafts had called upon their pacifistic policies in vain. The country had been literally trampled by the first mobile suits, designed by mankind with no other purpose than to destroy. In the general panic, the survivors fled the country, and Sanq would be occupied for the duration of the war. No one blamed the royal family for their beliefs and their passive attitude; moreso, their principles gained a large following all over the world tired of war, and the family itself was still hung up on their vision of total disarmament and global peace. Relena was one of the first to actually adjust her vision, understanding that sometimes violence was needed to maintain and to defend peace. She wasn't happy to acknowledge that realisation -- but she was aware of it. She was the first of her family to understand that as long as people were still willing to trade weapons, as long as not everyone supported global peace, total disarmament simply wasn't possible.

Duo shook his head. What a horrible irony for the girl to follow her her family into their every footstep and principles, only to learn of her brother Milliardo taking up arms in the war that had driven them out of their homeland. A black sheep, he paid dearly for the 'sins' of his youth, in an attempt to defend what was dear to him -- now he paid with silence and slavery, unable to help his sister. Relena's delicate position in the peace balance of the world was too much and too important to endanger; the colonies would immediately declare war if the Queen of the World was compromised.

"Here we are, the outskirts of the city," Heero announced as he hit the brakes, grunting as he saw the wide ditch in front of them. "We need to put planks in place."

Duo nodded to Heero and jumped out of the Land Rover. This was even too wide for their vehicle to cross, but the jungle provided enough logs to create a makeshift bridge. Heero helped him to hoist two large logs over the ditch, lining them up perfectly with the Land Rover's wheels. As Heero carefully continued to drive, the logs bended dramatically under the excessive weight. Duo shouted directions to him, beads of sweat running all over his body. It was hot, extremely humid weather, and his chestnut bangs were sticking to his face. He wished he was back in the car with the comfortable AC running. Or a shower, a shower sure would come in handy...concentrating on the job at hand, he guided Heero over the logs who splintered at the last moment, causing the Land Rover to slip; with a firm dot of gas and Heero's good driving, the vehicle stayed on the road.

It would take them another ninety minutes before they reached the heart of what once was the majestic capital of Sanq. Duo felt disheartened to see every building, every ornament, every little shed, torn and shot to pieces. It was one thing to discover a civilization being mauled at the hands of time, but it was a whole another thing to find a nation being mauled at the hands of mankind. Even battered mobile suits, a silent sign of the weak resistance the people had put up, were still on the streets, covered with moss. Desolation was almost tangible here -- Duo had seen paintings and early pictures of the country, reminding him of sunny Spain with the fresh white wall plaster, colorful red roof tiles and the arches everyone was so fond of in this typical architecture. Children should be running around here, playing on the streets, cats and dogs meowing and barking... People should be out and about to do their job, a chore or running an errand, whatever they wanted to do...but there was nothing but chunks of stone, broken support beams, torn tiles and silent destruction.

He checked his watch -- early afternoon, surprisingly enough. It felt like they had been on the move for an entire day. Travelling had been slow due to the bad road; his whole body felt numb. They could spare a few minutes to have lunch. He glanced at Heero who parked the car in the shadows of what used to be a church. Duo looked at the building, his braid swinging with every movement. The Royal Palace was their destination as they assumed it held more clues concerning the artifact. It was known for its large -- and only -- national library, and harboring some kind of shrine with 'relics and remains from past times'. Duo had no doubt the shrine would only contain some heirlooms, dusty jewelry the Peacecrafts had kept for sentimental value... but who knows, maybe the mysterious shrine held information on the Never-Ending Circle, or was even the home to it. Maybe the second part, the blade, was to be found under the church. Wouldn't it be highly ironic if the place where the God of Death broke his instrument had become holy ground? Ironic enough to give it a shot.

Duo shook his head. He turned around to see Heero walking towards him, hoisting a shotgun over his shoulder. They were both armed and dangerous, the way they used to be...the way it used to be.

"Let's go," he simply said. Duo nodded, apparently Heero wasn't in the mood for lunch. Taking out an energy bar from one of his many pockets, Duo nibbled on it as they moved up the large steps, towards the doors of the Palace. His eyes took in their surroundings, but he didn't see any trace of other footsteps -- it seemed like they were really the only ones here.

What once was white, had been corroded by time. The walls bore a sickly grey colour, cracked here and there, covered with darkish moss in some spots. Inside, the heavy smell of gathered dust and mold was thick enough to choke on. The frames of the paintings on the walls were chipped and dusty, and the canvas torn and ragged. Duo noticed how the paintings were aligned in historical context, depicting a chronological line of ancient rulers, the respective heads of the Peacecraft family. There was no painting of Milliardo -- he'd been too young to assume his position as head of the family, and if they knew of his participation in the war...Not all of the Peacecraft family was dead or broken, Duo mused. Their politics, their beliefs and their traditions were still very much alive. I wonder what would happen if it were all to blow up into Khushrenada's face, when royalty turns against him and his plan backfires. Duo grinned -- Khushrenada might think he held the upper hand, but he might not be holding it much longer.

Heero walked beside him as they crossed the large hall, the ceiling even higher than at Maxwell Manor. Massive amounts of chalk cluttered their way, crunching beneath the thick soles of their boots. There was nothing much to see -- some leftover furniture, all but decayed and moulded, dusty and fragile -- that was all the grandeur left in the Palace. Standing still for a moment, Heero consulted an old, paper layout of the building before continuing to lead the way. Duo kept an eye on everything, adrenaline pumping to give him a boost when necessary.

The place had been picked clean by thieves and less scrupulous people; the Peacecrafts were rumored to have left the Palace with only a little money and the clothes on their backs, hoping to return when the atrocities of war were over. He barely suppressed a snort. They probably expected to find everything untouched and unspoiled whenever they were to return. Such na?ity must've been a bliss.

The large hall ended up in a square room, reminding Duo of the ball room he had seen at the Khushrenada estate. The tiles had faded, and the few carpets left on the floor showed big holes, threads unraveled. An impossibly large table caught his eye immediately, as well as the broken chandelier on top of it, its weight having crushed the wood. Heero mumbled something about this being a dining room for official banquets. He read it off of the map, trying to locate the library.

"The library is downstairs, close to the cellar," he finally said. "It's not as large, probably twice the size of your office."

"What? That's too small for any library!"

"Apparently, this library wasn't for books, but for the nation's records only. Documentation was stored there, and behind the library was the shrine for the artifacts. I can't make out how large that shrine is. It's been drawn into the map and then erased, so I'm not sure if these pencil lines are even correct. It's as if they wanted to indicate it doesn't exist...yet."

"Maybe they had plans for constructing a place to store their artifacts," Duo suggested. "That is, any artifact resembling a weapon. Maybe they never got around to build it."

Sanq had been known for its lovely art and objects, mostly pottery, manufactured in bright and lively colours. A weapon wouldn't be crafted by the inhabitants, and certainly not a weapon like a scythe. The kingdom had rejected every kind of weapon, no one would think of putting something like that on display. Heero agreed.

"If the scythe or a part of it would be here, they would've kept it separated. Not in their shrine, somewhere different, far away."

"And if it's not there, we can at least find another clue if we're lucky," Duo added. "Libraries are usually left untouched by thieves. Let's see if we can make something out of those records."

The way down to the cellar and library was blocked by the remnants of a huge marble banister, which had crumbled and fallen down. Duo scratched the back of his head pensively. As usual, he had explosives with him, but it wasn't his intention to use it for every minor setback; dynamite was mostly a last ditch effort. Heero noticed his reluctant look, not really keen on using explosives either. They could bring the entire Palace down with just one explosion, no matter how small; this was a delicate location.

"Maybe we can reach the cellar and library another way," he suggested. "The layout isn't really clear. Placing charges would just be a luck of the draw, and we'd do more harm than good."

"Any charge could bring this whole building down," Duo said superfluously, kicking at a pebble. "It wouldn't exactly help us to get the roof on our heads."

Heero heaved as sigh and tried to estimate the weight and size of the broken marble. It was impossible to climb over it, and removing it was not an option: not only would it take too much time, marble was far too heavy for the two of them. He consulted the paper layout again, patiently.

"Hmmm...I think there's another way. A shaft in the kitchen, a handy elevator structure to bring up food and stock from the cellar to the upper floors."

"All right, let's go for it," Duo agreed. He squinted a little, mentally noting that the sun was already going down. In this type of countries the sun would set real fast, it was almost overwhelming. At the moment there was enough light, shining through all the cracks and holes in the Palace walls. It was easy to find the kitchen, but Duo checked his flashlight anyway. The batteries would last for hours and he had a spare pack with him. If there was one thing that Solo had taught him, it was to be prepared for anything, and to be prepared well. It was Duo's own fault to be rather lax, though he would never forget his essentials: his Uzis and his flashlight.

"The kitchen," Heero announced. Duo coughed a few times, dust and chalk acting on his throat. He tilted his head a little, staring blankly at Heero who studied the map. He still hadn't mentioned anything about his meeting with Chang -- what exactly was he hiding, and why didn't he confide in him? What are you hiding from me? It hurt. Annoyedly, he pursed his lips. He wasn't a small child anymore, and if it wasn't for Heero's superior physical strength, he would so deck him. Maybe he simply should, to get a reaction out of him. Abruptly, Duo turned around. Khushrenada was not going to be the last one laughing, he wasn't going to end up with the artifact. Heero or not, Duo had promised the Never-Ending Circle to Quatre Winner. He had taken his commission to get back into the field and goddamnit, he would get back into the field, even if it would take his life.

The large kitchen, fashionably outdated, was full of setting sunlight due to the extremely large window panes. Despite them all being broken, the remaining shards in the frames reflected the light and converted it into a soft, vintage glow, illuminating the room with a tenderness that was breathtaking. Duo tried to imagine how this kitchen looked like in its glory days -- busy, filled with people working hard to provide their royal family and guests with the most delicious of foods. There was a sadness lingering here, or maybe only Duo was the one feeling it...Heero was looking diligently for the elevator and found it behind a cracked panel. Prying it open, he turned on his flashlight and stuck his head into the shaft, trying to gauge the altitude.

"It looks quite sturdy," he muttered. He shifted a little, groping around with his hands to find the ropes of the pulling mechanism.

Duo came to stand close to him, putting his hand on a large winch, rusted all the way through. "If we use this, we can simply bring back up the elevator?"

"It's worth a try, though it probably won't take our weight -- it was used to transport foods and stock, not humans."

"Who knows, maybe it's strong enough. The shaft looks rather roomy to me."

"All right, let's give it a try."

They both tried to get the mechanism to work, but eventually they had to give up, especially after the winch came loose from the wall and fell to the floor, too rusted to even budge.

"It's stuck," Duo confirmed. "We have to use the ropes to get down." He flexed his fingers, knowing that the material of his gloves would be able to deal with any kind of rope or cable. Heero simply nodded, but reached for his backpack first to take out his own gloves. He strapped his flashlight onto his right shoulder, fastening it with velcro so it wouldn't move, leaving his hands free as he put his gloves on. He swung his legs over the edge and squirmed a little.

"Not as roomy as you think," he commented and grabbed the ropes.

"All right, let's go!"

He started to climb down, followed by Duo, who had mimicked his earlier movement and had also strapped his flashlight to his shoulder. They managed to work their way down rather fast, the ropes still in a surprisingly good condition to support them on their way down. Heero waited for Duo before moving on, his flashlight immediately catching the device used to pull up the supplies, standing outside the shaft, demolished by rubble.

"That's the reason why we couldn't move it."

"It wasn't even in the shaft. Strange," Duo said. "The Palace wasn't attacked from the inside, was it?"

"I don't think so. This could simply be something completely unrelated to the war...maybe a clumsy servant, or it was taken out for repairs..."

"Hm," Duo made a non-committal sound.

"I haven't studied Sanq history...I only know the things that Relena told me."

"Relena also gave you the map of the Palace?"

He shook his head, his chocolate brown hair covered in dust and chalk, and he had also picked up some cobwebs in the elevator shaft.

"Relena was too young, she doesn't remember much. She told me bits and pieces, but not really any revealing information. I bought this layout at an auction, as I collect Sanq valuables for her. I know my way around in that world, she doesn't."

"It must be hard to leave your homeland and now it's all...rubble and destroyed," Duo said.

"She doesn't remember much," Heero repeated, albeit soft. "She's glad she doesn't. She can't miss the memories she doesn't have, she always says."

"Smart woman," Duo whistled.

"We have an artifact to retrieve."

"Yeah." Duo increased the volume of his flashlight and looked around. The cellar was huge; rack after wooden rack, empty and rickety. Barrels and boxes were stocked up against the walls, most of the wood ready to crumble under the slightest touch. Baskets with rotten and severely mutated potatoes were strewn all over the floor, huge lumps of mould, and the air felt clamp and stuffy; they both heard the familiar sounds of rats scurrying around. Heero pulled out his map again and studied it, scrunching up his face.

"Whoever drew this map should be shot."

"What's the matter?"

"It says that this is the main cellar, connected to a whole maze of other, smaller cellars by a system of confusing hallways. It could leave us walking around for hours on end."

"Where's the library?"

"Here," Heero pointed to the map.

"That's the first floor! We just got here!"

"Like I said, whoever drew this map should be shot. The library is drawn in on the first floor, but every other map I consulted had the library located close to the main cellar...this one."

"Well, the Never-Ending Circle isn't here, that's for sure," Duo said, staring at the crates and boxes as if he could see the mould grow. "We've retrieved artifacts from more desolate places and with more difficulty than this. It never is too hopeless for us. If we can find the armor of Horus after searching all over Egypt, then we can find a stupid scythe."

"Absolutely," Heero agreed, showing a small smile. "Let's get outside this cellar first."

"That should be pretty easy," Duo pointed at the heavy, iron door which was opened at a small crack. "I hope you didn't have too much for breakfast!"

Squirming their way past the door, Duo touched the walls to find torches or oil lamps, or any trace of electricity. "There's no illumination here. Oh, wait, wait, here's a lamp, but it doesn't look like it's connected to anything."

"Thanks to their rather...old-fashioned beliefs, Sanq was late with installing plumbing and electricity, or so it appears," Heero said. "I doubt that any of the current Peacecrafts would want to return to their Palace even if it would be untouched by the war -- everything is so outdated that it would take years and years of renovations to bring it back up to nowadays standards."

"This system of hallways is pretty complicated," Duo noted. "It makes good for scaring off burglars and thieves. Why did they keep the library down here?"

"Probably because of the temperature conditions? It's cool, and they probably thought storing their documents in a cool, stable environment would be the best preservation."

"I swear the people here were pretty fucking na?e..."

"You can't blame them, Duo."

"I'm not," he said. "I'm not blaming anyone. They just...blinded themselves with their own backward beliefs, and they paid a very high price for it. Leaving your country and everything you held dear behind isn't something you do on a daily basis. It's just that...it's stupid. If Peacecraft invested a little more in his defence and his military system he would've been able to fend off the attack."

"It was his belief, Duo," Heero said softly. "His belief to not fight or respond with violence, but to talk and negotiate with people."

"And look where the negotiations brought him..."

"It would do you some good if you were to take notice of his visions, Duo..."

"Are you saying I need fucking anger management?"

"Sort of," Heero mumbled and shone with his flashlight to the left. "Let's go to the east. The library should be across here somewhere. We can't keep walking around to see if we can find it at random. The system of hallways is far too complicated, we'd be down here for days."

"Where would they keep their secret stash?" Duo said, a little mockingly. He was anxious for Heero to start talking about Chang, and he was building up anger that the subject of his annoyance was painstakingly avoided..or rather, ignored.

"Secret stash?"

"If you're a peace-loving nation with no weapons whatsoever, where would you keep an artifact that clearly represents death and destruction? That is, if they didn't destroy it at first sight?"

"I doubt they would destroy it, despite what it represents," Heero answered calmly. "The habitants of Sanq respected their history too much for mindless destruction."

"That doesn't exactly mean they embraced their history," Duo shot back. "Do you really think they would want to keep an instrument of death right under their pacifistic noses? They had somehow the tool of the God of Death in their possession, if what Howard deducted from the staff is true. It belongs to the Peacecraft's history and past because it has Sanq's markings on it."

"It would be devastating for the people still attached to Sanq, for those who passed all their history and knowledge about the country down to the next generations," Heero said.

"They're only adding to the legends and myths," Duo breathed harshly. "Within a century, every one of the Peacecraft will be nothing but saints! Despite everything, the country will be crawling with treasure hunters, uncaring for nature and the wildlife, and there'll probably be rumors about how Excalibur can be found here, for all that it's worth."

"Yes, and we use those rumors and legends to hunt for artifacts ourselves, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," Duo waved with his hand and heaved a small sigh. "To the east it is, then."

They found the library soon enough and intact, to both their relief. Heero opened the heavy wooden door and peeked inside. A few rats quickly scattered as they entered -- Duo didn't fancy a rat bite, and checked the library thoroughly while Heero breezed past the large racks filled with documents.

"It's all loose paperwork," he said. "Nothing in binders, nothing written down in catalogues... it'll take ages to work our way through this."

"Any way of narrowing it down?" Duo asked, getting used to the hollow echo to his voice. He choose a few wads of paper randomly and studied them before concluding that it was an overview of invoices, paid in a year he couldn't make out.

"This is nonsense...we made it all the way out here to look for an artifact and we're caught in paperwork."

"Duo, the only way for us to find any clue is to check whatever's down here. You wouldn't want to miss any more information about the Never-Ending Circle because you're too impatient to carefully search for it, now would you?"

"Impatient my ass," Duo grumbled. "You said yourself that there was a room behind the library drawn into this map."

"Which is not entirely accurate...?"

"Get me your thing..."

"What thing?"

"That thing that measures the density of the walls," Duo said. "I know you have it with you -- you packed more of your electronics than you did food, you moron."

"Hey, there's no need for name calling!"

"Give it to me, sweetheart," Duo batted his eyes at him and Heero sighed melodramatically.

"Sometimes I think you have the mood swings of a girl, you know that, don't you?"

"I'm entitled to -- you were always the man in our relationship."

"This doesn't have anything to do with top or bottom..."

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

"Here," Heero pressed the small device into Duo's hand. "Use it, and let me study these papers, okay?"

"Okay doll," Duo answered and switched the density meter on, grinning briefly at Heero before he started walking past the walls, halting every now and then. Hollow rooms were nothing new in their line of business -- they had found artifacts in the weirdest places. Duo checked the readings on his screen; this was all solid rock, and he started to believe he might've had the wrong idea. He slowly made his way around the library -- Heero had been right, it wasn't that large and it held no books, just rows and rows of rolled up papers, tied together with tiny ropes. Everyone in Sanq would probably have a heart attack when computers would be introduced, Duo thought to himself as he halted in front of the north wall, and his eyes widened in surprise when he checked the reading.

"Bingo! Hollow room," he said out loud.

Heero turned towards him. "Really?"

"Check it out," Duo answered, holding out the density meter. There was a small wooden rack in front of the north wall, loaded with those typically rolled up papers. It wouldn't be too much work to get this out of the way, but he waited for Heero's confirmation first.

"You're right, this isn't the consistency of rock," Heero said and he took the flashlight from his shoulder, shining it along the wall. "They did a very good job...see? There's the seam...I take it back, it's an excellent job."

"Let's get this thing out of the way." Duo grabbed the rack, tugging at it. Heero helped him to move the furniture, shoving it aside.

Touching the damp wall, Duo traced the seam of the door opening, and knocked a few times on it. "It hardly sounds hollow. I didn't know the people of Sanq were so adept at constructing hidden rooms like this."

"There must be some mechanism to open it. Check for switches, levers... anything irregular."

"Sure thing, boss," Duo replied and moved with his hand, touching and checking the wall for anything that could trigger the door. Frowning, they worked towards each other, meticulously examining the surface.

"I can't find anything."

Heero shone with his flashlight on the wall, obviously lost in thought. Duo heaved a sigh, taking a sip of water. They had been at work for the whole day, and he hadn't eaten a thing since the energy bar.

"Heero, sit down, eat something. We're staring ourselves blind."

"All right." He sounded tired. "I guess we can do with a little break."

"We aren't exactly in a hurry, you know. Or are you afraid someone is after you already?"

"I'm not afraid of anyone coming after me."

"You sound incredulous."

"I am. What makes you think I'm afraid of anything coming after me?"

"Since you were pretty worried about Khushrenada earlier."

Heero snorted, taking some of his provisions out of his backpack. "Khushrenada doesn't worry me. The fact that he's toying with powers that are way above and beyond him worries me."

"Really, now..." Duo stared at him while he took another sip. Come on Heero, I've given you plenty enough opportunity to start talking about it...

"How are we to open the entrance?" Heero sighed, unscrewing his own bottle of water. "I can't find a mechanism, and there wasn't a lever on your side either. I suggest we start searching the room, it can't be far off. Otherwise we have to think of more drastic measures to get it open."

"As you wish," Duo said and nibbled at another energy bar. They tasted like wet cardboard, but each one of them provided sufficient energy and nutritional value for an adult. Neither Heero nor Duo had room in their backpacks for full kitchen gear, and cooking was out of the question. They enjoyed their 'dinner' in silence, gathering the wrappers of the bars and stuffing it into a side pocket of their backpacks; no need to start littering the place.

"All right, let's tackle the door!" Heero stood up and turned around, taking a few paces towards the north wall again. Duo was about to follow him and put his foot in front of the other -- and was almost thrown off guard as the floor started to move.

"Wh-what?"

Heero remained standing, hands flying to his shotgun, a primal reaction, as his eyes darted through the room, scanning for danger.

"An earthquake?" Duo quickly followed Heero's example, though guns wouldn't help them if it really was an earthquake.

"The...it's the floor," Heero said, noticing how his left foot was sinking away. "A panel! We stepped on panels..!"

"Is the door opening?"

Heero growled. "Yes, it's opening! Can you make it through?"

"What happens if I... Jesus!"

A large chunk of concrete dropped from the ceiling, missing Duo by a millimetre, and he jumped to the side, yelping out loud.

"Fuck!"

"The door is closing again!"

"Run!"

Duo grabbed Heero by the shoulder in passing -- he had yet to be beaten in running, and he had often saved his life and that of others by simply being as fast as possible. There was only one time he hadn't been fast enough. No! It wasn't his fault! Not allowing himself any time to think about it, Duo yanked at Heero to keep him moving, hurling him through the closing door now that it wasn't triggered any more by the pressure pads.

"We made it," Heero wheezed, almost falling to the ground. He had to catch his breath -- not from the exertion, but from the momentary surge of adrenaline running through his body. The door closed behind them, sealing them off from the library. It was pitch black but for the beams of light coming from their flashlights.

"Everything okay?"

"I'm fine," Heero said. "I hate it when there's no logical or rational way to open a door, though."

"The mechanism is hidden well but we would've found the pressure pads eventually."

"Yeah, and you would've been crushed." Heero shook his head.

"Classic safety precaution." Duo shrugged. "Thieves in front of a temple...it only shows that we're getting close. Whatever there's behind this, it was worth the trouble of devising a trap to protect it."

"You're right." Heero straightened himself again. "We're on the right track, and we should've known there would be some kind of trap. There's always some kind of trap."

"Even the pacifistic Peacecrafts thought of traps," Duo said, suddenly amused. "It doesn't fit with their principles, however...that was quite the sign of violence, dropping a block of concrete on one's head when trying to open a door."

Heero chuckled, his voice echoing. "Maybe the family didn't know, and this was constructed before their time...I do agree, it is quite the sign of violence to drop a block of concrete on your visitors."

"Unwanted visitors," Duo remarked dryly.

"True. Still...a block of concrete?"

"I always thought that a pool of igniting oil was more effective..."

"India, right?"

"The temple of Hyderabad," Duo mused briefly and a smile was visible on his lips. "I thought we were done for, until you found that ledge we could hold on to."

"I found that ledge, but you found the way into that temple in the first place. We make a good team, Duo."

His smile turned a little wider, but he didn't pursue the topic. "Let's see where this corridor leads to, and what more nifty traps our shrewd family had installed."

Adjusting the flashlight on his shoulder again, Duo could make out that the corridor was rather small, barely fitting two people next to each other. Leading the way, he went step by step, careful for any more pressure pads. Heero was right behind him, following his lead.

"It seems like we're going down," Duo mentioned after a while. The air in the corridor was damp and heavy just like in the cellar and the library -- no one had been here in ages. He didn't keep count of all the cobwebs getting tangled in his hair; his braid swung loosely on his back, catching a lot of the dust. Heero nodded, even though Duo couldn't see it.

"It also seems that there's a lot more hidden below the Palace than one could ever presume."

Duo snickered. "That's not much of a surprise now, is it? We've seen so much already, that hidden doors and secret passages are a standard routine in our work."

"No end to this corridor in sight yet?"

"Now that you mention it..."

Duo halted, his flashlight shining on a door. "I think we stumbled upon it... it looks like a safe."

Heero squirmed past him to get a good look, frowning.

"No apparent lock or handle...it's carved out of the same stone. Unless we find the right mechanism to trigger it, there's no other way we can force it open," he said.

Duo inspected the large door, extending his hand to touch the surface. There were four receptacles in the middle, with the edges chipped off.

"Some kind of bolt was here," he murmured. "Probably the weight was the decisive factor for the door to open."

"Is there some way we can simulate the weight?" Heero looked down. "There's more than enough rock and rubble at our feet."

"Let's hope weight is the trigger to this door," Duo said out loud. Using the flashlight again, he looked around, at his feet. "This looks like the original bolt. See the carving of the stone? It's like it was placed onto the receptacles..."

"... and immediately smashed into pieces," Heero finished his sentence.

"Were they afraid of what's behind this door?"

"Who knows...maybe there is something behind this door that even will strike fear in us," Heero said before bending down and gathering some of the rocks.

"Who knows, indeed...?" Duo kneeled down as well, and together they lifted up a chunk of the bolt, its weight too heavy for one man to carry.

Stapling everything they could find together, Duo felt every muscle in his body protest after the physical exertion. Heero was breathing heavily next to him, focused on the task at hand.

"One more piece...we have to put everything together, if we created enough weight on the receptacles it should open by now."

"It's not really cooperating," Duo sighed, placing one of the last pieces he found onto the receptacle. He barely had finished his sentence as a loud clank echoed throughout the small corridor.

"What?"

"Is the door opening?"

"Careful!"

Heero took a step back. "It's opening, yes...get back!"

Obediently, Duo took a step back, keeping an eye on the door that was drawn up like a gate, unlike the hidden door in the library. As his flashlight shone down, Duo immediately noticed the smoke coming through the cracks, curling around their ankles.

"What the hell? Heero!"

"It must be some kind of gas," Heero said. "It's another trap!"

"There's no ventilation here," Duo yelled, quickly digging around his backpack for a piece of cloth to tie around his nose and mouth. "Fucking figures!"

"We have to hurry...we don't know what kind of gas this is!"

The white smoke crept up around their legs, its tendrils swirling through the air. Duo finished tying the cloth around his face, leaving only his eyes uncovered -- hopefully the gas wasn't acid, but he was already feeling light-headed, and Heero started to cough violently. Mind working at top speed, Duo ran past all their options: he had a first aid kit with him, but that wouldn't help against something as elusive as gas. If the door opened fast enough, they could slip under it and get away from the smoke...

"Hold on, Heero! The door is almost open...hold on!" Another metal clank was heard, and Heero almost collapsed, coughing wildly. Duo wrapped his arms around him to keep him upright, despite his own body trembling. Heero latched at him, fingers digging into his arms for support. Duo moved forwards, taking Heero with him, all but dragging him through the opening, yelling at him to hold on. The door was lifted up slowly by a rattling mechanism, outdated and rusty, and if they had to wait one minute longer in this corridor they would suffocate from the smoke.

"Come on," Duo growled and pushed Heero through the opening, forcing him on his knees to crawl forward. He was coughing himself, eyes slowly starting to tear -- what the hell was this kind of gas anyway? -- and his vision started spinning. Blinking, willing himself to stay focused, he crawled after Heero, underneath the door.

"Water," Heero mumbled and blindly searched for his water bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking careful sips, moistening his lips. Duo mimicked his gesture, unable to unscrew the cap right away because of his trembling fingers. They couldn't afford to stay here, not with the lingering smoke -- Duo only took a few sips and licked the droplets off of his lips, using the moment to get his mind clear again.

There wasn't much difference between the corridor they left and the one they were facing just now, with the exception that this one was absolutely a dead end. Nothing but a spiral staircase leading into...a dark pit in front of them, and angry curling smoke with whatever health hazard behind them.

"I guess this is what keeps the excitement going, right?" Duo grinned half-heartedly, adjusting the position of the flashlight once again. Heero didn't comment, obviously collecting his bearings, coughing now and then. He brusquely wiped off the tears on his cheeks, his eyes irritated from the gas, and his breathing still was uneven. There wasn't much of a choice left for them.

"We have to move." Duo nudged him, resulting into a sharp nod and another coughing fit. Heero didn't comment on Duo going down first -- the moment they worked together again they had fallen back into their old routine of taking the lead and following, guiding and examining, alternating and switching whenever the situation asked for it. They had never established a pattern beforehand; it just...came naturally to them.

Moving away from the gas, Duo started descending the stairs. The steps were carved out of stone and were ridiculously small; he lost track of counting them, and he lost track of time. Deeper and deeper down it went, in his imagination they were approaching the center of the Earth by now. The walls became even narrower as they progressed, and it was a good thing he wasn't claustrophobic. The rubber soles of their boots made no noise on the stairs, and it went down and down and down...endlessly down.

"I wonder where we're going to end up," Duo finally said, his voice sounding muffled. Slightly annoyed, he pulled the cloth he had wrapped around his head down, repeating his words.

"I wouldn't know," Heero answered him, his voice hoarse and raspy. The strange smoke they encountered earlier hadn't been poisonous, but Duo was wary of the consequences. As soon as they had finished their business here, he wanted to have both of them examined by a doctor.

"Whatever has been buried here, they wanted it to be hidden extremely well."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Duo said, and he shivered from the excitement. They were getting close now, at the brink of a new discovery -- even if it would end up a dead lead, even if they wouldn't find a thing, it was the thrill of the hunt, the excitement of the game. Suddenly his foot touched the ground, and he stumbled forward.

"Holy shit! I touched the ground!"

"Finally," Heero heaved a melodramatic sigh, coughing again. His calves hurt from the monotonous movement and he shook his legs, flexing his muscles.

He swung his flashlight around, shivering from the cold. His clothing wasn't of the same material as what Hilde had invented for Duo, and the temperature had dropped significantly along the way down.

"There's no other path to take then what's right in front of us," he said. Duo was checking the GPS, trying to calculate where they were.

"South and southwest..." He clicked with his tongue. "I think we're almost literally in the heart of the country."

Sanq wasn't that large, and the Palace was the heart of the capital, built on the geographical center of the nation. He opened his mouth to say something again, but closed it.

"What?"

"Nothing," Duo said, tugging at his braid. Heero threw him a quizzical look. He seemed to be fine again after breathing in the strange smoke, and was eager to continue their expedition, especially now that both were feeling that they were getting close. He waited until Duo would continue talking, but when he remained silent he simply turned around to follow the small corridor. Sounds were deceptive, especially so deep underground...Duo told himself that he imagined hearing a strange sound. Get in, get the artifact, get out again. That was the only thing that mattered right now.

Part 8

To Duo's relief, the corridor widened significantly. They could finally walk next to each other and keep an eye on their surroundings. To their surprise, the walls were perfectly plastered, without a single crack, showing no signs of destruction or decay. The corridor itself was free of any rubble, but not of cobwebs, fat spiders and other insects flying and crawling around. They picked up on the unmistakable sounds of rats, but as long as they didn't encounter them, it was fine by Duo -- he hated rats. His special costume protected him well enough from all the creepy crawlers; he couldn't imagine how he would've felt without it. Heero flailed with his hands every now and then -- he had brought insect repellent with him, but it just didn't seem to work against all the bug life down here.

The air was suffocating hot and damp again. The whirling clouds of dust made the both of them cough, and the thick cobwebs clouded their sight, despite the intense flashlights they were carrying. Duo didn't want to know how all the webbing stuck to his costume and his hair; it wasn't something a good shower wouldn't get rid of, and he wasn't into archaeology to stay pristine clean. After a while, according to his watch it didn't take longer than twenty minutes, they arrived at a large arch, covered by unsurprisingly more cobwebs. They had to use their knives to cut through the hideously thick strands.

"Gross," Duo whined as his entire knife was encased in mummified webbing. He tried to pluck some off of the blade, growling when it of course stuck to his fingers. If anything, they were the first ones to visit this place since a long, very long time; that made it all worthwile. He could already feel the adrenaline and excitement of a discovery building up in his body. Heero grumbled something inaudible in return and stepped forward, setting foot on a new surface -- a creaking surface.

"Wood," he said in surprise. Duo shone on the floor with his flashlight; it was wood all right, and he knocked on it. He tested the planks by stomping on them with his heavy steel-toed boots and jumping a few times. Heero just shook his head at his antics.

"Be careful, Duo. I don't want you to fall through it!"

"Don't worry -- it's in excellent condition," Duo said, sounding surprised as well. "And heey, no echo."

"We must be in a very large room. We better determine its dimensions before we continue."

"Can you see the other side?"

"No."

"Damn. Where the hell are we?"

Heero looked around, the beam of his flashlight illuminating his surroundings. "I see some sort of railing over there. This looks like a balcony to me."

"A balcony? I don't think it's easy accesible. Well, if this is a balcony, there has to be a way down. Another flight of stairs, perhaps."

"We'll follow this as far as it goes," Heero suggested.

Duo walked up to the railing and looked over it, his flashlight shining all the way down. He whistled. At first sight, this was a large, oval-shaped room, probably some kind of shrine, as Duo thought he saw an altar down below. This was some kind of temple, hidden under the Royal Palace -- was this the shrine the map had pointed out? But a shrine to what -- a secret religion? To worship gods that had been forgotten in time? The Peacecraft family had never mentioned certain gods or idols to be of any importance in Sanq. It was impossible to determine the dimensions of the room without proper light, and Duo moved away from the railing. Just as he did that, his flashlight caught a glimpse of gold. A statue, perhaps?

"Duo, what's taking you so long?"

"Come over here," Duo answered. He waited until Heero had caught up with him and shone with his flashlight down again. Heero pursed his lips as he added his own flashlight to it; he squinted his eyes as more gold was revealed.

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know," Heero said, pensive. "A golden idol, but as we don't have a clue about the dimensions of the room, we can't determine the size of the idol..statue...whatever it is. I never knew that the people of Sanq actively worshipped a deity or an entity. It looks huge from what we can see from here. Fascinating...let's find a way down, so we can properly see what it is."

"So...do you think Relena knows of the dark deep secrets of her ancestors?" Duo inquired. "Whatever it is down there. Maybe they worshipped tasty, young virgins."

"Duo, quit it," Heero grumbled. "I saw some oil lamps, we better give them a try if we want to have more light."

"Fine."

Duo gazed at Heero's retreating back while his right hand moved slowly but surely towards the holster of his Uzi. His fingers trembled. No, he wasn't going to shoot Heero Yuy, the man he loved... the man he still loved, but kept so many secrets from him. This was driving him insane. How could Heero pretend everything was all right, after everything that had happened? Missing out on dinner and talking to Chang Wufei of all people, and not telling him, Duo, what was going on? Why didn't he talk, why wasn't he talking about Chang, his connection to Khushrenada and White Fang, and how it all tied to the Never-Ending Circle?

"Are you coming?" Heero sounded genuinely concerned and bewildered, as Duo usually was the first to eagerly explore and look around, often without checking his surroundings.

He slowly nodded. "Yeah, coming."

Using their waterproof matches, both Heero and Duo ignited the oil lamps, coughing every now and then from the dense smoke.

"What a stench," Duo said, lighting another lamp. He couldn't determine what kind of oil it was; it reeked of kitty litter. Had these people not heard of scented oil? The lamps hadn't been used in decades and were made of plain pottery, no specific markings or decorations on them. Duo hugged the wall, measuring the distance between the lamps. They were all evenly spaced, and apparently all refilled before this place had been abandoned; surely enough, there was more light, but not enough to completely illuminate the environment. They circled the entire room, and ended back up at the arch where they had entered. Heero scratched the back of his head, clearly confused.

"Did you find a way down?"

"No, you?"

"I guess people could only access this balcony the same way we entered," Heero said, pointing at the large arch behind them. "Whatever has happened, ever since they left here, they felt it was necessary to close this entrance off with traps."

"The balcony is so large, it's like a balcony of a theatre."

"If they held ceremonies for the golden idol we saw, the people could watch it from above. Perhaps the shrine was holy ground to the people of Sanq, and only their priests were allowed to be close to the statue? We've seen civilizations with more bizarre rituals and traditions. This is history, Duo -- this is uncovered history of one of the world's greatest nations, who has collapsed under the strain of war. They actually worshipped a deity or entity, and we've discovered it!"

Duo couldn't help but smile, Heero's enthusiasm was contagious. He knew very well the familiar feelings of making a discovery that was going to rock the archaeological world. Uncovering artifacts was one thing, discovering something entirely new was a completely different thing. This was going to shed an entire new light on Sanq and its traditions. The adrenaline was still raging through him, and Duo couldn't wait to find out more. This was what he was born for; the excitement, treading unknown territory, together with Heero.

"We have to find a way down. I want to take a closer look at that statue." Heero waved with his hand as if he could brush off the thick smoke clouds from the oil lamps. The stench was getting to them; Duo thought it reeked of kitty litter before, now it smelled like kitty litter on fire.

He took his backpack off of his shoulders and opened it, rummaging through its contents.

"What are you doing?" Heero asked.

"You did bring your grapple hook, right?"

"Of course I did, but you can't use it now, Duo! We don't know the height of the ceiling, or the distance to the ground floors...you can't simply descend without knowing the altitude!"

"Have I done anything otherwise?"

"At least you'd make a rough estimate before!"

"I estimate it's about forty feet, tops." Duo said, attaching the hook to the grappler gun.

"Are you sure it's going to hold? We don't know the density of the rock -- if you want me to measure it... the hook won't settle if the rock is too thick to take it. We better descend from the balcony, Duo."

"The wood is sturdy, yeah, but I put my faith more into solid rock than wood." Duo straightened himself, aiming the gun. "Besides, we winged shit like this before, remember?"

"Oh yes I remember," Heero muttered, digging through his backpack to retrieve a similar device. Duo took his time aiming, and fired. The hook propelled itself into the stone ceiling, and Duo tugged at the cord.

"It's okay," he said, content. The grappling gun and hook were his favorite to work with; it was extremely lightweight and he could use it to descend from any kind of material, provided it was solid and stable enough. It beat carrying around heavy rope anytime; with this device he was even more mobile. Wrapping the cord around his gloved hands, Duo set himself up for the jump. This was his speciality -- jumping into the deep, into the unknown. Yes, when it came to fucking artifacts, he thought to himself. As brave and courageous as he was to get past each and any obstacle to retrieve an artifact, he was uncertain and not-so-independent in his relationships, especially when it involved Heero Yuy. Bugger! And I realize that when I'm about to make a jump into a forty feet deep dark abyss! Maxwell, you fucking moron!

"Duo!" Heero yelled, but he already moved forward, leaping over the railing of the balcony and he clung to his rope, as he plummeted down. "Duo!"

Despite the speed of his jump, Duo only swung back and forth a few times before stabilizing himself. He could see the ring of steadily burning oil lamps, forming a perfect circle around him; his own flashlight, strapped onto his shoulder again, shone down into the darkness below. Adrenaline mixed with fear pumped through his veins -- what was he going to find down there, besides the statue?

He heard the metal clanking of another grapple hook being launched and attaching itself to the ceiling. Heero was about to follow him within a matter of seconds, and Duo wanted to get out of his way. He climbed down rapidly, enjoying the physical exercise -- he'd always been good at climbing, Howard's favorite part of training. His flashlight shone around him and Duo caught again glimpses of gold. He was descending in front of the statue, how convenient...and a miracle that he didn't hit it when he had jumped so recklessly. He snickered.

Letting go of the rope, he miscalculated the last few feet and hissed in pain when he landed awkwardly on the floor, almost spraining his ankle. He heard Heero calling for him, and he gritted through his teeth, cursing himself mentally.

"I'm fine!" He yelled back. "Just...misjudged the last bit, that's all." He couldn't overhear Heero's answer, and he got back on his feet, trying to take a few steps.

"Ouch... fuck..!"

His flashlight revealed a huge golden bowl without any decorations, and its purpose was obvious. It took Duo only two tries with his matches to get the oil burning; coughing a little, he hopped over to a similar bowl, igniting the oil in it as well. In the meantime, Heero finished his descent and pointed out the two other bowls behind the statue; without another word they lit those as well, returning to the front of the statue to see what it really was.

Duo wolf-whistled. He'd been right about the gold -- the entire statue was covering with it, from head to toe. Even if it was only a coating, the value was through the roof, worth millions and millions, judging from the height and proportions.

"You must be the God of Death," Duo said, almost amused. The flickering light slowly revealed more and more of the statue, the gold enveloping it in warm colors -- but no matter how warm or pleasant the colors were, a strange cold radiated off of it.

"Incredible," Heero said with a hint of awe in his voice. "He looks more like a guardian to me, though."

"Guardian.. God of Death... it's all the same." Duo took a step back, craning his neck to take the statue in completely. It was a male person in crouching position, his right leg on the floor, his left leg drawn up to his chest, leaning a little forward. His face resembled one of a warrior who had seen too many wars, with his mouth drawn into a tight, downward line, looking very unhappy, all but grimacing. Lines were added to the face as if to suggest old age, but instead added to the unfriendly, bitter, cold appearance. The eyes were laid in with dark stones, undoubtedly gems, but Duo couldn't make out what kind of gems from this distance. The same stones appeared in the statue's ears; at least someone had made an effort to 'personalize' it a little.

"What the hell..." Duo mumbled. The first pair of arms were crossed over the chest, the second pair spread out and were bent at the elbows, while the third pair was resting close to the legs. It was hard to see what kind of clothing the statue was 'wearing'; Duo could see a sash that was held together by a cracked skull, and some layers of robe, reaching just above the knee; the rest of the legs and feet seemed to be bare. The style eluded Duo -- it wasn't Greek or Roman, neither Asian nor any other well-known culture -- it was very different from anything he'd ever seen before. It was far from Sanq's usual style of modest pottery with a flower pattern painted on it. His eyes were immediately drawn towards the six arms and the hands -- they were all holding weapons, a remarkably aggressive statue for a peace-loving country. The left hand of the upper pair held a scimitar, while the right hand was holding a scythe. The left hand of the second pair held a nasty looking trident, and the right hand clung to something that resembled a large whip. The left hand of the third pair held a large tube-like weapon that Duo didn't recognize, and the right hand was covered by a sharp, pointy shield, also with some unrecognizable weapon attached to it.

"A Guardian of what?" Duo asked when he found his voice again. "The Never-Ending Circle?"

"Who knows? Look at all the weapons it's holding. Six arms, six hands, and they're all holding something to kill and destroy."

"Nice people, those Peacecrafts..."

"It's amazing," Heero breathed. "We must take pictures. This is the first and maybe only sign of early worship in Sanq country..."

"The early worship of weapons? Of violence? Your pretty princess will probably faint when she hears about all of this."

"Relena doesn't faint that fast," Heero muttered. "It's a historical breakthrough -- we can prove with this statue that Sanq knew or even worshipped violence before the Peacecrafts rose to power."

"That will hurt," Duo said. He could only imagine the reaction of the Queen of the World when she heard that her ancestors had bend backwards for a golden statue that was wielding six weapons. Six weapons...why six? And why the choice of weapons?

"Hey, Heero, you did see the scythe up there, right?"

"I noticed it. Do you think it's the one we're looking for?"

"No, it's attached to the hand. The blade doesn't appear to fit with the staff we already found."

Heero adjusted the settings of his video camera, recording the image of the statue.

"Amazing," he repeated. "It's not very detailed -- the style is rather crude compared to the arts of the Greeks and Italians. The craftsmen didn't pay much attention to the proportions either..."

"I wonder why they made him look so shitty," Duo mused. "He's the grouchiest statue I've ever come across."

"I doubt he likes his job as a guardian, and lifting up six weapons at the same time," Heero snorted. "This is excellent study material, predating Sanq history, I'm sure of it. Hopefully I can find some kind of mark, an autograph of the sculptor..."

Duo stretched, yawning out loud. They'd been at work for the whole day, barely taking breaks, and now they had ended up in this room with a grumpy statue. There was nothing else to see here besides the guardian.

"We have to come back here with a decent camera," Heero continued, "with more lights! A film crew!"

"It's just the statue," Duo replied absent-mindedly, as he walked around it. It was just the statue indeed -- nothing indicated that it had actually been worshipped. There was a small altar in front of it, flanked by the golden bowls with the burning oil. The surface was smooth, and empty -- no other bowls, vials, ceremonial daggers or other artifacts...and how in the world was anyone supposed to reach this altar but from descending from above? He couldn't see any entrance or exits.

"Are you done filming it?"

"Just a moment!"

"Okay." Duo remained still so he wouldn't disturb Heero's recordings. Toying idly with the tuft of his braid -- dear God, he was so going to need three bottles of shampoo and conditioner -- he waited for Heero to finish.

"Hey, that's strange."

"What is it?"

"There's something below the scythe's blade," Heero said, peering through the lens of his camera. "Come take a look, will you?"

Curiously, Duo did as he was asked and peeked over Heero's shoulder, watching the footage.

"Here," Heero moved his thumb.

"There's another scythe, underneath it," Duo said, dumbfounded. "A smaller one."

"It's a twin blade," Heero said, staring once again. "An exact copy, but smaller, yes."

"I think that one will fit with the staff," Duo grinned. "Too bad you didn't bring the staff from Khushrenada's office, Heero." He saw the other flinch, but didn't comment on it.

"How are we ever going to get it?"

"It's not that difficult -- it has six arms, for crying out loud! It's just like climbing into a tree."

"Duo! Stop it! You can't...!"

He was already too late -- Duo jumped up to the first hand and hoisted himself up to the next pair of arms, using the hand for leverage. He was careful enough not to damage the statue, and made sure that he never stayed in the same position for longer than a few seconds. As he quickly found out, the statue was solid gold, and his heavy boots would leave dents and marks in the soft material if he lingered. It was quite ironic that such a valuable statue was hidden in this strange shrine underneath the royal palace, whereas the family had fled from the terror of war with nothing but their clothes and a few personal belongings, even living in modesty nowadays.

When he reached the blade, Duo moved his head a little, looking up at the face of the statue. It looked damaged from up here, as if someone had used metal claws to scratch the cheeks aggressively. No wonder you look so unfriendly, pal. He shivered violently, suddenly feeling creeped out. He quickly tore his eyes away from the face and leaned over to get what he had come for. Duo yanked at it, careful at first, until he noticed how crude and dull the blade was -- contrary to its larger counterpart, that even after all that time looked like it could slice through everything. A cold shiver ran through him when he finally disentangled the blade, and he felt a sudden pang of pain in his chest. Gasping for breath, he remained silent and unmoving until the pain subsided; it went away as quickly as it had come. Moving down was as easy as climbing up and still careful as to not damage the statue, Duo held the blade clutched to his chest. His backpack was on the altar, and he opened the flap to pull out a piece of cloth to wrap around the blade. As Heero remained silent, Duo's face turned sad. He heard footsteps behind him, and his shoulders slumped. This is it.

"Is this the point where you take the blade from me, Heero?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play fucking stupid with me," Duo hissed, turning around, his braid dangling with the brusque movement. "I caught you talking to Wufei in the village. What exactly were you discussing with him? About how you were going to supposedly 'double cross' the big bad evil Khushrenada? About how you would leave all the work to me and tag merrily along until you could pry it from my dead hands? I never thought you would be capable of doing that -- you've never done things like this before...!"

"I never have and I never will, Duo," Heero said. "I haven't sold my soul, no matter what you're thinking. I did what I had to do, and I had to play on certain people's emotions and feelings, yes, something I'm not exactly proud of. I had to make choices, difficult ones -- not for myself, but for other people's sake. I rather not have to take the blade from you by force, Duo."

"Don't be fucking stupid," he said again. "You're not going to take it from me, Heero. This is our discovery, our artifact, not yours, not mine. I have a commission, you have a commission. We both agreed to recover the artifact. I don't know all of the choices you made, and I'm sorry for the hardships you endured, I really am -- but we hunted for sport, for the triumph, for the benefit of history and archaeology, not for the money!"

"I didn't have much of a choice!" Heero shouted, more out of frustration than anything else. "Will you shut up and listen to me? It wasn't my fault that these things have come up, that people wanted to blackmail Relena, defame her, dethrone her. I made a promise to her, and you know I always keep my promises. I couldn't help it that something was going on that would determine my course of action for years to come! It hit me in the face at every corner I turned, every path that I took, every decision that I had to made, that I had to leave you behind, and I was trying to get back to you and see if there was..."

"If there was what?" Duo yelled.

"If there was anything left of the Duo Maxwell I knew and loved," Heero said. "I never stopped loving you and I never will...and for the love of God, I'm doing all my best to keep you safe before you go down as well!"

"What do you mean by that?" Duo asked, voice soft. The blade, partly wrapped in the cloth, was lying in front of him -- he needed his hands free for his guns...if necessary.

"This has grown over your head...heck, over my head too," Heero answered. "It's not only about the Never-Ending Circle. I told you before Duo, it's about politics and its devastating implications for the entire world. If Relena's position is compromised, if Khushrenada, the White Fang or the Romefeller Foundation get their hands on any sort of power to rule the world, there's not going to be an Earth for much longer. I don't want that to happen, you don't want that to happen. I wasn't planning on taking the scythe from you. I was planning to make you reunite the blade with the staff, and deliver the artifact to Winner as you were commissioned to do. I'd deal with the consequences concerning Khushrenada -- but Winner would have his artifact and his redemption, and after that, I would make sure it would never fall in the wrong hands."

"Even if you manage to keep the Never-Ending Circle from falling into the wrong hands, even if you manage to deal with an angry Khushrenada, that still leaves you with the blackmail," Duo objected. "People can't get away with blackmail. It's a criminal offense..."

"I can live with that as long as Relena isn't exposed," Heero interrupted him, dejectedly. "As long as she's well and the Peacecraft family in their positions and not in any danger, my involvement with it doesn't matter. That's my problem. I simply prefer to see the scythe not in the hands of Romefeller or White Fang."

"Heero, you..."

"A lovers' quarrel again, and again I interrupt it."

Both Heero and Duo turned around and drew their guns before the man finished his sentence, light suddenly pouring into the room as several men with portable lanterns entered, revealing a similar archway as on the first floor; smudged and covered in dust and cobwebs.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Duo yelled. Heero's surprise wasn't an act; he was just as baffled as Duo to find Khushrenada standing in front of them.

"What else do you think," the man snorted, looking pristine in his Romefeller outfit -- even his white pants were spotless. He was accompanied by Zechs Merquise, dressed in a red uniform that didn't reflect any known military rank -- the Romefeller Foundation was known for keeping a very different way of ranking.

"You're going to attach the blade to the staff for me, Mister Maxwell, and then you'll hand the Never-Ending Circle over to me. You'll demonstrate to me how its powers can be used and I will use it accordingly -- by then, our ways will happily part. A very good plan, if I do say so myself. Oh, and do put down those guns now, all right?"

Duo growled. More men were entering the room, all of them armed with hand guns, aiming at him and Heero. He didn't drop his Uzis, but forced himself to relax, lowering his arms. They'd lose in a gun fight, and Khushrenada couldn't probably care less if the both of them died here -- he would still have his precious artifact, and he'd find another guinea pig to assemble it. Merquise stepped to the side, a box visible in his hands.

"I had something you didn't have," Khushrenada said, smugly. "Inside information. Though poor Zechs couldn't recall every single...ah, every insignificant little detail, he vividly remembered the secret passageways and tunnel systems under the Palace. It's a good thing he'd been in the resistance, for whatever it was worth -- they used this system of tunnels and hallways to retreat to when Sanq was run over."

"Idiot!" Duo mumbled, leaving it in the middle who he was referring to. Khushrenada smiled pleasantly, knowing he was holding all the trump cards.

"No gas, no weird puzzles or pressure pads, no dangling from ceilings," the man sneered, "just an old layout and inside knowledge, Mister Maxwell."

"You always find the right men to work for you, my dear Khushrenada," Duo answered airily. "And if they're not right, you simply kill them, right? You don't deal with incompetence very well, do you?"

Khushrenada kept smiling. "Your debate skills aren't working on me. I'm not that easy to anger."

"True," Duo returned a thousand-watt smile. "You send out your men to deal with your anger, preferably with cars. Shoved anyone else off of the road lately?"

"Tsk tsk," Khushrenada said, shaking his head. Merquise pulled the lid off the box, taking out the small staff. The man had been silent, shoulders a little hunched.

"Attach it, Mister Maxwell," he continued. "We'll see for ourselves what powers it holds. I want to know if it summons the God of Death or not. I want to know how it works and how it can be used."

"It won't work," Heero said, calmly. "Whatever you'll try to do, Khushrenada, it's in vain. You already failed."

"What do you mean? You should know better, Mister Yuy."

"Shinigami has long been summoned," Heero said, voice barely a whisper. "At the moment the first part of his scythe was uncovered."

"What do you mean?" Khushrenada repeated angrily.

"When you retrieved the staff from the island close to Cuba, his powers awoke. How many people exactly are still alive from that particular expedition?"

"Superstition," Khushrenada said dismissively. "Coincidence. You can't possibly scare me with that, Mister Yuy."

"You should be careful," a new voice was added to the company. Duo aimed his guns again, gritting his teeth this time. He'd recognize that voice any time.

"Superstition and 'coincidence' should never be discarded so easily," Chang Wufei continued, stepping into the room, the light catching the blade of the katana on his back. "Especially when it comes to...treasure hunting."

"Who else is invited?" Duo muttered, finally putting his guns down, shoving them back into their holsters. Chang ignored him, glaring at Heero briefly before retreating into the background again, dark eyes resting at the both of them. He stood next to an elderly man with a blue vest and light grey hair. Khushrenada's men remained silent, guns ready, awaiting their orders.

Merquise all but shoved the staff into Duo's face, and he grudgingly unwrapped the blade. There wasn't much he could do now but to reattach the blade; he had to think of a solution fast. Now that Chang suddenly was added to the mix, he had no idea if that worked in his advantage or not, he didn't know where the other was standing. He had to be friends with Heero, judging from what he had seen -- but Duo didn't know at the moment what to do. How could he make his way out of here alive, with the artifact..and preferably with Heero? This was a damn mess he was in...and melancholically, he remembered how Quatre had told him that this case more than probably would grow over his head. The business man had a good notion of Khushrenada's involvement, but even he couldn't have foreseen the White Fang and the entire Romefeller Foundation preying on the Never-Ending Circle.

Huffing, he tried to attach the blade to the staff, but there was no way he could fit it together; there was an opening in the upper part of the staff, but the blade couldn't be wedged into it. Annoyed, he tried again and again. Maybe he needed the larger blade after all, not this crude, blunt object that didn't fit at all. He shivered from a sudden gust of wind. Wind...? Where is that coming from? He irritably shook his head.

"What's taking so long, Mister Maxwell?"

"It doesn't fit," Duo said. Heero moved closer to him. "The blade doesn't match with the staff at all. Maybe it was for decoration purposes and the real blade is around here somewhere."

Khushrenada snorted again. "I don't think so. Stalling for time is of no use, Mister Maxwell. The statue is taking up every little bit of room...but very well, we can always take a look around."

He snapped with his fingers towards his uniformed men, who immediately spread throughout the room, weapons hoisted over the shoulders.

"Nothing here!"

"Nothing here either!"

Khushrenada threw another smug look at Duo. One by one, the men reported that nothing was to be found. Duo ignored everything around him and tried once again to get both parts to fit -- to no avail. Heero looked over his shoulder, studying the object attentively as Duo was fiddling with the blade and the staff. The silence was disrupted by a low, deep groan.

Duo widened his eyes. "Damn..! It's been a while since I had something to eat."

"That didn't come from you," Heero said, almost accusingly. Khushrenada looked bored.

"Where did it come from, Mister Yuy? Don't tell me you can't manage to assemble one simple artifact..."

"I don't know," Merquise suddenly said out loud. It was the first time he spoke. "It didn't sound natural to me..." Another deep groan cut him off, and the men grabbed their weapons, eyes darting throughout the room.

"What's going on? Who's making these sounds?"

"Fuck," Duo said out loud, and reached for his guns just like Heero for his shotgun, and cocked them, even if he didn't know yet who or what his target was.

"What the hell is going on?" Khushrenada repeated, a slight crack in his calm demeanor, and his eyes almost rolled out of their sockets when he suddenly realized what was going on -- the statue was moving. It was moving! Slowly unfolding the crossed arms, it started to straighten itself, stretching lazily.

Heero pointed his guns at the statue, finger at the trigger. Solid gold, and as tall as a building -- how the hell were they even going to bring this one down?

"I think it wants its blade back," he commented.

"No shit," Duo said. "It doesn't even match anyway." He quickly glared at the two parts of the artifact, lying on top of the altar.

"Don't you even dare think of it," Khushrenada growled, reaching for Duo.

"We can't..." he started, aiming at Khushrenada who moved towards him, but they were both interrupted by loud screams of agony from Khushrenada's personal army. The statue, standing straight, was attacking the men and they cried out in horror and pain as they were pierced by the trident, sliced by the scythe, choked by the whip-like weapon or brutally crushed by the pointy shield.

"Fire! Fire, you fools!" the man yelled, the artifact temporarily forgotten. Some of the men started to fire, a few hesitant bursts at first. Heero and Duo fired at the statue as well, the bullets striking its surface, lodging into the gold. As soon as the others opened fire, the moving statue lifted up all three pairs of arms with the shield in front of its upper body and face, effectively deflecting all the bullets. The ricochets flew around, hitting some of the mercenaries who fell to the floor, crying out in pain.

"Hold your fire!" Khushrenada bristled as soon as he noticed that firing at the statue didn't work. "Retreat!"

He didn't need to say that twice -- the remaining men made a beeline for the exit, but they didn't go unnoticed. The groaning statue all but stomped on them, crushing human bodies below its feet, cutting the survivors off from the exit. There was too little room to move. The tall statue put one foot in front of the other, walking; its hands and weapons grazed the walls, its movements brusque and uncontrolled. It had already demolished the wooden balcony, and rubble and rock came tumbling down -- the whole shrine would cave in if this continued.

"We have to find a way to stop it!" Heero fired at the statue again as soon as it moved and unsurprisingly, it immediately crouched down when the bullets hit it, arms covering its upper body and face. Wufei held the katana in front of him; he'd tried to cut into the statue.

"We do not get out of here alive if we do not do something!"

"Mister Maxwell...?" Khushrenada phrased it as a question, though his tone of voice was commanding, a slight hint of fear to it. "I suggest you better find a way..."

"Who, me? Or else you're going to blackmail me too?" Duo snorted, lowering and holstering his Uzis -- he was out of ammunition anyway -- and looked at the man. "I don't know why you're asking me to find a solution."

"You and Mister Yuy are the experts on situations like this," he snarled. "Or do you really want to die here?"

"No," Duo shot back, "but I hope you do realize that I have no other choice but to give the scythe back. That prompted it to become alive, and with a bit of luck, it'll..."

"No! Not the scythe!" Khushrenada protested loudly, and lunged for Duo again, closing the distance between them with a few large steps. Duo quickly picked up the two parts of the artifact, growled and tried to turn away.

"Idiot! What..." As he turned around, his hands moved over the two parts, sliding the blade over the staff and he heard a loud snap; his last clear, conscious thought was that he probably broke it.

A sting of pain was all the warning he got before the blade started to light up, glowing a sickly green -- Khushrenada and Merquise barely had a second to jump out of the way before he lashed out.

"Duo!" Heero cried, but promptly had to duck as the scythe swung his way, missing his head by a mere millimeter. Duo growled, fighting against the force flowing through his body, forcing him to move at will -- against his will -- and he tried to push it back, not to give into it, and he cried and he crawled, howled and gasped...he moved forward, slowly, stepping past the small altar, walking towards the golden statue. It was still crouching down close to the exit, trapping every one of them, arms in front of his body and face, waiting for...something to happen? It started to move when Duo approached and if it were possible, it seemed to tilt its giant head, the chagrined, unhappy expression becoming curious and...almost frightened. The next moment, it thrust the scimitar forward with unnatural, excessive force. Not blinking and with a movement faster than the human eye, Duo cut through the arm as slicing with a hot knife through butter. The large limb fell to the floor, breaking into pieces, releasing the weapon it was holding. As it fell, the statue froze dead in its tracks, looking dumbfounded at its arm -- then it kneeled down in front of Duo, groaning and rumbling.

An eerie silence reigned.

"Duo..." was the first word Heero spoke, his shotgun still in his hands, but not aimed at him. Wufei was standing close to him, his katana lowered, suspicion clear in his eyes. Nothing was heard but ragged breathing, soft moaning from injured soldiers and pebbles hitting the floor. Duo stared back at him, lips drawn in a cocky smile. He was just standing there with the scythe in his hands -- a perfect, polished and razor sharp scythe, much unlike the blunt, dull blade and old, fragile staff they had found earlier.

"Duo?" Heero tried again.

Khushrenada looked from one to another, pursing his lips. The situation had changed -- not only didn't he hold the trump cards anymore, Duo Maxwell seemed to be...very different now, as well as the Never-Ending Circle. It was pure power, surging through the room -- everyone felt it, and he wanted it. He had lived for this. He didn't need much time to collect his bearings, or draw his small handgun.

"The Never-Ending Circle," he said, voice smooth and mock-friendly. "Give it to me, Mister Maxwell. Now."

"Don't call me that!" Duo rumbled, voice strikingly lower, and his movement was once again so fast that Khushrenada didn't see him moving. He yelped indignantly when his gun was cut in two, the blade of the scythe flashing in front of his eyes. Staggering backwards, Merquise was the one to immediately react -- drawing his own gun, he aimed at Duo and shot. Right between the eyes.

Part 9

He didn't realize the bloodcurdling scream echoing in the room was his own as he saw Duo's head snapping back and blood spattering over his face, the impact of the bullet so forceful that he took a few steps back, staggering.

"Duo, DUO!" Heero rushed forward, but Wufei grabbed him at the arm and pulled him forcefully back.

Duo's body was angled unnaturally, his face staring at the ceiling, his back arched as if he tried to fold himself backwards. He didn't move, one hand gripping the scythe tightly, and agonizing slow, he finally brought up his other hand, fingers prying at the bullet between his eyes.

"Dear Lord..." Heero's face was distorted in terror and disbelief as he saw Duo taking out the bullet, a steady flow of blood trickling over his nose, smearing his cheeks and lips, a maniacal grin on his face.

"Would you look at that," he said, voice low, as he examined the bullet. "You humans certainly have improved your weaponry over the ages."

Khushrenada's eyes darted around like crazy -- Duo and the kneeling statue were blocking every way to the exit, and he couldn't expect much help of his men. All of them were either wounded or had managed to flee before the giant statue obstructed their path. His eyes went back to Heero who was staring at Duo.Wufei ignored everyone but the stranger in front of him, scythe in his hand.

"Get out of the way," Merquise said, voice wavering.

"Or else what?" Duo mocked. "You're going to kill me again?" Snorting, he threw the bullet back at Merquise with a flick of his finger. The man cried out in pain, clutching at his shoulder as blood seeped through his clothing.

"Milliardo!" Khushrenada yanked the scarf he was wearing from his neck, not caring that he had used Merquise's real name. He pressed the fabric to the wound.

Duo turned towards Heero, the scythe turning with him. The eerie, green glow of the blade diminished a little. He smiled, not minding or not noticing the small flow of blood from the bullet wound, seeping over the bridge of his nose.

"It's been so long," he said, voice suddenly soft and filled with longing. "We're back together again, my love."

"We've never been apart," Heero answered, lowering his eyes a little.

"No, never," Duo beamed at him. "No matter how much time has gone by...no matter how many worlds separated us..."

Wufei nudged Heero a little. The man standing behind Merquise and Khushrenada frowned.

"I'm not the one who you think you are," Heero said. "Please... Duo..."

"What do you mean, my love? We've been reunited...reunited by fools, but reunited at last. Isn't that what we were hoping for?" Duo tilted his head. "The Never-Ending Circle has been completed -- life and death, together again. What you give, I take...what I give, you take. We've been like this for centuries...eras...eons...until I broke my staff."

"You've always been the one with the temper," Heero said rather fondly, even though he was pretty sure he wasn't talking to the real Duo anymore.

"My scythe is whole again now," Duo agreed. "Why do we not dispose of these losers and return to our work, Inochigami."

"Shinigami," Heero said.

"Yes?"

"It's really you, isn't it?"

"Inochigami...has your sleep clouded your mind? It has been so long...we have all the time in the world to catch up again, my love."

"Something is terribly wrong here," Wufei said, looking miserable.

"No shit," Heero muttered under his breath, phrasing one of Duo's favorite lines. Merquise pressed his hand against his shoulder, suppressing the blood flow with help of Khushrenada's scarf.

"We have to get out of here," Khushrenada hissed, hovering over Merquise as he spoke.

"We are going nowhere," a nasal voice echoed through the room, and all heads went into the direction of the man who spoke up for the first time.

"What do you mean?" Khushrenada demanded, but something had changed in his voice. He sounded irritated, anxious and concerned at the same time.

"You promised me the Never-Ending Circle, Treize," the man continued, "and I want it now."

"Now is not the time, Quinze," Khushrenada hissed, his fingers sticky with blood. His pure silk scarf wasn't the best solution to stop the flow; Merquise hissed in pain.

The man called Quinze stepped forward and pushed his metallic rimmed glasses back on his nose, looking from the statue to Duo to Treize and back to the statue again, before settling on Treize.

"It's never a good time, isn't it? I've been waiting for the artefact for a long time, Treize. You promised it to me, and the White Fang is in need of an object of power. This is magnificent. I want it."

"Feel free to take it for yourself," Khushrenada answered. Quinze barked a hollow laugh. His bony hand went to his back, and he smoothly took out a gun, pointing it at Merquise.

"We had a deal, Treize. You better follow through on it! The Never-Ending Circle, now!"

Khushrenada looked at him furiously, even more so from the casual manner Quinze addressed him with his first name. He moved his arm around Merquise and hoisted him back up on his feet. Except for Quinze and Treize, no one had spoken, and all eyes were fixed on the gun Quinze was holding. Merquise had dropped his when Duo had flung the bullet back at him; it was out of Khushrenada's reach.

"Inochigami, what is going on? Who are these people?" Duo asked.

"They aren't important," Heero was quick to say. "Duo? Where are you?"

"I'm right here," Duo answered.

"You're confusing me," Heero said. He licked his lips.

"I'm right here," Duo repeated.

"Just keep him occupied," Khushrenada whispered heatedly, his eyes glaring at the scythe. He yanked at Merquise's arm, eliciting a cry of pain out of him.

"And where are you going?" Duo crossed one arm in front of his chest, using his other to swing the scythe and stop Khushrenada. The man swallowed heavily as the blade grazed his skin. He could feel blood welling up; this instrument was even sharper than Wufei's katana. Duo's movements were too fast to notice; Khushrenada had barely moved, and the blade was already pressing against his skin, just below his chin. One small slice and his artery was open.

"Shinigami," he tried the strange name, "God of Death...I ask for passage..?"

"You ask?" The low voice carried far in the shrine, obviously amused. "You have a lot of nerve, Treize Khushrenada. You display an arrogance not even I come close to."

"P-please," the man protested weakly. "My friend is injured..."

"How many times in your life have you said 'Please'? Not often, have you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You did well by asking passage for your friend. It honors you, though your main goal is to get yourself, and only yourself, out of here alive."

"Duo," Heero tried to call to him again. "Duo, this isn't you. You never killed, you never reveled in death..."

"Inochigami." Duo smiled at him. "You give life. I take life. I take the lives of those who aren't worthy, I take the lives of those who have taken lives, I take the lives of those whose time is up. Justice and honor for those who have fallen at the hands of those who lost the right to live the moment they started thinking about murder."

"Murder..." Khushrenada repeated, his eyes growing wide. Winner. He snapped his head back, looking at Quinze, who calmly pointed the gun at Merquise.

"You're not the killer here, my friend." Duo still smiled, but his smile had turned devilish, twisting his lips. He was now looking straight at Quinze. "You took the life of an innocent for your own gain, for your own selfish purposes. You want to take my Never-Ending Circle for your own desire of power. For that, you will die."

"No!" Heero lunged forward, jumping at Duo, and managed to throw him off balance. The arch of his scythe cut through a pillar instead of Quinze's body, stone crashing and tumbling down, debris littering the floor.

"Inochigami! What are you doing?"

"Stop it," Heero said, holding Duo-Shinigami, or Shinigami-Duo, no, he was Duo Maxwell, by the arms and shook him. "You're not a killer! You're not a murderer! You are Duo!"

With an annoyed grunt, Duo pushed Heero away from him, turning back to Quinze again. The man had visibly paled, but his gun didn't waver.

"I don't know who or what the hell you are," he spoke, voice unstable, "but you're going to give that scythe to me."

There was still blood on Duo's face from where Merquise's bullet had hit him, and it had slowed down to a faint trickle. The corners of his lips were moving downward, in a disapproving, menacing scowl.

"Do you know what you ask of me?" He said, narrowing his eyes. "You, one who has already taken a life, you dare ask of me to hand over my scythe?"

"You're talking about Winner, right?" Quinze said airily, but the sweatdrops on his brow were real. "It was an accident. He dug too deep. I had to stop him."

"I don't deal with murderers," Duo hissed, "I take their lives!"

"Duo stop it, please!" Heero grabbed Duo's arm again. He didn't care for Quinze, but he knew he had to stop Duo -- if he ever returned to normal, he would be devastated at the thought of having killed a man, even in a possessed state... no, not if he returned to normal, but when he returned to normal. Duo was strong enough to force this entity out of his body, and gain control over himself again! His mind raced at a thousand miles per minute. He had faced many dangers, traps and pits, ravines and deep dark abyss...but he had never met a God of Death, let alone its...his spirit, in the body of the man he loved.

"What are you doing?" Shinigami-Duo's voice sounded dangerously low.

"Listen to me," Heero said, meeting his gaze, "you're not a murderer, you're not a killer. You are Duo Maxwell!"

"Inochigami, you speak strange words. Never before have you stopped me from slaying one who has taken an innocent life!"

"Quinze will get what's coming to him," Heero said smoothly, ignoring the leader of the White Fang and the gun he was still holding. "We have justice to take care of that problem. Justice, and prison cells."

"I want that scythe, Mister Yuy," Quinze immediately spoke up, not about to be forgotten. Heero ignored him again.

"I know Justice, but I do not know prison cells," Shinigami-Duo answered confusedly, and his eyes narrowed once more. "What has gotten into you, Inochigami? Surely we must celebrate being reunited after so much time... even our Guardian is joyful to see us again."

Heero refused to look at the unmoving golden statue. He carefully lifted up his hand to touch Duo's cheek, stroking his skin.

"I'm not him," Heero said. "I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" Duo growled, and the lines in his face darkened, the dried blood cracking.

"It's me, Heero," he answered. "Heero Yuy. I'm your friend...your boyfriend. Remember the times we kissed? Remember how we kissed? The times we laughed, we cried, together, at the Manor? We worked out together in the gym, and you love to do acrobatics. You can do a triple backwards flip, Duo. Remember?"

He pursed his lips, reducing hem to a tight, cruel line. "What is that you speak of...a triple backwards flip? I know we have a different sense of humor, Inochigami, but this is ridiculous..."

With a sudden irritated growl, Duo brushed Heero's hand on his cheek away and he grabbed the other by the chin, forcing his face close to his. After studying him for a few seconds, he kissed him, hard. Not hesitating for a moment, Heero wrapped his arms around Duo, closing the distance between them and embracing him as lovingly as he could. He couldn't care less that everyone else present was looking at them; Quinze, Khushrenada, Merquise, he forgot about them as he responded to Duo's kiss, his lips on his, warm, bloody, bitter. It was over all too soon, and Duo pushed him away.

"You are not my Inochigami," he said, voice lower again. "What is going on here? Where is he? WHERE IS HE?"

Regaining his composure, Heero quickly raked a hand through his hair, trying to think how he could keep a control of the situation. Duo's skin had paled considerably, and his lips... what the hell...were turning black, his eyes all but withdrawing into his head, showing dark, hollow pools without much emotion.

"Stop it, Duo, I beg of you," he said. "Duo! Can you hear me?"

Wufei stepped forward, katana strapped on his back. He would be able to draw it within a mere second, but he figured it was better to approach the God of Death without any weapons in his hands.

"Inochigami is not here," he said, voice calm and composed. "We can find him for you, just as we found your scythe. However, you are possessing a...friend of ours right now, and we would like to agree on something first."

"You are amusing," Shinigami-Duo said. "You humans have always been amusing, with your feelings of guilt and insecurity. You are all beating around the bush, waiting too long with your opportunities and chances, and then you start complaining about the unfairness of life. Amusing, yes! Where is my Inochigami?"

"He's not here," Heero repeated. "I'm not him, I'm sorry. Please let us go...let Duo go. You're not of this world, Shinigami. Take your scythe and...return to where you came from, but let us...let Duo go."

"The scythe, gentlemen," Quinze interrupted again.

"Fuck off!" Heero lashed out, and his voice cracked. Both Shinigami-Duo and the statue seem to startle from his violent outburst, and the statue readied its weapons with his five remaining arms. Duo's skin had turned a sickly grey, shining in the soft, brimming green light of his scythe.

"There is no Duo where you speak of," he said, looking at Heero and Wufei. "You have found my scythe and returned it to me -- for that, I will allow you to live."

"Duo," Heero wanted to touch him, but the other stepped away from him, lowering the weapon as a defense. The blood on his face was gone, only a few specks close to his nose and lips were still visible. They were the only color in his ashen face; his lips and eyes had turned the black darkness of darkest nightmares. "Duo! Fight him! Fight him, Duo!"

It amused Shinigami-Duo, and he looked over his shoulder to the large statue, which lifted up its arm with the large trident. He started to laugh as if Heero had told him the biggest joke, and it echoed in the room.

"No! No, Duo!"

"We have to get out of here, Yuy!" Wufei urged him.

"Duo! Duo!"

"Get the hell out of here!" Khushrenada made a beeline for the door, awkwardly pulling Merquise with him. The survivors of his personal army stumbled to the exit as well, supporting each other, terror on their faces. The Guardian ignored them. Wufei took Heero at the arm.

"We have to get out of here, Yuy," he repeated. A movement to the left made him turn around, one hand on his katana, as he saw Quinze moving forward.

"So sorry to hear about your boyfriend," he said, mockingly, "but a deal is a deal. The scy--"

"I said, fuck off!" Heero gritted through his teeth. "I never made a deal with you! Can't you see, not even now, what this thing does?"

"I certainly see it," Quinze said, eyes glistening. He used his other hand to push his glasses back on his nose. "That's why I want it. The power of life and death, Mister Yuy, I thought I was quite clear when Khushrenada relayed those orders to you."

"Khushrenada only commissioned me to find the artefact," Heero hissed, "I can't believe I'm discussing this with you!"

"We have to leave," Wufei said once again as he noticed the statue coming towards them, one foot in front of the other, a low, rumbling sound that shook the entire shrine.

"Where is my Inochigami!" Shinigami-Duo cried out loud. The scythe glowed at full force, casting a green glow.

Heero trembled all over his body. The person standing in front of him wasn't Duo, and he wasn't Inochigami. He wasn't the lover of the God of Death, he was Duo Maxwell's boyfriend...but his instincts were screaming at him to stay and leave at the same time -- stay with the creature that was this morbid mixture of Duo and Shinigami, and leave because fear was clutching at his heart.

"You are not him!" Shinigami-Duo lashed out wildly with the scythe, unleashing his anger and frustration. The large blade cut through everything it touched -- stone and rock, it came all crumbling down. "You are not him!"

"He is tearing the place apart! Heero, if you do not leave, you will die here!" Wufei yanked at his collar, and Heero growled, batting his hand away.

"I'm not leaving without Duo!"

"Look at him! Look at him! That is not Maxwell, not any more!" Wufei yelled at him, his voice drowned out by all the noise. Heero's chest heaved, taking in deep gulps of breath. He looked at Duo, standing in the middle of the rubble, swinging his scythe around. His braid was flying with every movement, strangely unharmed by the large blade, the color of the strands turning black. The smile on his lips was cruel and cold, and twisted his face in a gruesome way.

"I will find you," he yelled. "I will find you, Inochigami!"

Wufei yanked harder at Heero's collar, tearing the fabric. "We have to get out of here! Come on!"

"We can't leave!"

"You cannot do anything for him now!"

"Let go of me!"

Quinze was still there, with the gun, and for the first time he was actually hesitating. He realized that no one was really in control anymore -- but his greed and hunger for power was greater. Convinced he had the upper hand, he cocked the gun and aimed at Heero this time.

"Deal or no deal, go get what's mine!" He barked.

Heero stared into the barrel of the gun. He couldn't afford to die here. Not now. Not ever. Not as long as Duo was around somewhere, in his body, suppressed by the entity of the God of Death. If he died here, he could never help Duo to return to his true self...he would never hold the man he loved in his arms again. Too much had happened. There was still so much they needed to talk about. There was still so much love to share between them, he just couldn't leave him here...

"Duo," he faintly whispered.

"Yuy, the statue..!"

Wufei was faster, and dragged Heero away from Quinze, who was ready to fire as soon as he saw the other two running, grimacing as he realized he wasn't going to get what he wanted. He only managed to shoot once, and he lacked Merquise's finesse with a gun; the bullet hit a slab of stone, quite a distance away from either Heero or Wufei. Enraged, the elder man tried to follow them, at the same time the Guardian thrust his arm with the trident forward. With a high-pitched scream, Quinze was pinned to the outer wall of the shrine, his body mangled from the force of the weapon, and he was dead before his gun hit the floor, released by his lifeless hand.

The shrine was caving in, large chunks of rock and stone falling down from the ceiling. The wooden balcony collapsed, sending debris down, crashing and covering Heero and Wufei in splinters and dust. The golden statue used his other arms to punch the walls, going berserk, while Duo stood in front of it, seemingly untouched and resistant to the destruction around him. There wasn't even a speck of dust on his clothes, black as his eyes and lips. Heero screamed his voice raw, calling Duo's name as clouds of dust shrouded his vision.

Wufei forcefully dragged Heero along, through the maze of tunnels and corridors under the Royal Palace. He all but tore Heero's clothing, but he would do anything it would take to get Heero to come along; a torn piece of fabric was the least of his problems. In a daze, Heero stumbled along with him, his eyes not seeing where he was going, and Duo's name on his lips, repeating as in a mantra.

It's cold in here, Duo thought. He wrapped his arms around himself -- was he naked or was he wearing clothes? He couldn't remember. Hilde designed his outfits, she had invented that strange material that adapted itself to its surroundings, to every change in temperature... Hil.. Hilde? The name rang a bell, but it didn't register. Was he wearing clothes? He looked at his hand and saw his flesh -- no clothes. Huh. No wonder I'm cold.

There was nothing around him. No walls, no horizon. It was...blandness, as far as he could see. It was neither dark nor light, black or white, high or low. He was just...here, wherever 'here' was.

"Heero?" He could speak, but his voice died as soon as he parted his lips, the name fading away from him. Heero, yes, Heero. He could remember him, couldn't he? Why did he have such a difficult time envisioning him? What did Heero look like again? Dark, chocolate brown hair. No, no, light hair. Just like himself! Did he have hair?

"I wonder where I am," he said, but the words died again, leaving him without being spoken. His eyes saw, but there was nothing to see. He couldn't determine where he was...and he didn't care. He wanted to sit down, feeling tired all of the sudden -- but there was still fear inside of him, and he knew that if he was going to sit down, he was never going to get back up again.

Anger. Fuck you. Stupid bitch. Idiot. He growled in response, baring his teeth, and Duo looked behind him, hands clenched into fists, ready to fight. There was no one in sight.

Where are you, my love? A painful longing, a raw desire, bitter disappointment. His anger forgotten, he wanted to cry, a sob hitching in his throat as he felt pain, pain that he didn't want to feel, it left him vulnerable.

I love you. "Who's there?" he asked, and this time he screamed. He yelled, he raged, he cried out, the infinite nothingness grating on his nerves. "Show yourself!"

"It's just me."

The hand on his shoulder startled him, and Duo turned around again, his braid whipping. He gaped.

"Jezus!"

A solemn smile was his answer. "Not by a mile, kid."

"What... what are you doing here?"

He wanted to embrace him, but Solo Maxwell raised his hand to stop him in his movement.

"Don't. Don't touch the dead."

"But--" Even though his voice was solid now, he sounded like a mewling cat. Everything seemed to be distorted in this environment, and Duo wished he had his guns, something he could defend himself with.

"Guns won't help you here," Solo said. He looked exactly the way Duo had seen him before the casket was closed; the ghastly, white-washed and puffy face of a drowning victim. Solo's eyes were blank, a haze over them, and his hair was plastered against his face. For some reason, it had refused to dry completely, and when he was buried, his hair had still been wet.

"Where am I?" He already knew.

"The realm of the dead." Solo shrugged, as if it didn't matter.

"So I'm dead."

"I didn't say that." Solo smiled and he pulled his hand back from Duo's shoulder. The cuts in his flesh hadn't healed either. He had washed up ashore with the mysterious shards embedded in his hands and arms. Their foolish quest for Atlantis. "Duo, I've always warned you for reassembling artefacts."

"I'm not sure what happened," Duo mumbled. The mixture of shame, sadness and joy he felt when seeing his brother was confusing him. "The Never-Ending Circle was broken into two, and when I climbed that statue I discovered the blade, and it suddenly fit together..."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Solo interrupted him, albeit not unfriendly. He ruffled Duo's hair. "It's good to see you again. You look good. A little pale, but well, that's what you get when you get here."

"I get to spend eternity with you?" Duo asked. He stepped closer to Solo again, but his brother shook his head and raised his hands.

"Don't touch me, Duo. If you touch me, you're dead."

"But I am dead."

"No, you're not. You can see me and talk to me because you are in the realm of the dead...as its master."

"Wh-what?"

"I'm sorry," Solo said. He showed a weak smile. "You became part of this all when you assembled the Never-Ending Circle, Duo."

"How...how would you know?" Duo felt desperate. Realm of the dead. Oh Gods, Heero. Why was he thinking about Heero all of the sudden? It was strange, but he could see his face, right in front of him, and yet...he couldn't see. Was Heero here? Was he here? Where was he again?

"Duo, stay focused!" Solo's sharp voice brought him back to his senses, and he shivered violently when he saw the deteriorated face of his brother so close to his own. "Do I scare you?" he asked.

"I miss you," was all that Duo answered.

"I miss you too," Solo said. His voice was strangely neutral, but Duo could pick up the slightest intonation of fondness. "I don't have much time, Duo. I managed to reach you in time, but there's not much left. Listen to me. I read about the Never-Ending Circle before, way before it was even uncovered. The only thing you have to do is to break it apart again. If you don't break it, Shinigami will become the strongest force inside you...and you're not cut out to be the God of Death, Duo."

"Stop making such horrible jokes," Duo said, shaking his head. "I'm hallucinating. I'm not here. I'm not there. I--"

"Silence!" Solo cut him off. "Listen...do you hear that? Do you feel it?"

"Feel what?" Duo whispered, closing his eyes even if he didn't know why. Solo. Why are you here? You're dead. I'm dead too, right? Huh, I always thought I would go out with a bang...what is it? I can't...

Where are you, Inochigami?

"I..."

"Focus on that, brother," Solo said, his voice ringing in his ears. "My time is up. Break it again, Duo. Break the scythe, or you'll lose yourself. Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"Sure you are," Duo snorted and wanted to open his eyes to take a last look at Solo. He found he couldn't open his eyes, and the next second he started to panic. The blandness around him had turned black, and he heard screams, screams of agonizing pain, screams that would haunt him in his nightmares forever. Maybe he was screaming too, he didn't know. There was only one thing he knew that was for real: the longing he felt when the strange name of Inochigami rang through his soul, was the same longing he felt for Heero.

I'm so sorry, my love. You're not him, and I'm not him either. Forgive me.

Bright, harsh sunlight shone upon them as they reached the surface -- Heero squinted his eyes, coughing loudly, choking and gasping when fresh air flooded his lungs. He fell on his knees, inhaling and exhaling with loud, intense breaths; he'd spend hours under the ground, in an almost toxic environment, searching for the Never-Ending Circle, but all that he found was the God of Death... and lost Duo in the process.

As soon as he got up, still wheezing, Heero noticed the caravan of luxurious Land Rovers parked at the south side of a mansion. He knew immediately it had to be Khushrenada and his entourage; a wild, blinding anger overpowered him and he ran towards the sturdy cars, before Wufei could even think of stopping him.

"Monster!" He yelled. "You selfish monster! This is all your fault!"

Despite the horrors they'd been through, two of Khushrenada's men came to his defense, blocking Heero's way before he could reach the man. Heero doubted it was a matter of loyalty; but as it was, these two held bigger guns than he did and they weren't afraid of pointing them at him, right at the chest.

"Monster?" Khushrenada barked a short laugh, feeling safe behind the backs of his hired troops. He looked disheveled, clothing torn and smudged, and he pressed a wad of gauze to the small cut on his neck. "I think the real monster was...is inside."

"Don't you dare," Heero hissed, "Don't you dare call him a monster!"

"I am afraid it is nothing but the truth, Mister Yuy. I am sorry for the loss of your friend." Khushrenada wasn't looking at Heero, but at Merquise who was in the passenger's seat, silent, eyes closed; he was in urgent need of medical attention, the blood loss posing a real danger to his life. "I am also afraid I do not have any time for this."

"Stop hiding, you coward," Heero said. He was aware of Wufei coming to stand close to him, but he ignored him for now. "Stop hiding and face me!"

There was a moment of silence, only interrupted by a soft chuckle. A nervous chuckle, and Khushrenada hoisted himself up on the driver's seat, strapping himself into the seat belts.

"I disband your commission, Mister Yuy. The expedition is off! I owe you nothing, and for your information, I do not hide behind anything." He threw a nervous look at the rear view mirror, but nothing was moving; the Royal Palace bathed in sunlight. "I take it the Never-Ending Circle is buried under tons and tons of rock, making it impossible to retrieve it ever again -- too bad...but as my...friend of the White Fang has seemed to have perished, I do not owe him anything either. It is over, Mister Yuy. You would do best as to accept that."

"Asshole!" Heero yelled at him as Khushrenada started the engine. The two men exchanged glances and didn't deem Heero much of a threat, as they hurried away to another Land Rover about to drive off; they didn't want to be left behind in this country.

"Treize," Wufei spoke up.

Khushrenada pressed the gauze harder to his neck. His other hand rested on the clutch of the Land Rover, with Merquise, pale as a ghost, silently next to him. He threw an impatient look at Wufei, lips snarling uncharacteristically.

"I hold my oath to you hereby fulfilled," Wufei curtly said. "There is no more honor and justice to be found here."

Khushrenada's eyes widened for a brief moment, then he snorted derisively. "Whatever you want, Chang. Fine. I am getting out of here!" He dropped the wad of gauze and gripped the steering wheel as he shifted gears, his foot hitting the gas pedal. The vehicle roared and sped forward, the large wheels throwing up gravel and dust in their wake. A lot of Land Rovers stayed behind, empty -- only a few had survived the onslaught in the shrine. Khushrenada's army had been decimated; their broken bodies rested under the tons and tons of debris.

Heero turned around, facing the palace.

"Where are you going, Yuy?"

"Duo is in there somewhere," he answered. "If you want a ride, feel free to take any of these cars or my car, it's parked just ahead."

"Yuy, the ghosts of the dead..."

"Silence!"

Wufei was taken aback, then schooled his face into his previous neutral expression. "As you wish."

Heero opened his mouth, but shut it again. His stomach was growling, his muscles were protesting, and his body ached all over -- but he didn't care, everything paled in comparison to finding Duo. His thoughts were jumbled, but only one stood out: the ghosts of the dead. The God of Death had claimed the one he loved, and Shinigami himself had been desperately searching for the one he loved. Inochigami. Why hadn't he just lied, and pretended to be his lover? Shinigami-Duo would've never become enraged...but he had kissed him, and determined for himself he wasn't his Inochigami. He wasn't his God of Life, he wasn't the one bringing him life. Duo wasn't dead, Heero was sure of it. Shinigami wouldn't destroy a perfect healthy and young body -- he had to find his Inochigami, wherever he was.

"Yuy. Yuy!"

"Huh?"

"Look at the Palace," Wufei said.

He blinked. The building was...shaking. Huge cracks appeared in the plaster, and the outer walls collapsed, the sun-bleached red tiles breaking apart in bits and pieces. Dust clouded where stone and brick crumbled down, and the large dome in the center of the Palace split open. The ground started to rumble, and he had to step aside to regain his footing, whereas Wufei simply looked at the Palace and remained in perfect balance; the face of his friend stood grim.

A bright light forced him into moving his hand above his eyes, but he already knew what it was before it had appeared. The golden Guardian-statue had worked its way up, above the surface, and perched on his shoulder was Shinigami-Duo, or what was left of him.

Wufei unsheathed his katana, but Heero didn't reach for his shotgun. He was too baffled, too stunned, and his body was nailed to the ground. The Guardian shrugged off the remnants of the dome, its five arms, weapons in his hands, clearing its way. Shinigami looked small in comparison to the statue, but there was nothing small about the black wings protruding from his shoulders. They spanned past the Guardian's head, totally in disproportion with his body, but nonetheless intimidating. The Never-Ending Circle, having grown twice it size, was so big he fitted under it, the blade describing a perfect arch above his head.

"Maxwell," Wufei said, with a strange sadness to his voice. "This... no one deserves this."

"He's still Duo," Heero answered stubbornly. He looked up, forcing himself to watch the creature on the Guardian's shoulder. Despite the distance, he could see Shinigami-Duo's expression perfectly; black lips mouthing the name of the love he was searching for, eyes longing to hold the one he missed so much. The blade of the scythe glowed green, its tip touching the cheek of the Guardian; the statue didn't seem to be bothered by it. Readying its weapons, it aimed at Heero and Wufei.

"Stop it, Shinigami," Heero said, voice nothing but a whisper. "If you really love your Inochigami, go back to sleep and wake up in his arms. Give me my Duo back."

"Yuy, you are insane." Wufei couldn't help but stare at the weapons in the Guardian's arms, the trident still dripping with blood. "I want to help your friend, but this is insane!"

"Just kill me," Heero said.

"What?"

"Just kill me." Heero didn't break his eye-contact with Shinigami-Duo. Wufei grabbed him at the shoulder again, shaking him.

"Snap out of it, Yuy!"

"Just kill me," he repeated. "If that is what you want. If that is what it takes to give me my Duo back."

"You are amusing," Shinigami-Duo said. "All you humans are amusing. Yes, I am going to amuse myself in this world." A screeching sound announced a movement from his wings, spreading them to their full, impressive width. "I will take your life, Inochigami-impostor."

I will find you, Duo, wherever you are.

He lifted up the scythe and disentangled himself from the statue, movements light and elegant, as an angel floating in the sky.

"Yuy, this is not going to end right!" Wufei held his katana up high, assuming a stance.

"Run, Wufei," Heero said, his eyes wide. He wanted to face what was coming, he wanted to see Shinigami-Duo coming for him. He wanted to face him head-on, he wasn't afraid. "Run. Leave!"

"You..." Wufei's words were lost to him. Shinigami was fast, and it was only a matter of seconds...maybe one second only. The scythe was at his neck, the green light shining in his eyes, the face of the God so close that he could see the countless souls taken in his eyes, and the scream of agonizing pain was either theirs or his, he didn't know.

Found you.

Part 10

Cold, isn't it?

"Duo?" Heero opened his eyes slowly. There was no bright light or darkness; he was surrounded by something resembling a fog, a grey fog. No black or white, just...bland grey, as far as he could see. It was cold indeed, a numbing cold. He wrapped his arms around himself, vaguely noticing that he wasn't wearing any clothes. Strange, how he was somewhere and nowhere at the same time.

"Where am I..?"

Did he say that out loud, or had he just thought it? No sound reached his ears, yet he was quite certain he had moved his lips. He wasn't shivering, despite the cold - he pinched himself in the upper arm, but he didn't feel any pain. His skin was just as pale as Shinigami-Duo's had been; it was almost translucent. It scared him.

It bothered him that he couldn't determine his whereabouts. Heero was very precise, and it confused and angered him that he didn't know where he was, why he could see nothing but this grey...sea of nothingness. There was always a way out, there had to be - he had been with Duo in many dangerous situations before, and they had always found a way out. Always.

Empty, isn't it?

"Who's talking?" Heero barked and was taken aback by the weird, echoing volume of his own voice. He looked from the left to the right, but there was no one around him; no one, nothing, nothing at all. He amazed himself that he wasn't panicking. He turned around to see if anyone was there, but he accepted fairly calmly that he was all alone in this strange fog, this macabre world of nothingness.

"Yes, it is," he spoke again, this time his voice much lower. Maybe he could draw out the one who had spoken? "If you would show yourself, it wouldn't be so empty."

A soft chuckle. Someone was laughing at him! Heero didn't waste his energy by looking around once more. He was starting to get painfully aware that he was naked. His pale skin, the cold, the bland environment, it was getting to him.

"You're very calm for someone to be in this place," the same voice spoke and Heero recognized him - of course, how could it not be? Shinigami stood in front of him as mysterious and fast as he had moved before. Heero felt his hopes falter. This was Shinigami. This was the God of the Death with the face of his beloved, and he was so beautiful. Despite the black lips, the deep, soulless eyes and the pale skin, he was beautiful with his long hair unraveled, framing his heart-shaped face, the dark wings protruding from his back flowing and folding around him protectively. The scythe he was holding didn't emit that green light in this strange place, but showed dark colors instead. Some kind of liquid seemed to run off the blade, a small droplet of -- he steered his thoughts quickly away from it.

"Usually, the recently deceased are welcomed by those who went ahead of them," Shinigami spoke. His scythe also seemed to have shrunk in size, but it was still an impressive height. The large robes he was wearing were decorated at the edges with dark maroon and burgundy red patterns of unknown craftsmanship, giving him the allure of a high priest. A deadly high priest.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Heero asked. His heart turned cold.

"They are welcomed by their family or loved ones to guide them to their final destination. I could not find anyone to welcome you here, Heero Yuy. That must be very, very, lonely."

"I'm sorry," Heero stammered. Shinigami raised his eyebrows.

"You're sorry for what, exactly?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "If there was someone..." He had never known his real parents, and as far as he knew, his adoptive father was still alive. Odin Lowe had passed on his love for history and archaeology to him, and had worked hard to pay for his education. Heero visited the man once in a while, as they didn't have a very intense father-son contact; however, he was sure that in case of Lowe's passing, he would've known.

The God of Death shifted his stance, leaning casually on his scythe. His robes flowed and were lifted by something invisible, a wind that surrounded him only. It was Duo's body, it was Duo's face, yet it was not. It was confusing and painful to see. Heero couldn't deny his beauty and kept staring at him. I can't be dead...I have to find Duo. Please.. don't let it be that way...

"Shinigami," Heero said, voice slightly wavering.

"Yes?"

"You granted passage to Khushrenada and Merquise," he said, standing straight, showing his usual confidence. "I ask for passage for my friend, too. Please let Duo go. You can take my body instead."

He tilted his head like a curious child, and for the first time, the God of Death showed a real, albeit wistful smile.

"I miss my Inochigami," he said. "Why should I leave the body that has foolishly assembled my scythe? Now I can look for my beloved, and you ask of me to give it up?"

"No," Heero shook his head. "I ask you to take my body instead. You can search for your Inochigami all that you want, but please let Duo go."

"You are in the realm of the dead," Shinigami said, and this time his smile turned cruel. "I have no business with your body. You cannot fool me, though I commend your passion to save your friend."

Realm of the dead. Heero moved his hands up to his chest, and touched his skin. Even though he couldn't feel the pain, he felt cold liquid drip over his fingers. Blood. He was bleeding from a gash in his chest. Where the scythe had...cut him.

"No," he whispered. "I...can't be dead."

"In some cultures, it was a real honor to see the God of Death in person," Shinigami said, his eyes traveling to the gaping wound on Heero's chest back to his face again. "They welcomed my embrace and my kiss, and would fight to be in my arms when their moment was near."

"I want Duo to be alive," Heero said and blinked. He was crying. Why wasn't he feeling the pain, why didn't he feel the heat of his tears? He was aware of them, of the salty streak on his cheeks, just as he was aware of his blood, tainting his fingers. "He doesn't deserve to die."

"He awoke me when he reassembled the scythe. He started the Never-Ending Circle again, but failed to reunite Death with Life. So there will be only Death."

"Would you listen to me if I told you about the Never-Ending Circle and how it was uncovered?"

Shinigami looked up, pensively, but didn't respond.

"Would you listen to me if I told you we tried to keep it away from people who wanted to do harm with it?"

"The one you call Duo found it and reassembled it. His anger and sadness summoned me."

"Sadness," Heero repeated. "Solo."

"His brother welcomed him," Shinigami nodded.

He was running out of words. He was running out of options. He was running out of...life. Heero wasn't sure what to say, what to do. If he was truly dead, why was Shinigami talking to him? To honor him with his presence, before finally whisking him away, to a destination unknown? If he was really dead...

"I promised I would find Duo, and I found you," he said, a bitter tone to his voice. "You are Duo, you're using his body. I won't go anywhere until I have Duo back. That's a promise too, Shinigami."

"Like I said before, you humans are amusing." There was no amusement in the God's voice, he looked tired and annoyed. "I broke my scythe out of frustration because you humans started slaying each other and reveled in the power of taking lives, of tasting blood. The dignity of death and helping the souls to cross over was brutally taken away from me. My power was gone; my reason to exist was gone."

"I understand your anger," Heero said. Anger. 'His anger and sadness summoned me'. "You responded to Duo because he was feeling anger too?"

Shinigami pursed his lips, as if he had given away too much information. He shifted his grip on the staff of the scythe.

"Everyone feels anger. Even you, Heero Yuy. You are mad at me because I am here, not your Duo -- but it was you who invited me in."

"If it takes my life to get Duo back, then I would invite you again and again."

"You would lose your life, but your Duo would live. You would gain nothing."

"I made mistakes. I wasn't there the moment he needed me the most. Solo... when he died, I couldn't be there to comfort Duo..."

"You are crying," Shinigami said, interrupting him. He moved his hand, lifting it up, long, slender fingers pointing at the tears glistening on Heero's check. "Why?"

"I guess I'm scared," Heero said. There was no need to hold back for the God. Why should he lie or cover up, knowing that he was already dead? He wanted to fight for Duo, to secure his life...what happened to his own, wasn't important.

"Why could you not be my Inochigami," the God answered, and he sounded defeated. He was breathtakingly beautiful and terrifying because of what he was, but at this moment, Heero was convinced the God was almost human. Shinigami was simply longing for the one he had shared his entire life with.

"I can be your Inochigami," Heero said, and left his most obvious thought unspoken, but he knew the God knew. As long as you let Duo go.

"We parted, my Inochigami and me," Shinigami said and he chuckled again, albeit humorless. "My temper got the best of us, just like the one you keep calling Duo. Temper temper humans, for the Gods can be volatile and violent as well. I am old, young one, and I have a task at hand that needs fulfilling."

"I'm sorry."

"Do you pity the God of Death?"

"No. I feel sorry for your loss, and for my loss. I wish I could see Duo again and hold him."

"You love him."

"I absolutely do."

"My loss," Shinigami repeated, softly.

"You should rest, Shinigami," Heero said. "This world is not for you. Go back to sleep, and when you wake up, you will find the one you love."

Shinigami showed the same, wistful smile again. "Maybe. I will find him, one day, no matter what day. I will always find him, even if this world is not meant for me, or for him."

Silence. Heero wiped at his tears, relieved that no fresh ones had fallen; he felt embarrassed to cry in front of Shinigami, though he was sure the God couldn't care less. He tried to wipe at the blood on his chest, but it didn't disappear. The cold and the stress of the moment were getting to him, and his knees buckled.

Shinigami took a step forward and his hand with the scythe shifted, the impressive blade lunging menacingly towards him. Heero took in a deep gust of breath. This was it. This was really, really it. Duo. I have done what I could...He closed his eyes.

Something pressed against his body. Something cold, and rough, and he could feel its weight. The silence compelled him to open his eyes again -- he didn't understand what was going on. Shinigami stood so close to him that their lips could touch; Heero was so shocked that he even didn't take a step back. Almost instinctively, he lifted up his arms; not to embrace the God, but the scythe that was pressed against his chest. Dark, depthless eyes searched out his own.

"If you can find your Duo before I find my Inochigami, all will be restored." He didn't show any emotion, and pressed the scythe even tighter into Heero's arms. "As soon as you find him, have him break the scythe. I will return to sleep, until the next fool reassembles it again."

The God faded slowly away in front of him; he hadn't touched Heero.

"Wait! How can I ever find him?" He cried out.

Shinigami didn't answer, but simply disappeared from view. Heero's knees buckled under the weight of the scythe, and he gritted his teeth. He had to find him. He had to find Duo. Why had Shinigami given him this chance? Why...why?

How was he moving? He couldn't see his feet. He didn't even know if he was walking. He had to stay calm and look for Duo, and find him. Heero clenched the staff, his fingers scratched by the rough wood.

I will find you. I promised.

How could he find Duo? Inochigami. The God of Life. And what if Shinigami found his Inochigami, all would be lost after all...it couldn't be! It was so cold, everything was so numb and bland, and he couldn't see if he was making any progress. He played Shinigami's words over and over in his mind again, but he couldn't pick it apart, couldn't find any clues hidden in what the God had told him. Why was he still here? Was Shinigami really planning to leave him out here, struggling, forever searching for Duo? What about the outside world? What about his body?

"I am alive," he muttered, "I have to be alive!" He widened his eyes.

His fingers were scratched by the rough wood of the scythe's staff; splinters embedded in his skin. He could feel it. It started to dawn to him, and he almost wanted to laugh as he realized that Shinigami had spoken the entire truth. The God of Death took only the lives of those who had forsaken their right to live. Murderers. Killers. The Guardian had killed Quinze because he was Winner's murderer, and he had spared Khushrenada -- for all that the man was, lying, manipulating, he had never pulled a trigger. The God and his Guardian had saved his life -- and so would his life be spared. Shinigami had never referred to him as a dead man, only told him that he was in the realm of the dead -- he and Duo were both alive, somewhere, somehow, and he was going to find him!

He walked on, even if there was no clear direction he went into. The fog was the same everywhere, the bland grayness that nowhere seemed to start and nowhere seemed to stop. The thought of saving Duo was all that was keeping him upright, was all that kept him going. He had to find his own Inochigami...Duo was his life, his source of life. Warmth. A little bit of warmth, every time he thought of Duo. He looked up again, in the hope to see him; but once again, there was no one around. This was cruel, this was torture! The cold, the heavy scythe.. how much longer could he go on..? He groaned. He was strong, but there was a limit to his strength.

He stood still, all but panting. How could Shinigami handle his scythe as if it weighed nothing? He was about to get crushed under its weight, and the artifact had been so small when they had found it. Duo's anger and sadness...Solo. The death of his brother had really changed him, and if he only had been there to console him... Heero looked up, frowning as he suddenly saw something in the fog. His heart raced. Duo?

Could he... was that... what was it, that he saw in the bland mist? Some kind of color, violet color, blue-ish color... the color of Duo's eyes. Heero reached for it, but his hand touched nothing but air. The color seemed to drift away from him and he wanted to cry out in frustration. Forcing himself to pick up the pace, he all but dragged the scythe with him, chasing the strange wisp of indigo.

"Don't leave me," he moaned as the color slightly faded, absorbed by the grey all around it. He thought he heard a soft chuckle again, and assumed his mind was playing tricks on him -- how could he not go stark raving mad in a place like this? Had Shinigami come back to taunt him? He wheezed from the exertion, as he had broken out into a firm jog, all the while dragging the heavy scythe behind him. His eyes were focused on the color, definitely the color of Duo's eyes, and he felt warmth. Yes, yes, this was the right direction! He had to catch his breath and halted for a moment, only a moment. The color intensified, just a little, and Heero could clearly make out the shape; pupil-less eyes, but eyes nonetheless. Not as big as Duo's, he had always teased Duo with his wide, beautifully large eyes. These were smaller, and just as familiar...

"Solo," Heero said. He had deeply cared for the older Maxwell brother, and had truly enjoyed going on expeditions with him. He wasn't a witness to his actual drowning, but had been there when his lifeless body had been retrieved from the shore. "Solo, you're guiding me..?"

He had to be hallucinating, because he could hear that soft chuckle again. He was driven mad!

"Stop torturing me!" He cried out. "Show yourself, or else help me to find Duo!"

Silence was his only answer, and to make matters worse, the purplish color faded more. Heero bit his lip, cursing himself mentally for snapping. This was the realm of the dead, not the real world, and what was completely strange to him here, was completely normal to this realm...probably. There were new rules he had to abide; he had to find Duo, and if it would take him to follow a vague color, shaped like the eyes of someone he knew, then he would do so.

"Please forgive me," he whispered, "Solo, please, help me."

There was no chuckle this time, and the grey fog had almost claimed the color again, assimilating it as if it were an enemy. Heero walked again, into the direction of the disappearing color, and tried to follow it. Was he still holding onto the scythe? There was a weight in his hands, but he couldn't feel it. Had he lost it on his way? Was he insane? This fog, this nothingness, this grey, it was mind-blowing insane. He narrowed his eyes. The color was gone, but something black was luring in the mist. Was it solid? Was it Shinigami? No, warmth, warmth, he was definitely feeling warmth -- Inochigami, life -- and he cried out in triumph.

Found you.

"Don't touch me, Heero. If you touch me, you're dead!"

Heero collapsed, the scythe slipping from his fingers and the Never-Ending Circle fell onto the floor, or what a floor was in this fog, as he could hear the blade screeching as it touched the floor -- at least something.

"Solo was here," he breathed, "he guided me to you."

"Yeah, I saw him too." Duo looked downtrodden. He was anxious to touch Heero, it showed all over him, but he kept himself at a distance. This was him, this was truly Duo.. he had found him before Shinigami had found his Inochigami. He still looked pale, sickly pale, and his eyes... Gods, his beautiful eyes were widened in horror and disbelief.

"Oh fuck, oh Christ, Heero, your chest. What happened? What.. what are you doing here? You should have fled the kingdom a long time by now!"

"I couldn't leave without you," Heero answered dryly, but he couldn't keep from smiling. Duo was naked just as he was, but there was nothing erotic about their bodies here -- more so, they looked like pale, limbless blobs from the waist down. Duo's body was intact; Heero didn't dare to look down at his own chest. He could still feel his blood on his fingers.

"You can't get me away from here," Duo said. "This is the realm of the dead. Solo told me. We're dead, and Shinigami is unleashed...it's my entire fault."

"No, it's not." Heero wanted to get up again, but found he couldn't. Funny, his body felt like it weighed a ton. He couldn't even see his own feet and still it felt like they were clumps of massive lead, instead of skin and bones. "You were forced to reassemble the Never-Ending Circle, and you started the cycle all over again...but we failed to find Shinigami's counterpart, and now the whole situation is out of balance."

"I could always trust you to analyze the predicament we're in, into perfection," Duo answered sourly. "Heero, I want to kiss and hug the ever-loving he...heaven out of you, but I can't touch you. If you touch me, you're dead."

"We're not dead," Heero said. "Who told you that you were dead? Shinigami?"

"Solo was here," Duo explained. "He said that if I touched him, I was dead."

"Because Solo is truly dead," Heero said, sullenly. "I'm sorry, Duo. I shouldn't have said that. Listen to me. We have to break the scythe and all will be restored."

"Heero..."

"Just listen to me, Duo. Break it, destroy it, take it apart, whatever it takes!"

They were a team. They had been a team, and whenever the need called for it, they fell back into the patterns that were established when they explored and uncovered artifacts together -- Heero the analyzing one, Duo the flying-by-the-seat-of-his-pants one. They had mutual respect for each other, for their knowledge, their quick thinking, their abilities to bring everything to a good end, no matter what the odds. They had trusted each other in the most stressful of times -- and being in the realm of the dead was more than stressful. It was draining, and Heero knew he was losing a battle if they didn't react quick; he couldn't even get up anymore, and perhaps Duo wasn't noticing it, but he himself looked more and more ghostly and withering by the minute.

Duo grabbed the scythe, groaning as he was surprised by its weight. He pulled the staff towards him, the blade dragging behind it, like nails on a chalk board. They both shivered. Lifting the scythe upright, Duo grabbed the blade and tried to wedge it out of the staff.

"It's massively stuck!"

"Break it," Heero tried to encourage him. His voice was failing him. No, not now. This environment was assimilating them, just as it had done with the color of Solo's eyes, the last attempt to bring them together. They couldn't stay here forever, they would die for real, Heero was sure of it. Fear and panic was getting to the both of them; Duo's body turned even more formless and ghostly, and Heero noticed all of his senses were faltering; his vision was getting blurred, his ears were clogging up, his tongue was swelling up.

"We're going to die forever!" Duo exclaimed as he tried everything he could to break the artifact again.

"We can't die. Shinigami needs your body, and I'm not a murderer," Heero wanted to tell him, even though it made sense only in his mind.

"Of course you're not a murderer. What are you talking about? Fucking fuck stupid fucking scythe! That's the last time I'm ever going to take another commission! Fuck!"

Heero couldn't speak anymore, and his eyes were drooping. His lips were curled in a smile. Despite everything, he felt grateful. If this was his moment, then he wanted to spend it with Duo. They had faced death many times before, and it had finally taken its toll on Solo. They had managed to survive all those times, but now this was the final stand, wasn't it? Humans were amusing. Their bodies couldn't withstand the realm of the dead.

"Leave the fucking scythe," he wanted to say, trusting Duo to pick up on his thoughts again. "I want to hold you."

Duo looked at him. He didn't mention the 'don't touch me or you're dead' line again. His face was untouched; the outlines were still visible, his large eyes brimming with sadness and acceptance...and his usual defiance. A lopsided grin showed on his face, as he understood. Final moments, and finally together.

He all but threw himself on top of Heero, his formless body not feeling any impact of the weight. Scythe still in hand, Duo touched Heero wherever he could. He moved his free arm under Heero's, not caring that the blood stained his own skin. Heero moved up his own arm, wrapping it around Duo's shoulders, pulling him close with the last of his strength.

"Drop the scythe," it was barely a whisper, "it doesn't suit you."

Duo dropped the scythe at the same moment they kissed. It slipped slowly from his fingers, as if he couldn't let it go. Their lips, burning with desire, panic, love and fear, sought each other out and they kissed, they touched, holding each other in passion and despair. The grey fog was thickening, slithering tendrils reaching for the both of them. Bodies, minds, souls.. it fleeted away, out of their reach, colors fading, awareness ceasing to exist.

The Never-Ending Circle hit the floor and shattered into a million pieces.

"Yuy! Wake up! You idiot! Selfish bastard! Wake up!"

As long as he had known Wufei, his friend had never called him names, never uttered a word of profanity, and virtually never showed any trace of panic. To hear his voice all but screaming into his ear was funny, hilarious in a sick way, because he also knew that there had to be something terribly wrong if Chang Wufei of all people was in panic.

Oh yeah. I died, didn't I? It was a godsend that his mind was working at its usual speed. He realized what was going on immediately; he was lying on the ground, a weak sun caressing his skin, and there was an uncomfortable tightness around his chest. He felt weak, tired, but he was breathing, he was registering the sounds and movements around him, even though he couldn't open his eyes. He was alive. Yes, he was very certain he was alive. A shiver ran through him, and he moved his arm.

"Yuy! You are awake!"

A sudden slap to his face forced him snap open his eyes, shock and disbelief visible.

"What the hell are you doing?" He growled.

Wufei heaved a sigh of relief. His clothes were soaked in blood, his tank top completely drenched, and there were smears all over his pants.

"Stay down, you have lost a lot of blood. Thank whatever deity that your Land Rover was stocked with an extremely well supplied first aid kit, I have used up every bit of gauze."

The wound on his chest. Heero grimaced. How bad was it? He wanted to touch the bandages and take them off, to see for himself -- but the memories of the realm of the dead flashed in front of his eyes, and the memory of his blood, ice cold, dripping from his fingers. He shivered again.

"I am sorry, but I had to move you. The statue suddenly came crashing down, and I was afraid the debris was going to hit you."

"Statue?"

"The Guardian," Wufei said.

"How long was I away?"

"Away? You have been here all the time, Yuy. You just opened your arms for the God of Death and he sliced right at you. It is a miracle that you only suffered a wound to the chest -- I was convinced that he was going to cut you in half!"

"Duo," Heero coughed.

Wufei nodded, a strange stony expression on his face. "Maxwell is right over there."

A feeling of utter bliss descended upon Heero, and he smiled, relief and gratitude washing over him. They had made it out alive! Wufei didn't share his excitement, and as Heero moved his head around, searching for Duo, his friend put his hand on his shoulder. He shook his head.

"What?" Heero asked, annoyed. He hated that he was so vulnerable, so dependent. His body had taken quite the injury, he was fully aware of it, and the loss of blood made him weak and light-headed.

"I am sorry," Wufei said.

"Help me up," Heero snarled at him. He tried to get up, making wild movements with his arms. He wanted to get up as quick as possible.

"Yuy, take it easy! Your chest..."

"Help me up!"

Wufei tsk-ed, but obeyed the harsh command and supported Heero. It took them four tries as Heero's legs refused to obey him, and he had to muster up all of his remaining energy and effort to stand up straight. Panting and wheezing, he turned with the help of Wufei to the left, only to see a body lying on the ground, covered with a grey blanket.

"I found him behind the rubble of the statue," Wufei explained. "He was not breathing, Yuy. I am sorry that he did not make it."

"Duo..." Heero wrestled himself free of Wufei's grip and his friend let him go, knowing that it was of no use to try to stop him. Shuffling and dragging his feet, struggling to take one step after another, Heero made his way over to the covered body. "Duo!"

The bandages chafed his skin and his wound tore open again, but he couldn't care less. Heero sank to his knees, hands gripping the blanket and with his last strength, he pulled the fabric away. It was Duo, and his eyes were closed. His skin was a ghastly pale, strands of hair plastered to his face, his right arm bend at an unnatural angle, fingers spread. This couldn't be happening. Was this a last trick of Shinigami? Had he lied to him after all? No, the God of Death had no reason to lie. He had given him a second chance -- this couldn't be Shinigami's work.

"We better leave," Wufei mentioned. Heero made a movement with his arm as if he wanted to bat away an annoying fly. He could see nothing but Duo, lying lifelessly in front of him -- not after everything they had been through! He pushed himself to lie alongside Duo, ignoring that his chest wasn't heaving.

"Breathe, breathe, my love," he said, his hands shaking and trembling as he touched him. "My Inochigami. Breathe, goddamnit!"

"Yuy," Wufei urged him.

"Breathe!"

Duo's body was surrounded by splinters of wood and metal shards that had to be the remnants of the scythe. They had broken the Never-Ending Circle again, they had put Shinigami to rest again...why wasn't Duo alive? Why wasn't he opening his eyes, smiling at him? Why wasn't he breathing? Duo's lips were chalk white. Heero didn't hesitate for a moment and kissed him, the shock of his cold lips barely reaching his mind. Dead, cold, lips...it just couldn't be, it couldn't be!

"I can't fight for the both of us," Heero softly whispered. Duo looked so fragile, his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted...a marble statue about to break. "Solo isn't here. He can't guide you now, Duo. You have to fight yourself. You have to do it yourself. Come back to me, please. Please. Shinigami didn't lie. He gave the both of us a second chance. We defied death, Duo, remember? Come back to me. Breathe!"

He had no strength left to perform CPR. He assumed that Wufei had tried, even though there was no reason to assume Duo would survive. Heero refused to believe that Duo had lost the battle. He didn't want his last memory of him to be lying like this, on the ground, half covered with a grey blanket, in the Kingdom of Sanq.

Suddenly, Duo's cheeks puffed up and he busted out in a violent cough, shaking his entire body. Wufei exclaimed something that could be either a curse or a blessing, Heero didn't know -- the Chinese warrior fortunately still had the presence of mind to immediately give water to Duo, to which he gratefully latched onto, gulping the liquid down.

"More," he said as he was finished with the bottle and coughed again. Wufei gave him another bottle and it went down just as fast, until he started throwing up. Patient as a professional nurse, Wufei brought him a wet towel to clean his mouth and face. Duo buried his face into the thick fabric, dry-heaving and shaking.

"Duo," Heero called his name. The other looked up, his right arm limp next to his side. Duo looked at him with bewilderment in his eyes and a tentative smile on his face. He was lucid, realizing as well what had happened, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He looked like he was about to faint.

"Wufei, we have to get out of here," Heero said.

"I'll go get the car," Wufei answered. "Your car," he corrected himself, as he didn't feel like driving any one of the Land Rovers left behind by Khushrenada's decimated army. As soon as he went away, Duo slipped his good arm around Heero again.

"We made it," he whispered.

"Yes we did," Heero said and closed his eyes, too tired to even speak. He didn't hear Wufei returning with the car. He didn't notice how his friend dragged him into the seat and strapped him in, and doing the same with Duo. He didn't feel anything from the ride back to the border of Sanq. He knew Duo was behind him, and that he had to thank Wufei for all of his hard work; but the tensions ebbed away, the adrenaline wore off, and he had used up all of his energy. He fell asleep despite the bumpy and bad road, and this time the darkness was comfortable and welcome.

He smacked his lips a little; his throat felt dry. Coughing softly, he shifted around, moving his head from left to right, immediately squinting his eyes. The sun was quite bright, yet warm; a shadow was cast over his face.

"Too warm for you?"

Too warm...What?

"No, I feel chilly," he croaked, immediately coughing.

"Take it easy."

"Hee...Heero?"

Duo opened his eyes, batting his lashes a few times. Confused, he stared at the face of Quatre Raberba Winner.

"Wh-what?"

"Welcome to my estate in the Arab Emirates," Quatre all but beamed at him. "Would you like some water? Lemonade? Iced tea? Regular tea?"

"My arm feels heavy," Duo ignored his question and tried to get up.

Quatre pushed at his shoulder to keep him down and offered him a glass of water, tilting it carefully to enable him to sip at his leisure. He put a blanket around Duo's legs; it was a grey one, with light red stripes. It made him shudder. Taking it as a sign of him feeling cold, Quatre tucked his legs even tighter in. It was almost funny, if Duo wasn't so occupied with the pain in his arm and his unfamiliarity with his environment. Arab Emirates? Where the hell was he?

"My arm..?"

"It's broken. Stop wriggling it, Duo. The scythe was too heavy for you, its weight broke your arm."

"Broken? A scythe? What are you talking about?"

Quatre pulled a seat close and sat down. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Duo frowned, taking another sip. Licking his lips, he tried to recall the previous events.

"It's...not really clear. The statue...I remember the big-ass golden statue with the weapons. I remember climbing up on it. From there, it's a little blank...not dark, just...blank. Grey...fog. Cold. Discomfort. Where's Heero?"

"He's picking out bridal flower arrangements with Relena."

"Whaaaaat?"

Quatre hid a laugh behind his hand. "Don't worry! The Queen of the World recently announced her wedding plans, but she's not going to marry Heero. She's found herself a nice civilian guy whose ambitions have nothing to do with politics. It was love at first sight, or so she says." Quatre winked at Duo. "To answer your earlier question, Heero has video footage of the statue and he can fill you in on the details. He's coming back soon. But for now, you deserve to be a little spoiled, Duo. After all, thanks to you, one of the most dangerous artifacts of the world has been put away to never be assembled again. The power over life and death is in no one's hands...just as it should be."

"Quatre," Duo said, followed by a "hey, Trowa," when he noticed the personal assistant sitting under the large parasol. The blond CEO looked over his shoulder and his already warm smile intensified when looking at Trowa. Duo realized they were at the edge of a large swimming pool, the seats and large table conveniently set up under a huge parasol.

"I have to thank both you and Heero," Quatre continued, not giving Duo a chance to speak. "If it weren't for you, the world would've faced another war. Not only would the Never-Ending Circle be used as a weapon of power, but also to keep the power differential as large as possible. With a weapon like the scythe of the God of Death himself, it would've been a very unfair fight. Colonies, nations, factions, Earth; everyone would've been pitted against each other in a hotbed of mystical powers and the knowledge that death could strike at any moment, for any reason."

"But what...happened?" Duo asked, still confused. He had difficulties filling in the gaps and he stared at his encased right arm as if it was an alien limb.

Trowa had his laptop with him, and next to him was a paper file holding clippings of news articles. He showed it to Duo, leafing through them at his convenience: apparently, Khushrenada had made the headlines big time, in a less than flattering manner.

"Treize Khushrenada has been exposed as the manipulating factor behind it all," Trowa said, pointing at a specific headline. "Romefeller was quick to blame and demote their prodigy child just as quick as they had been to promote him -- he's taking the fall for the entire organization. Even though his actions don't warrant him any prison time, being pushed back to the lower ranks of the organization and with this stain to his name, he'll be keeping a low profile for a long time to come."

"What about the others?"

He was interrupted by a servant carrying a large tray with refreshments. Duo waited until the servant was gone. Quatre helped himself to a cup of tea, but not before he pressed Duo a large glass of non-carbonated lemonade in his hands. The CEO slowly stirred into the scorching hot liquid.

"Romefeller is too big of an organization to be completely out of the picture. Not everyone in the organization was supporting these plans. As far as I know, only a select few had in mind to seize power with help of the Never-Ending Circle. However, they can forget about any influence in the political field though, as their image and name have taken a blow. Their ties to White Fang have been exposed, which led to new questions about the training facility on Cuba -- no, the Romefeller Foundation will be regarded with quite the suspicion from now on. I wouldn't be surprised if it turned back to its original form: a historical society supporting the Victorian arts."

"You may not remember that Quinze was killed," Trowa said. "Another high-ranked member of the White Fang, Sedici, was arrested and put under surveillance. The authorities found plans at their headquarters, but they refuse to disclose exactly what. Even though this Sedici wasn't directly linked to the Never-Ending Circle, I doubt that the White Fang will become of any importance in the future. With both their leaders gone, the members will probably disband."

Quatre took a sip, smiling as usual. "While Romefeller is heavily discredited, my father's name has been internationally acknowledged for his contributions to the archaeological field," he said. "His journal, findings and theories on the Never-Ending Circle have been published and he's been accredited for all his hard work."

"That's incredible news," Duo said, feeling genuinely happy for Quatre. He winced as a jolt of pain reminded him that his arm was broken. He was annoyed that he still had a gap in his memory the size of his own manor. Trowa clicked at the keys of the laptop and showed the screen to Duo. It was a bank transfer program, and the amount of money was already filled out.

"Please state the account number of where you want this to be transferred to?"

Duo smiled, but shook his head. "I didn't get you the Never-Ending Circle. I didn't uphold my part of the commission."

"It doesn't matter," Quatre said. "I wasn't interested as much in the artifact itself as in restoring my father's name. The confirmation of its existence is an archaeological breakthrough, and it showed that my father's work wasn't for nothing. I now know who his murderer was, and he's already been brought to justice. I wasn't chasing ghosts."

"The artifact is still around," Wufei said casually. "Albeit assembling it will be neigh impossible."

Duo hadn't heard him approach; apparently, there were more people who could sneak up to him without as much as a sound. It ticked him off a little.

"I was wondering where you were," he said, wary.

"So, you do remember me?"

"Sort of. I saw you at Sanq's border..?"

"I will leave it up to Heero to fill in the details," Wufei said. "It is otherwise too much information to be dumped on you, and you need to rest. For now, I wish to thank you too, Duo Maxwell. I wanted to take the Never-Ending Circle to my clan for personal reasons, but from what I have seen of it, I would probably have destroyed what was left of my home, instead of using it for good. It shattered into so many pieces that we couldn't bring everything back; what we didn't take is buried under tons of debris, and probably impossible to identify."

"You brought the artifact back?" Duo was dumbfounded.

"Heero will show it to you. I expect him to arrive within the next fifteen minutes." Wufei bowed to him, as if he was ready to leave.

"Thank you, Wufei," Quatre replied, looking very content. The business man hadn't shown any surprise at seeing the other appear out of nowhere. Wufei bowed to him and Trowa.

"Keep in touch, Chang," Duo said, grinning lopsidedly. The Chinese warrior showed a flicker of a smile before walking away soundlessly. Without his katana on his back, he'd almost looked friendly to Duo.

Trowa closed off the laptop and after a glance at Quatre, he cleared his throat and said: "We have to continue with our daily schedule...besides, I think it's better if we left you to rest up a little."

"How long have I been out of it anyway?" Duo asked. Quatre had talked about events that probably had taken days. It seemed only like yesterday to him that he was descending down the stairs beneath the Royal Palace of Sanq. Quatre looked at Trowa with a look of torment on his face, but yielded and said softly: "Two weeks. We had to fear for your life several times, Duo. You were barely responding to us, and we thought that Shinigami might claim you after all."

Trowa patted Duo on the shoulder. "If you need anything, anything at all, please let us know. There's a remote control on the table -- just press one of the buttons, and someone will come for you. All the servants are at your disposal, and instructed to fulfill your every need. We're happy to have you stay here for as long as you need to recover."

"It's no problem at all," Quatre added.

"Damn," Duo muttered. He felt a little embarrassed. He didn't want any servant. He wanted Heero. What the fuck is he doing, going out and about with a pretty princess to pick out flower arrangements, for fuck's sake?

He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or to cry, but even if he did feel anger or annoyance, it left him as he dozed off again, enjoying the sun and the knowledge that everyone was safe. He would worry about the gaps in his memory later, and his broken arm would heal. Relaxing into the warmth of the sun, he allowed himself to drift off.

A servant woke up him at dinner time, gently shaking his shoulder until Duo opened his eyes. The man bowed to him extensively, indicating to follow him to the large mansion. Duo got up himself, stretching languidly and popping his muscles. He yawned. His legs felt a little shaky, and he made a mental note to get back to his usual routine of exercising soon. His body felt stiff and cramped from lack of training.

Following the servant to the mansion, Duo wondered where Heero was. He had expected the other to come look for him, but maybe he didn't want to wake him up? Both Quatre and Trowa had mentioned that he needed his rest, and though he did feel a lot better, Duo just wanted to know where Heero was so he could talk to him, and fill in the gaps. He was still tired though, and didn't pay much attention to the mansion itself. He noticed some art, and his trained eye told him that nothing on display here was a cheap reproduction. Quatre had chosen for light sandy colors and strict lines in his interior decoration; it felt more like a business suite than a mansion.

The hallway seemed endless and just as he was about to ask the servant how much longer it was going to take, he passed an open door...and he saw Heero, lying on a chaise longue, a book in his hands.

"Heero!" He all but yelled.

Heero looked up, his face lighting up as he saw Duo in the door opening. He closed the book and put it on the small table next to him, and shifted to sit up straight. The servant appeared next to Duo, a little confused, not knowing what to do. Heero waved at him.

"It's all right. Tell the others we'll be at dinner soon."

The man nodded, bowed once more and disappeared. Both Heero and Duo walked towards each other, but halted in the middle of the room, suddenly nervous and anxious, as if they met for the first time. It took only a few seconds though, before they simultaneously opened their arms and embraced each other. Duo noticed how strong Heero's grip was; he almost cut off his breathing. He patted Heero on the back, careful not to hit him with his cast.

"I thought I lost you forever," Heero said, inhaling Duo's scent. He didn't make any move to break up their embrace. His fingers clutched at Duo's clothing; a wide shirt and baggy pants. "Don't you ever scare me like that."

"Heero, I..."

"I know," he was quick to reply. "Quatre told me that you don't remember much of it all. It's all right, I'll tell you everything you need to know."

Duo nodded. "So?"

"So...?"

"So what happened down there?"

"Down where?"

"Where the big statue was?"

"Duo..."

"That's my name."

Heero pressed his lips on his harshly. "Must you really want to know it right now?"

Duo returned the kiss, enjoying their lips on each other, tasting Heero -- unique as he'd always been, a rough but spicy taste, and so very addictive -- and gasped from the ferocity of the kiss. Not that he was going to complain about it, but this... possessiveness was new to him.

"Yeah, I pretty much do," Duo answered in all honestly. "I don't like not knowing what happened."

Heero kissed him again, this time softly, lingering on his lower lip. "I don't want to be parted from you ever again."

"You're changing the subject again. And...what about your royal girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend, Duo..."

"Just kidding," he said and ruffled Heero's hair. "But when someone tells me you're picking flower arrangements with her..."

"She's going to marry a guy named --"

"It's okay, I'm just making fun of you. Still...Khushrenada might lay low for a while, but with the members of Romefeller and White Fang exposed...that's got to have consequences for her."

Heero heaved a sigh. He did break up their hug now, only to coax Duo into sitting next to him on the chaise-longue. "Quatre told me he bought off the blackmail issue. He approached Khushrenada when he was being interrogated. Do you remember Merquise suffering a bullet to the shoulder? Well, when Khushrenada returned to the border with his injured friend, the local police started up an investigation. I don't know how Quatre caught wind of it, but he offered Khushrenada too good of a deal to refuse, especially now that he's the black sheep of the Romefeller family. Oh yeah, and he threatened to have all his archaeological licenses revoked and all that."

"Wow," Duo said, seeing Quatre in an entire different light.

"Despite money and influence, I guess nobody can prevent that maybe, someday someone will find out about the Peacecraft's true origins. Someone, be it an established historian or an amateur-archaeologist like Winner Sr., will dig up the violent past of their ancestors. Maybe they will put the Guardian together again and wonder what its meaning was. At least, for now, Relena and her family are safe, without scandals. Merquise... ah, Milliardo Peacecraft I must say, and his girlfriend have resigned from public life and are preparing to pioneer with a space project for the colonization of Mars."

"Milliardo and girlfriend?" Duo asked, his head spinning. Everything what Heero was telling him made sense to him, but he couldn't puzzle it together in the right sequence. It was quite frustrating. He knew what Heero meant with 'the Guardian' and in his memories the image of the huge golden statue was floating around, but he had difficulties matching them together. It felt like he had to slog his way through a swamp before he could reach the clear blue ocean.

"Lucrezia Noin. Perhaps the name rings a bell...?"

Duo didn't have to think for long. Anything before the events beneath the Royal Palace were as clear as day to him.

"Campbell Grant's secretary," he blurted out.

"Yes, and Quatre's secretary on occasion," Heero admitted. "She had access to much information, and relayed that to the several parties involved. Quatre had to fire her of course, breach of trust and all that. But she was happy to leave as long as she was with Milliardo, and she didn't even bother to pick up her last paycheck."

"Huh...she was some kind of double-crosser?"

"Hardly. She did it all for Milliardo's well-being. The woman would die for him, and as long as he was safe, she would give out information to everyone who wanted to know. She wasn't interested in money, she only wanted everyone to leave her Milliardo alone."

"I see...well, I can forgive her for that. So that's why Chang knew my name."

"Yes. Chang kept an eye on you, Romefeller, Khushrenada and the White Fang. They were behind the teargas incident."

"Assholes. I haven't thanked him properly, I guess. But what's there between you and Wufei anyway?"

"Nothing. He had a personal obligation to Khushrenada, and I don't know the exact details -- it wasn't my place to pry it out of him. However, he never approved of Khushrenada's methods, and knowing of Winner's murder was the final straw. He regards his obligation to him over. Whatever happened, we didn't want Khushrenada to succeed. And believe it or not, Wufei is actually a scholar."

Duo fell silent, brooding. He closed his eyes and his hand went up to itch at his cast.

"Something doesn't add up..."

"What's that?"

"Why don't I remember much of...how I ended up here? And with a broken arm...Quatre mentioned a scythe and Shinigami. Did I hold the Never-Ending Circle?"

"You held it and wielded it, Duo. Though you weren't Duo at that time."

"I was fucking possessed?"

"You were possessed," Heero nodded.

"Crap."

Heero tilted his head, studying Duo's face. He wasn't really sure if he should tell him about the realm of the dead and about Solo. Duo seemed to be his usual self, and Heero didn't want to tear open old wounds or scars by telling him every detail.

"You managed to force him out of you," Heero said, twisting the truth, but not entirely lying. It made him feel guilty, but he didn't want to disturb the genuine happy look on Duo's face. They had both been so close to dying... he took Duo's left hand in his. He had lost some weight, and his fingers were a little bony; still, Heero caressed them, enjoying the warm, lively touch.

"I did? But how about the scythe, Chang said that it was still around. Did you bring it back?"

"It's broken beyond repair," Heero said. "It...the blade splintered, and the staff...shattered. You can still see its shape and make out the markings on some of the wood fragments, but assembling again is impossible. No one will be able to put the Never-Ending Circle back again, Duo."

Duo put his hand on Heero's, and squeezed a little.

"Do you think Shinigami will ever find his Inochigami?" Duo asked.

"You remember that?"

"Something. Vague. In the back of my mind...it was a strange longing I felt. Strange, but familiar. The longing to be with someone...and to me, it was you, Heero. To him, it was his Inochigami. It felt warm whenever I thought of you. Warm, like a little happy bundle of joy."

"I don't think he ever will, Duo. Murder and killings happen every day, and as long as people are taking each other's lives, be it out of jealousy, revenge, or because of war, Shinigami will not find his Inochigami."

"That's kind of sad."

"Yeah...I guess it is."

"I don't remember much of him," Duo said, leaning into Heero. "Of Shinigami, that is. I don't remember being possessed, but well...that speaks for it self. Like I said, I only felt that longing to be with someone. Strange, huh, that an entity of death could feel such warmth and love for someone else?"

"You have to realize that yes indeed, Shinigami was the God of Death, but he wasn't an evil spirit. He was perfectly objective in his motives. Violent and scary, but objective. He didn't kill us. He killed Quinze because he was a murderer, and he killed half of Treize's army because they were mercenaries. Those who have taken the lives of others forsake their own lives in his eyes, and so Shinigami will live to take their lives. He wasn't hungry for power, he wanted nothing but his Inochigami. He's obsolete in this world; we kill ourselves enough as it is."

"You know what else, Heero?"

"No, tell me?"

"I think he should find his beloved soon," Duo whispered in his ear. "I think he was just fucking cranky because he hadn't gotten laid in eons, don't you think?"

"You remember much more than you want to admit..."

"Life and death just belong together. Primal forces on Earth, on the colonies, in outer space. Everywhere."

"Together," Heero agreed, leaning into him to brush past his lips. The movement made him wince; the wound on his chest hadn't completely healed yet. Duo failed to notice as he moved up both his arms to embrace Heero again.

"I'm sure they're wondering what's taking us so long," he whispered. "Do you think they'll start dinner without us?"

"We can always call for room service," Heero answered lazily.

It was getting late; the last rays of the sun shone upon them. The windows were still open, but not a breeze of wind; in this climate the days were hot and the nights cold, and they could feel the temperature drop already. Heero fumbled behind him for a thick blanket, a red one, before returning the embrace and sinking his hands into Duo's hair, glowing copper and gold in the settling sun.

"Does this mean we're in business again?" Duo asked breathlessly, but his smile gave his own answer away. Heero rolled dramatically with his eyes, pulled Duo closer and proceeded to kiss him, fingers snapping the tie of his braid.

"Hey! That's not an answer!"