The Chains We Wear

A/n: Yeah chapter six has officially been written so everyone now gets to read chapter five, which his good for you since I have to start working on a couple of papers for two college classes and my theater group is getting into full swing. Which means...less time for the fanfics and rps T.T But I shall never forget you! I just might take a while...

Many thanks to all my reviewers, you keep me in very high spirits. 12 reviews, my record thus far^^.

So as always, I do not own any aspects of Gundam Wing and am making no money from this bit of perverted insanity. Please read and review, they make me very happy^^

please enjoy chapter five. Now the angst REALLY starts **evil laugh**

T.T...must work on paper...**surrounds self with king arthur stories**

Chapter 5: Disaster...

Going out the back way had been a wonderful idea. They ran into no one, no one to make a comment or, as Trowa was certain they would have, stare abashed at the skirt that was just barely peeking out from beneath the long coat and the high heeled sandals. They saw no one until the parking garage. Trowa recognized the man as someone from the department he was almost fully certain was named Leon. He was taller than all of them, even Zechs by at least a half inch. And he had the distinct body shape and type of someone who had been working in the bodyguard business for a very long time. He looked like someone who could, if he wished, break one of them in half quite easily. Then again, the bright red mop of hair and the very prominent freckles across his face did seem to lower his intimidation quotient a good deal.

“Truck’s loaded and ready. We heading out now?” he started, doing his best not to look at Trowa for longer than a few seconds. A brief look of surprise flashed over his face but he quelled it. At least someone did…

Heero nodded. “Yeah, all set. You have the address?” he asked. The other smiled and tapped his temple lightly.

“Right up here. Already memorized the route. Should take us about two and a half hours, including if we hit heavy traffic.” Leon, Trowa was fairly certain that was the name, answered.

“Sounds about right. Let’s go then.”

Leon waved at them; they followed obediently to the nondescript truck idling quietly in the cold garage. Zechs climbed into the front passenger seat with Leon, leaving the back for the four former pilots. Grabbing the handle, Heero slid the side door open and, with a glance to the others, climbed inside. He held it open with his hand as they climbed into the back. Trowa frowned at it slightly and wondered briefly if he could climb inside with these thin heels. Wufei and Duo looked back at him slightly. Before they could even consider the proposition of assistance, he grabbed the edges of the doorframe and hoisted himself inside. His heels slipped only once and very slightly. He regained his balance and looked around slightly before the darkness settled suddenly; Heero had closed the door with a loud bang.

“Here, Tro,” Duo said, patting a bolted down chair at a module next to his. “pull up a chair. Take some weight off, it’s going to be a long ride.” He nodded slightly his appreciation and sank into it, pulling the edges of the coat tighter over his legs. Wufei swiveled slightly in his chair to watch Heero as he conversed with them, leaning over the small ledge of the window to the front of the vehicle. Trowa settled back into the chair.

“Alright, let’s get going.” Heero said, sitting himself down just in time to be shoved back into the chair from a hard acceleration. Trowa gripped the arms of the chair slightly at the rougher style of driving than he was used to. Definitely going to be a long ride…

With no windows to gaze out of in an absent fashion and blank monitor screens on either side of him and the faint traces of exhaustion that had settled into his limbs from the days ongoing tension, Trowa managed to fall into something like a light doze. He could still hear, for a time, the faint whispers of conversation when they happened and the jostling of the vehicle as it made its way. Sinking deeper into this sleep, Trowa felt himself slid just a little bit down his chair before he couldn’t feel anything but the weight of sleep. He was left alone to sleep this lovely dreamless, exhausted sleep, until someone began to shake him.

“Hey. Hey, Trowa. Come on, wake up.” He recognized the voice and was absolutely certain that it wasn’t Duo. It was being far too quiet and considerate to be Duo’s. Groaning in faint annoyance, Trowa opened an eye slightly and winced. Someone had turned an uncovered, overhead light bulb on at some point. The engine was off; they were parked somewhere dark. Someone had covered up the hole that lead to the driver’s cabin. He blinked slightly to banish the bright spots from his vision. Wufei stepped back slightly.

“…Where are we?” he asked quietly, fighting the urge to rub his eyes.

“About four, or five blocks from the club.” he answered. Trowa sat up straight, feeling a light pain in his back. No more sleeping in chairs… “We’ve still got a little bit of time. Duo’s running off to get us a quick bite and caffeine. Something you’d like?”

He shook his head. “Not hungry…”

“You sure? It’ll be a while until you can sit down and eat something, you know.”

“I’m sure. Nothing for me, thank you.” he assured. Wufei shrugged slightly and, turning his head towards the door, nodded at Duo. He winked slightly and hopped out of the truck, closing it quietly behind him. Trowa leaned back a bit and watched Heero and Wufei setting up their feed. Video and sound Trowa had to guess. Reaching into his coat pocket, Trowa extracted the pad of paper and the pen and frowned slightly. The pad look extremely new, and while he was certain that “Tracy” would buy paper pads very often for communication, he thought it would look suspicious to anyone who just might happen to be looking too closely. He opened it and tore out a couple pages, being sure to leave some of the paper fragments on the wire. He twisted it in his hands, bent the cover slightly in a place or two, and pulled the twisted wire out slightly. Trowa looked it over again; now it looked well used… Taking out the pen, he pulled the cap off with his teeth and started to write, adjusting his normally fine script ever so slightly to take on a more feminine quality. He wrote out random lines, things that someone could say in just about any conversation, taking the time to mess up on purpose so he could cross it out and rewrite it. He even took the time to write out a couple of curses and let downs from a possible pick-up that had gone south.

“Not bad.” Zechs said, looking over his shoulder slightly. “I’d believe this was a woman’s notebook. But is there a reason why you‘re writing out things other than, say, an address or a shopping list?”

“I’m supposed to be a mute. And I‘m assuming that no one there can sign, so this will make it more believable.”

“Ah. Understood.” nodded Zechs. Trowa, looking it over once more to make sure he hadn’t forgotten some other way to make it looked used, put it back in his coat pocket. “Finished?”

“For the moment.”

“Good, come over here so we can set you up.” he said. Trowa rose and followed him slightly, sitting down at another bolted down chair. He sat down across from him, quite a feat in the small space, and opened up a small box he got from beneath the chair. “This would be a two way microphone, the range lasts about ten city blocks so this is going to be nothing to it. Seeing as you won’t be talking to us, it’s going to record sounds from there, and let us talk to you if we need to. It’s quiet, so it shouldn’t alert anyone.” He held out a small earring, a simple little white “pearl.” He paused. “…Hm.”

Trowa sighed. “…Go find a safety pin and some hydrogen peroxide.” Zechs nodded slightly before waving Wufei over and talking with him quietly. He looked from one to the other before shrugging and grabbing the first aid hit from beneath the passenger seat.

“You sure about this?” He asked, pouring hydrogen peroxide on a cotton swab and soaking the length of the safety pin with it thoroughly. Trowa merely tilted his head away from the light and pulled his hair from his ear. “Alright…this might hurt.” He leaned over and dabbed the lobe of his ear with the soaked cotton. Trowa shivered slightly at the cold. Taking a small breath, he pressed the point of the pin against his skin lightly, judging for a moment the placement. It wasn’t until he was satisfied that he forced it through as quickly and steadily as possible.

Trowa hissed. Might hurt?

Zechs put the pin down, cleaning up the small amount of blood with the same swab before inserting the earring and fastening the backing. “One down. Turn your head the other way.”

Of course. No woman Trowa could think of would ever wear just one earring. That was, mostly, a boy’s habit.

“Alright, done.” he announced, putting on the backing. Trowa straightened his head and let the dulling pain subsided. “I’d take those out right after the mission and soak it in hydrogen peroxide again and then leave them out. That’ll possibly cause an infection eventually.”

“Right…”

“And this,” he continued. “is your camera. Please be careful to not play with this or press on it hard. It’s extremely sensitive and delicate.” He leaned forward once again and reached to pull slightly at the edge of his shirt. Trowa grabbed his hand slightly. “Hm?”

“I know how to put on a pin, Zechs.”

“My mistake.” He said quietly. He handed the pin over to Trowa. Trowa looked at it for a moment in the palm of his hand. It was a small cross, that of the Catholic religion, with a series of fake jewels embedded within it. He thought it was an odd choice of symbols considering what he was about to do. Setting it aside gently, Trowa unzipped his coat just enough to be able to attach the piece to a logic part of his shirt. Almost instantly he shivered at the cold; his skin quivered and developed goose bumps too quickly for his liking. He was quite pleased when he was able to zip it back up and settle back into the chair.

The door clicked slightly before sliding opened. Trowa looked up with the others when Duo climbed inside with a couple of plastic bags. He set them on the ground and started handing out things Trowa could only describe as the worst sort of junk food.

“You know, at 8:00 at night, no convenience store around here sells anything remotely dinner related.”

Heero popped opened a black colored bottle and sniffed it before taking a drink. He shuddered. “So I see…what the hell is this?”

“It’s an energy drink.” Duo answered, opening his own. “They give you a great boost of energy and keep you alert.”

“…Well of course it does, it’s nothing but sugar and caffeine in this. No wonder you don’t sleep anymore…” Heero sighed after perusing the ingredients. Duo smirked at him.

“You weren’t complaining about that last night.”

“Not something I really need to know, man.” Leon informed, cutting across Heero as he was about to surely snarl something in Duo’s direction. Duo’s smirk widened and Trowa was sure that if Heero was not Heero and not conditioned as he had been, he would surely be blushing in embarrassment by now.

“Duo, you--”

“Do you think it’s time that I went inside?” Trowa cut across, being loud enough to stop Heero from lunging across the floor at Duo. Wufei, stepping between the two of them, glanced down at his watch.

“That’s probably a good idea.” he said with a nod. He rose and walked to the door. Zechs wrenched the door opened and held it for him. “We’ll keep an eye on things for you, and keep in contact.”

He nodded slightly. If he was going to play the mute, he had better start now. Carefully and being mindful of any ice that might be on the ground beneath him, Trowa jumped out of the van and immediately regretted it for the sharp pain it sent up his legs. Heels and jumping did not mix.

“The club is at least four blocks down. Just go down this street here, and it will be the only building with a light on outside of it. There’s an alley right beside it with a sign in Japanese characters hanging in the back. Go in through there, okay? Be careful. And be alert.” he called after him. Trowa nodded to him slightly before the door slid closed and all light was gone.

Trowa looked around the dark street they had parked on, buildings old and run down looming over them on all sides. The asphalt beneath him was cracked and full of potholes, broken bottles and litter making each step a hazard. In the not-so-far-off distance he could hear the shriek of police sirens, and even closer was a couple fighting. The stars seemed faint and ill above the swirling dark clouds that lined the sky. A storm would come soon. Shivering through a strong wind that cut through the thick coat, he looked down the street slightly before walking. Perhaps it was just his imagination, or the clothing that he was wearing was warping his mentality, but he could not shake the feeling that someone was following him. Trowa fought the desire to glance over his shoulder, focusing on the dark ground and the darker shadow of his own that moved just ahead of him.

If there was someone behind him, Trowa would see the shadow first.

By the beginnings of the fifth block, he could barely feel his legs and feet from the cold and had stuffed his hands as deeply in his pockets as humanly possible. A permanent white cloud blew in front of him as he moved, parting then reforming then parting once again. His skin felt unnaturally tight; he was completely thankful to see that “single light” Wufei had mentioned. Trowa had almost expected it to be ungodly conspicuous. It was a single street lamp, flickering on the remainder of its light and flanked on either side by graffiti and its blown out kin. Glancing up and down the street, he spotted the darker shadow drifting off near the flicking light. It had to be the alley. He picked his way carefully. More than once did something make a rather nasty squish sound beneath his heel.

He didn’t want to know what was making it.

Close to the end Trowa finally saw the sign that Wufei had mentioned. It was dark; he nearly ran into it. He squinted in the shadows to try and read it. Perhaps he should have paid closer attention to that brief lesson he had gotten on Japanese writing systems that one time… The door to the left of it was the only one in the filthy place. It had to be it. The handle was ice beneath his trembling hand but gave little resistance to the force he put into it.

Nearly all of his senses were assaulted at once. A rush of hot air collided with him which was originally startling but managed to settle into being something almost pleasant. The lights were far less so. He winced in them, blinking rapidly in his efforts to adjust. The harsh beat of fast and loud music mixed harshly with raucous laughter and conversation and the clinking of full glasses. Somewhere, a woman giggled loudly. He shuddered slightly.

There was a barrage of scents in the air as well. Perfumes, the scents of dozens of highly expensive cigars. Alcohol of various ingredients and countries. And of course, the unmistakable smells of musk and human lust. He wrinkled his nose slightly as he pulled his coat off slowly with a look about. At least he no longer felt like he was going to overheat.

“Nice, we have some visual, finally.” Duo’s voice sounded in his ear. He nearly jumped at it; it sounded so close… It’s the earring. Microphone, two way. “Now, let’s get this information for Une so we can stop freezing our asses off.”

“Shut up Duo and just make the recordings…” It sounded as though Heero was still quite annoyed with him. He didn’t get much time to wonder on it though. A second voice made that quite difficult.

“Dear god, tell me your name is Tracy and you’re Lena’s friend whose come to save me?”

The voice was younger than Trowa had expected, and its owner was nothing like he had anticipated when he turned about to see Robert, if his memory of Lena’s sick call served him right. He had expected someone he could call a sleaze. Someone old with a greasy personality and a lack in a sense of hygiene. Overweight perhaps, dressed in a suit that only looked finely made. The man before him, perhaps in his late 30s, was finely tailored in a casual gray business suit that wasn‘t intimidating in the least. His brownish blonde hair was combed back and slicked down with practiced perfection. It was not a man Trowa expected to be running a strip club that he was infiltrating. If the man wasn’t so anxious and jumpy looking, he would have thought he’d be better suited for an accounting firm.

“Are you? Please tell me you’re Tracy?” he begged. Trowa swore he was on the verge of tears…

Doing his best to look as startled as he imagined most women would be to be standing in front of a man in this state in such a place, Trowa looked through his coat pocket for the pad he had found earlier. With the coat slung over his arm, he wrote down in that same script he had practiced.

Yes. My name is Tracy. Are you Robert?

He let out a sigh. “Oh thank God. I thought someone would never get here.” Robert walked up to him and shook his hand, and the entirety of his arm along with it. He wondered if his arm was going to fall out of his socket. “Yes, I’m Robert. I own the club, manage it, yada yada yada. I’m sure Lena explained all that to you, right?”

Trowa wrenched his arm out of his grip and, after scribbling something down, held up the pad for his view. You could say that, yes.

“Ah right, you really are mute. Sorry, I know about three things in sign language.” He said. “ ‘Thank you,’ ‘I’m sorry,’ and of course, what everyone uses to tell someone to fuck off.” Trowa snorted softly to himself but shrugged outwardly. “Sorry to make you use that pad of paper all night. I’d have a translator for you, but no one around here finds much use for sign language. Most of the people here don’t spend that much time ‘talking’ to the patrons.”

It’s alright, I can manage. He wrote. Robert smiled a surprisingly charming and, almost, sympathetic smile.

“I really appreciate that you agreed to do this for Lena, although I’m also sorry that she called you. I’m sure this wasn’t how you planned to spend tonight and I normally would never even dream of asking someone like you to do her shift but I’m desperate.” Someone like him. If I was actually mute, I might be insulted… “Lena picked a horrible time to get her ass sick. EVERYONE is getting whatever the hell is flying around this city. Half the girls I needed tonight can’t be here. At least Lena had the sense to call in a replacement though, and you sure as hell look the part.”

Trowa felt a soft flush flare up in his cheeks.

“And Lena said that you two knew each other well and that she knew you could dance. So I’ll give her the benefit and keep you for the night because I am frigging desperate!”

He nodded slightly, taking a small step back. Alright. Well just show me what you want me to do and I’ll do my best…

Robert, smiling more, wrapped his arms about Trowa’s shoulders in a casual way. “Right, right. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Come on I’ll show you what’s what.” He followed alongside him as obediently as he thought that “Tracy” might, considering how Lena had described her to this man, this Robert. But he couldn’t honestly say that he was comfortable with him being in such close contact. Relax, relax… It is one night… I won’t ever see this person again after tonight and he is assuming that I am a woman… Relax…

“Alright, so here’s the scoop. You’ll be out on the main floor in about 10 minutes. I’ll drop you off in the dressing room in the back first so you can fix your make up or hair or whatever. You can leave your coat there and that pad and pen. Nothing will happen to it, we have security on the outside of it and you can come get them again later. You’ll go down this hall here and it will take you right out to the main area where there’s a stage and tables and it’s all self explanatory there. You’ll understand perfectly. Of course, going down this hall takes you to the back of the stage, where you can set up your music before going on. Again, self explanatory. Simple stereo system.

“Anyway, after your performance, you’re free to move about the floor and mingle with the customers as you like. Technically, you have to at least be there for them to look at. But you’re on the eye candy policy, er…Lena did explain the eye candy policy to you, right?” He asked concerned. They stopped all together as he looked at him anxiously. The eye candy policy seemed to be quite instrumental. He wrote out his affirmation and Robert, smiling once again, continued to lead. “Great. The eye candy policy is for your protection. It lets you call the how much attention you want from the patrons. Anyone gets too close for comfort on your end and you just let one of the security guys know and it’ll be taken care of. You’ll know the security; they’re the ones who look like misplaced Secret Service agents.”

They stopped before a door that Trowa would not have looked twice at any time except for the very large man that stood before it. He looked down his nose at Trowa sternly, tightening his fist slightly before Robert waved him off.

“This is Tracy, Max. Remember, the eye candy?” Robert said slowly. He looked down at Trowa a second time, scrutinizing him closely. Trowa stared up at him unblinkingly and fought the sudden urge to swallow. After a moment, he stepped aside slightly and pulled the door open for the two.

“Max is…” Robert whispered to him while he steered him inside. “well, he’s a little slow. But, he’s family, and I just can’t leave family out in the cold. Besides, once he understands the concept, he’s damn good at his job. Don’t worry, he’ll make sure you have your privacy in here.”

Trowa wondered if the man would even let him out.

“So you can do what you need in here. Make up’s in the vanity over there, somewhere. Don’t ask me, the girls maintain this little area of the club, doesn’t make a lick of sense to me. And just be out there in about 10 minutes. Alright? And then just, you know, hang around and mingle if you want or keep to yourself, whatever, and keep an eye out and let anyone know if someone screws with you so I can chuck him out. And then after an hour you can go.”

He paused, looking over his shoulder at him after laying his coat over the back of the chair. An hour? Was that all he had?

An hour? Really? I thought I was taking Lena’s shift?

“Well you are. Her shift was going to be a double tonight, but I managed to find a regular girl to come in for a while after finishing that call with Lena. But she won’t be here for an hour, maybe an hour and a half. This way, you don’t have to do this all night. I mean, you can stay if you want. But I won’t blame you if you don’t.”

Inwardly, Trowa was frowning. Would it look suspicious if he insisted that another girl to take his place was unnecessary? He certainly thought so, and staying later when there was already another girl to take over seemed suspicious as well. This meant that he had only an hour, an hour and a half at most, to get a proper amount of critical evidence in their case. How hard would that make it now? Inside he was grimacing. Outwardly, he managed a small, and what he hoped was sincere, smile. Head cocked in an attempt of shyness, he flashed him a new message on the pad after writing it.

That is very sweet of you. Thank you.

“Ah, it’s alright, no need for thanks. It’ll keep anyone from trying to get at you after she shows up anyway. And, although I’m sure they’ll love you, sometimes the patrons don’t take to new girls very quickly. Used to routine. But I doubt you’ll have that sort of problem.”

Trowa certainly hoped not. If he had an hour, he wanted no problems whatsoever with getting close enough to get the proof.

Glancing at his watch and widening his eyes, Robert walked backward mostly to the door. “I need to go do some financing and business things, and you need to get ready. So I’ll leave you to it. I might see you when I’m finished but if she shows up, you can just go home, alright?”

Trowa nodded at him.

“Alright then! Good luck and break a leg out there, and thanks again for coming in for her. Honestly, she never gets sick…this is must be a really bad strand flying around…” he muttered. Trowa pressed his ear up against the closed door after he had left, listening as his mutterings and footsteps moved further down the hall. Stepping back, he took a better look around the room.

He had never been in any sort of dressing room before, at least nothing outside of the occasional dressing room in a clothing store. They had been small and drab. This place had far more of a homey touch to it, although he was rather certain that most dressing rooms attached to a sort of performing art had homey touches. The occupants obviously spent a lot of time there. The paint was dark and appealed to him for the most part, although he thought the dark green carpet was an odd choice. There was an odd assortment of chairs, most looking like they had been brought in from people’s respective homes or yard sales. There was even a large and rather comfortable looking couch along one wall. He sat down on the small cushioned stool in front of the mirror with a soft sigh. Absently, Trowa reached down and rubbed his ankle; the skin felt a bit raw from the strange style of shoe.

“Not going to do any touch up?” Duo asked through the slight crackle. Trowa glanced up at the mirror so that Duo could fully see the lack of amusement on his face. “Just asking!” He snorted. “You make a very convincing mute, you know. Very quick with a pen.”

If there wasn’t a person beyond that door, I’d let him know where’d I’d like to put that pen… he sneered to himself. There was a small clock sitting on the vanity table near him, beside some sort of powder puff that he had no idea what purpose it held. I should get this over with… Trowa stood and felt himself wobble only slightly. He’d be glad when the night was over.

Outside, Max looked at him for a moment before recognize him and letting him slid past him. Trowa could hear, as he walked further down the hall in the direction he remembered being told to go, Max close the door after him and shuffle to stand in front of it. Only an idiot would try to break into a dressing room guarded by home. And for what? A coat with a pad of paper and a cheap pen. It would be a stupid thing to die for.

Though people had died for less.

In the shadows of the backstage, Trowa could hear the sounds of people beyond the curtain as he tried to set the music for the performance. The sounds of men’s chatter and clinking glasses sounded so much closer than it had before and, suddenly, he felt something constrict about his chest. Knot his stomach in an almost sickly manner. His hand quivered slightly as he was about to press ‘play.’ Trowa held it tightly with a strange expression. What was this…

Nervous?… Why do I feel…nervous? He had done this before. He had infiltrated far more dangerous locations before, with more risks involved than this. He had had guns pressed to his forehead; he had pressed guns to others. He had been captured, shot at, discovered, near discovered, and nearly blown up in evacuation. Why did he feel so nervous now…

Did it make such a drastic difference?…

One night… It’s only one and then it is over for good… So stop feeling nervous…

The nervousness refused to dissipate. It grew all the more worse when he stepped out from beyond the curtain during the final moments of silence before the music actually began. A cold shiver went through him; there were more people than he had imagined that there might have been and they were all looking at him. Looking through him, appraising him. Waitresses stopped their rounds to watch with vague interest. He could feel the color leaving from beneath the makeup while the blood pounded in his ears. Do not be nervous…There is nothing to be nervous about.

Swallowing slightly, Trowa realized that he was nearly going to miss the cue Lena had drilled into his skull during those hours of practice. He spun into the opening move and saw him almost instantly. Sitting just to the right of the stage at a small table with three men that he vaguely recognized from the file, he was sipping a dark colored drink while pretending to be paying attention to the conversation happening about him. He stared at him with hard, dark eyes. Trowa stared straight back into the obsidian of Fahd Kader’s searching gazing. It captivated him, held him, and filled him with something that coated his veins in a thin layer of ice. What could that be? It wasn’t nervousness now. It was something.

Something else.

He was not sure whether it was intentional or not, as his attention span on what he was actually doing had dwindled into a trancelike state, Trowa found himself adding something that Lena had called “flavor” to the steps he knew. An extra step here or there. A more exaggerated swing of the hips. They certainly got a response from most of the crowd observing him. Which, in many ways, startled him. There was only one explanation he could think of to warrant it. He wanted this man’s attention to be on him and remain, just long enough for him to find out what he needed. Trowa tried to meet his target’s gaze as often as possible, disregarding that strange cold the gaze sent to him each time. There was no connection, no response until he was nearly finished with his performance. It nearly knocked him off the stage.

Fahd was smiling at him. A knowing and suspicious thing. Feral. A hunter’s smile.

Maybe an hour was not such a short length of time after all.

Catcalls surrounded him as the last notes of his chosen song vibrated off the edge of the walls and back. He could feel himself flushing slightly and shaking barely and he was certain it was not from straining to hold the final pose. The whistles and cheers followed him through to backstage. As did the hard gaze and smile. Perhaps adding that bit of “flavor” Lena had showed him hadn’t been the most wise of ideas. Too late to think about that now. He wandered back to the dressing room, stopping only once to wait for Max to recognize him and shuffle aside. Trowa swiped the pad from off the table, sliding the pen into the looping wire for safekeeping.

“You’re not going to be doing anymore of that right? Because honestly, that bit of feed made me feel extremely dizzy.” Duo crackled through the piece. Trowa glared in the mirror’s direction to be sure that Duo could see his annoyance. “Just saying!”

He sneered slightly down at the pad of paper, pulling the pen back out. Cap between his lips he wrote just a few choice words to be sure that Duo could see just what a mood Trowa was in. He read over it slightly before dangling it between his fingers in front of him for a moment or so. Just to be sure that Duo took the time to read it. Wry chuckling sounding softly from the background noise.

“Hey! Don’t get all snippy at me just because you just pulled an MTV in front of strangers.” sneered Duo. If a rise was what he had been hoping for, he was certainly well on his way. “Hey, mean gesture, man!”

At the moment, I couldn’t care less… This mission was bringing out the strangest things in him. He would be most pleased when he could be gone of this and return to a state where he wasn’t constantly struggling with his own control. At least, no more than usual.

Max didn’t acknowledge him when he left again; apparently he was becoming used to Trowa’s comings and goings and recalling that he was supposed to be around. He managed to gain a level of control over himself as he made his way towards the main area, falling back into what he thought would be acceptable enough with each step. Or as well as he could. There was a small set of steps that lead off slightly from the back of the stage. He assumed that they would take him down to the floor, and he was right.

Trowa wandered about the main floor with the air of general curiosity. A not entirely fake expression. The walls were painted a shade or two darker than the walls of the dressing room had been, and the carpet at least matched. His heels sank into the red wine colored fabric and he wondered if it was going to impede his movements. The fibers didn’t catch about him while he weaved through the multitude of black stained wood tables of varying sizes. Most of the black and red fabricated chairs were occupied by men at least twice Trowa’s age. Most seemed to dismiss his presence, several followed him with their eyes and smiles. A couple actually whistled after him. No one reached out to touch him though. Thanks to the eye candy policy, that was. He walked up to the bar that took up the majority of one wall. There weren’t any stools along it; there weren’t even any bottles stacked along the wall. There were plenty of glasses though.

The bartender, whom Trowa had to guess was possibly Italian, smiled. The flash of bleached teeth nearly blinded him. “Tracy, right?”

He nodded slightly with a faint trace of a fake smile.

“Thought as much. Boss mentioned we’d have a new girl for the night.“ Nodding, he returned to the glass. “You did good up there, especially for a temp dancer, you know.” Trowa set the pad down on the bar and scribbled out a response.

Thank you. I tried.

He chuckled softly. The man tossed the rag he had been using down lightly and, after stacking the freshly polished glass, offered Trowa his hand. “I’m Anthony.” As to not be suspicious, Trowa took the hand and shook it, loosening his usual grip. “A pleasure to meet you. You must be a bit overheated from that routine of yours. Care for some water? It’s free.”

Yes please. A glass of water would be nice. he wrote out. Anthony poured him a clear glass with a chuckle. Trowa nodded his thanks. Leaning back against the bar slightly, he looked around the room casually. He watched the men of the club as they went about their business; some were watching him with his lips along the rim of the glass. He could only imagine what they were thinking.

Or what most were thinking. There was one person who hadn’t looked at him since he had finished, which he was both thankful, and unnerved for. Fahd Kader’s eyes hadn’t been following him at all. In fact, it seemed that he was doing his best to ignore Trowa’s presence all together. He was leaning across the table in deep discussion with his “companions.” Each other their drinks were abandoned, on the verge of being knocked off the table by a misplaced movement. Trowa chose not to linger on them for very long. It would look dubious if he focused too much on his target.

On the brighter side of things, he was free to lounge against the bar to his content and it gave him a splendid vantage point.

“Nice choice of locations. We have a perfect view of them, even with the tables in the way.” Duo congratulated quietly. Trowa sipped his water softly. Duo bit out a curse suddenly. “Damn it all.” Trowa tilted his head slightly to one side. “Those bastards moved. They’re blocking the camera’s view. Can you get another clear shot? Maybe sitting from one of those free tables?”

Trowa sipped his water stoically, taking his time to finish it. He set it down and picked up the pad of paper. After jotting down on a new piece he turned back to Anthony and slid it for his inspection.

Is it okay if I sit down? Maybe at one of the free tables?

Anthony scratched his head. “One of the free tables? Yeah, sure I guess so. Would you like another glass of water?”

Trowa shook his head and wrote again before picking up the pad. No, thank you. Turning from the bar, he strode between sets of tables and chairs, listening once again to the whistles and occasional catcall that followed after him. He did his best to look about for a seat without looking like he was in search of a specific place. After a moment, Trowa pulled out a chair at an empty table one or two tables away from Fahd’s. He set the pad of paper down in front of him and tapped it lightly with the pen, miming thought.

“Perfect. Much better.” Duo chimed. Trowa slid the tip against the paper and wrote out pure randomness. “Shift a little to your right.” He leaned his head on his hand, shifting the chair as he pretended to search for a more comfortable position. “Great. Dead center. Now we just wait for some incriminating proof. Maybe if we adjust the volumes, we can hear them better.”

Trowa doubted it. He was sitting right near them and could hardly hear a word they said. That certainly didn’t stop him from trying. His eyes narrowed while straining to overhear the conversation. The voices were too soft and if he tried to shift again, or even closer, they may know that Trowa was not simply there to rest his ankles. Frowning to himself, he rose again and walked back to the bar only to return with another glass of water. This time he pulled out a chair closer to their table but still visible through the camera. It wasn’t much.

It was just enough.

“No, I’m afraid, gentlemen, that you do not understand. You do not understand at all what I am trying to do here and it’s begun to aggravate me.” It was not the first time that Trowa had heard his voice but it still startled him. He could feel the deep baritone vibrating through the air. There was power dripping in that voice, and the others at the table knew it.

“My lord, we--”

“I have warned you of calling me such outside of private company, have I not?” he snarled softly.

One swallowed more noticeably than the other. “My apologies, sir. We merely assumed--”

“What have I told you about assuming?” Fahd asked exasperated. Rubbing with eyes with the pads of his fingers, he reached over and drained at least half of his glass. “Now explain to me why.”

“People are beginning to ask questions.”

“What sort of people?”

“People on the inside who shouldn’t be asking any sort of questions.” the other muttered darkly. Fahd glanced at him over the glass.

“…What sort of questions?”

“Questions about what we’re doing, about the information that’s being tapped and smuggled out, finances that are mysteriously being lost from accounts. People are getting suspicious.”

“You should be covering your tracks.”

There was no masking the anger in the reply. “We have been covering our asses. We just don’t have the resources everyone else in the company has. We don’t have the money to find a way around the hounds they’re starting to send after us.” Trowa sipped his water slowly, setting the glass down softly and calmly before beginning to write out nonsense again. This time, he threw in some of the information he was hearing slightly.

“…What is it you’re expecting out of me, gentlemen? My protection? Because you are no closer to earning it than you were when I first came in contact with you.” He muttered softly. Tension settled into the air about the table. Trowa kept his steady hand.

“What the hell are you talking about? We’ve done everything you asked, we’ve gotten whatever the hell you did for this little ‘venture’ of yours. Everything, from passports to chemicals to weapons.” Hope they got that on tape. He’d stay a little longer for more if it was there. Propping himself up on his elbow, Trowa shifted in his sit for a better angle.

“Say that a little louder, I’m looking for a way to relieve me stress.” growled Fahd. The other stamped lightly on the less controlled one’s foot, glaring at him and whispering something in a tongue Trowa didn’t understand. Judging by the hissing in it, it hadn’t been anything friendly. “I know what you have done for me and what you’ve accomplished I acknowledge. But you’ve fucked up plenty of times as well. You have more failings than successes.”

“We understand that, si…sir.” the calmer of the two began before the other could say something. “We know that our failings are our fault, for one reason or another, and that you do not forgive them. But our success have been instrumental. You have said that yourself. And we want to continue to assist you, our leader from our country. Our kind. But we’re not sure how we can help you if we’re discovered.”

“There are others.” he replied dismissively.

“True, sir, but none who came forward as we did. Who showed their loyalty not to the country but to you. And not with as much to lose as we do. We want to help you but we can’t if we can’t move as we please.” he continued.

Fahd said nothing. Trowa chanced the briefest and slightest glance he could manage at them. Fahd was sitting back in his chair, balancing it on its hind legs slightly. He held the glass in his hand with the stem between his fingers. The liquid sloshed about as he swirled it and observed its movements in deep thought. The expression on his face was odd; for a moment it captivated.

He looked away suddenly, picking up his drink and swallowing a large mouthful. Had it been his imagination, or had Fahd Kader seen his gaze and flashed a wicked smile?

With a soft chuckle and small shake of the head, Fahd set the glass down. The smile was benign now. “See, if you spoke as eloquently and humbly as your partner, you’d get people on your side so much quicker. I’ll see what I can do to make assisting me easier on the two of you.” Both of the men across from him relaxed noticeably. Words were exchanged in the tongue Trowa didn’t understand. “That’s enough, it’s fine. You two have been the most essential. And it won’t be an impossible task, getting the heat away from you. By the time I find a new place for us to meet, they’ll have backed off. I guarantee it.”

“Where? How will we know that it’s safe again to do these meetings?”

“How could we contact you?”

“Have you already forgotten? You do not contact me, I contact you. That’s it.” He said darkly. They nodded slightly.

“Yes sir.”

Finishing the remains of his drink, Fahd leaned across the table once again. The chair thudded quietly into the carpet. “Now then, shall we finish with the finer points of this meeting? I’m sure we all have places we need to be tonight.”

Trowa listened intently to the remains of the conversation while continuing to take sips of his water and jot things down in the notebook, pretending on occasion to be deep in thought. The finer points of the conversation were lost on him now but he understood the gist of it. This was a business dealing. Kader is buying weapons and technology from these men…which company I’m not sure, but it cannot be for something good. Weapons of mass destruction were never used for anything good. Trowa should know. He had, after all, piloted one.

Trowa nearly choked on his drink when he realized that some of the technology Fahd was interesting in obtaining were very similar to the one that he had controlled throughout the war. Mobile suits. This wasn’t terrorism. He wants to start a war…

He hoped this certainly fell into the realms of admissible proof.

For a while, he sat there at the table and merely observed from the corner of his eyes as a variety of paperwork was passed from one party to the other and discussed in a hush voice that nearly escaped his hearing. It wasn’t until he saw Fahd sign several papers that he was sure that there were exchanges of goods and services that Trowa was sure that he had enough proof to satisfy Lady Une’s needs. He glanced across the room where a rush of catcalls were sounding. Trowa didn’t recognized the blonde woman who had just entered but judging by her attire, and the smiles she was flashing at the men, he was safe to assume she was the girl Robert had mentioned would be taking over for him. She waved at him slightly and Trowa smiled slightly at her. After gathering up his notebook and pen and replacing the glass on the bar with a note of thanks to the tender, he crossed to her.

“Lena’s friend right?” she asked with a flip of her waist-length blonde hair. He nodded, scribbling out a note and handing it to her.

Yes. My name’s Tracy. It’s nice to meet you.

She smiled and shook her hand. “Hello Tracy, it’s nice to meet you too. You can call me Alex, everyone does.” Alex smiled. They released and she patted her shoulder. “Thanks for taking over for Lena, I’m sure it means a lot to her. Anyone, Robert’s in the middle of one of his massive workaholic moods. It’s best to just leave him alone and not disturbed him or he’ll go awol on you. So you can just go on home and I’ll let Robert know you finished your shift.”

He won’t be upset that I left now, without saying anything?

“Nah! Anthony and the security obviously saw you perform and hang about as much as you wanted to. And they’ll vouch that you stayed until I showed up to take over. No worries, kid.”

Trowa cocked his head slightly and try to give off a look of hesitation. Apparently, it was good enough.

“Seriously, nothing will happen. So go on home. Go grab your things from the dressing room, that is your jacket right?” asked Alex. He nodded. “Okay, good because it’s colder than hell frozen over outside now. So go get your jacket, call a cab and head on home before these hound dogs start looking for ways to cheat security or something.” Trowa couldn’t help himself from arching an eyebrow. “When they get antsy, they get stupid. Best to avoid that, sweetie.”

I’ll keep that in mind, thanks. Have a good night.

“Sure thing. Go on and get home before it starts snowing. News said it might. I’ll tell Robert you came, did your thing, and were loved. Thanks for helping Lena out, and tell her I say hi if you see her before I do, okay?” With that she turned on the heel of her platform shoes and trotted off towards the bar. He watched her converse with him for a moment before walking back alone to the dressing room.

He should have realized that something was wrong the moment the door was in sight. But the lack of Max’s presence in front of the door only stalled him for a brief time. Did he really think that Max was going to stand in front of that door every minute of all night? There could be any number of perfectly logical explanations as to why he wasn’t standing there now. Such as being in the bathroom at the moment. He’d return eventually, that he was certain of. The door wasn’t locked and, just as a precaution, Trowa scanned the room carefully for foreign shadows before walking it.

The door had no lock from the inside.

“Nicely done, Tro!” Duo congratulated through the crackling of the earpiece. He winced slightly at the volume was thankful no one was around. He was certain someone would have heard that one. “This should be just what Une needs to nail this guy. Not bad for your first field mission, huh?”

Asides from the fact that he had to dress like a woman, wear high heeled sandals, pretend to be mute, and perform in front of a group of older men whom all had been undressing him with their eyes, sure.

He merely shrugged while tossing the pad down on the table. “Still playing the mute? Guess that’s not a bad idea until you get outside, never know who might be listening.” Trowa nodded while running fingers through his hair slightly. “Well hurry up and get to the van so we can get the heck home. It’s fucking freezing in here.”

“If you wore more layers.” Zechs called quietly.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on and let’s go home.” Duo sighed. Trowa nodded slightly. He gathered the pad and pen stuffing it into the jacket on the chair. He was lifting it up when his body went rigid. The sound of faint clapping startled him to stillness.

“Bravo. A spectacular performance you gave tonight, my dear.” Fahd Kader said, clapping once more before letting his hands fall. He leaned against the door frame with a dark smile. Trowa breathed softly through his nose as he watched the man’s reflection. “Your entire performance was wonderful. Your dance, your playing the mute. Your subtle attempts at spying on me.” He tightened and flexed his hand slightly, cursing mentally. How? “But I think my favorite performance of yours tonight, my sweet, was your attempt at portraying a woman.”

Shit. He was not the only one; Duo’s voice appeared and vanished replaced only by the rapid hissing towards the others in the van.

Fahd must have noticed his tension. A grin seeped across his face and Trowa instantly felt a small rise in his pulse. The man’s steps were softer than he could have imagined with him being of such a stature. Trowa stood as calmly as he could. He didn’t start to tremble until he was nearly right up against him. “I bet you’re wondering, ‘how can he know? How could he possibly know that I am not what I’m pretending to be?’ Well, I admit for a short while, you had even me fooled.” Trowa could see every line of black and brown in the man’s eyes while they glinted. “But I figured it out soon enough. You see, unlike the rest of my patron brethren, I’ve spent the majority of my life making sure that people are who they say. It comes with the territory of being who am I and where I’m from. It would mean a premature death if I hadn’t.” he explained. Trowa said nothing, staring straight into the mirror and waiting. There was a point…and moment that he needed to take advantage of. “They were too focused on you, my dear, and the wrong part of you. They were too concerned with your provocative piece to see. And I admit, I was entranced by the subtle eroticism of your movements. Of course that didn’t stop me from figuring it out. It was such a small thing, I nearly missed it.

“Now you mustn’t think that it was something so easily noticeable. It wasn’t as though you do not have a female’s body,” Trowa could feel hot breath coasting across the back of his neck and shoulders. His muscles tightened and locked to try and still the increasing trembling. “Your hair was a convincing style for a woman, the make up is flawless. Those prosthetics are among the most convincing I’ve ever seen.” He could fill himself start slightly at the words. It was coming, he just needed to be patient. “Such a small thing really, but so important. For you see,” he was leaning down to him, chin hovering slightly over his right shoulder. Trowa flexed his hand slowly. Moist breath coated the bare skin on his neck, laced with a darkness he didn’t want to consider. “Women don’t have Adam’s apples.”

The moment was there, he didn’t hesitate. Forcing his leg back between Fahd’s only slightly spread ones, Trowa rammed his elbow back with a twist to his hips and his other arm adding as much power as he could muster. His aim was for the soft flesh just below the rib cage; he hit it dead on. It felt like his elbow had collided with concrete. Still, Fahd doubled forward. Biting back a wince, Trowa shoved his body weight back into him. The body stumbled backward. Trowa shot out to the side and snatched up the coat.

“Get the hell out of there Trowa, now!” Duo’s voice screamed into his ear. He needed no other orders. Coat over his arm, Trowa tore towards the door praying that those stiletto heels would hold out on him. His hand was on the doorknob and yanking it opened, praying that Max decided to come back to his post. A large hand that could easily cover his own slammed into the wood above his head. The second pressed into his back, thrusting him into the closing door. He heard something crack and wondered if that pin had snapped.

“A nice move, underhanded but effective. Do it again and I’ll break your elbow.” he snarled. Trowa let out a growl. He lashed out with his leg; Fahd jumped back to avoid the trip just as Trowa had been hoping he would. Using the door handle for extra balance he swept his leg up in a high crescent. The edge of the stiletto looked sharp enough. If he could just knock him back with a harsh scratch and kick to the face.

A mahogany hand grabbed the base of the heel and held it fast inches from his face. The other hand closed about his entire ankle tightly. To the point of pain. Balance left him the moment Fahd pulled the leg toward him. His knee buckled. Trowa swung out with his fist only to have to trapped in his vice. Snarling softly, Fahd forced him back against the door and held him there, arm and leg both at an awkward angle.

“It’s rude to try and kick someone in the face.” he growled, Trowa bit back a pained sound as he twisted his leg into a strange position. “And unless you’d like me to break this, I don’t suggest trying that again.”

Trowa didn’t answer, focusing more on trying to break the hold he had over him. Fahd merely smiled at him.

“You’re stubborn and persistent and I admire that. It’s starting to annoy me though.” He began. The grips tightened. He was definitely going to bruise. “Don’t think that the only reason I came back here is to give you a lecture on the wrongs of cross dressing and lying to your future employers about something so simple yet essential as gender. I don’t care.” Leaning close, Trowa could see just how angry this man was, at him. A cold rushed through him. “What I care about are little boys who think they can get away with spying on me. Now I’m fairly certain I know exactly whom you’re working for and I don’t like it. I suppose though it is a good thing that I decided on one more night in my usual business location.” The hand that had held his hand snaked about his mouth and jaw and squeezed to the point of crushing. He smiled down at his attempt to pull the limb from him. “I get to send a message to the Preventors. And I’m sure you’ll deliver it skillfully. You don’t seem like just a pretty face--”

Fahd let out a roar of pain. Trowa made a face slightly at the taste of blood and flesh in his mouth but clamped his teeth harder down on the finger he had managed to capture. Spitting the wounded handed from his mouth, Trowa managed to deflect the backhand Fahd was about to give him by bringing his leg up and slamming the heel into the center of his shin. All of his balance left him when Fahd crumpled with a hiss cursing. Scrambling to his feet, and twisting his ankle because of those damn shoes, Trowa tore open the door again. He didn’t care that it had hit the man hard in the head. I hope it cracked his skull.

Running down the hall became more of a challenge than he wished. His ankle didn’t want to support the entirety of his weight and every time he put weight on it, a stab of pain ran up his leg. But he didn’t dare stop. It wasn’t long until he heard the heavy footsteps of an extremely angry pursuer. Trowa ran, praying that he could keep balance long enough to make it outside. The darkness could hide him better. Breathing became a little harder as adrenaline changed to something else. He was never happier to see the door to the dark night and feel a rush of freezing winter air on his air.

It hadn’t been there before. It couldn’t possibly have been there before. Trowa surely would have noticed it when he had first come into the warmth of the club. And it couldn’t have possibly frozen over so quickly. He hadn’t been there long enough. So just where had the thick patch of ice running the width of the alley come from? The heel came out from under him. White flared up in front of his eyes followed by an agony stricken black. Perhaps if he had been wearing his normal shoes he could have run across it. He winced. Something was slicking along the back of his head and neck. The ice fused to the heat of his skin and stole its warmth, soaked the clothes that he did have on. Shit, I can’t see. I can’t stay here. Come on, get up. Get it together.

The ice bit into his knees as he tried to pull himself up. A rush of vertigo overtook his senses. He swallowed down the taste of bile. His hands slid across the slick surface as well as the soles of his shoes. The ice against the revealed skin on his torso slit him like a knife. Get up, get up, get up.

“Trowa?! Trowa, are you okay? What happened?!” Duo asked. The voice steadied him enough to get to his knees.

“I-I’m alright…D-don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.” he choked out. Whatever Duo started to say next in that concerned voice of his was lost on him. From the darkness a black, hard leather shoe collided with the base of his ribcage. Nausea rushed back, quelled only slightly by the shock of ice upon his bare skin. A strangled cry managed to escape him as weight pressed itself into the center of his back and a hand forced his head against the ice.

“Trowa!?” he called. Trowa squirmed slightly to try and pull himself free. Fahd pressed him down hard, growling into his ear.

“That,” he snarled with his fingers twined painfully in his hair. “really fucking hurt.” Trowa felt as though his nose was about to break from being forced into the ground. His entire body had started to shiver. “And for that, I’m going to give the Preventors a more forceful message than I thought.” Leaning down, he breathed over Trowa’s ear. Over the microphone. “If you want to try and corner me, go ahead. But next time, make sure that I’m not aware of what the hell you’re planning anyway. You’ll keep more men that way.”

Trowa only briefly heard the string of curses Duo started to let off before a horrid pain ran through his ear. A small chink further down the alley, almost undetectable, gave him a good idea that he had just had his earlobe torn. He didn’t have long to dwell on the pain; the weight on his body lifted only for a moment as he was turn roughly onto his back. The back of his skull smacked back into the ice. He felt dizzy. Fahd’s face passed in and out of focus above him.

“We have a fair amount of time before whom ever is on the other end of that microphone gets here. With the light blown out now, they’ll have a bit more of trouble finding the proper alley, especially with the lack of moonlight out tonight. But let’s not take our chances, hm?”

There was something in his smile. Something in the way he looked down at him, looked through the soaked and cold fabric that clung to his skin. Something about the way he held Trowa’s hands down by the wrist on either side of his head. The way he held his hips down with his own weight. His breath caught in his throat as he looked into the black eyes that held him fast. There was a shadow there; it was something he saw now only in the depth of his nightmares. The shiver that went through him changed. A young and carnal thing flowed through his veins and he struggled to escape his grip. Just a hand, a leg. Something.

Fahd looked more amused than anything else. A dark chuckle sounded as he adjusted his grip over him. With both of Trowa’s wrists held with only one hand, he loosened his tie. The silk slid down across Trowa’s cheek as he attempted to bring his leg up far enough to kick him in the back of the head. Fahd simply slid down him in response, pressing the weight over his upper thighs. Vertigo overwhelmed him as he yanked him up from the ground to bind his hands together. He didn’t plan to make it easy for him but the sick feeling that radiated from his skull and traveled throughout him. Weakened him. Dropping him to the ice again sent nearly all vision from him.

“I do believe I prefer you like this.” he said. Trowa writhed slightly, pulling at the silken bounds and trying to get some sort of leverage with his hips. He stretched himself over him, holding his hands down above his head. His shivering grew. “You know, I do feel for you. Truly. Today must have been quite a stressful time for you. What with having to get into this getup, deal with make up and high heels, try to pose successfully as a woman. And then having to come here and perform in front of men who would have no qualms about taking you in a bathroom stall. And trying to get information on me only to realize that I knew you would even be coming. And now, well now, you have to lay here in the middle of this cold and disgusting alley while I humiliate you and then leave you to freeze until your comrades show. Really, I feel for you, but let’s just chalk it up to a painful but necessary learning experience for you, shall we?”

Trowa felt a snarl escape his throat and didn’t stop himself from snapping at him as he leaned closer. He pulled back with a frown.

“If you’re not going to behave, or at least be compliant, then I’m not going to be considerate.” He growled. Compliant? That was the last thing on Trowa’s mind. As sick as it made him feel, he bucked and writhed and struggled, fought each attempt for him to make a move against him without resorting to screaming. I will not give him that satisfaction. I can get out of this, I will get out of this! He is not-

Everything stopped. Every thought, every movement. Even his own heart seemed to still as a wave of pained heat started to seep across his skin, originating from his aching nose, cheek, and mouth. Sticky and metallic blood dripped along his lips and face and down his tongue. His own blood dribbled down his throat. It was coating the back of Fahd Kader’s hand, which hovered ominously above him, prepared to fall again. He felt young suddenly, the look on the shadowed face above him returning him to that tender age of lost innocence and shameless bloodshed. His entire field of vision shifted and flashed between moments. Reality and history mixed. Distorted.

He can’t. It can’t…he can’t!… Before a noise could escape, those large hands found their way about his throat. They squeezed the breath from him. He could hardly feel himself pushing up with bound hands to free him. He was speaking, snarling at him, lecturing him on something. The words blurred in his ears; he longed to breathe.

A rush of air entered his lungs and he gasped thankfully before it was cut off and he was drowning again. Fahd’s forearm dug itself into his neck. Crushed his larynx easily. The pressure was worse now, he couldn’t get enough oxygen to lift his arms. He wished it was enough to numb away the feeling of a hand, callused and rough, sliding underneath the bottom of his shirt. Trowa tried to squirm from it and nearly vomited on the enclosing of his throat. A strangled noise escaped him as the hand drifted along. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be here again. There couldn’t be that hand again, slipping underneath the cloth of the skirt. He could not be shivering from the ice and cold that was slipping up along his thighs accompanied by searching fingers.

They abandoned his lower body quickly. The arm across his throat fell away. Trowa choked on air and breathed heavily. Fahd leaned back slightly, still holding him down, by the chest now, and gazing strangely at his fingers. He rolled something between the pads experimentally before he frowned. The look he gave to Trowa changed again; it was confused. Suspicious. Intrigued. He observed him quietly.

A sharp gasp escaped him as the winter’s air meet his bare chest. His chest rose and fell rapidly, stomach quivering. Fahd pushed the torn edges of the shirt to either side of him before unhooking the bra that was clasped in front of him. Trowa struggled again, scratching and pushing at the groping hands.

Pressing down on his windpipe with his forearm again, Fahd smirked at the awkward flesh. Trowa shuddered and gagged. He couldn’t manage a scream of protest when he fondled the cold skin. “Well, isn’t this an interesting change.” he whispered softly. Lust was dripping from his words. Trowa shuddered at the warm breath that was coasting across his torn ear. “I don’t know whether to laugh or fuck you mindless.” The hand on his breast dug in suddenly, twisting to the point of pain. Trowa’s scream sounded like he was beneath the water. “But I think I knew which to choose.”

Vision turned to darkness as he pressed into his windpipe hard enough to cut off all paths to oxygen. Trowa felt his senses dulling until only touch and hearing were left, and faint. Still, the beauty of passing into unconsciousness didn’t save him from the feeling of fingers penetrating the part of him he longed to forget.

Before the darkness consumed him fully, he heard a voice from the darkness, heavy with lust, panting from strain. “What a beautiful freak you are, my dear.”

He could no longer feel the tears.

A/n: **Evil laugh**