Type K Part 13

by Kira Maxwell

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise, not me. I don’t own the G-boys, so please don’t sue me. You wouldn’t get anything anyway.
Warnings: Yaoi, Yuri, Het, Drug abuse, Gore, Strong language, NCS, Violence
Pairings: 13xR, implied 1x2, 3x4, 5+R, 9x11


“Trowa, please, open the door! I mean it, Trowa. We are going to break down the door soon if you don’t answer. PLEASE!”

Barton smiled a little, leaning a bit further back against the bathroom’s tile wall. The harsh fluorescent lighting of the tiny bathroom made his eyes hurt, glinting off the white porcelain. A new shaving razor sat on the edge of the toilet seat, sparkling with a promise of a wealth of opportunity for the brown-haired man.

Listening to the blonde man go from demanding to pleading and back again over the course of several hours had delighted the mortician to no end. Why it was such a delight he couldn’t say. Maybe he just liked hearing Quatre suffer.

His stomach ached a little with hunger, but he ignored it stoically. He didn’t care if he ate or not. Hell, he didn’t even care if he lived or not. Running his fingers through his tousled hair, he shut his green eyes, noting the deep chill creeping into his body from the cold tile. The heating in this compound wasn’t very good.

Oh, well. Not like it matters anyway.

“Trowa, please. We need you. I need you.”

Lips curling into a sardonic smile, Trowa opened his eyes and glanced at the door as he reached for the razor blade he’d been toying with earlier.

Sorry, Blondie. You’ve got a long wait. I’m never coming out of this room alive.

*~*~*

Sally studied the copy of notes in front of her, pushing her reading glasses up with her index finger. The several coffee rings on her desk and the circles under her eyes testified to the fact that she’d been poring over Dr. Barton’s notes for hours. And still, after trying to analyze the equations required for a reaction that produced Type K, her search was still fruitless.

A soft knock on the office door made Sally start, almost knocking over the pile of papers she had stacked in front of her. “Come in,” she said grumpily, not bothering to get up. She heard the soft click of the door knob and a squeal as the door swung open. Irritably, she demanded, “What do you want? I’m busy.”

“Well, Dr. Po, I’m glad to see you’re so hard at work.”

Recognitions of Treize’s voice made Sally jump from her seat. She looked up and much to her chagrin saw Treize leaning nonchalantly on her door post. Struggling to recover her composure, she stammered, “M—Mr. Khushrenada! I apologize. I thought it was somebody else and—”

“Have you made any progress with the drug, Dr. Po?” the ginger-haired man calmly interrupted her, eyes riveted on the stack of papers in front of her.

“No, sir.” Sally looked crestfallen.

“No progress at all?”

“None, sir.”

“Then perhaps you should find someone who can, Dr. Po. I need results, and I need them now.”

The sound of a door slammed in her face shook Sally right down to her bones.

*~*~*

Treize grit his teeth, feeling a little irritated. He’d been depending on Sally to start production of the drug in his absence. However, if you wanted to get anything done, you have to do it yourself, as the saying goes, and this instance only proved the old quote in Treize’s eyes.

His brief hiatus with Relena had been mostly for show; a treat to keep his new missus happy and complacent. He knew she wouldn’t be placated for long, though. One of the reasons he’d offered to marry her was the fact that he understood her ambitious nature because it was much like his own, though not as ruthless. Because of this understanding he felt confident he’d be able to control her, simply by letting her think she was dominating him. He was also counting on her naïveté.

Proceeding down the hall at a brisk walk, he approached an exhausted-looking Quatre. “Winner, may I ask where our esteemed Dr. Barton is? I require his presence in my office, immediately.” His words were clipped, authoritative.

“I’m sorry, sir, but that’s not possible.”

“What do you mean, it’s not possible?”

“Exactly what I said, sir. Dr. Barton is currently unavailable.”

Treize struggled to maintain his composure. Quatre could swear he saw a tick developing over his boss’s left eye.

“Winner, I’m sure you’re aware that this is a headquarters, not a resort hotel. Dr. Barton can not be unavailable, under any circumstances. Bring him to my office, now.”

Quatre sighed and rubbed the back of his head gently. Here we go again, he thought.

*~*~*

Zechs grunted a little, working his arms up a little further. For the past half an hour he’d been trying (with difficulty) to free himself from his bonds. Being the prisoner of professionals did have its setbacks; he’d been searched thoroughly and didn’t have a sharp edge on him.

However, resourcefulness and being incredibly limber had had its advantages. He’d gradually worked his arms over the outer curve of the chair, slowly standing as he did so. Thankfully, his ankles weren’t tied down, or he’d never have been able to support himself. The ache in his muscles was nearly unbearable, and tears were beginning to smart in his blue eyes. Only sheer willpower and anger kept him going.

Noin’s words had hurt more than he’d ever admit. Love for her had evaporated. Just wanna cap that evil, lying, two-faced bitch. She betrayed me! How could she?!

Zechs heaved a loud sigh as his wrists finally slid free over the chair’s back, and he collapsed to the ground, sides quivering. Then he glanced up, eyeing the door that was supposedly locked.

Time to play.

*~*~*
The last five minutes had been perhaps the longest in Relena’s life. Tapping her foot impatiently, she checked the little stick again. “Come on, work,” she prodded, hoping that somehow her pleading would make the pregnancy test determine her hCG level faster.

At last, her small egg timer went off, and she peered at the stick carefully, trying to make out what it said. In small blue ink, she read a “+.” Double-checking the back of the small box, she almost yelped in excitement.

“Oh my God. I’m pregnant!”

~TBC~

Kira Maxwell

KiraxMaxwell@msn.com

On to Part 14!