Quatre was carefully engineering the whole thing. Building interest and curiosity until demand out stripped the possible outrage.

Heero was released from the hospital and sent to Allenville.

Duo took over day to day supervision of his department as did Wufei. Trowa and Quatre continued to run WEI.

~ * ~

Heero carefully maneuvered himself out of the van with help from one of the guards. He was still on crutches with a small regen unit to finish healing his ankle.

He was greeted by the warden.

"Hello, young man. I'm Warden Franklin. You'll find your stay here expedited by cooperation. I. . . ." The Warden did a double take. "How old are you?"

Heero who had been examining the premises with interest turned to look at the Warden. "You read my jacket?"

The Warden shrugged. "I prefer to make my observations first hand. Your record . . . most records we receive are either exaggerated or censored. Now, how old are you?"

Heero shrugged. "Depending on who you talk to I'm either seventeen or eighteen. The lawyers didn't bother to look at me, I guess. My jacket says twenty something." Heero tucked his crutches under his arms and started to follow the man as he lead the way into the facility.

"I'm taking you to the infirmary. We will have to have a physical evaluation by our own therapist. She has the information on you. I notice you have a bandage on your neck, I thought your ankle was the problem."

"I had a surgery to remove some . . . illegal implants. It's all in my record. I'll be plain with you. I'm not happy about being here. I liked my therapist at Fitzroy so I'm a little put off by the change."

"I see. Your psychotherapist will discuss your concerns with you. Well, here we are. I'll leave you here. I think in your case it might be beneficial for me to read your jacket. Your sponsor will come for you when you're done. Your luggage was sent to your rooms."

Heero raised an eye brow at the word ‘rooms' but didn't comment. He wasn't looking forward to another intake physical.

In the infirmary the tec instructed him to get on the examination table but when he started to remove his clothing the man just patted his hand and told him to forget that.

"We don't do a full body cavity search, just a poke and prod. Most of the guys who come here are guilty of the foul crime of getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Embezzlers, inside traders, that sort of thing. Now, how's that ankle."

"Aches. And my neck hurts. I have prescriptions for antibiotics and a pain killer. I don't take the pain meds unless I just can't stand it anymore. But the Doctor will have fits if I don't take the antibiotics. "

The Med. Tec looked over his copy of Heero's jacket and raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to see if I can't get you started on PT right away. It'll be uncomfortable but you have to cooperate . . . "

Heero held up a hand. "I know more about exercise than most therapists. I do tai chi, yoga and I'm not afraid to work out. In fact, I'd like to see the therapist who would try to make me do what I'll do on my own. But do as you think best, I'll cooperate. I don't want trouble."

The tec gave up, smiled at Heero and gave him a poke and prod examination, wrote in his chart then made a phone call.

Five minutes later Heero was groping for a weapon he didn't have and Milliardo Peacecraft was laughing softly.

"Oh my god. Heero Yuy, well, well."

Heero gave him a slightly shamefaced grimace and reached for his crutches.

"Do you need any help? I saw you on vid cast. That bit where the sheriff separated you and Maxwell was truly affecting." At Heero's growl he held up a hand. "Oh, I'm not being supercilious. It truly was. And totally real. I can tell."

Heero followed him down a hall way and marveled at the facility. If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought he was at a high end health spa.

"I though you were on Mars. What happened?"

"Relena thought it would be good for me to be out of the public eye for a while so I made the two-month trip to Mars, stayed there a month. The Administrator in Chief felt that I was attracting too much political attention and asked that I be relieved of my duties. It seems that I'm an inconvenience all round. So now I'm serving an indeterminate sentence here."

Heero gave him a sympathetic look. "When does indeterminate turn into something definite?"

Milliardo smirked at Heero. "As soon as my shrink says I'm rehabilitated."

Heero smirked back. "In other words, as soon as you're not a political hot potato anymore."

Milliardo nodded with a grimace, then changed the subject "You're friendly for someone I tried to kill."

"I tried to kill you right back. So, no hard feelings on my part. War is war. When it's over; it's over."

"My sentiments exactly. I'm glad you feel that way. We'll be thrown together a lot since I'm your sponsor. The Warden has no idea what he might have had on his hands. He's never dealt with anyone violent. This facility is for . . . "Milliardo pushed the door to Heero's new quarters open.

"Yeah, white collar criminals that wouldn't know a hand grenade from a paper weight." Heero stepped through and gaped. "Holy crap. This all mine? I don't share?"

Heero looked around the rooms in wonder. He had a suite of four rooms; there was a sitting room with a vid, stereo and computer, a kitchenette, a bedroom and a bathroom that wouldn't have surprised Quatre.

The sitting room was quite large, with a sitting area around the entertainment center, a small table near the kitchenette and a complete office setting. The desk was large enough to hold the computer monitor and still leave plenty of room for paperwork.

"No, you don't share. You change your own sheets and linens. Laundry is put in a basket in the bathroom closet. I'm sure all your clothes are labeled?" Milliardo caught Heero as he nearly tripped. The hard wood floors were slick and the throw rug had done exactly that. "However, I think you will need some help for a while. I'll arrange it."

Heero steadied himself and grumbled a little. He hated the clumsiness of his crutches. As Milliardo helped him get his feet back under himself, he noticed a bracelet on Milliardo's wrist.

"Nice jewelry. I didn't think you'd go in for that kind of thing."

Milliardo looked down at the bracelet. It was heavy and fit rather closely.

"Don't. But you'll get one too, I think."

Heero settled into a chair and raised one eyebrow at the Prince. "I'll just take it off and forget it."

Milliardo held out his wrist. The band was endless, it didn't come off.

"It's an electronic leash. I can go anywhere I like, within certain limits. If I go outside those limits, I'm picked up immediately. The consequences are . . . embarrassing."

Heero made a face. "I see. How humiliating. I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be. I get to see Relena . . . on vid. I can go shopping at a very exclusive mall. I have unlimited finances. I'm just . . . not free. It could be much worse."

Heero motioned for Milliardo to sit, which he did with an elegant tweak at his pants legs to keep from spoiling the crease.

"And how is that?" Heero wished for a drink but wasn't sure where anything was or whether he should offer or not.

"There was a big push to get me executed. Relena managed to get my trial buried under the flap around yours. She's very good at taking advantage of openings like that without disturbing any status quo. So she managed to get four of you off by sacrificing one and that flap covered up my trial, in which my lawyers managed to convince the jury that Trieze was my commanding officer and I was just obeying him. Which is true but . . . somehow I feel unvindicated. My shrink says I have guilt issues." Milliardo stood abruptly. "Well, I'm sure you must be wanting to explore in privacy. If you need anything there's a call button on the wall by your bed and that remote has one as well. In your condition, I'd advise keeping it close."

After a few moments Heero rose and explored the kitchenette. It wasn't much, but most of the prisoners here had always had cooks so Heero couldn't see any of them managing much more than toast and scrambled eggs. If that.

Heero opened the fridge and found soda, ice tea (which made him grimace), and several types of juice. He settled for pomegranate with a spritz of seltzer. Then he realized that he couldn't carry the drink and walk, he needed both hands for the crutches and that didn't leave any for carrying the drink.

"Fuck. I'll be glad when I'm off these damn things." Heero grumbled and fussed his way through his drink and went to finish exploring the suite. He found sliding glass doors behind a set of floor to ceiling curtains and beyond that an enclosed garden with a small patio. Three other similar doors indicated that he shared it with other prisoners. He wasn't sure how he liked that, but decide to wait until he actually met the others before deciding.

He settled at his desk and booted up the computer. It was . . unacceptable. It was old and slow. He sighed and wished, not for the first time, for his own computer. His laptop looked like any students computer but hidden in that simple black case was one of the most powerful computers ever built. The only one more powerful was Duo's. He missed it. Almost as much as he missed Duo.

When he snapped to he realized that while he'd been daydreaming the computer had booted. There was a message on the screen already. It was a computerized, searchable handbook. He sat down to read.

As he was reading, the computer pinged with an incoming e-mail. Duo had sent him a welcome to the facility. He returned with a description of his suite and the information that one of his fellow prisoners was the Prince of Sanq. Duo sent back asking how he could be a prince if Relena wasn't Queen anymore.

Heero sighed, Duo would probably never understand the in's and out's of royalty, but he replied that both Peacecrafts had been royalty. Milliardo a prince and Relena a princess. Since Relena had become queen, then abdicated both her titles, she was still royalty by birth, but not by title. Milliardo had never abdicated, so he was still a prince. Heero wondered where that might go sooner or later.

Duo sent one last mail, telling Heero that he had to go to the obstacle course and run a bunch of recruits through.

Heero decided to see if he couldn't get the rest of his courses lined up. He'd decided to take a double major. Since he had all his humanities and liberal arts requirements out of the way that made it possible for him to carry eighteen hours. None of the degrees he was taking required labs, so he could squeeze in enough hours.

A guard passing in the hall heard the almost frantic sounding typing and knocked on the door.

"Hello? Sir? May I come in?"

Heero called his permission, not wanting to struggle to his feet and try to open the door for whoever it was.

The guard opened the door and stuck his head in. Seeing a young person instead of the middle-aged man he expected he did a double take and then hurried to him.

"You shouldn't be here. Where are your folks? I'll take you to . . . oh." Seeing the regen unit strapped to Heero's leg he stopped. "Do you have permission to be here?"

Heero sighed in irritation. *It's ok to be irritated. It's not ok to act out that irritation by slugging someone* "I'm a prisoner here. My name is Heero Winner-Yuy. How may I help you?"

The guard stepped back from the irritated glare, he knew he had definitely bitten off more than he could chew. "You're too young to be here. There's some kind of mistake. I'll see what's going on and be back in a little while. Don't leave the room."

Heero looked the guard over. He looked like a nice enough man so he just shrugged and went back to what he was doing. He had a complete semester of classes to plan and he had to decide which ones he felt safe testing out of and which ones he needed to take. So he was busy.

When his computer beeped and the screen changed to an ‘Important Incoming Message' full screen warning. He just cursed and started hacking. He wasn't going to put up with much more. His patience was limited at times and this was one of them.

"It's my computer until farther notice. Give it back, damn you . . . " Heero typed furiously. "Now . . . cough it up." He made it into the bowels of the program and snarled, it was an all system communique and bypassing it would set off alarums he didn't want to have to work around.

So he waited for it to do its duty, deliver its message, and go away. It was a summons to all guests to come to the theater for an introduction. He sighed and levered himself up onto his crutches and started for the door. He wasn't too surprised when it popped open to admit his former enemy

"Well, it looks like they want to get the introductions out of the way at once." Milliardo looked Heero's denim fatigues over with a shake of his head. "Those simply won't do. You have to change quickly. Would you like me to help you?"

Heero nodded to the closet. "If you can find something more suitable, I'll be glad for the help."

Milliardo opened the door and grumbled "Oh, hell. Not a stitch that doesn't scream juvenile delinquent."

"Well, I am." Heero started for the door again with Milliardo pacing beside him

"You are not. You're a highly skilled and dedicated solder. It's a shame to waste your training and instincts this way. You should have gotten medals and . . . I'm not sure exactly what. But you certainly don't deserve to be locked up along with . . . well, me."

Heero waited while Milliardo opened the door to the theater for him. Then mumbled as he walked by. "Just hang on to your mask Lightening Count. Winner has the bit between his teeth, who knows what might happen."

Milliardo whispered right back. "Never mind that. Hold your head up and don't forget. . . you are more that they are. They are a bunch of foolish, greedy men who got caught doing naughty things. We are soldiers."

Heero looked into the room with some dismay, then squared his shoulders and stepped into the room. He looked around and saw that it was indeed a theater, with a capacity of about forty.

To his relief there were only twenty-five men of various ages there. None of them were under thirty.

Heero was rather startled by the horrified, disapproving and, in some cases, disbelieving looks he was getting. There was a minor uproar, which the warden quickly squelched.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen. Is this any way to impress our newest resident? Please, sit down while I introduce him." But grumbles of ‘he's crippled,' ‘so young,' and other, similar, remarks had to be quieted before the warden could complete his introduction.

He kept the introduction to a bare minimum, telling them only that Heero was there due to his physical needs.

"Thank you, gentlemen. Since you've all been nice enough to remain quiet during my introduction of Mr. Winner-Yuy, we'll have refreshments."

There were some laughs and the ‘meeting' broke up into small, gossiping, groups. Milliardo approached Heero with a cup of tea and the suggestion that they stay seated and let interested parties come to them. Heero was glad he didn't have to stand around trying to ‘do the pretty' as Milliardo called it.

After consuming three cups of tea, Heero told Milliardo he was going back to his rooms. Several men had stopped to talk with Heero and Milliardo, expressing varying degrees of dismay that Heero had been treated ‘shabbily' and promising to do something for him.

Milliardo cautioned him about believing anything anyone told him. Heero asked him, "How can you tell when a politician is lying?" Milliardo raised an eye brow. "When his lips are moving."

"I see I don't have to caution you after all. They don't understand that those empty, . . . social promises hurt as badly as sometimes they do. Come along, I'll help you back to your rooms. I'd advise turning in early. The therapist will want to start your therapy tomorrow."

Heero nodded absently. He was trying to figure out how to change the dressing on his neck. He eyed Milliardo speculatively for a moment.

"What do you need? I'll be happy to help you if I can."

Milliardo hoped Heero would take him up on his offer. He was lonely here and didn't relate well to the other men. The one's he did relate to, didn't really understand him. They just remained polite so as not to antagonize Relena. Not the best basis for social interactions. Heero was a soldier just like him, even though they'd been on opposite sides.

"I need the dressing on my neck changed. I don't trust that pill pusher to do it. I'd rather do it myself but . . . "

"Say no more. I'll be happy to do it. I'm actually a well-trained field medic."

So they wound up in the bathroom with Heero sitting on a small stool. He felt a little nervous with Milliardo standing behind him but he realized he had to trust the man, until he proved he couldn't be trusted.

Milliardo took a deep breath and pulled the bandage off being careful not to disturb the stitches.

"I've only seen an incision like this for . . . " Milliardo clamped his lips together tightly.

Heero turned his head to look at Milliardo and whispered softly. "Zechs, it's ok. They took it out. I. . ."

"You were children. Damn them. I . . . "

Heero stood, turned around and poked him in the chest firmly. "And you were how old? Nineteen when it all started. Trained from early childhood to do your duty. I doubt that any of us really understood exactly what we were involved in until it was too late. Politicians and commanding officers, conditioning and constant training. We were all brain washed, plain and simple.

"Now are you going to change that or what?"

Milliardo changed the bandage quickly. He had a lot to think about and a few calls to make.

~ * ~

Duo lifted his bruised and bloody face to the camera and laughed. Then he spit right at it.

"You can kill me but you can't kill the movement. People want to be free. It's even a song."

The Oz guards punched him until he fell and the tape faded out when they started kicking him.

"Mr. Maxwell, that was . . . I'm speechless. That was the most disgusting display of . . . "

Duo smiled at the Hostess gently. "You're stammering. It's ok. I survived. It was war."

The hostess looked suitably horrified. "But you . . . you were so young. How old were you?"

Duo shrugged, then turned back to the screen which was showing him being dragged to the foot of Deathscythe and chained to a pillory.

"I'm not quite sure. Somewhere around fifteen."

"You don't know how old you are? Come now, that's impossible. How could you not know?"

"I'm an orphan. I don't remember much before I found myself on the docks at L2-0347."

"I see. Well, you were going to take us on a tour of the facility. We'll continue the interview as we go, if you don't mind."

The hostess stood and Duo nodded to the camera man as he walked by. "I don't mind. You going to keep the camera running? And what the hell is your name. No one bothered to introduce us. Quatre just bunged me in the door and took off."

"Well, I had hoped to speak to all four of you and then cut footage gleaned from the war files with large slices of these interviews. Mr Winner has some ideas I like. So, if you don't mind, we'll just continue the tour and interview."

Duo lead the way into the grounds, answering questions and reviewing footage as they went. He wanted to get his hands on the projection unit she was using. It was small and used some sort of laser-produced screen

"You seem interested in my vid unit. It's brand new on the market. Quite a feather in WEI's cap, if I may say so."

Duo rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm a gadget freak. Love anything new. I'd love to take that apart to see what makes it tick."

Miss. Hamilton smiled at Duo. "Hands off buster. Mine. Buy your own."

They laughed together and she decided that this young man wasn't nearly as dangerous as the competition had made him out to be.

As the walked down the hall Duo pointed out the cafeteria and several other points of interest.

When they came to the gym Duo stiffened. A crowd had gathered around two men who were struggling on the mats. A big man had a much smaller man pinned and was choking him hard.

"Hey! Break it up!" Duo waded into the crowd and shoved several men aside. He wrapped his arm around the big mans neck and jerked. Ignoring the now flat on his back man, he turned to the smaller man and checked him over. He was gasping for air, but nodded at Duo's ‘you ok.?'

Duo scanned the crowd with a furious look. "Ok, people. You do realize that he could have crushed his larynx. In that case, you would have had about six minutes to do something to save his life." The cameraman was going mad trying to keep Duo in the frame. Duo's sneer was magnificent. "I see you didn't. Everybody, except him, go to the nearest instructor and explain exactly what was going on. Elect a spokesman. Go." He turned to the choker. "You knew. Don't tell me you didn't. He clapped out. I saw him." The man started to say something smart. "Don't talk, just pack your shit and git."

Then Miss Hamilton turned to Duo. "Was that bad? I thought you were supposed to learn to fight."

"No, they're supposed to learn to protect WEI personnel and property. Using the least force necessary. Most of these people will never touch a gun outside of training. There are all kinds of other ways to apprehend criminals, intruders and bothersome . . . "Duo dodged the camera man "cameramen." But he smiled at the man.

"I see. So that was . . ."

"Uncalled for and stupid. The man has been hanging on by a thread for weeks. This last little display was too much. He'll never learn to tone it down to appropriate levels. He's all or nothing. Not good at all."

Duo opened the door and let the cameraman go first

"And you're an expert? I thought you just . . . " Duo took firm hold of the interview.

"I am an expert. I know exactly how much force to apply to do everything from knock a person down to break their neck. Our philosophy is to apply the least amount of force to get the job done. Start out with a slap and escalate until the desired effect is achieved. We're the experts and I expect my people to act in an appropriate manner at all times. That was just too overboard. What would he do if he got excited? Not something I want to contemplate."

Duo led the way to the obstacle course and showed Miss Hamilton around that. They saw some more clips of Duo which upset the woman. Duo wondered why he was showing her clips, but Quatre had told him exactly what to do so he was doing it.

"Excuse me. Damnit."

Duo hurried over to someone on a wall. "Hey! I"m gonna get up close and personal with you. Don't do something I won't like." With that he put both hands on the persons' gluteus maximus and shoved up, neatly dodging the flailing feet.

The woman scrambled to the top of the wall and turned to look back. Her red, sweaty face turned scarlet as she realized who Duo was.

"Thanks, Boss. I . ."

Duo held up his hand to silence her. "Never mind that. Where's your partner?"

"Oh, he went ahead . . . "

Duo gave her a hard look which the camera man caught perfectly. "Ok . . . he abandoned me."

"Tell the instructor. Never mind, here he comes."

A burly crew cut man ran up, snarling, "I suppose you know you got me in trouble "

Duo interrupted sharply. "No, you got yourself in trouble. This course is supposed to teach team work, cement the relationship between partners. You don't get it at all."

Duo eyed the woman and decided. It was obvious that she didn't trust him at all. He glanced around and saw another woman running back along the track. She skidded to a halt about ten feet away and stood shifting from foot to foot.

"You. Come here. You came back for her . . . why?"

"I . . .he . . . ummm. I don't what to get anyone in trouble. But . . . he has a bad habit of letting his partners hang. She's his third. I'm sorry, Joan. I . . . "

"That's enough." Duo looked around. "Where's your pardner?"

"She got the boot. Lost her temper."

"Ok, . . . you two partner." Duo pointed to the two women. Then he turned to the man "Pack your shit and git."

"You seem to have a lot of influence around here. That man looked scared of you. You're just a boy."

Duo smiled, one of his sunny, cheerful grins, and shook his head. "Yes, I'm seventeen. But I'm also a Gundam pilot. We all trained for years to do what we did. I'm Duo Maxwell. I'm also Shinigami. We're not wild eyed, crazy, terroristic maniacs. We did what we were told to do. What we were told was necessary to end war forever."

The reporter sighed, she hadn't known what she was getting into. She wasn't sure she could do this. They were all children and very old men. She forged on.

"I'd like to know how you can just tell grown men to pack up and leave."

"I'm Head of the Department. I'm responsible for training personnel. Quatre started out giving me the job of ensuring his personal protection. But WEI is huge and spread out all over ESUN. With the break down of law enforcement engendered by the Perfect Peace Principles borderless philosophy, the company feels that it is necessary to police itself. So Quatre, Wufei, Trowa and I got together and established Winner Enterprises Incorporated Internal Security Division. And I'm Department Head, besides, I can whip any ten of them."

~ * ~

The next clip Duo showed her was of Wufei helping him learn to control his breathing. In the cell where Oz nearly suffocated them.

"That's just horrible. They turned off the air vents? I. . . Oh my."

Duo patted her on the shoulder. "Speechless again? Come on. I think I've tortured you enough. I'll introduce you to your next interview."

Duo led them into a very elegant Chinese style garden.

"Chang Wufei" Duo bowed, Wufei took off his gold wire framed glasses and bowed back. "This is Miss Hamilton and her cameraman. I never got his name, I'm sorry."

Wufei bowed to the reporter and cameraman. "Pleased to meet you." He made an inviting motion with his hand. "Please, be seated."

Duo reached into his pocket and handed Wufei a small flat projection unit.

"Here. Happy anniversary."

Wufei took the object and placed it on the table. At the push of a button a 3-D still was projected above it. It was a picture of a young Chinese girl. The voice was Duo's, the poem Chinese.

How many tears
Criss-cross your cheeks and run across your face!
Don't try to speak when worry makes you weep,
Nor play the flute when it will bring your tears,
Or surely then your heart will break.
--Li Yu

Wufei caressed the small device with one finger. "This is very nice. Thank you, Duo."

The reporter gently inserted herself, careful not to break the mood. "Who is the young lady? A friend?"

Wufei turned the projector off, then slipped it into his breast pocket. "My wife."

Miss Hamilton gave a shocked gasp. "Your wife? But you're . . ."

"Seventeen. We were married by proxy when we were ten, began holding household at twelve. Under the auspices of my parents of course."

"Ah. An arranged marriage. She's very beautiful."

Wufei ducked his head. "Yes, my Nataku was beautiful. I didn't value her as I should have."

"You should tell her. Where is she?"

"I"m a widower. She died, was killed by the Alliance when we were both fourteen. She was to have been the pilot of Shenlong, not me."

Duo, standing behind Miss Hamilton, gave Wufei a quick salute and faded away.

"But I thought you trained for years to pilot the Gundam?"

"Oh, I was a scholar. I have a degree in ancient Chinese poetry. And another in computer sciences. I got both of them before I became a pilot. I was just a training partner for Merain. Then she got herself killed and I . . . I went a little mad I think. I wanted revenge for her and all the other people who were killed on L5. So I became a Gundam pilot."

Miss Hamilton put on a sympathetic face and stepped right into Quatre's trap.

"It must have been hard to know that she had been killed."

Wufei bit his barely quivering lip. "She wanted to rest in a special field. I took her there when I realized there was no hope of saving her. She died in my arms. It was very hard."

"OH. Oh. She. . . no wonder you were so . . . fierce. That's just horrible."

"No. The horrible part was that she was so very much better than I. She wanted justice for the Colonies. I said I wanted justice, but all I really wanted was revenge. Very sad. . . . tea?"

"No, thank you. You said it is your anniversary? How many years would it have been?"

Wufei gave Miss Hamilton a slightly disgusted look. "We were married when we were ten, but I'd known her all my life. I'm seventeen now. So . . . doing the math. It's my seventh anniversary and the third of her death. Less a month or so."

"I see. Um m m . . . You seem to get along with Mr Maxwell. I thought you two didn't get along very well."

Wufei picked up a small projector and turned it on. It started showing surveillance footage of him and Duo dying in the small chamber where Oz had shut off the air. He was softly leading Duo through the breathing exercise that was to save them both.

"I was filled with hate and righteous anger. I couldn't see how someone so frivolous could possibly aid the cause of Colonial Freedom. I soon learned that he is a warrior of considerable skill. He's just . . . I'm not sure how to explain it exactly. It's just his personality. But despite the rather outrageous side of him, you really don't want to see Shinigami, things go to hell rather quickly."

"I see. You're all so young. It's . . ."

"We were never allowed to be young. Our controllers made us warriors. We are older in experience than I like to think."

"Well, that's one way to look at it. And I think a better one. None of you seem like the lunatics the prosecution made you out to be. And you all had a controller? What's that?"

Wufei stood up and started to walk through the garden. "My controller was O. He trained me, sent me my objectives and any information he deemed necessary for me to accomplish it. He gave me orders."

"I see. A father figure." They stopped to admire a tree peony in bloom.

"No, unlike Duo, and Heero. I had a father, and a mother. I was actually quite sheltered. As the heir to the Chang Clan I was protected from quite a bit of . . . disorder. That's one reason it was such a shock to me when L5-Chang was attacked."

"Oh. But I understood that all of you had controllers who were your surrogate fathers."

Wufei turned to the camera and snarled. "The professors were interested in one thing. The accomplishment of their objectives. We were tools, nothing more. In fact, Quan Yin save me from a father figure like J. Excuse me. I'm getting more upset than I thought. Here is Trowa. He'll take you on the next leg of your tour."

Trowa just patted Wufei on the shoulder and motioned for the two reporters to follow him. They did but not before the camera man got a shot of Wufei holding the vid cupped in the palms of his hands, watching the slowly rotating picture with tears trickling down his cheeks.

"Come away. Now." Trowa took Miss Hamilton gently by the arm and led her down the path away from Wufei. A quick nod to someone in the shadows and he herded them into the next room of the garden and on to another vid clip.

~ * ~

The clip was of Trowa stripped to the waist, tied to a tank tread.

"Did you take it?" The voice was stern and cold. Obviously adult to Trowa's much younger self.

"Yes" Trowa's voice trembled slightly.

"Why?"

"I was hungry." Trowa seemed resigned to his fate whatever it was.

"Ten lashes. Don't hold back."

The punishment was duly administered and when the ropes were cut Trowa fell to the muddy ground and was left to his own devices.

"Oh my god. But what did you steal to be given such a beating. That's . . how old were you?"

"I think I was ten or so. I'm an orphan so I'm not quite sure, but not more than twelve. I stole a fist of bread."

"Bread? You stole bread and that. . . why didn't your guardian stop them?"

"I didn't have one. I was just Nanashi. No name. Hey, boy. Some of the men took me under their wing in a casual sort of way. But only after I proved that I was useful for more than running for tea or taking messages back and forth. I never had a real father figure or any friends . . . Just me. Until I hooked up with the others. We sort of made a family."

"You had a trainer. Didn't you?"

Trowa lead them into a library, entering through old fashioned patio doors.

"No, I'd been working on the Gundam. It was easier for me to do some of the work because I could crawl into the guts easier. I trained myself by testing the work. The man who was supposed to pilot got himself killed and I took his place."

"How did he get killed?"

Trowa gave her a flat hard look. "I killed him when he tried to rape me. I'm not anybody's fuck toy. Sorry, you'll have to beep that."

"No, we won't. This isn't going to be shown at the early slot. It's too hot. He tried to rape you? That's . . . you've all endured so much. I just don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything. It's better. We are what we are. We made you peace, now you can . . . ignore us. . . throw us away. . . do what ever you want. We can't do much to stop you, just endure as we always have. Think about it."

"I am. And I don't like what I'm thinking at all. I understand that Mr. Winner is too busy to see me but he has provided a series of clips for our use."

Trowa got them seated in comfortable chairs in the elegant room.

"Yes, he's in a meeting with some of his sisters. It's unfortunate. They want to take the company away from him, but due to his father's will, it's impossible. I think Mr. Winner, Sr. knew what might happen. In his culture women are considered . . . less than men. It's so archaic that it's ridiculous. But they weren't trained to handle a company as vast and complicated as WEI, Quatre was. Unfortunately for them, and the investors, employees and dependants, towns and colonies, he's seriously considering turning the whole mess over to them and the devil take the hind most."

"But. If they are more capable than he is, why not?"

Trowa shook his head. "I don't understand why you don't listen. He's the only one who really understands all the ramifications of actions the company takes. He's been trained since birth to do this. That's why he was our chief strategist. He can see in a moment all the effects of something. The stocks will fall like a comet. The investors are already selling out at distressingly low prices. I'm buying all the stock I can get my hands on. So are the rest of us."

"You can't support such a large company that way."

"Not trying to. We're all snatching up all the stock we can as an investment. We don't have any income. No pay, no retirement, nothing. So we have to look out for ourselves."

"Oh, make hay while the sun shines, that sort of thing. Wait, you said you didn't get paid anything?"

"No. We weren't expected to live out six weeks. We were supposed to be martyrs to the cause. We fooled them, now they just ignore us. Except for Heero."

"Yes, I . . . there was something but it won't come. I'd like to interview Heero Yuy. Where is he?"

Trowa gave her a funny look. "They really managed to gloss over that, didn't they? For all the flap in the media; screaming for our execution, imprisonment or whatever. They managed to hide our ages and Heero's sentence. I don't understand how people can be so damn oblivious."

"I"m sorry. I don't understand. Where is he?

"In prison. He got two ten year sentences. For being our commanding officer. He lost the draw."

Miss Hamilton committed the ultimate sin for a reporter, she dropped her microphone. Trowa bent down and picked it up for her.

"What draw? What prison? I . . . this is . . . " The poor lady stammered to a halt.

"We drew straws for who would take the hit. Accept responsibility for all of us. Heero . . . I'll swear he fixed the draw somehow, drew short straw. So he got sentenced under the commanding officers only resolution."

"But what about your . . . controllers. Why didn't they just try them?"

"They're all dead. The people needed a scape goat. So Heero threw himself to the wolves. He said it wouldn't be too bad for him. Because of his training you see."

A servant came in with a tray of refreshments. Trowa poured a cup of tea and handed it to Mis Hamilton, then he poured two more breaking convention by recognizing the camera man was actually there.

Then he went on to give a ruthlessly factual account of Heero's training, showing several clips of him exercising until he dropped in exhaustion. Then he fired the parting shot.

The clip was obviously taken from some sort of training record. Heero was standing in a bare room. There was nothing in the room; not a chair, a table, or even a mattress. He was just standing, waiting for something. Then he started to shake and a voice from somewhere started speaking.

"Don't make a sound. Take your punishment like a man."

Heero shook harder. Trembling, staggering; staying on his feet by main force of will.

"Don't fall. Don't speak. You're not worthy. You failed. You'll be retrained. You'll learn."

Heero fell writhing to the floor.

"Stand up. If you're not on your feet by the count of three, the punishment will be increased by two minutes."

Heero staggered to his feet and managed to stay there for the rest of his punishment. Then he collapsed, obviously unconscious.

Trowa's voice interrupted the reporter's question before it was begun. "He was thirteen."

Miss Hamilton swallowed her tears. "Damn I'm glad this isn't a live feed. Could I have some more tea?"

Trowa poured her more tea and gave her a sandwich. He allowed her time to get herself back together, then just picked up his flute. He started to play, then heard Quatre start. He glanced over to see Quatre walking in the door with his violin under his chin.

They played several tunes then Quatre sat down next to Trowa.

"I'm so glad I got a chance to speak to you. I've several things I'd like to point out. But I'm sure you have questions for me."

"Yes. First, how did your meeting go, . . . if you can talk about it."

Quatre gave her one of his particularly snarky smiles. "It went just about as I thought it would. My sisters now realize that they have no chance of taking control of WEI. It's not possible, . . er . . since I own approximately 72% of the voting stock they're more or less out of the loop."

"Who owns the rest?"

"Well. . . . Trowa owns 2%, my sister Iria owns 4% and the Chang clan owns 5%. So I control, directly or indirectly, 78% of the stocks. Possibly more since quite a few people have been selling out, and I've been buying what Duo doesn't. People don't quite understand some things that I'd like to make perfectly clear."

Quatre sipped his tea and changed before their eyes. He went from a smiling young man to a cold eyed, calculating, powerful executive in the blink of an eye.

"I am excessively rich. I have a personal fortune which is untouchable. It's large enough to sustain all five of us in a life style that can only be called excessive for well over twice our projected lifetimes. And that's only spending the interest.

"I intend to use most of it to expand WEI for the benefit of the colonies and Earth. But if I am pushed, I'll just build a colony and move into it. With my friends. We'll make a world of our own, excluding every thing and everyone we don't like. I don't want to do that. It's a bit extreme. I'd rather use that money to rebuild the colonies I destroyed and L5 as well. It all depends on what I'm allowed. I won't tolerate interference with my control of my self, my company, my income. If I'm old enough to risk my life, I'm old enough to control it. We tried to work within the confines of ESUN, but push too hard and we'll push right back.

"I wasn't aware of some of the things I could do until lately, but now that I do know . . . I'd rather get things done within the confines of the law, but it's not necessary. I do have the power to force the issue."

Miss Hamilton knew she was going to have to cut this, but she shivered at the thought of making this stern faced young CEO truly angry. Not good.

Quatre concluded the interview with offers of tea and cake and a sweet smile that belied his earlier words.

The media grabbed the interviews and vid clips and plastered them all over everywhere.

~ * ~

Milliardo, watching the news with Heero, covered his eyes with one hand and started laughing. Heero gave him a startled look.

"He's blown the lid off it now. Relena so wanted me to stay out of the public eye."