[Sequel to: "No Time For Secrets" Book 3 of the "Secrets" Arc]
Author: Enigma
Written: September, 2000
Rating: R
Pairings: (1+2) (3+4) (5+S)
Category: Angst, AU, yaoi/shonen ai
Warnings: Angst, mental illness, yaoi/shonen ai, language, AU, sap, OOC
Disclaimers: I don't own the Gundam Wing Universe or any other anime characters I use here, just the parts of this story and some characters that are new are truly mine [especially Laurel, she's *still* my daughter after all!]. Please don't sue me, all I've got is a broken down car that hates me.
Note: Timeframe---after the war has ended and the Gundams were destroyed.

FUN TIME! Play spot the guest stars! And watch for other popular culture references!

Racing With Secrets
Part 1

Earlier, by less than an hour, the Perfect Soldier had forcibly commandeered an ambulance from the hospital. One quick upper-cut to the unsuspecting paramedic's jaw had given him total access to his escape vehicle. He slammed the door, and with sirens and lights at full blast he had left, racing towards the airstrip roughly 30 kilometers away. His thoughts were completely focused on the mission.

If Heero Yuy had been capable of rational thought, it might have occurred to him that this had a distinct sense of déjà vu.

When Operation Meteor had been implemented, his first day on the Earth had been somewhat like this. Disastrous in many regards, to be certain. Wing Gundam had been shot out from under him and had fallen into the sea, his first battle had been lost. This paralleled the lost feeling he had over everything that had happened with Duo; the hideous secrets kept from him, the frightening pronouncement of imminent death, all of it. Also, he had his first fateful encounter with a certain blonde girl who would at times be the bane of his existence. Today, he had also had a fateful encounter with another girl. This one was much younger and certainly seemed on the surface less dangerous and distracting. What he had no way of knowing, however, was that *this* young girl was actually doing everything possible to insure his success. Last, and most obvious was the simple action of stealing an ambulance for a quick get away. On that first day, leaving was all that he needed immediately, but this time, he had a destination to get to, as quickly as possible.

From here the two days diverged and he might have been grateful if the Soldier even allowed such thoughts.

Trowa and Quatre walked through the hospital in companionable silence.

Recently, Trowa felt he had not been given an opportunity to consider all of the events occurring around him. This bothered him deeply. What had happened to Duo Maxwell in the past had been traumatic, but they were soldiers and these things happened. Why was everyone else so upset? Yes, even he was shocked by the multiple cardiac arrests, but it seemed at first all was easily repaired. When word came of the complications, he had been ready to hear them state that Duo died on the operating table, not that Heero would end up leaving to steal a human heart, an absurd thing to do under any circumstances.

Yet, amongst all of his thoughts, the one that plagued him the most was the issue about the girl, Laurel.

He was only 17, finally free of a lifetime of war and was looking forward to returning to his sister and the circus. Yes, he still wanted Quatre in his life, but they both knew how busy Winner Corporation responsibilities would be keeping him. Neither was so emotionally dependent on the other that they needed to live together on a regular basis. So-called, "stolen weekends" and occasional vacations would have met the two young lovers' needs most adequately.

Yet now there was a child insisting he would be her father without even asking if he wanted to be, and even Sally Po had the lack of tact to comment that he and Quatre should get married soon. Trowa wasn't sure he wanted to get married soon, if ever, and he certainly didn't want it forced on him out of guilt or anything other than true love. A bit of an old-fashioned romantic, he clung to the idea that the two of them alone would know when the time was right for such a decision. He was deeply hurt.

Quatre stopped suddenly, a shiver going through his body as he clutched his chest in pain.

"All you all right, Little One?" Trowa asked automatically.

"Yes, Trowa, I think so." Quatre seemed subdued.

"What's wrong, koi?" Trowa was lovingly concerned as always, yet there was a touch of frost in his voice.

"I'm not sure, but it wasn't good, whatever it was. It was a fleeting intense pain, so quickly there and gone again that I don't know where it came from." Quatre looked contemplatively down at the floor. "It seemed like mental anguish more than physical pain, but it was very intense. I'm frightened, Trowa. I've never had a burst of feeling hit so hard and then vanish without a trace before. Why can't I track who it came from?" Quatre's voice shook with desperation and confusion.

Trowa, gently stroking his lover's back, simply commented, "I don't know, but try not to worry over it. You have too much to take care of already."

"You're right as always," Quatre snuggled up to Trowa failing to note the rigidity in his lover's body.

The two walked back with no further discussion. Each had completely separate thoughts on their minds and neither would have wanted any further discussion anyway.

Arriving at the airfield, even in the darkness, it was easy to pick out the golden Winner Corporation jet. It was actually sitting square on the runway, engines running and lights on; the logo "Winner-1" emblazoned on the tail. This should have told Heero there was something strange going on, but he wasn't thinking along logical lines. //Good,// he thought, //that cuts fifteen minutes of prep time off.//

He slammed the breaks on, and jumped out of the ambulance, gun in hand as he sprinted towards the jet. Suddenly, a man stepped out of the cockpit and down to the tarmack.

"Freeze!" Heero shouted, an automatic response left from years of battle.

"No problem!" The man, clad in a rather gaudy yellow jacket, raised his hands high above his head to indicate the lack of weapons. He recalled his employer's warning to stay away from the guy, but it was too late. "You must be Heero, right? Quatre said to make sure you're stocked and ready. Everything's on board and you've got enough fuel to last about 12 hours at top speed." Heero continued to stalk closer to him, not even questioning his knowledge, so Rex continued. "I can pilot this for you if you want, but if not that's cool, too. You look beat and it may make whatever you have to do easier if you let me."

"No!" Heero growled as he motioned with the barrel of the gun for the man to step away from the boarding ladder. Racer did as he was instructed.

"Okay! Anyway, you need to know a couple other things. There's some stuff waiting for you in the co-pilot's seat. Also," he was shouting now as Heero boarded the jet and ran a quick and efficient pre-flight check. Rex was silently pleased to see the boy really *did* know what he was doing with the jet. "Keep the radio on with the settings it's at. I've already arranged false flight plans for you as a medical evacuation mission, so stick with the tower until you are out of here. The Preventers take a pretty hard line on unauthorized flights in anything as powerful as a supersonic Leer jet, okay? Otherwise they'll shoot you down with very little warning and this bird is *not* armed! Once you're clear, try to give Quatre some idea what's going on; he's pretty upset and this is one *hell* of a favor he's giving you! Bring my 'Shooting Star' back in one piece, got it?"

"Ryoukai," was all Heero responded as the hatch slammed shut and locked as he began to taxi down the runway.

Rex sighed, shaking his head to get the roar of the engines out of his ears if nothing else. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and turned towards his co-pilot. "Trixie, do you think that kid can handle this? Granted, I'd hate to see my favorite plane wrecked, but he looked like he had seen Hell and wasn't sure he was coming back." He slammed a fist into the retaining wall behind him. "Damnit! Why wouldn't he let me pilot for him?! He's going to get himself killed as exhausted as he looks right now!"

"Rex, calm down, this isn't your fault," she soothed. "Come on. The boss wanted you to call, remember?" His co-pilot dragged him out of his thoughts. "If Mr. Winner said to do this, then it's the right thing and you know it! Cut yourself some slack for once. Have some faith, okay?"

The two of them walked towards a quieter area as the jet pilot pulled out the cell phone, then turned and smirked. "You know something weird, Trixie? When I was getting the food and stuff the boss wanted put on board, for some strange reason I started grabbing handfuls of junk food. Go figure."

on to part 2

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