Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not mine. Duh.

Note: I also don't know anything about medicine, autopsies, lawyers, or anything else remotely similar to these. If you know, feel free to correct me.






Duo searched relentlessly, but there seemed to be no connection that he could find, no trace that he could follow. He worked into the night, through supper. He didn't bother trying to find anything else or working on some other crime. The money he'd gotten from the export would support him for a short time, and he wanted to crack this mystery. Never before had he been thwarted in any investigation that he'd attempted, and he didn't like being beaten.

“Damn, damn, damn.” He opened a window and checked the results of the copperheads so far. They hadn't gotten too far; they were checking back to speak with the prostitutes and pimps in another hour or so.

He knew at least one could very well remember him. It would only be a matter of time before even the stupidest cops met up with him.

He had only a couple more days, tops. He had to crack the case of the mystery men by then.

<*>

“All right, we're going back.” Heero strapped his two-way to his belt and turned to his team. “Wufei should be returning to us tomorrow, since his bust went off without a hitch. Let's give him something to do.”

Trowa smiled. “And leave it all to him?”

“To let him take the glory?” O'Hara scoffed. “He's gotten enough of that, I think.”

“In any case, this case is personal to most of us,” Quatre said quietly. “It's still a wonder that the Chief hasn't pulled us all off.”

“It's because you're the best,” Carlton said.

“If that's true, then let's earn this privilege,” Trowa remarked dryly.

“You all know your districts,” Heero told them all. “Get moving.”

“Sir.” And they all moved out to their cars.

<*>

Heero braked his car on the side of one of his streets. Three women stood on a corner, talking to each other and trying to look comfortable in the fall weather. He pulled to a stop and stepped out. With a quick assessment, all he could tell for certain was that they were two red-heads and a brunette, hardly dressed and already making cooing noises at him. He couldn't tell if they knew anything just by boring holes into them and wondering if he wasn't interested because they were hookers. They flirted with him initially as he came closer, but finally sobered when he pulled out his badge.

“Whaddaya want?” one red-head asked. Her hair was fuzzy and matted a bit in the back, curly. It fell just past her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep brown.

“I'd like to know about the Maxwell Church fire,” Heero said, cutting straight to the point.

“The church?” the other red-head repeated. “The hell? You people were here then, what're ya doin' here again fer?”

“We have a new lead. Can you tell me anything?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Lit the sky like a rocket. Ain't never seen nothin' like it 'fore. They say the priest got toasted. God didn't do much fer 'im, did 'e?”

“Was there anyone who survived?” Heero asked. “Any eye-witness accounts?”

“How the hell should we know? Do we look like we go ta church?” the other red-head put in.

Heero refrained from remarking. “What about you?” He turned to the brunette. Her eyes, like the first red-heads, were deep brown. But unlike her more fiery counterpart, her eyes were sharp and keen.

“You mean Dodger.”

“'Dodger?'” Heero turned his eyes full-force on her. “Who's that?”

“Dodger was the quickest damn rat in the gang,” she told him, then expanded at his faintly blank look. “A street rat, and a good one. He was a fine kid, always willin' to help ya out. Was one o' the few survivors, he was, and took up after Solo went 'n' died. The priest took him in after a steal went bad. 'Twas only a few months later that the church went up. Poor kid.” She shook her head.

“What happened then?” Heero persisted. Finally, finally he was getting somewhere. This kid could be the key to everything.

“Dunno. The kid disappeared.”

Shit. Of course he did. “What did he look like?”

“A girl,” the second red-head entered. “Right, Paisley? He was the one with the long hair and big eyes.”

“Yeah, 'at's 'im. I remember. That weasel stole from one o' my men once. Slick brat.” The fuzzy hooker spoke up.

“Yep,” Paisley said. “Last I saw, he was attendin' school with his hair in one o' them fancy braids.” She turned to Heero again. “He's a good kid, officer. If you hurt him, you ain't never gonna get anything from any o' us again.”

Hardly a threat, but it told him she meant what she said. If he brought up the question of the boy's violent tendencies, he'd be laughed off the block. He thanked the women and left.

The other women weren't as helpful as the first three, but all of them had only nice things to say about Dodger. None, however, had any clue as to where he may be. According to them, the kid might as well have been in the fire with the other three. Some even said he was, and that the useless cops - “sorry, officer,” - hadn't even found the “poor sap.”

Heero also found that none knew as much about the kid's past as Paisley had. He doubled back a few hours later to see if she was still available. He arrived at the corner, but the only one still there was the first hooker, the one with the fuzzy hair. The woman had hardly remembered Dodger at all. He would get no new information from her.

“Hey there, sugar! Back for some real action this time?” she called. He turned away and walked back to his car, not giving the woman a second thought.

As for Dodger, his thoughts were whirling.

Dodger had lived in the church, but his remains had never been found. Despite that, a young child with a background on the streets had managed to disappear like he'd never existed. How? To where?

The child had to have been scared. A sickness had left him in charge of a gang of homeless children, and then something went wrong and a priest took him in. Then his home was destroyed. This guy didn't have much luck.

Of course, one thing couldn't be ignored: if this child had known something about the murders, he may have been hunted down. The child may have been killed years ago. If that were the case, that would bring the death count up to twelve.

Heero grimaced. It was unforgivable that so many would die without the police knowing about it. Worse, the police would still not know if it weren't for Shinigami.

Dodger. The quickest rat, huh? Could he have been fast enough to escape his pursuers? Where would he go? How would he survive?

He called the others in. “There was a survivor,” he told them.

“Really?” O'Hara whooped. “Who?”

“I got something, too,” Quatre said. “Something about a child named 'Dodger.' As far as anyone knows, he didn't have an actual name.”

“Yes. I got the same.” Heero listed off what he'd learned. “Anyone else find anything?”

“No,” O'Hara piped.

“Nothing,” Carlton admitted.

“I didn't get a name or any information on the kid,” Trowa replied, “but a crackhead managed to tell me that he saw a kid running to the church. He said it was odd, because even the most devout Christians shouldn't want to enter a fire.”

“Definitely high,” O'Hara noted.

“Did the child leave?” Heero questioned.

“The man didn't know. He figured any idiot that would jump in a fire was asking for death.”

“Or trying to save someone,” Quatre said quietly.

“Most likely,” Heero affirmed. “Let's get to the station and get our notes together. In an hour, we'll meet in the second conference room.”

<*>

Duo glared at his monitor. The bastards! If it killed him, he would crack their identities. He had to. The person behind this, whoever he was, had brought along the deaths of Father Maxwell, Sister Helen, and Sister Mary. He couldn't let the man get away.

“Slimy bastard,” he snarled. “I'll get you. I'll find you no matter what it takes!”

He looked up the information on the cops, but nothing new had been added into a report yet. Duo knew it was only a matter of time. He should go on the assumption that they knew a child survived. He'd chosen the name Duo Maxwell. It wouldn't be long until they found him. Tomorrow, most likely. Wufei would put it together.

He stifled a yawn and typed in a couple of new commands. He was at a standstill. What more could he do? He'd been hacking for years, ever since shortly after the fire. He knew his way around a computer, and if there was anything he'd learned, it was that there was always a back door. He just had to find it.

He worked through the night, taking catnaps when he felt his focus wane. When dawn broke through the sky, he was tired and frustrated, but he'd found a small break. On impulse, he ditched getting ready for work and dug in.

It was a practically non-existent hole, hidden behind layers and layers of back-tracking. One had to work backwards to find it. It took him another hour and cost him a major cramp in his back, but he finally got the fucker open.

It was a small folder filled with nothing but codes. Duo hard-wired his computer seventeen ways until he was absolutely certain that its findings and contents were locked before putting up even more security on it. He was already paranoid security-wise, but leaving this alone rankled him. He wanted to get started on it, but that may be disastrous. He had to work full hours today, just in case Chang Wufei managed to link him to Dodger. He had to be extra cautious now.

He got up to get ready, hurrying through his usual rituals. He couldn't be late, despite being an hour behind schedule and bone-tired.

He'd worked on worse before.

<*>

Heero was to meet everyone within the third conference room that morning. Chang was pacing up and down like a caged panther. As soon as Heero walked in, Wufei turned to him.

“You mean to tell me some bastard murdered my sensei?”

Heero nodded. “And my foster father.”

Wufei punched his palm in a rare sign of agitation. “So this bastard has linked us somehow.”

“Yes.” Heero personally enjoyed Wufei as his partner not just because of the man's skill, but also because of the man's ability to think the same way Heero did. The two of them were often linking thoughts together without needing words. They were the perfect team.

“These notes on Dodger – why haven't they been sent in?” Wufei pointed to the notes everyone had made and gathered together the night before.

“I have reason to believe that Shinigami is watching this case.”

“The photos,” Wufei surmised. “Yes, I thought the same. You believe he's watching us.”

“Yes. And in case he has any personal involvement in this case, I want to keep things sealed as much as possible for as long as possible.”

“Yes. There would be no reason for him to become involved in this case if it weren't personal to him in some way.”

“That may not be true.”

Heero and Wufei turned to face Quatre, who was accompanied by Trowa. “What do you mean?” Heero asked.

Quatre couldn't meet his eyes. “We weren't getting anywhere,” he blurted finally. “I... I made an offer to Shinigami. I... asked for his help.”

“The hell?!” Wufei roared, but Trowa put up his hand.

“I agreed with his actions,” the green-eyed lieutenant said calmly. “We truly were getting nowhere, and Quatre's initiative has gotten us much farther on this case.”

“Shit.” Wufei cursed eloquently, voicing Heero's opinion on this matter, as well. “There's no way he would help cops. He's never helped before; in fact, he's made a point of not helping us.”

“I... I offered for the deal to only involve him and me. Not as a cop, but as a... buyer.”

“You paid?” Wufei gasped, aghast.

Quatre shrugged. “I had the money to spend, and it was off the record. I didn't hand out any information, either. Technically, it's by the books.”

“Technically, it's breaking the law,” Wufei muttered.

Heero reigned in his urge to yell at Quatre and moved toward their notes. “In any case, what's done is done. I still don't want our information leaked too quickly. For now, we keep our findings to ourselves. That includes keeping the Chief uninformed. Nothing leaves this room.”

“Isn't that a bit extreme?” Quatre asked.

“I want no leaks.” Heero shook his head. “The chief will immediately file a report, and that would mean that Shinigami immediately gets the information.”

“Um, something else.” Quatre raised his hand a bit, as if prepared to be called out in class and only half sure of the answer he was about to give. “I... I asked for his help again this morning. I haven't gotten any word, but-”

“You what?” Wufei seemed to turn red in front of Heero's very eyes. “What for?”

“Well, before, I had just asked for help on the case, but this time I asked for information on G.O.S.H. in particular. But I haven't gotten a response.”

“Why?” Heero asked for Wufei this time.

“Well, don't you think it odd that he only gave me a little information? Usually he gives out everything once the price has been named and paid. But he only gave me a little.”

“Did you ever think it's because you're a cop?” Wufei drawled sardonically.

O'Hara and Carlton strode in. “What?” O'Hara asked.

“We're discussing Shinigami,” Heero told them shortly. “Apparently Quatre contacted him.”

Quatre made a small movement then. He made an equally small sound, then turned to Trowa in concern. Heero waited for moment to see if Quatre had anything to say. It took a minute, but Quatre finally replied to Wufei's sarcastic question. “It was an arrangement between two people, and though Shinigami may take the law into his own hands, he doesn't back out of an arrangement.”

“Hn.” Heero thought it over. “Can you contact him?”

“I go through a fan mail network, but Shinigami has rigged it to eventually make it to him.”

“I tried tracing it, but it lost me somewhere in the Dominican Republic,” Trowa told him.

“Damn,” Wufei murmured, his voice both angered and awed.

“Send him another message.”

“What should I say?” Quatre pulled out his phone.

“Ask him if the deal is over.”

“All ri- wait, I already have a reply from him.”

“What does it say?” Everyone in the room moved closer.

“Here.” Quatre handed Heero his phone. Heero took it and read.

It's not over yet. You're on the wrong trail. As expected from cops.

“The hell?” Wufei read from over Heero's shoulder, one of two who could without inciting his irritation. “Arrogant bastard.”

“The wrong trail? Has he already found Dodger?” Trowa, the other who could safely read over Heero's shoulder, backed off and told O'Hara and Carlton what it said.

“'It's not over,'” Carlton repeated. “So Winner was right.”

“That's right, I suppose,” O'Hara agreed. “If we ignore to jibe to our profession, this guy's a few steps ahead, like a scout.”

“Why won't he tell us who Dodger is?” Wufei mused.

“Maybe it's because he doesn't think it's important to the case,” Quatre put in.

“Let's not assume anything.” Heero glanced at everyone in the room. “We'll find this Dodger person.”

“How? All we know is that he grew up on the streets with some rats whose leader was Solo and that he survived the Maxwell Church fire – and the second part's a 'maybe.'” O'Hara looked disparaged just thinking about it.

“Wait – it couldn't be,” Wufei spoke suddenly.

“What?” Heero barked.

“It's an extremely loose link,” Wufei started, but Heero just gave him a look that urged him to continue nonetheless. “Well, my mechanic-”

“Your mechanic?” O'Hara scoffed. “What the hell? You two chat about your cases?”

“No,” Wufei hissed. “His name is Duo Maxwell.”

Everything stilled suddenly, and the air became thick.

“You're fucking kidding me,” O'Hara guffawed. “What the hell kind of coincidence is that?”

“Some say such occurrences cannot be coincidence,” Trowa said with amusement.

“Let's check it out. O'Hara and Carlton, finalize these files, please, and put them in a secure location. Quatre, I'll need you and Trowa to look on-line, just in case, and see if you can crack anything, find anything. See if there's another bozo out there with a mysteriously perfect name.” Heero grabbed his coat.

Quatre's lips twitched. “Yes, sir.”

“Wufei?” But Wufei was already putting on his coat.

“Let's go,” he said tersely. “My car?”

“Fine.” He looked over his shoulder as he left. “Keep your two-ways on. Keep everyone posted, but don't give anything away. Remember that even the best frequency can be found.”

“Right.”

<*>

Duo wasn't the least bit surprised when he recognized the soft purr of Lieutenant Chang's car. He wiped his hands on a rag and spared a glance for the busted piece of junk old Mr. Romney had brought in. He was grateful to get away from it, at least.

He walked out with his usual grin in place. When Wufei opened his door and stepped out, Duo waved cheerily. “Come on, man, I just fixed it!” he called out with a grin. Wufei didn't smile.

Then another man stepped out from the passenger side, and Duo's breath hitched in his throat.

He knew instantly who the man was, knew from the pictures of him. He knew the man's name, age, and psych profile.

What he didn't know was that seeing Heero Yuy would make him go momentarily weak in the knees.

He cocked an eyebrow and hoped his girly reaction hadn't been picked up. “And you brought a friend?”

Heero flipped open his badge, then closed it. “We're with the police. We'd like to speak with you, if you have the time.”

No-nonsense, formal. Heero was all-business. That matched his profile, at least. Jesus. A head-shot just did not do the man justice.

He would freak over his obviously gay reaction later.

“Police?” Duo looked over to Wufei, playing his part exactly. “You're a cop?” He turned back to Heero. “Hey, what the hell's going on?”

“We just want to ask you a few questions, Duo,” Wufei told him, trying to soothe.

“What for? I didn't see a car accident, I didn't screw with any of my customers. What do you want?”

“We'd like to ask you about the Maxwell Church fire.”

Duo had already figured out his best course of action. He let his eyes widen for a moment, let his nose flare. “What about it?”

“You know about it?” Heero asked.

“Are you kidding me? I used to live there.”

Both men sucked in a sharp breath. “You are 'Dodger?'” Wufei demanded.

Duo blinked, even as he inwardly applauded their deductive abilities. Any other cop would have taken forever to piece things together. And the hookers wouldn't talk to just anyone. Of course, if they were talking to two men like this, helping them out would have been like a hope for a business transaction. “The hell? I haven't been called that in years.” Duo looked around. “Look, can we come inside, please? I don't have thousands of customers, but I may still get company.”

“Of course.” They followed him inside and waited as he put up the closed sign before speaking to him again. “Can you tell us what happened that day?”

Duo always wondered why they bothered putting their requests into question format. There wasn't really a choice in answering or not. Being that polite was just stupidly pointless. Just another reason to not be fond of cops, he supposed. “The whole thing?”

“Yes. Was there anything strange that happened that day?” Heero questioned. God he was hot.

“No, but the day before? Hell yeah.” Duo rolled his shoulders as if remembering something that made him uneasy.

“Could you tell us?” Heero continued.

Duo paused for a split second. He knew how to fake out others. He was perfect at it. “I... guess. Some guys were at the church.”

“It's a church. That's not unusual,” Wufei pointed out.

Duo slanted the man a look. “I just thought it weird that they were beating up Father Maxwell, that's all.” He shook his head. “Look, this isn't gonna solve anything, is it? I mean, they've been... dead... for a while now. Why are you asking me this?”

“A new lead has re-opened the investigation,” Heero told him.

“A new lead? You mean to that arsonist?” Duo leaned forward. “You're finally gonna catch the bastard?”

“Do you know who he is?”

“The hell?” Duo shook his head. “If I'm your new lead, just close it. I only came back in time to watch the place burn. I tried to get in, but...” He shook his head again. “I didn't see anything. In court, watching some guys beat up the priest the day before doesn't actually mean anything.” At Wufei's slightly stunned look, Duo cracked a crooked smile. “I checked it out a few years ago, when I could finally understand that legal jargon crap.”

“How did you survive?” Wufei asked.

Well, well. Curious, were they? “I ran, of course. I found an old warehouse, not even used by pimps because of how many people died there once. People said they heard ghosts, but it was mostly because the place was literally falling apart piece by piece. I made my home there.”

“What did you do?”

Duo shrugged. “I did what Sister Helen would've wanted me to do – I went to school.”

“That's it?” Heero asked skeptically.

His voice was Heaven. Duo almost shivered. What the hell? “Yeah, pretty much. Kinda broke down, swore not to get too close to people... but yeah. Went to school, then quit after I graduated high school. I went under a fake name, didn't have any parents come in for Parent's Day or anything...”

“How did you survive?”

Duo had known this question would come up, and here he put his freedom on the line. He ran and hid, after all, but never lied. “I stole.”

Heero nodded, even as Wufei sputtered. “You could have gone to a shelter, or an orphanage.”

“I was a kid of the streets, born and technically raised. Relying on strangers wasn't in the code, and usually got you killed. Besides... I was scared. I thought I had the hand of death, you know?” He rolled his shoulders again, faltered and looked away.

“You thought it was your fault?” Heero spoke. The man was gorgeous, but his voice, as beautiful as it was, could turn to pure ice.

“Well, yeah. First Solo, then Father Maxwell and Sister Helen.” Duo shrugged and blushed faintly. “Yeah, I thought it was me. Like death followed me.”

“Like you were the God of Death?”

Duo almost grinned at the reference. Smart bastard. But if they were matching wits, Heero better not underestimate him. “Huh? Oh... I guess. But I saw it more as if I were cursed or something.”

Wufei shot Heero a sharp look. Apparently Wufei didn't approve of Heero's questioning. Heero shrugged almost imperceptibly. “These men who were in the church – what did they look like?”

Duo closed his eyes for a moment and let the memory wash in. Even he didn't notice the slight tensing of his muscles, the faint shudder that rippled through him. But Heero and Wufei did. “One was about five foot ten, the other taller. The taller one – a black mustache, black hair. The mustache was really thin, his lips big and wide. His eyes were kind of beady, his nose big. He had short, kind of stubby fingers, long legs. A bit on the heavy side, probably about two hundred pounds or so. The other was smaller, more wiry, with musician fingers and squinty brown eyes. His hair was light and buzzed off. He had a square jaw and thin lips. No facial hair. They were wearing long sleeves and pants, so I don't know about markings.” Duo opened his eyes and waited for the pictures to dissolve into the back of his head once again.

“Why didn't you tell the cops this information all those years ago?” Heero demanded.

Duo just shrugged. “I couldn't. If it were those two guys who burned the place, they'd seen me. My instinct was to run and hide, and I did. There was no point when I graduated; the case was long closed, unsolved. And I knew it wouldn't change anything. Remember? I read the lawyer jargon. I'd be laughed out of the station, wouldn't I?”

Wufei sighed. “I'm sorry to bring all this up, Maxwell.”

Duo shrugged and tried to give him a smile. Because he meant it to, it failed. “But you said you had a lead?”

“Maybe,” Wufei hedged. “I won't get your hopes up.”

Duo nodded. “I get that. All right. I... Is it possible for you to keep me up to tabs? Not step-by-step or anything, but... just whether you're getting close or something?”

“If we find anything concrete, we'll let you know,” Wufei assured him.

Duo knew that didn't mean anything, but he smiled in gratitude nonetheless. “Thank you.” Then he frowned. “Hey – are you gonna stop coming over when you have car trouble? I don't steal anymore. It was on a need-to-live basis only. And-” he smiled “-I was never convicted.”

Despite himself, Wufei's lips sought an upward path. “No, I'll continue coming to you. You're the best mechanic I've had, and the only honest one.”

“I run and hide, but I never lie,” Duo said with a small smile.

“Mr. Maxwell,” Heero interrupted, “we ask that you remain available for the foreseeable future, please.”

What part of the future was foreseeable? But Duo nodded. “I'm not leaving my shop any time soon. I like being able to pay the bills.”

Heero nodded. “Very well. We'll be in touch.”

“All right. And, hey – thank you. Even if you don't catch whoever-it-was... it's nice to know you haven't forgotten about them.”

“We don't forget,” Wufei said gravely. Duo met his gaze for a short time, then walked them out. He watched as they left. It was best to play as if involved but innocent. Now even if they pulled up his records, they would find no variation, because he'd spoken only the truth. The only thing he'd done was left out a few details, and those couldn't be found in any report.

He looked at his sign and sighed. Mr. Romney's car would have to wait. He needed to sleep, and he needed to plan his next course of action.

And he needed to get Lieutenant Yuy out of his head.

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Every story unless otherwise claimed is Kayura's, and is copyrighted 2006 under her name.