Title: Upon a Spider Catching a Fly
Pairings: 6+13, 3+4. 1+2+5
Warnings: I think I spelled Trieze's name at least five different ways throughout this whole thing...oh well. General weirdness and I hope you understand it. If not, email me: Mistress_Tsunami@yahoo.com . Thas about it. OOC. Major sap at the end.
Disclaimer: I own not the poem, Edward Taylor does. I wrote this in English when we were discussing him. I own not those that have to do with Gundam, a bunch of really rich people do. I associate not with those that claim Duo is a baka, for I have already beaten them to a bloody pulp, or praised them for a really well written fic and *then* beaten them to a bloody pulp. Either way, I get to beat someone up. Fun fun. ^_^
Feedback much 'preciated.
//poem//



//Thou sorrow, venom elf.
Is this thy play,
To spin a web of thyself
To catch a fly?
For why?//


Duo scowled. Now was definitely *not* the time for him to run out of ammo. He hadn't slept two hours on this past recon mission, which had been inexplicably extended from a one-man, ten-hour job, to a three-man, four-day job with only one man available. Him. Oh joy.

And this was only day three, not even half over.

How the Ozzies had found him, he had no idea. All he knew was one minute he had been alone with his camera, and the next he had been surrounded, fighting for his life and for his mission.

Foreseeing the inevitable, he told the camera to send all data to the nearest Gundam pilot - hopefully Quatre or Wufei, who would *know* something was wrong - and then proceeded to smash it into teeny, tiny pieces.

Actually, he was venting, but the Ozzies didn't need to know that. All they knew was that they were staring at one seriously pissed off Gundam pilot with circles under his eyes so dark he looked demonic.

So they shot him with a tranquilizer shot that would have downed a frisky stallion and the next thing Duo knew, he was eating dirt.

//I saw a pettish wasp
Fall foul therein.
Whom yet thy whorlpins did not clasp
Lest he should fling
His sting.//

Duo hadn't realized it, but while he was away all four of the other Gundam pilots had been relocated to the same safehouse, with instructions to bring him in on his way through town to his last safehouse.

He should have come through two days ago, but he hadn't. The pilots already knew that something was greatly amiss.

Quatre paced worriedly, as he had for the past twenty hours when it was not his shift to watch for Duo or sleep. Right now, Trowa was waiting at the rendezvous for Duo, taking the place of the poor corespondent who had been there originally. The guy had been so nervous he had practically run out when Wufei had told him the situation, and Quatre, feeling sorry for the man, had offered to take his place so that he could get some rest. Wufei had taken Quatre's place shortly after.

The corespondent was now in the hospital, recovering from what the doctors had proclaimed a 'nervous breakdown.'

Frankly, Wufei was worried that Quatre would have one himself if he didn't stop pacing and sit down or sleep. He was beginning to consider disposing of the coffee maker, but dismissed that idea when he remembered that Quatre drank tea, like himself, and there was no way he was giving *that* up.

Heero entered the room and sat down at the desk where his laptop had been set up, coffee in hand.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to get rid of that thing afterall...

"Don't you *sleep*?" Wufei demanded.

"Hn." Wufei swore that the constant typing was going to make him insane one of these days.

"What are you typing, anyway?"

"Mission Progress Report."

Wufei snapped. "That's it! Both of you! Bed! Now!" Heero nearly jumped ten feet in the air at Wufei's outburst, but as it was he merely lifted an eyebrow. Quatre was fighting the urge not to run whimpering into a dark corner. And were Wufei's eyes really glowing red?

"But - "

"NOW!" Wufei interrupted Heero's protests. Heero quietly obeyed, leaving his laptop as it was. Quatre nearly ran out of the room.

Wufei sighed, collapsing back down into his chair. He could hardly believe that he had snapped at them like that, and what's more was that they had obeyed. But they had been hurting themselves, and neglecting what their bodies needed most, sleep and nutrition. He couldn't help it, they were like a family to him now, replacing the one that he had lost with an even stronger bond. And now one of them was missing.

Once he was sure that they were both asleep, Wufei went to take Trowa's place watching for Duo.

So what if he had been waiting there for 30 of the 40 hours the braided boy had been missing? He was worried.

Besides, he had eaten at the diner. Although, he couldn't exactly remember when that had been...

Heero's laptop beeped, signaling an incoming message, but no one was around to hear it.

//But as afraid, remote
Didst stand hereat
And with thy little fingers stroke
And gently tap
His back.//

Trowa walked into the safehouse, and, after a short pause, headed straight for the bedrooms, worried.

It was way too quiet.

After checking that, yes, both Heero and Quatre were alive and soundly sleeping, Trowa went into the kitchen to prepare a decent meal for everyone...

...completely missing the laptop, which had gone to automatic, low-power stand-by mode.

It took him an hour or two to fix the meal ( he had lost track of the time ), and he was setting the still-steaming food out on the table as Heero walked over to the laptop, stretching. Trowa saw him, and sent him a glare. "Heero," he said warningly, "Sit. Eat."

Heero, more asleep than awake, complied without even touching his mouse.

Trowa brought the still sleepy Quatre in a few minutes later and they all enjoyed a nice, healthy meal.

Afterwards, Trowa and Heero went to sleep on two separate couches, and Quatre resumed his pacing, cup of tea in hand and Wufei's outburst forgotten.

He absently rubbed at his chest, feeling the concern of all the pilots for their lost partner, especially Heero and Wufei's. "Oh, Duo, where are you?" he asked the air. "Please, we want everyone to be together again. I...I wish we could just be a family and forget all about this stupid war."

And somewhere, his wish was heard, but not quite granted.

Quatre collapsed to the floor, his tea staining the carpet.

//Thus gently his didst treat
Lest he should pet,
And in a froppish, waspish heat
Should greatly fret
Thy net.//

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Someone get him stabilized!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Doctor, I need some help over here!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"He's not responding!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"He's slipping into a coma!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"He just...collapsed. Right in the middle of the diner. He's going to be all right, isn't he, doc?"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Get out of here! This *is* an EMC, people!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"I'm sorry, are you related?"

"No..."

"Then I have to ask you to wait over there, sir."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Too late, he's too far gone. He has to pull out of it himself, now."

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep...

//Whereas the silly fly,
Caught by it's leg,
Thou by the throat took'st hastily
And 'hind the head
Bite dead.//

"Lady Une! What's happening?"

"Commander Trieze, the prisoner has collapsed for reasons unknown. According to our medical staff, he's slipping into a coma - "

"WHAT?"

"But his body refuses to die. Apparently, he *can* pull out of this, if he is strong enough."

"..."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"If he's strong enough, then we'll end this war ourselves. Take him to the public hospital. Don't let it get out who he is."

"Yes, your grace."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

//This goes to pot, that not
Nature doth call.
Strive not above what strength hath got
Lest in the brawl
Thou fall.//

Duo was assaulted by a loud beeping noise in his ear. "Uh, what the hell?" he asked groggily as he fought to wake up.

"Duo?" a shaky, familiar voice asked to his right.

"Hey Quat, what happened?"

"I'm not sure..."

"Maxwell? That you?"

"Yeah, 'Fei. It's me. What's up with this, though? I can't see a thing, and that beep is getting on my nerves. I think it's pounding in time with my headache..."

"I'm not exactly sure. I can't see either, and I can't feel a damned thing."

"Chang? Maxwell? Quatre?"

"Trowa! Thank goodness, I thought maybe something had happened to you. Do you know who turned off the lights? Maybe the electricity went out," Quatre greeted enthusiastically.

"Hn."

"Heero? You here too? I must be dreaming, 'cause my mission ain't even over yet."

"What are you talking about, Maxwell?"

"Well, it kinda got extended, and then I didn't get much sleep, and somehow those OZ bastards found me, and then they through me in a cell, and then *poof*, I'm here."

"Something has happened to all of us."

"No shit, sherlock."

"I don't get the reference..."

Duo sighed. Trust Trowa not to understand something that simple about American Lit, but know all the other complex stuff.

"I think that whatever has happened, we'd best figure out a way to see and to figure out the situation."

Quatre yawned. "I'm so tired, though. Can we get some sleep first?"

"That's probably best," Wufei agreed. "Good night."

"Aren't we going to our rooms or something?"

"How can we when we can't even see?"

"Good point. Oh well. Night!"

//This fray seems thus to us:
Hell's spider gets
His entrails spun to whipcords' thus,
And wove to nets,
And sets,//

Duo awoke to a groggy beeping noise. Again. "Not fair," he complained. "I jus' wen' ta s'eep. Turn that damned thing off."

"Sorry, no can do," said an oddly familiar voice, and not in a good way. Duo turned on his side to face Zechs, sitting quite contentedly in Treize's lap. Duo groaned, then turned so that he could bury his face in the pillow, pulling cords and IV drips and not really caring.

"Wanna s'eep," he complained. "Damned mission."

Trieze looked on sympathetically. "Then go ahead and sleep, Duo, for the war is nearly over."

The statement confused Duo, but he didn't care, he simply went back to sleep, certain that another beating was on the way. And this time, he drifted off to peaceful dreams.

//To tangle Adam's race
In's stratagems
To their destructions, spoiled, made base
By venom things,
Damned sins.//

Wufei woke up in three seconds flat, all trace of sleep, or, truthfully, coma, gone. He methodically pulled out all the IV's and cords attached to him and made sure not to set any of the alarms off. "How'd I get in a hospital, anyway?" he asked himself.

"Apparently, you collapsed in a diner and went into a coma." Wufei jerked at the sound of Lady Une's voice.

He growled deep in his throat. "What are you doing here?"

"Just thought that you might like to know that one Duo Maxwell is in the room next door, and you are welcome to come and see him."

"What's the catch?" Wufei asked suspiciously.

"That you help us lose this war."

"Huh?"

"Lord Treze has told me that he wishes for the war to end, and for OZ to lose. In order to do that, he must battle an opponent from the opposite field, and lose. He wishes that opponent to be you."

"And then I can see Duo?"

"You can see him right now if you wish. You could see him anyway. I am merely relaying what his excellency asks of me."

"Where is he?"

"Follow me." Belatedly, Wufei worried if she knew he meant *Duo*, not Trize.

//But mighty, gracious Lord,
Communicate
Thy grace to break the cord; afford
Us glory's gate
And state.//

When Heero woke up the first thing he noticed was that Quatre was lying on the floor, his tea spilled all over the carpet. Swearing softly, he quickly made his way to the blonde's side, checking his pulse and moving him to a more comfortable position.

Trowa, hearing the curses, woke up and was immediately right behind the other pilot. "What happened?" he asked.

"Not sure. Appears to be stable. Quatre, wake up," Heero urged the sleeping boy.

Slowly, Quatre's eyes eased open. "Trowa?"

"Here."

"I had the strangest dream..."

Trowa smirked. "As did I. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Couch," Heero commanded. Quatre willingly eased himself into Trowa's arms, and Trowa carried him carefully to the soft furniture that substituted a bed. Heero, after making sure that Quatre was being well taken care of, reflected on his own dream. He nearly fought the urge to check his laptop, but training realized that it had been quite a while since he had actually done so, and so gave in to the silent urge.

He found Duo's images of the base.

"Trowa, Quatre, email from Duo. They're images from the base. I can trace it, it left a one-way trail, dispersing after it came here." Trowa nodded, holding Quatre's hand as the blonde sat up on the couch. "I'll get Wufei and go after him. You two stay here."

"Heero, there's three cell phones on the nightstand in my room. Bring one here, and take the other two, one for yourself and the other in case you and Wufei have to split up. Call if you need anything."

Heero nodded in assent and went to retrieve the small devices. After giving one to Quatre, who informed Heero that he was one speed dial one, and the other phone was two, Heero left the safehouse to find Wufei.

He wasn't at the diner.

"Where is the man who was waiting in this booth?" he demanded of the owner, who immediately recognized him.

"Oh, welcome back. Your friend collapsed, I'm sorry to say. He's at the hospital on Elm Street."

Heero was out the door in two seconds flat, a new record, even for him.

//We'll nightingale sing like,
When perched on high
In glory's cage, thy glory, bright,
And thankfully,
For joy.//

"What do you mean, you can't find him?" Heero demanded of the nurse.

"I'm sorry, sir. Our records indicate that he was freed from his room, this afternoon, but not authorized to leave the building. That in and of itself is an accomplishment, sir, since he was in a coma."

"Page him."

"I'm sorry sir, I can't do that."

Heero pulled a gun out and aimed it right between her eyes. "Find me Chang Wufei or I will kill you."

"Y-yes sir," the now terrified nurse stuttered. She pulled out an intercom. "Would Chang Wufei please report to the front desk."

Heero patiently waited, his gun still trained on her forehead.

"Still using the same tactics, I see," chimed an all-too-familiar voice.

"Zechs."

"So you do remember me. Alls good. We've called a cease-fire while your friends recover. It seems that both Chang and Maxwell have suffered from extreme loss of sleep, the result being a self-induced coma, I believe," Zechs stated, the very image of calm, though the gun had shifted to him at the mention of the name 'Maxwell.'

"Where are they?"

"Follow me."

Not long after, Heero found himself in a room with two friends and three enemies, all his internal alarms screaming for him to high tail it and leave the others, and yet he practically threw himself onto the bed, hugging both of its occupants.

Duo opened one sleepy eye. "Hey 'Ro," he greeted. "Ya know that Treize agreed to end the war if he lost ta 'Fei, and he said he'd lose on purpose, too!"

Heero grunted, nuzzling into the other two. "And what did the dragon say?"

"Of course I accepted, Yuy. And what is with you?"

Heero merely tightened his death-grip on the other two Gundam pilots.

"Woah, there, 'Ro. We aren't going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Promise."

"Good, now call Winner and Barton, they were worried sick, and Winner collapsed as well." Heero made no move to let go, however. "Cell phone's in my pocket. Speed number one."

Wufei dug out the phone and made the nessary call, afterwards also clinging to his loves, as they clung to him and each other.

THE END
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