Trowa yawned, stumbling in the door as Catherine was on her way out. A green apron tied around her waist with yellow letters proclaiming "Bloom's Groceries". She stopped him short, putting both hands on his shoulders, grinning like an idiot. "And where were YOU last night? Were you with someone?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that" He said grumpily. He'd had a few choice words for Dr.J about the suffering of 01, not that the creepy old guy cared. He didn't even know why HE cared; only that he did.

"I want details. Who is he, what does he look like, what did you do all night...er maybe I don't want to know that last one."

"What makes you think it was a he?" He knew she could see through any lie he came up with. "Ok so it was. Dark blue eyes, dark brown hair, black vinyl-ish pants... I was helping him with his problems. Two of them, actually...rather big bad painful ones. That's all"

"I see...and will you be meeting up with him again?"

"I can't really avoid it"

"I'm late...but you got to promise if you bring him by the house, I have to meet him. Oh, what's his name?"

"Zero-One." 01, the prototype. First of his kind. Without a life of his own. "That's his nickname or whatever, I don't really know his real name. Can I go to sleep now?"

"No, you have a guest. A friend of yours. He's here to talk to you about your job". She motioned to somewhere in the house then hopped into the car and took off. The tires screeched. His older sister never had been a very good driver.

"Friend? But I don't have any friends" Trowa looked in the living room where a boy was watching HIS TV on HIS couch. "What do you want, at this time of the morning, and HOW did you find my house?"

"It was in the records, of course. When you applied for the job. I heard about the accident and your *chuckle* babysitting duties" Quatre smiled up at him, far too bright eyed and bushy tailed for such an early hour. "I told you didn't I, that you would need him, and he you. Only, he won't do you much good from inside the cage. You'll have to set him free. Wings are made to fly, not to be restrained." A tiny teal colored bird with a white front was perched on his finger, listening as if it could understand. "Oh, Lazuli says hello."

"The bird talks to you?"

"All living things talk, its a matter of listening. Although the trees and the birds...they don't talk, they sing." He stroked under her little avian chin, ruffling tiny feathers, while she cooed happily. "Life is full of melody, every creature carries its own signature tune. Its a matter of deciphering the notes into words." As Trowa sat down next to Quatre he noticed his cat Lion was also sitting in his lap seemingly oblivious to the bird. Any other time and he would have pounced instantly, claiming it as dinner. "I see things, I hear things... lately, more and more... thoughts, murmurs, secrets uttered, the symphonies on the wind. Times are changing swiftly, and you'll be the one who can counteract them, who can put it in a different direction. You can set the future to the correct path."

"Uh...yeah. Sure." Trowa stretched out lazily, more interested in what Jenny Jones and her guests had to say than his own uninvited guest did. "Today on our show: rich kid who talks to animals, boy with giant metal wings, and a really confused 18 year old janitor...strange conspiracy?" He said aloud to himself.

"Trowa..." Quatre scolded lightly. He took his hand and squeezed it tight. "Listen" he commanded. "close your eyes, turn off the TV, turn of everything, and turn the world on"

"If you start asking me to do Yoga and recommend self-help tapes, I'm kicking you out...." Trowa grumbled but then...he did begin to hear things. Chimes, a buzzing... whispers of languages that couldn't be defined, that didn't sound human. A glow overtook his vision, the energy in the air sparked alive in a neon light show. And then an audible scream from down below, from all around filled his ears. It was deafening, heartbreaking, soul-shaking. "What...what is that?"

"Earth... She cries. She cries." Quatre looked at him then, the bird fluttering in panic, a dull look in the greenish blue tint of his eyes. "She's always known what's best. Think of all the varied forms of life, of climates, and how humans have smothered it. They're trying to mold and shape her to their own needs. They're suffocating her, they won't let life be... to find its own path. You can't invent the future; the future invents itself based on thousands of trials and decision that can't be calculated, that SHOULDN'T be. They want to decide what the next evolutions will be; it's not our place to decide. The harmony of Earths masterpiece has been disrupted. It is up to you to make it beautiful again. Free him, free him and things will change. Believe me..."

"Me? C'mon, you're saying the fate of the world rests with ME? You have got to be kidding buddy. But I'll try I guess. They do treat him pretty bad up there at the lab. " He got up and started pacing. "People won't react well to him, I'll have to hide him there until I can teach him how to act in this world. And you better help, or else" He didn't have an or else, but he felt he needed some sort of control in the situation.

 

---

 

"Do you believe in heaven above, do you believe in love. Don't tell a lie, don't be false or untrue, it all comes back to you" Trowa sang along with the old dance tune blaring through his headphones, undeniably 80s with its keyboard sounds as he strolled non-chalantly into the building. For some odd reason it reminded him of a mouth of a beast about to swallow him up. He shook that off that off. "Open fire, on my burning heart, I've never been lucky in love, my defenses are down, a kiss or a frown, I can't survive on my own..." something was nagging at him, more than the amazing things Quatre had showed him... there was a sense of foreboding. Something bad was going to happen tonight, he could feel it in his bones. He kept singing the thoughts away. "Every day, we've all been lead astray, it hard to be lucky in love. it gets in your eyes, its making you cry, don't know what to do, don't know what to do, looking for love, calling heaven above...send me an angel...send me an angel...right now...." He reached out his hand to the empty air.

At that very moment he was beckoned into the lab's control tower. He was directed to watch what was happening below. 01's wings were functional; he stood with a gun in hand in the middle of the room in a fighting stance, ready, waiting. Dr.J's fingers (human and metal construct) flew over the buttons of the various machines, throwing switches, churning out codes on little blue screens. Panels in the wall opened up to lasers and weapons as well as targets.... the air shimmered and solidified. A hologram was thrown up to project that of a war torn city full of army personnel surrounding 01, positioned to open fire at any second and kill. a countdown beeped, numbers cascading until they reached zero, then all hell opened up.

"What do you think of my boy now, eh?" Dr.J sat back in the swivel chair, disturbing grin on his wrinkled face.

Trowa walked closer to the window until his hands pressed against it. 01 dodged every bullet, moving faster than he had ever seen anyone move... in mid flight no less. It was a liquid motion, without flaw, the tips of the silvery wings setting off sparks. he took out hologram after hologram with indifference to what appearance it had... "He's... magnificent. I've never seen anyone so strong, so ... above it all"

"I design the very best. Not a thing wrong with him. not one piece out of place, no bugs in his operating systems. Mmm-hmm. So we've had enough of this. How about a better test of his abilities and absolute loyalty to his creator." The old man changed the regiment and computer output. This time a tropical setting was projected, complete with sand underfoot, water lapping at the shore, swaying palms and a orange streaked sky... and Trowa standing there in front of him. Dr.J pressed a button and spoke into a microphone "Shoot him"

01 hesitated, looking about in wonder. He leveled the gun at the projection after a minute with steady aim. He lowered it again and reached out a hand to touch the holograms face. He shook his own head "Its cold... not real" Dr.J realized his mistake and changed the functions of the program so that that particular pocket of air with hold warmth, and still 01 shook his head. "Still not real" he shot it without flinching.

"Quite the predicament" Dr.J stood up "You see, he's mine, he's had no human contact his whole life, except when's he's sedated for repairs and medical checkups...and no one has much memory of being unconscious, now do they. You've changed all that, and now, he questions me, argues... he's getting a will of his own. You've altered my perfect creation. You were supposed to help me control him. Now, he'd rather take orders from you than me"

Trowa, before he could open his mouth to speak, was grabbed by the arms by guards he hadn't known were waiting just outside he door, and thrown in the pen. He stood up from where he had been tossed to the floor to meet the killer's cold gaze, the one he had held in his arms only the previous night.

"Shoot him" the order was said with a vindictive nature. The mad scientist was dead serious.

Staring down the barrel of the gun, Trowa's lip trembled. "Please...don't..." 01's hand gently stroked the side of his face, the other hand dropped the gun.

"Shoot him! Now! Do as I say!" the angry gruff voice of the doctor screeched.

"No. He's real. He's kind. I won't..." 01 stood in front of him, as if protecting him from some unknown force. Fingers intertwined and locked on to each other, holding tightly. "I want... I've never wanted before. I only ask for this one thing... I want him to live. I like being near him, he makes me... feel" 01 searched for just the right words "He makes me feel.... there's no way to say it. Its a sensation without any description I could find in any database. I..." he hesitated "The object my dreams tell me to find, the item project 4 speaks of, urges me to search for... I've found it in him."

"And what is that, pray tell." The old man was obviously annoyed at the display of rebellion.

"Love. I think I have found love."

"Thank you..." Trowa whispered softly. "I don't know what else to say"

"PROPOSTEROUS!" The man in the control room fumed. "YOU WERE NOT PROGRAMED TO LOVE! BOYS DON'T LOVE OTHER BOYS! HAVE YOU FRIED YOUR CIRCUTS? " He lowered his tone "don't forget I made you,. I can destroy you. I have raised and taught you everything you know, and after a few weeks of talking to a stranger you would forsake me? Well..." The scientist stopped short, thinking a moment. Trowa looked up to where the window was, mirrored glass of course no seeing in. "You have failed the test."

"Test?" 01 cocked his head to the side like a confused dog.

"Oh yes, this has all been a test. I improved the program, now your opponents are quite lifelike, clever also. They try to befriend you, only to betray you alter. Look at how easily you were fooled, you think anyone would actually CARE about how you feel? Emotions are weak, they lead to defeat. Cold, calm and even, that was how you were instructed to be. And look at how this new program deconstructed years of careful programming, eh? I'll have to deactivate your wings again, maybe a bit of shock therapy can set you straight, reprogram you... maybe I'll have to scrap you and start all over again. My next experiment will not be flawed. I guess you are not perfect after all..."

"No, I am... I can rise up to meet any challenge you give me... I haven't failed... I will not fail my missions" 01 let go of Trowa's hands, begging of his invisible god for forgiveness. "I will prove it to you..." He retrieved the discarded gun and aimed it again at Troas chest, straight at the heart. "I will be perfect..."

"No!" Trowa cried out desperately. "HE'S LYING! He's lying! Don't listen to him! I'm real! I care about you! He doesn't care about you. He's a monster... he hurt you... I want to help. Don't shoot! Good people don't hurt the ones they love. Don't shoot…" It was too late, no compassion could be find in those icy dark orbs, only a predatory stare, shark-like and empty... 01 pulled the trigger. It happened so fast, he had no time to think, only feel the sheer force of the impact and fall due to it. He clutched at the intense piercing pain, hand drawing back blood, steadily pouring from the fresh wound. He had only one thing to say with a pained gasp "why...?"

01 stepped back in horror, dropping the gun. The doctor laughed over the intercom, commending his toy on a job well done on passing the test. The Crazy old man added cruelly that Trowa had been real and further complimented 01's cold-blooded actions. The mecha angel dropped to his knees and raked his fingers through his messy oak brown hair. "No. " tears formed at the corners of his eyes. "NOO!" He looked at Trowa, who was losing blood and consciousness quickly. He crawled over to his side and cradled him in his arms, touching at the sticky hot redness in despair. "He's leaking, his vital fluids are spilling out, he's in need of repair." 01's words went ignored as the scientist continued to cackle evilly. "Fix him! Hurry! Before he permanently goes offline! Please! Fix him! He's too young to be scrapped!"

"I'm... I... sorry... " Trowa coughed, eyelids drooping. "See you on the other side...then we'll both have wings... " He smiled weakly. 01 searched his eyes in hope... but they closed and the banged-boy fell limp.

"No. Come back online... please, be operational..." there was no response "Fix him! Fix him! I'll do anything you ask; just don't let him be destroyed. It hurts… it hurts in my heart. What did you make me do? Why is water being produced from my eyes? Why does it hurt so much… why won't you fix him?!" Tears now mixed with the crimson that stained both boys. 01 continued to scream out and sob from the metal enclosure, madly clutching they dying figure. "Someone, anyone…Fix him!"

to be continued...