Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ After Colony 198 ❯ A Webwork of Doubts ( Chapter 11 )

"You know I have to, Trowa." Quatre would not look him in the eye, focused instead on a subtle difference between the white of the sheet and the white of the blanket covering Heero's inert body. Crisp or soft could change the color itself, within its shadows.

"Of course." Soothing, meant to be soothing, his voice like an old blanket warm from another's body. Quatre could hear nothing that told him no. That surprised him. Enough so that he risked looking up from where he sat at the edge of the bed only to find Trowa's face turned in profile, his hair strategically obscuring his face. But before the confusion inside him could grow worse, Trowa came back from wherever his mind had gone and crouched, knees akimbo, at his side with limber elegance.

"Let me come with you."

His immediate, primal response was to say no-first to protect Trowa from harm, but also to keep private this act of spiritual disembodiment that he never undertook lightly, and always alone. Trowa was in fact the only person he had ever allowed to be near him during his times of spiritual travel. He had never once imagined bringing Trowa's beloved spirit out into the tenuous void with him, into the void between souls.

With grace, Trowa extended one long arm and rested a warm hand on Quatre's back, right between his tense shoulder blades. A feeling of ease radiated out from the point of contact and before knowing why, Quatre nodded his head, eyes sliding shut, accepting this support as though it were expected. Without pause, Quatre placed one hand on the center of Heero's body, just below the navel and the other he rested gently on his brow.

"Don't let go of me Trowa."

Moving closer, Trowa kept his right hand where it was on Quatre's back and then placed his left on his stomach, intuitively mimicking what Quatre had done with Heero's inert form, but then changed his mind, opting to wrap his left arm around his partner's solid form, with his palm resting lightly on the pulse at his neck.

"I won't."

And then, slowly Quatre disengaged himself from bodily sensation, with only an ethereal sense of Trowa's presence as he began to seek Heero's soul, wherever it had gone.

+++++

Exhaustion. He felt thin, avoiding looking at his hands, for the plausible thought that in this strange state, this irrational place, he would see right through them. So he rested, his back against the warm, pulsing thing that was Relena's prison. If he could rest just a little, and ignore the presence of Dorothy, or whatever the thing that looked like Dorothy was, perhaps he would soon have the strength to tear down the wall at his back. As it was, however, he just barely had the energy to breathe. His normal relaxation techniques and methods of self-control seemed idiotic in a place where nothing tangible was likely real, but he decided to try it anyway. He began counting his breaths and bringing his pulse rate to a steady 60 beats per minute, one sure pulse per second.

Little did he know that this simple act of connecting his body to his mind would give him the best chance of surviving what was going to happen next. With his mind relaxed, and the pulsating warmth of Relena's cocoon seemingly surrounding him, he reached out, without meaning to with one simple plea.

"Just let me in."

Any hope Quatre had ever had of finding him vanished as he dissolved into Relena's inner domain. The last thing he heard was a scream of frustration from the Dorothy figure as the world once again lost meaning around him.

+++++

Duo could practically smell the trap that was waiting for them as they neared his junkyard shop and home. Silently he guided Hilde to the shadowed area behind a dumpster and gave her what he hoped was a quelling look to keep her rooted to the spot. He never knew what she would do in the face of danger really and he just couldn't afford to be guarding her back when he was about to enter combat.

Hilde raised her eyebrows quickly before they drew together in apparent anger. He quickly placed a finger over her lips to keep her silent and shook his head once. It had been so peaceful for so long. He could only hope this would all be over soon.

Judging by her expression, she wasn't in the mood to sit on the sidelines, which of course left him only one choice. He stepped in for a long, stop-your-lungs kiss, one hand on her hip, the other holding firmly to the nozzle of the gun Trowa gave him and just before she could figure out what he was planning gave her a swift, hard knock on the base of the skull with the handle of the solid metal gun. There was a stunned look and then her body crumpled gently and heavily against him.

"Sorry babe. I'm never seein' you on a stretcher again," he explained as though she could hear him. First he checked her pulse and the bones of her skull. Satisfied that she was just going to be dizzy and very, very cranky when she woke, he tucked her as comfortably and silently as he could between the dumpster and some old crates that had been moldering there for some time. His last thought as he turned away was that at least the colony was still miraculously rat free. Hilde hated rats.

+++++

Quatre had sensed him, a fleeting thing, as if a scent from the past had flickered just outside the range of names, but near enough for recognition. And then he'd heard the scream, and felt the heat of rage and frustration wash through him. He had felt this presence in battle before.

"Dorothy Catalonia."

As though the calling of her name had forced her into existence, she whirled in a flurry of pale hair out of the darkness and stood before him, her face contorted in the remains of anger and the beginning of fear.

"Quatre Raberba Winner. … Why are you here?"

"I'm looking for Heero. What are you doing out of your body Miss Catalonia? It's dangerous to leave if you don't have experience getting back."

Dorothy's contorted features settled into a sneer, and she replied evenly with a saccharine voice forced through clenched jaws, "How quaint that you would be concerned for my health Mister Winner. It really is yourself you should be worried about."

Without warning, she produced a long foil and skewered him through his heart.

+++++

The first sensation was his own heartbeat, then his breath. Heero slowly gained consciousness, reaching outward with his senses. What caught his awareness was a faint tinkling sound, as of glass lightly tapping glass, and then the soft hum of polite conversation and a whisper of fabric moving against fabric. Slowly darkness receded and blotches of light and color coalesced into a scene of finely dressed people gathered in a finely dressed room. There seemed to be the brilliance of gold everywhere, in candlesticks and chairs, and the sparkling ornaments the people wore. Even the incandescent lights had a golden hue that mellowed the garish reds of carpets and glaring whites of gowns. In one corner of the large, yet warm room was a trimmed and sparkling spruce that indicated a Christian house in winter. He, himself, was sitting with his back against an ornately rococo wall that poked him through the lethargy of his confused body and mind. He adjusted quickly and scanned the new place tensely, aware that the less bizarre setting did not mean it was safer than Relena's fleshy cocoon and Dorothy looming over him. What was this place?

Suddenly a gentle and joyful laugh caught his ears. It rose above the quiet din of the sedate party, wafting higher and lighter than all other sounds. He turned to focus on it and a familiar blonde head, hair in a controlled drape past her shoulders, was tilting slightly in conversation with a man he knew to be long dead.

"Relena."

Just for a moment, he thought the lights flickered, but the change was gone so quickly it could easily have been his own senses misfiring. He forced his tired body to rise, never taking his eyes off her back. Weaving his way between elegant clusters of people and imposing servants carrying trays of wine and hors d'oeuvres, he focused his mind against the distractingly real surroundings, the vision of her dead adoptive father smiling down at her reminding him that this was not real. Only Relena … and he were real.

Just as he got within striking distance, the father looked at him, focusing his thoughtful gaze on Heero. It made him pause just long enough for Relena to turn and give him a cordial smile.

"Heero. I'm so glad you could come to our party this year." She turned slightly to the elder Darlian and introduced him. "Father, this is the boy I've told you about. Heero Yuy, please meet my father, Vice Foreign Minister Darlian." Thankfully the "man" before him stuck to the Japanese etiquette and bowed slightly, rather than extending a hand. He automatically nodded in return, not very politely, and decided to ignore the unreal. He turned to Relena and put a hand on her arm. Or, at least he meant to, but somehow his hand just slipped away from her before ever making contact.

"Isn't the tree lovely this year? The staff truly outdid themselves." Relena's gaze focused on the far end of the hall, and though her tone was meant to sound cheerful, her tightly clasped hands belied the tension that hummed through her.

"This isn't real."

++++++

This is real. This is the only real thing. Everything else has been false, but I can feel it. This is not the nothing. The voice in my mind is gone. And this really is Heero Yuy.

"I'm so glad you made it here, Heero."

He looked at her with severe concentration and Relena could only feel relief to have someone really look at her again. When he'd bothered to look at her in her life, it had always been with a level of concentration that made the world more tangible around her. She wanted to clutch him to her in relief.

"Where are you Relena?"

What a strange question. He was looking right at her. Fear stabbed her in the gut.

"Can't you see me, Heero?" Could it be that even this was an illusion?

"This isn't real."

No. It was starting again.

She felt the room dissolve around her. The beauty of the Darlian Great Hall wept and crumbled into yet another void. She clamped her eyes against the dissolution, but this time, she felt hands grab her, and pull her into a tight, protective embrace. Too shocked and grateful to say anything, she seized onto the body that held her as the world bled itself away.

She felt the arms hold her and felt, strangely, as though her spirit itself were being purified in the embrace. Love, as strong as a child's need for its mother welled up inside her and her chest exploded with violent joy, releasing a webwork of doubt that had encased her heart for so very long. Without having to open her eyes, she knew the arms that held her now.

With eyes still closed, she angled her head to bestow a kiss upon his cheek, and then she relaxed into sleep as she hadn't in what seemed like years.

+++++

Zechs felt relief wash through him, inexplicably. It was a strange moment to feel such a thing and he would have taken time to wonder at it, but just then pilot 02 entered the darkened kitchen and he had to smile as he pointed the handgun at his head.

"Maxwell."