Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Beautiful Dawn ❯ Chapter 18 ( Chapter 18 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Standard disclaimers apply: I don't own Gundam Wing or its bishounen, nor am I making any monetary profit from this fic whatsoever.


Author: Michalyn (darling_162002@yahoo.com)
Pairings: 6x1, 13+5 ( possible 13x5 later), 3+4
General Warnings: AU ( the pilots are 18, Zechs and Treize are 23) yaoi, angst, sap, lemon
Archive: http://angelfire.com/gundam/asanctuary, http://raygunworks.net, http://www.gundam-wing-universe.net/
Rating: NC 17


Warnings for this chapter: 3+4 shounen ai, sap, angst.


Feedback: craved ^_^







Beautiful Dawn 18/?
by: Michalyn






Two blonde heads were bent for long moments, soft murmurings coming from the men who were deep in conversation. Finally, Quatre looked up to skeptically meet Zechs' winter blue gaze.

"Are you sure this is a good idea Milliardo?" he asked slowly, "It might be better if you simply asked Heero--"

"No!" Zechs interrupted sharply, the firm shake of his head sending silver- blonde locks into disarray. "That won't work Quatre - he would never accept it."

Taking in the petite blonde's shocked expression at his vehemence, Zechs sighed, massaging his temples as he leaned back into his chair. "Forgive me Quat', " he apologized softly. " I don't mean to be so short with you." He raised a weary hand to rub at his eyes. Already he could feel the beginnings of a headache forming between his brows. "It's just that this is…important to me," he finished, meeting the teal eyes once more.

Quatre's lips pursed briefly before he nodded thoughtfully. "You do realize," he asked softly, his large eyes full of sympathy for the older man, " that if he is as against this as you say, then you risk losing him if he finds out."

Zechs met Quatre's gaze squarely. His expression was both sober and intense when he said: " That's a chance I'm willing to take, if it means helping him… Even if that means…" he trailed off, eyes distant and unseeing for a moment before abruptly shaking his head as if to clear it of his wayward thoughts. His eyes refocused on Quatre's with a sudden intensity.

"No, that won't happen," he declared firmly. " He must not find out." His voice lowered again. "I don't know what I would do if…" His fists clenched briefly against the fine upholstery. "No, he cannot find out." Determinedly he turned to the young Arabian again.

"Quatre, I know this is a lot to ask--" the aristocratic blonde's expression was almost pleading. " But you are the only one I know with the resources able pull this off with the discretion needed."

When the younger man frowned, and his lips parted as if to caution him again, Zechs cut him off with an upraised hand. "I assure you that I am fully aware of the consequences."

Quatre studied the larger man for a moment. Zechs' expression was hard, but it was his eyes - filled with troubled emotion - that finally decided the gentle Arabian. "Okay," he said softly, and Zechs breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'll do it."

" I won't make any promises," he warned, "But I shall try my best. I don't know how much I'll be able to find out about his past, but the bank account should be easy enough to set up. It will be in Heero's name, and I'll arrange that all the medical expenses be billed to you." He looked at Zechs again, worry clear in his gaze. "Will that be okay?"

Zechs nodded, rising. "It is." He paused, looking deeply into Quatre's eyes. "Thank you," he said briskly. " I appreciate it."

"You're welcome Mil," Quatre said absently as he followed Zechs to the front door. The larger man offered one last apology for his unexpected visit and then quickly made his goodbyes, leaving the young blonde staring after his retreating form.

Trowa's hands slid quietly around his lover's waist; chin coming to rest lovingly on the soft golden strands at Quatre's crown as he embraced him from behind.

"Everything okay Love?"

Sighing, Quatre clicked the door shut and turned in Trowa's arms so that he could look into his mate's emerald eyes. He nodded, even as his own arms slipped caressingly around the taller man's neck, and he pressed their bodies closer together. "Fine, I think," he murmured softly. "I guess I'm just worried about Milliardo - *and* Heero."

Trowa said nothing, but his arms tightened comfortingly around Quatre. He nuzzled his small lover's fragrant hair, damp and faintly curling from his recent shower, and in response, Quatre unconsciously rubbed his face against Trowa's chest in a cat-like gesture.

"I've never seen Milliard like this," he murmured, his voice sounding muffled as he snuggled deeper into Trowa's warmth. "Not even when he was with…" Trowa nodded, anticipating the sentiment.

"He's obviously in love," the tall brunette observed quietly. "I wonder how long it will take Yuy to realize the same."

Quatre's brow furrowed pensively. "They're both such stubborn men," he agreed. "I only hope that their love is strong enough…" He paused hesitantly. "I have a bad feeling about this plan of Milliardo's," he finally admitted softly.

He leaned up to kiss Trowa lingeringly. "It reminds me how beautiful and yet fragile love is."

He tiptoed, recapturing the taller man's lips with a desperate passion. When he pulled away, he was trembling under the intensity of the emotions coursing through him. "Trowa, I--"

Trowa placed a long finger against the trembling lips. "Sshh," he whispered tenderly, seductively." "Don't say anymore." He gathered the small blonde up in his arms, carrying him towards their shared bedroom even as he placed, slow, sultry kisses along the pale column of Quatre's throat. "Make love with me."




~~~



Zechs scrutinized the hastily scribbled address on the crumpled shred of paper in one hand as he guided his car along the narrow, dusty roads with the other. He glanced about, looking for some sign or other recognizable landmark that would indicate that he was on the right path, but was only met with the same, uninterrupted expanse of swaying, sun-dappled trees he'd encountered for the last twenty miles.

"Guess that means I keep on driving," he mused, stuffing the paper back into his pocket.

His thoughts strayed to his last conversation with Quatre. So many things had changed since his visit to the young heir a week ago. Only yesterday, Quatre had called him to inform him that the account had been successfully set up and the billing process arranged.

There had been a distinct note of worry in the younger man's voice and Zechs had felt a pang of guilt at having begged such a "delicate" favor of the empathic blonde. As sole heir to the vast Winner fortune, his friend had enough worries of his own without his adding to them. The young Arabian struggled to lead a normal life between going to school and living with Trowa - while being surrounded by the sycophants appointed by his late father, who reminded him daily of his duties as future head of the Winner Empire.

So far, the gentle youth had succeeded more than admirably in his goal. He possessed a sharp mind and a shrewdness of judgment that few could rival, while at the same time, his gentleness and undeniable fairness, left little room for even the most ambitious of "advisors" to question his authority.

Zechs nodded thoughtfully. Yes, he'd have to find some way of repaying Quatre for his kindness.

Yet, it would be pointless to pretend that he regretted soliciting the younger man's help.

Not when Heero was involved.

He had seen the intense brunette only briefly for seven whole days - what with all the arrangements being made. And he had been doing a bit of sleuthing as well -still was in fact. It was why he was here, following this dusty, nameless track - * and * quite possibly lost. All in the hope of making sense of the few tidbits of information Quatre had been able to unearth about Heero's past.

He wondered what Heero was doing now. Wondered what he felt.

--Relieved, perhaps - that Zechs was not there to threaten his carefully ordered world. -- His peace of mind?

Or was he a fool to hope that Heero thought on him with even a fraction of the longing he was feeling, in these few days he had been separated from his enigmatic lover?

He would be more than glad when this little excursion was over, Zechs thought with a sigh. Today was the only day that Heero got to leave work before sunset. He smiled to himself. Maybe if he were lucky enough, he would return just in time for the end of his Saturday shift. He would surprise him; whisk him away for a night together. His smile broadened. Of course Heero would protest at first. Would spear him with that trademark glare and tell him in that stoic, no-nonsense voice of his how pointless such a diversion would be when there were other, more important things that needed his attention. But Zechs had no doubt that he could coax the stubborn beauty over to his side with a few well placed -- "arguments".

The aristocratic blonde was all but grinning with sensual mirth as he imagined their evening together. They'd go back to his place, have a nice dinner - maybe some wine. Afterwards he'd run a bath for Heero. Coax him out of that god-awful uniform and lure him to the tub for a nice leisurely soak, to rest his tired limbs after a long day at work. And from there, they'd follow where the night took them.

Maybe they'd just settle for an evening snuggling on the couch in front of the TV… Or, Zechs thought, heat curling through his body. Maybe he'd treat Heero to the pleasures of sensual massage. Already he could feel that smooth, oil-slicked skin beneath his palms. Could hear those delicious half-reluctant, passionate, sounds Heero would make as his limbs turned to honey beneath his skilful touch. Zechs' eyes closed briefly as he savored the image.

He could hardly wait. God, he * ached* to feel the younger man's lithe form in his arms again.

He needed the reassurance of Heero's presence. Needed to know that he had not imagined the blossoming of those first buds of love that day of the picnic…


-- Now more than ever.


Wearily, he glanced around again. He * did * regret that his methods had to be so…surreptitious, but he had been unable to come up with any other plan that would allow him to help Heero - without infringing on the brunette's sense of duty and self-worth. Heero would continue to believe that he was paying for J's treatment when, in all actuality, the money would go to the account Quatre had set up in his name, while he, Zechs, would take care of the bills. He hoped that the new account would serve as a kind of secret cache: a backup source of income when all of Heero's other funds dwindled dangerously.

He prayed that it wouldn't come to that.

--For Heero's sake - and his own.


He could see a sign ahead. Battered and peeling, it at one point had clearly been a bold red and white. Now, it was some vague dun, and the flecked letters spelling out: "Welcome to Whitecross" had faded to a rusty, insipid hue. Weeds grew in abundance at its spindly legs - interspersed only by a few wobbly heads of marigold, anchor and rhododendron*.

Well, Zechs mused: It seemed that he had arrived.


Retrieving the crumbled paper, for one last cursory glance, and with thoughts of Heero still occupying his mind, he whizzed past the crippled sign, filled with curiosity and anticipation at what he would find beyond.











A/N: *Forgive me for my ignorance when it comes to flowers: I have no idea if it's even possible for these flowers to grow together, but I was just attempting a bit of Victorian flower symbolism.

Marigold: Sorrow

Anchor: Hope

Rhododendron: Danger


Ja ne!