Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Beautiful Dawn ❯ Chapter24 ( Chapter 24 )

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

After a woefully long wait, here it finally is. My sincerest apologies to all my readers. RL hasn't been the best of friends lately.




I really hope you enjoy!!





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: ANGST


Feedback: craved ^_^






Beautiful Dawn 24/?
by: Michalyn










It was raining.

Heavy and incessant: thick gules of water sluicing down the car windows and blurring everything in gray numbness. Between them, the silence stretched thick and oppressive. Heero was turned towards the window, face tight and impassive, his blue eyes shielded and unreadable. The calm exterior betrayed little emotion, but it was his utter stillness - and quietness - that spoke volumes. Not once had he turned from his gloomy contemplation of the window. He had spoken even less to Zechs. Apart from a painfully civil request for a change of clothes - and a continued careful avoidance of any physical contact with the older man since they had left - it was as if the tall blonde were invisible to his dark-haired lover.

Zechs glanced over at the closed-off figure next to him, started to offer some words of comfort, but stopped, lips thinning to a pained line as defensively, Heero shrunk even further away from him. Zechs tried to stifle the hurt that the movement inspired - tried to remind himself that Heero was scared and worried, that he was most probably torturing himself with notions of blame and guilt, that he dealt poorly with emotional upheaval, that-

Damn it, it still hurt. Still tore painfully at his chest to have the younger man turn so completely away from him. To have him surround himself in those cursed walls-

Heero was as inaccessible to him now - physically and emotionally - as one stranger could ever be to another.

--Strangers and not lovers. Not lovers who had just shared an evening of sweet, heart-bending intimacy. Was this the young man who had welcomed him, had eagerly sought the comfort he offered - who had trembled so passionately in his arms? Zechs wondered. And yet, here they were: so far from what he had imagined the aftermath of their first night together to be. Instead of sustaining love and heat, the passion of the night before had burned down to a terrible numbness. What was even worse was the cold tension - the mounting feeling of inevitable pressing in on him.

They approached the last turn leading to the hospital, and Heero stirred, finally showing some signs of life. As they neared the building itself, he became noticeably more alert; a tension barely suppressed radiating from his slender frame. When Zechs pulled to a stop, it was mere moments before the dark-haired youth was briskly unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door. -Careless of the rain - and the older man's presence.

Zechs caught up to him before he could completely escape. He grabbed the determined brunette from behind, swiftly pulling the younger man under the shelter of the somber black umbrella he had pulled from the backseat.

"Heero."

For a brief, unguarded moment, Heero's eyes were wide, vulnerable, reflecting all the pain and confusion of a man struggling on the edge of overwhelming emotions. Zechs started, immediately moving to pull the sorrowful brunette comfortingly against his side.

"Love--"

Heero tensed; the moment was lost as shields were slammed back in place. He shrugged out of Zechs' embrace and the older man had had enough. Zechs stopped, forcing Heero to face him.

"Listen to me Heero," he ground out. His voice softened." I know you worried about J - and scared." The large blonde continued, ignoring the murderous frown darkening Heero's brow. "--But this is pointless. I can see you're in pain, and denying it isn't going to change the fact that you cannot deal with this alone." Zechs said firmly.

The younger man simply tensed further, staring stoically off into the distance.

"What is it?" the older man asked roughly. "Do you think that accepting my comfort makes you somehow weak?" His eyes narrowed. "Or is it something else? Do you honestly believe that allowing yourself to feel makes this somehow your fault?"

Ahh, there, he'd hit a nerve, Zechs thought as Heero's fists clenched and his eyes narrowed dangerously on the older man. Doggedly, Zechs pursued his line of thought. "J's health was already declining," he said simply. "You know it, and I know it. Nothing short of a miracle could have prevented this - whether you were in my bed last night - or at his side." Gently he turned Heero's lowered chin towards him. " No matter what happens," Zechs said softly "you've already done far, far more than should have been asked or required of you." He pulled the stubborn brunette closer with his free arm.

"You have done your best by this man, Heero," Zechs said firmly. "Believe me or no--" The older man's voice deepened meaningfully, as Heero stubbornly remained silent. "But know this. You cannot let me inside you and then expect to shut me out when you please."

Heero's eyes widened fractionally. A faint blush tinged his cheeks as the connotations of the other man's words sunk in. When Zechs leaned in to kiss his forehead, his eyes fluttered shut.

"You need me and I am here to help." Zechs gently ruffled damp, unruly strands before taking Heero's smaller palm in his own.

"Now shall we go in *together*?"

A small sigh escaped the petite brunette. Heero nodded.



~~~



"Mr. Yuy?" A white-clad nurse with a clipboard in her hand approached the two men. She looked questioningly at the couple.

Heero stepped forward. "Yes, that's me," he answered quietly. Zechs remained close by, a soothing hand resting on the small of the younger man's back. The woman frowned disapprovingly at the tall blonde, turning towards Heero in a business-like manner.
"I'm afraid it doesn't look very good," she said gravely. "The stroke caused massive nerve damage-" She hesitated. "Perhaps you should go in to see him."

There was no need for further elaboration. Heero's eyes closed briefly then reopened. He nodded. "Is Relena in with him right now?" he asked quietly.

The nurse cocked her head thoughtfully to the side. "Is that the young blonde who brought him in?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then, she is with your father - room 207."

"Thank you." Heero turned to find the appointed room, Zechs closely at his heels.

"Mr. Yuy!"

Heero paused. "Yes?"

The older woman's brown eyes softened. "Good Luck."

The young brunette nodded curtly then headed down the cold, antiseptic whiteness of the hall -- Following the numbers on the doors - each filling him with a greater sense of dread as he neared his destination.

Standing in front of J's room, he found that he could not go in. Fear clutched at his insides. Why had this happened? He raged. He should have been at J's side. He should never have allowed his feelings to blind him to his duties. He should have-

Heero didn't know how long he had been staring at the closed door when Zechs interrupted his internal tirade.

"Sweetheart?"

Zechs grasped the tortured youth's hand. He squeezed it reassuringly, and Heero looked up at him with confused, turbulent eyes. "Do you want me to go in with you?" the tall blonde asked concernedly. His small lover looked so fragile at the moment, pushed to the edge of desperation over something that he refused to acknowledge as beyond his control.

There was a deep, painful guilt reflected in those navy depths and Zechs mourned for his inability to soothe it. Despite his earlier words, Zechs knew there was nothing he could do, or say to convince Heero that he was not responsible for J's current state. -- A man who had cared little for the needs of the young boy under his care. --A man who had only seen his own ambition and who had consistently exploited and demoralized Heero. Never once appreciating the beauty of the sensitive youth hidden beneath the stoic exterior.

Familiar anger welled within the aristocratic blonde. An anger that was now fueled by an implacable fear that Heero would be lost to him. Firmly, he squelched it, refusing to allow J any more power of their lives. * Nothing * would come in the way of their happiness. He vowed it.


Turning towards his slender lover Zechs asked again gently. " Baby, will you be alright?"

The dark brows lowered and Heero nodded resolutely - the mask of calm efficiency restored. "Yes," he murmured. He pushed the door open and looked over his shoulder. "I am going in," he announced solemnly. When Zechs moved as if to follow him, the brunette shook his head curtly. "--* Alone. * "

Reluctantly, Zechs complied. He stopped Heero one last time before the younger man went in.

"If you need me-"

Prussian depths locked with azure as Heero turned to face whatever fate awaited him beyond the door.

"I will."



~~~




As soon as he entered, Relena rushed to Heero's side, telling him of J's sudden attack, her desperation at being unable to do anything for the old man and her growing concern over his worsening health. Heero thanked her for her attention - tightly apologized for his absence at so crucial a time-

The young blonde was quick to refute him. She crowded Heero with concerned eyes and a companionable hand on his shoulder. "Heero, you mustn't blame yourself," she said quickly. "There is nothing either you or I could have done to prevent this. I'm just glad that I was there to witness it and not you. "

"It's not your fault Heero," she repeated, looking at the stoic brunette who was staring straight past her and to the form on the bed. Realizing the futility of her words, she patted the brunette's shoulder gently, then made her way towards the door.

"I'll leave you two alone, "she said softly before leaving. The door closed with a quiet click behind her.

Slowly, Heero made his way overt to the bed. The rhythmic beeping of the machines monitoring J's vitals filled his ears. Not loud enough though, to drown the guilty thumping of his own heart. Carefully, he approached the sheet-swathed figure, stopping finally at the side of the bed. What he saw, sent new, searing pain through his chest.

The old man before him bore little resemble to the man who had raised him. The stroke had utterly ravaged him. The sharp face was twisted in a perpetual grimace, and the mark of death was unmistakable on that translucent blue-veined skin. Printed upon the very lids of those feverishly darting eyeballs.

Was it going to end this way? With not a word uttered between them? With no explanations why he had never been good enough - could never be good enough?

Heero's fingers clenched in the sheets. He sunk heavily to his knees. Why were there no answers? What was to become of his life now he wondered desperately? Who could explain to him the monster that he was? What was it about him that made him unfit for love?

The stillness of those lips mocked him. The impotent rasp breath rasping out from those frail lungs accused him.

Hot, helpless tears spilled from his eyelids, scalding him, echoing the searing, and burning pain in his chest. Unbidden, a sob rose from his throat as desperately he pressed his face into the unwelcoming sharpness of J's shoulder.

The paper- thin gown rustled, a gurgly sound bubbled from the flaccid throat. Heero looked up to find murky gray eyes staring into his own. A glimmer of hope beat within him.

"J," he gasped hoarsely.

The gray eyes softened. The thin lids fluttered and the skeleton-like hand raised and lowered, flailing as though struggling through mud. Finally, it found a tremulous grip on Heero's shirt and the older man tugged weakly as he seemed to struggle to say something.

Heero quickly bent forward towards the weak figure. "Yes," he whispered urgently. "What is it?"

"I'm--" Frustration contorted the older man's face, as he was unable to form the words. He tried again. "I-I'm--" voice hoarse, tremulous. The thin lips spread in a pale imitation of a smile as his eyes softened to a tender hue Heero had never before seen in those steely gray depths.

"I'm, s-s-sorry," he gasped triumphantly, falling heavily back against the pillows.

A shrill drone abruptly filled the air.

Frantically, Heero looked from the unseeing eyes of the man before him to the monitor's damning green line. No, no, no, no, no…

Desperately, he rushed to the door. He needed to find help. J couldn't die…

He was just outside when a doctor and a nurse came rushing towards him. They bustled past him into the room, and from there everything seemed to happen as if in a dream.

He saw Zechs' alarmed face; the personnel's frantic attempts to revive J-

And then final irrevocable shake of the doctor's head that could only mean one thing…

A cry was threatening to break free within him - from that well of confusion and pain that had so long been buried. Blindly Heero rushed down the hall, hands shoved deeply in his pockets. - Head down to shield the tears that were blurring his vision.

The concerned faces of Relena and the other nurses swam before him, but Heero kept moving, moving-

--Until a pair of strong arms caught him and pressed him to a warm, familiar chest.

"Baby-Love--" A deep voice cooed soothingly in his ear. Sure hands gently comforted and caressed him.

" I'm here," Zechs repeated. "I'm here."

Heero tensed. He trembled. He did not want to surrender to this weakness. He had to get out of here…

But the large blonde was already steering him towards the lobby's large sofa. Zechs knelt in front of the grief-stricken youth. "Do you think you can wait for a few minutes Sweetheart?" he asked. The last thing he wanted was for Heero to have to deal with the technicalities of form signing and then later, the funeral arrangements. He'd take care of it all himself. What the slender brunette needed right now was a soothing bath, a soft bed and a shoulder to lean on. - And cry on too, if he so desired it.

"I need to make arrangements for the paperwork," Zechs explained softly.

Disoriented, Heero stared at the other man. Wearily he rubbed at his eyes before visibly steeling himself. He stood.

"No, I'll do it."

Zechs ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Heero, don't be ridiculous," the large blonde said exasperatedly. "That is last thing you need right now. I--"

"No," the younger man interrupted curtly. "It's the least I can do."

Zechs jaw clenched at those words. Forcefully, he tamped down the rash words that were on the tip of his tongue. Now was not the time to decry J for the manipulative bastard that he was. Heero 's grief was too fresh.

He sighed. "Alright," he agreed. "But at least allow me to help. You need to get some rest," Zechs insisted. "Come home with me and let me take care of you. You shouldn't be alone tonight," he said gently.

Heero's fists clenched. For a moment he warred with the decision, but his emotional reserves had been too taxed by the day's events to put up much of a fight. He agreed.

Zechs lay a comforting around his shoulders as they walked towards the front desk. The attendant behind it was young and eager to please. A rectangular nametag at her breast identified her as "Jennifer". When she saw the two men she smiled brightly.

"Can I help you?"

Heero began to step forward, but the older blonde forestalled him with a light touch on his arm -the soft look in his eyes asking Heero to allow him to be of use.

"Yes," Zechs rumbled. "I'm Milliardo Peacecraft-" His voice softened as he indicated Heero."-And Mr. Yuy here would like to complete all necessary paperwork concerning the patient Jeremiah Yuy."

The young woman started at the recognition of the Peacecraft name. Quickly she began typing, pulling up J's records only after a short moment. Her expression immediately sobered, as she finally understood the nature of Heero's situation. She handed the brunette the papers with sympathetic eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured quietly.

Stifling the well of emotions surging within him, Heero managed a stiff nod of acknowledgement. Determined to fulfill this last duty to the man who had been a father to him, he briskly began to fill out the papers. Pausing only occasionally to suppress the tears threatening to cloud his vision.

When he was done, he handed them back to the young nurse, drained now that the task was completed. He was aware of Zechs' concerned eyes on him as Jennifer scanned the documents then turned to them once more.

"Everything looks fine," she informed them. A small frown wrinkled her forehead as she referred once more to her monitor.

"Mr. Peacecraft, will you be taking care of the bill as usual or shall the charges be credited to Mr. Yuy's account?"

The world stilled. Heero tensed beside his blonde lover. "Could you repeat that?" he demanded dully.

Zechs' eyes fluttered shut in disbelief. This was not happening. Desperate to explain, he reached for his small lover.

"Heero, please--"

Heero's lips tightened, lines of pain bracketing his mouth as deliberately, he stepped away from those reaching arms.

Zechs tried to reach for him once more. " Baby, please, don't do this--"

Jennifer looked nervously from one man to the other. "I'm sorry," she said slowly. "I'm afraid I've said something wrong."

Heero shook his head sharply as a derisive bark burst from his lips. His face hardened, cold mask falling firmly into place.

"No," he said emotionlessly as he spun on his heel. "You couldn't be closer to the truth."

Zechs swore, quickly moving to follow the figure moving rapidly towards the exit. -Frantic now to explain the situation to Heero. He had to make him understand… Pain squeezed his chest.

He couldn't lose Heero--He couldn't… If he could only explain…

"Heero, wait!"

The brunette ignored him, pushing the doors open and plowing out into the pouring rain.

"Heero, stop!" Zechs caught up to the small beauty. He grasped him by the arm from behind.

The younger man spun, coldly turning to face him and throwing off his grip. Heero was soaked through to the skin. The dark strands of his hair were plastered to his forehead in a silky cap. The face beneath was tight with suppressed pain.

"Get away from me," he ground out.

The rain battered down on Zechs, cold rivulets chilling his skin and soaking his hair. But he didn't care. All that mattered was the hurt young man before him. He spread his hands in supplication.

"Please, let me explain." His voice was harsh, strained. "This is not what it seems--" He stepped closer.

Heero moved backwards, denying any contact. "No," he said flatly. "I don't repeat failure," he vowed calmly. "My first was forgetting control--" He grimaced. "And allowing…touch." The last was spat with bitter self-derision. My second was forgetting what I was--"

Pain lanced through Zechs at the younger man's tortured words. "Don't do this Heero," he pleaded. "You're wrong."

The slender brunette began walking determinedly away. Zechs blinked as his vision blurred, his face wet with rain - his lips curiously tinged with salt.

"Heero-No--"

"Goodbye Zechs."


~~~







He had lost him.


Zechs threw an arm over his swollen eyes. Nausea from the night's excesses threatened to overwhelm him. Angrily, he kicked the empty brandy bottle away. It skidded across the floor to thump hollowly against the wall.

The movement jarred his already pounding head and groaning, the blonde slumped even further into the couch. Bitter laughter escaped him as he recalled his own arrogance. -His naïve belief that it would have all worked out somehow - that after all Heero had been through the brunette would have been able to forgive his deception. He had hoped that love would have made a difference.

He had been wrong.

The pain was almost unbearable. He remembered Treize's cautioning words and his own folly. But mostly he remembered Heero. The feel of the dark beauty in his arms- his scent - his passion-The quiet companionship they had slowly begun to build-- Love and the gaping emptiness left in its wake. His eyes closed, burning with familiar wetness.

He had been a fool.

Abruptly, the doorbell rang.

Deliberately, Zechs ignored it, knowing instinctively that the one person who mattered was not behind it.

But the visitor persisted, pressing insistently on the small button, until finally, Zechs stumbled to his feet and opened it with a snarl.

A slim, familiar man waited impatiently on the porch. The lithe form was encased in tight black jeans and a matching shirt. A duffel bag was thrown carelessly over one slim shoulder.

A heavy chestnut braid swished behind the youth as he moved closer to peer at Zechs. Dark shades were lifted, revealing brilliant violet eyes.

The stranger leaned back, cocking a slender hip. He grinned.

"Z-baby, you look like shit."

The disheveled blonde shook his head and blinked owlishly.

"Duo?"