Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Bleeding On the Inside ❯ Pretty Good Year ( Chapter 16 )

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.

Warnings: Angst, rape, yaoi, and 3x4/1x2 content.

>>>*<<<

PRETTY GOOD YEAR

Tears on the sleeve of a man

don't want to be a boy today

heard the eternal footman

bought himself a bike to race

and Greg he writes letters and burns his CDs

they say you were something in those formative years

hold onto nothing as fast as you can

well still pretty good year

maybe a bright sandy beach

is gonna bring you back

maybe not so now you're off

you're gonna see America

well let me tell you something about America

pretty good year

some things are melting now

well what's it gonna take till my baby's alright

and Greg he writes letters with his birthday pen

sometimes he's aware that they're drawing him in

Lucy was pretty your best friend agreed

well still pretty good year

Tori Amos

>>>*<<<Bleeding On The Inside - Chapter 16 - Pretty Good Year

"Please…"

That was all he could say. Hands grasped his waist and he felt the pressure of each finger on his bare skin, the slight depression of each, separate finger into his stomach. He could smell stale breath on his face. He could hear his own heart beat, so loud, like drumming. He could sense a whole world beyond the curtain, waiting for him to cry out, waiting for him…

"Please…" he whispered once more, and the mouth on his neck chuckled.

"So mannerly," it mocked. "So very polite."

The hands traveled downwards. The mouth sucked his life away, away.

"Please…" he begged, trying to stop the tears that dripped onto his chest, into his open, gasping mouth, warm and tasting of the sea. He wanted to shout. He wanted to scream. He wanted to swear and curse and command the hands to stop, the mouth to stop. He wanted to say no, no, no, no, no…

"Please!"

'Please don't do this. Please stop. Please God, no. Please God, no please, please, please.'

"I like it when you beg me," the mouth grinned. "Do it again."'Please…'

"You know you want this."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Quatre woke from his dream with a start, his throat closing off, choking the scream before it could make its way past his lips. He held himself tightly in the darkness, his heavy breathing echoing in the small room. Once he had calmed himself some, Quatre fell back down on his sheets and traced the empty space beside him in the bed. Trowa had thought it best if he slept in another room that night, not wanting to make his lover uncomfortable in any way, and Quatre had agreed…that is, he had not objected.

It was true that he was uncomfortable at the thought of sleeping in the company of another man so soon after, but he was also hurt by the fact that Trowa seemed to be avoiding him.

'What if Trowa doesn't want me anymore? What if he thinks I'm…dirty?'

Quatre had to admit it was a ridiculous thought. Trowa had already stated time and time again that he did not think of Quatre as 'used' or 'impure' just because someone took advantage of him. He was exactly the same person he was before the…

'Why? Why can't I think the word? Does it really have that much power over me? I'm never going to be the same person I was before, am I. It's going to be like this forever, silent screaming in the dark and constant looks over my shoulder for something that isn't there. This is my life from now on. God…why should I even bother?'

Quatre sighed and looked at the clock on the nightstand beside him. The glowing green numbers hung in the blackness like phantasmagoria, and they disturbed Quatre for some reason.

'Five thirty a.m. Heero will be getting up in half an hour.'

Quatre dreaded the careful, quiet steps that assaulted his ears every morning when the stoic 01 pilot would creep into his room to check on him. Quatre was quite sure that the boy didn't mean to wake him up. Heero was never anything but silent about the operation. But Quatre's awareness had been increased immensely ever since the attack, almost to the point of paranoia. No soft footfall on carpet ever escaped his notice, nor failed to set his heart pounding in sudden, irrational fear. After Heero had left, Quatre would spend the next few hours in bed, eyes shut tight, body tensed and perfectly still, trying to control the panic that had welled up inside of him. Quatre never told the others about it. They would just add one more eccentricity to the already long list. Besides, Heero only checked in on him because he cared, and Quatre did not want to berate the boy for that. Heero didn't deserve to be blamed for his craziness.

'Just the same, I don't want to be here when he comes,' Quatre thought, as he climbed silently out of bed and pulled on some comfortable jeans and a sweater. He wasn't certain he was wearing matched colours as it was hard to see in the pre-dawn gloom but he didn't especially care. Who would be around to see him this early anyway?

Quietly, the blonde tiptoed past the rooms where the others were sleeping, hearing the soft snores of Duo through the door and smiling to himself.

'At least _someone_ here is getting a good night's sleep,' he thought to himself, ruefully.

Being careful not to step on any squeaky floorboards, Quatre made his way to the front door and slipped out into the cool morning air. It felt good to be outside. Quatre breathed in the damp smell of spring rain and walked down the street towards the park. The street lamps were still turned on and their soft glow, muted by the smoky tendrils of fog, made them look like the halos of angels. Quatre walked quietly, aware of the thick stillness that made the sound of his shuffled steps echo off the buildings. The fog curled itself around his figure and dampened his hair, curling the edges around his neck and forehead. Quatre imagined he looked like some sort of ghost or shade, gliding through the wet grass on fog-obscured feet.

Reaching the small park, Quatre walked along the asphalt track, watching the rosy bit of sun trying to peek through the thick clouds of night, while turning the sky around it a warm orangey colour. The stars still hung in the navy darkness above the clouds and the contrast made for a stunning picture. For a moment, Quatre felt that there might be a reason for living after all.

A sudden urge struck Quatre and he observed the long winding path before him with great interest. It was of moderate length, no more then a couple kilometers at the most. He'd sprinted more then that in his training easily. Checking to make sure no one else was on the path, Quatre crouched down and counted his breathing.

'One…two…THREE.'

And Quatre ran, his arms pumping back and forth as he poured all his energy into the act, his thoughts flying before the increasing speed, his frantic breathing, his heart pounding once more in his ears, but this time for a different reason.

'Faster,' he urged himself, forcing his legs into a quicker tempo, in time to his heartbeats. His legs were a blur, the fog parting for him easily as he swept past.

'Faster!'

The wind combed its fingers through his hair, brushing his bangs back off his sweating face.

'Faster!'

He closed his eyes on sudden tears, pumping his arms faster, stretching his legs out in front of him like he was racing the wind, like he was escaping from something that clamoured just at his heels like some rabid beast.

'Faster, damn you, faster!'

Feeling his breath giving out, Quatre tucked his head into his chest and gave one last burst of speed before his legs failed him and he sank to the hard pavement, his heart thundering in his ears, his head throbbing dizzily.

Quatre gulped down huge mouthfuls of air, his breathing sounding like sobs. One hand pressed to his chest, cupping the trembling beat inside as if it might break out at any moment. When the spots from his vision faded and his breathing was more or less under control, Quatre pushed himself up on wobbly legs. His first few steps looking like he was trying to walk a sea deck in a storm, Quatre made it to a bench and collapsed on it just in time to see the sun burn off the last remnants of the fog.

Feeling a trifle silly to have pushed himself so hard for no reason, Quatre looked around the empty park once more and consulted his watch. He was surprised to find that it had been over two hours since he left the safehouse.'The others will all be up by now. I wonder if they've figured out I've gone…'

Knowing that he should get back, Quatre took one last deep breath and stood up. He'd felt better while he was running. There was nothing to think about then. Now that he had stopped, traces of his nightmare had resurfaced to invade his mind and Quatre shivered slightly. He walked slowly back towards the house, every clattering step sounding like the mocking laughter of his dreams.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Heero Yuy woke at precisely six o'clock, his internal alarm snapping his eyes open and throwing him from sound sleep into instant awareness, something that had always annoyed the hell out of Duo. The braided boy liked to complain loudly that he never got a chance for an early morning snuggle with his boyfriend because Heero insisted on waking up at an obscene hour every morning.

"Even on weekends," he had whined. "Just to irritate me, I swear."

Duo liked to sleep for as long as he could, sometimes not emerging from the bedroom until noon on Saturdays and Sundays. He maintained that people who never learned to sleep in grow old before their time.

Heero smirked at the memories and glanced to his side to observe his sleeping lover, snoring softly and grasping the edge of his pillow tightly. He had kicked the sheets off himself during the night and they were twisted around his legs like rope. He had also managed to steal Heero's covers without him noticing, even though these eventually ended up on the floor.

'No wonder I felt a draft during the night,' Heero thought, amused.

Being careful not to wake the braided American, Heero slid out of bed and pulled a tank top over his slept-in spandex. Walking silently, he crept down the hallway, stopping at Quatre's room to peak through the crack in the door.

He did this every morning since the rape, his intentions somewhere between protection and paranoia. He still felt incredible guilt from the fact that he wasn't able to protect a member of his team-

'No…not my team. My family. This is my family now.'

Duo had seemed determined to shoulder the blame, but Heero knew that it was all his fault. He was the leader. He should have been able to protect Quatre. What kind of a Perfect Soldier was he, anyway?

'At least I can do this for him now, when it's too late,' Heero sighed to himself, swinging the door open a bit more so that he could get a better view of the bed.

Inside the darkened room, he looked on the bed to find…nothing.

Blinking, Heero looked again.

Nope. Still nothing there.

Puzzled, Heero opened the door all the way and checked the rest of the room, including the bathroom. Quatre wasn't there either.

'Maybe he got up early and went down for breakfast already.'

Heero padded downstairs, expecting to find the blond Arabian sitting in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea pensively. But Quatre wasn't there either. He wasn't in the living room or the basement, or the front porch.

Heero felt a burst of panic arise in his stomach as he raced back upstairs and pounded on Trowa's door. Maybe the blond had changed his mind about sleeping alone and went to sleep in Trowa's room…that had to be it! He couldn't be gone!

"Trowa?" Heero called, impatiently.

There was a soft rustling from inside and then the door opened to reveal a rumpled, but alert Trowa Barton.

"Heero? What's wrong, are we under attack?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"Is…is Quatre in there with you?" Heero questioned, his usually expressionless voice tinged with hysteria.

Trowa frowned. "No…why? Isn't he in his room?"

"He isn't anywhere! I've looked," Heero blurted. "He's just disappeared."

"WHAT?!"

Heero spun around to find Duo, wide eyed and pulling a housecoat around himself standing behind him.

"Quatre's gone," Heero explained. "He's not in the house."

"We've got to find him," Duo said, his fingers running nervously through his bangs.

Trowa nodded, already pulling some clothes on over his boxers, a worried look on his face. While he was tugging his turtleneck over his head, the door across the hall opened and a bedraggled Wufei emerged.

"What's going on?" he asked, yawning.

"Quatre's missing," Duo informed him. "We've got to find him right away!"

Wufei frowned and said, "He probably just wanted to be by himself for a while. Why don't you just wait for him to come back on his own?"

Duo looked at him like he had suddenly sprouted another head.

"Are you crazy 'Fei?" he said. "He could get hurt or…or worse! We've got to bring him back where it's safe."

Both Trowa and Heero nodded in agreement.

"Winner is a Gundam pilot," Wufei reminded them. "He can take care of himself. He doesn't need you smothering him, especially not now."

"Fuck you, Wufei!" Duo screeched, suddenly angry. "You're wrong! He can't take care of himself. Or have you forgotten what happened that last time he went off alone?!"

The sound of china breaking drew all eyes to the hallway, where Quatre stood in shock, his hands trembling with emotion.

"Quatre!" Trowa cried, relief evident in his voice. He moved forward to embrace the boy but stopped short when Quatre flinched back from him.

"I…was only going for a walk," he said. His blue eyes were wounded and he looked accusingly at Duo. "I came back okay. I'm not a baby who needs your constant supervision."

"Quatre-"

"I'm going to my room," the blond Arabian said, stalking into his bedroom and slamming the door shut.

The rest of the pilots stood in awkward silence, everyone except Wufei looking guiltily at their toes.

"I-I didn't mean that he couldn't…I mean…" Duo stuttered, tears filling his violet eyes. He blinked them back and pulled his shoulder away from Heero's hand, refusing to take the comfort that the 01 pilot offered. "Tell Quatre I'm sorry," he whispered, fleeing down the stairs.

Heero looked after him sadly, wanting to follow, but knowing that he wouldn't be welcome if he did. A sick feeling settled in his stomach, mixing with his already large ball of guilt that resided there. He knew he had messed things up big time, but he couldn't help that irrational fear.

'I screwed up again. Forgive me…Quatre.'

Heero looked regretfully towards Quatre's door where he could plainly hear muffled sobs from behind the thick wood. Turning, he went into his own room and closed the door, hoping maybe a mission had come so that he could turn his mind to other things.

Trowa was pounding on Quatre's door, pleading with him to let him inside.

"Please Quatre, I'm sorry! Please let me in," he begged.

"Go away," came the muffled voice from behind the door, and Trowa's face fell and his eyes clouded with tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Wufei placed a hand on the distraught boy's arm. "Here," he said. "Let me try."

"Quatre?" the Chinese called, knocking softly on the door. "May I come in?"

There was a long moment of silence and then a hesitant "yes" sounded. Giving Trowa a reassuring looked, Wufei opened the door and walked in, leaving Trowa in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, over and over again. "I'm so so sorry."