Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Dead Ground ❯ Light Bulbs ( Chapter 3 )

Quatre opened his eyes. It was dark. Still night.

 

I must have fallen asleep.

 

There was a faint light coming in through the dirty window. The moon light gently lighting up the room. He hated this room. He hated this cabin. He hadn't slept, except for this one dozing off, since they had arrived at the cabin.

 

Mother nature had woken him with her call, and though you could ignore most mothers when they called, mother nature wasn't one of them. Sighing he threw off the covers, and swung his feet to the floor. The wood beneath his feet was cold. He hurried out of his room and into the bathroom to have his 'chat' with mother nature.

 

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Washing his hands in the cold water coming from the tap, he looked into the mirror before him. His eyes looked red and he was starting to get dark circles under them. Frowning back at his reflection, he shut the water off. He turned toward the towel rack, and began to dry his hands when he heard a sizzling sound, a pop, and then there was darkness.

 

He whipped around and stared at the burned out bulb that was located above the mirror. It took his eyes a minute to adjust from the electric light to the soft moonlight that came through the window. His gaze fell to his reflection and he gasped. His reflection stood there with it's arms folded looking back at him. Giving him a look that could have rivaled Heero's best glare. His heart was beating so quickly in his chest that he thought he would die of a heart attack any moment. He couldn't believe he was seeing that look on his face.

 

He backed up a step, only to have his back connect painfully with the towel rack. The reflection's face changed from a frightening glare to an equally frightening smile. Not taking his eyes off the mirror, Quatre started to inch toward the door. It was only an arm's length away. His hand touched the door and he quickly grasped for the doorknob only to find himself unable to open it. He looked away from the mirror to the knob. Grasping the bronze thing with both hands he tried to turn it. No luck. He was shaking and he had tears running down his cheeks, although he was unaware of either.

 

Looking back to the mirror he saw the same evil smile played out his reflection's face. Then the blond reflection looked down and made a movement with his hand, which was hidden since the mirror didn't extend down that far. Looking back at Quatre, the reflection's smile widened as he lifted his hand to show a straight razor. Looking quickly down to the sink counter he spotted the real razor lying near the faucet. The razor had been there when they first came to the cabin, and by the looks of the rust on the blade, it had been there quite a while.

 

The reflection lifted the rusty blade and ran one of its fingers, from its other hand, along the sharp edge. A small blossom of red showed on the reflection's finger. The blade may have been old and rusty, but it was still sharp. Feeling a stinging in his own finger, he lifted his hand and stared. It was the same cut. His eyes widened as he saw another small cut appear on another finger.

 

Realizing the implications of this new development, Quatre felt his need to escape the small bathroom increase. Turning back to the doorknob he used all the strength to try to turn the knob. With the addition of more small cuts, the doorknob became slippery with his blood. Franticly, he banged on the door. Turning his face toward the mirror once again, he saw, before he felt on his own arm, the razor slice into the fleshy part of his reflection's upper arm. His free hand flew to the cut. He squeezed his eyes shut at the pain. He sobbed as he felt a twin cut on his other arm.

 

Opening his eyes, he looked back at the horrid imitation of himself. Holding the razor, the reflection looked as if it were ready to pounce. Realizing the reflection meant to come after the real him, and realizing there was no escape, the small blond sobbed even harder and started shaking his head.

 

“No, no, no, no...”, he whispered over and over again.

 

Suddenly, the reflection leaped towards Quatre, death in it's eyes.

 

Quatre screamed...

 

...And opened his eyes.

 

He gasped, sitting bolt upright. His heart was racing and his breath coming in shallow gasps. He looked wildly around, realizing he was no longer in the dark bathroom, but in his bedroom. Morning sun peaking in through the window. He wrapped his arms around himself, sobbing in relief. His hands moved to where the large cuts had been in his dream, and stopped. Looking over at one of his arms he saw a large scar. He quickly turned his head to the other arm. Another scar. It looked as if he had gotten the cuts weeks ago. He looked quickly to his fingers.

Nothing.

 

Those cuts had been small, so of course they would be gone, he reasoned with himself.

 

His subconscious screamed at him to become more aware of himself. He had calmed now and was no longer sobbing. Unfortunately, his skin was moist and clammy, and he was feeling a bit dizzy. Had he been more aware of himself he would have realized that his body was in a mild state of shock. But as it was, the frightened pilot of the gundam Sandrock only lay back down, and continue to stare at his fingers.

 

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Walking down the stairs, carrying his laptop, cables and other odds and ends, Heero could smell something cooking. The noise from the kitchen was also proof that someone had taken the initiative to make breakfast on the old relic that passed for a stove. His stomach growled, but he ignored it, knowing that he would eat eventually, so there was no need to worry about rushing to eat. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Duo poked his head out of the bathroom.

 

“Heero, I thought you changed all the light bulbs.”

 

“I did.”

 

“Well... the one in the bathroom is out.” Grinning, Duo continued. “You must have forgooootten the bathroom light.”

 

Scowling, Heero replied, “I did not forget the bathroom light.”

 

“Well, it's not working, you must have. Or maybe the bulbs you picked were duds. You should have had meeee pick them out. You know, leave this kind of thing to the experts.”

 

Setting his laptop, and the cables he had been carrying, down on one of the end tables near the couch, Heero fished in one of the boxes they had carried in, and got another light bulb out. Shouldering Duo aside, Heero reached up and quickly replaced the burnt out bulb.

 

“My hero.” Seeing the irritated look on Heero's face, Duo burst out laughing, and draped an arm around the other boy's shoulders. Leaning in close he said suggestively, “You want to be my Heero, don't you.” Giving Duo a cold stare, Heero pushed the braided boy's arms away and walked back into the living room, leaving the laughing Duo alone in the bathroom.

 

Walking out of the kitchen with a stained apron on, Trowa looked over at the bathroom, then over to Heero.

 

“What's going on?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Trowa just shook his head, then nodded to the burnt out bulb the Japanese boy was holding.

 

“Oh, that reminds me, one of the light bulbs burnt out last night.” He said, pointing to the three lights on the ceiling.

 

As Trowa returned to the kitchen, Heero looked up at the three bulbs. He then turned his attention to the dead bulb in his hand. His expression changed to one of confusion. The bulb should have lasted for months. Did he pick out bad bulbs? He didn't think so. He turned a glare back in Duo's direction, though the glare was some what ineffective since the braided boy was unaware that it was being directed at him. Still, glaring at Duo made him feel better.

 

While glaring at Duo, a thought came to him. This thought took the glare off his face. Thinking for a moment, he decided the thought was probably correct. He suddenly realized he had a smug smile on his face and quickly changed it to his usual expression.

 

“Duo” He called.

 

“Hu?”

 

As he walked back toward the bathroom he began to let the American know exactly what on his mind.

 

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Trowa knocked on Quatre's door.

 

No answer.

 

He knocked again and said, “Quatre, it's Trowa. I made breakfast.”

 

Still no answer.

 

“I'm coming in.”

 

Upon entering the room, Trowa found Quatre lying on his back, covers up to his neck, looking toward the celling.

 

“He shouldn't be out there...”

 

Trowa looked down at the other boy. “What? Who?”

 

Trowa looked out the window to see Wufei going over his forms.

 

“Wufei.”

 

Looking back at the other boy, Trowa said, “Why?”

 

Quatre didn't answer him. He just continued to stare at the celling. Trowa looked back out the window, and wondering why Wufei shouldn't be out there. Quatre had a sort of sixth sense about things, and Trowa trusted the blond's intuition. But then, it must not be too important if his friend didn't choose elaborate on it. He was sure Quatre would say something if it was really important.

 

Deciding not to peruse it, and quickly forgetting about it, Trowa knelt and looked down at the plate of food he still held.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“I think you should, at least, eat a little. You don't look very good.”

 

“I'm not really hungry.”

 

Reaching down, Trowa touched the side of Quatre's face and frowned. In different circumstances he would have suspected the other boy was suffering from shock, but that would make no sense.

 

“Can I do anything for you Quatre?” Said Trowa, his voice heavy with concern.

 

Quatre continued to stare at the celling for a few moments, then turned his head and looked at Trowa. He didn't speak right away, but when he did he said, “Trowa, is it right for us to abandon our duties and be hiding here?”

 

Trowa just stared.

 

“We shouldn't be hiding here when we could be helping other people. People are dying out there. We need to be there to stop the war.”

 

“Quatre. There is a time for everything. Right now we need to be in hiding. You know that. Also, I don't think you are in any shape to fight.”

 

Trowa had a lot of confidence in Quatre's abilities as a soldier, and he knew that if worse came to worse, the small blond would give everything he had. But there was no need. Not right now.

 

Again Trowa touched the side of Quatre's face, but this time he let his hand slide up to Quatre's forehead then began to smooth the sweat dampened, blond hair with his fingers.

 

“Trowa...”

 

“Shhh... Don't worry.” Trowa smiled kindly down at Quatre. “There will be plenty of fighting for you to do later. Besides, the truck still needs to be fixed before we go anywhere, remember?”

 

Trowa took his hand away and placed the plate of eggs on the floor. “I'm leaving this here for when you get hungry.” He stood and walked toward the door. He opened the door, and looked at Quatre saying, “Get better.” before walking out the door and closing it softly.

 

Trowa stood there for a moment, back against Quatre's door.

 

Please get better Quatre. I can't stand to see you like this...

 

Looking over to the couch, he saw Heero kneeling on the floor, laptop beside him, messing with a bunch of cables, and a various assortment of wire rods.

 

“Is he any better?”

 

Trowa walked over beside Heero and shook his head. “No, not really.” Eying the mess around the kneeling boy he said, “What's all this for?”

 

Stopping what he was doing, Heero turned his attention to Trowa.

 

“I was thinking that if . . .”

 

Trowa listened to Heero's quick explanation half heartedly, the welfare of his sick comrade taking the forefront attention in his mind.