Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Dimension Gate ❯ Headaches ( Chapter 4 )

Author's Notes: Meabhdh, thank you so much for the long review. I don't mind you dissecting my story - it means you paid attention! Cookies are always welcome^_^. Sorry this update is so long in coming - I went home from college for Easter break, and my mother…let's just say she doesn't like anime, so I didn't really have access to any of the fanfiction sites during the holiday. Today's my first day back at the dorm. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and I will keep your suggestion about Heero and Duo in mind. I still haven't made any definite decisions regarding other couples, so PLEASE, my lovely readers, tell me what you think!

 

Warnings: same as the first chapter.

 

Disclaimer: No, don't own `em. Damn lawyer quit on me. (Authoress glares at Quatre, who for some reason is looking smug.)

 

Chapter 4: Headaches

 

The trouble with many men, Quatre mused, was that they were like those old-fashioned gas lamps - nice to look at but not too bright. These wondering thoughts occurred to him, of course, as he observed certain members of the City Police, some of Carine's finest, most up-standing members of society.

 

The group of men had stopped by the bar now that they were off-duty, and their captain, quite drunk, was making life a misery for every female in the bar. What made it worse was that no one liked to voice many objections because of the man's rank, and he knew it.

 

Quatre felt sorry for the serving girls, and for one girl in particular, who seemed to have caught the captain`s special attention. She worked to earn her paycheck, and did that work well, but had to put up with a lot of harassment from the drunkards in the room. Quatre could see that it was pure torment for her to go to the policemen's table.

 

She was a pretty little thing, with long curly blond hair and bright cheerful blue eyes. Her body was slender and her movements were graceful, her figure showing more then the beginnings of womanhood. In a city known for the diversity of people inhabiting it, she was nothing special. But there was something about her...

 

Oh shit! That's Relena!

 

What the FUCK was his baby sister doing here?!

 

“Come here, please,” Quatre said, not lifting his voice above a gentle murmur, but the words nonetheless carrying clearly to the girl. She approached Quatre with noticeable relief. “I would like a double Avery with lime on the side, please.”

 

The girl sighed. “I.d., please.” Quatre calmly handed her his driver's license. She took it, glanced at it, did a double take.

 

Quatre met his little sister's shocked eyes with his own. “Get my drink, and tell your boss you need to take off for the rest of the night.” The icy steel behind his soft tone made Relena swallow. She nodded, and hurried to the bar.

 

The girl retrieved Quatre's order, but to bring it to Quatre she had to pass by the policemen's table. She attempted to slip by them quietly, without success. The captain grabbed her arm as she passed.

 

He took a large swig of his beer and belched. “Whatsa pretty thing like you doin' inna bar?” he slurred, eyes running lustfully down her body.

 

“I'm working. Please excuse me,” Relena answered quietly, trying to edge away.

 

The man tightened his grip, and his lustful gaze grew to a full-out leer. “I knowa place where you'd be more welcome. Real welcome.”

 

Scum. Quatre stood.

 

The girl tried to pull away again. “Let me go. There's others I must see to.”

 

The captain hauled her close to him, and Quatre`s drink flew out of Relena`s hand, the glass shattering on the stone floor. “Ask me nicely first,” he rasped into her face, taking no notice of the damage. She turned her head away from his stinking breath, and yet again tried to pull away.

 

A hand lashed at the captain's arm just at the elbow; his grip loosened, then his arm fell, temporarily numb. He stared at his hand, stunned.

 

Quatre stepped back, eyes emotionless. “Get out of here,” he advised his sister softly. “I'll be outside in a moment.”

 

Relena opened her mouth to protest, saw the cold gleam in Quatre's eye, and thought twice. She went.

.

Quatre turned his attention to the policeman. “You know, that was my drink you made her spill,” he said softly.

 

Drunken scorn flashed across the man's face, and he opened his mouth to say something.

 

Just then, life came back into the captain's arm, and with it pain. Instead of speaking, the large man let out a bellow of anger. His hand balled into a fist, swinging at Quatre in a vast roundhouse swipe that would have annihilated anything it struck.

 

But Quatre ducked under and to the side and, as the fist went by him, reached up behind the captain's shoulder and gave a solid push to add momentum to the swing. The captain spun around; Quatre caught the man's right wrist and twisted it up behind his back.

 

The man tried to wrench away, but Quatre held him. A mocking smile curved his lips as he thought, All those hours of working out are paying off after all. He jerked the man's wrist up a little higher; the captain howled. While he was howling, Quatre's arm snaked under the man's armpit to catch the back of his neck in a half nelson.

 

He planted a knee in the man's backside as he released his holds; the captain blundered into the open space between the table and the hearth, tried to catch his balance, and didn't make it.

 

He came to his knees, shaking his head dazedly, to see Quatre standing before him in a wrestler's crouch, smiling grimly and beckoning with both arms.

 

The captain growled low in his throat and braced a foot against the stones that surrounded the hearth. He shot straight for Quatre like a bull. He gracefully sidestepped, and stuck out a foot. Again the man went flailing, this time straight into a row of tables. Quatre winced and looked away as there was an extremely loud crashing sound.

 

He looked apologetically towards the bartender, who was the owner of the inn. “Please forgive the disturbance. I'll pay for the damages, I assure you.”

 

“I don't mind,” the man said quietly. “It's about time someone showed that man his place.”

 

Quatre smiled. “I am happy to have been of service.“ He sauntered calmly out of the bar, and the rest of the policemen present let him go without a sound of protest.

 

Relena was standing just outside the entrance to the bar, fidgeting nervously. Quatre watched her for a moment. “Well,” he said finally. “This wasn't the way I wanted to meet you again, sister mine.”

 

Relena bit her lip, then said softly, “Mother, Zechs and Duo don't know about this job. They think I'm off at some party or other with friends. Please don't tell them, Quatre.”

 

Quatre regarded his younger sister in silence. He'd always gotten along reasonably well with Relena; they'd had their share of tiffs, but nothing too rough. He saw no reason to tell his bitch of a mother anything about her daughter; if Annie was so irresponsible as to not notice where Relena was working, that was her problem. His older brothers, however, had always looked out for both him and Relena. That they did not know about this job was surprising.

 

“How late were you supposed to be out with your…friends tonight?”

 

Relena blinked, surprised by the simple question. She'd been expecting a lecture. “I…usually work until eleven or so. I told Zechs I'd probably be sleeping over at Hilde's house tonight. She covers for me when the boss asks me to work the midnight shifts.”

 

Quatre glanced at his watch. It was nearly one in the morning. “Since you're going to be out all night, you can come home with me.” It wasn't a request, but an order.

 

Relena's shoulders sagged, but she nodded. She followed Quatre out to his old, beat-up Buick, and climbed in when Quatre held the door open for her, smiling a little at her brother's manners. She remembered, from three years ago, how Quatre had always treated her like a lady, when Zechs paid her little attention and Duo made a point of pissing her off. Duo still pissed her off, but when Quatre left Zechs tried harder to be a better brother to her. She loved Zechs, and even Duo, but Quatre had always been her favorite, and now, even when she knew she might very well be in deep trouble, she couldn't help but feel happiness welling up brightly within her at seeing Quatre again.

 

Quatre felt a headache coming on as he got in the car and started it. He knew he was going to end up keeping his sister's secret, and he was not pleased by it. But he'd never been able to resist her sweet, innocent eyes - not three years ago, when she'd first begun to bloom, and certainly not now, when she had become such a beautiful woman, with the innocence still remaining in eyes that matched the shade of his own.

 

 

Wufei raced through the ruined streets of the city, and the infantry's hobnailed boots hammered on the cobblestones behind him. He was giddily aware of the world around him, laughing inside that he should notice how the air that rushed past him smelled of jasmine and the sweet rain that the merastoforos had brought for the crops. The breeze blew from inland tonight and carried the stink of the ruined city of Terrestria out to sea with it. Such winds were thought to be unlucky by the people of the city - it kept the men of the city away from shore, and blew unceasingly for weeks at a time, making travel by water difficult.

 

But whatever sort of luck it brought Terrestria as a whole, the breeze was the favor of the gods for Wufei - it was a beautiful night for running. The stiff, dry breeze carried the sweat away from his skin, and the cool air added to his endurance, rather than sapping it. Behind him, the armored infantry crashed and labored, cut off from the cooling wind by their protective gear.

 

The infantry were nothing compared to his power, but they were spreading systematically through the streets. Wufei could defeat any one of the detachments, but the troops were merely the hounds. The Andra trailed behind the foot soldiers, ready to converge on any sign of the fleeing sorcerer. The cold, dangerous castros wanted him to fight, wanted him to burn soul-strength until he could no longer conceal the divine spirit hidden within him. Or to run, flying heedless and instinctive through the night, until he fell into some ambush they had laid.

 

 

 

Minutes later, Wufei stopped his flight, and sweat instantly coated his body. He looked behind him and heard the distant clatter of the imperial troops. He had come up short before one of the city's haunted districts. Even centuries after the Black Sorrow, the streets were still strewn with shattered glass and thick with hungry ghosts and evil spirits bred by the horrors of the plague. He walked forward, until the toes of his boots almost touched the place where the Rubylak had ordered a groove cut into the cobbles and filled with cake salt, to contain the evil of the place.

 

The fugitive stared down at the salt barrier glittering whitely in the pavement before him. He remembered hearing stories from the locals around the area, about a child named Aeshanda, who used to skip back and forth over the barrier. She would laugh at the other children in the neighborhood and tease them from hiding places in the ruins. Eventually, Aeshanda had stopped going home, and her mother had stood at the edge of the ward for days, calling out her daughter's name. The other mothers shook their heads and looked away, and even the other children knew that Aeshanda belonged to the ghosts now.

 

Wufei had heard a girl-child's voice echoing from the ruins before. Such sounds were common in Terrestria, and Wufei had sometimes lain awake at night and wondered if each of the voices had once been a person like Aeshanda, or if some or even most were just sounds the place itself made, the way the ocean roared as the waves crashed into the beach.

 

There was only one way to find out. If the Andra wanted him, they could come find him in the belly of the beast. Wufei wiped nagging droplets of sweat from his forehead and stepped deliberately across the warded line. He took a deep breath and was gone, running deep into the ruins, his tread as light as a feather and as fleet as the swiftest wind.

 

 

 

Wufei was tired of running. He'd volunteered to be the decoy for the wizards to chase, while Sally Po, Trowa, Epyon, Treize Khushrenada, and the newly-met Heero Yuy searched for the portal that had been opened. They'd been able to discern that it was somewhere with this dying port city, but had been hounded constantly by the assassins known as the Andra. Fed up with the interference, Wufei had taken matters into his own hands and lured the people away from his companions. The only catch to this was that Wufei had precious little patience for running and hiding.

 

 

 

Wufei saw the Andra approaching long before they came into view. The warrior-mages had spent far too much soul-strength battling the evil of the ruins to conceal their auras. There were only two of them, but they were impressive enough for that. One was clad in red-pearl armor and carried a ruby-tipped spear. His aura roared crimson and orange, billowing around him like a bonfire. His companion's armor was of green-pearl, and he carried a double-bladed axe with an emerald head. His aura was brilliant green, and it flowed like a field of grass in a stormwind. From the sheer power of their auras, it was clear why the Andra warriors did not fight mounted - no horse could have survived the displays that whirled around the two mages.

 

Their escorting infantry had been thinned out considerably by the evil spirits of the ruins - most showed signs of injury, and they all looked skittish and haggard. They shied away even from their mage leaders, and looking into their hearts Wufei could see nothing but terror. In the shadows, he smiled and tensed into a crouch. He waited until the hunters passed below his hiding place on a rooftop nearly fifty feet above ground. He slowly drew his throwing knives from his belt and sprang upon the hunters like a cornered lion.

 

Wufei fell from the darkness like a star, streaming golden fire as he called upon his own soul-strength. He released his knives in midair, and his magic multiplied them so that they fell like rain upon the soldiers below. The armor of the mages would surely turn his blades, so he aimed his fury at the soldiers who accompanied them. If his enemies were hunters, then let them hunt him without hounds.

 

Thirteen soldiers died instantly, torn to pieces by the hail of blades. Wufei's knees flexed slightly as he landed, and the Andra looked at him through narrowed eyes. The street was wet with blood and day-bright with the glare of the mages' auras, though it was close to true night now. He assumed the fluid posture of his personal martial arts stance, and then the Andra were upon him.

 

The Andra were unusually powerful - it took him a full ten minutes to kill them both. He straightened from the crouch he'd taken to cast his final spell, wiped the sweat from his face, and sighed. The pursuit for his head was getting to be annoying.

 

There were three more Andra that he knew of. They had not pursued him when he'd flashed the warriors a view of himself and taken off running. This caused him some worry, and he decided to find his companions again. Trowa was a formidable fighter, and Heero Yuy was famous for his battle skills, but he knew little of the others' abilities, and thought it better to be safe than sorry.

 

Wufei suddenly reeled as an enormous magical vibration passed through the air. Oh, blast, the gate! It appeared as though the Andra had reached their destination first. Wufei began to run as his temples began to throb. I just hope I'm not too late.

 

 

Pain surged through Quatre's temples as he listened to his sister's soft chatter with half an ear. He was having trouble focusing on the road, and kept getting flares of emotions that were most definitely not his own. Worry, anger, a flash of pain similar to the one in his head, then finally sheer panic.

 

Quatre's fingertips dug into the steering wheel, and he pulled over to the side of the road, unable to drive any further. Driven by the foreign emotions flaring in and out of his consciousness in varying degrees of intensity, he stumbled out of the vehicle to the grass beside the road. They were passing the city's park on the way to his apartment when the emotions finally drove Quatre to stop; the area was dark and deserted.

 

“Quatre?!” Relena's panicked voice sounded behind him. “What's wrong?”

 

Relena's hand on his shoulder forced Quatre to receive all of her worried emotions in addition to the painful flashes from somewhere else. He groaned and pulled away. “'Lena, your feelings…I can't…”

 

Relena, who knew full well about Quatre's power, realize what was happening and removed her hand. “What's wrong? Are you sensing someone in trouble?” she asked urgently, since the emotions her brother was feeling were obviously not his own.

 

Quatre tried to stand, only to fall to his knees again as pain surged through his head, redoubled in intensity. “Call…Zechs,” he forced out. “Cell phone…in…”

 

“I have my own,” Relena said quickly, digging into her purse. She just hoped her eldest brother would know what to do. Thank goodness the Maxwell house wasn't far from the park.