Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Eyes Cold As Death ❯ Two ( Chapter 2 )

Whatever happens to me, I'll not care. Whatever happens to him will determine my next step.

I gaze at the glimmering sky harboring a hidden moon and pray. The city lights loom larger as I approach.

Is he there?

Please…

Eyes Cold As Death

Chapter Two-Glimpse of the Past

His meager canvas bag slapped him repeatedly as he ran-breaths coming out in strangled puffs. Not daring to glance behind, he fled through the sleeping streets-they were on to him again. He darted into a darkened alleyway and desperately searched for a hiding place. He could hear the heavy footsteps approaching the alley. He had to get out of there. Fleeing on pure adrenaline alone, he continued to sprint through the trash that littered the ground.

"There he is!"

A bullet screamed past his ear.

He rounded the far corner into the next street, leaving the shouting soldiers in the ally. For the moment they couldn't see him, and with all of their shouting, they wouldn't be able to hear him. He skidded to a stop in front of a darkened storefront. He almost jumped for joy.

Swords.

He had protection, now.

He slipped into the sunken doorway and pulled a roll of cloth out of his bag. Delicately unrolling the cloth, he revealed a homemade lock picking set. The metal picks were tarnished; he had salvaged them from various sources. He selected two of the fine picks and began working the lock. He could hear the soldiers' voices more clearly now, so they must be close to the end of the alley. He heard the comforting sound of the door unlocking and he grabbed his pick set and his canvas bag and slipped quietly through the door.

"Where is he?"

"He must be in one of the doorways. Search him out."

He stuffed his lock picks back into his bag and moved through the store. It was a pawnshop, littered with unwanted stuff-and swords. He gently pulled a slender sword from the wall hooks it was resting on. The scabbard was decorated with green and silver, in-most likely-an ancient Chinese design. The handle was plain silver with a black leather wrap curving around from hilt to end. A deep green tassel hung from the hilt, tied securely to the hilt. He pulled the blade free from its resting home. A shimmering echo filled the room and him with awe. Stray light from outside caught the sharpened blade.

He heard whispers from just outside, and wondered belatedly if he had closed the front door. He dropped to a crouch, one hand gripping the scabbard to the floor, and his other hand in a white-knuckled grip around the sword handle. He tensed up and waited to spring on anyone foolish enough to enter the shop.

"Captain, this door is open."

He knew he was trapped in the shop. His best bet would be to run. But where…into the soldiers massing outside? He gripped the leather grip more securely before launching himself into a suicide attack. Better to die fighting than to face the humiliation waiting for him if he were caught. He'd been through that hell before, by men far better and much worse than the soldiers were.

He refused to go through that again.

He'd spent too many weeks recovering from the humiliations-too many days of not being able to sit correctly. The hospitals wouldn't fix the wounds, `cause he had no money; and the cops wouldn't help him, `cause he was a nobody-not worth the effort. There wasn't anyone or anyplace he could go to get away from men's brutal hands-at least not physically. There was a place in his mind that he could go whenever things got bad. He never told anyone about it, he didn't want anyone to hurt him there. In his mind, where people couldn't go, is where he hid-they could still hurt his body, but they couldn't hurt him. Not unless they found a way to destroy his sacred place. It was green. An emerald green like grass on the other side of the fence, or like that of a newly printed bill from a distance, or the sea at sunset, when the clouds are purple and the air peaceful.

He burst through the store front-not bothering to use the door. He showered the soldiers with shards of glass. As he landed on his feet, swinging his sword, he silently thanked Gene for stealing him a pair of shoes.

His shoulder jerked painfully as he hacked at someone's arm. For a split second, he felt like his sword would never cut through the bone and he would be caught, but a soft grating sound, instead drifted from the blade and it tore through the rest of the solder, leaving two twitching halves draining blood onto the sidewalk. He swung violently at another approaching soldier disconnecting the head from the body. He cried out as he fought, the world reducing itself to the motion of his swinging sword, the spray of warm blood and the rolling and bouncing of a severed head.

Fog rolled in around his mind as he hacked away at the disappearing soldiers. Weren't there more of them? He stared out of unseeing eyes, still fighting-obsessed. He didn't want to die.

He wanted to live.

He wanted to find the reality of his safe place. He wanted to find Trowa-the name he cried out every morning. He wanted to look into those green eyes that slowly faded away with consciousness. He wanted to be happy-not scared. He no longer wanted to have to fight daily for his right to live.

He wanted a home.

The head tumbled into the gutter.

Trowa.

Rain pelted down from the grieving heavens.

Trowa.

______________________________

Trowa downshifted, the truck rumbling for a few seconds before his speed leveled out. They were approaching Svetlaine to spend two weeks doing performances-the perfect time to look for Quatre. Cathy shifted a little in her sleep. He glanced down at her, his heart grieving. She was curled up on her side with her head in his lap. Exactly as Quatre would do. He resisted the urge to stroke his fingers through her hair as his mind replaced her image with Quatre's.

"We almost there?" Trowa smiled at Cathy's sleepy question. He watched the looming lights ahead before answering.

"About an hour." Only an hour, Quatre, and I will be there. Will you?

"When's our first performance?" Cathy pulled herself into a sitting position and ran her fingers through her auburn hair to straighten it.

"Day after tomorrow." Trowa had planned on helping the crew out for most of the day, setting up the tents and caring for the animals; but that evening he would be wandering the streets.

"Do you need any help?" Cathy always offered to help him look for Quatre in every city. He always refused, but she helped anyway.

"Would it matter to you if I said no?" He watched Cathy smile.

"So you've noticed." Trowa just gave her a blank stare to say: um, hello, Gundam pilot, remember? "Yeah, yeah." Her smile faded and she turned to gaze solemnly out of the window. "I want him back just as much as you do. He's my brother-in-law whether it's official or not. I don't want to lose more family." She turned to look at Trowa with teary eyes. "I hated him at first. Hated him with all my heart…he hurt you, took you away. But after the war, you'd get this smile in your eyes whenever his name was mentioned. I didn't hate him after that, but I didn't like him until I got to know him after the two of you became Preventers." Trowa reached out a hand to Cathy's cheek and brushed away a tear trail.

"I know."

"I love him, too. He's a part of our family. Duo, Wufei and Heero are family, too, but they're not as close to us as Quatre." Trowa couldn't say anything. He hadn't known that Cathy cared that much for Quatre. He returned his gaze to the road, contemplating.

"Cathy?" A sniffle came from the other side of the truck. "Could you please help me look for Quatre?" Cathy swiped her hand over her eyes, smiling up at him.

"I'd be honored." A heavy weight seemed to be lifted from his heart. It felt good to know that someone would be helping him, someone who cared about him. He decided that he wouldn't push his loved ones away anymore. If he needed help, he would ask.

"Thank you." He whispered his thanks. Cathy smiled and moved closer to him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and somehow he knew that he would find something in this city. Maybe not Quatre…but something.

______________________________

"They're gone, Seb. All gone-I sent them away. They can't hurt us anymore, Seb." Nanashi clutched a small stuffed bear to his chest, rocking back and forth, comforting it and himself. He pulled the bear away from him to look it in the eye. "Its just you and me, now, Seb. They've killed Gene, and we don't trust the others, anyway. Stay with me?" He watched the bear closely for a few seconds as if Seb was replying, before breaking into a broad grin and hugging the bear and muttering "Thank you," over and over again.

Seb was a small bear that could sit in the palm of Nanashi's hand. He was a dark brown-the color of hair that looks black until the sun hits it just right. Seb was soft as well. Nanashi liked to have Seb straddle his shoulder and hug his neck. He'd nuzzle the small bear with his cheek and Seb would kiss his temple. At night, he and Seb comforted each other through the long, dark hours, silently warding off danger as they huddled together under Nanashi's thin and worn blankets.

Seb had been with Nanashi for over a year. Nanashi found Seb in a small furniture store that he had entered to get out of the biting cold. He had sat on each of the couches-taking small naps when the employees hadn't been looking. Seb had been decorating one of the more expensive couches-reduced to a life of looking pretty and cringing whenever small children approached. Some of the other bears he had seen were in bad shape with drool and half-chewed food littering their fine fur. Seb had probably just been set out. Nanashi had decided to rescue that doomed bear from the humiliating life of have grubby, young hands pulling at his nose and poking him in the eyes.

Having already lived on the streets for almost two years, Nanashi had already started a life of crime-stealing whatever he could to survive. So rescuing Seb had been easy-and they became friends. Seb became Nanashi's only trusted friend-only trusted being-in the world, and Nanashi became Seb's protector. To Nanashi, Seb was real; to everyone else, Seb was a toy.

Nanashi glanced suspiciously around, making sure that no one was after Seb, before wrapping the bear up in his ragged blanket and placing Seb gently into his canvas bag. He strapped his scabbard to his back-checking to make sure the green tassels were free of the strap. He quickly pulled the sword free of its home and replaced, making sure it was easily accessible as well as usable. Nanashi gathered up his bag and placed it carefully on his shoulders so as not to disturb Seb. He shrugged a couple times to get the straps resting in comfortable spots and checked once more if his sword was free. Checking around him a last time to make sure no one would follow him, he quickly disappeared into the crowded street.

______________________________

"Have you seen this man?" Cathy held out the picture of Quatre to the bored stare of the police officer. The officer took a slow sip of his steaming coffee, and replacing the Styrofoam cup carefully on the desk, he leaned forward, his keys jingling as they fell from their resting place.

"No, ma'am. I have not."

"Oh," Cathy tucked the picture into her pocket, "well, thank you, then, sir." She turned and pushed through the heavy station doors. It was well past four o'clock, and she had been searching since noon. Two fire stations, three hospitals, and two police stations later, she was no closer to finding Quatre than she was yesterday. She wandered up to a hot dog stand and ordered a hot dog with mustard and a bottle of water. She sat down on a nearby bench to eat and pulled out her map of the city. The next hospital was three miles away, and her feet were already sore from the last four hours of walking. She glanced up when a bus squeaked and puffed to a stop in front of her and opened its doors. Dropping her trash into a nearby trashcan, she hopped aboard after noticing that it went to the Medical Park. Settling into a window seat, she leaned her forehead on the window to watch the city go by.

It was strange, the way she had felt about Quatre-well, maybe honest is a better way to think of it. She had hated him with her entire being, without even meeting him. She hated him simply because he was a Gundam pilot. Simply because he was associated with the war. After Trowa returned from the war, she found his memories restored, but he seemed more sullen than normal. She didn't understand, and almost lost him when, in a fit of anger, had screamed at him for leaving. She asked him what his death wish was, and why he was obsessed with killing. It was the first time she had ever seen him so vulnerable-even in his amnesia, he had at least been strong, eventhough he was afraid. But this-this was like cutting stitches apart right after the doctor steps out of the room and forcing the wound open, it was like someone who thought they were loved, but had been told violently and uncaringly that they were hated instead. She hadn't ever seen that amount of anguish in anyone's eyes-until Trowa opened Quatre's door with tears rolling down his face and a battle hours away. It was then that she realized, like she had been slapped, that he didn't like the fighting and killing, that he cared for the other pilots.

"They're your friends, aren't they." She spoke softly after a long silence. Trowa had just put his hand upon her door handle. He stood there, though, not turning around, and not turning the handle. "The pilots I met, they're your friends." A small movement of Trowa's head confirmed her statements. She fell into another silence-angry with herself for ever assuming the worst of her brother. It didn't matter how silent he was or how he never told her what was going on, she didn't have the right to assume. She raised her head to speak again, seeing Trowa still by the door, hand ready to fling open the door. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have thought the worst." She watched his hand drop from the handle.

"I'm not exactly vocal about anything."

"That's no excuse." He slowly turned around and she noticed tears in his eyes. "Tell me about them?" The corners of his mouth raised slightly into a small smile. She gestured to her ratty couch and he moved to relax upon it. She sat beside him, at rapt attention. She wanted to know her brother.

"Heero was the first one you met…"

His eyes had sparkled when talking about Quatre. It was then, listening to how brave and kind the blonde was, that she reversed her judgement. She didn't feel anything for him, yet, but she would give him a chance. The next time she saw him, she would do what civilized people do-shake his hand and introduce herself. His smile had been just as bright and friendly as Trowa had described it, and Quatre just waved off her apology for the way she had treated him before. He told her that it had been a war, and she was a grieving sister. He had joked that he was surprised that she didn't kill him outright. After they had caught their breaths, it was all forgiven and forgotten.

The bus lurched to its last stop, pulling her from her recollections. She slowly disembarked and approached the hospital looming before her. She dug through her pocket looking for the picture Trowa had taken of Quatre. She entered the sliding glass doors and approached the front counter. She held out the picture.

"Excuse me, miss? Have you seen this man?" The woman Cathy addressed took the picture and studied it closely.

"Yeah, I have. Though this is an old picture, he has long hair, now." Cathy's heart raced in anticipation. That means he's still alive.

"When? Where? How did he look?" Cathy's words flew out in a rush.

"I think it was about three or four months ago. He came in seeking medical attention, however," the nurse's eyes dropped, "we were unable to help him `cause he had no money and no insurance." The nurse raised her eyes, "You understand. He looked, well, bad. He wasn't washed, and his hair was ragged. It looks more blonde in your picture. He was too thin, I assume that he's been living on the streets for a long time."

"Do you know where Quatre might be?" The nurse peered at her strangely.

"Quatre? His name was Nanashi, and I don't know where the homeless are-they're forgotten." Cathy's heart sank at the admittance that the nurse had seen another man.

"Nanashi?" The nurse nodded her head.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but that's what he said his name was." Cathy felt like hot, bitter tears were going to explode from her eyes and consume her. She numbly mumbled her thanks and dragged her feet out of the hospital.

There was still no sign of Quatre.

Would there ever be?

______________________________

Dorothy carefully clicked the door shut, hoping not to interrupt. Relena sat at her desk, rubbing the bridge of her nose and staring at the man on the call with tired eyes. Dorothy sat out of the viewer's line of sight and watched Relena with worry. She clutched her laptop to her chest like it would run away at any moment. She listened to Relena speak to whomever it was that was on the phone.

"I understand, Senator, but the fact of them matter is, is that the deadline has passed, and we've not heard anything more from them. Either we need to continue on with our lives in peace, or we need to send an envoy-an unpopularized envoy, to find out what's going on." The Senator interrupted Relena as she began to speak again.

"What about your claims for total pacifism? The fact that the Preventers even exist is a shout that you don't believe in your own policy."

"Quite frankly, Senator, I find it highly unprofessional that you would use this crisis to attack my policies-policies, may I remind you, that you have, not only agreed upon, but welcomed with open arms. And, sir, I never said that I had any intentions of breaking my policy for peace, but if we are attacked, would you rather me leave our people as slaves?" Dorothy couldn't see the Senator's reaction, but she knew it couldn't have been pretty. "And furthermore, Senator, I was about to say that I would prefer to be informed, so I would like to send a peaceful envoy to investigate." Relena emphasized `peaceful'.

"And who would you send? One of your Gundam Pilots? Would they really be peaceful?"

"I will leave it up to Lady Une to send whom she believes will accomplish our goals. I do believe that, if unprovoked, the Pilots will uphold our policies."

"If provoked?"

"They will deal with the situation as they see fit. Just like you or I would, Senator." Relena glanced at her wristwatch. "I have another meeting to attend to, so if you'll please excuse me…"

"Of course." The phone went dead, and the softly glowing light from the viewscreen slowly faded away. Relena turned to face Dorothy in the moonlit darkness.

"Relena-stay seated. You need to be sitting when I tell you this." The pained look on Relena's face tore at her heart, but she knew that Relena would love the news.

"Please tell me that this isn't bad." Relena pleaded.

"Only from the standpoint that it could have been better if we had found the information sooner." Relena dropped her chin.

"Go on." Dorothy allowed a long silence to fill the study as she opened up her laptop and turned it so Relena could see.

"We've found evidence that Quatre is alive and well." Relena shot to her feet, lunging at the laptop.

"Alive?" Her voice cracked in excitement. Dorothy allowed herself a private smile.

"And kicking…apparently some major ass." Relena threw her a sharp look while Dorothy laughed. "He's on a most wanted list-a list that the other Gundam Pilots haven't even made it on. Our enemy wants Quatre `dead or alive'." She pointed to the screen in sheer triumph. "See?" Relena's face spread into a smile.

"Go Quatre. How many soldiers has he killed?" Relena squinted at the screen.

"Over two hundred in about a month and a half. It sounds, from my investigations, that the soldiers were having a little fun with the homeless people, and they ended up chasing Quatre. It looks like Quatre killed the entire group, which at that time…counted in at…twenty." She read directly from the laptop, knowing that Relena didn't have her glasses. "After that, they've been sending groups up to forty after him." She looked up at Relena. "He's killed over ninety-five percent of the soldiers trying to catch him."

"Stay alive, Quatre. Please, stay alive until we can get you."

"I'm on my way to contact Lady Une-I just thought that you might like to know." Relena sank into her chair, closing her eyes in relief.

"Yes, thank you." Dorothy stood to leave, when Relena put a hand on her arm. "Do they refer to him as Quatre?"

"No, but they have a picture, and call him Alecto."

"Alecto?"

"I looked it up-Alecto is a Greek goddess of enduring hate and is a part of the Erinyes, a trio of retributive goddesses."

"Goddess?" Dorothy handed Relena the picture.

"He has long hair now, and if you thought Duo was mistaken for a girl a lot, you ought to see this picture." Relena burst into hysterical giggles as she glimpsed the photograph.

"Oh my God!" Relena's giggles quickly turned into tears. "Get him…now." Dorothy nodded solemnly.

"Already in progress." Dorothy paused, she knew Relena was under a lot of stress, but this? "Are you okay?" Relena nodded.

"I just need to sleep." Dorothy placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let me take care of this, and I'll be up to help you." Relena nodded weakly. This whole situation was taking its toll of Relena-the not knowing what would happen from day to day, the spiraling chaos of escalating war-despite all of Relena's efforts to remain in a peaceful realm. Relena rested her hand on Dorothy's.

"Thank you."