Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Eyes Cold As Death ❯ Eight ( Chapter 8 )

Wind catches at our hair, tugging it away from our faces. I see you clearly, now, as if I didn't before. My hand on your cheek, fits perfectly, like a sculptor designed it. Do you know this? We were made to order.

Eyes Cold As Death

Chapter Eight--Healing

Quatre wandered around the apartment, picking up various items, inspecting them and setting them back in their exact place before moving on. Trowa watched him anxiously, hoping beyond hope that something would trigger a memory. Sally walked back into the apartment with her medical bag in hand.

"Quatre," she called, "let's get you looked at." Sally led Quatre into the kitchen motioning for him to hop onto the counter. "We'll have to do this here." Quatre just nodded watching her pull out various items.

"He has a wound on his thigh. I wrapped it, but you should still…" Sally looked at Quatre at Trowa's words.

"This true?" Quatre nodded.

"It doesn't hurt, though." Sally squinted at Quatre before standing up.

"Get undressed. I'll need to see it." Quatre's eyes widened and he began shaking. He jumped off of the counter and ran for the bedroom.

"NO!" Sally looked at Trowa quizzically as he barreled down the hall after Quatre.

"Quatre." He called as Quatre entered the room and turned around, eyes flaming with animal instinct, and started to shut the door. Trowa slammed into the shutting door, flinging himself into the room. The door banged against the wall before slamming shut. Quatre backed away to the wall, shaking. Trowa sat back on his heels and just watched Quatre. "I'm not going to hurt you. Sally's not going to hurt you. We just want to help you."

"No." Quatre's words came out in a barely discernable ragged breath. "Please, no."

"We're not going to do anything, Quatre. Sally just wants to make sure your leg is fine. She can't do that through your clothes. You won't be in danger."

"But…"

"Nothing. We want to protect you. Sally's a doctor, she wants to heal you." He leaned forward on his hands and knees, crawling slowly forward. After a foot, Quatre stiffened up. Trowa stopped. "Let us help you, Quatre."

"You won't hurt me?"

"Of course not, Quatre. We are your friends and the last thing we would ever want is to see you hurt. Nothing could ever make us want to hurt you." Trowa crawled toward Quatre again. "Nothing."

"You still want to protect me?" Trowa thought that he could hear a little bit of hope in Quatre's voice.

"Yes, Little One, I do." Quatre screamed and curled into a ball, clutching at his hair.

"NO!" Trowa rushed forward, pulling Quatre in his arms.

"What? What is it, Quatre? What's wrong?" Quatre's eyes were wide and unseeing as he struggled in Trowa's embrace.

"Let go, let go!"

"Quatre!" Trowa barked, trying to get Quatre's senses about him. His eyes started stinging as Quatre struggled violently in his arms. "Please."

"No! Don't!" Quatre bit Trowa's hand, rolling away as Trowa pulled back. Trowa didn't know what to do. His lover, his friend, his only hope in the world was backing away from him with frightened eyes.

"Quatre, please! Its me, its Trowa." Quatre blinked, huddling against the bed. Sally walked into the room and Trowa looked at her with pleading eyes.

"Trowa?" Quatre's small voice whispered. Trowa nodded, feeling tears slipping down his cheeks. He needed Quatre more than anything, and seeing Quatre hurting like this was gutting him. Quatre stopped shaking, the far away glaze to his eyes fading away. "I'm sorry." Quatre turned away, hiding his face in the mattress. Trowa sobbed, feeling alone and empty. Quatre couldn't even come to him for comfort; he had to huddle against a bed. Quatre was frightened of him. He didn't know when he had become racked with sobs, his crying echoing throughout the room, but he noticed the comforting arms that wrapped around him, and he pulled the comforter to him on pure instinct.

"Why? Why did this have to happen? Why can't he remember me? Why is he frightened of me?" He held onto the person holding him. "I couldn't protect him, I failed him. Oh, God, what kind of man does that make me? I love him so much." He looked up, but not at the hazel eyes of Sally, but at the familiar blue of Quatre's. Quatre's arms were around him, rubbing his back in soothing patterns. It was Quatre who was holding him close, comforting him. "I'm sorry." Quatre shook his head violently; shaking gathered tears loose.

"I'm the one who should be sorry." Trowa shook his head. "Its just that when you called me L…Li…by that name, I…" Trowa gazed into the misty eyes of his soulmate. Quatre pulled away, but Trowa wound his arms around Quatre, preventing him from doing so. Quatre looked away, but didn't protest. "That's what the soldiers called me."

The revelation hit Trowa like a ton of bricks. He clutched Quatre closer to him, burying his face in Quatre's shoulder.

"I'll kill those bastards."

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When Trowa had called him Little One, he couldn't think. It was as if he had been thrusted back to that place where the soldiers chased him down every night to play with him--humiliate him. He felt grimy fingers clawing their way over his skin, ripping his clothes to shreds. Their rotten breath puffed its way down his body and around his face as he struggled to get away from them. But, inevitably, scratching fingers would find their way down, other treacherous hands would hold him down, and he would be cut into--invaded by their swollen cocks in his ass as well as his mouth. His insides would burn as they thrusted again and again and again. He would gag as they held him down, pinned under many bodies, all cheering the two getting off on him, all waiting for their turn. He could feel the rough brick scraping and digging into his face and skin as they pounded him relentlessly against some crumpled building. He could feel their semen and his blood trailing down his legs as they kicked him before walking away laughing and congratulating each other for a fuck well done. He could feel his cheeks burning with tears of humiliation as he wished with all of his might that they would just kill him. He would stay curled up wherever they left him until the rats started nibbling on him, then, and only then, he would pick himself painfully up, legs refusing to work, and drag himself to where his stuff lay waiting.

Nobody cared about him, not even Gene. Gene was just using him. At least Gene didn't fuck him against a wall. Gene just wanted someone to cook his meals and steal for him. But when he heard Trowa say that he would kill the bastards that had raped him, something inside--some barrier he had erected--crumbled and he relaxed in Trowa's embrace. He was crying, bawling with relief, and with those four little words, his world turned upside down. For the first time, he didn't feel threatened.

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Trowa felt the change in Quatre the moment it happened. As soon as he had said that he would kill the people responsible for Quatre's pain, Quatre had just gone limp in his arms. Every touch up until that point, even if Quatre initiated them, had been tense and stiff, as though Quatre were repulsed by the very idea of two people touching. Even Cathy had told him that Quatre was tense in her arms. But now, Quatre was sobbing, completely open for comfort, and completely relaxed in his arms. It was like the old Quatre--the trusting Quatre, the Quatre that had fallen asleep in his arms and he had put to bed.

He cradled Quatre against his chest, just as he had done many times before, whispering soothing words into his ear. He never said Little One, and he never would.

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Sally watched Trowa rock Quatre back and forth. She was a little confused as to what had just transpired, but she knew that everything would be okay. She leaned against the wall, with her bag at her feet, waiting for when Quatre was ready. She wouldn't interrupt; they needed this. She tore her gaze from them and watched the clouds float by out of the window. She was going to have to play psychologist as well as doctor. She watched the sky darken from blue to purple as the sun began sinking from sight. She realized that this was the end of the past, and with the sunrise tomorrow, there would be a new future to look forward to. She smiled inwardly at her thoughts, she was such a romantic, and the scene before her touched her heart. She wiped tears away with her sleeve and turned her thoughts to the immense task before her.

She couldn't go to anyone for help; the security risk was too high. She couldn't bring anyone in, for the same reason. The mole that was inside HQ scared everyone. The mole was untraceable. Not even Heero could track him. As a result, almost all hands were tied, and hers were bound tight because of Quatre. Une didn't want anyone to know about Quatre outside of the core Preventers. Her reasoning was simple, and sound. She didn't want the mole to find out and alert the enemy. Since the enemy had Quatre for so long, Une was afraid that they would come after him, thinking him to be the weakest link, and Quatre was in no shape to be fighting. The other reason was that, technically, Quatre was a security risk as well until his memory returned. Until then he was unpredictable and therefore, dangerous.

However, that didn't mean that Une wanted to give up on Quatre. Sally had the feeling that Une held herself personally responsible for Quatre's capture. Une was the one who assigned Quatre that specific mission without knowing about the mole. She constantly berated herself for missing the signs of an information leak.

Sally turned back to Trowa and Quatre. Trowa had helped Quatre up onto the bed and was now approaching her.

"He's ready. Just," Trowa glanced at Quatre, who was swinging his legs, "tell him what you're doing. I don't know, but it might help keep him calm." Sally put her hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Trowa. I'll do everything I can." Trowa squeezed her hand.

"I know." Sally approached Quatre, who had taken his pants off and was now looked decidedly uncomfortable in his boxers. "Quatre, I'm going to take a look at your leg to make sure that the wound isn't infected."

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Duo jumped anxiously from foot to foot, glancing at the clock for the hundredth time in two minutes. He looked again at Heero who was packing up for the day. He shifted his balance, eyes flicking to the infernal clock. 4:59. Argh!

"Damnit, Heero. Hurry up!" Duo whined, willing the second-hand to move faster. He heard Heero chuckle behind him.

"Patience, my frantic one, patience."

"Frantic my ass…I want to go." Duo watched with unrestrained pleasure as the second-hand finally clicked over, pushing the time to five p.m. He cheered and bolted for the office door, stopping only when an arm encircled his waist.

"But I'm not finished, yet." Duo turned to look pleadingly at Heero. "I apologize for running late, but I have one more thing to take care of." Heero pulled Duo into a soul-searching kiss. Heero pulled away, walking smugly out the door, leaving a suddenly unmotivated Duo behind. Duo shook his head, noticing the time--5:08.

"You bastard!" Duo called, racing after Heero. "You play dirty." Heero shrugged.

"I never said I played fair."

"Touché." Heero grinned at him. "Can we go now?" Heero gestured to the stairs.

"I know you hate the elevators."

"Anyone who uses the elevators must have a death wish." Heero laughed, a warm sound lighting up the stairway. Duo bounded up and raced Heero to the car. "Last one to your car is a rotten egg!" He could feel Heero break into a run behind him and he stretched out into an all out sprint as he bolted down the prison halls of HQ. He weaved in and around people milling toward the entrance. He danced through the lobby laughing, as Heero stayed hot on his heels. He glanced behind him to Heero's smiling face. He stuck his tongue out and fell. He rolled over the person he had run into, calling out a quick apology as he rolled to his feet, shrieking as Heero vaulted over him.

"You're too slow, Duo!" Heero hollered over his shoulder as Duo scrambled after him, not looking back to see the angry green fire blazing in Jezebel's eyes as she picked herself up off the floor.

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Duo scowled at the passing city as Heero laughed at him.

"You should have seen the look on your face when you ran into that poor woman!" Duo sank further into his seat.

"I should've helped her up, but, noooo, Mr. I'm-so-cool-I-have-to-vault-over-everybody had to lump over me." Heero laughed.

"So, Rotten Egg, are you going to sulk in front of Quatre?" Heero poked Duo in the side, grinning in triumph as Duo giggled and squirmed.

"Stop it, Heero, jeez." Duo turned to smack Heero playfully in the arm as they pulled up to Quatre's apartment. Duo's eyes rested on Quatre's door as Heero turned the car off. Neither of them moved. "Do you think he's okay?" Heero put a comforting arm on Duo's shoulder.

"No, but he'll be fine. He's strong, and he has four wonderful friends."

"Yeah. You're right. I mean, hell, he's survived this long, right?"

"Come on." Duo nodded and got out of the car, still staring at the door to Quatre's apartment. It was time to face the jury and find out how Quatre truly felt.

Heero's arm around his shoulders was comforting as he imagined himself walking into the court room shackled wrist and foot.