Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Eyes Cold As Stone ❯ Chapter Seven ( Chapter 7 )

Eyes Cold As Stone

Chapter 7

Thunder rolled ominously through the air as slivers of lightening sliced through massive gray clouds. The smell of rain was thick in the air and the thunderheads were bloated as if ready to spill their loads of moisture. The wind built up, whistling through the leaves, warning of something dreadful to come. Impermeable clouds blocked the warmth from the morning sun. A thick jag of lightening ripped through a thundercloud, spilling the backed up rain and tearing violently through the sound barrier, sending a deafening shock wave of sound convulsing through the air. Trowa jerked to wakefulness, his arms tightening around Quatre. He felt Quatre tense up, as if ready to kill. He stroked Quatre's hair soothingly as another clap of thunder sounded from far away. He looked down at the pale head resting on his chest. His heart tightened. He squeezed his eyes closed, protecting himself from the duty that lay ahead of him. He felt a hand graze his cheek, and he opened his eyes.

"Its okay, Trowa. You'll come back to me." Quatre's eyes glistened with unshed tears. He smiled and nodded.

"I know." Quatre's eyes scrunched up, studying him. He felt as if Quatre was picking apart his soul, gazing into places no one had ever seen.

"Don't lie to me, Trowa." Quatre's words were quiet, but they fell on his ears like screams. "And definitely don't lie to yourself." The statement hit Trowa between the eyes. He had been lying to himself, and in the process he lied to Quatre.

"I'm scared." An apology wasn't necessary-Quatre wasn't hurt. But the two words took an eternity to come out. He could count the number of times that he had admitted that he was scared, on one hand. That included the times he had only admitted that fact to himself. He was the sturdy one-the one who could stand in front of a complete stranger and let then throw knives at him. He was the one who could continue to fight with a wrist knife and no ammo against another Gundam. He was the one who was alone-the bulwark that would not break; the silent clown who could not laugh. Yet here he was-admitting that he was afraid. He was aware that Quatre had risen from his chest, and was now propped up on his elbows, staring intently at him. He gazed up at his lover, his sorrows and stress flowing smoothly away.

"I know." Quatre's words echoed inside his head. Quatre knew? How could Quatre know that he was scared when he hardly knew it himself? "We all are scared. Every last one of us." Everyone? Including Heero?

"But-" Quatre placed a hand over his lips.

"No buts. Just accept." Quatre wouldn't lie. If Quatre said that everyone was scared, then everyone was scared.

"Everyone?" The words were muffled, struggling to get around Quatre's fingers. Quatre smiled sadly.

"Everyone."

"So, its okay to be scared?" Now Quatre's smile blossomed into a full-blown grin.

"Of course." Of course. He says that as if everyone should know that-though if everyone is scared, and its okay, then maybe I'm the only one who doesn't know. "Its okay, Trowa." Trowa closed his eyes and gripped Quatre's arms, dragging his love down to his chest.

"Quatre…" He still wasn't sure. It made sense, sure, but…it almost felt…like…

"I still love you, Trowa." Trowa opened his eyes, his suspicions melting away at Quatre's words. He leaned his head forward and captured Quatre's lips with his own.

"I love you, Little One." Trowa wrapped his arms around Quatre, and lost himself in the scent of his lover.

"Trowa?" Trowa grunted, not willing to move. "Not that I don't want to stay like this, but…" Trowa growled, and let Quatre climb off of him before sitting up. He winced as he felt skin pulling against tender skin. He reached an arm around his other shoulder to feel the offending tissue. His hand brushed over welted skin with a few puckered scabs-similar to a scratch. He frown, how did he get scratches…oh yeah. He stood up carefully and followed Quatre into the bathroom.

"Um…Quatre? Do we have any lotion here?" Quatre reached over the counter to grab a white bottle.

"Here you go." Trowa took a hold of Quatre's wrist.

"Do you mind?" He pointed to his back. Quatre grinned and motioned for Trowa to turn around.

"Turn around." He slowly turned and winced when he heard Quatre's troubled gasp of surprise. "Trowa! What happened?" Tender hands gently brushed the welted flesh.

"Me."

"What?"

"I must have done a really good job last night to acquire these fantastic scratches." He looked over his shoulder to grin wickedly at the slowly blushing Quatre.

"Oh…um…I, um…I did that?" Trowa turned to face Quatre fully. He grinned even more wickedly, thoughts of the night before flowing through his mind.

"Oh, yes, Little One. And I dearly hope you do it again." The path of Quatre's nails biting into his skin had been a turn on-to know that he had given Quatre that much pleasure. He was now fully enjoying Quatre's blush. He took Quatre into his arms. "So don't you be sorry." He bent to kiss Quatre-nothing else on his mind except his angel.

______________________________

Sally placed her hand on her hip and glared.

"Don't think that you can get away with that, Wufei. I've seen you do much better." Wufei growled and returned to the starting form. This was such an elementary form as well-why was he having so much trouble with it? He bowed and took his starting stance, curling his fingers back as if forming his hands into paws. He could see Sally-hand on hip-mocking him. He stopped in middle of the form.

"What, woman? What is so damn funny?" Sally stepped forward.

"I bet that you can't beat me."

"Don't gamble, woman."

"I bet that I could beat you in a fight."

"I bet that you're wrong."

"Prove it."

"You are weak."

"That doesn't prove anything-except that you are full of hot air." Wufei fumed.

"Pick your weapon." Sally stood just centimeters away. She had advanced, little by little during each statement.

"No weapon. Hand to hand." Wufei stepped violently away from the infuriating woman, noticing for the first time that she was no longer in her typical fatigues. She was actually quite sensual in the utilitarian gee. The brown belt gathered the loose canvas around her waist. The ends of the belt hung down to mid-thigh, drawing the eye down her legs, comfortably encased in more loose canvas. She cupped her fist with her other hand and bowed low. Wufei quickly followed, moving smoothly into a mantis stance-hands held in front of him as if warding, hands curled under into hooks, one knee bent, while the other leg was stretched out as if leading. He sat back allowing for ultimate balance as he studied his opponent. Sally was settling into her stance, gracefully moving one fist around her other hand, the outer side facing Wufei. She bent the knee farthest away from Wufei and stretched the leg closest to him toward him. As a result, she looked like she was going to attack from the waist up, and run away from the waist down. They stared at each other, him in concentration, her with a half-smile tugging at her lips.

Sally attacked first, circling her arms, distracting him while she slid her bent leg around to sweep his feet from under him. He lashed out with one cupped hand, capturing her wrist and pulled her off-balance before she could complete her move. Dragging her sweeping foot back in to remain balanced, she struck out with a closed fist, aiming her first two knuckles at Wufei's shoulder. He dodged, releasing her wrist and attempted a kick at her mid-section. She spun out of the attack, his foot missing her by mere centimeters, and dug her heel into his side. He grunted with the impact, and dropped to one knee, lashing out with his other leg, kicking Sally's feet out from under her. She curled into a ball, rolling backward, and kicked her legs out while arching her back. She flipped herself into a standing position and launched a roundhouse kick that connected with Wufei's shoulder. Wufei yelled as he monkey-rolled into her, knocking her over like a bowling pin. She rolled over her hands and gathered herself into a crouching tiger stance, spinning around to face Wufei. He slowly sidled closer to her. She curled her knuckles back, forming the tiger's paw, and she slid her leading foot around and tucked it in behind her, effectively taking a step backwards.

"Face it, woman, you can't win." Sally grinned-and waited. Slowly Wufei came closer, confident that he could win. He was a man-she was a woman. Too focused on those thoughts, he didn't realize that he had gotten within Sally's kicking zone until he saw her move. She launched herself into the air, kicking out with her leading foot as she did. Wufei did a backflip to attempt to get out of her way, but her foot connected with his chest anyway and sent him flying. He landed on his back and slid a little. He raised his head in time to see Sally monkey-rolling to him. He sat up toward her and gathered his feet under him, and pounced, knocking her onto her back. He pinned her to the ground.

"I repeat, woman-you cannot win." All of the sudden he was too aware of Sally's body underneath him. During their fight, her gee had come a little loose, and he could see the material of her sports bra. He saw her chest moving up and down with every breath and he found himself envying the sweat that glistened on her collarbone. He lowered himself so their lips touched. He kissed her, letting her wrists go. He cupped her face in his hands, supporting his upper body with his elbows. She ran her hands up his sides and around his shoulders. He felt her fingers delve into his gee, urgently pulling the material down his back. His flesh tingled wherever her fingers brushed, smearing sweaty skin. He shrugged his shoulders allowing the material to flow free from his shoulders. He dragged a hand down Sally's neck and chest, feeling her sharp intake of breath as his hand passed over her breast. He fumbled for a moment with the knot on her belt. Freeing the canvas over her shirt, he broke the kiss to gently push the material away from her amazing figure. While he admired her flat stomach and heaving chest, she undid the knot on his black belt and removed his top. She began toying with the drawstrings on his pants when he slid his hands up her stomach and buried his fingers under the band of her sports bra. He pushed the material up, freeing her breasts, and pulled the bra over her head. He dropped to kiss her passionately as his hand found purchase on her breast. He enjoyed how her breath quickened as he began to massage her nipple. He slid his other hand back down her chest and stomach, searching for the waistline of her pants. He pushed one of her hands aside in their work to untie his pants as his hand traveled further. He wriggled his hand into her pants and under the elastic of her underwear. She moaned into his mouth as his hand brushed over the crease where her leg met her hip. He continued lower-still massaging her breast, but now kissing a line from her mouth to her other nipple. Sally gasped and arched her back as Wufei's wandering hand found what it was looking for. He grinned against her skin and gently kissed her erect nipple, causing another moan to escape her lips. He began massaging with his tongue and his other hand as one of her hands pushed its way down to grasp his manhood through the rough material of his pants. It was his turn to moan. Sally brought her leg up, her foot getting purchase in his waistband. She dragged his pants over his hips with her foot, her hand releasing him just long enough to free him from cloth confinement. She rolled him over and straddled him-his hand still in her pants, now exposing most of her as he continued to pleasure her. She wiggled a little, allowing him to slip a finger into her. Her contented sigh excited him. He now stood straight up, reaching for her navel. She dragged her hands down his sweaty stomach and up her thighs and finally around her hips. She rose up on her knees as she dragged her pants down her thighs. Then she bent forward and kissed the top of Wufei's erection. He arched into the touch, sliding his now useless hand up her stomach to latch on to her breast as she started to take him into her mouth.

"Oh, Sally…"

Wufei opened his eyes; the euphoria from his dream slowly began to fade away.

"Oh, Sally…" He sat up in bed and looked around the old hotel room. The moon glinted through the crack in the curtains where they didn't quite meet up, and illuminated the room in soft shades of silver-gray. He rubbed his face in his hands and dragged his fingers through his loose hair. He quickly detangled a few strands with his fingers before standing to approach the bathroom. He flipped the light on and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His tanned olive skin was stretched smoothly over well-defined muscles and high cheekbones. His onyx eyes sparkled mysteriously and his raven hair now reached below his armpits. He reached for the comb that rested close by and ran it through his hair. Setting it down, he began to braid his hair from the neck, much like Duo's, only his plait was much tighter than the American's. Tying it off, he returned to the bedroom and sorted through his clothes, deciding on a navy blue tank top and white drawstring pants. He looked down at himself, conscious that he was wearing what he used to during the war. He shook his head, feeling his braid brush against his back. He glanced at the clock resting by the bed: 9:18. He had to be back at HQ in six hours. He quickly gathered his clothes, stuffing them into his duffel, and headed out to his bike.

He sped along the deserted road thinking of Sally. The dream was coming more often, now. Plus, it was a hell of a lot more detailed than it used to be. He knew that he wanted Sally, but he had to admit that he was a chicken when it came to romance. He raced through the long shadows cast by tall aspens. Soon enough, he would be back home and back at HQ-with Sally.

______________________________

Duo slung his arm around Quatre's shoulders-mainly to keep him upright. After Quatre left Nallen's with Trowa, Duo had continued to drink-and drink, and drink, and drink-until Liam had cut him off. Duo was so drunk that Liam had to drive him home. Luckily Liam already knew where Duo lived, so Duo didn't have to try to form words that were intelligible to sober people. And, thank God for Quatre. He had come over to drive his sorry ass to work. So now, here he was, hanging precariously off of Quatre, wearing his "hangover" sunglasses-the darkest pair he owned-and was currently bitching about the earth-shattering headache he had while Quatre listened and nodded sympathetically. Dear God, he hoped to high hell that Heero didn't see him until after lunch.

"Hey Duo, hey Quatre." Damn.

"Damn, Murphy. Optimist, my ass." Oh, shit. I said that aloud, huh.

"What?" Heero's voice echoed loudly through his tortured head.

"Ugh, Heero. Hi." Heero looked at him funny.

"Are you just hungover or are you still drunk?" Damn you, Heero. Wishing he could snap at Heero without feeling badly about it later, Duo just shrugged his shoulders and motioned for Quatre to continue on.

"Quat?"

"Yeah, Duo?"

"Since Trowa's on a mission, and I don't want to be castrated by Heero for overindulgence, and you'll be needing company, anyway…" Quatre had turned his head and gave Duo the take-a-breath-and-get-to-the-point look. "Can I work in your office? Please?" He finished in a small, pleading voice. Quatre laughed heartily.

"Of course, Duo. Of course." Duo weakly smiled.

"Do you have any aspirin?" Duo looked at Quatre through one eye, afraid of the mocking to follow-good-natured, of course. But Quatre just laughed as he dumped him carefully into Trowa's empty chair.

"I have something better than aspirin-I have Codeine, and lots of it." Duo stared at Quatre as he rummaged through his desk. Who the hell had done what to Quatre? Yeah, Quatre was sweet and sympathetic, but not like this! It was frightening. Oh, waitaminute.

"Quat? Did you get some last night?" Oops, I'm still really fucked up.

"Actually, Duo. I did." Duo-momentarily forgetting his hangover-jumped up from his chair, whooping as loud as he could.

"Alright man! I knew it; you two were made for each other! How was…OW!" He violently remembered his hangover and promptly sat down-hard-on the floor. He rested his head in his hands. "Fuck, man. This sucks."

"Here." Quatre handed him two white pills and a glass of water. "And, yes, before you can shout your question to the entire ninth floor, it was better than good. That's all you're gonna find out, too."

"Aw." Duo moaned in mock disappointment. He swallowed the Codeine and pulled himself back into Trowa's chair. "Now we'll have to wonder if your office door is ever closed." Duo unsuccessfully ducked out of the path of a flying pillow. He almost fell out of his chair.

"Shut up…I hate you."

"I hate you more."

"I hate you longer."

"I hate you times infinity." Duo rubbed his sore head and picked up the phone to check his voice mail. He gingerly punched in the code for his mailbox and picked up a pen.

______________________________

Trowa ran, clutching the disc to his chest and grabbing his gun. He fled around the corner and disappeared into a plain looking doorway. He pressed his back against the wall, breathing heavily. He winced as he slipped the disc into his jacket, zipping the hidden pocket up and sealing the invisible Velcro. Now that the information was safe from being lost, Trowa turned his attention to his arm. He clutched his gun with a shaking and weakening hand. Blood raced down his arm, flowing through the fingers that he dug into his arm to try and stop the blood. He glanced quickly around the room, noticing a tablecloth carefully folded on the sideboard. Looking at the table in the center of the room, the cloth should be more than enough to dress his arm. He stumbled over to the white cloth and grabbed it with bloodied fingers. He made quick work of tearing it into strips, and wrapping them tightly around his wound. He sat in a shadowed corner, uncomfortably aware that he was still in enemy territory. After he tied off a final strip to his arm, he gathered the rest of the cloth and tried to stand. When he failed, he looked down at his leg to find out why he could not stand. Blood seeped out of his black pants, noticeable only by the glistening of the blood in the moonlight. He leaned back up against the corner and began to shred the rest of the tablecloth.

Quatre.

He had to hurry. If he stayed here much longer, the enemy would find him, but if he were injured… He closed his eyes and continued to dress his leg.

Quatre.

He peered around the corner, leaning against the solid wall, favoring his wounds. Seeing no movement or shadows, he slipped unnoticed into the abandoned hallway. His senses were prickling-the building seemed devoid of life. Not good. He halted in his progress to his first escape route, and backtracked a few steps to begin Plan B.

Quatre.

He tossed another grenade, using the distraction to load another clip into his gun. He spun into the next hallway, the smoke and debris from his grenade blocking his escape from the eyes of the coughing and injured soldiers following him. He rushed silently down the hall looking for his next turn-thank God for mission prep.

Quatre.

He flung himself out of the window, spinning and flipping his way down five stories, to land-unharmed-on the awning below. He somersaulted down from the makeshift tightrope and disappeared into the bushes. He paid no attention to the rain of bullets behind him.

He raced on in the darkness, thinking only of getting home to Quatre.