Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Eyes Cold As Stone ❯ Chapter Eleven ( Chapter 11 )

Eyes Cold As Stone

Chapter 11

He doubled back to the drop point-there wasn't any way that he was leaving Quatre. He was a Gundam pilot. He could fight Mobile Suits-manned and un-manned. He hopped out of the Leo and ran to the still covered Taurus'. He dimly heard two suits approaching, but paid it no heed. He'd be in the Taurus in no time, and he'd destroy them both. Just two more souls for Shinigami. He began to chuckle as he warmed up his Taurus. His chuckling, soft at first, quickly became maddening laughter. Tears came unbidden to his eyes and he spilled them over the console. He could feel the approach of the two suits, now. He raised the suit and faced the unknown suits. He gracefully raised his weapon through maniacal laughter and tears. He noticed the Comm lights flashing, and automatically reached out to connect the inquiry. Heero's concerned face flickered on the screen.

"Duo!" He laughed at Heero's image. "What's wrong? Where's Quatre? What happened?" At Quatre's name, Duo burst into hysterical tears. Unable to answer Heero, he let lose an animalistic wail and turned toward the base. Leaving Heero, and the other suit to follow, he sped toward rescuing Quatre.

"Duo? What's going on?" This time, it was Trowa's voice and picture on the screen. Duo ignored the Comm and raced toward the base.

"Motherfuckers! Give me back my Quatre!" Finding his voice, Duo screamed through his tears on all Comm frequencies. "Give him back, now, Motherfuckers." It occurred to Duo that he had already used that term. He laughed at the ridiculous and random thought.

"Quatre?" He barely heard Trowa's tense inquiry over the Comm as he realized that Quatre had been right-both Trowa and Heero came. He laughed again, and whooped dramatically for Quatre's small victory.

"Shinigami's here, Assmonkey's. And you've pissed Shinigami off. Now he's come for you're fucking souls. Fuck you!" Duo raced his Taurus in the gaping hole of the hanger. He sped toward the way he had come, eyes searching frantically for Quatre. "Where's Quatre?" He screamed into the Comm, realizing that there had been a shuttle in the far corner, where that big empty space is now. "No." His mind began calculations against his insane will, and the implications set in. God, no. He set his suit down and leaped out, grabbing two guns that were stashed by the seat. He took off down the hall, not caring if Trowa or Heero followed. Not caring if his suit was left open and undefended. He heard two sets of footfalls behind him and nothing in front of him. Not good. He ran faster.

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Quatre moaned and rolled his head to the side in a weak attempt to clear it. It didn't work. He tried to rub his temples, but realized that his hands were cuffed together above his head. He opened his eyes, fighting the feeling of nausea that arose in him. He stared into bright green eyes. Not Trowa's. He tried to make his lips form words, but they wouldn't cooperate. He continued to stare at the not-Trowa-eyes.

"I hope that you weren't planning on seeing your friends, again." He just stared blankly at her. "And I also hope that you weren't counting on 02 returning to save you. He's running amuck at the Node base the two of you found, but he won't find you. We aren't there." He closed his eyes, hoping that it wasn't true, but he knew in his heart that it was. He could feel the subtle vibrations in the floor that signaled aircraft. So they were flying-somewhere. Who knew where. Quatre was alone-fully and completely, alone. No Trowa, no Heero, no Wufei, and no Duo. He tried not to cry as he blocked out the rest of the woman's tauntings. He realized before he slipped back into unconsciousness that it was the same lady that he overheard in the control center.

"You." He greeted darkness.

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No one. There was no one. He checked the detention cells, the control center and a room that looked like it was an interrogation chamber-nothing. Every last room was empty-with, of course, the exception of the hundreds of dead soldiers littering the place, but Duo chose only to count the living. That made three people alive in the entire base-Trowa, Heero and himself. Between the three of them, they had killed the three hundred or so guards. It had been of little comfort-or little vengeance. He buried his head in his hands, not caring if Heero saw him cry.

"My fault-it was all my fault." Memories of Maxwell's Church came rushing back at him, only this time; it was Quatre who died in his arms.

He turned and left the room, returning to where he had left Quatre.

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"Jezebel…" Pain. "Jezebel…" Who was this Jezebel? "Jezebel…we're almost there."

"Good." That voice. The frigid, discordant female voice he had heard. A picture came to his foggy mind-raven black, shoulder length hair, tarnished green eyes, and olive skin. He opened his eyes. "Ah-you're awake." Jezebel sneered at him, sharp teeth seemingly like fangs, slashed through his mind. He moaned in pain.

"Not really." Oh, smooth one, Quatre. You're so suave. Jezebel just continued to snarl at him.

"We're almost to your new home. I hope you enjoy it."

"Doubtful."

"Suit yourself."

"No thanks."

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Heero followed Duo, keeping a hawk's eye on the braided one. He resisted the strong urge to reach out and pull the baka into a hug. He instead followed solemnly behind him. He wriggled his fingers, trying to fight blood back into them, but Trowa's death-grip on his arm was too tight. For the last hour, it had become increasingly obvious, through Duo's broken words and half-finished sentences that alternated between coarse whispers and hysterical screams, that he and Quatre had been held here. He had pieced together, through Duo's half-mad rantings, that Quatre had been severely injured, and Duo wasn't able to carry Quatre to safety with hoards of guards breathing down their necks. Quatre had demanded that Duo save himself first, and then return for him. Heero closed his eyes. Quatre could be so damned virtuous. He could feel Trowa's labored breathing on his neck as Trowa tried not to break down. He placed his other hand comfortingly on Trowa's cold hand. He felt Trowa's breath begin to hitch in his chest. He watched as Duo bent down and crawled forward on hands and knees. Duo leaned forward, tears dropping onto the floor below him.

"My fault… So sorry… Forgive… Love you… Quat… My fault…" Duo sobbed, his cries echoing strangely in the hall. He felt Trowa move forward, and he allowed himself to be pulled along. Trowa's fingers dug more deeply into his arm. He could hear ragged breathing, and realized that it was his own. He watched Duo's tears roll down his cheek and splash into the pool of dark water.

Wait-dark water? Heero looked closer, the coppery smell finally wafting to his nostrils. Blood.

Quatre's blood.

He didn't know how he knew, but he was positive that this was Quatre's blood. Shit-there was a lot of it. He glanced at Duo, who seemed lost in his madness. He glanced at Trowa who finally began to break. He saw Duo lean back on his haunches to let lose an heart-breaking wail of torment-of loss, of sorrow-of his own betrayal.

Heero felt tears track their way down his face.

Quatre…

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Wufei tightened his embrace, pulling Sally closer to him. She slept peacefully within the circle of his arms. He smiled-Sally was finally his, and their lovemaking was sweeter than all of his dreams put together. He kissed her bare shoulder and closed his eyes, intending to sleep. His phone rang, startling both him and Sally. He reached out of the offending thing and brought it to his ear.

"This had better be good, or I'll have a new target to practice on." Usually Duo called him this late, and always made some snide remark right back-but tonight was different. Firstly, it was Heero's voice he heard, and secondly, Heero's voice was flayed steel. Something had happened. Something bad. He sat up in bed, trying to clear his sleepy mind. "Heero?"

"Its Quatre. He's been captured, and might be dead." Wufei's heart tightened painfully in his chest. Not Quatre.

"Quatre?" Sally sat up with him, most likely noticing the growing panic in his voice. He tried to calm his breathing.

"Duo was able to get out of there, but Quatre didn't. And now we have no idea where they've taken him." Heero took an audible breath. "All we found of Quatre was a pool of blood, and a blood trail leading from it to a nonexistent shuttle that Duo insists was there when he escaped." God, no.

"How's Duo? Does Trowa know?"

"Duo's continually muttering something about church, Quatre and saying that it was his fault. I'm thinking that it has something to do with Maxwell's Church. I know that he blamed himself for the incident. And it appears as if he blames himself for Quatre." This time, a ragged breath drifted from the phone. "Trowa…well, he's not taking this well either. He came to look for Duo and Quatre with me, and we found Duo in hysterics preparing to return to the base and save Quatre." Another pause. "He was insane, Wufei. I don't think I ever want to see Duo like that again. I was frightened." Wufei sat speechless. Emotions were warring inside of him. Vengeance, despair, hatred, misery and disbelief. He felt Sally's hand on his shoulder as a lifeline-a way back from the fires of hell. He grasped her hand, not noticing her wince. He clutched at her hand, dropping the phone. He could hear Heero's tiny voice sounding from the phone. He ignored it, the pain and heartbreak flowing through his veins, and bloodthirsty revenge flooded his senses. He clutched at Sally's hand, white-hot tears sliding down his face. He vowed that he would kill those that took Quatre. He prayed that Quatre was still alive.

"Be strong, Quatre. Survive for us." His voice caught in a sob, and he let the tears fall.

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"Trowa noticed the blood trail. It looked as though they dragged Quatre's body a little ways before picking him up and carried him to the hanger. We followed the drops of blood until they abruptly stopped at a large empty area of the hanger. It appeared as if a shuttle had rested there shortly beforehand, and Duo confirmed my speculation. We attempted to trace the aircraft's trail, but it had been too long for the suits to pick anything up. Quatre and Duo had done too good of a job placing explosives, for there wasn't any way find the flight plan or any information in the computer banks of the base. They effectively disappeared." Lady Une rubbed her face in her hands, trying to remain calm in the face of desolation.

"What is Duo's current condition?" She saw pain and sorrow on Heero's face.

"He's delirious. He'll be fine one moment, but it the next he's crying hysterically that it was his fault-that he killed Quatre. I'm worried." From the look on Heero's face, he was more than worried-he was afraid.

"Trowa?"

"Recovering, but not well. He's suffering, too. He and Quatre were close. Closer than Duo and Quatre. He's shutting down, though, instead of acting out. That worries me, too." Une still could see the fear in Heero's eyes.

"Tell me how you feel. About Duo and Trowa." Heero blinked his eyes. She could see tears rolling down his face.

"Duo's lost it. Trowa's going cold-soldier. Duo is of no use. Trowa will be dangerous. Duo cannot perform. Trowa will perform all too well-like me, in the war." Heero voice began to shake. "I hope, I pray, that Quatre's still alive, but it would be a miracle if we could even find him. And from what Duo tells me, Quatre was severely injured, already."

"How are you?"

"I'll be fine. However, I can't guarantee no-fire missions. If I find anything on Quatre's whereabouts, my priority is to him. And if I find Quatre's captors, I will kill them. Regardless." Une suppressed a shudder. Heero's eyes flashed malevolence.

"I understand. Report to HQ tomorrow afternoon and we'll decide on what needs to be done to get Quatre back." Heero nodded and severed the connection. Une began shaking as she struggled not to bawl. She failed.

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Quatre was ripped from blissful unconsciousness by a rough punch in his tender stomach. His eyes snapped open as he gasped for breath that would not come. He looked into the Colonel's atrocious face.

"Good morning, my pet." Quatre shuddered. A high-pitched squeal assaulted his ears, causing him to flinch. He watched with growing unease, a cart being wheeled in with all sorts of fluids and needles resting wickedly upon it. Quatre turned back to the Colonel's evil grin. "I have a present for you." Quatre looked away. He knew what was coming-torture and questions. A fucking Spanish Inquisition. He began detaching his mind from his body, hoping that it would ease his torment. He focused instead on the girl-the Marid Jinniyah-that brought him here. She was a part of Preventer Headquarters.

She worked at HQ.

Quatre noticed a large syringe being filled. Most likely Truth Serum. Quatre shut his eyes, hoping that they would just leave him alone. He knew what would happen if they gave him Truth Serum. Instructor H had proven it time and time again. Quatre was allergic to the Serum. He took in a deep breath, trying to ignore the rotting stench that filled the sir, knowing that it would be his last deep breath. Someone approached with the poisonous syringe and he tried to cringe away. Several hands clamped down on his arms and legs as he began to struggle. The needle poked his flesh. He cried out-not in pain, but in fear. Fear for his sanity if nothing else. He could feel the serum spreading through his body.

"What is your name?" Quatre didn't hear the question as the first muscle tremors began. He gritted his teeth, sweat beading all over.

"Your name?" He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to anyone or anything that could hear him.

His muscles spasmed uncontrollably.

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Trowa threw his jacket into the darken apartment. He didn't bother to turn the lights on. The darkness matched his mood.

It had been two days since Quatre was supposed to come home. The meeting with Lady Une was tomorrow, or was it later today? Trowa had lost track of time ever since he and Heero had run into Duo. He buried his face in his hands, attempting not to replay the past, but it was too late. He felt the stagnate air of the hallways, the coppery smell of slain soldiers-those who were stupid enough to stand up to three pissed off Gundam pilots. Trowa shook his head, not wanting to feel anything. But the soft scent of drying blood-Quatre's blood, came back to him. The rust-colored brush stroke leading toward the hanger was imposed over his floor with the drips and drops spreading out even further.

"Quatre." He heard himself whisper the name. His lover's name. His lover's who wasn't here-might never be here again. He dropped his head back in his hands and began to weep. Tears flowed freely from around his fingers, spilling onto his carpet-like Quatre's blood would've fallen to the dead cement. His shoulders shook with the force of his sobs. He crashed back against the wall and slid slowly to the floor, sobs coming louder and faster. It hurt. His eyes were raw, but he cried regardless. He fell to his side, face still hidden in his hands. His shoulder hit the floor with an audible thunk as he cried on.

"Quatre." He continued to cry. "I will find you. I promise."

He cried himself to sleep.

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Lady Une sat in her office staring at the comfortable chair pulled neatly up to her desk. It was her chair, but she wasn't sitting in it. She sat close to the door to her office, looking at her desk like she was here for a meeting with the occupant of the room. Unfortunately, she was the occupant. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squinted her eyes, wishing desperately that she wasn't the Head of Preventer HQ, wishing that she had never sent Duo and Quatre on that mission.

The door opened behind her, cutting off her tears. Fuck. She was the bulwark. It was on her shoulders that peace rested. If she broke-than everything broke. She couldn't afford to be weak. She forced herself to look up and greet the first person to arrive at the meeting.

Wufei and Sally. They filtered into her office silently, as if able to sense the maelstrom of emotions warring inside her.

`Afternoon." She couldn't force herself to place the normal Good in front of her greeting. It wasn't good.

"Afternoon." Sally greeted her in the same way. Wufei just nodded. Une sighed and waited for the next people.

After everyone was seated in her office, Lady Une turned to face them. Her angels of retribution. They were her messengers, her fighters, her protectors and her saviors. She didn't stand to address them; rather she sat, humbled by her mistake.

"I'm sorry." She looked down at her feet, memories of the first time Quatre had been captured playing in her mind.

"Don't insult Quatre like that. You did what you thought you had too. You did what you thought was best. You couldn't have foreseen what would happen." Wufei sounded like he was on one of his justice rants, but his eyes were red and puffy, belying the rant. "Don't dishonor him." Lady Une raised her head.

"I have spoken to Abdul, and he has informed me that the Gundams are almost ready. They are to the point where they are flyable, and can be used in combat, eventhough they are not completely finished."

"How complete are they?"

"Abdul told me about 85% complete." She looked right at Wufei. He was the only one talking.

"Good. We can use them. Do you have a plan?"

"I want to go. Now." Trowa's voice drifted from where he was leaning against the wall with arms crossed. Une pinched the bridge of her nose again. It was so very tempting to send them all out to scour the Earth and the Colonies for Quatre, but was it the right thing to do. She no longer knew. She had already gotten three of her pilots caught, one of them twice, and she had an infiltrator in HQ with potential bugs everywhere, including their houses. She looked at each of her trusted staff one by one. Sally, Wufei, Noin, Duo, Heero, Zechs, and Trowa. She looked inward. What do I want to do? How would I handle this?

"Wait until tomorrow. I want to make sure that I'm not sending an exhausted pilot out. That will also give Abdul time to load your ammo and wrap up any lose ends." She paused. "Take your pick of any two bases. Go to them and search for Quatre. If Quatre is not there, destroy the base." She then turned to Wufei. "Wufei, I want you to pick two other bases. Your mission is the same as Trowa's. Seek, then destroy. Heero, you pick an additional two. Duo, I want you to meet with Sally tomorrow. I want to make sure that you are okay before sending you in any more stress. Sally; check all of the pilots today to make sure they are fit to leave. If not, I will find an alternative. I won't send overtaxed pilots out. Period. Zechs, Noin, I want the two of you to begin research as to where Quatre might potentially be located. Duo can give you as much information as he can about the shuttle that left the base. Plot any and all locations the shuttle could have flown too, as well as an additional hour's flight. We will begin searching those bases first. I will begin an analysis the strategic information we received from Quatre. I will find any information on bases that we have missed and turn my sights up to space. Questions?" An all-around shaking of heads. "Dismissed."

Une sat back, shaking from her decision, from her demands. Oh, please, God. Let this work, and don't make it another disaster. She waited until everyone had filed out of her office before crying.

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Quatre lay prone on the cold cement, blood pooled around his head. A thin trickle of blood dripped down his chin and into the mix of saliva and blood slowly spreading on the floor. His muscles contracted violently from time to time, making him look like a dying fish out of water. His leg twitched, and he blinked his eyes. His eyes were vacant, like nothing had ever been there. They seemed almost gray, now-not the vibrant azure they had been.

Jezebel remembered Duo flinging an arm around the smaller blonde, making some crude joke that even she had laughed at. His blue eyes had twinkled mischievously as he had left to repeat the dirty joke to Trowa. Jezebel smiled, also remembering the horrified look on Trowa's face when the innocent blonde recited the joke-perfectly.

She didn't feel anything for the Gundam pilot. He was just another obstacle in her search for power. Or was he? She turned from watching the periodic spasms and walked away. She crossed her arms across her chest and turned down a passageway that would lead her outside, leaving the once vibrant pilot in her wake.