Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Fly on Broken Wings ❯ Aftermath ( Chapter 16 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

LSE // 7-15-05

(Fly on Broken Wings - Chapter Sixteen: Aftermath)

rated: R - language, content, violence

shounen-ai/yaoi

Aftermath

Trowa went cold all over as he knelt carefully and touched the fur, a few strands spiky, the blood dried a dull brown. "Sandy," he mouthed silently, as if the bear's name would summon his owner.

He glanced up to make sure the nurse was still held at bay before raising his voice slightly. "Quatre?"

The boy could be any number of places. In the shower, watching television, or perhaps even now sitting in the cafeteria, wondering where his friends were. But something told Trowa that Quatre was close by. He'd never seen the boy willingly leave behind his bear.

"Quatre?"

Something moved.

Trowa's head snapped towards the sound, so very faint he could have imagined it.

"Quatre, it's me. Trowa."

His ears picked up a soft, steady sound and he readjusted his gaze, staring at Duo's bed. Trowa carefully gripped the heavy mattress and pushed it back on to the box spring. The noise became louder, and he recognized it as muffled weeping.

"Quatre? Is that you?" he whispered, peering underneath the bed at the cramped, dark space where the sobs were coming from. Quatre was wedged as far back under the bed as possible, huddled against the wall and arms lifted to hide his face, curled into as much of a ball as the tight space would allow.

"Hi," Trowa said softly. "Quatre? Can you hear me? It's Trowa. Hey," he coaxed, trying to get a reaction from the small blonde. It hurt him to be so helpless; he was too big to fit under the bed. Pulling back slightly, he looked around for a solution before his eyes fell once more on the teddy bear. Snatching Sandrock up, Trowa lowered himself to the floor and stretched his arm out under the bed, gently pushing the bear towards Quatre.

At the touch, the boy's sobs broke into panicked gasps and Quatre edged even further against the wall. Trowa carefully set Sandy right up against Quatre and then removed his arm, desperately hoping for any reaction from the blonde.

"What are you doing in here!"

Trowa jerked his head up and whirled around to find the nurse from the hall standing in the doorway, and just over her shoulder he could see Wufei and Relena being escorted away by two orderlies. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Trowa slowly gained his feet before pointing to the bed.

The nurse blinked at him, realized who he was, and then spoke in a slow, exaggerated tone, as if speaking to a child or an idiot. "You need to return to your room," she explained, throwing in some crude sign language.

Trowa stared at her and then gestured more emphatically to the bed. Quatre's here, and I think he's hurt!

His mouth opened.

The words stuck.

His mouth closed.

"Come on," she repeated, stepping forward as if to bodily eject him from the room.

His heart clenched with fear, but still the words would not come.

The nurse frowned and ran a thumb over the communicator at her hip as she closed the last of the distance between them. Taking Trowa's arm in a sturdy grip, she started to pull him back through the mess.

His throat spasmed. He drowned, choking, on guilt and fear; Quatre could be hurt, was probably hurt, and he couldn't...

"Quat..." he started to say, a hoarse whisper struggling past every subconscious effort his body tried to keep himself silent. The nurse turned her head to look at him, but before she could fully register that the mute had spoken, a shrill screaming drowned out thought and whatever else Trowa could manage to say.

From under the bed came another shriek, a raw sound of terror that sent chills down Trowa's spine. As the nurse released him and swiftly knelt to look under the bed, Trowa stood there in the middle of chaos and felt a sick sense of relief.

Having seen Quatre, the nurse flew to her feet and shouted into her radio for help. Her shocked eyes met Trowa's, and for one startling moment it seemed as if she almost grasped what had happened. But then training over-road humanity, and she was left looking at a seventeen-year-old mute suffering from depression, patient #473, and not a friend torn by sharp guilt.

----------------------------------------------------------------- ------

There was pain.

No.

There was agony.

He turned away from it, falling further and further into darkness. Voices called but he refused to listen, refused to release the hold on the blessed void. It kept out pain. Fear.

Soft.

Silence.

Warmth. Warmth? Something familiar. Someone familiar? He came slowly out from the abyss to investigate, latching on to the soft. Soft.

Pain cruelly reached out before he could retreat again, bringing with it fear, terror, panic. He reacted with violence, shoving frantically at the emotions that kept seeping into his soul. He cried out against them, falling to the sound of screams.

It swept over him, drowning...

Into merciful

Oblivion.

----------------------------------------------------------------- -----

When he came to, Quatre felt an intense sense of ... abnormality. Not knowing what it was that felt so wrong, he tried to open his eyes and felt a relief when he could. Distant, fuzzy memories of pain layered over a very real ache radiating from his arm. Trying to sit upright left a cold sweat on his brow, so Quatre wisely opted to remain lying down.

Without moving his head too much, he took in a view of his surroundings. All he could see was white due to curtains around his bed. Dim light filtered down from fluorescent bulbs, the sort of ambient lighting one saw in a ...

Hospital.

Quatre felt a moment of panic before he realized it was far too quiet for that explanation to fit. He couldn't hear nurses bustling, machines beeping, or other patients. He'd experienced his share of hospitals to know the unique sounds and smells. This place did not smell like a hospital, although the starch sheets and the acrid smell of sanitation were quite telling.

Maybe I'm in a part of the institution?

Was I hurt?

The ache in his right arm called for his attention, and Quatre carefully drew the offending limb out from under the blankets. His arm felt... strange, the movement blocky and weighted down. Sleep pricked at the corners of reality, and Quatre just knew medication was to blame. Running his tongue around in his mouth, he tasted the dry, coppery tang that usually indicated he had been tranquilized recently.

A whimper escaped involuntarily as he finally wrestled his arm out from under the blankets. He stared at it in horror. White bandages wrapped firmly over the thin arm from wrist to elbow, and he could see small scratches over his hand and knuckles.

"I'm having a nightmare..." he whispered softly, eyes huge as he slowly lowered his arm. Very real pain argued that he wasn't dreaming.

Quatre squeezed his eyes shut, trying to wake up.

"This isn't real!" he tried to shout, but it came out in a rough rasp.

"This isn't real..."

Then, all at once, memories. Duo playing a single note on his keyboard, the plastic breaking, cutting... Relief so sharp he nearly cried filled Quatre. It wasn't his fault. He hadn't hurt himself.

He looked around at his surroundings again, but the white curtain all around his bed made the scenery rather boring. He cautiously sat up, head spinning with the after effects of the tranquilizer, and slipped his feet over the side of the bed. He was wearing hospital-issue pajamas that were a green-grey and rather starchy. Better that than nothing.

Once his head cleared enough, Quatre stood and cautiously pulled back the curtain. The room was small, his was the third such curtained off bed, and windows lined the opposing wall. He looked at them for a moment, the night outside inky black, and realized he must have slept all day. Last thing he remembered...

The lights flashing on, Duo...

Duo!

Quatre hurried away from his bed, looking at the other curtains with apprehension. One set was pulled back, the bed empty, and the other... He crept closer, hand going out to timidly pull the white fabric back. As he feared/hoped, Duo lay in the bed, head half-turned away into the pillow, long chestnut hair free of its usual braid.

The young blonde tightened his grip on the curtain, staring at the pale and still form of his roommate. Despite it was Duo's fault he was hurt, he desperately hoped the other boy was all right. Only the sound of footsteps approaching made him hurry back to his own bed, hastily rearranging the blankets before he settled back down to fake sleeping.

Straining his hearing, he thought he heard faint sounds over by Duo's bed. Quatre cautiously peeped one eye open, but the closed curtains prevented him from seeing anything. When the footsteps drew close to his bed, Quatre hurriedly squeezed his eyes shut and prayed whoever it was would just go away.

Leave me alone, I'm sleeping!

The soft whine of metal signaled the curtains being pulled aside. Quatre held his breath, feigning sleep all the harder. He very nearly flinched when fingers rested against his chest, gliding over the blanket in a gentle caress. Panic flicked along his spine, but Quatre remained motionless.

He did flinch when something soft tickled his cheek, but he covered it by shifting his head as if still asleep. Quatre could feel the rapid pound of his heart, a sharp staccato so loud he was afraid his visitor would hear. But still, whoever it was didn't speak, and the curtains protested again as they were pulled close once more.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring into Sandy's fur. Blue eyes flew wide as Quatre clutched the bear to himself, brain scrambling to overcome shock and the lingering drugs to work out how it was possible. So quick he nearly toppled over from a sudden wave of vertigo, Quatre leapt from the bed and jerked the curtain back just in time to see Trowa framed against the door, ready to leave.

"...wa!" he rasped out before hastily clearing his throat. "Trowa!"

The older boy turned, staring back across the small room. Quatre took a few steps forward, the rest of what he wanted to say stuck in his throat. "Go back to bed, Quatre," Trowa said in a low voice.

"Trowa?"

But Trowa only shook his head before he was gone.

"Trowa!" Quatre didn't get to the door before it shut again, and when he jerked on the handle it was locked. A keypad next to the door mocked him, and Quatre struggled uselessly with the door. Emotions swirled up into a confusing chaos, the locked door frustrating him to panicked tears. A hand closed over his, pulling him away, and the small blonde stared up at Duo for a long moment before darkness took over, and Quatre toppled into oblivion once again.

----------------------------------------------------------------- -------

"So I think it's just a problem with the alternator, but he keeps insisting we get him a new battery."

"What can you do. If he wants a new battery..."

"Hey, Boss, phone's ringing."

"Wait there," he growled out before retreating back into the office. The shrill whine of the phone battled with the sounds of the garage for a brief moment, before the door closed behind him. He cut off the phone's third ring with a curt "Green's Autobody."

The door opened with a chime and a customer walked in. "Hey, just a second," he muttered to the phone before setting it aside and greeting the customer. "What can we do for you?"

"Well, my car keeps making this noise whenever I make a turn, and I was just wondering..."

The door leading to the garage opened silently, and one of his mechanics stepped into the small office. The boss ignored him for a moment, getting the customer settled before turning around and holding out the man's keys. "You doing anything?" he demanded.

"No," the young man answered in a quiet tone, taking the keys without waiting to be told. The boss liked the boy, for all that he was somewhat of a loner.

"Take this car in..." he started to order, but hesitated, glancing to the phone. "Wait, Yuy, get Gonzales to do it. You have a phone call."

The boy's hands tightened around the keys for a moment, but no emotion made it up to his stern features. "Yes, sir." He went back into the garage to pass off the keys, then returned to the office. The customer was seated at the far end, flipping through a magazine, and the boss had already disappeared.

Heero stared down at the phone with great reluctance before picking it up. "Yuy speaking."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Author's Notes: Hey everyone, remember me? It's been over half a year, since the last chapter. And 16 months since I started this 'fic. I apologize for dropping off the face of the planet like that. Life really started to get stressful, I won't go into details, but things are a little better right now. I'm not sure when I'll be able to have the next chapter out.

It isn't that I'm not still interested in this story, it's just that writing anything at all has become such hard work.

Well, if you read this, thank you so much. Thank you for sticking with me, and I'll try my best to hurry out the next chapter. I know how much waiting sucks. I don't mean to leave you guys hanging...

Do you think you could drop me a little feedback, just so I know there are still people reading? Feel free to yell at me for being a bad author and taking forever to update. Vi out!

Feedback/reviews are very much appreciated!

LSE - Violet Nyte (no email right now!)

No webpage, still looking for a home.

Try my LJ, livejournal.com/users/manzokubiscuit