Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Forgotten Dreams ❯ Chapter 1

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

Title: Forgotten Dreams



Title: Forgotten Dreams
Chapter: 1/?
Pairing: 4x3, 4+3, 3+4
Warnings: Yaoi, shounen-ai. Male/male sex and love. So don't read if you don't like it or are underage, and all parts with yaoi will be marked. If you do want to flame me (Feel free! I've never been flamed before!) then please follow these rules:
Spell-check. Grammar check. See the "Caps Lock" key? Turn it off. Take your time with the flame. Make sense. Present sensible arguments. Avoid substituting letters for words, i.e. "U" for "you" and "UR" for "you are." That just makes you look immature and stupid. I reserve the right to take flames and forward them to any mailing list I chose, along with my response, which will be sent to you. The first flame I get will be rewarded.
Disclaimers: Gundam Wing and all characters associated with it is not mine, nor am I making any money from this. This is purely for my personal enjoyment, and the enjoyment of the people who read this. GW is copyright Bandai, Sunrise, etc.



Pain. Loneliness. Hunger. Fear. Loneliness. Pain. Hunger. The emotions fled through the little boy's consciousness, blurring together into a burning mass of feeling. He didn't scream. No, he was past screaming now. The pain was too much, had been for far too long. He clenched his teeth, and bided his time. After all, what else could he do, but wait? Wait for release, for however shortly it lasted. Maybe he would die soon. Maybe . . .

"AAAAHHHH!" Five-year-old Quatre Raberba Winner sat up in bed, bawling his little heart out in the wee hours of the morning. He was shaking, body drenched in sweat, heart clamoring in the aftermath of the horrible nightmare he'd just been subject to. He was still sobbing when his oldest sister Iria rushed in.
"Quatre! Quatre, what's wrong?!" She launched herself onto the bed, holding him in her arms and stroking his hair as she murmured meaningless reassurances in his ear. This was not the first dream that had left him bathed in a cold sweat, hoarse from screaming with his pillow soaked from his tears. But it was the worst. By far, it was the worst. And little Quatre knew that his nightmares would only get more horrible. He sobbed out his dream to Iria about the little brown-haired boy and the torture he was put through; no parents, no love, and the only thing keeping him alive his captor's desire for his young body.
His sisters held him until his sobs had quieted to small sniffles every now and then, and by the time they stopped completely the other twenty-eight sisters were crowded around him on the bed, as well. Quatre had a big bed.
They all smiled at him, giving assurances that it was just a bad dream, he'd forget it by morning, but Quatre knew better. He knew the dream would haunt him for weeks, but the warmth and love his beloved sisters surrounded him with lulled his mumbled protests, and soon he slept peacefully yet again.

* * *

But his family had been wrong. He hadn't forgotten the dream. He had wandered around in a haze for weeks, each night punctuated by at least one dream of a varying degree of horror. They continued for another year until Quatre learned to block them out. However, that didn't stop Quatre from waking up every once in a while, shaking and choked up with fear from a dream half-remembered; strong emotions, but no images.
And sometimes, during long nights when he couldn't sleep or was particularly lonely, Quatre would open his mind to the dreams of his little brown-haired boy, at times playing his violin in hopes that the soothing melodies he played would somehow reach the little boy, and bring him some degree of comfort.

* * *

Quatre knew. Duo had been chattering the news incessantly at him for the past ten minutes, but Quatre already knew. Today the boy who had been a part of his nightly dreams for over ten years was arriving to pilot Gundam Heavyarms. And now Quatre knew his name: Barton, Trowa Barton. Quatre waited eagerly, but with feigned indifference, to at last meet the enigma he'd known, yet had not, for so long. He smiled absently at Duo, still chattering away, and stifled a giggle when Heero Yuy reached out, grasped the end of Duo's braid and shoved it into the American's mouth. Those two really were an adorable couple, even if one didn't know it and the other was too flirty to be convincing.
Duo gagged on his hair and batted at Heero. Spitting the braid out, he leered at the Japanese pilot.
"Hey! I wasn't talking to you, Heero! I was telling Quatre about the new pilot, but if you really want me to suck on something---"
"You were annoying me," Heero cut in coldly, then turned back to his tea. Duo flinched, and frowned at Heero's head. Getting up, he skipped around the room while humming some odd American song under his breath. "I'm Too Sexy," Quatre thought the title was.
Five more minutes of this and Heero reached out and grasped Duo's braid again, yanking hard. Duo yipped and fell backward. On to Heero. They fell. The Japanese pilot let out a small sigh and looked up at the American boy sprawled over him, their lips nearly touching.
"Hey, sexy. Ya want a kiss?" Duo leaned forward, bringing his lips closer to Heero's.
Quatre chuckled. "Duo, you are so blatantly bi."
"Omae o korosu," Heero whispered.
Duo paused, face not half an inch from Heero's. "Uhm . . . Am I safe if I get off of you, or are you gonna kill me anyway, because I like where I am, but if you're gonna kill me if I don't get up, then I will, but if I'm a dead American anyway I'd like to stay here, because you're comfortable, not to mention sexy as hell---" Duo would have continued on like that until either he got up, or Heero killed him, had Quatre not turned at that moment to get a tissue to wipe the laugh-tears from his face and bumped into a uniformed figure. He yelped and threw himself backwards, falling into Duo, who was getting off of Heero, who was sitting up. All three went sprawling.
And after the third time, Quatre was about ready to give up on ever getting up. Everyone kept tripping on Duo's hair.
"Cut your hair, Maxwell," Heero bit out.
"No way, Yuy! My hair's my best feature!"
"Then that explains why no one likes you."
"H-hey! No fair! Quatre likes me, dontcha, Winner?"
"Mpfh!" Quatre sighed, getting an elbow in the ribs.
"Please?" Duo whined. "Dontcha like me? Huh?"
Quatre sighed.
"I'll cry!" Duo warned, sniffing theatrically.
"Okay, okay! Don't cry, Duo, I like you."
Duo laughed. "Hear that, Yuy? And isn't my hair wonderful, Friend Quatre?"
"Sure. It's great." Duo snickered, and Heero yelped.
"Damn you, American! Don't pinch me there!"
Another snicker. "Oops. I was aiming for you leg."
"Hn."
Getting rather irritated, Quatre was opening his mouth to ask whomever he'd bumped into for help when gentle hands grabbed him under the arms, dragging him from the pile. There was more laughing from Duo and cursing from Heero, demanding that Duo stop pinching him or die.
Soft hands helped him up, brushing him off slowly, lingering on him. Turning around, a bit unnerved by the wordless touching, Quatre looked up into the deeply guarded moss green eyes of the boy who had been a part of his dreams for so long. His jaw dropped, and the boy --- Trowa Barton, the unfrozen part of his mind whispered --- cocked his head to one side, raised a finger and gently closed Quatre's mouth for him.
Quatre stared in disbelief at the gorgeous boy who was Trowa Barton, and Trowa Barton looked politely back, eyes watching him intently, until Duo glomped onto Quatre, grinning maniacally at Trowa with slap marks on his cheeks.
"Hi! I'm Duo Maxwell, I run I hide but I never lie that's my motto you must be Trowa Barton!" Duo grabbed Trowa's hand, shaking it furiously. Trowa merely blinked as he rattled on. "It's really great having you here now we have four pilots all we need is this Chang Wufei guy oh yeah I forgot I pilot Gundam Deathscythe this here's Quatre Raberba Winner he pilots Sandrock he's older than he looks he's fifteen too he's Arabian and has twenty-nine older sisters can you believe it the boy behind me's Heero Yuy he pilots Gundam Wing it's really awesome with you here now have I said that now we can kick some major OZ ass those bastards will regret they ever messed with us hey Heero watcha doing with that thermos careful it's got hot tea in it wait no --- GGGGGGYYYYAAAAHHHH!" Heero had poured near-boiling tea on Duo's head, and pulled him back by his hair.
"Shut. Up." Heero gave Duo his most evil glare, and the American pilot visibly wilted.
"Okay." His voice was small and meek.
During Duo's babbling Trowa had taken the time to look both he and Heero fully over, then returned his piercing gaze to Quatre. Quatre licked his lips, so very aware of the new pilot's proximity to him, and looked around everywhere, anywhere but at this literal dream come true.
"Ah, never mind Duo. Or Heero. This," he gestured at Heero, who was dragging Duo around by his braid, "happens all the time. You get used to it, after a while . . ." Quatre trailed off as, once again, Trowa reached for him. He froze like a deer caught in headlights, but the taller boy merely took his hand and shook it. Quatre mentally kicked himself and returned the hand-grasp.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Winner." Barton's voice was low, sending chills down Quatre's spine.
"Y, you, too. And please, call me Quatre. We go by first names, here."
Trowa nodded once, slowly, eyes never leaving Quatre's face. "If you will call me Trowa." He seemed to roll his name around his mouth, Quatre noted, as if he wasn't used to it.
"O, of course." Quatre cursed his racing heart and the way Trowa made him feel light-headed. He needed to sit down.
"Then sit." Quatre blinked up at Trowa.
"Eh, nani?"
Trowa held out a chair, stepping over Heero, who was on top of Duo, strangling him with his braid. The long-haired boy was turning purple. Trowa tugged on Quatre's hand, which he had not let go of, and Quatre stumbled forward, tripped on Heero, and fell into Trowa's arms.
He froze, face pressed against the taller boy's chest, and nearly fainted.
'Damn it, Winner, get a hold of yourself! You're acting like a schoolgirl with a silly crush!" A realization hit him, and he chuckled. He was acting like Relena!
"So glad I'm amusing." There was a faint hint of humor in Trowa's voice as he looked down at the pilot in the circle of his arms. Quatre's head jerked up, and he blushed crimson as he realized he was still leaning against Trowa. And enjoying it greatly . . .
"Oh, it's not you, I'm not laughing at you at all!" Quatre pushed away from Trowa. There was a slight hesitation, then Trowa released him, a faintly curious expression on his face. Quatre knelt on the floor next to Heero and gently tapped his shoulder. "Heero, Heero he's unconscious. You can let him go now." Heero grunted and glared at Quatre. Quatre flinched a bit, but managed to pry Heero's finger off of Duo's neck. "Look, I know he's annoying at times, but we need him. Kill him now, and the next mission might fail because he's dead. Hmm?" Quatre smiled his sweetest smile at Heero, not noticing Trowa tense and frown slightly at Heero, who growled but got off of Duo, dragging him out of the room by his braid. Quatre sighed, then looked up at Trowa, whose face was now perfectly blank, the only animation on it his intense green gaze which was still locked on Quatre.
He stood there a moment more, then turned wordlessly, and left.
Quatre knelt on the floor a long time after he left, thinking.