Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Heaven Sent ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Disclaimers: I don't own Gundam Wing, so please don't sue.

Warnings: Yaoi, 3x4, possible lemon in later chapters, graphic scenes later on. AU. A bit of OOC.

Description: Trowa has lost his way in life and he is on the verge of losing everything. Will a small blonde be able to save him before it's to late?

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

Prologue chief

The bright morning sunlight was warm against his face, contrasting with the chill breeze that tugged lightly at his clothes. He was dressed in the same white shirt and black slacks as always, but the material was different this time. The shirt was silk instead of his regular cotton and the leather pants molded to his legs like a second skin. Knee-high, black leather boots kept his calves warm against the spring air. His gaze raked the desolate landscape, looking for a being, a presence, someone alive and breathing, but he found nothing in the ruins of the city. He walked down the debris-filled streets, searching for something that he couldn't quite place as of yet, but he was sure he would find it here. He wrapped his arms around his chest, protecting himself from the cold that wasn't entirely due to the weather.

He walked for what seemed a lifetime up and down the deserted streets, his steps echoing mournfully off the hollow shells of buildings. By the time he decided to give up his search the sun had set beyond the horizon and dusk had settled on the ghostly city. Sitting down on a low wall and staring off at the desolate landscape, something in the distance caught his attention. Just on the horizon there seemed to be the outline of a man, but it was too far away to tell. He started toward the figure with the hope of finding the end to his search, but it seemed the closer he came the farther away it appeared to be. So intent was he on his goal that he was unaware of the gaping hole in the street and fell in with a startled cry.

With a groan he rolled off of his back and sat up, the cold mud clinging to his soiled shirt and dripping off his hair. Stone fragments crunched and shifted under his weight as he came to his feet. In near blackness he eyed the gray-rimmed lip of the pit, then surveyed the huge slabs of concrete that lay scattered around him. Grateful that he hadn't broken his back on one of them, he spotted one stone that he could stand on, but with his slippery boots and the cables of steel twisting out of the top it would be a dangerous undertaking.Still, he would try. With his teeth set in determination he climbed onto the rock, steadying himself with a hand against the muddy wall, but the slab was not tall enough and he came a few feet short of freedom. He could risk jumping from the top of the rock, but the possibility of slipping and falling to his death gave him pause. But then, Death smiles at everyone and the only thing a person can do is smile back. There was no point in lying in the pit until he died of cold and hunger.

Just when he was about to jump, a form appeared at the edge of the hole, startling him. "I can help you," the person said in a sweet, melodic voice reminiscent of bells. "Just give me your hand." He stared up at the dark outline, wondering if this was the same person he had seen at the city limits.

Despite his need, it was his stubborn policy to never accept help, not from anyone for any reason. "I don't need your charity," he said coldly as he resumed to his calculations of the situation.

"Please let me help you," begged the figure.

"No, I'm fine," he replied sharply. Suddenly noticing a strange golden light, he glanced up at the androgynous, white-clad person. With a gasp his arms fell limply to his sides as he saw the glowing white wings coming from the person's back. He raised a hand to shield his eyes against the light, but he couldn't see the figure's face behind the shining glow. The figure kneeled, his hand extended for him to grab. Strangely he was unafraid, but his disbelief fueled his stubbornness and still he refused to accept.

"Please," the figured pleaded, "Just take my hand. You'll die if you don't."

"I have everything under control, so if you'd just give me some room I'll get out of here on my own," he replied angrily. He coiled his muscles for the jump, then pushed off the rock with all his force, fingers stretching for the surface. His foot slipped on the mud it was caked in and he started to fall backwards. Eyes wide, he watched as the top retreated farther and farther away from, the figure still standing there, straining to catch him. Time seemed to freeze and he watched the last seconds of his life float past until reality came crashing back with a thud. His breath was forced out of his lungs with a grunt as the sharp edges of rocks knifed into his back, searing pain flaming through his body. Then the ground under his back gave way and he continued to plummet, finding no end to the abyss. The figure called his name desperately, but the golden light soon receded into a sparkling memory. After an eternity of falling through space devoid of any remembrance of light, he felt a burning heat at his back. He twisted in the air to see fires rapidly approaching and he had time to notice no more before he crashed into the ground. Flames licked at his bruised and broken skin as he gasped in agony, every bone in his body screaming in pain as his blood seeped away from him. In the distance he could hear a hideous, rasping noise that sounded like laughter, dark and cold like a winter night, Death lurking within its depths. The sound began to take shape, a shadow within the brightness of the fire, a form so heinous that it was banned from the world of the living, and it saw his fear and laughed.

Trowa shot up from his bed covered in a cold sweat. It was that dream again, the one he'd been having since he was a small child, always the same dream but each time somehow different. //It should have stopped by now,// he thought. Trowa brushed the hair out of his eyes and cradled his head in his hands. The dreams always seemed to scramble his mind, making him feel like he had just run a hundred miles and was then hit by a bus. Looking at his nightstand he noticed the glowing red letters telling him it was 4:00 A.M. Three hours of sleep. //Just great.// He would never be able to get through the day. He needed rest; he had already gone a week without sleeping and the boss wouldn't let him back in the office till he had at least gotten eight hours of sleep. //I could always lie,//he thought. Good thing he had the day off. Trowa set the alarm for 9:00 and rolled over to try to sleep. This time he didn't dream, but he could still hear the figure calling to him, the voice ringing in his head. "Just let me help you . . ."

TBC….

----------

This is my first fic and I know it's not the best, so please help me by reviewing - I do like constructive criticism. Thank you very much.

…….. <.<….. >.> ….. Psst. This is the beta reader here. If you see any mistakes, notify ME, NOT the author, or I will hunt you down, tie you to a chair, and make you drink lake water with my fat Uncle George, `kay? `Kay. ^____^ I claim any and all responsibility for errors. E-mail me at wolf002000@yahoo.com. And remember folks: positive and constructive comments are for the author; negative, destructive, and otherwise snarky comments are for the beta reader. Take care, y'all, and don't poke badgers with spoons. ^___^